#Ig the chaos of that was too powerful for her to handle | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cryoculus · 2 months ago

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— TRACK 04: GUILTY ⟢

aidonia is in the rearview, and the future is yours to take. but as your connections with the band deepen further, you find yourself toeing across the boundaries of what should and shouldn't be.

★ featuring; mydei x f!reader

★ word count; 8.5k words

★ tags; rock band au, found family, hostile acquaintances to friends to lovers, grief/mourning, angst, slow burn, eventual smut

★ notes; hi <3 i was supposed to have this up on here yesterday, but real life got in the way and i completely forgot lol!! as always, thank you saur much for the reception of the previous chapters!! really warms my heart.

★ header art cr; sarhiyu on x & ig

TRACKLIST ✧ READ ON AO3

The signal came back sometime that evening.

First as a faint flicker of bars, then solid enough to get a call out. Aglaea stepped out to contact the label the moment she was able, her voice tight but professional as she recounted everything for the higher-ups back home. Power followed not long after, humming back to life in a blink that felt both underwhelming and miraculous. The flickering panic of the blackout gave way to a tired kind of normal.

The show in Aidonia was officially pulled. There was no way to reschedule when the roads are covered in snow, and fans were promised full refunds. Tribbios handled most of the damage control, coordinating with local venues and media to get ahead of speculation. Come morning, the snow had let up a little, but it was enough for you all to get a move on.

None of you talked about what had happened in Tribbios’ suite.

By the time the tour bus rumbled back to life and pulled out from the frost-stiffed hotel parking lot, Aidonia was just another name in the tour itinerary. Missed, marked. and moved on from.

You’re at your usual corner at the back of the tour bus, laptop balanced on your knees, and a weak signal blinking in the corner of the screen. The heater hums low beneath the bench, a small mercy against the cold that still clings to your bones. Everyone else is scattered in their own little silences—some pretending to nap, others just staring out the foggy windows.

You scroll through the band’s shared cloud, mostly looking for something to keep your mind busy. A setlist doc, rough rehearsal footage, old draft folders with half-named files and outdated timestamps. It feels safe here, in the admin side of things.

But then it finds you again.

That file.

Not only did the person who edited this retain your horrible spelling, but he made sure to change the file format just to mock you. For a moment, your eyes flicker towards the front, where you know Mydei is sitting. He’s got headphones on with his eyes shut, but something tells you he’s far from asleep.

You dismiss the file with a flick and a huff of breath, shutting your laptop and stuffing it back into your bag. Now’s not the time.

The air still feels cracked open in places, too raw and brittle to touch.

So you’re surprised when Cipher plops down beside you with a cup of something hot clutched in both hands and a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She’s never been the awkward type. She grins through chaos, flirts with disaster like it’s her personal hobby, but right now she looks…uncertain.

“Hey,” she says, softly.

You glance over with a curious look, nodding in acknowledgement.

She hesitates before speaking again, which is the second red flag. “I, uh… I wanted to say sorry. For what happened back at the hotel.”

“...To me?”

“Yeah.” Cipher fidgets, turning the mug in her hands. “I kind of…mentioned you like you were part of the problem. That’s not what I meant.”

You don’t say anything just yet, letting your silence feel comfortable enough for her to keep talking.

“Being snowed in definitely fucked with my head, but... I was angry,” she admits quietly. “At Aglaea, the silence, the way we’ve all been pretending like we’re fine when we’re clearly not. But I shouldn’t have pulled you into that. You didn’t know about the whole rule, or whatever the hell it was.”

There’s a weight behind her voice that you’re not used to hearing. A sort of vulnerability that doesn’t dress itself up in sparkle or sarcasm.

You exhale, shifting your gaze to the window. “You didn’t pull me in. I was already there.”

Cipher nods slowly, biting the inside of her cheek. “Still. I made it sound like you were the reason no one talks about him. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You meet her gaze, finally. “Neither did Hephaestion, did he?”

Her eyes flicker, like the name hits her in the chest and scrapes on the way down.

“No,” she whispers. “He didn’t. Not to us anyway.”

Her voice is raw, stripped of all the usual luster. “Heph was kind. Stupidly kind. Even when he was tired. Even when it cost him. I think… I think part of me got used to believing people like that can’t break.” She swallows. “But they do, and it was too late when we realized.”

The guilt in her voice bleeds out slow and quiet, like a wound that never fully closed. Suddenly there’s pressure building in your chest.

Because you remember watching Cipher from afar. Chaos incarnate. The one who lit up every stage like a sparkler burning at both ends. Back when you were just a shadow behind a screen, she felt untouchable—louder, brighter, too electric to hold. You used to think that if she ever cracked, she’d do it with a punchline. Keep smiling through the smoke.

But most of her fire was real.

Cipher was the first to congratulate you after your debut show. The one who stayed up late with you, noodling through some half-formed song you both knew was going nowhere. The one who knocked on your door in Dolos and dragged you out for a night you didn’t know you needed.

Now she’s here beside you in the low hum of a darkened tour bus, grief softening her edges.

No jokes. No glitter. All that lingers is ember after the flame.

The distance you once felt seems to be dissolving. All that noise between who she was to you then and who she is to you now... It narrows into something small and human. For once, you see her clearly. Not as a firework, but a person left blinking in the dark, once the sparks have all faded.

“I didn’t know him like you did,” you murmur. “But I wish I had.”

Cipher nods again. “Hephaestion would’ve liked you. He always liked people who gave a shit.”

Her words sting just a little.

Because you hadn’t given a shit, not at first—not about him. You’d been too focused on hiding. On keeping your past fan-life buried deep, sealed off from this new, shinier present where you weren’t some anonymous handle obsessing over a band, but a real part of it.

Yet here she is. Trusting you with a piece of a story you were never meant to be part of.

You turn to her again, eyes soft. “Thanks. For telling me.”

Cipher exhales, nods, and leans her head back against the seat. Her eyes drift shut, but not in sleep, only silence.

You both sit there in the lull between storms, the road stretched long and uncertain ahead.

The bus pulls into a highway gas station just past noon.

No more snow. Only wet roads and gray slush melting under a pale, forgiving sun. Everyone seems to breathe a little easier.

Garmentmaker powers down the anxiety alerts. Phainon hums something tuneless under his breath while Castorice carefully picks out snacks. Even Mydei wanders off toward the drinks aisle without that usual tension in his shoulders. You grab a pack of potato chips, a drink, maybe something sweet. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, and for a second, the world feels like it's unpaused.

Outside, Tribbios rounds everyone up.

She’s standing near one of the green plastic tables bolted to the pavement, paper bag in one hand, sunglasses pushed up on her head. Her voice cuts through the highway noise.

“Alright, gather up! I’ve spoken with Aglaea. We’re taking a detour.”

That gets everyone's attention as you all glance at her expectantly.

Tribbios continues, “Before we head to the next stop, we’re heading to a nearby town—small place, nothing fancy, but I made some calls. They’ve got a community center with an open recreation hall. We’re doing a little impromptu team-building.”

Groans ripple through the group, but she holds up a finger.

“Don’t even start. You don’t have to sing, you don’t have to play, you don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to. But we’re showing up. Together.”

Someone mutters, “Please say this doesn’t involve trust falls.”

She simply grins. “No trust falls. But it will be something grounding. The center’s hosting a lowkey open mic session. Locals only. No press breathing down our necks. No stage lighting that can render you clinically blind. It’s a place where we can remember how to be people again.”

A beat of quiet passes. Then Aglaea, still sipping coffee like it’s the only thing keeping her upright, gives a small, exhausted nod.

“Fine,” she says. “But we don’t stay long.”

Tribbios flashes a thumbs-up. “Three hours tops. Then we hit the road.”

The town’s only fifteen minutes off the highway, but it might as well be a different planet.

You’ve gotten used to glass towers and rhythmic traffic of bigger city states. Here, the buildings are squat and sun-faded, old bricks clinging to paint jobs from a decade ago. The roads curve softly around weathered homes and shuttered bakeries. Here, the trees aren’t ornamental. They simply grow.

Castorice leans over from her seat behind you, voice hushed. “Think we have fans out here?”

“If we do, they’re the kind that still burn CDs.” Cipher snorts, still sprawled across the aisle with a bag of marshmallow popcorn.

As the bus rolls deeper into the town, past the rusted gas pumps and schoolyard fences, something inside you twists. It’s not just the strangeness of being somewhere so quiet. It’s the fact that no one here seems to care who you are. Or what the hell just blew up back at in Aidonia.

It’s almost peaceful.

The recreation hall comes into view in seconds: wide, low-roofed, with flaking white paint and a notice board out front boasting yoga nights and bingo tournaments. The words COMMUNITY OPEN MIC are written in colorful marker on a taped-up sign by the door.

The bus slows. Someone stretches. Someone else yawns.

You clutch your jacket closer as you step off. The air smells like earth and trees. Like a place that doesn’t expect anything from you.

Maybe that’s exactly what you all need.

The floorboards creak beneath your boots as you step inside, worn lines from long-forgotten dodgeball games stretching across the scuffed wood. In the corner, someone strums an acoustic guitar, clumsy but heartfelt, the chords drifting lazily through the space. There’s coffee in paper cups, cookies stacked on fold-out tables, and someone’s grandmother knitting in the front row without sparing a glance toward the stage.

It’s far from glamorous. But in its own way, it’s charming.

Garmentmaker’s already unpacked their camera gear, moving with eerie, fluid precision between tables, adjusting tripods with a grace that makes even mundane angles look cinematic.

“Tribbios said this’ll make good ‘contrast material’ for the tour reel,” they say as they float past. “Aesthetic tag: Band Rebuilds in Rustic Amphoreus. Thoughts?”

You give a soft laugh. “You forgot emotionally devastated edition.”

Eventually, the band disperses.

Phainon’s the first to strike up a conversation with a local, his easygoing charm folding neatly into the warmth of the room. Cipher, of course, is sampling cookies like it’s a formal competition. Castorice and Anaxa whisper over the sign-up clipboard, nudging each other toward it with half-hearted resistance. Mydei hangs back, still near the entrance, hands jammed in his pockets.

Then—Aglaea.

She’s at the edge of the room, looking wildly out of place in her pressed black slacks and blazer over a band tee. Her gaze is fixed on the wall of thank-you notes and photos tacked up near the old piano. She doesn’t see you approach, or maybe she pretends not to.

“Hey,” you say, quiet.

She doesn’t flinch. “This wasn’t part of the original plan.”

You nod. “Yeah, but maybe the original plan sucked.”

That gets the smallest twitch of her mouth. You stand beside her for a moment, both staring at the cluttered bulletin board like it’ll explain what the hell you’re supposed to do with all this—loss, tension, silence.

Then she murmurs, barely audible, “He’d have liked it here. Hephaestion. He was…always better with small rooms.”

You don’t say anything, but you give her an imperceptible nod.

The music pauses moments later. Tribbios claps twice from across the room, gathering the band like ducklings. “Alright, listen up!” she chirps, practically glowing under the twinkle lights. “Let’s make some magic today, shall we? Think of it as an emotional karaoke session with fewer regrets.”

She scans the group. Then her finger lands squarely on two people.

“Mydei. Diana. You’re first.”

It takes a second to register. Your name and his, spoken in the same breath, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You freeze. So does Mydei.

“Why us?” you blanche, sharp and stunned.

Tribbios simply grins. “I believe in symmetry.”

Cipher lets out a wolf-whistle. Castorice claps like someone just got engaged.

Mydei shifts his weight but doesn’t argue. He heads toward the stage with a slow, deliberate gait, the kind that buys him time. You trail behind with a skittering pulse. As you both climb the steps, your companion makes a move toward the mic stand until Phainon calls from where he’s leaning against the wall.

“Switch it up! Let Diana take the vocals, and get Mydei on the strings again.”

“Seconded,” Anaxa agrees with half a smirk. “We’re sick of hearing that bastard’s voice.”

The small space erupts in quiet laughter from the rest of your bandmates, and the sound of it loosens the tension that’s been coiling around your ribs for days. You glance at Mydei, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he exhales through his nose, shoulders lifting in a subtle shrug. He takes the stool, and props the borrowed guitar on his lap without much thought.

The mic crackles as you touch it.

“Um, any requests?” you ask the room, a half-smile tugging at your lips.

One of the locals grins and shouts, “Surprise us!”

You stand there, trying to will your pulse to slow. The spotlight feels too hot, like it’s burning every thought and breath into sharp focus. Mydei, on the other hand, is already settled in. He adjusts the guitar with that casual precision you can never quite match, eyes scanning the room, and then, just as smoothly, he looks up at you.

“So,” he begins, fingers curling around the frets like they belong there. “How about we do workigntitledotmp3?”

Your stomach lurches. “Oh my god. Can you stop calling it that?”

“Why? That’s what you named it.” He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “I’ve listened to it on repeat a few times. Took a guess at the chord progression.”

You want the floor to swallow you whole. The laughter from earlier feels like it’s miles away now. Your palms sweat against the mic. While this is not the first time you’re hearing of Mydei’s knowledge about that stupid demo, finding out that he listened to it repeatedly is a different story.

“Seriously?” you groan. “You’ve—?”

Mydei’s grin catches you off guard, like a rare sunrise breaking through clouds.

“Come on. It’s your song, remember?” he says again, but the softness in his voice makes it feel like he’s not just coaxing you into playing. He’s handing you the moment, like he’s sharing a piece of his own truth.

That’s the worst part.

It is your song. A relic from a night you couldn’t sleep, poured out like a secret. Now it’s here, about to be exposed under the stage lights and his fingertips.

Note to self: send that cursed file off to digital purgatory later.

Seconds later, you nod. Just once.

Because what else is there to do, when someone hands your own heart back to you and asks you to sing?

The lights overhead hum faintly. Somewhere in the back, Cipher leans forward, popcorn paused midair. The mic is warm beneath your fingers, but your voice still catches in your throat. When Mydei plays the opening chord, your heart nearly stumbles.

He really did listen to it.

Then, your mouth opens before your fear can catch up.

I’m more than the silence I taught myself to keep A name behind glass, too careful to speak Built all these walls out of fear I’d break But a cage is a cage, no matter the shape

So let it fall, let it burn, let it echo inside Let the truth in my chest be the thing I don’t hide If I’m meant to shatter, then let it be loud— I’ve lived in the shadows, but I’m stepping out.

Mydei finds the rhythm quickly. It’s not flashy or polished. You can tell it’s been a while since he played something for himself, much less a song that barely existed until now. But each chord comes out steady, as if he’s anchoring the room to give you space to fly.

Your voice rises into the second verse, so much stronger now.

I wore my doubt like a second skin, Danced on the edge but never gave in. But I’m done with shrinking to make space for the storm, I’m not small—I’m a universe, still being formed.

So let it fall, let it burn, let it echo inside, Let the truth in my chest be the thing I don’t hide. If I’m meant to shatter, then let it be loud— I’ve lived in the shadows, but I’m stepping out.

You don’t dare look at him yet, even if you can feel Mydei beside you, catching every breath you take with the press of his fingertips against the strings. It’s like you're speaking in a language only the two of you know, and you don’t want to shatter the spell with a single glance.

I won’t apologize for the way I ignite, This voice was never made for staying quiet. I’m done pretending I don’t want more— My name’s not a whisper. It’s a roar.

The last chorus crests like a wave you’ve been chasing your whole life. Each word strikes clean and resolute, carried by the burn of Mydei’s guitar beneath you. He doesn’t push the melody. He just follows, like he’s always known where you were going.

Then, with no grand finale or perfect cadence, the song ends.

The weight of it settles around you like something earned. Your chest lifts with a breath you didn’t realize you’d held since the first note. Mydei sets the guitar down with care, a soft click of wood on wood. When he looks at you, you can still see the ghost of a smile beneath those warm, golden eyes.

As the applause breaks, you realize this song never really belonged to you alone. It was always meant to be shared.

When you step down from the stage, neither of you says anything. But something passes between you anyway. It’s both quiet and electric, something that settles just beneath your skin.

You’re not sure if you want to give it a name.

Up next on Tribbios’ itinerary is Cipher, who’s dragging a slightly reluctant Castorice behind her like it’s just another night in Dolos. They stumble through a sugary pop duet once they get around to it, giggling more than singing. Somehow, that only makes it better.

Phainon follows with a borrowed harmonica, joining a local girl in a surprisingly sweet back-and-forth that leaves the crowd swaying. Then comes Anaxa, half-speaking, half-singing a smoky story-song about highway ghosts and forgotten gods. It’s weird. But completely on-brand.

Even Aglaea steps up. Her song sounds like a long drive through rain. She doesn’t wait for applause when it ends, just walks off with her usual grace. Tribbios jumps in to lift the mood, belting a melodramatic power ballad and, halfway through, accepting a kazoo from a stranger like it’s a trumpet solo.

During the interlude, your eyes catch on Cipher weaving around the stage, nervous energy radiating off her in waves. It’s the same jittery restlessness she had when she apologized to you on the tour bus. You start to wonder what’s got her wound up again, right up until she beelines for Aglaea with a tight-lipped smile.

You’re too far to hear their conversation, but the way their shoulders drop, the soft exhales, and the quick, relieved hug they share—it's enough to fill in the blanks.

Later, while the others finish a chaotic group cover of something vaguely punk and absolutely off-key, you settle into a folding chair with Garmentmaker’s tablet. You scroll: blurred mid-jump shots, wide grins, messy chords, fleeting glances.

But something makes you stop.

It’s a photo of you and Mydei, taken just after the last note faded. He’s turned toward you in the soft wash of stage light, bangs framing the glow of his amber eyes. The look on his face is open in a way that feels rare. He isn’t smiling exactly, but neither are you.

As you stare at the photo, something stirs deep in your chest. It feels like a sudden surge of warmth that spreads slowly, settling into the spaces that were waiting to be filled. Then your eyes lift to the scene before you: all the people who’ve welcomed you into this disaster of a band.

Loud and alive and indisputably yours.

Aidonia is behind you now, the snow, the silence, the fallout. Whatever waits on the next stage, the next road, the next night—

You’ll meet it like this.

Together.

[Original Tweet by @PulsePopDaily – now deleted]

EXCLUSIVE: Is The Flamechasers’ newest guitarist hiding a very devoted past? 👀

Fans are connecting dots between “Diana” and a once-mysterious mega fan who ran the largest account in the fandom. Full theory & receipts here 🔗 [link]

Top Replies:

@ GoldenDamselInDistress: y’all will accuse a girl of anything if she knows the setlist too well

@ NothingBurger123: not saying it's real but… that 2017 Tumblr post? uncanny

@ Hehehehehe: uhh am i the only one who thinks this is a red flag

@ GODNAXA: it’s giving Black Swan energy and I’m here for it

@ MydeisMic: okay but if it is her… that’s actually iconic??

Everyone is back in the game in no time.

After that much-needed wind down, you play every song on the setlist with twice the confidence you had on the opening night. It doesn’t take a genius to know that your bandmates are faring much better now, as well. The next three stops fly by in a blur of sold-out crowds and perfect cues. Five weeks into the tour, you don’t just feel like you’re keeping up.

You feel unstoppable.

Feedback from the label seems to be mostly positive. Aglaea finally looks less like she’s carrying the weight of the world and more like she’s just managing a band again. That’s partly thanks to Tribbios, who told Garmentmaker to force her into breaks the second her emotional readings dipped below a certain threshold. Still, no algorithm can fix burnout on its own. Aglaea only started breathing easier because the rest of you showed up and held the line.

The sixth stop is in Carmitis, a city cradled by pale green hills and washed in gold at dusk, where the horizon burns like molten steel when the sun begins to drop. You’ve never done a soundcheck half-dazed by the sky before, but there’s a first for everything.

When Tribbios told you this was Aglaea’s hometown, it made perfect sense. The place has her kind of presence—striking, composed, impossible to overlook. Not the type of beauty that sneaks up on you, but the kind that announces itself the moment it walks into a room. Just like her.

You can see that she’s at ease here. The band, too.

Everyone seems to know the local venue staff by name, and Aglaea makes a point of introducing you like you’ve always belonged. You try to wave her off, stammering that it really isn’t necessary, but she gives you a look that cuts through any excuse.

“Lest you forget,” she says, with that cool edge only she can pull off, “you’re part of the team too.”

For the better part of the evening, everything runs like clockwork. You tear through the setlist with your usual moxie, each note sharper than the last. But just as the final chords fade and you’re ready to launch into the closing act, the lights dim, and something unplanned flickers to life on the stage screen.

A surprise fan project.

None of you were briefed on this. Your bandmates exchange puzzled glances, clearly just as blindsided, eyes flicking toward the unfamiliar video rolling in front of a cheering crowd.

But when you spot Tribbios peeking out from backstage, she gives you a look that reads loud and clear: Just go with it.

The video fades in with a soft glow, met by an audible wave of surprise and delight from the crowd. Someone’s layered a slowed-down instrumental from the band’s debut single under the footage. It’s warm, nostalgic, full of reverb and care.

It opens with flickering clips of the band over the years: Cipher with shorter hair. Castorice clumsily adjusting her amp mid-show. A rare moment where Anaxa is the one laughing, and Phainon is mildly disgruntled.

Then comes a clip of Hephaestion. Larger-than-life as always, grinning wide as he throws his arm around Mydei mid-interview. The crowd cheers louder.

You’re not thrown off by it. You’d been a fan back then too. Before Diana, before the stage. Seeing Hephaestion on the screen doesn’t shake you. If anything, you find yourself smiling.

Part of you wonders if most of the fanbase has truly accepted you into this space yet. You know from experience how long fan projects take to put together—how they’re often in motion for months before they see the light of day. It wouldn't be unusual to find yourself absent from something like this, especially considering how much has changed in such a short time. You’d almost resolved to let the rest of the band have this moment, to simply smile and move on out of courtesy.

But then, the music shifts into a more upbeat track, the rhythm as infectious as you remember. The energy in the room pulses along with the song, and suddenly, newer clips start to flood the screen. More recent moments, clearly captured by someone who’s been woven into the band's orbit since the tour started.

There’s Mydei, grinning with the crew while setting up gear before the Okhema show. Phainon and Castorice, hilariously off-beat, attempting a terrible dance challenge onstage in Sabany. Anaxa with his mouth wide open in deep, oblivious sleep as Cipher tries and fails to drop a piece of chili into his mouth.

The crowd erupts in laughter, and it’s impossible not to smile. It’s so perfectly...them. These are the little moments between the chaos of shows, the kind that never make it into official footage but tell the real story of life on the road.

Then, there you are.

Your first show with the band. That solo where you leaned too far back and nearly toppled over—only to catch yourself at the last second, spinning the recovery into something that looked intentional. The crowd never knew, but they cheered like you meant it all along.

Then comes a slow pan: your silhouette framed in golden hour light during soundcheck in Dolos, fingers ghosting over frets as the stage hums beneath your boots.

Somehow, they even dug up a clip that moment. The one where you and Cipher are doubled over in laughter beside the tour bus, nearly wheezing, as Phainon mourns the tragic loss of his ice cream cone. The one knocked clean out of his hand by an oblivious Mydei, who still swears it wasn’t his fault.

You laugh at first. A soft, startled sound that slips out as the crowd roars with delight over Phainon’s theatrics. But as the next few clips play, the smile on your face starts to falter.

Because it isn’t just about the jokes or the spotlight.

They’re showing you.

Not just the polished moments, but the awkward starts—the missed notes, the way you used to grip the neck of your guitar like a lifeline. Candid flashes of quiet, caught when you thought no one was paying attention. The grit in your jaw when you pushed through another long rehearsal. The light in your face when the music took over and you forgot to hold anything back.

The way you kept showing up, not to prove anything, but because somewhere along the way, this stopped being a dream and started feeling like home.

Your eyes sting before you can stop it. One blink too long and the tears slip free, warm and fast. You try to laugh it off, to wipe at your cheeks, but your breath catches somewhere in your chest and refuses to come out steady.

Castorice is the first to notice. She nudges a hand into yours, fingers gentle and sure, like she’s grounding you without needing to be asked. Anaxa leans in from the other side, pretending not to look too directly at you, but the way he shifts his shoulder in front of yours feels like a shield.

You sniffle, try to hide behind the curtain of your hair, but it’s no use.

The final montage begins to slow. The colors dim, the music softens to a hum. Then, across the screen in clean, glowing text, the last frame lingers:

Thank you for being our light in the dark.

The silence after the screen fades is thick with feeling. You can barely breathe past the lump in your throat. You don’t even try to wipe your tears anymore, but Anaxa begrudgingly pulls out a handkerchief from his tight leather pants for you to take. Of course, you blow your nose into it without a second thought.

Just when the silence starts to feel like it might swallow you—

“Oh no,” Mydei says, with exaggerated gravity. “Looks like we’ve got a problem.”

You lift your head, just barely. The audience holds its breath with you.

“Our lead guitarist,” he goes on, pausing for effect, “is absolutely, completely inconsolable.”

Laughter ripples across the crowd, warm and easy. You hear a few awws sprinkled in. Someone yells, “We love you, Diana!”

You press a shaky hand over your mouth, a laugh escaping through the tears. Castorice squeezes your hand. Anaxa mutters, “You’re stealing the encore,” but his smile says he doesn’t mind.

Mydei walks over, unhurried and steady, his eyes locked on yours. He leans in just enough for his voice to reach you—low and private, meant for no one else.

Your brain short-circuits for a second.

Because, naturally, this is the show he decided to go shirtless. The stage lights catch the sweeping red tattoos that blaze across his chest and the curve of his arms, every line sharp and intentional. His torso looks sculpted—like something out of myth, all effortless strength and impossible detail.

And he’s looking at you.

“You feeling alright?” Mydei murmurs, his hand brushing lightly against your back.

You nod. Kind of. But the spot where he touches you burns even when he pulls away.

“You sure?” Mydei tilts his head, smiling in that way that’s all quiet mischief and something gentler underneath. “I can tell them to roll the blooper reel next. That’d really finish you off.”

That makes you laugh for real. It’s breathless, a little cracked, but genuine.

He straightens up, raising his mic. “Alright, looks like we’re keeping the show after all. You ready for us?”

Once the heartfelt fan project wraps up, you deliver the last song for the evening. Your fingers move on their own, riding the music like a wave you were born to ride. The lights flare, the crowd sings louder than the amps, and for one breathless stretch of time, it feels like the universe exists only in this moment—sweat and sound and starlight.

Then the last note hits. Mydei throws his head back, letting the echo ring out as Phainon crashes the cymbals like a firework.

Silence, for just half a second before the crowd explodes.

People are on their feet, screaming, chanting, holding up phones and lightsticks and hand-painted banners. Some are crying. Some are laughing. But all of them are alive with the same wild current pulsing through your chest. You’re still catching your breath when Mydei turns to the crowd, hair clinging to his face, chest heaving.

“This—” he pants, gesturing to the sea of people, “This was one for the books.”

Castorice takes your hand. Cipher waves dramatically to the front row. Anaxa pulls off his jacket and throws it into the pit, because of course he does. Phainon lifts his sticks to the sky like he’s offering them to the gods. Mydei moves forward and you all fall into step with him.

“Carmitis, you’ve given us your voices, your hearts, your light. We’re gonna carry that with us to every stop ahead.”

The crowd screams back, thunderous and loving.

Then the band’s frontman turns to you with an unfamiliar glimmer in his eye, “Oh, and if you see our lead guitarist sobbing again, just know—it’s because you’re all too damn sweet.”

You cover your face, laughing into your hands as the others hoot and whistle and give you playful shoves.

Tribbios’ voice crackles through the earpieces. “Final bow, kids. Let’s make it good.”

And so you line up, shoulder to shoulder. Aglaea’s watching from the wing, her hand over her heart. Garmentmaker gives you a subtle thumbs-up from the lighting rig. Even the crew is beaming.

You all bow together. One movement, unified.

Something you wouldn’t trade for anything else in the world.

Backstage hums with movement. The kind of chaos that feels earned—high-fives from techs, congratulations from the venue crew, a water bottle pressed into your hand as someone passes. Your body’s still vibrating with leftover stage energy, but already you can feel it beginning to ebb, that delicate shift from performance to person, spotlight to shadow.

The show’s just ended, your adrenaline still tapering off as you and the others trail toward the exit, weaving past venue staff and local press. The security detail usually handles this stretch well, keeping the band insulated from anything unscheduled. But tonight, someone slips through.

“Diana!” a voice calls, sharp and cutting through the din like a needle. “Is it true you used to run firescapes? The biggest Flamechasers fan account on Twitter?”

Your heart misfires instantly.

Your steps carry on, automatic and numb, but your breath hitches and the smile you’ve worn since the encore fades from your lips like steam on glass.

The reporter holds a phone up, recording whatever scoop he can get from you. The flash is off, but you feel the heat of it anyway. You don’t even have time to process what expression you’re making. Your past, the one you kept buried under layers of name changes, fake email addresses, and silence, is cracking open.

Your bandmates are a few steps ahead, laughing about something Castorice said. None of them hear it. None of them see you falter.

Except for one.

Fortunately, security peels the reporter away before it can turn into a scene and soon enough, you're all piling into the shuttle back to the hotel. The others are still riding the buzz of the show, laughter echoing, voices overlapping with excitement. But you can’t seem to match their rhythm.

Not when the question keeps echoing in your head.

Is it true you used to run firescapes?

You swallow hard. The name alone feels like a live wire.

How could he have known? You were careful, meticulous, even. Not even the current mods knew your real identity. You’d scrubbed every trace, buried it years ago, left it behind. At least, you thought you had. Fuck. You can already imagine the headlines once word gets out.

“You good?”

Phainon’s voice hauls you back to the present.

Your designated shuttle seatmate is staring at you with one part curiosity and two parts concern. His voice stays easy, laid-back as ever, but there’s a quiet weight beneath it. Like he’s giving you room to lie if you want, but hoping you won’t.

You shift, suddenly aware of the tension in your spine.

You want to say yeah, all good, or something breezy to match his tone. But even as he tosses in the occasional quip to whatever conversation is happening a row over, you know better.

He heard what the reporter had asked.

The words don’t come easily. You’ve kept this part of yourself buried for so long that it doesn’t feel like a secret anymore. It feels like something anchored deep inside, always there, holding you steady but uncomfortably heavy. Part of you that wants to shove it all back down, and convince yourself the reporter was just guessing. That Phainon didn’t actually hear, and pretend none of it matters now.

But it does. Of course it does.

You half-expect him to pick at the corners, to pry something out of you. Any sane person who just found out their newest member could be a crazy fan would exercise that sort of caution. Yet, Phainon doesn’t breathe a word of it. He simply lets the question hang in the air like it’s your choice to answer.

Ultimately, it’s his patience that helps loosen something in your chest.

Your fingers twitch in your lap, restless, and you trace the edge of a fold in your jeans, the way you used to ground yourself when you were nineteen, posting concert clips under a name no one knew. You remember the surge of excitement whenever a post caught fire. The way it felt like belonging. The way it made them—the Flamechasers—feel a little closer.

You press your lips together.

“You... You heard what that reporter said, didn’t you?”

Phainon doesn’t answer right away. His blue eyes shift to the window, watching the city lights blur past as if he’s lost in thought. When he finally speaks, his response catches you off guard.

“Do you want me to say yes or no?”

Your brows furrow. “Sorry...?”

He turns back to you with a small, lopsided smile. “It sounded like something that’s none of my business. So I’m giving you a choice: do you want me to say I heard it, or keep pretending I didn’t?”

You should want the easy out. For Phainon to just shrug it off and go back to chatting about setlists or late-night food runs. But the cat’s already halfway out of the bag already, and somehow, the idea of letting him believe a lie feels worse than the risk of the truth.

You sink back in your seat, the confession dragging behind your ribs.

“It’s true,” you murmur.

Cipher shrieks somewhere in the back, and while that normally wouldn’t have fazed you, you visibly jolt at the noise. It’s a reaction that isn’t lost on Phainon, but he affords you enough grace not to point it out.

“I see,” he says. “You haven’t answered my question though.”

...That's what he cares about?

“Aren’t you going to tell the others?” you ask with a frown. “We have all sorts of protocols set in place for obsessive fans, so—”

“Are you an obsessive fan?” he asks, cutting you off gently.

Your mouth opens, then shuts. “No? I mean—I don’t think so. I just... loved the band. A lot. In a maybe-slightly-too-intense-but-not-unhinged way? Ugh. I don’t know.”

Phainon chuckles under his breath, the sound soft and unbothered.

“That’s good enough for me.”

Part of you expected judgment. At the very least, some unease. Surely the universe would be demanding payment for all the secrets you’ve smuggled into this life by now. But instead, Phainon just leans back, like your confession weighed nothing at all.

When he casually shifts the conversation—I think I need to replace my snares, they’re starting to sound a bit off—you realize the moment’s passed.

No pressure. No expectations.

But even with Phainon’s quiet acceptance, the unease doesn’t leave you.

It lingers in the corners of your chest, coiled tight, like a thread pulled taut but never snapped. You glance around the shuttle. Cipher is giggling at something Castorice said while Tribbios and Aglaea are talking in hushed tones. Anaxa’s got his headphones back on, staring out the window. Right next to him, Mydei is half-asleep with his head tilted back, the one who obviously poured out more energy than the rest of you.

They all look...unburdened.

That’s what makes your stomach twist. Because Phainon might be willing to let it go, but what about the rest? Would they be that easy? That kind? Or would they see you differently?

You swallow hard and look away, guilt settling in even as Phainon leans his head back, content to let the silence stretch. He’s already made space for the truth.

But you can’t shake the fear that the others might not.

You thought you’d feel better by now.

The adrenaline’s long gone, replaced with a hollow kind of quiet that settles deep in your chest. Outside your hotel window, the city hums softly beneath the dark—streetlights stretching into quiet halos, distant cars slipping by like whispers. Somewhere downstairs, the band’s celebrating, but you’re here alone, and that’s how you want it.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

You were just about to crack open your laptop, fingers hovering over the keys, ready to finally wrestle with that unfinished demo. The awful file name seems to glare at you from the screen, a passive-aggressive reminder of how long you’ve neglected it. But tonight, you figured, was as good a time as any. You needed something to keep your hands busy. Something to keep your mind off everything else.

That was the plan, until you hear someone knock on the door of your hotel room.

You think about ignoring it. You’ve already passed on the group’s celebratory drinks—“just tired,” you told them, which wasn’t entirely a lie—and the last thing you want is Cipher trying to guilt-trip you into joining late. But of course you cave. Of course you open the door, but it’s not Cipher that’s standing on the threshold.

It’s Mydei.

But he looks different somehow. Loose in the shoulders, sprawling tattoos peeking through a half-unbuttoned shirt, one hand braced on the doorframe and the other holding a dark green bottle.

“Didn’t see you downstairs,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “Those bastards told me to make sure you didn’t get spirited away by the vending machine ghosts.”

“The what?”

“You know. Hotel haunts. Always by the vending machines. That’s what Phainon told me.”

You stare at him. “Are you... drunk?”

“Not yet.” He holds up the bottle: Velkaria Bloodwine. It’s smooth, easygoing, tastes better than it should for how dangerously drinkable it is. Expensive, too. “Wasn’t in the mood for a party either. Figured I’d share with someone less loud.”

There’s a pause. Long enough for you to wonder if this is pity, or worse: concern thinly veiled as company. Despite himself, Mydei doesn't push. He just raises a brow, waiting for your verdict.

After a beat, you step aside and gesture him in. “Only if you let me keep working.”

“I’ll be a ghost,” he says, slipping past you with the kind of ease that always makes it feel like he belongs in whatever room he enters.

Mydei settles right next to you on the sofa, kicks off his shoes, and starts pouring out two fingers of wine into the glasses from your minibar shelf. There are no words for a while, just the sound of your keyboard tapping and the faint clink of glass.

You hate how comforting it is, the quiet, the company. Especially coming from him.

Because most of the time, Mydei is cool and remote, wrapped in that untouchable, quiet of his. You’re never quite sure where you stand with him. But tonight, he’d been unusually attentive in a way that caught you off guard. He asked if you were feeling alright while his entire damn chest was on display. And you, very valiantly, had to stop yourself from spiraling into one of your deranged ex-fangirl daydreams.

Now he’s here in your hotel room pouring drinks. Like this is some long-standing tradition between the two of you and not absolutely insane.

You don’t know what version of him this is, but it’s disarming. Maybe a little unfair.

“Are you finally going to name that file or are you just building a shrine to it?”

You shoot him a look, but it’s half-hearted at best. “It’s a work in progress.”

“Everything is,” Mydei says, bringing the rim of his wineglass to his lips. “But not everything can be performed as an impromptu duet in the middle of nowhere.”

For some reason, your heart skips at the fact that he remembers the recreation hall. That was weeks ago—you’ve already forgotten the name of the town. But not the way it felt to perform a song you wrote together. At the time, you brushed it off. Didn’t let yourself linger on it. But now, sitting here alone with him, the memory hits different.

The realization curls warm and awkward under your skin, and suddenly your face is burning with embarrassment.

You should tell him to go. You should guard this space the same way you do your secrets. But instead, you let yourself breathe in the silence that settles between you like warm smoke. It’s neither heavy nor sharp. You’re simply just two people too tired of the noise.

“Thanks,” you say quietly when you retrieve your own glass. “This is wine, isn’t it?”

Mydei grunts. “It’s fermented pomegranate juice.”

“So... Wine?”

He chuckles into his drink like he doesn’t know what to do with you. You sure as hell don’t know what to do with him. But the corners of your mouth tug upward anyway, and the silence that follows is easier now.

The project loads on your laptop, sluggish and messy, a patchwork of uneven synths and ghost track layers you’ve been too annoyed to clean up. It starts playing from a random marker. You wince.

Mydei leans forward, brow creasing. “That’s the chorus, right?”

“No,” you groan, scrubbing back a few seconds. “That’s the mess before the chorus.”

He hums, nods, then points at your screen. “Your mids are crowding each other. That guitar line could be cleaner if you isolate it.”

You blink at him. “I knew you were involved in producing our songs, but not to this extent.”

“I’m not. I’m just annoying.” He takes another sip. “Play it again.”

You do. Again and again, with a few tweaks each time. Mydei gives you his thoughts in single sentences—concise and thoughtful, never pushy. It’s almost infuriating how he speaks less than you do but still ends up being right more often than not.

Somewhere between exporting a new version and looping the second verse, your wineglass gets emptier. Then it’s refilled. And emptied again. The room softens. Your laughter spills easier. He says something about your synth patch sounding like a broken traffic light, and you almost choke from laughing too hard.

Time skips like a scratched record. You’re not sure how long it’s been when you realize how close Mydei has gotten. One of you must’ve leaned in. Or both. He’s angled toward you now, shoulder brushing yours, watching the screen from over your arm.

When you glance up, his face is right there.

Your breath stutters, caught somewhere between your lungs and your lips. The distance between you could be measured in heartbeats.

Up close, his features are unfair. Sharp in a way that still manages to feel soft, like how dusk blurs the edges of sunlight. His bangs fall just slightly into his eyes, that deep, burnished gold catching the glow of your screen, turning them molten. You hadn’t realized how long Mydei’s lashes were. Or how his mouth, usually so unreadable, looks almost gentle now, the faintest curve resting at the corner.

You should look away.

But instead, you’re cataloguing him like a fool: the way one brow arches more than the other when he’s focused, the way he smells faintly of old cologne and wine and something darker underneath, like cedar smoke or thunder about to break. The worst part? He’s watching you too. Not in the casual way people glance around a room.

He’s looking at you like there’s a question in his mind and you’re the only answer that fits.

The demo has stopped playing. The glass in your hand has gone warm. You can’t tell if the thudding in your ears is the leftover bass line or your pulse losing composure. You should move. Say something. Laugh it off, maybe. But the words don’t come, and your body won’t listen.

Then, Mydei tilts his head just slightly. His gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips.

Nothing about it is subtle.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs.

You swallow. “So are you.”

His mouth curves, just slightly. “Guess we’re both guilty.”

There’s a pause, light but loaded. The kind that stretches between two people suspended in a moment that might become something else if no one stops it.

It would be so easy. The room is quiet, the lights low, your skin humming from the wine and the proximity and the way his gaze doesn't waver. He’s close enough to count your breaths, to see the hesitation flicker across your face. Something waits at the edge of all this silence; something fragile, and bright, and irreversible.

But then you remember who you are. Who he is. And what crossing that line would mean for the both of you.

Maybe in another life, you’d let it happen. You’d lean in. You’d chase the heat gathering between you until it tipped into flames. But your body moves before your heart can answer. A blink, a breath, a laugh that comes too fast and a little too loud.

“You make staring at someone sound like a felony,” you say, aiming for playful, missing by an inch.

That gives you room to shift back in your seat to put space between you. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to breathe. Then, your eyes flick to the screen of your laptop, where the demo’s still frozen mid-loop.

“You gonna help me fix the synth patch?” you ask, quieter now. “It’s still clashing with the bass line.”

Mydei’s reply takes a second. “Did Cipher really help with this? She’s usually... more precise than this, even on her chaotic days.”

He laughs, but there’s something brittle underneath it.

You ignore it. Or try to. “Hey, you’re the one who said even the producers couldn’t tame this thing.”

The silence that follows feels heavier than the one before. Like something that had opened between you has quietly, carefully, closed again. Mydei doesn’t offer up a retort of his own. He simply leans forward, fingers finding the keyboard with practiced ease, as if that moment never touched him at all.

But as the track stutters back to life, you can feel it. In the way your pulse stumbles. In the way he doesn’t speak for a long time.

The music plays on. Everything’s back where it was.

Except it isn’t.

TRACKLIST ✧ READ ON AO3

#honkai star rail #hsr x reader #mydei x reader #honkai star rail x reader #mydei hsr #mydei #cryoculus

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beifong-brainrot · 2 months ago

Note

Been an Asami apologist since day 1. And I quite enjoy the recent Asami resurgence around here. I remember when Asami was damn near considered Public Enemy #1 in the fandom because she was seen as getting in the way of the Makorra ship.

I think it's because her suffering is rather silent compared to everyone else around her. But she also falls under that "chose to be good despite having valid reasons to crash out" bracket like Bolin and Mako does.

Her life is just as chaotic as all the others, but she handles it quietly and gracefully. And she's never really seen as being messy (like Korra), which is I think a lot of people are torn between liking and having her. Because yes, she handles things well, but it can come off feeling........I guess, patronizing to some. Like "oh,look how well she's handling her trauma compared to her friends".

I understand the "but she's rich" criticism from some, but........does that mean she suffered less? Trauma is trauma, regardless of background. Losing her mom, then having to clean up her father's mess at barely 18, rehabilitating her family's legacy, losing said father, dealing with the chaos of her boyfriend essentially cheating on her with the most powerful person in the world.............all while under media and public scrutiny? And somehow not losing her mind? Truly stronger than any Marine.

Ok, anon, I see your point. And look, I don't begrudge you liking Asami and finding her interesting. Hell, I quite like Asami. She's a decently fun character, she's fun in fight scenes, smart, capable, and she's got some surprisingly good comedic scenes too.

Also, eh, not aure about that silent suffering thing? Like yeah, Asami is good at compartmentalising her trauma, but she gets a lot of solid scenes with Hiroshi, both when they're enemies and when they're mending their relationship. Her entire subplot in B2 is her trying to keep her company afloat. And the show never shies away from showing her distress and sorrow. Compare this to how the bending bros barely get any scenes in which they talk about their homelessness or the death of their parents that isn't made into a joke.

Also its so funny how ship wars just ruin everything for a character because I see a lot of Mako hate now because of Korrasami.

And yeah, Asami being wealthy doesn't take away from her suffering. I don't think I ever implied that in my tags on that post.

I wasn't trying to play the trauma olimpics here, I was talking about how Asami is an uninteresting character from my perspective. And the fandom routinely disregards how complex and interesting Mako and Bolin are. Like Bolin at least just gets to be the comic relief himbo but Mako has kinda been getting dragged through the mud in recent years.

Personally, to me, the reason Asami just didn't connect with me is that she kinda just... is there? She's kinda the most static character in the show. Other than her dad getting arrested, there are no changes to her lifestyle and approach to life. She's still rich, she's still nice, she's still cool af 👍

It also doesn't help that she just seemingly just. Doesn't have any flaws or has done anything wrong in her life. And I know it sounds like I'm going "ugh she's so perfect and i hate that 😡".

But like, characters having flaws, or at least having some complexity to them is what makes us find them compelling. Asami feels like a character with little weight to her actions. She is not displayed with any guilt over betraying her father, she's never shown to have any second thoughts about supplying weapons to a party in a civil war (and even Varrick had a "hey maybe war profiteering isn't cool" arc). Things just kinda work out for her ig? Her actions feel like they stop having an impact the moment it stops being convenient for them to have one.

Like idk. If you like her, like her. There's plenty to like. She's just the least interesting Krew member to me.

#if you like asami. more power to you #a lot of people in the fandom do #shes kinda like lin that way #a character that the fandom hypes up but like. could do better imo #asami sato #avatar

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drawlfoy · 4 years ago

Text

Wonders of Ohio P.10

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no way

summary: american high school senior y/n y/l/n is in for a surprise when her british exchange student is a little...odd.

warnings (AYO please pay attention to these this time it’s not just swearing): swearing, underage drinking (no i do not condone this ig), beginning elements of smut but def not too explicit, i think you can consider it dubcon ?? if both people are drunk bc i don’t think you can actually consent if youre drunk (plz rest assured tho they are both 18 hehe)

a/n: “hey where did this come from” yeah so hey yall ive never written such an intense scene before but i’ve spent so much time w these characters that i decided i kind of had to. there’s no like...real sex in this and i don’t imagine that i’d describe it in this much detail if i ever decided to write it but um.. anyways. i hope y’all enjoy. thanks for suffering for this long ! i hope i’ve made it worth it

word count: 4k

music recs:

cloud 9 -- beach bunny

the adults are talking -- the strokes

anything from the strokes tbh

tags ! :) @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @writeandtranslate @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural @sycathorn-slush @big-galaxy-chaos

“Thank fucking god for the generator,” said Y/N as she flew around the kitchen, banging pots and pans together in her quest to make New Year’s Eve breakfast. Draco was sitting, unamused and completely silent, at the table. They’d been snowed in for a few days now with her parents nowhere near able to make it to the suburbs. For some reason, the entire city of Cincinnati had decided that the day before Christmas was the best time to schedule maintenance on literally every single one of their plows. “Can you imagine living here without heat? Or power? I’d die.”

Draco hummed in response. A glance over confirmed that he was deep in thought, a scarlet colored letter clutched firmly in his hand (hello, Nathaniel Hawthorne). Jealousy curdled inside of her as her thoughts turned to a dark place--it was Pansy, that Pansy Parkinson.

Knowing her intuition, she was probably his grandmother or something. Why else would she have written so many letters?

After she finished plating all of the pancakes, she allowed herself to sneak a peek at the envelope.

Astoria Greengrass

She frowned. Astoria? She’d never seen that name before.

“What is this?” asked Draco as he picked up his fork to poke at the pancake on his plate.

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “Have you never had a pancake before?”

“A pancake?” He gave his plate a stern look. “It looks...like a soggy pastry.”

“Fuck you, I made that,” responded Y/N. “Try it with butter and maple syrup. And then tell me it’s a soggy pastry.”

She took out her fork and knife, demonstrating very clearly what she meant as she spread butter over the top of her pancake. She’d learned that Draco was too proud to ask what she meant when she introduced him to American/muggle foods--the last time he tried to deduce something himself, he ended up pouring ketchup over the top of his hamburger bun instead of actually putting it on the patty.

A sense of satisfaction flowed into her as she saw him follow suit, spreading the warmed butter and dipping a cut piece in syrup. He raised it to his lips, taking a delicate bite.

“Americans really have this for breakfast?”

“Yeah…is something wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” He grimaced. “This isn’t breakfast. This is dessert food.”

“God, your life must be so sad back home,” said Y/N. “What does your family make you eat--just straight unbuttered bread under the guise of it being a real breakfast food? Do they let you dip it in your unsweetened, weak tea if you’re good?”

He scoffed. “You have no idea how I live back at home.”

“And, judging from this conversation, I don’t have any desire to know any more.”

They ate in silence for the next few minutes. Y/N smiled when she saw Draco reach for a second pancake.

“Two desserts? Draco, I know it’s New Year’s, but don’t get too off the hinges,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes, but she could tell her was fighting back a smile. “Speaking of which, how do you celebrate New Year’s?”

Draco looked up and met her eyes. “Sorry?”

“How do you celebrate tonight? With your family or your friends, or your...whatever.” The cold reality of the fact that she did not really know if he was dating someone back home set in.

“Oh, I don’t usually. It’s not really a big thing in the magical community,” he mused, unaware of her sudden panic.

“Well,” she said. “I always celebrate New Year’s with my friends. I didn’t tell you this sooner because I didn’t think that you were going to be here, but I’m kind of hosting a party here tonight. With anyone who can walk here.”

“Oh.” He took a sip of his tea. “Will it be like the Halloween party at Sylvia’s?”

“What do you mean?” She smiled. “Do you mean, will there be drinking?”

He shrugged in response, avoiding eye contact.

“There definitely can be,” she continued, her smile widening. “Last year we played this dumb drinking game over this card game--if you lost, you took a shot. It was fun. We could do that again.”

She settled down to eat, digging into two of the pancakes. They were really good--she wasn’t Gordon Ramsay by any means, but she did breakfast food pretty well. But at the mention of her friends, a realization hit her. “Oh. Draco?”

He raised an eyebrow and met her eyes.

“Um, can I tell you something?”

He dipped his head in recognition while Y/N cleared her throat.

“So, um, I forgot about this,” she began, “but while you were gone, I kind of had to scramble to figure out what to tell everyone about why we were avoiding each other before you left. And why you left so suddenly and why I didn’t know.”

He was still watching her in curious silence.

“So, I really didn’t want to slip up or say anything about...you.” Y/N paused to take a sip of her tea, deciding to not try to look at Draco again. “So I decided to tell Sylvia and Lizzy that I told you my feelings for you and you didn’t return them.”

A clang startled her enough to look up. Draco was staring, completely frozen. His fork had fallen into the syrup on his plate, handle and all.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I mean, oh, fuck. Um.” She smiled at him, hoping it was going to distract from her audible stumble. “Obviously, I made it all up. I mean, both sides! But what’s important is that they bought it, and now they’re probably going to give you a little shit for not liking me ‘back’. So I’m sorry about that.”

“Made it all up, huh?” His voice had a surprisingly teasing lilt.

“Yes, that is in fact what I said,” she responded, hoping that her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt hot.

“Is it really now?”

“Draco!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be back. I need a new fork.”

“Just wipe off the handle of the one you have now--Draco, why are you getting up? Stop!”

To her disappointment, none of her friends were able to show. Sylvia and Lizzy made a concerted effort to try and convince their family to let them brave the walk, but once another flurry started up outside, it was hopeless. Her face turned pink whenever she thought about the fact that she hadn’t even needed to tell Draco the thing that made her slip up in the first place.

Y/N, disappointed but not surprised, told Draco that she still wanted to celebrate, even if it was just with him. He’d snorted at this--asking her why she made it seem like such a burden--but once she produced a yellow glass bottle and a deck of cards and told him she bet that she was going to beat his sorry ass, he caved.

She started with a heavy lead, but once Draco learned the rules and strategies of the slightly convoluted Go Fish game, he proved to be a worthy match. They played until around 11:45 when the bottle was about 3/4 full and Y/N was feeling the pleasant warmth of being slightly intoxicated. Once she noticed the time, she threw her cards on the table.

“Let’s watch the ball drop,” Y/N said with no further explanation, even when Draco looked to her for one. She grabbed the bottle and his hand, pulling him up the stairs to her room. The remote control for her TV was a struggle to find--it was all the way tucked back in her nightstand drawer--but thankfully the channel was already set.

“You forgot the cups,” Draco said, staring down at the opened bottle held in his hand.

“You can get them if you want,” she managed.

“You should! You forgot them.”

“Too far,” she whined, flopping to lean back on her pillows while Draco followed suit. His hair smelled like peppermint. Without much more thought, she moved close enough that their shoulders were touching. He didn’t move away--instead, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a drink directly.

“Your New Year’s traditions are weird as fuck,” he murmured as he watched Savannah Guthrie on the screen. He didn’t have to speak very loud for her to hear him, and it seemed like he knew this.

“Oh, you haven’t even heard it all yet,” said Y/N. “We’ve got a tradition to kiss someone going into the New Year. New Year’s kiss, I guess. I’m sure you can imagine the kind of drama that creates.”

“What d’you mean?”

“You don’t have to be dating to kiss someone, sometimes people just...do it. As friends.” Y/N reached over to the bottle and took a swig herself, feeling the warmth trickle down her throat.

“Take it easy,” he tutted, pulling the bottle away from her before taking another drink himself.

“Hey! Says you!”

“Because I can actually hold my liquor well,” he teased, giving her a shove.

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“You just kept getting worse and worse at whatever that game was,” he told her matter-of-factly.

“Give it here,” she said, reaching across his chest to where he was holding the bottle, out and above his head. She hoped he couldn’t tell how much this side of him filled her with glee. “That’s not fair!”

“Not fair, huh?” He raised an eyebrow and met her eyes as he held it up even further into the air. His voice was startlingly low. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Before she could muster up a response, the TV began playing the audio for the New Year’s Countdown.

10!

Y/N wasn’t sure if she was supposed to answer--or if he was just...flirting?

He managed to set the bottle on her nightstand without taking his eyes off of her.

The hand she had used to reach across him with was now pressed into his side of the bed, supporting her as she hovered over him.

Without moving any part of her body, she dared to glance at his parted lips.

Maybe telling him about the kiss tradition was a stupid idea.

His hand, warm and soft, reached up to brush a piece of hair away from her cheekbone.

His fingers lingered on the outline of her jaw.

He was kissing her before the cheers from the TV even had the chance to bounce around the room, both hands cupping her face and pulling her in so desperately that it took her breath away.

Her hands found his shoulders, then the back of his neck, and then, eventually his hair. It was just as soft as she imagined it to be. They started out innocently enough--closed mouth kisses and only their hands touching each other above the shoulders--but once she tugged on his hair (mostly by accident) something...shifted.

Suddenly he was on top of her, and suddenly her leg was wrapped around him as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. It occurred to her that this was no longer just a New Year’s kiss. He tasted of lemon and sugar--and was notably better at what he was doing than any of the people she’d kissed before. Or maybe it was the alcohol clouding her judgement. Regardless, she liked whatever was going on. His hands had drifted from her face to her neck to her hair to her shoulder, gently tracing the outline of her bra strap. She brushed her hand down his chest, pulling gently at the collar on his shirt. Only when his leg pressed up into her and her breath hitched did she realize the weight of their situation.

The way he pulled away to hover over her signaled that he’d had the same revelation, his eyes wide as he stared down at her. “Um…”

“Yeah?” Dread crept into her despite the pleasant haze she was in.

He swallowed, hard. “I can’t believe I did that.”

Draco was on the other side of the bed in seconds, wringing his hands and keeping his eyes fixed on her floor. “Oh, my god, I can’t believe I did that. I’m sorry. I’m drunk and I’m not thinking straight. I’m so sorry.”

“Is something wrong?” She didn’t know if he wanted her to touch him, but she wanted so badly to place a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Did you not want...it?”

He scoffed and turned his gaze up to the ceiling. “I had too much to drink. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Y/N felt the blood drain from her face as she fell back on the bed.

That’s all it was. A drunken mistake.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she surveyed her options. Despite the fact that she was drunk off her ass, she knew she couldn’t just tell him to leave without making her feelings clear. She never explicitly told him that she wanted him and it wasn’t like she moaned his name or anything--thank god--but what other option did she have? She didn’t want to cry in front of him, and if he stayed in her room any longer he would without a doubt witness her alcohol induced cry fest.

NBC finally switched to ads, and Y/N granted herself permission to mourn the fact that Flo from Progressive would forever be ruined for her.

It was dark enough for her to quickly reach up and wipe her eyes undetected, granting her enough confidence to sit up and look at him directly. “You don’t get to just...kiss me like that. I hope you know that.”

“I know,” he said. His hands were clasped tightly together and rested on his nose. “Fuck. Of course I know.”

“But you can tell me you meant it to be just as friends,” she told him, hoping he couldn’t see how hard she was fighting back a new wave of tears.

“As friends,” he repeated, his tone flat.

“As friends,” she said.

“I don’t think either of us are daft enough to believe that.”

Her stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe things are different in America, but I don’t see you doing that sort of thing with Lizzy.”

“We can forget about this. It’s fine. I know you regret it.”

He exhaled, his breath long and shaky. “I didn’t stop because I regretted it.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because…”

“Is it because I’m a muggle?” His silence was everything she needed for an answer. “Okay. I had a feeling.”

“Y/N, it’s not like...I don’t know how to explain it.” He still wouldn’t make eye contact with her. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“About what?”

“About this!” he said, dramatically gesturing to her. “About everything!”

“I don’t understand.” The tears began pricking in the corners of her eyes again despite her best efforts.

Draco finally looked at her. She was shocked by how genuinely distressed he looked--the last time he looked at her like this, she’d been laying on the ground outside of the antique sore. “I don’t expect you to.”

His tone was low, careful. He was holding back.

“Can you just tell me how you feel about me, then? Just so I know?”

“It’s not that--” He stopped himself, sucking in another breath before he continued. “I shouldn’t. It’s not right of me.” He groaned, flopping onto his back and covering his face. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Hey,” Y/N said, reaching out to awkwardly pat his shoulder. “I meant it when I said that we could just forget about it. We’re friends, Draco. Just friends. I know you didn’t mean it. Let’s just pretend this never happened, ok?”

He was quiet for a bit before responding. “Did you...want me to kiss you? Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“Uncomfortable?”

“As in, did you want me to stop?”

“Oh.” Y/N cracked her knuckles. “You didn’t violate me if you’re asking to gauge how guilty you should be.”

“I’m glad to hear that, but that’s not why I’m asking.”

“Okay,” she said simply. He was still laying in her bed, and she hated the fact that her bed was going to smell like him until she washed everything.

“So?” He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t answer.”

“We’re friends, Draco.” She sent him a weak smile as she repeated her previous sentiment. “I trust you, so you didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

She was aware of the fact that her sentence didn’t exactly track, but she wasn’t particularly concerned with the literary quality of her speech.

“That still doesn’t answer my other question.”

“I…” She felt her throat dry up. “I want--I wanted you to kiss me. I’ve wanted you to kiss me for a while now.”

At this, he finally sat up and looked her in the eyes. She thought she could see the briefest glint of relief pass over his face before he managed to rein it back to a neutral expression.

“Did you want to kiss me?”

“I was the one who kissed you, not the other way around, yeah?”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” she snipped, hoping he caught on to her mocking. She’d missed sparring with him.

“Yes, I kissed you because I wanted to, not for some weird ulterior motive,” he responded, rolling his eyes despite the fact that his cheeks were clearly very pink, even in her dimly lit room. “Though I agree it’s best if we just stayed friends.”

“Yeah.” She felt her face fall, but she managed to catch it before she looked too devastated. “It’s all water under the bridge. Now we know not to drink together again.”

“That too.” He shifted, clearing his throat before making eye contact with her again with an uncharacteristically soft expression. “But the damage is already done, I suppose?”

“I suppose,” she echoed. “You wanted to kiss me? Actually?”

“Should we really talk about this? After what we just said about staying friends?”

“We’re going to feel regret tomorrow morning no matter what we do now, “ said Y/N. “Might as well.”

He smiled one of his rare smiles--the ones where his eyes went all soft and he dipped his head to hide it. “Yes. I really do. Want to kiss you, that is.”

“I really want you to kiss me,” she blurted out before slapping her hand over her mouth in shock. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

His smile morphed into more of a smirk as he crept closer, his hand resting on top of her knee. “So can I do it again?”

“Draco…” She sighed.

“The damage is already done,” he repeated as he reached his hand up to brush a lock of her hair behind her ear, his fingers dragging down her neck. The smug look that formed on his face after she drew a quick breath in confirmed that he knew what he was doing, that fucker. “You said it yourself--we’re just friends.”

“I’m going to hate myself in the morning if I say yes.”

Draco’s hand drifted over her jaw, his thumb pausing to trace over her bottom lip. “You can hate me instead.”

This time, it didn’t surprise her so much when he leaned in. He was notably less desperate, taking time to draw breaths in between kisses and lacing his fingers through hers, squeezing. Once he seemed satisfied, he lifted her chin and brushed the hair away from her neck, kissing down from her jaw to her collarbone. She shivered, and he drew her closer by wrapping his arms around her until she was sitting on his lap.

“Wow, you’re such a good friend, Draco,” she managed to joke. She could feel the smirk that formed on his lips as it passed over her clavicle.

“Shut up.” His teeth grazed over her delicate skin before he sucked, eliciting a gasp from her. She could feel him smile again.

His hands teased the bottom hemline of her sweater, his fingers tangling in the fabric but not moving it. She sucked in a breath, feeling his hands ghost over her skin.

“Are you okay with…”

“Yes!” The answer came out much quicker than she would’ve liked, but the grin on Draco’s face made it completely worth the momentary embarrassment as he helped her out of the thick cable-knit sweater. “Now is your chance to dote on me and tell me how beautiful I am. As a friend, of course.”

“You stole the words right out of my mouth,” he said. He looked like he was positively glowing as she smiled and leaned in to kiss him, slow and deep. His hands found her back and hesitated over her bra clasp.

Before he had a chance to do anything, Y/N started fiddling with the buttons on his white shirt, successfully undoing the first two before she noticed that Draco had frozen completely.

“Is something wrong?”

“Kind of,” he said. “Maybe...not now, okay?”

“I had a feeling that was too much,” she admitted, reaching for her top before realizing he’d tossed it across her bedroom floor and suddenly feeling very exposed.

“It’s not that…” he said, trailing off. “I just...should probably tell you some things before my shirt comes off. And I don’t think tonight is the best time for that.”

“Oh.” Y/N tried to make herself look like she understood whatever he was on about. “Yeah, of course. Oh! Is it about that tattoo you tried to gaslight me into believing didn’t exist?”

“Y/N!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t gaslight you!”

“Here you go again,” she huffed. “I rest my case.”

“And I am not getting into that now,” he said. “I didn’t want to talk about it for very good reason.”

She reached up to his shoulders, dragging her fingertips over his collarbones and watching as he gazed up at her. “That’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

The corners of his lips turned up at this, and she took the opportunity to press a chaste kiss on the edge of his mouth. “I think we should go to sleep. We have enough material to regret for tomorrow at this point. Any more and I think we’ll be getting greedy, so--”

Draco cut her off with one last kiss, his fingers splayed out across her back, pulling her impossibly close before finally releasing her.

“Agreed.” He let out a sigh before sliding her off him and standing up to grab her runaway sweater. “Do you want to sleep in this? Or do you want me to get you something else from your dresser while I’m up?”

“Um…” She was frozen at the prospect of him watching her change clothes. “Probably something else. Top left drawer--just pick whatever.”

He sifted through her piles of random T-shirts before settling on one with the UChicago logo and tossing it to her.

Y/N pulled it over her head, grateful for the fact that he wasn’t staring at her with only a black lace bra that barely did its job.

“So, uh, I think I should probably go then,” he said.

She fought the urge to ask him to stay. “Yeah, that’d be best.”

His mouth opened like he was about to say something, but he closed it and frowned. “So I guess this is goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Draco,” she replied. “I’ll look forward to agonizing over this in the morning.”

Once the sounds of his footsteps heading down the hall faded, she finally allowed herself to flop back onto her now Draco-scented sheets.

What the fuck just happened.

final a/n: hellooooooo ! it finally happened! i hope this didn’t seem rushed or unnatural to you guys but like. it’s been over 30k words and i thought you guys deserved something. yes i am going to be leaning into the whole “we’re just friends” trope while definitely not being just friends. yes i am going to drag astoria into this i’m excited i hope yall enjoyed

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco malfoy x you #draco #draco malfoy #draco fic #draco fanfiction #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

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marshieee · 4 years ago

Note

Can i request bokuto akaashi oikawa kenma with a famous s/o(you can pick the occupation) and they go to an interview with her one day and they answer questions that the fans have been dying to know or like buzzfeed thrist tweets(mayhaps both)

Im sorry if im requesting too much(considering that i sent in your first request and all the others)

-midnight anon

Oh no it’s fine!❤️ i would love to do your request and i love the challenge sometimes hehehe... so it’s fine if you guys request something i really appreciate it🥺❤️ sorry this took so long lmaooo

Answering fans questions

Bokuto

He’s pretty famous himself

Being in the japan V. League who wouldn’t?

Even back in highschool he was popular as well

He didn’t mind having a famous s/o to be honest he was very proud of you all the hard work finally paid off.

So you being a popular singer means there’s a lot of fans in your way.

You two haven’t really made it official to the public so the fans just assumed a lot and rumored a lot.

It’s not like you two don’t want to make it official, you two just forgot to make it official lmao.

So when you decided to watch one of bokuto’s game everyone was surprised and confused.

At first they thought you’re just a volleyball fan but when they saw you wearing a jersey with bokuto’s name and number on it...

It was a chaos in some way.

A lot of paparazzi and reporters came rushing in when they saw the news online.

After the game was finished you went and greet your boyfriend but just to be surrounded by reporters.

At first the both of you were confused asf but when they bombarded the questions.

“Are you two dating?”

That’s when it clicked, you would look at each other and laughed.

“Actually yes we are”

“When did you two started dating?”

“Hmmm when we were still at high school”

“Why did you two just made it official now?”

“To be honest we just forgot to announce it, we just didn’t care since we’ve been together for too long”

The news spreads like wildfire about y/n the famous singer officially dating bokuto or bokuto officially announced his relationship with y/n.

You still find it funny how everyone was shooked by the sudden announcement.

Well at least their rumors became true right?

Akaashi

Akaashi was very supportive when you told him you wanted to be a youtuber

He helped you with your contents and all.

Your subscribers already knows your boyfriend since you post some couple stuffs on Instagram.

So when you begged him

BEGGED HIM

To join you in one of your videos you were thrilled when he said yes.

“Hi guys today’s video is a special video because i have a very very special guest today!”

“Hello”

“And that is my boyfriend! So anyways i asked you guys to ask us some questions on my tweet right? So that’s what we’ll be doing!”

You would immediately laughed at the questions that your fans asked you.

They were thirst tweets and you know akaashi.....

Akaashi wouldn’t

“Akaashi do you think y/n is a good kisser?”

That would caught him off guard and will be a blushing mess.

“Uh...um...y.....yes”

You would laugh at him for being so cute and flustered. In the end you didn’t finished all the thirst tweets since you felt bad.

“Akaashi say one thing that you like about y/n”

“One thing only? I have many things that i like about y/n, that’s a hard question hmmmm....”

Akaashi would smile and look at you.

“The love that y/n gave to me no the love that y/n continues to give to me that’s what i like, like is not the right word that’s what i LOVE”

Now it was your turn to be a blushing mess.

You two had a lot of fun answering questions about you, him and for the both of you.

And then little did you know right after you two uploaded the video.

You guys were trending.

Oikawa

HEAR ME OUT

THIS BITCH WOULD MOST DEFINITELY

DEFINITELY WOULD BE SOOO CONFIDENT ABOUT HAVING YOU AS HIS S/O

the fact that he’s already a man oozing with charisma and confidence

Having you tripled it.

You were one of the mvps of the Argentina women’s swimming team.

How could he not?

So when the both of you won the olympics.

Boiii a lot of requests came in just to interview you two.

Since you’re really popular yourself too even before you two were official.

“So how do you guys feel that the power couple won a gold medal in olympics”

He loves to hear all sort of nicknames that the fans calls you two.

“Well i am very proud of y/n winning the gold medal, i knew that she could do it”

“How about you y/n?”

“I already know that oikawa was set on winning the gold medal and i know that he’ll get that no matter what so i am also very proud of him”

“A lot of fans asked since y/n is a professional swimmer that means a lot of people tried to pursue her right?”

“Oh yes most definitely”

“How do you feel about that oikawa?”

“Well i am too have a lot of pursuers so i do get how y/n feels and i can’t blame them for pursuing her i mean heh just look at my girlfriend!”

You would lightly tap his shoulder as you try not to blush so hard.

You should have been used to this but no. When it comes from him no.

“Of course there were times i would feel jealous since a lot of famous people tried to get her even though she’s already taken”

“Oh? Really?”

“Yeah but too bad”

He would grabbed your face and give you a sweet kiss on the lips RIGHT INFRONT OF THE CAMERA.

he’ll look at the camera and give a cocky grin.

“She’s already mine”

Kenma

Kenma doesn’t give a single flying fuck if you’re famous

Because he is too.

He trusts you sooo much so he knows when to step in or when you can handle yourself.

He’s not that type of person where they always flex on their s/o

Sure he posts you on his Instagram and promote your shows in his ig stories

But not that much.

You being a famous actress well doesn’t really concern him

He doesn’t like the actress you he likes the you you and that what’s matters.

So you invited him to the awardings with permission of course

As your boyfriend and partner and escort.

It was a hit when they got the news that kenma was going to attend.

To be honest it was really hard to convince him lmao.

And a lot of questions hits kenma but nevertheless he answered calmly

“What are your thoughts about having y/n as your significant other?”

“Nothing really, she’s beautiful, she’s elegant but that’s not what i fell in love with actually even if she’s not a famous actress or whatever I’ll still love her”

“The fans want to ask how do you feel whenever y/n has an kissing scene?”

Kenma would just scoffed and smile at the camera.

“It’s fine i don’t mind and besides i kiss her everyday”

#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #bokuto #akaashi #oikawa #kenma #haikyuu headcanon #haikyuu boyfriend headcanon

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thestudyfeels · 6 years ago

Text

100 Days of Sweat

Welcome to the official admission post for the 100 days of sweat challenge! *plays the conquer theme song and does a booty pop* This is a pretty long post, but has everything you need to start, so read on!

READING TIME: 6 minutes.

OoOh? What's that?

Thanks for coming out of the cave! In short, it's a consistency challenge to turn working out into a habit.

You've basically got to move your body for a 100 days straight. No slacking, no backing out!

Most take on this challenge personally, but I felt accountability would be great for those beginning with exercising & those who can't seem to keep their streak (cough, me).

Sounds fun! How do I join? Do I need to do a booty pop too?

Booty pops are appreciated. But here's how!

1. First things first, decide whether you'll be joining via IG, Discord or staying on Tumblr.

2. If using IG, reply to this post with your handle or (alternative) if you'd like, join Discord instead! For that, click here to join the server!

(NOTE: Those who joined via the first post I created regarding this needn't reply again! I've already added you to the list.)

3. Lastly, boost this! Reblog, get your followers to join! Drag your friend or sibling in! (already dragged my bestie into this in case no one joined in lmao)

Important PSA: yO, ANYONE can join! All my beginners and winners, young teens and old pals, drarry fans and johnlock shippers, team cold water AND hot water (sparing y'all because I stan working out more), EVERYONE!

Here's what I'll do:

I'm creating an IG group for those interested in staying fully committed. (Pros include making friends! Or enemies, for a hundred whole days! Some of you might even get married together, I have high hopes because wedding cake is everything)

Sayani from @studign-stars will be the admin for Discord! You can hit her up for queries, if any.

In short, there'll be 3 separate groups. One for those joining via Discord, one for those on the IG group, and a third for those staying on Tumblr.

If you wish to use any other platforms like Snapchat and Twitter, feel free! Also plug your progress on Tumblr too so we can hype each other on! (tag stuff with #100dos)

+ That said, I highly suggest joining either one of the groups, for accountability does wonders. It's now up to you, fellow warrior.

How to prep for this challenge:

OhO! There's a whole lot prepping to be slayed. To finish this challenge as smoothly as possible, here's a few steps. Make this easier for yo’ lazy bum.

1+ Firstly, grab a marker and scrap paper (when you on a student budget, cuz same) and write down numbers from 1 to 100. I did 1 to 30 to prevent myself from being overwhelmed, but do right them numbers to gain momentum.

2+ Take couple before photos. From the front, and the side. If you don't want to, take them anyway and store it in a folder you never open. Also measure your weight, and if you have a measuring tape, take other basic measurements of the chest, waist, arm etc.

3+ Coming to the main part! Pick your 'base’ routine. This is the primary workout you wanna do 2-3 times a week. It's the main course!

For beginners, I suggest choosing a 15 min full body workout. Do try it out before you start 100 days— make sure it's challenging enough.

For those who already move their bodies, pick a workout that aligns with your long-term goals. If you want toned legs, pick a leg day routine. If you want abs, focus on abs.

My base routine is the Beginner's Bodyweight Workout (BBW) from the NerdFitness website. I do 3 sets of the entire routine (takes around 25-30 mins) thrice a week.

So, do some research and pick a workout! Doesn't have to be an hour long at all, just make sure it's time-effective and challenges you.

4+ Find your cheat day workout.

Yikes, the wording is kinda incorrect, but anything for the clickbait.

This is the workout you do 2 days a week, and is the second most important workout. (This means: 3 + 2 = 5, you’ve now got five days planned!)

I do Alexis Ren’s ab routine (I hate it) twice a week because abs are my target zone. For you, it could be arms, thighs, butt, anything!

5+ Leave your last two days for simple moving.

It's up to you to decide what's going to be cooking in the remaining two days. For suggestions, you can pick a fun activity, say yoga, handstands, cartwheels, splits, any form of dancing like hip-hop, Zumba etc.

I'm trying to do a handstand this year and get my middle splits already (I fell off track so I still have quite a way to go) so I'll be stretching and doing hand flexibility exercises in the last 2 days.

Or you can just go for a jog or a power walk. Just keep the momentum going!

A quick recap:

To summarize, you're doing a major workout 3 times a week, a toning workout (mine is abs) twice a week and a fun activity in the last two days.

Also, mix this up. Your muscles need time to heal, and I strongly emphasize leaving the next day free for lighter activities after doing a major workout. Here's my routine, as an eg:

Do remember that this is just a STARTING POINT, because we don't want you to wake up everyday and be like “wut I do today.” It's now your mission to plan your workout routine. Consider taking more workload or reduce it as per your level (this is definitely a lot, try reducing if you're just beginning).

Also important: DETERMINE your workout routine NOW. I spent 2 years (only stopped like 3 months ago) doing YouTube videos haphazardly. This works, because you are working out after all, but it's a pretty lousy method if you want consistent results. Also makes you depend on motivation to workout (which has probability results equal to me marrying Tom Felton), whereas if you had a routine, you'll have to workout because it's in your schedule and you'd be a loser to lie to your schedule.

Is this a lot? It's a lot. I know.

If this is overwhelming you, don't back away darling. Face your fears. Here are some reasons to not back out—

The entire challenge is flexible: You don't have to follow that routine ^ if you don't want to. Starting out, you can do a major workout 2 times a week and fill the other 5 days with fun stuff. You can always change the routine later, 100 days is a long ass time.

The challenge fucks with your mindset and strengthens it: 100 days of continuous movement is CRAZY. Can you imagine how strong (mentally too!) we'll all be at the end? You'll have grown so much!

Working out will become a habit: I've been working out for 2 years now, and it has positively affected every single sphere of my life. Exercising is the #1 habit I suggest everyone build. Since science says it takes 66 days to build a habit, we're ON it.

You'll be really proud of yourself: I know I'll be. I'm literally going to hug y'all at the end of it, and sing jingles about how far you've come. 2019 will have been slayed.

I could go on and on, but this is it. Now's the moment. This is about doing something you're afraid of. Taking risks. Learning, falling, getting back up.

Thence, ladies, gents and non-binary pals, THIS is the 100 days of sweat challenge. You're cordially invited to it.

(We're dramatic, yes.)

🌻 !!! MAJOR PSA & DEADLINES:

The challenge itself begins on 10th April, 2019.

You'll be added to the IG group latest by 7th April.

Because I'm your mom, I'll add everyone in, tell you the details and everything. If you’ve got any questions, jump into my inbox now and get them answered.

That said, please remember that I won't take anyone in midway (no, not even if you buy me free tacos for a year). So join in now & spread the message! The more, the merrier! Bring beer too!

Thanks for joining in! This will be promising and hugely interesting (accountability can do wonders, but we'll see). I'll be waiting for you on the other side with my stuffed animals, cIaO fReNdOs!

— Nandini (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ 💌

letting my taglist folks know (which you can join here!)

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#100dos #unicorn studying #studign-stars #inspostudying #looklibraerie #heypfyn #jacistudies #lunetudes #ash-trological #studylustre #gloomstudy #dahliless #moonshinestudies #athenastudying #heypat #heylondonotes #adelinestudiess #hanniscup #heyindia

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resurrged · 7 years ago

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〢▓█ ✕ 𝟏.𝟑 ▷▷ THY GLORY, TITAN / FLESHED TO THE BONE

’ BLOOD / BLOOD / KIN & FLESH / GNAW THEIR THROATS / RIPPED TO SHREDS— be BORN of mayhem, built on CHAOS / m o t h e r they say, was there to warm them. but what BEAST lays nearest to which disaster they fear ? RUNT OF THE LITTER / DON’T LET YOURSELF FALTER / LAY YOUR PATH CLEAR lest they call you ‘ king lear ’

verse also known as how to make @humanwrath regret every single thing they’ve ever said : A Guide By Me

ON FILE. ↳ what little is known of the abnormal titan . timeline’s fucked, pls ignore

referred to as “ YMIR ” because bitch has no other names this happened to be one of the first documented abnormal classes discovered wandering close to the outermost wall, thus taking on a name referencing her as the Mother Of Giants.

also occasionally referred to as the ‘ dancing titan ’, because its movements are incredibly swift and has an innate ability to move much quicker than any other known titan.

tbh you can’t tell this thing is a she so feel free to have your character just call it ‘it’ or ‘they’ if you wanna humanize it ig

first found by the garrison as this extra creepy titan that would creep around the woods without actually aiming for the walls or soldiers hanging around there.

the survey corps encountered it a few times, finding that it either leers in the shadows or runs away when spotted.

chews / scrapes trees like a rodent, seemingly to keep its nails sharp af

pussy titan

won’t attack if encountered, but will still defend itself until it finds a viable way to escape the situation

relies heavily on claws / teeth & agility.

can climb and fly around trees with ease.

OFF FILE. ↳ what is left to discover.

can learn, knows its weak af, has seen the SC demolish titans so it won’t fight if it doesn’t have to

still semi-coherent / not fully corrupted human inside, but she’s delirious af. more on this in ymir’s history

can speak minimally, but it’s actually incredibly difficult to get the sounds right without some level of pain due to the way its mouth / tongue / throat is set up, so it does so only rarely and only when it really feels it needs to.

can barely remember how to speak anyways so

though not entirely humanoid, it’s more in the stages of an intelligent pet than a full-on rodent. she still holds very, very little of ymir’s consciousness, since i have no idea wtf the jaw titan’s goals would otherwise be, so her semblance of loyalty / need for selflessness is still there. also holds an ability to grasp on to & listen to instruction, etc.

stays in titan territory because it makes no sense (to her) to go looking for big person where little people are.

tbh if she ever met the female titan she’d probably think that was the real Ymir and try to bite off her neck on sight sakdjha

HISTORY

YMIR began as a simple, orphaned girl amidst the fallen Eldian Empire, now simply known as ‘ Marley ’. She knew next to nothing of her people’s war or struggles, instead living through the symbolism of old Eldian traditions, holding her in high esteem, as a deity, for no reason that was entirely apparent to her.

Though she knew she wasn’t anything special, she couldn’t handle the looks of pure torture her followers would bear whenever she so much as hinted towards the fact, and instead became devoted to doing everything in her power to help these people as they should have been helped.

Through means she would never ( was too NAIVE to ) find out, her followers got their hands on one of the original titans, and set off to turn their ‘goddess’ under the delusion that setting her on Paradis this way would lead her to the Founding Titan, and link her soul back into place to restore her full power.

On her end, no clear instructions were given. She was told to ‘Find Herself and save us all’ and being so used to simply following blindly for the sake of others, she tried her damn best.

Not understanding the power in the slightest, she often resisted any natural instinct to shift back once she did transform, instead forcing herself to remain as she was turned until she accomplished her mission. So she kept that inherent goal in mind without…. actually really knowing what the hell she was actually meant to accomplish. She sort of just kept looking hoping whoever ‘SHE’ was, that she was meant to consume, would be to some degree obvious.

For the first decade or so she’d roam and shift out to sleep every so often, usually staying in the trees, and entirely lost any concept of time. Eventually she wouldn’t do more than half-shift, and then not shift at all.

Clearly this didn’t work out for the best, as her being was soon becoming more and more absorbed into the titan the longer she went without shifting back and getting proper rest to rejuvenate.

By the time Wall Maria gets breached, she’s barely there, and her conscience is entirely irreversible ; she can barely think for herself, and getting her out of the titan would kill her on the spot.

So her days continue, as this delirious thing searching for what she’ll likely never find / accomplish, in hopes of going back & making her followers proud ( although, at this point, she likely remembers little of the why.

#long post x #° ⌜ VERSE 1.3 // ❛ ᵗʰʸ ᵍˡᵒʳʸ ' ᵗᶦᵗᵃⁿ !#'why isnt anyone else making titan muses' you say. as i show u exactly why u shouldn't give away that creative liberty #think this blog would ever take itself seriously ? SIKE #the fact that this is my first verse drop to get a proper description speaks Volumes of my character #' do modern next ' they tell me- as i pull This out of my ass #i hope u all wake up regretting Life

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burningupp · 3 years ago

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ok bby i know it's been a while but it is that time again. that's right, reaction time with sunny is back. since it's been a hot minute, instead of spamming you, i'll just make this one really long so this is for parts 26-epilogue of commitment-phobic.

pt 26:

- ok i distinctly remember reading this but ig i didn't leave a reaction bc i can't find it so here it is

- the combo of sannie and jinnie is so powerful, i love it, you're welcome

- that's all i gotta say, chaos brewing is fantastic

pt 27:

- ooh right to the death threats i like it

- lmao ofc she was hiding in the bathroom

- emotional range of a teaspoon 😭

- ofc they plotted murder over dinner

- ooh look at things progressing

pt 28:

- lmao not her clowning him for the image

- man y/n can go from 0 to threatening so fast. i love it

- "why are you being needy, it's gross" mhm sure san you love the attention don't lie

- san is indeed a little gremlin

pt 29:

- notice how jin said a most beloved dongsaeng and not the most beloved dongsaeng (bc it's obviously jungkook)

- jinnie is so violent (and perfect) i love him

- "you know namjoonie's stupid face cracks me up"

- lmao a mildly threatening kookie, i love it

- there's literally too much to comment on i just love jin so much

pt 30:

- oh hey this looks familiar. i will try to recall my original reactions lol

- ofc jin is messing with u jimin. not his fault u fell for it. i mean he's still right but ur still an idiot (a lovable one ofc)

- god they're such awkward little shits

- i've said it before and i'll say it again, i love the comforting home-y way you've described y/n's place

- agh yesssssss gotta love a good confession

epilogue let's gooooo:

- aw meeting san, what a big milestone

- bring jin 😂 san would love the surprise, to be fair

- dw jinnie i'll make sure you and sannie get the credit you deserve (also me for being the mastermind behind the masterminds if uk what i mean)

- ugh i love that ending with the implied chaos

GOOD JOB JOSIE YOU FINISHED IT (a hot minute ago but i've been busy so let's pretend it just happened) YAYYYYY 🎉 I'M SO PROUD

bro I missed you too, welcome back 🥺

you're so right, those two are absolute crackheads. thank you for giving me that idea 😂

you know ya girl isn't emotionally equipped to handle this situation, the bathroom was a very expected hiding spot lol

y/n is a badass and no one can change my mind. also san being a tsundere? more likely thank you think!

you can't blame jin for loving jk the most, he goes along with jin's dumbass schemes without question! jin is indeed my favorite character in this how did you know 👀

I'm glad you liked the description of her place! I wanted it to really feel like he was finally being let into her life, not just her home 🤧

look, y/n's dad isn't in the picture, and san is objectively her favorite person. I wanna be real clear that ALL the credit for the parent trapping portion of this story goes to sunny, your mind is amazing tbh 🥰

thank you for being proud of me! I struggled a lot in the end, but I got there lol. I always love hearing your takes on my stories, and I hope I'll get to hear more of them ❤

#commitment phobic #thank you for asking #reaction time with sunny #sunny 💛

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myriadimagines · 8 years ago

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Don’t Get All Soppy On Me

Star Wars (The Clone Wars) One Shot

Characters: [MALE] Reader x Ahsoka Tano

Warnings: violence, mild swearing

Request: “Okay, very simple. Someone whom had known ahsoka since the clone wars film Or since she joined the order. Maybe a witty-sarcastic bloke; let's say jedi jack sparrow, I.e. "I once knew a mandolorian named... Something in mandolorian" that kind of comedic wit. Oh, and preferably a snappy dresser. And maybe instead of jack's monkey, a little droid like bane's. Just a thought, get back to me soon. My idea; the character for this be the image I sent you, but, he has a split personality. When his armour is white, eyes green, etc, he's in contact with the light side. When he comes into contact with the dark side, his armour turns black, eyes red, uses the other lightsabre. Only thing being, despite being in contact with the dark side, he only uses it for good intentions. And, fuck me, I probably haven't explained this well... At all...” - grandmastervenom

Word Count: 1,642

A/N: ahhhhHHhhHHH I hope I encompassed everything !! I feel like there are definitely things I missed out but I wasn’t sure where to add them in without being too forced. I wasn’t really sure as to where this story should go, and apologies this took so long. (and psa to everyone else this is the last Clone Wars request I’m taking !! and one shots are still closed)

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

You smirked and leaned against the pillar as you watched Ahsoka walk away from Anakin and the Jedi Temple with her head down. Your droid, LEXI-2, chirped something, and you rolled your eyes and shushed it.

“No, Lexi, I’m not going to comfort her. She can manage on her own.” you raised an eyebrow, but the droid chirped again. Groaning, you hopped down from the ledge you were perched on and landed in front of her.

“That was depressing,” you gestured behind her to the Temple and Ahsoka shrugged halfheartedly. “Almost got a tear out of me.”

“Well, I’m always one for dramatic exits.” Ahsoka joked, folding her arms across her chest.

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “That was dramatic, all right.”

You had been best friends with Ahsoka before she joined the Jedi Order, and had somehow managed to maintain your friendship despite not seeing each other as often. She often came to you when she needed help on a mission, and you often came to her when you needed to get out of trouble. You never really understood why Ahsoka wanted to become a Jedi. You were a a Jedi of sorts yourself, but you were never one to abide by the rules, especially the ones the Jedi Order had. You had been trained about the ways of the Force, but you were in the bounty hunter business.

“Hey, at least you’re free now.” you raised an eyebrow, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder.

“I just feel so…” Ahsoka trailed off, her eyes wandering off to a point behind you. “Lost.”

“Please,” you rolled your eyes, moving your hand away. “Let’s cut it with that nonsense. What are you planning on doing now?”

“I guess I haven’t really thought it through this far.” she muttered.

“Do you ever think anything through?” you smirked, only half teasing, and a small smile finally lit up her face.

“Thanks, y/n.” she smiled at you gratefully, and you grinned.

“Well, someone has to snap you out of this funk you’re in.” you adjusted the collar of your cape and began walking, Ahsoka trailing behind you. The two of you wandered into the city, headed towards downtown Coruscant with Lexi hovering by your shoulder.

“Feeling good today?” Ahsoka asked vaguely, gesturing to your white armour. You didn’t respond, staring forward instead. You were different than anyone else who was in contact with the Force. You weren’t part of the Light or the Dark side, yet you were able to use powers from both sides. When your armour was white, you were using the Light side. However, the few times you came in contact with the Dark side, your armour would transform, turning black.

You led her into a small, crowded bar which you liked to spend time in because it allowed you just to blend in. It was a hot spot for bounty hunters, and you could attract a lot of business here. You pointed her to a small table in the corner as you picked up to drinks at the bar, before sitting opposite to her.

“I think I just have to get out of here.” she finally spoke up you took a swig from your drink. Evening was beginning to settle in, the light slowly disappearing behind the buildings. “Just get out of the system and spend some time alone. Maybe train myself, something like that.”

“How are you planning on getting out?” you swirled your cup, and Ahsoka sipped her drink, deep in thought. “I’m guessing you want to lay low, and you probably want to go somewhere isolated. And it’s not like you can just take a ship from the Jedi Temple anymore, you have to travel like the rest of us normal folks do.”

“I’m sure you know some people who’ll help me out.” Ahsoka raised her eyebrows, and you scoffed and finished your drink.

“Yeah, sure. I know people.” you leaned forward on your elbows. “People who want to cut your head off. People who will just eat you up. Literally and metaphorically.

“Not helping.” Ahsoka muttered, finishing her drink. Rolling your eyes, you opened your mouth to retort when Lexi began beeping. Looking over your shoulder, you frowned to see someone approaching you.

“Hey, y/n!” the man yelled, causing some people to stop and glance at you. Sighing, you pulled your hood down and turned around. “Where’s my money?”

“I don’t owe you any money, Amar.” you growled, balling your hands into fists and standing up. Amar shoved you, hard, but you didn’t budge.

“I gave you information,” he snarled. “You owe me.”

“I saved your damn life back on Mandalore.” you snarled, looming over him. “You’re the one who owed me.”

“I don’t seem to recall.” Amar smirked, pushing his robe back to reveal his blaster. “Now give me my damn money.”

“y/n.” Ahsoka hissed from behind, watching as your armour slowly began to turn black. You didn’t look back at her, but Amar looked and a sinister grin crossed his face.

“Hey, I recognize you.” he pointed a skeletal finger at Ahsoka, and she froze. “Yeah… you’re a Jedi, aren't you? You put one of my friends in jail. Your friend here, he owes me money. You ought to put him in jail.”

“Leave y/n alone. Your friend was probably a violent monster who deserves to be in jail.” Ahsoka retorted, her eyes blazing. Amar advanced towards her, and you protectively stood in between them. He whistled, and four more men appeared, each gripping a blaster. Silence descended upon the bar, everyone holding their breath as they watched. Ahsoka was already gripping her lightsaber, but before she could react, you thrust your palms open. Electricity sparked from your fingertips and hit the four men in the chest, sending them flying. Two of them crashed into the bar, while the other two smashed into the nearby tables. There was a pause, before the bar descended into more chaos.

Amar spun around, firing his blaster, as the other bounty hunters began fighting too. You effortlessly deflected the bolt with a flick of your wrist. Using the Force, you pushed Amar flat onto his back. He wriggled in an attempt to stand, but you kept him down. Turning to Ahsoka, you watched as she jabbed her elbow into a man’s nose, causing him to cry out and stumble backwards as it began to bleed. She used her lightsaber to slice at another bounty hunter’s leg who tried to shoot her, and he doubled over and clutched his thigh.

“You wanna deal with this one?” you asked her, gesturing to Amar. She sauntered over, hovering over him.

“You can’t kill me.” Amar spluttered. “You’re a Jedi! You’re one of the good guys.”

“Not anymore.” Ahsoka’s voice was low, and she struck the handle of her lightsaber across his face, rendering him unconscious. She raised her arm again as if to strike him, but you grabbed her arm to stop her.

“Leave it.” you demanded, and she tried to jerk away. “Let’s get out of here. Lexi, find some places which offer transport.”

The droid chirped and began projecting lists of places and names as you dragged Ahsoka out of the bar and into the street. Pulling your hood over your head, you kept a firm grip on her arm and pulled her into an alleyway. You scanned the list Lexi had projected onto the wall, pointing at one which sounded familiar.

“I know this street.” you started walking in the direction and Ahsoka jogged to catch up with you. “They’ll help you get out of Coruscant without attracting too much attention.”

“That felt good.” Ahsoka laughed breathlessly to herself, and you cast her a look over your shoulder as your armour slowly transformed back to white. “What? It did. Finally being able to do something without worrying about rules.”

“Yeah, don’t go crazy with your new freedom.” you warned her, sharply turning a corner. You passed by a stall, where the merchant was slowly dozing off, and swiftly snatched one of the hoods they were selling and tossed it to her. She caught it without hesitation and slipped it on, checking to make sure the merchant wasn’t looking. She pulled the hood over her eyes and the two of you finally stopped at a platform.

There were a few other derelict individuals wandering around with tattered bags over their shoulders. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a few coins and pressed them into Ahsoka’s hand. She tried to hand them back to you, but you shook your head.

“I know the guy who owns the ships. He smuggles people in and out all the time when they want to disappear. I’ll let him know you’re here and he’ll help you get to wherever you want to go.”

“y/n,” she grabbed your hand before you and Lexi rushed off, faltering as she struggled to find the words she wanted to say. “Th-thank you. You’re the only person who’s ever been at my side all this time.”

“Well, that’s what friends are supposed to do, right?” you grinned, and Ahsoka grinned back. “I have to go deal with those scoundrels back at the bar before they come out here to follow you.”

“Will I see you again?” Ahsoka asked, and you rolled your eyes.

“No, I’m just going to disappear into thin air.” you punched her lightly, and she laughed. “You will see me again. Now go. Don’t get all soppy on me.”

“Yes, sir.” Ahsoka turned around to see a dark, worn down ship land onto the platform. You made eye contact with the pilot and nodded, and he nodded back.

“Be good, Ahsoka.” you joked, giving her a final wave as you walked away.

“You too, y/n.” she called out, and you gave her a grin.

“Aren’t I always?” you retorted, your armour slowly turning black and your eyes glinting red.

#star wars one shot #the clone wars one shot #the clone wars #the clone wars imagine #ahsoka tano #ahsoka tano imagine #ahsoka tano one shot #one shot #imagine #imagines #reader insert #fanfiction #fan fiction #reader x ahsoka tano #ahsoka tano x reader #star wars #star wars imagine

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