#but I like the poetry of it being the same night so I’m not changing my theory

[fruitlicense]

before Arcane S2 I always wondered why Vi and Powder went with Vander so easily after their parents died and why Powder ran to Silco for comfort after the warehouse fire.

Vander and Silco knew Felicia and Connol. hell, Vander named Vi! in all likelihood, Vander and Silco were like uncles to Vi and Powder in their early childhood, because they were close friends with their parents and worked the same profession. it wouldn’t surprise me at all if the four adults staggered their shifts in the mines to make sure someone was there to watch the girls at any given time. also, I don’t think Vander and Silco had their falling-out until soon before or during the rebellion that killed Felicia and Connol. in fact, I would hazard a guess that the reason Vander is wandering around post-battle pummeling the remaining Enforcers and looking for the dead is because he missed a good chunk of the fight while he was down in the river trying to strangle Silco.

the key piece of information here is that Vander and Silco were still friends and probably still in Vi and Powder’s lives right up until it all went wrong. when Vander took Vi and Powder in, he wasn’t adopting two kids he’d found randomly out of some sense of guilt or pity - those were his best friends’ kids. they approached him as a safe person even after seeing him beat some random guy because they knew him. when Powder saw Silco after Vander’s death and launched herself at him for a hug, she didn’t do that because he was the closest nearby person. she remembered him, even after however many years spent with Vander instead of her parents. his hesitation before he hugged her back was likely due to the time that had passed and his tension with Vander, not a lack of recognition.

TLDR: Vi and Powder don’t approach Vander and Silco as father figures because they’re the closest people at the times they need support, but because Vander and Silco were their parents’ best friends and they knew them already from childhood.

[pantheresssy]

Spending Nights (Abby Anderson/ Reader)

Hello!

This is part 2 of ‘casual’! You can find part 1 in this masterlist! It took me so much time to write this but i did it, im rlly sorry, studying is making my creativity go away. Enjoy!!!

Synopsis: Your friendship with Ellie becomes stronger as you both get to know each other better. From the other side, Abby wasn’t dealing with this too well.

warnings: marijuana use (els), non graphic smut, too much abby and not much of els, angst angst, getting into toxic!abby.

“It smells like shit,”

Blowing the smoke on the air and, for consequence on your face, Ellie looked at you with a smirk. Her eyes were blurred and couldn’t stay in the same place for too long, in a trance with the sensations of marijuana. “But it makes me so fu-cki-ng good. Try.”

You pushed her hand away from your face and twisted your nose, feeling that the smell would make you sick and stick to your hair and clothes. You were in her dorms, with the notebook where she writes her songs open on your lap. Somewhere in the middle of your reading, you discovered a few more things she wrote. Small poetry’s. Most of them were sad, about unrequited loves, death, sadness of abandonment and the loss of a parental love. They were tragically tragic, but still beautiful.

Ellie looked over your shoulder, following your reading. Smiling when you turned your page to see the sweetest song you had ever come close to. She was a real talent, just like you had imagined when you first meet her. “I’ll write one for you.”

“If it’s as good as this one, I’ll say please.” She made a face and leaned back on her seat, taking the marijuana into her mouth.

Ellie blowed and talked at the same time. “This is the worst I’ve written since I started.”

You dismissed her words, outraged by what she had said. When you told her it was the ‘best one she had so far’ she looked a bit offended and gave you a full list of why it was her worst composition. Ellie explained to you all of her creative work and, by the end, you thought you knew more about songs than about your own classes. It was interesting seeing how her eyes shone and her voice became more happy. You could see that she really loved doing what she did.

When you went back to your doorms, not long after, you did with a smile. She really was a great friend, person, and writer. It was curious for you how she gad opened up about what she liked so quickly after knowing you for barely a whole week. But it was good.

The rest of your day, you enjoyed with one of your many books. Laying in bed with it on your chest, being dragged by the words. That’s why, when a knock sounded on your door, you opened it without checking who it was. Thinking it could be Dina — (or Ellie) — you never looked away from the page you were reading, only finding out who truly was when she spoke for the first time.

“Can we talk?” Abby said. At that moment, you regretted not asking who it was first. It’s been days since you last saw her, and you would be laying to yourself if you say that this wasn’t broking your heart even more, but you tried to ignore.

Holding your breath, you swallowed hard before answering: “No. I… I’m not in the mood for talking right now.” Deep down you wanted it, so when you kept talking, you wanted to slap yourself. “Maybe later.”

Abby stepped closer when you make a move to close the door, quickly trying to stop you. And it worked. “I saw you at the party.” There it comes. “Who is she?”

You raised an eyebrow. She had no right to be there questioning you, as if she deserved something. “I’m surprised you went, you never liked those things.” A small pause, “But I guess I should’ve had imagined, you have changed so much in a short time.”

She bit the inside of her cheek and you knew she was looking for what to say next. “Owen invited me”, And oh… oh.

Of course he did. You felt silly, a completely idiot. She never went with you when you asked, always making sure you knew how much she hated going to these things. But with him, that part never really mattered. “I’m glad he managed to change your mind.”

“He didn’t,” She said quickly. “I hated going there. You know this, Y/n. I… I hated even more when I saw you with her.”

An ironic laugh escaped you and you looked at the ground already feeling the tears filling your waterline, obstructing your vision. Abby was the proudest person you had ever seen and, when she said that, you realized that she was there not because she missed you, or because she wanted to apologize for everything she did, but for some jealousy of seeing you with someone other than her. You had to mourn her for the time she thought it was necessary, waiting until she wanted to come and talk to you correctly. Like at that moment.

It was a cycle that she had created and you couldn’t leave. On other occasions the same had happened, but not like that, with a fight so big as that one. You two have never been more than a few hours without talking to each other, and it’s been a long time.

You started poking your thumb, an attempt to keep everything you felt inside you through the soft pain. “You don’t own me any explanations.”

Abby denied. “I do, yes.“

“Look…” You started, letting transpire in your voice and face how tired you were of going around so many times, only to ended up in the same place. “We had the same conversation that day, you said what you wanted to say, what you felt-“

She interrupted you. “I didn’t.”

“So i am asking you to leave.”

As the last word came out of your mouth, you saw her posture fall. She looked sad, worried and younger, totally vulnerable and open for you. And you hated that you felt yourself softening. “Abby,”

She reached out for you and took your hand. You felt the urge to pull off her grip, but gave up in the last second. “Give me one chance.”

Swallowing, you watched as her fingers went to the inner part of your pulse, and you squeezed your eyebrows together. She was close, so close and God, it was good to feel her there. Your walls and anger were down as soon as she stepped even further after seeing your reaction, her lips touching yours.

And you did no move to push her.

Abby was fully inside of your room and closed the door with her feet while her hands gripped your wrist. You joined your lips more to hers, sighing heavily when you realized that you would not be able to let her out, even if you fought with all your strength against your will. Your arms wrapped around her neck and you two walked blindly to your bed, you sitting on the end while she was still standing in front of you, her back bent the kiss wouldn’t end. And you moaned, a sound that came from the back of your throat that seemed so desperate, wanting. But Abby smiled in enjoyment — (and proud).

Your shirt quickly came out of your body, then the rest of your clothes. She pulled you to the middle of the bed and started to kiss, lick and grope each part of you she could reach. Your noises only got louder, this time being followed by hers. And when her fingers went inside you, touching that spongy place that made you see stars, you felt your body shake with goosebumps. You couldn’t deny it anymore, you loved her and loved the way she made you feel.

You were lost on the fog of your orgasm, your mouth was open, trying to catch air for your lungs. She fell at your side on the bed, one of her arms supporting her head while the other supported yours. With the corner of your eye, you could see the smile she held and turned for her, placing your hand on her chest. You could regret it later, being so close to her, so open, letting yourself go so easily. But at that moment, you couldn’t think of anything else but being with her like that for the rest of your days. That’s why, when the words came out of your mouth, you didn’t stop them.

“I missed you,”

She hummed, taking your chin and pulling you into a light kiss. “Me too.” She said. “It was a torture, being away from you and seeing you with… Ellis… Ellie?”

You licked your lips, feeling her taste. “Ellie. Dina introduced us at that party. She’s great. She showed me the songs she writes today.”

Abby’s face fell into something darker, heavier. Jealousy shone back on her and you sank your nails on her skin, trying to pull her back. You knew that if you allowed it, that moment would turn into a discussion just like the other day or worse. She was territorialist and you hated it, especially after having fought with you because of your jealousy and insecurities. “I don’t like her.”

“Do you like anyone?” You asked, fun shining in your eyes and voice.

She kissed you one, two, three times. “You.” With her statement, you smiled big. Abby stroked your cheek, whispering her next words: “Just… can you stay away from her? For me, please.”

Just like that, your expression twisted in a grimace. “That’s why you’re here? To fuck me and try to say with who you want me to hangout with?” You got up and started to put your clothes back on. “Get out, Anderson.”

She faced you. “She clearly wants you, Y/n.” You laughed indignantly. “I won’t let her fuck with you.”

“Like you did that day? She won’t do it, Abby. And you know why? Because Ellie doesn’t hide what she feel, she doesn’t yell and curse when a problem pops up.” Your chest gasped with your words said in one breath. “Leave, now. You’ve stayed too much already.”

You pointed to the door, lowering your head and listening to her wear her clothes. Abby walked up to you and stopped in front of you. “I fucking tried to do this better. You can’t blame me now.”

How much you hated that situation, to be dragged by those words. The pain you felt before was nothing compared to the one you felt at that moment. “That’s all that matters to you, isn’t it? Making me feel bad so you can go over me?”

“I fucking like you, Y/n! That’s why I don’t want you with her.” Her finger wrapped around a lock of your hair and gave a slight pull.

You walked away and rubbed your hands on your face. “And you show it by trying to put someone I like as a friend away? Just go, Abby.”

“I ain’t giving up on you.”

She left with one last look and you closed the door as soon as she passed through the threshold, sniffling when the tears fell and your body was shaken with strong hiccups. You felt nothing but stupid. You knew that at some point everything would go down, but you didn’t knew it would be so quick, — not after everything.

You really thought that things would settled down, after just a few minutes and a moment with her at the bed. You thought you would go back to spending nights with her, smiling and kissing. Abby could make a fool out of you so easily. Sometimes you think you might hate her.

And this is the end!

I really wish I could write more than 2k but at some point I just start to repeat words/expressions and I have a tick with this. Hope you had enjoyed this ride and be patient with me for part 3 plss it will come out! Thank you for all of your comments!! As always, I’m sorry for any mistake.

taglist: @pinkpanther-44, @elsmissingfingers, @sofi4v13, @bready101, @mattxxamryli.

[sugar-coat-it]

i reread teenage dream and i am crying and throwing up thinking about them wanting to make it as a couple despite being young

STOP I WILL ALSO CRY AND VOM

Here is a little tidbit about that. I did in fact cry while writing it because I am a baby. this is SO SAPPY

You're both already awake when the sun peaks through the blinds, gracing the gentle features of his face. It's a routine you both know well: Matty sneaks into your room in the middle of the night and leaves when the sun comes up before anyone notices he's gone. He always jokes about how stealthy he is when he's climbing up to your window even though you have to hold your breath every time, praying he doesn't break his neck. ("It's like Romeo and Juliet, innit?" "Would you just get inside, please?")

It's quiet. It feels like you two are the only people awake in the whole world as you look into each other's eyes. Flushed cheeks and tender stares. It's the sweetest thing you've ever known. Affection courses through your body despite still being heavy with sleep. You always insist that he wakes you up before he has to go. You'd take the somber goodbye over waking to the coldness of an empty bed any day. You remember he’d kissed you hard after you said it.

"I don't want to leave," Matty admits softly, his voice scratchy.

Your heart aches in your chest, but the tender smile remains painted on your lips. Your fingers curl into his shirt, holding him a little tighter.

"I know."

"I wish I never had to leave... we could stay here, like this. Just you and me," he whispers, sleepy, his voice laced with the kind of longing poetry is written with.

You can't seem to find the words you're searching for, nothing seems like it's enough. You nod softly, searching the depths of his soft eyes for the answers. Matty carefully pulls you to his chest, burying his nose into your hair. He breathes you in deeply. 

"I think I want to be with you... always. All the time," he says, his voice thick with emotion.

Your eyes squeeze shut as unshed tears begin to prickle at them, heat gathering at the bridge of your nose. You both know you're talking about something bigger now.

"Promise me you won't let anything take you away," you whisper. You hardly recognize your own voice. It's so small.

He understands what you're asking. He doesn't even hesitate for a moment to respond. 

"I promise. I promise I won't. I'm yours. That's not gonna change, you know that?"

You don't feel like you know anything at all. You know he doesn’t either, not really. That’s the thing about being so young, it feels like you’re supposed to wake up one day and have it figured out, but that day never seems to arrive. There are only three things you know for sure. The first thing is that time isn’t always kind. But you hope she’ll take pity on you.  

Matty kisses the top of your head, cradling your head against his chest like you’re made of something breakable, his other hand at your back. You listen to the steady beat of his heart, feel the warmth of him under your cheek. You press against him like you couldn’t possibly get close enough.

“I’m scared about what’s gonna happen when school ends,” you utter against his chest.

You shudder softly as your tears soak into his shirt, unable to hold them back any longer. Matty feels his heart clench in his chest. He watches as the sunlight washes over your skin, painting you in its glow. It feels like time running out as it creeps across your frame. He’ll steal all the time in the world to stay in this moment.

"I'm scared too," he whispers back. "Scared shitless actually. But we'll figure it out, okay? We'll make it work, no matter what."

“No matter what,” you sniffle, nodding against him.

It’s quiet for a few moments. Matty gently guides his hand up and down your back, delicate, comforting fingers trailing across your spine. You can hear birds chirping outside your window, the same chorus that’s been there every morning since you were little. The second thing is that the idea of growing up and growing apart from him tears you to pieces.

"I don't think I'll ever stop feeling like this about you. Even when we're really old and gross,” he whispers, smiling through misty eyes. 

You laugh at that. He savors the sound, taking a shaky breath as he tries to etch it into his memory somehow. The arm that rests under your body has long fallen asleep. He’s numb throughout his limb all the way to his fingertips, but he doesn’t dare to move. 

“You think we have a chance then?” you murmur. It feels a little silly to ask, it’s like you’re trying to guide each other through pitch black. But, having his hand to try and lead you is enough. 

Matty pauses for a moment, considering the question. He’d asked himself the same thing plenty of times, his gut a tangle of both hope and uncertainty. He’s not dumb, he knows the chances, that nothing is guaranteed, especially not at this age. He knows the looks you both get from your parents. One of pity, like they’re already expecting heartbreak for the both of you, that the sweetness can only take you so far. It pisses him off to no end. Despite all of that, he wants to believe you two can be the exception. If that makes him naive, he can’t find it in himself to care.

“Yeah,” he whispers, “I think so.”

The third thing is that you love him more than you’ve ever loved anything.

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 2

It's hard not to get close to someone when living under the same roof, something you and Joel learn the hard way. Continuation from Ch. 1 found here.

Joel Miller X F!Reader

NSFW 18+ Minors DNI

CW: Just lots of really soft smut :)

It was surprisingly easy, settling into living with Joel and Sarah. When Joel had picked his daughter up from her sleepover that afternoon, he’d told her there was an issue with your apartment so you’d be staying with them for a bit. She practically tore into the house when they got there, finding you sprawled on the couch reading and tackled you. 

“We get to be roommates!” She was giddy. You smiled. “We can hang out all. The. Time.” 

“Except when we’re in school,” you said. “Because we still have to do that. But then… we can party!” 

“Yes!” Sarah punched the air before flopping on the couch beside you. 

“Sarah,” Joel held up her duffle bag. “Go get unpacked, c’mon now.” 

She looked at you in a way that said ‘ugh, dads, am I right?’ Before getting off the couch and taking her bag down the hall to her room. Joel came and sat beside you on the couch. 

“Don’t feel like you need to spend all your time entertaining her,” he said, looking anywhere but at you. “If she gets to be too much…” 

“Joel,” you put you hand on his knee. “I love your daughter. I like spending time with her. It’ll be fine.” 

The bigger concern you had was spending quite that much time with Joel. You’d become friends in the year you’d been working for him and that friendship had only made you more attracted to him. 

Of course, you weren’t going to DO anything about it. He was your boss, he was 11 years older than you, you were sure he wasn’t remotely interested in you like that. But being around him all the time was going to make it hard to not want more. You could already tell that much. 

For starters, he was oddly chivalrous. The first night you were there, he changed the sheets on his bed and tried to insist you sleep there while he took the couch. You flat out refused. 

“You work a physical job, Joel,” you rolled your eyes, already in your pajamas when he decided to broach the subject. “You’re not sleeping on a couch in your own damn house for three weeks and suffering because I have bad taste in men.” 

“Kid…” 

“Joel.” 

He glared at you. 

“Ain’t right to put you on the couch,” he said. You crossed your arms and plopped down on the couch anyway. 

“Try to put me in your room all you want, I’ll just sleep on the floor.” 

“You always this stubborn?” 

“Yup.” 

“Gettin’ an air mattress tomorrow,” he muttered, stalking off to his room. You smirked, flopping down on the couch and pulling the blanket up to your chin. 

He was also observant. You were getting frustrated with your pen as it ran low on ink as you were studying at the kitchen table one evening. The next day, Joel came home from work and wordlessly put a pack of the same kind of pens on the table next to you before going to shower. If you were sitting outside reading, he’d just be there with a glass of water or lemonade - didn’t say anything about it, just set it down beside you before going back inside. 

“Why’re you studying French, anyway?” He asked one evening as you were lying on the floor of the living room, holding a book over your head. Sarah was at soccer practice so it was one of the rare times where it was just the two of you in the house. 

“Want the practical answer or the real answer?” You asked, lowering the book to your stomach. 

“Real,” he replied, sitting on the couch, watching you. 

“It’s just such a beautiful language,” you sighed. “You could say damn near anything in French and it would sound lovely. Everything’s just poetry when it’s in French. And… well, it’s a pipe dream but I wish I could live in France.” 

“To do what?” He laughed a little. 

“Don’t make fun,” you protested, sitting up on your elbows. 

“I’m not,” he put his hands up. “Just curious.” 

“I wouldn’t do anything,” you shrugged. “I’d just… be. Get to walk around through the gardens or the city or the countryside, eat crepes, drink coffee at 3 in the afternoon at a cafe and watch the world go by. Read everything.” 

“Just be?” He cocked his head a bit at you. 

“Yup,” you popped your lips on the p before lying all the way back down. “Not everything in life is supposed to be hard, Joel. Sometimes you get to just be.” 

You picked up the book and were about to start reading again when he spoke. 

“What’s the practical reason?” 

“That’s easy,” you said. “Schools pay a premium if you can also teach a language and plenty of people speak Spanish, so French makes me competitive.” 

“Very practical,” he smiled. 

“It justifies the student loans,” you smiled back. 

By week two, you’d settled into a comfortable routine. There was the mad dash to leave the house in the morning - you’d started taking Sarah to school on your way to campus, something Joel seemed to be eternally grateful for. You were the first one home in the evenings, your classes clustered in the morning and early afternoons this semester. You took advantage of the quiet to study. When Sarah got home, you often helped her with her homework - her much more eager to do it when she got to do the work alongside you - and watching her favorite shows until you got dinner going just before Joel got home. 

“Keep tellin’ you you don’t need to cook for us,” he muttered one night, stopping in the kitchen to say hi to you before going to shower. 

“This is Hamburger Helper so I’m not sure it counts as cooking,” you replied. “But I’m staying here rent free, it’s the least I can do.” 

He just grunted, leaving you to it. 

After dinner was your favorite time of day, though. There was usually a movie or a board game or listening to a CD with Sarah before Joel put her to bed and you got changed into pajamas and got comfortable on the couch. You’d been alternating movies with Joel - him introducing you to horror movies and you making him watch romantic comedies - every night. 

“Can’t believe you’ve never seen ‘The Exorcist,’” he muttered, settling in beside you on the couch. You shrugged. 

“Can’t believe a movie about a little girl is that scary.” 

He glared at you. You held out a mix of popcorn and Sno-Caps. He took a handful. 

“You get too scared and I’ll turn it off,” he teased. You rolled your eyes. 

“I’m made of sterner stuff than that, Joel Miller,” you said, glancing at him. 

“I’m sure you are, Kid.” 

You always ended the night watching late night shows, something about Leno and Letterman making it so your guard came down a bit. By the time the monologues were done, your head drifted to Joel’s shoulder, too tired to sit up all the way but too desperate to be next to him to ask to go to bed. Sometimes you both fell asleep like that, jerking awake as the show ended and the sound of the commercials grew too loud. 

“Kid, you gotta kick me out if I’m keepin’ you up,” he said as he tried to blink the sleep from his eyes one night. 

“I like it,” you said, too sleepy to edit yourself. “It’s nice.” 

He looked down at you. 

“I like it, too.” 

Three weeks ended up flying by. 

For your last night living with the Millers, you decided to break out the big guns in the kitchen. You got a copy of “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” from the library so you wouldn’t need to go back to your apartment to pick yours up and got all the supplies to make boeuf bourguignon. You skipped your last class of the day to get it started in time, chopping and frying bacon, mincing garlic, combining everything just so. You’d gotten a few bottles of wine - one to cook with, more to enjoy - and even the stuff to make a chocolate cake. 

“What’s that?” Sarah peered into the pan when she got home from school. 

“The one really nice thing I actually know how to make,” you smiled. “Haven’t made it in a while so I figured I’d use my last night here as an excuse to keep my skills up. Homework?” 

“It’s Friday,” she crinkled her nose. 

“If you do it now you won’t have to worry about it all weekend,” you half sang it at her. “Plus by this time tomorrow, I’ll be settling into my new apartment and you’ll be stuck relying on your dad for help.” 

“Ew,” she crinkled her nose again. You laughed. 

“C’mon Sarah, abuse my knowledge one more time,” you said. “Make me feel like all these silly college classes are worth it.” 

“Fine,” she sighed, dragging her homework out of her bag. 

You put the main course in the oven and started making frosting while Sarah worked, occasionally asking you a question that you’d need to come look at her worksheet to help answer. 

Once the cake was frosted, Sarah’s homework was done (or so she claimed) and she took the phone off the hook and out to the backyard. You heard her talking excitedly to her friend as you got changed out of your chocolate smeared clothes and into a sundress, taking your hair down now that the heavy lifting in the kitchen was done, putting a ribbon in to keep it off your face. 

You were settled on the couch reading when Joel came home, stopping and smelling the air. 

“What in the world…” he muttered before spotting you in the living room. “What are you up to, Kid?” 

“It’s my last night,” you shrugged, smiling proudly. “Figured I’d do it up right.” 

“Smells fuckin’ incredible,” he said. 

“Thank you,” you smiled. “Had to make sure you’d miss me when I’m gone.” 

“Dad!” Sarah hung her torso in the back door, phone clutched to her chest. “Can I go spend the night at Lizzie’s? Then you don’t have to drop me off in the morning…” 

“No,” he said. Sarah’s face fell. 

“But Dad!” She whined. 

“No buts,” he said. “That’d be very rude, you goin’ over there with dinner here…” 

“I don’t mind,” you said with a shrug. “Honestly, it’s even better as leftovers.” 

“Sarah,” he sighed. 

“Please, Dad,” her eyes were wide. 

“Fine,” he shook his head. 

“Yes!” She stepped back outside, going back to the phone. 

“You’re a bad influence,” he glared at you. 

“Oh you know she’d be miserable if you told her no and she was stuck here with us old people all night,” you replied. “Everyone will have a better time this way.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he sighed. “Still don’t like it though…” 

You just smiled and shook your head as he stomped off to take a shower.

***

Joel couldn’t say the real reason he needed Sarah to stay home that night. You were in a fucking sundress with a ribbon in your hair. A goddamn ribbon. And you’d been cooking, the whole house smelled like heaven and you were in a fucking sundress with a goddamn ribbon in your hair and now he was going to be home alone with you all night. 

Not that anything was going to happen. Nothing was going to happen. Not a damn thing. You were basically a kid. He tried to imagine what he’d do if someone his age took an interest in Sarah when she got to be in her early 20s. He’d lay them out. He was too old for you and you were far too sweet and good for him. You deserved something better than him. 

Of course this was all a moot point if you weren’t interested in him at all. But he was starting to worry that you were interested. The movies and late night TV, you happily reading some of your French books aloud when he asked so he could hear what the language you loved so much sounded like on your tongue. You fell asleep against him more often than not, always seeming so happy to just be beside him. He’d stopped denying how he felt about you - he was well past that now. But if you had feelings for him, too… 

No. Too young, too sweet, too good. 

He fisted his cock in the shower, picturing the swell of your breasts in your fucking sundress, the way the goddamn ribbon displayed your collarbones, your lips soft and plump and glossy. He bit his lip to keep from moaning your name when he came. 

He got dressed again, hoping that this would be enough to keep you at arm’s length, at least for tonight. One more night. He could do this one more night. 

“You’re not going to eat all the cake, right?” Sarah was asking as you handed her a pillow. She was already one foot out the door. 

“No way,” you smiled. “Most of that sucker will be here when you get home tomorrow, promise.” 

“OK good,” she looked relieved. “It’s been really fun, having you around so much. I’m going to miss you.” 

“I’m going to miss you, too,” you said. “Thanks for hanging out with me so much these past few weeks.” 

There was a honk at the end of the driveway. 

“OK, go have fun!” You said. “I’ll see you again soon!” 

You stood and watched the car leave before closing the door, jumping when you saw Joel. 

“Jesus, you sure know how to be quiet for being such a big guy,” your hand went to your heart before you checked the time. “Still got about an hour until dinner but there’s wine?” 

“I won’t argue with wine,” he shrugged. 

You stopped and put on a CD on the way to the kitchen - something French because of course it was - and opened a bottle of red wine, pouring each of you a glass. Joel took a sip, savoring it for a moment. 

“I’m not going to pretend I know shit about wine,” he said. “But this is good.” 

“There’s definitely better wine out there,” you smiled. “But not in my price range. This was good enough to drink and cook with, so it worked.” 

“What’d you make, anyway?” He asked. “It smells complicated. Fuckin’ amazing but complicated.” 

“Boeuf bourguignon,” you said, a sense of pride in your voice. “It’s my grandma’s favorite, I make it for her on her birthday every year.” 

“Sounds complicated, too,” he half smiled. 

“It’s… not easy,” you smiled. “But nothing worth having is. That’s what makes it fun.” 

The food was fucking delicious. You sat across from him at the table and the two of you polished off a whole bottle of wine and started a second, both pleasantly buzzed as you sat back in your chairs. 

“I never need to eat again,” he groaned. 

“And just think, there’s cake,” you smiled. 

“You’re gonna kill me, Kid.” 

You twisted the stem of the wine glass in your fingers, watching as the dark liquid sloshed gently in the cup. 

“I have an awkward question,” you bit your lip as you watched him. 

“Shoot.” 

“Would it be weird if I jumped in the pool?” You asked. “By about 4 that water started looking really good…” 

“Not weird,” Joel frowned. “Why would that be weird?” 

“Because I didn’t pack a swim suit,” you winced. “But I swear my underwear covers up more than my swimsuit anyway, nothing sheer or lacy.” 

“Not… not weird.” He said it before he had a chance to really think about it. 

“Thank God,” you said, topping off your wine glass and getting up, heading for the door. “You coming?” 

“Yeah,” he said, body moving ahead of his mind. “I’m comin’.” 

You went outside, the cicadas already howling in the trees. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, like you were soaking it in. It was dusk, the hazy reds and oranges of the sunset catching on your hair. You slid the ribbon from your head and used it to put your mass of hair in a high ponytail before stepping out of your shoes. 

“Promise it’s not weird?” You asked, hands at the straps of your dress. He was watching, enraptured. 

“Promise, Kid.” 

“Not a Kid, Joel,” you gave him a small smile, slipping the straps of your dress down and sliding it down your body. 

He tried not to stare. He really, really did. But… it was you. Your skin, your pale blue bra, your black panties that were cut high on your legs. You didn’t seem to notice. You just folded your dress up and set it on a chair by the pool before going to the edge. 

“One,” you took a deep breath, your feet dancing at the water’s edge, working yourself up to jumping in. “Two… Three!” 

You leapt, feet first, catching yourself before your head went under. 

“Shit, that’s cold,” your arms went over your torso. 

“Could’ve told you that,” Joel shook his head, taking another drink of wine. “We usually wait another few weeks before the first swim of the season.” 

You hesitantly extended your arms, paddling around the water. 

“You coming in?” You asked, watching him, eyes wide. “Or are you afraid of a bit of cold water?” 

“Only because you asked so nice,” he set his wine glass down and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it on the chair beside him. He was almost afraid to look at you after he did, to see if you were watching him the way he’d watched you. He almost hoped you weren’t. But you were, your eyes running over his skin, swimming slightly closer to the side of the pool where he stood. He took a deep breath and pulled his pants down, too - his cock mercifully not fully hard after seeing you half naked, thank fuck he’d jacked off before dinner - stripping himself down to just his boxers. 

Joel stepped into the water instead of jumping, forcing himself to take each next step down into the pool despite the cold. You were damn good motivation. 

“There, Kid,” he teased, swimming up alongside you. “You happy?” 

“Yes,” you beamed. “Misery loves company.” 

You both swam for a bit, in silence, just near each other, absorbing the sounds of the water and cicadas and your breaths. After a bit, you swam to the side of the pool where you’d left your wine glass, getting half out of the water to reach it to take a drink. Joel let himself admire the way your wet underwear clung to your ass, each cheek perfectly outlined. Like a fucking invitation. 

You took the glass to the side of the pool near Joel and leaned back against the wall, your arms out of the water behind you. You took another drink. 

“I’ll give you this much, Kid,” he said, letting his eyes rove over you. “You know how to plan an evening.” 

“I’ve got skills,” you smiled, tilting your head back so you were looking at the now dark sky for a moment before you looked to him. “Why do you call me Kid?” 

“What do you mean?” He frowned. “I’ve always called you that.” 

“I know,” you nodded. “And it’s fine, I don’t mind it. I kind of like that you have a nickname for me, I just… do you see me as a kid?”

You were looking him in the eye. Your nipples were peaked below your bra, your lips full and tinged red from the wine, the ribbon in your hair reflecting the starlight. 

“No,” his voice caught a bit on his throat. He shouldn’t be honest with you. “I don’t see you as a kid. Never really have. I should though, fuck knows I should.” 

“Why?” You breathed, twisting to face him. Your bodies were close, so close that his skin brushed yours when he moved. 

“Because you’re too young for the way I think about you,” he said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “And you’re Sarah’s nanny…” 

“I’m 21 Joel,” you said softly. His hand slipped around your neck and tilted your head up toward his. 

“I know,” he said. “And you deserve someone better than me…” 

“I’m not sure there is anyone better than you,” you whispered. “Not to me.” 

He tugged you gently to him then, lowering his mouth to yours, his eyes holding your gaze until his lips met your own. 

The kiss started hesitant, gentle. You tasted like wine and cherries and your arms went around his neck, pressing your warm, soft body against his. His hands slipped to your waist then down your back, pulling you tighter to him and your kiss grew firmer, more desperate. Your tongue cautiously dipped into his mouth and he met it, pulling you into him before exploring your mouth back. 

His hands went to your ass - fuck you had a great ass - and picked you up, bringing you on level with him. Your legs went around his waist, your fingers tangling in his hair. Your core was pressed against him, so fucking hot against his stomach. The erection he’d been dodging all evening now unavoidable with you on him like this, his cock prodding against your backside. 

“Fucking hell Baby, you’re going to kill me,” he groaned, kissing down your jaw to your throat. 

“I like that name better,” you whispered, pressing your lips to the side of his head as you held him close. 

“Should tell me to stop,” he kissed down to your breasts and back up the other side of your neck. “Tell me to not want you.” 

“But I don’t want you to stop,” you ground your hips against his stomach and he groaned. He was so fucking close to being buried inside you. “I want you, Joel…” 

He brought a hand around to the front of you, finding your clit beneath your panties. You jumped a little but then relaxed into it, putting your lips against his. He pulled back from you, frowning. 

“Everything OK?” He asked, breathless. You nodded but looked hesitant. “Baby, if I’m doing anything you don’t want…” 

“No,” you cut him off quickly. “It’s just….” You bit your lip and closed your eyes, wincing for a moment before looking him in the eye again. “I’ve never done… this. Before.” 

“Done what.” 

“Joel, please don’t make me say it,” you groaned, dropping your head to his shoulder and pressing a kiss into him there. His eyes went wide. 

“You’re a virgin…” 

“Yeah,” you cut him off, lifting your head to look at him again. “If it’s too weird, that’s OK, I get it and I shouldn’t have said anything at all…” 

“Just surprised is all,” he managed eventually. “Not weird, Baby. Just maybe we should rethink…” 

“No,” you shook your head, pressing yourself tighter to him. “I want you, Joel.”

He slipped his fingers down your slit, teasing you, rubbing you. 

“You tell me if anything I do hurts and we stop,” he said gently and you nodded, kissing him again. 

He took his time with you, teasing your body open, slipping one finger inside you. You groaned, your walls clenching around him as he pressed deeper. Fuck, you were tight. It was a wonder his cock wasn’t ripping his boxers he was so hard. 

“Anyone ever done this before?” He asked, breathless as he worked his finger in and out of you, teasing your clit. 

“No,” you groaned. “Just you…” 

Just him. Fuck he loved hearing you say that, knowing some of those stupid boys you’d dated had never made it this far, never gotten their dirty hands on you. They’d have manhandled you, taken their own pleasure from you without worrying about yours. That was his justification. You deserved better, someone who knew and cared enough to take care of you, made sure he didn’t hurt you. He could be that for you. 

He slipped another finger into you, feeling you stretch around him as you moaned, working your hips against him. 

“You’re doing so well Baby,” he kissed your neck. “Want to make you cum first, that will help, think you can do that?” 

“Yeah,” you were breathless, clinging to him, working your hips against his fingers. 

He curved his fingers up against your inner wall, pressing into you, making you gasp in shock. 

“Have you ever done this, Baby?” He pulled back from you, searching your face, your pupils blown, cheeks red with want. 

“Not… inside myself,” your blush deepened. “Never…. Fuck…” he pressed into your clit harder and smiled, giving you a chance to focus. “Never needed inside, outside was…. Joel, fuck… outside was plenty.” 

He kissed your temple and down your cheek to your mouth, tasting you again. He added a third finger and you shuddered into his mouth, your pussy stretching over his intrusion. 

“That too much for you, Sweetheart?” He asked, barely pulling his lips from yours. 

“N…no…” you managed, rocking your hips against him. “Feels… good…” 

He plunged deeper, stretching you further, pressing into your clit as you got tighter and tighter around him. 

“It’s OK Baby, just cum for me,” he breathed, holding you close. “Just cum, you know you want to, need to. I’ve got you, it’s OK.” 

“Joel,” you whimpered, your grip on his body and fingers tightening as he felt you come apart around him. You went limp, body sagging against his in the water as you gasped for breath. He just cradled you close, stroking your hair. 

“We don’t have to do anything else Baby,” he said eventually, voice gentle. 

“But I want you,” you said, lips brushing his neck. “I want you to be my first, I want to feel you inside me….” 

“If you want me to stop,” he said, pulling his fingers from you and tucking your underwear to the side. “Then tell me to stop.” 

You nodded, taking a deep breath. He adjusted your bodies and freed his cock, lining himself up with your warm entrance. He pressed his tip into you, his forehead dropping to yours. Fuck, you were already gripping him so well and he wasn’t even really in you yet. He pulled you down a bit, sliding into you further. You sucked in a breath as the first two inches of him sank into you. 

“You OK?” He asked. You nodded quickly, kissing him. You started pressing your hips down on him, trying to pull him deeper. He obliged, holding your hips and driving himself into you. It was so hard to hold back from just taking you, you felt so fucking good around him, so tight he had to work for every fraction of every inch. He bottomed out in you just as his hips met yours, his cock against every part of your insides. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this close to another person. He’d dated, of course, since Sarah’s mom had left, but nothing had stuck. He’d fuck someone and get it out of his system. There was no risk of that with you. One taste and he was certain he’d be wanting you for the rest of fucking time. 

“You feel…” you gasped, your fingers running through his hair. “God, so good. So so good. Didn’t know how good…” 

He kissed you, pressing himself against your back wall as he did, making you moan. 

“Need you to move, Joel,” you managed, pulling your mouth back from his. “Need to feel you…” 

He nodded against you and started to withdraw from you, going just halfway at first before easing back in. He started slow, gentle, focusing on finding the places inside you that made you grip him tighter and moan his name. 

But then he couldn’t hold himself back, leveraging you up and down his shaft as he fucked into you, feeling you open for him with each and every exquisite stroke, your body welcoming him and holding him tight. 

“Want to feel you cum like this,” he said, pressing a thumb into your clit. “Tell me what you need Baby…” 

“Keep doing that…” you pressed yourself down against him. “Fuck, so close…” 

It didn’t take long for you to finish again, your body trembling around him, feeling so fucking incredible around his cock. 

“Where do you want me to finish?” He managed to gasp out. 

“Inside,” you moaned. “I’m on the pill, please…” 

Joel didn’t need to be told twice, pressing himself as far into you as he could reach and cumming, hard, pulse after pulse filling your wrung-out body. He held you tighter, leaning against the wall of the pool to stay on his feet. 

Fuck, he was in trouble.

[stardustsorbet]

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 ― ♡

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⁞ mentions of unrequited feelings, mentions of death and lost loves, kitsune!reader, there’s a little bit of poetry I lowkey pulled it out of my ass

“Escort me, my memory is a bit hazy,” she lied. She knew the path like the back of her hand, allowing her friend to take the lead. (Y/N) loved to tease him, the silver-haired judge, Neuvillette. He wasn’t gullible per se but sometimes oblivious to jokes.

He couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter, you really wanted to go back. To that lake where you spent your youth. When you were just a young kitsune and he a youthful dragon. His horns were so petite, and your tails were so small, yet soft. Where there was so much unresolved tension, unanswered questions he had.

“That lake holds many of my memories,” he spoke, trying to keep his words to a minimal, just small talk. With his arm hooked in hers, he couldn’t help himself from trying to appear to others as maybe being her lover. The press would sure milk this for all its worth, but he almost wanted that. Fontaine’s dearest kitsune, a sweet woman, and the cold Chief Justice.

“Wouldn’t you think it’s rather romantic to go somewhere like this, especially so late at night?” He whispered, leaning down so she could hear. His height was quite different compared to yours. A smile crept onto his lips; this was his way of flirting with you, and you knew that better than anyone.

“Aren’t you presumptuous?” A laugh escapes her lips, playfully shoving her friend, not enough to hurt him. “Just.. take me there, okay?”

The walk from where the two had dined to their lovely lake was not too far, and he could not pretend like he didn’t enjoy being with her in pure silence like this. It had been years since their falling out, but now? Things were so much different. They’d both grown, both changed in so many ways.

She took a seat in the rustic swing hooked onto a branch of a cypress tree, swinging gently as she gazed into the water. The pale moon reflected Neuvillette’s features so beautifully; she had forgotten just how beautiful he really was. She couldn’t help but notice in such an intimate moment like this.

He sat himself next to her, worried the swing wouldn’t be able to support them both, but alas, it did. It was rather old, much more used to supporting two young teenagers and every conversation they had. “You look most beautiful tonight. I’m not sure I told you that already.”

“Thank you.. and you look just as beautiful. This moon makes every feature of yours that much easier to see and therefore appreciate.”

“Hah, thank you, (Y/N). I wonder, do you still remember every moment we shared here just as I did?” He asked, gently taking her hand and placing a kiss on her knuckles.

“My kitsune mind betrays me.. you’ll have to remind me.” She knew he wanted to tell the story, but of course leave out his embarrassing moments. If she brought up how he’d fallen in the lake all those years ago after kicking a rock out of anger, he’d become a blushing mess.

“I remember how we’d enjoy the morning sunlight reflecting on the lake, hiding under the ripples of the water as the wind blew and storm clouds thundered. Things were so much different then… Do you still care for me as much as you did then?”

“Time decays the friendships between mortals, and though it has been centuries now since we’ve crossed paths, I feel like nothing has changed between us. I could reminisce in these moments forever and still hold the same comfort I’m bathing in now, despite all that has happened. If only time could pause, how kind would that be, Neuvillette?”

Her eyes were tired and emotional, every memory she had flowing through that bright mind she held.

“Pausing time, we could never find a way. But, I wouldn’t mind spending all my time with you, dearest (Y/N).” His eyes watched her so lovingly, his old friend. His friend he’d messed things up with so badly.

It was nice to sit in silence, your fingers intertwined. No romantic connotations, at least on your end, he just enjoyed being comforted like this. The touch of his warmth next to you made everything feel okay again.

“I remember I buried my book of poetry around here, I’d like to read you some of my writings.” He knew exactly what she meant, smiling at her. It didn’t take long for them to find the book with the leather cover, the dirt covered pages, and the writings of all (Y/N)’s feelings.

“Do read me some of your writings,” he spoke, helping her into the swing again, sitting beside her with admiration beaming from his blue eyes.

“Ahem… gosh, this is embarrassing, haha. Vintage clothes, antique catches. All the cracks and burns from matches. I love the imperfection of these things. Humanity, so precious, like diamond rings. Everything about you is so raw, so real. So unrealistic how you appeal to me.”

He smiled at her words, they were beautiful and vulnerable. With each word, he knew there was something in her heart when she wrote them down. “Who was this about?” He questioned. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“A general. I fell in love with him. He died in the cataclysm.” Her breaths weren’t shaky, and her eyes weren’t full of tears. Enough time had passed now, it wasn’t something she dwelled on. “He was a very dear friend of mine.”

“Ah, I’m very sorry. I’m sure you were very dear to him, you’re so bright and beautiful.” He had a hard time comforting people, according to Navia (he’d taken that very personally).

“It’s okay, these things don’t haunt me anymore. I’ve moved on. I hope that lived up to your expectations. It was just my younger mind, all very real with her feelings.”

“Is there any more?” Neuvillette inquired, resting his chin on her shoulder as you flipped through the pages.

Flipping over the pages, scanning the words quickly, she found one she’d be okay sharing. “Beautiful, even when you’re wrong. You are like the static and crackle in lightning. Please, just give me time to leave. Your soul is old, but your thoughts are new. Your mind is bright, but your heart is blue.”

He listened to the way she wrote about this mysterious general, her heart was dedicated to this man. His mind wandered astray, wondering if maybe one day she could think of him like that. Alas, he was too shy to ask her something like that. He wasn’t as bold as he was when he was younger.

“Have you ever been in love with someone other than him?”

“Feelings are so complicated. They change, just like weather patterns. In our youth, things were different, but now… I’m too work oriented to care about romance anymore. I see it as just a distraction.”

Neuvillette understood that notion, and in a way almost felt similarly. It was hard to find time for your heart in a world like this, where they were both always so busy.

He fell quiet for a few moments. Perhaps the alcohol from dinner earlier had gotten to him, but there was so much he wanted to say now. “Could I ask something of you? It may be a bit invasive and awkward, so don’t be afraid to shut me up.”

With a nod of her head, she allowed him to continue. “Have you ever felt affectionate toward me?” His face was almost sad, nearly desperate. She knew her answer would break him, and it was awfully inconvenient she didn’t bring her umbrella.

“I know our feelings.. changed. You grew to prioritize your profession more.. And I respect that. But, I can’t help but wonder. Did you ever feel anything.. for me?”

“I… don’t know what I feel. Feelings are just so complicated to understand. I just don’t like dedication. I enjoy the feeling of freedom and independence, not being tied down by housewife work and kids running around!”

“I understand. I feel similarly. But, that’s not the key to a relationship, it’s the love you feel for one another.” He smiled, feeling her head against his shoulder.

“But the distractions become just that.. distracting. It’s hard to be close when there are things leading your attention astray.”

“It’s just additional effort, I suppose. But, it’s not for us all. That I can most certainly understand.”

Their hands were still intertwined, her peace sinking into him as well. She was quiet, breathing slowly against him. Letting him do all the talking was easier, especially on tired nights like these. “My thoughts are hard to understand, I’m sorry.”

She spoke after a long while, biting her lip almost uncomfortably. “I find it easier to not love then to love and lose it.” Her way of thinking was clearly damaged, but he’d wait. He’d done it this long, he would do it longer. Because, at the end of the day, when the moon went behind the lake, when the bugs lurked around the shoreline, the chief Justice was sure of one thing. Neuvillette was most definitely in love with his dear friend, (Y/N).

Sorry about the corny ass poetry I thought it would be nice to add. I’m embarrassed whjdsjdb

[omgpoindexter]

more nurseydex fics!!!

i’ve been doing my duty properly and reading some different nurseydex fics on ao3 lately 🫡 i tried to find some that are more recent, however i inevitably found some that are older but slipped through the cracks for me.

here are some of the ones i came across that you need to read! i might make this a thing again if anyone is interested, im sure y’all have been much more on the ball with reading nurseydex fics than i have over the years but i do love reccing <3

suddenly this summer it’s clear by @dessertwaffles

The summer before senior year, Nursey and Dex become closer than ever.

Or, Nursey and Dex's developing relationship, as told through their text messages.

i was absolutely grinning the entire way through this. it’s a texting fic, with images rather than plain text (so clever!) but their personalities are so strong and their interactions are just perfect! and you know i love a texting fic

getting used to letting go by @jennybeantime

Dex was supposed to have a fancy job in some city upon graduation, but his plans changed once his uncle died and left the family home in Maine to him. Without immediate obligations of their own, Nursey, Chowder and Farmer follow Dex up there to help him clear it out and clean it up.

this fic is BEAUTIFUL. if you haven’t read it then please do yourself a favour and do it now. it captures certain feelings and emotions so effortlessly and i felt like i was in a little maine bubble living this story with them. i can’t believe i missed this one before, please please read!!

got the feeling you’re the right thing after all by @bisexualnursey

Two and a half years after he breaks up with Dex to go to grad school across the country, Nursey runs into him again when he visits New York for the holidays. What starts as them just rekindling their friendship quickly turns into a whole other thing: a 100% no-strings-attached friends with benefits arrangement while they’re in the same city.

Which is totally chill because Nursey is definitely over Dex. He swears. He’s going back to California soon anyway.

i seriously CANNOT BELIEVE i never read this before but i think i was in my inactive era when this was posted. it’s just so perfect!!! all the feelings and interactions with not only dex and nursey but all the other characters, friends and family, they all felt so real and i loved them so much. i’ll be rereading this a LOT! you should too!!

here i am (leaving you clues) by @averteddeyes

Will loves Nursey. Nursey loves Will. Will isn’t really quite sure how to deal with it.

(Alternatively: Will learns acceptance through poetry, hesitant communication, and brightly colored sticky notes.)

this is really gorgeously written. angst warning, because ouch!!! also poetry as a love language, like a really good selection of poetry, i really enjoyed it and how it weaves into the story. and the bittydex friendship is so important to me!!!

volta by @plusoultres

volta (n.) a turning point or point of change in a poem, most commonly a sonnet.

Or, five times a poem doesn’t reach its intended recipient, and one time it does; five drafts, and one work completed; five turning points, and one ending.

the second fic was inspired by this one, and thank goodness it was because this one totally slipped through the cracks and i’m so glad i read it. their banter is just brilliant and i love the variation in medium, and the poetry is beautiful! i could quote lines from this but im not going to. just. read it

things got weird (when we made out) by @andtimestoodstill

Nursey is being stupid about this. He knows he’s being stupid.

super fun and really cute, i love it when these two are just being idiots. great inclusion of the other teammates too. read it for this line alone: “[You’re doing] That thing where you forget to look like you hate Dex and just stare at him like some Victorian lady who just saw a hot dude for the first time.” because it made me laugh out loud

things that go bump in the night by @smashthatlikebitty

The first time it happens, Dex rolls over and flings so many obscenities in Nursey’s direction that even his Grandmother would have to sit down — and she cursed so much at Dex’s cousin’s wedding that the whole family has been banned from that church ever since.

Nursey just stills in the dark, one shoe off. A languid, infuriating presence. “Chill, man.”

essentially all the times nursey’s clumsy ass wakes dex up in the night. oh how i love pretending these two roomied their way into a relationship! this is so cute, smiled all the way through

some things take two people to build by @cricketnationrise

“You are the single most dramatic person I have ever met,” Dex mutters, trying valiantly to hide his grin.

Or, 5 times Dex wishes their relationship was real +1 time he doesn't have to

this was so fun, yet again i love them being idiots!!! these two in new york city is so important to me. and i for one would LOVE to read the work party 5+1 fic. just saying

[monamors]

Break in.

With Timothee Chalamet x Reader

Authors Note: Hi, please consider sending a request in, I’m not very creative w/out a prompt!

After a grueling day at the office, battling endless traffic, you finally arrive home to your empty house. You text your friends, apologizing for missing the hangout, noting that Timothee also skipped without explanation. Your house feels more like a shell than a home—no groceries, just takeout, and your only companion, Tux the cat, purring at your feet. Loneliness pervades, not because you can’t find someone, but because no one compares to Timothee, the man you can’t move on from despite being just friends.

You change into comfortable pajamas, a cozy oversized sweater and underwear, when a cold breeze tinged with grass sweeps through the hallway. Cabinets rattle in the darkness. Grabbing a bat from the closet, you’re startled by glass cutting into your foot from a broken window. A shadow charges at you, and you swing, striking something solid in the chest. The figure collapses.

Heart pounding, you flick on the kitchen lights, ready to call the police, only to realize the intruder is Timothee.

“Tim—Timothee! What the hell are you doing breaking into my house?!” You demand, keeping the bat poised.

He groans on the floor. “I was looking for something.”

“What could possibly be so important that you’d break my window instead of texting?” You help him up, fetching the first aid kit.

“I’d rather not say. I’ll just pick it up and leave, and I’ll pay for your window.” Timothee avoids eye contact.

“So you want to take something from my house and not tell me what it is?”

“Yes.”

“No, tell me what it is.”

“It’s a card.”

“So you want to steal my mail? What the hell?”

“Don’t worry about it. Can I just grab it and leave? Please.” He pleads.

“Fine. All my mail is upstairs in my office. Follow me.”

As you both ascend, Tux the cat tries to cozy up to Timothee, seeking affection. In your office, you sit behind your desk and open the drawer, pulling out a stack of letters. “Which one is it?”

“The pink envelope.”

You retrieve it, and Timothee tries to stop you, but you insist, brandishing a letter opener. The words on the card pierce your heart:

“My Beloved Y/n,

In the quiet moments when the world fades away, it is you who fills my thoughts, like the soft caress of moonlight on a tranquil sea. Your presence in my life is not just a blessing but a symphony of emotions that crescendos with every beat of my heart. I am captivated by the way your hair cascades like silk, swaying with a grace that rivals the dance of the stars. The sparkle in your eyes rivals the brilliance of a thousand suns, reflecting a universe of dreams and possibilities.

I find myself spellbound by your essence, drawn inexorably to the warmth of your smile and the tenderness of your touch. Each moment spent in your company is a glimpse into paradise, where time stands still and every word exchanged is a verse in the poetry of our connection.

And so, with a heart overflowing with love, I must confess: I am deeply, irrevocably in love with you. Your laughter is the melody that plays in my soul, your presence the light that guides me through the darkest nights. To love you is to know a love that transcends the ordinary, a love that defies logic and embraces the infinite beauty of who you are.

I understand if these words come as a surprise, for they have long been whispered in the depths of my being, yearning to be spoken aloud. But I cannot deny the truth any longer, nor the depth of emotion that binds my soul to yours.

Whether or not you share these sentiments, know that my love for you will endure beyond time itself. You are my muse, my inspiration, and the beating heart of everything I hold dear. For in you, I have found not only a friend but a soulmate whose presence completes me in ways I never thought possible.

With all the love my heart can hold,

Timmy”

A tear escapes your eye.

“Listen, I know you might not feel the same way, and that’s why I tried to take the letter. I didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship.”

“Timothee, you’re such a hopeless romantic,” you say, rising to kiss him.

He meets your kiss with tenderness, emotions swirling between you both.

“You’re still paying for my window,” you manage to say between kisses.

[padfootagain]

Your Song

Hello! Today we’re answering a request sent by an anon: “Heeey! I got this idea last night for a Ben imagine and it’s so cute that I know you’re gonna kill it. Listen, what about a singer reader writing a love song for Ben??? Like, you are working on your new album and Ben keeps asking you to show him a glimpse of it. He’s just super excited (we love a supportive boyfriend) and you keep telling him to wait, so it’s the single release day and at 12am (that’s the time music release on spotify, right?) he grabs his phone and he listen to the song and he’s just so emotional that you wrote the song about him!!! Like, there’s a specific moment when the lyrics just hit him and he’s like “is this about me?“ JUST IMAGINE. Honestly, I think that writing a love song to someone it’s one of the greatest gestures of love if you are a musician. I’m just a hopeless romantic 💗💗”

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you like what I’ve written for you!

Also, apologizing for the bad poetry of the lyrics…

I hope you all enjoy this cute fic! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warnings: Extreme fluffiness

Summary: You’re a singer, and your new album is about to come out. As he listens to the first single for the first time, Ben suddenly realizes who your songs are about.

Word Count: 2048

Ben Barnes’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Ben was overexcited, to say the least.

Perhaps it was a little ridiculous to get so excited at his age about something as mundane as a song, but then again, he enjoyed simple pleasures in life. And he also had a more important reason to be excited about this piece of art: you were its creator.

A new song coming out was always a bitter-sweet experience. There was the excitement of the release, the relief of the abandonment of something you had worked so hard on. But there was the apprehension of reactions as well, the worry that it might turn out to be a terrible fiasco.

This time around though, you seemed happier than usual about the release, your team had noticed the changes with ease. They all thought it was because of your relationship with Ben, about the fact that it was the first time some of your music was coming out while he was by your side, encouraging you and looking at you with all the pride in the world held in his gaze.

And it was true that his kind words and his support towards you were the main reason behind your calm behaviour. But there was also excitement and tenderness this time around, because of the meaning behind your single.

After all, this song was about Ben.

You had refused to let him hear it before it would come out. You were strict on this decision, no matter how many times he had pouted at you and given you his most adorable puppy eyes. No matter what he tried to convince you, your answer remained the same:

“Not yet. You’ll listen to it when the world does.”

But tonight was the night. Ben was struggling not to fall asleep before the clock would strike midnight.

You laughed at him as he yawned once more.

“You should go to sleep, darling,” you admonished, but Ben shook his head, blinking his tiredness away as he focused again on the page of his book.

You were both lying in bed, your backs resting against the bedpost and your comfortable pillows, side by side under the warm covers, both of you reading.

“I want to listen to your song as soon as it comes out. Do you know for how long I’ve been waiting for this? And you over there… being all secretive…”

“Me?” you answered, summoning your most innocent tone, which made him merely roll his eyes.

“Yes, you. You’re lucky you’re unbearably gorgeous, or I would be very upset about all this.”

“Oh, but my natural charm gets me out of trouble, then?”

“Obviously. What else could it be?”

“At least it makes things even between us, as I find you too charming to ever be mad at you for more than five minutes.”

He grinned at that, rewarding you with a peck on the lips.

He glanced at the time again.

Ten minutes left. He heaved a sigh and put away his book. Instead of reading, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, and you easily yielded, melting against him.

“I’m so proud of you for releasing your music,” he mumbled against your temple. “I’m so happy for you, darling.”

“You haven’t even heard the song yet. Perhaps it’s terrible.”

“Not a chance! I know how talented you are. I have no doubts it will be wonderful.

You grinned up at him, your smile unbelievably tender.

“Thank you, for believing in me this way.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for, love.”

You let his hand wander under your t-shirt, rest against the warmth of your skin, right across your ribs, his thumb tracing circles there.

“If you hate the song though, you need to tell me,” you ordered, but Ben merely rolled his eyes.

“I will most definitely not hate it.”

“You need to promise!”

He heaved a sigh, but promised anyway.

“You are being absolutely ridiculous.”

“Perhaps. Still, I want you to be honest with me.”

You were surprised by Ben’s tone when he spoke again. The coldness in it didn’t match the tenderness of his embrace.

“Well, you didn’t tell me why I couldn’t listen to it earlier so…”

“It wasn’t ready! And I want to be here. And… I wasn’t ready. It’s difficult to release a song. You know how it feels, you’ve done it too. It’s unnerving, in a good way, but it’s still difficult. You’re letting a little piece of yourself go, show the world something you’ve made out of your own heart… it’s tough, to be vulnerable like that.”

“I know, love. I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

He kissed your forehead to make amends, and forgiving him was so easy… as easy as breathing.

You cuddled and stole kisses for a while, until Ben’s phone rang, an alarm blearing across the quiet room.

“MIDNIGHT!” he cried, overexcited as he reached for his phone.

You laughed fondly at him.

He hurried through Spotify, finding your page with ease. You both lied down to listen to the song, sharing some earpods, staring at each other with your cheeks smudged against your pillows. You reached for his hand before he would play the song for the first time.

“Ready?” he asked, and you nodded, a shy smile on your lips.

He pressed play, the small triangle turning green and with it the first notes of a love song ringing through your ears.

He was grinning already, pride shining in his dark eyes as he stared at you, listening closely to the intro.

And then your voice was there. Airy, flying high as if to reach for stars, a warm sound perfectly fitted to the lyrics, to the rhythm, to the words you spoke. And he loved it, every second of it.

And it was a love song, it was easy to guess. He listened to the first verses with a smile on his lips, without thinking too much of it. But then, the chorus came, and he frowned hard. Or rather, he was too taken aback to think or breathe and slow down the racing pace of his heartbeat.

Cause there you were by the beach on a summer breeze

Dark eyes darker than the night and

Laughing so much we couldn’t breathe

So that’s what being happy means, holding your hand?

You and the waves and the remnants of cheap beer

You blushing under a streetlight like

You’re afraid I don’t want you near

But you’re everything I’ve ever wished to be mine

You and your accent and the way you pull on

All my heartstrings and now all I can sing is your song

He stared at you, the light of your bedroom shy and quiet, like the night outside. From a proud smile, his expression turned into one of confusion, although it was tainted with hope.

Because the first night he told you he loved you, you were in Malibu, after buying beers at a small bar by the sea.

And for a moment he pushed the thought away. Of course; he loved you, and he knew you loved him but this… you couldn’t be writing about him…

But then the song went on, your voice was back, and details piled up, reminiscence of times shared together, and there was no more doubt to have by the end of the next verse.

I was afraid when you flew across the globe

I was too used to be the one

Running off and letting things die

I was almost surprised when you called the first time

Midnight and lights everywhere and your voice

Rambling about a day wearing someone else’s life

You could have forgotten all about our night

It was strange to be someone else’s choice

Even if it took us three tries

To connect the screens and our lives

You in a green hotel room

Me alone in my bedroom

By then, Ben had tears in his eyes. Because that was you and him. When he left to work on a project in Canada a few months into your relationship. You had confessed that you thought he wouldn’t fight for you, but he did. And that night, when he called, there was such a terrible wi-fi in his hotel room, it took him three tries and fifteen minutes to finally be able to hear and see you.

The chorus played again, and Ben reached for your face, palm spread across your cheek so he could draw patterns on your cheekbone. He let his first tear fall at the beginning of the bridge.

I apologized because I wasn’t used to this

Being treated right and falling asleep

In arms that didn’t hurt when they held me

Not sure how to handle this but I’m trying honey

Writing real love songs are never easy

Still if it’s yours I guess I’ll make it

Turn it in my mouth until it sounds sweet

Like your voice in the morning

The way I love you too much to speak properly of it

One last chorus and then the guitar and piano grew quiet. There was no beat anymore, and Ben didn’t let another song start. Instead, he turned the music off, reached to take off the earpods and put them away. Not a word passed his lips. He dried his wet cheeks on his sleeve, lying down again, in the same position, on his side so he could face you.

“Do you like the song?” you asked in a shy whisper, and Ben laughed, shaking his head as if this was the most ridiculous question you had ever asked.

Still, even if he knew the answer already, it was hard to believe it. So, he asked, just to be certain.

“Is the song about me? About us?”

Slowly, you nodded.

“You wrote a love song about me?” he asked, voice shaking with emotion, and it was your time to shake your head at him as if he was silly for asking such question.

“Of course, I did. Who else could I write about?”

“I don’t know.”

But before you could reply, Ben was leaning closer, holding onto your cheek once more so he could pull you to him and kiss you until none of you could bear the lack of oxygen and the pounding of your hearts.

“I love you,” he whispered, his forehead pressed to yours, his eyes still closed. “I love you so much, Y/N. And I’ll always love you. I’ll always be here.”

“I love you too. And well… I take it that you liked your song.”

He laughed at that, holding you close, so close it should have hurt but it didn’t. It never did with him.

“I loved it. Thank you, it was perfect. You’re perfect.”

*********************

Taglist : @sergeantbuckybarnes @reg-arcturus-black @wolfmoonmusic

[tempobrucera]

Poetry Dies Last

Pairing: Thomas x Reader; Thomas x Reader x Ethan Summary: Thomas can’t quite believe his eyes when he sees you fifteen years after the last time. And then he's waiting. Wordcount: 3.4k Warning(s): 3k of sadness, alternative ending to All my friends and Let the devil (can be read without the other ones but then you’re missing the happy end) A/N: @maneskings Thanks for loving this story as much as you do <3

Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist

.#####.

Thomas’ seven days of heaven and hell began on a Saturday. 

Someone I loved once gave me a box of darkness. It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.¹

Thomas reads it again. And again. And again, again, again, again. 

Handwritten into one of Ethan’s notebooks he found in a box hidden away. A box his partner told him to clear out as she explained to him that it would be nice to use the space for something else as if it would and should be the easiest thing in the world for him. Space for something else than his personal baggage, he thinks. 

The whole morning, he went through Ethan’s scribbles while she was sleeping on the couch with their dog only a few steps away. Peacefully slumbering while Thomas went into turmoil. He knows better, he shouldn’t lurk through Ethan’s thoughts or go through his notebooks, he should give them back to him but he can’t help himself.

The Mary Oliver quote he reads over and over again was written by you. He wonders if you knew how this would end when writing it. 

We’re under the same moon and I’m sick with that knowing.²

Ethan wrote it under your quote. He feels sick, and still he wants to go somewhere he hasn’t been for years. Thomas still thinks about you and him with such intensity he worries it became his daily prayer.

She’s still on the couch when he puts the box full of knick knacks away. 

“I’m going to the beach.”

“Let’s take the dog,” she yawns, “And go to the beach then.”

“Sure.” It’s not what he wanted, he wanted to go alone, have time for himself and indulge in memories - the past. Doesn’t look like he’ll have the chance for that now.

She is sitting next to him on the passenger seat, her hand on his thigh. The drive is quiet - no words being spoken. There’s only music coming from the speakers he wouldn’t have chosen himself, some noises coming from the dog. He feels like he has to get out of this car before he slows it down.

At the beach he gets a beer and some fries as he did so often. Sharing his beer with Ethan and sharing his fries with you. Days and nights full of laughter, sand everywhere, and the far away thought that the year is already over when the summer begins. The other thought that he’s still with the people he loves. Now he just looks at the sea, how the water laps against the shore. Nipping on his beer. Just one hand in his lap, his dog walking around them.

Two figures are on the horizon but otherwise this part of the beach is empty this time of the day. They have a dog with them as well. He sighs and prepares himself to leash his dog and for a lot of barking.

“Come here, Cinnamon.” He already takes the leash, pets her head and pleads with her. “No barking and jumping people today, okay? Please.”

His partner laughs next to him, loud and freely, he smiles.

The figures are holding hands and one of them is whistling for the dog that comes closer and closer, Cinnamon happily wagging her tail, ready to jump already. But the other dog changes direction, running away from them again. And then there’s a laugh. A laugh that has his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. The fierceness of his own feelings sets him aflame. There’s too many feelings he can’t shake off. It’s your laugh he hears and for a moment he thinks he deluded himself into making up the voice in his head just to feel closer to you again. But there’s a red umbrella with yellow sprinkles that he thought he had misplaced years ago in a hand that isn’t yours before he sees your face and how you’re holding hands with someone that isn’t him. 

“Bagel, no.” Your voice is ringing in his ears and Thomas has to close his eyes before he can’t take them off you. There’s a smile around your lips, the guy next to you looks like someone he would have tried to befriend if things would be different. “I assure you these people have no food but I have treats. Sit.”

“I wish Cinnamon would do that and listen sometimes.”

He just hums in agreement. When you look at him Thomas’ whole world stops for a few seconds. He waves - just to see if you react but you don’t wave back and for the last moment you look at him he asks himself if you might have forgotten him entirely. You look ahead and he slowly lets his arm sink down. Cinnamon licks his hand before she walks away. Love is humiliating, he thinks, and wonders if the person next to him sometimes thinks the same.

“Someone you know?”

“I must have mistaken them for someone I used to know.”

He didn’t. He is sure. And when he sees a new DM on Instagram, a photo of you smiling at him, he is certain. You unfollowed him years ago, he did the same but somehow he always came back to check on you. Love in the age of followers, always reminded of each other somehow.

Are you happy?

It has been 15 years. A lifetime away, so long ago. Still seeing you walking along the beach, hand in hand with someone else, a dog running around your legs, breaks Thomas' heart. Again. Over, and over, and over, and over. 

The Ouroboros ring is still on his middle finger, like it was all these years ago. There's another ring on his ring finger, glistening in the sun. After all the ring he turns to when he's nervous, when he doesn't know what to do with his hands, he reaches for the one around his neck. It was a promise. Never quite broken, but never fulfilled. 

Thomas reaches for it now. His hand still shaking, he wishes you would have looked at him longer, just for a little longer. A second, a minute, just a moment longer. A moment that would have felt like another lifetime. He was close to following you, leaving everything else behind. His dog trudges over, licks his knee, and lays down in his lap - always knowing when he's about to break. There's a hand on his other knee.

Nothing lasts. There is a graveyard where everything I am talking about is, now. I stood there once, on the green grass, scattering flowers.³

He has read those lines once. In one of Ethan's poetry collections, or maybe Ethan read them to him. Thomas has to think about it now, nothing lasts, and everything five feet under. Him, Ethan, you, everything said and everything locked away.

Happy? He isn't happy, he hasn't been in a while. That was a lifetime ago.

He doesn’t know what you expect the answer to be, if you even want to hear the truth. 

No.

He types and sends it off.

.#####.

When he drives back to the beach on Sunday, this time alone, he is hopeful. It should scare him but he can’t remember when he felt this much hope flooding through his veins and his mind the last time. The windows are down, wind in his hair and he put Led Zeppelin on, so loud that he can’t hear himself hum to the melody.

He gets his fries and his beer. For a second he thought about asking Ethan to join him, even just for the feeling to not be alone. He didn’t ask, he didn’t say anything, Ethan’s notebooks still in the box at the same spot in the house he made himself a home out of. 

But he lets his mind wander back in time. To the times where you and him were watching the sun. When you leaned your head against his shoulder. When you would eat your fries, laugh and tell him from your week. To the times Ethan was there, how Ethan kissed his neck and you kissed his face. To when you went skinny dipping, Thomas splashing Ethan’s face and Ethan dunking him under water in turn and him only feeling safe because your hands never left his body until he resurfaced and he had to cough. But before he could get mad there was always someone to kiss him.

He’s waiting. Waiting for you to appear out of nowhere, to step in his life again like you did the day before. You don’t show up, there’s no answer from you, nothing that would even suggest that you even saw him yesterday.

Thomas would like to stay but he promised to be somewhere else this evening and he can’t wait any longer. He promised Ethan something a while ago and he is sure that everyone else thinks that he has forgotten about it just after saying it.

“You made it.” Vic smiles at him when he sits down on the seat between her and Damiano. Damiano smiles at him as if he knows something no one else does but isn’t saying anything. As expected of him he claps when Ethan is called on the stage and sits down but when he is the only one still doing so Vic elbows him in the ribs slightly.

“Sorry.”

Vic dismisses it with a hand gesture. The whispering from the audience is dying down and only then Ethan begins to speak, book in his lap, glasses on his nose. There’s no introduction, no hello or pleasantries. He just opens the book and starts reading. 

“For the ceiling full of stars.”

Thomas’ hands shake and he clutches to his own thighs. His head spins and he only hears scraps of what is being said.

“Explain the children of the world that they should stop growing If there's one thing no one needs, it's more people who hate themselves.”

He knows he will start crying in a second, Vic takes his hand and he’s afraid to crush it.

“And then explain to the lovers, the constant pain of endless searching And if the tears bother us, explain that they are always part of it.”

There are tears rolling down his cheeks, Vic isn’t letting go of his hand and Damiano hands him a tissue as if he came prepared. The rest of the reading he tries to breathe, his vision blurred from tears. He can’t wait to get out of here, this room, away from people, away from all the words that sting and away from Ethan. But Victoria isn’t letting go of him, even when they are standing up. There are tears drying on his cheek while he watches how Ethan’s boyfriend goes to him, hugs him and presses a chaste kiss to his lips, Damiano puts his arm around him, and Ethan looks at him. Thomas’ eyes are closed when Ethan comes to him, he’s sure he makes a pathetic noise when Ethan wipes a stray tear away from his cheek with his thumb, kisses him on the forehead, and then he hugs him. Slowly Thomas lets go of Vic’s hand and his nails are digging into Ethan’s back. Ethan gives him the book he read out of earlier on stage.

Poetry Dies Last - Ethan Torchio

When he looks over Ethan’s shoulder he can see how Ethan’s boyfriend looks at him sceptically.

But he comes over and gives him a quick hug as well, his voice dangerously close to his ear: “I don’t like it but I guess I have to live with you.”

.#####.

Monday afternoon he takes Cinnamon and leaves the house without saying a word and a drive later he finds himself at the beach again.

He waits, again. There’s hope that he can’t quite explain, he’s haunted with it. There’s love he hasn’t felt in a while somewhere under all the pain. He’s only going backwards it seems. Cinnamon next to him howls at the waves when she thinks they are coming too close to him.

You don’t come to see him. 

His bare feet are resting in the sand that is cooling down from the heat of the day.

There’s something Ethan quoted once he has to think about: I want nothing. I just want the emptiness to mean something.⁴

Thomas thinks he still knows how ice cream tastes off your lips.

.#####.

Tuesday he’s back in the same spot. He stays longer this time, darkness engulfing him. He’s alone this time but he can see the lights of a small port somewhere in the distance. 

Even when you don’t come he knows the lights will still always be there. Somewhere far away but still there for him to see. He would like to know what you’re up to, how you’re doing, where you are. If your dog is in your lap. He wanted to have forgotten you by now but he’s still sitting at your beach waiting for you. 

It’s easier during the day, when it’s light outside. But now it’s dark and the sea is whispering your name. He wonders if you’re still thinking about him like he thinks about you but he’s certain that you’re far from that. The only thing he ever wanted was someone to see the mess he is and despite everything find him worthy to be loved. You and Ethan to love him anyway.

It pains him how much he thinks about you. How much seeing you turned his world upside down again. 

Thomas lights himself a cigarette. A cigarette he stole from Ethan earlier in the day, an old habit resurfacing again. The first drag of the cigarette feels and tastes weird on his tongue but by the third it feels pleasant. He hasn’t smoked in five years. Something his new partner encouraged and wanted, and he just gave in. Too many bad memories of people handling him without care, too scared that love turns into something else.

The lights are brighter than he remembers. And you're gone, forgetting him and kissing someone somewhere else.

.#####.

Early on Wednesday before she even wakes up, he takes Cinnamon and drives back to the beach. Maybe, that little bit of hope tells him, he’s only there at the wrong time. He gets himself breakfast and a coffee, planning to get his beer and his fries later in the day. The dog jumps around his legs when they’re walking along the shoreline. Running after a toy he throws and bringing it back to him, jumping up to encourage him to run with her.

He’s out of breath when he sits down but he has a small smile on his face. It slowly drops off his face when there’s a new text on his phone.

Where are you? Are you ok?

He thinks about his new relationship, that he changed. That he’s bored with everything and has a boring life with boring sex which feels more like a chore than a blessing and with a relationship that only gives him the feeling to not be alone. He still has his bar that brings him joy and playing live which he always loved the most in his life but everyone around him moved on.

Sometimes Vic would sit next to him, head on his shoulder, and say: “I know you grew up but … I miss my Thom.”

He doesn’t want to be that person, boring, bitter and closed off. And he isn’t, he can’t. He can’t let people from the past win over him like this. People who hurt him, people who scared him, people who abused him. Thomas learned that he has to let certain things go, that they are weighing on him too heavily but he still can’t let go of everything. The sand of the beach passes through his fingers. Maybe the longing for something more is his way of surviving. 

Thomas would smile one of his silly smiles. But Vic would elbow him and tell him not to fake it. Not for her. He would feel bad about it for a few moments and Vic would manage to put Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide on, take his hand and dance around with him wherever they were.

On these days he would be himself, feel like he was still 21. Go party with Vic during the night, drink, dance on tables, feel free and like how it’s supposed to be. He would come home late or rather early in the morning, would lay down next to her and think about how much he misses your warmth and Ethan’s lips that would press against his neck.

When he comes back home during the depths of the night he takes the notebook out of the box again. 

“I exist in two places, here and where you are.”⁵ 

He feels exactly like this quote you wrote down in Ethan’s and your collection of poetry quotes years ago. He wonders if you were thinking about him then.

.#####.

He takes Ethan’s poetry book he pressed into Thomas’ sweaty hands the other day. It’s already Thursday but he still goes back to the beach, she looks at him worried when he takes his keys. 

He was never an avid reader, the complete opposite to Ethan, but he wants to know what has been written even when the tears will drip down onto the pages later.

For: The ceiling full of stars.

There’s a handwritten note Ethan wrote on the page in red ink. 

“I won’t say it wasn’t meant to be, because it was. We were. Only for a short while, maybe. But we were.” - Unknown

Hearts are so easily broken. And I’m sorry, I still go to bed in one of your old t-shirts you forgot at mine sometimes. There’s still songs I put on playlists for you. Playlists full of songs I like because you loved them first. Everything sticks with you in certain ways even if the people don’t and people feel about you the same. I can’t make it sound poetic but the door will always be open if you ever feel like coming home.

Ethan

He didn’t expect the tears to come so easily or so fast but they are. It meant something is the only thing he can think about. 

He’s a shaking mess when he turns to the last page hours later.

I love(d) quite passionately, and always with a hint of tragedy.⁶ 

He almost skips the acknowledgement segment at the end of the book. But his name being first on the page catches his eye. Yours right under his makes his stomach turn.

We could have been okay.

And only then there’s Vic and Damiano getting their thanks.

He’s still sitting in the sand and hoping. It’s time to get his cold beer and fries that are dripping with grease. On the way he thinks about the time Vic told him that she saw you, breaking down in her arms, when he left for Los Angeles with a person that wasn’t good for him and he noticed too late, everyone did. How Vic told him only years later, he thought he wouldn’t forgive her but the one he can’t forgive is only himself.

He wishes he wouldn’t have turned around that day, that maybe he wouldn’t have moved, that things would be different now.

The thought that Vic was right, she’ll break your heart, Thomas. How he has been to hell and back and how he would still say it was wonderful.

.#####.

It feels unreal that it is already Friday again. It’s almost a week since he has seen you. His guitar is on his lap. 

This morning he gave her a kiss and she smiled at him. Tired but happy to still have him there. He felt exhausted. Exhausted from looking for something from someone he knows can’t give him what he needs. Deep down he knows she’s hurting too but she still makes him breakfast and sends him off with another kiss.

“Is he okay?”

He hears Damiano ask. And he hears Vic’s worried voice too. They talk about him as if he isn’t there.

“I think he saw her,” Ethan says, “he mentioned something the other day.”

Later he leaves without saying goodbye, only taking the pack of cigarettes out of Ethan’s leather jacket. He wonders if Ethan knows that he started again, or if she can smell it on him when he comes home and lays down next to her in bed.

And then he's back at the beach. He took the notebook with him and his guitar. He has his beer and his fries and the taste of cigarettes that feels comforting to him in a way he doesn’t understand. He flicks through the pages thinking that it might inspire something heart-wrenching in him.

“And I’ll never see you again, if I can help it In five years, I hope the songs feel like covers Dedicated to new lovers”⁷

They don’t and when he picks up his guitar later, he still thinks about you instead of the woman waiting for him in his bed.

There’s a ripped out page in the notebook and Thomas swears to himself that tomorrow is the last day he will wait.

.#####.

It’s Saturday, the sun is about to go under. His bottle of beer is empty, fries are eaten and he knows he should go home, leave this place behind once again.

Thomas sees your naked feet in the sand when he wants to give up, sandals in your hand, before he sees into your face.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You came.”

“Yes, did you wait?”

“Hope was stronger than not coming back, I guess.” You nod and then you sit down, next to him, close to him. Like he dreamt of every night this week. He looks down and takes his empties. “I have to get something, will you wait?”

Another nod.

Thomas goes to get another beer, more fries and a Sprite for you. There’s six cans of Sprite in his fridge from this week, just because he knows it would have been your drink of choice on a warm day while he can’t stand the taste. For some reason he didn’t take one earlier.

The guy looks at him annoyed: “Only drinks, sorry, I am already closed.”

“Please!” He fishes a 50 euro note out of his wallet.

“Give me ten minutes.” There’s a sigh and a slight shake of the head but the guy still takes his money. “Some large fries with ketchup and mayo, a beer, and … A sprite?”

Thomas nods. He’s nervous. Nervous that you’re gone before he’s back, that you already left, that you realised you made a mistake coming to see him. But when he’s coming back you’re still sitting where he left you. He sits down next to you in the sand and he hands you the fries and the can of Sprite.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For old times sake,” he says and you put your head down on his shoulder. It’s a little bit heartbreaking. A sentiment reserved for old lovers. For something that used to be but isn’t making it any smaller.

He takes a swig of his beer. It feels like you never have been strangers, not even for a second, it feels like you have been here with him for the whole way. 

“I miss you!”

“I miss you too,” you say, “both of you.”

“It’s too late … right?” He has to ask even when he knows what the answer is and that he doesn’t want to hear any of it. 

You twist the ring on your finger. It’s your wedding anniversary, you shouldn’t be here.

“Yes.”

Six years - he’s six years too late.

“We could just stay here.” He says regardless. “We could just leave, move somewhere close to the ocean and we could just live.”

He knows he’s building castles out of sand but he doesn’t want to stop, not for the moment.

“Sounds like a dream.”

“Can we just disappear?”

You’re holding his hand and your voice sounds tired: "Stop giving me always just that little bit of hope to stay. It hurts so much more, Thomas."

“We could just stay here.”

You aren’t letting go of his hand, you’re still holding it in yours. Maybe there are only endings after the first, everything ends because nothing is endless. Your head is still on his shoulders, he smokes, there’s tears again. And so many memories between you. 

“I’m glad you’re in Rome.”

“There’s a reason why Rome rhymes with home.”

You laugh at his stupid joke, like you always did.

“I want you to be happy, Thom.”

“It meant something, right?”

You sit up and you move the hand that isn’t holding his to his cheek. 

“It meant something, caro. Of course it did.”

Thomas doesn’t expect it and he can’t stop the whimper falling from his lips when you kiss him. He tastes like years ago. But you can’t shake the feeling that he tastes bitter underneath all the sweetness, the promises and the cigarette smoke. Under the surface it’s bitterness and lost chances. Another lifetime. It doesn’t stop you from leaning in to him and to deepen the kiss for how long it takes.

“I will stay,” Thomas says. Still a little breathless.

“I’ll leave,” you say, “And, Thomas? I love you. I’ll have to live with that. And you’ll have to make peace with everything else.”

“I wish it would be different.”

“I know,” you get up - there’s a last kiss to his lips and one to his cheek. A thumb that wipes a tear away once again. “Say hi to Ethan from me when you see him.”

And then you leave. Leaving him in the sand with castles he made out of air. And a ripped out page that has seen better days. 

“Maybe I’ll see you in another life If this one wasn’t enough So much time on the other side”⁸

Is what you have written down. And when he turns it he sees Ethan’s handwriting.

“Missing and silence. Isn’t that enough?”

He could just walk into the water. Wait for everything to go black. And maybe someone would kiss him again. Like all those years ago, after the feeling of drowning. Someone laughing next to him. 

He could and that scares him the most but he just sits there in silence.

“Thank you for stopping by all those years ago and for tonight.”

.#####.

END.

.#####.

For everyone who needs the real and actual happy ending now here you go: “All my friends told me you’d break my heart.”

Let the devil be my witness

Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist

.#####.

Poetry & lyrics used:

¹ The Uses of Sorrow | Mary Oliver

² Elegy for the Four Chambers of My Brother’s Heart | Steven Espada Dawson

³ Flare | Mary Oliver

⁴ The Complete Short Stories (Scribner, 1987) | Ernest Hemingway

⁵ Selected Poems, 1965-1975 | Margaret Atwood

⁶ Not a direct quote but inspired by this clearly: Letters to Sartre | Simone de Beauvoir

⁷ Night Shift  Lucy Dacus

⁸ How Big, How Blue, How Beatiful | Florence + The Machine

.#####.

Taglist: @writingmaneskin, @oro-e-diamanti, @iamtashaquinn, @teenyweenynightghost, @findaqueenwithoutaking, @foreveryking-thatdied, @findoutwhoyougonnacall, @maneskinbrainrot, @little-moonbeam-666, @ethaneskin, @maneskin-dimensione, @l0standn0tf0und, @butkutee, @gr8rainbowpunk, @maneslut, @maneskintifoso, @weareoddlydrawn, @hiraetheral, @imjustanerdwholikestoread, @cuzimitaliano, @hopelessromantic727, @dating-villain, @maneskinsimp, @lauraosheaoh, @till-you-scream-and-cry, @wonderlandishell, @cheese-toastie-11, @h1ppieth1ngs, @paralianeyes, @livvyysstuff, @que–sera–sera, @roisinlove123123, @romanoffswoman, @lovelyy-moonlight, @crwnnjules, @roisinlove123, @chocolatepizzatyrant, @whitewolf-writes, @lizzylynch1, @fugg1977, @maneaterdoll, @imposter-27

[askbensolo]

Hey Ben!

I first found your blog when i was 13 years old and i just turned 18! I’ve been watching (or rather reading) as you’ve grown, and I’d like to say that you seem to have turned out to be a pretty great person. Even though I hadn’t faced the same challenges as you, it was really comforting to know that i was not alone with personal struggles, and just how hard growing up is. Thank you for being you and sharing that with so many people! I head off to university when my planet transitions to fall, and since you’re out of school now do you have and recommendations for college/university? It seems like such a daunting change, but you seemed to have handled it well. (I mean you did graduate so that’s a pretty big success!) Again I’m super proud of you!

-P.S.

Im glad that you’re getting back in contact with Fannie! You should totally invite her on a day out (go to a park, hang out in a market, etc.) I think those are great ways to better connect with someone if they feel a little distant. (plus that could be a perfect opportunity to ask her if she would like to move in with you)!

Thanks! Stay Awesome Ben!

Hey anon! Congrats on becoming an adult! It’s okay if you don’t feel like one yet, haha—Force knows I didn’t when I was eighteen. I’m glad I could share my growing-up experiences with you and everyone! And I'm glad you think I'm a decent guy. I try. Well, usually.

Congrats on getting into university! Oh, what? You're asking me for advice? Well, yeah, I guess I did graduate, heh. Sure, I'll give it a go.

Don’t freak out about not knowing how to do stuff—like not knowing how to buy groceries, or sign a lease, or navigate local speeder lanes, or apply for a job, or any of that. I used to not know how to do any of that. I was freaked out. But somehow, I learned. And now it’s no big deal. Older students and the holonet are your friends when it comes to figuring that stuff out!

For the love of the Force: take care of yourself. Whoever was taking care of you when you were a kid isn’t there anymore. The seven-year-old in you is gonna think that means you can eat ice cream for dinner and stay up till 2am every night. Don’t. Do. That. You’re gonna need to be your own mom now. Or, you can pretend my mom, the OG Space Mom™, lives in your head and lovingly judges your life choices.

Question the things you’ve been taught. And when professors tell you to question the things you’ve been taught, question their questioning too. But don't question things forever. You need to decide what you believe about things, 'cause otherwise someone else is gonna decide for you.

You don't have to choose certain classes (or even an entire major!) just because they line up with your interests. For example—I tried taking a poetry class. Hated it. I didn't like having my creativity cramped by assignments, and I didn't learn anything I didn't already know or couldn't learn on my own.

Don’t feel pressured to date in college. I didn't date anyone (yeah, I know, you're so surprised). Sometimes I felt like I was being left behind, 'cause I saw so many of my friends get into relationships...but, I saw some nasty breakups, too. Things happen when (and if!) they're meant to happen, so there's no need to stress about it. You know?

Try new stuff! Yeah, it sounds cliche. But I let my roommate drag me to the gym when I was a squishy noodly boi, and now lifting's my thing. You never know what you might be into!

Always keep the big picture in mind. Sure, it may feel like the end of the galaxy when you flunk an exam or fail a class. But do you really think you’re gonna care about that when you’re like, fifty? Nah bro. Keep it chill. And sometimes that even means dropping out of a minor or an honors program, if you look into the future and realize it won't really make a difference.

Don't do deathsticks. If anyone offers you deathsticks tell them to go home and rethink their life.

That's all the advice I can currently think of, though I'm always happy to share more from my infinite (not really) stores of wisdom! And thanks for your advice, too—those totally sound like things Fannie would be into.

Thanks for reaching out! You're gonna do great at college, little buddy!

[life-in-the-garden]

A Spell for Bisclavret

Introduction

I don’t talk about my academic life here much, so for those who aren’t in the know: I’m an undergrad in the US working towards an English degree (going part-time because I also have to work to earn my daily bread like the wage slave that I am). Last semester was… incredibly stressful, but I ended up really enjoying a class about romances written in medieval Europe. We started with eight of the Lais (long poems) of Marie de France, a woman writer of the time period, and one of those Lais was titled “Bisclavret.” If you aren’t aware, Bisclavret is an Old French word for “werewolf” AND is the name of the main character… since songwriters in the Middle Ages weren’t exactly subtle much of the time.

The spell I created—and am now sharing with you—was inspired by the character Bisclavret and his story, and draws upon the power of this knightly werewolf of yore.

image credit

If you want to read a translation of Marie de France’s “Bisclavret,” you can do so here. This isn’t a translation that I’m fond of (I think the rhyming is unnecessary), but it’s free to access and gets the gist across just fine. On the off chance that you want to read the translation that I actually recommend, which includes the Old French source text alongside the English, then check out The Lais of Marie de France: Text and Translation by Claire M. Waters.

If you don’t want to read a good many lines of poetry, here’s the summary: In his story, the knight Bisclavret is tricked by his scheming, adulterous wife into revealing his wolf form to her, whereupon she becomes frightened and hides his clothes. Therefore, Bisclavret cannot change back into his human form, and so lived in the wilderness as a wolf until found by King Arthur and brought to Camelot. There, in the court, he behaves so courteously that everyone remarks at how noble and regal the wolf is… until Bisclavret sees his former wife and her new husband, whom he attacks. Arthur, who believes that the wolf would not attack without reason, interrogates the human couple and learns the truth about Bisclavret. The werewolf’s clothes are returned, and he transforms back into a man as Arthur orders the exile of Bisclavret’s ex-wife and her husband from the realm.

This spell, titled "Garwolf," is a piece of baneful magic intended to punish a thief.

Garwolf

You will need:

1 or more pieces of paper for writing upon

a writing implement

a method of destroying the paper, ideally via fire (and all associated fire safety accouterments) or else via a shredder, scissors, or what have you

Method:

Think of a time where something was stolen from you. The stolen thing doesn't need to be a physical item; maybe an abusive parent stole a happy childhood from you, for example. This spell assumes that the stolen thing has been permanently lost in spite of your best efforts to retrieve it, and that you cannot find peace through mundane methods. If the only option left is magical retribution for the hurt you've undergone, then this spell is for you.

Take the paper and write a letter about the person who stole from you. (if you can't write easily or struggle to read your own handwriting, you are absolutely allowed to type the letter on a computer/phone and then print it out). Pour out all the hate in your heart onto the page. Describe how you were hurt, and how it made you feel, and how you want the target of this baneful working to feel and what they should suffer as recourse for the pain they've caused you. You are an entire human being who deserves respect, dignity, and safety; don't minimize your own feelings here. Let it out and hold nothing back. (This step focuses your intention).

When the letter is finished, fold it up as small as you can and carry it on your person for three days and three nights (approximately 72 hours). Shortly after each time you wake up during this period, read the letter aloud to yourself and ruminate on your feelings towards the target. Do the same thing before going to sleep. Remember that you are worthy and that nobody has the right to make you feel lesser. (This step charges the spell).

When the three days and nights are finished, read the letter aloud a final time and then destroy it with all the rage and hatred you can muster. Tear it to pieces! Burn it! Shred it! Render your words unrecognizable as you release your energy into the universe to carry out your will of bringing misfortune, hardship, and/or suffering upon the spell's target. (This step casts the spell).

(If destroying the letter via fire, remember to follow all applicable fire safety procedures and don't burn down your surroundings in the process).

To cool down from casting this piece of emotionally intensive baneful magic, practice some self-care. Make yourself a cozy beverage and/or take a luxurious bath or shower, for example, and remember that you have an innate worthiness that can never be stolen from you.

If you found this spell intriguing, please consider tossing some spare change towards my ko-fi so that I can continue sharing my magical work!

[pinkberrytea]

1,2,8,15,16,24 :)

Tysm for the ask friend! 🫂🫶✨

From this post!

1. What would your Tav’s greetings be (at different levels of approval)?

Negative

“Hm… hm…” “Hm, yes?” “Er…”

Neutral

“Oh, hello.” “Hm? Oh, I’m sorry, did you need something?” “Yes? How can I help?”

Medium

“Oh, you’re here!” “Oh! Is there anything I can do for you?” “Hey, you!”

Flirting

“Hm? Oh! Oh… h-hi!” “You’re here! I-I mean, what can I do for you?” “H-hello! Wait, does my face look weird? Ugh, please don’t stare!” “I was just thinking of you! O-oh, I’m sorry, did I say that out loud?”

Partnered

“Yes, love? Whatever it is you need of me, I’m yours.” “Oh, my love, just gazing upon you makes my chest feel so tight…” “Is such happiness really possible? Sometimes it doesn't feel real...” “Oh, darling…”

Bhaal’s Chosen

“This body is but a vessel. Words are useless.”

Broken up

“Oh, uh… hi.” “Please... please don't.”

2. Describe their tent setup! What’s on the outside? The inside?

Mav’s tent would probably be very humble and barebones at first, since she never really owned anything prior to her abduction. However, with time, I could see her trying to spruce it up with stuff she finds along the way, maybe decorate it with candles and flowers, books, pillows, cute stuffed animals Karlach would get her as gifts. Needless to say, it’s Mav, so the color palette would consist of mainly whites and reds!

8. After Act 3, what does their life look like? What are they talking about at the reunion party?

This varies a little depending on whether Astarion has ascended or not—if he hasn’t, then the spawn will be gone and they’ll be traveling the world looking for a way for him to be in the sun. While they do eventually settle down and realize that their life together, however imperfect, is already happy enough as is, at the time of the party, they’re still out and about, staying awake throughout the night and then sleeping during the day. Mav is his own personal blood bag, and it becomes rare for him to feed on anyone else that not her.

If he has ascended, then they’ll also be traveling, but for entirely different reasons! Mav wants to see the world, and he is more than happy to indulge her, pampered little consort that she is. He puts his plans of taking over Baldur’s Gate on hold for her; while Mav knows that she cannot get him to give up on them completely, she does try to gently distract him from his ambitions, wanting nothing more than for him to realize that living eternally in each other’s arm is in itself a privilege unlike any other.

In both cases, she is his light in the darkness, the trembling flame keeping him from being consumed by the shadows, albeit in different ways. And in both cases, they adore each other deeply and are attached at the hip, codependent to a fault. At the party, she doesn’t talk much about herself, unless prompted; the others can tell though, that she loves him, he loves her back, and they’re each other’s home—this will never change.

15. Is your Tav more likely to fight/flight/freeze/fawn?

Freeze, at first. Depending on the situation, also fawn.

16. What do they do for fun, when not adventuring? What are their hobbies?

Mav loves reading, mostly poetry and sugary sweet romance novels. The cheesier, the better!

24. What does your Tav consider to be their own biggest character flaw?

Previously answered here!

Mav is painfully self-aware and knows full well that most of the time, she comes across as too clingy and gullible. Her thirst for connection also makes her rather prone to selfishness and hypocrisy; she’s willing to forsake her morals entirely for those she loves. In that same vein, she hates that she cannot just let herself be kind without associating any so-called selfless acts with her overwhelming need for acceptance.

[vannahfanfics]

Hello! I requested a fire emblem three houses matchup commission on kofi. Pronouns are she/her. No preference for gender.

Personality: Emotional and imaginative, frequent daydreamer, stubborn and independent, observant and adaptable, anxious and guarded around other people.

I am friendly when approached but difficult to get to know and struggle with being vulnerable. I tend to mimic the behavior of and match the energy of whoever I am interacting with. I prioritize others wellbeing over my own and frequently exhaust myself in the process. I tend to contradict myself or behave unpredictably. I am both affectionate and closed off, practical and impulsive, a fast learner and forgetful. I’ve learned to embrace it and would need to be with someone who can keep up with and not be annoyed by the variability.

Hobbies: reading (very interested in psychological and scifi stuff), listening to music, puzzle games, walking and hiking, i write poetry but am very private about it LOL. I sing pretty much constantly. I’m not terrible but I’m not great at it either. So, ideally, a partner who would not be bothered by that.

Values: family and loyalty

My family is extremely important to me and I am very close with both my parents and sibling. My priority is always to take care of them. My closest friends hold the same value as my biological family to me. At my core I am a very caring and devoted person and I want to be given the same energy back.

In a relationship I value security and communication. I have a deep desire to be understood, cared for, and protected. I also want to be challenged and feel inspired by them to be a better version of myself.

Other details: I am touchstarved but afraid to ask for affection and too nervous to initiate. In romantic relationships I am inexperienced and tend to come off like a frightened animal so I would need a partner who can navigate that compassionately.

My emotions are strong and can change rapidly. I am someone who for the most part internalizes this but I am, unfortunately, very easy to read. I wear what I’m feeling on my face and am only occasionally successful at masking it with neutrality.

I apologize for being longwinded and thank you so much! I hope you are having a good day/evening/night!! <3

Thank you for your commission! I've been struggling with writer's block for months now, and I was really excited when I got this not only because it was for a new fandom I've gotten into recently, but also because it did a good job of getting the ol' juices flowing again. So, thanks! XD I hope you like it!

I match you with...

Claude von Riegan from Fire Emblem: Three Houses!

All right, I'll admit up front that I'm a little biased when it comes to Claude because he's my favorite Three Houses character. He hooked me from the first moment he appeared, and the Golden Deer route was my first route. Still, it's not my own personal bias toward him that led me to pair him with you for this match-up! I've got lots of reasons why I think this dashing fellow is the one for you!

First and foremost, you and Claude have very similar personalities. In some cases, this might lead to an incompatible relationship, but I don't think that would be the case for you and Claude! Rather, I think that the similarities in your personalities would allow the two of you to connect with and understand each other on a very deep, emotional level. Like Claude, you maintain a friendly and approachable persona that likely gathers you lots of friends and acquaintances, but in reality, struggle to be vulnerable with any of them for quite some time; it takes a lot for both of you to let those walls down and really let someone in. Your behavior often ends up contradictory because of it, like a practiced dance that you just can't help but engage in with others because of your own apprehensions. I think that Claude would find you a kindred spirit in this sense and gravitate toward you because of it. If anyone can truly understand him, it will be someone who ticks the same way, right? Likewise, he'd be able to understand you, since his mind operates the same way—and especially since you are easier to read than some others might be, having difficulty masking your true feelings a lot of the time. I think he'd find it refreshing, having someone around whom he didn't have to try to puzzle out all the time and someone who didn't find him as much as a puzzle as everyone else seemed to. He'd probably find your inability to conceal your emotions and feelings pretty adorable and tease you about it, just a little bit! It comes from a place of genuine endearment, of course. It'd start out innocent at first, on his part, just searching for something familiar amidst all the unfamiliarity in his life, but he'd soon find himself opening up to you without realizing it, I think—and when he did realize it, he'd also realize that he's down pretty bad for you!

There are other facets of your personality that would draw him in, too, that would result in him falling for you. He's definitely got his own stubbornness about him, and he'll find someone who can match his energy entertaining. He's also very independent, and he values that in people. He's also exceptionally observant and adaptable, and he'll definitely want someone like that around to aid in his various schemes, hehe! He'll also respect your sense of loyalty, for loyalty is also something that he values immensely. He'll especially respect your loyalty to your family, being such a family-oriented person as he is. He's also a big one on devotion, and the fact that you'll be just as devoted to him as he is to you will be a big thing for him. He will definitely give you that energy back; it doesn't matter if you're on different continents altogether, he'll make sure you know that you're the only one for him!

You value communication in relationships. Claude might struggle with this in the beginning, what with his need to guard his secrets closely. With time, however, he will open up, and once that barrier is broken, Claude will keep no secrets from you. He knows that communication is important if a relationship is going to be serious and long-lasting, and he is willing to be open once it gets to that point. He will see your desires to be cared for and protected, and by golly, will he provide! It doesn't matter if it's him against the whole world; he'll do what he has to to keep you safe. He'll make sure you feel loved every day, and he's a master at utilizing all the little things to accomplish that. He'll also deeply respect your desire to be challenged and pushed to be the best version of yourself that he can be, and he'll do whatever he can to help you reach your goals, whatever they may be.

You mentioned that you're a bit hesitant in relationships, nervous to initiate and unsure in navigating them; that's okay! Claude's depth of emotional intelligence will let him pick up on that immediately, and though he will find it so cute that he'll want to scream, he'll also know what you need and act accordingly. He'll never push you beyond a point you don't want to go; he'll take everything at your pace, every word and action dictated by nothing but your comfort level. His dashing prince act might seem a bit much at times, but it's genuinely all from the heart. He adores you and wants you to feel safe and secure with him, no matter what, so he'll do everything and anything to that end. <3

Finally, I think you and Claude would click together because you share a lot of the same interests! Claude's a big reader, and not just for the sake of his schemes. He loves knowledge and soaks everything he can up like a sponge. He may not be one to read fiction as much, but he'd happily sit with you and lose himself in some encyclopedia or another while you lose yourself in a story. He'd also love puzzle games, I feel, seeing as he approaches a lot of situations and things as a puzzle. Nothing brings him more satisfaction than seeing a problem he's been chipping away at come together, and so I feel like he'd be down to tackle puzzle games with you—and he'd be damn good at it, too! I also think that Claude would love going on hikes and walks with you. His mind is constantly working, and though it'd take a bit to actually drag him away from something he's invested himself in, once you do, he'll greatly enjoy losing himself in nice scenery somewhere—especially if it's just the two of you. It'll be enough for him to let it all fall away, all the things occupying his mind, and enjoy simply being with you. Finally, I feel like Claude's got a secret love of music himself. :3 He'll not only enjoy your tendency to break out in song, but he'll do it right along with you! It will not be an uncommon occurrence for him to spontaneously sweep you up in a duet and a dance, even if you both have to drop everything to do it, LOL.

In summary, you and Claude have a lot in common, both in terms of personality and passions, and I think that would lead to you being able to understand each other in a way that people don't often get to understand one another. <3

Now, for the second part of the match-up, I wanna circle back to Claude's endeavor to make you feel loved! Really, this man loves with every fiber of his being, and he's going to go above and beyond to ensure that you know just how much he adores you. He ain't ashamed about it, either; he's proud of his simping LOL I feel like Claude is more of a gestures person when it comes to showing affection. He tells you how much you mean to him often, too, but he has always been a big believer that actions speak louder than words, and this man's actions equate to him screaming how much he loves you from the rooftops, LOL

Love notes. This man is huge on love notes. He leaves them everywhere. When you're in the shower, he writes little notes in the fogged-up mirror for you to find when you get out. He sticks them in books you're reading for you to find the next time you resume them. He sticks them in the pockets of your jackets for you to have a pleasant little surprise to find when your hands seek escape from the cold. His ingenious in his hiding of them to where it's more often than not that you discover them when he's not around, but obvious enough to where they will inevitably be found. Even if it's just a simple, "I hope you're having a good day when you find this! :) I know I am because I have you", he just wants you to know that you occupy his mind 24/7. And you do! Claude is constantly blown away by the thought of how lucky he feels to have you in his life. <3

He loves to surprise you with flowers. There doesn't need to be any special occasion. He just loves to see your face light up with surprised delight when you discover a new, bow-wrapped vase with a fresh bouquet of flowers. Seeing you smile gives him a dopamine rush unlike anything else.

Acts of service! Huuuuuge, huge, huge acts of service guy, too. If you need help with anything, anything at all, he is there. It is not uncommon for you to come home and find that he has done every single chore for the day—cleaned the house from top to bottom, cooked you dinner, drew you a warm bubble bath. Whenever Claude feels that you're becoming stressed and overwhelmed with life, he will step in and remove as many of those stressors as he can until you feel better. You can come to him for aid with any problem, and he'll figure it out, someway, somehow. No obstacle is insurmountable for Claude, especially when it comes to his dearly beloved!

More than anything, Claude shows his love for you by being willing to spare each and every spare moment with you. Life can be busy sometimes, and it's easy to get caught up in your own things, but Claude will always, always make sure that he drops all his responsibilities and obligations for at least a little bit of time each day to be with you. Nothing is more important to him than being with you for a few precious moments each day, if it's just lazily cuddling because you've both been exhausted by the toils and trials of the day. He's there with open arms and a big smile, ready to wrap you up and take you away from the wearying world for just a little while. <3

Finally, for the last part of your match-up, a scenario! I think it's pretty inevitable that Claude discovers your penchant for poetry, no matter how hard you try to keep it a secret, LOL. The man is just too good at rooting out secrets. As soon as he's got an inkling that you're hiding something from him, he's on the scent like a bloodhound, desperate to solve the mystery. It's only a matter of time before the jig's up, and here's how I think it'd go down:

You should have known he was onto you.

You had been vigilant at first, of course. You'd secured your poems away tucked away in a dark corner of your closet where Claude had no business looking in the early days of your blossoming relationship. You'd moved them to progressively more secure locations as things had grown more serious, determined to keep this part of your life a secret for as long as possible. You hadn't feared rebuke or ridicule, and you still don't, not from Claude; it was just embarrassing, sharing a creative talent like that with somebody, in a way that you just couldn't explain. You'd share it with him when the time was right, you had told yourself. But until then, you'd keep it hidden, keep it safe...

You should have known better, truly. It was only a matter of time.

You had started out so well, but somewhere along the way, you got complacent... and you got sloppy. Claude had been on to you from the very first time it happened, the very first time you'd practically leaped across the room to hastily conceal a harmless-looking scrap of paper from his too-keen, too-curious eyes. He'd nagged you then, begging to know what you were so desperate to hide from him, but he'd dropped the subject when you'd refused to relinquish the tantalizing knowledge and grown teary in your mortified distress. He'd relented, not wishing to cause you undue upset... but oh, he hadn't forgotten. He'd filed that little nugget of knowledge away, knowledge that you had a secret, and his frightening powers of observation had been activated that day. He'd never spoken of it again, but only because he'd been biding his time, a coiled cobra waiting for the perfect time to strike...

It really was inevitable—finding yourself here, clinging to Claude's back like a spidermonkey as he holds one of your poems just out of reach and reads the handwritten script with eager interest bordering on triumphant rapture.

"Claude!" you shriek, reaching over his broad shoulder in a vain attempt to swipe at the paper far out of reach of your desperate fingers. "Put it down! Put it down!"

"Come on, there's no need to be so upset," he laughs, refusing to tear his blue-green eyes from his hard-earned prize. "You had it sitting out in the open! You wanted me to find it!"

He's right, and you know it; on some level, you've grown weary of the constant vigilance, and your mind had betrayed you by causing you to leave one of your recent poems where he could get his grubby little hands on it. You know it, yet you can't stop yourself from panicking and trying to shove the cat back in the bag, even though you know it's impossible.

"Clauuuuuuuuude!"

Undeterred by your shrill whines and slaps at the paper, he continues to read the poem. After one or two more flails of your arm, you give up. It's like you aren't even there; supporting your frantically wiggling form with a slight stoop and one arm around one of your legs, which are crossed across his stomach, his hand doesn't so much as shake as he holds the paper aloft and ravenously drinks in the words borne of your sensitive soul. With a groan, you defeatedly drop your face into Claude's shoulder right as he finishes reading his find.

"Hey."

You don't answer him, prompting him to jostle your body slightly and repeat in a more insistent tone, "Hey."

"What?" you grumble without lifting your head. Your panic has morphed into a mixture of embarrassment and frustration and a wee bit of anger at what you felt was a transgression of your privacy, and you are in no mood to entertain the teasing he is sure to inflict upon you now.

"It's good."

"What?" you ask again, this time whipping your head up in shock. Claude had been looking at you, and if weren't for his fast reflexes, your forehead would have collided directly with his. He laughs as he ducks his head sideways to avoid your noggin knocking his into next week, then smiles brightly in response to your open-mouthed gape of utter astonishment.

"I said, it's good!" he repeats eagerly.

You are immediately overcome with doubt, and your mouth snaps shut into a firm frown.

"You're just saying that," you sigh, slipping down from his back. Tiredness now overwhelms you as the adrenaline surge begins to fade from your blood; you totter over to the nearest surface, which happens to be your sofa, and you plop face-first into it with another long, drawn-out groan that is slightly muffled by the cushions.

"No, really! I mean it!" Claude insists, immediately following after you. He forces himself in the small bit of space between you and the cushions, and you are faced with the choice of either being shoved off the couch and onto the floor or turning on your side to face you. Though slithering off the couch to puddle on the floor like a pile of goop is tempting, you end up turning to face Claude instead; if you did slipped to the floor, he'd just follow you down there. So, you obediently turn, and Claude props himself up on one elbow and rests his cheek in his hand as the other taps the piece of paper against your nose.

"Hey." Claude smiles that innocent, boyish smile of his at you, and despite yourself, you find yourself being drawn in. Though you're pouting as you peer through your lashes up at him, your heart is now fluttering with hope. Does he really find your poetry good?

"Hey," you reply sullenly, eyes drifting down to the paper hovering between you.

"I mean it, you know," Claude repeats softly, eyes glittering over the top of the paper. "It's lovely."

"You really think so...?"

"Sure do," he quips, not hesitating for a second, and you just can't help but melt into him in relief because you know it's true.

A shy smile toying at your lips, you wind your arms around his neck and snuggle close to him as you bashfully mumble, "I'm sorry..."

"Sorry for what?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as his eyes widened in genuine bewilderment.

"Freaking out." Your apology barely sneaks around your teeth, which are worrying your bottom lip. "I was just... so embarrassed in the moment that I just couldn't help it."

"Mmm, that's okay," Claude shrugs, idly flipping the paper around his fingers as his focus is now one hundred percent on you. "It's kind of my fault, too, for pushing it. Wasn't very nice of me. I just couldn't help it," he admitted, his smile now turning lopsided with sheepish contrition. "You know how I get. As soon as I suspected you were hiding something from me, I had to get to the bottom of it. Especially 'cuz I figured it was something like this." He glances at the paper again, and you roll your eyes as he smirks in triumph. "And I sure did~"

"You're insufferable, you know that?" you mutter, and he just chuckles before dropping a placating kiss on the top of your head. Despite yourself, you are indeed placated; with a hum, you drop your head, close your eyes, and cuddle into him. You feel Claude shift as he flicks the paper onto the nearby side table so he can wrap his arm around your waist and hold you close. It is then that you process exactly what he'd said, and you crack an eye open as you frown.

"Hey... What did you mean by 'especially because you figured it was something like this?'" you ask.

Claude had also closed his eyes, preparing to doze; like a lazy lion rousing from sleep, he slowly peeked his eye open to look down at you.

"Mmm? Exactly what it sounds like," he answers nonchalantly. "I figured it was some sort of writing of yours. I wanted to read it."

"Why?"

"Because it's yours," he answers simply, both his eyes opening as he smiles softly at you. "It came from you. That in and of itself makes it worth reading, to me."

"Claude..." you breathe, swept off your feet by how overwhelmingly romantic the simplicity and authenticity of his answer was. You swell with adoration, nearly bursting with it, and it brings tears of gratitude and happiness and a whole host of other emotions to your eyes. You just bite down on your bottom lip and give him a tight squeeze, which he reciprocates with a boyish grin.

"So?" he asks eagerly.

"So?" you question, unsure of what he's asking.

"You'll let me read more of your poems, right?" he explains, grin widening. On the surface, he looks mischievous, but you can see the genuine interest sparkling underneath.

So that's why you swallow your instinctive hesitation, bury your face in his chest, cling tightly to his form, and smile widely as you shyly utter, "Okay, Claude... Just 'cuz it's you."

"'Just 'cuz it's me,' huh?" he chuckles, rubbing your back to soothe your nervous squirming. "Boy, do I feel special." He hugs you then, and his breath tickles your ear as he murmurs, "Can't ever be as special as you are, though. I'm no poet."

Oh, but he was, though he'd never know it. He was a poet among poets, only his poetry was weaved from not words, but the special bond between him and you. You can only dream of crafting art that rivaled what Claude made out of his love for you... but until your magnum opus came, you suppose you can share with Claude the words that you pull from the window to your soul, if only to let him know that you love him as much as he does you.

Because you do love him. You really, really do.

Interested in a commission? Check out this post!

[flanneryculp]

hello, CEO of the basic eight!!!! those characters are my little skrunklings and i’m so glad to see your ever constant posts about them, when the book is so underrated! give me some HCs about them please!! middle names, birthdays, childhood experiences, anything! but of course, only if you’d like to or have the time. love your blog!

— pinterest anon

oh man this might be my favorite ask i've ever received, thank you so much! it makes me a little sad to think about how little recognition tb8 got, but at the same time, it's nice to be in a fandom of five people who all know each other. like a book club! :) these are silly and not based in canon, and i change my mind on them all the time.

@ellington-f3int and i were talking about this--i headcanon that flora and rachel state become friends post-canon.

in my mind rachel was always the black sheep of her family, and her dressing up goth and writing terrible edgy poetry was her way of rebelling against her parents' strict conservative upbringing.

flora eventually grows a little resentful of tert/the talkshows both because of how strict they are, and because there’s a part of her that’s still loyal to her friends and isn’t fond of the satanism accusations.

while tert and mr. and mrs. state are on tv to spread an agenda and become famous, flora and rachel feel more distanced from the situation than ever. they feel weird about having this tragedy turned into a Media Sensation, and that they're participating in it. though they're initially wary of each other, they end up getting close since they’re the only ones who can understand each other.

their kinship develops into a real friendship, where flora is the #1 fan of rachel’s emo poetry and rachel will happily sit through as many guiness world record facts as flora has to offer

rachel still hates the rest of the eight, though

---

so you know how tert talks about a possibility of natasha being based on a counselor in training flan knew? i have so many thoughts about that. i think she was maybe a year or two older than flan, and they met on the summer between middle and high school. anyway, flan and natasha v. snuck out in the middle of the night to a corner store, and flan helped natasha v. dye her hair in the camp bathroom. it was stained with black hair dye forever (kind of paralleling natasha helping flan wash off adam’s blood) and it was such a keystone experience for flan that she always thought of natasha with black hair.

---

i think most of them met at different points in their lives, but were all close friends by sophomore year. before their group formed, they were all pretentious but in different ways.

a specific example i have in mind is of v____, lily, and douglas all being friends since fifth grade. they met in the orchestra classroom and bonded over a love of classical music. v____ dropped viola in middle school because of having too little time to practice, but still is a classical music buff (though not to the extent of lily and douglas). those three were the most pretentious of anyone in late elementary/early middle lmao.

kate was a big part of bringing them together, because of her knack for knowing Literally Everyone. flan and kate went to the same elementary school for years but didn’t get to know each other well until middle school, when they were in the same play together. they gossiped backstage and realized they had a lot in common.

---

flan is absolutely a child of the dare program. of course she thought it was pointless, but from the way she’s horrified at her friends smoking in the end (while not caring about absinthe) shows that something must have stuck lol.

---

jennifer rose milton always has the best stationery. a whole box of glitter pens in every color, and those fancy mechanical pencils. she’s also really good at drawing and quite passionate about it. she likes doing landscapes and drawing what she sees in front of her when she has a moment to just sit. her school papers are covered in little doodles.

---

height headcanons:

1. flora (5'0)

2. kate (5'1)

3. v____ (5'3)

4. lily (5'4)

5. (flan 5'5)

6 (natasha 5'5 but she has better posture than flan + usually wears platforms/heels)

7. gabriel 5'7

8. jennifer rose milton (5'8) (shes tall! you can’t convince me otherwise! ^^)

9. douglas 5'10

10. adam (6'0)

---

some short ones!

natasha and v____ both have huge sweet tooths and love going out for desserts together. :)

lily has insomnia and usually takes chamomile tea before bed. she’s actually become really good at making tea and has a bunch of different varieties

natasha is a big fan of hole (the band). she plays the live through this album in the car with flan often

flan and natasha have slightly different handwriting and if you look closely you can tell which one of them wrote something. but the differences are subtle--both write in messy, jagged print

flan and natasha sometimes go to the library and specifically look at the terrible ya/poetry section and spend hours reading each other the worst lines they can find and laughing til they can't breathe

gabriel is really good at first aid and healing most injuries. also if one of his friends gets sick, he’s always the first to visit them and makes sure they have what they need (homework, medicine, FOOD <3 <3 <3)

douglas gets along really well with his sister and they managed to stay in touch despite her being in college (until senior year, where he talked to her less and less. rip)

kate was always a leader, even when she was little. she was always the person who volunteered to pass out the papers in elementary school. once when she was in second grade she got into a pretty nasty fight over who would be the line leader

before she got into the guinness world records, flora used to be really into mythology

in elementary, flan used to get in trouble during group reading time because she would always read way faster than her classmates and be done while everyone else was still on page 4. this is when she started to hate school

adam is ambidextrous

in elementary school, jennifer rose milton was the girl who’d braid your hair during storytime. :)

---

there are almost certainly more i'm forgetting, but those are the ones i can think of right now! thanks again for the ask <3

[rainydawgradioblog]

my very indecisive ranking of an album which i find so fantastic that it’s nearly impossible for me to rank

one cold winter night in 2021, while i was doomscrolling through tiktok, i accidentally stumbled across an original song video by a girl who has become one of my all-time favorite artists. hana bryanne, a singer-songwriter and self-described “emotional brunette” (same.) came out with her debut album dollface in september of this year—and it blew. me. away. hana summarizes the essence of dollface to be “what it’s like being a very sensitive girl in a world that is not always particularly equipped to handle that,” and her beautiful emotional sensitivity clearly levels up her music. dollface is an exemplary member of my favorite genre, which is essentially "poetry with a backing instrumental track.” i love lyrics, and i especially love hana bryanne’s. i find it to be a steep challenge to properly rank an album i find truly amazing, as putting tracks near the bottom is genuinely painful, but i think i’ll manage. here goes nothing!

(TW: some mentions of sexual violence, suicide, and mental health struggle)

1: spades

my obsession with this song is never-ending. i couldn’t possibly be mad at any number-one picks for this album, but i didn’t have any trouble picking mine. the dreamy instrumental that picks up at the second verse, transitioning later into a fantastically swelling and somewhat frenetic electric guitar interlude, and hana’s haunting and beautiful vocals make this track sonically incredible. of course, the lyrics are equally as stunning. they deliver a simple yet poignant account of a past relationship you can’t quite shake the memories of, that haunts you “like a face or a song you should know/but you don’t,” this song communicates so much through sensory description, from “sweet was the smell of the flowers that grew here,” “hot was the taste of your breath in my mouth,” to “in the rain, will you touch me like i planned it?” the imagery of this song is simply delectable. hana draws you into her world, and it feels like you can feel things alongside her as she experiences them. spades is a masterpiece. 

2: dollface

the title track of this album does NOT disappoint. an account of the sexual violence that hana faced as a girl growing up in the age of the internet, this song leaves me gutted every time. the chorus brings a simplistically incredible set of lines: “and he’s gonna want you/and you’re gonna let him” and “he’s not gonna know you/so he’ll call you dollface” capture the certain resignation, defeatedness, and objectification of the issue with absolute stomach-dropping perfection. below is a quote of hana’s that she posted alongside dollface’s announcement that pairs perfectly with this song. it’s imperative that you all see it. 

3: clementine

it will never be an easy task to capture the depth of a mother-daughter relationship in any one form of art, but hana does a pretty damn good job. my standout lyrics from clementine are as follows: “at the edge of the bed/in my silhouette/solemn she says/‘i was beautiful then’/i take your hunger/make it mine/i’ll peel apart your clementines/just promise if i change my mind/i’ll still look like you” the inherent connection between a parent and child who have each other’s faces? the yearning of a mother to still look young as her daughter does? peeling clementines as an act of love? (im a sucker for it every time) the mother in the daughter’s silhouette? there’s so much i adore about this, and so much that could be said about it.

4: cool girl song

this is my college anthem. indeed, “i’m a million miles away,” and “pushing at my luck for some good fun.” something i love about this song is it’s acknowledgment of coolness as a complete illusion, and one that you have to work hard at too. “it’s a trick, and a good one.” very cool about it-esque, which this boygenius fanatic appreciates. i love a good account of the never-ending facade of being fine. when i walk around campus with this in my headphones, i can convince myself that i’m a cool girl™️ … plus it’s catchy as hell.

5: doing the play

i LOVE this song. this opening track sets up the coming album with ease and perfection. another song elevated by it’s gorgeous, dreamy instrumentals. i like to think of this song as a voicemail, or perhaps a letter. i won’t speculate on an artist’s personal life, but the message hana leaves—whatever its significance may be—is stunning. i particularly love “i go to bed with the same old jokes/i’d go to bat for the strangers first,” as a moment of striking self-reflection amid her memories. this song carries a certain nostalgia i can’t get enough of. 

6: visions

visions was released as a single in the spring, and i could not stop listening to it. hana repeats the line “i just can’t stand to be alone these days” throughout the song, and yet the line “keeps me like a secret, my own company/i’m reaping what i’ve sown” reveals a certain self-isolation at play in the same issue. hana sings about her ever-present loneliness while the instrumentals carry on steadily with the breeziness that she tries to convey to the rest of her world. an intentional choice, most likely, as hana has discussed concerning the track how “mental illness especially makes you a really good liar… self-isolation is really challenging and that’s what I wrote the song about.” (note-another perfect walking across campus song. enjoy.)

7: susannah at the wedding

this song is so good. i’m already questioning my ranking. this track 3 brings the most upbeat production out of any track on the album, and it is FUN! at least the instrumental is…the lyrics? well, that’s a different story. what i love about this choice is that the upbeatness of the track vs. the melancholy and frustration in the lyrics create a perfect conflict to mirror the internal conflict of feeling shitty at a wedding, an occasion that’s supposed to be idealistically fun and joyful. the outro, with it’s 9x repetition of “there’s no room in you for the things that i like” is a personal favorite. something about the anguish of an obsessively repeated outro will hit home every time. 

8: lake michigan

lines like “i have seen things i wish to tell you/i have seen things you’d never wish to know” make it feel like such a rich history backs this song, so in line with hana’s amazing personal authenticity. there is so much vulnerability in the words of this song, like so much of the album as a whole, and it elevates the experience of listening by 100 times. her vocal delivery shines on this song, like the emotion behind “come on baby try me/i can show you what dramatic is” which once again hits home for us sensitive, emotional girlies out there, and the crystal clarity of her voice on even the highest notes will never cease to be incredible. 

9: dollface reprise 

being a reprise, this track is much simpler than many of the others, but this only adds to its beauty. the quiet guitar and vocals make it feel so intimate and reflective, perfect for this song. the callback to 2021’s tiktok famous klepto in the bridge/outro was so exciting to hear, and so beautifully integrated to the new track. “i’ve got a good thing goin’/just gotta live a little longer” feels so familiar to the feeling of living on the permanent precipice of being a young person, constantly riding the line between exciting success and falling apart into utter chaos. 

as we get into the lower numbers, i will restate that the placement here is literally just because of my own personal sonic preferences. every single one of these songs is beautiful. go listen to dollface. 

10: valentine’s day

this song is beautiful and heartbreaking. hana has stated that her suicide attempt from 2022 inspired much of the content on this album, and this song definitely reads to me as having a lot of content about struggle with mental health, and the isolation and coldness of that experience. the theme of resignation and defeatedness that i think is done so beautifully in parts of this album returns with “they’ll drag me back down by my ankles/no fight, no light in my eyes/no sound.” 

11: news

my favorite lyrics from doing the play make a return! yippee! this is another track that i resonate with so well as a young person in the midst of the hurricane that is growing up. i love the lines “you tell me i’m changing, i say i know/but i still know how to put on a good show.” so much intrigue lies in the minute details of any song, and i adore the word choice on “i’m betting the news is good/i’m betting the news is just fine,” as whatever the news is, she isn’t actually hearing it. just betting. whether this is about news from back home, news about the world, news from an old friend or partner, or something else, this small detail holds so much meaning to me. 

12: clementine II 

this felt like the most reasonable bottom pick, solely because of it’s short length and lyrical simplicity, but it still hurts. i love this whole album!!! this song is still fantastic. following clementine. a song about a hana’s relationship with her mother, the lyrics of this song are devastating. “won’t you stay where i can see you/won’t you stay where i can go/won’t you stay where if i need to i can let you know.” this refrain is beautiful and heartbreaking. this woman knows just how to tug at my sad little college student heartstrings. brb, calling my mom as i write this (and shedding a tear, perhaps). 

and that’s it!!! a final note from hana’s words about the album: “dollface is about resilience.” this album delivers such a beautiful message and story through some of the most gorgeous-sounding vocals and instrumentals that i've heard this year. i hope i was able to communicate a fraction of this album’s genius. decide for yourself! pleaseee pretty please go listen to it! i’ll link it on spotify right down here. 

stay cool!!!!!!

K-MURPH 

[3kiripima3]

Hi! I just saw your post about Hazbin match ups & I’ve never done this before so I hope I’ve included everything I needed to :D

. Gender Identity -> Gender Fluid

. Sexuality -> Bi

. Hobbies -> Ok so I have quite a few so first off I absolutely LOVE reading (bit of an understatement) but it’s a really bad habit of buying books that don’t fit anywhere, as for a specific genre of books I quote like murder mystery or dark (as in spooky, mystery etc) fantasy. Some of the books I own are how to kill your family, one of us is lying, hunger games, girl in pieces, good girls guide to murder, five survive, welsh poetry & to kill a mockingbird. Secondly I’m apart of the air cadets! I do not have a rank and I’m quite happy with just attending events and such and I’ve been having such a great time with them, another hobby of mine is baking (especially for my grandparents) their diabetic so I love trying to find receipted that don’t have as much sugar that they can have. And lastly I do horse riding, while I did stop for a while because of money issue I’m starting to get back into it and I’m hoping to start either show jumping or cross country.

. Interests -> Hmmm as for interests I’d probably say FNAF, hazbin of course and at the moment I’ve been getting back into Murder drones (especially after the 7th episode come out, I was so shocked) but I honestly don’t have many I treated as most of my time is taken up doing things like my hobbies (all though I do love to give places a good clean)

. Overview of personality -> umm I honestly don’t know what to say to describe myself, but based off what my friends are saying I’m quite sarcastic & quick witted with my answers, but I tend to be concerning in my sense of humour & my things, I’m somewhat on the neurodivergent spectrum but I don’t have a special interest I keep changing them a LOT (hence why I haven’t put much down for interests) and I think my friends start to get concerned when I become interested in things like needles and phlebotomy before changing to something like cannibalism (I find it fascinating what drives people to these things). Anyway I have been described as being quite a lovely person especially by family me members and I think it tends to show when I’m around people I don’t know much because I like to make a good impression of myself & not embarrass anyone or myself.

. Any character I don’t want to be paired with -> Husk (nothing against the man just not my type at all yk), Charlie & Vaggie (their such a cute couple and definitely prefer to keep them together and not get myself shipped with any of them)

. Anything extra -> idk if this helps but I honestly SUCK at using technology, like I can’t do it to save my life 😭, but I do like to have a good poke around on stuff like tv’s, laptops, sat navs, just to see if I can find anything out. Oh and I hugely look up to my grandad, anyone asks me and I’ll always say I’m a grandad’s girl he inspired me so much, he was in the navy & worked as an engineer. And I t think to do something like that for a good chunk of his life is so inspiring.

Anyway, hope I’ve written everything I need to, and have a good day/night xx

Hi! Thanks for the request! After some consideration, I think I'd pair you with…

Alastor!

I feel like you two would be practically perfect for each other.

I see Alastor as the type to also read a lot. I think he'd honestly have very similar taste in books to you. I could imagine him often recommending you books, albeit rather concerning ones.

With baking, I don't see Alastor being particularly fond of that. However, I view him as the type of person who likes to cook instead of bake. So, you'd likely both end up making different food at the same time and talking with each other.

Due to Alastor's nature, I don't think he'd exactly be interested in shows at all. Yet, I can see him listening quite avidly to any of your interests if you discuss them with him.

Alastor would appreciate your personality a bunch. As he himself is naturally quite sarcastic and quick-witted, he'd enjoy having a person like you who'd be able to reciprocate. Alastor would definitely not have any issue with concerning types of humour unless it involves anything sexual towards him.

I think Alastor would also love that you're able to make good impressions on people and be a lovely and polite person, as he values his reputation a certain amount and would rather not be around someone extremely brash in public.

Sucking at using technology wouldn't bother Alastor at all. He'd probably bond over the fact that you both struggle using technology.

Thanks for requesting! I hope this is good enough for you :)