#i just ramble for a really long time about nothing

[gf2bellamy]

hiii!

i was wondering if you could write spencer x reader, where she’s having a really bad day but spencer is coming home from a case and is exhausted, mentally and physically so she feels guilty that she would bother him with her mood

So she just hides away and is on the verge of a panic attack and spencer finds her and is all “you save me, so pls let me save you” and just comforts her (and calls her angel because 🫠)

thankyouuu so much (you dont have to do it if you dont want! no pressure at all!) i love your writing, it’s so incredibly cute and endearing <3

exhaustion — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader crying a lot , reader feeling guilty / tired / exhausted, spencer calls reader angel a/n: hii thank you so much for your request !! i hope you like this <3

The apartment was quiet—too quiet. You sat on the couch, curled up in one corner, staring blankly at the empty space in front of you. The TV was off, the big overhead light was off, and the only light came from the small lamp on the side table.

You hadn’t moved in what felt like hours, your mind swirling with the events of the day. It had been one of those days—the kind where nothing went right, where every little thing seemed to pile up until you felt like you were drowning under the weight of it all. 

You missed Spencer. A lot. Especially right now.

He had a way of making everything feel better. You longed for his comforting hugs and the way he’d listen to you ramble about your day.

But he wasn’t here. He was at work, buried under mountains of paperwork and case files.

The sound of keys jingling in the lock snapped you out of your thoughts. You jumped up from the couch, your heart leaping in your chest as you hurried to the door.

Spencer stepped inside, looking disheveled and exhausted. His tie was loosened, his hair was a mess, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He dropped his bag by the door with a heavy thud, and before you could say a word, he pulled you into a tight hug. 

You melted into his embrace, your arms wrapping around his neck as you buried your face in his shoulder. He smelled like coffee and faintly of paper. For a moment, you just stood there, holding each other.

“I missed you,” Spencer mumbled into your hair, his voice muffled but sincere. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You didn’t want to let go, but after a moment, he pulled back slightly, his hands moving to cradle your face. His thumbs brushed gently over your cheeks.

“Today was horrible,” he said with a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he let go of you to shrug off his jacket. He ran a hand through his hair, looking more tired than you’d seen him in a long time. 

You bit your lip, hesitating. “What happened?” you asked softly, following him as he moved further into the apartment. 

He sighed again, sinking onto the couch and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Just… paperwork. So much paperwork. And then Garcia’s computer crashed, so we lost half the files we needed, and Hotch wanted everything reorganized by tomorrow morning…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It was just one thing after another.” 

You sat down next to him, your heart aching as you watched him. He looked so drained, so unlike his usual self, and you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about burdening him with your own problems.

Today had been hard for you, but it sounded like it had been even harder for him. The last thing you wanted was to add to his stress. 

So instead of talking about your day, you reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “That sounds awful.” 

He gave you a small, tired smile, his fingers intertwining with yours. “It’s okay. It’s just… one of those days, you know?” 

You nodded, your throat tightening. You did know.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. Instead, you shifted closer, pulling him into another hug. He leaned into you, his head resting on your shoulder as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“How was your day?” Spencer mumbled, his voice soft and drowsy as he leaned back against the couch, pulling you with him.

You settled against his side, his head still resting on your shoulder as your fingers continued to gently card through his hair.

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated for a moment, your hand stilling briefly before you forced yourself to keep moving. 

“It was�� good,” you said, your voice carefully neutral. You tried to inject a note of cheerfulness into your tone, but it came out sounding hollow, even to your own ears. 

Spencer hummed against your shoulder, seemingly too tired to notice the slight falter in your voice. “I’m glad,” he murmured, his words muffled as he nuzzled closer to you. His warmth was comforting, but it did little to ease the tightness in your chest. 

After a moment, he shifted, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before slowly sitting up. “I’m going to get changed,” he said, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before standing and heading toward the bedroom, leaving you alone on the couch. 

As soon as he was out of sight, the lump in your throat returned, thicker and more suffocating than before. You bit your lip hard, trying to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill all evening.

But it was no use. The dam broke, and before you could stop yourself, you were on your feet, hurrying toward the bathroom. 

You shut the door behind you with a soft click, leaning against it as the first tear slipped down your cheek. Then another. And another.

Soon, you were crying , your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. You muttered curses under your breath, frustrated with yourself for not being able to hold it together. 

“Get it together,” you whispered harshly, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. But the tears wouldn’t stop.

The tears kept running, your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape.

You felt like a mess, your face hot and your chest tight. But just as you were about to try to pull yourself together, you heard footsteps outside the bathroom door, followed by a soft knock. 

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice came through the door, gentle and concerned. “Can I come in?” 

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. You didn’t know what to do. Part of you wanted to tell him to go away, to spare him from seeing you like this, but another part of you desperately needed him.

You muttered a curse under your breath, wiping at your face with the back of your hand before slowly getting to your feet. 

You opened the door just enough to peek out, your eyes meeting Spencer’s. He was standing there, his expression soft but worried. His hair was still a mess, but his eyes were focused entirely on you. 

“Hey, hey,” he said immediately, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?” 

You sniffled, your throat tightening as you tried to find the words. “I—” you started, but your voice broke, and you shook your head, unable to continue.

How could you even begin to explain? Everything was wrong. The entire day had been wrong, and now you felt like you were falling apart. 

Spencer didn’t push. Instead, he reached out, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, wiping away a tear. His touch was so tender that it only made you cry harder.

“Come on,” he said softly, his hand slipping down to take yours. He gave it a gentle squeeze before pulling you with him, leading you out of the bathroom and down the hallway. 

You followed him numbly, your fingers intertwined with his as he guided you to the bedroom. He sat you down on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. 

“Talk to me, angel,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “What’s going on?” 

The nickname made your heart ache, and you shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “You had such a bad day, and I didn’t want to make it worse.” 

Spencer’s expression softened, his hands moving to cradle your face. “You could never make my day worse,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And you’re never a bother. Not to me. Not ever.” 

You shook your head again, your hands gripping his wrists as you tried to steady yourself. “But you were so tired, and I didn’t want to—” 

“Hey,” he interrupted gently, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “You save me, I save you. That’s how this works, remember?” 

You nodded slowly, your breath hitching as more tears spilled over by just hearing those sweet words. Spencer leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms.

You went willingly, burying your face in his shoulder as he held you close. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back, and you felt some of the tension in your chest begin to ease. After a while he slowly let go, but his hands remaining on your arms.

“Tell me about your day,” he said after a while, his voice soft but insistent. “What happened?” 

You hesitated, but the way he was looking at you—so patient, so understanding—made it impossible to hold back. So you told him. You told him about everything that had gone wrong.

And he listened, his hands never leaving yours, his eyes never wavering from yours. 

When you were done, he pulled you into his arms again, holding you tightly against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I’m sorry you had such a bad day. But I’m here now, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.” 

You nodded, your face buried in his shoulder as you clung to him. For the first time all day, you felt like you could breathe again. Like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. 

Spencer pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “Always, angel,” he said softly. “Always.” 

[blubunz]

YAP SESSION 3

— RE chars in general x gn! reader

《MINORS DNI!》

Tags: Sex. Just casual stuff nothing crazy. RE characters includes: Leon , Carlos, Ashley, Jill, Chris, Ada, Luis. Claire is mentioned but I don't write anything horny abt her.

A/N: I have a hunch I'm actually gonna be sick un,, not feeling so great. This is just what j think if it's based on normal stuff like no fucked up messed up situations whatever, just casual lovers making love and what they like.

Consensual.

Ok now that's out of the way, I have some preference in minds, obvi they're purely just my opinions.

Leon is like, the guy who swings with whatever you want. Rough? Yeah. He'll go feral. Gentle? Ok. He'll be so sweet, even moan for you I'd you want to hear them, in which most of the readers in my fic would love. Most of the time it's just you, you, you. Him asking you what you want. Princess treatment or absolutely feral, he doesn't have one in mind, he's just on board with whatever you want and if you don't say anything, he'll ask you what you want anyway while kissing your cheeks so sweetly.

Carlos,, grhfrgrhgrh, he's so bite-able. I think he's the soft type. Like, he can be rough, but most times, he chooses not to if you don't specify anything. He absolutely loves seeing you just getting satisfied and happy, so yes, he'd go rough if that's what you want, just not without you saying. Even when you did something bad, or if you hit him when youre on top, he'd just melt and cradle you in his arms, kissing you, and you two would have some cuddle-fuck session. In my mind, Carlos is very emotional and sentimental in his love life. I can ramble on about the same thing over and over, how he's an absolute king in showering you with too much affection.

Slapping? You're into that, but Carlos is scared of hurting you. Bondage? He doesn't want to see ropes burn into your skin, the only thing should be on your body are his marks and hickies.

So anyways, his biggest turn-on is seeing you getting so, so satisfied. This might make him indulge in overstimulation however, he keeps making you cum and seeing your brain melting after each orgasm. That's right, you don't have to think, just be happy of what Carlos is giving you — pure love and affection.

I don't get much thoughts fron other characters in a sexual way, but I'll think about it like rn. Both Leon and Carlos are hot to me so obvi they're like,, um, long, and,, the first ones I write about.

I think Ashley would be some vanilla stuff, and if you two both try to go into some kinky stuff, things just gets awkward because both of you never really know how to do it professionally, and then you two would just laugh and watch a movie.

Jill is like,, ohmygod,, she's so ourhrorhrirug. The Jill in my mind is like, into the casual stuff, but she prefers handling you as well. She mainly wants to see every once of your reaction so mind you usually sex with Jill will never be a quickie, she doesn't do it slow, but rather she just does a lot of things to finally let you go.

For Claire. No, idk, I never think of her in that way and when i think about it now,nothing comes to mind. I love her character! I just don't associate her with these horny stuff so no.

Chris, big beef guy, I like him too! I think he'd enjoy handling you like Jill. Ok, so he's be like, usually, dominant and rough, hed praise you though, but hes very rough, and he enjoys using his strength to let you know who's in charge. but like, you can put him down no matter how strong you are. One word, one pleading look and you got him all soften up and asking you if you needed anything. Usually, he's never the one to initiate too, he respects you and only fucks you when you want to. If he's horny and you're not then he's holding it in, not even letting you know. If he's not and you are, then, obviously he has the need to satisfy you in every way he could.

Ada is like, I think with how she is in the games, she'd know what you're into by now. You're an open book to her and she can read you. You didn't even have to ask, it's like she knows. It creeps you out honestly, sometimes, at how every time she knows what you need. Maybe she keeps track every month? She knows your kinks too, and when you talk to her, she's like,, "I know,," sometimes she surprises you during sex, turning the usual sex into one imof your kinks. She enjoys seeing you surprised following with the high amount of pleasure that follows suit.

Luis. A bottom.

[dadsdog]

Kinda vague prompt but can you do some of your ur usual shit but like. In a truck. Like one with a bench seat. I like pretty much all the shit u post about. Js... truck. In a truck.

as an avid truck sex enjoyer, this is awesome ty :] this one's not very forcemasc-y but it's VERY dad/son fauxcest-y

while i'm all for dad/son incest fantasies, i can't stop thinking about a teenage boy, who opens up to an older man (maybe a family friend, a friend's father) about his relationship with his dad. how he was never there, how he never supported his son when he needed it most. the older man comforts him, wraps him up in a tight hug. "hey... you're gonna be okay bud." the boy sniffles and looks up at him, still clinging to him desperately, "thank you. im sorry for dumping all of this on you." he shakes his head. "don't say that kiddo, there's no need to be sorry. i'm happy to listen. just say the word and i'm there."

he starts spending less time at home, and more time with this older guy. he takes the boy to get food, shows him all his old interests, let's him ramble on for hours about one thing or another. and if the boy's father did anything that upset him, he would always be there to listen.

this kid finds himself thinking about him all the time. how wonderful he is, how patient and kind. he wonders what it would ve been like for him to be his dad instead. he thinks about how he smiles at him when he speaks, how handsome he is. he thinks about how whenever they re going out somewhere, he always rests his hand on the nape of the boy's neck. his hands are big and calloused, but so gentle. he wonders why he gets so excited when he touches him. wonders how his hands would feel cupping his chin or petting his hair.

"i wish you were my dad." the boy confesses to him, on a late night drive. he looks down, finds his hand gripping the truck's bench seat. the older man has gone strangely quiet. looking over at him, the boy tilts his head. "what's wrong?" the man feels his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. "you shouldn't say stuff like that, kiddo." "why not? you might as well already be my dad, you're the one actually looking out for me."

the man pulls over jerkily, stopping in a forgotten, tree lined road. he exhales heavily, hands still clenched. "hey, what's wrong? did i do something?" he's never this quiet. the kid slides closer to him, and hears him inhale sharply, like the older man had just been burned. "are you ok? what did i do? i promise i wont do it again. please, just tell me whats wrong." he lays a hand onto the older man's knee.

suddenly, the man has the boy by the shoulders, gripping him tightly and pushing him away. he gasps, clearly spooked by the roughness of his touch. "i'm sorry, kiddo. you didn't do anything wrong. it's me." his hands loosen their grip ever so slightly, he starts to rub comforting circles up and down the boy's arm. "you can't say stuff like that." the boy tilts his head. "why?"

he had no idea what to say. because i've wanted to fuck you ever since you first cried into my shirt. because the idea of having you as my son gets me so hard i can't think. because i don't know how long i can have you in my car without losing control and taking advantage of you.

"because i..." he stares down into the boy's eyes.

"you just shouldn't." he starts to break away from the touch, but the kid moves to hold his hand, pouting up at him. "but i really do think of you like that. i think of you as my dad." he inhales sharply again, feeling his cock throb in his jeans. he tightens his jaw and his mind strains with the effort of not grabbing the kid and rutting his cock into him through their clothes.

the kid looks up at him, creeping even closer.

"i love you, dad."

the final shred of self control left in the man is shattered into nothing. he grabs the boy by his waist roughly, and puts his other hand in his hair. he brings their lips together in a sloppy, clumsy, hungry kiss. the boy's eyes go wide and his mouth falls open as he lets out a cry of surprise. this only allows the man to slip his tongue into his mouth.

"wait- mmh!" the boy is pulled roughly onto the man's lap, where he can feel the hard cock pressing up into him. the older man finally pulls away from the kiss and holds the boy's head on his shoulder. "fuck- 'm sorry. love you. god, you're such a good kid. fuck."

he's grinding into the boy's pussy, hissing his apologies into his ear. he can feel the boy take fistfuls of his shirt, gasping and shaking. "wait-what are you doing, please-" "shh. it's okay. you're okay. fuck, i'm sorry- just let me-" his hands grab hold of his hips, pushing the kids small body against his, listening to his shocked moans. the boy is too stunned to say anything, to ask what he's doing, why it makes him all wet down there, why it makes him feel so good. "mnh. shit. im sorry, have to have you- doing so good, champ-nnhgh." he feels the boy lift his head to look him in the eyes. tears are dripping down his cheeks, but his face is twisted in pleasure. his cock throbs so hard the kid can feel his pulse through his jeans.

"feels- nnh! it feels- weird, dad. nmh! dad!" he can't stop himself from slamming the boy's hips down onto his cock. "call me dad. fuck. do it again, son. nngh- say i'm your dad." the boy's thighs shake on his lap. "dad. nngh- you're my dad. mngh! ah! dad- please don't stop- hhnm" the kid feels warmth spreading through his body, and pooling in his stomach. the friction and the rubbing and the hands on his hips are all too much. he feels a pressure building, making his cries for dad even louder.

"ah! nmh! dad, m-my- it feels- nngh! oh god, dad. oh god oh god oh god dad." he feels the kids thrust his hips back and forth on dad's cock, chasing that fuzzy warm feeling in his tummy. "ngh- shit. such a good boy. c'mon son- fuck. gonna make me cum. gonna make your dad cum. nnnh, fuck!"

"dad, dad, dad! nnh! my- it's gonna- oh god daddy! daddy!" the boy doesn't know what's happening. his boxers are soaked through and his head is fuzzy and the pressure in his tummy is too much. he grinds his pussy into his dad's lap hard, in a long downward motion, that finally lets the pressure release.

his dad watches as he quivers, cumming on his lap, completely overwhelmed by the shock of his own orgasm. he watches his boy moaning and crying for him, and feeling his orgasm build, he grabs his hips and presses him down onto his cock, thrusting upwards and cumming in his jeans for his little boy.

the kid collapses into him, panting and shaking, occasionally twitching with aftershocks of his orgasm. the man, huffing and sweaty, embraces him, placing soft kisses on his head. they sit like that in his truck for a long few minutes, catching their breath, before his boy looks up at him.

"i love you, dad."

[ohgodthevoices]

going crazy over how husband material osamu is, hear me ouuutttt

tags : fluff, time-skip, f!reader, tattoo , he listens to, he cares , and he cook , i’m thirsting m sorry

osamu would be the type of bestfriend that knows damn well you want him bad but keeps on teasing you and acting clueless just to see how far you can go before you crack

as childhood friends, it was normal for you to be touchy and generally comfortable with each other but it raised his suspicions when you now looked away when he was topless around you. it’s not like you were uncomfortable with it ?

you’ve basically lived your whole life with the miyas, you’ve seen osamu wet the bed as a kid, get rejected by his middle school crush you’ve even witnessed him putting his hand in his pants and scratch his butt, seeing him topless in the comfort of his apartment was a casual thing so why the hell would you look away , did he lose his shape ? no, he still worked out frequently even if he’s not an athlete anymore…

either way osamu always took care for you, he was always so careful when it comes to you , sure he’d playfully hit you here and there but it was nothing you couldn’t handle

just imagine him cooking you a nice heart-warming meal, glancing at you every now and then while you’re sitting on the counter looking like a mess after a long exhausting day , wine glass in hand and rambling your worries away. it really became a ritual for you to swing by his place unannounced after a bad day.

he’d open the door with his signature lazy smile “ya had a bad day?” you finally let you shoulders relax “long story..” he steps back, inviting you in “i got time”.

sometimes osamu gets this weird feeling he can’t explain when he realizes he’s seen you grow into a real woman, it really freaked him tf out when you told him you had your first time with some boy he never heard the name of.

he scolds you after a bad decision for sure , but he’s always there to comfort you right after. SO imagine his surprise when during a drunken confession after you finally listened to him and dumped your toxic bf, you admit to him between sobs that broke his heart into pieces

“why can’t i find a guy that actually likes me—?” your face was buried in his now wet tshirt , his strong arms holding you tight as if they were gonna protect you from feeling hurt, your words were muffled, melting together “why can’t i find someone like you samu…im so jealous of the girl that’s gonna be yours” holy fucking shit how was he so blind to never realize this…

thank god that night was complete blurry in your mind , so when you woke up the day completely hung over and found your beloved best friend making you breakfast with a bed hair and his sleeves rolled up showing off his forearms that you find really hot for some reason , your slight blush was explained.

omfg the day he showed up to your workplace during his break with a well crafted lunch box he made full of delicious onigiris because he listens and he remembers that your annoying coworker kept flaunting her relationship to you and it pissed you off and you wanted to show her that you can pull too

ever since he realized the power he had over you, he wouldn’t stop just picking at you and seeing how far he can go, he was basically testing the waters by stretching until his shirt lifts up, hold eye contact for a lil longer than what he should, and how he praises you don’t get me startedddd

“yer actually pretty decent at this” when you cook dinner with him, “look at ya bein all confident and independent !” when you actually tell the waiter they got your order wrong, “yer pretty distractin’ yk that? that’s kinda dangerous.”

osamu was a pretty touchy guy, not overly cuddly or anything but he did enjoy proximity, he’d usually hold your wrist when passing crowds but for some reason he now held your waist, his touch gentle yet firm on you. istg his hand placement is impeccable

there’s just something about him keeping a hair tie on his wrist for you that’s so endearing, so caring and attentive to your lil daily struggles.

it all happened when you got your first tattoo, he had sent you to his friend whom he deemed good enough to ink your body. he was nervous and excited as if he was the one getting tattooed but that’s mostly because you wanted to keep it a mystery, he knew that when he came home after closing the shop he’d find you there already.

there was just something so intimate about him coming back from work and finding you already at his place , he liked it, he could get use to it.

“ ‘m here !” he yelled out closing the door behind him , analyzing you from head to toe as you pop infront of him with his tshirt and shorts on displaying an almost mischievous smile, his eyebrows creasing as he doesn’t see any trace of a tattoo on your arms or legs, maybe it was on your shoulders?

he plopped down on his couch , man spreading “soo… are ya gonna show me or ?” you happily turn to the side, his eyes widen as you lift up the shirt enough to reveal a sideboob tattoo. he sits up the shock visible on his face “holy shit cmere” you obey him , getting closer for him to get a better look. with a swift motion his arm was now around your hip , pushing you to sit on one of his legs

he clearly recognized his friend’s intricate style, the design cupping the side of your boob, he wanted to admire his work but damn he felt a lil jealous that he worked so close to you. he finally looked at you only now noticing your reddish face

his face was just inches from yours, his previously shocked expression fading as he met your eyes. he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your jaw, and for a split second, everything around you felt quiet, just the two of you in that small space. he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, though, breaking the tension as he nudged you lightly

“didn’t know you had it in ya to do somethin’ like that” he whispered.

before you could answer, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, gently pulling you in. his lips brushed yours, just a soft, teasing touch, before pulling back slightly with that same smirk. “couldn’t resist,” he muttered under his breath, and this time, when he kissed you again, it was longer, deeper—no more teasing, just the feeling of the moment taking over.

i’m currently such a sucker for time skip osamu he’s all i’m thinking about

[totallyxtaurus]

I just want you to know who I am 🏮

Summary: What if Sylus had kept going to all those lantern festivals in hopes you'd be there and what would he do if you actually were. Pairing: Sylus x gn reader A/N: Um hi! I haven't written a "fanfic" since middle school so this has me super uncomfortable and feeling especially vulnerable since I am VERY out of practice. I've only been writing academic papers for the past four+ years and while I've taken a couple creative writing courses I just felt subpar compared to my peers and I stopped writing fiction completely. However, I maladaptive daydream constantly and Sylus + music is a really good source of creativity for me. I have a part two in mind but we'll see! So, my awkward ramblings aside, I hope you enjoy! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

“Boss, we found them. Apparently, they’re residing in Linkon,” the twins reported as they placed the manila folder on his desk. Sylus, not sparing them a glance, grunts softly in recognition keeping focused on his task at hand. However, a fire fueled by hope kindles in his heart at the news, radiating warmth through his chest, as if gently urging him to surrender to its pull. He opened the folder and began to read the information in front of him. Still, nothing matched the description he had given. Heaving a sigh, the flame of hope dampened, Sylus notices a note on the document about the upcoming lantern festival. He pauses, wondering if, regardless of the accuracy of the information he has, you might be there.

The sky had already grown dark, and fireworks echoed in the distance. The smell of delicious food permeated the air and the bright lights of millions of lanterns strung up and decorated every inch of the ground burned into Sylus’s retinas. Yet, he continued to press on. He’s been walking around for hours, taking in every sight and smell, but also searching for anyone who might be you. Anyone with the same color hair or stature as you once had. His trained eye sought out anyone who laughed in a similar octave you had, scrutinizing each face, hoping he finally found you. But every time, it led to that same emptiness cradled deep in the core of his being—the part of you still trapped there, lying dormant.

That was… how many years ago now? Sylus had lost count of how long he’d returned to Linkon’s lantern festival. Each time a failure, each time dimming the flame of hope that once burned at the mention of Linkon City. Yet, it was that time of year again when the festival would commence, just as it always did. This would be the last time Sylus participated, finally deciding to give up the search for you—for good. The same sights, sounds, and smells that once sparked curiosity in Sylus, now suffocate him. What had once been a world of wonder distorts into a stifling prison, each sensation now nauseating, a reminder of the weight that has settled on him.

Up and down the same aisles, back and forth through familiar stalls, Sylus drifts through the festival on autopilot, visiting the vendors he’s known for years. Each one greets him with a warmth that feels strangely foreign, their smiles are tinged with an apprehension he can’t ignore. That same apprehension had followed him ever since he first started coming to the festival—whether it was the stolen glances of passersby or the blatant gawking of children. Sylus knows he sticks out like a sore thumb, but he ignores it, continuing his monotonous stroll.

He stops in his tracks, taking in the scene before him—a child wailing over what sounds like a lost hand puppet. Sylus glances down at the lion head puppet resting in his hand and kneels to offer it to the child. The crying halts instantly, and wary yet sparkling eyes look up at him. The parents, overwhelmed with gratitude, profusely thank him before ushering their child along. As he straightens up, a familiar floral fragrance hits him. His heart races. His head snaps left and right, his body swiveling desperately as he searches for the source. He knows that scent—it sparks the fire within him, a fire that ignites and pulses through his entire body. Without thinking, his legs begin moving, drawn by a golden trail of light that weaves through the reddish-black mist around him. It’s guiding him. It’s guiding him to you. You’re actually here.

Also, in case anyone is like me and is interested in knowing the inspiration behind pieces of writing. This is the song I was listening to while writing and titling this! 💗

[patchwork-crow-writes]

(tags by @festbug)

First off, thank you for the tag ramble! lots of interesting additions to my original post, which I appreciate :) Regarding Alvin and his potential role as the Knight, one detail I always think about is how a lot of people think his name's an anagram for "Vilan" (as in, Villain), but I actually think it might instead be an anagram of "Anvil" - as in, the big block of iron you hit with a hammer - a hammer not unlike the one that Gerson was buried with - in order to shape metal into a more useful form, usually a blade - that could perhaps be used to make future dark worlds. I think that's an interesting detail if intentional, and indicates if nothing else that Alvin and more than likely Gerson's hammer are going to play a not-insignificant role in a future chapter.

Ralsei's surface-level similarities to Asriel is something I deliberately omitted from this post, and from a lot of my work actually. I'm very much in the camp of their supposed similarities being a big misdirect, and that Toby is relying on people familiar with Undertale to make those connections themselves. Thing is, once you start scratching the surface, you realise that Ralsei actually has much more in common with Kris than any incarnation of Asriel, which I think is pretty telling, especially when you consider the likelihood of Ralsei being related to Kris's old horned headband. You are correct, however, in saying that Ralsei does indeed struggle to distinguish himself from Asriel in the eyes of much of the fanbase. You do wonder how much of that is intentional, haha.

Deltarune's Asriel, on the other hand, is another really interesting facet of this idea of "legacy", in exactly the way you describe in your tags. He's lauded as the town's golden boy, universally popular, good at everything, and it's clear that image has persisted long after he's left for college. But as you say, it's not likely that he'll live up to that image by the time he does appear in the story proper. It's the classic "big fish in a little pond" problem - Asriel's an ace at everything compared to the relatively small population of Hometown, but at college, where he's probably going to come across hundreds of people just as smart and talented as he is? I would be surprised if disillusionment doesn't set in and he begins to see that his role as Hometown's star pupil is just that - a role that others put upon his shoulders. A role he was happy to play, but one that may no longer ring true for him.

And this was kind of what I was getting at with a character's legacy becoming a limiting factor in their growth. I would be interested to see how he relates to his former status back home, whether he'll embrace it again or grow resentful of it as people see what he was and what he represented at that time, rather than the person he is now, whoever that might be. And that's really interesting to me.

Thank you again for the thought-provoking tag rambles! It's always appreciated :D

Deltarune is about many things - about growing up, about fantasy and reality, about games and how we as players interact with them... but it's also about legacy.

Yes, in the big meta sense, it's about how this game is following up from Undertale, one of the most beloved and successful indie RPGs of all time. But also you have Kris learning to live outside of Asriel's shadow, you have Noelle struggling to cope with her sister's disappearance and her father's illness, Susie flailing around for a foothold in a new town with peers who don't like her very much, Berdly doing his utmost to live up to his "smart genius" label so he can actually be known for something.

You have Ralsei who finds himself at a crossroads between fulfilling a predetermined prophecy to save the world, and forging his own identity separate from his willingness to serve any "higher" authority. You have King, a ruler who became a tyrant so that his people could be free.

You also have Alphys, struggling to fill the rather large boots of her predecessor, Gerson Boom, who had a career in smithing, wrote a series of hit fantasy novels, and was an excellent teacher according to his son Alvin. (I wanna talk more about this, but it's going in its own post because of reasons)

A character's legacy, the thing that they will be known for, the thing they struggle to actualise so that people will like and accept them, can be a powerful driving-force, giving them agency to fulfill their ambitions. But that same legacy can also be a millstone, forcing them onto a narrowly-defined path through life, burdening them with the crushing weight of others' expectations, and trapping them into a version of themselves they may not wish to be.

Legacy can be difficult to escape from, perhaps even impossible in some cases. It can feel like there's no other choice but to press onward, to be what others want or expect from you, to do what you are told, to try and live up to a golden predecessor who could do no wrong in the eyes of their admirers. It can feel like what you want, what you choose for yourself, doesn't actually matter, because in many ways that choice has already been made for you. And to rebel against that choice risks disappointing the people closest to you, risks losing your reputation, risks the comfort of a predictable path forward, and in extreme cases risks losing your own sense of identity.

I think this theme is going to continue to develop throughout Deltarune, and I very much look forward to seeing how it all plays out!

[pukefactory]

can i req a low battery/hungry vee x reader 🫶

⊹⊱•••《 FLICKERING MONITORS 》•••⊰⊹

⍟ Summary: A compilation of headcanons featuring the reader helping Vee with a low battery charge

⍟ Character(s): Vee Version 1 (Dandy’s World)

⍟ Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, SFW

⍟ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

☇ Vee rarely shows weakness, but when her battery is low, she has no choice but to slow down. Her usual confident demeanor falters, her movements become sluggish, and her screen flickers between dim green hues. At first, she tries to brush it off, refusing to acknowledge that she’s running on empty. It isn’t until you step in—placing a hand on her arm and telling her, point-blank, to sit down—that she finally listens.

☇ Her usual sharp wit is dulled when she’s low on power. If she tries to throw out a sarcastic remark, it often trails off before she can finish, leaving her blinking at the empty space in front of her. You can’t help but find it amusing, but you also know better than to tease her about it—unless you want to be on the receiving end of her unimpressed glare once she recharges.

☇ When she’s on the verge of shutting down, Vee becomes more honest than usual. She lacks the energy to filter herself, so you’ll occasionally catch her mumbling absentminded thoughts. Once, after you guided her to sit against the Gardenview tree, she muttered, “You’re… good at this. Taking care of me.” You were about to ask her to repeat that, but by the time you turned to her, her screen had already faded to black.

☇ She hates feeling vulnerable, but she trusts you enough to let you see her like this. Even in her exhausted state, she makes sure you don’t worry too much. “It’s just a power save mode,” she insists, waving a sluggish hand. “Nothing to get all emotional about.” But you notice the way she leans into your touch, seeking comfort despite her words.

☇ Her tail, usually animated and twitching with energy, goes completely still when her battery is critically low. If you try to nudge it or lift it slightly, it flops back down with zero resistance. The first time this happened, you half-jokingly told her it was kind of cute. She immediately fixed you with a half-lidded stare and deadpanned, “I’m moments from collapsing, and this is what you focus on?”

☇ When her battery dips too low, her voice starts glitching. The confident, smooth tone she usually carries stutters and distorts into robotic fragments. She loathes it, which is why she starts speaking less when she’s running on fumes. You quickly catch on and start filling the silence yourself, telling her about your day or rambling about something you know she enjoys. Even if she doesn’t respond, you can tell she’s listening.

☇ If she shuts down completely, you stay beside her the entire time. Whether she’s leaned against your shoulder or lying still with her tail curled beside her, you refuse to leave until she powers back on. The first time she woke up to see you still sitting there, half-asleep but keeping watch, she was silent for a long moment before muttering, “You really are something else.”

☇ Despite her exhaustion, she’s still as stubborn as ever. If you try to carry her somewhere more comfortable, she will protest. “I can walk,” she grumbles, even as her limbs threaten to give out. You ignore her complaints and continue supporting her weight, much to her exasperation. Secretly, though, she appreciates it more than she’ll ever admit.

☇ Once she’s fully recharged, she acts as if nothing ever happened. If you bring up how worried you were, she just shrugs and says, “See? I told you I’d be fine.” But later, when she thinks you’re not paying attention, she shoots you a brief, grateful glance before quickly looking away.

☇ After her battery incident, she begrudgingly lets you keep track of her power levels. “It’s not like I need you to do this all the time,” she insists, arms crossed. “But since you’re so insistent on hovering, I guess I’ll allow it.” Of course, she doesn’t stop you when you check on her throughout the day. And if you ever gently remind her to recharge before it gets bad again, she just sighs and mutters, “Fine, fine. Don’t worry so much.”

[stateswscarlet]

hi scarlet! 💚 this may be a long ramble ask so I apologize. I am curious if at any point in your LOASS journey, you felt like you let the law interfere with your relationship with imagination in a negative way. I am somewhat of a maladaptive daydreamer, and something I struggled with for the longest was feeling frustration over the times in the past where I daydreamed/visualized about my desires and wondered why those daydreams never manifested. Instead of bothering LOA bloggers about it, I took your guys advice to heart and actually studied source materials. No need to quibble over those things any more, because I know the answers to my own questions now (I was not embodying my desired states/accepting my desires as a present fact in my imagination! I was just pretending). I’ve been very gentle with myself and have forgiven myself for the frustration. Something I’ve been telling myself is that I didn’t do anything wrong with myimaginal acts, that changing self and embodying the wish fulfilled doesn’t have to be a big production. That I can continue to imagine the way I always have, only this time with the inner knowing that my imaginal me is who I really am, and I think it is helping me a lot with shifting to my desired states.

something I’ve been doing that makes me VERY happy is referring to my inner man as the “inner lady.” I visualize my inner lady with all of the things that I want to have (health for my loved ones, financial stability, my desired appearance, etc.). And then I tell myself “My inner lady has it, which means I have it too!” And it genuinely makes me so happy that even if doubts and worries about the 3d come, I let them pass because nothing can stop who I am being in my imagination! My inner lady knows the relief, beauty and confidence that I have denied myself of feeling for so long.

I also finally understand what you guys mean when you say faith cannot be built or taught. Faith is a CHOICE. You CHOOSE to believe imagination is reality, you CHOOSE to be FAITHFUL to imagination regardless of what the 3D is reflecting. To be honest I still struggle a bit with faith, but the funny part is that I realize I have been seeing a LOT of success with the law and with simple things reflecting. Even when you experience the proof of the law there will still be moments of doubt! So faith, no matter what, will always be me choosing to believe in my imagination because even 3D proof of my successes doesn’t instantly wash away the doubts! A revelation that has also been helping me a lot is understanding that my imagination does not care about my 3D circumstances and will never deny me of the things I want to experience! I really can have it all in my mind. There are some big things that I hope will reflect soon in my reality. I hope to be back some time to share more of my successes and thoughts. Your blog and tweets have helped a lot with my journey. Thank you!

omg i read this twice this makes me so happy!! you are so so right and i am so proud of you!!

[ivyues]

Chasing Yesterday | 3 | - Bang Chan

Bang Chan x lost connection trainee friend

Years after splitting paths, Bang Chan didn't expect a simple text to bring an old friend – and old feelings – back into his life.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

A few weeks into your songwriting exchanges, with Chris texting at the oddest hours, late-night texts became a common occurrence. One particular night, around 2:37 AM, your phone buzzed. Squinting at the screen, you saw a message from him:

"What do you think about this for the chorus?" followed by a snippet of lyrics, raw but laced with his unmistakable poetic charm.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you typed back: "Ever the insomniac, I see."

His reply came almost instantly: "Only when inspiration hits. Or maybe it's your fault for making me think about this song all the time."

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you found yourself smiling at the screen longer than necessary. "Well, I can’t be held responsible for your midnight genius," you quipped.

There was a pause before his next message arrived. "Do you ever share your lyrics with anyone else, or just me?"

The question was casual on the surface, but something about it made your stomach flutter. You hesitated, trying to read between the lines, before responding: "Not really, just you. Why, are you keeping tabs?"

His reply had a playful edge, but the undertone was clear: "Maybe I am. Hard to keep up when you probably have someone else keeping you up at night too."

You blinked at the screen, your heart skipping a beat as the subtle question sank in. Was he asking what you thought he was asking?

"Nope, no one else," you typed quickly, feeling the heat creep up your neck. "Just you and your insomniac ramblings."

For a moment, there was no reply, and you wondered if you’d imagined the implication. Then your phone lit up again.

"Good to know," he wrote simply, followed by a winking emoji.

The fluttering in your chest lingered long after, his subtle words replaying in your mind as you turned your attention back to his lyrics – though focusing on the song was suddenly a lot harder.

-----

Weeks later, you found yourselves standing in front of the shop you used to frequent as trainees. The neighborhood had changed, but the nostalgia was undeniable. The darkness of the night making it feel as if time was turned back.

"I can't believe that convenience store is still here," you said, pointing to a brightly lit corner across the street.

"That place got us through some rough days," he said, smiling as he nudged your shoulder playfully. "I bet they still have those awful instant noodles you used to love."

"You mean the ones you kept stealing from me?" you shot back, bumping him back.

After a brief silence, he pointed ahead to a street corner. "Remember that time we got caught sneaking back late from practice? Right there."

"Oh, how could I forget? You tripped over nothing, and the instructor thought we were drunk."

"In my defense, I was exhausted," he said, holding up his hands. "And maybe a little lightheaded from laughing at your terrible jokes."

"My terrible jokes?" you shot back, raising an eyebrow. "I’m the reason you survived those trainee days, don’t even lie."

He grinned, bumping your shoulder gently. "Okay, maybe you were the reason. But you owe me for all those times I covered for you when you skipped warm-ups."

"You’re never going to let that go, are you?"

"Not a chance," he said, smirking.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, content to walk quietly in the comforting familiarity of the nightern neighborhood. The sounds of crickets and the occasional car passing by filled the silence.

At one point, he took to balancing on the edge of the curb, arms outstretched like a tightrope walker.

"You haven't changed," you teased, watching him wobble dramatically.

"Sure I have," he said, hopping back onto the pavement. He glanced at you, his expression soft. “You know, my members keep bugging me about you."

"Yeah?" you asked, hiding your smile.

"Yeah. They're dying to meet the person who's been making me stay up all night."

"And here I thought it was the music," you quipped playfully, but feeling a flutter of warmth as his laugh echoed in the quiet street.

As you came to a halt, a quiet hum filled the space between you – the faint rustle of leaves, the distant hum of a car engine. But it all faded as he lifted his hand, his fingers brushing tentatively against your cheek. The touch was warm, steady, and it made your heart stutter in your chest.

"I’ve been wanting to do this for a while," he said, almost in a whisper. His thumb gently traced the curve of your cheekbone, and his expression was so open, so unguarded, that it left you breathless.

"You always overthink," you teased softly, your voice trembling just enough to betray how your pulse raced.

He smiled faintly, the corners of his lips twitching as he leaned in, slow and deliberate. His eyes searched for yours, giving you all the time in the world to pull away. But you didn’t move. The space between you felt electric, pulling you closer and closer.

And then, as his lips hovered just a breath away from yours, you closed the gap. Your lips met his in a soft, delicate kiss, barely there but enough to make the world tilt on its axis.

When you drew back, your faces lingered close, his hand still cradling your face as if he was afraid to let go. His eyes fluttered open, and the awe in his gaze sent a fresh wave of warmth through you.

"I..." He laughed softly, a little breathless. "I really hope I can keep you in my life this time."

You smiled, your cheeks flushed as you covered his hand with yours. "Guess that means you’ll just have to try harder."

His grin widened, the playful glint returning to his eyes as he let his hand drop to your side. And as you resumed walking, his fingers found yours, intertwining them as if they’d always belonged there.

-----

One night, when you were halfway between sleep and wakefulness, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. Groaning softly, you reached for it, blinking at the screen to see Chris’ name glowing against the darkness.

Without hesitation, you swiped to answer. “Hello?” your voice came out groggy, but warm enough to convey you didn’t mind the late-night call.

“Hey,” his voice came through, quiet but heavy. “Sorry for waking you... again.”

“It’s fine,” you murmured, sitting up slightly and tucking the blanket around your shoulders. “What’s wrong? Studio night?”

He sighed, and the sound alone made your chest tighten. “Yeah. I’ve been here for hours, and there is this song for the new album—" He paused. “It’s not coming together. I’ve tried everything, but something’s missing, and I just... I didn’t know who else to call.”

Your heart softened at his admission. He sounded worn out, like he’d been carrying the weight of it alone for far too long. “I’m glad you called me,” you said gently. “Tell me about the song.”

“It’s supposed to feel big—emotional—but also grounded. Right now, it just feels... unfinished.” His frustration was evident, each word edged with self-doubt.

“Why don’t you play it for me?” you suggested, lying back down and settling the phone beside your ear on the pillow.

There was a pause, and you could almost hear him hesitating. “You sure? It’s... pretty rough.”

“I don’t care. I want to hear it,” you said with a smile he couldn’t see, but maybe he could hear it in your voice.

“Okay, hang on.”

The faint shuffling of him setting things up came through, followed by the opening notes of the track. The sound was distant through the phone’s speaker, but even like this, you could feel the rawness in it. The melody was beautiful – aching and layered – but you could hear what he meant. It wasn’t quite complete.

When it ended, silence hung between you for a moment before you spoke. “It’s good.”

“Yeah, but it’s not enough,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what it needs.”

You thought for a moment, closing your eyes as you replayed the song in your mind. “What if you added something more... organic? Like a vocal sample? Something raw to balance the electronic layers?”

The line went quiet, and you worried you’d overstepped. But then he exhaled a soft laugh, the tension in his voice easing. “We can try it.”

For the next little while, you stayed on the line as he tinkered with the track, bouncing ideas back and forth. He’d hum a phrase or play a new layer, asking for your thoughts before adding it in. Despite the late hour, there was a certain comfort in hearing the way his voice shifted from frustration to quiet focus as you worked together.

“Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth that made your chest feel lighter. 

His words wrapped around you like a blanket, and you hummed softly in response. “You’re welcome, Chris. I’m always here.”

“Still,” he continued, his tone soft but serious. “I owe you.”

The conversation lingered as he talked about the track, how much it meant to him, and the plans he had for it. His voice, steady and soothing, was the last thing you remembered clearly.

Somewhere between his words and the comfort of the moment, your eyelids grew heavier, while your phone still rested on the pillow next to your head.

“Y/N?” His voice broke through faintly, but you were already drifting. “Are you still—oh. You fell asleep, huh?”

You didn’t hear him chuckle softly on the other end or his quiet, “Goodnight, Y/Nnie.”

The line stayed connected, the faint hum of the studio bleeding through as he worked, glancing at his phone every so often to see the call still ongoing, a quiet comfort in knowing you were there, even in sleep.

-----

The restaurant buzzed with conversation and laughter as you and Chris stepped inside. He had picked you up for the long awaited introduction to your members. The guys were already gathered around a large table, and the moment they spotted the two of you, an eruption of greetings filled the space. Some were teasing, some warm, but all carried an easy familiarity that made you smile.  

Chris gestured for you to sit beside him, and as you settled in, you let out a nervous sigh, crossing your arms.  

"This feels like meeting the kids you didn’t know about," you mused, breaking the silence. 

Laughter broke out instantly. Felix leaned forward, grinning. "Yeah, your co-parent over here has been keeping secrets from you."  

Chris groaned, rubbing his face, but the corners of his lips twitched upward. "I knew this was a bad idea."  

Seungmin grinned mischievously. “You say that, but you have been talking about her a lot.”

At that, everyone turned their attention to Chris, their teasing grins widening.

Felix gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Oh, so much talking.”

“I wasn’t—” Chris started, but Hyunjin interrupted.

“Oh, you so were.” He turned to you. “He literally never shuts up about you.”

“Hyunjin,” Chris warned, but his ears were already turning red.

You couldn’t help but grin. “Well, I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” Chris muttered, shooting the others a look. “These kids are just out for some trouble.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly after that, the boys naturally pulling you into their dynamics. They were curious about your history with Chris, and you found yourself reminiscing about your trainee days together.  

At one point, I.N called Chrs hyung, and you blinked in surprise.  

"Wow," you muttered. "That still feels so weird to hear."  

Chris raised an eyebrow. "What does?"  

"You being a hyung," you explained, shaking your head. "When we trained together, he was always one of the youngest. And now he's got all of you younger members looking up to you." You smirked. 

Felix grinned. "That’s so different from what we know."  

Hyunjin leaned in conspiratorially. "Yeah, when I joined, he had this whole intimidating, dark aura radiation off of him."  

You scoffed. "Intimidating?"  

"Yeah!" Hyunjin nodded eagerly. "I was honestly scared of him at first. He was always focused, serious during practice, and since he was already leading the team, he had this whole don’t-mess-with-me energy."  

You snorted, looking at Chris with pure disbelief. "Where was that energy when we were trainees? Because I remember you misusing honorifics, offending your hyungs by accident, and playing way too many pranks."  

I.N gasped. "What?"  

Chris groaned, sinking lower in his seat as the table erupted in laughter. "Why did I bring you here again?"  

"You love me," you teased, bumping your shoulder against his.  

Reminiscing about Chris’ trainee days, they quickly started asking about your own time as a trainee.  

"Noona, how long did you train?" Felix asked curiously.  

"A bit over three years," you answered easily.  

There was a pause, followed by various sounds of disbelief as that was longer than most of them trained.

"You trained for three years and just quit?" Hyunjin gaped.  

You shrugged. "Yeah, well. Life happens. Things don’t always go the way you plan."  

The table fell quiet for a moment, a few of them exchanging thoughtful glances. Then Han, ever the mood-maker, leaned forward with a smirk.  

"That’s wild. And now you’re the mystery person keeping hyung up all night."  

Chris choked on his drink, coughing. "For music. Don’t get any weird ideas."  

"Sure, sure," Han teased.  

"By the way," Changbin started, eyeing Chris suspiciously. "There’s this song he has been working on, but he won’t show us."  

"Yeah," Han chimed in, pointing his chopsticks at Chris. "Every time we try to listen, he closes his laptop or changes the subject."  

You didn’t even have to look at Chris to know. You felt his eyes on you instantly.  

You turned slightly, meeting his gaze.  

And you knew. They were talking about that song. The one that, since you were teenagers, was kept between just the two of you.

-----

Hours after the dinner with the members, you laid sprawled out on your bed, staring at the ceiling, still replaying moments from the night. 

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a message from Felix who you had freshly exchanged numbers with.

Felix🐥: Noona, it was really nice meeting you. 😊 I hope you had a great time!

Felix🐥: You mean a lot to him, you know.

You blinked at the screen, suddenly more awake. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard before you typed back.

You: That obvious, huh?

Felix🐥: Painfully. The way he looks at you? It’s different. Like you’re the only person in the room.

Your heart skipped.

Felix🐥: I’ve known Chan for years, but I’ve never seen him like this.

You swallowed, staring at the message for longer than necessary. There was a weight to Felix’s words, something deeper than just casual teasing.

Felix🐥: Just thought you should know.

You bit your lip, warmth blooming in your chest.

You: Thanks, Lix. ❤️

pt.4 | pt.5 | masterlist

[wasyago]

the brainrot won

[critter-wizard]

ep 43 had me tearing up in a fucking shopping centre ‼️‼️

b+w alt version that I truly couldn't decide if I liked it more . Also I included a lot of thoughts in the tags but they're somewhat incoherent<3

[cidandy]

i fear the general public may not deserve her...but you get to see girl cider as a treat because i like her & i can't stop drawing her.

[triptychofvoids]

are u a medic fictionkin? /gq sorry im just really confused

there are some questions that science just cant answer-

[telesodalite]

I need to be weirder about the scavengers and cannibalism...

[sideblogdotjpeg]

i am not immune to launchpad sol and albin thoughts

[sillyabtmusic]

hmmm hwon