#indigo books & music

[samspicturesandwords]

A sign I made for a recent pro-Palestine protest outside of an !ndigo store. The CEO of Indigo Books & Music, Heather Reisman, is one of the people who started the HESEG Foundation. This organization financially supports IDF soldiers after their "service", sweetening the deal for foreign volunteers to Israel's genocidal terrorist army.

[killdear4]

Bookstore finds!! I'm especially excited to read Six of Crows cause I've heard good things about it from 3 of my friends. And the top-middle CD, "Various Artists for the Masses," has a Smashing Pumpkins song called "Never let me down again," which doesn't seem to be in any of their studio albums, so I'm particularly interested in that one as well :)

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

You mean to tell me instead of paying stupid shipping rates and markups to the TS store I could have just purchased my 1989 TV CD and vinyl from Indigo locally???

[reaveries]

▬  𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲

gif credit to @robpattinsongifs (much higher resolution on their account)

summary: late-night visits from your definitely human boyfriend

pairings: edward cullen x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k (approximately 7 minutes reading time)

a/n:  I’ve had this baby marinating in my drafts since January, when I was going through my bi-annual Twilight Renaissance. I was actually in the middle of writing a RE2R Leon Kennedy fic today and decided to put on a twilight playlist, and then I just knew I had to finish this one. It’s my first *published* non-RDR fic heehee (I have so much in my drafts, it’s insane). Anyways, enjoy (pardners)!

masterlist archive of our own

It’s that dreadful time of year again. 

The sun is making its curtain call as students from the nearby elementary school trip over themselves running home. Little girls and boys have sticky remnants of lunch peeking from the corners of their mouths and the grass is still slick from morning showers. But dusk is impatient in February, and its eagerness is encouraged in a town hidden beneath perpetual overcast nine months out of the year.

The school children ran past her window minutes ago when the sky had been painted brilliant indigo. Now, when she looks up the only thing left to see is her own dark reflection and the warm orange glow from a candle on the sill. Its tall flame stutters, collapsing and rising with the damp breeze. 

A page turns, disrupting the otherwise quiet room. The only other noise that can be heard is a soft pitter of water dripping onto the floorboards from a coat hanging off the closet door. 

She reaches for a mug sitting on the corner of her nightstand and promptly sets it back down upon finding it empty. It returns to its spot atop crumpled receipts and library hold slips belonging to the growing stack of books accumulating dust at her bedside. These books tower over the permanent nightstand residents: lazily discarded beaded necklaces, a sample bottle of floral perfume from Christmas, two little ceramic bunnies purchased from an antique mall in Port Angeles last summer, car keys, and drugstore chapstick. It might be worth convincing her to let go of some of these post-object permanence discoveries, but that is a matter for another time.

In a desperate attempt to comprehend the words she’s reading, she rolls onto her back and extends her arms straight in the air so the book hovers a foot from her face—a change of perspective to freshen the mind.

It does not help. 

No matter how much she shifts or squints, the antiquated prose remains stubbornly uninviting. She can’t fathom why anyone would willingly subject themselves to something so archaic and convoluted and furthermore, recommend it as one of their favorite novels.

With a huff, she adjusts the headphones at her ears, hoping the music will clear her mind. But despite her best efforts, the book slowly drifts closer to her chest and her eyelids grow heavier as the music lulls her into a dreamless sleep. 

When she wakes to cold fingers grazing her jaw it’s impossible to tell whether she’d fallen asleep or if she just blinked. The weight of the headphones gently disappears as they’re pulled off and set down on the nightstand. She grumbles incoherently and stretches out her legs, not unlike a cat after a long, difficult day of lounging around. Her eyes begrudgingly flutter open and immediately find him only inches away. He’s watching her, peering down with a twinkle in his amber-colored eyes.

“Edward…” she whispers.

“Dracula,” he says, eyebrows raised as he makes the observation. “I thought you didn’t like Gothics.”

She reaches a finger into the book on her chest and folds the page over before tossing it carelessly into the sea of knitted and quilted blankets at the foot of the bed. With the haze of sleep still clouding her eyes, she smiles sheepishly up at him.

“I’m trying.”

He chuckles lightly and brings his hand to her hair again, brushing stray strands off her forehead and tucking them behind her ears before leaning down to place a chaste kiss above her eyes. Though his lips are soft, the icy touch of his skin sends a shiver down her spine. He’s always cold; a result of his anemia, he says. However, the downpour that's dampened his hair and clothes to his skin has chilled him even more so.

In an effort to sit up, she raises herself onto her elbows and catches a glimpse of the bright red digital numbers on her bedside clock.

“You’re late, you know,” she chides, watching him settle uncomfortably at the head of the bed. He sinks down among the pillows, their plushness contrasting humorously with the stiffness of his demeanor. He reaches behind his back and tugs free a stuffed rabbit lodged between him and the headboard, then sets it down softly beside himself.

“I had to make a quick stop. I hope you can forgive me,” he says in a hushed voice, so as not to make too much noise in the resting house. His eyes flit towards the nightstand and she follows them to see a new item sitting amongst the disorder. A tall styrofoam cup with steam rising thinly from the lid. Coffee. 

The mug she just finished sits right beside it. She’d considered brewing more but that was before being rendered unconscious by Bram Stoker nearly an hour ago. Her heart swells at his thoughtfulness, but a more pressing question comes to mind before she can voice her gratitude.

“How did you even climb up here with that?” She asks, reaching for the cup with both hands.

“I’m very…agile.” There’s a look in his eyes that tells her there’s more to it, but she chooses to ignore it for now with a shake of her head.

The taste is immediately harsh, significantly more bitter than how she makes it herself. Any trace of a smile dissipates and is replaced with a pronounced look of disgust.

“Good God, Edward,” she exclaims. “Decaf? What did I ever do to you?”

He laughs and takes it from her hands, leaving her still reeling from the unexpected taste. “As much as I love staying up with you, you need sleep,” he says, a hint of sternness in his voice. “You didn’t get any last night and you don’t hide it well.”

He says the last part sweetly, tilting his head to the side and following her motions with his eyes, watching her pick up the stuffed rabbit by its cotton paw.

“Don’t hide it well?” She repeats, the indignation in her voice contrasting with the softness of the toy as she raises it high into the air and brings it down against his chest with a soft thud. “Well maybe I wouldn’t have to hide anything if you—weren’t—keeping—me—up—all—night!”

With every word, the rabbit hits his forearms poorly attempting to shield himself from the blows. Edward grins as she attacks him, the soft toy barely making a sound against his arms. He watches as her hair falls across her face in the midst of the unrelenting attack, the warm glow of the candle casting a soft halo around her.

But then, his amusement fades as he sees the exhaustion in her eyes. 

He gently takes the rabbit from her and sets it aside before grabbing her arm mid-swing and pulling her into his chest. She sighs heavily and surrenders, relaxing against him. "I’m sorry," he whispers, his lips brushing against her hair. “I’ll let you rest tonight.”

Despite his tender words, a residual half-baked frustration lingers inside her. “How did you manage to stay awake in class?” she mumbles into his sweater, the words muffled. “I mean, you didn’t get any sleep either.”

He chuckles, as if privy to some inside joke.

“Well, someone had to take your notes for you,” he says, his fingers trailing through her hair in a soothing motion. “And besides, you looked so peaceful drooling away.” 

She looks up at him, a hint of a drowsy smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I did not drool,” she insists.

He grins down at her, his eyes alight with fondness. “Of course not.”

She groans and buries her head into his chest, to which he responds by encircling his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

“I’m never falling asleep in front of you again,” she grumbles.

His chest rumbles beneath her cheek as he laughs. “Alright, angel.”

He shifts his hand from the crown of her head to the curve of her back, tracing languid circles over the fabric of her t-shirt as the room fills with a comfortable silence. The rain outside grows heavier, tapping against the glass with a more insistent force. Her body is warm against his and he can feel the steady thumping of her heartbeat as if it's his own. A few minutes slip by, and he senses her breathing even out and deepen. Without disturbing her, he reaches for a nearby blanket and drapes it over her, then turns his gaze to the candle on the windowsill.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers, as the dwindling flame fades out of focus. 

This is his favorite part of the day.

Vague arrays of soft, muted hues and shapes swirl around in his vision, overtaking the warm surroundings of her bedroom. They morph into recognizable figures after some time, and he can hear them speaking when he focuses. For the most part, they sound as if he’s underwater and they’re conversing on the shore. But every now and then, a clear phrase emerges.

Suddenly, the floating shapes assimilate into a figure resembling him and he realizes what this dream is. It’s a recurring one he’s particularly fond of. He settles in and pulls her closer as the scene ebbs between reality and distortions of the unconscious mind. 

He can’t remember how he used to pass the night hours before he met her. Books, records, films--looking back, they feel hollow compared to nights spent like this. Part of him hopes he’ll never know what it's like to want for this. But these dreams, and her thoughts in the waking hours, assure him he won’t ever have to find out.

[nishiyako]

After Party (NSFW)

Paring : DJ!Tamaki x RaveGirl!Reader

Tags : vaginal penetration, creampie, hair pulling (m receiving), older male x younger female (3 years apart), pussyjob, sex on table (dj table), reunited, mention of whiskey, tamaki was a perv back in highschool

Summary : After an incident, you never thought you'd go back to a rave. That was until your friend pestered you to come with her to check out this new artist. After finding out this artist was an old friend, he invited you backstage for more than a chat.

Your friend had found this new artist and have been edging you to come to a rave again, after an incident a few years ago you thought you'd never return to one but that didn't stop your friends on reminiscing on the 'good days'.

You were a party animal, absolutely wild. It was always fun when you'd be around since you never had an off-switch.

After a few days of pestering, you finally gave in agreeing to go on a few conditions. Once your friend complied, it was only a few hours until it started.

You arrived as the laser lights flashed and loud music peirced your ears. you defenetly missed the feeling, the blinding lights and bass full music made your brain all fuzzy.

You rushed to the front with your friend but as you inched closer you were found in suprise as you saw exactly who was behind the booth, fiddling with the buttons and knobs.

Amajiki was always quiet, eyes to the floor and always well reserved, so you meeting him at a rave was unexpected. What was even more unexpected was him being the DJ.

It was him, without a doubt, his scruffy dark hair and pointed ears. Though he was wearing a headset, it was only covering one ear, which made it easy to identify him

Your friend was already in her element. She couldn't care less what was going on. You stood there as his once-focused eyes turned to you. In the dim club, you could still see his piercing indigo eyes.

His eyes widened seeing you, like he was surprised you were there, that was defenetly him.

The night still continued. he'd steal glances from time to time to watch how you moved your body. The vibrations of the bass rushed through you as you experienced the rave like it was your first.

You felt a strange sense of nostalgia as the night came to an end, as people started leaving a bouncer approached you, you and your friend started to panic trying to recount if you did anything wrong but the man pulled you away from your friend for "a talk".

Long story short, you didn't do anything wrong. Tamaki has simply invited you backstage, and only you. The bouncer said you weren't allowed to bring your little friend.

You told her, and instead of being a jealous bitch she was absolutely ecstatic. She left as soon as possible telling you to tell her every single detail in the morning, before you could even remind her to be safe going home she was alredy out the door booking an Uber.

You were escorted behind the stage of the huge club, the bouncer opened the door for you, you saw him sitting on some couch in the dimly lit room, manspred and hand holding a cup of what you assumed was whiskey from its dark-yellow, almost orange color.

Your eyes took him in, trying to see every new detail and compare it from when you last saw him.

His hands were tired, nails painted black as his wrists were covered by multiple rainbow kandi bracelets. his physique is still the same from high school. He was a little muscular, yes, but he still had that lean body you always had a type for.

His hair was a mess as his forehead had a glisten of sweat, his eyeliner smudged as his bulky headsets hanged round his neck, necklaces scattering over a black buckle chocker, this was not the Tamaki you remembered.

"Long time no see," you said nervously. He stood up as he placed his drink on a random table. "Yeah, long time..." his voice was still shakey. It was so familiar.

He was taller than you remembered, he was always taller than you but now you were just around his lower shoulder, it intimidated you as he walked around the room "When did you start raving? I never knew you were into this type of thing." He asked.

"Right after we graduated from UA, collage was stressful. I stoped after an incident. What about you? You also never seemed the type." You asked the question back

"Ever since my first year in UA, before you enrolled. the loudness drowned out all the bad thoughts which I found helpful"

You never thought such a quiet person like him would be into such loud music, especially Amajiki.

"How about DJing? This is a pretty popular club. Only a few local artists perform, " you said, sitting beside him on the velvet couch.

You saw his eyes run down your body, your barely exposed tits only being hid by a skimpy top, to your skinny bottoms highlighting your hips and thighs for him. It was clear that he wasent the only one who changed

"I haven't done it for long, I just know what's good. So I got popular quickly. I DJ here during EDM nights and do a few shows around the city." He said, "I can show you the booth if that's what you want..."

The night was young, and you were still curious about his new hobby, of course you said yes.

As he took you to the booth, you were overwhelmed, looking at all the scales and knobs, "is it okay if I touch some stuff?" You ask. He nodded. He could just fix everything later.

It was just you and him at the club at that moment. You fiddled with the controls as his eyes stayed fixated on you. He took in every detail of your perfect body, huggable waist and your fuckable ass in those tight jeans. You weren't the timid first year he remembered, the both of you have grown so even if he was a little older than you, it wouldn't be that bad since you're both adults now, Right?

You turned around to see him standing behind you, still with his signature slouch and a tent in his baggy pants. You squeezed your thighs at the sight. Was this because of you? Most probably.

Artists mostly call girls backstage cause they think they're hot and most likely want to fuck so you took it upon yourself to guess he didn't just want a chat about catching up between old friends.

"So did you just want to talk or did you have something else in mind..?" You asked turning around, sandwiched bewteen the booth and Tamaki. obviously rubbing your thighs together as your hands rested on the metal table waiting for his response.

"Well, that's up to you." He said, placing his hands on the sides of your waist, traping you between him and the booth. He inched closer as you started to get lost in his indigo eyes. We're the both of you really gonna do it here, right now?

You hugged his neck going in for the kiss hoping that you played your cards right, you felt his grip only grow tighter on the skin of your waist, his quivering lips against yours. If this is how it happened he wouldn't really mind.

Tamakis hands wandered to your thighs to lift them up, making you make you sit on the edge of his beloved table. Your legs dangled off the edge, spreading open for his convenience.

His hands wandered to his studded belt, unbuckled in a few seconds he pulled down his pants to expose himself, alredy been twitching from your kisses. You didn't want him to do all the work, of course.

You eagerly slipped off your tight jeans and pushed your panties to the side. He buried his face into the crook of your neck as he rubbed against you, bucking his hips to the addictive friction.

You were already eager to have him inside you. You tugged on his hair as you were impatient and needy for his cock.

"Amajiki, don't tease me like this." You begged, he snapped back onto reality .Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know I was teasing you like that..." he said, voice shakey and awkward.

"If you wanted it inside you, could've just asked..." he hinted, he loved hearing that voice of yours. "Just fuck me alredy... please. I need you right now Tamaki." You pleaded.

He pulled you closer to him as his hips were against yours, the distance between you closes as he kisses you once more. You felt his body against yours as you melted in his touch.

Your body jolted as he sliped in slowly, stretching you to take him whole, you whined into his kiss as you tugged on his scruffy hair.

He gave you time to re-adjust, but that would be the most mercy he'd show you. He slipped in and out of you as your chest pressed against his.

He pulled away from the kiss as you threw your head back, moaning from the feeling of him hitting your gummy sweet spot over and over again.

You didn't expect expect him to be so good. He was attractive and talented so you could guess a bunch of girls would be throwing themselves at him after shows.

His thrusts quickened, making your body tense as he held you with his arms. Your hand grabbed a handful and tugged on his hair as he peppered your neck with kisses and bites.

Your moans and the sound of skin slapping echoed around the dim room, He fucked you on the stages booth mercilessly making you drip on the metal table, no problem, he'll just clean it after.

Even if you knew it was wrong having sex with someone you haven't talked to in years, it still felt so good, like you were meant to be there.

He didn't know if he was a pervert for enjoying this veiw, once a freshman now a DJ's whore.

He used to watch you as you walked down UA's halls in your little dark-green skirt, plush thighs pouring out of your black thigh highs, he always felt wrong for having a lust for you.

But now he could indulge every nasty fantasy he had now the both of you were all grown up.

He dragged his cock in and out of you, watching your cute little reactions as your head was thrown back with your mouth wide open, screaming and pleading his name.

His breaths grew heavy, and his thrusts sloppy, yet he couldn't get enough of you. You were better than any glass of whiskey or bass drop he could ask for, and he kind of hated it.

With the bites on your neck and the fluids dripping down your thighs, not to mention your sluty moans, they were music to his ears. He knew you were close, no doubt about it.

He fucked you raw and senseless, like an animal in heat, you wonder how long it's been since you've felt like this, it felt divine.

Your legs wrapped around his waist to get him deeper into you, begging for even more of his cock he couldn't say no, his palm pressed against your arched back closing whatever distance your once had.

He held you close. It made you feel... protected. " 'Tmaki, I'm close!" You muttered, "You want it, baby?" He cooed, his voice was shakey as his hands were shaking from the pleasure.

After a frantic nod he picked up his speed, not the smartest decision but it worked. Your legs were left shaking as he filled you full.

Your arched back, loud moans and sopping cunt was perfect to him, it drove Tamaki crazy.

You caught your breath as he slipped out of you. You can't believe you just did that, and honestly, neither did he.

But at the end of the night, you appreciated your persuasive friend. If she didn't pester you for a few weeks, this wouldn't have happened.

The night ended with shakey legs and a new phone number in your contacts, Tamakis obviously.

(Inspired by DJ WH0RE by S3RL)

[propheticclown]

I need you all to understand. I've seen so many people talk about how Eridan would be slaying the fashion scene. How his fashion sense is awesome and epic, or whatever. NO! Firstly, I wanna preface this by saying that Pesterquest falls under the category of "Dubiously Canon." so his massive closet isn't actually canon. But secondly, LOOK AT HIS FUCKING FIT, MY GUY!

THE DEEP BLUE WITH THE PURPLE??? THE CAPE??? THE HAIR??? BROOOOOTHER!!! THEY EVEN CHANGED THE COLORS OF HIS SCARF AND PANTS TO LOOK BETTER IN PESTERQUEST!

It's subtle but the color shifts towards indigo/cobalt rather than royal blue. "B-But what about March Eridan? March Eridan looks good and is canon!" I don't know how brainrotted you are from buying all your clothes from shien (derogatory) and temu (derogatory) to think that March Eridan looks good, but let me just show you what it looks like again to refresh your memory.

Ignoring the insanity that's even happening with this image in the first place, this IS the Original March Eridan image. Now let me tell you why this fit is more atrocious than Kankri Vantas' takes on feminism. 1. THE COLORS DO NOT WORK!!! His VIOLET symbol combined with MAGENTA arm warmers and thigh highs and a RED SKIRT???? AUUHHG NONE OF THESE COLORS LOOK AESTHETICALLY PLEASING TOGETHER IN A FASHION SENSE!!! NAME ONE TIME RED AND PURPLE HAVE EVER LOOKED GOOD TOGETHER IN TERMS OF FASHION??? 2. STRIPES AND FUCKING PLAID??? WHAT??? IN CARTOONS, MUSIC, BOOKS, AND EVEN FUCKING GAMES, DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH "Ew stripes and plaid." IS SAID??? THAT IS LIKE THE NUMBER 1 NONO IN ANY FASHION WORLD!!! 3. AND WHILE THIS ONE IS A BIT OF A STRETCH, THERE IS NO CONVINCING ME THAT ERIDAN AMPORA WOULD WILLINGLY WEAR THIS SHIT! IT JUST DOES NOT MAKE SENSE FOR HIS CHARACTER TO WEAR THIS OUTFIT! FASHION IS A WAY OF EXPRESSING ONESELVES! FASHION, AS A MEDIUM OF ART, IS A WAY A PERSON CAN EXPRESS HOW THEY FEEL ON THE INSIDE! March Eridan as an outfit, artistically expresses confidence, empowerment and a general "I'm a bad bitch you can't kill me" energy. Here's the problem. Eridan at his base components is envious, closed off, emotionally volatile, and a massive fucking nerd, which the old outfit actually does express.

His clothes are long-sleeved, showing the least possible amount of skin he can, which usually can represent being closed off. His cape is large and grandiose, showing that he likes to be exaggerated and theatrical. His scarf indicates his nerdiness, with it being a reference to Harry Potter and how it could be a tie-back to his nerdy love of wizards. The only other outfit he's shown wearing is with a flashback to when he and Vriska were a kismesis.

Here the outfit, even with as little as we see of it, is big and intense. Unlike Vriska, who essentially doesn't change outfits, Eridan puts time and effort into each theatrical performance he considers himself to be a part of. He adores intricate and exaggerated outfits. Things that are fancy, complex, and over-the-top. So that even though he doesn't feel great on the inside, even though he feels as though he's "wworse than evverybody. all the bodies." He can still look well put together. And that's WHY I don't think March Eridan as an outfit works. It's too casual for him. It's not big or flashy in a way he likes. There's not enough for him. It doesn't cover him up and because of that, he'd feel exposed. He's not closed off anymore. It doesn't exude "Eridan Ampora". Who's "most casual" piece of apparel is probably a sweater vest.

Even in the original image, he looks uncomfortable, like he doesn't actually LIKE wearing it. The only way I can find this artistically working from a writing standpoint is if Kanaya made it for him because, in the story, it is shown time and time again that Kanaya doesn't understand Eridan, so by making him this outfit, she'd take it a step further by not even understanding what he likes. Kanaya doesn't understand that Eridan is terrified of being culled, because Kanaya doesn't have to worry about that. Kanaya doesn't understand the pressures Alternian society is forcing upon him, as an Orphaner. Because Kanaya's only societal expectation is raising the new mother grub. Kanaya doesn't think about how he's most likely going to live the longest out of all his friends. Eridan has the second highest lifespan out of every troll blood color, but even then with Feferi, she's most likely going to get culled by the Condense when she's the proper age to inherit the throne. So in Eridan's mind, he's going to be alone, expected to be an Orphaner until the day he dies, utterly alone to feed Feferi's lusus until he eventually succumbs to old age or dies in war. That's why he's so closed off, yet so emotionally grand. That's why March Eridan doesn't suit him from a fashion-artistic standpoint. It's not what Eridan Ampora embodies as a character. Envy.

[kararisa]

darling, starling

— 9. iridescence — ✦ (wc: 0.6k)

“Is this going to take any longer?” you ask.

It’s an interesting feeling, having Scaramouche in your lap while he does your makeup. The side of his palm gently rests against your cheek as he does your eyeliner, his brow furrowed in concentration while you rest against the cushions of your sofa. His indigo hair and indigo eyes are barely illuminated by the dimmed lights of your living room, an insistence of his even at your protest of the horrid lighting for makeup.

“It’ll only take a moment longer,” he responds.

“You said that ten minutes ago,” an over-exaggeration on your part, but you couldn’t see how a makeover could take so damn long.

Scaramoche grins, his voice dripping in mock innocence, “Perfection takes time. Or however that saying goes. I’m not used to putting makeup on another person so just cooperate with me, will you?”

You do your best to glare at Scaramouche as he finishes up your eyeliner. The two of you have been at this for a while now, bantering while he does your makeup. When he finishes, whenever that may be, the two of you will swap places so you can give him a makeover in return. Admittedly an interesting arrangement to re-enact for a scene in his book, but you have to admit it’s been alright so far. He isn’t terrible, he just takes too long for your liking.

“Part your lips a bit. I’m putting lipstick on you,” you oblige, and Scaramouche continues while he dabs color on your lips. “Our ruse has been quite effective so far. But people seem to think we’ve been in love for longer than we’ve been dating.”

Amusement colors your voice, “I mean, I like to think it makes our whole act more effective.”

He finally leans back to inspect his work after what seems like forever and declares that he’s done — time for you to switch places. He gets off you to take a seat by your side. You take the opportunity to reposition yourself and straddle him.

Only to get a proper look at him while you give him a makeover, of course.

A few minutes of silence pass when Scaramouche speaks up, “The whole point of me asking you to do this was for us to talk. So talk.”

“Like what, the groceries?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just talk.”

“Well,” you pause, twisting the makeup sponge in your hand before getting back to work. “I think we’re running out of eggs? And we only have a little bit of flour left.”

“Did you add it to the list on the fridge?”

“I already did, smartass. You were the one who told me to talk.” you laugh slightly when you see him glaring at you, and you move your other hand to rest on his shoulder. “Stop looking all grumpy like that. You’re gonna make me mess up.”

“I am not ‘looking all grumpy’.”

“Oh, you definitely are.” you chide, dabbing his cheek with your makeup sponge. “Ooooh is my grumpy face mad at me?”

“Shut up and just get this over with, will you?” Scaramouche averts his gaze. “Absolute terror.”

You move on to doing his eyeliner before you continue talking, “I could help you cook dinner tonight if you want.”

“Absolutely not,” he answers curtly. “You’re still banned from the kitchen.”

“The thing that happened with the air fryer wasn’t even that bad.” you protest.

“Do I need to remind you what happened? You quite literally –”

“Okay fine, maybe I should leave the cooking to you today. But one day you’ll lift my ban from my own fucking kitchen.”

“Not happening until you learn how to actually cook.”

“Gonna need a good teacher for that, so why don’t you teach me?” you jest

He gives you an incredulous look before responding, “Sure. Whatever. Are you done with my eyeliner yet?”

���Stop moving and I’ll get done quicker.”

✧— previous — masterlist — next —✧

summary: being the world-famous singer-songwriter "zenith", the limelight has been on you ever since the start of your career. however, the media becomes relentless when leaks of music you never meant to release begin to circulate. your friend scaramouche, meanwhile, seems to have gotten stuck while writing his second book. with a deadline fast approaching, he comes to you with a deal: act as if you're dating him so he can gather reference material and, in turn, he'll help keep the press' eyes off of your leaks until you release your next album. a win-win in your book, so why not help a friend out?

author's notes:

they're definitely not in love guys trust me

taglist — currently OPEN:

@aestherin @unsterblich-prinz @yourstrulykore @krnzysh @syriiina @yumiaur @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @meigalaxy @fangygf @motherscrustytoenailclippings @samyayaya @hiimera @beriiov @e0nssadrift @dazaisboner @nillajhayne @chluuvr @nillajhayne @deffenferofjustice @romyoia @xiaomainlmao @hotgirlshit5 @potabletable @letthewindlead @esuz @toriiee @kclremin @angelkazusstuff @phoenix-eclipses @sakiimeo @mayuumine @ako-ang-mahal-ko @only-cherry-blossom @keiiqq @what-just-happened-huh @n3r0-1417 @haunts-gh0st @layla240 @mamafly @duckyyyx @certified-shrimp @kgogoma @xtobefreex @aeongiies @mechanicalbeat1 @meidnightrain @nordicbananas @feiherp @erzarq

[starryharps]

the veil of love

pairing: rhaegar targaryen/ arryn! reader

summary: rhaegar visits an old flame at the eyrie, determined to do things right this time.

word count: 2,741

part of: heartlines series

tags: angst with a happy ending (smut, fluff in later parts)

a/n: prefacing this by saying that this is a nonlinear series titled "heartlines", many questions about the reader and the nature of her relationship with rhaegar will be subsequently answered. but I will say, the next chapter is smut. haha.

read on ao3 | masterlist |

there was a storm picking up, the prince noted as he cursed his way into the journey across the narrow bridges that connected the formidable fortress of the vale.

you were situated in the last tower of the eyrie, according to jon arryn. the most isolated one of it all. rhaegar grimaced at its height as he entered the reception hall, nodding to the ladies in waiting. the climb towards the top of the tower proved to be endless, but he found himself in front of a grand door of mahogany regardless.

how will you react? will you smile kindly on him, eyes sparkling upon seeing your lover after four years? or would you throw a shoe at him, cursing whatever is left of his scant bloodline and hoping he falls through the moon door? or would you do nothing, ignoring his presence like you always did when he teased your inability to play the harp or when he read a couple of chapters of the romance novel you shared in advance?

his cheeks flushed slightly at the memory, remembering how you once asked him to act out a few scenes with him. oh, the things you had teased out of him.

rhaegar shook his head.

he knocked.

the door creaked on its own, almost inviting him in. he could swear he heard the sounds of pages turning. you were most likely reading, he inferred. the ivory light crept in his vision as he opened the door fully, taking in the blue chambers cloistered at the top of the tower, and gasped at the regality of it.

blue so dark, it was indigo. everywhere. constellations drawn on every bit of the ceiling stretching up and up and up, to the cosmic hand-painted tapestries and scattered paintings, a few left to dry. there were instruments of all types scattered in an organized manner: telescopes, vials, maps, and books. gods above, so many books were pouring out of the shelves. by the glowing white canopy bed was a giant glass-stained window that refracted a rainbow of lights. rhaegar could hear the echoes of the strong wind howling. he marveled at the strength of the glass to hold up at such an altitude.

his eyes shifted to the corner of the room, where a window lay open, and there, in all your glory, alive and breathing, you sat. clad in arryn blue, reading a book, the wind kissing your cheeks as you leaned by the window.

he looks at you. you’ve paled a bit in these unforgiving heights, there’s a certain sense of unease in him as he notes your figure hidden by the loose robes. you’ve thinned out, there’s a lack of something in you that he can’t quite pinpoint.

you raise your eyes at him and quietly lock in a staring contest with the prince regent of the seven kingdoms.

the winds howled louder.

neither of you speaks, rhaegar stands by the door. gripping it like a terrified child, he wants to run to you, do ablutions, prostate, and beg. but your aura is one of quiet lethality. he could do angry, he could do sad, he could do hysterical….but he couldn’t do….whatever this was…an air of nothingness that seemed to emanate from you.

“your grace.” he winced. it was always rhae.

he held back his tongue. watching you put a bookmark and close what you were reading.

“what brings his grace to the eyrie?” he hates this. he hates the tone. the lack of musicality and mirth in your voice. how you would harmonize with his vocals and run around, laughing as he took in the happy tones he wanted to drown in, those memories being one of the few things he remembered from his otherwise somber childhood.

he calls out your name, unable to stop the wavering in his mouth, and takes a shy step forward, boots clacking against the smooth marble. gods, you were so close, just within his reach.

you depart from the reading nest, shuffling towards the solar of the room, and put your hands in front of yourself, almost protective.

“i came…to see you.” rhaegar exhaled.

“there was no need to your grace. i am well. a letter would’ve done. you needn’t climb the eyrie for me.”

he quietly put his sword to the table in front of him, and walked closer. “i had to. letters wouldn’t be able to do justice to what i wished to say.”

he met her questioning gaze, restraining himself from slipping further into them, but the task seemed more and more so arduous.

“you…you fled. that night.” he watched as you took interest in the sword at your table.

“my family had to return sooner or later.”

“lord arryn and his retinue were to embark within a month, yet you rode out on horseback weeks in advance, vanished into the vale…left the palace within hours.”

“the vale cannot be left alone for long.”

rhaegar pressed on, frustrated. “no,” “the royce and lord arryn’s fostered wards were present at the eyrie. you fled. you ran away.” you left me.

he watched you watch the window.

“there was nothing left for me there, in that palace.”

“i was there.”

“the prince of dragonstone was there. but rhaegar wasn’t. to be wed to elia of dorne. for political purposes. with zero fight from the groom-to-be. despite the court knowing he had a lover of three years lurking right next to him as the deal was finalized by the king.”

rhaegar recoiled at the jab, it was as if dragonglass pierced him straight into his heart. the iron tones of your voice hammering him, wounding his chest at the cruel remark.

“n-no.”

“you promised me. underneath the star showers to be mine. you told me over and over in the kingswood, by the waterfalls that i am yours. that we would run hand in hand by the grasslands together, plucking fruit and making play endlessly. rule the realm with peace and prosperity, rebuild the peace your father had ruined brick by brick with me by your side. our song of sky and the dragon.

there is no emotion but a hollowed loss in your voice as you continued, “for years. you promised me. for years of this endless winter, i thought a spring of our love would bloom and i would vow myself to you till the end of my days. you said you were mine. i thought you were mine.”

rhaegar felt tears prick his eyes, he breathed deeply.

“i…” he took your name again. “politics..”

then, rage seethed in your icy gaze.

“politics?” you scoff. “you wish to lecture me on politics? your match was political, yes. but let me remind you dorne is already on good terms with westeros. the alliances with house dayne, yronwood and martells were strong regardless and were stable. viserys showed an interest in doran’s daughter from a young age itself when she had visited. what does the vale lack that the dorne has for us to be cast aside over and over in alliances? your king demands of our warriors but won’t wed one of his kin despite openly knowing that his son has been besotted with jon arryn’s niece for years!”

“you know the girl is weak, you know she is frail! i doubt she’ll be able to handle a child, leave the poor girl alone, let her be in dorne. grant her this mercy. you rejected the tyrell match, the dayne match, the blackwood match, yet you accepted the martell match. but why couldn’t you for once in your life grow a spine and run after the one thing you have claimed to love more than your god forsaken prophecy for once? let me suffer in her place, I am begging you, let me burn with you."

“my father will murder you!” he spoke out, frantic.

“and you’ll let somebody else take in my place?” i gasp out. “are you that cruel your grace?”

“i was trying to protect you.”

“you’re shit at protecting things.”

“from him.” his voice cracked “from myself.”

“..what?”

“the prophecy.”

“shut the fuck up.”

his eyes blazed. “listen to me!”

“no!”

“i didn’t want you to be part of my suffering!”

you gawked at him.

“tread carefully.”

rhaegar put his hands up, breathing deeply before he continued. 

“i didn’t want to hurt you.” rhaegar was on his knees by now, holding your blue robes.

“i know how i can get. i know it. i know i would’ve forced you into a life you didn’t want.”

“so just scurry me to the side under the garb of care, an awfully easy excuse.”

a flash of irritation crossed rhaegar’s face. “you do not understand, the prophecy-“

“your ego is as magnanimous as the oily black stones that make the citadel. your entire sense of self is trapped within the five lines you read when you were a boy and made to believe it was for you and only you. the only time you feel ease with the shadows of your mind is when you take points of your life and bend them to fit the narrative of the eight thousand year old prophecy in a language you don’t even speak properly. did you ever stop to think how many in the past have tried the same? how many of them believe themselves to be azor ahai?”

your chest was rising up and down like a madman as you seethed. “the only time you stood up for yourself and not the identity of the prince who was promised was when you kissed me for the first time near the godswood. i threw a wrench in your plans by existing. and you were frightened by the way we completed each other. perhaps you loved me for a bit, but ultimately you kept me to bide your time with me for three years until you found a suitable match for yourself and sire three heads of a dragon who will save the world and be this all powerful messiah while you overthrow your father.”

“you are a selfish, spineless, cowardly prick of-“ rhaegar didn’t let you finish the sentence, grappling your knees and knocking you down to the myrish carpets, holding you close to him. he smelled like lilac and gooseberries.

“you weren’t a wrench,” he muttered, refusing to let go.

“and i never used you to bide my time until a, so you say, better match came up.” you sighed.

“i swear on my honor. i love you. i didn’t use you. we learned to walk together, played together, i watched you lose teeth and you saw mine, we studied together. hunted together. played as king and queen in the godswood. can a seven-year-old plot that early?”

“i know i hurt you. i know it was stupid of me to agree to that arrangement in front of you. i humiliated you. i should’ve said something. but i had plans.” he shuddered. “we…we were planning on rallying dornish support to remove the king. i intended to…take over.”

“and what does dorne have the vale doesn’t? one word from you and uncle would’ve descended our knights.”

“i didn’t have a choice…the king was set on a dornish alliance, i was merely trying to make the best of a situation. i would’ve joined the vale’s support had..had the match not been forced on me.”

putting the palm to your head. “and then?”

“i…i turned to you, only to see your face, you, you were so distraught, i….followed you, but you were gone. and i didn’t hear from you for months.” his voice broke.

“everybody told me you accepted the match happily and chatted with her.”

rhaegar had tears in his eyes. “poor elia. the…the emotions she’s seen of me. i ..i cried to her. pleaded to her and oberyn. please. to do something. they know about you. they were uncomfortable with aerys as elia’s father in law too. they convinced doran to withdraw the offer but aerys was resolute in watching the match go forth.”

rhaegar continued, “so i….i did the unthinkable.”

your heart dropped. this idiot.

“...what did you do?” 

“i broke it off.” he murmured to the floor. “i couldn’t do it. wrote to all the lords. citing my intentions for the throne. many responded…then, i ran.”

you stilled, aghast.

“did you…don’t tell me…did you start a rebellion against the crown?”

he nodded slowly.

you felt the earth shift under your feet.

what in the seven fucking hells is wrong with you? you wanted to scream.

“why?” you asked instead.

he responded, feverishly. “he burns people to death. he upsets century-long relations. he hurts my mother. he exiles my guard. he sabotages my relationships. the lords are stewing, ready to overthrow, i can’t keep seeing this. i can’t keep watching this.”

“please. besides this, i did for you. i do not want to live out my life without you by my side.”

“-but your prophecy.”

he shut his eyes, as if in pain.

“i,” he takes a deep breath, as if his lungs are shattered with glass. “heeded. to what you said. i lulled on it…when you were gone. i heard your ballads and songs…i….realised that in the quest for a future that may or may not exist, i failed to see the beauty that surrounded me in the very present moment.”

he gathers himself as he continues, “prophecies…may be true, and they mostly come true when one steers clears of them. i remembered this as i recalled everything that i’ve chased at the end has run away from me..unlike things that hold onto me for far too long when i haven’t been paying attention.” he looks at you, smiling softly.

he breathes, burying his face into your lap, “i came to the realization, after years of being away from you that, even if the prophecy doesn’t come true, i won’t base my existence off it anymore, i would, do what the realm needs me to, be a good ruler, and assure happiness..make song and love, and hope of being loved in return by the one i want.”

rhaegar notices you take his hand, and he quivers, as he continues.

he kisses your hand.

“i have come to ask you for your hand in marriage. not just as the future king of the seven kingdoms who would have the privilege of a lifetime to have you as his queen. but as the rhaegar you grew up with and made flower crowns with. who watched me play the harp over and over till my fingers bled, carved stars within the wood of the same. who snuck in food in my satchel when i disappeared to summerhall. who dreamed of running away to lys or pentos with you when all of this is over for a long vacation.”

silence. silence greets him. you seem frozen to him, looking at him with pensive eyes and a neutral face.

he softly calls out the name he had given you, indigo eyes wide, and sad, yet tinged with hope, of longing.

slowly, your face broke. it began with the eyes, slowly melting like a glacier, joining the sea of emotions that colored your face red with tears as you shook. rhaegar couldn’t help himself, his tears followed as you grabbed your robe your free hand, sobbing into your other.

he put his head in your lap, feeling your hands run across his silver-white hair, remembering how often you used to do it those nights in his chambers. and he let himself cry.

he called out your name weakly, “…please.”

you kicked him slightly, muttering a “of course i would, you fool.” before taking him in your embrace, the two of you crying within each others arms as the storm picked up.

“of course i will. i have loved you since for as long as i could remember. how could i deny you? how could i ever say no to you?”

rhaegar chuckled wetly. his dourness subsided a little as he relished in your warmth.

“i don’t have much of good memories, and despite them being only a handful, i know that, my happiness begins and ends in the shape of your face, written in the tongue of your soul.”

the winds rattle the eyrie once more.

[struggle-but-its-all-ocean-floor]

Mini & Moni Music was... interesting, kind of concerning? We really know so little about the members - especially if you're like me and don't watch all the lives and documentaries, and read every book or interview. Even if I did all that, though, I wouldn't know much. The more honest they are, the more obvious it is they're "hiding" so much from us and how little we know them. This honesty unintentionally increases the disconnect between us and them, throwing every memory of them in a different light. A lot of the intimacy we feel/felt isn't real because, sometimes, when they look happy they're actually struggling while we enjoy ourselves and their "happiness".

The thing about RM for me is I've struggled to understand him, even if I probably have more in common with him than other members. The way he expresses himself is very opaque to me. I lack the sensibility, or context, I guess, to understand his thought process.

This special content between Jimin and Namjoon was a bit sad. RM doesn't seem happy. Every year, I feel like he reveals that he wasn't happy in the previous year. Has there been any year where Namjoon didn't suddenly reveal he'd been struggling? Because last year he made it seem as if he'd been doing pretty well, and I guess he was better at some point, while working on RPWP, but he'd been having a really rough time. Hearing him say he had to distance himself from BTS in order to heal (I think in 2023, after Indigo, but also applies to chapter 2 in general?) and Jimin saying the members thought he liked them less now... was sad.

RM really had(s) been struggling with the group. I know Hobi really wanted a chance to do something solo, but Festa dinner still feels mostly like it was brought on by Namjoon. I'm pretty sure Jungkook, Jimin, Jin, Suga, and V would've been fine carrying on with group activities with little to no solo activities, and Hobi only wanted a chance to do something different, not necessarily a big break from the group (I think; I haven't watched a lot of chapter 2 solo content, maybe I'm wrong). But RM was truly "done", to the point where the members felt him pulling away from them... RM popping up during one of Jungkook's live and their whole interaction kind of takes on a new meaning. Jungkook had been really happy to talk to Namjoon, and Namjoon said he missed Jungkook and that they needed to hang out. At the time maybe RM had already created distance between himself and the members so they missed each other a lot and there was a kind of uncertainty in their relationship.

I believe in BTS, but this content has made RM, the leader, seem the least excited about BTS, which may be untrue - contradictory and conflicted feelings can coexist. I kind of became concerned about how they'll return as a group (and what that will sound like...) if RM just looks so burnt out and even regretful about many things in their past (like his seriousness before). I know that each member struggled a lot, and for every hard moment there is a good one RM remembers, but I hope that when he comes back he learns how to enjoy being in the group again (or maybe for the first time; maybe he never really knew how to love the group without feeling weighted down by it). Like he says, RM speaks for the group. Most of Festa seems like him speaking for the group while the group itself didn't share his feelings completely but wanted to support him. It's ironic because RM said he feared that the group only represented his thoughts and not the group's, but I really want to know what the other members think. Suga, for example, has always blamed their hiatus on the enlistment, whereas Namjoon has made it clear that wasn't the main reason.

I don't know, I know the group has been through a lot, including the time they almost disbanded (I say almost, but how close were they, truly? Thinking heavily about something and having the intention of doing it are quite different), but this made me lose confidence in the group a bit, at least in RM. In the eyes of the members he's equated to BTS, but it seems like he's drifted apart from them. That's life, but as a fan it was hard to hear. Maybe they all feel the same, and I'm putting it all on Namjoon... This conversation with Jimin was very negative, but that's not the whole truth, and I shouldn't forget that.

[scarredwithcruelintentions]

chapter 3: a desperate revelation

Find the masterlist here!

CW: Astarion talks about his abuse.

W/C: 2,795

A/N: My dog had heart surgery last week... please send all the good vibes for her recovery!

After the arduous fight with the Hag, Astarion wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bedroll. Shadowheart had mended the worst of their wounds with a healing prayer, and your quiet songs of rest had bolstered their energy for the trek back to camp. Once out of the bog, the fading rays of the sun’s light were visible once more.

He paused a moment to marvel at the way they painted the sky in various hues of pinks and oranges, a sight he had long since given up hope of ever seeing again. He tried to convince himself that any day spent in the sun was a day worth having, no matter how fleeting a retreat it might be. 

A plaintive sigh escaped him at the prospect of returning to the shadows after being blessed by the warmth of the light.

“Copper for your thoughts?” you intoned from behind him, startling him out of his quiet reverie.

“For nearly two centuries, I’ve known nothing but darkness and pain. To stand in the sun, after so much tragedy and despair, is nothing short of a miracle,” he whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder, it would shatter the beautiful illusion he’d come to know and he’d instead find himself a psychotic wreck, locked in a mausoleum somewhere at Cazador’s behest again.

He tracked your approach in his peripheral vision, mentally preparing himself to broach the topic of his past, of his Master’s cruelty. You stopped at his side and gazed out into the encroaching darkness with him, listening along as the song of birds gave way to the chirp of crickets. The stars began their winking, and the ambiance of rural night crept over them in a subdued melody.

“Without darkness, there would be no light,” you said quietly. 

He peered over at you, watching as the moon started its trek across the indigo sky just above your head. You glanced at him, and your eyes met his for a moment. He did not expect the sorrow that he found in their depths. He opened his mouth, but no sound left his lips, the icy fingers of fear choking him. He closed his eyes and steadied himself, preparing to spill his darkest secrets upon reopening them.

“Come, friend,” your hushed voice met his ears. “We are not far from camp. We may speak there.”

With that, the moment was broken. Astarion opened his eyes to see your retreating form, and silently thanked whatever gods still were for the extra time to gather his strength. ______________________________________________________________

Astarion sat alone in his tent, lost in his thoughts. He could hear the chatter and laughter of his companions just beyond its thin walls, but he didn’t even have the heart to observe from afar tonight. He waited in trepidation for you to come find him, drumming his fingers absentmindedly on the closed cover of the book in his lap. Even reading had proven to be an unhelpful distraction.

“Astarion?” 

He recognized the lilt of your soft voice and cleared his throat.

“In here, darling,” he called, unwilling to move, lest his legs were to carry him far from this conversation, far from camp in cowardice.

You parted the flaps of his tent with a small smile, a question in your eyes. He waved at the space in front of him, a silent go ahead to enter and sit. You nodded imperceptibly and sat down, crossing your legs and setting your lyre in your lap.

Astarion raised a brow at the instrument.

“Do you ever go anywhere without that?” he asked, curiosity coloring his voice.

“Never,” you grinned. “It’s the source of my connection to the Weave.”

He scoffed, “A lyre?”

“Well, not the lyre specifically,” you blushed, “but the music it creates. Any instrument will do, but this is my instrument of choice.”

“I see,” he said, though he really didn’t.

“Would you like me to give you an example?” you asked kindly.

“Please, be my guest.”

He watched as your delicate fingers plucked a soft melody on the instrument, caressing the tune from them with practiced ease and fondness. The mellifluous sound of your voice began its harmony, and a sense of peace like he had never known washed over him. He was enchanted by your performance, finding it a strangely intimate experience with no one else to accompany the two of you.

All too soon, the final chord resonated in the cavern of his chest with a quiet hum.

Astarion opened his eyes - not remembering having closed them - and gazed at you. The warm feeling from earlier had returned at the start of the song, and had slowly spread its way through his limbs with each progression until he felt light and fuzzy, an unusual and somewhat dizzying sensation. A slight flush had spread across your cheeks and into the bodice of your nightclothes as he regarded you with a soft expression.

“That was lovely,” he murmured, loath to break the tranquil quiet of the moment.

“A Song of Calm for my tense, toothsome friend,” you smiled, voice lowered to match his own.

“Ah! Well that explains the sudden silence in my mind.” 

He cracked a wry smile and delighted in your answering giggle. Stillness enveloped the tent once more, and your expression morphed into one of concerned sincerity.

Here we go.

“Are you ready to talk?”

“I don’t want to say a damned thing,” he bit out, rage and fear laced in his voice. You recoiled at his tone, and it took conscious effort for him to soften it. “But that won’t do anyone any good.”

You remained silent, waiting patiently for him to continue. He heaved a great, mournful sigh, and began.

“Cazador Szarr is a vampire lord in Baldur’s Gate. The patriarch of his coven and a monster obsessed with power. Not political power or military power - I mean power over people,” he said with carefully construed apathy, “The power to control them completely. He turned me nearly two hundred years ago. I became his spawn and he became my tormentor.”

His eyes had fallen to the space separating him from you, avoiding the questions he knew he was sure to find in yours.

“How were you turned?” you asked in a whisper. “Did he attack you?”

Astarion sighed again.

“Not him, no. A gang of thugs, the Gur,” he sneered, “attacked me, angry about a ruling that I’d handed down as a magistrate.”

“I see. Is that why you were on edge with the hunter today?”

“Indeed. They’d beaten me to death’s door when Cazador appeared. He chased them off and offered to save me. To give me eternal life. Given that my choices were ‘eternal life’ or ‘bleed to death on the street’, I took him up on the offer.” 

He repressed a violent shudder at the memory and ploughed ahead, “It was only afterward that I realized just how long ‘eternity’ could be.”

“I take it he was rather lacking as a master,” you intoned gravely.

“He had me go out into Baldur’s Gate and fetch him the most beautiful souls I could find by whatever means necessary. It was a fun little ritual of his - I’d bring them back and he’d ask me if I wanted to dine with him. And if I said yes, he’d serve me a dead, putrid rat.”

He could still taste it even now, the fetid blood of overripe rodent corpses. He wanted to gag and retch at the thought.

“Of course, if I said no, he’d have me flayed. Hard to say which was worse,” he shrugged matter-of-factly.

“Astarion, that’s terrible. I’m so bloody sorry,” you sniffled.

He looked up at the sound to see the glistening tracks of tears running down your face in the glow of the oil lamp, more yet unshed making your eyes glassy. He didn’t know what he expected your reaction to be, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“Thank you, but this isn’t about the sympathy,” he continued uncomfortably, “it’s about knowing what we might be up against. The Gur hunter won’t be the only one looking for me, what with his favorite plaything being misplaced.”

“Plaything?” you nearly choked.

“Yes, he always did say that my screams sounded sweetest,” he intoned bitterly.

He did not raise his eyes at the sound of your sharp gasp, fearful of what your face would betray.

“Vampire spawn are less than slaves - we’re puppets. All he need do is speak and our bodies obey. The things I’ve done, seen… felt. Well, there are some things better left unsaid,” he finished, voice hollow.

He looked up again to find tears streaming freely down your cheeks, eyes puffy and nose running with your sorrow, the whimpers and sniffles of your sobs echoing in the silence. He was unsure of how to console you, so he simply looked away, giving you time to gather yourself.

“Fuck, m’sorry,” you garbled, and he looked back to see you dashing tears from your eyes. “How insensitive of me. You don’t need my tears to make this wretched retelling any worse.”

“It’s quite alright, dear. It isn’t called a sob story for nothing, after all,” he chuckled, trying for levity to lift the stifling gloom of the atmosphere. His attempt wrested a watery giggle from you, so he considered it a success.

Once your sniffling had died down, a comfortable silence settled over the tent. He had gone back to staring at the empty space of his bedroll between you and him, and a new plan slowly began to unfurl in his mind. You seemed to like him well enough, but was well enough going to keep him safe in the dire straits ahead?

He was broken from his musing by the gentle strings of your lyre, a different melody this time but with a similar effect. The dulcet tones of your harmony flooded him with that strange, tingly warmth again, and he made up his mind in that moment. You were an unalienable ally with your charisma and quiet authority, and he needed to do whatever necessary to stay in your good graces.

Resolute in his decision, he listened intently to your music, laying back on his hands and closing his eyes to bask in the beauty of it. Your songs transitioned smoothly from one into the next, and he soon found himself drifting into his nightly meditation with unprecedented ease. He didn’t even register when the music had stopped, only noticing when your hushed voice temporarily disrupted the blissfully quiet calm of his mind.

“Goodnight, Astarion.” ______________________________________________________________

He rose early the next morning and was pleased to find you already awake. You were breaking your fast with some sludgy gruel the wizard was stirring while Wyll regaled you with animated tales of his heroics. He rolled his eyes at the warlock’s prideful display, but noticed you listening intently, gasping and asking questions at all the perfect intervals. The warlock regarded you with a smile far too fond for his liking, and he found himself calling out to you before he was even sure of what he was going to say.

“Darling, a moment, if you please?”

You gave Wyll a sheepish grin and excused yourself, setting the bowl of lumpy porridge on your stool and sauntering over to him. Astarion snickered to himself at the way the warlock’s face twisted.

“Good morning, Astarion,” you said brightly, smile more radiant than the morning sun.

“Good morning, my sweet. How did you sleep?” he asked, laying the charm on thick.

“Alright, I s’pose. You?”

“Vampires don’t sleep, dear, though I’ll say that last night was the closest I’ve come to it in two centuries,” he replied, trying for his most disarming smile.

“I’m glad to hear it,” you responded softly. “If you’d like to dine with me tonight, I’d be happy to lend my neck.”

Astarion could swear he felt his undead heart give a flutter of a beat before going dormant again.

“Why, there’s nothing I’d love more darling! But, are you sure you’re feeling up to it so soon after the first time?” he asked, his portrayal of concern surprisingly effortless.

He watched as you pulled a pendant out of your decolletage, holding it up so that it glinted in the light. He could feel the faint thrum of the Weave surrounding it.

“I went hunting through my things last night when I remembered I had this. It’s an amulet of restoration. Shadowheart confirmed for me that it will counteract the effects of blood loss,” you beamed.

“My, my. Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, as you noticeably retreated into yourself.

“I only wanted to help,” you mumbled, eyes downcast.

In a desperate attempt to salvage the conversation, Astarion shifted the subject back to the amulet.

“And wherever did you find such a pretty bauble?”

Your answering grimace and accompanying flush was an unexpected reaction.

Oh, this must be good.

“I nicked it from the druid grove,” you said sheepishly.

“Aren’t you full of surprises, my dear,” he responded with a hearty laugh.

“Shut it, Rogue,” you grumbled at him good-naturedly.

“Never! And in answer to your earlier question, I would be more than delighted to dine with you.” He bowed dramatically, earning him a few bright peals of laughter.

“Your tent, or mine?” he purred. He made a show of watching the way your flush deepened and crept its way down into the plunging neckline of your nightclothes.

“Erm, I’d assume you’d be most comfortable in your tent,” you responded, wringing your hands with eyes downcast once more.

Well, that won’t do.

He reached forward slowly so as not to spook you and tucked a finger under your chin, gently raising your face so he could catch your eyes.

“I can make myself comfortable anywhere for you, dear,” he breathed, watching closely as your lips parted in a silent gasp and pupils dilated infinitesimally wider.

Just as he was about to celebrate this small victory, your eyes cinched shut and a pained expression flitted across your face. He dropped his hand instantly, taken aback by the dramatic shift in your reaction.

“S’not you,” you gritted out, confusing him further. You opened your eyes and took a steadying breath.

“Just a bad memory,” you clarified, standing tall in a display of faux confidence.

It was a tactic he knew all too well, and he could see right through it to the rigid way you held yourself. He felt his face fall with a doleful kind of understanding.

She, too, has endured much torment.

“Ah yes, those I am quite familiar with. We all have skeletons in the closet. An unfortunate side effect of living…” he paused, “and unliving, I suppose.”

You chuckled, easing up again.

“I’m taking Lae’zel, Wyll and Gale with me today to look for the missing druid. We’ll let you know what we find,” you changed the subject, meeting his gaze.

He felt a pang of disappointment with the chill of fear quick on its heels and fought to keep his face neutral, but was ultimately unsuccessful. You caught a glimpse of something, however fleeting, in his eyes that turned your countenance steely.

“He won’t have you, Astarion. You don’t need to go back to him,” you said, suddenly vehement in your determination. It only increased his panic.

“You don’t know Cazador,” he relented in a whisper, “He could have spies anywhere. I could be gone long before you make it back. If he finds me, I will have no choice but to return.”

“He won’t find you. You’re safe with me,” you murmured back, reaching out to take his hands. It was an odd sensation, being held, made odder still by your initiation of the contact.

“Then take me with you,” he begged, just shy of desperate.

He could feel your thumbs sweeping over the backs of his hands, no doubt a placating gesture to ease the burn of your next words.

“Not today. You need to rest after yesterday’s events.”

“How rich, coming from you,” he snapped, withdrawing his hands from your grasp abruptly.

He caught the hurt that flashed across your delicate features before you managed to school your expression, straightening your spine and squaring your shoulders.

He sighed in defeat, “I suppose I will see you tonight, then.”

“Tonight,” you nodded and turned to leave.

You took a few steps away from him and paused, turning halfway back toward him.

“And I mean it, Astarion. You are safe with me. I will watch your back, so long as you watch mine.”

With nothing but your parting words for reassurance, Astarion returned to his tent, succumbing to the biting cold of dread’s barbed claws.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

So Close

Masterlist

Deuce is determined to give you your Disney Princess moment

Warning: I write the reader as female. Reader wears a ballgown. Deuce is implied to be taller than the reader.

You're in my arms And all the world is calm The music playing on for only two So close together And when I'm with you So close to feeling alive

“Would you like to dance?” he blurted out, the question coming out at a louder volume than his usual voice and cutting through the quiet atmosphere of your nightly stroll. Despite the swathes of indigo and deep purple hues that blotted against the vast expanse of navy blue above you, you could see the darkening of his cheeks.

It’s no secret that Deuce is a hopeless romantic, to this day he still gets teased by his fellow card soldiers for letting it slip how much he admired the love that the King and Queen of Hearts shared for each other and wished that he could have a relationship like that. Of course, all of that teasing stopped when his longings actually came true in the best way possible as you made sure to shower him with as much affection as possible - though he was sure that it was mainly due to jealousy that he was now dating the highly coveted only female student in the school. Ace himself stopped poking fun at Deuce’s alleged sappiness when he realised that every jab at the navy haired boy’s expense would result in your praise for your boyfriend and a subsequent peck on the cheek. There was only so much nauseating mushiness and overflowing smugness he could take from his rival that he could take.

In all honesty, his sentimentality regarding all things romance is something that he’s had for a long time. Growing up with his mother and grandmother, who were avid readers and watchers of any toe-curlingly passionate love story they could find, he’d come to appreciate the feeling of wanting to find ‘the one’. Even when he fell onto the wrong path, the fleeting thoughts of yearning regarding having a significant other to love and cherish him and for him to love and cherish in return did overcome him, only for him to toss them away, dismissing them as a fool’s dream. But still, whenever he’d snuggle up next to his mother to watch those lovey-dovey movies he holds dear to his heart, or curl up in his bed with a worn out book of assorted fairytales and other happily ever afters, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there’s a chance for him to find love as well.

And then you showed up. A beautiful, wonderful, absolutely breathtaking girl hailing from a completely different world came bounding right into his arms. And you were much better than any fantasy his mind could possibly conjure up.

When it was announced that selected students would be taking a trip to Noble Bell College to partake in a masquerade ball, Deuce made it his mission to give you the fairytale romance you deserved, asking his Heartslabyul seniors to teach him everything they know so that he doesn’t mess things up. 

Dressed to the nines in gold-accented getup, he was the most dapper he had ever been, fidgeting in place as he waited for you to make your entrance into the ornate NBC ballroom. And when the time came, and he eagerly looked up to greet you, he physically felt the sensations of all of his words leaving him.

He was not ready. He could’ve waited for a century and he still wouldn’t have been ready.

You far exceeded any fairytale; no poem nor love song nor serenade could ever compare to the inexplainable feelings of awe and love and wonder he felt when he saw you emerge into the ballroom like an angel descending from the heavens, an ethereal being formed in the realm of dreams. 

The deep blue satin of your gown’s bodice elegantly embraced your torso with intricate dark blue lace appliques and obsidian coloured gemstones embroidering its neckline. Rich cobalt blue glimmery satin billowed downwards from your waist, the edges of its hemline lined with the same black crystals that decorated your chest. Multiple layers of silk petticoats, all different shades of pale blue, made the voluminous skirt flow around you, giving you the appearance of a divine being floating through the air with the way it swayed and danced about. Completing your ensemble were not only elegant elbow-length sapphire blue gloves but also a black spade pendant (a gift from him) hung on a thin golden necklace and rested snugly against the dip between your collarbones. 

With a colour scheme of black and blue, it’s clear to anybody that sees you that you wore this dress with him in mind, making a silent statement to everyone watching that you were his and he is yours, and the thought of you consciously making an effort just to match with him made him light headed with the full force of his adoration for you.

He thought he could do this, he had prepared for this. He was going to whisk you away into a waltz and treat you like the princess you are. Only his hands couldn’t stop shaking and when he looked at you he felt like he couldn’t breathe. With a seraphic beam on your lips, and the golden glow from the overhead chandeliers catching onto the glittery sparkles on your face, hair and gown, you were radiant in more ways than one and he felt way beyond his depth. You’re so captivating, so alluring, the orchestra had already started and he was still trying to pick his jaw up from off the floor. He had no idea what to do.

So you took his hand, smiled and whispered, “it’s a bit stuffy in here, don’t you think? Why don’t we go out and get some fresh air.”

So there the two of you stood, wandering through the courtyard of Noble Bell College, all alone with nothing but the dotted splatters of twinkling silver that shone on the night sky, fluttering fireflies and the serene chirping of the crickets that hid amongst the swaying strands of prairie cordgrass as company. He had long abandoned his masquerade mask and feathered hat, giving you a full, unrestricted view to the face that you could spend hours looking at.

However, he still wanted to dance with you. Great Seven, he wanted to dance with you more than anything. He wanted to hold you tight and make you swoon and he knew that this night wasn’t going to last for much longer so he just impulsively verbalised his inner thoughts with all of the charisma of a brick.

Deuce extended out a hand, ignoring the feeling of his heart drumming loudly against his ribcage. He thanked The Seven that he’s wearing his silken black gloves so that you don’t notice how clammy his palms are.

You giggled at his boyish bashfulness, lifting your skirts to dip into an elegant curtsy before rising back up and placing a hand over his outstretched one, “it would be an absolute pleasure.”

He gulped and, remembering the actions of the men in his mother’s romance movies, he brought your own gloved hand towards his lips and placed a kiss right in the middle of your knuckles before gently pulling you towards him, clasping his right hand with yours, interlocking your fingers a tad bit tighter than he would’ve liked and the letting his left hand rest on the small of your back, unknowingly bringing your body closer to his. You could feel his nerves shaking him and supportively squeeze your clasped hands in hopes that it would calm him down.

“I’m really bad at this,” he whispers apologetically, his voice wavering with nerves as he fumbled on the turning box step he attempted to lead you on, almost tripping over his boots and falling forward had you not held him in place, “I’ve never done this before.”

“Neither have I,” you smile reassuringly at him, taking a step closer so that you can press a kiss onto his jaw before pulling back with a beam, “I guess that means that we’ll just have to be bad dancers together.”

He swallowed and gave you a terse nod, tensing and untensing his body as he led you around the garden, his movements stiff and ungainly. As the two of you danced together - a mix between awkward shuffling, unsure box steps and a few twirls - you noticed that he spent most of the time with his eyes trained on the floor.

“I wasn’t aware that grass is so interesting in this world,” you say in amusement, causing his head to whip up towards you, his hands to drop yours and his face to darken.

“Ah - I-I’m sorry,” he muttered sheepishly, “I’m just scared that I might make a mistake and step on your feet or something.”

“There’s no need to worry about that,” you said placatingly, reaching out to grab his hand, “it’s just you and me here, alright. So there’s no need to worry about messing up. I trust you and all I ask is for you to trust yourself.” 

“O-okay,” he stuttered, grasping your hand in his as he twirled you around, letting your skirt flounce outwards before pulling you towards him so that your arms were crossed over your stomach, back resting against his chest as you swayed in place. 

Sighing dreamily, you leaned into him as you felt him freeze in place for a moment before he melted against your back, letting his face rest against your scalp so that he could take as much of you in as possible. After a few seconds of staying in one spot you were able to deduce that your boyfriend still had hints of his earlier apprehension so you decided to take the lead for a moment. You let go of your partner’s hands and slid your left arm backwards over your torso and placed it’s hand over his own left hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as you interlock your fingers over his, letting both of your hands rest at the spot between the curve of your waist and your stomach. His breath physically and audibly hitched at your actions as you did the same with both of your right hands, only this time you extended them outwards away from your bodies. You gave his hands another squeeze and waited for him to give yours a squeeze back before you took a step forward, whispering so softly that only he could hear you, “just relax, handsome. Take a deep breath and follow my lead.”

And so you lead him, taking steps forwards and backwards, to and fro, and you can tell that having him behind you, out of your sight, yet still possessing the intimacy of having your bodies pressed flush against each other, enhanced his assuredness as his footwork became less fumbling and his uneasy breaths evened out into a more natural rhythm. You then brought your outstretched arms over your head as you spun yourself outwards and away, letting your skirts flare around you like blooming marigold petals as you gazed at him with a playful gleam in your eyes. Teasingly, you let your hands slip from his hold before he grasped them again and pulled you back in into a closed dance hold.

It took you a while to get in synchronisation but once you did, the both of you found yourselves fluidly and freely twirling across the grass. It was still awkward and somewhat stilted, all youthfully clumsy and lacking in finesse - which is to be expected from two amateurs - but the lightness you felt in the arms of your love made you feel like you were floating on air, gliding amongst the clouds, far away from the responsibilities and troubles of your life. Here, you weren’t a displaced magicless prefect with too many burdens to shoulder nor was he an ex-delinquent yearning for redemption - no, here you are just a boy and a girl in love, dancing to a song of their own making. The chemistry between you and the affection you held for each other far surpassed your inexperience and the jittery nerves within you.

Your laughs were unabashedly carefree as Deuce spun you into an underarm turn, his own laughs intermingling with yours in a dance of their own. Suddenly you felt his hands circling your hips, lifting you up by your waist and spinning you around, your dress flowing behind you like the shimmering tail of a comet. Wild, unrestrained peals of laughter erupted out of you in complete elation, your pure euphoria so unbridled that your boyfriend felt his own emotions let loose. With newfound confidence and sure-footedness he continued to twirl you around in the air, a lovestruck gaze in his eyes and a giddy grin on his lips, his palms never leaving your waist, even when he gently set you back down on the ground. The both of you were breathless, faces flushed from the exertion of your exuberance. You met each other’s eyes as you regained your breaths, your earlier mirth dying down and morphing into something more intense as the air around you became more and more palpable with every second you gazed at each other. The grip he had on your midsection grew stronger as he brought you closer and closer to him until you were not even an atom’s width apart. You could feel your blood rushing as you watched his dark eyes glance over and over at your eyes and lips. 

He slowly brought both of his hands up to cradle your face and you wrapped your arms around him so that you could press yourself even closer to him. He looked at you longingly, so captivatingly spellbound, that you felt rooted in place, like a butterfly with its wings pinned to a board. He opened his mouth, looked right at you with that intense gaze, and whispered, “can I kiss you?”

You nodded back, “I’d like that very much.”

And so he pulled you forward, letting his lips claim yours and you melted into each other’s embrace, basking in the feeling of your happily ever after.

So close to reaching That famous happy end Almost believing This one's not pretend And now you're beside me And look how far we've come So far we are, so close

[samspicturesandwords]

Today is the national day of action protesting Indigo Books and Music! The company's CEO, Heather Reisman, co-founded a "charity" which supports the IDF, a genocidal terrorist force currently slaughtering thousands of innocent civilians in occupied Palestine. I will be protesting in front of my local Indigo location. In fact, more than 40 protests are planned for today! If you are able to join one, please do. Let's make sure everyone knows that Indigo's CEO is complicit in genocide!

[royaldaycare]

WELCOME TO MY BLOG!

Hello !! I'm Logan (or Johnny!) and welcome to my daycare! you can call me Logan, Lo, Johnny, big brother or dada! I also occasionally go by saint or my OC's callsign, Sparrow!

A little about me ! :

I use he/they/it pronouns as well as some neo's and xeno's too!

I'm trans, gay and asexual! I'm also questioning whether I am poly or not!

I am an age regressor and a caregiver! (my agere blog is @gh0stlyb34r !)

I'm 19 and my birthday is June 3rd!

I'm from the uk!

my anons! ;

💚 ,

I am a 100% sfw caregiver! any nsfw accounts will be blocked!

This blog is a safe space for regressors and caregivers alike! anyone that makes this blog an unsafe place will be blocked immediately

My rules!

dni ; nsfw, edsh, zionist, racist, homophobic, against Palestine, transphobic, ableist, trump supporters, anti agere, ddlg/abdl accounts, anti petre

boundaries ; keep all terms used for me either masc or gender neutral, do not flirt with me (even if it is as a joke or friendly), please keep all asks sfw.

My interests!

games ; call of duty, overwatch, resident evil 4, forza horizon, roblox (royale high, dress to impress, obby's and tycoons!), fnaf, poppy playtime, indigo park, red dead redemption 2, animal crossing new horizons, good pizza great pizza, hogwarts legacy, valorant, a little to the left, unpacking, mario kart 8, mario kart wii, just dance, the last of us

movies/shows ; deadpool & wolverine, deadpool, x-men, harry potter, fantastic beasts, atsv/itsv, marvel, star wars, the umbrella academy, stranger things, the batman, titains, heartstopper, young royals, criminal minds, fnaf, arcane, ghostbusters, barbie, oppenheimer, nimona, christopher robin

musicals ; les miserables, hamilton, waitress, the greatest showman, la la land, hairspray, dear even hansen, heathers, high school musical, lemonaid mouth, annie, descendants, beetlejuice, mama mia, tick tick boom, into the woods, mean girls, in the heights, little shop of horrors

youtubers ; pezzy, elasticdroid, puffer, grizzy, smii7y, gtlive, game theory, warn, frogger, aspen, beaplays, dawko, ethan nestor, blarg, thedooo, coleydoesthings, film cooper, dechart games, hthaze, james marriott

musicians ; james marriott, taylor swift, mcr, twenty one pilots, billie eilish, hozier, noah kahan, sleeping at last, the smiths, laufey, chappell roan, bruno major, paramore, novo amor, depeche mode, p!atd, daughter, djo, feels like july, florence the machine, frank sinatra, gerard way, ghost, lady gaga, lemon demon, lily allen, maya hawke, 1d, 5sos, mitski, micheal jackson, sleep token, taylor austen dye

misc ; books, dolls (monster high, lol, rh), pop figures, lego, posters, flowers, pin badges, jewellery, halloween, fall/autumn, deco pacis, colouring

DISCLAIMER ; I hold all of my faves accountable! I do not support jkr, noah schnapp ect!

My faves !

celebs/authors ; pedro pascal, hugh jackman, ryan reynolds, ali hazelwood, kit connor, oscar isaac, hayden christensen, ewan mcgregor, tom hiddleston, andrew garfield, tom holland, aiden gallagher, eddie redmane, aaron tveit, erik j brown, david tennant, josh hutcherson, david harbour, wynina ryder, natalia dyer, maya hawke, matthew gray gubler, thomas gibson, aj cook, barry sloane, neli ellice

characters ; John 'Soap' MacTavish, Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Captain John Price, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, Robin Buckley, Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, Penelope Garcia, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Loki, Logan Howlett, Scott Summers, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Leia Organa, Ben Hargreeves, Luther Hargreeves, Newt Scamander, Din Djarin, Deadpool, Steven Grant, Marc Spector, Danny Zuko, Jean Valjean, Ben Florian, Flynn Rider, Aziraphale, Crowley, Nick Nelson, Charlie Spring, Diego Hargreeves

dividers by @/chewtou , Lydia banner by @kodaswrld , bj banner

[meadow-of-mogai-melodies]

grungemythistic!

grungemythistic-

a gender related to being autistic, books, stars, wolves, the moon, grunge style, Greek mythology, and music!

[Image ID: A flag with six equally-thick straight horizontal stripes. From top to bottom, the colors are light green, royal indigo, magenta, pastel red-pink, pastel pink, and light green. End ID.]

term and flag by me, requested by @meyr0s3 ! tagging @radiomogai :3

[halfpricedpages]

intro post (finally)

ive debated making an intro post because first off ive been on tumblr for two years and I never got around to it and secondly I am really really horrible at talking about myself because what is to much info and what it to little info and the cycle continues but im giving it a shot because I feel like my mutuals have no idea who I am lmao

HAI my name is Charlie im 15 (18+ I dont mind if you follow me but please dont dm me thank you :]) I use jasper as an online name kind of (at this point its just reserved for my best friend ace but I dont mind if other people call me jasper since I still love the name)

my pronouns are he/him but im also perfectly comfortable with common neopronouns (it/its xey/xem) if you wanna get funky with it.

im a self diagnosed autistic and ARFID (if you dont know what that is its an eating disorder where certain factors make you avoidant and restrictive of the food you eat and it has nothing to do with physical appearance. for me its linked to my autistic sensory issues(ALSO OCD NOW?!!? WHAT THE FUCK?!!?)) I have depression and anxiety and the only reason I mention this is because I relate my mental health to my fav characters in tv shows and books and stuff so if you see me posting about them like everything is connected lol

(my a03 is ghostwithfeet if you want to see me be silly and project my weird life onto fictional characters (I am the most inconsistent updater in the world please expect nothing from me if you even ask about a project it will scare me and like I turtle I will crawl into my shell never to see the light of day again))

my interests really vary about current hyperfixations but heres the master list

current hyperfixs

stranger things specifically Byler but mostly mike wheeler (this has turned into a special interest(I DO NOT support Noah schnapp or another of the other cast members who are in support of the inhumane actions the Israel government are doing. I am pro saving innocent civilians. I know that this can be controversial to be such a big fan of this show and honestly I have a lot of complex feelings on the matter but im autistic as previously mentioned and its my special interest and It won't leave my brain even if im not directly interacting with the media so im gonna yap about it on my blog thank you.))

also just Finn wolf hard for some reason (check out his band the Aubreys its awesome. also check out a recent movie he was in called when you finished Saving the world. it means a lot to me)

donna tarts the goldfinch book

old special interests/hyperfixs

the percy Jackson universe specifically nico di Angelo

the IT universe specifically reddie and Beverly marsh but more leaning towards richie tozier (see what I mean with the Finn wolf hard thing)

dead boy detectives !!

doctor who (I haven't even finished David tenants doctor yet so please no spoilers)

Alice oseman content (never read loveless or iwbft but ive read all of her other stuff)

paper girls graphic novel

other interests

the good place tv show

Kathleen Glasgows book girl in pieces

the walking dead comics including the clementine spin off graphic novels

um yeah thats all I can think of for now

my fav musicians/bands

florence and the machine

indigo de Souza

Kevin Atwater

searows

the Aubreys

sadurn

the cranberries

soccer mommy

runo plum

nep

lala lala

the smiths

hospital bracelet

Chappell roan

AURORA

Madilyn Mei!

Elliot smith

(my music taste is all over the place and is also very seasonal and I have a bunch of underground artists I dont listen to but I am here to give good recs I promise my playlists are fire)

we've gotten to the part of the intro post where im wondering if this is way to much information so sorry if I overshared idk but hope we can be silly mutuals or friends if you want (never be scared to shoot the friendship shot I would love to yap with y'all)

also since this is taking over my other pinned post I just want to put this as an honorary spot and let everyone know that my old pinned post was a quote from radio silence and that Aled last is me and I am him and the February Friday plot line is actually me and it makes me sick how much I resonate with that book

[unch4rtedwxters]

– Two Minutes Notice, Helluva Boss

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴅᴏ ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ?

bolded = favorites

✩ keeper of the lost cities ✩ riordanverse (except kane chronicles) ✩ the inheritance games ✩ heartless ✩ gifted clans series ✩ project hail mary ✩ the martian ✩ the hunger games ✩ the pandava quintet ✩ osemanverse (except for i was born for this) ✩ wings of fire (i haven't read in a while tho) ✩ amari and the night brothers ✩ caraval (only read book 1 so far) ✩ the folk of the air (only read book 1 so far) ✩ harry potter (i don't interact with the fandom much; i hate jkr) ✩ deathcast ✩ the song of achilles

✩ high class homos ✩ the d!ckheads ✩ our walk home ✩ baby tyrant ✩ heartstopper ✩ don't read this ✩ just pancakes ✩ our corner ✩ live with yourself ✩ homesick ✩ from a knight to a lady ✩ lore olympus ✩ sunflowers and lavender ✩ crow time (not finished reading) ✩ loving reaper ✩ go away romeo ✩ hyperfocus ✩ the recloseted lesbian ✩ meow are you?

✩ ducktales 2017 ✩ rise of the guardians ✩ luca ✩ bluey ✩ the amazing digital circus (murder drones/tadc sideblog) ✩ murder drones ✩ how to train your dragon ✩ hazbin hotel ✩ helluva boss ✩ the wild robot ✩ percy jackson and the olympians ✩ heartstopper ✩ avatar the last airbender (i'm on s1 ep4 lmao) ✩ pokemon (sorta? the only anime i've watched is the indigo league and i haven't even finished watching it lol. i'm more of a game player and even then it's just legends arceus and scarlet) ✩ marvel (not anywhere NEAR done watching) ✩ lackadaisy ✩ inside out ✩ my little pony (fim, mlp: the movie, mlp: a new generation, most of the equestria girls stuff) ✩ the lion guard

* = watched playthrough but haven't actually played ✩ minecraft ✩ growbot (haven't finished yet) ✩ pokemon (legends arceus and scarlet) ✩ rayman legends ✩ roblox ✩ minecraft dungeons (haven't finished yet) ✩ kinitoPET * ✩ garten of banban (i've kinda played it? i found a remake of the first chapter on roblox and played that but idk if it counts) ✩ suck up! * ✩ phasmophobia * ✩ plants vs zombies battle for neighborville (yes this one specifically) ✩ the longing (haven't finished yet)

disclaimer: most likely won't be posting about the artists i listen to, it's probably only gonna be musicals. also of the artists i have listed, i probably only listen to a few songs from them except for a choice few

✩ hamilton ✩ epic: the musical ✩ hazbin hotel ✩ helluva boss ✩ back to the future musical ✩ the lightning thief musical ✩ spongebob the musical ✩ luca (soundtrack) ✩ the wild robot (soundtrack) ✩ the amazing digital circus (fan songs + soundtrack (i listen to a lot of soundtracks when i do my hw guys)) ✩ murder drones (soundtrack) ✩ hunger games ✩ httyd ✩ lion guard ✩ my little pony ✩ gooseworx ✩ ed sheeran (omg look it's something relatively normal) ✩ bailey spinn ✩ imagine dragons ✩ OneRepublic ✩ AJR ✩ one direction ✩ calum scott ✩ JVKE ✩ + several more but there's too many to list so these are just a few random ones towards the top of my liked music lmao