#sight singing you just have to imagine the sound into existence

[a-few-of-my-favorite-turtles]

So my sister and I took violin lessons from the same teacher for many years, and we both learn well by listening. This was (mostly) pre-youtube, so I wasn't listening to many pieces I was playjng, but my sister would have heard any given piece prior to playing it, because i would have played it first. So at one point, our teacher straight up had to start giving her pieces I had never played, and banning her from listening to them, so that she would have to learn to read and interpret music from scratch.

Anyway, now I'm in a casual adult orchestra and every time I listen to our rehearsal recordings, I think about that ban on my sister, and I'm so grateful to be able to listen to pieces to get them into my head.

[spikedsoul]

Imagine the fanfic happening in the movie universe.

Honey is the maid (Human, maybe?) that takes care of Bowser, feeding him and listening to his new Peach songs. Until, one day, the songs aren't about Peach anymore.

Gently hold small husband with salad tongs-

CAN YOU IMAGINE also um I couldn't help myself. Did i get carried away? Yes! (Although I didn't include the last bit, sorry!) Hopefully I kept him in character from the movie lmao

You were used to hearing Bowser talk and sing about Peach as you made his food, did his laundry, cleaned his room like the giant manchild he was. The only time he acknowledged that you existed was when he needed to bend someone's ear about his plans (marrying Peach) and Kamek wasn't around... but you weren't complaining. It was steady work and steady pay, and you were taken care of well enough that for now, you could handle it. In fact the only regular direct interaction you had with him was bringing his food, and he usually just snatched it from you without a word.

You'd also been privy to some of his more tender moments, a mere anonymous shoulder to lament to. Over the years, you'd learned to see past the anger, past the obsession, to know he's got a heart buried deep inside that chest - if only someone could reach it. But you kept it all to yourself - he probably still didn't know your name.

And why should he? He was a king, and you were paid to be a maid, silent and invisible. And that was fine. Things didn't need to be complicated. It was a simple business transaction.

You slipped into his music room as you'd done so many times before, listening to him play as you quietly got to work tidying up around him.

Sometimes it felt like he didn't even know you were there - but that allowed you to sort of see under that spiked shell of his, so you really didn't mind. Although, he never stopped playing either way, so who knew?

"Tell me, sweetheart," you heard him rumble over the music, "what is it that keeps you here?"

You hadn't heard those lyrics before, but the spoken word style suited them.

He chuckled - well, cackled more like - as he continued playing. "So diligently taking care of my castle, and me, and never once caring to speak up. So content to stay hidden in the background. You've never recoiled from my touch or looked at me like the villain I am, nor have you let leak any of my.... hmm, less than proud moments. So tell me, my sweet little handmaiden, do you think you're invisible to me?"

You dropped your broom in shock and spun around to see him, but he wasn't anywhere in sight. The only sound that echoed through the chamber now was the clatter of the broom handle hitting the floor.

What the fuck just happened? Did you hallucinate all of that just now? Your wide eyes swept the room in front of you, your mouth hanging open; it's been a while since you'd been on a proper vacation, so maybe you had imagined it...

With a quiet sigh, you turned around to pick up your broom - only to be met with a massive, scaly paw wrapping gently around your throat, clawed thumb forcing your head back by your chin. Your face flushed brightly as you stared doe-eyed right into King Bowser's grinning face.

"L-Lord Bowser," you stammered, absolutely ashamed of how you felt about his warm hand encompassing your neck so easily. Through all your interactions, this was the first time you'd ever touched him, and you had to admit his scales were smoother than you'd expected.

His eyes narrowed as he watched you, his nostrils fluttering as he dragged you a little closer to him. That terrible, beautiful grin didn't leave him.

"My silent little human minion," he purred; his breath wafted over your face, the smell of woodsmoke heavy in your nose. "I've been thinking a lot lately, you know.... about you. About us. About what could be..."

"Wh-what can I do for you, sir?" Your voice quivered and you could feel your throat bob against his hand when you swallowed; his not so subtle implications were making you dizzy.

He hummed, bringing his free hand up to drag his claws through your locks. "I want you to tell me about me. I want to know what a mere human like you thinks of the great Lord Bowser - and I want your true feelings, got it?" he growled quietly. "You've seen more of me than even Kamek is privy to, and I demand to know why you stick around."

You resisted the urge to let out a sigh; he was just fishing for compliments, thank God, despite his thinly veiled threat. If you actually told him the truth, you feared you'd end up dead. Not that you really had bad things to say! Bowser was just a little unpredictable sometimes.

You brought your hands up to lightly rest them over the one that held your throat, but you didn't try pulling away one way or another. That seemed to confuse Bowser, his head tilting to the side as his grin slowly faded.

"Well, sir," you murmured, slowly relaxing, "even though you desire to dominate other kingdoms and crush your enemies... you still seem like you would treat your allies well. I mean, look at me: I'm a lowly maid, but I get paid well and I feel relatively protected on the occasion things get a little... ah, rough. As fierce as you are... I don't feel like I need to fear you, exactly. Which is a good thing as your employee."

Bowser's pupils dilated slightly as he seemed to consider your words. You just hoped they were honeyed enough to appease him instead of set him off, but either way you'd find out in a few seconds.

"...That ain't all, is it?" he finally huffed. "I know you got more opinions on me than that political shit you just spouted, so tell me. Promise I won't get mad." And then he gave you the best puppy dog eyes you'd ever seen.

Oh, heavens help you. There was zero reason for this koopa to be so.... cute.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, and then practically blurted out one of your deepest feelings about him: "Sometimes you seem like you could use a real hug and a caring friend."

His jaw dropped as he stared at you in surprise. You stared right back at him, just as surprised that that's what came out.

The silence between the two of you stretched on until you couldn't bear it anymore and you finally turned around, chiming, "M-maybe I should get back to work-"

"Wait!" Before you could even blink, Bowser snatched you off your feet, holding you up in the air like he was afraid you'd try to run.

You blinked at him, a little surprised. "...Yessir?" you asked calmly despite the blush threatening to return. Momentarily, all he did was stare at you a little dumbly before recollecting himself a little.

"I-I, uh, just thought - I mean, if you wanted to give me a real hug, I'd - I'd allow that. And the... friend thing..."

Ah, you knew that code. He wanted a hug, but he didn't want to seem like he wanted it. Poor guy.

"...You know what, now that I think about it, I think a hug would be real nice. How about you let me know every time you're in the mood to allow me to hug you, huh?" you murmured. "And if you'd like me to-"

Bowser nodded, and without hesitation (or letting you finish) he held you to his wide chest, pressing your face right against it. Unfortunately your arms were pinned to your sides so you couldn't really hug back, but you could still feel some of the tension leak out of his body when he realized you weren't squirming or trying to get away.

"You know..." The vibration of his deep voice made your head buzz pleasantly, pressed against his chest as it was. "Between you and me, maybe Peach is just a siren trying to lure me into a false love, using her pretty face to keep me from seeing someone who'd really care about me..."

Since he couldn't see your face, you rolled your eyes. "Then does this mean you have your eyes suddenly set on someone else, sir?" you asked politely.

He set you back on your feet and crouched so that his face was level with yours, his large hands keeping a gentle hold of yours. "I don't know if "suddenly" is the right word... there's been a slow realization over a few years, but I suppose I'm finally ready to give up on Peach in favor of a more promising potential."

You smiled a little, daring to reach out; Bowser's eyes watched your hand as it fell gently on his nose. His pupils blew wide. Although you opened your mouth to say something, it was then that it dawned on you that Bowser wasn't actually crouching - he was kneeling.

"B-Bowser?" you breathed as, once again, your face grew hot with the intensity of your blush. But even as you stared at that adorably sweet face he was making, the sincerity and silent plea for some sort of consensual companionship was almost overwhelming.

"I'm gonna make you my bride one way or another... sweetheart."

[weirdkpopgirl]

Courage | Renjun Imagine #3

Title: Courage

Genre: neighbors to lovers

Warnings: kissing, and it gets a little intense 😅

Word Count: 784

Author's Note: This story was originally supposed to be part of a group scenario for 7Dream as your neighbors. But after finishing Haechan's, I realized these might be way too long for one post. So I decided to just make them individual stories with the same theme. Also, this is a chance for me to post something for Mark and Renjun on this blog. Hope you guys like it ^ ^

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

He had been living in the same apartment building as you have for a few months now. While he occupied the unit right above yours, and though you had crossed paths many times in the hallway or elevator, your interactions stayed limited to polite greetings and occasional small talk. At first, Renjun wasn’t aware of the quiet attraction growing between you beneath the surface of these casual encounters.

However, one morning things shifted when Renjun was performing his skincare routine in the bathroom. Below him, he suddenly caught a faint melody drifting through the air amidst the sound of running water. Standing still as he snapped on the lid to his toner, Renjun listened a little more carefully. It didn’t take long for him to discern that the heartfelt voice singing beneath his feet belonged to you.

A secret smile formed on his face, as he slowly picked up his next product to use. Just when Renjun thought he couldn’t be more captivated by you, he was proven wrong. As the days turned into weeks, Renjun found himself looking forward to those mornings when you sang in the shower. He would purposely adjust his morning routine to coincide with your sweet melodies.

On one restless night, Renjun was kept awake by the thoughts of you swirling in his head. Despite knowing so little about you, there existed an inexplicable connection that made him believe that you two were meant to be more than just neighbors. After tossing and turning in bed, Renjun decided that he couldn’t bottle his feelings anymore. 

Without allowing room for second thoughts, Renjun swiftly rose from his bed and slid into his white sneakers. Not wanting to disturb the other tenants who were likely asleep, Renjun quietly made his way downstairs to your unit. He stood outside your door, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. Gathering all his courage, he knocked softly.

Seconds later, the door cautiously opened to you in your thin-rimmed glasses and cozy gray pajamas. Although you were usually awake past midnight, it wasn’t like you expected people to come by during this time. Your eyes widened at the sight of Huang Renjun, clad in a beige cardigan and black pajama pants, standing right at your doorstep.

When you noticed the slightly unsettled expression he was wearing, your eyes flickered with concern. You’ve never seen him look so…anxious.

“Renjun, is everything okay?” you asked, keeping your voice hushed.

The boy let out a deep sigh, struggling to keep his nerves in check. “No…I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking about you,” Renjun admitted, his words carefully forming as he realized he should have planned this better.

You stared at the boy as if he just spit out some outrageous fact. “Me? What about me?”

Unable to contain his emotions any longer, Renjun made the decision to pour out his feelings. He started to express how he had heard you singing in the morning and instantly fell in love with your voice. Your heart raced as you silently processed what he was saying.

“I know it might sound weird, and I promise I wasn't stalking you!” he hurriedly clarified. “But your voice... It's so beautiful. Even though we haven't spoken much, I can tell you’re a lovely person, and—”

Before Renjun could finish his sentence, you gently cupped his face and smashed your lips against his. Typically, you were a very reserved person— especially around someone who was just an acquaintance. However, maybe it was because you had also been secretly crushing on Renjun for ages, his confession ignited something within you.

He quickly melted into the moment, gently pressing his hand on your back as he responded to the kiss without hesitation. Gradually, your fingers became tangled in Renjun’s hair. Your lips moved together slowly, tenderly, consumed by the unspoken longing that had lasted for far too long. 

The two of you pulled back, both breathless with reddened lips and tousled hair. Renjun’s eyes locked onto yours, his heart soaring like a rocket. “So…I take it that you like me too?”

In that moment, you were conflicted between wanting to cry, laugh, or roll your eyes. Trying to maintain your composure, you nodded lightly. 

“Huang Renjun, you have no idea.”

Renjun smiled again and pushed the door open further before reconnecting your lips in another passionate kiss. Kicking off his shoes, the two of you stumbled towards the couch, your lips never parting. You collapsed onto the soft cushions, wrapped up in each other, and the outside world faded away.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

[seenoversundown]

Amongst The Stars: Chapter Three

Josh x Quinn (Nonbinary OC)

Warnings: Misgendering of a nonbinary character, Men (that’s it. That’s the warning), Wallet chains, Jake being Sweet. Word Count: 4.1k Summary: Josh has always loved love,  and he's finally found it. Buuuut, he can't exactly tell anyone. Join him as he navigates the ins and outs of his sweet, secret romance. Author's Note: We are officially on our regularly scheduled programming. Every monday, babies. I hope you all enjoy this one and the little dual POV action. I just had to get quinn back in there for a little bit at the end :)

Can't Take My Eyes off You - Frankie Valli  “Pardon the way that I stare There's nothin' else to compare The sight of you leaves me weak There are no words left to speak”

I can’t stop thinking about Quinn after they leave. Every little thing I do draws my mind back to them. I know it’s wrong, and I shouldn’t be, but I am jealous of their partner. God, Josh, you sound insane. Pining for a person you’ve met one time, being jealous of their partner. Their partner doesn’t respect them, so their partner doesn’t factor in. Sometimes, I wish brains functioned like an etch-a-sketch because I try shaking my head to clear those thoughts, but it doesn’t quite work, and I end up with a minor headache. Oh well. I walk back up to the front of the store, disinterested in actually working now that my day has been positively derailed by a lovely and mysterious person in a pair of beat-up Doc Martens. 

I stand by the front registers, waiting to greet customers as they walk in. Hobby Lobby has never been my favorite place to work, but it really isn't so bad when you're a manager and can choose to fuck off on the clock if you want to.Which I do. I want to fuck off on the clock badly. I look down at my watch, noting that I only have 20 minutes until I can clock out for the day. There's no sense in starting a new task, I smile to myself. I'm pleased I've managed to time my “greeting responsibilities” so well with the end of my shift. I stand around for a minute, bouncing back and forth on the balls of my feet, and I let my mind drift back to Quinn. Their lips looked so plush and biteable. It should be illegal that they nibbled their lips in front of me while I didn't have the option to offer my assistance. 

I ponder their lips for another moment before my mind slips back to their concerning comment. “He’d done a lot worse for less…”  My eyebrows furrow as I try to imagine a situation in which I would be anything short of sweet and kind to Quinn. 

I meander out of the first set of sliding doors and step into the area where only the ugliest furniture goes to die. Goin’ to the Hobby Lobby lobby, I sing to myself as I take stock of the atrocious seasonal items that no customer would ever think to purchase. That's a lie; old women exist. I walk the area and make a mental note to bring the feather duster out tomorrow to tackle the growing piles of dust that inhabit the, reasonably, rejected items. I run my finger along the gilded frame of one of the paintings that’s propped up atop one of the fucking ugliest baby pink chalk-painted tables I've ever seen. Of course, it's chalk paint, I shudder. My thoughts return to the painting; it’s massive, at least two and a half feet long—a highland cow with fluffy hair covering its eyes and an inexplicable crown of leaves resting upon its stupid little horns. 

“Oh, Bessie,” I whisper, pulling my finger back from the frame and examining the dust that came with it. “They could never make me hate you. I may hate everything in this sad room, but never you.”  I decide to check the markdown schedule tomorrow because, as much as I love this goofy little cow, I will never take her home at full price. I do have some standards. 

As I'm about to turn around and head back into the store proper, I hear the entrance door slide open as a man about my age, give or take, walks through. 

“Oh! Hey, man. Welcome to Hobby Lobby,” I greet him.  “Lookin' for a dude named Josh.”  Me? I take a second to look him over. Curly, blonde hair that sits a bit too close to his eyes. Nondescript black tee with baggy jeans. A wallet chain attached to his belt loop. A fucking wallet chain. What year is this? Well-worn Adidas sneakers. He seems safe enough. A bit worse for wear, but he doesn't seem scary. 

“Ah, yep,” I stick my hand out, offering it in greeting, “that’d be me!” He looks at my outstretched hand and scoffs.  Okayyyyyyy, maybe I misjudged.  “I just wanted to talk with you, man to man.”  “About…”  “About you flirting with my girlfriend,” he cocks an eyebrow.  “Not sure what you mean, champ,” I let out an awkward chuckle.“Don’t pull that shit with me, man.”  “I’m afraid I really don't know what you're talking about. I haven't said more than ‘hi, welcome to Hobby Lobby’ to a girl in weeks.”  “So, you're gonna act like you have no idea who Quinn is?”  I narrow my eyes,  putting two and two together. This is Quinn’s shithead partner.  “I don't think they’d appreciate you calling them your girlf—” “I don't exactly care what she’d appreciate right now,” he cuts me off, “I'm here to talk to you.” 

Oh, so he reallyyyyyyyy doesn't respect them. Noted. 

“Yeah, so,” I roll my eyes, “you can talk at me, but you're not talking to me until you show some respect.”  I watch his face contort in confusion, quickly morphing into anger. “Why should I respect you?” He spits out quickly.  “Are you delusional? Just stupid?”  I can't help but laugh at the look on his face  “I’m not asking you to respect me,” I continue, “I'm asking you to respect your partner. It’s ridiculous that you're in here, trying to talk to me ‘man to man’ while you're misgendering them.”  I watch as realization dawns on his face.  “Come on, you know I didn't mean that.”  “I’m assuming you’ve been with them long enough to know better,” I watch his eyes slowly shift away from mine, “not that length of time has anything to do with respect.” 

His eyes fall to the floor, properly chastised. 

“I—”  “For what it’s worth,” I cut him off, “from the few minutes that I talked to Quinn today, in a purely professional capacity, I think they deserve better than whatever it is you have to offer.”  “Hey—”  “AND, don't forget that they’ll realize that one day. And when they do, someone will be waiting to treat them better.” 

I check my watch.  Time to gooooooo! 

“Anyway,” I pause, narrowing my eyes at him in a silent gesture to get his name.  “Craig.”  “Anyway, Greg, my shift is over. I don't intend to mention this to Quinn the next time I see them, and I’d suggest you don't either.” 

I turn on my heel and book it to the break room, practically sprinting by the time I make it to the double doors. I push through, throw my smock on one of the hooks above the time clock, and punch out. Finally, finally, I sit on the worn-out leather couch across from the lockers and let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding in. 

“What the FUUUUUUUUUUCK,” I lean my head back and groan. 

I didn't have “getting accosted by a fucking freak” on today’s bingo card, but I suppose I'll have to tick it off regardless. Who does he think he is? Who do I think I am? I don't talk to people like that. I pull out my phone and send a text to Jake, chuckling at his nickname in my phone. I'm five minutes older, and I will never let him live it down. 

Me: I think I messed up  Kiddo: Elaborate on that?   Me: No 

I slide my phone into my pocket and stand up from the couch, shaking some of the nervous energy from my limbs. I’ll explain everything to Jake when I get home; I just need him to know I may be in a mood. 

I let out a long sigh and slowly made my way out to the front of the store, praying to whatever gods existed that Craig would be gone by the time I got there. I thank all my lucky stars as I walk out of the first set of sliding doors and find myself alone. I glance once more at my girl Bessie, then head out to the parking lot. I glance in every which direction, ensuring that Craig isn’t hiding anywhere, waiting to pop out and murder me. Perhaps I am being dramatic, but my gut tells me you cannot trust someone who wears a wallet chain unironically. And I always follow my gut. 

I make it to my Jeep truck and sigh as I plant myself in the driver's seat, connecting my phone to Bluetooth and clicking into my Apple Music Discover Station. Occasionally, I find something new that I enjoy. The opening notes of a pop song filter over the speakers as I back out of my parking spot and pull through the parking lot. Sam would hate this; I’ll have to add it to the bar playlist. 

I bob my head to the music, driving down the road back to my apartment “I’m your dream come true when it's on a platter for you…” For some reason that brings Quinn to the forefront of my mind, I can’t help but think about what a piece of shit Craig was to me today. I hope he’s better to them, but something tells me he isn’t. The things they said about him today…My stomach clenches thinking about it. Someone like Quinn deserves the world, and Craig is obviously not giving it to them. I could. Okay, no, that’s crazy. 

I sigh, pulling up to the stop sign next to the bar that Jake owns. We’ve lived in the apartment above it for years, but the prior owner finally decided to sell it, and Jake took him up on the offer. Jake got a job down at the docks when we were freshly graduated from high school; he decided he didn’t care about college and just wanted to set himself up with a good job that would pay him enough to put money back in savings and have a little spending money on top, and in Portland… That’s the docks.  Not that he ever needed spending money; he didn’t (and still doesn’t) ever do anything for himself. He’s always been too busy taking care of everyone else. I can’t even remember the last time he took a nice girl out for dinner. 

I pull into the back side of the parking lot and slam my car into park, practically jerking my key out of the ignition and running through the backdoor of the bar, ready to see my twin after the horrendously long day I’ve had. 

“Uh, hey, bub,” Jake greets me from behind the bar with a confused wave.  “Hey, kiddo,” I sigh, sitting at the bar top, “can I get a salty dog?”“Sure thing, gin or vodka?”  I raise an eyebrow at him, signaling he doesn't need to be in customer mode with me.  “Surprise me.” 

I watch as he takes a bottle of Tanqueray gin from the top shelf, pours a measure of it into his cocktail shaker, and then adds grapefruit juice, lime juice, and ice. He shakes it, then strains it into a highball glass rimmed with salt and slides it over to me. 

I take a sip, and, of course, it's delicious. Jake indeed found his calling here — no one on this earth can make a cocktail like he can. 

“Perfect as always, Jake.”  “I don't make them any other way,” he starts, “now, wanna tell me about how you ‘think you messed up?’”  I slam back the rest of my drink and shake my glass, asking for another.  “Slow down, you're gonna drink me out of house and home,” Jake scolds, but prepares another one, nonetheless.  “I need a little help loosening my lips.”  “Get real, you've never had an issue talking in your life. If anything, you're too good at it.”  I roll my eyes but secretly know he’s correct. I'm a known yapper.  “I resent that, you know.”  “And I don't care, stop changing the subject.”  “Fine,” I huff, “I got into a fight with a customer today.”  “Physical or…”  “Verbal, obviously. Do I look like a scrapper?”  He chuckles, wiping non-existent dust off of the spotless bar top.

“Anyway, some crazy dude wearing a wallet chain, of all things, came in and yelled at me for hitting on his partner.”  “What?”  “Yes, Jake. A wallet chain. In 2024. I was baffled, too.”  “No! Not that, you weirdo. He yelled at you for what?!” “Oh, he thought I was hitting on his partner.”  “Well, were you?”  I sit and think for a moment. I wasn't not flirting with them, but it wasn't my initial intent.  “Maybe a little,” I sigh, “I didn't realize they were in a relationship. And I do have eyes. They were too cute. I had to try and shoot my shot or whatever the kids say.”  “You’d ‘shoot your shot’ with a wall. I’m honestly shocked this is the first time this has happened.”  “I resent that, too.”  “Add it to the list.”  “Anyway, I think the guy was just insecure. But I may have been rude to him.”  Jake slowly blinks at me.  “You were rude?”  “I know,” I laugh, “he just brought it out in me.”  “How rude were you?”  “Well, I jumped his ass for misgendering his partner.”  “That's not exactly rude,” Jake jumps in, “it’s quite the opposite, I'd say.”  “I’m sure he didn't feel that way.”  “Why do you care? You did what was right; plus, it’s not like you'll ever see this dude again. Hell, you probably won't even see his partner again. No harm, no foul.”  My stomach flips at the thought of not seeing Quinn again. We don't have time to unpack that. 

“Yeah, you're probably right. I’ll never see either of them again and, as of right now, he hasn't reported me to corporate. So, no need to stress.”  “Exactly right, bub.” 

I finish up my drink and set the glass down. 

“Thank you, Jake.”  “You don't have to thank me, I’ll always be on your side.” 

I reach out and pat his arm. 

“Also,” Jake starts, “I don't know the situation, but it’s pretty serious if you actually act rude to someone else. So, don't discount those feelings.”  What is he saying? I fix him with a confused look.  “I don't understand.”  “Look, Josh,” he sighs like he’s preparing to explain physics to a five-year-old, “I’m not telling you to get in the way of their relationship. But, if the opportunity to explore this arises, don't let that opportunity go to waste. It’s no small thing that you felt connected enough to this person to do what you did today.” 

“You know, I did tell the guy today that if he doesn't treat them right, someone else will be there waiting. Maybe I’m that someone.”  “You could be, if that's what you wanted.” 

I simply hum a response. Jake has given me too much to think about. 

“I appreciate you lending me an ear, brother,” I shove my stool back from the bar and stand, “but I have chores to take care of upstairs. Text me if you need a hand down here.”  “Will do.” 

I open the door to the apartment that Jake and I share above the bar. Home sweet home, finally. I kick my shoes off and walk into the living room, planting myself on the couch, thinking about Quinn the whole time. Something about them piqued my interest. I can't help but feel that if we’d met at a different point in time, we’d be together right now. That's ridiculous. You've spoken to them for a total of 3 minutes. 

It is true that I've only spoken to them for a few moments, but I noticed them the first time they ever came in while I was working. I've watched them from afar, hoping to find a way to actually converse with them. I was shocked when they found a way to converse with me first. Jake may joke about how I’d hit on anyone, but that's not true. I’m nice to everyone, and I'm flirty with a lot of them. But Quinn is different. And it's unbelievable that I feel that way. I don't wink at every single person I see, nor do I tell them how important their work is. I certainly don't get into verbal altercations defending other people. Verbal altercations are reserved for when someone is talking shit about my family. So, what makes Quinn different? I keep replaying our interaction in my mind. I got butterflies when they complimented my tattoo. I was practically shaking when they pulled me in for a hug. I was angry on their behalf when they insinuated that they don't have people who support them. 

What. Makes. Quinn. Different. 

I never act this way about strangers, but it's as if their soul called out to mine, and mine answered. It's the only way I can explain the way I handled Craig. I called him GREG just to piss him off. I never do shit like that. But he was an absolute chode. He kind of deserved it. I can internally debate whether he sucks or not all night, but it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t speak like that to people, and if Quinn, sweet, curious Quinn, weren’t involved, I likely wouldn’t have spoken to him that way either. Regardless, I really need to find a way to get closer to Quinn. Good job; that sounds so creepy. What I mean is that I feel a soul-deep need to know this person. I don’t know in what capacity because it seems as though I’m entering their life a little late for it to be romantic. Which is what I want. But I could be just in time for friendship. I’ll take it if they truly want to extend the offer, but only time will tell. 

When Craig makes it back home, shopping bags in tow, Willa and I are roughly two and a half sheets to the wind. 

“Well, well, well,” Willa points an accusatory finger at him as he walks through the door, “The prodigal Greg returns.” I can’t help but snicker, knowing how much it pisses him off when: 1) Willa is here without warning 2) Someone calls him by the wrong name. 

“Hey, Willa,” He plastered on a pained smile. Willa turns to look at me, shock written on her face. That may be the nicest he’s been to Willa in months. Craig walks into the kitchen and places his bags on the counter. 

“Didn’t realize you were going to be here,” He half shouts from the other room, “But you’re welcome to stay for dinner if you want.” “Does he even know how to cook?!” She whispers. “He knows how to heat food up,” I shrug. “I’m making Eggplant Parm.” My eyes light up. It’s my favorite meal. “Maybe this is his way of apologizing,” I whisper to Willa.  She rolls her eyes but cuts me a devious look. “That sounds great, Craig. I’d love to stay if you’ll have me.”

“You girls just stay in there, and I’ll have it out in a jiffy.” “Jiffy?” Willa mouths, fighting back a laugh. “Girls?” I mouth back, shaking my head, and Willa’s face instantly sours. She knows that Craig has a hard time with my pronouns and prefers to ignore my identity. This is a regular point of contention in my relationship with Craig and, by extension, my relationship with Willa. I don’t understand why he does it, and she doesn’t understand why I let him get away with it. I don’t understand why I let him get away with it. He is quite literally just a man. 

Willa and I fall into silence for a moment before she grabs my hand and stage whispers just loud enough that Craig may hear. “I bet Stock Boy wouldn’t misgender you.” I hear a small crash from the kitchen, and I clap one of my hands over her mouth. “Stop!!”

I feel her tongue dart out and lick between my fingers, and I let out a squeal. I pull my hand back from her mouth and wipe it on her shirt. “You are an absolute monster. I’m not sure why I allow you to call yourself my friend.” “Oh, Quincy,” she lets out a cackle, “You wouldn’t know what to do without me.” 

I roll my eyes, but it’s true. She is the only thing that has kept me sane since we moved to Maine. She’s my rock. Kind of sad that your own partner isn’t your rock, Quinn. Willa picks up our empty wine glasses from the coffee table and shoots me a wink before heading into the kitchen. Surely, this will be fine. Willa trapping Craig in a room could not possibly cause anything terrible to occur. 

I can hear their muffled voices just enough to make out their conversation. ‘So, Craig. What did you get up to after Gamestop?’ I wince, waiting for his response to that emphasis. Willa has always been phenomenal at telling him that she knows precisely when he’s messed something up.  ‘Oh, uh. I just stopped by the grocery. Wanted to make it up to Quinn.’ Interesting.  ‘You were gone an awful long time to have just stopped at the grocery.’ ‘Mmm, yeah, well. I had to figure out what to make and how to make it. I’m not exactly a chef over here.’  ‘That’s an understatement,’ I wince again. What is she playing at? This situation is already precarious. ‘But, I suppose you get half of a point for trying. We’ll see.’ 

Willa walks back into the living room with two more glasses of wine for us. 

“He’s–” She starts at full volume before I shush her, connecting my phone to the Bluetooth speaker in the corner. Once the music starts playing at an acceptable volume to cover our conversation, I motion for her to continue.  “He’s lying. I can smell it on him. He didn’t just nip over to Hannaford and come home.” “I mean, obviously. He was gone for like three hours.” “You don���t care that he’s literally lying to your face.” “Technically,” I poke her side, “he lied to your face. And no, not really. If he came home and decided to be sweet for once, I’m not gonna question what it took to get him there.” “Quinn,” She says softly, reaching a hand out to pat my leg. “I know, Wills. But, just let me have this for the moment.”

She hums a non-response and drops the conversation. 

I should have questions. I should care. But, if he’s going to be sweet, I’ll take it where I can get it because these moments are becoming fewer and further between. 

“Dinner’s done,” Craig pops his head into the living room, “Y’all’s plates are already on the table.” Willa and I scramble to the kitchen table.  “Thanks, babe.” I kiss Craig's cheek before sitting down. “It looks great.”  “Anything for you, babe,” He beams. 

I see Willa’s lips quirk up in a slight grin and brace myself for whatever she’s about to do.

“So, Quincy. I’ve got a photography project I’m working on, but I need some supplies. Wanna come to Hobby Lobby with me tomorrow?” I let out a massive sigh as the color drains from Craig’s face, and I begin mentally preparing myself to do damage control, but Craig impresses me.  “That would be nice, Quinn. Y’all can get out of the house for a little bit. I’ll stay behind to clean up around here.” 

Willa sits in shock, clearly not expecting that response. 

“Oh, and Willa,” Craig smiles at her, “If you want to stay over tonight, I’ll take the couch. Don’t want you to drive home after you’ve had all that wine.” 

Maybe he’s turning over a new leaf. 

Even if Craig has decided to be a bit nicer after his moment earlier; I still can’t help the little shock of excitement that rushes through me at the thought of being able to see Josh again so soon. I’m not sure what it is about him, but I want to learn more about him. He’s the most compelling person I’ve met in a long time, and perhaps he feels the same about me. 

I’m excited to see if our friendship may blossom. 

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[staring-at-a-blank-pagee]

binary star: a system of two stars that are gravitationally bound to each other, both orbiting around the same point in space. for each of the stars, its companion is the center of the universe.

It was a beautiful day to be in outer space. The stars twinkled brightly from where they hung surrounded by countless others of their kind, by swirling nebulae and idyllic planets orbiting brilliant stars of their own. In the midst of all this wonder floated a small Waddle Dee, who was perfectly content to just drift, the shine of excitement in their eyes rivaling even that of the stars that they were so fascinated with. Occasionally they would flick their tail, and with a jolt of electricity, would go flying forwards again to explore new areas and to see new sights.

It was here, among the stars, that Starry Dee felt the most at home. Yes, they loved Dreamland, but amidst the marvels of deep space they felt truly connected with everything, abuzz with magic and energy that sent their heart singing with joy.

Without realizing, he had drifted further than usual. But the sky was still bright with stardust, and all worldly things are meaningless when you are such a close part of a galaxy, so he flicked his tail again and let himself float even further from home. And these celestial bodies that he had known all his life, growing familiar with them over long nights spent looking up and countless hours in the skies just like this; speaking to them softly or just staring and taking in their beauty... they were incredible, but he could not deny the thrill of new discoveries, either.

A strange figure in the distance caught his eye when it glinted off the light of a nearby star, almost as if it were metal. Starry Dee squinted at it as it flashed, confused. After only a moment's hesitation, they started to move towards it, and as the object got closer it became increasingly clear that it was not a ship at all. Then what could it.....?

Starry squealed with happiness, too excited to make any other sound for a moment. "Oh my Nova. Oh my literal Nova." He said out loud without fully realizing it, flapping his arms excitedly as he drew closer and the distinctive features of the Galactic Nova became even more clear. In what felt like no time at all, they were right in front of it, their whole being quivering with pure happiness.

"READY. >" It said in a mechanical, toneless voice. Its purple eyes that seemed to hold millions of starts within them stared unblinkingly at the small Dee, glowing brightly.

"Oh my Nova, you're actually real!!! Wait, can I say that to you? Is that weird?" Starry rambled, his tail waving back and forth behind him as he talked. "I mean, I've looked for you my whole life, even though everyone said you were just a legend I always believed you existed!! And now you're really here!! It's such an honor to meet you, really, you're so awesome!!! Does all that stuff on you work right, like the piano or the clock? I have so many questions!! Oh, and of course I have a wish-"

The Nova, which had up until then been listening silently to Starry's rambling, cut him off. "READY. >" It repeated, as emotionlessly as ever.

Staring into the Nova's face made the words of their wish stop just short of coming out. I want to stay here with you, forever. It should have been so easy to say. But there was something about the way that rust collected on the edges of the Nova's otherwise pristine surface, something about the way that light of a different kind flickered deeply within its great galaxies of eyes when they had appeared, something about the terribly lonely idea of being trapped here forever, unable to move or explore, that made them pause.

He imagined- hundreds, maybe thousands of people coming to the Nova to get their wishes granted. The only interaction at all in its life being other people's greed. Living here, anchored and cursed to give everything to everyone but itself until all the stars winked out and it was the sole one left with nobody at all, all alone in the dark for eternity... Or until its machinery succumbed to time's allure at last, failing, never having known anything but what was in its line of sight. And maybe then, such a failure would have been a mercy.

Some people - most people - would have said that machines have no souls. No sense of self, no being. But Starry saw souls in every star and every leaf on every tree. He talked to the morning dew like it was an old friend and told the moon stories when it was full in the sky. He kept his many stickers safe and knew all of their hearts, apologizing to them when they ripped and laughing with them when they shone in the sun and everything was warm. He took a deep breath and faced the Galactic Nova.

"I wish that you could be free."

"... OK. > 3.... 2.... 1.... GO! >"

a wild nova appears!

they are always floating, and appear in a puffball form. they are adjusting... slowly to this new life after centuries of stagnancy, and still act very mechanical. as of right now, their existence is being kept a secret from the star allies/etc until they get more used to life on dreamland. side note! since the original nova plot was undefined, i had it set in the far future and was the "end" of starry dee's story. now, however, due to the rewrite it has already happened. as such, nova will be with starry dee for the remainder of the tournament. they can still grant wishes in theory, but would need to enter a long coma afterwards to "recharge". while they are a biological lifeform now thanks to the wish and not a mechanical one, they still have certain strange properties - like how their body shines like metal still.

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

The stars were "wonderful tonight", according to Starry Dee. Nova didn't understand that, though. They looked the same as they always did, and the Dee always said that the stars were "wonderful". According to the knowledge their databases had left them, wonderful was defined as ˈwʌn.də.fl̩, adj: inspiring delight, pleasure, or admiration; extremely good; marvelous. Looking up, they did not feel any of that, as far as they could tell. They had spent many eons looking at the stars, and failed to recognize what Starry loved so much about them. They did not find anything wonderful, not after so long.

They were drawn out of their thoughts by the stirring of the Dee by their side. Nova floated close to the ground where Starry was fast asleep, curled up against part of their side despite his earlier proclamation that "I'm awake for the whole night all the time, it'll be fine!". As they watched, he mumbled something indecipherable in his sleep, though luckily it seemed to be a good dream by the way that his face was scrunched up in what they had come to know as the Waddle Dee version of a smile.

Slowly, they extended a paw. It was the first thing that they had done of their own will without Starry prompting them first ever since they had been freed and come to Dreamland. Somewhat awkwardly, they pet the Dee's head, causing his antenna to twitch. After a brief pause to ensure that wasn't a bad thing, they resumed the motion, which strangely.. became more natural, with time.

And... looking at Starry Dee now, with their newfound freedom all around them, maybe... Maybe Nova could understand how stars were so wonderful, after all.

fin.

(@kirbyoctournament)

[lcnelyghost]

Hey if u don't mind, can u pls do an imagine with jpm where the reader is gen z and sometimes James has trouble relating to her/ him/them but he still tries? And also pls pls pls a part two of introducing James to modern music

Ps, ur writing is fucking incredible, and ur one of my fav tumblr blogs, take care sweets :) <3

yk, that last little comment really made me smile. i’m glad to know my writing actually interests people! thank you sm lovely <3

the fascination of our modern world//jpm

pairings; james patrick march, female reader

rating; pg!

warnings; none <3

Oh, where could you even begin here. Let’s just say, having a boyfriend from the 1920’s was occasionally difficult at times. Even though he had a thirst for taking the lives of the innocent, James was a total gem. A gentleman who would spoil you and give you everything he had. Everything you wanted!

But.. the poor dear had a hard time understanding how the modern world worked. He found it incredibly uncomfortable. Certainly quite confusing in many ways, though Mr March found a way to avoid being included in anything that involved this generation. That was until he met you.

Now, James was left to face the supposed joys of finding out about even more sources and objects that now existed in this world. If it meant trying to understand more about you, he’d clearly have to go right in and start learning.

***

“Darling?” James called. He could faintly hear someone singing softly in the sitting room of his suite.

Inspecting this odd noise, James proceeded to enter the sitting room, just in time to see you with you’re back turned whilst singing within the dead silence.

Mr March was quite confused that you were just randomly singing to no tune in particular. No music was playing, so he chuckled quite a bit at this current sight.

“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart. But the very next day.. you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears! I’ll give it to someone special!” You sang with glee, you’re back still turned to you’re ghostly lover.

James smiled in awe but slowly made his way over to you and tapped you’re shoulder. He immediately flew back when you jumped in surprised, going on to giggle at his reaction.

“James! You gave me quite the fright. Is something wrong?” You asked.

James slowly shook his head. “No, no. Not at all my love. Just.. erm.. remember the record player I own?”

You furrowed you’re brows and looked at him funny, pausing the song on you’re phone as it was still blaring through the AirPods a tad bit too loud in you’re ears.

“Yes?”

“Well, i’m sure you are quite aware that you’re more than welcome to use it for some of the albums that belong to you. Don’t feel that you have to sing to yourself rather than the actual piece of music, dear. I know we all like a bit of singing to ourselves sometimes. But it’s better to join whoever may be singing in the song we like.”

You laughed at his slight confusion. “Oh James, you’re such a sweetheart. But I wasn’t singing to myself in pure silence..”

“You weren’t?”

“No. I was listening to my music through these,” You took the AirPods out of you’re ears and went on to present them to him.

He stared at them curiously, taking one of the small white speakers into his own hand. He inspected it before giving the AirPod back to you.

“Ah yes.. these are uh, something that connects to one of you’re electrical devices?”

You nodded and placed both of them in his ears, going back onto you’re phone and playing the song you were last listening to.

A grin began to spread across his face as he slowly tapped his right foot to the beat of the song.

“My my! This is quite the invention!” James beamed, his body now swaying slowly to the smooth sound of music.

You both laughed and you’re heart practically melted at his joy. Now usually, things like these utterly disgusted Mr March. He’d most likely say it was too loud for his ears or it hurt him. But perhaps now, you’re partner wouldn’t be so quick to judge.

***

“So, what do you fancy watching?” You asked James, searching on Netflix and Disney+ as you cuddled into you’re boyfriend further.

The two of you were comfortably sat in bed in you’re pyjamas. You’d taken James to bed a little earlier tonight, explaining to him that you wanted a ‘movie night’ or so you called it.

“Hmm, i’ll let you decide dear. Just maybe something that fits both of our tastes.” He said, twirling you’re hair around with his finger.

“Oo! How about Twilight?”

“Sorry?”

You giggled slightly. “Twilight. It’s a romantic movie. It’s about a vampire who falls in love with a human in high-school. And it becomes his job to protect her. He sort of stalks her a bit though. There’s also wolves in it! Maybe we could watch the full franchise!!”

James blinked at you, not knowing what to say. He eventually sighed and told you to put it on if that’s what you wanted.

Half way through you guys watching the full saga, James became bored and was just cringing at how there was too much going on. Far, far too much for his liking.

“Dearest, I think it’s time for me to settle down for the night.” He stated, faking a yawn and excusing himself.

“Aw, ok! We can finish it tomorrow.” You smiled sweetly, James only just smiled back before kissing you goodnight and rolling over. His smile fell shortly after he’d realised he actually had to finish these lot of movies tomorrow night.

***

“Mm, i’m feeling a bit peckish. Maybe we should have lunch now?” You said to you’re lover, rubbing you’re stomach as it growled loudly with hunger.

“Yes, I was getting ready to ask you that actually. Wait- where is Miss Evers?” James searched around the place but didn’t manage to find his loyal laundress, (and chef for that matter)

“I told her to go to the bar and enjoy herself for the afternoon. Don’t worry though. I’ll order us something in.” You pulled out you’re phone and went into Just Eat.

“Darling, I thought you said you gave her the afternoon off. How are we meant to request to her what we would like if she’s gone?” He frowned.

“I know, that’s why I said I would order it in.”

James frowned ever more. “I don’t understand.”

You sat down beside him, showing him what app you were currently in.

“Look, this app allows me to order food to the Cortez. I can text Liz to bring it up to us and that’ll be our lunch for the day.” You told him. He looked shocked and wildly fascinated at the same time.

“So.. you are able to get someone to professionally make us something to eat and they are willing to deliver it right here to the Cortez?”

“Yup.”

“Oh Darling.. when I said I had a huge dislike for the modern world.. I don’t think I meant it quite literally at all..”

***

hope y’all enjoyed this little imagine! it was quite fun to make actually :)

taglist: @v-love @cabin10hufflepuff

[triglycercule]

gshaewru what happened buddy why did your old account get like banned 😭😭😭💔💔💔 the nyan cat pfp lowkey go hard thoBUT EUDAGHHHH THIS MANAGED TO WRANGLE OUT A SOUND FROM ME TJAY I DIDNT EVEN KNOW MY BODY WAS CAPABLE OF PRODUCING!!!! FUCK!!!!!

GSHAEWRU STRIKES AGAIN!!!! WHAT THE HELL!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭 THIS IS LITERALLY EXACTLY HOW I IMAGINED IT LIKE THIS!!!!! IS!!!!! THAT HC!!!!! ANS THE DIALOGUE THAY I ADDED EXTRA OF JUST FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES HELLO???? I DIDNT THIBK ANYONE READ THAT,,, EHEGEHEHEHEHWH THIS IS SO ON POINT AND IT PERFECTLY JUST!!!! EUSGAH!!!!! ENCAPSULATES IT!!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE DELECTABLE ART ONCE AGAIN GSHAEWRU I DONT KNOW WHY YOU CHOSE ME TO ATTACK WITH THIS AMAZINGNWSS,,,,,,, BUT MY ARMS ARE HELD OPEN LIKE KILLER'S PAPYRUS BEFORE KILLER KILLS HIM!!!! THIS IS!!! SO BEAUTIFUL!!! you and a desaturated dark color palette could singlehandedly shoot me and i'd thank the world for allowing me to have this beautiful sight before i DIE HELP!!! HELP!!!!!! 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

i LOVE LOVE LOVE the chara sneak 2 i lowkey didn't even think of them when coming up with the hc (because i was LOCKED IN on the horror and dust aspect of it) but FUCK!!! FUCK!!! they'd totally listen in too,,, probably try and bring up any and all negative shit they can about killer and papyrus so he doesn't even get the BARE minimum of enjoyment of dust and horror chatting a sans and papyrus esque conversation,,,,, and the LASY IMAGE!!! EUAGH!!!!! SUAGH!!!!! help,,,, horrordust are such pricks man i love it. anti-killer tag team ISTG the trio member on trio member hate is REAL!!! ITS REAL!!! and chara getting mad again AAAAWYHHH theyre so silly theyre sooo silly. partner are they shit talking you again. partner shut them the fuck up they shouldn't be shit talking you. PARTNER IF THEY SHIT TALK YOU THEY SHIT TALK ME DO YOU UNDERSTAND SANS STAB THEM ALREADY!!!! when i was writing that silly little dialogue for them i was just joking around i didnt think it would actually FIT i didnt think that i'd agree with seeing them actually SAY IT outside of my imagination but omg,,,, they would TOTALLY SAY THAT FUCK YEAH ASSHOLE HORROR AND DUST!!! MY FAVORITES!!!!

man that first image is so silly. Horror and Killer fighting for Dust's affection. this idea in my head sparks an unease i didnt know existed this actually might be another mtt hc/take that i DONT like. me when 2 of them are fighting over the 1 because WHAAAAT,,,, what,,,,, to me their relationship isnt PEAK because of classic relationship drama like jealousy over affection or cheating or possessiveness their relationship is PEAK because of their interactions,,,,, dust get your "STOP FIGHTING!!" ahh OUT OF HERE BRO!!! I'M SENDING YOU TO CANONVERSION THERAPY!!!!

i sing the praises of the one known as gshaewru or now username29876011111 with a nyan cat profile picture. getting your asks ALWAYS makes my day better it always baffles me how i could get someone to send THEIR AMAZING ART INTO MY!!! MY OWN??? MY INBOX???? the jk fashion au art the ikigusare girls one and now another hc of mine,,,,, it still to this day makes me so shocked and yet so grateful!!! thank you for this ask!!! the art is beautiful!!! i have all of (or majority) your art saved to my camera roll because its THAT peak!!!

[magnoliabutters]

ANOTHER ROUTINE MISSION

pairing: commander cat shepard x garrus vakarian

warnings: 18+ content, nsfw, mdni; mass effect trilogy spoilers, post me3, gore, canon divergence, commander choices - 70 paragon, 30 renegade, etc.

word count: ~5.2k

“Can I come out now?” 

The smell of burning bacon pinched at Shepard’s brow. The love of her life could barely cook himself dextro-bacon. She practically has herself dangling off the upstair’s railing. Maybe if she moved just a little bit more to the right, would she be able to catch a glimpse of him in Glyph’s holoface?

“Just a second!”

That dark, timbre of a voice immediately flushes the worry from her body. With him by her side, nothing could ever go wrong. Her Archangel, Garrus. The one good thing in her chaotic world. Her heart still pounds with excitement at the very sight of him. She waits eagerly for whatever surprise is in store for her downstairs, burnt or not. 

Shepard crouches down, tucking her legs between the railing. She kicks her feet at the sound of his energetic humming. She wishes the calm of the storm could stay just a little bit longer. That she could stay in this apartment, snuggled up under his chin for the rest of her existence. 

Alas, no. Those nerves that wrack her soul manifest in the way her fingers pull at the hem of her shorts. How she bites onto her cuticles, causing little cuts and wounds. A bitter show of vulnerability that only he gets to see. 

Whether she liked it or not, Shepard’s mind begins to flow down a whirlwind of unfathomable realities. The thought of the upcoming battle tenses her body in ways she never thought possible. She would much rather worry about burnt breakfast, then Reapers murdering the entire galaxy. 

With a shake of her head, she attempts to pull herself from the deep, winding trail of bad thoughts. Her eyes fall upon the abstract art hanging on the cream colored walls. They appreciate the glow of the overhead light beaming off the metal statue. Appreciate the amusement bouncing in her chest. 

God, what was Anderson thinking? He has an eye for real estate, but she can only imagine that he must have bought this art during the time of his separation. Only a man enduring a midlife crisis would buy and display such gaudy things. 

A tight lipped smile spreads across Shepard’s face. A warmth spreads widely across her chest as she presses a finger against her bottom lip. She is thankful, abundantly thankful that Anderson gave her the apartment - gaudy art and all.

It provided the incredible opportunity of “breaking in” the apartment, per Garrus’ words. Flashes of last night‘s adventures form bubbles in the pit of her stomach. Suffice to say, there wasn’t a surface untouched. Certainly, the two could never give the Admiral his apartment back - not on any terms. 

She will never admit it, but she is thankful for Mordin and Joker. Garrus was definitely the most well versed in interspecies sexual positions. One bottle of dextro-wine and the angel’s smooth talking became smooth ruts against her skin. He always knows exactly where to touch her, where to make her squeal. 

Garrus Vakarian knows exactly how to crack her open like an egg - breaking off that hardened commander of a shell, just to get to the soft Shepard center. He is the light shining brightly through a thick, foggy storm. He guides her back home, no matter where they are - no matter how lost she is. 

“Okay, you better be in that bed,” he calls out in a sing-songy voice. Shepard manages to get a sneak peak of his struggles to balance the plate of food with both hands. His foot carefully lands on each step as he blindly climbs the stairs. “I wasn’t kidding about breakfast in bed.” 

Shepard jumps from her seat, slinking her legs through the railing and rushing back towards their bedroom. She digs her feet into the sheets, leaning effortlessly back onto her pillow. She pulls the blankets up to her waist, trying to really sell the idea of her patiently waiting in bed. 

With a smirk that could kill, Garrus turns the corner with the tray in hand. Her grinning mouth drops open upon the sight of a beauty stemmed rose floating amongst a thin vase. Beside it, a glass filled to the brim with orange juice. The plate holds a perfectly organized buffet of french toast, eggs, and, of course, bacon.

“You shouldn’t have,” Shepard murmurs in excitement as she hikes her shoulders up to her ears. The crimson he loves so much is flush against her cheeks. 

Garrus vibrates his mandibles with a light hum of happiness and accomplishment. He places the tray at the foot of the bed before sitting at your side. The angel places a soft hand at your cheek before whispering, “When this is all done and over with, I promise I will make you breakfast in bed every day.” His other hand reaches for hers, guiding it to rest upon his bare chest. 

“That’s a tall order, Vakarian,” Shepard scoffs as she guides that same hand to her lips. She places the softest of pecks at the back of his palm, holding her loving gaze with his bright blue eyes. “Let’s start with just Sundays.” 

Garrus shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “Only if we have date night on Fridays.” He gently places his forehead against hers. A loving, firm sensation between them. A centering feeling that rids her of any pain, any worry. He is hers and she is his. 

“Just - ” Shepard winces. The agony ripping through her body keeps her from finishing her sentence. Deep breaths in between words keep her pushing, forcing the words out. He needs to hear them. “Just as long as we go dancing.” 

The room is suddenly dark. A red tinted gloom muddied by bright moving flecks of orange and yellow. Confusion consumes her. Filling every nook and cranny. Forcing her to think so quickly, so stressfully. Truly, where the hell is she? 

A sharp ache wracks through her brain. God, it’s unbearable. She can feel her temples pulsating, begging for mercy. This is worse than any pain she’s endured before. But there is no such thing as pain with Garrus… What’s going on?  

Each breath reinforces the idea that her trachea has somehow transformed into sand paper. The noise of the air passing through her lungs closely resembles the nauseating sound of nails being dragged down a chalkboard. 

“Garrus,” Shepard calls out with a hoarse tone. Her voice is nonexistent and barely a whistling tone above the loud booms of the space around her. The last time she lost her voice this bad was when she won big on the Sunset Strip during shore leave. 

She instinctively reaches her hand to her throat, only to have her arm burst with pain at the attempt. Every cell, molecule - every atom of her being hurts. She tries to open her eyes but a harsh pressure holds one closed. The other is blurred as all hell and barely functional. 

Shepard can feel the familiar remnants of blood pooled at her upper lip. Her body sways, barely able to sit up. She is hit by tidal waves of overwhelming sensations. It forces her to press into the debris digging into her back. Her hands are bloodied, holding a puncture wound at her side.

Despite the haze, she manages to look down and assess her right arm. A huge, bloodied gash rips through her forearm. The edges of the abrasion are singed and burnt. She tries her best to ignore the bright, compound fracture of a bone peaking out from behind her tendons. 

A sharp breath in and she picks her head up. She scans the area, searching for any possible exit, any possible way to get back to their bed. Fire and smoke fill the thin corridor. The flames grow and spread across the walls. Metal beams fall from the ceiling, vibrating the ground as they crash. She spots a flickering green glow signing a door at the end of the hallway. 

She is not safe. 

She remembers the Citadel. Saving the galaxy. Destroying the Catalyst. Destroying the very synthetic life she worked so hard to stand for. Destroying the geth … destroying EDI. 

She pushes away the thought of her loss, the loss of her friend. She learned to do that back with the N7. Tough calls. Tough choices. Tough losses, but she doesn’t get to feel it. Not yet. 

With a gut curdling scream, Shepard pushes herself up from the unleveled rubble. Shock spreads across her face as she looks back to see pieces of her armor melted into the ground. She should be dead, disintegrated along with her suit. The academy never really prepared her for the “not dying” part of a suicide mission. 

“Garrus?” her voice carries down the burning corridor. “Liara!” Step after step. Each one increases the chances of her hip bursting on impact. Her body, a valuable and dependable machine, is now shutting down when she needs it the most. 

Hell, it’s given a damn good fight. It deserves the rest.

“Tali!” Shepard uses all of her strength to scream out her friends’ names. She crashes down, landing harshly against her knee and consequently her chin. Tears involuntarily fall, hugging at the surface of her cheeks.

She considers the idea of not standing, of not pushing forward, of not fighting for her life. Fortunately for the galaxy, the endless nagging of a certain handsome turian at heaven’s bar changes her mind. 

The Citadel falls around her, forcing her to pick up her pace. Pieces crumble at her sides and block the central aisle of the corridor. The only way through is over it. 

Shepard struggles to pull herself up onto the debris. The metal and concrete now resemble a scrunched up, used tissue. Yet, somehow she must crawl her invalid self over it. Easy, nothing she hasn’t done before. 

Holding her breath, she places her hands against the sharp rubble. It cuts at her palms, at the bend of her fingers. A single slip up and she lands her hands against the burning ground. 

As she yells in pain, something the size of an asteroid barrels in through the hull of the ship. Given the state of things, she isn’t shocked that the Citadel’s kinetic barriers are down. 

What shocks Shepard is that her Kawashii visor is still functional. With emergency procedures activated, a shield wraps around her face. It gives her the oxygen she most definitely needs from a hull breach. 

Zero gravity floats her off the ground, making every movement abundantly easier. She hurries her movements, swimming through the space and dodging the hovering wreckage. 

A countdown is now ticking louder and louder in the back of her mind. If any more holes wrack through the metal, she surely will be sucked out and that would be the end of Shepard’s story. The story that began about a year ago - before Liara and Cerberus brought her back 

She finally reaches the door. Out of routine, she extends her right arm to hover over the lock. Calcifying aches shoot through her extremities, almost as though she was shot and inertia threw her arm back. 

With a stroke of luck, the door miraculously opens. Shepard raises her eyes with furrowing brows. There she recognizes the salarian spectre, Jondum Bau. Her heart sinks - she made it. 

Bau’s hands reach for hers and pull her through the doorway. She rolls onto her shoulder, grunting with each pulsating ache. His words are quick and quiet, almost as though he is thinking to himself. He seals off the door, burning the metal with his omnitool and causes a makeshift airlock. 

Shepard curls onto her side, gasping for air. Warm blood begins to pool on her left side. She reaches up for the spectre. “Bau, I need you to-'' The pain is unbearable. She has to breathe through gritted teeth just to force herself to sit through the agony. “Call the Alliance. I need-”  She lets out a harsh breath, digging back onto her side as her body screams for her to stop moving. “I need a medevac.” 

Through the reach of her left arm, Shepard twists and lands upon her back. The one hazy eye becomes hazier as she feels her weight sink into the floor. “Yes, Commander,” she hears in her woozy state. Just before the world turns black. 

“Assessing damages, doctor.” 

Shepard can hear the salarian accent thick in their words. The cold metal is pressed against her skin. She feels weightless, as though she can float up into the blinding light above her. She feels cold, the familiar intergalactic cold. They must have cracked open her armor. There would be no other way to get her out. 

“She has third degree burns on eighty-five percent of her body. She has several foreign objects in her left, lower abdomen. Her arm…”

She can hear slow and steady beeps that are easily recognizable from a hospital. Although, she is usually not the patient. 

“Medi-gel, stat!” 

That voice… that voice is familiar. “Yes, doctor.” It is higher pitched and clearly another salarian doctor. It has been some time since she last heard it, but it is a voice she will never forget. 

“Wait,” the unfamiliar voice responds. The mechanic beeping quickens. Her breathing becomes harder and harder to sustain. “She’s having a react-” 

Shepard falls into unconsciousness once again…

[[{{{{////33422>]][[//

“She’s waking up.” 

“Yes, I can see that. Tighten the straps!”

“But what if we need to evacuate?”

Shepard hears a loud, cranking noise. She feels a tightness at her wrists and ankles. Soft moans escape her as she struggles to find consciousness. Suddenly, an alarm blares. It causes a harsh, ringing noise to bounce within her ears’ canals. She winces at the painful sound.

“Get the Dalatrass, now!”

Her eyes open immediately at the name. Her heart begins to race as she slowly understands her newfound reality. She is not in an Alliance hospital, no. She is still not safe. 

Shepard pulls at her restraints, lifting her eyes to the doctor closest to her. All at once, the familiar voice is clear as day. “Maelon,” she whispers with a strain to her voice. The words hurt worse than when she first woke on the remains of the Citadel. 

“Hush now, Commander,” Maelon coos. He places a soft hand at her shoulder. “I have you now.” The words spark adrenaline in her body. She tugs harshly against her restraints, pulling herself from his “comforting” touch. 

“She’s not coming,” a young salarian scientist walks up with worried black eyes. Shepard tears her eyes from Maelon, scanning the area. She recognizes the greenery and nature, almost as though the hull was decorated by Sur’Kesh. Her best bet would be that she is on a Salarian Special Tasks Group ship, which means she is some lab experiment - again. The very last thing one would ever want to be in the presence of a demented doctor. 

Maelon sighs, pressing an inquisitive finger to his lips. “They’re evacuating, doctor. We must go!” his assistant yells. He hums as thoughts run sporadically in his mind. His hands move side to side as he struggles to determine what items to evacuate with. 

Ultimately, his thoughts boil down to an endless calculation of risk. The risk of being caught with the Commander tied to a gurney. To escape before the invaders break down the door. How likely is it that he will make it out of his home planet unharmed? 

“Leave her,” Maelon spits out the words. The younger scientist rushes out without a second thought. The doctor, however, takes his time. He runs a cold, scaled finger down her cheek. A slow smile forms across his cheeks. His eyes blacken as they hover above hers. 

“The Dalatrass sends her regards, Commander.” 

He leans in closer to her. His breath is hot against her skin. “I hope you live long enough to see what I’ve done,” he whispers. As he pulls away, his hand and his presence linger, appreciating his work, before scurrying along with the other evacuating doctors. 

Shepard grinds her teeth, raising her head to watch him run away. She crashes her head back against the firm bed with deep-rooted frustration. Her eyes search for a weapon, for something to get her out from these restraints. A small part of her worries about Maelon’s words, but it rests on the arch of her brow. She has to focus on finding an escape route. 

She has done this once before - waking up in a new place after almost dying. A place that just so happens to be under attack. She wonders how many years have passed this time. 

Red lights flash in tandem with the obnoxious sounding alarm. She pulls at the restraints, practically bruising herself with each attempt. After her third attempt, she spots a sterile tray on her left side. A scalpel, prongs, and a PDA rest upon it. Her fingers stretch, as far as they can, trying to grip onto the scalpel. Her fingertips slice against the blade. 

“God damnit!” Shepard yells as blood drops onto the floor below. 

A whoosh of pressurized air releases. Her head pops up with widened eyes as the laboratory door slides open. It reveals one Lieutenant Vega and Spectre Williams.

Hope washes over Shepard. She lets out a laugh and a sigh of relief that follows her glowing smile. “James, Ash,” she happily exhales. “Get these things off of me.” 

Ash stays calm, cool, and collected. Her face never changes. She remains, as always, all about the mission. Her gun’s sights are right at eyeline until the room was deemed “clear.” Shepard hopes she could take credit for some of that.  

James, however, could not contain his expression. Eyes rake over his commander, assessing her quickly. His brows push together and form a darkened line at its center. His mouth opened, almost as though he was going to greet her, but the words never came out. 

“Vega, get her out of those restraints,” Ash demands with fierceness. Her commanding voice is enough to pull James out of whatever shock he is enduring. “Let me get you out of there, Lola,” he whispers. His smile now slightly present against his hardened lips. 

Shepard pushes the concerning thoughts from her mind. The only thing she cares about is escaping this lab, and, now, to ensure that her comrades get out unscathed. “Here, hook this arm over me,” James instructs as he pulls at her left hand and wraps her arm around his large shoulders. 

He then lifts her body weight, as she primarily leans upon him, before reaching for his pistol. She could feel her legs slipping from beneath her, as though she hadn’t used them in quite some time. “Ready, LT Commander,” he utters, slightly out of breath.  

Ash nods before opening the door. She leads with her assault rifle, ensuring the hallway remains clear before moving the commander forward. “Clear.” She guides the trio to the left and onto a glass bridgeway. 

Shepard gawks over the tropical forest beauty of the Sur’Kesh-turned ship. It’s just as gorgeous as the last time she saw the planet. How did they manage to turn the ship into this? More importantly, why? Almost as though the Reapers had never made their appearance in the Annos Basin.

At the end of the bridge, two salarian soldiers raise their rifles at Williams. They are quickly put down and forgotten by the Alliance squad. James struggles to raise his pistol toward the threats, prompting Shepard to act. 

“I can shoot, Vega,” she whispers. “Hand it over.” She crosses her right arm over her chest. The movement freezes her entire body, forcing a yell from her lack-lustered lungs. She almost slips from his grasp. 

How could her arm still be in so much pain? 

Upon hearing her scream, Ash turns back and reveals the tiniest glimpse of concern across her face. She quickly returns to her sights, but listens out behind her. “You ok, Lola?” James asks, tightening his grip onto the commander. 

“How long’s it been, James?” Shepard whispers. He keeps his head forward, pushing on with Ash’s lead. She shoots a hot breath through her flared nostrils. Did he really think that his commander could be ignored? 

“Lieutenant!” The commander directs all of her strength to pull her old N7 staff sergeant voice out. “How long?”

James and Ash exchange looks. Another thing that boils Shepard’s blood. “Ten months, Commander,” Williams answers with a tight lip. Three months and Shepard is still in pain? Was she ever given medi-gel? 

What the hell happened? 

Ash presses two fingers to her ear. “Admiral, we got her. Heading to the LZ now.” She nods upon hearing her next orders. Vega sets Shepard against a seat in what looks like a waiting room. 

James takes defensive maneuvers, standing with his back to Shepard and his gun drawn. Doctors and scientists of the STG scramble amongst the chaos and blaring alarms. He watches each and every one of them. Any one of them can suddenly become a threat. 

Shepard’s attention is entuned on the quick shifts in Williams’ body language. Ash pulls into herself, hiding her next words unsuccessfully. “She’s conscious but unaware.” She pauses. “Yes, Admiral.”

Ash turns back to the group. Her confident and strong willed demeanor returns. “Let’s move!” she demands before pushing off of her back leg. James turns back to Shepard with a harsh, yet leading hand. “You heard her, Commander,” he utters as he gently guides her arm over his shoulders once more. 

A wince leaves her lips as he stands this time. The aches are beginning to weigh on her. The way her tongue rests dryly in her mouth. The way each breath feels like a gamble - is it going to help more than hurt? She lets out another grunt as she leans heavily into Vega’s shoulder. 

“Medi-gel?” Shepard musters the words. They feel bare and unfamiliar. She can feel her dried lips crack with each word. 

“We’re almost to the landing zone,” Ash answers. Her face is sincerely concerned as she utters, “We’ll patch you up there.” 

Shepard nods her head. She can hold out, just a little bit longer, to ensure that her team makes it to the shuttle. “Is that complaining I hear, Commander?” James jokes as he limps his way behind Williams. She guides the troop to a balcony covered in trees and foliage. The perfect spot for Cortez to land and get them safely out. 

“Reapers must’ve done a number on you,” he continues with a smirk. Shepard pushes out a smile with the little energy she has left. “Not everyone can look this good after a beating like that,” she coughs out. The mundane taste of metal sprinkles across her tongue. 

Vega bustles out a laugh, tightening his grip onto her wrist. It is the first time she recognized the Lieutenant she knew back on the Normandy. “Still got it, Lola,” he utters with a beaming grin as he leads them onto the balcony with Williams’ cover. 

A booming sound vibrates the air as a blue shuttle decorated in Alliance insignia hovers perfectly beside the balcony’s ledge. Shepard manages to hold onto her smile, hoping to see a special someone on the other side of that door. 

The compressed air whizzes out of the side of the shuttle’s entrance. The first thing she sees is black dress shoes, shortly followed by the navy blues. She raises her eyes to see the Admiral. 

“Hackett,” she utters as James uses the majority of his strength to push her up and into the shuttle. He reaches for her hands, helping her onto a seat. Ash keeps guard, a classic silent and deadly spectre in the field. 

“Commander,” Admiral Hackett returns. His voice is solid and stern. She finds comfort in it, but she can’t deny how wide his eyes grew upon seeing her. She could feel that something was wrong - something in her body. She didn’t need her trusted comrades’ expressions to tell her that. 

Shepard pushes past those thoughts. She straightens her back against the cold metallic seats. Was it Cortez? Is he flying? The lighthearted feeling in her chest floats to the bottom of her throat. No offense intended for her lieutenants, but she certainly wants to see her nearest and dearest a tad bit more. 

Ash hops inside the shuttle flawlessly. Her gun is still tracking the last remaining scientists, workers, and doctors. She disarms once her sight is obstructed by the slow closing door. It hovers off into the orange sunset sky. 

James sits at Shepard’s side. She can see through her peripherals that he is assessing her injuries. His eyes scan over her body as she stares into Hackett’s pale face. Her eyes stern, her lips tight, her breathing quickens, and her heart beats faster than she thought possible. 

And yet, the Admiral turns around. He steps forward and into a huddled corner beside Ash. Shepard’s face falls. Her lashes lightly flutter as she stares into her melted boot. In an escape from overwhelming feelings, she notes the burnt hole and how the skin beneath it is an unfamiliar reddish pink. 

Sadly, Shepard was given less than a minute before a force rips through her diaphragm. She’s hunched over, despite the stabbing pain in her left side, with a closed fist at her mouth. Coughs fall from her lips, rocking her body to its core. 

With Vega’s steady hand at the base of her back, she was slowly able to recover. Her eyes immediately fall upon the two high school girls in the corner. Hackett and Williams stare at her in horror before gradually turning back into privacy. 

If Shepard could manage to say all the words, she would gladly ask, “Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on here?!” Alas, she is forced to prioritize her words. She leans into Vega’s side while sustaining her red lasered stare. “Medi-gel,” she whispers between her gritted teeth. 

James jumps at the word, almost as though it was on his list and he had forgotten. He dives into the medi-gel dispenser at the other end of the shuttle without another second passing. His movements call the attention of Williams and Hackett. “Grab her a water too,” the Admiral instructs with a nod. 

With a bottled water in hand, Vega returns to his seat. The crash pushes him into Shepard’s shoulder, causing a firm grunt. He hands the water to Shepard, before reaching back into the dispenser and retrieving Medi-gel in the form of an IV. His eagerness and quickness remind her of a golden retriever. 

James raises the needle, plastering a confident smile across his face. “I promise, I’ve gotten better, Commander,” he says with a breath. 

Rolling her eyes, Shepard extends her left arm. She watches as he approaches her with needle in hand and a tongue tightly held by his lips. He carefully injects the needle before holding up a bag of Medi-gel. She could feel it reaching her veins almost instantaneously. The cold liquid courses through, relaxing every ache and every pain. 

She leans deeper into her seat, resting the back of her head against the cold metal surface of the shuttle. She presses it deep against the hull, genuinely confused on how it doesn’t push past the solid. This feels incredible. She never truly understood the addicting need for red sand before, but holy shit did she know without a doubt now. 

“Thank you,” Shepard whispers as she closes her eyes and enjoys the sedative nature of the medication. 

A soft hand to her shoulder and Shepard awakes to Ash’s sweet, blushed face. They were still in the shuttle. Was it a short nap? She couldn’t tell with how deep her consciousness was laid to rest.  “Commander,” she whispers before leaning down onto her knee before her. “Can you tell us what happened?” 

Shepard moans, attempting to boost her energy before sitting up. She wishes she could take the world’s fattest cat nap, but duty calls. Her entire world turns upright alongside her rising torso. A soft clearing of her throat and she begins. 

“It was like Cerberus,” she struggles to keep her eyes open. “I woke up and I didn’t know where I was…” The words are starting to linger a bit more than she intends. 

“How did you get off the Citadel, Commander?” Hackett’s booming voice breaks the sound barrier just as he appears in the right side of Shepard’s view. “Bau, spectre,” she mumbles. “I - I asked for a medevac and … I can’t remember the rest.” 

Hackett and Williams exchange looks that piqued Shepard’s interest once more. Hackett then walked into the control room, changing the destination when speaking to the pilot. “When did you wake up?” Ash asks, blocking the view of the Admiral with her head. 

Shepard pulls back, knocking her head against the metallic wall. The crack feels like a blur. Her senses are beginning to waver - going in and out like pulsating bursts. “Minutes before you two came in,” she answers, turning to James. His brow remained thickly furrowed as he clenched his jaw. 

Ash sucks in a harsh breath through her nostrils. Her hand pats nicely against Shepard’s knee. “Get some rest, Commander,” she murmurs before standing and turning towards the Admiral. “Wait!” Shepard stops her from taking another step. The very call takes the breath right from her lungs. All of a sudden, she feels as though she ran a 10 meter dash. 

“Garrus,” she breathes. “W-where is he? Did he make it?” 

Shepard’s eyelids are growing heavier and heavier with each passing second. The pressure on her chest grows stronger and stronger. She can feel her body giving in to the Medi-gel, but she needed to stay conscious - just a little bit longer. Just long enough to hear the answer. 

“He’s alive,” Williams answers in a tone unfamiliar to the Commander. 

“Where…” The words fall with great effort. An effort that Shepard can no longer sustain. She reaches out for Ash’s hand.

Williams shudders back while sucking her lips in. She takes another soft breath, recollecting her composure, before speaking. “Get some rest, Shepard,” she instructs calmly as she walks towards Hackett and the pilot. 

Shepard drops her rejected hand flat against her thigh. The slamming of something hard crushes against the meat of her muscle. The first sinful sensation sent to her pain receptors since her IV. Her chin tucks to her clavicle. She exhaustingly follows the pain down to her leg. 

There she sees a mechanically constructed arm poorly connected just below her right elbow. Blood trickles down the sparkling clean  iridium rods. Her eyes widen in horror as she holds this hand, her hand, in front of her face. Her entire body grows cold. 

And in that moment, Shepard happily succumbed to the sedative.

note: happy n7 day! this is my first time celebrating! i completed the trilogy and truly experienced the best campaign ever. i was, needless to say, unwell when me3 ended. therefore, i began writing - hoping to find a way for garrus and shepard to reunite! but by the time i had this series idea, there was no way i could get all parts to their best by today. so i present to you the very first part of a series that probably won't come out until next year! hope you'll share some feedback!

okay, i should go.

⍟ nav ⍟ no-no plagiarism ⍟ series ⍟ requests open ⍟

banners @animatedglittergraphics-n-more, @poison-aesthetics

[befenvs3000f23]

Week 7 Blog Post

Where is music in nature? Where is nature in music?

As a follow-up (focus on the above two before you tackle this one), what song takes you immediately back to a natural landscape? What is the context? Share it with us – I would imagine many of these ideas may have similar underpinnings of a campfire, roadtrip, backpacking journey, etc.!

This week’s blog prompt is about music which is not something I’d regularly associate all that much with nature. Music is one of those very human constructs the majority of the time, listening to music of someone singing while someone else plays man-made instruments usually connects me more with other people rather than nature. That isn’t to say no music has a connection with nature, quite the opposite in fact! There are still songs that take me right into a nature loving mood whenever I listen to them. 

To answer the second part of this prompt first, I think nature can be found all throughout music. Songs with a heavy emphasis on acoustic sounds and more gentle lyricism are the ones that most commonly come to mind. Taking out the heavy electronic sounds of electric guitars and synthesisers can really make all the difference as those are instruments you would never really expect to hear out in nature. Acoustic guitars and other softer instruments can easily bring to mind the sound of someone strumming away around a campfire. Even if you’ve never experienced this situation firsthand you’ve almost certainly seen it on TV or in movies at some point, or at the very least noticed that these shows set outside civilization tend to have amore acoustic theme when they appear.

For the other part of this prompt, about where music is found in nature, well the obvious answer that probably jumped into everyone's mind was birdsongs! Whether it’s waking up to the soft chirping of finches or hearing a chickadee tweeting their tune throughout the day it’s almost impossible to not hear birds singing if you keep an ear out for them, even in more urbanised areas. It is sad to hear many fewer birds here in Guelph compared to back home outside of Owen Sound but areas like Preservation Park or the Arboretum are great refuges for these sounds to still exist! The trees do a great job of keeping out the sounds of cars and other traffic while the birds take centre stage with their songs. 

Beyond bird songs there’s so many more musical things to find out in nature. Frogs singing at night during the summer seasons are one of my personal favourites to listen to but other things like the gentle trickle of a creek combined with the other background noises of a forest take on a music-like quality for me. They may not have rhythms and beats but they achieve the same effect of relaxing me or at the very least taking my mind off things for a bit. This is another reason why I love going for walks when I’m too stressed, the sights and sounds of nature work together so well to make a familiar, yet comforting and unique setting.

To wrap things up with some music I wanted to share one song in particular that has always been associated with nature for me and that song is Far Away by José González. It basically hits all the points I mentioned about it being all acoustic sounds and the lyrics just speak of being, well, far away which is something I like about being in nature, being disconnected from the world for a bit.

[malleux]

Here’s my info for our trade

Fire Emblem male matchup plz (any of the games is fine)

Gender: cis female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: heterosexual ally

Zodiac: Capricorn

Appearance: 5’2 African American hourglass body (although I’m more top heavy if you know what i mean) black curly wavy hair blackish brown eyes chubby cheeks wears glasses sometimes (im far sighted so it’s usually when driving in class or at the theater)

Mbti: infj

Enneagram: 2w1

Personality: kind smart funny motherly responsible empathetic anxious emotional moody perfectionist helpful people pleaser caring compassionate nerdy curious protective polite respectful indecisive fearful nervous introvert shy awkward clumsy low self esteem low confidence (more pertaining to my talents or personality then my looks) sassy sarcastic (I’m mainly these things with people i feel comfortable with like friends or family) soft spoken cute (my friends think im cute because i can be pretty innocent plus I’m small physically)

Likes: animals books reading writing fantasy magic sci fi anime music video games friends alone time learning personality quizzes sweets and bread helping being a part of something bigger than myself

Dislikes: spiders loud sounds people who harm others people who don’t take others into consideration (like make insensitive jokes or don’t consider the comfort of others or are mean just cause they can) people i care about not caring for themselves (im a hypocrite on this i take care of everyone else but not me) not being listened to weird holes and patterns math and tests (I’m being tested for a math disability and i have test anxiety)

Love language:

Giving: acts of service gift giving and physical affection (if they’re ok with it)

Receiving: words of affirmation and physical affection (although i can be shy about it)

Extra: i pace a lot i sing when im alone i talk to myself im a picky eater (mainly with textures) i have a cat i have minor ehlers danalos (a hyper mobility disorder) but it doesn’t hurt me like it does my sisters i get abdominal migraines which is basically like a migraine but instead of headaches it’s nausea

Thank you

hi lovely! thank you for doing this! it’s been super fun. also, apologies if i get something wrong it’s been forever since i’ve played fe3h.

i match you with… ashe!

Ashe is genuinely one of the most caring and kind people you’d ever met. You met your first day at the monastery and accidentally tripped up the stairs going to the library. Ashe saw and immediately asked if you were okay, making sure you had no injuries and reassuring you if you were a little embarrassed.

You mentioned that you were new, and he offered to take you on a tour of the monastery. You’d already been given one by Seteth, but Goddess knows he was difficult to pay attention to, so you agreed. It was way more fun than studying, and Ashe’s company was a lot better than being alone in a new place.

You grew accustomed to having him by your side—whether it be in the Blue Lions classroom, the training arena, or the dining hall. You were inseparable.

Sure, the rest of the Lions were amazing company, but it just didn’t compare to Ashe.

You both kept the other Lions out of trouble, making sure they do their best in school and training as well as each other. Ashe uplifts you in every aspect of your life, whether it’s your academics, talents, training, or just being your best self. He’s genuinely your biggest supporter and this is still before you get together. Imagine how he is once you actually do.

Ashe is like, the sweetest boyfriend to exist. He wants to do almost everything for you just for the sake of taking care of you, but also respects your boundaries. No PDA or affection that is too much for you to handle. Keeps an eye out in case you do get shy, but thinks it’s super cute so he might do it on purpose here and there. Never too far, though.

It gets rough when Lonato dies, and even harder once the war begins. With Dimitri and the Professor’s return, the war becomes serious and your relationship is put under a lot of strain. There are stressful times and hard conversations about your lives on the line. But never once does he want to leave you or think that you’re not worth the added stress.

If anything, Ashe trains harder to be able to protect both him and you, even though he knows you’re fully capable of protecting yourself. You do the same, ready to risk your life to save him even though you promised him you wouldn’t.

Luckily for the both of you, it doesn’t come to that. The war is won, and it is time for peace.

You and Ashe find peace in Faerghus, where he takes over Lonato’s lordship and works closely with Dimitri and Byleth to rebuild Fodlan. You help him, supporting your now-fiancé to the best of your abilities.

Your life has been up and down since the day you met Ashe, but you wouldn’t change it for anything. Especially when you see the tears in his eyes as you walk down the isle, all of your former classmates and friends around you. Life is good.

[the-knight-of-the-stars]

Uma x Evie Platonic Soulmates AU

Uma had dreamed of her all her life. So many times she had lost count, she no longer tried to rationalize it, to look for an explanation. It had become a part of her.

At night, she felt her presence drawing closer, ready to visit her in her dreams. Like a light ghost that crossed the badly made ceiling of her mother's dining room, and slipped between the pointed woods, illuminating the sadness and darkness of the house with her sidereal presence, the glow of a world beyond this world. It called to her from the most primitive, deep, and beautiful part of her heart. Uma had never been afraid of it, it felt familiar, real. Much more intimate than the stiff sheets on her bed or the sound of her mother's voice ever felt. She felt at home.

Uma heard her come in whispers, while she was lying on her bed with her eyes closed, singing the story of a thousand worlds, between her verses she contained the secrets of the universe. It took Uma a long time to understand what those songs told, and even then, she would not have been able to explain what they were. A knowledge that did not seem sufficient for the limits of earthly reality. Just a breath of infinity.

And Uma would finally stand up to look at her, paralyzed. She always sat on the edge of the window, looking out into the night. A girl dressed in stars. And suddenly, being watched by Uma's eyes, she seemed to turn human. Dark and scrawny, cold naked shoulders and sharp face, thick black hair. Her sweet eyes seemed to search for someone through the firmament. She carried that cosmic song, dragging the energy of existence between her clothes.

Uma always watched her in a trance, invaded by a sadness that filled her lungs and left her breathless. It made her forget her life, her name. She only existed in that dark room, surrounded by stars, forever missing the black-haired girl. Forever looking at that blurred reflection, forever unable to touch her, to feel her, to get closer. Castaway in the looks, in a desire that could not be explained.

The years grew, flew over her head, and took Uma down many unexpected paths. And growing up, that supernatural loss ended up sticking to her heart, wrapping up each one of her actions. Perhaps that was the reason why Uma became such an insatiable creature, and she considered it a virtue. Power, however small, called to her in all its dark beauty. All the pain and love in her life always brought her back to the question, is this enough?

And each night the vision of her dreams reminded her that there was always more, that there were things that she had not yet reached, there were feelings that she had not yet felt, that there was a power that she had not yet reached. That she could do better. She could be better than the girls who harassed her outside the school, she could do better than working for hours among the grease in Ursula's restaurant, she could do better than that miserable island, those people with rotten hearts, and that hopeless life.

An ambition, a beacon in a world that had forgotten the sight of light. An ambition fueled by anger. And Uma's anger only grew and grew. The wrath of loss and helplessness, of trying and failing for a lifetime, the wrath of the damned, of the lost children of the world, wrath only those born in misfortune knew. The most human and noble anger of a heart that was much bigger, warmer, and unbreakable than she could have imagined.

And when the time came, and opportunity lay at the end of the road, Uma knew in her angry heart what she had to do. Villain, they would call her. A monster maybe. But it didn't matter in a world that had stolen her freedom since before she had been born. The stellar gaze of the girl of her dreams had told her so.

"You are more than this."

More than this darkness.

The vision of her dreams became a tiny fraction of her life, a dim reminder of her humanity that seemed to return only in the darkest moments of her life.

The first time Uma killed, she was surrounded by darkness as she had never known. She had had to, had had to defend herself. They had hurt Harry, her Harry. They had left her defenseless, they had taken her by the neck with their terrible hands. And she had to, to protect herself, to protect him. No one else would do it. A shot to the chest, Uma would listen to it until the end of her days.

Such was the cruelty of The Island. Such was the love in that godforsaken place. A battle to survive, a tragedy, a series of unthinkable decisions.

And in that shot, Uma once again felt divided between two incomprehensible planes. She was cowering in that damp alley, holding Harry's unconscious body in her hands, covered in others' blood, crying with all the strength of her young body. And at the same time, she was sitting on her bed surrounded by stars, still covered in blood, desperately calling out to the black-haired girl who kept looking for her from the window, out of earshot, out of reach.

But Uma could only understand the scope of that vision years later when she finally began to see the light at the end of the tunnel. She captured the king of Auradon, and tied him to her mast, and demanded her chance to be free. Vague promises were already not enough for her, her anger had given her clarity. She would have it all or nothing. The king seemed to understand, and Uma learned to respect him for it, but it wasn't enough.

And Mal, the traitor, came back to rescue him, bringing her friends with her, all traitors, all weak like her. Uma no longer had any reason to try to listen to them, to put up with their deceit. She could only fight, that was how things would be.

So she fought for her freedom as she had done all her life. And she felt the stars of her dreams give her the power to do it and take what was theirs, a chance to live.

But something got in her way. The traitors managed to fool her for a second, they were escaping, they managed to leave, and Uma pursued them, ruthlessly. Her mind was on Mal, her old enemy, but she couldn't reach her. Her sword collided with someone else's. A girl with black hair.

Uma froze in place, looking into eyes she recognized from the back of her mind. They disarmed her and stripped her naked until Uma was turned into the same girl in rags who looked at her waiting to be noticed, to be heard, waiting for the girl in the window to respond to her call. Evie, her name is Evie.

Evie stopped, shaken by the same foreboding, but she reacted faster, looking around for her friends. That snapped Uma back to reality. It reminded her why she was fighting, and who she was fighting against. It reminded her that the raven-haired girl had never looked back at her, always looking for someone else, like she was doing now. It was already too late...

-----------------------

Yeah, so, this was on my drafts fo so long. I honestly have no clue what to do with it or how to continue it, but I still quite like it so I thought I would release it into the wild in case anyone has any idea how to continue this story, because I certainly do not.

Any ideas, wonderful Descendants Fandom?

[pat-the-togorian]

Pat's Febu-Whump Day 2: Flinching

I’d been putting it off for as long as I could, but today was the day I had to fight. With a real training saber. 

The doorway to the sparring room loomed in front of me like it was a mile tall. I had no idea how I’d react to being thrown into a combat situation after so many street fights had gone wrong. Despite being tall compared to humans, I’d grown up living rough and hungry, leaving me small and weak by Togorian standards. 

I stood out like a sore thumb in sparring class, dwarfing the students who were half my age. My movements felt slow and sweeping compared to the humans’ quick, deft strikes. Even the training sabers looked and sounded intimidating as they growled through their arcs and jabs. At least I kept up with the gist of the class, my own saber giving off a low but powerful hum, comforting to feel through my arm. 

“Now, close your eyes and relax until you feel the hum of the saber throughout your entire body…” Aheka lectured from the front of the room. For a few moments as I did this, I felt such a deep calm and oneness with the Force and a sense of belonging here. I couldn’t keep the widening grin off my face, and Aheka smiled and nodded at me as I opened my eyes. “Now, turn and spar.” The peaceful feeling shattered. 

I looked down and sized up my opponent. He was a young Trandoshan, an even rarer sight in the Jedi Order than a Togorian. But even in my brief time in Aheka’s battalion, I had grown accustomed to rare sights. I myself was discovered and brought on board, past prime training age, due to Aheka’s “mother-to-absolutely-everyone” moral code. 

I smiled weakly at my opponent, who simply sneered and sent his training saber streaking towards my head. 

And I flinched and cowered away. 

“Hah! Hah! Hah!” the Trandoshan laughed cruelly, jabbing at my stomach. The training blade singed my fur and burned my skin, and I held back a hiss of pain. The memories of all the times I’d been kicked to the curb so easily flooded back to me—

“Tsset! That is enough!” Aheka barked. 

“Aww, I was just having a little fun…” He grumbled. 

“That’s what worries me,” Aheka retorted, calmly dangerous. 

Tsset sighed, and offered me a handshake. I did my best to reciprocate, despite how my face burned with embarrassment, and my eyes refused to meet his. It was hard to imagine Tsset defending the defenseless and upholding the vows of the Jedi Order. But then again, to look at me, a lot of people would say the same thing. Maybe our occasional duels would help me fill the gaps in my technique, where rapid movements were nearly non-existent. 

“All right, everyone, your partners during this duel will remain your sparring partners for the rest of the class!” 

Oh Force, please no. 

@febuwhump

Help Pat get through the month: Ask @formeralleycat (or pile on the whump if you must...)

[entar1]

213-880-9910 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Unlocking the Magic of 213-880-9910: The Most Engaging Number in Real Estate

If you’re anywhere near Los Angeles and whisper “213-880-9910,” don’t be surprised if someone around you perks up and starts talking real estate faster than you can say “location, location, location.” It’s more than just a phone number; it’s a legend in its own right—a direct line to Corey Chambers, the man who’s changing how real estate is bought, sold, and imagined.

But what’s the secret sauce behind these 10 digits? Why do both new homeowners and veteran investors have this number practically tattooed on their palms? More than 27,000 home sellers, buyers, renters, landlords and investors have been helped by our growing team of real estate agents and financial technology specialists. Join us as we dive into the world of 213-880-9910 and unravel the allure of this seemingly ordinary string of digits.

1. The Man Behind the Number

Corey Chambers is not your typical broker—he’s a digital pioneer and real estate innovator who’s woven technology, personal touch, and a bit of magic into every transaction. Known for his unique mix of old-school reliability and futuristic vision, Corey built his real estate empire with a focus on making clients feel as if they’re not just closing a deal, but embarking on a journey.

Corey Chambers’ 5-star reviews read like glowing testimonials from a fan club of satisfied clients who can’t stop singing his praises. From first-time homebuyers marveling at his patience and guidance to seasoned investors lauding his unparalleled market knowledge and negotiation prowess, his reviews showcase a diverse array of success stories.

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His approach is refreshing in a world where customer service has been largely replaced by chatbots and recorded messages. But it’s not just about answering calls—it’s the way he does it. Whether you’re an anxious seller or a curious buyer, Corey has a knack for putting you at ease and infusing excitement into every conversation.

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4. The Legends and Lore of 213-880-9910

Like any great number, 213-880-9910 has its share of stories. Rumor has it that once, a single call turned a small-time property flipper into a multi-millionaire after Corey tipped them off to a hidden hotspot in the city’s underdeveloped outskirts. Another story involves a celebrity client who dialed in from a plane mid-flight and closed a deal on a penthouse sight-unseen—just because Corey made it sound irresistible.

But perhaps the most remarkable part of this number’s lore is its consistency. While trends come and go, and algorithms change the game every few years, 213-880-9910 has remained a steady beacon, providing reliable guidance and results.

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“I want people to know that when they call me, they’re not just getting a broker,” Corey says, smiling. “They’re getting a partner, an advisor, and maybe even a friend.”

Clients often highlight his ability to demystify complex real estate jargon, making every step feel easy and empowering. But it’s not just about the transactions; Corey’s exceptional service goes beyond the sale—many mention how he’s remained a trusted advisor and a friend long after the deal is done. With words like “life-changing,” “dedicated,” and “visionary” peppering his feedback, it’s clear that Corey doesn’t just close deals—he creates lifelong relationships built on trust, excellence, and results that truly exceed expectations.

So, the next time you find yourself wondering how to take your real estate journey to the next level, remember that help is just a call away. Punch in those digits 2-1-3-8-8-0-9-9-1-0 and prepare to be enchanted. Because it’s not just about reaching Corey Chambers; it’s about unlocking possibilities you didn’t know were waiting.

AND FOR THE TRULY ADVENTUROUS, GIVE IT A RING YOURSELF—YOU MIGHT JUST WALK AWAY WITH MORE THAN A PHONE CALL.

Rate and review the L.A. Loft Blog, Corey Chambers or any Entar associate. Fill out the online form.

Copyright © This free information provided courtesy Entar.com with information provided by Corey Chambers, Broker DRE 01889449. We are not associated with the seller, homeowner’s association or developer. For more information, contact 213-880-9910 or visit WeSellCal.com Licensed in California. All information provided is deemed reliable but is not guaranteed and should be independently verified. Text and photos created or modified by artificial intelligence. Properties subject to prior sale or rental. This is not a solicitation if buyer or seller is already under contract with another broker.

213-880-9910 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 

Corey Chambers Real Estate Newsletter October 2024 | The California Home

[there-was-a-hole-here-itsgonenow]

Thank you for tagging me and my posts here!! I am in love with the connections you drew for everything you have (so much excellence on the use of blue in-show for the UD + Mike’s playlist—YES!!!!) and connecting your post to others’ posts! You have so many articulate thoughts strung together!! As always, you have amazing perspectives that add up!!!

First, practically foaming over “Rhymes that keep their secrets” + Will’s own rhyme “Without heart, we’d all fall apart.” How do I compliment your brain for that enough??? Because that has given me the chills. We already have Will perfectly in-frame and in-focus in s3’s finale when Lucas and Max sing “Rhymes that keep their secrets.” And then his own rhyme, which includes the heart and withholds the truth of his sexuality, is part of his own kept secrets!! It is the perfect association!!!!

I had totally forgotten the heart-rainbow-cloud having writing on it at all, and I definitely agree that it says “If you can dream it, you can do it.” Which is so exciting to me to go into for ST as a former Disney World employee! Again I say, Figment being there in that shot with the yellow and blue curtain with green outside and CHIRPING BIRDS (fantastic catch!) says SO MUCH for ST s5.

With gaybirdgate (fly a fantasy!!!) being discussed here, alongside Dream a Little Dream of Me, I have to point directly to certain lyrics from Figment’s Journey into Imagination that go so perfectly well with both for your post:

“Each of us imagines different things/ From just a sound your mind has wings!”

“Your mind sees more than what your eyes see. Your sense of sight can make your fancy fly.”

“A dream can be a dream come true. With just that spark from me and you.”

The core of Disney comes from dreaming dreams, creating the gateway for those dreams to exist, and then innovating them.

“Fly a fantasy/ Dream a dream/ And what you see will be” correlates with all the lyrics I pulled. You take your senses, put them to use in-mind/in imagination by letting them freely fly, and put that into being. That dream comes true with a spark ‘from me and you’—from Will and Mike specifically: ‘the duo with huge imagination’ as you put it!! They will manifest what their minds see!

I’m going to include a few more perfectly relevant Walt Disney quotes for dreaming and creating/manifesting those dreams:

“All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.”

“First, think. Second, dream. Third, believe. And finally, dare.”

The last sections of both these quotes are so important for Will and Mike and the parts they will not only play in bringing down Vecna, but also in pursing and daring to be together.

Mike is a character who we associate with the blue color the most, right? Also, blue is kinda associated with the Upside Down and Vecna because of that blue light we see there.

Blue is the basic color of mlm pride flag. It was created in 2019. And you know what? In russian slang голубой (which is translated as “blue”) means “gay" and it originates from the '60s.

Almost every outfit Mike wears in s4 is blue.

credits to @lesbianmindflayer from your fellow subscriber who try not to miss any video analysis! <3 Also, I feel you'll be quite excited about the following thing, which is the origin and usage of that slang in relation to the gaybirdgate too.

The phrase “fly, doves, fly” used to warn gay men in russia reminded me of the moment when Dustin navigates Murray in s3. “Fly right, Bald Eagle. Fly right.”

Mike is also associated with an eagle because of the poster he had in his basement and later gave to El.

Eagle is a symbol of America. America -> Mike. I don't want to go in-depth here, because that's the whole other thing, but I'm adding the links on Nintendo and Americantendo theory, which I wrote based on @nadia-zahra 's observations and my posts about Erica ("you can't spell America without Erica") for those who're interested what is the connection. BUT the gaybirdgate is not closed yet.

Nintendo theory;

Nintendo 2.0 (Americantendo);

@doriandrifting 's post, connected to that theory.

Erica will take Murray's place in s5;

Erica is level 14 in D&D;

Erica & the spaceship;

Erica & "I Want To Break Free" easter egg;

Erica & opening the door;

Erica & Tina's Apple Jack's party (+Murray's The Bald Eagle poster analysis);

The phrase голубая мечта (translated as "blue dream") caught my attention. The expression appeared under the influence of the famous play (with a very fairy-tale-like setting -> "It looks like a fairytale") "The Blue Bird" written by Maurice Maeterlinck in 1908. The blue bird is a symbol of happiness that has been in the home all along; the children simply have not recognized and valued it.

As we already know, dreams are one of the key themes and focus in ST, especially in season 4 with “Dream a Little Dream of Me”, but let’s not forget about “Never Ending Story.”

Not only has it a line "fly a fantasy," but "dream a dream, and what you see will be." What is Mike’s blue dream? Of what is he dreaming secretly? Or better say, of who? It’s a rhetorical question for bylers. But the GA will find out too, with the help of Vecna and his mirror (aka the visions he shows to his victims of who they really are). The answer is upon a rainbow. Literally.

In the picture of Mike's room I pinned above, you can also notice a heart with a heart, cloud, rainbow and something written on it.

"Rhymes that keep our secrets will unfold behind the clouds, and there upon a rainbow is the answer to a neverending story." "Without heart, we'd all fall apart." Will's words rhyme and Mike is Will's heart.

@angelwithnightmares 's guess is it may say If you can dream it, you can do it" (Walt Disney's quote) and doesn't it connect the dots? Taking into account @madwheelerz manifestation theory and how Mike (the writer and the DM) & Will (the artist) -- the duo with huge imagination manifested the events in ST because of their dreams nightmares feels very real to me.

PLUS, I'm tagging @there-was-a-hole-here-itsgonenow and adding links to her Disney’s Figment the dragon posts here and here, because HE IS IMAGINATION. We can spot him in the Bingham house below Suzie’s window. When we hear the birds are singing outside. Behind the yellow & blue curtain.

What made me do this post may you ask? Listening to Mike's playlist. There are two songs with the word “blue.”

#12: “Can’t Shake That Feeling” by Grum

#33: “Blue Monday” by New Order

And plenty of songs about the dreams too. I counted seven of them.

#7:

#13:

#15:

#17:

#25:

#27:

#47:

[eldritch-spouse]

*Ahem*

Usually, when a lord of Hell walks the surface, it's more than enough reason to hide.

They're impulsive, exceptionally despicable beings who only exist to exert and spread their sin, beacons of indulgence. Who knows what will happen once one has their eyes on you?

The problem is, you can't exactly stay out of sight when said lord has their eyes on everyone.

Rinx fascinates you. Well, he also scares you a great deal, but you're mostly in awe of his mere existence. This "icon", as you've come to understand, treats the surface like his own personal Walmart. Everything's for free. And when it's not, he has enough gold and varied currencies to make sure he can have it anyway.

Of course, no demon is above taking what they want.

His servants, carrying near endless "wishlists" for their master, all scrambled to fetch their goals. Items of great value, thingamajigs of little relevance, people that fit certain descriptions. You might have been the unluckiest of them all, fast enough to lose the small yet crafty pink demoness chasing you down, only to run straight into the- Well... Given the height difference, you basically bonked head first into his...

Yeah.

Anyhow. You had the massive misfortune of a charging bull who essentially ran off a cliff, jolting the tall greed lord into an elated coo, picked up like a kitten within seconds as the odd green creature squealed about you being just the cutest thing!

And that's essentially the basic gist of how you ended up here.

Here being the icon's palace. Wrangled out of your clothes, bathed and forced into scandalous green silks for the greedy green bastard. Really, you could have struggled more, sure, but where would that get you? You know for a fact that you're in Hell. While some other poor saps had the privilege of being carried within vehicles, you were unfortunately cradled "home" like a pooch, eyes uncovered to the depraved landscapes around you. His servants may be on the small side, but they're still demons. They have claws, sharpened teeth, horns- You wouldn't last that long in a fight with them if it came down to that.

Yet, even if you did- Not only would you have to find a way out of this maze of a palace, you'd also have to survive in the streets of the greed ring and somehow find your way to the surface. The chances of that working out are so small you'd need a microscope to ponder on them.

So you guess you're a royal purse dog now.

Well no, the term's a bit gross when you consider the context. You wouldn't dress a poor pooch like an erotic dancer.

You know exactly what type of pet you're destined to be and you're not one bit thrilled about it.

The pink demon girl that has been leading you down the long halls, only ever occasionally glancing back at you, stops by golden-rimmed doors and motions for you to enter. You sigh.

" He's in there, isn't he? "

" Mhm. Please go ahead. " She insists, addressing you by some pointless honorary title.

" I have a name, you know? " You just want to stall.

The smaller monster gives you an odd look. " I prefer not to get attached... "

Oh, you hate the sound of that.

" Please, go inside. " She sounds exasperated.

With a barely-muffled whisper-scream, you push the doors ajar and do as told.

The room is dark, bathed in red, you can barely see anything. The only source of light is a very dim chandelier over Rinx's bare figure kneeling on what you assume must be a velvet carpet. Nothing is left to the imagination. An odd, gargantuan yet elegant form staring eagerly at you. Even more eager is what's poking out between those legs.

Everything is happening at a pace much too quick for you to process.

" Ah yes! My finest find today... " The icon sing-songs, tail swishing wildly, a massive clawed finger curling in invitation. " Come come! "

You don't, toying with the hems of your ridiculous outfit.

A soft chuckle sounds. " Aww, don't be shy now. "

Why is he hard already? Was he fantasizing about this? About you? You're not sure if he thinks you're that hot or if he just happened to want a human for himself regardless of who they may be.

" You look gorgeous, my little treasure. Won't you let me take a closer look? "

A charmed, tentative step forward is all it takes.

Long arms extend and large meaty hands grasp you by the waist, dragging you uncomfortably close to the naked demon lord. You're redder than a ripe cherry.

A claw frames your chin.

" I think you'll quite like the palace life. "

[haileyywrites]

The Poet & His Muse - Venti/Barbatos x gn!reader

"Once upon a time - there lived a Poet in Mondstadt. The Poet loved his music, but not more than he loved his Muse. The Muse sang of love while the Poet played, until the day his Muse sang no longer..."

Mondstadt was the city of freedom and of poets - many who would come to be known throughout it's rich history. However, none were more famous than the young lovers simply known as "The Poet" and "The Muse".

The Poet was rumored to have been Lord Barbatos himself, for he could play the most beautiful songs imaginable with his shining golden lyre. But the Poet began lacking inspiration to play at all, let alone something new. He would walk and glide through the lively city, yet nothing would capture him. Not even the worship and love of his people.

At night he draged himself to the tavern where he ordered a drink of Dandelion Wine - which he savoured through the night. He stared mindlessly into the liquid, as if trying to find answers within. His attention would be brought back into reality as the once loud and lively tavern became dead silent, before a voice that could only be described as angelic began to sing.

He - like everyone else, turned his body to face the person making such beautiful noise and was simply in awe of the sight. Not only was their voice heavenly, the person themselves was a sight to behold and he could do nothing but watch with hearts in his aqua green eyes. Completely captured in the lovely tune.

While the Muse sang more beautifully than the gods themselves - no one would disagree with that, but everyone could feel something missing from their music. The Muse wasn't ignorant to that either, but like the Poet, could not find the thing they were missing.

The Muse was not blind to the enchanted gaze of the Poet, for some reason his intense gaze did not make them feel uneasy. Quite opposite infact, as they gazed back just as much and after the performance they approached him. He kindly offered them a drink of his favorite wine, which they accepted.

Such a simple meeting and yet it felt like fate. From the moment their eyes locked from across the room a connection had been made. They got along perfectly and the hours the spent that night simply talking felt like mere moments, as if time had stopped or ceased to exist whilst together.

After the tavern keeper closed the bar and sent them on their way they took a stroll through the city before the Poet brought the Muse home. He took hold of their hand, but gave them an opportunity to pull away should they wish to do so. When they didn't - he laid a sweet kiss upon the back of their hand with a cheeky smile forming on his lips.

They said goodnight to each other that night, but not goodbye as they were sure they would meet again - and they would. They found themselves always going to the same place at the same time or bumbing into each other by accident. They also found each other to be the missing thing - the missing element in their music.

Soon, no matter where you were in Mondstadt you could hear the lyre being played while a song was sang. When following the sound, a young couple could be found, the Poet and his Muse. Their eyes full of love and adoration to each other, the lyrics clearly meant for each other. It was almost sickeningly sweet, almost.

Sadly, such happiness was not destined to last. A world such as this was cruel indeed to take the one and only true love away from the Anemo Archon. Such a long time he had lived already, as he was one of the few who managed to survived the Archon War. All without a shoulder to cry on or a hand to hold onto.

No one knew if the Poet ever told the truth of his being to the Muse, but he certainly had to have come to terms with easily outliving them at some point. Not that he would expect it happen like this or this soon...

The Muse's passing was mourned by all who lived in Mondstadt and even those who were lucky enough to have heard them sing during their short visit to the City of Freedom. The sky was dark is it too wept for them and it's tears would not stop pouring for the weeks to come, nor did anyone else's.

The Poet was at a loss, unable to even look at his beloved lyre. The Muse was his music and his happiness, his music had always been about them - even before he himself knew it to be true. He wished to drown his sorrows away in the tavern, but was unable to even set a foot inside. Let alone drink his favorite wine, for all things reminded him of his Muse...

In the end the Poet would leave his beloved City of Freedom and wander the world. This is where the story ends, but not where his story ended. As he would slowly heal from his grief, with the help of an old friend. And, when he was ready and satisfied with his journey he would return back as a poet known as Venti and recite poetry with his trusty lyre in hand. He was known for the "Tale of The Poet & His Muse".

And though his heart still ached for his Muse, he learned to live a life with happiness as he had learned to appreciate the simple things in life and how fleeting it truly was. But he also became more guarded against other people, not letting closer than casual acquaintance's.

The ending is kinda bad? I didn't really know how to end this... Sorry! :') It also got kinda long but I personally loved writing this and am happy enough with how it turned out!

It was pointed out that it had female pronouns, I'm terribly sorry for these mistakes! If you find any more please point them out - thanks!