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kurimiaki · 10 months

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Without a name, things tend to get lost. [III]

Heartslabyul’s terms of endearment

Octavinelle’s set is here!

Content warning: dark content, toxic relationships, manipulation, verbal and physical abuse, forced intimacy

Riddle Rosehearts

By his word, Riddle truly had tried to remain amicable and open-minded for this date.

Too-rigid, too-coddling, too-stuck for time, too-unbending. You had tried to impress upon him the importance of fluidity, fun for fun’s sake, and a sense of ease which he has yet to fully feel on these types of romantic excursions. It’s difficult to entirely will himself away from ironclad routine and tradition, the dating guides he poured himself over in the library, what to do and what to avoid, the formulaic manner in which he wants to pursue your hand.

It’s all in the effort to satisfy you. To guarantee your partnership, commitment, and adoration. But it’s a hearty struggle for Riddle to live easily— rules are foolproof and unshakable, and shan’t allow his unease and insecurity to slip through the cracks. The fluid, lackadaisical attitude you wish him to assume certainly will, though.

He’d suggested a scarcely-populated and unfrequented cafe for a reason, and you’d vetoed his vote without care, adamant on lugging him over to some sleek new burger shop that recently opened on Sage’s Island, flush with people.

People he’d wanted to avoid, for fear of them robbing him of your attention. The things he’d wanted to speak about were overshadowed by your gushing over inconsequential things— the quirkily named menu items, their gargantuan milkshakes, that girl’s crazy boots, and, hey, was that an RSA student? Menial things, of no conversational value, void of substance. Things that deviated too far from his idealized date, that left him unsure and output. He had complacently nodded along, feigned a smile, and chewed up as much of his order as he could manage; but of course, change takes time to adapt to, and Riddle was less than content.

On your way back to campus, following along an isolated path cloaked in brushes and weeping willows, you become familiar with the consequences of pushing your boyfriend too far. Your takeout bag strewn about graveled ground, slushed and ruined strawberry milkshake soaking into dirt mounds and rocks, Riddle goes as far as to stomp down on the remains of your burger. “Was that fun for you, darling?” He jabs, emphasizing the last bit with a sneer, digging a finger hard on your sternum. You gape, grappling as to what could’ve spurred on such a drastic shift in his mood, but Riddle speaks for you.

“You’re a selfish little thing, aren’t you? You don’t think. Not about my preferences, my plans. Being seen fraternizing with you in public— alone, mind you— was a giant leap on its own. A risk.”

“I do try to be lenient, my dear, but all you do is take. You’ve even monopolized my time. See?” He lifts his wrist, removing his other hand from your sternum and unsheathing his casual dress shirt, showing you a watch. He taps the glass two times, clinking it with his fingernail, and sneers at you; so out of sorts, one might think you’d cussed out his mother. You open your mouth, the beginnings of a ‘how was I supposed to know that’ lingering on your lips, but he grasps your shirt collar and drags you down to him.

“If you’re so keen to make this relationship work, do right by me. Listen. That’s all I ask, darling.”

Riddle is not well-suited to the use of cheesy nicknames. Even something as benign as ‘my dear’ has the potential to throw him off kilter for his foreseeable future, utterly wrought with embarrassment and fear of coming on too strong. At his calmest, you’re not likely to receive an affectionate endearment from him— it’s much too unbecoming for a dorm leader to openly show favor like that, anyway. His inexperience is ultimately covered by the claim of ‘not wanting to be a biased ruler,’ which, quite blatantly, is an ineffective lie. To his credit, Riddle does try to be sweet on you. He has repeatedly practiced utilizing the name ‘darling’ in the isolated comfort of his dorm room, though he often finds himself flustered when merely conversing with a pillow.

But he’s fully in his element when buzzing with rage, isn’t he? He may not be the most articulate, gurgling and stomping around like a fussy toddler, threatening you with shattered teacups and sullying your dorm room with his tantrum: but he is free of inhibition and shame. Riddle will scream at you for allowing your grades to slip (it’s a burden to monitor you, you know, but he loves you well enough to take the task), but at least his blow is softened with the use of darling— albeit weaponized as a taunt, lilted and demeaning. In his furious blowouts, he’ll often take pause to berate you as if you were a fussy child yourself, cooing and verbally stooping to your (lower, in his distorted image) level, asking ‘do you understand that well enough, my dear?’ when your only transgression is running five minutes behind his predetermined schedule.

Riddle strictly calls you: darling, my dear. These are the only endearments he’s familiar with; he hasn’t been exposed to romantic media in the same way Ace has, for reference, and isn’t well-versed with what’s on trend to call one’s lover.

Trey Clover

“And now he won’t even answer me in class, Trey. And we sit next to each other!” You huff, throwing your arms into the air, growing increasingly irate, your every suppressed frustration bubbling up with ease in his presence. The beginnings of tears prick your eyes, and you feel your throat swell shut. To have an unresponsive group partner will always be an unbearable frustration— especially in Trein’s class, with his sink or swim curriculum, his rigid syllabus, his unwavering expectations. If your classmate doesn’t cooperate soon, you’ll fail.

You only wish you were headstrong enough to force him to comply.

All you can do, at present, is vent your every frustration with this situation to your sweet, doting, attentive boyfriend.

“I don’t know what to do…” You mumble, leaning against the cool kitchen countertop. You’re thankful that he’d entertain you so late in the night; not a soul can be heard in the surrounding rooms. It’s mostly silent, save for your ranting, the kitchen’s hum of electricity, the nervous shuffling of your feet.

Save for Trey’s worn sigh.

Exhausted, almost sounding more irate than even you, his mere exhale startles you straight. Is he mad? Eyes wide, worry seeps into you. Have you spoken too much? Had you even asked about his day? Are you being inconsiderate? You stutter something incoherent, but before your worn brain can muster something appeasing to say, Trey speaks up.

He lifts his glasses to rub his temple, green hair slightly tussled. He’s tired, and you certainly aren’t easing his tense mind.

“And what do you want me to do about this?” He starts, uncharacteristically monotone. Yellow eyes settle on you, unblinking, and you avert your gaze. Wholly intimidated, cowed into silence. When he wills it, Trey’s perfectly capable of sucking all the air out of a room.

Your sweet boyfriend speaks for you.

Pacing forward, he’s suddenly before you, so close the tips of your slippers touch. “I told you that one’s trouble, didn’t I?” Trey lightly chides, still cooly composed. ‘That one,’ being your fickle partner; the one your boyfriend did, indeed, warn you about. More than once, insisting that you inquire with your ever-intimidating professor about a group change, and to no avail. “Didn’t I?” He reiterates, pressing you for a reaction. You look away, a mix of scandalized and ashamed, called out on an error you hadn’t felt was too egregious to make. You thought you could handle it. You still can.

“Look at me, buttercup.” He implores, cupping your cheek with one hand and facing you to him— but, for fear of what you’ll find, and shame for the presumably selfish manner in which you’ve acted, your minor betrayal, you keep your eyes averted.

But your sweet boyfriend doesn’t like that, doesn’t enjoy offering his tenderness and receiving none of your compliance in return. Trey squeezes your cheeks so harshly his nails dig into your cheekbone, and you gasp, eyes immediately flickering to peer up into his.

“You know you can always trust me, right?”

You nod. Faintly feeling like he’d just grip your cheeks and do it for you, if you hadn’t.

“Take his name off of your research paper, tell Trein what’s been going on, and own up to it. It’s your work, sweetheart.” Thick fingers loosen their hold, and a soreness stabs the meat of your face, but you refrain from soothing yourself. He brushes hair from your eyes, and leans in to kiss your forehead.

“If you’d just listen, we wouldn’t have hiccups like this, would we?”

It’s a tad uncharacteristic for him, but still expected, given his pastimes and upbringing— Trey utilizes sickeningly sweet nicknames to when referring to you. He feels he’s being unoriginal when he calls you things like ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’, largely because he’s playing it safe and sticking to what he knows: what his parents call each other. It’s a secure bet to call you the aforementioned endearments, normal things like ‘pumpkin,’ but Trey does have a tendency to let pure sugar drip from his lips when he’s cross with you, using grossly saccharine names so as to glaze over the pure venom he’s fully capable of dishing your way when it’s warranted.

His idea is that, the sweeter his words, the more willing you’ll be to acquiesce to the severe alterations he wants to impose upon your relationship, which will ultimately bind you to him. Because he’s so articulate and persuasive in the manipulation he does, working the rest of your peers out to be these wholly volatile creatures so as to solidify his position as the sole recipient of your love, this strategy is incredibly effective. He plays a long game, planting little seeds of doubt in your own capabilities whenever you have the smallest slip-ups, hinting to the possibility that, yeah, maybe you’re just not cut out for an environment like this, that it’s in your best interests to quit, save yourself this cutting mental strain. It ultimately snowballs into a bigger issue, wherein you’re constantly left too-hesitant to pursue bigger feats in your school life, doubting your intellect and hard work thus far, feeling deep inadequacy in areas that you may not even struggle in. He’s at the root of it. And he’ll be there to soothe and sway you to him when you stray too far from the path you’d set for yourself, falling completely behind.

Trey doesn’t use lover’s nicknames too freely with you, though. They’re an indulgence, and something he typically doles out as a reward, somewhat micro-dosing you with doting words when you do what’s expected of you, and unprompted. Holding his hand, never straying too far from his lunch table, not growing too needy, listening to him (at bare minimum)— even going as far as to check up on your flossing and treat you with a ‘good job, honey,’ if you stay consistent. Like you’re some child.

Additionally, he’ll wean you from his tenderness should he feel the PDA gravitates too much attention to the both of you. He’s got no qualms in publicizing your relationship, and is in favor of doing so— but, as with most things, Trey is partly wary of exposing too much of himself, and this applies to you. It’s a mix of possessiveness and a desire to keep the raw parts of his life squared away, untouchable, and unseen. You’re among those things.

Trey loves to call you: sweetheart, honey, buttercup, muffin, sweetness

Cater Diamond

Cater wrenches you to him, hands spread over the expanse of your back, rubbing you up-and-down, as if attending to a distraught animal. The evening sun gleams through the club room’s windowpanes, kisses your cheeks, bathes you and Cater in a warm, honeyed veil. You’re both sat snugly atop a pile of pillows used to form a makeshift couch, snack wrappers littering the floor, the room left vacant with both Lilia and Kalim having long darted off to attend to their own dorms. Your boyfriend gives up on his half-assed massage and wraps an arm around your waist, curling over you and stuffing his face in the crook of your neck.

It’s intimate, it’s sweet, and it makes you flush. His earring rests cooly against your flushed cheek, and a smile tugs on the corner of your lips. It’s nice.

Even still, what he’d just said bordered on creepy. Invasive, possessive, and utterly strange, coming from him. In good conscience, you can’t let it slide.

“Cater?” You push, trying to nudge his head away from you, but he’s fully leaning on you now, his nose nuzzling into your jaw, this close proximity lightly frying your nerves. “Can you just— can we talk for a second? I don’t want to glaze over that.”

A little sigh comes from him at that, warm breath spreading over the expanse of your neck, making you shiver. “Glaze over what, cutie?” He croons into you, not sounding quite as irked as you anticipated he’d be from the interruption. If anything, he only squeezed your midriff a bit tighter, and you couldn’t exactly complain. It’s nice to be held like this.

Why don’t you quit your club for me?

You take a beat of silence, hoping that he’ll remember the jarring little tidbit he’d dropped on you not twenty minutes ago, his phrasing then disregarded and brushed away by the crushing gravity of Kalim’s excitement at the prospect of your participation in their band-snack-club… thing.

For me, he’d said. It’s not too weird, is it? He wants to spend more time with you. You’re already skipping over your obligations to your own club every other week to be with him, urged on by his club’s cumulative persuasiveness and heady enthusiasm, the ploy that Cater just really, really wants to see you more. That it’s boring without you there. It’s sweet that he’s so insistent, you think, but a thing of doubt gnaws at your brain. A bit of queasiness, at how easily he’d suggested you disregard what’s so important to you.

It’d be fine thing to say, had this not been the fifth time Cater’s brought it up, disregarding the five respective times you’ve already shot this suggestion down.

You like your club. You like what you do, and you really like the people in it. And you love Cater, of course, but you can’t deny the twang of uselessness you feel at wasting two hours to simply lounge and snack and sit in silence as Lilia mercilessly shreds an electric guitar, the sense that you’re misplaced, that there’s another place you’d rather be.

You’re queasy because of his insistence. You’re queasy because he won’t let up, and Cater seems just a little more annoyed every time he brings it up, as if he’s fed-up with some unreasonable display of defiance you’re putting up, that this is the end-all decision to the fate of your relationship.

You could very well be overthinking.

This could be no big thing.

He’s mouthing your neck at this point, warm lips lingering over your pulse. The hints of teeth he’d let roam your neck have you squirming by now, arms twitching to shoot up and brush him away from you, but you resist, indulging him in indulging you. It takes a moment to gather your bearings, find a modicum of mental fortitude, but you persist in your interrogation, wanting to quit the creeping discomfort that’s been nagging at you for weeks now.

“Cater, I’m not— I’m not comfortable coming over here anymore. After school, it’s… It’s better for me to do my own thing. I think. My club relates a lot to the field I want to go into, you know? It’s not optional for me.”

He doesn’t stop kissing at you. He doesn’t show a hint of concern to you, not baring a glimpse into what he’s thinking, and you’re getting a bit scared, to be fully honest with yourself. You want to be honest with him.

“And… I dunno. You’ve been really weird lately? Not, like, creepy or anything, just a little off. You don’t open up to me as much, and I feel like something’s wrong.” You explain, still letting him lean into you, wringing your hands in your lap as his lavishing persists, not once acknowledging your words. Taking a second to open room for an addition, you sigh as you’re met with silence, the movement of his lips not once abating. So you continue. “I just think—“

Cater bites your neck without an ounce of forewarning. A sensitive spot, the place he likes to tease his fingers over when he plays with your hair, that he knows can cripple you with a single chaste kiss. He bites down there, and hard. You stifle a cry, overwhelmed with a conflicting wave of pain and minute pleasure that does not abate. Confusion and fear overwhelms it all.

Your hand jolts to cover the aching impression the instant Cater lifts away from you, and you quickly turn away to face him, face twisted up in shock and slight discomfort at the jarring action, feeling quite miffed and, frankly, betrayed that he’d do something like that without asking. For biting you so hard. Hard enough for tears to prick your eyes, which, as you observe Cater lean back on the pillows with boyish ease, you’re faintly certain has caused his smile.

Lax and nonplussed with your shock and awe, the hint of trepidation that lingers around you, Cater spreads his arms, opening himself for another hug. As the seconds tick by, the longer you remain stagnant in your disarray, the more impatient he becomes. He leans forward, taking initiative, wrapping you again in his embrace and falling back with you.

Your boyfriend lets out a little ‘oomph’ upon contacting with the pillows, chuckling a little— so lackadaisical in nature, you could mistake this rendezvous for the same teasing tousling he likes to do in his dorm room, not the serious conversation you’d intended it to be. Why won’t he take you seriously?

His hand soothes over your head, lightly brushing over your baby hairs, and a little kiss meets your earlobe.

“Let’s just be quiet for a little while, yeah? Take it easy. You think too much, babydoll,” He coos, but not without a twinge of warning to his tone, sterner than he’s ever been with you. You go a bit rigid.

“You shouldn’t wear yourself out with useless stuff like that. Everything’s just peachy, isn’t it?”

Out of every Heartslabyul member listed here, Cater uses endearments with the most frequency. It’s expected of him!

He experiments with your nicknames like one would throw darts, constantly changing his flow of speech and choice words, shooting either to hit or miss. He’s not super in-tune with your likes and dislikes— it’s more so how his peers react to the nicknames he lavishes you in. If hearing him call you ‘booga-bear’ makes his dorm mates crumple up and cringe, he’s not likely to ever use it again. Whatever is popular to call one’s beau online, he’s likely to start calling you. It’s very impersonal, quite obviously only intended to build him up as the sweetly doting boyfriend he aims to be, superficial enough to throw you off. But he doesn’t exactly want that, either, so he’ll ease up a bit if he finds it makes you increasingly wary to accept his attempts at PDA, sticking to what’s tried and true— babydoll. It’s equal parts endearing and embarrassing, just intimate enough to make you squirm, with how quietly he’ll whisper it in your ear. Just below the rush he gets from a hit Magicam post is the thrill of making you shrivel up, be it out of shyness or plain discomfort. He likes to have that level of influence over your state of being, to get you to curl up from a small word.

Cater marks you his: babydoll, cutie, cutie-pie, lovebug, hon’, sugarlump, puppy, sweetums

Ace Trappola

Petulant, mean, and uncaring. Your boyfriend is a rotten bully. You fume and stomp down a main hallway, steps long and wide, aiming to make Ace acutely aware of your indignation.

“Leave me alone!”

“Baby, come on!” He groans, the noise reverberating throughout the gymnasium, following him out as he slams into the push handle and jogs after you. You don’t look back, walking faster now.

Mean, mean, mean. Who is he, to tell you to fuck off? What sort of boyfriend is he, to mutter that you’re only showing up to practice to ‘soak up attention,’ to flaunt and flirt with his teammates? You had thought doling out refreshments would be a nice gesture, something he’d recognize for what it is; his partner demonstrating support on a hot summer’s day, being his mini-cheerleader. You thought he’d be happy to see you.

‘Leave them there and go,’ are the words Ace greeted you with. Not a smile, no wave, no questions of why you weren’t at your own club, none of his typical sweetness. None of it. No, the second he spotted you in the sidelines with Floyd, he was immediately abrasive and cold, meandering over to tell you to piss off the instant a whistle blew for a break. Even upon pointing out your reason for being there, a cooler packed with carbonated sweetness and water, you received; ‘That’s nice, babe, but we’re busy.’

Perhaps if Floyd hadn’t been so close to you on the bench, Ace’s mood wouldn’t be so sour. His jarring bouts of jealously are a sign and dance that you are, regrettably, well familiar with. And utterly sick of.

But he’s always been quick to make a smooth recovery.

Catching up to you, breathless from the last game and the mini-sprint it took to reach you, Ace snatches up your forearm. You, still furious, wrench it away from him, but his hands are quick to follow. In a flurry of motion, you’re spun around to face him, shoulders gripped tightly by Ace’s sweaty palms.

To top off his absurd assholery, he absolutely reeks. You scrunch up your nose in distaste.

“Hey, hey, hey! Babe, I mean it. I’m sorry for being such an ass back there,” He smiles, crooked, his eyebrows knit together in a blatant mockery of regret. “That’s what you’re all mad about, yeah? I didn’t mean to talk so harsh. Honest.”

You open your mouth to rebuke him, attempting to shrug out of his hold, but he’s even quicker to interrupt you, to hold you tighter.

“I mean it.”

Tighter, tighter, tighter. Tighter until your shoulder locks up, rigid with pain, threatening to pop out of socket. You whine, thrash, try to maneuver yourself in such a way that throws him off of you, but Ace doesn’t let up. Till he wrings out your forgiveness, he won’t.

“I-I know! It’s fine!” Is what you muster, more of a yell than the timid acceptance he usually likes to hear from you, but it’s enough. His grip eases. You breathe.

And then he holds you, more tender than before, in that performative tenderness you can easily see through. It’s always the same— brush hair behind your ear, pepper your cheek, nose, forehead, and neck in kisses, and stroke your back up and down. He must think this is all it takes to rid you of your hurting.

Ace uses nicknames as one would a bandage. He strongly believes that, with enough sappiness, any wound he’s inflicted upon you can be easily amended. Typically, he’s too flustered to use endearments around his peers, not wanting to appear as some lovesick puppy-dog who’s desperate to win your favor. Cooly, he’ll call you by name, occasionally switching to ‘babe,’ if only to solidify his position as your boyfriend when he feels threatened by another man. Those sickly sweet nicknames only come up when you’re well and truly put-out with his abrasive behavior; he gets aggressive and accusatory when you display interest in anybody other than himself, and is both deliberately and unintentionally cruel, often forgetting himself and going too far with barbed words and vicious snipes. Only when you’re teary-eyed does Ace bust out ‘baby,’ cupping your cheeks in his hands and softly leveling with you— cooing warmly, as if he hadn’t just marked you a whore for electing to work with Deuce over him in a paired project.

Ace likes to call you: babe, baby, and (very rarely) cutie. Will try and fail to woo you by calling you ‘sexy’ and ‘kitten’. He’s not suave enough…

Deuce Spade

“You know… I’m not really comfortable with you hanging around Epel so much.”

You take pause from preparing Deuce’s study guide, setting your pen down mid-vocabulary word, leaving the bright blue flash-card unfinished. Intrigued, albeit slightly put-out by the serious tone he so rarely takes, you devote your full attention to him.

He immediately interprets your blank staring as open criticism rather than a gesture for him to continue— justifiably so, you suppose— but what do you say to something like that? What exactly has made him uncomfortable? Is he about to accuse you of something? You’re not sure. So you wait for him to speak, your expression the image of neutrality.

“Sorry. I’m sorry if that’s overstepping a little. I’m just… I don’t know, he’s a bit touchy, I guess ? He knows that I’m dating you, but he still calls you such nice things, and it’s kinda irking to see him hover around you like he does. Like he’s trying to win you over or something. I dunno,” He rapid-fires, speaking so hurriedly that you can hardly deliberate on what’s being said, as if to gloss over this blatant source of his concern.

Deuce has been clingy the past few weeks. To say the least. You’re well aware of his fried nerves as of late, but you’d thought to attribute the incessant lingering and repeated calls to his concern for midterms— that’s the viable excuse he had, anyway, and the very reason why you’re going so far as to make him a study guide right now. For a class you don’t even have.

“Maybe I’m just overthinking.” He asserts, about to brush away his statement, waving a hand in the air. Deuce’s right hand deftly flicks and twirls a pen, a mesmerizing little gesture, one you’re certain he’s doing to curb his own anxiety. You can feel his leg jolting up and down, practically vibrating from the intensity of his nerves. You think he’s finished, and open your mouth to inquire further, to coax out a better explanation from him, but he fires off again.

“I mean, it’s weird, right? I call you up to come over and study, like we promised, and he’s with you at Sam’s shop. He mozies up to our table in the cafeteria and sits next to you, and I have to sit two people away because, y’know, my class is so far away I’m always late, which I’m sure he knows. The apple thing, too, you know?” Deuce whines, breathlessly exasperated, so frantic in his explanation that you’re wildly taken aback, minimally gaping and grappling for an area to interject. But you can’t, and he continues for you.

“Cutting that apple for you. Making the slices into little bunnies, all that. I couldn’t even do it for you when I tried after school, and you had to wrap my hands cuz’ I’m such a clutz and went and cut myself, and— geez.” He breaks off, voice cracking, and you’re forced to full attention at the warble his lip takes, the wet gleam that instantly floods those striking chan eyes, threatening to drip down onto your freshly inked flash cards.

You don’t mind it. Instead, You immediately lean over the desk to cup his hands in yours, trying to ease him into meet your eyes as his own go glassy. He dips his head downward, clearly hiding from you.

“Hey, hey! It’s okay! Please don’t cry, Deuce.” You quietly urge, not keen on attracting any watchful eyes from around the library, empty though it is. You’d be sorry if anyone else saw him like this. If he became the butt of some joke for his sensitivity— you’ve always liked that about him. You don’t mind the tears, but you do worry.

So you do what any good lover would do, and comfort him. Do anything to right what’s making him so wrong.

“It’s Epel, yeah? You don’t want me to hang around him so much? That’s all fine. We’re weren’t even that close in the first place, Deuce. I swear.” Reaffirming him, you acquiesce to the inquiry that so quickly wracked him with anxiety, leaning over and pressing your forehead to his. “I wish I’d known about this. I’m sorry that I didn’t catch on sooner,” You offer, trying to get him to look at you with gentle reassurances, half-empty promises.

Then you kiss his forehead, and he rockets upright.

With a grin peeled over his lips, he leans forward to kiss your cheek, filled with fresh zeal and eagerness. Your eyes widen a bit at how quickly that crumpled expression fled his face. How immediately he resumed that easy boyishness of his, the sweetness that endeares him to you so much. It’s strange, but he kisses away the stitch that forms between your brows, too.

“I knew you’d understand, lovely. Thank you for being so considerate.”

Deuce knows much better than to degrade you in any capacity. Among a plethora of other life tips, his mother made it a point to drill into him the importance of respecting his partner, to communicate, harbor respect, to treat you as an equal. Ever since he meekly announced to her that he’d found you, she’s reminded him of this. Treat them well, she’ll note, every time he brings you up over the phone, which, admittedly, is incredibly frequent. So, he’s not likely to use the same monikers that Ace or Cater take to, which are markedly less respectful given the context they use them in— Deuce wants you loved and appreciated, and takes great care with what nicknames he chooses for you.

He’s flushed for hours after using it, but Deuce strongly favors ‘lovely’ for your trademark endearment, something to call you every day without fail, be it publicly or over the phone each night before bed. It’s sweet and easy, gentle, something that rolls off his tongue easier with repeated use. It’s comfortable and safe for him and you. It’s nice.

The issue with Deuce’s nicknames doesn’t pertain to you, necessarily, but trouble does arise when he seeks out a new individual to project his insecurities onto, someone he views as a threat to what you two have got going on. Be it with someone in his close circle physically inching too close to you, or an unknown classmate he shoulder-checks for staring at you too long, Deuce can quickly become volatile. To a fault, he’s incredibly possessive of you, and although it’s something he’s aware of, he struggles to keep it in check. Old habits die hard and, inevitably, he’s going to cuss someone out for crossing some benign and inscrutable boundary he’s made around you. Unbeknownst to you, or so he hopes. He’s not a massively threatening presence at school, but he’s got his fair share of bite— Deuce builds a bit of a reputation as an attack dog, where you’re concerned. If he deems it as warranted, he’s not above a bloody brawl. If his mom heard of any of this, she’d burst into tears. He’s quite certain that you’d leave him if you found out about him breaking fingers for the meager crime of latching onto your arm.

Deuce will call you: lovely, precious. He rarely deviates from these two, if at all.

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answer2jeff · 4 months

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posting old carmen berzatto blurbs i don't totally hate because i need to clear out my drafts

(part 1/??)

note : these are from September - October and aren't very good compared to the rest of my work. my sincerest apologies. regardless, take the fucking blurb i didn't write this in my public library for nothing!!

You let out an exasperated sigh as you wiped your wet shoes on the welcome matt outside of your apartment that read, "Fuck Off." Your best friend thought it would've been funny, but it mostly felt like a shitty joke that never landed every time you came home—especially this late at night.

You fished your key out of your purse, keychains and coins jangling around while your hand dug through every pocket. You unlocked the door, quietly walking in before searching for Carmen.

"Carmy?" You called out, closing the door behind you with the heel of your foot. The slam echoed through the kitchen.

Still no sight of Carmen. You took a seat on the couch.

"Baby," you call out once more, kicking your shoes off and waiting until he'd magically emerge from whatever corner of tour apartment he was in. You hoped the petname would lure him in. He was like a cat, quietly waiting for his only reason to reappear to come home.

"Hey. You're home a little late."

Finally, Carmen slowly walked out from your bedroom, seeking a little out of breath as his tight fitting, white t-shirt stuck to his skin. You smiled at the sight of his gold chain dangling as he practically scooped you up from the couch, enveloping you in his arms.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, I just—" you took a deep breath, feeling your shoulders relax and your body temperature rising to Carmen's touch. "I was workin' on a project with the girls and I lost track of time."

With the renovation of the restaurant, his hours had become more flexible while yours have become more hectic. Being the one to come home at ungodly hours was nothing short of unusual.

"You get home alright? I was, uh— I was a little worried 'bout you." Carmen planted a kiss on the top of your head as you rubbed circles on his back, his rough hands carefully holding your delicate face.

You only hummed, "mhm," as you nuzzled your face into his chest, his arms around you and slowly rocking you side-to-side. He breathed deeply, taking in the smell of your perfume and Chicago rain on your clothes.

"How long did I keep you waiting?" You tried not to laugh, still feeling a little guilty for these nights; the nights you didn't wish you had to cherish. It wasn't easy for the two of you, constantly being out and about and hardly ever taking the time to relax during reasonable hours of the day.

"Eh, not long. Just enough so I could clean the place up a bit. Do a little laundry." Carmen rested his chin on the top of your head, quickly moving as you picked your head up in surprise.

You knew he liked doing little favors for you, fluffing up your pillows and throwing the sheets in the drier to warm you up after a long day— but you almost felt like crying at the idea that Carmen lifted the weight of keeping your space tidy off your shoulders.

"You cleaned?" You nearly yelped in utter disbelief, staring up into Carmen's eyes as he cupped your cheek, nodding his head "yes."

You peeled away from his embrace to flick the living room light on; it was practically spotless.

The coffee table was clean, every book and stack of paper neatly tucked away in the bookshelf. You stepped into the dimly lit kitchen, Carmen following behind; every counter was shiny and there wasn't a single dirty dish in the sink.

"You hungry? I can make you somethin.'" Carmen suggested, taking a seat on one of the barstools and leaning his back against the island counter. You spaced out, still admiring the sight of a clean apartment.

You couldn't remember the last time you did any organization, let alone have someone else do it all for you.

"Baby?" He snaps you out of your amazed trance.

"Huh? Oh— yeah, yeah. Please." You reconnect with reality while removing yours Carmen's crewneck sweater and tossing it onto the countertop.

"Wanna hop in the shower while I figure something out?"

The suggestion rolling off Carmen's tongue was soothing. It felt like his words are being massaged into your skin, undoing knots created by stress.

This was love. Tender and caring.

#carmen berzatto #just a blurb #my writing style is so different now geez #sorry this sucks but i didn't totally hate it so i didn't want it to go to waste!!#ok goodnight #mwah #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader fluff

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gumnut-logic · 2 months

Text

Today’s random fact about Australia

‘Fertile soil for food production is another vital factor that shapes people. The great civilisations of the world were built on floodplains of major river systems whose sources were located in young and active mountain ranges. In much of the Northern Hemisphere, the soils are also young and fertile because they formed after the retreat of major glaciers of the last ice ages. During the Pleistocene, however, Australia occupied a low-latitude position and so ice-age impacts were limited in Australia and did not rejuvenate the old landscape. Weathering of recent volcanic rocks, such as in New Zealand or Indonesia or the western district of Victoria, also creates fertile soils. With recent volcanism restricted to eastern Australia and a position distant from subduction zones, most of Australia's soils lack the nourishment provided by volcanoes. Thus, Australia's landscape is old and covered by soils that, for the most part, are also old. They are also salt prone and nutritionally and organically impoverished.’

- Shaping a Nation : A Geology of Australia, Richard Blewett (ed.), Aug 2012

This is a glorious geology book I’m reading between fanfics. This paragraph illustrates some of the core differences between Australia and many of the other human inhabited places on the planet. We are as big as the United States, but our land is ancient with no volcanism or large geological change.

It should also be noted that all the geological change in both New Zealand and Indonesia….including the Kermadec Ridge where Tracy Island sits, is caused by the Indo-Australian tectonic plate pushing its way up towards China at around five to seven centimetres a year. The old girl is a pushy little bugger 😁 Sorry, neighbours. We in the middle of the boat are generally mostly tectonically stable and just along for the ride 😁

Nutty

(Watch it, I might start info dumping, I love me a good geology story)

PS: Oh, you can get a PDF of the above massive book for free on the Australian National University Press website or from the SA public library network cos I know we have this doorstopper tome on our shelves. 😁

#geology #australian geology #nutty is a geek #australia

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sometimeswritingsometimesdying · 1 year

Text

hcs about music and the island dads and their kids bc i am currently experiencing brainrot

x. linus used to play guitar as a kid. he wasn’t great at it, but he liked it, and he’d steal away half an hour a week to play around with the old, beaten up one they had in their public high school. he learnt all his favorite songs on it, mostly by ear, but never had the ability to practice at home. he mentions it to arthur at some point, and they magically find one back in the attic.

x. arthur loves piano. he has the fingers for it, of course, and there’s nothing like a good jazz piano tune to pair with a philosophy book, but he also loves the expressiveness that some pianists put into their performances. when he was a young man, 20s-30s i’d say, and he didn’t live on the island yet, i like to hc he snuck into a few performances or practices for some great modern composers.

x. lucy sees linus trying to tune the guitar and decides instantly he Must Learn How To Play alongside him. they buy a beginner’s guitar player book and start learning chords and songs together. lucy, turns out, has a great singing voice to pair with it.

x. at some point, sal brings up the idea that maybe he could have lucy put one of his poems to music. lucy is absolutely honored, obviously. linus and arthur are in the background crying because omg their children have grown and healed so much

x. phee definitely learns how to make nature dance around her. she takes up doing it when she’s upset, and never really stops. zoe joins in sometimes, and the swaying of the branches, buzzing of bees, and soft sea breeze bring happiness all around the island.

x. talia would be amazing on drums. that’s all. she could wack them as good as she wacks people.

x. chauncey and theodore, albeit not incredibly gifted with musical instruments due to the lack of opposable thumbs, are the BEST hypemen whenever lucy wants to present a song during a lesson. cheerleading? they got u. posters, banners, and badly made t shirts? DONE. lucy isnt even making his own music, but its the thought that counts.

(yes the t shirts would just say hey yeah! music! in squiggly handwriting, instead of hell yeah, because arthur vetoed it)

x. linus and arthur actually learn how to dance instead of just swaying together; waltzing late at night in arthur’s study or the library, soft, stumbly back and forth dances in the kitchen while cooking breakfast, linus dipping arthur on the porch as the sun sets because he just felt like it and kissing the shit out of him. and, of course, the bad renditions of those dances by the children making fun of them.

x. no one expects it, but sal’s teenagehood turns out to be a big rock music phase. he never showcases it on the outside but his room slowly gets decorated with posters and cds of his favorite artists and bands. lucy and linus are over the moon about getting to add a third to their music shop escapades. sal mostly likes the music because he relates to the anger/hurt/ect of the lyrics, and it’s great to drown out any other noise in case it gets too much for him.

#the house in the cerulean sea #thitcs #linus baker #arthur parnassus #island dads #headcannons

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sunnydaleherald · 16 days

Text

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Thursday, April 11

Buffy: (shrugs) I'll be fine. Spike: Buffy. You're not happy here. Buffy: Please don't make this harder. Spike: You don't belong here. You're something... You're better than this.

~~Doublemeat Palace~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Elope (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by veronyxk84

Followup Tests (Angel/Maggie Walsh, E) by MadeInGold

A Strange Sort of Afterlife (Multiple Crossings, T) by Ditsyjo and Wolfcubx2

Daisies (Buffy/Spike, T) by desicat

I Know I Should Figure This Out on my Own (but if you come back, could you take me home?) (Cordelia, Wesley, T) by purple_mechanicalpencils

Cooking Together (Crossover with Dawson's Creek, G) by Julikobold

Rock Concert Tickets (Buffy/Spike, G) by Julikobold

Spilling (Crossover with The Golden Girls, G) by Julikobold

A Year of Judgement (Ethan Rayne, T) by NAOA

Say Yes to Heaven (Buffy/Spike, R) by Maxine Eden

[Chaptered Fiction]

Object of Affection, Chapter 1 (Xander/Spike, E) by felixsfishnets

Scooby Family Therapy, Chapter 1 (Joyce/Everyone, E) by Anne_Hathagay

Highlands and Tropical Islands, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Faith, M) by QuillBard

Ripped Stockings, Chapter 1 (Giles/Jenny, E) by TheClowniestLivInExistence

Written in the Stars, Chapter 8 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by RavenLove12

Celebrating You, Chapter 9 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by DeamonQueen

Army Wife, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, R) by though_you_try

Keep You Ghosted, Chapter 7 (Buffy/Spike, R) by hydranjenna

The Boyfriend Swap, Chapter 5 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Maxine Eden

The Stars to Hold Our Destiny, Chapter 10 (Crossover with Star Trek, FR15) by Hermionetobe

Blood and dust, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, 18+) by Blackoberst

It's Easy Time, Until It's Not, Chapter 24 (Buffy/Spike, AO) by hulettwyo

Coming Through, Chapter 55 (Buffy/Spike, AO) by hulettwyo

Service Unit, Chapter 10 (Buffy/Spike, AO) by hulettwyo

Hope is the thing with feathers, Chapter 10 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by will_

What The Drabble? Vol. 2, Chapter 10 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by veronyxk84

In Your Dreams, Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Geliot99

We're Going to be Friends, Chapter 16 (Buffy/Spike, R) by scratchmeout

Build a Bridge, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Niamh

Love Lives Here, Chapter 47 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Passion4Spike

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork:Dark Willow Fan Art by erin_m_creates

Artwork:🌸🌸🌸 by novivi

Comic:favorite scene by fox-toothed

Gifset:Buffy the Vampire Slayer 1.07 & 5.18 by whatisyourchildhoodtrauma

Gifset:S01:E09 - The Puppet Show (Part 1) by thecrazyknight

Gifset:The Zeppo by dailybuffysummers

Gifset:Anne by detectivedawnsummers

Video: BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER: Portrait Painting | Time Lapse - Fan Art Series by TIM NARDELLI

[Reviews & Recaps]

Joan the Vampire Slayer (and Randy) | 6x8 "Tabula Rasa" | The Normies Group Reaction! by The Normies

"The I in Team" (4x13) | *Buffy the Vampire Slayer* Reaction by cass reacts

Older and Far Away: Buffy 6x14 Reaction by Dakara

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER - SEASON 6 EP 22 GRAVE (2002) REACTION VIDEO AND REVIEW FIRST TIME WATCHING by Reel Reviews With Jen!

Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1992) - Film Review by VIDEO ZONE

The Re-Watcher's Council | "Reptile Boy" Buffy the Vampire Slayer S02E05 Spoiler Review by LGRN - Entertainment

Podcast: Angel S4E1: Deep Down by Booze & Buffy

Publication: The 10 best Angel episodes, ranked via digitaltrends

[Recs & In Search Of]

spuffy fanfics where drusilla plays a major role in the story recced by mcgnagallsarmy

[Community Announcements]

New "Good Vibes" Flair Announcement by r/buffy

Fandom5K 2024 Schedule by fandom5k

[Fandom Discussions]

[on Buffy being 'kicked out'] by moistvonlipwig

[Riley's ending] by breezybeej

[Xander in the S2 finale] by nicnacsnonsense

[S6 as a Willow fan] by aingeal98

[Ask: Lies My Parents Told Me meta] by momsforroadhead and explosionshark

[Meme: why is the library closed?] by sunnydale-high-school-rumors

Conflicted feelings on the show so far... by multiple authors

Which Firefly transplant to Angel did you enjoy most? by multiple authors

Questions about souls by multiple authors

Do you think Dawn existed within the Wishverse? by multiple authors

What are some pieces of dialogue that you hated? by multiple authors

What are some of the most mind-blowing Buffyverse moments? by multiple authors

Most interesting Wishverse character? by multiple authors

Season 7: did anyone ever say whether the lighting and wardrobe were intentionally meant to be so gloomy/dark? by multiple authors

Buffy's reaction by multiple authors

Giles' reaction to Joyce blaming him for Buffy leaving Sunnydale by multiple authors

Faith, Hope, and Trick by multiple authors

What are the best moments of each season? by multiple authors

Ryles comeback was poorly done by multiple authors

Just started reading the comics and I have questions about Buffy's relationship with Angel and Spike by multiple authors

Does becoming a vampire mean the body is possessed? by multiple authors

Which one time/small recurring character you wish became a main cast member? by multiple authors

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

#btvs

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tomtenadia · 2 years

Text

A trip to the Aquarium

This is a part 2 to Little Monkey. It’s very self indulgent because I love writing DadRowan. he is just the best dad ever and Maya is so much fun. Have you ever watched Tonari no Totoro? (MY neighbour Totoro) Well, in my head Maya is like Mei, the little girl in the movie.

No warning, just pure undiluted fluff.

---

It was the October holidays and Rowan was going to have Maya at home for two whole weeks. Aelin had taken some days off too so they could be together but during the day he’d have his daughter all to himself. He had started some intensive research online on activities for kids. He had already booked two sessions at the public library and an evening at the planetarium with Aelin too. They had planned to visit all of her favourite museums and make great use of the family pass they had bought for the science one. Hopefully they were going to be busy.

Aelin had left already for work, she had a big meeting and had to rush to her office for the final preparations. Maya had placed one of her queen stickers on her blue dress for good luck and Aelin had squeezed her daughter and covered her in kisses with the promise of bringing back chocolate cake. Rowan had tried but Aelin had passed her passion for chocolate to their daughter.

He was at the kitchen island finishing his breakfast when Maya climbed down her chair and walked to him, pulling his arm for attention ”Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Can we go to the aquarium today?”

He pulled his daughter on his legs “We need to take a lot of pictures for mum, she loves it too.”

The girl squealed “she loves the dolphins.” He kissed her head and placed his daughter down “Ok, let dad finish his breakfast and then we can get ready.”

Maya nodded and ran away in her room.

Rowan was putting away the morning crockery when Maya ran back into the kitchen and he had to try not to laugh. Aelin would usually have her clothes ready in the morning and for school it was an easy job since she had a uniform. However for non school activities Maya had decided she wanted to make her own fashion choices. At times the results were hilarious. This time she had worn the hoodie of the hockey team in Orynth that her uncle Aedion had given her, but then she had worn her bright green leggins, beach sandals and sunglasses.

“Maya, what did mama tell you about dressing up?”

“Weird is fun!”

He walked in her bedroom and saw a sea of clothes on the floor. The girl had clearly emptied the entire drawer.

Rowan tidied up and picked a pair of jeans “The leggings are far too thin and it’s cold outside. Come on, let’s put the jeans on.”

“Can I keep the sunglasses?”

They were bright green, sparkly and with a unicorn attached to the side. She was in a green and unicorn phase.

“Yes, my love you can but we are changing the shoes too.”

“Can I wear the hiking boots you bought me?”

He and his wife had started taking Maya out hiking. Easy stuff at the beginning but Maya loved it so they had bought her a more proper wardrobe and she was now obsessed with her hiking boots and would wear them all the time.

“Then you will complain they hurt your feet. We are not hiking today.”

“Then I want my socks with all the hawks on.”

Rowan grinned “Yes, my princess.”

Twenty minutes later they were both ready and he was just finishing to zip up her jacket.

At the car Maya climbed at the back and fastened her seat belt and Rowan double checked it because he was paranoid.

Maya flicked her glasses down on her nose “Punch it, buzzard.”

Rowan laughed and drove away.

The aquarium was in the south of the city whereas they lived just outside in the north and had to use the ring road to bypass the city centre.

The drive took about twenty minutes and he and his daughter sang all the way. Him and Aelin had influenced the girl’s tastes and now she loved rock music just as her parents. The fun part was to listen to her try to sing the lyrics which turned out to be gibberish, so Aelin and Rowan had started doing the same when they sang all together.

The aquarium appeared at the horizon and Maya became excited at the sight. The venue was imposing. It had undergone some major refurbishment a few years back and now could easily compete in fame with Rifthold’s. It had established a name in terms of research and species protection and they had created a sanctuary for animals needing rescue and care.

The car had barely stopped that Maya was already removing her restraints.

“Maya, wait, don’t get off before me.”

She knew her dad cared about safety so she waited for him in the seat.

On the way to the entrance Maya chatted happily about all the animals she wanted to see. Their daughter had confessed that she wanted to be a vet when old like her parents.

Rowan walked to the ticket booth while his daughter hang on the edge with her face peeking out “Hi ticket lady,” she chirped, waving at the woman behind the desk.

“Hello you, excited to be here?”

“Yes, dada and I are going to watch the penguin parade.”

“That is good, Marvin was in good form today.”

In the ice section the penguins had their own massive enclosure and twice a day they would march in line through it and Marvin would lead the parade. It had started as a coincidence, now it had become a main feature.

Rowan bought the tickets and took his daughter’s hand and together they walked to the entrance.

“This way dad, fishes.”

As they got into the room with all the tanks, Maya freed herself and ran to the glass and plastered her face against it “Dada, look, they are cute.”

She ran to another habitat and screamed in excitement. He loved his daughter but her energy levels could be extreme.

“Dory!!”

Rowan laughed, a while ago they had watched Finding Nemo and then finding Dory and Maya loved the blue fish.

“Just keep swimming, just keep swimming,” she singsonged while following her with her head.

Rowan walked to her and mussed her hair. That day she had wanted pigtails. He took a few photos and sent them to Aelin. That was something that he’d do a lot. When his wife could not come to one of their outings he’d share images of them to make her feel close. They continued in the tropical area and Maya ran from one tank to the other, which apparently was a kid thing as she was not the only one.

“Squishy, dada, squishy.”

“They are jellyfishes, my love.”

“Squishy is better.”

Maya was actually the one taking him around the aquarium. She could not read so she just dragged him to wherever she felt like going.

“Sharks.” Maya grabbed her father’s hand and pulled him towards the next section. This was his favourite. It had a tunnel under the gigantic shark tank. You could walk through it and the animal would swim above you. He lifted Maya on his shoulders and she touched the roof of the glass tunnel and a few shark swan above them “Dad, they are beautiful.”

“I agree, Maya.” He took out his phone and snatched a selfie of him with Maya on his shoulder while the girl was busy staring mesmerised at the sharks and sent it to his wife.

“Down,”

He placed his daughter back on the ground and she resumed her constant moving from one display to the other. She asked the names of the fishes she loved and Rowan would read the plaque for her and she would giggle at some funny names.

Maya had an inquisitive nature, something that he and Aelin had deeply encouraged. Even if it meant being bombarded by a lot of “why?”questions.

“Dad is time yet for the parade?”

“Another hour my love.”

“Okay,” she added almost dejected, but her sadness was short lived when she spotted the dolphins pool ahead. She ran away from him once more and started jumping all excited “a photo for mum.”

Rowan Whitethorn had two women in his life and both of them loved to boss him around and he would just obey. Maybe he was whipped, but they were both his entire life. Society could just mind their own business. After Aelin finished her maternity leave Rowan had asked for his paternity leave since it was something that Orynth allowed in equal measure to a father just as much as the mother. But when his time was up Rowan had offered to stay at home. He knew how important was her job to Aelin, she had fought so hard to reach her level and being accepted as the CEO, to prove that yes, she had inherited the position but she was capable too. So Rowan had supported her fully and made the adjustments with his job. However a few time he had arguments with other parents who had the guts to complain that Aelin was meant to be the one at home with the child. Some of his colleagues had reacted badly at his decision too, joking that he was becoming a nanny. He had let them talk. He was happy, the three of them were happy and Maya was thriving. And that was all it mattered to him.

Finally the hour passed and they were now heading to the ice section for the penguins. Maya went back on his shoulders and squealed in delight. The two of them combined formed a tower over two meters high. A few minutes later the penguins peeked out of their hideout and Marvin made a noise and started waddling around the ice block, followed by all the other penguins. Maya screamed excited and tapped her hands on her father’s head. The parade lasted twenty minutes and now the penguins were just walking around. Maya begged to be let down and Rowan complied and saw his daughter dart to the edge of the enclosure her arm extended “come to Maya,”

The penguins passed very close and he laughed when his daughter screamed in joy that she saw a penguin close by. Rowan finally managed to drag her away and finished the tour of the aquarium. Maya still running from one tank to the other and he following behind and reading the labels for her. He was exhausted.

“Dad, can we go to the shop?”

“And then we have lunch?”

His daughter gave him a happy nod.

As soon as they were in the shop she ran away from him once more and he found her a minute later in the soft toys section hugging a dolphin “For mama?”

Rowan crouched down “do you want to give this to mum?”

“Yes, so she knows I love her.”

His hand brushed her silver hair “she knows, and mum loves you too, very much.”

She seemed satisfied by his answer and took the dolphin from her hands, it was quite big and bulky for her to carry.

And when she ran away again he sighed. Hopefully she would go to bed early after all that exercise.

He found her again and laughed at the scene. Maya was hugging a penguin soft toy that was as tall as her “Dad, Marvin!”

Rowan laughed.

“He is so fluffy.”

“Would you like it?”

The smile that appeared on his daughter’s face was the most beautiful thing he could ask for.

He patted the head of the toy “welcome to the family, Marvin.”

The toy was too big for Maya to carry so he tucked the dolphin under one arm and grabbed one of the flippers and carried it as if it was walking at his side.

He paid and then went for lunch. Maya had started crying for food. Another aspect she was like her mother. They would both turn hangry if not fed within a specific timeframe.

At the table he placed the bag with the dolphin at his side, while Maya sat Marvin on the chair at her side.

“What do you want my love?”

“Mac and cheese.”

He came back ten minutes later with their food and took a picture of his daughter with the toy at her side.

It was evening when Aelin came back home and found her husband in the kitchen preparing dinner. She joined him in the room and hugged him from behind “I am so jealous, looks like you two had so much fun.”

He turned in her arms and kissed “we missed you.”

Aelin sighed against his chest “this weekend is all for us. I said to work that I do not want to be disturbed.”

Rowan switched off the hob and took her hand “come,”

Together they walked to Maya’s room and the girl ran to her mother as soon as she spotted her.

She hugged her daughter but then Maya broke free and crawled under the bed and pulled out a big white bag and walked back to her mum “for you.”

Aelin looked up at her husband and he nodded. Then slowly opened the bag and saw a dolphin.

“I love you, mum.” Maya walked to her and hugged her mother again.

Rowan stood and watched them both. He knew that it pained Aelin a lot to leave them and go to work, she was always afraid that she was not showing Maya enough how much she loved her.

“I love you, my little monkey, I love you so much.”

Maya grinned and ran away again.

Rowan laughed knowing why.

“Aelin, we have a new guest in the house.”

His wife was now puzzled.

Maya circled her bed and appeared with a stuffed penguin as big as her “this is Marvin.”

“Well buzzard, you might have to go back to work full time, we have another mouth to feed now,” the two adults laughed while their daughter went back playing with her toys and Marvin at her side.

“She is finally asleep,” said Aelin joining Rowan in bed and curling in his embrace.

“She lasted longer than expected. She has limitless energy, like you.”

Aelin buried herself deeper in his arms, inhaling his scent of pine and snow “I took a decision.”

He looked down at her, blue eyes meeting green.

“Aedion is my second and we have been discussing sharing more responsibilities,” she kissed his chest “I want to be more at home with you two. And I know it was my choice, but Maya is growing fast and I want to be here for her.”

Rowan held her, his strong arms circling her body “I will support you, whatever you decide.”

“Thank you.”

“Fireheart?”

“Yes, buzzard?”

“I love you but….” He tilted his head to the side of the bed “do you really have to take the dolphin in bed with us?”

Aelin laughed and grabbed the toy squeezing it hard “Jealous much, old man?”

“Menace…”

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @acreativelydifferentlove @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @susumaus98 @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart

#rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowaelinkids #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #aelin galathynius #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #fluff #domestic fluff

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msm-tsotmw · 1 year

Text

4/27/20XX

So the other two are asleep, apparently. I should probably be sleeping too, but there was just something that… bugged me. I don’t know. Something about the hieroglyphs. Anyways, that caused me to drink motherfucking COFFEE at like 8 PM.

…Is Mauna even done decoding them yet..?

Maybe I should go check. It’s been a couple of days, and considering how much Mauna remembers about the Dawn of Fire, she’s probably done alre-

(The lights in Crysta and Ritika’s kitchen suddenly switch on, revealing Mondo by the doorway with a VERY sleepy expression on his face, sans the beanie.)

sprigg wtf are you doing up this late

…Uh.

and why the fuck do you have a cup of coffee

I dunno. Go back to sleep.

but

You heard me.

alr

do your shit ig

(Mondo turns off the lights and leaves the kitchen, leaving Sprigg alone.)

…I have to go visit Mauna. I should probably go get my bag first…

Wait. I don’t even fucking know where Mauna lives here.

…Maybe I should ask Moperetta. It probably knows where Mauna is, and GALVANA forbid she be on Tribal Island. That’s practically DAYS away from here.

(Sprigg leaves the house with an empty bag, looking for Moperetta. They eventually spot her sitting on a rock, looking up at the Aurora Monstralis.)

Moperetta?

… hm ? oh , sprigg . are you looking for anything ?

Well, yeah. I’m looking for Mauna again.

Also, uh, how did the thing with her go?

oh , it went quite wonderful , actually ! we are going on our first actual date tomorrow , probably in the evening so the aurora monstralis is more visible . i think she is in her room at the castle , i will take you there .

Okay, thanks.

anytime . follow me .

(Sprigg follows the MUCH taller Moperetta to the Light Island castle, all the way to the dimly-lit library.)

hello ? um , mauna ? sprigg needs you for something .

Oh , hey ! Mopsies !

( mauna please do not call me that in public i told you hhhhhh )

(Oh , sorry !)

( no , no , no . it is okay .)

(Whew .)

Um , Moperetta ! Sprigg ! It is nice to see you again. Sprigg , what do you need me for ?

I was just going to ask if you were done decoding the hieroglyphs yet.

Oh ! Yeah , that . Actually , I am done with it already ! I wrote the translation on a note next to the glyphs so you would not forget .

(Mauna gives Sprigg the book with the hieroglyphs, with part of the note sticking out so that they could easily find it.)

Thanks.

Anytime !

(Now what does this say…?)

(Sprigg opens the book to the page with the glyphs. They begin to read it.)

“12/31/XXXX

Strange. Usually, the night sky is full of stars, but I have not been able to observe any today, or in the last few weeks. Plixie’s glass has been cracking more than usual lately, Loodvigg has been so irritable to the point that not even Scaratar, the love of his life, could help, and Vhamp has been releasing more steam than usual… perhaps something is wrong. And from here, I can see that the Continent has been rumbling quite a lot…

Starhenge’s gears have been slowing down more and more, too. Some of the blocks floating around it have dropped into either the sea, the Outer Islands, or the Continent. Luckily, no mortal Monster so far has been harmed. Not even I can decipher what is going on…

…I feel like I must get to the bottom of this, but I must complete what I am building with Vhamp, just in case. Perhaps Starhenge will collapse soon…

-G.V.”

Wait, what?! G.V.?!

If I am correct , those must be the initials of the fabled Galvana …

and all of this time , i have thought the celestials were just some old wives ’ tale !

Holy shit. Hoooooly SHIT. I have to go show this to Toorie and Mondo. See you guys if we ever come back to this Island!

Farewell , Sprigg !

goodbye ! safe travels !

(Sprigg hurriedly rushes out of the castle library, with the book and translation in their bag.)

… So what are we going to do now ? I mean , nobody else is awake and the Aurora Monstralis is out …

… um .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AAAAND THE PLOT THICKENS!!! anyways uhh sorry for not posting about the story much,,, also yeah the Celestials are basically considered an old wives’ tale or a myth along the non-Natural, Ethereal or Fire monsters (like the Seasonals or the Magicals) in this AU lolz

-Mod Jimmy 🗣️

#msm #my singing monsters #msm au #my singing monsters au #furcorn #furcorn msm #mammott #mammott msm #fluoress #fluoress msm #kayna #kayna msm

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rockislandadultreads · 2 years

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Even more fiction picks for AAPI Heritage Month

Patron Saints of Nothing by Randy Ribay

A coming-of-age story about grief, guilt, and the risks a Filipino-American teenager takes to uncover the truth about his cousin's murder. Jay Reguero plans to spend the last semester of his senior year playing video games before heading to the University of Michigan in the fall. But when he discovers that his Filipino cousin Jun was murdered as part of President Duterte's war on drugs, and no one in the family wants to talk about what happened, Jay travels to the Philippines to find out the real story. Hoping to uncover more about Jun and the events that led to his death, Jay is forced to reckon with the many sides of his cousin before he can face the whole horrible truth -- and the part he played in it.

The Cartographers by Peng Shepherd

What is the purpose of a map? Nell Young’s whole life and greatest passion is cartography. Her father, Dr. Daniel Young, is a legend in the field and Nell’s personal hero. But she hasn’t seen or spoken to him ever since he cruelly fired her and destroyed her reputation after an argument over an old, cheap gas station highway map. But when Dr. Young is found dead in his office at the New York Public Library, with the very same seemingly worthless map hidden in his desk, Nell can’t resist investigating. To her surprise, she soon discovers that the map is incredibly valuable and exceedingly rare. In fact, she may now have the only copy left in existence... because a mysterious collector has been hunting down and destroying every last one—along with anyone who gets in the way. But why? To answer that question, Nell embarks on a dangerous journey to reveal a dark family secret and discovers the true power that lies in maps... From the critically acclaimed author of The Book of M, a highly imaginative thriller about a young woman who discovers that a strange map in her deceased father’s belongings holds an incredible, deadly secret—one that will lead her on an extraordinary adventure and to the truth about her family’s dark history.

Strangers We Know by Elle Marr

Adopted when she was only days old, Ivy Hon knows little about her lineage. But when she’s stricken with a mystery illness, the results of a genetic test to identify the cause attract the FBI. According to Ivy’s DNA, she’s related to the Full Moon Killer, who has terrorized the Pacific Northwest for decades. Ivy is the FBI’s hope to stop the enigmatic predator from killing again. When an online search connects Ivy with her younger cousin, she heads to rural Rock Island, Washington, to meet the woman. Motivated by a secret desire to unmask a murderous relative, Ivy reaches out to what’s left of a family of strangers. Discovering her mother’s tragic fate and her father’s disappearance is just the beginning. As Ivy ventures into a serial killer’s home territory, she realizes that she may be the next victim of poisonous blood ties.

The Verifiers by Jane Pek

Claudia Lin is used to disregarding her fractious family’s model-minority expectations: she has no interest in finding either a conventional career or a nice Chinese boy. She’s also used to keeping secrets from them, such as that she prefers girls—and that she's just been stealth-recruited by Veracity, a referrals-only online-dating detective agency. A lifelong mystery reader who wrote her senior thesis on Jane Austen, Claudia believes she's landed her ideal job. But when a client goes missing, Claudia breaks protocol to investigate—and uncovers a maelstrom of personal and corporate deceit. Part literary mystery, part family story, The Verifiers is a clever and incisive examination of how technology shapes our choices, and the nature of romantic love in the digital age.

#Fiction #Books to Read #booklr #AAPI authors #asian american heritage month #asian american pacific islander heritage month #to read #Book Recommendations #reading recommendations #tbr #highly recommend

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amplifyme · 9 months

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From Simonetta by Nan Dibble:

On a hunch, she wandered out to see if the spook had started his goddam picture yet. And banged into the church rail, that hadn't been there yesterday. And then, once she was past that, stubbed her toe on what she made out, after a second, as a large, thick book, lying open on the living room rug. Three or four other books were spaced out in front of the couch. One had a sheet of paper on top. Not quite bright enough to read; but enough to recognize the handwriting as Vincent's.

She took the note back into the kitchen and left it on the island she didn't quite bump into, while putting together the makings of a pot of coffee. Then, wincing in anticipation, she flicked on the overhead fluorescent and waited with shut eyes for the light to become tolerable. Like a hangover, she thought, with no fun, even, to look back on. It didn't seem fair.

Leaning on the island, she read the note.

Once I read several books whose subject was unwelcome to me because you felt it important enough to insist. And despite my distaste, I learned much and gained insight. Now I ask the same of you. Consider, with all your formidable objectivity, the pages I have flagged. Can you say, in simple honesty, that you see no resemblance? And then ask yourself whether all these great artists can have been so mistaken, so blind, and all the generations since them, to choose such models to exercise their genius upon. If my insistence is unwelcome and an intrusion upon private matters, my excuse is that it hurts me to know you have been persuaded of such a cruel delusion about yourself. Not merely because I love you, although I do, but in honor of the truth, I wish you to find yourself as beautiful as you deserve and as you are. We shall talk of this.

—V.

“Dammit,” Diana muttered, wearily slumping, dropping her fragile forehead onto her arms. Then she mouthed soundlessly, We shall talk of this, and made a snarling, defiant face.

But fair was fair: he had read the damn Abnormal Psych books (and blown up at her afterward), so she guessed she had to do the assignment, with the option of throwing them at him when she was done. She lugged the thick books by twos out to the island and studied them standing, drinking coffee, trying to be objective, as he'd asked.

All the books had PROPERTY OF THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY stamped in them, and little manila sleeves and cards that showed they hadn't been checked out anything like legally. Turning pages, dutifully going from flag to flag, she wondered if she should turn him in for that, or warn the big, lion guarded book mausoleum on 5th Avenue that they had something a lot larger than mice coming and going in their basement...

The paintings in the first book were centuries old: Michelangelo, a seated and rather muscular sibyl from the Sistine Chapel ceiling, shoulders on her like a fullback; a painting called “The Madonna of the Rocks”; Botticelli, “The Birth of Venus,” in which a woman coyly clutching the crucial areas was being served up, standing, on the half shell; another with two people, a man and a woman, sprawled rather dissolutely across a broad rectangle, attended by fat flying babies.

The flag on that one had a note on it:

Her name was Simonetta Vespucci, and she was one of Botticelli's favorite models; Kristopher contends Botticelli also was in love with her, although she loved another. Historical sources are too scanty to prove or disprove this. Kristopher, however, is in no doubt. He is not inclined to doubt at any time. It is your resemblance to Simonetta which chiefly has made him determined to attempt your likeness. As you have already found, he is not easily discouraged. Nor is he in the habit of becoming fascinated by giraffes, metal mouths, clowns, or anything more bizarre than myself, concerning which I leave you free to draw your own conclusions.

#beauty and the beast 1987 #vincent & diana #simonetta #acquainted with the night 2 #fanfic #nan dibble #diana bennett #jo anderson #simonetta vespucci #sandro botticelli #kristopher gentian #amp tries and mostly fails to produce a decent image #i'm a writer not a creator of fan art #i'll get this out of my system eventually #although it's been 33 years since this zine series was first published #so maybe not?

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kocamaaanbirkucukkiz-blog-b-blog · 1 year

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SHORT NY GUIDE

Bloguma hepiniz hoş geldiniz. Beğendiyseniz butona basmayı ve arkadaşlarınızla paylaşmayı, beğenmediyseniz yüzüme söylememeyi unutmayın lütfen, iyi eğlenceler :) 1- GEZİLECEK GÖRÜLECEK MÜZELER Hepsi için online bilet alıp önceden rezervasyon yaptırmak gerekli, sitelerinden kolayca yapılıyor. Pazartesileri genelde kapalı oluyorlar, gitmeden mutlaka sayfalarını ziyaret edin. Kendi öncelik sırama göre hazırladım, ilgi alanlarınıza bakıp hoşunuza gideni seçebilirsiniz. - American Museum of Natural History (28 $) (12:00-17:30) https://www.amnh.org/plan-your-visit - Solomun R Guggenheim (Modern Art) (25 $) (11:00-17:00) https://secure.guggenheim.org/ - Metropolitan Museum of Art (30 $) (10:00-17:00 – Fri/Sat 21:00) https://www.metmuseum.org/visit/plan-your-visit#tickets - The Morgan Library & Museum (22 $) (10:30-17:00) (Cuma gğnleri 5-7 arası FreeFriday var, rezervasyon yapılırsa gidilebilir, bahçesi güzele benziyor) https://www.themorgan.org/visit - 9/11 Memorial Museum (29 $) (9:00-19:00) https://visit.911memorial.org/WebStore/shop/ViewItems.aspx?CG=tickets&C=museum#740747 - Intrepid Sea, Air and Space Museum (8$) (10:00-17:00) https://www.intrepidmuseum.org/Plan-Your-Visit - Skyscraper Museum (Free) (12:00-18:00) https://skyscraper.org/visit/ - Museum of Modern Art MoMA (25 $) (10:30-17:30) https://tickets.moma.org/orders/198/calendar?cart=true&eventId=5ef36ac25eeba32ee256c78d&ticketsga=1684388127&_gl=1*s4az7m*_ga*Mjc1MTg1NDU2LjE2ODQyMTgwMjY.*_ga_8QY3201SLC*MTY4NDM4ODEyMy4yLjEuMTY4NDM4ODEzOC4wLjAuMA..&_ga=2.225957082.1134058564.1684388124-275185456.1684218026 - Museum of Ice Cream (33-49$) (9:30-11:00) – Çılgın bi deneyim, değişiklik sevenler deneyebilir :) https://www.museumoficecream.com/new-york-city?gclid=Cj0KCQjwmZejBhC_ARIsAGhCqneF7t-hp2mSETALTiFGi97NywX0Pd8Fuico72mp1QnBTxCmZ-yoc1YaAnNPEALw_wcB - New York Public Library - St Patrick Cathedral

ÇATI VE MANZARALAR - Rockefeller Center (Top of the Rock) (40 $) https://www.rockefellercenter.com/attractions/top-of-the-rock-observation-deck/#ticket-offerings - Empire State Building (44-74 $) https://www.esbnyc.com/buy-tickets - The Edge (Hudson Yards) (35 $) https://www.edgenyc.com/en/buy-tickets - SUMMIT One Vanderbilt (42-62 $) https://summitov.com/tickets/ - One World Observatory (44-64 $) https://www.oneworldobservatory.com/buy-tickets/ - Liberty Statue and Ellis Island (Ferry 25 $/person) https://www.cityexperiences.com/new-york/city-cruises/statue/search-result/?destination=Reserve%20Ticket&date=20230620 ÖNEMLİ: Şöyle bir kampanya var Newyork City Pass bileti alarak yukarıdaki yerlerden 5 tanesini 138 $’a ziyaret edebiliyorsunuz. Tavsiyem, eğer manzaralardan birine çıkacaksanız bu bilet çok avantajlı, diğer gezeceğiniz yerleri de hemen belirliyorsunuz ve bir rota oluşturuyorsunuz. https://www.citypass.com/new-york PARK, BAHÇE VE YAPILAR - Central Park - Bryant Park /atıştırmalık ve içecek alıp yayılmalık, öğleden sonra dinlenmesi için sosyal bi ortam) - Brooklyn Bridge - Brooklyn Bridge Park (gün batımı için) - High Line (Hudson River) - Times Square - Wall Street - Soho - Harlem - Grand Central Terminal - Broadway - 5th and 6th Avenue - Manhattan - Manhattan Bridge - Chelsea (Özellikle Chelsea Market’e gidin, hem yeme-içme hem alışveriş için ideal bir ortam, keyifli olur) - Madison Square Park 2- YİYECEK-İÇECEK ROTASI Öncelikle belirtmeliyim ki iyi yemeğin köpeğiyiz, sizin için kabalaşmayacağım ama iyi yemeği sevdiğinizi biliyorum. Roof Bars & Local Pubs Bir roof barda imza kokteyllerini içmeden gelmeyin bence. Eğer yukarıdaki “çatı ve manzaralar” bölümünden bir mekana giderseniz bence kokteyl dahil fiyatı değerlendirin, avantajlı olabilir. - Bailey’s Corner Pub - The Sky Room - 230 Fifth Rooftop Bar - Harriet’s Rooftop - Westlight - The Crown NYC - McSorley’s Old Ale House - pub - The Dead Rabbit - pub Güzel mekan önerileri için şu siteyi de kullanabilirsiniz. https://mybartender.com/places/best-pubs-nyc/ Mesela Beer Gardenlar: https://mybartender.com/places/best-beer-gardens-nyc/ Bagels and Sandwiches - Katz Delicatessen – tercihler şunlar olabilir: All beef hotdog, Jewish snacks and deli, pastrami sandviç – Hiçbi yere gitmezseniz buraya mutlaka gidin pastrami için) - Russ & Daughters - Lox sandwich – somon fümelidir dikkat - Numpang - sandviç türevleri Vietnam işi, denenebilir. Bu yukarıdaki ikisi Yahudi restoranı, et konusunda çok rahat olabilirsiniz inek ve türevleri. - Absolute Bagel - Murray’s Bagels - Hudson Bagels - Ess-A-Bagel Burada plan şu, bi öğleden sonra yorulmuşsunuz ve bagel/sandviç+drinklerle birlikte Bryant Park’ta oturuyorsunuz. Sonra bana fotoğraf atın, sad story. Burgers and BBQ - Shake Shack (zincir ama gidin, yerlisi bile bayılıyormuş) - Taim (Falafel tarzı zımbırtılar var, alternatif) - Minetta Tavern (30 $ bandında fiyatlar, kendinize jest yapacaksanız gidin, abartılmış olabilir bilmiyorum.) - Hometown Bar-B-Que – “et yiyeceğim ben klasik Amerikan iteminin tadına bakacağım” diyenler için gidilebilir, her türlü et var. Food Trucks Food Truck deneyimi yaşamak lazım. - Wafels + Dinges - Kimchi Taco (kore + meksika mutfağı, ilginç olabilir) - Coolhaus (çok acayip bi dondurmacı gibi duruyor, gidilebilir, al-götür park yapılabilir.) - The Halal Guys (baya uzun yıllardır hizmet veriyormuş, et yemek isteyen helalcilere alternatif) Desserts - Levain Bakery - cookie masterlarmış – yer fıstıklı ve chocolate chip walnut gibi tarzları övüyorlar. Hiçbi tatlıcıya gitmeyecekseniz buraya gidin. - Crumbly – Crumb Cake - Magnolia Bakery (yerinde iyiym şu banana pudingi diyorsanız, bi şans verin, İstanbul’da da açıldı, esprisi kalmadı diyebiliriz ama hala popüler mekanmış) - Dominique Ansel Bakery – The Cronut (ödüllü şef, bi bakılabilir) - Little Cupcake Bakeshop – Banana Nutella Cake - Jacques Torres Chocolate - çikolatacıymış, şöyle bir bakılabilir, abartılmış olabilir. - La Maison du Chocolat - çikolatacı, antin kuntin şeyler var, sarmayabilir sizi ben olsam bi bakardım. - Sugar Sweet Sunshine – yani rastlarsanız bakarsınız bi aman aman değil. Strawberry Cupcake with PB Buttercream diyorlar, değerlendirilebilir. Doughnut (Amerika’nın National Item’ı :) ) - Doughnut Plant - Dough Ice-Cream - Ample Hills Creamery - Il Laboratorio Del Gelato - Big Gay Ice Cream (arkadaşlar salty pimp veya Bea Arthur meşhur diyorlar, çok acayip tatlar varmış, külahınızı mutlaka biscoff veya nutellaya batırtın diyorlar) - Morgenstern’s Ice Cream Pizza - Joe’s Pizza – dilim pizza ve ikonik-gidilir. - John’s of Bleecker Street – dilim pizza, bu da ikonik. - Fernando’s Focacceria (bakın burada asıl riceball yiyorsunuz, değişiklik olsun güzel bir İtalyan tercih gibi) - Mama’s Too (Doyurucu, İtalyan tarzı sandviçleri de var, öğlen yemeğinde de gidilebilir) Breakfast - Lunch-iesh - Dinner - Ruby’s Cafe - çok iyi duruyor ve aşırı ucuz, kahvaltı da yapılabilir, öğlen veya akşam da yenebilir. Tavuk burgeri iyimiş. AŞIRI UCUZ, F/P. - Balthazar – kahvaltı mekanı ama biraz pahalı, karar sizin. Gereksiz gibi, daha verimli harcanabilir para. - Paris Baguette Bakery Cafe – sabah gidin alın alacaklarınızı, parklardan birinde piknikle başlayın güne. Tercihen aşşırı gezdiğiniz bi günün ertesi günü olsun. Veya gün batımında aynı senaryoyu uygulayın. Zaten Hudson kenarı yakınındasınız, nehir kenarı keyfi yapılır gün batımında hem drink hem pastry, tatlı olur. - Sunday in Brooklyn – kahvaltı-brunch veya öğle yemeği. Ucuzdan biraz pahalı. - Crif Dogs - hot dog cenneti, öğlen gider bence. Parka al-götür de yapılır, local beerla bi denersiniz. - Clinton Street Baking Company – tatlı da var, yemek de fena görünmüyor. Kahvaltı da yapılabilir gibi. Ucuzdan biraz pahalı. - Vanessa’s Dumplings – çin mutfağı severler için mantıları güzelmiş. (öğlen) - 12 Chairs Cafe (akşam yemeği) - Jack’s Wife Freda (öğlen veya akşam) Fine-dine tarafına hiç bakmadım, isterseniz bikaç alternatif bakarız. 3- KONSER & ŞOV Gönül isterdi ki Broadway’de şov izleyin ama biletler 250 $’dan başlıyor, çok da güzel şovlar var karar sizin. Güzel bir konser veya festival de bulamadım o tarihlerde, Temmuz’da başlıyor güzel konserler. Şansımıza küselim. Yine de: HAFTALIK KONSER TAKVİMİ İÇİN: https://www.songkick.com/metro-areas/7644-us-new-york-nyc?filters%5BmaxDate%5D=06%2F22%2F2023&filters%5BminDate%5D=06%2F18%2F2023 Benim tercih edebileceğim Bebe Rexha (R&B-fiyat göremiyorum) ve The Blaze (elektronik – 70$dan başlıyor) var, gerisi çok açmadı. Bir de şurası var bakabilirsiniz. https://www.jambase.com/concerts/us/new-york/genres/hip-hop-rap-concerts?date-first=20230618&date-last=20230622

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