#(MMM time to make a new verse tag for this)

[circle-with-me]

tangled up in morning white

pairing: jolly karlsson x female ofc (violet)

content warning: 18+MDNI! unprotected sex, fingering (female receiving), very soft intimacy, so much fluff, these two clowns are so in love.

word count: 1.4k

tag list: @deathblacksmoke @darksigns-exe @malice-ov-mercy @sitkowski @somebodyels3 @baddestomens @cncohshit @cookiesupplier @collective-heartbreak @tearfallpixie @broken0mens @collapsedglasshouses @lma1986 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @catharsis-in-darkness @shilohrosechicken @sprokat

author’s note: surprise addition to the jolly and violet verse! this stemmed from a soft boy hours post @darksigns-exe (read it here!!) made that absolutely blew my mind. i hope i did it justice 🩷

It’s hard for Jolly to believe that there was ever a time before Violet. Sure, it existed—but his life changed for the better when she came along. They clicked instantly and became fast friends; it was hard not to with so many shared interests. Things were easy with Violet. Not only was she a blast to be around but she knew how to handle the messes he could make—both in his personal life and in his head. He would show up at her house at all hours and she would gather up his troubles, find the missing pieces, and fix them all by dawn. Somehow she managed this all with a cup of coffee and a pencil shoved in her bun to keep her hair out of her face while she thought. Jolly had no idea how she did it, but he was sure she was heaven sent. He always hoped he provided her with half of the same moral support she had given him. 

Now, years later, he has the privilege of waking up next to her each morning. It’s a feeling that he’ll never get used to, Jolly thinks. At least he hopes he doesn’t. The conscious awareness of her weight next to him provides him a sense of security. As long as she’s near him, he knows she’s safe. 

Jolly lies on his side watching her chest rise and fall slowly—her breathing acting as a calming agent. Violet’s pulse beats steadily in her neck. He could so easily lean over and press a kiss there but he can’t bring himself to disturb her. He gently pushes a strand of hair out of her face, admiring the way she smiles at his touch. Every attempt he makes at memorizing her features ends with him discovering something new and even more remarkable about her. 

She stirs under his touch. Her head turns to place kisses to his palm before her eyes even begin to open. Watching her sleep was incomparable to the breathtaking experience of seeing her wake. She extends her arm around his waist, fingers dancing along the warm skin. 

“Good morning, my flower.”

“Mmm. Hi.” Violet whispers drowsily as she shifts into his arms, tangling their legs together. Jolly buries his face in her hair inhaling the scent of her shampoo. She makes a content sound settling into his chest, undoubtedly enjoying the warmth that has developed between them. 

It’s calming—the two of them basking in the quiet early morning hours. He craves these innocent moments with her—needs them in ways he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to describe. It’s these moments that he desperately misses when he’s on tour. He tries to take advantage of them as much as possible when he’s home. Having her this close is equally a blessing and a curse. This morning, he needs something more, and when her knee slots between his thighs just so, it’s impossible for him to hide it any longer. She shifts in his arms and he’s met with green eyes peering up at him.

“Honey,” Violet sighs. “Why didn’t you say anything?” She trails featherlight kisses across his chest. Her fingernails scratch at the skin under the waistband of his boxers. The contact makes him shudder and he can’t resist pressing into her more. 

“I didn’t want to wake you,” He responds, his voice giving away just how worked up he is. “Also, we were having such a nice moment—I was trying not to ruin it.” 

Violet looks up at him with a sinful smile. She pushes her hand past his waistband, wrapping her fingers around his erection. Jolly’s eyes roll back into his head at her touch. He feels her smile against his lips, all hope of returning any attention back to her lips is completely lost in the grip she has on him. 

“Who says this can’t be a part of our nice moment together?” 

Jolly lets his hands respond for him—hiking her leg on top of his thigh. His hands snake their way up her oversized t-shirt and push it over her head. He makes quick work of his boxers but he’s unwilling to part ways with her for long, tugging her close once again. Her bare body connecting with him sets him on fire when he feels how affected she is already. 

A gasp leaves her parted lips when he sneaks a hand between her legs, fingering through her folds. It’s dizzying how tight she feels around a single finger when he slips it inside her. There’s no protest when he works a second in soon after. Her fingers dig into his chest and shoulders as she searches for purchase. His head sinks below to capture her breast in his mouth, licking and sucking at her nipple. He craves her warmth around his length but doesn’t dare take her pleasure away from her. She’s so close and he can feel it. It isn’t much longer until she falls apart for him.

Breathless, she crawls on top of him. Her lips attach to his chest and she leaves gentle bites along the skin. When she sits up, Jolly is left speechless. The sun has come up and peeks through the crack of the window. It shines beautifully onto Violet’s body, highlighting her gorgeous form. The green in her eyes beam with such magnificence that it would make the most beautiful emerald look dull. 

She seems just as mesmerized by him in the warm light, unhurriedly running her palms down his chest and stomach repeatedly. The two of them admire each other for what seems like hours. Jolly would happily burn the image of her on top of him into his eyelids if he could. 

“You’re shaking.” Violet observes. Her hand still steadily moves up and down his torso. She doesn’t seem to realize that she’s also shaking. Jolly gently takes her hand. Violet laces their fingers together and brings them to her lips. 

“Vi,” He breathes. “I need you.”

Violet lifts her hips and sinks down onto him with practiced ease. He grabs her waist moving her to set the pace but she pushes them away choosing to set her own torturously slow rhythm instead. While he thinks he may go mad from the unhurried pace, the pleasure is immeasurable and Jolly can feel himself burning from the inside out. 

He grabs fistfuls of the sheets beneath him—anything to keep his hands busy. The longing to close the proximity between them is profound. As he watches her move he dreams about wrapping his hand around her throat, not to choke, but bring her down to him—crush their lips together and intensify the moment even more. The desire to touch her grows too strong. He places a large palm on Violet’s chest, allowing her pulse to settle the frenzied thoughts in his brain.

The slow drag of her hips sets him alight with pleasure but his body relaxes with every roll, every sigh from her lips, every flutter of her eyelashes. He feels her walls squeeze around him—her legs begin to shake and the rest of her body follows soon after. The way she moans his name, Joakim, has always been unlike any other but this time feels different. Her voice raises an octave as a gasp forms around the end of his name. The glow of the morning light radiates around her and he feels unworthy of bearing witness to this moment. But it’s their moment. It belongs to them.

When Violet collapses over him— shuddering but otherwise still—he feels her fingers run through his brown locks that have spread out over the pillow. The pressure of her on his chest is blissfully suffocating. She kisses him in such a way that what little oxygen is left is pulled straight from his lungs. The feeling consumes him and he spills into her without warning. Each muscle in his body goes taut. Every one of his senses implode as she begins rocking on top of him again to prolong his climax. 

Jolly tries to see her again, to bask in her glow once more as he comes back down, but all he sees is Violet’s silhouette with a faint orange hue surrounding it. Her lips press against his forehead—the hands that were once in his hair cup his face, her thumbs delicately graze along his cheekbones. Violet’s soft murmurs of praise barely register in his ears from the blood still rushing through them. His arms wrap around her, somehow pulling her in closer than before. He’ll selfishly hold her here until she insists on getting out of bed. 

[firefly--bright]

without home (without you)

jean kirstein x gender neutral!reader

a blooming hearts extra!

warnings : heavy, heavy angst, grief, aot-verse violence mentions, manga chapter spoilers!!!!!! major character death (it's you lmao you're the character-) proceed w caution! can be read as a stand alone piece but reading blooming hearts would help :)

summary : an almost devastating need to be with you. his skin wanted to lay with yours. jean doesn't know what to do with his hands now that you're gone.

a/n : damn this was hard to write. i love writing angst but mmm this was kinda tricky cause it's about poppy, yk? i had to do alot of digging on Jean's character and watched a few videos about it too, just to get this perfect. i hope it was worth it and that you guys would like this :) engagement is very appreciated!

tagging : @a10vely-yutazen taglist is open!

✿ blooming hearts playlist ✿ fic pinterest board ✿ enter my taglist ✿ main masterlist is in pinned navigation ✿ requests are open! ✿

fanart in the middle by @/gemmsen on Instagram.

--

Jean didn’t realise his bones hurt this much.

He knew they’d hurt after all the years being spent in relentless fighting, but he didn’t know they'd hurt this much. He assumed the pain would go away as soon as he lead a more relaxing life, but it seemed to stay.

His mother had opened the door to his childhood house with a wide grin and tearing escaping her eyes. She never cried when he was a kid – a sign jean took for her strength. But when she stood infront of him, head near his weary but beating heart, he heard her sob. And out of all things she could do, she thanked him.

Him. she thanked him.

And what for? For returning empty handed? Returning with less than he had started out with? Returning without bringing you?

He had promised her in those letters he wrote to her almost every other month that he’d bring you along with him when he would finally come back home after all these years. That his mother would love you and show you around jean’s childhood garden and make you his favourite food in hopes you’d love it too. he wondered if his mother was waiting for you as much as she was waiting for him.

But the wait would have been futile anyway. You would never grace his old house, your soft footsteps would never pad along his childhood room that still had his old drawings and sketches and clothes that he bet his mother still kept in his closet, collecting dust.  

He hugged his mother close to his chest. After he was ushered inside by the older woman, she had promptly made him tea with milk the same way he’d drink it as a child and some toast with a little bit of sugar sprinkled on top. The same toast you had tried to make in Marley after he told you about his old favourite treat. he remembered you putting a little too much sugar on it, and when jean complained about it, you just shrugged and told him his bitter attitude would be fixed if he ate the whole thing.

He ate the whole thing. Not to fix his ‘bitter attitude’ but to see your smile on your face as you prepared to make the second piece of toast, this time with less sugar.

His mother talked about all the things he’d missed. She talked about how Mr. Thompson’s boy ran away one time, and how he came back at night after he became too hungry. The boy’s mother had given him a beating after that, jean’s mother recalled. Jean smiled as he blew his tea to cool it, something he had to now get used to doing by himself. You’d always make the tea hot and let it cool down as jean slept through the sunrise. The commander position had been too much for him to handle as he sat through sleepless nights trying to complete the endless paperwork and future plans himself. You’d try to stay up by his side, but ended up passing out after having to help armin with the new train track plans the entire day in the blazing paradis sun. the milky tea would cool down to be a temperature which jean actually enjoyed sipping it in, so in some ways, the sleeplessness would be worth it.

He remembered you trying out coffee for the first time in Marley. Your nose scrunched and eye twitched as you drank the bitter liquid, but you tried to maintain your composure infront of the azumbito who had so kindly offered you the drink. The cup went untouched after the first sip. Jean had to finish it off so you wouldn’t feel bad about being rude to your hosts, and with his stone face as he sipped the wretched thing, he saw your shoulders relax a bit. He remembered thinking he would make you pay him back, but for now, it would be worth it.

his mother knew better than to ask him about his experiences. She remembered when he wrote that letter describing when jean found his dear friend dead. The letter was one of the first he had ever written to her. It was short and to the point, but jean’s mother treasured it nonetheless. His mother told jean how there had been a shortage of apples for a while now, so her horse in the stable hadn’t seen his favourite treat for a long time. She left out the part where she would look at the empty stable next to her own horse, the one occupied by jean’s father’s horse.

Jean’s father had always been a touchy subject in the Kirstein household. Jean himself had his mother’s last name due to the reason, refusing to take his fathers. He’d leave and return at random times of the year, claiming something about “having work” which jean, even as a child, didn’t believe. He would almost always return an ungodly amount of time later, in the late hours of the night, claiming he missed his ‘wife’ even though the ring on jean’s mother’s hand was long gone, kept in the drawer in her closet. She told jean that she would give the ring to him when he decided to get married himself so that it could be like a family heirloom instead of something that made her see the man that she grew to hate.

She had kicked jean’s father out soon after she got better after being sick, when jean had been in the second year of his cadet training. She wrote the news to him in a letter that went unanswered for a long time. Jean didn’t acknowledge it until after the war in trost, when he diligently answered his mother’s letters – new and old – after you had told him to treat his mother better. He realised his stupidity the night you told him that after the close call to his death, he might as well tell his mother he was alive and somewhat well and that his teenage rage bullshit with his mother would only keep hurting the woman.

He detailed his apology in the next letter he wrote to her. She brushed his stupidity aside, saying she forgave him. she then asked about you in the letter.

Jean’s next letter was three whole pages long, front and back.

As he cleaned up from the warm and much needed dinner after a long day's travel, he wondered if she still kept that letter.

Jean wished he could go back. he wished he was here with you instead of alone. He wished you rode your horse alongside his and complained about how your back was hurting because of the long journey. Jean wished he could massage your back to relive you of the discomfort like how he used to after you had been slumped on your desk for too long.

he tried to swallow down the lump in his throat, shifting his attention to cleaning the dishes.

But how could he focus? Your hands weren’t wrapped around his waist, cheek pressed on his back like you used to back in Marley, in your shared apartment supplied by the Azumabito’s as the scouts tried to act like normal Marleyans and somehow gather information about the military and whereabouts of the suicidal maniac. But in your little home, coated in beautiful silence, you and jean were just…that. Just people. Not trying to stay alive on the rooftops of trost while fighting cannibalistic giants, not infront of your friend’s and old commrades’ graves asking for forgiveness, not a commander and his assistant. You were just two people, sharing a house, doing the dishes after eating dinner, with your feet touching the same ground, warm skin touching warm skin.

Jean sighed. The basin was a relatively new invention to paradis, and he was glad for that. He couldn’t imagine dipping his hand in the dirty water like he had to during his cadet days after you had been separated from him to clean up the stables.

Stop thinking, he tried to will himself with futile results.

Missing you would be an understatement. Missing you would be saying that you were only gone for a couple of days. Missing you sounded more like a promise, like a hope that you'd come back to him and he’d stop missing you. he wasn’t grieving you, either. He grieved marco. He grieved sasha. He grieved the commrades that died on his command, and he knew for a fact that grief wasn’t what he felt for you.

No, this felt more like… an ache. Residing deep in his muscles because they couldn’t hold you, residing deep in his lungs because they couldn’t smell the scent you left behind – the freshly washed clothes and the smell of flowers. After you had discovered perfumes in marley, it was over for you. you tried every single one, finally settling on the one marked as “pure blossom” and jean remembered calling it a stupid name because they could’ve just named it “flowers” instead of something pretentious, but the smile on your face made him pull his wallet out anyway.

The ache, as he decided to call it, was more dangerous than the grief. The ache felt more like a habit he had left behind instead of memories that would rush into his head. Habit of seeing you wake up next to him, of seeing you cutting up vegetables alongside him, of you strapping on his ODM gear. Things you had done to him a million times before, things he couldn’t call memories because memories would imply that he was going to forget them soon, or that he was intending to bury them with his countless other memories, but for him it felt like a cycle. Like the spinning of the candy floss he bought for you at your first carnival in the interiors of paradis as a cadet.

He hadn’t notice his mother walking back into the kitchen when she laid a hand on his shoulder. He had subconsciously stopped scrubbing the dishes, his hands frozen under the running water.

“I’ll clean up the rest, jean-bo. I set up your bed, so go and sleep.” She said.

Jean breathed. Nodding, he wiped his hands on the napkin next to him.

His upstairs room, as suspected, had been left untouched. He assumed there would be dirt everywhere, but jean’s mother seemed to have cleaned it. He sighed an affectionate smile.

The air in his room smelt like old wood soaked in rain. He padded his feet over to the window near his closet to let some fresh night air inside.

resting his chin on his palm, he looked out the now open window. The moon was full and beautiful, and under his room was the perfect view of the garden his mother was so fondly and patiently growing.

The moonlight gave just enough light to the flowers she grew. If memory served jean correct, some were tulips with their closed buds. Some were uncanny to white roses, but he wouldn’t know with the dim lighting. His eyes wandered the place, observing the flowers in the different staged of being bloomed, until they landed on them. The poppies.

The red flowers looked almost purple with the moon’s glow and the indigo night sky, but that didn’t stop jean from recognizing them, not after everything.

“poppy.” He whispered.

“poppy. Poppy. Poppy.” He repeated, like he thought saying it enough times would bring you back. he remembered how sasha had told him that if you say a name of a dead person three times infront of a mirror, their apparation would appear infront of you. sasha was from a small village, and the extents of her superstitious knowledge never failed to surprise jean, and he brushed her off saying it was just something her grandmother would have made up.

But although jean didn’t have a mirror infront of him, he hoped the conviction in his voice would do the trick. He hoped his tears would mold you out of the ground you had sank in after death, he hoped his hand pressed to his chest would breathe life to your sculpture and that you'd be here, infront of him, glowing beneath the moonlight, no longer in a pool of your own blood on the cold floor, that your warmth would be yours again.

But all he did was sob and repeat your nickname in between the pleads of your name, soon becoming incoherent and jumbled mush. His right hand was pressed on the centre of his chest where it hurt the most, where the only thing that would heal it would be your signature kisses to it, like your own handmade key. Like how his was on the tip of your nose. His left hand clasped his ear, hoping he would hear the sweet tunes of your voice again, but all he heard instead were his sobs and the gunshot that killed you.

But one of his wishes was granted. If he were not to hear you or touch you or feel you again, he could at least see you as he closed his eyes tightly. He saw the first time he’d seen you without your clothes, only in your undergarments. The curtains of his room were closed, as you both laid on his cool bedsheets. Jean’s eyes roamed your body, marking every bruise, fresh and old, and every scar, new and healing and healed. He remembered asking himself why the priests in the churches prayed to a god in the walls when his god was here, infront of him, breathing, and how they could ever worship something that wasn’t even half as real yet holy as you, how they could plead to the sky when you were intertwining his pinky with yours, and how they could devote to their readings even if they could never find the words you say to him in the scriptures. How could they worship someone who has never touched them the way you had to him, your hands now tracing his jaw, trailing down to his adams apple as he swallowed, then to all the scars on his chest and arms, the ones he’d always kept covered. Did the gods they worshiped make them feel free of all their sins as they claimed to the same way he felt his sins wash away as you held his hand? Jean was never the religious type, but he did remember thinking, no, knowing, that there had to have been some god in you. that you had to be a god. And of course, he couldn’t say these things out loud in a way that would make sense, so he just continued to look at you as his eyes fluttered shut that night.

His mothers hand encircled his shoulders as she sat down beside him, back pressing the wall with the window jean was previously looking out of.

His mothers hand encircled his shoulders as she sat down beside him, back pressing the wall with the window jean was previously looking out of.

his mother guided him to sit at the edge of his clean bed. she sat on the edge of the mattress, and jean instinctively rest the back of his head against her knees.

it was something they used to do - whenever jean would be bullied, which happened quite a lot, his mother would ask him to sit on the floor as she massaged his head and took away all his worries. he'd rant to her about the boys with raspy voices and bruised knuckles would pick on him and him only, while his mother reminded him he was special, that he was okay, that the boys only did that to him because they lacked the confidence jean had.

and when jeans mother, once again, brushed her hand through his hair, his sobs ceased. he still wanted to scream, burst out in the tears that he had already exhausted to an extent, but instead, he sat there with wet eyelashes and cheeks with closed eyes, thinking about you and the things he wished would happen. that's the only thing he could do, he realised. all he could do now was wish and dream and picture a life with you by his side instead of living the horrid reality without you.

his mother broke the silence. "tell me about them," she asks.

she doesn't have to; she knows everything there is to know about poppy from her point of view by Jean's numerous letters detailing his experiences which somehow always consisted you. but she asked anyway. maybe because she wished someone would have asked her about jean's father when he left because not only did she have so much to say, she felt as though if she didn't, then it would be less real. then it would be all in her head. and if her son was anything like her, he was feeling the same way right now.

jeans hands shook, something he had grown used to since being a scout and waking up with nightmares; only this time, you weren't with him, holding his palms with your fingers until they stopped moving feverously. with one of his hands on his chest and the other in his lap, he took seven deep breaths in the same way marco had taught him. inhale, hold for a couple seconds, and then exhale. he repeated that until he gained his voice again, until he was sure the lump in his throat had dissolved a little.

with his mother's hands still in his hair, Jean found the strength to speak. he opened his mouth.

“they�� the first time we talked, they called me flower boy.” He said hoarsely, and even if he had exhausted his tears for atleast two weeks, his eyes still burnt from a memory he couldn’t go back to. He saw it clearly, as if it were yesterday; the dining hall was packed, the smell of moist old wood and stale bread and steamed vegetables stained the atmosphere. The fire lamp behind you hit the side of your face, and he heard your voice clear as the night sky outside – “flower boy” you had said and if jean had food in his mouth, he was sure he would’ve spit it out.

“it wasn’t even..” jean smiled sadly, “it isn’t even a romantic nickname like honey or babe or sweetheart but it still made me choke up and blush. I think it was the fact that it was a personal nickname that I knew they wouldn’t call anyone else. and we had this stupid competition where we’d see who could go through the forest faster with our new ODM gear and one time they crashed into me because they lost control and I was on crutches for the next two weeks and they felt so guilty about it that they made me a flower crown every other day. I wasn’t even mad at them, not really. I just wanted them to continue making the flower crowns so I pretended to be mad at them.” He said. His voice regained it’s strength, palms facing upwards on his lap, taunting him as they lay there empty without yours intertwined in them.

His mother hummed knowingly. She knew what it was like to be in the crutches of strong teenage love, feeling like she had an entire world to explore with this newfound vision. How she wished she could go back and tell her younger self to enjoy that rose-coloured feeling while it lasted.

“and they never stopped calling me that. It felt wrong for someone else to call me that,” jean explained, and he felt his hand drift to the centre of his chest, feeling his heart beat. It seemed calm now, he noted, how the rhythmic vibration didn’t seem as erratic as before. maybe his mother was right, maybe all he needed to do was talk about you.

But how long would it take? How long would he have to blabber on about you, which he would do very gladly, for his still beating heart to know that you were no longer here? That you weren’t the reason it would flutter and thrum against his chest? how much longer would he have to keep reminding himself that you wouldn’t stop him in his tracks if you ever spotted a poppy on your way to a bakery in marley?

“I don’t think I can….i don’t think I can live without them, ma. It hurts. It hurts so much.” The cold hand on his chest started shaking again. “I don’t want to open my eyes without them. I don’t want to…I don’t know what to do, ma, what do I do? What do I do with all of what I’ve felt and keep feeling for them?” he asks raspily, desperately, like his mother would know the answers to questions she herself hadn’t been able to answer. Jean turned his head towards her, placing his cheek on her lap as he closed his eyes once more. If his mother couldn’t answer him, surely the darkness would be able to do something, right?

“sweet heart… I will be honest, I don’t know. I wish I did, but I don’t. its like your hands don’t know what to hold anymore, isn’t it?” she paused. “I wont pretend to know what you’re feeling. But all I can say is that you keep loving them, jean-bo. Preserve it. Keep it locked up only for them. And then, when time comes, and when your chest stops aching so, you can let it go.” She says.

Jean shakes his head, “but what if my chest never stops hurting?”

His mother doesn’t answer.

Jean knew at a young age that his mother didn’t always know the answer. Where other boys would spew facts and trivia about the world as their mother told them, jean’s mother would only answer him with an apologetic look and a “you’ll know soon enough jean-bo. And when you do, be sure to tell me.” and sometimes jean would be jealous of the other boys for having a mother like theirs, but he would shake away that jealousy quickly enough, coming home to his mother with an unbuttoned shirt, crying because the button broke off during a rather aggressive play of catch, and his mother would quickly sew on a shiny new button to it’s original place.

He learnt that his mother may not have all the answers to the world, but atleast she’d know how to fix them. How to fill in the cracks of the questions to make it her own wall.

But now he was here, on his mother’s lap, asking her to fix his broken heart, asking her to fix his collapsing lungs and shaking hands, looking for answers he knew he couldn’t find. He knew you took the answers with you, and he knew the threads you so intricately wove into him, into his veins, were unravelling until there would be nothing but a husk of a body he once knew only through your stitches.

His mother took his shaking hands in her own, forcing him to sit up straight. Her thumbs rub over his scarred knuckles. She lets out a sigh.

“I don’t know.” She mutters. Its an apology.

 He doesn’t know either. He’s sorry too.

--

[holycorrupt]

OC MUSIC

Thanks for the tag @skyderman took me a second to fill this out because I wanted to be sitting at my desk to make it easier lol I tag @gearthepunk , @bmmbooshoot 👀 I wanna see your oc playlists ehehe (no pressure though!) MOTHERS THOUSAND EYES PLAYLIST Now under the cut I'm going to ramble about a couple songs for each of the boys and then a couple bonus tracks ;^) Uh word of warning this gets very very long and rambly because music is the #1 inspo for MTE's world and characters lol...

FRANCIS 1.) President Heartbeat - Everything Everything

The vibes of this song are very Francis and I connect the lyrics of feeling out of place in your own body with him quite a bit. I highlighted a few lines I find powerful as well.

If you burst into flame now Will they call you a human being? And your spine is a glass spire And your flesh is the concrete And your blood is the sewer And your skin is the city wall Well I wanna be different But it never gets different And you promised me Heaven And you said it would happen soon

Do you live in the new world On the grave of the old world? With a coffin of sunlight That you carry upon your back? Feel the rat at your ankle And the rush in your eyeball And they're bludgeoning cycle And the way you don't even feel Well I think about living And I think about burning And I think about dying And I think about all this fear And I wanna be useful And I wanna be hopeful What's the matter with hopeful? I just wanna get out of here

2.) I See Failure - Antarctigo Vespucci

ugh this song.... honestly I don't want to copy paste the whole thing but the lyrics are just like 100% him and his feelings with the budding romance going on with Sam and his doubts about the future he wishes he'll have vs the future he thinks he deserves :^(((

When I look into the future, I see failure And fear and death and endless tragedy When you look ahead, tell me, what do you see? Is it still something involving you and me?

When I look to the night sky I see darkness With well-lit interruptions in between When you look above, tell me, what do you see? Is there a heaven in the sky for you and me?

When I ask you what you really think And I freak out about everything When you try your best to clear my head But I sink a mile under the bed Is it all my fault or just most of it? My potential turns to worthlessness And you reach to pull me out of it But the weight just starts to suck you in You say, "It can't be me, no not again I'll drown in the rain before this storm ends" All the missteps flash inside my head And I'm wondering Oh-

THESE VERSES!!!! i'M SCREAMING!@!!!!

3.) Pray for Pills - Small Leaks Sink Ships

This one tonally might not be for everyone tbh but I legit got chills the first time it popped up into my discover weekly lol, the contrast of harsh instrumentals, the angelic humming and the guttural lyrics... its Francis vibes to a 'T' LOL While I don't really relate the actual words in the lyrics that much with him the overall vibe is too perfect! (Save for the end ;^)

SAM

1.) Good Shoot, Good Soldier - Everything Everything

Look, I can't talk about Sam and music without bringing this song up ok?? I relate it a lot to Sam's personal struggle at both trying to to the right thing as a person and Do the Right Thing™️ as an authority figure. I also relate it a little with him pondering if he's actually a good person or not...in the eyes of God has he done the right thing? It's soft and bittersweet and just perfect...

You're a grown man, you're a good leader Don't everybody know Uh, what's the right thing, what's the right thing to do? I'm a police, I'm a policeman And you're a criminal We decided, we decided that's that Do the golf clap for all the right people They don't know that you laugh It's a secret, this is why I'm telling you It's all gone It's all done, mmm If I'm wrong, then strike me down With a bolt from the heavens With a breath from a holy sigh If I'm right, then light my way Can you tell me the difference? Can you see it through all our eyes?

"Can Mother see I'm a good person through your eyes?"

Tell me your truth, tell me a story And I will follow you

Quite literally Sam learns from Francis of his abuse and terror growing up in the church and instead chooses to follow him instead of his soldier hood HE CHOoSES HIM AHGDJDGHGHLJ

If I promise to be good And split open the grave mouth Would you take me to paradise? If my bones just fall away And my skin is a dust cloud Would you siphon my soul from air?

2.) In a Sweater Poorly Knit - mewithoutYou

tbh the first couple times I listened to this one I was on a fence but the lyrics are really 'Sam Core' HAHA... also huh this is one where I'm literally going to paste 90% of the lyrics because...come on...

A fumbling reply, an awkward rigid laugh And I'm carried helpless by my floating basket raft Your flavor in my mind's back and forth between Sweeter than any wine and bitter as mustard greens And it's light as dark as honeydew and pumpernickel bread The trap I set for you seems to have caught my leg instead Go plow some other field and try and forget my name We'll see what harvest yields, and, supposing I'd do the same I planted rows of peas, by the first week of July They should have come up to my knees But they were maybe ankle high Take the fingers from your flute to weave your colored yarns And boil down your fruit to preserves in mason jars And the books are overdue and the goats are underfed The trap I set for you seems to have caught my leg instead You're a door-without-a-key, a field-without-a-fence You made a holy fool of me and I've thanked you ever since And if she comes circling back, we'll end where we'd begun Like two pennies on the train track, the train crushed into one But if I'm a crown without a king, if I'm a broken open seed If I come without a thing, then I come with all I need No boat out in the blue, no place to rest your head The trap I set for you seems to have caught my leg instead

The honeydew and Pumpernickel bread line is SO PERFECT

3.) Hell and You - Amigo the Devil Uhhhh...homoerotic loyalty??! That's all I'm gonna say B^)

BONUS SONG

Hearts and Mess - Gotye

The perfect song to describe Sam and Francis' romantic relationship in the beginning, Sam yearning to be let into Francis' stoic walls.... the erratic drums, the rockiness of new feelings ;o;

[forlornmelody]

Writing Game

Tagged by @alyssalenko Thanks, fran!

Tagging: @ma-sulevin and @pigeontheoneandonly, if you want to play!

How many works do you have on AO3? 44. Though a couple of them are collections of Tumblr ficlets, so the number is higher if you count those seperately.

What’s your total AO3 word count? 183,424. I like to be brief, heh.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

About That Uniform

It's no secret that Artemis Shepard--Hero of the Alliance and Savior of the Citadel--hates Cerberus more than anything in the galaxy. The Illusive Man entrusts Miranda Lawson with the task of securing Shepard's loyalty by any means necessary. But who is seducing who?

2. The Fantabulous Vaction of One Harley Quinn and Her Girlfriend Poison Ivy

Harley's been burning the wick at both ends and Ivy knows just the thing to help. But it takes more than just a change of scenery to get Harley to let go.

3. Traitor Martyr Spy

Against all odds, Cerberus Spy Miranda Lawson and Alliance Marine Artemis Shepard have fallen in love. But Miranda is on the run and Artemis has turned herself in to Alliance custody--and the Reapers will arrive any second. Can these two defy all odds a second time?

4. Trust Exercise

Harley wants to try something new, but Ivy isn't sure her girlfriend is ready to see that part of her.

5. Three Robins Rose Has Kissed and the One Who Kissed Back.

Rose Wilson has a type and it is former protégés of Batman.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not? Of course! I know it takes a lot to leave a comment on someone else's work, so I always respond, even if it takes me a while to get to it. Plus, comments always make my day week month year life

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? 

Uuuuuh. There's a lot of contenders for that one. But I imagine it's gonna end up being Traitor, Martyr, Spy. Y'know, when I actually finish the thing. Honestly that's probably why I haven't finished it yet. The pandemic hit and suddenly I needed to cheer myself up, haha.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? Probably The Fantabulous Vacation of One Harley Quinn and Her Girlfriend Poison Ivy, A Valentine for Esteban, and in general, @scifi-ginger and I's Kord Center Mall Fics are on the fluffier side.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the strangest one you’ve written? See aforementioned mall-verse fic. We basically threw our favorite fandoms together in a mall-based AU and it just spiraled from there.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Kinda? I got a really weird, borderline biphobic comment on Not Your Hanar With Tits, which is basicaly an analogue for unicorn hunters.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I mostly write smut, haha. Non-smut is the exception to the rule. Um...mostly queer, often kinky, with lots of feelings included.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Not that I'm aware of.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I’m aware of.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Fics, no, series, yes.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? Oh come on, you know it's panphobic to make me choose! XD I'm currently a sucker for Jayrose, Poisonquinn (more commonly known as Harlivy), and Shenko, among others.

What are your writing strengths? Mmm...I would say angst, writing trauma in a grounded way, queer and queer coded romances. And possibly smut.

What are your writing weaknesses? Finishing a fucking fic, oh my God.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I try to stick with idiomatic phrases, and the limited words I know (usually Spanish.) But other than that I try really hard to avoid relying on Google Translate, as I don't trust it one bit.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Digimon. Yup. Those fics are still on FF.net, if that site still exists.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Spare Parts for Mass Effect, Three Robins for DC Comics, and of course, I have a soft spot for all my Tumblr ficlets.

[memorytides]

First

»»————-　♡　————-«« ⚠️18+ ⚠️ summary: It’s about time y’all move beyond heated kisses. Cw: penetration, genitalia not specified (not sure what else to tag) Note: This was my first time writing something explicit, so sorry ;w; »»————-　♡　————-««

Flushed by the flavor of each other’s lips

With liberty to further persist

Mmm~

This alone, one entangled mess

To his bed, you both progress.

Straddled to entrap his hip,

And entrapped by his arms grip.

Lips connected by wet silk thread

He downs it, as if he hasn’t been fed

Contributing to his bulging head.

Mmm~

From flush faces, that heat spreads

Ah!~

New sensations wholly foreign reign

Internal shame left to wane

Unintended buck

“Oh, fuck~”

Pause in exchange for bashful consent

You quip, “Yes, you’ve unlocked The event”

He feels as if he’d transcend.

Lead by excited hesitance,

Fumbling for contraceptive ordinance

Kiss again without hindrance,

Desperate without elegance.

Ah~

Seldom moans as clothing loosens

Escaping from tongues woven

Craving all of this housewarden.

“Sevens, Idia~”

Intent on giving each other complete devotion.

Piece by piece removed with intent motions.

Off they go in sequence

Traced touches and whispered grievances

Enhanced by love bite vandalism's.

Till hands reach his bottom hem.

Reaffirmed consent, cause for cautious suspension

Enough time to feel increased palpitation

And heart-shaped dilation.

Enthusiasm almost orgasmic

Introductions to his throbbing dick

Proper view no longer making it mythic.

Alluring, gradient blue

With carpet a matching hue.

Removing one’s bottoms to grant him a similar view.

Sevens, I just want to love you.

Hitched breath, careful position

Ah~

Trembled gasp from the sudden connection.

Momentarily still to grow accustom

Mmm~

Mentally preparing for a possible rhythm

Slow taking of his erection

Reaching the base, Heavens~ Elation

Each penetration sustained

Until the pleasure outdid the initial pain.

Oh, Fuck!~

Desire no longer contained

The collision ordain

Lust has melted your brains.

“Please,

Ah, please~”

As both slightly reposition with ease

“More~

Sevens, more

Till we’re sore!”

Moving to better breech the shore

He clasps your pelvis

As you release a paralleled hiss

“Like this?~”

“Yes, yes, please~”

He pleads with each pace increase

Further bouncing with pronounced intensity,

He’s thrusting with such necessity,

Engulfed by lewd squelching from beneath.

Holy shit, our hearts seethe.

Ah Sevens~

Indulging in each other’s essence

In his eyes filled with loving sentiments,

You are his wondrous monolith,

Blubbering compliments,

With how gorgeous you are at the core of it.

Ahh~

Nothing else exists in the area

“Idia, Idia~

Oh fuck yesss~”

Ecstasy fully expressed

Falling apart from this

“For the love of Hades,

Just like that!~”

Straining just to keep at

“Cumming,” he manages to whimpers out

As he burrows by your nape, you shout,

“Sevens, Shroud!”

As white escapes hence

Oozing condom as consequence

As “Idia!~” you outcry

Slowed riding to descending high

Till Stable breath, repossess

Off besides him, you lay motionless

Coming down, you both decompress

Discarding condom, he’ll express

Almost begging, “Could we go again?”

Pleading, “Just one more campaign!”

You give in to his endearing verse

“Alright, One more round for you, my genius”

[ofthewildrose-blog]

hey guys remember that one time when all the scions basically “died” at the very end of A:RR just before heavensward?

what if minfilia didn’t run back? what if she ran with the warrior of light and travelled to ishgard with them, alphinaud, and tataru? what if she reunited with krile at last? fam, fam what if she met estinien and ysayle proper and invited them to join the scions? what if, lads, she had to carry the burden of failing the scions for the second time (again, remember the time they were basically massacred by the garlean assault after titan?) and struggled with intense guilt of having left behind her family basically? 

wanna make a verse of this so bad you don’t even kNOW

[fourmarkdove]

Fawn - Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |  Part 4 |  Part 5 | Part 6 | Masterlist

Title: Fawn - Part 3

Words: 3.2k

Summary: Yennefer confirms Geralt’s suspicions and a rift is created between you and the White Wolf. Angst. Suggested smut. Fluff. Hurt/comfort.

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Warnings: Suicidal ideation, miscarriage, abortion. If you’re triggered PLEASE skip ahead. Please check out the trigger warnings (tw:) in the tags!

A/N: Don’t blame me. It was that fricking wish! I’m not happy about it, either, but it’s canon. Comments welcome. Thanks for reading as always!

Like an expectant father waiting outside the delivery room, Jaskier paced just outside the tent while Geralt sharpened his sword near the fire.

“No. Get out before I portal you away,” Yennefer demanded yet again when the bard poked his head in and asked for an update. 

“She’ll come out when she’s ready,” the burly Witcher grunted. Another plume of purple smoke rose from the tent door and static sizzled inside. Jaskier began thinking of a verse that needed to rhyme with “plume.”

Wiping her hands, she emerged and motioned at Jaskier: “Watch her. Geralt, you’re with me.”

Sauntering across the way to her own much larger, and much more richly furnished tent, Geralt followed behind like a puppy.

“Well?”

“Well? Well, I saved her life, darling,” the raven haired woman smirked, turning to face him once they reached the foot of her lavish bed. Tossing aside the cloth, she twirled a finger and a dozen candles lit around the space.

He was not impressed by simple tricks. “What happened? It wasn’t just poison, was it? It was a curse.”

“Yes, my love,” she sighed, bored with conversation, so she lifted his shirt and ran both hands up his muscular torso, making the tense fibers just under his skin twitch. “I lifted it though.”

Craning his neck low, he crushed his mouth to her plump lips. The relief and gratitude expressed in his kiss melted when feral heat took over. They were souls bound together by a wish he made years ago to save her life. As such they were drawn time and again to this exact moment.

She moaned, tugging at the ties on his breeches pressed against her stomach. Biting down on his bottom lip suddenly, she flattened her palms to his chest and pushed him back to the bed, intent on climbing him and claiming payment for a job well done.

*

“So she’ll be able to travel soon?” Geralt huffed lazily, one arm under his head on the pillow. 

“You’re really taking her back to her father?” Yennefer sighed, playing with the glistening sweat droplets along the center of his chest.

“That’s the plan.”

“Well, if you do travel with her just have her take it easy the next few days.”

“Why?” He arched an eyebrow down at the naked woman still tangled up with him under the sheets.

“Well, she’s with child, Geralt. But the child is much smaller than it should be. She probably needs to see a real healer to have it dealt with anyway - given the circumstances.”

His brow furrowed sharply and he gripped her upper arms, dragging her off of him as he sat up. “Dealt with...?”

She sighed, running the back of her fingers down the sinews of his forearm. “Mm. She told me who the father is. I just went to his wedding just last month. It's a bad idea to show your new bride your bastard child. So yes… dealt with.”

“Wedding?” he mirrored, breaking into a cold sweat. “Did you tell her this?”

Yennefer shrugged and rolled over. “I alluded to it. Hmm. You know she may not need a healer on second thought. Baby isn’t well. Body might try to reject it after this, so watch for - where are you going?”

Stepping into his breeches, he glanced over his shoulder at the raven haired woman lounging in bed still. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Why? Did you want to attend with me? The food was decent but the wine was weak. I so would have loved to have dressed you, though.”

His frustrated growl was not lost on her but she didn’t budge by the threatening sound of it. “She told me where you met. Geralt, I said I’d try to save her life but she’s your whore. I’ve done more than enough here, my love. If you leave this tent tonight, I’ll be gone by daybreak.”

He didn’t even have his pants tied before he stalked out of the tent barefoot into the dewy grass. Jaskier heard him coming from his own cot opposite yours. Finding it quite impossible to sleep anyway, he met the Witcher at the tent flap opening.

“That witch gave her something to sleep but it’s not quite doing its job,” the bard forewarned, touching Geralt’s shoulder. He held his friend back just a moment longer to catch his golden-eyed attention. “It’s not you she’s been calling for.” 

Jaskier excused himself, ducking past his friend breathing hard with his jaw clenched. Every muscle up the back of his legs and across his spine snapped into tension; the coppery scent of bloody cloths left on the table sent his senses into a frenzy the moment he stepped inside.

“N… no… n...” you moaned in your fitful sleep, writhing and grasping at the pillow under your head.

Cat eyes dilated in the near dark, his attention drew to the shadow of your body tucked under a thin blanket. In two strides, he dropped by your side and dragged the tear-soaked hair from sticking to your cheeks. 

Your head rocked back and forth on the pillow, your expression wrought with grief, one hand grasping at nothing but air until his fingers closed over it. 

He lifted his brows in the center, anguish lining his forehead. Your breathing came in hiccups, clearly crying in your nightmare.

“Wake up, little fawn,” he rumbled, pulling deep from within to sound calm so as not to frighten you. “Come on, wake up.”

“Ah…” Your legs shifted under the blanket and you inhaled deeply.

Your wet eyelashes flashed open, revealing still slightly ink-stained black tears rolling down your cheeks. “Where is he? Where’s Acheros?”

Rolling his eyes at the sound of his name, Geralt backed up into the shadow of a tent peg. “That’s a good fucking question.”

“Why did he leave me in that horrible place?” You pressed, eyes bleary from tears, pain and exhaustion.

“Hmm,” he grunted, sitting back against the other cot.

“He said he’d always come find me. ‘Nothing in all of eternity could keep us apart,’ he said.”

Another frustrated grunt as Geralt sat back. As Jaskier stoked the flames of the fire outside, the walls of the canvas tent illuminated with flicks of orange light.

You stayed silent a long time, letting the length and breadth seep into your conscious thought. Curling up on yourself, you rolled over into the tent wall and away from the brutish man sitting in silence across from you. “Is it true? Did he - get married - without me?”

“Mmm,” Geralt hummed in the affirmative, dropping his head back as the reflected orange flames danced on the ceiling. He cursed under his breath. 

There is a screech a striga makes when you deliver that final death strike straight through its heart; the sound is horrendous up close. Because of their circulation system, it takes them a moment to go, all the while realizing they’ve met their end. And then there is the soft little squeak of a rabbit as its neck is being broken. It doesn’t understand what is happening to it and doesn’t expect the end.

Neither startled cry at their moment of death is as difficult to listen to as your trembling gasp and wailing sob at the exact moment your heart broke in two.

Snarling his upper lip in disgust, he planted a fist on the ground to stand up, but stilled hearing you speak into your own hands.

“But… this is his child. And... I’m his.”

“Fuck.” Geralt replanted himself and sighed harshly, rubbing his rough thumb of one hand into the palm of another.

“What?” you shuddered, glancing over your shoulder. “But I love him...”

“You’ve said,” he husked, glancing at the exit with an arched brow and a changed mind. Waking you from that nightmare, he actually considered taking you in his arms and comforting you with all of the strength he had in him. He was not particularly given to tender moments, but if you’d have asked, even whimpered, anything at all, he’d have moved heaven and earth to shelter you.

You turned away from his frustrated growling. “Where is he? He should be here.”

With a huff of rage, he lifted to his feet and took the one large step to the door. Rolling over, your torso twisted and you yelped at the sharp pain. “Ah - fuck! What -“

“You were very sick,” he oversimplified, glancing behind his shoulder. “Yennefer…”

“Yennefer? She says she’s the ‘Love of your life’? I thought I was dreaming but she’s really real?”

“You should know Yennefer saved YOUR life.”

You mewled, ripped the covers down your thighs and tugged at your torn shirt, trying to find the source of the overwhelming pain.

Setting his jaw, he breathed deep and clenched his fist to keep from absolutely roaring at you. “You wouldn’t have survived - to be reunited with whoever this arsehole is, since that’s clearly all you can think about.”

It was neither his tone nor his words that shook you, rather the ache in your belly. “Something feels wrong.”

“As it should. Sleep.”

“Fuck you,” you spat holding your middle, getting up onto your feet much more slowly than he did. Bumping chests, you glared up at him. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew and you didn’t say a damn thing.”

Nostrils flared, patience dwindling, he looked over your head; he knew the second he glanced down and saw the pain in your eyes, it’d just add fuel to his  fire and one of the two of you needed to be levelheaded. 

“Not for certain until Yen told me a few minutes ago. Although I had suspected something like this when you told the story yesterday.”

Suddenly alert, you bolted toward the tent flap, but a heavy arm across the front of your shoulders blocked your way. Desperately, you reached both hands out. “Please! I need to go home. I just need to see him. He’ll explain and fix it.” 

Your pained gaze finally lifted to his, digging your fingernails into his forearm locked across your chest.

His sharp gaze narrowed. “There’s a reason he didn’t come back for you. Showing up on his doorstep, now, won’t produce the results you want, I guarantee you.”

“But - I did everything I was told to do,” you gasped, blinking back tears that spilled down your cheeks anyway. Dropping your head, the tears dripped freely onto the ground. Tilting your shoulders just slightly into him, you bumped your forehead against his chest and stayed like that a long while.

“I hate you...” you sniffled and hiccupped, speaking slowly, clearly drained.

“Mmph.” He grunted, holding the back of your bare neck.

The rage had worn around the edges like two fighters in the last round dragging their feet; both of you were slow to swing back.

“Come on,” he encouraged as gently as he could muster, thumbing behind your neck. “Lie down.”

He sighed, glancing down at your trembling, balled up fist thumping against his chest.

“I-I h-hate y-“ you sobbed, nosing into his chest. “I h-aate-“

“I know,” he grumbled, closing his hand around your fist. “You hate me.”

He rested his chin on your head and carded his fingers through your hair. Feverish tears eventually gave way to panting, then to soft breaths against his skin.

“What am I going to do?” you croaked, dragging your fingertips down his spine, releasing the muscles you’d been clawing into. “I don’t know what to do.”

“The first thing you’re going to do is get some rest,” he graveled overhead. Not giving you a second to protest, he collected your wrists from behind his hips and drew you back to your cot, throwing open the covers with his free hand.

“I don’t want to sleep,” you whined, giving him a side eyed glance.

“Lie down and count geese then,” he huffed, clearly not budging on it.

With a long sigh, you crawled in and curled up, pressing your face down into the pillow. Your eyes closed when the blanket rugged up over your shoulders.

Hearing your voice just barely mumbling into your pillow, he came down onto a knee and tilted his head. 

“Hmm?” he graveled just above a whisper. “You don’t mean that. … No, you don’t. … Hm? Fine, I will. Sleep.”

Settling down cross legged, he reached over the short expanse between you and the edge of the cot. As promised, he smoothed over your hair, and hummed a deeply soothing tune, the one he’d sometimes hum to Roach when she was being groomed. 

Tag Team: @ly--canthrope​ @marswritings​ @fire-in-her-veinz​ @thiclikeh0ney @uncoolcloudyhead​ @michelle-1185​ @boop-le-snoot​ @tearsontape13​ @confusinglump​ @mary-ann84​ @the-soot-sprite @wanderingsoulcelticheart @henry-cavill-obsessed​ @ruthoakenshield​ @nerra75​ @raspberrydreamclouds​

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |  Part 4 |  Part 5 | Part 6 | Masterlist

[laviefantasie]

Not A Fan | Luke Patterson

Mini Series

Pairings: Alive!Luke Patterson x Alive!Reader

Summary: What happens if Sunset Curve loses their sound after their bandmate’s betrayal? Will a certain shy songwriter be able to help Luke Patterson, know narcissistic rockstar, find his inspiration before Sunset Curve’s new demo is due?

| MASTERLIST |

Tags: @hoechx @iainttakingshitfromnobody @phantompogues @ifilwtmfc @who-even-is-galileo @nightfurya @lukewearingbeanies

| PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE |

You had the worst best friends in the entire world.

Only Julie and Flynn would believe it was a good idea to join forces with the members of Sunset Curve and drag you —against your wishes— to the boys’ bus and try to talk you out of giving up on music.

Only having the worst world’s best friends would explain why you were sitting at said bus with your arms crossed while they discussed —rather loudly even if they didn’t believe it— their game plan.

You roll your e/c eyes as you see them turn to stare at you before going back to their discussion.

You stopped listening to them as Flynn’s rambling about how your decision compares to losing Christmas, a holiday she loved, began.

Pathetic.

Couldn’t Julie and Flynn just respect and support your decision? And couldn’t Sunset Curve mind their own business?

You sigh while letting your gaze wander through the band’s tour bus, appreciating the 90’s looking place. It was an interesting choice of style but certainly a pleasing one.

Your gaze wanders around, taking it all in, before you settle on starin out the window, seeing as you guys got closer to Julie’s house. The promise of taking you to the hispanic’s house what stop you from accusing them of kidnapping all of you.

When the bus stopped, you were certainly glad to have an excuse to get off that vehicle and not see those rockstars anymore.

But, of course, said rockstars got off the bus with you three.

Julie and Flynn walking with them to the latina’s home while still talking about you, which made you groan in annoyance.

Maybe you could make a run for it? You didn’t live too far from Julie, it would probably take you ten minutes if you decided to run.

Sighing in defeat, you start walking towards the Molina’s studio.

It isn’t until you’re in front of the big white doors that you hesitate. You hadn’t been there since the death of both of your moms, Julie barely being to open it a few months ago.

Where you really about to go in?

You’re about to turn around and head into the Molina’s household when you stop. You wanted to feel close to her.

As silently as you can, you open the garage’s doors and slip in. Your breath starts coming out slower as your wide eyes stare at the place in front of you, taking it all in.

You had certainly miss it.

With small steps, you start walking through it. Your mind being overwhelmed with happy memories filled with music and laughter.

Julie’s mom and your mom certainly being the best of friends and the best of musicians.

They were who you and Julie aspired to be.

Your e/c eyes finally find the grand piano in which you both sat at each of your mothers’ sides as they taught you both how to play it.

You feel tears start filling up your eyes as you near it, only falling once your hand finally finds itself on top of the instrument.

“I’m so sorry, mom”

Sorry for not coming sooner. Sorry for giving up on music. Sorry for not fighting as much as you should’ve. Sorry for losing yourself.

You allow the tears to fall as they please, closing your eyes to stop yourself from sobbing afraid someone inside the house could hear you.

It is seconds later, as if by destiny, a loud thud is heard through the garage.

Startled, you turn around to find the source of said noise. Your eyesight being met with a light blue notebook you recongnized as the one your mom always carried with her.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you look from the notebook to the loft, guessing it had fallen from up there.

“Weird” you whisper.

Slowly, you walk towards the notebook and open it with a little of hesitation. Your heart thumping loudly at the first page.

PROPERTY OF Y/M/N

You stared at it for a long while, frozen in your place as your tears start to disappear.

Finally, you snap out of you daze and look through it recognizing the songs as the ones she used to sing with Rose all the time.

You smile happily as the sight.

But your smile disappears as you find a song that you don’t seem to recognize. Rereading the lyrics and the chords, you frown as you realize that it wasn’t one she had shown you.

When had your mom written that?

As if by instinct, your feet take you to the piano in the studio.

You hesitate once before sitting on it, the notebook opened on the unknown song right in front of you. You take a deep breath before letting your hands lightly touch the keys.

What were you doing?

Hesitantly, your eyes look through the chords written on your mother’s notebook before gazing back at the piano.

What were you doing?

Your fingers soon start playing the chords of your mom’s song with ease, your fingers moving through the keys as if they’d never stopped playing.

“Here's one thing I want you to know

You got some place to go

Life's a test, yes, but you go toe-to-toe

You don't give up, no, you grow”

She doesn’t realize that the moment she had started playing, the teenagers inside the house had stopped talking in confusion.

Julie and Flynn smiling in disbelief as they hear your powerful voice sound through.

“And you use your pain

'Cause it makes you you

Though I wish I could hold you through it

I know it's not the same

You got living to do

And I just want you to do it”

The words fell from your mouth with ease, as if you had sung it a hundred times.

The soft whisper of your mom’s voice appearing with every verse. As if she was singing it with you, for you.

“So get up, get out, relight that spark

You know the rest by heart”

As the chorus begins, the power of your voice grows. Your fingers moving across the keys on the piano once again. A feeling of belonging settling on you.

This was what you were meant to do.

“Wake up, wake up if it's all you do

Look out, look inside of you

It's not what you lost

It's what you'll gain raising your voice in the rain

Wake up your dream and make it true

Look out, look inside of you

It's not what you lost

Relight that spark, time to come out of the dark

Wake up, wake up”

Luke looks in confusion at the other to girls, who smile with tears in their eyes, before realizing who was singing.

In awe, the lead guitarist heads out of the house looking you. He needed to see it.

Alex and Reggie soon following him with Julie and Flynn not too far behind.

“Better wake those demons

Just look them in the eye

No reason not to try

Life can be a mess

I won't let it cloud my mind

I'll let my fingers fly”

You repeat the pre-chorus once more, letting your eyes blink through your unshed tears. Singing in the Molina’s studio your mom’s song felt like a waking up from a bad dream.

It felt like being able to breathe again.

“And I use the pain 'cause it's part of me

And I'm ready to power through it

Gonna find the strength, find the melody

'Cause you showed me how to do it”

Your fingers stop playing to create momentum before the chorus. Julie’s words repeating themselves over and over in your head.

This is was would keep your mom’s memory alive.

“Get up, get out, relight that spark

You know the rest by heart”

Quietly, the members of Sunset Curve and the two teenage girls stand outside of the garage listening in awe as you sing effortlessly.

Julie and Flynn holding each other’s hands as the tears flow down their faces.

“Wake up, wake up if it's all you do

Look out, look inside of you

It's not what you lost

It's what you'll gain raising your voice in the rain

Wake up your dream and make it true

Look out, look inside of you

It's not what you lost

Relight that spark, time to come out of the dark

Wake up, wake up”

As the bridge of the song starts, you slowly stand up still playing the instrument. Not once your fingers playing the wrong chord or hesitating.

Your voice growing with each sentence, your emotions flowing through the song.

“So wake that spirit, spirit

I wanna hear it, hear it

No need to fear it, you're not alone

You're gonna find your way, oh”

You stopped playing for the first sentence in the chorus, owning the moment.

You’re so into the song that you don’t notice the doors being silently opening as the five teenagers stare at you sing your heart out.

Your passion for music being clear as the light of the sunset behind you. It was truly a sight for sore eyes.

“Wake up, wake up if it's all you do

Look out, look inside of you

It's not what you lost

It's what you'll gain raising your voice in the rain

Wake up your dream and make it true

Look out, look inside of you

When you feel lost

Relight that spark, time to come out of the dark

Wake up”

As the song slows down, you sit once again letting the tears in your eyes once again fall through your cheeks.

Your voice lowering itself as a soft smile graces your features.

“Mmm, wake up”

You take a deep breath as you finish playing the final chords, your e/c eyes going to your mother’s notebook again.

Smiling once you see what is written at the end of the page.

You can do it, Y/N/N. Wake up.

Love, mom.

Your hand lightly touches the words before you let out a shaky laugh, oblivious to the audience you have.

Julie is the first one to step towards you, Flynn being pulled too as their hands are still holding each other, making you finally tear your gaze from the notebook and see them.

They both smile at you brightly, which makes you smile back.

Your best friends soon running towards you and hugging you from each of your sides.

Luke, Alex, and Reggie soon looking towards one another with the same look of astonishment. That song, the way you had played it, your voice. It all had made them get goosebumps.

You had made them feel every word, every chord. All of them knowing they had all felt the same magic the other had with one look.

“You did it!” Exclaimed Flynn happily “I can’t believe you finally sang”

Julie nods in agreement, “And that song! Wow”

They let go of you and you grab the notebook with a soft look before handing it to Julie. The latina going to Flynn’s side so they can both look through it.

“It’s my mom’s” You murmur “She wrote it for me”

Your best friends look read through the lyrics, soft smiles on their faces, before looking at you with pride.

“It’s beautiful” Julie states.

“You were right, Jules” You smile “All this time I’ve been afraid of singing without her when I should’ve been singing for her”

Your friends smile never disappear as you look at them with a happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You were finally you again.

You move you gaze to the three other people in the studio, a teasing smile on your face.

“Something tells me I won’t be getting rid of you soon”

Luke smiles happily at the teasing glint in your eyes before starting to walk towards you.

“Not if we can convince you to let us work on your songs with you and maybe then write some for our new demo”

You narrow your eyes, “Why are you so interested in them? I’m sure you could write another hit album without me just fine”

The three boys look at one another with uneasiness, neither knowing if they were ready to admit out loud what they had realized.

Flynn and Julie stare at the boys with narrowed eyes and crossed arms being your support.

Although, they were trying really hard to not scream at you to do it.

“I...” Luke takes a deep breath before finally meeting your gaze “I can’t”

The words have all the three girls looking at the boys in confusion.

You, knowing very well that the band sung the songs they wrote, were indeed very confused. The vulnerable look in the brunette’s eyes, though, told you there was more to the story.

“I don’t... I don’t understand”

Seeing the hard time Luke has to get the words out, Alex steps up to explain.

“Our rhythm guitarist, Bobby, stole all of Luke’s songs. The songs we had for our new demo” he softly voices “It... it hurt us”

“Luke hasn’t been able to write anything new” Reggie adds “And we haven’t been able to play as we used to”

The article Flynn had shown you that day came to your mind, the one that stated they were coming to LA for inspiration for their new songs.

They had come home in hopes of figuring out how to fix what their former bandmate had broken.

They were fighting to keep the band they’d worked so hard to make.

Although, as you look at the way the hurt in their eyes intensified as the rhythm guitarist’s name was pronounce you knew it was worst than it seemed.

They were fighting to stay together.

“Well, looks like I was right” You voice with a soft smile “I won’t be getting rid of you anytime soon, rockstar”

Luke’s green eyes stare at you brightly as the meaning of your words register in his mind.

Alex and Reggie letting out a jump in excitement of what it meant; Julie and Flynn doing the same behind you.

“This is awesome, so I was thinking we could add a little rid to Edge of Gr—”

You raise your hand before Luke can say anything else, “We’ll start tomorrow, tonight I’ve got to figure out a way to get back in the music program”

Julie lets out a gasp at your words, “Oh my! The music program!”

“Mrs. Harrison has to give you one more try” assures Flynn “There’s no way she won’t let you in once she hears you sing”

You nod at your best friends’ words before looking towards the band once again.

“We’ll meet tomorrow here after school, if that’s okay with you Julie?” Said girl nods “And then, we will talk about the songs”

You stand up from where you are sitting at the piano, going around it to stand in front of the three boys.

Giving them a little sweet smile once you’re looking at them.

“Now, I think we should meet properly” they stare at you in confusion “Your names?”

“Oh!” Voices the blond in surprise” I’m Alex”

“Reggie” adds the one with the leather jacket with a big innocent smile.

The guitarist looks at you with disbelief, you raising an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, come on” he laughs “Do you seriously not know my name?”

You roll your eyes at him before shaking your head. That was a lie though, you knew their names thanks to your best friends being huge fans.

But you weren’t about to boost his ego, it was big enough already as it was.

He stares at you in disbelief, “Luke”

You nod with a victorious smile before looking at your best friends motioning for them to come closer.

They move around the piano to stand at your sides, looks of excitement on their faces as they stare at their favorite band.

You silently wish none of them notice that but the triumphant glint in a certain pair green eyes let you know you’re not that lucky.

“I’m Flynn” stated your the one with braids “Single, by the way”

You close your eyes tightly as you feel Luke’s teasing gaze on you.

“I’m Julie” smiles the latina “Huge fan”

You turn to glare at your best friend, the Molina’s only defense being a shrug of her shoulders.

Turning back to the boys, you glare at Luke as he smiles victorious towards you.

“Y/N”

The two of you stare at each other with intensity, waiting for the other to tear their gaze first.

Alex, Reggie, Julie, and Flynn sharing looks of uncertainty behind both of you.

“Anyways” Alex makes you both turn to him “We should get going and you should start planning what you’ll show your teacher”

You nod in agreement before the three boys leave the garage to head to their bus and start their way to their apartment.

It is only when they are out of sight that Julie and Flynn scream their hearts out. Happy for how the day had turned out.

Not only had you sang again but you were going to write songs with Luke freaking Patterson.

Meanwhile, you stood frozen on your spot thinking about how you were going to tell you dad that you were planning to keep pursuing music.

Worst of all, how would you tell him that you were going to write songs for the band of the moment?

Taking a deep breath, you focus on getting back into the music program. One problem at a time, one problem at a time.

The next day, Alex and Reggie stared with smiles at an excited Luke. The boy running around the apartment with his guitar, coming up with melodies that he thought would sound well with the lyrics he had read in your songbook.

It was the most inspired they had seen him in weeks.

He didn’t know how it had happened, but as soon as he had heard you sing the melodies to your unfinished songs had come rushing to him.

It was as if your voice was what he had needed to get his creativity to flow again.

As he wrote the chords that he thought of for the melodies, your voice sung the words in his head while the different instruments played beside you.

He couldn’t wait for the time to pass so that he could show you what he had come up with.

To say he was excited would be an understatement. The hours were passing to slow for his liking.

“Dude, chill out, you have an hour still”

Alex’s comment has the lead guitarist groaning in exasperation. Could time just move a little bit faster?

“Do you think her teacher let her back in the music program?” Questions Reggie.

Luke stares at the dark-haired bass player with wide eyes, he didn’t have the answer to that question but he certainly hoped you had showed your teacher your worth.

There was no way that they didn’t let you back in. Not with the amount of talent you had.

Sadly, at that moment you were being told by Mrs. Harrison that your spot had already been filled, Julie and Flynn trying to convince her that she had to listen to you and let you back in.

But, unfortunately, Mrs. Harrison’s hands were tied. She wanted to give you another shot, she knew your talent, but she had already waited so long. She had fought for you and Julie when neither of you was willing to sing and now she couldn’t do it anymore. Even if she wanted to.

So, of course, when the school day was over and the boys came to the garage they found you three moping around on the Molina’s studio.

“Did... did we miss something?” Questions Reggie as he takes in what’s in front of him.

Julie sits up from her spot on the floor with a sad look on her face.

“They didn’t let Y/N back in the music program”

“Said I’ll have to try again next year” You add with a pout.

“Can you believe they filled in your spot?” Exclaims Flynn with a frown, “That’s outrageous!”

The three members of Sunset Curve’s mood shift as they notice how this had affected you and your friends.

Luke steps towards you then, holding his hand out with a small smirk, “Get up, shorty, we got music to write”

“Read the room, rockstar” you snap, “I’m grieving”

Alex laughs before going to help Flynn stand up, Reggie walking to help Julie. Luke shaking his hand in front of you with a small tilt of his head.

“You already grieved, now it’s time to move on”

With a huff you take his hand and stand up, grabbing your songbook before walking towards the piano with him following you.

Once you’re both sitting down, the brunette starts showing you what he came up with through your school time. A smile soon takes over your face as you talk about music, showing Luke how you think something could become better.

The other four teenagers watching the way you two easily worked with one another with smiles on their faces.

“Who wants cookies?” Questions Julie with a smile, “We could bake some”

“Oh, oh! Could we do a baking competition?” Asks Reggie excitedly.

Julie looks at him with a soft look, seeing the excitement in his sky blue eyes, before nodding.

“Yeah... Yeah, we could do that”

Reggie celebrates in his place before the four of them make their way to the inside of the Molina’s household, leaving Y/N and Luke alone.

Neither of them noticed though.

You both were too busy excitedly working on the songs to even care. It was amazing how you two understood each other so easily. The boy who was once struggling with his lyrics finding it easier to rhyme when by your side.

That’s why as you decided to bring some snacks for the both of you, Luke looked through both his and your songbooks his mind racing as he found the lyrics he was looking for.

Taking a picture with his phone of the verses in you songbook, Luke closes it before smiling happily. He had the perfect idea to help you get back into your music program, but...

First, he had to finish a song.

[pynkhues]

Tagged by @foxmagpie, thank youuuu.

Total number of completed works: 6 finished + a few WIPs

Total word count: 327k

Fandoms I’ve written in: Good Girls, Succession, The Umbrella Academy

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected: More actually. I figured I'd probably written about the same as I did last year, but I've actually written about 100k words more. I suspect a lot of that is because what I've written has been longer generally, but yeah! It's still a bit of a surprise.

What’s your own favorite story of the year? Mmm, probably Clean Like Him? It was really nice to write a one-shot again, even if it was a part of a broader series, because most of what I'd been writing at that time were multi-chaptered works. I also love writing about food, and turning that series into a sensory 'verse was really fun to lean into in a whole bunch of different ways.

Dd you take any writing risks this year? A few actually, but I think the biggest was with the pirate au. It's pretty massive in terms of scope and research and reimagining, so to have people embrace that has been really special.

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the new year? Yeah! I'm hoping to finish a few WIPs, but also post on a more regular schedule. In an ideal world, I'd do a little prompt fill a week again, but I don't know how realistic that is for me anymore, which is a bit of a bummer.

Most popular story of the year? It's kind of hard to tell given I have a few really big WIPs in the mix that are a few years old now (i.e. Playing House and What the Sea Wants), but in terms of fics exclusively posted in 2021, it would be To Face Unafraid, which surprises me for some reason, haha.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: A Silver Thread! Which makes sense, Mick x Mary Pat is a pretty niche crack ship, haha. I'm amazed anyone reads it at all given it's by far me at my most self-indulgent.

Most fun story to write: What the Sea Wants again. What can I say, I really love pirates and the ocean and bed sharing.

Most unintentionally telling story: Mmm, probably Hold a Little in Your Hands actually. I've been thinking a lot about memory lately for a range of reasons, and threading that through that story was something that felt really personal while I was writing it, even if the story itself wasn't.

Biggest disappointment: maybe surprisingly, Clean Like Him. I don't think it resonated for people like Drive You Mad did. It hasn't been unsuccessful by any stretch of the imagination, and I know the people who love it really love it, but I don't think it had the same appeal. I think there are a bunch of reasons for that, but yes. A bit disappointing.

Biggest surprise: Probably my little Succession fic I wrote for @mego42's birthday which is turning into a pretty big WIP which I'm really loving writing, haha. It's a bit of a different thing for me, as I don't often write fics where characters are younger than they are in canon, and this is effectively a pre-canon YA novel at this point, haha, but yes, I'm having a lot of fun writing it.

My favorite part of the fandom this year: echoing Megan, but the friendships have genuinely been pretty amazing during a very trying period of my life, and I feel really blessed to have made them.

Tagging: @nakedmonkey @peachraindrops @misshazelevers20 @lilliloves @missmaxime

[sillyunicorn]

Four songs I'm listening to

Ooooh thank you for the tags @mostlymaudlin and @tea-brigade, excited to listen to yours bc you've both introduced me to many new favorite bands and songs.

Let's see....

First up has got to be Brividi, I've listened to this approximately 36294628 times in the last 3 days. Thank you @martsonmars for the introduction ❤❤❤

Second maybe Kisses on My Cards by Cherym?

Mmm I have to put this one, thank you to @facewithoutheart and your vroom vroom verse for making me search for songs with "range rover" in the title to make an unhinged playlist.

Ok ugh picking only 4 is hard but I heard this song again today and still loved it so Tommy's Party by Peach Pit:

Tagging @prettylightsbigcity @jbrrring @martsonmars and @facewithoutheart !

[turnipotentiary]

a slip of the tongue- jamilmads

@who-knew-what I wrote a part 2 to Home Is Where The Heart Is! expect more to come, too. I’m already working on two more installments in this universe. I’ll tag all of them with “#home ‘verse” so you can find them. enjoy, y’all!

“Alex?” John asks, peering into Alex’s office. The man is barely keeping himself awake, empty mugs of coffee all around him and papers on the floor. It’s nearly midnight. “Are you alright? Do you need me to take you home?” 

“I’m alright,” Alex mutters. “They’ll take me home.” John furrows his brow. People taking care of Alexander Hamilton isn’t unheard of, exactly, but usually it’s one of his friends, and he isn’t aware of any new people in the friend group. Everyone else is sleeping at home already. 

“Who?” he asks. “You got a boyfriend or something?” He meant it as a joke, because Alex would have told him. Right? But then Alex looks up at him, his tired expression twisting into something happier. 

“I got boyfriend,” he slurs, obviously exhausted. John sighs. Whatever that means, he’ll parse it later. For now, he just wants to make sure Alex gets back to his house. 

“Yeah, well, is ‘boyfriend’ gonna pick you up in a few? The office is closing soon,” he says. 

“Thomas’ll drag me out anyways,” Alex responds, though he looks distinctly annoyed at the thought. 

The revelation hits John like a freight train. There’s only one Thomas in the office (not counting Thomas Paine, who’s a level above them when it comes to management and is also very old), and that Thomas is the guy Alex screams at and then complains about to John. What? He considers asking Alex for more details, but looks again at Alex’s figure hunched over the desk, typing furiously, and decides against it.

Alex, in his sleep-deprived state, has no idea why he said “I got boyfriend” or if he even said it. He has a vague memory of John’s gears turning as he stares at him from the doorway, but that’s all, and he promptly forgets about it. 

Thomas and James are entirely unaware of the incident. Thomas did end up storming in after receiving an email from Alex about the project he was working on and dragging him out, scolding him like a child (“I have no idea what you’re trying to accomplish with this, Alexander, but so far I only see death by loss of sleep”), but only several minutes after John had left. 

So a week later he finds himself dragging James into his office. He just wants a quick kiss, initially, and then it turns into something more and James is straddling him in his chair, making out like there’s no tomorrow, and then John Laurens barges in, stops short, glares at Thomas, and turns on his heel and runs. Thomas exchanges a bemused look at James, but John’s been sending him those glares (albeit more of an “I’m watching you” sort) all week, and he thinks nothing of it, chasing James’ mouth with his own again. 

Alex barely looks up as John barges into his office, glancing once at his friend and then returning to the screen. The click of the keyboard resumes, John’s heavy breathing filling the office. “What is it?” Alex asks when John continues to simply stand there, out of breath from his run. It takes a few more moments before he can gather enough breath to speak. 

“Thomas- is- cheating,” he pants. 

Alex’s head snaps up. “What?” he says sharply. He isn’t worried for himself- he can deal with the fucker- but it’s James he’s worried about. And then there’s also a slight disbelief. He knows John would never lie to him, not with something like this, but he also knows that Thomas wouldn’t cheat. Right?

“He- was- hang on,” John says. Now in a better state, he continues, “he was making out with Madison in his office, I’m really sorry, Ham- what is it?” Alexander had slumped over his desk, cackling with laughter.

“Oh my god,” he says after a moment in which he feels hysterical and John is plain confused. “I cannot believe- I thought- if you knew about Thomas-” 

“Get to the point, will you?” John asks, beginning to feel annoyed. 

“Okay- okay so,” Alex begins, then dissolves into laughter again. “Sorry. So. Thomas is my boyfriend.” John nods, well aware. “James is also my boyfriend.” At this, John tilts his head. Wouldn’t that be worse, then? Double betrayal? “Thomas is also James’ boyfriend.” John is lost, as is evident in his expression. “Look- it’s- it’s basically like, like, I like both of them and they like me and them- like a- it’s a- triangle of love, of sorts,” he says. Having never really considered the unconventionality of his relationship, he finds himself at a loss to describe it. John is even more lost, having not followed half of what he was saying. “Like a couple, except with three people! I’m with James and Thomas and Thomas is with James and me and James is with Thomas and me. Like a big puddle of love,” he says, acutely aware that he’s not doing a very good job of explaining. John, however, seems to get it, nodding slowly as he processes the words. 

“OH!” he nearly shouts. “Ohhhh. Goddamn, I feel like an idiot.” 

Alex laughs. “You are!” 

Later that night, Alex finishes recounting the story to his boyfriends, lying across Thomas and James’ laps on the couch. James laughs, fingers entangled in Alex’s hair. “Wait- so how many of your friends besides John know about us?” Thomas asks. Alex pauses, considers. 

“Actually I think only John knows,” he says. “Wow. I just completely forgot to tell them.” 

“Are you going to tell them?” James says. “I mean, I could understand if you didn’t want to, considering-” he waves his hand around, the gesture invoking memories of shouting competitions in meetings and furious disagreements and, especially, Alex breaking off his friendship with James and coming to them crying afterwards. 

“It… should be fine,” Alex says, though he sounds uncertain. “In any case, they’re my friends, they’re legally obligated to support me even if my boyfriends are assholes.” Thomas smacks his thigh. 

“I’m gonna call them right now,” Alex announces. “I’m probably going to forget later if I don’t.” Saying this, he picks his phone up from where he’d discarded it on the floor and proceeds to call Eliza. She picks up on the first ring. 

But it isn’t her who answers. “This better be a good excuse for why you’re not at game night,” Angelica snaps. Alex’s face is blank for a moment, and then he remembers. 

“Shit!” he hisses. “I’m so sorry, Angie, I just-” he looks up at James and Thomas, who are giving him disapproving looks- “forgot. I’m so sorry.” 

“I’m putting you on speaker. Apologize to all of us.”

“Sorry!” Alex says into the phone, and he hears a chorus of voices rushing to reprimand him.. 

“This is the second time in a row you’ve forgotten,” Hercules says. “What happened, man? I thought you had a reminder or something!” 

“I thought I did!” Alex says desperately. “I’m so sorry, you guys. I was just, uh…” He trails off, searching his mind for a plausible excuse. 

“Well?” Peggy asks. 

“Actually, I called you guys to tell you something because I forgot to, so uh…” James nudges him. “I have boyfriends,” he says. Their reactions are immediate: five different voices start talking at once, raising their voices to be heard over the others and creating a cacophony of both pleased and annoyed tones. He can’t hear John saying anything, and he imagines him sitting smug on his bean bag (Hercules has bean bags in his apartment for whatever reason) while the others crowd the phone. 

“Who?” Lafayette demands. “Tell us at once, mon ami! Why did we not know sooner?” 

“Uh. So,” he starts, hearing his friends fall silent at once. “James?” It comes out more of a question than an answer, but they get it immediately. 

“Madison?” Eliza says. “Didn’t you-” 

“Yes, well, we’ve worked it out,” James interjects. It’s still a bit of a sore subject. There’s immediate squeals on the other end. 

“James!” Angelica says in surprise. “You’re there?” 

“Evidently,” he says, though he’s smiling. “Hello, Angelica.”

“Mon amiiiiii, you cannot leave us hanging like this,” Lafayette interrupts. “Tell us who the other person is! Do we know him? Is he handsome? Oh! Are they a girl?” 

“You do know him,” Alex concedes, “and his handsomeness… mmm, not quite there,” he continues, earning another smack on the thigh from Thomas. 

“I am very handsome, thank you very much,” Thomas cuts in smoothly. His friends fall silent at once. 

“Is that… is that Jefferson?” Peggy whispers. 

“It IS!” Lafayette shouts. “I knew it! I knew it! See, I told you, Alex, mon cousin is not that bad once you get used to him-” 

“Is it Attack Thomas Day or something?” Thomas grumbles. James pats him condescendingly on the head. 

“Hush now, the grownups are talking,” he says. 

“Hold up,” comes Hercules’ voice from the phone, which is now balanced on Alex’s chest. “You’re dating  Jefferson? The guy you used to whine about whenever you came over?” Thomas raises an eyebrow at him.

“Oh? You whined about me? Do I truly affect you that much?” he teases. 

Alex makes a hmph noise. “I did not!” he protests. “Stop lying, Hercules!” And that’s the end of any questions about his relationship, thank god. They spend a couple more minutes just messing around with each other before they disconnect abruptly upon discovering that John knew before them. 

There’s silence for a bit afterwards. Thomas shifts, nestling closer to James and slinging his arm around him, the other hand resting on Alex’s thigh. “Your friends are… something,” James says eventually, threading his fingers once again through Alex’s hair. 

Alex laughs. “They sure are.”

I very much hope “I got boyfriend” made you laugh as much as I did. Please, please reblog! Likes don’t do anything! If you comment I’ll love you forever.

[redstainedsocks]

The Break-in; Aftermath

I decided to come back and write a comfort piece set a couple of weeks after the break-in story line, and here it finally is! It’s not my most favourite piece of writing ever, but it’s soft, and sweet, and developed plotty feelings, and I have something worth celebrating today so I decided to do that by doing a quicker-than-usual-edit and post this up for happy feels! Who’s ready for some hurt/comfort?!

Warnings: Box boy universe, general dehumanzation (for the ‘verse), referenced violence, referenced beatings, injuries (head injury, broken ribs, broken fingers), self-blame, scared and confused headspace

Tag list:  @haro-whumps, @theycomeinthrees, @whumpthisway, @samanddeaninpanties, @teachunks, @draganies, @pepperonyscience, @whump-it, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @untilthepainstarts, @galaxywhump, @kiretto-laorentze, @lonesome--hunter @slaintetowhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @still-an-asshole

Kit hadn’t seen anyone in nearly two weeks. No-one but Emile and the store pets. He was mostly confined to bed—and still the actual bed, not just his mattress on the floor. Emile insisted he rested, he was forbidden from anything strenuous or taxing, only allowed him to help with small tasks at the end of the day,

He’d never known such luxury. If it weren’t for the broken bones and deep tissue bruising he might have melted away at being given such time to relax. As it was, mostly he just focused on dragging breath into his lungs past the stabbing ache in his ribs.

He was bored too, and on edge. Nothing felt as safe as it had. He tried to let it go, Emile said he was taking care of it. New security systems had been installed, and all the windows replaced with stronger glass. His body remembered though—the feeling of fists and feet, the kicks and punches and heavy handed shoves. His body remembered being beaten, but more than that it remembered losing his charges to the whims of people who didn’t have their best interests at heart.

So he wasn’t sleeping well, food sat heavy in his stomach, and he had no way to work off his restless energy without earning a glare from Emile and cutting remarks about needing to recover more quickly. And that was his other concern—that as soon as he was declared fit and healthy again Emile would have no more worries about inflicting whatever punishment must be brewing for his mistakes.

It left him strung out, a lit fuse with nowhere to burn. He wanted to recover well, he wanted to be good and make up for his errors and inability to fulfil his duties. It just wasn’t working. He felt more tired than ever, the pain making him sluggish and slow. Emile hated the way he looked with his bruised face and bandaged hand, told Kit it wasn’t appropriate for him to be seen by customers until it wasn’t noticeable.

Even once he could move around without wincing in pain he was confined to the upstairs apartment or the back rooms whenever the store was open. He didn’t mind missing out on the customers, they were never that important to him. But he hated not being busy. He hated sitting with the itch under his skin that stemmed from his failure to take care of himself. He hated having nothing to do but think of all the ways things felt wrong.

The bright spot on the horizon was Libby. He’d missed her too, and was finally up on his feet enough to be allowed downstairs during her lunch break.

“Hey,” Libby said and rushed up to him all at once. She cupped his face lightly, her eyes roving over the bruising. “I’m so sorry about what happened. I heard a few days later but Mr Raser said you weren’t up to visitors.”

He blinked, noting the change from calling Emile by his first name, and back to referring to him by his surname. Libby hadn’t done that around Kit since the first few weeks of her employment. He wondered if it meant anything.

“How are you?” She gathered up his unbandaged hand and squeezed.

He looked down at their joined hands with bleary eyes, watching the way their fingers curled around one another.

“Kit?”

He flinched a little at his name, at the concern. He wasn’t scared of her, he just… felt seen, really seen, for the first time. More than the paramedics who had tended to him, more than the police detectives who had questioned him, more than by Emile who inspected him with detached scrutiny and thin lipped annoyance.

“I can’t believe they hurt you this badly,” she said fiercely, like she was angry on his behalf.

“I’m okay,” he said, finally looking up again. “They said I’ll be okay.”

“But you’re not. Not right now.”

He tried to smile, and reassure her, but all he ended up doing was sighing. “I’m trying.”

“Is anyone taking care of you?”

“That’s… I don’t need... Um, that’s not what I’m for? I’m the one who takes care of them.”

“So that’s a no, then.” She huffed and he curled into himself before remembering how much everything hurt and gasping in pain. She caught his elbow and guided him to sit down. “Here, gently. I brought you soup, and you’re going to drink it, and then…” he watched her eyes rove over him and around the shop, too. Her hand came up to brush through his hair and he leaned into the touch. “Have you managed to get this clean?” she asked gently.

He shook his head. “My hand… and I can’t lift my arm without my side hurting, and it hurt too much at the back… where I hit my head.” He ducked down in shame.

“Okay, that’s what I thought. And Mr. Raser hasn’t tried to help you?”

He started to speak and she cut him off, “And if you say that isn’t his job I might cry.”

He looked up, worried, but found her smiling softly at him, and it emboldened him “I don’t think he noticed.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well that settles it. Soup and a hair wash.”

Before he could even protest, she whisked herself away.

  *  *  *

He thought that usually he would be nervous of this. Stripping his top off in front of her, letting her see his bruises and marks. But on a full stomach of easy to digest food, and after two weeks of pain, he was too tired to worry.

They were in the bathroom for the store pets and she helped him ease out of his shirt and he stood nearby while she filled up the sink. It was low and deep—perfect for helping someone else get washed if they were kneeling or restrained, or otherwise incapable of doing it themselves.

She helped him lean forward over it, sitting on a stool to be the right height.

“I’ll go carefully, tell me if anything hurts and we can take a break okay?”

“Alright, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

She flicked water at him and he drew back in surprise, relaxing when he saw her try not to smile while looking stern. “I mean it, don’t go pushing through pain. I’ve got twenty-five minutes of my lunch break left and I don’t mind spending them all in here with you.”

“That’s very kind, thank you.”

“Come on then, here we go.”

She started by slowly wetting his hair, used a cup to pour water over his head while shielding his eyes with her other hand. He sighed in contentment as weeks worth of grime started to wash away. She worked her fingers through the matted hair that had dried with blood, that he hadn’t been able to fully get rid of.

“Still feeling okay?”

His ribs protested the position a little, but not really any worse than anything else, so he nodded. “Feels good.”

“This bump looks really bad. Does it hurt a lot?”

“Mmm, no? Not since they gave me something to take. The tablets help. They just don’t… my ribs hurt too much so I can’t reach up.” He winced. “I don’t mean to complain.”

She snorted. “Looks like you have every right to complain, to me anyway.” She eased him upright and squeezed the generic shampoo into her hand. “You got a raw deal here, it’s alright if it bothers you.”

“You mean the break-in?” He asked with a frown.

She looked at him steadily for a moment. “Yeah, that, among other things,” she said from between clenched teeth. “But yes. It must have been scary.”

She lathered his head, massaging in gentle circling motions as she went. His eyes closed involuntarily and without meaning to he leaned into her touch.

“I… I didn’t know what to do. And there were so many of them and I couldn’t see their faces and I didn’t know what they wanted.” He gulped, tried to swallow his words but between the soft comforting touch and the pent up emotions he’d been sitting with for weeks, they just kept spilling over. “When they hit me all I could think was how much trouble I’d be in, and then the pain hit too and I thought… thought they might do worse. Like… like in training. And then after, I thought Sir might send me back to training for being bad, for losing the pets... letting them be taken.” He squeezed his eyes closed tighter, scrunching up his face until his healing bruises started to hurt. He could fight back tears if he focused on the physical pain.

Libby’s hands left his head and he heard water splashing, and then her hands cupped his face. He opened his eyes as she ran her thumbs across his cheeks and his muscles relaxed under the steady pressure. “It won’t happen again, Mr. Raser is taking care of it, taking even more precautions. I don’t think anyone would try the same thing twice anyway. You’re safe here, with me, like this. We’ll make sure you stay safe.”

He nodded, breathing slowly so he wouldn’t sob and hurt his ribs.

“Was Mr. Raser mad at you?” Her face darkened, and if he wasn’t so well attuned to the emotions of others he might have missed it.

He shook his head vigorously, sending water droplets and shampoo splashing across the tiles. “Not really. Only because I can’t work for a while. But I don’t think it’s me he’s really angry with. It’s confusing, but I’m glad.”

“Well that’s something at least.” She swiped shampoo off his forehead to stop it slipping into his eyes.

“He’s letting me sleep in the big bed,” Kit added shyly. “It’s very nice.”

“The what?”

“The big bed, upstairs? There’s one in the wall, it folds down. He uses it when he had to stay overnight, but now…it’s for me, until I’m better.” Kit smiled, timidly, and shrugged.

Libby’s face went through a range of emotions so fast he felt dizzy just watching her. She sighed, finally, and returned to massaging the shampoo deeper into his scalp. She muttered something under her breath that he didn’t catch. “Libby?”

“Yes?”

“I upset you?”

“No. Well, I am upset for you. That’s not your fault. I can’t…can’t believe there’s been a bed up there this whole time and he makes you sleep on the floor on that tiny mattress.”

“Pets belong—”

“I know, I know the spiel. It just seems wrong.”

He pondered that as she gently tipped his head back and began pouring water over his hair, rinsing the shampoo clean. So many things seemed wrong. The break in. His different treatment since. Libby’s insistence that he should be better cared for. He was being better cared for, wasn’t he? Rest, and time, and the ability to laze about in bed. And he knew he didn’t deserve it. He knew punishment must be coming, he’d failed so spectacularly it must be.

His thoughts broke off as she spoke again. “I think we’re just about done. Unless you need help with anything else?”

His hair felt amazing, squeaky clean and heavenly. He kept his eyes closed in contentment, revelling in the warmth of the room and the moment of peace where he knew exactly what he was supposed to do. He startled as she used a washcloth and rubbed down his face, over the tops of his shoulders and this his neck. He shivered as water ran down his back but not because it felt bad.

“I can manage the other stuff.” He opened his eyes and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” She hesitated and then turned away. The loss of her attention stabbed pain in his gut, he didn’t want the moment of calm to be over. His thoughts scrambled to catch up with a swell of emotion he couldn’t name.

She let the sink drain, wiping down the edges and wringing out the washcloth. He began to speak without knowing where he was going, words forming and leaving his lips in a rush.

“You said something seemed wrong, but I don’t know which thing you mean. Everything feels wrong since… since I got hurt. Everything has been so different.” The admittance tumbled out before he could question it, but saying it aloud flooded him with relief.

She leaned against the sink and considered him. “I just know that you deserve better than the lot you’ve been dealt. You deserve to be comfortable not just when you’re hurt, and you don’t, you shouldn’t, have had to be hurt in the first place—not ever. It’s not my place to question your owner, but I wish I could give him a piece of my mind.”

“I try to be good. But sometimes I don’t know what that means either. I don’t know how to be everything that’s expected of me.”

She nodded, stuck her tongue between her teeth and then bit at her lip before sighing. “I wish I could help you more.”

“You helped me now,” he smiled. Everything in him was calmer, no itch, no buzzing of a thousand unanswered questions, no worries about his safety. Sudden tears filled his eyes and he had to look away. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired, just tired.”

She moved swiftly and cradled his head with one arm wrapped around his bare shoulders. He cried silently for a few long minutes, letting everything that had built up slowly bleed away. It was wrong of him to take her time like this, to show weakness like this, but he could hardly care. She didn’t stop him and that made him believe she didn’t care either.

“Same time next shift, okay? Until your ribs heal I’ll help you in any way I can. And… other things will work themselves out in time, you’ll see.”

He nodded, and for some reason he believed her and trusted her words more than anything anyone else had ever said. They settled deep in his chest and he didn’t even question that some of it ran counter to his training. Words like deserve, and help, concepts like him not being hurt—none of them were right. But from her… they didn’t seem wrong either.

His mind was lighter, and he was more centred than he had been since the attack. He sat with the feeling and decided, without really meaning to, that he liked her better than Emile in almost every way.

It felt like a small betrayal, after all the leanience Emile had given him, and he resolved to go and ask for his punishment as soon as his ribs felt better, and to work extra hard to make up for not liking his owner best of all. But even so—he wouldn’t give up the feeling for anything, because it felt like safety, and it felt as far from wrong as he had ever remembered feeling.

[just-the-hiddles]

Fic Teasers | August 19, 2020

Hello my peeps!   I hope everyone is having a good week!  I have two new fics coming this week.  Tomorrow (20th), I have the first part of another Adam and Charlie story called Career Change.  This is the next story in the chronology of these two.  The second part will post next week.  And then on Saturday (22nd), I have the Sir Thomas Sharpe breeding kink fic, Fill You.  

As always, tag lists are open as is tagging for any individual story.  Please let me know if you wish to be tagged on either story or added to The Whole Enchilada (everything), Hiddles (Tom Hiddleston RPF stories only), and/or Loki.

-

Career Change | Adam x Charlie | Part 1

“Adam. I met Eve. And she was smart. Not to mention well versed in your moods. She made a choice.”

Adam shrugged. “I still could have stopped her.”

Simone chuckled. “I highly doubt that. Not even on her worst day could anyone stop Eve once she set her mind to something.”

“And what does this have to do with Charlie?”

“You can’t bring Eve back by keeping Charlie caged up in a triple decker in Quincy. She needs to get back to a new normal. Which includes her leaving the house.”

Adam fell back onto the bed, covering his face before popping back up. “How can I help?”

“To begin with, stop ordering in. Groceries and food. Go at night with her at first if it makes you feel better. But she needs to get out now. And second, continue to encourage her to maintain her friendships. Finally, she needs to get a job.”

Adam’s eyes snapped to the screen. “I can provide for her.”

“A job is more than money, Adam. You know Charlie. She needs to feel useful. She needs to help people. Am I right?”

“Yes.” Adam agreed, albeit begrudgingly.

“I appreciate that. I recognize that was hard for you.” Adam gave a half smile. Simone rubbed her hands together. “That is all I needed to talk to you about today. Thank you for keeping an eye on her nutrition and oh, I almost forgot I am sending Charlie some homework for our next session on Monday. Make sure she gets it done over the weekend.”

“What is it?”

“An aptitude test.”

Adam rolled his eyes.

-

Adam paced the living room floor as Charlie hunched over the computer, sitting on the green velveteen sofa. He glowered every time he overheard the clicking of the mouse or Charlie chuckle.

“You realize those tests are complete horse shit?” Adam snapped, holding his chin between his thumb and index finger.

“Mmm hmm.” Charlie responded. Her eyes remained glued to the computer screen. Adam stopped pacing and dropped his hands to the side.

“Are you even listening to me, Charlie?” His eyes bore into her.

Fill You | Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader

“Darling,” Thomas pulled you from your thoughts as the bedroom doors clicked behind.

Thomas Sharpe appeared even more resplendent by moonlight as he did in daylight. His dark looks perfectly coiffed and a stark contrast against his pale skin and shockingly blue eyes. He still wore his suit coat and brand new white waistcoat, purchased for the occasion. His lips curved into a devilish smile as he took in the sight of you in your wedding gown, waiting for him.

“Yes, Thomas?” you struggled to hold your voice steady. He moved to meet you, shedding his coat on the journey, folding onto the back of a chair.

“Finally alone.” He stepped in front of you and took your hands into his before kissing your lips with a tenderness. “I thought your father would never stop talking.”

You chuckled. Your father, the famed mercantile, had the reputation for verbose speeches.

“Mother had promised to ‘lose’ his speech notes. I shall chastise her at breakfast.”

“Unnecessary, my love.” Thomas cupped your face and kissed you deeply. His fingers teasing along the nape of your neck. Your hands moved greedily along his torso.

“Thomas…” you breathed. “… I need you.”

“I need you too… now. And I am too impatient to undress you properly.”

He teased up your skirt and petticoats up past your knees and further until the fabric gathered around your hips. You leaned back against the bed, mattress creaking. Thomas smirked as he unfastened his trousers and freed his cock, already hard.

[storyofmychoices]

Picnic Perfect

[Levi Schuler x Laura Day Masterlist]

Characters: Laura (MC), Lily (daughter), Levi

Prompts: @choicesmonthlychallenge​​ - picnic

Setting: This takes place after chapter 11 of MOTY, when Lily has the allergy attack at the picnic.

Dew soaked grass brushed against their feet, dampening their shoes. The brisk morning air caressed their skin, welcoming them to the new day. The tents, decorations, games, and fanfare from the school picnic held there days earlier were long since gone. The park was quiet; it was still early–too early for most park-goers. The occasional jogger or dog walker passed by on the path, but for the most part, the park was empty. It was an oasis, just for them. With Lily spending weekends with her so-called father and school during the weekdays, this was the first time the three of them could find a moment together to do something like this. 

“Why are we at the park?” Lily rubbed the sleep from her eyes, wobbling slightly from almost missing the step over the curb. She was used to being up early and ready to go, but the recent allergy attack that had landed her in the hospital still had some lingering effects. 

Levi offered his hand to steady her, which she happily accepted. “You missed out on the rest of the picnic on Saturday so we thought you needed a do-over. Plus, you didn’t get to hear the rest of my set. I figured you deserved your own private show.” He shifted his guitar case in his other hand toward her. 

“Really?” The morning sunlight reflected in her chocolate eyes, lighting up her face. “Just for me?”

“You—” He gestured his head to the side. “and your mom.”

“Mom, will you sing with Levi again? Please, pretty please?” Lily gave her mom her best pouting face. “Pleaseeeee? You sounded so good together when you sang ‘Start Again’!”

Laura couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face. The last time they were here, Lily was near death. Had they been a few seconds later… she couldn’t bear the thought—but now, looking at her, she was almost back to normal. “You’ll have to wait and see, my little star girl.” 

She turned to Levi, pulling her shoulders back proudly, “That’s a yes!”

“I think this is the place,” Levi decided. He placed his guitar down on the grass. 

Laura pulled a plaid blanket out of her large tote bag and spread it on the grass. Lily helped smooth out the wrinkles before collapsing on the center, lying back with her extremities extended as if it were her own personal bed. 

“You look quite comfy there, Lil. You going to let us join you or should Levi and I take all of our breakfast snacks somewhere else?”

Her eyes remained closed, pretending to sleep, though the smirk on her face betrayed her.

Levi reached in the tote and pulled out a bakery box. “More blueberry muffins for us!” He pinched off a piece of muffin top, letting the sugar crumbs melt in his mouth. “Mmm. It would be a shame if Rocket missed out on these delicious muffins. But she does need her sleep. More for us, I suppose!”

“I think this might be the best muffin I’ve ever tasted,” Laura teased. “So good! I guess we can split Lily’s then.”

Lily opened one eye, looking up at them, trying to contain her growing giggles. “Wait! Don’t eat mine!”

The three set out their breakfast buffet consisting of muffins, fresh fruit, apple sauce, and juice, sharing a meal in the peaceful stillness of the park. 

As they ate the last bites of their breakfast, almost too full to move, Levi took out his guitar. 

His calloused fingers found their position over the strings, a perfect fit. Lily’s eyes widened in recognition as he strummed the first few chords. “Called her for the first time yesterday, finally found the missing part of me, felt so close but you were far away, left me without anything to say…”

“You know the Jonas Brothers?!!” Lily’s hands were on her cheek, her body swaying gently side to side at the familiar melody. “MOM! IT’S LOVE BUG!”

Laura leaned closer to her daughter moving with her; she may have mentioned to Levi at one point that Lily was a huge fan. “I know! Your favorite!” 

His gaze shifted to Laura, his gravelly voice filled with adoration as he sang the next verse to her. “I can’t get your smile out of my mind. I think about your eyes all the time. You’re beautiful, but you don’t even try. Modesty is just so hard to find…”

She bit her already turned up lips, hoping to stop the spread of the cheesy grin widening across her face. He had a way of making her feel like none of her worries mattered and that she could relax for a moment, like life could be simple and filled with solely happiness and love—it was a dangerous thought to have, especially right now, when so much was riding on her being the perfect mom and perfect woman, despite all of her faults and the troubles she found herself in. She wanted to give in to the carefree life he offered, but it wasn’t just her, it was Lily, and there was nothing she wouldn’t do or give up for her daughter. 

Lily nudged her mom, pulling her from her thoughts. “Aren’t you going to sing too?”

“Oh, I think Levi’s doing fine on his own.” 

“But he’d do better if you sang, too. Pleaseeeee!” Her lip quivered, her voice drawing out her request.

“For you!” Laura brushed her daughter’s hair behind her ear. As Levi approached the next chorus she joined in, her voice shaking at first before relaxing as their gaze and voices melded together. “Now I’m speechless, over the edge, I’m just breathless. I never thought that I’d catch this love bug again. Hopeless, head over heels in the moment, I never thought that I’d get hit, by this love bug again…”

Before the last note was played Lily was already on her feet clapping excitedly. Laura and Levi wore matching smiles. A red hue spread across her face; she turned away, her focus shifting to Lily. Levi’s gaze on her lingered a moment longer; even if it hadn’t been one of her daughter’s favorite songs, he meant every word of it for her. She had left him speechless and hopelessly in love with her since the first day they met in the apartment lobby. Laura was unlike anyone he had ever met. She was strong, loving, and inspiring, and not just for her daughter; she inspired him to be better, to be his best self, to be a man she deserved and could rely on. He knew he wasn’t there yet, but he would work on it. She was more than worth it. (They both were.)

A/N: Song lyrics from “Love Bug” by the Jonas Brothers

Perma tags: @lilyoffandoms​ ; @raleighcarrera​ ; @mfackenthal​ ; @the-soot-sprite​ ; @virtuallytakenby​ ; @zeniamiii​ ; @kaavyaethanramsey​; ; @xjustin-ethansgirliex​ ; @caseyvalentineramsey​​; @trappedinfandoms​; @anotherbeingsworld​ ;  @tyrils-star​​

MOTY Tag: want to be added? Let me know?

[pacifv]

HE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all have witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

Mun Name: Mik      Age: 26      Contact: IM, discord

Character(s) I rp: Eden ( in bleach ) -- I have other ocs but that’s another story Which muse(s) inspires you the most atm?(for MM): Eden... ? Current Fandom(s): Bleach , so far Fandom(s) you have an AU for:  more fantasy esque ones?  My language(s): spanish , english  Themes I’m interested in for rp:   Fantasy / Science fiction / Horror / Western / Romance / Thriller / Mystery / Dystopia / Adventure / Modern / Erotic / Crime / Mythology / Classic / History / Renaissance / Medieval / Ancient / War / Family / Politics / Religion / School / Adulthood / Childhood / Apocalyptic / Gods / Sport / Music / Science / Fights / Angst / Smut / Drama / etc. Themes/Genres you have an AU for: fantasy , religious

Preferred Thread length: one-liner / 1 para / 2 para / 3+ / novella. Asks can be send by: Mutuals / Non-Mutuals / Personals / Anons. Can Asks be continued?:   YES / NO   only by Mutuals?:  YES / NO. Preferred thread type: crack / casual nothing too deep / serious / deep as heck. Is realism / research important for you in certain themes?:   YES / NO. Are you atm open for new plots?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS. Do you handle your draft / ask - count well?:  YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. How long do you usually take to reply?:  24h / 1 week / 2 weeks / 3+ / months / years. I’m okay with interacting: original characters / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates / my fandom / crossovers / multi-muses / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / canon-divergent portrayals / au-versions (as main or only verse). Do you post more ic or occ?:  IC / OOC. Are you selective with following others?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS.  

Best ways to approach you for rp/plotting:  IM since this is pretty much new . just slap me with that and if you have some ideas , better --- if not let just brainstorm with what we have in hand . 

What expectations do you hold towards your plotting partner:  some minimal idea of the context and eden’s character . some ideas if possible . more than often I have gotten people straight up jump with no clue of what even is going on in my side character wise . 

When you notice the plotting is rather one-sided, what do you do?:  depends , most likely really stop trying or let it sink . I’m not much of a person who would pressure for ideas when they don’t even come naturally for me in these kind of situations . 

How do you usually plot with others, do you give input or leave most work towards your partner?:  First of all , ask what they particularly want and if they read the bio . and of course , have their bio as well ( if oc or any relevant hc on vague canons ) . I am honestly a bit shy on the input but if I found a ground to start letting my imagination loose ( like , something in common between characters or something that clicks well with my muse ) I can suggest several things . but in any case , I’m pretty passive and it’s a lot of gives and takes . 

When a partner drops the thread, do you wish to know?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS. - And why?: depends on the thread , the time and the interest . things that go downtown in the excitement scale are :/  and I can’t blame anyone for dropping a thread . not all the time you will have muse for them , tho , if it was a relevant thread I would ask at least . - What should your partner do when dropping a thread?:  pretty much free to tell me or not . I’m no one to judge.

What could possibly lead you to drop a thread?:  losing muse , interest , time ... pretty much the same . feeling like my muse is going too OOC for the sake of the other muse or smth .  - Will you tell your partner?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS.

Is communication in the rpc important to you?   YES / NO. - And why?:  I am very old school and having some OOC interaction to at least know how things are going , it’s as much as I can ask here .  - Are you okay with absolute honesty, even if it may means hearing something negative about you and/or portrayal?:  I mean , I should . it can turn me off a bit but it’s just natural ? there’s no way something can be perfect or be of someone’s taste . plus I am not that smart to be fully aware of all the things around the motif and IRL information I use on my muse . I’m no book , buddy. - Do you think you can handle such situation in a mature way?  YES / NO.

Why do you rp again, is there a goal?:  development , exploring the muse , seeing what works and doesn’t work . often new blogs for me are basically prototypes , they are and will  most likely have minor or major modifications as my imagination starts working and getting excited . besides , in the basics , you can hardly manage to cover all ( if anything ) of how one’s muse would react to X situation .

Wishlist, be it plots or scenarios:  a lot of quincy lore , come up with more personal connections with other quincies , fully develop a backstory and a post war scenario . cultural exploration  --- relationships of all kinds . 

Themes I won’t ever rp / explore:  pretty much I am fine with anything as long as we don’t cross the gross line . but I’m not afraid of the dark .

What Type of Starters do you prefer / dislike, can’t work with?: absurdly basic and with no context given . not even have an idea of what is the deal between muses . I can squeeze my brain but there is as much as i can do with little information .

What type of characters catch your interest the most?:  quirky ones , conflictive ones , most likely muses with specific motifs that spark my interest -- deepness . Aesthetically interesting ones . but overall , those who have out of the normal personalities . 

What type of characters catch your interest the least?:  personalities that doesn’t work or do not harmonize with the context of their characters . that’s all I can say .

What are your strong aspects as rp partner?:  I am.... creative ? gdi I did this meme already but it’s hard to reply these two ones. I am easily excitable . if we end up in a ship , expect me to be pampering af . I really enjoy the exploration of relations between people , emotions and psychological stuff tied around it . I do like casual and also very deep things . I’m not afraid of dealing with heavy topics . I like horror ???? also I am very into the secondary character role , as in : my muse is here to help your muse to grow or insight . that stuff . not much of a protagonist role in RPs. 

What are your weak aspects as rp partner?: I’m .... very.... sporadic . My mood is annoying esp when I’m “new” blog around kind of thing . I’m shy , even if I don’t seem so --- I get pretty anxious over details . I am impatient --- with myself . I want to do so many things at the same time I end up overwhelmed . 

Do you rp smut?:  YES / NO. Do you prefer to go into detail?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS. Are you okay with black curtain?:  YES / NO. - When do you rp smut? More out of fun or character development?:  mmmmmmmmm , both. Depends on mood and context tbh . - Anything you would not want to rp there?:  nothing I can think from the top of my head.

Are ships important to you?:   YES / NO. Would you say your blog is ship-focused?:   YES / NO. Do you use read more?:  YES / NO / SOMETIMES. Are you: Multi-Ship / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship  —  Multiverse / Singleverse. - What do you love to explore the most in your ships?:  again , I’m big mood for interpersonal relationships ( romantic or not ) , the pros and cos of certain traits , ideology clash , personality clash , anything that comes in a relation that could make it come and go .  - What is your smut tag?: unholy.

Are you okay with pre-established relationships?: YES / NO. - And what kind of ones?: all are hella okay for me . pre- est is my jam bc jesus christ the awkward first encounters make me go blue screen .

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- What could possibly make your Muse interesting towards others, why should they rp with this particular character of yours now, what possible plots do they offer?:  the fact she is basically a “religious fanatic” , with a quirky personality and a questionable morality , considering she has an inner conflict between the wellness of her race and her loyalty towards yhwach . At least pre war . post war , she has a flipped personality were she is mostly bitter and more angsty but will go from fanatic to straight up hater . 

- With what type of Muses do you usually struggle to rp with?:   bland personalities ? not sure myself , Eden is pretty much ready for anything since her personality is pretty laid back . I guess I would say shinigamis in general --- since she basically is stuck inside Silbern . - With what type of Muses do they usually work well with?:  Quincies , ofc . and people who are willing to put up with her crap .

- What interests your Muse(s) in general:  the prosperity of the quincy , doing a proper duty , order , tea , annoying the fuck out of people . being eerie ....  - What do they desire, is their goal?:  the ideal world as thought by Yhwach --- later on simply for her kind to survive after losing the war and being left to their luck . - What catches their interest first when meeting someone new?:  mmm , appearance  and reactions to her witty or narcisistic comments .  - What do they value in a person?:    loyalty , uniqueness . - What themes do they like talking about?:  most likely about the order of the army , tea stuff , herself (?) , but she is also a lot for debates and insight . - Which themes bore them?:  rebellious , silly thoughts . justice related topics . anything that critics her loyalty/life style . 

- Did they ever went through something traumatic?:  the first war was enough ? most likely losing comrades --- yhwach sacrificing the quincy for power later on .  - What could possibly trigger them?:  the simple sight of anyone laying a finger of the quincy for being against their views .   - What could set them off, enrage them?:  nothing. she cannot literally , physically get angry or enraged . but if we are talking bitter , that would be completely post war and it’s just the mention of yhwach’s name or those who went to god’s palace with him .  - What could lead to an instant kill?:  invasion of silbern , chaos . 

- Is there someone /-thing they hate?:  chaos , rebels , shinigami , anyone against the quincy . - Is there someone /-thing they love?:   her race , her pride , herself .

Is your Muse easy to approach?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?:  just .... come to her and say hi . she is literally wandering around silbern all the time ( quincy speaking tho ) . for others , eh ... good luck . and wait post war (?) - Where are they usually to find?:  Silbern ... then Siberia . 

Something you may still want to point out about your muse?:  She is no saint , clearly . She has a questionable sense of things like loyalty and preservation of her race . she is honestly all over the place

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

Tagged by:  honestly stole from @skyvar​  Tagging:  no one in particular.

[miannedomusings]

I was tagged by @ditzymax​ (longer ago than I’d like to admit) to list 10 songs that I’ve been listening to lately. I feel like every time doing this post crossed my mind, it was an entirely different list... But here’s today’s!

1. Like a Fool by NIve and Sam Kim - If this list was only allowed to be 1 song long, this would be the winner this week. This song makes me SO HAPPY. The verses are soft and sweet, then the way the chorus just explodes into bright, loud joy is wonderful, and there is something so unsatisfyingly satisfying about the song ending one word early. I’m new to NIve, but his voice is so bright, and there’s something trumpet-y about it, and it’s perfect in this song. (also, the live acoustic version - just two voices and a guitar - is serene) 

2. Where’s My Money by Sam Kim - Let’s keep the Sam Kim train rolling! (also apparently NIve has in hands in this one too, so go figure!) Sam Kim tends to write two kinds of songs, love songs that I adore despite myself, and songs like this. When he blends pop, R&B, and blues, with just a touch of hip hop I fucking implode. His face while performing it live sums up my feelings well:

3. To Be So Lonely by Harry Styles - This whole album’s been part of the rotation lately. Retro sunshine is a nice vibe to spend time with during the apparent apocalypse. This song in particular tends to the first one I go to. What a singable song. The ukulele verses are so are light, but then the chorus gets surprisingly thick and heavy with the echoing percussion and strings, and it just feels good... despite being kinda depressing.... but like in a cheeky way. 

4. You’re Sexy I’m Sexy by Eric Nam - I mean, this song is just so fun. What’s not to like? Who doesn’t want to be called sexy by Eric Nam? I dare you to listen to this without getting it stuck in your head. It’s addictive. (Finally got around to listening to Eric Nam and I have feeling if I made this next week Congratulations would be on it)

5. UGH! by BTS - Fuck I love this one. This is some high quality rap line right here. It’s so aggressive, it hits so hard. THE SATISFACTION. Yoongi’s “dun dun dun” melts my brain. Bonus points for Yoongi putting on different voices while rapping. They all kill it, I love them all in this, there is no obvious weak verse. When I listen to this song, I listen at least 3 times before I move on. Good shit. 

6. Dreams Come True by NCT 127 - NCT 127 have been the main obsession lately and I just always want to listen to this song. Every time I listen to it, I go through the same cycle of, “oh man, the beginning is so good, that piano that’s just a little off, mmm, this is the best part,” to, “yesssss, goddamn do I love Mark’s bit, with the change up in the piano, and the way Taeil drags you to the next bit, mmm, so good, the best part,” to, “the bridge! Yes, change it up, give me those smooth vocals, that bass, Doyong’s sustained note! mmm, and the rap to round it out, the best”. So yeah, I love this song, every part feels like the best part. Every part is exactly where it needs to be. It also just closes off this album really well, and makes a nice full circle to the style at the start of the album (and makes me want to listen to the whole thing again). 

7. Boom by NCT 127 - Honestly, if I had made this post sooner it may have had to have just been this album. Picking only two to put on this list was hard. And this week Boom won out! The whole first half of this album is so damn smooth, and this song is no exception. That chorus is a surprise and it keeps being great!

8. POISON by GOT7 - So funny story, the first time I listened to the new GOT7 album I was thinking, “wow, this is great, I like it all, but Poison is my least favourite.” HA! How wrong I was. That bass line is nasty, and pairs with the whistle so well. And opening with Jackson, nice. Though I think my favourite things are the “buh-nah-nah-nah”’s during Mark’s verse. Dunno why, but I love ‘em. I have a feeling Not by the Moon is my actual favourite from the album, but it can wear its crown next week. 

9. Fallin’ Flower by Seventeen - I almost forgot to count this song, because I haven’t be “listening” to it, but I’ve been watching it constantly. The dance practice video is just so beautiful! But don’t get me wrong, once I’m done watching it, I just let a play a few times to listen. I really love this song. It’s grown on me so much. 

10. Highway to Heaven by NCT 127 - I linked the English version, but either will do. Though the English one does have a video that looks exactly how this song sounds -- all I wanna do is drive through the desert in a car without a roof singing at the top of my lungs. If you want to be uplifted and energized, this is the song. It will put sunshine in your belly. Also, shout-out to this video fueling my Taeil bias a not okay amount.