#-during quarantine but y’know

[annimator]

Bro i felt this so hard. My current self and my pre-quarantine self feel like 2 different people

[deus-ex-mona]

oh mona ft. lxl shikishi how i miss you so…

[pascallatte]

It's just Us

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: Love in Lockdown Part 2, basically a lot more sweet things that happened during quarantine.

Date: May & June 2020

Warnings: none

May

Being put on live on the spot isn’t a thing you’re great at doing. Even if you’re being confronted by friends, you tend to sort of standstill in shock for a few moments before whatever had happened sinks in.

Why is this being talked about? It’s because it is currently what the people who are watching Sarah’s Instagram live with Pedro are seeing right now. You have just entered the car, with a bag and coffee cups in either hand. Dressed up in your most frequent get-up, a shirt and sweats, as well as a mask adorning your face. 

The live was also something Pedro was not ready for but if a friend of yours is on live and you haven’t seen each other since quarantine had started, one can only think of acting before thinking of the outcome.

So here you were, holding the phone and chatting with Sarah while Pedro’s driving the two of you home after deciding to buy from the nearest and only opened coffee shop rather than having it delivered.

“So as I was saying, Olivia a while ago talked about wanting to adopt a pet. How about you? You guys ever think of adopting?” Sarah had asked you again after being interrupted by the car’s horn.

Agreeing with her, “Uh, yeah we have thought of adopting one but never really had the chance to cause y’know, covid happened.” Sipping from the straw before offering some for your Pedro since he kept asking you what you got.

“I see that you guys went on your frequent coffee runs, what are you guys up to ne-” Asking a question again, making you chuckle as you thought that it seems like she was interviewing you two.

“-What’s funny, y/n?” She asked when she saw you chuckle. Only responding with a shake of the head, you composed yourself before answering.

“Nothing’s funny, I'm sorry. I just thought that we look like we’re having an interview with all the questions you’ve asked us already. Um, to answer that too, we don’t really have anything planned nex- well I don’t have anything else to do. Not sure about him though.” You explained before turning the camera to let them see Pedro who was humming a song to himself while waiting for the stoplight to turn green.

Tapping his thigh, he turned to you expectingly. Humming a sound of confusion he looks at you before to the camera.

“Sarah’s asking what you have planned next,” telling him, to let him know what’s up with the live.

Confused, “Next? What do you mean next?” He asked, making Sarah laugh at his expression that was telling everyone he was lost, literally.

“By next, I mean, what do you have planned when you get home, silly,” Sarah said, bursting out laughing, making you laugh as well. A sound of understanding escaped Pedro as he turned to drive again.

Still waiting for an answer from him, you leaned across the armrest between you two to lean on his shoulder. Nudging him a bit making him release a hum.

“I don’t have anything planned to do later so we’ll probably just sleep or watch a movie, like always. Nothing new.” He told Sarah, or rather the whole live as if it was just a normal call with a friend. And in doing so, he takes your free hand in his out of habit before kissing the top of it. This makes you look at him with a smile, before turning the live once again.

“What about you? What’re your plans for the evening?” you asked her wanting to talk more. The back-and-forth questioning continued for about half an hour, before having to leave it due to you arriving at your place.

June

Pedro is known to be a huge Instagram user, and ever since being stuck at home his stories and occasional posts have been dedicated to his muse, you. It’s now become a thing that he and your fans await his so-called three-part story every week because of the amount of fun content he has of you or himself.

It varies from the regular shenanigans you guys do or the more calm ones that he has come to appreciate as time passed by. But in this case, the latter is being posted.

Just like how his videos regularly start, this one started with a close-up of his face. From the looks of it, he looks freshly showered and in bed. Your voice was heard in the background but was faint to be heard clearly.

Glancing in your direction for a second, he gets himself comfortable on the bed before deciding to speak 30 seconds in.

“AHHHH Yeah!” His sudden outburst made you yelp and throw a pillow at him. Pedro smiles before greeting everyone, “Good morning, as you know it’s a Sunday. meaning we can all stay in bed and chill and lounge and sleep and do whatever the fu-oww”. You cut off his cussing with a soft, to you, hit on his bare shoulder.

“No cussing,” you softly said, still out of frame, before continuing whatever you were doing.

“Fine fine, so again it’s a sunday and I don’t have anything to do so come prepared, see you later.”

A few hours later he posted his second story just before afternoon hits. Sitting on the couch has played with some filters you’ve saved on his phone for a bit, still, you weren’t seen but you were heard singing something fans were familiar with but can’t seem to think of what it’s called.

“Hello again, it’s me, Pedro. We’re just about to have lunch, my dearest,” he shows you, finally, who’s behind him preparing in the kitchen, “had prepared a simple comfort food of ours, and I can’t wait.”

He raises the phone and zooms in on you moving around the kitchen, your singing seemed to grow louder as it progresses, unfortunately, you were still unaware of the phone recording you.

“I feel badly, about you, feeling badly about me,” your voice was heard throughout the room making Pedro let out a silent gasp in excitement, but at the same time hinting about something not many would know at that time.

“Y/n…” he whisper shouts at you making your singing slowly end. Now seeing the camera you gawked at it, turning to Pedro who was still sitting on the couch.

Releasing a breath, “yeah?” You asked him, before motioning him to come to the table.

He gives you an all knowing look making you laugh and shake your head, before sitting down on the table.

“I know, I know, now come on or else I’ll finish this shit up.”

“Ooo okay bye,” he quickly says ending the second part.

And since it’s a Sunday, something that had became part of your routine is doing self-care on Sundays. This consisted of having a long bath, cleaning out your things, and the most common one and what you’re currently doing, skincare.

Pedro isn’t the kind of guy who would turn down being soothed, so when you first brought up the thought months ago he agreed immediately. Fast forward to now, and here he was again in your shared bathroom phone angled lower than usual, your hand is seen spreading a mask on his face.

“Okay… it’s nighttime, my next favourite part of our Sunday aside from being able to wake up next to her every morning,” he smoothly says with a smirk. Standing up from where he was sitting, he angles the phone higher to show you in a robe now applying the mask on your face.

“ Y/n’s currently applying this green spread-thing on her face like how she did on mine and I think you’re supposed to leave it on for 15 to 20 minutes or so, before rinsing it off,” he explains after he flips the camera and zooms in on your reflection in the mirror.

“ and while we leave this thing on our faces she often does those things to her hair and occasionally on mine- but I don’t really know why she does it to me but she says it’s to keep my hair “shiny and silky and curly”... Her words not mine,” he teases you pushing the side of your hips with his, making you turn to him, hands on your waist.

“Back to the face spread,” he goes back to explaining, now looking at you directly as you slowly let out a smile as he says all the things you’ve repeatedly told him in the past about the product that you’ve used. Your fond look is clearly seen by the camera and will soon make your fans go wild because of the softness (as they normally say) of the moment.

“ Yeah so that’s about it, here’s to a well-spent Sunday to everyone and remember to take care of yourself,” he flips the camera to himself for the last time and pulls you to his chest making you say goodnight as well.

Taglist: @benonlinear @t-stark355 @heyitsme-2 @elleeeee21 @holmesstrange @tagakalat @flyestvenustrap @oldermenaremyreligion @cherryred444 @hobiismyhopeu @ilovehotdadsandshit @djarinsstuff @guacala @avengersheart @pukka-latte @lilvampirina

[simplydannie]

Velvet and Veneer One-Shot

“I Couldn’t Save You” Prelude: Day 1

Day 1: Rageous Detention Center for Troubled Youth

Velvet sat filing her nails. Laying next to her, Veneer was reading a few comic books they had allowed him for good behavior.

They were in the mess hall when they had called for a mandatory cell isolation…. Velvet and Veneer so happened to share a cell. It had been five hours and no one has come to say anything.

“How long do we have to be in here?” Velvet moaned.

“Just hang in there Vels. Sheesh. You don’t always have to be a drama queen y’know.” Veneer exclaimed. She slapped the comic books away from his hands and into to the floor.

“Hey!” He exclaimed.

“Oops.” She smirked. At that moment two guards showed up at their cell door.

“Screening time.” They said. The twins looked at each other confused. Screening? They did their screening before they even entered this hell hole. But they didn’t refuse. One guard took Velvet by the arm while the other took her brother.

“Wait?” She questioned. They stayed together… they ALWAYS stayed together.

“Sorry. This screening needs to be done separately. The guards led them away in opposite directions. Veneer turned back and gave her a reassuring smile….. what the heck is going on?

The screening only required them to take a sample of her blood. Upon quick testing the word “CLEAN” appeared on the screen. Velvet asked questions… but there was no response. Within the hour, she was led back to her cell. She could smell that it had been disinfected and cleaned while she was out…She looked around…Where was Veneer?

A whole other hour passed. During that time Velvet notices the teens in cells being switched out and moved….doctors and workers walking by with medical masks….What the heck is going on? Velvet thought to herself. She kept asking any worker that passed where was her brother, but all ignored her..

She was sitting on her bed, head leaning against the wall when she heard footsteps approaching. That’s when she turned and saw Veneer being escorted….escorted to the cell opposite her.

“Hey what gives!” She ran up to the tempered glass. They gave Veneer a gentle shove into the cell; he looked at Velvet, confused and lost.

“Vels? What’s going on?” He asked her, placing his hands against the tempered glass. The doctors ignored his question only to continue to murmur amongst themselves. Velvet was able to catch a few words…quarantine, symptoms, monitor, how long.

“It’s spreading quick…” She could hear someone say. “Quarantine the infected….We don’t know what to look for in our species as the virus progresses…”

Virus?

“Hello! Can someone explain to us what you’re doing! Why is my brother in the opposite cell? We haven’t even done anything wrong? And I can handle a common cold!” Velvet yelled. The doctors hovered by Veneers cell for a moment longer, talking and writing something down.

“Hey, jerk face! I’m talking to you…what’s going -“ Velvet stopped short….when the doctors moved away she saw what they had been doing…what they had been writing….Next to Veneer’s cell was posted paperwork, and in big red writing: INFECTED. She looked at her brother with worried eyes. He looked at her quizzically.

“Vels, are you okay? Really, like, what’s happening here?….I’m slowly starting to freak out.” He asked….he had no clue? They didn’t tell him? Was it serious enough that they had to isolate him from her? At that moment one female doctor turned to look at her. Walking up to her cell, she placed her hand against the tempered glass….

“I’m so sorry sweetheart.” The doctor said softly. With that she was gone, leaving the twins to themselves.

“Wait! Wait come back! Please tell me what’s going on! Please tell me my brother is going to be okay!” She screamed after them. Veneer looked at her with a worried expression, he couldn’t see what the doctors had written and placed by his cell.

“Vels?” He said. Velvet leaned her head against the tempered glass. She looked up at him…he looked fine…he still looked like his normal self…so that means…he was going to be okay….Yes, yes, he was going to be fine…she had to believe it.

“Whatever this is…we’ll get through this okay.” She tried smiling….little did she know though…from that point on…was just a ticking time bomb…

[hallowgracie]

Short Story: "I Think I Understand Persephone Now"

Author's Note: Corey Dantes, the main character in my dark academia supernatural wip, Pomegranate Elegy, originated from this short story I wrote for my creative writing classes in Fall 2021.

As it started to look like we were coming out of quarantine for good and yet everything was still different from how it was before, I was still processing my feelings about witnessing what felt like an apocalypse. Now, in Fall 2024, in which my life looks so different from that of 2020 or 2021, I still have feelings that are difficult to reconcile about my experiences.

I don't think it helped that I was still reconciling and processing some of the mental health issues I'd developed and overcame during the course of my high school education.

This short story established a lot of the ideas and motifs I want to use in Pomegranate Elegy, and that story developed from the fact that ultimately, this story suffers for being tied to the pandemic.

I'm not sure yet if this story will remain canon to the backstory of the Corey we meet in Pomegranate Elegy. But I thought all the same that you might like to read it.

I hope you enjoy.

...

“I’m going out to the grocery store.” 

I turned off the camera on my laptop and swiveled around to face my mother. She was wearing her nice sundress, the one with the sunflowers that reminded me of a Van Gogh painting. Before, she would only wear it for brunch with friends she wanted to impress, graduations--the occasions between formal and semi-casual. And now she wore it to the grocery store, because that was as formal as things got at this point. 

“Okay.” I glanced back at the grid of faces staring back at me. “I’ll be in class.” 

“Do you need anything?” Mom lingered in the doorway. “Won’t be able to get it till next week, y’know.”

Because it was safer to only shop once a week, and that had become routine.

I’d forgotten that it was Grocery Day, formerly known as Tuesday. The days all blended together with the hours into an eternity within the four walls of my room, my fortress against the end of the world as I’d known it. 

“I’ll be okay.” I turned back to my class so that I wouldn’t have to see Mom frown, the way she did most of the time when I bothered to speak up. It was the concerned kind of frown, the ‘oh honey’ kind of frown. 

It was a small eternity before the door closed. But I didn’t turn my camera back on. Instead, I left my headphones on my desk and took the opportunity to fall onto my bed, a heap of sheets and pillows thrown about by restless nights. 

I didn’t get much sleep last night.

Or at least, less than usual. 

I kept hearing footsteps in my room, and the faint sounds of giggling, like a bunch of girls at a sleepover. I asked my sister if she called any of her friends last night, but she swore up and down that she didn’t.

I’m not sure I believe her— what other reason could there be, after all?

Although she did point out that a phone call wouldn’t explain all the footsteps. Which, I guess that’s true, although I don’t like the implications of that.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. I knew I should try to go to class and pay attention. After all, there would come a day when I’d be on the other side of this and I’d have to answer for my laziness and degradation. 

Colleges wouldn’t like it if I had mostly Bs.

I would have to excel for them to take me, as our teachers kept reminding us. Our extracurriculars and volunteering were down the toilet now. All that was left for our applications to cling to was our report cards. 

But how could I plan for a future I couldn’t see? Before the end of the world as I’d known it, people would ask us in beginning-of-the-year speeches and stuff where we would see ourselves in five, ten, twenty years.

I couldn’t even see where I’d be by this time next year. 

My thoughts were interrupted by a loud thud.

I jumped from my bed, praying it wasn’t my laptop--thank God, it wasn’t. 

Instead, it was a photograph, from Before. I was with my best friend, Diana, enjoying the Fourth of July. I was in a pink flowery sundress that kinda looked like a hibiscus print, Diana was in blue. My hair was longer, not jagged. There was a light in my eyes, and no circles underneath. I believed her smile. 

Anger and sorrow surged through my veins and my hands began to shake. The glass had cracked, but not broken. I put it back on the shelf and turned it around, so it wouldn’t fall and I wouldn’t have to see the memory and what could have been. 

I sank on the floor and began to cry. 

That was when I felt a cold, icy hand on my shoulder.

And yet, when I looked, there was no one, no sign of anything in the room but my laptop, with Language Arts continuing on with all the blithe determination of a train. 

All I could do was shrug and decide to find some other distraction in place of the impossibly-exhausting monotony of class. So I took the worn volume of Greek mythology off the shelf, next to the photograph I’d turned around, and opened it to my favorite story in all of it. 

I’d gotten it as a Christmas gift in the height of my middle school-obsession with the topic. That was the thing that had drawn me and Diana so close together in the first place. The beautifully-illustrated pages looked back at me. In particular, the painting of Persephone. The portrait was split in half, showing Persephone on the surface, and then in the Underworld. 

I always wondered what it would be like, to be Persephone returning from the world of the dead every spring. Did she change, between the seasons and the realm of the living and the dead? Did the pomegranate seeds keep a piece of her with Hades forever, in more than just her winter exile?

Would any part of her ever feel the same, after her ordeal? Or was there no going back, something lost with that first descent into the Underworld?

I traced the lines of Persephone’s face. She looked too much like me now for comfort. 

I couldn’t stay here. The walls of my room were too narrow, closing in on me. 

“Hey Mom!” I scrambled to grab a mask and a pair of flip-flops. “Wait up!”

...

In the times Before, a Tuesday mid-morning made a wasteland of the grocery store. Completely and utterly deserted except for the occasional customer and clerk. It was not so in the After. Mainly because Tuesday was when the nearest grocery store restocked with toilet paper. 

We were lucky that our lake house was pretty far from the bigger cities of Michigan. But that still didn’t stop everyone from the township and the surrounding little lakes from arriving in a ravenous zombie-like horde to claim the most valuable prize of these days. 

We arrived just as they descended upon the just-refilled shelf as two employees tried to keep the peace.

“Hang on, we have a limit, only two please—”

“Let’s back away, six feet apart now--”

I darted into the fray and managed to snatch up one of the jumbo packages without coming to harm.

“Great, thanks, Corey.” Mom tapped the checklist on her phone, marking our security in toilet paper for the next week or two. “Let’s see, your dad wanted us to pick up some hot dogs to barbecue outside on Friday night, it’s supposed to be a little warmer then.”

We turned to head toward the deli section. Outside of the battleground for toilet paper, the grocery store was filled with ghosts and wraiths, glaring at us with distrust and suspicion as they picked up what they needed to get through the week. 

Everyone was an enemy and a stranger now. 

On the way to the deli section of the store, we passed the aisle where you could get drinks, right next to the produce.

“If you want to grab something, you can.” Mom nodded at the drinks. “Would you mind picking up kombucha for me, please?”

“Sure.” Next to the kombucha I grabbed was a pomegranate smoothie. I took one off the shelf and nearly dropped the drinks when I caught my reflection in the warped mirror thing at the top.

The girl in the photograph smiled and waved at me, and then she disappeared.

“Are you alright?” Mom asked as I returned to the cart. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Maybe I have.”

...

It was a week later when I finally confided in Diana my concerns.

“I think my house is haunted or something,” I whispered into the microphone of my computer. “Weird shit keeps happening.”

“Ooh, like what?” Diana’s gray eyes gleamed as she leaned forward. 

I couldn’t help but smile. 

“I keep getting all these weird drafts, and sometimes I could swear there’s a hand on my shoulder, tapping it to get my attention.” I bit my lip. “Nothing’s there of course. And then at night, I hear these giggles and footsteps, sometimes voices too, but I can’t find the source.”

“Spooky.” Diana frowned.

“And when I can manage to sleep, I have these dreams.” I curled my hands into fists--this time, they stopped shaking beneath my desk. “I don’t remember all of it, but there’s this girl, following me in all of them.”

“What does she look like?” Diana’s turquoise fingernails drummed against her sloped chin. “Like, what color dress is she wearing? Like, it’s not white or red, is it?”

There were two types of ghostly women in the stories: the lady in red, a spirit of vengeance, and the lady in white, a victim. 

But the girl I saw--she was wearing pink, somewhere in-between. A victim and an avenger. Or perhaps neither. 

“No, no.” I shook my head. “It’s. . . Well, it’s me. But me from like, the Before Times. Y’know, before I went crazy with the scissors.”

I made a snipping motion with my fingers, and Diana laughed.

It was an uneasy laugh, but it was still something.

“I’ve never heard of ghosts like that before.” Diana frowned. “Maybe it’s some shape-shifting ghost or something. I mean, it can’t be you, obviously, because--”

She cut off with a gesture towards me at the camera. 

“I’m not dead yet.” It tumbled out of my mouth, much more serious than I’d intended it. 

“Right.” She met my eyes through the camera before looking away quickly as silence filled the call. 

We didn’t need to speak about how death was with us everywhere, now. Even if there wasn’t a ghost, the Grim Reaper was always standing over our shoulders, the end inevitable if we dared to step outdoors. 

“Well, I’ll see what I can find on shapeshifting ghosts and stuff.” Diana managed a weak smile. “Too bad we couldn’t hunt the ghost together, right? Just like old times?”

“Yeah.” My eyes burned, but I managed somehow to keep them back and smile. “We’d make popcorn and get it all over my room, and we’d go swimming when Mom and Dad went to sleep--”

“Just the two of us, outside in the moonlight, alone in the world.” Diana’s smile grew. “We should do it again, when all of this is over.”

If it’s ever over.

“We should,” I agreed. “I miss you.”

Diana laughed, even though I said nothing funny. “Me too, Corey.”

She glanced over her shoulder, before returning to me. “Hey, Mom’s calling me to dinner, I’ve gotta go. Same time next week?”

“You know it. See you then.” 

The screen went black before me, and I was left only with the void of fear that was ever-present, threatening to consume me. 

What if this is the last time we see each other at all? What if we never see each other in-person again? What if in two weeks, you’ll go where I can’t follow? Will you haunt me too?

I inhaled sharply and pushed myself away from the desk. Not that it did any good, because I would never be able to escape these thoughts, because they were everywhere, hand-in-hand with death, in my own brain. 

...

That night I dreamed that I danced with Hades. A handsome errant of death, clad in black and gold with jet-black wings like the dark mirror of an angel’s, we waltzed together in the River Styx. Ghosts clawed at the flower-clad hem of my skirts, desperate to touch something alive. I was breathing when they had their chance ripped from them. 

My heart beat so fast, and I had to keep dancing, had to keep moving with Hades or else surely the ghosts would pull me into the River Styx too, would drown me with the weight of tragedy and misfortune in the world. 

I woke when I missed a step and my heart beat so fast that it hurt. I sat there in the dark, heart racing for a danger that was invisible and omnipresent. 

That’s when I caught sight of her again--the girl. She disappeared as soon as she came, and I knew I couldn’t avoid it any longer.

The full moon was shining through. The first full moon of September, of early autumn. Two omens of a time when spirits came alive, when the worlds between the living and the dead were one and the same once more. 

I got out of bed. I would face my ghost so I could finally go on living, and not surviving. 

I stepped outside at midnight. The breeze had picked up, raising all the little hairs on my arms and legs, as I hadn’t bothered to shave since I’d first had to hide away from the world. 

I knew I shouldn’t be out here without an adult or anything, but death was already everywhere--what did it matter that he was at the lake at night, too?

I stood in the water with the light of the moon, my arms folded across my chest in some attempt to preserve warmth. I should have brought a hoodie or something, but I couldn’t bring myself to even grab one off a hanger in my closet.

Pathetic. I’m sure I give my parents so much faith for my future. 

I laughed, but it sounded like a sob. 

This wasn’t helping, I’d decided. I wasn’t seeing my ghost. It didn’t even bring back the joy of nostalgia.

All I felt was the overwhelming sorrow I fought so hard to keep at bay. I had seen the lake shift seasons so many times in my exile. Spring, summer, autumn. The world came back to life--but I didn’t. 

I would always be trapped here, with fear and death and sorrow as my only companions.

I felt a hand on my shoulder--and like before, I turned around as I had so many times before. But this time, there was someone standing there. The girl--me--stood before me, her feet in the water, a sympathetic smile on her face. 

“I was wondering when you’d make it.” She kicked at the water. “It took forever for you to finally get the message.”

“I don’t understand.” I tilted my head. “Who are you?”

“I thought that was obvious.” She raised an eyebrow. “I mean, we have the same face. I’m you, Corey.”

I snorted. “Not anymore.”

“I guess that’s true.” She looked away, to the moon’s reflection on the water. “Or else I wouldn’t be here, like this, would I?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m not exactly the type to believe in ghosts anymore.” I looked her up and down. “Or whatever you are, exactly.”

“Ghost is the right word.” She leaned down to pick up a rock. 

“So what, then?” I could not understand the anger and resentment rising in my chest like a volcano building to eruption. “I’m not dead.”

“I think you know why I exist.” She met my eyes. 

I felt as if my heart had come up into my throat, I struggled to form the words. “A part of me died, then. I don’t remember when.”

She threw the rock--it skipped three times before plummeting into the depths of the water. “It wasn’t one day, or all at once. It was several months, before I went.”

“That was it, then,” I mused aloud. “I was right. I’m never going to be the same after this, am I?”

“How could anyone be?” She shrugged and leaned down to pick up another rock. “It’s not your fault, that I couldn’t survive this.”

I blinked. Once, twice--but it couldn’t stop the burning. All of these emotions that I’d buried and become numb to after months of trying to suppress them came rushing to the surface. 

The tears finally came like rain. My shoulders shook and I was blinded by the salt and the water. 

“It’s alright,” said the ghost of the girl from Before. “I just wanted you to know that. It’s going to be okay.”

I swiped at my tears, finally able to see again. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not staying here because I want to.” She picked up another rock to skip. “You’re the one that keeps holding on. Or I wouldn’t be here. So I’m telling you that it’s okay. You’ve changed--you can let me go. I know I’m never coming back. It’ll be okay.”

There had been something else, dancing with the fear, the anger, the resentment. 

The guilt, that I wasn’t the girl I was before and would never be again.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. 

“It’s okay,” she repeated. “It will be okay.”

“How can you possibly know that?” 

She shrugged. “I somehow always did. Maybe you’ll know that someday again, too.”

Someday.

Persephone languished at first in the winters with the dead. But it got better, she’d gotten better when she knew that spring would come. 

“I think I will be okay.” It was a promise. One I did not fully believe, not yet. But one that it was critical to make. “Maybe someday this part of me will be something I can leave behind, too.”

The ghost smiled. “I hope to see you then.”

We embraced, and she disappeared upon moonbeams and the cool lake breeze. I loomed down to the water. This time, only my reflection stared back at me. My hair was growing out and there was a light in my eyes again. 

I’d never get back what I lost. I could never spit out the pomegranate seeds that were forced down my throat. Perhaps like Persephone, a part of me would always be trapped here, at the end of the world. 

But spring will come and I too will come back to life. 

[mjf-af]

Quarantine Survey

In 2020, @yonderlight tagged me in a sweet quarantine ask game that I never posted.

It seems I answered it as Marty in 1955

Where are you isolated? I'm chillin at Doc's mansion. He's a total pimp in 1955, it turns out, he's got like, running water and everything.

What are you currently reading or watching? The TV literally turns off at night I hate it here.

If you can go outside, what do you like to do during this time? Doc says I'm not supposed to. So I punched the local bully and I stole a kid's skateboard and I ran into guys with papers--I ah--some shrubbery got run over actually the city can't be too happy about that.

Any fascinating concept you’re studying? I mean...my mom?

What kind of acts of creativity/forms of art are you currently doing? Nothing! I'm hella stressed! I can't sleep!

A song that resonates with your state of mind at the moment? ERUPTION BY VAN HALEN. And I can't even LISTEN to it. Because CD players haven't been INVENTED yet!

Favourite impulsive/“bad” coping techniques? I ate all the peanut butter in Doc's cabinets on like, the first night I was here.

Favourite healthy/“good” coping techniques? Patting Copernicus.

What is this doing to your understanding of your town, your family, your friend Doc, and the way you recklessly flirt with danger? Y’know I’m thinking a lot about the jazzercise ladies. If I died, would they miss me.

[muggycuphead]

weird flex but ok i guess pt.31

30

War…Hold up, do we really need a warning for this one? Dunno, but however, watch out for slightly disturbing and kinda…disgusting imagery, trypophobic patterns, as well as ‘necrotic’ (and dark themed) designs I made while having funky fever bc o h m y g o d do I get a little crazier every new quarantine day (and at this point it’s coming to be an usual thing for me, big sad). However, most are made no other than for the sole sake of satire, so y’know, no need to get your underwear in a twist

Friday Night Funkin’ BoyFriend’s Hood – AU fanconcept sketches [XXVI]

*Note: this occurs almost a year after BF moved in NG city and met up GF, alongside the nights out they go on

1. Not-so-discrete sneak-in

(GF and BF are just casually walking by the street, when suddenly…)

“…Yo, what’s going on there?”

“Huh?”

(BF turns to where GF is looking at, and sees a strange rocky-humanoid guy sneaking in his family’s workshop after breaking the lock open)

“What the... oh, oh no. G, that guy is clearly looking for trouble, we gotta get him fast!”

“Wait, you sure? He seems tough, even for me…”

“That ain’t no excuse! I’m gonna defend my family’s place even if I gotta take a few blows for it!”

“…You know what? F it, let’s go get that rascal!”

Now that’s what I call having quite the guts

2. Track-down

(BF and GF walk over the shop, being as quietly as possible)

“{There he is…}”

“{What is he even doing…?}”

“{Looks like he’s meddling around with the gas supplies…Not much of a surprise considering who he is, honestly…}”

“{…Well, what’s the plan now?}”

(BF takes out his phone he brought along and takes a picture, then sends it to Broddy and pockets the phone back)

“{Hopefully it reaches soon. For now, we must keep him busy until they come over}”

“{You do realize you could’ve just called the cops with that, right?}”

“{We can’t risk having him run away}”

(The intruder finally notices the mumbling from afar, and turns around, slightly noticing BF and GF hiding through the dark)

“Looks like I got company here, huh?”

(GF gasps as softly as possible) “{Oh no!}”

“{It’s time, now or never}”

Y’all I tried make this one make sense without derailing to overboard nonsense; FNF might be funny hehe most of the time but bruh

Though y’know, we talking about kiddos here, so…y’know

3. Facing off the crook

“What’re ya pipsqueaks doin’ here, huh? Didn’t ya mommas ever told ya not to snoop into other people’s business?”

“Well, first and for most, you basically left the door open there so it’s not like you weren’t sort of ‘inviting’ us in anyway; also kinda dumb for a burglar that should know what he doing if you ask me”

“And talk about snooping into other’s business, that’s exactly what’cha doing here at mah family’s property, yo grease rat! But be sure I ain’t gonna let’cha get away with it, no siree nay!”

(During BF’s speech, GF cast a spell under her breath and emerges her wings out, catching flight soon after)

“And neither am I”

(Charcoil chuckles, leaving his stuff behind and getting slightly closer to the kids, cracking his knuckles with a smug glance)

“Well, would’cha look at that? Little kids tryna be thugs here, how cute. But if you two are down for a buffet of roasted knuckle sandwiches then I’m all for serving ‘em. C’mon, chump, show me how much can you take!”

Bro sure ain’t afraid of the fuzz

This is up to each’s imagination now, idm

4. His loss, yet her motivation

(Suddenly, in the middle of the racket, BF gets distracted and Charcoil, taking advantage, punches him on the face, dropping him aside and knocking him out in the process)

(GF pauses and looks at him with worry) “B!” (Yet, she’s interrupted by Charcoil trying to do the same to her, but failing as she flies away from him)

“Pft, what a joke; boy was so eager on getting my ass, yet didn’t last long enough to get through with it. You really should reconsider ya peer pickin’, girl”

(Wrong choice of words.txt)

(GF gradually goes from concern to anger…to straight up vindication, as she frowns towards ‘Coil)

“…You wanna go bro? YOU WANNA PIECE OF ME?!” (fires up) “I’LL SHOW YA!”

Mess with someone of your same element, you ass

5. Fuck ‘em up

“For a defective demon child, you got quite the blow!”

“Shut your trap, jerk!”

Again, up to interpretation for the most part

But still

YEAH DESTROY ‘EM WOWOWOWOW--

6. BAD BAD BAD BAD

(Suddenly, in between the whole mess-a-roo, Charcoil gets an idea, and quickly taking one of the gas supplies, throws it towards GF as she casts a fireball spell, which ends up hitting the gas tank)

 “OH NO!”

“Gotcha!”

(The gas tank gets shoved towards the remaining gas supplies, as Charcoil jumps away, “taking cover”)

(Seeing the upcoming disaster, GF quickly drops herself onto BF, covering his body with hers and her wings, preparing for the worst to happen next)

Fuck you Charc u piece of shiitake

[rjam9]

so idk how to rlly start this, but i’ve been in the mood to talk music lately, so i decided to make my own 31-day song game (bc i couldn’t find any good ones). i’ll be posting a song a day with the tag “song game 2024” so everyone can block it/ignore it if they want. i’ll also be posting everything under the cut so it doesn’t clog up peoples’ feeds too much.

feel free to ignore and participate at will, i’m just like talking about music. also leave me song recs. i love song recs.

01. a song that … has a person’s name in the title

“Bruno Is Orange” - Hop Along ft. Frances Quinlan

i think i first heard this is an animatic tho i’m not entirely sure, but it was definitely during quarantine bc i was going THRU it and this song is v good if ur having a mental breakdown! i’m sure most people have heard the ending up bc it was probably a tiktok meme at some point but still. the last bit is emotional and vocals rlly sell it (plus the way the tempo picks up hmm good shit). plus i now tend to associate it w Little Nightmares and y’know that is always gonna get extra points for me.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Fics Written in 2023 Masterlist

Coffee Boy (ao3) - Jay_isnotokay michael/calum, luke/ashton M, 12k

Summary: Calum Hood has a crush on a barista, plenty of coffee making ensues.

craving something sweeter (ao3) - toddamyanderson luke/calum T, 10k

Summary: “Y’know, it was either the plushies, or the cute guy sitting on his roof drinking lemonade. Surprisingly enough, you won.” Calum’s voice is quiet, but Luke can still hear the coy smile in his voice. Hear, because Luke is still looking down at the fairy floss, trying to hide his pleased grin.

“Damn.” Luke tames his wild grin into a more reasonable smile so he can face Calum. “I feel like the plushies deserve more credit."

deleted things (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum T, 14k

Summary: It’s different when all you have are words. Sometimes for the best, but sometimes words aren’t enough. Words without any emotion, words without any way for Calum to convey that when he types out, “I miss you a lot,” to Luke, he means it, earnestly, but not so earnestly it would make Luke uncomfortable.

But since he can’t do that, he just deletes it without hitting send. Every night.

desert sunrise (ao3) - citiesbelow michael/calum E, 15k

Summary: AU in which Michael ends up single early in quarantine and Calum has been pining for him for years, but even when they get to Joshua Tree, he’s determined not to say anything out of fear of ruining their friendship. He can’t keep a secret forever, however, especially not from his best friends.

fate lines (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds luke/calum E, 44k

Summary: Calum makes decisions based on things that happen, and his life is a result of his series of choices, not some higher power pulling the strings. But there’s always an anomaly to the rule. To be discounted if looking at a trend, but there for a reason.

Luke Hemmings is Calum’s anomaly.

Because one thing Calum does know for sure. He met Luke Hemmings for a reason. He’s just never been sure what that reason is.

feels like i’m dreaming but i’m not sleeping (ao3) - badomensbaby luke/calum, michael/ashton E, 29k

Summary: “But saying that out loud is just..” the blonde boy trails off, his voice weakened and unsteady, “Makes me feel kind of pathetic, I guess.” “Pathetic?” Calum parrots, “Therapy isn’t just for people who have issues, Luke. I have patients who just like to tell me about their life because they want to. You have this preconceived notion that therapy is only for broken people.”

or, luke has too many problems but calum doesn’t mind them.

go for miles (ao3) - strxngersagain luke/calum, michael/ashton G, 11k

Summary: When Calum had bought tickets to Glastonbury Festival with his ex nearly a full year ago, he never imagined he would have ended up going alone. The very messy breakup of a nearly-three-year relationship pushed any and all thoughts of future-plans to the back of his mind. He had almost entirely forgotten about the tickets tucked into an envelope, if he was being honest with himself. It wasn’t until an email dropped into his inbox with the subject: 'We can’t wait to see you!', reminding him that oh shit, they had bought tickets together and oh shit, that’s in like two weeks.

He spent the better part of the afternoon sitting on the living room floor trying to figure out what to do with his ticket. It was too late for him to transfer it to someone else, he couldn’t sell it because it had his name printed on it, and he didn’t really want to lose out on the £300 he spent on the damn thing by just not going. So, he decided then and there that he would go alone. Ex-boyfriend be damned, he’d have a great time even if he was by himself.

he was sunshine (i was midnight rain) - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) luke/ashton, michael/calum T, 5k

Summary: Luke and Ashton are roommates, which sounds perfectly fine, but Ashton is the biggest grump according to Luke. At least, only during the Christmas holidays. Luke makes it his mission to get Ashton to like Christmas by the end of the month.

hold you closer than I ever did before (ao3) - jeffreyskinner luke/ashton T, 32k

Summary: “What’s the date,” Ashton asks, cracking an eye open at the doctor. He wants to know how many months he’s lost, he doesn’t want any bullshit spiel doctors tend to give.

She looks back at Luke and gives him a nod, like hearing it from Luke will make it better, more real somehow. Luke comes around the side of his bed and reaches out for Ashton's hand, as if trying to ground him, his blue eyes looking so fucking sad. “It’s September 30th, 2025.”

or; Ashton falls at a gig, loses four years of memory, and forgetshe and Luke are together.

i'll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands) (ao3) - fakecharliebrown luke/ashton, michael/calum M, 16k (WIP)

Summary: Ash US > Wakey wakey eggs and bakey

Luke US > lose my number

or; in which Luke and Ashton take on the world, fall in love, and pine for far, far longer than is socially acceptable. In that order.

Made in Magnolia - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) calum/ashton, michael/luke E, 220k

Summary: There’s that feeling again. The warmth and the electricity that travels between them which lacks nerves or pretenses or any semblance of who they have been in the past. Calum isn’t the same guy who usually gets fucked and kicked out when he gets invited to stay the night. Ashton isn’t the same guy who got married at twenty in Mississippi. They’re new when they’re together.

photo of you in my mind (on the table, under lights) (ao3) - starvinginbelair (threeheadedmonster) luke/ashton E, 13k

Summary: Ashton isn't sure what compels him to do it.

Or, 5 times Ashton takes a photo of Luke and the 1 time he doesn't. (And the 1 time Luke takes a photo of him)

we're just taking it slow, we're taking the long road home (ao3) - Bethany_i_made_bIScuiTs ot4 N/R, 5k

Summary: 3 times Michael feels like he's home and the 1 time he says it

we were just two kids thrown into the flames - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) michael/ashton T, 8k

Summary: Ashton Irwin's name is picked during the reaping for the 75th Hunger Games. Unfortunately, so is his little brother Luke. But then, Michael Clifford is volunteering for his brother. Ashton has to figure out how to make sure he stays alive, but the love of his life also stays alive.

when the party ends (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum E, 30k

Summary: Sadly, Calum is going to have to buy this bottle of wine. Is he torturing himself unnecessarily? Definitely. He can’t even really make himself feel pathetic about it, though. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing. Of why he misses Luke so much. Of why drinking this wine alone in his apartment is a bad idea. Even without Luke actually being present, Calum is using him.

a heaven, iowa songfic.

you can hear it in the silence (ao3) - fakecharliebrown luke/ashton T, 23k

Summary: Ashton turns to look at Luke then. He doesn’t speak right away, appearing to consider his next words very carefully. He opens and closes his mouth several times, before finally, he says, “Do you think it’ll all work out for us?”

Luke hums softly. His head is angled in such a way that Petunia imagines he’s looking at their intertwined hands behind his dark sunglasses when he admits in a quiet voice, “I think it already has, Ash.”

Ashton squints at him for less than a second before he turns to face forward, closing his eyes against the bright afternoon sun, and says, “Yeah. I think you’re probably right.”

or; Petunia loves her boy more than anything in the world. When the world shuts down, she realizes that she might not be the only one.

[8golden-harvest8]

ooooooohh that makes a lot more sense now-!!

thank you for the ramble/explanation!! I keep forgetting how long khx/ux was around for before kh3 (I was honestly surprised to read that it came out a bit after kh 3d-!) y’know cuz I got into kh during quarantine in 2020

but it’s so interesting to read about people’s trains of thought and theories about everyone as they were introduced! (many of them made sense honestly-) I remember seeing some traitor!ephemer au fanarts while i was first getting into it-! Also I’m surprised we didn’t know the time placement of the game either, I always saw it as the past but maybe that’s just from me getting into it when people already figured it out lol

and the theory of Ephemer being the final boss- oof- we were right but at what cost?? I didn’t even know of that theory till now and that just- oooowwww :”)

but in any case I’m so happy I got into kh when I did, now I get to experience a new kh mobile title in real time with everyone! It’s gonna be so fun and crazy I can’t wait-!! :D

ok quick question, cuz I got into kh late and I wasn’t there for all of khux (I was only there for the end)

was there a time where the khux community was split on wether Ephemer was either nice and was gonna die/get killed or he was evil and stab us in the back?

idk I wanna be sure cuz I had that impression cuz of a few fanarts I’ve seen when I was getting into ux, but I wanna be certain cuz I feel crazy not finding much proof of that now-.

[tiny-panini]

Is there a way to complain about not being able to get ahold of flour to make bread at home without sounding like that organic Caren bitch

[kolsmikaelson]

birthday boy- jamie drysdale

(gif not mine)

a/n- in honor of jamies 19th! this is shorter than most stuff i write but i hope you enjoy!

join my taglist (new)| masterlist | word count- 682 |

you woke up the morning of jamies birthday,with him cuddled into your side. having him so close to you was one of your favorite things. another one if your favorite things was braiding his hair. during quarantine, he’d let his hair grow out just long enough to be braided. you discovered your love for braiding his hair when he fell asleep on your chest during one of your movie nights.

you grab a small bit of his hair and begin braiding it. not long after you finish the first few braids, you hear jamie mumble a quiet, “good morning love.” you smile down at him, “morning jame, happy birthday.” you murmur before pressing a soft kiss to his head. you see a faint smile break out on his face.

“you stay here, i’ll be right back.’’ you tell him before rushing out of bed. you had gotten him a special engraved bracelet that says, ‘always and forever.’ you knew it was a bit cheesy but you knew he’d love it though. you run to get it from a random drawer you hid it in and rush back to the bed. you eagerly hand it to jamie, “open it!’’ he chuckles at you and begins to unwrap the small box. when he finally opens it up and reads what is engraved on it you can see him tearing up. he immediately pulls you into a hug and thanks you over and over. you laugh, “ you’re welcome, i love you jame.”

you see the shock on his face, not surprised considering this is the first time you’ve said it. you’d known for a while now but wanted to wait for the right moment. a grin breaks out on his face, “i love you y/n, so much.” your heart flutters at his words. “breakfast?” he asks. “i’ll go make something you go shower okay?” you mumble in response.” he nods quickly and jumps up ready for the day.

you’re standing in front of the stove when you hear his footsteps. jamie walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles his face into your neck. “y’know i love when you braid my hair” he muttered into your neck. you smile widely and turn around in his arms. “want me to re-braid it, jame?” you question. he nods shyly, you chuckle at how shy he seemed. “okay, give me a few to finish this. will you go grab some hair ties from the bathroom for me while you wait please?” he nods before kissing a quick kiss to your lips and walking back out of the kitchen.

when you finished making jamies favorite pancakes, you put a couple on a plate and bring them to him in the living room. you find him patiently waiting on the edge of the couch with a handful of hair ties. you laugh at the amount of hair ties he got, knowing you’d need many less than how many he has. when he hears your laugh, he turns his head your way with a smile he eagerly hands you a few of the hair ties. you sit down behind him and start braiding his hair. you sit in a comfortable silence until you finish.

“i’m done bubs.” he quickly pulls out his phone, “take a picture please?” he asks sweetly. you take his phone and take a few photos so he could see it all. he turns around and pulls you into a hug. “thank you y/n, i love it.”

hours later you were laying in bed with jamie half asleep beside you. a few hours earlier you and jamie facetimed his family, it was one of the best days you’d both had in a while. you heard jamie snoring softly beside you, and you lean down to press a kiss to his head. “i love you birthday boy, always and forever.” but when you don’t know, is jamie had woken up just long enough to hear you say that. he then falls asleep with a faint smile on his face that night.

taglist- @samsteel @joshsandersons @2manytabsopen @passthehockeyplease @boqvistsbabe @alxvlasic @sidscrosbyy @barbienoturbby @stars-canucks

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Ur local soft 💞 anon here with a cozy thought 🥰 Chris and Seb getting to snuggle during winter while most everyone is on holiday. Especially bc of Covid, they might just quarantine for a few weeks together to chill out and not risk anything, ya know? Early morning walks, sharing sweaters, warm showers together, just domestic bliss 💖 especially Seb laying his head on Chris’s soft tummy and getting head scratches, both those soft bbs need it after a stressful day. Takeout, snuggles, and comfort tv are the best things to do for winter 💕

- ur super soft 💞 anon

sorry this took me so long to get to! I've been having a lot of crazy busy days and my ask box its also crazy full (which I am blessed to have but- it also means things get buried, y’know?)

I love thisssss

All of this is so cute! And very much soft winter vibes all the way.

After they go on one of their chilly morning walks through the snow (because it is Massachusetts after all) together - xomplete with red noses and flushed cheeks, breath making puffs of conversation between them as they watch Dodger prance ahead of them, side-by-side, hands intertwined and nested in one of Chris' pockets to ensure no one's fingers freeze - they end up right back at home where Chris works on getting the fire built back up, neglected during their little family wander, while Sebastian sets the kettle on. Hot water for his morning coffee and Chris' hot coco. Because while Chris doesn't like coffee - rather the caffeine addition of coffee - but he could use the hot drink. And he has one hell of a sweet tooth, so... what's the harm? Why not? Sebastian hums to himself, selecting what mugs to set out. It's not like he's on a filming diet right now anyway. Neither of them are. And Sebastian does have some of those mini, teeny tiny marshmallows he bought for Chris in the airport before flying in from the set of his most recent project. The bag of them is burning a hole in his luggage, waiting to be appreciated. He knows they'll make Chris smile (and probably giggle like the child [affection, very affectionate] he is).

Thank you for the thoughts, 💞 baby!

[muggycuphead]

weird flex but ok i guess pt.35

34

War…Hold up, do we really need a warning for this one? Dunno, but however, watch out for slightly disturbing and kinda…disgusting imagery, trypophobic patterns, as well as ‘necrotic’ (and dark themed) designs I made while having funky fever bc o h m y g o d do I get a little crazier every new quarantine day (and at this point it’s coming to be an usual thing for me, big sad). However, most are made no other than for the sole sake of satire, so y’know, no need to get your underwear in a twist

Friday Night Funkin’ BoyFriend’s Hood – AU fanconcept sketches [XXX]

A break from the main lore, have some secondary characters made for side stories woo

1. Addel Duchahut

Remember Lezor, the guy I made inspired on the Dadaist movement aesthetic-sorta? Well, have a character based off an ACTUAL artist from the movement, one of my favorites of such if that

The sir this fellow is made after is Marcel Duchamp, one of the most influential Dadaist since 1914, way before the movement was even a thing (talk about advanced to ur time ayo).  Nonetheless, the outfit I drew Addel in here not only implicitly references the pieces Marcel had made and the styles he had involved himself into, but also the “alter ego” he had made for himself and was also known for back then: Rrose Selavy (1920) who he also used as an “author name” for some of his dada art pieces. The outfit is mostly based on a photography he got taken by Man Ray, one of the first ones if I’m not wrong.

But hey, don’t get the wrong idea –Addel does have his own independent set of self on the setting he’s on (the current century, lol); he’s more of a “successor” kind of guy, but he’s mostly an eccentric folk that’s just as fascinated of experimental and cinetic composition. Just saying so you guys don’t take him as a historical replica of Duchamp, because he’s not and I don’t pretend to have him as such.

As for why he’s a rodent...I honestly have no clue exactly. I’d say because of going after a not-so-aesthetic kind of animal for the sake of taking the contrary, of maybe I was slightly influenced by Ratatouille. Either way, it was for a metaphoric regarding rebelliousness... and maybe also out of satire.

Also case you wonder, his surname means “of the shouting” by a rough translation from French (and yes he’s French btw)

His appearance is on a really further part of the story, though it isn’t much deep important…but still

Truth be told, he was a ride to draw, I luv him <3

2. Pipsqueak

A random idea I had, probably based off the sport that’s most popular on this side of the land –baseball ye

TL;DR, it’s a vegetal golem that’s a baseball player aspirant, no specifics if it’s a she or a he though

I enjoyed doing the directions of the leaves, they look funny

3. Kleevin BredPitz

ANDREW TATE CANON IN BF’SH????? Q0Q

JK, he’s one of the references for this silly ass though

If you guessed this dude is a “alpha male” ideology advicant, you’re right on the money. For short, in one of the events of BF’sH Hollow Present, BF has to take down this mofo, and well…you can guess this bulky ass got quite the derrogatives for BF in more than one sense...his sexuality included (but we’ll talk about it later dw :) //hhhhh)

He’s a overdeveloped leech by the way…which is ironic in a lot of ways, you’ll see way once we get there C: (and if u know enough of biology, well….hehehehehehehe-)

4. Gus Schmillers

Another Dadaist artist based character? Sure why not

This time it’s Kurt Schwitters I took for this, who was a German Dadaist, his most known pieces being his “Merz”, which consisted on collages of things he found meddling around in the trash, from paper-based things to little trinkets and just anything that could fit in a canvas, this under the philosophy of “building a new world from the shards of the one he was living in” (keep in mind, Dada happened during the World War as an anti-belicism/anti-war protest, hence the metaphor), and also his “Merzbau” –basically the same thing but instead of stuff in a small canvas it was ROOMS filled with stuff, they looked really surreal and neat despite how chaotic they were…most of those got destroyed in the war by orders of the Nazi regime sadly :(

Anyway, just like with Addel, Gus is a character on his own, and basically does similar things as Kurt, though he’s a little more into mechanics when building his interpretations of Merzbaus… I’ll leave that to y’all’s imaginations :) (?)

As for why he’s a ferret, probably because of how I interpreted him as an energetic kind of guy (I refer to Gus, not Kurt himself, but maybe a bit on that too).

He’s Addel’s “roommate” and mildly personal friend. He’s also German jic you wonder so.

5. Gus’ icon

Gus’ icon, idk why I numbered it but there you have it

6. Lynx Adamont’s icon

A character I created out of spite, TL;DR she’s a walking art person stereotype. Once I post her design I’ll explain further on what she’s like, but for now we’ll stick with her icon thingy

7. them

someone

I can’t say who they are yet, this was to have an idea of their design

but still

8. Casual Addel miniature

Him on his casual attire

It’s kinda rough but it was for the sake of the essential idea

9. Kleevin lose icon

>cobra potato when his shit takes actually backfire on his ass

10-15. Funky calligraphy practice

Subtitle says it

10.- Addel

11.- Gus

12.- Kleevin

13.- Pip

14.- Lynx

15.- S’UP?!

[thespoonisvictory]

Please write the long critical post, I can only speak for myself but I’d read it

thank you for indulging me anon, apologies to any big karl jacobs fans in the audience tonight, but he’s been on a roll of questionable things lately.

first and most importantly, this much traveling during such a crucial stage in the pandemic is unnecessary and comes off so unbelievably privileged. even if he has the ability to get regularly tested, he certainly isn’t quarantining as he should be. especially in contrast to ccs like wilbur saying he hasn’t seen his mom in nearly a year or people in general being unable to reunite with loved ones, running around meeting up with every cc under the sun just doesn’t sit well with me. not only this, but the fact that he’s the only cc to be doing this type of meet up so frequently just makes it stand out. it’s unnecessary and feels weird that karl is so lacking in self-awareness as to why this might be a bad idea.

onto more petty reasons, the celebrity tours are just bad. they’re not well planned and while it’s not a big deal, it’s something that makes me wonder why karl insists on doing them so frequently. this isn’t helped by the fact that this is pretty much the only time he’s actually on the server, and yet he seems to want to act as a spokesperson for it. karl, while part of the feral boys, really doesn’t mess with the sdmp ‘culture’ (for lack of a better word), and yet seems to want to be the face of it. it almost feels like he wants the clout of the smp without really getting why it’s so special, and it makes the tours really, really awkward.

a good example of this is the way he kind of takes over the area of land niki designated for her city to make a kingdom out of the blue, without asking her for permission. it’s not a big deal, but it’s again karl kind of stepping on the dream smp lore/culture that so many people care about.

(there’s also the fact that he tends to hang around bigger ccs pretty much exclusively, and often streams after big lore streams, and gives the biggest streamers the biggest parts in tales. it’s not inherently bad, and it could be coincidence, but it happens so much that it starts to get grating.)

there’s just a lot of small moments that I guess have been slowly grating on me: his insistence on being in sadist’s animatics despite not playing a major plot role, trying to stir up drama between dream and techno back when the duel was a big deal, the way he hypes up tales so much in comparison to any other cc, etc. it just comes off a bit clout chase-y, y’know? he often goes for big! shocking! better than ever! we’re starting a kingdom! I hired a team of builders! karaoke stream! meetup! but hasn’t really seemed to establish an individual sense of content that doesn’t rely on other ccs or big, grand ideas.

I also just don’t really enjoy tftsmp for a variety of reasons, but that’s too much to get into and it’s been said already.

I don’t want to come off like I hate karl. I find him endearing at times, like with the candle girl story or some sweet interactions with the feral boys. it’s more that I think sometimes karl leans really hard into the clout chaser aspect that most ccs have, and it can be frustrating at times. add that to his neglect to follow covid guidelines and it really sours him as a cc for me rn.

[songbirdstyles]

call me.

summary: being quarantined away from harry is absolute torture - until it isn’t.

warnings: smut, some fluff and angst if you squint! phone sex <3

word count: 3.4k

song inspo.: call me - blondie

You haven’t been sleeping too well since the beginning of quarantine - whether it’s the stress of what feels like the world ending or the noticeable absence of your boyfriend, lying beside you, you can’t be sure. All you know for sure is that it takes you nearly three hours of lying in bed, staring up at your ceiling in the dark and being entirely too aware of the empty space beside you in bed, to finally be able to get a few hours of sleep. And you’d even resorted to shifting to Harry’s side of the bed, where his pillow faintly smelled of his cologne, but it did little to put you out of your insomnia-induced misery.

It was a cruel twist of fate to end up quarantined on nearly opposite ends of the world from Harry. He was merely supposed to be in LA for a week or two, and you were supposed to go with him until you’d gotten sick at the last minute - and it hadn’t been a big deal, until the global pandemic locked you in London and him in California. And now, you’re wishing more than anything that you’d ignored the cold niggling the back of your throat and utilized your ticket to the states - it would’ve made the entire situation decidedly less miserable than it is.

The light of your phone screen illuminated from your nightstand tells you, in its glaring bright intensity, that it’s 3:21 in the morning. If you squint out of the window, curtains pulled open, you swear you can already see the sun, poking insistently above the horizon - but, no, surely not yet. You pray you have a little bit of time left to try and get some sleep before your biological clock forces you up.

(It’s not looking too good, though, as another minute ticks past on your phone and your eyelids still aren’t feeling the heaviness you’re craving.)

Perhaps you’ve grown too accustomed to curling up beside Harry’s body, feeling his breath against your neck when you occasionally wake up at this time for an early morning shag. And maybe you’ve been a bit spoiled, traveling with him more as your relationship progresses over the past three years - but you hadn’t suspected it would be so horrible for your sleep schedule to not have him around. Bad for your sanity, perhaps, but do you really need his body wrapped around yours to get even a wink of shut-eye during the night?

The answer was, apparently, yes, as more minutes tick on your phone and you’re still wide awake. LA is 8 hours behind London, approximately, so if it’s 3:27 in the morning here -

You’re grabbing your phone off of your nightstand without bothering to finish the math problem you’ve conjured up. Harry’s the most recent person you’ve texted and you swipe open your conversation, finger hovering briefly above the call button before tapping it gently.

There’s a chance - a small, miniscule one - that he won’t be awake. You’ve been texting him nearly every minute of every day, constantly calling him and FaceTiming and you know his sleep schedule is worsening like yours. He goes to sleep later and wakes earlier and takes naps scattered all throughout the day, so you’re prepared, emotionally, for him to not answer your call. You’ll be disappointed, perhaps, but there’s a bottle of melatonin in your bathroom you’ve been trying not to abuse during the nighttime. It makes you drowsy for working online and continues to afflict you during the day, so you’ve been trying to stay away from them.

Doesn’t mean you won’t use them, though. You simply don’t want to - if Harry doesn’t answer so you can chat until you’ve tired yourself out, then you’ll make the trek into the bathroom and succumb to the stupid pills -

“‘Lo?”

Your heartbeat picks up as you push yourself to sit up further in bed, pressing your phone close to your ear. You should’ve expected that your boyfriend would be awake now, considering it’s only 7:30 in LA, but it still brings a smile to your face to hear his voice.

“Hey, babe,” you murmur, voice quiet in the darkness of your room. There’s no one around for the loudness of your voice to disturb, but it still feels right to keep it low. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”

Harry chuckles on the other end, and you try to picture what he’s doing. When he’s home you’re usually eating dinner at this time, or curled up on the TV watching a movie, or fucking in the bedroom - “‘Course not. Jus’ got off the phone wit’ m’mum an’ had t’shower. She misses us.”

“I miss her too,” you tell him, smile widening at the thought of Anne. Yes, you miss her quite a bit - she’s always been kind to you, and more of a second mother than merely the mum of your boyfriend - but you have some sort of ulterior motive for calling him, so you figure you should get right to it. “I miss you a lot, Har. The apartment’s awfully empty without you here.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, for just a second, before Harry’s responding, “I miss you too - ‘course I do. Wish I’d canceled this stupid fuckin’ LA trip - I’d do anything t’be home wit’ you now.”

You sigh softly, leaning your head back against the headboard of a bed that’s feeling entirely too big for you right now. You’d always complained that Harry slept like a starfish and took up entirely too much space, but you’d swim across the ocean to curl up in bed with him for just one single night. “I haven’t been sleeping much, either. Guess I’m too used to having you here with me. You know, waking up with you on top of me and middle-of-the-night sex.”

“Middle-of-the-night sex,” Harry sighs dreamily, and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth with the beginnings of a smirk working its way onto your face. “God, I miss that. M’hand just can’t do the things you can. Doesn’t even come close, really.”

“I hope so.” And you give him a moment to bark out a laugh before continuing, clammy palm pressed to your bare thigh beneath your comforter, “My fingers aren’t doing too much, either. They’re not as big as you - can’t get me off an inch.”

His breathing is growing heavier, loud even through the phone, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him - you’re horny and he’s surely getting hard and you’d like nothing more than for him to help you get off. Just his voice, slightly raspy and deepening with every syllable, is enough to make wetness pool in your panties. “Jesus, doll - gonna make m’hard.” And then there’s a pause, where you’re surely meant to respond but all you can do is grin and try to control your breathing, before Harry murmurs, “S’what what you wanted? Wanted t’make my dick hard?”

You nod, and then breathe, “Yeah.”

“Bloody hell, you’re a minx, y’know that?” And you did, in fact, know that, so you confess your affirmations. “Guess that’s why y’woke me, then. Need me t’tire you out, don’t you.”

It isn’t a question - Harry can read you like a book, even 5,000 miles away, and he knows exactly what your intentions are. “I just miss you.” His soft, cocky laugh on the other end has you sliding your hand up your thigh, pushing your digits into your lace panties and feeling the wetness present in the apex. “Really - I miss you, and your dick - just please help me get off, Har. Won’t bother you with it ever again.”

“Don’t have t’take it that far,” but you’re hardly listening to him. The first circle of your fingers on your clit has you moaning quietly into the receiver, and you can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath at the sound. “Startin’ without me, are you? S’awfully rude.”

“You’re taking too long,” you exhale, running your fingers through your soaked folds - but you pause, anyway, listening intently to the shuffling on the other end of the phone. “Got me so wet, just hearing you talk.”

When another second goes by with no response you pull your phone from your ear, pressing the speaker button and resting it on your tummy. You grab your comforter and pull it off the bottom half off your body, letting the cold air hit your bare legs, just as Harry groans, “Okay - m’ready. Had t’go back t’my room - but m’here now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking just a moment to listen to his quiet grunts and imagine exactly what he looks like right now - sitting on the edge of his bed, pumping his cock, slow and steady at first, just to get started. “Wish you were here with me,” and as eager as you’d been to have your first phone sex experience, you hadn’t counted on the slight awkwardness that makes it harder for the words to come out. “Been - been dreaming about it, about you fucking me so good, and I wake up drenched, Har, just thinking about you.”

Just as you’d expected, Harry takes over almost immediately - he’s much better at dirty talk than you are and it’s only proven when he moans, “M’always thinking of it, fucking your pretty little cunt ‘till you’re crying. And you love it, don’t you? Moanin’ so good for me, so loud - the way you cry when I pinch your clit - can y’do that f’me, doll? Pinch your clit, just the way I do it.”

Shaking fingers dip out of your folds and trail the wetness up to where you need it most - the sensitive nub that’s throbbing for your touch. Just as he’d asked, you use two fingers to softly pinch your clit, the small action sending waves of euphoria flowing through your body as you drop your head back with a cry. It reverberates through the room, louder than any of your moans and whines, exactly as Harry had wanted.

“Wish you could do it -” you do it again and give him the same resounding cry, circling your clit one more time before dragging your fingers back down to slide between your folds. “Your fingers, they’re so much bigger than mine - feel so much better.”

“Fingering y’self?” His voice is nearly whiny with excitement and you know exactly how he looks now, his bottom lip between his teeth and sweat beading up on his cupid’s bow. “Tell me how it feels.”

You can’t quite describe it, even if you’re desperate too. Fingers curl in your cunt, brushing against the sweet spot inside of you that has your back arching off the bed, nipples pebbled and hard against the material of your soft tank top. One isn’t enough, and it doesn’t fill you nearly as much as Harry’s so you add another, taking just a second to run it through your dripping folds before pushing it in. “Oh, god - feels so good, thinking of you - two of mine s’hardly one of yours.”

To that, you get a loud groan, mingled with a low cry that sends chills crawling up your spine. For a second he doesn’t respond and you wonder if he’s cumming already - but then he’s grunting, “Miss you, on all fours f’me - s’how I’ll take you first when we see each other. G’na let me pull your hair, know you love when I do that -”

You do love it, and merely remembering the feeling of him, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulling your head up when it starts to droop onto the mattress, has your walls clenching around your digits, and you impulsively add a third.

“ - or maybe I’ll jus’ bury my head in tha’ cunt of yours. Miss the taste of it so much,” and Harry’s voice picks up, in speed and pure excitement, and you can hear the faint sound of him, pumping his cock. It’s hard to think of anything you’d love more than to watch him eat you out for bloody hours, fisting his hair and tugging on his curls just to hear his sobs. The way he flicks his tongue against your folds and slaps your clit when you squeeze your eyes shut in pure euphoria. “Taste so sweet f’me, don’t you - taste y’self for me, doll. Know you taste so good.”

Harry’s got such a hold on you, sometimes - perhaps you’d even say all the time but especially during moments like these. So you don’t hesitate to pull your fingers out of your cunt, walls fluttering around the sudden emptiness, and you bring the digits up to your mouth. Slowly your tongue swirls around your fingertips before wrapping your lips around them, and the soft moan as you taste yourself has Harry whining on the other end, the noise long and low.

Normally, when Harry asks you to do something like this you would put on an absolute show for him. Pumping your lips up and down his shaking digits, eyes never leaving his as his lips slowly part in a needy pant. And - of course - you’d always know that, when you pulled your mouth off of his fingers, you’d be absolutely in for it, and that was the thrill of it. He can’t see you (FaceTime sex is something you’ll need to bring up another day) but you still perform, adding more volume and less eye contact with the darkness around you.

His breathing is rattly when you drop your fingers down to your thighs, fingernails curling into the soft skin as you would do his back or his scalp. You give him briefly a second to take everything in, the images he must be producing, before you breathe, “Tell me what you’re doing, Har.”

“M’gonna cum soon - gonna cum on m’fist, imaginin’ s’your pussy -”

“Yeah? Imagining me sitting on your cock, right?”

By Harry’s resounding moan - the exact noise he makes when you ride him and he tosses his head back in ecstasy - you can assume that he hadn’t been imagining that, but he surely is now, and so are you. God, the way you lean back, hands to his thighs, feelings his palms run up your stomach. And they’ll circle your tits, tweaking your nipples with a lazy smirk at how fast they pebble in his fingertips, before dragging down to your clit, on display for him - and he moves them so slow, but he knows you’re aching for it.

You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing two fingers to circle your clit and sensually dragging your free hand up to your boobs as Harry moans, “Your pussy s’so tight around me - g’na fuck you so hard when I see you - you’re not gonna walk for weeks.”

It sounds absolutely dreamy as two of your fingers pinch at your nipple, closing your eyes tighter. If Harry were here he’d grab the back of your head, force your body down to his so he could lap at your nipples and relish in your sobs - and you can’t do that, necessarily, but you bring your thumb up to your tongue, licking the shaking digit before lowering it back to your nipple. It doesn’t give nearly the same effect but it’s close enough, and you can feel your cunt fluttering with desperation to cum. 

“Playin’ with my tits, Harry - pinching them just how you do.” You swallow back the urge to sob out, if only because the noise will trigger just the sort of choked up moan from your boyfriend that’ll send you over the edge and you want to last longer, dammit. “Oh, god -”

“Y’cummin’, baby?”

“No,” you exhale, “not yet -”

“Good,” and you can tell merely from the teasing lilt in his voice that you won’t last past the end of his sentence (and his staccato pants are already enough to have your clit throbbing beneath your touch), “‘cause I keep thinkin’ about that time - fuck - that time we shagged in y’mum’s house, remember? An’ I had to put y’knickers in your mouth, ‘cause you were -” and his rant is cut off by the telltale whine that’s almost always accompanied by him cumming near violently - “bein’ too loud, an’ we didn’t want your mum to hear? Be loud f’me, babe, please, need t’hear you -”

You remember that - how he was fucking you so goddamn hard your bed was hitting the wall and he had to drag you to the floor, pressed to your carpet with your drenched lace panties in your mouth. And Harry tossed your legs over his shoulder like it was nothing, pounded you into the carpet while your mum was asleep just a few doors down the hall, hand firm around your throat. He’d never done that before and God, you love it. Love it almost as much as you love him, but you figure you shouldn’t dwell on it now.

His words have the exact impact he’d hoped for and your head slams into your headboard with a choked up cry, loud through your room and into your phone, still resting on your sweaty stomach. Wetness coats your fingers as your assault on your clit continues, arm shaking with the pressure of riding yourself through the orgasm while still trying to listen to Harry - he’s sobbing out, sound of skin against skin growing louder until you hear the euphoric groan that tells you he’s reached the same high you have.

It’s a gorgeous harmony of your moans mixing together - his crackling through the speaker that’s been used and abused during your little session - and you know you’ll never get tired of it. No matter how many times you do this - for as long as you’re apart - you’ll never, ever get tired of it.

Your body is still trembling when the shockwaves of your orgasm start to wither down. There’s a thin sheet of sweat, coating your body and beading in your hairline and your fingers are covered with your cum, the bed sheets beneath you damp, too. You’ve only ever squirted a few times before - in Harry’s mouth, for the most part, with that bloody talented tongue he’s got - and you wipe the slick onto your thighs before sitting further upwards, grabbing your phone.

Harry’s silent on the other end and you squint at the screen to check the time. Your vision is clouded - perhaps your brain is simply clouded - but you reckon it says 4:00.

“Jesus,” he breathes on the other end, hardly audible through the phone. In your mind’s eye you can picture him, passed out on the bed with his legs still dangling off, running a hand through his hair to try and alleviate the sweat sticking to the curls. “Gonna have t’shower again.”

You smile, shifting back down so you’re fully lying in bed. There’s still a wet spot beneath your arse and your back but you’ll worry about it when you wake up (whenever that may be.) The idea of even moving back over to your usual side of the bed sounds like pure torture, because if you bury your nose in Harry’s pillow, it smells like his cologne with just a hint of the strawberry shampoo he sometimes steals from you. “Tired me out there, Mr. Styles.”

There’s the sound of rustling on the other end of the phone before Harry’s murmuring back, “M’glad - y’need to get some sleep, y’know. S’not good for you to be up so late.”

“I know.” Your eyes are already beginning to feel heavy as minutes continue to click down on your phone, and hearing his soft breathing is fucking therapeutic. If you close your eyes (which feels oh so good) you can almost feel him, body tight around you as he pulls your back to his chest, nestling his nose in your locks with a deep inhale that never fails to make you giggle. “I love you, Har.”

God, you can almost hear him smiling on the other end. You miss it so much - his smile - but just him, and feeling his arms around you, heartbeat against your spine lulling you to sleep. Whenever quarantine is over and you’re free to go to him, you won’t wait a second. You’ll hop on the first plane - you’ll fucking tape yourself to the side of it, if you have to.

For now, though, hearing him sleepily mumble, “I love you more, babe,” is enough. And you keep your phone planted on your chest, Harry’s steadying breathing like music to your ears as you settle in for what’s gearing up to be the best goddamn sleep of your life.