#along with their youth as they had to grow up too fast

[goatpaste]

everyonce in awhile i get so!!!!! thinkin about the parallels and sibling relationship between Lucy and Diego it straight up makes me weepy

then i remember that its not real and i just made it up in my head rewrite and it makes me bonkers

[5starwitch]

What the Planets in Your 1st House Mean for Your Appearance

Sun in the 1st house individuals have a radiance that is hard to ignore. It's not just their charisma but something deeper than that. Almost like a ray of sunshine follows them around. Their hair is a defining feature, kind of resembling a lion's mane. Another defining trait is their cat-like eyes, which suit bold and dramatic makeup looks. They have naturally glowing skin, and bronzed or tan tones complement them beautifully. These are the type of people who walk into a room with their head held high, knowing they are the main character.

Moon in the 1st house individuals have an aura that makes people feel safe and comfortable around them. They usually have big, expressive eyes, round facial features, a fuller bust, and a more rounded physique. They wear their emotions on their sleeves, especially if they have a water or fire sign in the 1st house. Their dreamy, ethereal aura makes people around them feel like they’re in a movie.

Mercury in the 1st house individuals have a youthful charm to them. They are usually very expressive, which is evident in their mannerisms, animated facial expressions, and the way they move their hands while talking. Pixie cuts tend to look great on women with Mercury in the 1st because they have sharp, defined, and symmetrical features. Just like their mind, which goes 100 mph, they are fast talkers and walkers. These people are very witty, funny, and charming (in a mischievous way tbh)

Venus in the 1st house individuals look beautiful and approachable. They typically have balanced and symmetrical facial features, and their body is curvy but balanced. They have full lips, a nose that fits well on their face, inviting eyes, and cheekbones that are noticeable but not too pronounced. They have a natural knack for aesthetics and style, so picking out outfits for themselves is an easy task. They give off girl next door vibes: innocent and charming, and everyone wants them.

Mars in the 1st house individuals have a bold and assertive presence. They walk into a room like they own it. They may come off as aggressive, especially if there are harsh aspects, but overall, they radiate confidence, boldness, and s*x appeal. They tend to have bold, sharp features, such as upturned, siren-like eyes, defined cheekbones and jawline, and an athletic body that might naturally maintain abs or muscle tone. Red hair looks great on them, even if they don't have it naturally.

Jupiter in the 1st house individuals have a larger-than-life personality. These people have natural charisma that everyone around them can feel. They know how to make people feel welcome and truly listened to. They have so much energy and they have the kind of laugh that makes you laugh along with them. These people are optimistic af. They naturally exude lucky energy. Like everything just goes their way, and it usually does! They have a youthful appearance. Usually they have big features. It could be their eyes, nose, lips, etc. They might be prone to gaining weight, and if they’re a woman they tend to be curvaceous.

Saturn in the 1st house individuals tend to have a stoic, reserved presence. Their energy might be closed off and this intimidates people. It makes people feel like they have to work to earn the attention of the Saturn in the 1st person. These people may have had to grow up at a young age or dealt with a lot of self-esteem issues, but as they get older Saturn blesses them. It's like they age backwards, both physically and mentally. These people age like fine wine, growing into themselves and only getting more beautiful as time goes on. They may be blessed with prominent cheekbones and black hair tends to suit them.

Uranus in the 1st house individuals have a unique, eccentric quality about them. They might experiment with their hair color or fashion. These people can be real trend setters because they don't care what people think about them. They do what they want. They tend to experiment with their hair specifically: different colors, cuts, styles. They've done em all. There's an unpredictability about them which makes them so captivating. They're hard to figure out or pin down. Their body type can range from big or small, short or tall. They tend to embrace what they look like and don't fall in the trap of following conventional beauty standards.

Neptune in the 1st house individuals have a dreamy, ethereal quality to them. They’re also mysterious, but in a way that people can’t really figure them out. It’s almost like they can shape shift, becoming a different person depending on who they’re with. They’re elusive. They have a mystical allure, spiritual even. Their eyes pull people in like a magnet because they’re so full of depth and have a watery quality to them. They look like they’re in a dream. Their features are usually soft and gentle, and their hair flows and is soft.

Pluto in the 1st house individuals are known for their deep, penetrating gaze. Their eyes are full of depth, but there’s power in the way they look at people, like they know they’re the one in control, always. There’s always something dramatic in the appearance of these people. Whether that be their impeccable bone structure, a scar, or mole. These people take up space in a room, and people remember them long after they leave. They don’t even have to speak, their aura speaks for them. They have a quiet authority, dominance and sensual appeal that leaves people magnetized. Their features are generally not soft.

Lilith in the 1st house individuals have an undeniable s*xual presence. These people may have been overly s*xualized for their body or aura. For some, this makes them want to hide that side of themselves, but for others it makes them want to further enhance that side of themselves. They have an intense, seductive gaze that leaves people obsessed. Their features may be sharp and bold. They move with a sense of confidence and sensuality that people can’t help but notice. Their sensuality is very present in their body language and the way they speak.

Individuals with no planets in the 1st house still have a sign in that house, which influences the way they appear. For example, having Aries in the 1st house will make someone have bold, striking features such as cat-like, upturned eyes, a prominent forehead, red (or red undertones) hair or red generally looks good on them. Aspects to the ascendant also impact the appearance. For example, having venus aspecting the ascendant can give someone symmetrical, balanced features in the face and body, and a good sense of style and aesthetics. This is why if you don’t relate to the planet in your 1st house, it may be because you relate more to the sign in your 1st house or the aspects to your ascendant.

...

Buy a birth chart reading from me on my ko-fi or cashapp ($5starwitch) for $30

[eccentricallygothic]

Divorced Dad!Captain Syverson who experiences a real time brain short-circuit when he sees how well you get along with his kids during your first meeting with them… 

Warning(s): Breeding kink, size kink, old man!Sy, age gap, manhandling, groping, fluff, boob play, unprotected p-in-v, I added plot to it TT. MDNI.

. . . 

After the messy divorce that followed his turbulent marriage, Sy was not looking forward to any relations with the opposite sex, if possible. With his former profession a constant hurdle to his life as part of a unionized pair and marital bliss, what had started as a promising relationship had turned out to be one of those unfortunate marriages where children were sought as a last resort to perhaps save the remnants of the already rotten love between man and wife. Though being someone from a background that held family in the highest esteem and always having been fond of the idea of his own lot, Sy loved his children more than life itself and there was not a thing in the world he would trade for them. And that was the reason why he had preferred to opt for an early retirement so custody would not be an issue between him and his ex-wife who was more than eager to shed off everything affiliated with the name Syverson like an illness.

You, on the other hand, though not much experienced with the opposite sex were not too warm to the idea of children. Being a student in her last year of higher education and only so old as you were, your attitude hardly deserved to be subjected to scrutiny. That, and the fact that you hadn't really had many young ones around you while growing up as an only child, calling you a foreigner to the scene would not qualify as an exaggeration and hence it can be said that it is more indifference than contempt on your part. 

So naturally, when it happened, it was strictly unplanned. And very fateful. With a rather traumatized Sy in a sort of an emotional limbo who had more than enough reason to keep to himself, and a stressed with soon approaching future endeavors as well as disillusioned with the opposite sex you, the night you had bumped into each other outside the bar restrooms where Sy had been dragged to cheer up by his friends and you to loosen up by yours, the rather fast yet steady rate at which the two of you had woven into each other had been unexpected to say the least. 

But now, as Sy fires up the grill in his backyard to begin the little BBQ he has planned for today when you meet his children for the first time, the prided and much experienced grill expert nearly burns his hand because he is so busy inwardly fawning over how quickly his rugrats have warmed up to you. And you, Sy will swear on anything that you are just the most perfect woman— person alive. Everything is just right with you. Even on days when the world seems to press down on him, your mere presence is there to help his spirits back up and elate as well as support him in every sense.

Though he had been honest about his condition since the beginning, after his initial reluctance to get with you as you were so much younger and inexperienced compared to him, children weren't peculiarly a topic that came up between the two of you except occasions where Sy wanted to share a little victory or rant with you. So as you keep his toddler on one hip with a protective arm around her, your perfect body -Sy's words- clad in a bonny bright coloured sundress, and hold the hand of his 5 year old who excitedly shows you around the mini patio of the modern farmhouse, memories of his own mother scarce if any, your making conversation with the boy and giggling along to his lisp droning flutters Sy's heart in a way that he thought he had outgrown. 

It also excites him with a kind of boyish heat that the former military Captain had thought he had shed off with his adolescent youth.

And so he just has to have you by yielding to a similar impatience and desperation, the musical sound of your giggles faintly fluttering its melodies upon his flush and thumping ears as he gets to it.

“God, Sy!” The huff in your words fires him up even more and he cannot hold back any longer. “You’re such a brute!” His coarse and scarred paws heavily pull at your dress with a crazed desperation to help you find the restroom, as he had told one of the farm hands that he had left the children under. “Oof!” The whine you let out before instinctively craning your head to try and ease the way his thick beard tickles the tender skin of the curve of your neck makes him growl into your carotid pulse that he worships with his hot lips, the pressure of your pressing your face into his as well as the soft pants you let out, your chest bumping into his with each heave of your lungs, only lithifies his bulging erection even more. 

“Gon' fatten up your pretty lil’ pussy with my cum, baby” Sy's breaths scorch your clammy skin with their burning weight. His hands grope and expose you everywhere they can reach, and they can do so everywhere because of how much smaller hence ragdoll-like you are compared to him. “Wouldja like that, angel?” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he boosts your thighs up his tall legs and around his waist, the fat and leaking tip of his cock grazing against your holes from how he is kissing you everywhere he can reach. “Me stuffing that cute tummy full of siblings for Tim and Bethy, huh?” You know he would never actually do something as serious so callously without a prior discussion so you breathlessly nod, pushing your oral muscles to gulp down the thick bile in your throat and tip your head against the wall to prepare yourself to withstand his intrusion of your pussy that thanks to his girth always feels like not only your first time with him but your very deflowering in general.

 “Yes” your mouth falls open as he reaches below the hold with which he has your whole body propped up. “Yes, please~” his balmy tip finds its destination in the tiny, drenched and quivering closed up band that leads to your reproductive cavern. “Please fimme with your babies, Sy~” when the stretch makes your tiny hole burn around his girth, your mouth lets loose all the obscene words of vulgar desire. 

“Yeah, baby?” Sy's fingers flex over your ass and caress their way up your side before coming down and repeating the action, his thumb stealing strokes of your nipples as he does. “Wanna make me a Daddy, yeah?” A hiss leaves your mouth and your back arches at the feeling of your walls sheathing him deep within themselves. His breathtaking urgency nearly puts a dent in your innards. “Want me to make you all round and heavy here?” Your pussy clenches around the hilt of his cock when he suddenly gropes your naval into a greedy handful.

“Yes, please, Sy!” Your whole form bounces up in the air when the man gives you a thrust so powerful that has you mewling and digging your nails in his shoulders. “Wanna make you a Daddy so bad, Sy!” His dick has always had a hypnotic effect on you, for the minute it's in the vicinity of any of your holes, you become a brain dead parrot for him. 

“Atta girl~” he cooes, tossing your body further up with a strong stab of his hips so he can clamp his teeth down on one of your boobs.

MASTERLIST

. . . 

I am MAD for this man. Like I am not even hot on kids. WHAT—

[serpentface]

The goddess Arweny, depicted in Setem-Whe ornamental style. She is usually described as a female elowey protruding from the jaws of a gigantic serpent, or as a small snake with a rat perpetually stuck in its throat.

She is considered to be one of many local spirits of the wilds across the vast forested region known as Nekhuatseth, and is venerated (and cursed) as the god of the hunt-interrupted. She is believed to lend strength and speed to hunted quarry, allowing them to escape predation against insurmountable odds. She is completely impartial, and will lend her mercy to an insect just as easily as she would to a person.

Hunters blame her when what seems to be a certain kill escapes, and pray to her when they find themselves hunted. In many places, it is believed that she will hide all prey if she is not appeased, and as such is left offerings of fruit and wine before any expedition. It is common in rural parts of Nekhuatseth to wear amulets depicting her likeness to ward off attacks from wild beasts.

A folktale from the Sykhilic cult (a Nekh and Setem-Whe religious order devoted to a lunar goddess, scattered in temples at the edges of wilderness areas) intends to teach youths about the dangers and impartiality of the wilds, and illustrates beliefs about Arweny's intervention in the cycle of hunter and hunted.

A young hunter walked alone through the wilds in the heat of the dry season. They were on their rite of passage, and as such were armed only with a knife and could feed only on what game and forage they found on their journey. They were three days in, tired and hungry and missing the comfort of the city more and more with every step.

The hunter stopped at the edge of a clearing to eat a few clumps of dry, tasteless grass. They chewed miserably and dreamed of the great feast that would be held upon their return, when they heard a sudden snap. The youth had only a moment to turn before a great beast seized them in its claws. A tyger had been stalking them, and now pinned them to the earth under one massive paw!

Thinking fast, the young hunter called upon one of the wild gods of these parts. 

“Arweny! Rat-Who-Chokes-The-Snake! Please, lend me your strength!”

And there was a great rustling in the bush, a sliding, slithering sound, and a cackle of frightful laughter. And the hunter felt every muscle in their body seize with a great strength, and they wrenched themself out of the stinking cat’s grasp.

The youth scampered up a tree and sat in its high boughs with their breast heaving. The cat paced below in helpless agitation, for the branches were far too lithe to support its great weight.

The great beast stalked away, and the hunter cried out their thanks to the lord of the triumphant prey and nursed their wounds.

The young hunter walked along deer trails all day, but there was no quarry to be seen, and the scents were weeks old and unpromising. With hunger now gnawing painfully at their gut, they came upon a great river. There were water lillies growing in the shallows with thick, tasty bulbs, and the air was alive with frogsong. The youth crept out into the muddy water, hoping to find something good to eat.

But a slight ripple on the water filled their gut with ice. Their instinct told them to be afraid, and in the fraction of a second, they whispered, “Arweny, lord of the hunt-interrupted, lend me your speed.��

And in that same moment, a colossal riverdrake sprang forth from the murk, faster than the hunter could have run. But their body was seized with a great quickness, and they leapt into the air, high above the drake’s head, and came down upon its jaws, forcing them shut with a snap!

As they sprang away from the beast, they heard a wet slithering sound, and that same cackle of triumph. They silently thanked the lord of the biting quarry, and ran far from the river and its dangers.

But now, the hunter was near starved. The small insects and dessicated grasses they had found along the way did little to abate their hunger. They needed to make a kill or they would surely starve.

And as if by divine will, they came across a river hog hopelessly tangled in a thorny mass of dead vines. It squealed and strained with all its might, but to no avail. The hog collapsed to its side and laid still, chest heaving and showing the terrified whites of its eyes. The hunter sighed in relief and drew their blade.

And suddenly, the hog trembled and burst away, ripping up and dragging all the vines along with it! The hunter was frozen in shock. How was this possible? The hog was as good as dead!

And as if to answer that question, they heard that same slithering, the sound of something heavy dragging its long body over the dry leafbed. And they heard that same cackle, a laugh of triumph, as the prey fled and the hunter starved.

[imperishablereverie]

ATP CHILDHOODS

TAGLIST: @fwaist @pittsick @cowboyfaists @manipulatemedonaldson @iamaya03

ART…

as much as i'd like to think that art had a perfect childhood (and maybe that's why he's so different from patrick) he probably didn't. his parents were loving, of course, but they were never home. since he was an only child, the only person who was around was his grandma. it only makes sense that he was a grandmas boy. his parents had somewhere to be? they'd drop him off at grandmas. art whined about being bored for too long? grandma would pick him up and take him to the park for a few hours. maybe she was even the one who got him into tennis. i think he was sad when he went to the academy because he was gonna miss her but she wrote to him and he wrote back. he would poor his heart into the letters, by the way, telling her all about his friends and coaches. he would even end the letters with a lengthy paragraph on how much he missed her and how excited he was to see her again (something patrick teased him about.) and when his bunkmate fell asleep he would cry into the sweater she knitted for him as a going away present until he dozed off, her lingering scent enveloping him in a blanket of warm familiarity. this habit ended a year in but he still kept the sweater tucked away safely (he outgrew it fast.) so when she started getting sick and having strokes he really went through it. more so when she eventually passed away. he never let it show though. he couldn't. he was always everyones golden boy—especially hers.

TASHI…

tashi's childhood was the best out of the three in terms of love. both of her parents were in her life and made sure she knew how much she meant to them. she also had a handful of siblings. but, her parents weren't as rich as the other twos. they were middle to lower class which meant they could afford the bare necessities but not boarding school for tennis. her parents probably both worked really hard. the bills weren't always paid and she had to share toys with her sister, but tashi never complained. if anything, she followed in their path of hard work. it made her grow up to be self-aware and grateful for the little things. it also played a big role in her tennis. she kept the strong connection with her parents as she got older and even split her earnings with them as the money rolled in. when she had lily, her mom was always around to help and it made them even closer. they were able to live the life of luxury together that they couldn't before.

PATRICK…

the way patrick grew up is pretty obvious. he was an only child like art and his parents were filthy rich. i'm thinking his dad owned some big company or something along those lines (the usual.) i almost want to say he wasn't planned. if that's the case, it's definitely where his parents hatred for him stemmed from. maybe they were loving the first few years. but after that? he was just... there. they never wanted his company. they never wanted to see his drawings or help him with a project for school. his mom didn't teach him how to cook and his dad didn't teach him how to fix a car. to them he was a burden—a night of fun gone wrong which stripped away their youth. they probably kept him in multiple after school activies so he could be gone longer. piggybacking off of that, when he got old enough they put him in a variety of sports—including tennis. that's where he finally proved useful. he swung the racket once and his parents almost felt proud. almost. from then on, they hired a (disgustingly expensive for an 11 year old) coach and he was taking lessons everyday. patrick didn't love it, particularly, but he did love seeing the smiles on his parents faces when his coach told them how well he was making out. so he played harder, better, quicker. it wasn't enough though. it was never enough. besides, his parents were more focused on using the oppurtunity as an escape route. they spent the money like it was nothing and had him shipped off to mark rebelattos tennis academy without so much as a goodbye. patrick was sad confused but he just saw it as a bigger chance to prove himself. and he did. year after year after year until he was 18 and playing at the US open. his parents weren't in the stands. they probably didn't even turn the tv on. but they texted him when they heard about his win "we're proud of you, keep up the good work." maybe that's why he stayed in tennis for so long, despite knowing deep down it wasn't for him. wasn't even for them anymore. and maybe that's why he didn't quit, even when he got burnt out.

[xo-cod]

dad simon fluff because i'm sad. rushed and ooc ‼️

might be confusing to read because i didn't name the baby, i tried 🥲

it was early morning, too early for his liking as simon yawned before he spread the butter across the toast delicately. slicing up some fruits alongside it. it had been seven whole months since you both welcomed your pride and joy, seven whole months of a world he didn't think was possible to ever receive in this life. how he adored you and how he cherished his baby so deeply to his heart, in some ways it makes up for all the pain he suffered in his past to be able to have his two greatest gifts beside him every day.

he finished plating up, walking back to the living room and there his infant stood, big brown eyes gazing at the tv with delight. her eyes were one of the first thing he noticed when she had been born, they were one of the features that she had taken identically like his. and they looked absolutely gorgeous on her.

he never thought his life would turn out this way, spending the majority of his youth and his adulthood in the taskforce. at some point he grew to accept that the life price had offered him was the only one he would ever receive, he got used to the idea that perhaps love wasn't something everyone got to experience in this world. but then you came along and you gave him the greatest gift he could've ever possibly recieved, turning his world on its axis for the better.

a foreign feeling to simon whose life had been dominated nothing but by violence and loss.

"c'mere munchkin, breakfast" the soldier in him calling it out like a command only his voice was gentle, fatherly, as he picked her up securely before delicately placing her in her high chair.

and much like his features, his baby seemed to take his attitude too.

she huffed and squirmed on the chair, her tiny face crumpled in a frown having been taken away from her dear cartoons and made to eat.

"is this little girl trying to be stubborn, eh?" simon narrowed his eyes but his face showed pure amusement, his face leaning down to kiss her temple softly. she immediately relaxed and babbled softly while he smiled, sitting on the chair next to her as he fed her the food.

simon was still learning everyday what it meant to be a father, he promised himself he'd never turn out to be the way his own dad was. he vowed never to do that to you or his child. never to become the way his father had been.

but he had barely finished giving her the breakfast before she gasped excitedly at the cartoon once more, baby babbles falling from her lips. he watched, resisting the urge to coo and chuckle at her state. and then he watched as she mimicked the tv, pretending to be dinosaur while she blew raspberries at him.

it had been her new thing now and simon felt pure joy tugging at his heart, wishing forever she'd stay this way so he could protect her from everything. how innocent and carefree she was here in this moment, how time was cruel because he could already feel it escape and slip through his fingers. pretty soon she'd be turning a year old and it felt like just yesterday he was bringing her and you back home from the hospital

"now what do little dinosaurs say?" simon entertained her playfully, helping her down while she stomped around in her onesie looking at him with pure mischief.

"you have to roar at me for it to work, yeah?" he playfully growled back as he nuzzled his face up against hers and he started to gently tickle her on her side. she collapsed into shrieks of laughter, only deepening the smile on his lips as he laughed along with her. he watched her small arms flail about, trying to make her voice sound like the effects on tv but failing miserably

and how his heart ached in his chest as a result from it. he hoped she would never lose this spark, this streak of mischief, being so full of life and love. she was already growing much too fast for his liking but he was so excited for who she'd be, she was his mini after all

he heard your soft gasp and then a gentle laugh, turning back to look at you with a look of fondness at your arrival. you'd never looked better to him, half asleep and still as beautiful as the day he had the pleasure of looking upon you for the first time

"did you hear that, lovie?" simon grinned, looking back at you before he kissed his baby's small cheek as he set her down on the floor once more. he gently faced her towards you, helping her walk across while you made your way to the couch

"show mama how you roar like a scary little dinosaur" simon encouraged with a playful tone, poking her side softly. you followed his gaze and looked down at the baby who was roaring just as she had been before she hiccuped and stumbled on the floor. her soft grumbles fell from her lips which prompted the both of you to chuckle gently at your baby. she looked close to having a tantrum but simon was well acquainted with all her little moods, distracting her quickly

"oh no, my poor little dinosaur. whatever will it do now?" he feigned sadness which caused the infant to burst into giggles, almost tripping over towards his big arms as he caught her and held her close to his chest. his own gentle laughter mixing in with hers and you could only watch with a tenderness in your heart, always hoping deep down in your heart your little family would always remain this happy.

[mehbles]

Work life balance

Chapter 1: The Stretch of Life

Simon didn’t always live this way. Once upon a time, he had been a man of effortless charm and youthful energy, a rising star in the fast-paced world of car sales. Back then, he’d been lean, sharp, and impeccably dressed. His crisp suits hugged his form in all the right places, projecting the perfect image of confidence and control. Customers trusted Simon because he looked like the kind of man who had his life together.

But at 25, Simon’s life had taken a very different turn.

The once-svelte salesman now found himself confined to a largely sedentary existence, the fast pace of his early career giving way to long hours seated behind a desk, scrolling through spreadsheets, and sipping from a well-worn mug of coffee laced with too much cream and sugar. His evenings were no longer filled with post-work gym sessions or socializing with friends at the local pub. Instead, they revolved around his two great loves: beer and cake.

It had started innocently enough—a cold pint after work to unwind, a treat from the bakery to celebrate a good sale. But soon, Simon had come to rely on those indulgences to punctuate the monotony of his days. The occasional pint turned into a nightly six-pack. The celebratory slice of cake became a nightly ritual, and then sometimes breakfast, too. Simon’s fridge was now stocked with frosted treats, craft beers, and little else. He told himself it was temporary, a small comfort in a stressful job. But the scale didn’t lie.

Simon’s body had changed, subtly at first, then all at once. His once-trim stomach had swelled into a soft, rounded belly that hung over his waistband when he sat down. His love handles spilled out at his sides, pushing against the fabric of his once-tailored suits. It was his shirts that bore the brunt of his transformation. The buttons now strained to keep him contained, creating unsightly gaps at the front, especially around his navel. Simon found himself tugging at the fabric throughout the day, hoping to conceal the evidence of his overindulgence. It was a losing battle.

Every morning, Simon stared at himself in the mirror as he fastened his tie. His jawline, once sharp and defined, was now softened by a growing double chin. His cheeks were rounder, giving him a boyish, almost cherubic appearance that didn’t match the man he thought he still was. His thighs pressed against the seams of his trousers, and his belt dug into his waist, leaving red marks that lingered long after he’d taken it off. Still, Simon clung to his old wardrobe, unwilling to admit that he’d outgrown it.

At work, Simon’s coworkers had started to notice his transformation. No one said anything outright, of course, but there were subtle comments—jokes about office snacks, offhand remarks about “bulking up,” and knowing glances when he helped himself to a second (or third) donut in the breakroom. Simon laughed along, pretending not to care, but inside, he was deeply aware of every pound he’d gained.

The worst part, though, was how it affected his job. Selling cars required confidence, and Simon’s had taken a hit. He felt self-conscious meeting with clients, especially the sleek, athletic types who came in looking for luxury vehicles. He imagined them judging him, silently wondering how someone who couldn’t keep his own life in check could sell them a car. His sales numbers had started to slip, and his manager had begun dropping hints about “recommitting to the hustle.”

But the hustle was the last thing on Simon’s mind. He was too tired, too comfortable in his routine of indulgence. After a long day at work, all he wanted to do was sink into his couch with a pint of beer in one hand and a slice of chocolate cake in the other. He told himself he’d start fresh tomorrow—cut back on the beer, swap the cake for a salad, maybe even go for a jog. But tomorrow always seemed to bring another excuse.

One evening, Simon stood in front of his bathroom mirror after his nightly shower, his damp hair sticking to his forehead. The light overhead was harsh, illuminating every inch of his body. He stared at his reflection, taking in the changes that had crept up on him. His belly, round and heavy, jutted out in stark contrast to his spindly arms and legs. His chest, once firm and flat, now had a slight sag to it, the beginnings of what he’d heard cruelly referred to as “man boobs.” His love handles curved out from his sides, and his navel was now a deep crease in the center of his bulging stomach.

He poked at his belly experimentally, watching it jiggle slightly before settling back into place. He sighed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants that barely fit anymore and a t-shirt that clung to his midsection like a second skin. He felt a pang of shame, but it was quickly drowned out by the thought of the leftover cheesecake waiting for him in the fridge.

As Simon settled onto his couch, fork in hand, he told himself it wasn’t so bad. Sure, he’d put on a few pounds, but he was still young. He could turn things around whenever he wanted. For now, though, he was content to indulge, to let the softness of his body mirror the comfort of his life.

Chapter 2: A Split Decision

The day started like any other for Simon. He rolled out of bed, feeling the familiar tightness in his waist as he tugged on his trousers. They were snug—too snug—but Simon convinced himself they’d stretch out over the course of the day, like they always did. Still, fastening the button required a deep exhale and a firm tug. He slid into his blazer and glanced in the mirror. The fit wasn’t ideal, but he told himself it was fine. He’d be sitting at his desk most of the day anyway. No one would notice.

Or so he thought.

It wasn’t even lunchtime when Simon’s day took a turn. A client had come in, a wiry older man with an angular face and an easy grin. He wanted to see a car—one of the new models Simon had just added to the inventory—but it wasn’t parked in the showroom. It was in the back lot. Simon, ever the professional, plastered on a confident smile and assured the client it would only take a moment. Inside, though, he was dreading it. The lot wasn’t far, but it was cold outside, and Simon hated the idea of leaving the comfort of his desk.

As soon as Simon stepped out into the crisp January air, he felt the chill bite through his clothes. He tugged his blazer tighter around him, already regretting his decision to skip breakfast and replace it with coffee and cake. His belly grumbled in protest as he trudged toward the far end of the lot, where the car was supposedly parked. The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows over rows of gleaming vehicles. Simon wiped at his brow. Was it that warm, or was it just him?

Halfway to the car, Simon realized he was out of breath. His chest rose and fell with an embarrassing intensity as he tried to mask his discomfort. His legs felt heavy, his thighs brushing against each other more noticeably than ever. His shirt clung to his back, damp with sweat, and his tie felt like a noose. He couldn’t stop tugging at it.

When he finally spotted the car, Simon felt a wave of relief. It was a sleek, black sedan, parked at the far end of the lot. “Perfect,” he muttered under his breath, picking up the pace. As he did, he felt it—a slight tearing sensation. It was faint, like the sound of paper being slowly ripped in two. He froze, a cold pit forming in his stomach.

No. It couldn’t be.

Simon glanced around, his face reddening as he reached behind himself to feel for the damage. His worst fears were confirmed when his fingers brushed over the unmistakable tear in his trousers. The seam along the back had split, exposing a sliver of his underwear to the chilly air. He stood there for a moment, paralyzed with a mix of embarrassment and disbelief. How had it come to this?

Desperate to keep his composure, Simon pressed forward, hoping the client wouldn’t notice. Each step only made the tear worse, the fabric pulling further apart as his thighs strained against the already overburdened material. By the time he reached the car, Simon’s shirt had come untucked, his face was slick with sweat, and his trousers were barely holding together.

“Here it is,” Simon said, his voice breathless. He gestured toward the sedan, trying to distract from his disheveled appearance. The client raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing Simon’s discomfort, but said nothing.

Simon fumbled with the keys, his hands clammy and unsteady. The car beeped as it unlocked, and he pulled open the driver’s door with an exaggerated flourish. “Take a look inside. Great legroom,” he said, forcing a laugh.

The client climbed into the car, giving Simon a chance to step back and assess the damage. He turned his back to one of the parked SUVs and discreetly tugged at his blazer, trying to cover the gaping hole in his trousers. His heart was pounding—not from exertion, but from sheer humiliation.

When the client finally emerged, Simon was ready to get this over with. “It’s perfect,” the man said, oblivious to Simon’s misery. “I’ll take it.”

Simon forced another smile, nodding as he guided the man back toward the showroom. Each step felt like a lifetime, the ripped seam flapping with every movement. By the time they reached the desk, Simon was ready to collapse.

As soon as the paperwork was signed, Simon all but ran to the staff bathroom. He locked the door behind him and leaned against the wall, letting out a long, shaky breath. His reflection in the mirror told the full story: his sweat-drenched shirt, his red face, the tear in his trousers that exposed far more than he’d like.

Chapter 3: The Weigh-In and Gym Sign-Up

Simon sat slumped on his couch that evening, still reeling from the humiliation of the day. He had managed to sneak out of the office with his torn trousers hidden under his blazer, but the embarrassment lingered. His belly pressed into his thighs as he hunched forward, a half-eaten slice of cheesecake on the coffee table in front of him. He stared at it, feeling a pang of guilt. Something had to change.

The next morning, Simon woke with a rare sense of determination. After dragging himself out of bed, he rifled through his closet, searching for something loose and comfortable. He pulled on an old hoodie and sweatpants that had been shoved to the back of a drawer, a relic from his fitter days. The waistband of the sweatpants dug into his belly slightly, but at least they fit. Today was the day. He was going to sign up for the gym.

The gym was only a few blocks from Simon’s apartment, but by the time he arrived, he was already winded. The walk had seemed longer than he remembered, and he was grateful for the blast of air conditioning as he stepped inside. The sleek, modern interior was a stark contrast to Simon’s sweaty, rumpled appearance. Rows of treadmills and weight machines gleamed under bright lights, and the faint hum of pop music filled the air.

A young, impossibly fit man behind the front desk greeted Simon with a cheerful smile. “Hey there! Looking to sign up?”

Simon hesitated, suddenly self-conscious. His oversized hoodie couldn’t fully disguise the curve of his belly or the way his sweatpants clung to his thighs. “Uh, yeah,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “Thought I’d give it a shot.”

“Great!” The man’s enthusiasm was almost overwhelming. “We’ll start by getting your details and doing a quick fitness assessment. Follow me.”

Simon reluctantly followed him to a small office tucked in the corner of the gym. Inside, a digital scale and a body composition analyzer sat on the floor, waiting. “Step on the scale, and we’ll get your weight first,” the trainer said.

Simon hesitated, his palms suddenly clammy. He hadn’t weighed himself in months—maybe even a year. Steeling himself, he stepped onto the scale, feeling the cold metal under his feet. The machine beeped, and the numbers blinked before settling on the final result.

Simon stared at the screen. 256 pounds.

For a moment, he thought there must have been a mistake. He remembered being 185 pounds not that long ago—or at least, it felt like not that long ago. Now, his weight had soared far beyond what he’d imagined. He felt his cheeks flush as the trainer jotted down the number.

“Alright,” the trainer said, unfazed. “Next, we’ll take some basic measurements and talk about your fitness goals.”

Simon nodded stiffly, his mind still reeling. As the trainer wrapped a tape measure around his waist, chest, and thighs, Simon couldn’t help but notice how tight the tape felt around his belly. He wanted to disappear.

After the assessment, Simon was led back to the front desk, where he filled out his membership forms. “You’re all set,” the trainer said with a grin. “When do you want to start?”

Simon forced a smile. “Uh, tomorrow, I guess.” It was a lie. The idea of walking into the gym, surrounded by people who were fitter and stronger than he’d ever been, filled him with dread. But he couldn’t back out now.

As he left the gym, Simon felt a strange mix of emotions. He was embarrassed by how far he’d let himself go, but there was also a glimmer of hope. Signing up was a step in the right direction, even if it was a small one.

That evening, Simon stood in front of his bathroom mirror again, the memory of the scale’s display still fresh in his mind. He pinched at his belly, watching it jiggle slightly, and sighed. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but he had to try.

[muxshwriting]

slipping through my fingers

Obi-Wan Kenobi x platonic!padawan!reader

summary: obi wan has to let go of his padawan as you grows up and out of his protection and teachings || warnings: i cried writing this, mentions of death || word count: 605 || masterlist

Obi-Wan can't help but to feel guilty as he watches his padawan interact with the other Jedi knights. He can't shake the feeling that he's letting her go out into the world woefully unprepared. You've changed so much from the young girl he first met.

He supposes these are the fears all parents feel as their child grows up. Because that's what you are to him. He raised you since you were a child to the adult you are now. You were his child, in everything but blood.

He’s watched other masters let go of their padawans and move on with life. But he wonders how they can move on without glancing back at the person they’re leaving behind. Do they not feel guilty about taking new padawans? Or are they desensitised to the whole system? Maybe the first is always the hardest, maybe it’s the first that sticks with you, maybe the sudden ache in his heart will ease when you smile.

“Are you alright Master?”

He’s been lost in thought for a while, longer than usual. Obi-Wan simply nods, taking in the time he has with you know and fondly remembering everything you had done together. These moments will not happen again, nothing ever will. Life is made of fleeting moments you don’t truly appreciate until they’re over. But you must hold tightly to those moments and cherish them so they don’t go forgotten.

It’s a duty as a parent, or pseudo-parent, to come to a stop and let their children continue on their own. It’s scary. It’s terrifying actually, but all birds leave the nest, all seeds float away in the wind.

“Are you sure Master?”

Obi-Wan placed a hand on our shoulder, “You’ve grown up so fast.”

“Master-“ Words fail you. “I’ll never be too grown up for your teachings.”

“I’m very proud of you.”

You pull him into a hug, burying your face in his chest. “I can’t cry. Don’t make me cry.”

He chuckles, sounding slightly watery.

Becoming a Jedi Knight was very important to you. It had been what you were working toward for most of your life. Somewhere along the way, you realised that being a knight meant leaving the safety net you had relied on most of your life. Obi-Wan Kenobi was your safety net.

At one point, you would be away from him for the longest time, be the furthest away from him you had ever been and see him for the final time.

It was nice to be grown but there was something to be said for youth. There was no shame in not wanting to grow up but we all do it, we all move on. A new chapter begins because the previous one ended.

Time would separate you and your Master but he would always be your master. Eventually, death would call for him and you would be left without a source of advice and comfort. Death was such a small word for a big thing. But death is only the end if you assume the story is about you.

Your story would not end at your death, the same way Obi-Wan’s story did not end at his. His story did not end because of you, his padawan, his child. Your story would not end for the same reason. Everything Obi-Wan taught you, you taught to your padawan. The chain continues on and stretches back as long as time goes on.

You could trace teachings through time, from master to padawan, as padawan becomes master and teaches a new generation.

Every Jedi carries the legacy of a hundred others on their back.

Boy, oh, boy. I’m looking at future uni destinations right now and this song hits hard. I’m sobbing into my pillow at 1am after finishing writing this

Taglist: @aoi-targaryen

[jaytalking]

Okay okay.

NAOOOO—

*inhaaalE*

So your Plasmius design.

*claps hands together multiple times*

Where do I even BEGIN to appreciate it OML I would fail at doing so-

Okay so.

Numero uno *cough*

The whole thing about him looking younger to embrace the vampire part. Yes. Yes I love that. That is now canon in my heart because it just WORKS. SO MUCH.

Because I feel like it could also tie into the fact that Vlad in the show is so obsessed with having lost everything and wanting all of it back, his youth included-

So he'd look younger as Plasmius EEEEEEEE

Also I LOVE how his eye shape changes as Plasmius and he looks more. Hostile and dangerous if you will—*explodes* eyes are the windows to one's soul I love eyes sm-

THE FANGS. THE FANGSSSSS—*taps the microphone* HE'S A VAMPIREEEE—

The way you turned the top of his cape into flames??? That is literally so so SO cool and amazing

Makes me wonder if he can maybe. Change the shape of it/make it appear and disappear whenever he wants?

Also his hands constantly looking like they have blood on them??? AND IT CAN SPREAD ONTO THE SURFACES HE TOUCHES??? TEN OUT OF TEN ISTG THAT IS JUST SOMETHING ELSEEEE/POS

Your young Vlad looks so huggable idk why

(Sorry kinda unrelated but I feel like younger Vlad was SUCH a timid person. And he'd get shy fast but he'd also be quite confident whenever he wanted.)

THE LOWER PART OF HIS HAIR BEING WHITE. I WILL—*holds head* "yes officer it's this design right here—"/silly

AND THE SCAR

Gosh my favorite part EVER

THEM GLOWING

OH MY DAYS THAT IS AWESOME

He looks like a fiery demon from the pits of hell I love it

I'm here for it

I'll put him in a freezer so he can cool down—/silly

I think we should give him pomegranate sorbet I think he'll like it

Cuz like

It's sour, but also has a sliiiight sweetness to it, and it has a bitterness in its core because of the pomegranate seeds. Idk I feel like that is just. So Vlad. Shfjfkvkvkv—/silly

Also very randomly: Vlad be like:

"Oh look, a sophisticated business man!"

"Oh, he’s a little bit messed up, actually..."

BUT YEAH I JUST ABSOLUTELY LOVE YOUR DESIGN FOR HIM I'LL HOLD HIM IN MY HANDS LIKE A LITTLE CREATURE/POS

Jophofhchvv thank you I never know how to respond to but know that we're screaming together!

Here's some fun facts about EctoScience Vlad:

-I really wanted to give him a dangerous vibe, ghosts can eat other ghosts to grow stronger extremely quickly in this AU and that's partly why he's as strong as he is, the other part being... halfas are just very powerful. Simply. Anyways everyone in the Zone knows and fears him; at the start of the series he's almost a boogeyman of sorts there until Danny starts beating him.

- Vlad didn't have a ghost form at first! His becoming a Halfa actually took a long time due to how it happened, and that's technically how it'll go for Danny too, he's just further along due to his own death being wayyy more violent than Vlad's. The progression into full ghost has slowed down a lot in Vlad's case, but for the reason I just mentioned, Danny's progression is fast.

- The "I hate you!" "You're like me!" Exchange is something I've had in mind since the start. In this AU specifically the circumstances of their "deaths" are extremely similar, but above all Danny fears turning fully into a ghost will make him lose his humanity and turn him evil due to, you know, actually listening to the "all ghosts are evil" bogus his parents believe. Vlad can sense that insecurity and in this AU he latches onto it like a vice to make Danny think him joining Vlad's side is inevitable in the end.

- Yes, he CAN make his cape disappear if it starts getting in his way in a fight, but I would also like to highlight his fire core making him very warm. Cats love him.

- His general behaviour as a ghost has been changed a little, he acts and fights fairly normally at first, but if the fight drags on for too long or his opponent runs away he's going FULL HORROR MOVIE VILLAIN. That first fight in the mansion was a lot longer and made Danny genuinely fear for his life. Let Vlad be MORE unhinged when he's pissed off I say.

[wordsarelife]

—𝖉𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖒𝖊 𝖒𝖊: official soundtrack!

note: requests are open regarding anything to do with the don't blame universe (you can tell me anything: what you (didn't) like, questions you have, asks for drabbles/ short fics, characters opinions/ moments you'd like to see. feel free!!!)

best of tweets will follow in a few days, stay tuned!!!

debut album: neon nights -> real songs

blood//water (grandson)

daddy issues (the neighbourhood)

you get me so high (the neighbourhood)

fluroscent adolescence (arctic monkeys)

only angel (harry styles)

second album: soft death -> real songs

jackie and wilson (hozier)

about you (the 1975)

i wanna be yours (arctic monkeys)

she (harry styles)

obviously (mcfly)

too sweet (hozier)

end of beginning (joe keery)

made up songs:

neon nights

in the haze of neon nights,/ we were fearless in our flights,/ chasing dreams under starry skies,/ laughing 'til tears filled our eyes.

but time slipped away too fast,/ those moments we thought would last,/ now i'm left here all alone,/ where did our innocence go?

neon nights, where did you run?/ lost in the shadows of what we'd become,/ we were supposed to grow old together,/ but life had a different tether.

remember those careless hours,/ building castles from shattered flowers,/ promised you a better fate, now i've noticed it's too late

but time slipped away too fast,/ those moments we thought would last,/ now i'm left here all alone,/ where did our innocence go?

neon nights, where did you run?/ lost in the shadows of what we'd become,/ we were supposed to grow old together,/ but life had a different tether.

in crowded rooms, i search for your face,/ but it's just an empty space,/ echoes of laughter haunt my mind,/ leaving fragments of us behind.

neon nights, where did you run?/ lost in the shadows of what we'd become,/ we were supposed to grow old together,/ but life had a different tether.

neon lights fade into gray,/ silent reminders of yesterday,/ i miss you more than words can show,/ in these neon nights, where did you go?

lying to your face

she’s got those sailor moon eyes,/ never been the type of girl to take home to your mother./ she’s got those meteorite vibes,/ put it in park we can go get high on each other.

they don’t make ‘em like you anymore,/ they don’t make ‘em like you anymore.

lying to your face,/ but I’m falling from grace./ oh, can i get you high tonight?/ can i get you high tonight?/ lying to your face,/ in this twisted embrace./ oh, can i get you high tonight?/ can i get you high tonight?

we could hide from the truth,/ escape from the lies and the drama./ lost in our youth,/ your body is my panorama.

they don’t make ‘em like you anymore,/ they don’t make ‘em like you anymore.

lying to your face,/ but I’m falling from grace./ oh, can i get you high tonight?/ can i get you high tonight?/ lying to your face,/ in this twisted embrace./ oh, can i get you high tonight?/ can i get you high tonight?

oh, honey, you’re my secret sin,/ with every touch, i lose again.

lying to your face,/ but I’m falling from grace./ oh, can i get you high tonight?/ can i get you high tonight?/ lying to your face,/ in this twisted embrace./ oh, can i get you high tonight?/ can i get you high tonight?

cheap wine

we used to own the night,/ every whisper, every sigh,/ the way you looked at me,/ like we were meant to be,

now i see you in the crowd,/ his hand pulling you around,/ it's like a ghost of what we had,/ now he has you instead

i can't help but wonder why,/ we let our love just pass us by,/ now you’re living in a different time,/ but I’m stuck on replay in my mind.

now you’re dancing along,/ to his newest song,/ laughing like you did when you were mine,/ and it hits me, cause i can’t fix it,/ on the bottom of your lip,/ reminder how it is,/ but there’s still a drop of my cheap wine.

every time i hear your name,/ it’s like a flicker of the flame,/ i see your smile in my dreams,/ haunting me with what it means,

now you’re dancing along,/ to his newest song,/ laughing like you did when you were mine,/ and it hits me, cause i can’t fix it,/ on the bottom of your lip,/ reminder how it is,/ but there’s still a drop of my cheap wine.

every memory, every touch, / a love that once was, now it’s just too much,/ to see you move on, while i stay behind,/ clinging to the remnants of our time./ but i’ll raise a glass to what we had,/ and let it go, though it hurts so bad,/ in every tear, in every sigh, i’ll find a way to say goodbye.

now you’re dancing along,/ to his newest song,/ laughing like you did when you were mine,/ and it hits me, cause i can’t fix it,/ on the bottom of your lip,/ reminder how it is,/ but there’s still a drop of my cheap wine.

eight packs of cigarettes

in the glow of street lights,/ underneath the city's haze,/ you found me in the darkest nights,/ lost in a nicotine haze.

eight packs of cigarettes,/ burned through these lonely nights,/ trying to drown out regrets,/ but you're still in my head.

as the night moves past/ i'm the only one last/ tell me that you lied/ no, tell me that you're mine

eight packs of cigarettes,/ burned through these lonely nights,/ trying to drown out regrets,/ but you're still in my head.

in the haze of smoke and dreams,/ i'll keep searching for some reprieve,/ but until then, I'll keep the smoke,/ eight packs of cigarettes full of hope.

hot-headed

you walk in like a hurricane, eyes sharp like a blade,/ a tempest in your heart, every move is a raid,/ your words cut deep, leaving scars in their wake,/ a rebel without a cause, a risk i had to take.

hot-headed, you set the night on fire,/ a blaze of chaos and desire,/ hot-headed, you’re the thrill i crave,/ dancing on the edge of a tidal wave.

you're a wild card, a mystery wrapped in smoke,/ with a devilish grin, and a laugh that provokes,/ we clash like thunder, yet i can't stay away,/ caught in your storm, i'm lost in the fray.

hot-headed, you set the night on fire,/ a blaze of chaos and desire,/ hot-headed, you’re the thrill i crave,/ dancing on the edge of a tidal wave.

in the heat of our battles, we find our peace,/ in the eye of the storm, our hearts never cease,/ you're my sweet disaster, my beautiful curse,/ in this wild romance, we’ll always immerse.

hot-headed, you set the night on fire,/ a blaze of chaos and desire,/ hot-headed, you’re the thrill i crave,/ dancing on the edge of a tidal wave.

pixie dream girl

she's an average girl, with tangled up hair,/ her laughter's like nails on a chalkboard, it's more than i can bear./ she flutters around, like a clumsy old crow,/ leaving chaos behind her, wherever she goes.

she's a mess wrapped in chaos,/ a thorn in my side, no matter the cost./ she'll stumble and fall, then blame it on me,/ i'm tired of her games, can't you see?

but oh, as she dances and sings to her favorite song,/ in nothing but a long shirt, dancing all night long,/ she's enchanting, in her rhythmic twirl,/ oh, in her eyes, she's a pixie dream girl.

she's a pixie dream girl, with a crooked old smile,/ her clothes mismatched, it's just not my style./ she talks too loud, and she never shuts up,/ i'm counting the seconds 'til i've had enough.

she's a nuisance, a pest,/ always around, never giving me rest./ she'll chatter and ramble, driving me mad,/ i'm losing my patience, it's really too bad.

but oh, as she dances and sings to her favorite song, In nothing but a long shirt, dancing all night long, She's enchanting, in her rhythmic twirl, Oh, in her eyes, she's a pixie dream girl.

but oh, as she dances and sings to her favorite song,/ in nothing but a long shirt, dancing all night long,/ she's enchanting, in her rhythmic twirl,/ oh, in her eyes, she's a pixie dream girl.

but oh, as she dances and sings to her favorite song,/ in nothing but a long shirt, dancing all night long,/ she's enchanting, in her rhythmic twirl,/ oh, in her eyes, she's my pixie dream girl.

soft death (in your arms)

your touch, like fire, ignites my skin/ we’re caught in the heat, where it all begins/ velvet kisses, burning bright,/ in your arms, i come alive tonight.

electric pulses, bodies close,/ in your eyes, a passion grows,/ dangerous, but i want more,/ in your arms, i’m begging for.

soft death in your arms,/ wrapped in the thrill, feeling your charms,/ every heartbeat, wild and free,/ i surrender, let it be.

your lips, a drug, i need the taste,/ losing control, there's no time to waste,/ aching love, a sweet embrace,/ lost in rhythm, we find our pace.

electric pulses, bodies close,/ in your eyes, a passion grows,/ dangerous, but i want more,/ in your arms, i’m begging for.

soft death in your arms,/ wrapped in the thrill, feeling your charms,/ every heartbeat, wild and free,/ i surrender, let it be.

the moonlight dances on your face,/ every touch, a sweet embrace,/ in this moment, we are one,/ desire rising with the sun.

soft death in your arms,/ wrapped in the thrill, feeling your charms,/ every heartbeat, wild and free,/ i surrender, let it be.

the day before tomorrow

don't rush into the unknown,/ tomorrow's not yet shown,/ take a breath, slow it down,/ in this moment, we have found.

let go of what's to come,/ today's beat, let's hum,/ in the now, we're alive,/ let's embrace this tonight./ the day before tomorrow,/ let's dance in the glow,/ no need to rush or borrow,/ just feel the flow.

sunset paints the sky in gold,/ memories to cherish, to hold,/ stars whisper secrets of the night,/ in this dusk, let's ignite.

let go of what's to come,/ today's beat, let's hum,/ in the now, we're alive,/ let's embrace this tonight./ the day before tomorrow,/ let's dance in the glow,/ no need to rush or borrow,/ just feel the flow.

time's river runs so fast,/ but we'll make this moment last,/ no regrets, no great sorrow,/ just today, no tomorrow.

let go of what's to come,/ today's beat, let's hum,/ in the now, we're alive,/ let's embrace this tonight./ the day before tomorrow,/ let's dance in the glow,/ no need to rush or borrow,/ just feel the flow.

the sweetest night

in the quiet of the night,/ underneath the stars so bright,/ close your eyes, my precious one,/ the day is done, the night has come.

the sweetest night, my dear,/ i'll hold you close, i'm always near,/ dream of gentle winds that blow,/ as you drift where dreams do go.

moonlight paints your peaceful face,/ in the cradle of my embrace,/ whispers soft, like melodies,/ carry you to far-off seas.

the sweetest night, my dear,/ i'll hold you close, i'm always near,/ dream of gentle winds that blow,/ as you drift where dreams do go.

stars above will guide your way,/ until the dawn brings a new day,/ sleep in peace, my heart's delight,/ in this sweetest night, so calm, so bright.

the sweetest night, my dear,/ i'll hold you close, i'm always near,/ dream of gentle winds that blow,/ as you drift where dreams do go.

echoes of devotion

my love, like orpheus, i'd come,/ to tread through shadows, my body numb,/ but truth be told, in my hearts embrace,/ i fear i'd falter, lose the race.

for i'd turn back, just like him,/ my gaze would brake, our future grim,/ your fading form, in shadows deep,/ my love, too strong, my soul to keep.

like orpheus, with his lyre's song,/ i'd sing to you, all night long,/ but in that moment, with fate's cruel twist,/ i'd choose your eyes, and lose what's missed.

for i'd turn back just like him,/ the current stronger than we swim,/ i'd face the darkness, lose my way,/ for one more look, i'd gladly pay.

for you're the melody that guides my soul,/ through tempests wild and rivers cold,/ i'll brave the depths, defy the night,/ to hold your hand in morning light.

so here i stand, before your eyes,/ with trembling heart, and no disguise,/ to say, my love, in honesty,/ i'd turn for your like orpheus for eurydice.

A/N: what’s your favorite song/ line? my fav is definitely neon nights, because theo wrote it about leo :(

taglist: @7s3ven @madi-potter @shereadsandcries @getosbeloved @mischieftom @wolfstar-jpg @t00thfairy20 @chcrrysblog @aestramjackson @elina3011 @kr1nqu @hopeless-y @mitskiswift99 @fallingblackveils @ahead-fullofdreams @helendeath @schaebickel @chubbychasermattheotruther @punkprincess03 @subparslytherin @girlbooklover555 @sakanelli-afc @cobrakaisb @ellen3101 @simp-for-fantasy @the-sylver-dragon @ess-perspective @starsval

[oros-ash3s]

|I 𝗪𝗜𝗣 𝗙𝗢𝗟𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗔𝗚⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

This was requested by @theink-stainedfolk <3 Thanks for the wait and thanks for being so curious about my WIPS ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა

���(Not so cursed) Cursed Polycule” is not a WIP to a drabble or chapter of mine, but instead a doc I was working on to figure out Odesa, Ryuji, and Dior’s relationship inside Metamorphosis.

I felt it had begun to feel a little plain and neglected, so I wanted to figure out how they interact with each other and why they get along so well.

Here’s a little excerpt on their backstory:

Dior arrived at the Sector shortly after. Ryuji and Odesa were both 13 by then, the bestest of friends, and had well-adapted to their lives at the headquarters. Ryuji had been spending his time working alongside his mother, Ophelia, in the infirmary, when a particular new recruit caught his eye. 

Dior, upon arriving at the base, was terrified. Everything was so bright and new, so very unlike the constraints of the basement that they had come to know. Stuck inside the infirmary, the other doctors scared them. Although at first they were soft, with sweet as honey promises and reassurances, when their tactics did not alleviate the child’s stress, their patience very quickly grew short. Someone who was so scared of a place like the infirmary meant they had no chance surviving inside the Division, a place built upon blood and war.

But Ryuji was unlike the others inside the infirmary. Younger and with a softer, unburdened heart, due to his youth, he was slow with Dior. He did not push or prod, helping keep them both calm yet doing what was needed to improve their condition.

He quickly earned their trust, leading Dior to utter the first words they’d spoken in a long time. As the months passed on in the infirmary, the two began to become fast friends, growing immensely close despite their differences. It was a nice change, to the two lonely souls.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

“Me when they have childhood rivalry” is a part two to this WIP, and basically was a fic idea I head for Ryuji and Odesa’s backstory.

It takes place when they’re both around 9 or 10, and shows how their relationship started off kind of rocky. Personally I love it because in canon (due to Yara being the narrator most of the time), you don’t get to see Ryuji’s softer, more caring side.

Ryuji does not know what exactly compels him to do this. He shouldn’t have to. Anyone else would leave, abandon her here. This isn’t any of his business, shouldn’t ever be any of his business. Odesa Alves has made his life a living hell since the moment she stepped into his classroom so many months ago, why should he ever offer her grace and do something so vulnerable as comfort her?

But Ryuji finds himself sitting next to her anyway. Maybe a part of him knows he doesn’t really believe that, when Odesa has not truly ever hurt him, not in the ways that count.

And maybe it’s the fact that she is not so different from him after all. He knows how she is feeling right know, the humiliation and shame an emotion that has followed him around for too many years to count. He knows what it’s like, and he knows that as annoying as Odesa can be, nobody deserves this.

Odesa does not look up at him, even when he scoots into the alcove beside her. They are squished close, something Ryuji rarely allows, even with Aster. There is something different about this time though, this change in the air — the silence in his head. He doesn’t mind the feel of her clothes against his, doesn’t mind the shake of her sobs. He wonders if she feels the same.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

“Meet Ryuji” is a WIP from Metamorphosis that I actually already posted a snippet of a little while back. You can read that HERE.

It takes place when Aster and Yara first come to the Seventh Sector, and serves as Ryuji’s proper introduction. (Though he may perhaps show up beforehand….)

Here’s a new excerpt to that:

“Ryuji!”

“I said to shut the fuck—“ The boy whipped over in their direction, expression twisted up into a snarl, rage lingering beneath his features. A dark swirling eye then landed on Aster, standing with his usual wide smile, Yara cowering behind him, and his face softened. “Oh.” He mumbled, appearing to be almost sheepish. “It’s you.”

Aster laughed hard, eyes brightening. “Man, don’t try and sound too happy to see me.” He skipped over to the boy, opening his arms wide. “Where’s my hug at?”

Ryuji rolled his eyes. “Don’t you start.” He huffed, leaning over his paperwork once more.

Aster just laughed, taking no offence to his clipped, and rather harsh, tone. He clapped the taller boy on the back, laughing good-naturedly. There was a certain excitement inside his eyes, gleaming within the gold, that Yara had never seen present before. She wondered how he could’ve known this mystery boy. And why he’d never mentioned him before. “C’mon, I know you missed me.”

“You wish.” Ryuji grumbled, scribbling something down onto one of his array of papers. “Oh, don’t be like that, you old grump.” Aster flicked him absent-mindedly, turning back to Yara with a smile and waving her over.

“Yara, come on in!” He called, grinning. “We don’t bite— or at least, I don’t.” He added with a snicker, moving to lay his body weight against Ryuji, causing the boy to stumble. He shot Aster a quick glare, jabbing him in the ribs. “Quit.”

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Aster whispered in a sing-songy tone, laughing again. He turned his attention back towards Yara, still not forgetting about her despite his excitement. “Yara, this is Ryuji,” he said, mussing up the boy’s already dishevelled mop of hair. “My baby brother.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

“Run Boy Run” is a WIP from What Lies Below. It’s an idea I had for a to-be chapter two of the story, and takes place in the past, offering exposition and backstory for the events that took place in the prior chapter.

It would centre around Crow, the second primary main character of the story. It’s about his life on the run as a teen, and how he came to this live in his tiny little apartment downtown.

Here’s an excerpt of that:

December, 1987–

The boy was always good at running.

He couldn’t recall a time when he hadn’t been fast, flighty. It seemed from birth this very notion had been written into his bones, coded into his very genes. He was good at running, good at escaping. To a boy born with a target on his back, he had to be. There was no other way of survival.

Running had kept him alive up until now. Against all odds, it was the thing that had his back, through it all. In the face of betrayal and hatred, he would always depend on it. For it had protected him, sheltered him. Kept him safe.

He was not built for a life of luxuries, of relaxation. He had made his peace with that. For a split second he was almost fooled by the idea of shelter and warmth, but he understands now. The days of sleeping, of home-cooked foods and soft smiles under the sunlit mornings: Those are times he can never return to.

But shivering in the cold, hiding in a corner clouded deep in black shadows, the boy could still not stop himself from dreaming, for wishing. A different time, of youth and freedom. A time where he had somewhere to call his own.

Death would have been a more merciful fate than this.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

“Felix and Reagan save me” is a fic idea I had for my WIP Saudade. If you’ve never heard about it before don’t worry because I’ve only vague-posted about it once.

The story is about two siblings, Felix and Reagan Rodriguez. From the outside, their life is seemingly normal, despite the hardships the two young people have had to face since the passing of their parents. A dedicated older sister doing her best to raise her baby brother and get through her online classes. And a rambunctious but good-hearted teen, with an eye for photography and sports.

But as the two move yet again, and Felix starts to make friends, it becomes suddenly very apparent to the other folks in their town: Not everything is as normal as it appears on the surface.

Felix and Reagan have a secret. And it may threaten to put the lives of everyone around them in danger.

The snippet takes place near the end of the story:

Not a day has passed where Reagan hasn’t thought of Felix.

She has not seen him in years. Years that have not been kind to either him or her, nights spent searching for a boy who did not want to be saved wearing both of them down. They are not close to who they were at the start of this, before the rumours and the gossip fully caught up to them. She fears they’ll never be those naive kids again, stuck in the belief that they’ll really make it in this world that is so set against them.

Reagan wonders if they would’ve ended up right here now, if things had been different. She wonders, for a split second, where they’d be. If she was stronger. If she was an easier person to love, a better parent. A proper sister. She wonders—

Would he have stayed?

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

“Toxic yaoi” was a fic idea I had for my (more neglected) WIP Golden Veins. Without giving away too many spoilers, it’s a scene between one of the main villains, Rex, and one of the primary protagonists, Arcturus. I actually posted a snippet of it HERE for WIP Wednesday a while back.

In the scene Rex appears in Arcturus’ room, offering him a proposition for something that may well change everything Arcturus had thought his life to be.

Here’s an excerpt of that:

But the one thing, out of them all, that Arcturus didn’t think he’d ever be able to get over, even after months of them all, was the boy’s appearance. Unlike the prim and proper facade that he had grown to know the boy to be, his appearance now was the clear opposite of that.

A burst of electric blue hair, almost like a flame sitting atop his head, scarred brown skin the most ethereal shade of copper, and sharp, pointed features. Most noticeable out of them all, though, were his eyes. Silver and narrowed, eyeing Arcturus not if he was a person but instead a piece of meat, a meal for the boy to enjoy. It never failed to send a shiver down his back.

“What do you want?”

It has been weeks of this. This game the two seem to be trapped inside. This illusion they have been building, neither acknowledging it out loud. It is the first time that Arcturus has attempted to break the spell, spitting with a kind of terrified desperation the very words that the boy has been waiting to hear.

He grins, eyes flicking back towards Arcturus’ face. He has trapped him, even if the other does not know it yet. This was a game of wits, a cat and mouse chase, and to someone so blissfully ignorant, Arcturus never had a chance of winning.

“Oh, so he finally speaks.” He smiles, thin-lipped. The piercing wrapped around his bottom lip glints, sparkling underneath the violet hues of midnight. He has already won, and he knows it.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

“Icarus fell” also has to do with Arcturus! Although fairly rough due to me losing interest in it, the scene was supposed to showcase Arcturus’ downfall through the lens of his sister Evangeline.

The context for it is pretty spoilery so I won’t give too much away, just know that Arcturus is definitely an “Icarus” kind of character. Also, he originally had wings, like in the myth with Icarus.

Evangeline is stopped in her tracks.

Throughout all her years on this job, of all the horror and gore and terror she has witnessed, this is the first thing to truly scare her. Anything else she can lock in a compartment in the back of her mind, quickly pushing it to the side. Out of sight, out of mind.

But this? This is something entirely different. Something that Evangeline isn’t sure she’ll be able to stomach. Something that she is not even sure is reality, appearing before her very eyes.

Because only mere feet away, standing with a kind of reverence radiating off of him, stands her newly-deceased brother.

And he is hanging off of the arm of the very man that had ripped the two apart.

TAGLIST || @ohagiwrites @bloodinkandashes @corinneglass @icantthinkofablognameatm @vesanal @inky-anathemata @bioniclechronicles @seastarblue @gr3yhellh0und @aalinaaaaaa @shadow-of-tea-and-tea @robinshandhurts @ieppiq @sugaredparchment @lunaeuphternal @ifmasonbasonwasawriter @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @blackboxwarrior-mkultra @lancedoncrimsonwings @sharkblizzardblogs @nightmaricwriter @cepheusgalaxy @cacophonyofwords

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

5k is so deserved! I constantly go back and reread your works and am always looking forward to what’s next ❤️❤️❤️

I’ve been having thoughts about a Hesh x femreader reunion request thats similar to your latest Keegan piece. Except reader was childhood friends with the Walker boys, but despite there being feelings between Hesh and reader they’re scared of confessing because of their friendship. they get separated when Odin happens, and both join the military and reunite during a joint Op with the Ghosts and readers team, and even after 10 years their feelings resurface and finally get together.

Can’t wait to see what you’ll write for all the requests!!

—To The Boy of My Childhood

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Ten years came and went fast, but the memory of the Walker boys stayed. One more than the other. You never got to tell him you loved him.] ❞

You remembered his kindness, above all. His big, pure, heart. Hesh wasn’t just someone you grew to know and then threw out like a pair of old socks, no, he was too good for that—a mix of playful boyishness and the makes of a fine man. You wished you could have told him how much he meant to you before it all just fell apart. 

Growing up near the Walker boys was a treat and a curse, not for yourselves, but for the adults—no one got in the way of you three. Late nights in the backyard, laughter keeping everyone up into the small hours. The fights and the near-instantaneous make-ups. 

The older years of deep-rooted attraction to the green-eyed boy of your youth.

David Hesh Walker had been everything you had ever wanted, and even when the ground shook and the word split, you still couldn’t tell him how you felt. But fate had plans for the two of you—it was only a matter of time. 

Ten years, to be exact.

You jump down from the helo, your knees taking the brunt of the weight from your gear as your team follows. Fort Santa Monica was a bustling stronghold right on the door of Federation occupation—enemies stalking like animals beyond the wall for a glimpse of weakness. The men and women here were anything but.

“On me!” You call out behind you, and the resounding rush of booted feet follows as you all move out along the helicopter pad swiftly. The unit you were assigned was given a simple task—assist the commanding Captain here and his men with wall defense to reduce the amount of casualties. 

Over the ten years of war, you’d honed yourself into something akin to a walking weapon. Found deliriously surviving in the remnants of the USA, your rage and anger gave you the skills you needed to still be alive when the soldiers found you; brought you back to civilization. It hadn’t taken much for you to sign up after that, thinking Hesh and his brother were dead. 

Hesh. God, you had loved him so much that the feeling hadn’t dimmed in the slightest even now. Being so close to home once more made you feel…strange. 

“Lieutenant!” One of the soldiers comes up to greet you all, shouting above the whir of blades—he was an older man with a shaved head and a large beard. “Welcome to Santa Monica!”

“Good to be here!” You call, a rifle hanging heavy on your chest. “Where do you need us, Sir?”

“Fall in, I’m bringin’ you to Scarecrow!” So you follow, leaving the sandy beach of the port and heading into the dense streets. There were civilians in this Fort, you knew, just beyond the checkpoint of fences. You have to wonder how they felt about this—trapped in a rat cage with the water and the war clamping to them tightly. 

“Heard your unit was well-known.” You’d learned the man’s name was Thomas Merrick—a Captain here. You blink at him, head tilting. “Scarecrow was eager to get you here, can’t say why.” 

“I was told you needed support at the wall, Captain,” you explain, brows furrowing. “Were my superiors mistaken?”

Merrick's brown eyes stare at you as you walk beside him, your men all speaking to one another from behind. 

“No,” is all you’re told. 

This ‘Scarecrow’ was known as only that, and your lips thin at the comment leveled at you. Strange. 

Your other men are shown their barracks, and you send them off to get rid of their packs and belongings while you continue on with Merrick to the control room—eager to meet this Captain and get real answers. 

When you get there, the second you push open the door and Merrick takes his leave, you’re greeted by one of the old faces that you could recognize anywhere. 

You freeze just three feet into the room, locking eyes with this mythical ‘Scarecrow’ but it wasn’t some great war strategist, at least, not as you know him.

“Mr. Walker?” You pause, blinking in confusion. Elias Walker—Hesh and Logan’s dad. Your heart constricts in your chest. 

He looks at you, a small smile on his stern face as his arms crossed, nodding his head. 

“Thought I recognized that name in my request for transfers.” 

“Holy shit,” you breathe, a grin breaking out over your face for the first time in ages. Part of you wanted to race and hug him—bathe in the comfort that his rare soft looks would bring you when you were younger…but you weren’t that kid anymore. Being alive was enough, and with the things you’d seen, it meant far more than anything else. Elias seemed to share that sentiment, as he walked over and put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it. 

“How did…how are…” Your head shakes quickly, memories flooding back along with the pain. But there, in your chest, a flicker of hope—something more blooming back to life. “Logan?” Your voice is tiny, pleading as you pause, gazing into Elias’s eyes. “...Hesh?”

“I already called ‘em back in. They’ll be here soon.” He gives you a proud nod. “I’m glad you’re still here, Sweetheart.” 

You laugh, smile wobbling. 

Alive. Hesh was alive. 

Every wall you’d built falls the second boyish laughter echoes out from the halls. You turn, hearing feet move down the floor, closer and closer as your body stills like a statue. 

Alive. 

When a shoulder pushes open the door, you stop breathing as a far older David enters the room, Logan, as always, not far behind. 

He’s mature now, with a beanie over his short brown hair and the presence of a grown man holding down responsibilities—he was smirking back and his brother, saying in a voice that haunts your dreams, “Think we should tell him what Riley found today, Logan?” 

The younger brother stops short, locks eyes with you, and his body goes as tight as a fishing line. 

Hesh’s brows furrow. “Logan?” He turns to you and those green eyes go confused for a moment, lips going thin. It’s a flash of recognition that re-ignites them—a flicker of something long past before they snap wide with fierce realization.

Blinking quickly, the man watches you, hands at his sides jerking forward by a millimeter as if to grab for you at even a single glance. No one speaks for a long, long time, and maybe you don’t want them to. Hesh and you are locked in a look of pure pain and elation—a dance of life and death. 

There aren’t any words for it beyond the sudden mad scramble for the other’s hold. 

You collide in a sharp breath and a hand to the back of your head—keeping you to him as you both grasp for purchase; for a glimpse of your childhood back.

“Jesus Christ,” Hesh breathes, anchoring you to him as his chest sputters. “Oh my fucking God.”

“Hesh,” you whimper through a sobbing laugh. “You son of a bitch, I should throttle you.”

He scoffs wetly into your ear, hands quivering and voice cracking. 

“Me? If I remember, Doll, you were the one to take that tumble down the hill—I…I tried to find you, y’know that? I swear, I didn’t want to leave but I—”

You pull back and slam your lips to his. 

It was far better than an ‘I love you’ when he melted and grappled you closer.

[oscquinn]

introducing...

⤷ ellie hughes!

-> Eleanor Charlotte Hughes and Luke Warren Hughes were born on September 9th, 2003. Growing up, her older brothers always reminded Ellie she was the baby, despite being only twenty minutes behind Luke.

-> Quinn and Jack had very different answers when asked what they wanted their baby sibling to be. Four year old Quinn smiled at the home video camera and stated, “I wanna baby sister!” Oppositely, when Jack was asked the same question, clothed in all blue, shouted “I wanna ‘nother brother! girls have cooties.” The minute the twins were born, though, Jack came around to the idea of a baby sister.

-> Ellen was over the moon to have a girl, giving Ellie a variant of her own name. “Eleanor” was a handful for Jack to say, so instead the twins were known as “Lukey & Lellie” to their middle brother. Quinn, determined to say his sister’s name like a “big kid” would call her Nora, when Eleanor felt like a mouthful.

-> From the time the twins could walk, Quinn and Jack begged their parents to put them on the frozen pond in their backyard. Both loved skating as soon as they tried it as well, natural skaters like the rest of the family.

-> As a toddler into early elementary Ellie followed Quinn around like a duckling, copying almost everything he did when she wasn’t running around with Luke or Jack. She even tried to play defense like him, but her smaller stature and quick speed made her a better forward.

-> Ellie and her mother enjoy gardening together, an interest she developed after an elementary project where her class grew small bean plants. No matter where they move, Ellen makes sure there’s enough space for a garden in the yard.

-> When Ellie was one of the few girls at a youth hockey camp, some of the boys decided to pick on her. What they didn’t know was that her brothers wouldn’t tolerate any of that. Jack put himself between her and the boys who had tried to shove her into the boards, while Luke went off to tell a counselor as fast as he could skate.

-> Ellie was empathetic from a young age, Quinn often teases her with a story from their childhood about her sensitivity. When she was five and Jack was seven, the older boy had just come off the ice, sniffling and wiping his cheeks after a loss. Ellie cried along with him, exclaiming “I don’ like when Jacky cries! Makes me sad.”

-> Ellie fell in love with playing hockey at eleven years old, when she played for her school’s co-ed club hockey team. She often skated alongside Luke, trading off to Jack when the two played together. Her skill outshone that of her teammates at that age, and she went on to captain the team her third and final season.

-> Quinn remembers the season too, at fifteen he was playing with the high school team, and helping organize the younger kids. Watching his younger siblings skate, he always felt a deep sense of pride, the first on the bench to congratulate them on their wins or console them for their losses.

-> With their even, two year gaps, by the time Ellie hit high school she was playing on her own team. While she missed playing with her brothers, it wasn’t all that bad. She was often able to watch her brothers’ games from the sideline, cheering them on before the girls’ team played. 

-> Ellie led her women’s high school team to two state championships, serving as team captain for her final two seasons. While some junior leagues were interested in her, Ellie chose to remain in school and play there, unsure if she should pursue a career in the sport. 

-> Spending most of her time with her brothers made Ellie close with a good number of their friends. She enjoyed summer boat rides, traveling to see the boys play, and going out for dinner afterward. 

-> Outside of hockey, Ellie enjoys painting, journaling, and scrapbooking. Her drawers are filled with crafting supplies, paper, and scissors, and her brothers tease her for it. However, when she gifts them each a handmade sibling scrapbook for Christmas, there are no taunts to be heard.

-> Ellie has always been tough, learning from her brothers’ example to stick up for herself and stand her ground. By the time she graduates high school, Ellie knows she either wants to play professionally or work in team management. She works hard towards both goals, landing herself on the Dean’s List, and receiving generous athletic scholarships.

-> Ellie is known to her parents, teammates, siblings, and friends, as the girl who wakes up every room with her presence. She has a blunt but bubbly nature, keeping up with anyone’s bits or banter. She keeps a positive outlook as often as possible, claiming there’s no use in seeing the worst, it’ll only upset you.

-> While Luke followed in his brothers’ footsteps and committed to play for the University of Michigan, Ellie wanted to go somewhere warmer. Going out on a limb, she commits to UCLA.

-> Moving to California for school leaves Ellie the furthest from her parents and brothers she had ever been, but there were some people in the area that she knew. Jack’s friends Alex and Trevor lived and played in the area, and Trev’s roommate Jamie who she’d met once or twice before. Two girls on the UCLA team came from Michigan high schools, and they’d played against each other for years.

© gallaghersgal, 2025.

[theatrekidenergy]

UNIVERSITY ORCHESTRA AU QUESTIONS ‼️

1. do you have backstories for how everyone learned to play their instruments? why it matters to them that they play / go to university for it / etc?

2. why did you pick the instruments for them? (lowkey i already know some of this cause we chatted in dms but i wanna know more…)

3. what are interpersonal relationships like? are they close to canon, or have you shaken it up a bit?? how will the relationships develop over the course of the au

4. do you have favorite arrangements / pieces for any of them yet? or have you picked out any songs for them to play in the parts of the au?

4a. if you have a playlist….. i am a fiend for playlists

5. are they all in music school or do they have other majors?

6. is this set in the modern day or is it like. back in the past when they’d like canon age progression wise be in uni… this is kind of a silly question but i am curious

7. got any plot points happening ?? or is it just like brain worms of them playing cause like. that is how most of my aus are hehe so im curious!!!

8. gimme a scene if you have one. a cool fun scene you’ve thought out that you wanna share with the class

i really hope this isn’t too much like don’t feel pressured to answer everything or any of it or whatever !!!! i’m just really interested in this au :D <3

THIS MADE MY DAY HDJSJSJSJSKSKAJKS IM GENUINELY SHAKING THE STIMMING IS INSANE IM SO HAPPY

YES AND THIS IS ABOUT TO GET DEEP.

Vincent: Growing up Vincent had a difficult time making friends, he had always been scrawnier and more mature than the other kids which made it difficult to get along with his peers. He always enjoyed music, and his parents, worried sick seeing that although he was content without children hus age to play with he didn’t have anyone to do so with if he did want to, decided to enroll him in the city’s youth orchestra. He said the squeek of the violins snd violas hurt his ears, the bass was wayyyyy to big, and the cello was just perfect. He fell in love with the sound instantly, and started playing when he was 7, the practice rooms of the creative center became his refuge growing up. 

Aldo Bellini: He learned to play violin from his dad!!! His dad was an Italian immigrant, and his grandparents on his mom’s side immigrated à generation prior. His dad had made violins as a part of a family business when he was younger, but fell in love with the music instead. So, naturally when he had a son of his own—Aldo—he not only taught him to be good with wood, but also learn to appreciate and practice the art he desperately wanted to. 

Goffredo Tedesco: He played viola for the first time when he picked up on a one-time music class in 4th grade, and although he could hardly hold a bow his teacher saw how much he absolutely adored it. After that day he started renting a viola on his own dime, teaching Tedesco in the mornings before school and the evenings after. He grew up in a poor with a less than loving family (the word “dysfunctional” hardly scratches the surface) and similarly to Vincent, music became his safety. 

Thomas Lawrence: Thomas started to play the piano, following in his older sister Clara’s footsteps who was a classically trained pianist. He always used to climb on the stair balusters, listening to her music until she eventually noticed and insisted she teach a little 6 year old Thomas to learn. 

Joseph Tremblay: He started playing double bass in 6th grade, primarily since he lied about playing it, realized people would eventually found out, and pressured himself to learn it so he wouldn’t be caught. Turns out he ended up really enjoying it!!!!

2. why did you pick the instruments for them? (lowkey i already know some of this cause we chatted in dms but i wanna know more…)

Vincent: The cello is the closest to the human voice! It has a beautiful sound. It’s versatile, both capable of being soft, sweet and melodic, as well as stern, specific, and fast. Also I’m a cellist and he’s my comfort character and also me irl so likeeeee, all of the above still apply I just had to. 

Aldo: FIRST VIOLIN VIBES. He’s sarcastic, witty, hard headed, and deeply passionate. He’s perfect for it.

Tedesco: This is a determined mother fucker. He’s competitive, puts his everything inro it, and because of how he grew up he in a way views viola as the one thing he’s good at. It became his purpose, it became his safety and he takes it seriously because it’s a part of him. He’s competitive, aggressive and arrogant, but internally the pressure he puts on himself to be perfect is enough to make him crack some days. 

Also he takes viola jokes farrrrrr too personally. 

Tremblay: I’m going to be so honest I don’t even know. Someone who’s a Tremblay fan please come up with a cool idea I will use it in a heart beat. 

3. what are interpersonal relationships like? are they close to canon, or have you shaken it up a bit?? how will the relationships develop over the course of the au

Bellini and Tedesco met in a very specific and very much a tragic setting that you’ll get to see when I post the fic. ;) They have a complicated relationship to say the least.

Vincent and Agnes are stand partners!!!! They have a very much a high-school-best-friends-going-to-the-same-university type of vibe. 

Bellini and Vincent are actual best friends. Practically like brothers, they’re always togehther.

Thomas and Vincent practice together sometimes, and Thomas admires Vincent for his craft but feels intimidated by him as a person (primarily since he believe’s he’ll only harm him regardless of the fact he’d never want to.) so he keeps his emotuonal distance despite Vincent repeatedly treating him like an old friend.

4. do you have favorite arrangements / pieces for any of them yet? or have you picked out any songs for them to play in the parts of the au?

YEAYESYESYESYES I DO. THE CONCERT WILL BE A PREFORMANCE OF TCHAIKOVSKY’S SYMPHONY NO.6 (MY ABSOLUTEL FAVORITEEEEE) 

You can listen to it here on YouTube!!! 

4a. if you have a playlist….. i am a fiend for playlists

OH BOY YOU FUCKIN BET. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ZhTCXFzcQZrf2zo7C756u?si=2xhXH32lTtWEpvSoroGg6w&pi=X_8-o2N2SqmbG&pt=5c5f0d664c9ee1ab0a8e4254cfceab80

5. are they all in music school or do they have other majors?

They each have their own majors and minors, they’re also just part of the orchestra!!

Vincent: Chemistry and philosophy double major (has some elective psych classes that he adores) 

Aldo: Political science major, minoring in psychology. (planning for pre-law. Not how things turned out, obviously) 

Goffredo: Political science major, minoring in Latin. 

I’D LIKE TO ADD THAT BELLINI AND TEDESCO ARE POLITICAL SCIENCE MAJORS IN VERYYYYY DIFFERENT WAYS. Bellini is a liberal New Yorker who loves debate and critical analysis of the world’s political climate. Tedesco is a conservative Italian whose beliefs are as deeply ingrained into him as his DNA is, desperately trying to escape his home life. Both of them are planning for pre-law. Both of them, obviously, do not go down this path. Both of them still find each other again, just as they did across the concert hall. Across the globe, in a church recognizable to the world by a mere outline, their past and futures remain intertwined. 

Thomas: History major. 

Agnes: This is a physics major. Tell me I’m wrong. 

Joesph: Architecture major. 

6. is this set in the modern day or is it like. back in the past when they’d like canon age progression wise be in uni… this is kind of a silly question but i am curious

Not a silly question at all!!! I’m so glad you asked. I set it in present times, but with minor tweaks to the story it could be set in the canon timeline of when they would’ve been in university. So like, think 2024-25 ish. 

7. got any plot points happening ?? or is it just like brain worms of them playing cause like. that is how most of my aus are hehe so im curious!!!  

YES. A LOT OF PLOT. ITS INSANE. 

The emotional distress I’m putting these men under is crazy. 🫶

I don’t want to spoil it but we get to see the concert prep, Tedesco’s addiction problems (and Aldo’s link to them you’ll learn soon!), a flashback, and then some extra stuff youll just have to wait and see. 

8. gimme a scene if you have one. a cool fun scene you’ve thought out that you wanna share with the class

I just think this is a kinda cool little excerpt without any real spoilers!!: 

“The room ordered itself quickly, thrashes of each bow producing a sound smooth yet bold like an ocean tide. Tones danced with each other, notes lifting off the page with intense focus and a skilled hand. Each section began with their tip of the bow brushing the highest string, sliding through the measures in practiced routine.”

HOLY SHIT THIS HAS BEEN A SUPERRRRRR LONG POST- I HOPE I ANSWERED YOUR QUESTIONS SUFFICIENTLY 😭🙏 THIS BROUGHT ME SO MUCH JOY BECAUSE 1. FANTASTIC QUESTIONS???? AND 2. ACTUALLY REALLY HELPED ME FLESH OUT MY FIC!!!

ANYWAYS TYSM FOR ASKING AND TYSM DOE READING THIS!! ^^

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

I’d love to request a fic with a female reader and a angsty/comfort storyline with the Bad Batch.

For a broad storyline I was thinking something by along the lines of a female reader joining the Bad Batch (per Hunter’s idea) and Crosshair and/or Echo not being very happy about it. However they eventually they come around to having another girl in the group.❤️

Winning Approval

Clone Force 99 x Platonic!Reader

Summary- You felt as if you were living a purpose-less life, so when Hunter asks you to join his crew, you say yes! Not everyone on the force is as happy though... Takes place during and after Season 1, Ep. 2.

A/N- Thank you so much for requesting! I appreciate it so much, but I think I'm done writing platonic xD. This was sooo hard for me to write. I love the challenge, but i'm not sure how great my platonic writing skills are!

Word Count- 1,454

Growing up, helping people seemed natural. You remember discovering this when your old friend Kaiya fell and scratched her knee. It was second nature to dress her wound and comfort her. You were nine at the time.

Your mother enrolled you in medical classes as much as she could, you learned how to set bones, stitch holes, and treat infections. Amongst many other skills.

The city you lived in was soon taken over by the empire, but you found a way out before it was too late. That's where you found yourself- living with Suu and her husband Cut. The two had taken you in when they found out your home had been destroyed.

It didn't hurt when you found out you and Suu's parents knew each other in their youth.

When you had stumbled onto Hunter- he and his crew had set off a trap you had set in the fields. Your gun raised at him was lowered by Cut, claiming he knew them.

Things blurred together since then, everything moved so fast. Having to relocate away from the empire again was not something you fashioned. You were tired of running, and expressed your concerns.

Hunter initially suggested dropping you off at the planet of your choice, (a repayment for taking care of one of Omegas wounds).

Crash landing on a moon wasn't on anyone's roster, but it happened nonetheless. It did, however, give yourself an opportunity to prove yourself to them.

You helped Tech repair a part of the hyper-drive, earning his favor.

You shared your rations with Wrecker, earning his approval.

You played and entertained with Omega, earning her and Hunters trust.

Last was Echo. You wanted him to like you, as you enjoyed everyone's company. They were so kind to you, and didn't pay any mind to flaws. They knew themselves that they were defective- what was one more defect?

Maybe you were in over your head, would they really accept you as a member of their squad? They just met you a week ago. For all they knew you were an Empire spy... You couldn't deny that you wanted to stay though. You felt like you belonged- finally.

When Echo still avoided you like the plague and the ship was ready to fly again, you felt like you had run out of time. You sulked around the ship for awhile, waiting for Hunter to ask where you wanted to be dropped off.

That was until you noticed- he hadn't asked you. It had been hours and he had said nothing about you leaving.

This made you crack, anxiety like ice through your veins.

"Hunter, I mean this in the least selfish way possible. But, why haven't you asked where I wanted to go yet? What planet?" You thought you messed up when his face fell. He looked dissapointed?

"Well, we were hoping you would want to stay. We were going to formally ask, but Wrecker and Omega are still making the poster." He rubbed the pack of his neck and chuckled a little bit. "Would you like to join us? If not, that's completely understandable. Just name the planet and we will be headed there." He stated, making sure you knew you had options.

"R-really? You guys want me to join you?" You wanted to smack your head at how cliche you sounded. Though, you didn't have time to think on it, as Hunter started talking again.

"We don't have an official medic. While Tech possesses all the knowledge needed, he doesn't have a, uh how do I put it? A steady hand when it comes to medical means." He reasoned.

"You are more than capable as we've seen, and between Wrecker and Omega we need a medic- bad." You smiled at this. You felt a purpose. Someone needed you! You would be able to help your squad and civilians you came across on any journey.

Before you could respond, Omega and Wrecker barreled through the mid-section of the ship. Omega held a small banner in her hand, and Wrecker a large sheet of paper. It was full of colorful pictures, drawn by the two.

Your heart warmed at the effort they put in, all to make you feel welcomed.

"How could I say no? You guys have been so perfect to me, and I want to help you guys as much as I can." You smiled up at Hunter, he patted you on the shoulder. His way of officially letting you on the squad.

After that day, things started to move more smoothly. Yeah, you had some bad run-ins, almost got captured a few times, and had many near-death experiences. But, you were with your family through it all. The only problem was Echo.

Maybe 'problem' wasn't too nice of a word. Echo never did anything wrong. He just, never seemed to like your company. You guessed he didn't have to like you, not everyone would. Because of this, you pushed back your guilty feelings surrounding him. That was until you over-heard a conversation between him and Hunter.

"Something feels off about her." Echo told Hunter. You couldn't see either of them, and didn't want to expose your position by moving.

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"I can't place it. I don't understand how everyone can just accept her, no questions asked." Echo sounded confused.

"She's shown us many times that she can handle herself. Plus, Omega needs another female on the ship.'' Hunter defended you, but still wanted to hear Echos concerns.

"She's not a clone. She doesn't think like us!" Ah, so that's why he's been so put-off by you. It was because you weren't a clone. You assumed he was so used to clones, that of course you were an odd piece in their clone family.

You slowly moved back to your sleeping cot. You sunk down slowly. It wasn't your fault, really. You can't control where or how you were born. Thoughts surrounded you. Was it that obvious? Were you that different from them?

As much as you wanted to pack your bags and not burden anyone else, you decided to talk to Echo first.

After landing on a planet to resupply, you asked to speak to Echo alone.

"Uh, sure." He replied, skeptical. You both exited the ship, though keeping close.

"Echo, I didn't really know how to bring this up. I figured I should just get straight to the point?" You asked, not wanting to waste his time.

He nodded, looking straight to you.

"I overheard you and Hunter talking last rotation..." You nervously picked at a nail. He still stared, not wavering.

"I can't help that i'm not a clone. I'm not sorry either, but I do want to know what I can do. To gain your trust." You dropped your hand, eager for his response.

He licked his lips, thinking. "I'm sorry you heard that..."

"Echo, I don't care. I just- I want to be a part of this family..." You mustered out. Now or never!

This surprised him, "What are you talking about. You already are!"

He seemed, mad? Was he really that disgusted by 'normal' humans?

"I can't help that i'm not a clone!" You regrettably yelled, throwing you arms up.

"That doesn't matter, everyone accepts you anyways!" His words were strained, like he didn't want anyone to know.

"Why don't you?" You whispered.

He sighed and took a step back. "When I first joined force 99, it wasn't as easy."

You couldn't imagine what he was referring to. You knew he was a regular clone before joining Hunter, but what did that have to do with anything?

After seeing your confused look, he continued. "I wasn't born a defective clone, I became one. It took a lot of time to understand how to use this. But you fit in so easily." He gestured to his mechanical arm.

"I had no idea you felt that way... I wasn't trying to mean anything-" He cut you off.

"I know, and really, we do need a medic. I was just being resentful, I'm sorry."

"I'm not trying to take anyone's place. The team wouldn't be the same without you. Besides, Omega adores you, and I think Hunter will do whatever it takes to keep her happy." You laughed, he luckily gave out a chuckle as well.

"Thanks. I think It'll just take some time to get used to the difference." He said, honestly.

"I get that, just let me know if there's anything I can do... Ya know, to speed things up?" You smiled up at him. It was then that you knew everything would be fine. That you really had found your family, and nothing could take you from them.

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I am sorry if this isn't what you had in mind! Feel free to send in another request if you would like a more specific plot! Again, sorry that my platonic writing skills aren't that sharp! Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

[blarefordaglare]

Fan Joy July day 9

This one’s by @theegh0st

Link: https://www.tumblr.com/theegh0st/754145854541250560/shenanigans?source=share

OH MY GOODNESS those two would most def play cards together! I also love how you emphasize Wind slapping down his card, it’s a beautiful detail that really adds character! Overall the way that the characters poses are fluid is really pleasing to see, and gives personality! I hope you enjoy this fic! 

Also this game reminds me of the game “War” I would play when I was younger (split deck in half, whoever gets all cards wins, there’s more rules on google or smth) so that’s what they’re playing! Also they both cheat, except wind has mischievous cheating legend is more of a card counter type cheating, but obviously you can’t count cards in this game but statistics wise- 

___

“Please Legend!” The youthful, whiney tone of the sailor echoed softly against the damp leaves and the dark, grand, trees, “It’s more fun when you play! I promise I’ll go easy on you!” Wind tugged on the seasoned hero’s calloused hand, yet his feet remained put on the muddy ground. 

Legend inhaled sharply, trying desperately to keep his patience, which was quickly evaporating into the atmosphere, “That’s what I’m worried about,” he fidgeted with the hem of his tunic, the thread coming out and a light rip slowly growing into a hole-he would have to sew that later, “your ‘easy’ is just a glorified cheating.” 

Wind continued to pull, not letting go easily, “Fine! One game-please! It will be fair I promise!” He was borderline desperate at this point, anything to tame the storm of boredom within his mind, “Please! You can’t cheat at war! I promise I won’t switch the cards-you can shuffle!” 

At that point Legend wanted to run, he wanted to yank his arm away and sprint away from that boy as fast as possible, but he was already too far deep, and he could show off his shuffling skills, “…Fine. Ace is high, and no looking at your own cards either. We shuffle after one of us finishes our deck.” 

“Sounds good!” 

Legend split the deck evenly, making sure to include two aces on each side-sure that wasn’t mandatory, but it made things easier for him to keep track of the sailor. He knew he would cheat, after all he did cheat many times before (Legend would never admit it, but he does miss his full wallet.). After successfully splitting the remaining 48 cards, along with shuffling the two decks, the game was ready to commence.

The first round started off smoothly, as the adventurer expected. However, as the game continued, he couldn’t help but notice the grin on Wind’s smile becoming wider and wider, and his pile growing closer and closer to a full deck. 

It was only until Legend and Wind both drew aces at the same time. Currently, Legend knew he had three aces in his deck from previous winnings. He also knew that the three were on the top, so he would be guaranteed a win. It was cheating, he wasn’t supposed to look at his cards, but you can’t trust the adventurer when a game he doesn’t even enjoy gets too intense. Yet, as the two yelled ‘duel’ and slapped down their cards, he was left with the sailor somehow having a second ace. There were only supposed to be four aces in the entire deck, but with Wind having another one, it added up to five.

“Sailor?” Legend’s voice was stern yet inquisitive as he spoke.

“Yes?” 

He tried to keep a straight face, but he couldn’t help but burst out in laughter, “You’re-“ he took a moment to collect himself, “You’re cheating.” 

Wind gasped in mock surprise, “Am not!” The wavering in his voice exposed the feigned innocence, “I promised I wouldn’t!” 

Legend took the two aces from the sailor, then exposing his own three, “The numbers don’t lie, Wind.” With a look of pure mischief, he grabbed a large handful of dirt from the ground, “And you know what happens to cheaters?” 

“No!” Wind shrieked, trying to scramble away as the dark earth was rubbed into his pale blonde hair, “Stop! No! Help! My hair is being murdered!” 

“Then maybe next time don’t cheat.” the adventurer got up, admiring his revenge, “Now excuse me, but I have a tunic to mend.”