#anyway I need someone to talk about classical music with thanks

[afilmbykirkk]

The piece can you hear the music from Oppenheimer is so fucking insane. Like what the actual fuck

Like the end is allegro times fucking 500. It’s moving at the speed of gods fuckery.

Props to the orchestra seriously

[teenytinyjimin]

baroque (j. jungkook)

summary: masquerade balls are all fun and games until you meet that one person that you feel like you’ve known for a lifetime, but regardless as to who he is, you can’t just let him go.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.4k

tags: masquerade, mystery, academia/renaissance/baroque (i know these are all different but its a little combination), ballroom dancing, reader is absolutely in love with this mystery man she’s dancing with, and he’s kinda in love with her too, spoiler: they know each other, kissing of course!

warnings: none

author’s note: IM BACK! IM SO SORRY BUT IM BACK! anyways i hope u guys enjoy! my last kook fic got a lot of traction so thank u so much <3 so i hope this is up to par with that one :)

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

As you stood at the steps to the entrance of one of the largest ballrooms in town, you took a deep sigh. This wasn't a sigh of distress, however, it was more of a sigh of anticipation.

Balls weren't necessarily a thing of the 21st century. Had it been, say, four-hundred or five-hundred years prior, a ball would be the talk of the town and absolutely everyone would be flooding into the ballroom to have the time of their lives dancing with one another. Alas, it was 2024, and the only people you'd see attending a ball nowadays would be people who are actively interested in Renaissance and Baroque culture and seek rare events pertaining to such.

There was something about these classical time periods that felt ageless and beautiful to you. The big gowns, glimmering jewels, and elaborate ballroom designs were absolutely gorgeous. So of course you were going to indulge in as much classical beauty as possible in modern times. And that meant going to balls whenever you could (or, in other words, whenever you were able to hear about them through the grapevine).

So here you were, in your elaborate Renaissance dress, staring at the entrance ahead of you. This particular ball was a masquerade ball, so it was even more exciting considering the fact that most everyone would be anonymously dancing behind beautifully decorated masks. You looked down at your own mask in hand, a beautiful and ornate piece strewn with jewels, glitter, and feathers. You had spent the last week perfecting the mask and had gone through nearly a dozen prototypes before you created what you thought was the best piece of work you had ever done in your twenty-something years of living. It was beautiful, and it would do a perfect job of hiding exactly what needed to be hidden to make this masquerade a true mystery for you.

Fastening the mask over your head and onto your face, you began to ascend the steps and enter the ballroom. As anticipated, the venue was covered in beautiful Renaissance artwork and ornate chandeliers. The marble pillars holding the place together really brought everything to life as they echoed the Roman influence that they possessed into the large room. Ahead of you was a sea of elaborate gowns and tuxedos, all spinning around in harmony as they danced with one another to the beautiful orchestral music that played.

"A glass of champagne, miss?" A voice called out from next to you. You looked over to see a masked waiter with a tray of champagne flutes in his hand. You gave him a polite nod and curtsy as you took a glass from him. Champagne wasn't necessarily your drink of choice, however you needed something to keep you company while you waited for a good opportunity to join the dancing or, alternatively, until you were asked to dance.

As you approached the floor of the ball, navigating through the sea of dancing people, you attempted to find someone you may have recognized. Sure, masquerades made it rather difficult to identify a person and thus it was quite hard to know if you knew anyone anyway, but it was worth a shot for the sake of socializing. For the most part, everyone seemed pretty invested in their partners, committing to the elaborate ballroom dance that was taking place to the sound of a piano and violin.

Within a matter of moments, you suddenly found yourself on the ground as you had accidentally run directly into another individual. You looked up to see a gloved hand reach down to you, begging for your touch so that it could help you to your feet once again. As you obliged, you realized the body to which the hand was connected was much stronger than you had anticipated as you practically flew back to your feet. A little lightheaded from the rush of movement, you swayed for a moment and tried to find your footing, but the hand that previously helped you was now firmly on your waist as a form of support.

You brushed off your dress once you found yourself more stable, a bright red blush creeping to your cheeks. "I'm so sorry-" You began before looking up to the person in front of you. Something about his presence left you fascinated – He was tall with wide shoulders and toned arms, something you could immediately notice through his tight-fitting shirt. Despite being fit to his body, his shirt was beautiful and contained all sorts of frills and jewels. Only one of his hands were gloved, as the other one was covered in bracelets and rings of a particularly ornate design. He had the most beautiful chain necklaces wrapped around his neck which perfectly suited his beautiful jawline, which was both sharp and soft at the same time. His lips, a perfect amount of plump, were curled into a soft smile which made him a lot less intimidating than he seemed. When you finally saw his eyes, you were met with the most beautiful black orbs that were wide with wonder and amazement. You could've sworn that you've seen those eyes somewhere, as they reminded you of all the comfort you had ever felt in your life, but you couldn't quite put them to a face you recognized. Though this man's face was hidden behind a beautiful mask, you could tell that he was breathtaking in every sense of the word.

"Are you okay?" He asked, maintaining eye contact with you. There was no way you were going to escape his gaze, not because he wouldn't let you but also because you didn't want to. You nodded softly as you continued awkwardly brushing off your dress, unsure of how to speak to the man in front of you. The soft smile that was once on his face now grew to a more toothy grin as he took your hand in his and gently pressed your knuckles to his lips. "If you'd like to make it up to me, I'd love to dance with you."

How were you meant to say no to him? Besides the fact that he had quite literally left you speechless, everything about him was absolutely gorgeous and you'd never turn down an offer to dance with someone like him. As you once again responded with a nod, you felt as he used the hand he had wrapped around your waist to guide you further into the crowd of people and to a more open area where you could properly dance. Once there, he pulled you slightly closer to him as he took your hand in his free one. You naturally placed your other hand upon his bicep, which was tense under your touch, and he began to guide you into a waltz-style dance. It felt as if this came naturally to him as you effortlessly swayed around. You continued to stare into his beautiful doe eyes which shimmered with fantasy as they quite literally pierced into your soul. Whoever this man was, he was perfect in every sense of the word. He was just so perfect.

"You look absolutely stunning, by the way. I'm not sure if I mentioned that," He said after a moment, causing you to blush and look away. "I could say the same about you," You responded quietly, letting yourself feel the air around you blow through your hair. "Thank you for helping me up, by the way. This dress is difficult to maneuver in when you're on the ground."

"It's my pleasure. After all, we bumped into each other. I had an obligation. I wasn't going to let a beautiful girl fend for herself on the ground as a bunch of people danced all over her." You looked back over to him and let out a soft giggle, watching as a grin rose to his face. Something about him was just so warm and inviting, yet you couldn't put your finger on what it was. Perhaps you two knew each other in a past life, one in which you were actually attending balls together in the Renaissance.

"I bet you call a lot of girls at these sorts of things beautiful. I mean, look at you." You say in a teasing tone, watching as his grin dropped to a smirk. "Bold of you to assume that I go to these dances very often, miss." He lets out a soft sigh as he continues to effortlessly sway you around, refusing to stop staring at you. "But even if I did, you're the most breathtaking of them all. Honest."

You remove your hand from his as you bring both hands to rest on the back of his neck, attempting to push yourself closer to him so you can talk a little quieter. "You seem like a pro, do you really not go to balls very often?" He shrugs under your touch as he wraps both arms around your waist, holding you tightly. "Not really. This is my first time coming to this place at least. I'm more of a contemporary dancer."

"Ah, I see," You say softly, letting one of your hands feel at the hair on the back of his neck. He lets out a hitched breath at your touch but continues to sway the two of you back and forth. "It's a beautiful venue, though. It feels like we're in the 1700s and not the 2000s." He comments, looking up briefly at the chandelier above the two of you. You couldn't help but agree. Sometimes when you go to events like these you forget about the chaos of life and pretend that you're still in the Renaissance, which is beautiful in and of itself.

"Have you been on the balcony yet? It has a beautiful view of the city if you want to go take a look," You propose, looking back down at the man in your arms. You watch as his eyes soften and a small smile grows on his lips, pulling away so he can offer you his hand. "You lead the way," He says as you take your hand in his and gently pull him away from the crowd.

As soon as you reached the fresh air of the empty balcony, the two of you stood in silence as you admired the shimmering lights of the city in front of you. "Wow..." He muttered, clearly surprised at the sight in front of him. "You can see pretty much everything from here. How is that possible?" You approach the railing of the balcony and lean against it, taking a moment to look around. "The ballroom is on a hill, even though it doesn't really feel like it. It's actually above the rest of the town so the balcony is able to look down on everything around us."

"I hate to say it, but it seems like I might have found something more beautiful than you." Letting out a small gasp, you turn around to face the man behind you, noticing a huge grin on his face. You smile in return. "I guess I don't blame you. A good view beats a pretty face any day."

"Mmm." He hums, approaching you slowly. He secures his hands on your waist as he picks you up with ease and places you on the railing, keeping contact with you at all times to ensure that you don't fall. Once you are steady on the railing he wraps both arms around you and presses himself tightly to you for extra support, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to stay safe. "I'm only joking anyway. I don't think it's possible to be more beautiful than you."

"Well, I think you're living proof of that, because you're definitely more beautiful than me," You mumble as the distance between your faces becomes much shorter than it once was. He lets out a breathy laugh as he removes one of his arms from your waist and attaches his hand to your face, stroking it gently before closing the gap completely and bringing you in for a kiss.

Kissing someone under the stars is one thing, but kissing someone mysteriously under the stars is another thing. You have no idea who this man is, you don't even know his name, yet here you are, lips connected to his. This is perhaps the best kiss you have ever experienced, as he is so soft yet so passionate with his movements. He never once lets go of you with his other hand, keeping you secure on the railing so that you don't accidentally slip. The one on your face is so soft and gentle, holding onto your face in the most perfect way. It is only now that you are able to really breathe in his scent, an obviously expensive cologne that you would kill to drown in at this point. He was consuming every part of you and you wanted him and only him.

The two of you pulled away briefly so that he could stare into your eyes for a moment. "You really are breathtaking," He mumbled, fiddling with the bottom edge of your mask. As he began to slowly pull it off of your face, you watched as his expression went from lovestruck to shocked. It looked as if seeing your face without the mask scared him. He didn't like how you looked.

"I'm sorry-" You begin to say, tears welling up in your eyes. However he stops you as he takes his own mask off, revealing a face that you could never forget. Jeon Jungkook. Your childhood best friend. The boy you had a crush on for years several years ago. He wasn't disgusted by how you looked. He was shocked that it was you.

"Jungkook?" You said breathlessly, unable to say anything beyond his name. He only stared at you in response, unsure of what his own next move would be. This wasn't something you had ever expected. Not the whole 'kissing your childhood best friend' part, but the fact that somehow in an event of anonymity, you would find your way to each other. And now that you have shared this night together, it's almost as if all the feelings you ever felt for him over the years have flooded back to you as you once again felt head-over-heels for him.

Finally, you watched as a toothy smile returned to his face. He placed his hand once again on your cheek and brushed it as you watched him admire your features. "Thank god it's you. I've been waiting for this moment for years," He mumbled before pulling you in again for another kiss.

[icarusredwings]

Spoilers?

Thinking about the fact that the Master "adopted" all those kids with Lucy and seemed genuinely (at least a little bit) upset when they got taken out of time. It makes me wonder...

Did the Doctor know how much this would hurt him? The amount of grief and "what once was but never could be" feeling he wanted to share with someone?

Putting aside the fact that he used both the Toclafane and Lucy, do we think he was ever actually fond of them? Maybe im just delusional, but I think so. I know his entire thing is manipulation and that Lucy was a prop to get votes, but the way he pulls out the chairs,

leans against her,

calls her his faithful companion/ darling/sweetheart,

how she dances when the music comes on,

how proud he is to show her their millions of children, how even the doctor says she was loyal to him.

M: How many do you think?

L: I.. i don't know

M: Six-Billion *turns off music* Down, you go, kids!

He also calls them "His children" in the Last of the Time Lords.

It seems almost... domestic? In about as much domestic as this Master can get sort of way.

Im not at all surprised, but it makes me almost sad to know that he hits her. The first time I watched it, I was like, "...oh.." Because yes, it makes sense, heavily, and I know the point is to make the viewer feel yucky about the Master but like...

It kinda just makes you pitty them. You know? Because you see what they could have had, and you're like, "What happened?" Especially because they were together for 2 years. That's nothing to the Master but that's still longer than I would think, especially since he doesn't need her anymore but keeps her anyway as another trophy. The whole power trip thing is so odd to me. And telling another girl hes going to take her to the stars infront of her?

Lucy gave him what he deserved.

Imagine your husband abusing you for an entire year infront of his weird old ex friend and said friend gets treated like a dog/ trophy, so you shoot your husband and watch said trophy run over to him and cradle him in his arms....

like im so sorry, girl. You deserved so much more. Jack is literally looking up because he just can't with this bullshit..

TLDR:

"The Master, the villan, treated Lucy like shit. Shocker.. It's almost as if bad people do bad things Forest-"

Yeah, yeah, I know! I know! It just feels gross, okay? Because I know its suppose to feel uncomfortable but i just can't explain it. It feels how Girl in the Fireplace felt. Weird and kind of out of character. Especially since what I've seen of classic master, he's kind of a classy gentleman... But this IS simm were talking about... that little rabid trash goblin... aka a whole different species of Master.

Thanks for coming to my delusional tedtalk.

[medusas-musings]

YOUR BRIAN QUINN X READER ONESHOT WAS SO GOOD, HELLO?? Anyways, I was wondering if it was possibly to do a Q x Gender Neutral reader? Nothing fancy but maybe and established relationship and some fluff y'know?

THANK YOU????? OMG?????????? Anyway I think I'm gonna try to write in a more Gender Neutral friendly way anyway for one shots, everyone deserves to fantasize about their celebrity crushes <3 Hope y'all enjoy!!

Movie Night (Brian “Q” Quinn x GN!Reader)

Summary: Q is late from filming. Again. But you could never stay mad at him, it's almost impossible. Slight angst-ish??? But overall fluff!

As I finish washing the dishes, I can't help but shut the door to the dishwasher with a swift thud, causing some of the dishes inside to rattle. My lungs fill slowly then release the air in huff as I look at the clock to the microwave: 11:23 pm. I can feel my heart drop with every minute that passes across the face of every clock in our house. Q was late, again. But this time, it hurt just a little bit more.For the past month, Brian’s been staying later on set, whether it was to catch up on busy work or to simply squeeze in some quality time with his friends. At first, I really didn’t mind; I knew what I signed up for when it came to dating someone who has their own tv show. However, one hour late becomes three hours late and I end up waiting by the phone in bed for a “coming home” text from him. He still cares, I know that at least. There’s been a lot of morning coffee talks about my feelings and I know he had his full attention on me and my new worries. He suggested that the next night he’ll get home as soon as he can and we can have a cozy movie night in. It was such a simple idea but I couldn’t help but feel a comfort wash over me. I had set up our living room with warm blankets, lavender scented candles and popcorn that’s lost its heat. The screen of our TV was on a selection of movies I picked out for the night, but it’s been replaced with the scrolling Roku cityscape. Now as I find myself trying to distract myself with any busy work in the house, the soft fuzzies I had for this plan have been replaced with anger. Before I was about to pull out a broom from our pantry to start sweeping, I heard the locks of the door move around. Most days this was music to my ears but right now it was nails on a chalkboard. I wait for the door to open then close behind him; I don’t need the neighbors to hear me chew this man out. “You are…” I glance at the clock on the microwave again and do some mental math before continuing my sentence. “Three hours and 30 minutes late, give or take.” I inform him, my voice calm but laced with ice. I close the door to the pantry and start to walk toward the entryway, my tone shifting to release the pent up frustration from the hours. “Really, Brian, I get you work hard and can’t always text me but you can’t-”

As I turn the corner to look at him, the first thing that catches my eyes are the flowers. They’re classic roses, a flower I enjoy because it’s safe for our cats. The next thing I see is the plastic bag in his other hand, stacks of styrofoam boxes inside. I recognized the smell instantly as one of my favorites from a local restaurant nearby Q and I had our first date at. There was a second bag, this one from the grocery store down the street; I could see from the top of it a bag of one of my favorite sweets and a pint of ice cream clinging to the bottom of the bag. Brian’s face is what I noticed last, and it nearly broke my heart. His eyebrows were together and his eyes filled with anxiety. The confidence he usually carries about him is dissipated, as if it was gone for the season. I didn’t want to immediately forgive him, but seeing him so worried about receiving my disapproval almost made all of my anger vanish.

“Baby, I know.” Q finally manages to find his words. “I’m late, but I promise I didn’t mean it. I really wanted to get home on time but the producers were up my ass about some final details for the season.” He walks towards me, as if he’s holding out his hand to pet a snarling dog. I didn’t let my expression soften yet; I wanted to see just how much he was willing to put into this little apology.“You couldn’t call?” I ask, finding an excuse to let my anger be for more than nothing for a second longer. My eyes try to stay off the gifts, not wanting to put my guard down just yet. “I wanted to, I promise. But once I realized I was still there at 9 I couldn’t think of anything but rushing around to get ya all this.” His broad shoulders raise, motioning to everything in his arms. I can’t help but imagine myself there instead. “I guess trying to make it up to you worsened the damage, I’m sorry. He notices me looking at the ground, avoiding his eye contact. His confidence was returning; he knew I didn’t want to be mad at him, and he knew exactly how to fix it. He gently lays the bags onto the ground and walks over to me, placing the bouquet onto the end table next to us. His arms now vacant, Q’s places his hands onto my cheeks, gently tilting my head up to meet his. His eyes had that special glimmer of softness to them, one I’ve only noticed when he looks at me. I pursed my lips slightly, trying to keep a serious nature to my face, but the mask was slipping. And he knows it. A small smirk creeps up onto his face, his facial hair framing his smile perfectly. At times like this, I hated how gorgeous his eyes were. “I’ll let you pick the movie.” he teases, his lips forming a real smile. I can’t fight the gentle smile that appears on my face as he leans down to give me a gentle kiss onto my forehead. My hands snake their way around Q’s waist and I tilt my head up to place a chaste kiss onto Q’s cheek, a white flag in this battle that’s only transpired in my head. “You’re too good at diffusing my anger, you know that?” I ask, moving one of my hands to his face, the fuzz of his beard scraping against my palm. He smiles back at me. “I hate seeing you angry with me, Sweetheart, I gotta do what I can to fix it.” He breaks away from our embrace and grabs the bags he carried into our home. “Look, you go relax in our living room that you worked so hard to make all cozy and I’ll get these roses in a vase for you and get our dinner situated, don’t you do another chore, baby!” I smile at him walking to our couch and sit down, getting myself comfortable with the blankets and pillows. I watch as Q puts the ice cream away and fills a vase with water, looking at his phone from time to time about how to properly prepare flowers for a vase. Watching him try so hard to salvage this night made every angry thought I had 30 minutes ago seem so irrational. I wondered how I could ever be angry at the man who fills my heart with so much adoration and makes my world more colorful. In about 5 minutes, he shuffles into our living room area placing down the containers of our dinner onto the glass coffee table and lays a couple bags of snacks on the floor by our feet. From muscle memory, I cuddle into him putting my head onto his chest and then feel his arm wrap around my shoulders. He gives me a kiss on the top of my head as I take in his scent and I couldn’t describe it as any more than just “home”.

At this moment, I understand now that I wasn’t mad at Q, I was really having withdrawal symptoms of him. Getting my fix of my beloved set everything right in my world, and it felt as if anger wasn’t a feeling, but a distant memory.

[cosmicstarlatte]

Customer Service (Obey Me!)

━━━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━━━

They try contacting customer service. 🤷‍♂️

»Characters: Demon Bros

»Tags: Certified Shitpost™️, Pathetic Lucifer is my favorite Lucifer

»Notes: It's been a while since I've done a shitpost bulleted fic so ♡reblogs♡ are appreciated. I've had this wip since March apparently? 💀

Lucifer:

A hand on his hip and the phone in the other

This man means business

"Don't talk to me, I'm trying to keep my level of anger"

Held onto his anger for two hours waiting for the next agent

The annoying hold music only fueled him

Tried to be reasonable with the agent when he got patched through

But they were new

"Look, just get me your manager."

Waited another half hour for them

The problem got fixed rather quickly actually

smirked in satisfaction...Lucifer always wins.

If only he noticed the two stuck pages in the manual, he would've not wasted his morning

Mammon:

If he wasn't broke he would've paid someone else to make the call

Waited for an hour but it felt like eternity

"Yeah ain't there a satisfaction guarantee on this anyway!? The customers always right!"

Tried to get a replacement for his earbuds

And a refund while he was at it

Scammy? What?? Nooo....

"They fell in the wash! It's not my fault! Did I get insurance? Who has the money for that?"

Him and the agent went back and forth for a while

The agent finally caved and promised to replace the earbuds

"Finally! Ya better send 'em quick! -click-"

...

He realized he never gave the agent his address & had to start the process all over again

Levi:

Lol

Tried online chat but his specific issue needed a real agent because...of course it would

Tried to pay one of his brothers to make the call for him

They rather stab themselves or wage war against Diavolo than call customer service

Took anxiety medication before trying to call

Waited three hours on hold but played something soothing in the meantime

helloooo ruri and friends crossing

He stopped when he heard the hold music stop

"Hello thank you for calling Akuz-"

click

"It's not that important."

Satan:

This is how a pro does it.jpg

Drank his little coffee and ate his fresh little pastry

See, he set an alarm to call customer service right when they open their lines

Had the number typed and ready to go with a press

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP

Finally!

-dialing tone-

"Hello. Your wait time is 2 hours and-"

...

...

...

Slammed his phone on the floor and it broke

Went to go fight the company in person

His issue got fixed

The company had to tighten their security after this incident

Asmo:

Is that one lucky demon that happens to get patched through quickly

He was having problems with his devilgram account verification

Just as he started speaking about his issue the agent freaked out

Turns out they were a huge fan and could automatically tell it was the REAL™️ Asmo speaking

The issue got fixed and Asmo stayed talking with the agent because they sounded really cute

One thing led to another and...it went from a customer service hotline to a phone sex one real quick

This always happens when he calls customer service akskjfksls

Beel:

Collected all the snacks he had

Even cooked an entire feast

He needed everything he could get before making the dreaded call

After an hour of waiting (and barely any snacks left) he finally got to an agent!

It was a pleasant experience for both sides

Beel is getting sent replacements for his shoes plus a discount voucher for his next purchase

güd boi™️ as usual

Belphie:

Almost fell asleep while waiting

The music soothed him, they had classical music playing

He's not really sure how long he waited if he's being honest

When he finally got to the agent he sounded so weak the agent was concerned

"Mm? No I'm always like ...losing... consciousness ...it's normal...zzz..."

The agent was still so concerned they sent someone to the HOL to check on him

Beel ended up making the call for him

⬦You might also like: Coconut︱Devil-Mart⭐︱Waffle House

[desceros]

[Earth shattering stomps heard in the distance comes closer and closer]

[Halts and in a quiet voice]:

Symphony donnie and viola chans' wedding.😊😊

[Stomps away into the distance]

i don’t think they’d be married, actually!

i think what would happen in the bad time is a very different progression of their relationship. i think violist-chan would have been a refugee-type in the beginning, who tried to use music to keep everyone’s spirits up.

(i imagine this would annoy donnie quite a bit. that noise could attract unwanted attention, after all.) (noise?? excuse you. it’s music, and it makes people happy. aren’t you one of those guys saying hope is our most important weapon??) (that would be my brother. and his taste in “music” is almost as terrible as yours.)

but eventually you start going out on supply runs. you don’t do well sitting on your hands, and people need things. and donnie starts noticing that people really do seem to be in a better mood when you’re around. fuck, he’s in a better mood when you’re around. the hell is that all about.

and eventually the two of you have this just. insane sexual tension. that probably snaps one day to ravel’s habanero or something. you’re telling him it’s sexy. he’s telling you you don’t know what sexy is. oh yeah. yeah. then. well.

and after that he still hates classical music but you, oh. how he admires you. you with no special powers. unmutated. weak. how strong you are. how you bear everyone’s weight for them. how you insist on talking to everyone until they feel better despite how many pieces of you you have to trade away for their happiness. how you’re the last one to spill your troubles, and only after he or leo needles them out of you. how you get along so so well with everyone and just brighten the entire world with your smile. how you love so fiercely, even him, especially him, when he’d been so cruel to you in the beginning.

(leo never stops teasing him for his 180 on his opinion of you. not until after youre gone and it’s no longer funny to anyone.)

but you both were always busy. always moving. you’re both workaholics. both needing to be busy to feel like you’re being useful. making time for the other but never having enough of it. he’d have time for less important things when they got a foothold against krang, he’d think. until people really started dying. then it was more of a panic. he’d have to make it a little safer before he could take the time for something so frivolous and unnecessary. what was marriage after all but just a different word for what you already were? and when you got pregnant it was even worse. the world wasn’t safe enough for your child. any moment he wasn’t with you, he was fighting. working. clawing desperately at an imagined haven for his daughter. for you.

i think it would hit him the moment someone came up to him and mistakenly said “i’m sorry about your wife” that it was something he really did want. and just. never let himself imagine. never gave himself the time to have. but by that point, it was too late. all he had left were old recordings of music that ached and a mask never worn except by him.

anyway can you step on me now so i can get crushed and die? thanks

[stomach-bugg09]

omg thank you for doing my request!!! i absolutely adored it, dw im from the east coast myself (new york specifically). if it’s okay, i’d like to request more modern day sullys and fali? i just love your take on them.

a/n: ahh !! thank you so much. ( east coast gang rising up !! ) anyway , yes i actually think the modern au is just so simple but so cute and fun to write , which is also why i'm publishing this request before some of the older ones. i want to be able to keep feeding you all while i develop ideas and fics for the other ones. hope you enjoy !! reblogs + feedback is always appreciated !!

tags: @liyahsocorro @bonnibuckets @wxnderingthoughts @pinkhotdogsfr

modern au headcanons for the sullys + fali

general

one of the most chaotic families out there

trust me when i say this

when any of the kids have friends over, the guests are always shocked to find out that they ever manage to get anything done

there's always someone being a problem ( lo'ak )

tuk is the "do it all" child

like soccer, lacrosse, dance, school plays + musicals

she totally ate as an oompa loompa in charlie and the chocolate factory jr.

the older siblings all took a picture with her while she was in costume

[y/n] has an epic 0.5x picture of her from that night and is saving it for her graduation

[y/n] has the most baby pictures and "baby's first christmas" ornaments / type stuff just because she was the first child

neteyam has a good bit, so does kiri, but lo'ak and tuk have barely any

you can tell that they gave up on parenting tuk because she's such a menace

the whole entire family is banned from pizza hut

they refuse to speak on the topic

after neteyam and lo'ak played jv basketball together, kiri and [y/n] worked together to rewatch all the film and make a compilation of all their funny moments

tbt to when lo'ak completely missed the basket during a free throw

to present it, they gathered the entire family into the living room and pretended it was serious

but as soon as the video started, the two girls could not hold up the act and ended up on the ground in tears as they laughed at the entire thing

lo'ak and neteyam were not amused

jake was totally losing his mind

he loves making fun of his kids ( affectionately )

you can always tell neytiri's mood based on what she's listening to when she cooks dinner

a podcast means she's feeling good, feeling productive - sad music means she's, well... sad - classical music means you must stay far away from her

kiri, [y/n], and neytiri have their periods sinked up

it's complete hell for everyone else

once jake came home from work late and saw them sobbing on the couch to an episode of how i met your mother

sometimes the siblings will all sit down and have tuk paint their nails as she just talks the most amount of shit about every kid in her class

it's literally the funniest thing

she has some serious issues

kiri and [y/n] both like reading but the difference between the two is that kiri actually reads and [y/n] has five different books sitting on her bedside table

when she does have a random burst of energy to read, they always swap books

the head boys lacrosse coach is the biology teacher and he loves the sully family

he also teaches forensic science

not only is [y/n] dating his star player, but she manages the team

plus neteyam is on his team

sometimes, during their lunch period, fali and [y/n] just roll up to his class ( the same period that lo'ak and tsireya have bio )

ao'nung also plays basketball, so him and lo'ak were literally always beefing until they randomly just became friends

and then it was chill!

[y/n] and fali also drive tsireya and ao'nung around quite a bit, but they don't mind

everybody trusts fali and [y/n]

they're the type of people that you call if you need anything ever

kiri and neteyam have definitely called their sister or fali during a party after realizing they needed to get home

once neteyam's old friends left him there with no ride and he was... not all that sober

fali was at the same party because lacrosse team!

this boy did not hesitate to leave with neteyam and bring him back to his house

neteyam called his parents and pretended he was sleeping over with ao'nung ( who helped cover for him ) and ended up sleeping in fali's guest bedroom

every day kiri collects random ideas for her future speech as [y/n]'s maid of honor at her and fali's wedding

[y/n] still doesn't know

neteyam has an entire shoebox full of memories with his big sister that he plans to give her before she moves out

panic ensues the household when they reach june / graduating month

they do not want to think about their first baby leaving the nest!

neytiri is such a sad frantic mama

just wants everything to be perfect for her baby

jake ensures her that it will be

moving on to more happy stuff!

neytiri is totally a swiftie

like a very serious very loyal swift or that knows every single song and every single album and every single word

owns her ugly merch but it's okay because it makes her happy

tsireya's favorite candy would be watermelon jolly ranchers and she always has them in her backpack and stuff

lo'ak started to also keep watermelon flavored things in his backpack when he first started crushing on her

he would give her some during bio

her smile was always worth it

[y/n] and fali have the cheesiest and cutest way of reminding each other that they love each other

and that would be by giving each other their last piece of something

like they would give each other their last oreo, their last piece of gum, their last hershey kiss, his last name

it's just a silent exchange of their infatuation for each other

everybody else watches as they contemplate leaving because of how lonely they make them feel

kiri makes the silliest birthday posts

like she absolutely exposes every single one of her siblings by posting their ugly pictures on her instagram story

and she isn't even nice enough to keep it on close friends

lo'ak and [y/n] have a super long streak on snap chat of like 600+ days

and they are constantly scared of losing it

tuk takeover happens on a rare occasion in which, every few months, one of her older siblings allows her to do their streaks

she usually manages to post something stupid on their stories or something, but all of their friends have learned to look forward to it

fali and [y/n] were friends for a year before dating, but half of that year was spent with them absolutely crushing on each other

their first kiss story is so embarrassing and they refuse to tell anyone about it

fali wears bracelets that [y/n] makes for him

he always wears the bracelets that tuk makes for him and they're the cutest things because it's just a random assortment of beads

fali probably has a like single piercing on one of his ears after losing a bet with his friends

but he's grown to love it

he always has to take it out for lacrosse because the helmet is a pain

[y/n] buys him cute little earrings that he refuses to wear because they're always silly

like, "no, [y/n] i'm not wearing a singular waffle earring."

the only earring from her that he wears is the earring that matches the ring he gave her on their one year anniversary

she gave him that earring for his birthday

he almost cried

[raccoonfallsharder]

hii! i just wanted to say i love your blog sm. your fics are amazing and your fanart as well😩 your work has such a good emotional depth that’s so nice to read/see. you have a way like the movies did of showing the attention to detail with their worlds and other worldly cultures and shit it’s so interesting to read <3. i didn’t know if your taking requests but this was just a random thought that would be so cool to see you write. no pressure ofc but i thought it’d be so cool to see rocket more introduced to like more music/Terran pop culture references😭. i feel like rocket would like goth music like the cure and shit and tbh lady gaga i feel like also😭😭. it’s so cute to think of him getting shown like classic horror and stuff, he’d probably think a lot of them as comedies or shit😭. i jsut had these thoughts to share lol. your writing has me daydreaming i swear <3. i hope you are having a good day <33 : D

you are absolutely the sweetest little bundle of love nonnie. cups of tea, midnight bonfires, and golden autumn leaves. that's you. thank you so much for the kind words. they truly made my last two weeks. and i'm so sorry for the delay - the start of the schoolyear has been kicking my ass to knowhere and back, and then this… got away from me. it’s really unforgivably fucken long for mostly just being a list ~

but i hope you enjoy it anyway ♡♡

oh btw i linked some related headcanons that might interest you at the end!

to be honest i don't think i go through a single commute to or from work without thinking about how rocket would respond to the latest bit of terran culture you're showing him. when he was spending time on terra during the snap, he noticed steve’s little pocket-journal checklist of movies and books and shows to get caught up on. well, he didn’t just notice it — he might’ve maybe possibly swiped it — and once he trusted you enough to know you weren’t gonna fuckin narc on him, he decided to show it to you. he asks questions about the various titles, and steve’s notes scrawled in the margins. the two of you started there.

rocket isn’t quite as prejudiced against actors as many of his fellow guardians, but he does approach the idea of movies and tv with a healthy dose of skepticism. you probably start out with some documentaries, and he loves those. he’s enthralled by the ones about outer space — appreciating what they’ve gotten right and snickering about what they got wrong, getting a little weepy when the narrator makes some poignant philosophical observation. he stares at the screen with something that wrenches at your heart when you turn on the nature docs, those cut-ruby eyes turning into something soft and molten, silvered over with a yearning you’re sure he doesn’t even recognize inside himself.

you might think he’d be a fan of true crime, but no — not unless it’s someone scamming a big corporation or stealing from some hubristic rich bastard, or maybe the occasional murderer who accidentally confesses his crimes on a hot mic. the truth is that rocket’s already personally familiar with some of the worst true crime in the galaxy and he just sort of assumes that’s how things operate at large. why’s he need to watch people talk about?

it’s this kind of thinking that impacts the kind of fictional shows and movies he ends up liking, too — once you finally convince him that acting is more about storytelling, and less about lying or trying to wear someone else’s skin. you’d think he’d be super-into horror but he’s very — selective about it. murderers, slashers, and body horror (especially of the medical variety) are not in his wheelhouse. he gets anxious in the worst sort of way: impatiently twitching on the couch next to you, chewing on his claws. he rolls his eyes but his shoulders stay tense and his tail is puffs up three times it’s normal size. he might occasionally snort and scoff at how fake things look but again, that’s only because he knows.

and he wishes he didn’t.

supernatural horror is much more palatable to him, and alien-based horror is usually hilarious as far as he’s concerned. space dramas and adventures have an unpredictable impact. he says star wars is too dramatic (wild coming from someone who has since decided he loves reality dating shows) and gets weirdly emotional about star trek. and you have to repeatedly remind him that neither the aliens franchise nor killer clowns from outer space are documentary series (he has some weird hang-ups about terran clowns and will dryly tell you that he’s pretty sure they’ve tried to kill him in another life). he’s extremely and overly fascinated by some of the weirder terran horror and horror-adjacent media: cult classics from the 80s and 90s, Tales from the Crypt, Twilight Zone — some of those weird old fantasy movies too, like the labyrinth and company of wolves. you always indulge him, trying to remind him of what’s fiction and what’s not, and what loosely straddles the line of being based on a true story (even though sometimes you have to fight with the urge to roll your eyes when he points at the screen and says, no, that’s real, i been to a planet like that!).

you learn he has an uncanny eye for CGI. looks weird, he grunts every time something rendered crosses the screen. very into practical effects, though. he spent an inordinate amount of time trying to make a claymation sequence of the collapse of ego — the living planet, that is; not some great philosophical metaphor — and took over your kitchen for two months to do it. you’d expected him to get bored of it quickly, but you’d misunderstood just how fixated he’d been. he’d stopped taking pete’s comms for the entire last three weeks and had barely slept at all till it had been done.

he’s equally selective about games. classic shooters bore him — why bother when you can go do the real thing with any despot-of-the-week? — but he kind of loves cozy games. he enjoys horror games as long as they follow his horror movie rules, too — minimal lifeform-on-lifeform torture, heavy on the supernatural or other weirdness. poppy’s playtime is a current fave. he loves dnd, of course. once he figures out the mechanics he always wants to dm because he’s got more control issues than a freighter full of ravagers, but you haven’t missed the fact that that he’s got a recurring favorite character that he pulls out regardless of which side of the dm screen he’s on — a shockingly wise and kind aquatic sorceress named lylla, with the gentlest healing vibes. it rattles you the first time he plays her — so at odds with his normal snark — but you decide it’s just his way of letting his soft side shine through when he normally tries to hide it under prickly defensiveness.

it might surprise you (or maybe not), but he’s far less picky about music, to be honest. sure, he’s got preferences — certain songs he’ll play on repeat, or jam out to, or weep over. but he’s just as excited to clone a taylor swift record as he is to get his hands on some iron maiden. he’s got something surprisingly positive to say about every single song you ask after.

that one’s real catchy, he’ll say, bopping along to dolly’s 9 to 5 — only to then croon his way through the lingering notes of jolene. then the next time you see him he’s asking how he can secure more tupac albums.

he gets all teary-eyed over the sweeping strings of sometime around midnight, then later tilts his head, ears flickering, to drink in the light starlit notes of single acoustic guitars and lonely pianos. he’s as greedy for 90s grunge as he is for screamo and post-rock. sometimes he steals your phone and it’s usually just to download a nirvana album you once had him listen to, but just last week you realize he’d blown a sizable portion of your grocery budget by buying the entire babymetal discography.

he explains it to you one late autumn evening when you’re in your room with him, introducing him to seventeen seconds. the two of you are just chilling. he’s traded in his jumpsuit for the kids’ sweatpants and the hoodie you bought him — the one with the ears — and of course you very wisely don’t tell him how stupidly cute it is. the sun’s going down and the room is slanting and pooling with blue-and-gold shadows slowly deepening into purple, and you’ve lit a couple caramel-apple candles for the vibe. maybe you’ve got mugs of warm spiced apple cider or cocoa or something. he’s sprawled on the rug on your floor and you’re leaning over the edge of the bed, with the entire musical archive of the cure, woven liberally with a random joy division album, some merciful nuns, and other collections from your personal library of favorites.

he’s super-into it, of course.

this sound is somethin’ else, he tells you as he stares up at the shadows. The candlelight is reflecting off some unknown surface in your room, casting flecks of fractured light across the deepening dark of the ceiling. his blunted claws tap a steady rhythm on the floor beside him.

you say that about every song, you tell him drily, and he shrugs.

but i mean it, he tells you in the gold-flickering darkness. there’s a long silence, and you think he’s just listening to the music — but halfway through dope, he suddenly breaks his silence.

i ain’t exactly the most emotionalistically-intelligent, he says quietly into the room. don’t trust myself to know when someone’s good or bad. there was a guy, when i was a kid — well. anyway. it’s frickin hard to trust anybody, myself most of all.

you wait to see if he’ll go on — but he doesn’t. at least not till you say, i get that. there’s good people out there, but the worst are usually so good at tricking us. and then it’s easy to second-guess ourselves — forever.

from the corner of your eye, you see him nod emphatically.

not in music, though, he says quietly. you hear him swallow — painfully hard. i think — music’s when people tell you most about what they are. even when it’s hard to understand at first. when there ain’t any words.

you tilt your head, allowing him the privacy of not looking directly at him. instead, you study the flickering candlelight and shadow, painting amber and dark-velvet patterns on the ceiling. that’s why you like every song? you ask at last.

that swallow again, hard as a rock in his throat. i dunno. maybe it means something, when someone gives a part of ‘emselves like that. to you — a stranger. just — serve themselves up like a gift for your judgement.

ah, you think. the vulnerability.

as if he’d heard you, he snorts. me personally? i’d never risk it.

even now, you can feel him watching you uneasily from the corner of his eye — waiting for you to mock him, maybe. but you only hum an agreeable note.

i never thought of it that way, you admit, but it’s true. you smile at the ceiling. and you said you weren’t emotionally intelligent.

he huffs, but the sound is more relieved than annoyed. i ain’t, he snipes. and then — more tentatively — maybe that’s part of it too.

you feel your eyebrows raise, but you still don’t look his way — cradling the back of your head with your hands while the music continues in around you, and smell of warm caramel apples fills the soft shadows between you. what do you mean?

softer now — almost nervous — he confesses to the darkness and the gold light and the sound of lady gaga’s voice. every time i listen to a new song, s’like I find something in myself i didn’t have before. or didn’t know i had before. or that i thought had died.

your heart stills in your chest and your breath catches, and everything in you suddenly aches. before you can say a word — before you can think — he spits a scoff into the air.

never mind. i was kidding. that’s fuckin’ stupid—

no, you interrupt quickly, and it takes everything in you not to turn over and catch his eyes and hold them. not to reach out and hold his hands, because you know he’s not willing to accept that level of comfort.

not yet. but soon.

so instead, you make your voice into the softest thing you’ve ever imagined. no sharp edges, no corners to cut himself on. just downy well-worn blankets and soft crumpled love-notes, happy welcome homes and the warm caramel of autumn apples. you will it go wrap around him and give him all the comfort he won’t let himself accept any other way.

no, you repeat. i get that.

i get that.

headcanons & imagines masterlist | navigation | fanfiction masterlist

related headcanons: rocket's movie & television tastes ✶ what if rocket finds the mcu movies? ✶ music and rocket & adam, pete & jason ✶ rocket & coloring ✶ rocket & origami ✶ rocket & lava lamps ✶ rocket & sudoku, crosswords & word-searches ✶ rocket & hanayama puzzles ✶ rocket sings

raccoon & star dividers by @/thecutestgrotto support banners by @/saradika-graphics

[fangirling-heart]

It's a first for me and quite honestly I am pretty nervous but...

I'm making a post about my OCs!!!

Yay!!! 🎉

And since I can't draw to save my life, I used this picrew to present them, one of them you might recognize since I have introduced him in a tag game. Anyway here they are:

Starting with the familiar one, the 17 year old Achilles. He's the protagonist of an original story I'm working on and simply put, he's not okay. He lives with an emotionally and physically abusive father and a neglectful mother who cares more about her husband and their image than her son, and they both put a lot of pressure on him to be perfect in every way and also make sure he doesn't ruin the family's image in any way (a big part of which is hiding the signs of his father's abuse). In terms of a support system, he doesn't really have one since breaking up with his girlfriend, Ange, who also happens to be/have been his best friend, and his one other friend is...not that great. His only solace comes from reading and photography (and poetry but he would never admit it), but when even that isn't enough, his mind ends up in a really dark place and he tries something drastic. But thanks to a certain someone's intervention, he doesn't go through with it and as much as he (claims he) doesn't want to, he has to learn how to live again... in more ways than one.

Birthday: March 5

Sign: Pisces

Sexuality: Biromantic asexual

Likes: Photography, poetry, reading, watching and commenting movies, playing video games, rain, junk food, heights, dancing, history, mystery novels, Linkin Park (Ange constantly teases him for it), comics, rom-coms (when they aren't too cliché), motorcycles

Dislikes: His parents (his father especially), school, most sports, heat, having his privacy violated, being made fun of for his interests, big crowds, expectations, loneliness

The special someone I mentioned before. This is Ephraim, the reason Achilles stays alive and the one person he cannot shut out (both much to his dismay). The reason for that and the reason he appears wearing the same clothes as Achilles is because, after the event that saved the latter's life, the two of them end up sharing a body. Simply put, Ephraim is a ghost that possesses him. He can get control of his body and speak in his thoughts, but his actual appearance is visible only in reflective surfaces and luckily for them both not all the time, just when Ephraim chooses to surface. He possesses Achilles, thinking the two would be able to trade places, but instead he basically just hitches a ride in his body and his life. As for the reason he wished to possess him in the first place, he did it because he wants a chance to live again but most of all to find out what happened to his boyfriend, Mario, from whom he got violently separated before he died. And while he sees Achilles as a means to his ends at first, the two form a genuine bond over time.

Birthday: August 1

Sign: Leo

Sexuality: Gay

Likes: Nature, sunny days, ice cream, driving, fire, rain, shadow puppetry, learning new things, music, dogs, hugs, Achilles' poetry and photos, messing with asshole authority figures, spicy food

Dislikes: Being confined, being bossed around, talking about his death, homophobes and assholes in general, people making fun of Achilles, having to wait, ghost stories (he finds the way ghosts are portrayed offensive and unimaginative), feeling helpless, cold

And last one (for now). Ange (short for Angelica) is Achilles' ex girlfriend and best friend since childhood. Growing up the two were always together (the fact that they lived in the same building and shared a love for cinema and cameras helped with that) and long before they got together it was clear to everyone there were sparks flying between them. They were a classic childhood friends to lovers story, but after 2 years of dating, when Ange realized they both wanted and needed very different things from a relationship, as much as it hurt them both, she broke up with Achilles and the two haven't really spoken since, due to it being too awkward and painful. Though her homelife isn't as bad as Achilles' and she has other friends besides him, since the two broke up she has also been feeling very lonely and missing him, but doesn't dare to approach him, because she hates herself for hurting him and thinks he hates her too. It isn't until Ephraim comes along that they start kinda talking again (due to him pretty much forcing Achilles to talk to her).

Birthday: March 22

Sign: Aries

Sexuality: Straight or bisexual, I'm still figuring this out

Likes: Watching and commenting on movies, photography, making videos, directing, cinematography, animation, cake, dark humor, amusement parks, sunsets, puzzles, baggy clothes, late night walks, strawberries

Dislikes: Fake people, being underestimated, being judged, loneliness, people making fun of her work, makeup, gossip, visiting her grandparents, puppets

[chaotic-on-main]

on to the nextttt

Matcha green tea! (also that was a fantastic flavor for Levi). With Fresh Fruit. Let’s do another pre-established relationship because I literally only like those for myself apparently 😂.

For scenario: Close to his canon personality if you can but the setting is AU. How about Levi and I are at a party and I’ve gotten a little buzzed and am being super teasy to him(like slight brushes against him and shit) and he drags me home and the rest is suggestive obv not any real smut :) lemme know if you don’t like that and I’ll change it lmao.

Order up!! One matcha green tea with fresh fruit for Bee!!

Sky's Summer and 250 Follower Event!

☾ Pairing ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ modernAU, collegeAU, drinking, alcohol, suggestive themes, suggestive terminology, proofread once pls forgive any mistakes, MDNI

☾ A/N ➼ Hi Bee!! Thank you so much for sending in a request. I will admit, I am taking way too long so now some of these requests are going to take place in early-mid fall lmao. I'm so sorry. But I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you like it!! Suggestive is still so hard for me so this was a fun challenge, as always. Who knows, maybe I can continue on with this if I feel inspired. Anyways, happy first of October y'all!!

☾ Word Count ➼ ~2.2k

Levi doesn't know how he always finds himself in these predicaments. One moment he's hunched over his desk, looking over his notecards for his upcoming exam – the next he's being physically dragged away by his tiresome roommate to a Halloween party down the road that he had already said no to.

Now, he’s leaning against a wall, red cup in hand, with his hood up and a black face mask covering his nose and mouth – white face paint smeared across his pallid face in the pattern of a skull thanks to Hange's last minute demands.

“It's a Halloween party for heaven's sake, you need to look the part!” They had exclaimed after pulling him out of his room with makeup brushes in hand.

The mask was there because he wouldn't dare risk getting sick before his test, but it also gave him a reason to cover up so no one would bother him. Of course he wouldn't be so lucky as he feels someone slide up next to him. Eyes narrowed, he glares over to the unwelcome visitor and as his gaze falls upon you, his eyes soften considerably.

He'd see you around campus, catching his eyes from time to time. It wasn't until recently that you both started interacting with each other due the classic literature class you both share this semester.

You have only spoken to each other a handful of times, outside of the glances shared and the kind smiles you would offer him in passing. Most conversations were about school work or small talk that he would mainly grunt back at. Despite the short quips he gave you, you never pushed or pulled away. Now here you were, smiling up at him as the multicolor strobe lights hit your face.

“Levi? I never thought I'd see you at one of these!” You half-shout over the pulsing pop music blaring from the speakers around the two of you.

Eyes bright and soft cheeks painted pink, they were pulled back into a genuine smile pointed straight at Levi. You were dressed in much less clothing than he's used to seeing you in. Gone were the jeans and loose-knit sweaters – now replaced by a black frilly strapless dress adorned with a small white apron wrapped around your waist. The collar curves low enough to show your cleavage, tightly pushed together by the thin black cloth.

His eyes travel down if only for a second to see how short the dress really was – ending right underneath your butt. The bottom hugged your curves, squeezing your waist and hips perfectly. Underneath was a pair of black fishnet stockings and heels, making you barely at eye level with Levi. Frilled cuffs wrap around your wrists in the same style of the choker that sits flush against your neck.

You're dressed as a maid.

His eyes snap back up to see that your hair falls around your shoulders topped with a little headband. There are hints of lipgloss leftover from the many times your lips caressed the ridges of a plastic cup. But that flush on your cheeks was not from your makeup.

“Hellllooo??” You wave a hand in front of Levi's face to get his attention.

“I am.” He responds back cooly, tone contradictory to the thoughts racing through his mind.

“I knew it! Your brooding gray eyes are striking even from across the room.” A light giggle leaves your soft lips. “What are you doing here? I thought you'd be studying for Tuesday's exam.”

“I was. My roommate dragged me here.”

“The Levi Ackerman bent to someone's will? Well, I'll be.” You tease, smile tugging at your lips, before taking another sip of the mysterious liquid in your cup. Levi does the same, feeling the burn of the liquor he had poured when he first got here.

“Tch. Shouldn't you be studying? You struggled with your analysis on Odyssey and that's definitely showing up on the test.”

“Aw, you care! If you must know, I took your suggestions to heart and did that 'note taking after every paragraph' thing you do. Some things are still a little fuzzy but I have a much better grasp on it! So, thank you.” Another wide smile from you causes butterflies to dance in his stomach.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Levi never afforded himself time to think of a relationship. Sure, he's had his share of hookups before; he wasn't always glued to his books and knew how to release stress from time to time. But he never thought anything past that one night and moved on with his life without issue. It wasn't because he was being intentionally callous though, most women that sought his company only wanted him by his looks alone – who was he if not willing to return the favor.

But you gave him something others could not – comfort in knowing that you talked to him as a person and not a pretty face. And while he never made a move to further anything with you, he did find himself wanting to be near you as much as he could bear.

“What are you even supposed to be?” Your lips purse as your eyes scan Levi’s slim frame. Your fingers reach up and pinche the fabric of his jacket as you pull yourself closer to get a better look of his face still darkened by the shadows of his hood. You're not close enough to press up against him, but you might as well have as you only left an inch or so between you both. Your eyes bounce around his face as she makes sense of the quickly applied makeup. If he leaned down just a bit, he could…

“No idea. Hange, the roommate I mentioned, did it.” He clears his throat quietly, eyes glancing away from yours. You pull away finally, but your fingers still remain on his sleeve. You're not directly touching him, but it's enough to send tingles through his body. Levi chalks it up to it being a while since he's been touched by someone.

“It looks good on you, like you're a bandit ready to steal or something.” Your tinkling laughter makes Levi's ears twitch in a good way. “I'm happy to see you out of the classroom, Levi.”

“I-"

“Oh! My friend is waving me over. Hold this for a second.” You say, handing your drink over to him. He watches as you tug your dress up that must have slid down a bit. When you do, his eyes can't help but glance down to the slight bounce of your plush chest. The way your perfume permeates his senses as you move around the little space you both share and it intoxicates him – or was it the alcohol? He hadn't had that much.

“Okay, I'm good to go.” When you reach over to take the half-empty cup from Levi's fingers, yours brush against his ever so slightly. His heart leaps at your warm touch. “I'll see you around?”

You give Levi a long look before smiling brightly and turning tail towards a redhead who was currently staring hard at him. His gaze was far from your friend though because with your back to him now, he sees that the costume is much shorter than he initially assumed.

His eyes don't leave you for a bit, watching you double over in laughter at something your friend said. There's a moment where your eyes meet again, holding each other's gaze until your friend says something else and you're back to laughing. Outside of the classroom, you were very different. There were a lot of things he didn't know about you. Perhaps that's something he wouldn't mind delving into if given the chance.

“Dude she's so into you.” A voice rings out from next to Levi, their words slightly slurred from the many drinks they had consumed throughout the night.

“Shut up, four eyes.”

“I mean it. She's so smitten with you. Didn't you see the way she was looking at you? There are hearts in her eyes! Those glances, the unassuming touches. Levi Ackerman, c'mon! I wasn't born yesterday.” Levi turns to the source of the noise. Hange Zoe, a bioengineering major who he shared the same apartment with for years, is giving Levi the biggest shit-eating grin they can muster.

“And you like her too, don't you.”

Their usual frazzled brunette hair is even frizzier to match the mad-scientist costume they were going for, held down by a pair of safety goggles that wrap around their head. Hange had made Levi swear on his life not to tell Professor Vitch that they had ‘borrowed' one of the lab coats for it – not like Levi cared enough to say anything anyways. He doesn't understand how Hange could even give it back now that it's tattered and ruined with self-made burn marks.

“Whatever.”

“You've never mentioned her before, why not? I thought I was your bestest friend in the whole world.”

“Acquaintances. And it doesn't pertain to you.”

“That hurts, we’ve known each other for 5 years.” Hange gives a fake pout. As their gaze flits back over to you, they mutter, “If I were you, I wouldn't let this chance slip away. You'll just regret it.” And with that, Hange yells something to a mutual friend and runs over to him – leaving Levi to his devices once again.

His eyes go back to where you were just moments ago and he catches you shooting him another smile before getting lost in the crowd with your friend. This smile held something that wasn't there before, the same matching emotion that fill your eyes.

Regret was not something he sat well with. Before he knows it, he's pushing himself off the wall and heading towards the direction you had disappeared in.

It takes a bit of searching and asking around much to his disdain. Eventually, he finds you outside on the front porch alone, sitting on the stairs with your back to him. Your hair is pulled up in a messy ponytail and from the way you’re lifting your arm up, he can tell you still have a drink in hand. When he shuts the door behind him, he notices you don't even look back.

“Tired of the people, too?” Levi asks as he sits down on the step next to you, practically shoulder to shoulder. He doesn't miss the way you flinched at his sudden voice, you turning quickly to face him.

“Oh jeez, Levi. I almost punched you.” You place your hand flat against your chest in hopes to slow your racing heart.

“Wouldn't be the first time someone threatened that.”

“I can't imagine why.” You sigh, but then a smirk pulls on your lips as you start to relax. “Yeah, it's just getting to be too much. I think I may head out here soon.” You take another sip of your drink before realizing it's mostly gone and instead, you tip it all the way back and down it all in one gulp.

You stand up soon after, your ass on full display for him to see from his position. The way you bend forward a bit to brush off your dress is almost a little too much for Levi. Your cheeky panties peek out at him, causing that knee-jerk reaction of such a visual to twitch in his jeans. Realization of what Hange was trying to tell him earlier dawns on him.

Regret was not something he liked to feel.

Levi stands up quickly and grabs your wrist in tight fingers before pulling you to face him. There's visible shock on your face at the brazen action, but you don't pull away. He gives you a moment, a chance to turn him down and leave without looking back. You don't. Instead, you coyly smile up at him, eyebrow raised.

With that, he tugs you closer and his lips meet yours in a hard kiss. Behind the bubblegum lipgloss, he tastes the artificial fruit from the drinks you've had tonight. You mirror the same hunger as Levi does, as if you had waited for this for months. You throw your arms around his neck as you press yourself against him, your fingers sliding up into his hair as his hands make their way to your waist – holding you there.

What feels like mere seconds pass before Levi has to break away for air. There's a moment where you’re both just staring at each other. Partly from shock but also uncertainty of where to go next. You're the first to speak.

“There's um, something I need help with on the study guide. But it's back at my place.”

“I can help with that.” Levi answers back cooly, almost too quick but he didn't care.

You don't hesitate to close your fingers over his and tug him into the direction of your place, almost running like the little kids that swarm the street as they trick or treat.

tagging for my levi girlies (from my taglist!): @humanitys-strongest-bamf @romantichomicide95 @youre-ackermine @roseofdarknessblog @missamity @levis-squishy-cheeks @icansmellsouls @dkbktk420 @elnyrae @secretmoneybearvoid @apolloshaiku @sujiroses @jadam724 @e-riellaaa @kamyru @highgoon69 @missyasma @kingkonoha @sckerman @notgoodforlife @nube55 @svftackerman @velouria17 @melodyuzumaki

if you are not part of my taglist and would like to be, please fill out my form!

[lemonlyman-dotcom]

Nice ask! Do you have any frivolous lone star headcanons? (ie, something that doesn’t matter to the plot and maybe there’s no real evidence for but you believe it anyway)

Hello! Thank you for this very nice ass(k) 🍑

I do!!

Paul lived with Owen and TK for the first couple months when he moved down to Austin. That’s why he’s got such a close easy-going relationship with TK and why he’s not phased by any of Owen’s idiosyncrasies.

Paul is a diehard Michigan football fan. This is because his father went to University of Michigan, and would drive 3.5 hours from Chicago to Ann Arbor for every home game. When Paul was a kid, his dad would bring him to games sometimes. He has very fond memories of those long drives with his dad, listening to music and chatting. If they won his dad would stop at a roadside diner and get him a blackberry milkshake. (He would if they lost too, but then they’d also split a piece of pie). He and TK drove over to Houston on Monday to watch them win the National Championship. On the way home they stopped for pie and blackberry milkshakes, and Paul told TK stories about games his dad took him to.

TK loves spicy food. Carlos was teasing in that pho scene in S3. He grew up eating all kinds of international cuisines in NYC, he loves chicken feet with his dim sum, and habanero hot sauce on his tacos and jerk chicken and egusi with scotch bonnet.

Paul & Carlos have eaten at all the West African restaurants in Austin, and they are on first-name basis with all the staff at this point.

Paul has been trying to recreate/perfect his grandma’s goat curry for years, and Carlos is his most eager taste tester.

In episode 3, after the police station scene & Carlos’s chat with Michelle, he’s still hesitant to reach out to TK. But then they have that scene where the woman falls on the car. And TK is so sweet, talking to her and rubbing her arm. I always kinda headcanon that Carlos saw him being all sweet with her and he was like “damn, okay worth it to put myself on the line for another shot with him.”

TK learned to drive when he moved to Austin, and he’s a very good driver, but he doesn’t particularly enjoy it. He’d much rather catch a ride or even take public transportation or walk if it’s not too hot. Carlos, on the other hand, spent a lot of money on his car and he does like to drive. So he’s usually the driver. But! He knows TK’s a good driver, and absolutely lets him drive the Camaro.

TK & Marjan have a ritual where they meet for pie & coffee at a diner in East Austin whenever one of them has had a tough day and they need someone to talk to, or even just to sit and be sad with. They have an unspoken pact that, no matter what they’re doing, if one of them calls or texts with a pie emergency they drop everything and show up for pie.

TK is a music nerd. He grew up immersed in the NYC indie music scene, he’s seen LCD Soundsystem play like 20 times, Gwyn took him to see Prince when he was 12, he’s got an extensive vinyl collection and also a box of old band T-shirts in Owen’s garage. Also he could wire any speaker system.

Paul’s sister has visited several times since we first met her. The Catan crew has adopted her, she thinks TK and Carlos are really weird but she loves them. She’s obsessed with Marjan and Nancy.

Paul has an extensive record collection ranging from 70s afrobeats to disco to classic rock n roll.

Marjan’s father was diagnosed with a rare, treatable but incurable cancer a couple years ago. When she found out she was devastated, and TK insisted on flying to Miami with her and staying with her family for a while to help out. One night he tried to make Andea’s chili relleno, because it always make him feel better when he’s sad, but he destroyed Marjan’s mom’s kitchen. He called Carlos out of desperation, and Carlos laughed and told him to toss everything and then ordered them all his favorite comfort foods to be delivered to the house. Carlos and Marjan now regularly make “fold in the cheese” jokes when TK cooks. Which is often!

Sorry this was very long!

🍋<3

[herblay]

Every song on BRAT and which BNHA character it's about (aka redemption round) (but it's only tangentially about MY fic)

I made a shitty shitty post about which Charli song was which BNHA character. I wish to redeem myself. Bring this in line with my Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess post (tbh this is much more my usual music taste, the Chappell is a departure largely just because I LOVE her voice) and do a character per track. That said, it is about my shitty little fic, the one I'm writing on the Aye Oh Three, (it's called Never So Strong and it's bad but whatever it's Mido but she's a wonderful lesbian because I am gay and I like women) This is also slightly harder than Midwest Princess because uh. Genuinely none of the main characters on BNHA would ever do coke. And it's kind of needed for the vibes. (Wait actually Todoroki would probably do coke once. Just to see what it was all about. Lmao) Tbf even the villains are pretty tame. Like I genuinely don't believe Shigaraki has done coke. He doesn't have that energy.

This is a challenge. A personal goal. Can I make this work for characters who would not know how to cut a line? MAYBE. (also I'm really fucking lazy and piecing together the story I wrote into the order it's supposed to be in is really hard unexpectedly so this is just to give myself a break from that. I don't write chronologically and this makes editing a nightmare)

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO:

360: All Might. I said earlier this was about him, and it is. He's so Julia. He's everywhere, legacy is underrated, he sets the tone, etc. Like come on. The man IS the picture of the modern hero. This is him. He is the fucking icon.

Club classics: Mic. Wait I low-key hope he's tried coke once. Anyway. He's our DJ. He's our music man. And he's got a list of absolutely fucking banger friends. Classic. He is classic, and he would dance to his own shit. Let's fucking go. This works for him. (he's a really fucking minor character in my fic but he's important to me ok)

Sympathy is a knife: Bakugou. COULDN'T EVEN BE HER IF I TRIED. This is him at the start of his arc. The guy is spiraling and me too bestie. The jealousy and the fucking insecurity. Yes. Thank you. Banger. And the lack of just control making you feel helpless. Very yes that.

I might say something stupid: Yogi Toshinori. Yeah that's right. I'm gonna hurt your feelings. He definitely feels like an outsider as himself and not All Might. And that's just how it is. It sucks when you had the world and lose it. And it hurts. "I'm famous but not quite but I'm perfect for the background one foot in a normal life" BYE. "I don't know if I belong here anymore"

Talk talk: Uraraka. I just like her. I could see her being like this about liking someone but not really knowing if it worked. (COUGH MIDO EARLY IN THE STORY COUGH) And well. "I wish you'd just talk to me" because REAL. Besides that though the ~vibe~ of this song is very Uraraka. Light. Fun. Good.

Von dutch: Hawks thinks this is about him and who am I to take that away from him?! He should b in the club and this is for him when he goes to the club! And he does that little dance (what the commission wants) because without it he'd be nameless! (haha what) PUT YOUR HANDS UP

Everything is romantic: A struggle to narrow down but I'm going with All for One but like ironically. Like he's blasting this while he's watching the world burn at his behest. And hey I think he'd be big on the Romantic literature tradition. He's a French lit nerd in my heart so therefore. This. But again know it is not genuine he's just baiting you.

Rewind: Mitsuki Bakugou. I think she probably misses when her bestie Inko wasn't in constant worry hell and when her son wasn't a holy terror sometimes (yes yes save your fucking parenting discourse for somewhere that's NOT my Charli shitpost) and his little tiny bestie wasn't scared and breaking bones 24/7. Wouldn't it be cool to rewind.

So I: Hi this song makes me fucking CRY. BAWL. This is also any One for All successor to their predecessor. Midoriya to All Might, All Might to Nana, etc etc. It's okay to cry. It's okay. The gnawing guilt, the pain, the loss. Yes.

Girl, so confusing: This is Momo Yaoyorozu singing about Midoriya Izuku in my fic specifically and I love it. And they WILL work it out in the remix. (Yes Izuku is so Lorde) (Bite me)

Apple: Todoroki. Which one? Yes. All them kids are getting the fuck away. Like come on you can't tell me Shouto wouldn't be blasting this shit when he tells Endeavor he's not gonna act like his son. All of these kids deserve a banger about an absolutely rotten relationship.

B2b: Dabi and Hawks. Nuff said. I've been over this, I love them as a messy relationship with messy messy vibes. And a club BANGER.

Mean girls: Bubble Girl. I like her. I think she's more important than she is in canon and I want her to be the fucking break-your-boyfriend's-heart girl. She's so fucking cool. (Also a sidekick with a quirk that's objectively not that OP I KNOW she's fucking badass) (I deserved more Nighteye agency shenanigans in canon so I'm giving them to myself damnit)

I think about it all the time: All Might. Thinking about his child. Well, the child he adopted after said child did a fucking stupid thing just to try to save a bully. Iconic. And the fear of running out of time, the fear of losing a career you've worked so hard for? It works. Ty.

365: Brother really none of these characters would do coke. Not one of them. What am I supposed to do here? Well uh. I think I'll give this one to Gran Torino. Because fuck it man, I think he prolly did coke once. And I hope he was fucking BOUNCING off the walls.

BONUS TRACKS REAL QUICK: Hello goodbye is Midoriya Izuku with a little crush and I love it. Yapper, scared, hello hello hello hello hello. Guess is. Wow. None of these characters. I'm. Wow. Uh. Ig Midnight. But like. I love slutpop but IT DOES NOT WORK FOR THIS MANGA. Ig Dabi can have it. He seems like he'd be down to whore around. Send him to the Dare, Hawks is with it. Spring breakers is obviously the League and it's a banger and I support them. Never get invited cause they're such fucking haters, you could change their lives but like let's be so forreal you wouldn't dare. On the news w a DUI stare. I think Toga would eat with this song tbh. I love Toga.

This was fucking hard, I think I'm never doing Charli music for BNHA again, it requires a property where the characters have done coke. Copious amounts of it. And probably ecstasy too. And like. Pro heroes? Cops? Naw. On the other hand do you know what property could fucking KILL with Charli music? Assassination Classroom but they're all older. I know Karma would be doing coke. I know it. Ok that's all xoxo back to getting my fic in order.

[fleckcmscott]

Every Day

Summary: After their first New Year's celebration, Arthur and Y/N ponder how to proceed.

Words: 3,731

Warnings: None

A/N: Familiar ground is covered in this story, but with my last few pieces being set later in Arthur and Y/N's relationship, I wanted to revisit the blooms at the beginning. I hope you all like it! Many thanks to @jokerownsmysoul​ for beta-ing! 😃

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

December 31st, 1981.

One week ago. Seven days. One hundred and forty-seven hours - not that she kept count. The night Y/N had screwed up her courage and told Arthur she wanted them to live together. Spilling that in Gotham Square, amidst sparkling fireworks and noisemakers, glittering confetti and flowing champagne, had been what she truly desired. Not a mere reflection of the city's dreams and hopes for new beginnings.

So why had neither of them brought it up again? A hush hushness that felt like a tacit endorsement of the status quo.

Not that their status quo was bad. It was pretty great, actually. Delightful, even. Her very own New Year's wish come true. He made her see and experience things in a different light. Stirred parts of her she'd forgotten, neglected. A maroon toothbrush camped in a plastic cup on her bathroom shelf, a box of Kotex had made its way to his. It was good and joyful, what they had.

The question prodded anew. Why the hell were they carrying on as if nothing had happened?

Typewriters clacking, she and Patricia chatted over the hammering of keys. "Does he want to move in with you?" Patricia asked, focus fixed on fluttering paper. "Is he that kind of guy?"

"Well." A bell announced the end of Y/N's typing line. She grabbed the wite-out to correct a p to an o. "He didn't say yes or no. He didn't say anything, really. But judging from how he kissed me, I can safely say he wouldn't mind."

"That good, huh?"

"I can still feel it in my toes."

Matt called from the office behind her. "Hearing that you have a personal life is going to be an adjustment."

Y/N rolled, swiveled to peek past the doorframe. "You're welcome to shut your door," she teased.

Her boss had a point, though. While she'd related her professional background, chatted about television shows and local news, the personal was a hand she kept close to her chest. Only recently had she disclosed to Patricia - a woman she considered her best friend - the surface of what she'd gone through with her father back in Missouri.

There wasn't much to discuss, anyway. Life was simple. She worked and got a bite to eat. Read the paper and stopped at magazine stands. Walked city parks and browsed the shops once or twice a week. A lovely, mundane life made whole by finally being where and who she was meant to be.

And now she had someone in that life whom she ached to be with every day. Who made her want to stretch into new interests, who asked her to share her own, unexpected treasures at her age. How on earth could she keep all that inside?

Crossing the room to sit on Patricia's desk, Y/N described the rarities. "Take comedy," she began. "I like the late shows as much as anyone else, or a funny movie once in a while. Beyond that?" A dismissive wave. "But I love Arthur's passion for it, learning from him, hearing his jokes. It's like when he puts on music I haven't listened to before."

"What's he like?" Patricia sipped her coffee, reclined in her leather chair.

"The classics."

"The Supremes? Elvis?"

"More like Frank Sinatra and Fred Astaire."

Patricia squinted. "How old did you say he was?"

"He's younger than all of us but his heart's antique."

"You really are in love."

Tucking her bottom lip, Y/N grinned until her cheeks smarted. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Y/N, take my advice," Matt said, now in the doorway. "Men aren't like women."

Hand on hip, she caught Patricia's Here We Go gaze, then angled her own on Matt. "Is that so?"

"Women tend to talk too much. Men don't need all those discussions. We want to just...do." The man lumbered closer - the same man who groveled to his ex-wife every other week. He brought his palms together as if delivering a final argument, trying to convince a jury to render a guilty plea. "Let him do. What comes comes. You're a bright woman. It'll work out."

As poorly expressed as Matt's thesis was (and the behind the scenes it explained), her gut told her he'd gotten that last sentence right. After a moment, Y/N bobbed her chin in appreciation. He gave a dumb, pleased little wave and retreated to his office.

Patricia's unforgiving elbow jabbed her thigh. "Get back to your desk before he opens his mouth again."

~~~~~

Arthur itched to talk about it. Truly. Cross his heart, hope to die, needle in the eye and all that.

At the grocery store the other night, he'd felt brave enough. Strolling the aisles, filling their respective baskets, holding hands between picking products. Seltzer and marked down Christmas TV dinners for him, a popular brand of tea and World Tour Swanson's for her.

He'd repeated the opening in his head a hundred times, scrawled it in his journal a thousand more. In the shadow of a grand, football shaped display of potato chips, he'd watched her. (Was the amount of time he watched her when they were together creepy? He didn't want to be creepy. He wanted to be a man in love.) She'd studied a bag. He'd gripped his basket tighter.

"I wanted to ask you..." Arthur's breath ran out.

Y/N put the bag in her basket, next to a carton of eggs. "Yes?"

"Um." The bravery he'd been so confident of threatened to run out, too. He'd shrugged, forced himself to smile, his tongue in armed revolt against his brain. "How your pretzels were?"

She'd stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. Which of course he had. "How my pretzels were?"

"Yeah." He'd slid closer to hide his screw up, body language smoother than spoken. Act casual. "The ones you bought for New Year’s." He'd managed to name the day, a split hair's breadth from success! "The mustard kind?"

One slow blink. "Honey mustard. They were good. Did you want some?" She'd reached towards the display.

"No," he'd said, a bit too fast.

"All right."

Five weird seconds that stretched like five hours. Arthur prayed he'd turn invisible so he could flee. A hiccup, a conscious effort to constrict his throat, hold his breath against a laugh.

An easy arm had curled around the crook of his elbow, led them to the checkout. "I have some left. You're welcome to them," she'd said. His diaphragm had calmed to a quiet cough.

Perhaps he could broach the subject tonight. That was the plan, anyway, as he jaunted down the concrete stairs. In his hurry to get to Y/N, he'd forgotten his hat and mittens, an oversight sure to perturb her. The wintry mix of snow and rain turned the light waves of his hair to curls, his lips frigid as a Frigidaire. Shivering, he pulled his tan hood over his head, yanked the strings tight.

He could do this. He just had to put his mind to it. After all, if they hadn't exchanged keys it was still a hypothetical, which meant it was still safe.

Not that she wasn't a safe haven. She was the one who'd taught him what safe haven meant. But there was a lot to consider beyond eternal bliss.

She'd bought movie tickets last Tuesday, insisted on paying for dinner Thursday, offered an evening casserole and wine after she'd seen the receipt for his new insomnia medication. He'd cursed himself for leaving it on the counter and declined. Poverty was the usual and he was used to it. Now it pricked like a bushel of thorns.

A couple days ago, he'd met Dr. Ludlow, an appointment made after Christmas, after a long talk with Y/N. (Though she'd made no such hints, he suspected that committing to treatment was necessary for her to fully commit to him.) The introductory session had consisted of rehashing every diagnosis, histories he'd rather forget. Dr. Ludlow was nice and all, made him comfortable, appeared willing to listen. No hard candies but he could smoke to his heart's content. When he'd wanted to schedule another appointment, he'd pushed out a bashful request for some type of payment plan.

"The first few sessions are taken care of." She'd smiled at him like she was delivering good news. "That should take you through March, then we can go from there."

Hovering at the doctor's desk, he'd found himself unable to move. That act of generosity was an island's leap from free chicken parmesan. He was at once deeply moved - and deeply unsettled.

Was it possible to be both the Man of the House and a financial burden at once?

Maybe. Maybe not. Probably maybe not.

Probably maybe he should slam the brakes on this train of thought. Shaking those notions off, he knocked on Y/N's door.

"Where is your hat?" Wifely exasperation right on cue. Chilled cheeks burned crimson at the association. He kissed her full lips but she retreated, wincing. "You're freezing. We need to warm you up. You should take a-"

"Bath. I will." He'd showered that morning, but he wouldn't argue. It'd be hard to enjoy himself as a popsicle. Unzipping, unbuttoning, he started towards the bathroom, dripping across the carpet.

~~~~~

Laundry folded and put away, Arthur's clothes draped over the radiator (his socks and briefs had somehow stayed dry), Y/N busied herself with the Gotham Journal. Thomas Wayne's mayoral bid continued to stomp across the front page, another article reported Brezhnev's latest threats. An ad for canned diced tomatoes featured a recipe for Mediterranean stuffed peppers. She dog-eared that page for later.

At a quarter to eight, she folded the paper on her lap and looked towards the bathroom door. Light spilled beneath it, the sound of a couple soft splashes. There was no sign it would open soon, and she was growing eager. Ready to reclaim last week's courage, she set off to retrieve her bathrobe.

Just as she was about to knock, a muffled hum halted her hand. Low, baritone, a caress to the ear. She pressed her frame closer to the wood. Rasped syllables between bars, a pitch that stuck to the back of the throat at higher notes. Though the song was unknown to her, she guessed it was the kind of old romantic tune that'd made her gush to Patricia.

It was adorable, her boyfriend serenading himself in the tub, and she adored him for it. Her younger self had assumed passion would lose its wonder as she grayed and wrinkled. Yet, she found she wasn't much different from that girl back in Boonville. The love she had for Arthur felt as fresh as new beginnings.

When he spent the night, he usually let her sleep until her alarm. But there were times she'd wake to his face buried in the nape of her neck, his stubble rough between her shoulders. Arm tight at her waist, fingers splayed on her abdomen. On those mornings she couldn't bear to move. Perfect moments she wanted to live in forever.

A glow sparked within her, propelled her forward. She knocked but didn't wait for a reply. "You can use this, if you'd like," she said, indicating the robe, cutting through the muggy air. "It shouldn't be too snug. I bought a couple sizes too big." She laid it on the closed toilet and turned to face him.

A navy blue washcloth drifted through the water, a bar of Ivory soap floated on the surface. Arthur sat straight as a fence, penis and hands tucked firmly between his thighs, which flexed in an uneven rhythm.

She floundered for a moment. Had his mother walked in on him like this? In the middle of getting dressed or washing up, a grown man without privacy? Had she just been as inconsiderate as Penny?

Y/N's nose wrinkled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll go put the kettle on."

A shake of the head told her not to worry. "No, it's all right." His pale green glance was earnest, flashed with a shimmer that might have been hope. A muscle twitched along his jaw, the corners of his lips folded inward. Brown waves tumbled forward, knotted from the wet cold.

She ventured a pace towards him. "Would you like me to wash your hair?" Not long ago, he'd mentioned he always cut it himself, hadn't ever had the salon experience.

Dark brows lifted as he processed the request. "You don't have to."

"I'd love to," she said, perching on the tub's rim. "It's my favorite part of getting my hair done. Nothing washes away a trying day quite like it."

Whenever she suggested touching him in a new way, it didn't take much convincing. Tonight was no different. He dunked under the water immediately. Rivulets sculpted cutting cheekbones, drops fell from the rounded tip of his nose.

Sleeves rolled to her elbows and a dollop of shampoo in her palm, she laced her fingers through not yet silky locks. A stubborn tangle caught her left thumbnail. She stood for better leverage, working through his chestnut mop, now dark as velvet winter skies. The lather thickened with each stroke.

"Does that feel good?" she asked.

Not unlike his earlier singing, he hummed. "Mmm."

Sleet pinged the nearby window. She raked her nails along his scalp. "When we took a bath at your place, you said you were thinking about the future." A safe a way to breach the conversation, a lovely memory for them both. The night he'd confessed he loved her.

"Yeah. One with you." He rested in the curved end of the tub. "I've been thinking about what you said. About living together."

Her pulse skipped into next week. "Does that mean you want to?"

"No. I mean- I dunno. I like the idea, but I- I don't have a lot of money. My apartment's expensive, Penny's stuff is everywhere, and...I haven't lived anywhere else. Your apartment's newer. And I know you hate the cigarette smell at mine."

That was a fact she couldn't deny. She hadn't complained, having no desire to hurt him. But given that she didn't allow smoking anywhere besides the fire escape, it wasn't hard to deduce. Kneading slowed to a languid massage. She cleared relief from her throat, relief their relationship wasn't the cause of his hesitation. "This one's about the same age, just remodeled. And your place is spacious compared to some of the apartments I've seen." Her mind flashed to Mrs. McPhee's, the kitchen, living, and dining rooms combined into one ten by ten coop.

The pad of her thumb followed his strong brow. "I've been meaning to ask you something." Her hand snuck past his shoulder, traced droplets on his pectoral, dipped beneath the water's surface. "Were you always this thin?"

He frowned, tensed beneath her touch. "I thought you liked it."

"I do, I do. It's just that you have a bit of a love handle. Righhht...here." A pinch to his squishy flank, tickles to his ribs.

Sudden giggles, laughter that sounded ten years younger. He splashed her with a flick of the wrist, streaks of lilac sweater darkening to violet. "I lost weight when I started my medication. My mother used to say-" he raised his voice an octave here "'-You need to eat. Look at how skinny you are.'" A roll of the eyes, his whole head. "I guess that doesn't matter anymore."

"It doesn't have to," Y/N said. Then she scoffed at herself, at the hypocrisy of confirming he could let go of the past when hers continued to bleed at the edges. Before he could assume the scoff was at him, she added, "Maybe living here would help with that." He made no response.

Bending closer, she gathered his hair at the nape of his neck, wrung out lather. Suds slipped down her forearms. Automatically, he relaxed into her, curls clinging to her fingertips. Conversation ceased. She was unaware of the nearness of her breasts to his face.

A whispered trail on the seam of her sweater. Along her abdomen, across her stomach, up, up, up. He cupped her breast, cradled her as if she was a mirage. Wetness seeped through the acrylic. Her motions halted. The humidity of the room thickened to a pleasant fog.

Arthur's Adam's apple bobbed, his gaze darted to hers. "I don't want sex."

Careful to keep shampoo out of his eyes, she smoothed stray strands from his forehead. "You can touch me whenever you want, wherever you want. With or without sex." She nudged the tip of his nose with hers. "I want you to touch me every day. That's how you'll get used to it."

Reservation melted into an easy smile, tinged with a bashful pride. Akin to a suitor recalling how well he'd done on a date. Moving to catch her chin, he admired the handprint on her shirt and stole a kiss.

Her toes curled anew. And in the corner of her eye, so did his.

~~~~~

After handing him a fresh towel, Y/N left to change. An oversized sweatshirt would do, a faded sage green. With its hem at her hips, she decided to forego pants in favor of pale pink middle-aged panties. A choice for candid familiarity.

As she poured honey mustard pretzels in a wooden bowl, filled the tea kettle with water, Arthur shuffled through the living room. He flipped through her meager record collection, about ten LPs in total. The console stereo remained shut.

"There's nothing romantic in here," he said.

"I have a feeling Al Green would disagree." She'd played Let's Stay Together often as of late, a soundtrack to dusting and dishes, lines and lyrics bringing Arthur to mind.

The radio sprang to life, the GCR nightly news hour. Buzzing, static, the squeal of an out of key jingle. Finally, he reached his goal. Warm strings, a plaintive timbre.

"What station is this?" she asked. Bumping into Sinatra the evening he'd come for dinner had been pure luck.

"GPR. They play oldies Tuesday and Thursday nights and Sunday mornings." He sidled up beside her, robe cinched tight at the waist, chest peeking out from the white terrycloth. Soft notes continued while they waited for the water to boil. Quiet, lovely companionship in this basic task.

When she filled the mugs, the collar of her sweatshirt fell down her shoulder. A moment, two, and he put his arm about her. His thumb ventured to her collarbone. Tapping, settling into a comfortable caress. She jutted her hip against him.

He gave her a squeeze. "When you were a little girl, what did you dream about? What future did you want?"

Both hands cupping her mug, she put her elbows on the counter. In truth, that was hard to conjure. Married at seventeen, college four months later, degree at twenty-two. Childhood dreams had remained distant since - well, since she was a little girl. Not that she regretted that history. It'd simply resulted in practicality instead of preoccupation.

And the prior decade of distress had done a pretty thorough job of grinding down whatever parts of her could still imagine in that way. Even with the medication she'd taken towards the end. She'd lived moment to moment, survived hour to hour for so long. Thinking of it reminded her of all she'd lost, when it should've reminded her of all she'd gained. It irked her, how small it made her feel, small enough to rival a camel going through the eye of a needle.

But Arthur wasn't aware of the rusty gears and cranks of her past. He deserved an answer.

"I wanted to grow up, but I wanted life to stay the same. Does that make sense?" She blew ripples across chamomile. "I had a good childhood. I was lucky. My parents were supportive and proud. My sister was my best friend, even when she annoyed the hell out of me. I wanted to keep those things, like a photograph that wouldn't fade. But I also wished for a career, to make a home with the man I loved. I didn't understand what that kind of love was, not yet. But I saw what my parents had and wanted my own happily ever after." A soreness threatened her vocal cords, for theirs had been cut short. She sipped it away. "What about you?"

The answer came quickly, as if he'd been waiting to be asked his whole life. "Meeting my dad." He dunked his cinnamon teabag, his strong brow weakening. "I always wondered what I did to make him leave."

Heat enveloped her neck. "You didn't do anything, Arthur. You didn't do anything. He's the one who missed out, not you." A rash response, one that wouldn't heal his wounds. But a salve she hoped would soothe - and what she believed.

He wound the teabag's string through the mug's handle. The corner of his mouth curved, a subtle nod of the head. The hand on her shoulder drew a line down her arm to entwine their fingers. Turning her towards him, he grasped her hip.

From the tender light in his eyes, it was plain where this was headed. And she hadn't had any wine to help her get over herself. Her palm pressed his sternum in a halfhearted attempt to save her dignity. "We've done this once."

Their clasped hands were now at shoulder height. "Not enough," he said.

"You haven't had a chance to see how bad I am at this."

"We just have to practice."

"But I can't hear when to step," she said, and shifted foot to foot.

"Didn't you enjoy it the first time?"

She weakened in his arms, her protestations dissolving in her throat. "I loved it."

"Then let me lead. You don't have to all the time." The warmth of his blinding smile echoed in his gentle instruction. Touch firm but tender, his fingers splayed on the small of her back. "If we live together, I'll want you to dance with me every day. That’s how you'll get used to it."

She chuckled, laid her head on his shoulder. The fresh scent of soap rolled off him. She nestled deeper for another whiff. On a sigh, she pressed a lingering kiss to his neck. "Make sure to hold me to that.”

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​​​​​​​ @ithinkimaperson​​​​​​​ @sweet-nothings04​​​​​​​ @stephieraptorr​​​​ @rommies​​​​​​​ @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1​​​​​​​ @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​​​​​​​ @jokerownsmysoul​​​​​​​ @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics​​​​​​​ @iartsometimes​​​​​​​ @fleckficgirl​

[littlelambreads]

A3! Fan Fiction — “I’m Youth, I’m Joy!” // Episode 3

Tenma: Mankai Company is holding auditions!

Yuki: Shady.

Tenma: Hah!? How do I look shady? I have to keep these on, you know!

Muku: Tenma-san, you look cool! R-Right, Sakuya-san?

Sakuya: Yes! You look very cool, Tenma-kun!

Tenma: Of course I do! … Thanks.

Sakuya: Yes! Let’s do our best to pass out these fliers! I’m sure everyone else is working hard, too!

Hanako: …

Hanako: That guy…I think I’ve seen him before…Hm. Where was it that I saw him?...

Sakuya: Um…hello? 

Hanako: …!

Sakuya: Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.

Hanako: …you. I saw you do a street act with imagined swords recently. It was amazing!

Sakuya: Thank you so much! I also thought you looked familiar. Well, I actually approached you for another reason.

Hanako: ?

--- 

Tsuzuru: This is kind of…

Izumi: Yeah…

Masumi: Disappointing.

Itaru: You don’t have to say it so bluntly, but well, you aren’t wrong.

Chikage: Shall I use my backup plan?

Itaru: You had a backup plan?

Chikage: Who do you think I am?

Itaru: Right.

Izumi: No one came. I guess what Yuzo warned me about was true. It is already intimidating when the troupe is all guys, but having been in the spotlight lately brings unusual pressure.

Masumi: By the way, where is that guy?

Tenma: Right, we planned to meet up around now, but our group kinda got separated.

Yuki: Whose fault was that?

Muku: Ehehe…Tenma-san got a little turned around.

Kazunari: Ten-ten got lost! Classic!

Misumi: Tenma~ Did you cause trouble?

Tenma: No! At least…it wasn’t my intention.

Sakuya: Wait! Please wait! We have someone here who is interested in auditioning!

Citron: Woah! Sakuya is shouting!

Itaru: Look at that, he brought someone.

Chikage: I never doubted him.

Itaru: No, no…you had a backup plan, remember?

Chikage: Did I?

Izumi: Sakuya, it’s all right! You don’t need to run! We can wait. You two, please catch your breath.

Sakuya: Thank goodness!

---

Hanako: Is it just me? I’m sorry for coming late.

Sakuya: Ah! It’s my fault. I ended up talking too much!

Hanako: Yeah, we went on a tangent about pantomiming battles…

Sakuya: It was so interesting though!

Hanako: Again, I’m sorry for coming late.

Izumi: Don’t worry. We’ve just started, but…it seems that people were a bit wary to come…Anyway, please introduce yourself.

Hanako: Right! I’m Hanako and I came to audition because I’m looking for a theater that would allow me to intern with them. My school back home requires students in their junior year to do an internship related to their program and mine’s theater.

Banri: Wow, so she actually does theater.

TsumugI: We could learn a lot from this. You’ve taught us so much from studying at Amabi.

Izumi: Hanako-chan, from your introduction, are you not from around here?

Hanako: No, I’m not. I’m visiting from the United States. I could have found an internship somewhere local, but…my parents suggested I study abroad, so I figured I’d come to Japan since I’m half Japanese and I’ve never been here.

Muku: Half! So cool!

Citron: Wonderful! Japan is the best!

Guy: I have also come to witness how wonderful Japan is.

Taichi: Traveling overseas for an internship! That’s amazing!

Izumi: Well then, Hanako-chan, please show us a brief performance with the concept of home. 

Hanako: I’ve never had an audition like this. It’s so…informal. But, home…hm…

Hanako: ♪ (Starts singing “Home” from the musical The Wiz.)

Izumi: I didn’t expect her to sing. What a lovely voice! She must be involved in musical theater. It isn’t something we’ve tried, but perhaps it might be a good time to consider it. She’s singing in English, but somehow, I understand her message. She is a girl who has been on an adventure of self-discovery and is ready to return home with all the things she’s learned. Yep. She's a good actor.

Hanako: ♪ (Finishes singing.)

Banri: So that’s what it looks like to study acting from a younger age. The techniques are solid.

Tenma: Yeah, I’ve only learned from experience, so it is cool to see what it looks like when someone is educationally trained in acting.

Tsumugi: It seems she was also trained in stage singing. Her voice projected well while still being imbued with emotion. I don’t know English well, but I could understand what she was trying to convey with her actions, facial expressions, and vocal dynamics as she sang.

Sakuya: To sing while acting is something we haven’t tried before! I think we could really learn from her. Director?

Izumi: Fufu…I’m thinking the same thing. Hanako-chan, you passed! Mankai Company will gladly allow you to intern here. We can talk about those details later after you settle in.

Hanako: Thank you so much!...Wait. Eh? Settle in?

Izumi: Yes! Our theater has a dorm. Well, all the rooms are technically filled, but if you don’t already have a place to stay, you could share my room if you want to.

Hanako: I don’t have any accommodations, but is that okay?

Citron: Oh! Director will have a broom meat.

Tsuzuru: I’m going to take a stab at that. Did you mean to say ‘roommate’?

Citron: That’s right!

Itaru: Masumi, your sensors aren’t activating.

Masumi: Well…it should be fine…

Chikage: Haa… I’m not good with women.

Sakuya: It will be a new experience for the Director to have a roommate and for Spring Troupe to have a girl in our group! Oh! I wonder what type of play we’d do.

Tsuzuru: Yeah, I think I have some ideas.

Itaru: That’s our star scriptwriter for you.

Tsuzuru: Ugh. What’s with the unneeded pressure?

Sakuya: Ahaha.

next

[basilsnotemo]

4, 16, 20, 23, 32, 58, 73 for creek :3

omg thank you for the ask i’ve been dying to yap about the boys

4 Which of the two listens to old music and which one is more into the newer stuff?

i think that’s craig is more inclined to listen to older music just from spending time with his dad as a kid, they were always listening to either the classic rock station or the country station and i think craig still tends to listen to the older stuff since he already knows the songs, but he isn’t opposed to new music either (i also hc that craig is a total swiftie)

tweek on the other hand i feel like he doesn’t really listen to a lot of music, but tends to listen to newer stuff just because he spends so much time in the coffee shop and that’s mostly what they play is like top 100 pop hits and he mostly tunes it out, if he had to pick tho he likes like early 2000’s pop music cause it’s easy

16 Which one’s the first to help a stranger in need?

probably tweek, while BCU tweek, is pretty small, he is INSANELY strong from years of heavy lifting and moving stuff around in the coffee shop and he used to take boxing lessons in high school/ college so he’s got some muscle built up and tweek is better at talking to strangers then craig is since that’s what he does all day at work.

20 Who’s more likely to get into a bar fight?

i don’t hc either of them as big drinkers, i think they are like a glass of wine with dinner types of people, that being said, tweek 100% that man has a short fuse and fighting experience, usually the cause of it is someone saying some homophobic shit about him and craig or anyone else in the bar and tweek has no tolerance for that so he will shut it down really quick.

23 Which of the two would you rather team up with for a game of laser tag?

craig hands down, he is the type to find a really good hiding spot and just snipe people and no one ever finds him, he calculates every single move he makes and always wins

32 Who’s the first to apologize?

that depends, usually whoever started it is the one that apologizes first but i think tweek will do it a lot faster then craig will. now i think that’s they have a very healthy relationship, personally i think that they go to relationship counseling because they are both kind of shit at talking about their feelings and stuff and having that third person there really gets them to talk about anything they might need too without it escalating into a big fight. i don’t think they fight often so when they do it’s really bad, like they aren’t talking for a few days after, but they always get over it, usually tweek apologizes first because he’s stressed that if he doesn’t he thinks craig is going to leave him. and craig will apologize when he realizes he was being an asshole

58 Who’s the most fashionable?

craig, but unintentionally. he doesn’t really care he just grabs things that he thinks look nice and then he leaves, like he’s usually just wearing black jeans, a random tshirt and his NASA jacket (that he got from work) and then i think he exclusively wears high top black converse. like it’s nothing particularly special but it just works for him, tweek would say it’s because he’s naturally hot so he could wear anything he wants and still look fantastic. tweek lives in a hoodie and jeans cause he’s always cold and he doesn’t bother putting together a nice outfit because it’s just going to get covered in coffee anyway

73 Whose hobbies/interests change every 2-5 business days?

tweek for sure, he is the opposite of craig who has two or three interests and hobbies that he is just so incredibly hyperfixated on that they never change. tweek can’t focus on anything but is somehow naturally good at everything he does, his main hobbies are reading, piano, and painting but he has tried almost every single type of art that he realistically can he goes through all sorts of phases, pretty much anything you can think of tweek has been into at one point or another

anyway thanks for listening to my yap session please send me either more numbers from that list or just ask me a question i love to talk about the boys and i have this whole world built in my head

[reggies-eyeliner]

THE CLASSIC & PLATONIC MATCHUP - 🐛anon!

-> THE "TAKE-MY-JACKET-IT'S-COLD" COUPLE<3

& THE "WHY DID YOU FORGET YOUR JACKET" SQUAD

[ ANON / STEVE HARRINGTON || ANON & ROBIN BUCKLEY, DUSTIN HENDERSON, ERICA SINCLAIR, STEVE HARRINGTON ]

#now playing ... "SOMEWHERE ONLY WE KNOW" by keane

he falls for you when you're patching up his wounds. he falls for you when you gently caress his hair as tears fall down his face because he's so so tired. he falls for you when you ramble for hours about your interests; when you're the only one who points out the remarkable designs on the stairs of the house they've newly discovered can be linked to the upside-down. you made it so easy for him to fall in love and he is both terrified and at peace with that (begins to sob on the floor bangs fists on the table oh my GOD)

it's during the scariest of times that he'll start cracking a dry joke just to lift your spirits, or he'll let you talk about mythology to calm yourself after a rather stressful mishap. he'll be the first to tell you that you did your best, and that's all anyone could ever ask for. his breath will be taken away when he sees you dressed up for the first time, even when he's already speechless when you show up in casual clothes.

robin + steve + you, the trio that stays out to play badminton until late in the night, only to hear something in the woods as you both scamper in doors, sheltered form the cold as you turn on a film (as background music for your conversations) and talk until the sun rises. the trio that'll have unscheduled, mutual therapy appointments for hours, to talk about all of the deep things that are hard to talk about, but talking about it with each other makes things so much easier.

dustin and erica continuing to look up to you, even when you fail, knowing that you always get up and try again no matter what, but also reminding you that you can ask for help. dustin seeing you and steve as parental figures in a sweet, yet a bit sad, way.

robin being completely chill about you and steve's relationship, she'd assumed that you two had been dating previously, when really you had only gotten together after a particularly life-threatening moment that separated you two, and after that he didn't want to waste a single moment without you

dustin sees you as an older sibling in a sense, he's always asking questions because he wants to start conversations with you, and he's genuinely there to listen to you talk whenever you need it

erica absolutely loves your hair and will ask you to do hers !! (begins to sob and curl up into a ball) you two are so so iconic, erica will stop at nothing to ensure your safety, contrary to her behavior around others. she enjoys your company a ton, and will usually be on your side, no matter the circumstance

steve harrington, who learns how to really feel his emotions around you instead of keeping them bottled up, who lands gentle kisses on the forehead while patching up wounds, who is always the first to ask how you're doing

RANDOMIZED TROPE + INCORRECT QUOTE

" FOUND FAMILY "

-> robin: guys imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the items you have lost throughout your life erica: oh my god my childhood innocence?? how fun, thanks! dustin: i knew i lost my potential somewhere! steve: my moral code, is that you? you: oh man, my non-perfectionistic views? robin: damn i was just gonna show you this cool trunk my mother left me but do you guys need a hug?

a/n: oKAY THIS ONE WAS SO FUN TO WRITE HOLY SMOKES. WOW. i wrote this and went thIS COULD FIT SO MUCH HURT/COMFORT AND FOUND FAMILY AND OH MY GOSH?? i hope you're doing well anon + THE PICKUP LINE IM CRYINGFFSHCSC THANK YOU SO MUCH HELLO ?? anyways please take care + remember to hydrate lots and eat well! get plenty of rest! :-)

REQUEST A MATCHUP HERE!