#if i ever build another guitar i might have to make hers

[kaijuchaosart]

Apparently if I don't post WIPs, I won't post at all, so have an unfinished Hex Girl from 3:30 am last night

trying something new, don't @ me about the style. idk if i like it yet 💀

[biblical-chronicles]

Questioning

____________________________________________

where Noel asks the reader about a "dilf" sign he saw at his gig

____________________________________________

Noel adjusted his guitar strap as the final notes of "AKA… What a Life!" echoed through the venue. The crowd roared, hands clapping and voices chanting for more, but Noel was already striding toward the wings. The band sounded tight, the energy was right, and he’d once again proven that no one commands a crowd quite like him.

But halfway through the set, something strange had caught his eye. A poster, held aloft in the middle of the crowd, scrawled with three words in massive, bold letters: "yer a dilf"

He’d clocked it during the set and though it had thrown him for a moment, he’d carried on. Still, it had stuck with him in that niggling, puzzling way. What the hell did that mean?

By the time he showed up at the studio the next morning, the word had been shoved to the back of his mind. Now he was focused on his next idea—a guitar riff he wanted to experiment with—but naturally, he didn’t have the right pedal for it. Thankfully, he knew exactly who'd have it.

You.

You were tucked away in your studio room, most likely immersed in whatever you were working on. Over the past year, Noel had found himself wandering into your space more and more often. You weren’t just another musician sharing the same building—you were clever, sharp, and always good for a laugh. And as much as he hated to admit it, you had a way of making him feel... well, younger. Like the days when he was still figuring out melodies in Manchester, hungry and full of fire.

Not that he’d ever tell you that, of course.

He sauntered down the hall and knocked on your door. “Oi, open up. It’s me.”

The door swung open, and there you were, a screwdriver in hand, clearly mid-repair on a piece of gear. The moment you saw him, your lips tugged into a smirk, and Noel felt that familiar, irritating flutter in his chest.

“Noel Gallagher,” you said, leaning against the doorframe dramatically. “What’s it this time? Lost your capo? Need me to write a chorus for you?”

“Dead funny,” he said dryly, stepping past you into the room. “ I need your wah pedal.”

You crossed your arms, amusement sparkling in your eyes. “The wah? What happened to the one you already have?”

“Dodgy connection,” he muttered, glancing at your gear. “Won’t work for what I’m tryin’ to do, and can't be arsed to call someone to fix it.”

“So naturally, you thought, ‘I’ll nick hers,’” you said, grabbing the pedal and holding it behind your back.

“Borrow,” he corrected, narrowing his eyes. “What’s with all the dramatics? Just hand it over.”

“Hmm…” You pretended to think, tapping your chin. “What’s in it for me?”

Noel sighed, exasperated. “You want me to buy you a coffee or somethin’? Jesus. You’re not exactly doin’ me a massive favor.”

“Not a massive favor?” you repeated, feigning outrage. “You’re using me gear to record your brilliant idea. You don’t think I deserve a bit of compensation for that?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll give it back in one piece, all right? You’re actin’ like I’m takin’ your bloody guitar.”

“Maybe I should start charging you rental fees,” you teased, finally handing over the pedal.

He snatched it, muttering under his breath. “You’re a proper nightmare, you know that?”

“Aw, you love it,” you said, grinning as you leaned against the desk. “Anyway, how was the gig last night? Sorry I missed it—had a soundcheck that ran long.”

“Good,” he said, setting the pedal on a nearby stool. “Crowd was mad for it. But listen…” His expression shifted slightly, like he’d just remembered something. “I meant to ask you summat. Since you’re younger, you might know.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m some kind of translator for youth culture?”

“Something like that,” he said, smirking. “Right, so there was this sign in the crowd last night. Big letters, bold as anything. It said… ‘dilf’” He spelled it out carefully, like he was reading from a suspicious text. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The room went silent for a beat as you processed what he’d just said. Then your lips twitched, and before you could stop yourself, you burst into laughter.

Noel frowned, watching you double over with your hand pressed to your mouth. “What the bloody hell’s so funny?”

You shook your head, trying to catch your breath. “Oh my God, Noel. You really don’t know what it means?”

“That’s why I’m askin’, genius.”

You straightened up, wiping tears from your eyes. “No, it’s just—” You dissolved into laughter again, practically leaning against the desk for support.

He folded his arms, narrowing his eyes. “Go on, then. What is it? Can’t be that complicated.”

You took a deep breath, still grinning. “It’s… well… it stands for ‘Dad I’d Like to…’” You hesitated for dramatic effect, raising your eyebrows.

Noel’s expression shifted as realization dawned on him. His eyes widened slightly before narrowing again in disbelief. “You’re takin’ the piss.”

“I swear I’m not,” you said, your grin widening.

“So you’re tellin’ me,” he said slowly, “someone in that crowd held up a sign basically sayin’ I’m a fit dad?”

“Yeah,” you said, still giggling. “That’s definitely you, Noel.”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus Christ. That’s gotta be a new low.”

“Are you kidding? That’s a compliment,” you teased. “Take it and run with it.”

“Brilliant,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Just what I always wanted.”

You laughed harder, clutching your stomach as you tried to calm down. “I’m sorry, but it’s hilarious. The fact you didn’t know makes it even better.”

Noel sighed, but he couldn’t entirely suppress his smirk. “Right, well, this is the last time I ask you for help with anything. Bloody hell.”

“You say that now,” you shot back, wiping tears from your eyes. “But you’ll be back. Especially when you break me wah pedal.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, though his voice was lighter now. He leaned against the desk, his earlier embarrassment fading into amusement. “Anyway, remind me not to look at the crowd next time. Clearly, it’s hazardous for me ego.”

“I dunno,” you said, grinning. “I think it’s good for you. Keeps you humble.”

“Humble?!” he repeated, his voice mock-indignant. “That’s rich, comin’ from you.”

You just laughed again, and for a moment, the teasing faded into something softer. His gaze lingered on you, the corners of his mouth still curved upward. There was an ease between you, a rhythm he found himself looking forward to more often than he’d like to admit.

“Right,” he said finally, standing up straight and grabbing the pedal. “I’d better get back before someone accuses me of bein’ a slacker. You’re still a nightmare, by the way.”

“And you’re still a dilf” you shot back, grinning as he headed for the door.

He turned in the doorway, his smirk widening. “See you later, yeah?”

“See you later,” you replied, your smile lingering long after the door closed.

Noel was making his way back to your studio with the pedal after he’d barely had the thing for a day, but something about your teasing yesterday had lodged itself in his head. Maybe he wanted to prove he wasn’t a total thief. Or maybe, if he was honest with himself, he just wanted to see you again.

He pushed open your door without knocking, the pedal dangling from his hand like a trophy. “Right, look at me. Returnin’ your crap like a responsible citizen. You can shut up about it now.”

You looked up from your desk, your eyes lighting up as a grin spread across your face. “Ah, me favorite dilf has returned!”

Noel groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “For the love of God, are we still on about that?”

“Obviously,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “I told you yesterday, it’s your new title. You might as well embrace it.”

He dropped the pedal on your desk and folded his arms. “Don’t get too comfortable, because I’m not lettin’ this dilf thing stick.”

“Oh, it’s sticking,” you teased. “Everyone here will know about it soon enough.”

His eyes widened. “What, are you plannin’ to tell people?”

You smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Maybe. Could be fun.”

He groaned again, clearly frustrated. “Right, if you’re so bloody obsessed with callin’ me a dilf…” He paused, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into a mock-serious tone, really wanting you to drop it. “Would you like to do that, then?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Do what?”

“You know what I mean,” he said, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “The whole DILF thing. Isn’t that the bloody point? If you’re gonna keep sayin’ it, might as well put your money where your mouth is.”

The second the words left his mouth, he seemed to realize what he’d just implied. His face shifted slightly, caught between frustration and awkwardness.

For a moment, you stared at him, your lips twitching as you tried to suppress a laugh. And then it burst out of you, loud and infectious.

“Oh my God,” you said, leaning back in your chair and clutching your stomach. “Noel, did you just—did you seriously say that?”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as his face flushed. “You’re impossible, you know that? I just wanted to shut you up.”

You grinned, still laughing. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Noel sighed, shaking his head. “I’m never hearin’ the end of this, am I?”

“Not a chance,” you said, your grin widening.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, though there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips now. “You’re lucky I’ve got a thick skin, or you’d be in trouble.”

“You love it,” you said, standing up and leaning against the desk. “Admit it. You’d be bored without me.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” he said, though his voice had softened. His gaze flickered to yours, and for a moment, the banter gave way to something heavier, something unspoken.

“Still,” you said, tilting your head slightly, “you haven’t answered the question.”

“What question?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you repeated, your voice quieter now, teasing but with an edge of sincerity.

His smirk faltered for a second, replaced by something closer to vulnerability. “Maybe I would,” he murmured, his voice low.

The room fell silent. You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly the space between you vanished. His hand came up to your cheek as his lips met yours, tentative at first but quickly deepening into something more certain. You felt your heart race as you leaned into him, your hands curling into the fabric of his jacket.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you found him watching you with a mixture of amusement and something warmer, something deeper.

“Still gonna call me that?” he asked, his voice slightly hoarse but laced with humor.

“Absolutely,” you said, grinning as you leaned in to kiss him again.

This time, there was no hesitation, no lingering awkwardness—just the spark that had been building between you for months, finally ignited.

When you pulled back again, you rested your forehead against his, still smiling. “See? Not so bad, is it?”

“No,” he admitted, his smirk returning. “Though I reckon you’re still a pain in the arse.”

“And yet here you are,” you teased, echoing his words from the day before.

“Here I am,” he said softly, his gaze locked on yours.

When you pulled back from another kiss, you couldn’t resist one last jab. “So, was borrowing me pedal part of some grand plan to seduce me?”

“Obviously,” he deadpanned, though there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’m a bloody mastermind, me.”

“Good plan,” you said, stepping back slightly.

“Told you—got layers,” he quipped, his smirk softening into something warmer.

He fell silent for a moment, his gaze lingering on yours, and you could see him hesitate slightly, like he was debating something. Finally, he shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. “Listen,” he said, a little gruffly. “Since you’re so keen on seein’ me all the time…”

“Oh, is this about to be an elaborate way of asking me out?” you teased, your grin widening.

“Shut it,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m bein’ serious. What’re you doin’ later? Fancy goin’ for a drink or summat? You know, if you’re not too busy comin’ up with more ways to wind me up.”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. I suppose I could pencil you in, dilf”

“You’re gonna regret sayin’ that when we’re out in public,” he muttered, though there was a small smile tugging at his lips.

“You love it,” you said, and he rolled his eyes, heading toward the door.

“You folded your arms, watching him as he finally made his way to the door. “Gonna come back tomorrow and borrow something else?”

“Don’t push your luck,” he said, though his tone was light.

“You know where to find me love, see you later” you called after him.

And as you sat back at your desk, your grin lingering, you couldn’t help but feel that the banter—and whatever came next—was far from over.

____________________________________________

Loved writin’ this one, and don’t worry you lot, I’ll be back to crackin’ on with requests soon x

Loosely based on that vid of Noel clockin’ a sign like that at a gig, if you ain’t seen it.

Let me know what you thought, love ya all loads xx

[mc-lukanette]

Taking her talent online, ultimately, had been the way Marinette felt she could play to her strengths without worrying about her weaknesses. Commissions had been helpful as a side job while she made a name for herself, and following that came a proper channel to run and make money off of. She did a little bit of everything, from sewing to designing to color theory and tutorials for how to do it all.

One of the best parts about it was the anonymity of it all, as she could keep her face hidden and no one would question a thing. It meant that no past publicity she had ever gotten as Marinette - particularly those from celebrities - mattered, and she could build herself up based on herself and nothing else.

Not having to talk to people was a bonus. When she did "talk" to others online, it was through instant messaging, and the Marinette who stammered through every word was far less likely to come out when she had to type things out and voluntarily send it afterwards. Even better was knowing that it was harder to be lured in by a pretty face speaking pretty lies when she wasn't face-to-face with them.

It was just about perfect. Sure, she still lived alone as an adult, not having someone to call hers, but she wasn't lonely and she did have someone in a sort of vague way.

I saw your video. That wasn't fair. I was planning on relaxing today and now I can't put my guitar down.

Like she was a schoolgirl all over again, Marinette had to step away from her computer and collapse onto her bed, kicking her legs out and giggling to herself.

She didn't know his name or face, but she'd heard his voice and creative ability. He was another channel like hers, though not a competing one as he made music rather than other creative ventures. From what she'd gathered over their messages to each other, he was like her where he found public fame to be a hassle and preferred being able to simply put himself out there quietly.

Their "relationship" had started with - appropriately - creativity itself. She'd been looking for something to listen to and found herself drawn in by the same faceless presentation that she had as well, going from one of his songs to the next until she'd blown through his entire channel. She got inevitably inspired and made a video where she made a dress based on one of his pieces, which he'd seen and made a video back at her with music piecing together the emotions one of her designs had invoked in him.

She tried not to let herself get carried away, telling herself that he'd done it out of obligation or thanks, but creativity didn't lie. She didn't know anything about music or the details of making it, but she could feel it when she listened to what he'd made: he meant every note he played.

Talking to each other over instant messaging started up from there, and she'd be lying to herself if she said she didn't find it the slightest bit romantic. The videos inspired by each other continued, like love letters to the other's talent, and they weren't shy about praising each other directly through their messages either.

He was the kind of guy she always wished that she'd had in her life: direct while not being overbearing or abrasive. Too often, she'd find herself trying to decipher the vagueness in people's words or question how much she could take out of them. He didn't leave room for that.

He was also, as she'd discovered only a month ago, totally single and lived in New York like she did. The former had been through some idle Q&A while messaging each other, but the latter was what she'd parsed out from some of his music: just enough was taken from landmarks or notable aspects of it that he had to be living there.

She stayed up some nights, dazed with thoughts of how close they might be to each other. Would she walk down the street one day and hear his recognizable style playing from a window he'd accidentally left open? Or had they passed each other on the street dozens of times and hadn't realized? She'd grown content in knowing that her social interaction in her offline life had greatly diminished due to her online job, but it was different with him.

The worst part was that she knew she could just ask him if he felt the same and would get an honest answer. All it took was working up the courage.

Heading back to her computer and looking over his message for the twelfth time, she smiled to herself and typed out her response.

Oh no. I'm forcing you to create more. Now you'll get even more of all the attention you deserve.

Her heart raced even after she'd sent it. He brought out a side of her that was much bolder than she was normally, and she liked it. Sometimes she caught herself twirling a strand of her hair or caring about how she looked as if he could see her and it was almost like a game.

A blush-inducing game.

I know. Terrible. But seriously, you're really something. I didn't know if my message would come through the music when I wrote it, but you caught everything. Either I'm a musical genius, you're a genius music analyst, or both.

She laughed at the idea that she would be some sort of music connoisseur, sampling his tracks like fine wine to determined their meaning.

You're definitely a musical genius. Just don't let it go to your head or you won't be able to find room to hide your face in videos anymore. Besides, you being so humble is one of my favorite things about you.

She hesitated before sending the last message, wondering briefly if she was coming on a little strong. Friends could casually talk about the traits they liked in each other, right?

Assuming they were friends, anyway. She supposed they'd never really put a name on it.

His next reply took a few seconds longer than she would've expected for its length.

It's hard to pick favorite things, but I've always admired how much you try to make everyone happy. You reply to so many comments, you're always listening to them, and I can see how hard you're working to make something entertaining.

He noticed? Well, of course he noticed - it was him - but she rubbed her pink cheeks at the thought that he'd been paying that close attention to her. She couldn't judge or anything as she put just as much effort into keeping an eye on him, but he was a special case.

Did he do that with everyone? Could she afford to ask, maybe with a little "haha" at the beginning to keep it casual?

Before she could start typing out some experimental responses, she noticed that he was typing again and kept still.

I hope you're putting just as much effort into making yourself happy too, whatever your happiness is.

She held back a squeak even though he wasn't there to hear it. The way he'd always worry about her was precious, like when she hadn't posted any videos in a week and he immediately asked if anything was wrong or she needed a break. He was just that kind of person, caring for all people generally but prioritizing those he was close to; it sounded standard, but he would've easily told her to not care in the slightest about her viewers and just be ruthlessly selfish if it was for the sake of her personal happiness.

It reminded her of love interests in stories at times, specifically the ones who would act neutral or cold to all others but treat their special someone extra special.

Swallowing down the feelings in her throat, she focused on responding to him.

Whatever my happiness is? Even if that's a person?

It was a joke more than anything else to lighten the atmosphere she'd caused in her own room. Maybe he'd crack some line about stealing someone away for herself.

Though, looking over the message again, she realized the ways he could take it. She chewed at her bottom lip, wondering how she could deal with it if he told her honestly that he was fine with her going after anyone. It wasn't as if she'd feel like he'd been leading her on, but they'd grown to a level of closeness where she hoped their relationship wasn't strictly friendly.

He finally responded, but she granted that time felt like it was creeping along painfully slowly while she'd waited.

Yeah. Anyone at all.

Her heart sank. So he was fine with anyone, meaning—

Including me.

Heat climbed up Marinette's neck. She stood, so quick that she nearly knocked her chair over, and ran right back to her bed to start punching her pillow. The screech she let out was entirely involuntary, a desperate attempt by her body to get out all of the emotions those two words had given her.

He could've left it at "anyone," which technically included him anyway, but he made sure to single himself out so she would know. Direct, just like she'd always asked for, good for her head and wonderfully bad for her heart. Knowing that he wanted her to pursue anyone at all, even beyond him, for the sake of her own happiness, somehow just made him more attractive.

And she didn't even know what he looked like!

By the time she'd finished beating up the pillow that had done nothing wrong, she frantically ruffled her hair and scratched at her scalp whilst trying to sort her thoughts. She looked like a mess by the end, someone who'd just gotten out of bed, but she didn't care. She knew she couldn't leave him on read, so she hurried back to the computer to reply to him.

She took a long, deep breath before sending it out, thinking to herself, Here we go...

You make me happy.

The heat climbed higher and she covered her face with her hands, rifling through her memories to figure out when she'd gotten so utterly embarrassing. He wouldn't mind, she was sure, and if it really bothered him then he'd probably give her an out so they'd never have to talk about it again.

She hoped he didn't.

The signature notification sound - the plucking of an electric guitar - played twice, alerting her that he'd responded. She peeked through her fingers to read.

You make me happy too. I want to meet you.

"AHH!" she screamed, impulsively slamming her fists into the keyboard. A mess of letters got sent to him as a result, but that about summed up her thoughts more than anything she could've possibly typed out.

He wanted to meet her. She made him happy too. Her heart fluttered fast and pleasantly in a way that only he could cause, even with the anxiety that came with that. She still wasn't good at offline socializing, and instant messaging had been all of their interactions barring videos they made for each other. What if her full self put him off?

Another two messages popped up.

I couldn't stop myself from saying that. There's no pressure if you don't want to meet up. You can just tell me honestly how you feel. You won't upset me, I promise.

Honestly? She shut her eyes for a moment in an effort to calm herself. The fact that even he - whose relaxed voice never raised once in any of his videos - couldn't help impulsively messaging for a meet up was promising, so she couldn't dare give up the opportunity.

She just couldn't, and she forced herself to type her honest opinion on the matter.

I want to meet you too.

It wasn't directly a promise to see each other, she reminded herself. They didn't set a time or place, even though they shared a state and timezone so it wouldn't have been that difficult to plan. Their shared careers meant that they could easily match each other's schedules, but nothing had to be set in stone right then.

Yet, in all her conflicting emotions, she looked forward to the mere idea.

[shoujo-wizard]

@lexirosewrites srry if this is too late for u to queue up i was writing it out to a place where i wanted/needed to stop it. this was intended as an ask but then i got too into it & filled it with detail after detail so the majority of it is below the read more

Thinking thoughts abt Steve's canon music taste bc I saw/reblogged a post abt how Steve is shown to listen to alternative rock & punk rather than pop & disco like we all characterize him.

This started as a steddie thing & has morphed into an a/b/o O!Max centric blurb with an elumax agenda, everything is below the cut

world building: in all of my omegaverse AU omegas can give mating bites, and betas also have mating glands they’re just noticeably smaller. also, omegas are able to be reliably identified at birth because they have a noticeably sweeter scent than other babies, once puberty starts omegas no matter their primary gender will get periods, female omegas get a period every month while male omegas get a period every other month. it is my personal headcanon tht betas evolved to assist in various biological needs tht the other designations might need i.e. if a beta is caring for an omega during their heat they’ll start giving off vaguely alpha pheromones/scents & male betas will be able to give their omega partner a smaller knot OR if a an alpha is in rut their beta partner gives off an omegas pheromones/scent while they also begin to produce a moderate amount of slick OR if they are in a throuple with an alpha & an omega they’ll maintain their natural scent during either partners cycle & fulfill the social role of caring for needs like feeding their partners, maintaining the structure of the nest, helping their partners remember to take any medication they take daily

So first picture for me: punk band frontman O!Steve, he & the other omegas in the band have those spiked collars tht look actually dangerous tht they wear as a rebellion against the expectation tht omegas should wear collars in public, he takes birth control but personally doesn't take heat blockers bc he sees it as another way society seeks to police omega autonomy, he semi-regularly throws his shirt off into the crowd during shows (omega nipples r treated like women's nipples in this AU, very scandalous), Steve has an intentionally messy mullet he cut himself & Robin helped dye dark pink, he's imitated jacking off on stage & used fake blood once or twice to make it look like he was jerking it while on his period & ofc he’s done this stunt while on his period a few times too, & he has the nail bat tht he uses to smash already broken equipment tht they fish out of various recycling centers. He's got multiple piercings & several tattoos, he'd get a neck tattoo but the most traditional thing abt him is he wants to mate someone he loves, have pups & a neck tattoo messes up anyone's mating gland. 

the majority of his band r also omegas, he's the vocals mostly but he's known to throw on a guitar & step back so the bass player (robin) can step forward for songs they created/rehearsed just for her to perform, he's also done a number of wicked guitar solos, they figure out how to record & burn CDs on their own bc they're thumbing their noses at the industry tht wants to box omegas into bubblegum pop also bc they don't think they'll ever get a record deal.

The band is named Cannibal Impulse, playing around various venues in Chicago. Steve is vocals/2nd guitar, O!Robin is bass, A!Nancy is lead guitar, O!Jonathan is drums, and B!Argyle is part of a throuple with Nancy & Jonathan so he happily acts as a groupie/roadie/pizza bringer. They have a fairly loyal following of local punk enjoyers, especially omegas. For shows Steve & his band mostly wear whatever punk aesthetic they like, steve & robin both tend towards glam punk, Nancy favors a ragged style inspired by 1920s mens fashion, Jonathan likes subdued crust punk, Argyle wears stoner fashion but for their shows he puts on the battle vest Jonathan made him over his typical fashion choices.

Here’s the actual ficlet/set up/idea, idk what the time period is for this exactly, probably a vague late 90s because I want ppl to have cellphones, specifically flip phones. Also warning for implied underage drug (weed) use.

A!Eddie is the frontman to world famous Corroded Coffin & the co-parent to O!Max (he's 33 & was 18 when she was born) she's the result of a rut shared w sugary sweet head banging mosh pit queen B!Chrissy, Max is the best part of his world even if she's entered the stage of teen hood where she's angry at the world & sometimes her parents. He's had to move around once or twice bc his career demanded it, but now they have all settled permanently in Chicago bc the band have put together a music label all their own, Rotten & Revived Records. 

Chrissy used to live permanently in San Francisco, working as a paralegal, but when she got an amazing job opportunity in Chicago the family had a very long talk tht included the rest of the band & everyone ended up deciding tht basing everything in Chicago seemed like the right move. The band enjoyed every concert they'd performed in the city, Max had been once or twice so she agreed it wasn't the worst place in the world plus she wanted to b near both of her parents, & Chrissy would live in a two bedroom apartment that’s a bus ride away from the home Eddie bought for himself & Max.

O!Max (full name: Max Riot Cunningson) is 15 almost 16 & she's had a number of heats & gets her period on a schedule tht is still adjusting as her body changes & ofc her mom Chrissy helped her get birth control. 

Eddie has to go on tour as the summer kicks off after everyone barely settles into their new homes in Chicago, Max decides to spend the summer in Chicago after going to a few shows of the tour, staying with Chrissy most nights but also in the house Eddie owns as a means to feel independent from time to time. She wanders around most of the summer, seeing museums, eating whatever she wants when Chrissy isn’t looking, and going into a bookstore or music shop every so often. She finds herself in a music store tht had an impressive collection of vinyls & CDs, then she sees the poster for a small concert for some local band happening in the basement of the store, it says 18+ but when she asks the omega cashier (Jonathan) he explains tht no one checks ID as long as you bring the cover charge of $5 & don’t very obviously look like a kid. There’s no alcohol allowed anyway which is why it’s advertised as 18+. Max practically skips out of the store, a new CD and the address/date of the concert on a note paper in her tote bag. The concert is on a night Chrissy agreed she could be at Eddie’s alone. She feels free as a bird. 

Night of the concert she eats mac and cheese she made herself for dinner, and begins picking out what to wear. Max is an omega so she’s expected to wear a collar in public which she hates but there’s any number of creeps in the world. She decides on a black collar she got for her birthday the year before. Luckily when your dad is a world famous metal musician you have an endless choice of black as well as any rainbow of color one could want. She chooses to wear a dark purple t-shirt, her custom leather jacket Eddie paid for, her barely decorated faded red battle vest, black jeans ripped at the knees. Max lines her eyes with a color called kohl, and shoves her feet into the work boots her Grandpa Wayne had helped her pick out. Then she’s off through the nighttime to the basement of the music shop.

The basement is lit fairly well, there r seats all along the walls for ppl to take as they need, there’s a few coolers of water bottles guarded by a weasel esque man dressed like a lazy novelist in a zombie apocalypse, a small table of a meager amount of merch, a raised stage tht is set up for the band, the people around her seem to all know each other, a few people glance her way but no one acts as if she shouldn’t be there. 

there’s a circle of ppl tht are very openly smoking weed near/behind the merch table, she recognizes the cashier from the other day in the smoking circle so she approaches because he’s the one person she recognizes in a new environment. Jonathan is welcoming & introduces her to the entire circle of people: Nancy his girlfriend, their merch monitor Argyle his boyfriend, their assistant merch helper B!Eleven (who’s the only one not smoking), he explains tht Eleven’s dad & his step-dad is Hopper the burly man at the door, tht the man at the coolers is the shop/building owner Murray, and his friends Robin and Steve are tangled up in a way tht makes it hard to tell who was sitting on whose lap. She introduces herself as Max Riot & everyone cheers her for her badass name. Eleven eagerly gives her a fistbump telling her tht her name & her look is bitchin’. Max compliments everyone because they’re dressed in a way she never knew punks would dress. Each person is in a slightly different aesthetic but the eclectic look of the group works. Steve explains they all enjoy different flavors of punk fashion.

When she notices the spiked collars practically everyone in the room is wearing she can’t stop from commenting abt wanting one for herself. Robin crows tht she has to go to a specific thrifted clothing store tht has a display from a leatherworker who loves making the kind of collars everyone is wearing. When Max looks uncertain Eleven offers to meet up & go with her because she needs some new shirts to cut up, tht her boyfriend Lucas might also join them because he needs a new jacket to wear under his battle vest. When Max asks if Lucas is coming to the show Eleven says he’ll likely get there shortly after the show starts because he has to finish dinner with his family & bribe his little sister with the newest fear street book before he can pretend he’s going to her house to sleep over & play video games for the next 2 days. Eleven & Max realize they’re going to the same high school & Eleven eagerly invites her to eat lunch with her, Lucas, & their friends. 

Max is so absorbed in her borderline flirty conversation with El tht she’s surprised to hear the noise of drums crashing out a beat on the stage, turning around as she gawks to find the people she’d been chatting with are the band performing. Then she's lost to the music, throwing herself around the edges of the pit, jumping to the overwhelming energy of the music, yelling out the anger she's felt since fully presenting, sweating away her eyeliner, stumbling to get water, & then ending up at the front as the band crashes through their finale with Steve ripping off his shirt to throw into the crowd showing off his tattoos & pierced nipples before pulling out a nail ridden baseball bat tht he uses to smash apart an old stereo she hadn't noticed. It's electric, it's exhilarating, it's pumping adrenaline straight to her heart. The crowd calms as best a punk crowd can as they begin filing out of the basement after an encore tht features Robin at the mic singing an anti-war song from the 70s. The little concert/show was nearly two hours after all & it’s getting so late it’s almost early morning.

The band steps down from the stage as the crowd dwindles, Jonathan asks Max if she's able to join them for some food at a nearby diner & she agrees right away. She's told to just wait by the merch table with El & Lucas as they put away their instruments. Indeed a black boy is sitting behind the merch table with El in his lap. El eagerly greets her, getting up & hugging her, then happily introduces her boyfriend A!Lucas. A CD of the latest from Cannibal Impulse is pressed into her hands free of charge by Lucas while El sticks a pin badge of the band's logo onto her vest. Thus begins Max's whirlwind final month of summer vacation learning abt punk, filling her music collection w previous Cannibal Impulse CDs & other punk bands she ends up liking (both local & famous) through everyone's efforts to help her learn, investing in a new wardrobe, decorating her battle vest, & attending every show Cannibal Impulse plays tht isn't in a bar (which turns out to b the majority of them)

Chrissy is more than supportive, laughing as she thinks abt Eddie “metal is king” Munson’s reaction.

Imagine Eddie's surprise (despair) to come home from a tour shortly before school starts to his daughter blasting punk music, dressing like a punk with notably new piercings he knows Chrissy had to sign off on, loudly going out on weekends to punk shows, & coming home at all hours smelling of weed & sometimes high. He can't complain exactly, he was smoking weed at an earlier age than her, staying out at all hours, blasting metal, taking impromptu trips w his band out to the city to watch some metal concert or other. At least she calls him to let him know she got to the venue safely & to give an estimate of when she'll b home. At least she doesn't seem to have any tattoos yet.

Eventually Eddie wants to go with Max to one of these shows. Mostly because he wants to understand his daughter as she’s growing up without them growing apart, and because the band's newly established label has hit a bit of a wall when recruiting new talent. They have a number of metal artists on their label, some rock, and even a couple of bubblegum pop artists. But they feel like their catalog isn’t as well rounded as it could be. So Eddie asks to go with her, and she tells him she has to think abt it & warn her friends because none of them know her dad is world famous Eddie Munson, The Freak King of Corroded Coffin. This makes Eddie sad tht his daughter is basically hiding him from her new friends & mentors but Chrissy knocks him upside the head telling him tht she’s had less than genuine friendships before now due to her dad being a world famous musician.

When Max brings it up after a show that weekend they’re all sitting in their favorite diner digging into greasy delicious food they don’t believe her at first, but then El tells them she isn’t lying despite only have met Chrissy (El has an uncanny knack for knowing when someone is lying) so it turns to disbelief tht Metal King Munson wants to go to a punk show of his own free will. The tension between metalheads & punks is well documented after all. But all in all they agree because Max is one of them, Steve has all but adopted her, Lucas & El have tentatively begun to court her, Jonathan has been teaching her drums, Robin has donated some of her more glam articles of clothing to the cause tht is Max’s continued education in the punk scene, Nancy has helped her (as well as El & Lucas) with their homework, & Argyle makes sure that when she does occasionally join them in smoking weed she’s safe & not getting overwhelmed. So they agree tht Eddie should feel more than free to come to their upcoming show in the basement of Murray’s shop/building & they reassure Max they’re not looking for any kind of record deal.

The night of the show comes quickly & Max sheepishly brings Eddie along. Hopper’s eyes bug out of his head when he notices Eddie behind Max after greeting Max with the handshake he shares with El & Lucas. The basement becomes controlled pandemonium when people process/notice tht Eddie Munson is there in the flesh. No one approaches him for autographs & when they see he’s there with Max they leave him alone in favor of greeting Max because everyone’s gotten to know her by now especially since Cannibal Impulse took her under their wing. Eddie follows Max, feeling out of place for the first time in a long time, to the merch table where all of her closest scene friends are gathered. They’re courteous to Eddie since he’s Max’s dad, and Steve gives him a wave from where he’s a tangle of platonic limbs with Robin. Eddie takes a moment to come back to himself after staring at Steve who’s the most striking omega he’s ever seen. He ends up striking up a conversation with Lucas & El when they reveal they’re the pair that’s been courting Max since school started. Then before he knows it a guitar is wailing from the stage & he gives his attention to the show. Cannibal Impulse put on an electric show. Robin starts them out with another anti-war song this time from the 60s tht they repurposed for the punk genre. Then Steve steps up to the mic & it’s like the crowd comes to life even further. A mosh pit explodes in the room, he’s briefly concerned when Max & Lucas jump right into the center of the pit, but soon he’s absorbed with the performance the band is putting on. When the finale comes Steve’s already ripped his shirt off & as Nancy & Jonathan play a screaming duet with their instruments Steve is smashing apart a piece of equipment tht they got from their favorite recycling center with his nail bat.

[sentientgolfball]

Same Old, Same Old

if you couldn't tell I've been possessed by these two recently

Read here or on Ao3

Pairing: Zephrit

Word Count: 3730

Tags: pup as a nickname, Zeph is kinda(?) mean...a little?, so much nipple

Summary: Ifrit takes a trip down memory lane by playing dress up with his old uniform. Zephyr catches him and makes the most out of it.

A bored ghoul never meant anything good. Ifrit had been sitting in his room all day, bored out of his mind. No chores to help with, no Siblings looking for him, no call to action. He laid in bed for an unreasonable amount of time, alternating between texting Zephyr and scrolling on his phone. Another hour passed before he huffed and tossed it on the bed next to him. There were only so many cat videos he could take. 

He heaved a sigh before standing, stretching with a pop in his shoulders. He figured a walk will do him some good, anything to get his blood pumping. Fire was an element of energy and Ifrit could not stand the thought of staying still any longer. Maybe he would even find something to do while he was out and about. Even if he did not, at least he would not be laying around anymore. 

He thinks about where he will go as he changes out of his pajamas. His phone buzzes, another text from Zephyr. From what Ifrit could tell, they have been having a day. They have been helping a new Sibling tasked with sorting through the older books in the library which is not a problem on its own, it is a certain Sister. Sister Gracie. She has been the problem in all of Zephyr’s workday stories recently. She checks out hoards of books and keeps them well past their due date. On multiple occasions, Zephyr has had to go directly to her and ask for them back. They were at their wit's end for today though. Apparently, she actually returned the stack she checked out on time, but when Zephyr went to collect them from the bin they had been damaged. All of them were either soaked or had some mystery stain on the pages. So all day it has been running between helping the new Sibling, talking with Imperator and Sister Gracie, and trying to salvage the books. 

Another ping from Ifrit’s phone. 

If I see her in here ever again after this I will be more than tempted to break that stupid human rule they can send me back to Hell it’ll be worth it to claw her eyes out

He stares at the message and quickly decides he will make the library his destination for his walk. It was on the opposite end of the Ministry from the ghoul den, so surely it will be enough to get some energy out. Plus seeing Zeph right about now sounds nice, for both their sakes. He sends them a quick text telling them he is stopping by before lacing up his boots and leaving the den. 

The halls aren’t as filled as they usually are, he passes a few pockets of Siblings and ghouls filtering about but that’s it. He greets them all with enthusiasm, a bright fang filled smile. It seems to be a lazy day for the entire Ministry, though the heat from the late spring sun might have something to do with that. 

He decides to take the longest way possible to the library, taking every twist and turn he can. He can feel his fire crackling just under his skin. Now that he’s finally moving around he feels ready to burst. When he passes the doors to the practice room he pauses though. He stares at the metal doors, out of place against the stone architecture of the ancient building. It’s been a long time since he’s gone inside, since he’s been on this wing of the Ministry. He hasn’t needed to, when Dew changed guitars Ifrit took the fantomen to keep in his room. When he gets that itch to play all he has to do is take it off the wall. 

He opens the door just to peek inside. When he sees the room is empty he figures a quick trip down memory lane won’t take too much of his time. He steps in, lights and air conditioning coming to life when the sensors pick up movement. He takes a deep breath, it smells of artificial cold and polish. Underneath all that though, the dull scents of various ghouls filter through. Quintessence and fire smell the strongest. Ifrit briefly wonders which combination decided to lock themselves in here for a few hours. Omega and Alpha? Dew and Aether? Phantom and Dew? Or maybe it was Swiss? The multi ghoul’s scent was always hard to pinpoint unless it was fresh. 

Ifrit shrugs, not too concerned with the details. He bounces around the mini rehearsal stage; eyes closed to let muscle memory take over. He bends backwards, throwing a hand into the air to show off to a ghostly crowd. If he’s quiet he can almost hear the cheering. He misses the energy of performing, misses the pleasant ache in his body after a ritual. Even so, he would not go back. Nothing would stop him from being where Zephyr is. Nobody had asked him to leave, but when Zephyr said they couldn’t  handle it anymore it wasn’t even a question. Reliving the memories is enough as long as Zephyr is with him. 

Oh shit Zephyr!

He pulls himself back to the present with a shake of his head. He already took too much time by stopping, Zephyr is probably waiting for him outside the library doors. He jumps off the mini stage, bounding towards the exit when a light catches his eye. One of the soundproof practice rooms has a light on. He thought he was alone. He can’t help it when he turns, heading down the short hallway. He peers into the window when he’s close enough only to find it empty. Well not empty, all of the spare practice rooms were being used as storage while the band wasn’t actively preparing for a tour, but there was no one inside. 

He goes to open the door, but it hadn’t been closed all the way. He pushes it open and steps inside, surveying the space for any signs of who the mystery ghoul may have been. Whoever they are, they left in a hurry. Uniform bags are open, a mask box sitting on one of the few chairs in the room. Ifrit moves to clean up the small mess, but seeing the glint of the mask has him stopping. It’s not one of the helmets like he was expecting. Its silver, no opening for a mouth, curling horns, and sculpted hair. Empty eyes stare up at him. His eyes. His mask. 

He doesn’t think as he takes it out of the box, bringing it up to his face to look into the eye holes. It’s surreal to hold it again. The only one who stills wears this version is Omega; feeling the cool metal feels wrong but almost right in a strange way. This was his face for his first few months Topside and now it just sits in a box. 

An idea crosses his mind. One that would surely get him in trouble if he was caught. Whoever was in here before him clearly thought the same thing, only Ifrit didn’t stop. He put the mask back into the box, closing the lid and picking it up before his conscious could catch up to him. His eyes quickly scan over the rack of costume bags until he finds the right size. If he was going to steal pieces of Ministry history he needed to do it quickly before someone else wandered in. 

He shuts off all the lights in the practice room before slinking out of the metal doors. He figures if he goes the short way back to the den he’ll make it to his room before running into trouble. The library is all but forgetting as he scurries back with his contraband. He won’t have it for long, just the evening. He’ll return it first thing in the morning before anyone notices it’s missing. It’s been a long time since he’s seen this uniform, he just wants to taste it again. 

He makes it back to his room in the den with no trouble, suddenly very thankful for the slow, lazy day. He has the uniform out of the bag; still on the hanger but laid across his bed. He stares at it. 

“What the fuck am I doing?” He runs a hand through his hair. 

Despite his conscious finally catching up to him, he shrugs his leather jacket off before pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor. He discards his pants next, adding to the pile of clothes next to the bed. He stares at this old uniform in nothing but his underwear for a moment long before grabbing it. He puts the pants on first. It’s a little tighter than he remembers, meeting a bit of resistance as he pulls them over his thighs. After a bit of tugging he gets them all the way up to sit around his hips. The waistband slightly digs into his skin. The top comes next. He unbuttons it with practiced ease before sliding it onto his shoulders. 

“Oh shit,” he says with a mix of surprise and panic. 

It’s already tight around his shoulders and he hasn’t even rebuttoned it yet. He turns to look at the floor length mirror that sits in the corner of the room. The fabric is pulled taut and he briefly worries about the seams bursting if he moves too fast. He didn’t risk stealing this for nothing though. He begins to close the buttons one by one. It becomes a struggle once he’s halfway up his abdomen. He has to suck in deep breaths of air just to be able to pull the edges close enough to slip the button in. It’s a fight once he gets over his chest. No matter how he moves he can’t close it. He breathes, he relaxes his shoulders, he hunches forward, yet nothing gets him closer to his goal. Did he really get that much bigger since his summoning? 

He stares at his reflection, the uniform so close to being all the way on. If he could just get the buttons over his chest closed. He ponders any possible solution, so lost in thought he doesn’t hear the door open. 

“So, this is what you did instead of coming to see me?” Zephyr leans against the doorframe with their arms crossed. 

Ifrit whips around, a slight flush to his cheeks as he tries to stammer out an explanation, “Zeph! No you see I was coming to see you, swear on the Lords, but I…well you see it’s funny really—“ 

“Save it,” Zephyr holds up a hand “I can see you’re having lots of fun playing dress up. Please, don’t let me stop you.” 

They watch him, waiting for him to continue. Yellow eyes look him up and down expectantly. Ifrit almost flinches under the intensity. 

“I can’t.” He bows his head, looking at his feet. 

“What? Too shy now that you’ve got an audience? Come now Ifrit, I thought you loved the spotlight.” 

He shakes his head. “No that’s not…I can’t Zeph.” 

He tries to pull the buttons over his chest once more, showing Zephyr what he means. They watch him struggle for just a moment before it clicks. Their eyes scan over his figure again, only this time they notice how tight the uniform is on him. It's clinging to him, no wrinkles or extra space in sight. The way his chest bulges out of the unbuttoned front. They can see the outline of his nipple piercings. They can see everything. When the silence stretches on for too long, Ifrit lifts his head to look at them, guilt and shame written all over his face with how deep that blush has gotten. Suddenly Zephyr couldn’t care less about having to walk back to the den all by themselves. 

“Poor little pup can’t fit into his old uniform?” Zephyr pushes off the doorframe, stepping into the room and closing the door behind them. 

Ifrit’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline at the tone of their voice. Zephyr stalks over to him, running their hand over his shoulder and down his arm. They can feel the muscle ripple under the featherlight touch. They can’t help but squeeze his bicep, feeling the solidness through the fabric. Ifrit shudders, watching a small grin appear on their face. They meet each other's eye for a moment before Zephyr slips one of their hands into the opening of the uniform to grab at one of his pecs. 

“Why bother trying to button this thing? Leave it open so everyone can see your perfect tits.” 

Ifrit chokes on air when Zephyr pinches one of his pierced nipples harder than what could be considered pleasurable. 

“This is certainly an improvement. Could never touch you like this backstage.” They fondle his chest, squeezing as much of him as they can with one hand. 

Ifrit allows himself to be pushed until his back hits the dresser, hand shooting out behind him to keep his balance. Zephyr presses themselves tight against him, standing in between his legs to cage him in. He stares down at them as they start to mouth over his chest. The whiplash of Zephyr catching him to having that cool tongue gliding over heated skin makes his head spin. He isn’t sure if he should stop them, telling them to wait so he can take it off lest he rips it, or let them continue to grope his sensitive tits. 

When he feels them bite close to his nipple his brain shuts off, hand flying up to stop the whimper that catches in his throat. Zephyr does it again. And again, and again, and again until his chest is covered in purple. His hips grind forward against them when their other hand tweaks his nipple at the same time they suck the other into their mouth. They squeeze their tail around his waist to stop the movement of his hips. 

“Not yet pup, I want to take my time with you while you’re like this. Don’t want it to end too early.”  

“Zeph, Birdie. Come on, we…you’re going to rip it,” he struggles to form a coherent thought with the way they’re rolling that sensitive bud between their teeth. 

Zephyr pulls off of him slowly. They stand from their hunched position to stare at him, hands still roaming over his chest. “Are you telling me no?” 

“‘No!” He says in a hurry “, that’s not what—“ 

“Then shut your mouth. You’re the one who wanted to play dress up, so let’s play.” 

Zephyr steps away from him before reaching up to wrap their hand around one of his horns. They drag him to the bed, tugging and pulling at him to get him to lay flat on his back. Ifrit’s helpless to it, he allows them to move him however they want with nothing but the grip on his horn. When he’s down, Zephyr straddles his hips. Ifrit stares up at them with wide eyes, waiting for them to make a move so he can figure out how to not burst every seam on the uniform while they use him. 

They tilt their head smiling at him; something sweet and simple before spitting directly onto his tits. Everything moves quickly after that; they unzip their pants just enough to pull their cock out, jacking themselves a few times before sliding up farther on Ifrit’s abdomen. They reach into the uniform to squeeze his chest together, moving their hands in quick circles to smear the salvia around before letting up on the tension just enough to shove their cock between them. 

They squish his tits together until they’re hissing with satisfaction before slowly rocking their hips. He itches to replace their hands with his, do something other than stare slack jawed up at Zephyr, but every thought dies when he sees the tip of their dick peek out from his cleavage. His hips twitch up searching for friction when he watches a bead of pre drip so close to his chin he could lick it up if he craned his neck just a bit more. 

Zephyr laughs at the hazy look in his eyes, at the way he’s just staring at the way their tip glides closer and closer to his face with each roll of their hips. The laugh is cut off when his brain finally catches up and he flicks his tongue out to swipe over the slit, drinking down the pre pearling at the tip. Zephyr shudders with a groan, hips bucking forward to get closer to the heat of his mouth. 

“Not as dumb as I thought you were.” They huff, resuming a more rhythmic grind albeit it faster than before. 

Ifrit is craning his neck to keep his tongue out, licking over their cock as they fuck his tits. He can feel the drool running down the side of  his mouth, dripping onto his collarbones only to slide down and pool in his cleavage. 

“Making a mess of yourself pup,” Zephyr groans. 

Ifrit doesn’t respond, doesn’t have the brain power to. His senses are flooded with the taste of them, with the sight of their flushed cock, with the breathy little sighs that fall from their lips each time Ifrit flicks his tongue. He wants to get them in his mouth, properly suck them off until they cum down his throat. He moves without thinking, trying to grab their hands and surge forward to flip their positions. He doesn’t get that far. The moment he lifts his shoulders a deafening pop accompanies the sound of skin gliding on skin. Ifrit is slammed back into his body when the tension around his shoulders suddenly feels lighter, less constricted. 

“Birdie shit wait. Stop, I think it ripped.” He panics, squeezing Zephyr’s wrists. 

“How is that my problem? You stole it now you’ll live with the consequences.” They huff, doubling down. They squeeze his chest tighter, rocking their hips faster. 

Ifrit could easily throw them off, truly ask them to stop, but he can’t find it in himself to move. He’s paralyzed by the realization he damaged the uniform, but also by the ache between his legs and the weight of Zephyr on his chest. Caught between his want to stop and his need to continue. 

His mind is made up for him when a particularly hard thrust from Zephyr pushes the tip of their cock against his lips. His hands fly to their hips, urging them to do it again. They oblige, pressing closer to his face. Ifrit shifts just enough to be able to wrap his lips around the head, sucking and licking over it. Zephyr’s head falls forward, cursing under their breath. Their thrusts turn into quick little grinds, shoving more of their cock into that hot, wet mouth. 

Ifrit lets the weight of it rest on his tongue as drool runs down his chin. The awkward angle makes it difficult to take more than an inch of them, but he doesn’t care. He’s content to run his tongue over them, licking at their slit and the sensitive spot on the underside. Ifrit sucks, working his lips around them and Zephyr is unable to stop their talons from digging into the meat of his chest. Ifrit moans, eyes fluttering and hips bucking into the air from the prick of pain. 

Ifrit does it again. Instead of talons tearing tendering flesh he feels Zephyr go rigid. They cum without warning, coating the inside of his mouth. He instinctively swallows around them and they shudder as another glob squirts over his tongue. Ifrit suckles on his dick until it’s too much and they’re pulling away from him in overstimulation. They’re both panting, staring at each other with flushed cheeks while they catch their breath. When Ifrit runs a hand through the mess on the chest Zephyr groans. 

“Get out of that thing before I ruin it.” Zephyr slides off of him, knees cracking when they stand. 

Ifrit sits up to sit on the edge of the bed, turned to stare at his reflection in the mirror. He runs his hands over the deep marks littering his chest. His brain supplies him with memories from backstage closets and hotel rooms as his eyes rake over the disheveled uniform. That is, before he remembers where he’s at. Why he has the costume to begin with. His head snaps to Zephyr who’s just smiling at him. 

“Don’t worry I’ll fix it before someone has your horns.” 

Ifrit sighs a breath of relief. “Thank you birdie.” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time and I certainly hope it isn’t the last,” they press a kiss to his temple ,” now strip.” 

He stands, taking off the top as carefully as possible to not make the tear worse. The seam on his right shoulder is ripped down to the armpit. He cringes at the sight, handing it over to Zephyr before shucking the pants. Zephyr nearly doubles over at the sizable wet patch on the front of his boxers. The fabric clings to him, outline the shape of his now soft cock. They palm at him, squeezing him through his underwear and smearing the mess around. Ifrit shudders at the feeling. 

“Filthy,” Zephyr muses. 

“You’re one to talk,” Ifrit huffs a laugh. 

They shrug, gathering the discarded uniform and folding it neatly before putting it on the desk to work on later. 

“You’re the one who put it on. I’m not to blame for my actions.” 

“Hm,” he thinks for a moment, “maybe next time I’ll wear the mask.” 

“Oh so suddenly you have no reservations about stealing Ministry relics?” They eye him with a grin, something dangerous glinting in their eyes. 

He grins back, “Not when it makes you like this, birdie.” 

They hum, pressing kisses along his jawline “Good.” 

There’s a moment of silence before Ifrit feels their hand wrap around his throat, “But if you ever leave me waiting like that again I’ll make sure you suffocate, understood?” 

Ifrit swallows and nods. He shifts the weight on his feet, feeling his cock try to kick back to life. Zephyr grins at him. With the uniform gone he had no protection from their talons. He almost hopes they’re still upset with him. 

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 14

Synopsis: The Reader gets a potential glimpse into her future. She also makes an enemy.

A/n: yeaaayyyy. More fun. Fuckery world building. Thanks to all my readers. I should probably do a tag list instead of zapping ur inboxes. Uhhh....yeah. to my mutuals who have to deal with me and aren't attached to this, I am sorry. I love you and I would donate my organs to you.

Grades were posted. Most were good, nothing to really write home about. You did far better than you expecting. The self-doubt really was deep-rooted, wasn’t it?

Except one. That stupid alien gave you a near-perfect. Just one point shy of an absolutely perfect one-hundred percent.

So much for no favoritism…

You’d take it anyways. And not bring it up…

Work was slow but it was steady.

He even met you between shifts at your park.

You started feeling a tad insane without him. Did love feel like this? You admitted you had little experience with love. Just what you attempted to create in the past. And trashy books and television shows and movies and songs…

You needed him like you needed a cigarette and a stiff drink after a long day.

Bella Swan would be so proud of you, you degraded yourself in your mind.

“How is work going?” The Doctor asked with genuine shine of curiosity in his tone and face.

“The amount of professors in now…I have to dodge them! I do think the statistics professor I had two terms ago recognized me!” You spoke in a shocked, scared tone. You didn’t need that getting out. Could ruin your future plans.

“Oh no!” He chuckled, as he handed you a bit of sandwich.

“You aren’t forgettable.”

You skeptically glared over at him.

“Any who. How was your gig at the student union?”

“No one appreciated the irony of Pink Floyd.”

“And?”

“Everyone loves Doctor Disco!” He flourished then played air guitar.

You burst out laughing. With a quick roll of your eyes, you shook your head.

“You’re such a nerd.”

“I invented the concept!”

“Probably true!” You let yourself think of his time on Earth. Who knew what funk he has spread? You weren’t going to delve into it much more.

Yet.

One day, when you felt brave enough.

“I have to go to London for a while in two weeks. Just maintenance of the Black Archives…I need to streamline some stuff for making it easier for my next few regenerations. And update some things about a plan for proxy since another organization is down to a woman named Gwen and her husband and she’s thinking of retiring the entire engagement. Her…leader hasn’t returned to the planet in ages. I doubt he ever will. This planet has caused him too much pain. Which, ironic, since his ancestors came from here. Talk about mother wounds! Just upload all the databases for UNIT to deal with.”

“Inviting me?” You clarified.

“Yeah…I think it’ll take a week. Especially with the layers of bureaucracy that is in place these days.” He looked over, his hair caught in the wind. “Could you spare a week? No TARDIS, no time travel. Just hop to, hop out, the slow way around.”

You licked your top row of teeth and scraped it back into place.

“Sure?”

“Perfect. I’ll have them ready a room, a better room for us.”

“One with a window?”

“If they do have those.”

You nodded.

“It’s a date!”

“Fantastic.” He smiled but seemed to flash in his eyes some hidden response from just the one word…

You chewed your shared sandwich and sipped your can of Coke Zero. The weather was getting warmer and the sun was actually shining in one of those perfect, photo-ready days.

“The vitamin D feels good, doesn’t it?” You turned your head to face the sun. The heat felt too good on your skin. You let a little moan slip through your lips.

“Perhaps. I might need a sun crème soon.” He replied.

You snorted. He was bone pale, but you didn’t know how alien skin worked yet.

“Yeah, you are pretty pale.”

Your alarm went off and you had to go.

Final good-byes said and you stalked off.

You had to plan out your little London escape. If it was hard work for him, you wanted to kill time in comfort. Do some sightseeing. Nothing major. London had tons of viral cafés and pop-ups.

The time flew by…

And suddenly you were off and away in another fancy armored Range Rover with armed escorts.

He did do you a bit of justice and got you a room with a view. Just not a particularly stunning one…

He went off, rather rapidly if you did say so yourself, because something needed him to submit his DNA and he couldn’t have any radiant interference. Petronella needed to be with him to get her DNA analyzed or something. You were not going to try to comprehend.

Fine by you, you’d nose around. There were so many floor and he gave you some sort of weird blank paper he said would get you through anything you needed.

“It’s psychic paper!” He said, smile up to his ears.

“Looks like a piece of printer paper shoved into an old wallet to me.” You replied as you regarded the object.

Fine by you, you stuffed it in your jean’s pocket.

You found yourself on the first floor, and saw a door open. There was a sign posted on an easel. ‘Companions and Surviving Family Support Group’, it proclaimed.

You put two and two together. It was probably in reference to the man doing who-knows-what.

You weren’t a companion per say. The Doctor assured you as much.

Did you invade? Did you go look at your future? Or a potential future? It mentioned family members…

Your curiosity got the best of you. Like that damn cat!

You walked in, it was set up like a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. Coffee, sweet treats, chairs all in a circle.

There were already a crowd of people.

And your entrance wasn’t exactly planned.

You slid onto the chair that was closest to the door. An east exit if this was too much.

“Oh! A new face!” A woman with a lot of life etched into her face with a kind smile and a mop of white-shock hair, her lips as red as blood.

“Does, is…am I late?” Was the best you could choke out. You could feel your eyes start to bulge. You swallowed hard. All eyes were on you. You didn’t like it. You preferred anonymity.

The mistake was already clear in your mind.

“No, dove. Right on time! We’re still waiting on Ian! I’m Jo!” She scooted her chair closer to you.

You thrust your tongue out and bit it’s side.

“I’m (y/n).”

A short woman with a leather jacket and all the authoritarian air of something that placed your hairs on the back of your neck at attention glared at you and Jo. “Why don’t we save it all for introductions…”

You got up and grabbed a bottle of water and sat back down.

An ancient man wandered in and sat down.

“Oh! Ian, love! We got a new straggler!” Jo said to him and gave him a hug that seemed too strong for her aged body.

The bossy girl cleared her throat. “Now we can start.”

You hated her already. She clearly ran this group with an iron fist.

There was Jo, Ian, the bitch’s name was Yaz, Martha, a woman who called herself Ace, a married couple named Nyssa and Tegan, a grandmother and grandson duo named Graham and Ryan, a Mel, and some young man named Luke…

Quite a big group.

It came down to you, you introduced yourself. And were supposed to give some brief synopsis of your relationship with the Doctor.

You stared off into space.

“Yeah, he’s here…doing something. I don’t know. I’m his…girlfriend. He’s also a professor at my university.” You stared at your left palm and gauged the reaction. “Nothing major. I’ve got his promise that he’s not going to get me in the way of death.” You finished with a shrug. “He introduced me to his…ex recently. Some milf named Missy. Have you lot met her?”

Yaz’s eyes could have make entrails out of you…

“What? Did I not brush my teeth correctly?” You pointed that faux-question towards her.

“She told me she didn’t do relationships.” She spoke in a tiny voice eventually.

“Well, maybe I’m special.” You shot Yaz a shit-eating grin masked as an innocent smile.

“Oh! I heard the Master went female!” Jo broke up your brewing tiff. “He was such a softie towards me! I enjoyed our little battles.”

You laughed and covered up your palm.

The conversations went on. Mainly centered around Missy now. Apparently she was the prime minister and tortured Martha and her family. Also, body-snatched Nyssa’s father. And became a cat. She’d certainly done her fair share of damage. No wonder she was chained up in a basement in Bristol of all places.

That explained her feline nature.

“Which Doctor are you with?”

“I don’t know. Tall? Thin? Scottish? Severe face? Plays guitar? Wild grey hair. Dark roots, too handsome…yeah.” You didn’t know how many or what the Doctor looked like previously.

“Oh. So the one before Yaz and Graham and me!” Ryan piped up. “She mentioned being a grey-haired Scot right before we met her.”

“Oh, so he got his wish of being a chick next.” You affirmed.

“Wonder what happened to you!” Yaz said, venom starting to leak into her voice.

“Nothing I need to know about, okay?” You pressured back. Two could play this game.

She clearly had sour grapes over you getting chosen and not her.

More conversations broke out, more story-swapping. You started to feel beyond way out just out of your depths. You had to keep your calm. Especially in front of your new foe. Any weakness and you were going to be either throwing down with her or she’d do something unspeakable.

She was apparently a police officer, after all!

“So you’ve never gone on an adventure? To space? Not even back in time? Or forward?” Ace spoke incredulously.

“No, I’m not going to put my life at risk. I made him promise to not. He’s retired. He just needs to help UNIT and rehabilitate Missy.”

“She doesn’t stay good!” Yaz spit out. She then told her tale of him and how the only way to break free from him, the Doctor had to hand Missy over to the Nazis.

“Not my problem.” You said, after finally scraping your jaw off the floor.

“And wow, what the fuck happened between now and when? Handing over someone to the literal Nazis?” You shot up an errant hand and glared. “And hanging around cops. No offense. It’s like historical Jesus versus American Jesus.” You made the decision to bite your middle finger nail in a covert attempt to flip her off.

“Maybe you had something to do with it.” She accused.

“Oh, yeah. Blame me.” You said.

Others attempted civility between the two of you.

Martha seemed between two minds here.

“Just remember how powerful your emotions are!” Ian called out. “Especially how deeply the Doctor evokes them in us!”

It dawned on you, and you decided to take the highest of roads. “Yeah, were dealing with some alien. Like…damn. We really are out here getting….cut up over an alien. He’s our weird alien. But yeah.” He was your alien. And you were going to defend your man, but you didn’t want Yaz and her feelings to make you any less powerful. “His body count has got to be in the millions.” You used the term in a way to dig in that the Doctor picked you for the mainstream meaning and not Yaz. But it worked for companions too!

“Who knows how many of us he’s taken a shine to!” Suddenly you felt yourself heart plummet. You knew you weren’t special as part of a group, but you decided to soothe yourself with your marked differences. No magical abduction story. Just a normal, morally-grey student and teacher relationship. Only it was your luck to end up with the most ran-through alien.

And, it did suit you. You too were ‘ran-through’.

You wished he was free and you could get some comfort here…

You felt yourself return to normal, and decided to pass the ultimate catch.

“Sorry for getting heated. The past month or so since he’s revealed his double life to me, has been…shattering. I’ve only recently discovered that he was…you know, not some man I hang out with. I only recently started calling him Doctor. Not Professor Smith.”

The though of him not taking anyone else as a lover after you did fill you with a sense of pride. Whatever impact you had, that was a mark in your favor. Loyal to you…even if you were dead or broken-up or whatever your fate was to mess around with anyone else.

A permanent (y/n)-shaped hole no one could even get close enough to fill.

When he was done with his task you’d have to slap him and then suck him off.

Martha finally put in her two cents.

“Just don’t get hurt. The last time he was in love when I was with him…so bad. The ending was enough to destroy me.”

“Thank you.”

The conversation went back to normal. You really enjoyed Jo’s stories. Apparently he was a white-haired debonair sort for her. You were curious to see what that had looked like. You doubted it could compare to your particular Doctor, but it was probably very close.

You found yourself laughing and getting along with most. Except for Yaz. You both kept finding yourselves shooting daggers at each other.

You tried to rise above it.

However. You were only human…

You heard a sharp rap at the door and turned at the noise.

It was your Doctor.

“Sorry. I was going to the toilets. Heard some nice familiar voices. Smelt the coffee! I love a cup of coffee after genetic sequencing…Hello!”

There were nary a word as he strode over and made a cup, dumping about a dozen sugar packets in.

“I’ll let you all talk amongst yourselves. Oh, and (y/n), I have tickets to walk through the Chelsea Physic Garden at three. Will you join me? And Martha, I am so deeply sorry for all I’ve done to you. It’s weighed on my conscience since I was a young man in a bow-tie. Truly. From the bottoms of both my hearts. And, oh, faces I don’t know yet, catch your laters.” He shot a quick peace sign.

He breezed out with the same ease that he came in with…

You flushed hard and felt yourself wanting to kick your legs hard. The smile that crept up around your face was probably very goofy. You felt suddenly very giddy and lovesick. And embarrassed.

You swore you heard Yaz mutter something about “Daddy issues”.

You wanted to snap and fight her on the floor.

Jo and Ace heckled. “Oh, he’s back to being a groovy gentleman.” Jo said. “I recognize that red jacket!”

After a while, everyone seemed to wrap it up.

You received quite a few warnings about how passionate a relationship with the Doctor is, and how it would eventually run it’s course.

You didn’t know whether to heed it, or believe him. You were airing on the side of him. After all, he could have popped down here in his TARDIS, but he was following your regulations down to the letter. Changed behaviors, and for whatever reason, when you were long gone, and he was a she, the Doctor didn’t take Yaz up on her romantic offerings.

You felt ashamed of your ‘I can fix him’/’I am the only exception’ mindset. You were a rebel to the idea of monogamy usually. You also didn’t believe in true love. Not after all that you’d seen at work and even experienced in your personal life. However, the beating of your heart and the ache in your soul and the throb of your cunt interfered…

You felt like you were his favorite.

Maybe you were.

You were delusional enough, you decided.

With final hugs and you swore you’d get down and learn more about your shared alien, you’d exited to go and text him that you were out front, smoking.

“You know, maybe you died from lung cancer.” Yaz materialized, carrying some stuff to her car. “Or emphysema.”

You blew out a puff in her general direction.

“I don’t need a lecture. He’s already on my ass enough to get me to quit.” You played back.

“So, lady Doctor. What does she look like?” You asked. Curious. You tried a friendly route. “Still Scottish?” The two incarnations of Time Lords you had met had been. It was an honest question. You even tried a cordial laugh.

“No, definitely not Scottish.”

You nodded.

“She’s blonde and has the most amazing eyes! I took her to get her ears pierced. She’s the most incredible and infuriating person I’ve ever met.”

“Apparently that’s par for the course.” You agreed.

She gave you some agreement.

“Does she still play guitar?” You offered an opportunity to bond, girl to girl. You may have hated her, but a cop on your side may come in handy. One day. And you both were tied to each other now.

So…you had to act your age or whatever.

She was a little younger than you. You could remember being her age. Empathy.

“No, she can’t even carry a tune. She sings all the time.”

You had to let a small snort escape.

“He can sing really well.” You cupped a palm to your mouth. “It’s a bit annoying at times, you know. He frequently does during his lectures.”

“So…that hadn’t changed.” You could see the gears in her brain turning.

“Wait, he’s your professor?” She exclaimed.

“Not currently.” You shrugged, as his text saying that he was coming down popped up, absolved of guilt.

“That’s so wrong!”

“Honey, the Doctor abducts barely legal girls with a degree of regularity. I think a tame affair with a student who started uni later than most is the best-case scenario. You included.” You flicked a bit of ash off your cigarettes end. “No offense.”

“Yeah…” You clearly won.

He swanned into the little front garden at the entrance of UNIT. He changed to a hoodie and simple black blazer and a relaxed pair of checked trousers.

It made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey. I was thinking Italian for dinner. Or Thai. In the fifty-second century there’s a great collision of their flight colonies.”

You smacked your teeth together and let out the final puff of smoke.

“You’re the Doctor before my Doctor.” Yaz gazed up, a look of pre-mourning in her eyes.

“As my wife, River, would say, ‘Spoilers, sweetie.’ It’s nice to meet you early. I’ll try to wipe you from my memory to make it easier for my future self.” He gave Yaz’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Yeah, good luck. See you soon?” You called out as you let yourself be swept off your feet by your particular Doctor.

“Sure?” You heard her say.

A few blocks later and going on the Underground, you pulled him close by the lapels. You gave him a firm kiss and slapped his ass. It was a ‘thank-you’ in a small, simple way. You’d never end up, all things go as planned, like any of those perfect victims. Who knew, maybe you’d dump him. It was all open-ended.

You had your entire life ahead of you. More or less.

For now, it was just you, the Doctor, and a walk in a garden with a fabulous dinner date.

“What was that for?” He looked at you quizzically.

“You’ll never know…” You grinned immensely and a little psychotically. You felt your nose crinkle a bit.

“Oh?” He replied back, skeptical in tone.

It was a start.

“Yeah…” You breathed, inhaling this moment. Inhaling the scent of him, you felt sane, safe, stable and most importantly- in love and loved back.

The train pulled up.

A perfect start to a perfect week.

He snaked out the psychic paper and tapped it like it was an oyster card. You entered the platform and smiled up at him...

Yeah, life was beyond awesome.

[randomfoggytiger]

Collector's Edition: Reworking Requiem and Mulder's Return (Part V)

The last of many, many Requiem AUs (thus far.)

Loose chronological order below~

Brynna's

Nothing at All

My head drops to the wall in front of me, and I watch the water at my feet run pink, her blood washing from my shirt, my hands, my neck. They couldn't have just let her die easily and painlessly, if they had to kill her. No, first they drugged her, then they shot her. All the while making me watch.

Pre-Requiem: The Syndicate kills Scully before she or Mulder finds out about the baby.

Realistically Yours

How he wanted to wake her. To let her know he was there. Another look at the circles under her eyes cast that option out. She needed her rest.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned to Scully's apartment; and discovers her pregnancy as he settles in to sleep.

Vickie Moseley’s (Ao3, Gossamer) My Dearest Son

First, let me set the record straight. When I went to Oregon in early May of the year 2000, it was not out some misguided sense of world salvation. It wasn't because of my innate sense of curiosity, although that's the reason I still contend with your mother. And it wasn't because I was called there as a result of something that happened to me several months before, some experiment that caused me to fall under the control of any other beings.

It was selfishness, plain and simple.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned 3 months later; and their relationship takes a turn for hurried and happily ever after.

Alicia K.'s (FFN) Guitar Hero

Scully watched as Mulder competently strummed the acoustic guitar and sang. he looked happy as a clam.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned seven moths later, a little bit... different.

Jenna Tooms/misslucyjane’s (Ao3, mulderscreek)

An Acceptable Level of Happiness (Gossamer) 

"Sometimes I can't breathe for thinking about it."

It's going to snow again. The sky is iron-grey, and the air is still and bitter cold. I hold onto Mulder tight. "When you can't breathe," I say, and then pause to get the tremor out of my voice. "When you can't breathe you get me and I'll breathe for you. I'll breathe for you, okay, Mulder? I'll breathe for you."

Post Requiem: Scully works towards happiness with her son and heavily scarred, fully bearded, and completely devoted Mulder.

Reunion

The light turns on and they all pause.

Scully's eyes are very wide and dark, and she stutters for a moment or two. The baby stares at him solemnly, without fear.

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned, quietly, 3 months after the birth of his daughter.

Shooting Star (1/4), Shooting Star (2/4), Shooting Star (3/4), and Shooting Star (4/4) (Ao3, mulderscreek)

"Your angel? Who is your angel?"

"Scully is my angel." He smiled genuinely now, still holding Scully with his eyes. "Scully has always been my angel. Scully saved my life. Scully saved my soul. Scully is everything beautiful in the world, don't you think?"

Mecham smiled gently too, and said, "Yes. I see."

Post Requiem: Scully finds Mulder 17 years later-- amnesic, cognitively challenged, and protected by Krycek. She works hard to bring him home to their son and build a life with the three of them together. Unanswered questions, however, bring darkness and uncertainty back to their doorstep. 

Karen Rasch's By the Wind Grieved (1/2 and 2/2)

"Scully, if that is Mulder in there, he deserves the truth," Skinner said swiftly, his tone gentling just a touch. "After all he's been through...anything less would be unfair. Especially from you. He's lost months of his life. According to what you've told me, his memory--"

"Sir, how long were you standing there just now?" she queried softly.

"Long enough," he replied.

"Long enough to see the look of horror on his face when he thought perhaps this child might be his?"

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned with amnesia and a target on his back. Scully insists on joining him in hiding; and the two dodge around their feelings, failing to clearly communicate before Krycek arrives and she goes into labor.

EmScully's Not Alone

Scully’s head jerked towards the sound, mirroring the alien in front of her. Down the small snow covered road, another alien monster stood, blurry in the blizzard. The animal in front of her took a few tentative steps towards the intruder, rose on its thick hind legs, a snarl emanating from its throat. And then suddenly in a flash it took off, back onto all fours, smashing into the other alien. 

Post Requiem: Scully was abducted instead of Mulder, and crashes back to a world overrun by alien monsters. Her son from the future (or an alternate version of it) helps reunite both partners, against the odds.

bugs’s Heaven

My gaze is drawn to his face--a hot, deep red collapsing sun. It cracks open and there is the white flare of new stars--fresh  and clean as heaven. Two blue-green planets have been born. 

My boy sees me.

Post Requiem: Mulder is not returned in time to witness his child’s birth. 

Revely's Unfinished Universe (Gossamer, WBM)

"That's what he was named after."

Mulder is momentarily confused. William was the logical choice - her father's name, and his middle name. She strikes him as being traditional in that way.

"It's not William?"

She shakes her bright head and reaches out to touch the rock with the toe of her shoe. "No, just Will."

He concentrates on not speaking yet, knowing that if he gives her time she might say more. Sure enough, she speaks.

"I will find him," she whispers. "I will."

Post Requiem: Mulder is returned a year later; and he and Scully and William slowly bond on the road trip back home. 

xraelynn/Rachel Nobel’s In the Clearing 

"I want to see Scully," he announced forebodingly over a physician-recommended high-calorie breakfast that seemed to make him more nauseous than energized. For a split second I felt an encroaching horror -- <he's having delusions, he'll have to be hospitalized> -- before I realized that he had meant her gravestone.

I opened my mouth to protest, but immediately relented. I couldn't deny him this.

"And," he added in a quieter voice, staring into his plate, "I want to see Liam."

Post Requiem: Skinner brings Mulder home, years after his abduction, to a deceased partner and infant son. Mulder pulls himself together and decides to reclaim his life on his own terms.  

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[macfrog]

just me over here thinking about reader having a favourite song and singing bits from it in front of joel constantly just to have him surprise her one night when theyre spontaneously slow dancing in the kitchen (where else amiright?) and he sings the lyrics softly to her… BESTIE I AM NOT OKAY

and to make it worse, he emphasizes certain words in the song to subtly let her know he thinks about her when he hears them I AM DONE RIP

BESTIE YOUR MINDDDD I SCREAMED FOR 5 MIN STRAIGHT BEFORE I WROTE THIS

[cowboy like me dbf x reader - 800 words of pure FLUFF below the cut sorrysorrysorry]

i feel like, as much as she’s a lil swiftie and whatever, one of her guilty pleasures is dad rock. her dad probably didn’t let her play her own stuff in the car growing up ‘cause he figured his stuff (marty robbins ew) > beyoncé, so she wound up liking a whole lot of that stuff. lotta queen, lotta eagles, all that. and she probably heard the likes of can’t fight this feeling by reo speedwagon as a kid and used to dream about when she’d meet someone who might love her enough to feel that way.

one day she’s at joel’s and she’s in the shower. it’s a sunday morning, she’s spent the night. he’s still laying in bed, sat up against the headboard. and he can hear her humming.

dude was literally alive when the song came out. he knows what it is. and he just sits with this dumb smile on his face ‘cause she’s graduated to quietly singing: even as i wander, i’m keeping you in sight.

n then she pushes the door open, towel around her body, probably twirls over to the foot of the bed still singing the words, and he just sits with his arms crossed, shoulders bouncing, chest vibrating with stifled laughter.

she’s like, c’mon, old man.

excuse me?

this is your era. sing with me, she pleads.

and she’s crawling up the bed to him, tilting her head and nananahing the guitar solo until she’s sat in his lap, his hands on her hips, watching her perform for him with what he reckons is more passion than even the band had.

she hums it when she’s following him around the grocery store, elbows on the handle of the cart, watching him doing all the heavy lifting. she sings it while they’re lying on his couch, both doing separate things but together, y’know? he can’t focus on the building plans he’s tryna read on his phone ‘cause she’s stuck singing the same bit on a loop while she flicks through netflix or something.

so then maybe one night the power goes out and they’re home alone. she raids his cupboards for candles; they sit in the kitchen and eat leftover pizza and drink cheap wine and wait for the lights to turn back on. and joel puts some playlist on his phone, sits it on the counter while they eat and talk and…whatever else you do during a power outage.

he gets up to go refill their glasses. she follows, sliding the empty pizza box onto the counter as pearl jam fades into silence. and then…the twinkly intro. the piano melody. the crooning bassline. she gasps. her jaw falls slack, huge beam spreads across her lips. eyebrows lift as high as they’ll go. n joel’s shoulders jerk with a laugh.

she takes his sleeve in her fist and pulls him into the middle of the kitchen, and he lets her, obviously. and she’s swaying, and his arms sit comfortably on her hips, wrists cross at the bottom of her spine. and he watches her with this little glint in his eye, the reflection of the candles and probably something more, just letting her sing to him.

you-really-gotta-sing-this-time-cmon, she says, squeezing it between the lines of the song. and i’m getting closer than i ever thought i might, she sings.

and she shuts her eyes, balls her fists and jerks them twice when the drums kick in, and joel snorts, leans in, lines his lips with hers until they’re, like, an inch apart, and they’re breathing the words to one another as they sway back and forth.

…and i can’t fight this feeling anymore, i’ve forgotten what i started fighting for…

her arms cross around his neck, and his forehead’s on hers, n she’s singing it’s time to bring this ship into the shore, and he sings back and throw away the oars forever, and they laugh because it’s so fucking corny, so sickly sweet, and neither of them care.

she lets him sing the second verse, mostly ‘cause she’s never heard him singing this song and never heard him sing so softly, like he’s doing it for only her to hear, and no one else. she kinda nuzzles her head into his neck and feels the bristle of his beard against her temple, his lil quiet drawl singing, it always seems that i’m following you, girl, ‘cause you take me to the places that alone i’d never find.

and it’s cute, and they’re so in love, and my chest hurts to think about them looking at one another as they sing the last fucking line, the lil oooohs, the lil saxophone notes. the dumb little grins on their dumb little faces.

yeah. what the heck, dude. i need an inhaler.

series masterlist | main masterlist

[fernegirl]

never coming home | prologue.

↳ summary:

Summoning ghosts, fistfights, shredding on guitar, murders, running from the law, cheap motel rooms, and seeing beyond the veil of the afterlife: what would you do to keep those you love the most? For Sal Fisher, the answer is simple—he'll do whatever it takes, till the very end of the line.

A rewrite of Sally Face's ending beginning at ep. 4, in which some things are different and others are not. Sally and his friends face down the Devourers of God while struggling to hold onto their minds—and one another—despite the odds. This fic reimagines the story of SF while doing its best to remain true to the canon material in terms of lore, tonality, and plausibility.

↳ read it on ao3 here [x]

↳ parings: sally/ashley/larry, todd/neil · genre: canon-divergence/fix-it 

↳ warnings: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI + just as dark as canon, same triggers apply

series masterlist [tba] | next chapter [tba]

The longer she stands outside, her breath forming small clouds in front of her face and the rain creeping beneath the collar of her jacket, the more Ash reconsiders whether coming to this party was a good idea. Sure, at the time that she—well, her roommate—had been invited, it seemed fine. Now though…not so much. She knew it would be big, all of the ragers in the warehouse district are. The promise of live underground music, cheap beer, and substances that she couldn’t spell brings in all sorts of people. 

“Are you sure about this?” She asks, glancing over at Tara who is far more absorbed in her cellphone than the surroundings. 

She glances over at her and nods reassuringly, her blonde bangs bobbing with her head. “‘Course I am. Have I ever steered you wrong?” 

Ash bites back the quick response of ‘yes, absolutely’ but she knows nothing good will come of it. Tara’s sweet. Normal. A  regular girl dipping her toes into a world like this in the name of some boy she’s talking to and she’s bringing Ash along with her. Not that she really minds. The girl is trying. She’s always done her best to connect with her, despite their contrasting interests. Plus, she’d mentioned this being a ‘roomie send off’’ or something like that. A final epic excursion for the two of them before Ash finishes packing her worldly possessions and leaves campus. 

A viking funeral, college-girl-style. 

The gesture had been thoughtful enough to her Ash this far, out this late. Even though now it feels less worth it by the minute. 

“Come on. Didn’t I tell you about the rumors?” 

Tara had. “You did. This is some kind of underground show or something?”

Tara bobs her head again, reminding Ash of a chickadee, golden and fluffy. “Yep. No idea if it’s true or not, but Jared says heard that some band is friends with the guys that are hosting–they might make a special appearance or something.” 

“Any idea who it is?” 

“Sanitary Filth?” 

The name is awful. Perfect for the type of band that would play this venue. “Never heard of them.” 

“Me neither,” Tara shrugs. “Doors should open soon at least.” 

Her phone pings and she returns her attention to it, an excited smile on her face. It’s sweet and thankfully Jared seems to be a half decent guy. She’s happy for Tara, really. Or at the very least relieved that there’s something to distract her from Ash’s departure. 

Really, she’d give anything for the same. It’s not that she’s explicitly not looking forward to her return to Nockfell. She is. It’s been far, far too long since she saw her friends, her family. The familiar trees, cracked streets, and the distinct crooked shape of the Addison Apartments building. 

She misses it. She swears she does. 

Which doesn’t explain why every time she looks at her calendar, at the date next week, circled in red for her homecoming, a pit opens in her stomach. 

Not that she’s looking to self-analyze. No thank you. She’d rather do anything else. 

Which is exactly why she’s here, with Tara, in the pouring-ass rain at nearly midnight, waiting to get into what will no doubt be an underwhelming rock show. 

“This has got to be the stupidest thing we’ve done in a while,” a dry, familiar voice says. 

Ash shivers, skin going somehow clammier. There’s no way that it’s who she thinks it is. 

She stretches up onto her tiptoes to peer over the shoulders of the group in front of her. 

“Really?” A deeper, slightly more nasal voice replies. “Of all the things, this? Come on, man.” 

“Pneumonia no laughing matter, dipshit.” 

“Whatever you say. ’s totally worth it in my book.” 

She knows. In her heart of heart’s she already knows. To see it with her eyes is just a formality at this point because those voices are emblazoned in her memory, resurfacing in her sweetest dreams and most bone-chilling nightmares. 

The crowd shifts and she catches sight of them, her heart stuttering to what feels like a standstill. 

A tall man with long dark hair stands beside a shorter man with electric blue hair.  Fucking hell. They turn, looking at one another as they break into laughter. They’re different from the last time she saw either of them. Both are taller. Larry’s put on muscle and a bit of facial hair. She’s never seen Sally with his hair down before. His mask is the same. Still white except for the pink patched piece. It looks like there’s eyeliner smudged on it, no doubt for the show.

As if it could be anyone but the two of them. She shrinks down, slouching to ensure the crowd covers her, while her mind races to figure out why the actual fuck they’re here. 

Oh. Of course.

“Tara,” she swallows hard, and does her best to keep the shakes out of her voice. 

Tara looks up from her phone, her smile bleached bright under the streetlamp. “Any chance you got the name of the band wrong? Could it have been Sanity's Fall?” 

Her eyes light up wide with recognition. “Yes, that’s exactly what it was, how did you figure that out?” 

“Lucky guess.” 

She smiles again, and is distracted once more in moments. Not that it bothers Ashley. No, she’s grateful that she’s invisible to her soon-to-be-former roommate at this moment. Means that Tara doesn’t notice as she cranes her neck to catch another look ahead.

They don’t notice her. Why would they? The sidewalk is packed. Then again, she doubts that makes any impression on either of them. They’re laughing at a grainy picture that Larry is showing Sally on his phone, their shoulders pressed against one another. They seem…happy. Content. At least more so than the last time she’d seen them. 

Maybe this is why she doesn’t want to go back. Because even in the final days she’d been there, she could feel this…distance. A separation that she couldn’t pretend was either of their fault. 

No. It was her. She couldn’t make the leap of faith into the belief in the supernatural the way that they did. Couldn’t brush off the soul-deep terror that took root in her after she fell into that pile of bones below the apartment building. 

It wasn’t them. The boys were the same as ever. Or maybe they’d grown up. And she hadn’t grown with them, but rather away. 

Still. It’s not as though she doesn’t want to see them. Not as though she won’t go back. She will. They’ll accept her, that much she’s certain of. With warm hugs and dumb stories. Rock music, bean bag chairs, scary movies, and too-salty popcorn. 

She’s just so fucking scared that this time…it won’t feel like home. That instead of a ghost from the past haunting them, it’ll be her. Just a faded version of who she was. 

Her hands shake as she wrestles her cell phone free from her jacket. Fingers numb from the frigid rain, she finds Sal in her contacts. 

To Sally: hey, srry. can’t come back this week, xtra covers at work :( :( 

He might not buy it. She’s told them about her crappy bartending job and what a pain in the ass it is. He won’t question it though, won’t push. 

She stares at the message for a moment before hitting send. She’ll go back. She just can’t tomorrow.  

An obnoxious alert plays somewhere in front of her–a snippet of an overly-loud guitar riff that sounds like it’s been recorded on a tin can. 

She waits, breath held. Nothing good can come from this–from waiting for her message to elicit a response. There is none. Sal and Larry’s conversation about some nonsense involving Gizmo never halts.

Logically, she knows that Sal’s too polite to take out his phone while talking. He’ll check it later, and tell her that it’s alright. That it is too bad, but he’s still so excited to see her the week after. She’ll text the same thing to Larry and get an almost identical response, except with more expletives. 

Like clockwork. No, the boys hadn’t changed. So why is there a pit forming in her chest? 

“Hey, Tara?” She waves her hand in front of her phone to catch her attention. “That boy of yours was going to give you a ride back to ours right?” 

Tara nods, her plastic jewelry clicking together. “Yep, Jared’s driving me.” “Cool, then I might bounce,” Ashley rubs the back of her head, trying to shove down the guilt rising up at Tara’s disappointed expression. “Migraine has been trying to set in all day and I think going to a rock show might actually kill me.” 

Of course, because she’s a good person, Tara’s disappointment morphs into genuine concern in moments, which somehow only makes Ash feel worse. She reaches out, smoothing her hair back from her face, a habit that often makes her wonder if Tara sees her more as a cat than a roommate. 

“Of course, that’d be the worst thing for it. Jared’s almost here. I can ask him to give you a ride ba–” 

“Don’t worry, I’m alright to drive,” she says firmly. “Just don’t want it to get worse.” 

She doesn’t look fully convinced, but doesn’t bother arguing. “Alright, but promise me you’ll text me and let me know you got back safe, ‘kay?” 

“Promise.” She bumps their knuckles in a weak fistbump that makes Tara giggle. “Catch you later tonight, I expect a full report.” 

“Sounds good.” 

She turns, hurrying away from Tara before she can second guess the decision. 

Distance will make it easier–will clear her the cobwebs in her head. Sure, a migraine had been an exaggeration, but she can feel a bit of an ache in her temples that will no doubt bloom into something irritating. 

When her bike comes into view at the far side of the parking lot, it’s accompanied by a rush of relief. She really needs to name it before she sees them, or else Larry will ask and then blurt out something stupid that will stick forever. Just like how Sally’s mask got nicknamed Samuel somehow. 

For a second, she contemplates going back. She could talk to them. It’s not like they’d be anything less than thrilled. They’d hug her like old times–squeezing her so tightly that her ribs would ache–they’d ask about her haircut and her motorcycle. It could be good. 

But she can’t. Not yet. Not tonight, when the perfect moment already seemed to exist in front of her. Without her. 

She pulls her helmet on, exhaling heavily. Nothing left to do but go. 

So she kickstarts her bike and peels out of the parking lot, a little too fast, but it’s not like there are any cars to hit this late.

The rumble of the engine and the rush of the frigid air around her does a good job of driving the thoughts from her mind. 

She’ll go home again. Just not today. 

a/n: thank you for reading the first chapter! i hope you enjoyed it! reblogs are much appreciated and please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist :3

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

Heartwork- E.M. Epilogue

You and Eddie settle into your new relationship

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 Masterlist

TW- none! Just fluff <3

Pairings- Eddie X Reader

Word Count- 847

(Gif not mine, credit to owner!)

As the weeks go by, you and Eddie settle into a new rhythm, exploring each other in new ways as your friendship transforms into something new. You come to adopt new rituals, like watching game shows on Fridays after work and eating at the diner together at least once a week.  

Slowly, as you continue this new journey into romance, you notice Eddie picking up his old hobbies again. He just invited what remains of the Hellfire crew over to play a quick one shot over at his house, on a weekend, of course, and he’s been playing his guitar more and more. He pulls it out and strums idly as you lounge around together, sometimes humming new tunes as he plays. You smile to yourself every time you hear it, and hope he’ll let you into his world of music sometime soon. 

You alternate weeks to have dinner with your parents and Wayne. Both houses are warm and welcoming, and the food is always good, but the conversation is even better. Wayne is a riot, always cracking jokes that make you snort with laughter between bites of food. You see where Eddie gets his sense of humor, even though he rolls his eyes at some of the cornier jokes Wayne makes.  With your parents, it’s a bit different. They’re just happy to hear about everything you and Eddie get up to. They treat Eddie like part of the family, except now, they love him even more for making you so happy. And, of course, your mom is absolutely thrilled when you come in the first time holding hands. She jokes about what your wedding will look like, and while you do get embarrassed at her playful jabs, you do it with a smile and a laugh, as Eddie does. 

When just after six months pass, you’re sitting at Eddie’s with him one night during one of your Friday night game show dinners. You’re both poking at your Chinese food, watching intently as you try to guess the puzzle on Wheel of Fortune. You figure it out, the phrase being “One in the hand is worth two in the bush,” and yelling at the TV, taunting the contestant spinning the wheel before turning to Eddie and laughing. His gaze on you is warm, those eyes you’ve come to seek most boring into yours as he laughs at your silliness.  

“I love you,” He suddenly says, his eyes sure and stable on you. Your smile drops for a second, stunned at the confession. You would be a flat out liar if you said you had never thought about hearing those words, but still, it’s disarming to hear them so out of the blue like this. You’re not even 100% sure you heard him right. You stare back at him, your heart leaping in your chest, and Eddie’s eyes start to dart around the room, backpedaling as if he almost wished he could take the words back. The last thing he would ever want is to scare you.  

“What did you say?” You ask breathlessly. The smile that starts to break out on your face is full of wonder, full of joy. Eddie’s mild panic cools when he sees it, and he takes a calming breath as he looks at you properly again. 

“I- I love you,” He states again. There’s no trace of doubt in his voice. Just wariness that you might not say it back. Not that that wouldn’t be okay, but still, you’re sure he’d like to hear it. You let out a little laugh before throwing yourself at him, overcome with the need to be as close to him as possible. You pull him in for an earth-shattering kiss, legs tangling together as you lay on him, and he holds you tight against him, the embrace absolutely crushing in the best possible way. 

When you pull away, your gaze is steady on those beautiful, deep brown eyes, hands going to hold his face as you feel the words building in your chest, pushing their way out like a new flower in Spring. “I love you, too.” Eddie’s smile blossoms across his plush lips as he pulls you in for another kiss. This one is a bit softer, but still, you feel like you could melt in the palms of his hands. 

“You love me?” He whispers, his forehead laying against yours. You bite your lip, your eyes closed as you breathe this perfect moment in, and give a small nod.  

“I think... I think I always have,” You’ve been remembering all the time you spent around Eddie and Y/BFF/N as a teenager, wishing to have what she had. It took you a long time to come to terms with the fact that you not only wanted what, but who, too.  

Eddie rubs his nose gently against yours, and he kisses you once, twice, three times, feather light on your lips. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to catch up,” He murmurs against you. 

“It’s okay,” You promise. “You were definitely worth waiting for.”  

@corrodedcoffincumslut @haylaansmi @bebe07011 @callsignraver

[kny-agere]

This one wasn’t a request,,, I just think these two would get along and wanted to write something about them :D

Cg!Mitsuri & Little!Zenitsu

★彡☆彡★彡

Zenitsu felt terrified without Tanjiro by his side. He felt terrified even with him most times. The only exception was when Zenitsu was regressed which was the exact problem now. He tried to stop himself from slipping but each scared thought only pushed him down further which inspired another flurry of panic.

The boy was quick to barricade himself in his room, alongside tucking himself under the blankets. He resisted the urge to put his thumb in his mouth. If he could just sleep this off everything would be fine. Tanjiro would be back in a few days and they could play then.

But that promise wasn’t enough. Zenitsu wanted to play now, or at least cuddle. And while he clutched his pillow it wasn’t the same. It took barely two seconds for tears to build up in his eyes. Maybe he’d be able to sleep after a good cry. That wasn’t any comfort now.

Zenitsu tried to keep his tears quiet. Shinobu was somewhere in the building and while she knew about his regression (in fact she taught him most things about it) Zenitsu didn’t like bothering her. The boy also feared he’d receive a lecture rather than any hugs and soft words. So he resorted to choked off sobs and whimpering into his hands. It wasn’t a very good strategy but nothing would stop his tears.

“Are you ok?” A voice from the doorway started Zenitsu into jerking sharply. He still didn’t uncover his eyes, hoping instead the owner of the voice would simply disappear.

Even through loud sobs the blonde could hear someone approaching him. His ears tuned into the soft noises, trying to warn him.

“You poor thing! How come you’re here all alone.” A warm hand lands on Zenitsu’s shoulder. It’s light enough that he isn’t too startled.

It takes a little while but eventually he calms enough to turn around. His eyes are puffy and red. Without clear vision the boy was still disoriented but with a few quick blinks he could vaguely see the figure beside him.

“My names Mitsuri! Do you think we can talk a little?” She’s the most beautiful woman Zenitsu has ever seen (second to Nezuko of course). Normally he’d be quick to declare him love or launch himself at her but now all he can do is whimper and freeze in place.

The woman keeps talking (“I like your hair! It’s so colorful.”) but everything is hard to process. The young slayer is still trying to decide if he should cry more or let the newcomer stay. He holds his breath and listens to her sound.

There’s a twinkling noise, like wind-chimes. Underneath the soft sounds of flutes and guitar rise and fall. When he bothers to focus on the song it’s very soothing.

Mitsuri sits softly at the edge of the bed. She extends a hand like she’s trying to lure a stray cat. Eventually it lures him in. Zenitsu, still crying, shuffles close enough that his hair barely brushes against her fingers.

Immediately the woman buries her hand in his golden locks. She draws patterns against his scalp. It’s enough to get his tears to die down to the soft occasional grumble.

Once he’s softened the hashira pulls him up. With her strength it’s easy to hold him against her chest. “Hi again baby. Are we doing better now?” She lightly bounces him.

“I miss Tanjiro,” he finally mumbles. He thinks the two might know each other. Tanjiro knows about half the corps by name.

“Does he usually take care of you?”

“Yea.”

“Well is it ok if I watch you while he’s gone?”

Zenitsu considers the offer for a moment. It’s strange to have a girl actually want to be around him. Mitsuri has been nothing but kind which almost makes him more hesitant. “Just until he gets back,” he eventually concedes.

“Yay! Let’s go get you cleaned up.” She brushes some hair out of his eyes. Mitsuri easily balances the boy on her hip. Her sleeve wipes away some of the snot and tears covering Zenitsu’s face but the woman carries him to the bathroom and promises some proper care.

[pinkandbeelz]

Random Relationship Headcannons! - Leo/Need

A Pink Original!

Hello! This is my first post on this Blog! I plan on slowly making one of these for each Project Sekai group. Some might be short but I hope you enjoy them all the same! :) - Pink! ♡

Ichika Hoshino

🎸• Ichika’s the type to be shy in a relationship at first, but open up more over time.

🎸 • She’d let you sit and watch Leo/Need practice. If you give her any compliments on her playing, she’ll be bashful about it and thank you. Your kind words help motivate her to play as well as she can!

🎸 • Her favourite way to spend time with you would be relaxing together and listening to Miku songs. She would make two shared playlists for when the two of you hang out, one for everyday and one for winding down together after a long day!

🎸 • If you ask her to play a Miku song on her guitar, she’ll gladly play for you! You could ask her for any song, there’s a high chance she’s know it already, but if she doesn’t she’ll happily learn it and show you the next time you’re together!

🎸 • She loves looking after her cactus, so if you get her another as a gift, she’ll be ecstatic! She would place them next to eachother in the perfect place for them to grow. She looks after them like they’re her children!

🎸 • Overall, Ichika may be a little shy in a relationship, but it’s easy to tell she loves and appreciates you! :)

Saki Tenma

🎹 • Saki loves you so much and isn’t afraid to show it!

🎹 • Loves physical affection, she would hug you all day if she could! She often throws herself at you to give you hug attacks!!

🎹 • She can be quite overbearing and excitable, but she can also be one of the most chill people ever. She’ll go from loud and hyper during the day to calm and relaxed when spending time with you in the evenings :)

🎹 • She loves taking you out on little dates to cafes, parks and shops! Sometimes she’ll take you out so that you can complete one of the tasks on her bucket list that she made while she was in hospital :)

🎹 • Since she likes hairstyling, she’ll invite you over to attempt looks she’s seen in magazines on your hair! It doesn’t matter if your hair’s long or short, she’ll find a style that looks perfect on you!

🎹 • Saki knows she loves you, and makes sure you and everyone around you knows it! She’s not shy about showing off her feelings.

Honami Mochizuki

🥁• Honami has a few insecurities about being in a relationship, but a little bit of love and experience shows her there’s nothing to worry about!

🥁• She would love going on walks with you! If it’s taking Shibao on a walk in the park together, or just a relaxing walk spent chatting with you, she’d love it either way! Beaches are one of her favourite places to walk with you :)

🥁• She’d love making food for you! She’ll bring snacks and treats she’s made for you to your dates together! She also likes cooking with you, making sweet treats with you quickly becomes one of her favourite type of dates!

🥁• Honami would love going out to see the stars with you. On late weekend nights, you would go out together to see if you can spot any constellations. She knows all their names, so she’ll point them all out to you!

🥁• You’d have to be well in to your relationship with Honami before she would show you her art, but when she eventually builds up the courage to flip through her sketchbook with you she’d be pretty happy if you gave her a hand with drawing! She doesn’t mind if you’re good or not, she’ll take any help she can get!

🥁• Despite her anxieties, Honami would try her very best in a relationship with you! She may be insecure and embarrassed at times, but she appreciates everything you do for her and she loves you very much!

Shiho Hinomori

🍜• Shiho is definitely a tsundere. It’ll take a while for her to properly open up in a relationship.

🍜• Like Ichika, Shiho would take you to Leo/need practices with her. She doesn’t mind the compliments you give her, but much prefers when you criticise her playing. It helps her get better! She’ll let you have a go at playing her bass every now and then and she’ll try her best at teaching you how to play. Even though she doesn’t show it much, she’s so proud when you manage to play what she’s been teaching you correctly!

🍜• She doesn’t seem like a physical touch person, but the longer you’re in a relationship together, the more you realise she’s just shy about it. PDA definitely isn’t her thing, but she doesn’t mind cuddling up in private from time to time. ( even if she does go red as a tomato from as little as holding her hand! )

🍜• She’ll take you out to ramen places every now and then. It’s nice, even though most of the time is spent with her analysing the ramen!

🍜• If you were ever in a boring class together, Shiho would offer you an earbud so you two could listen to music together! She has the perfect playlist prepared full of songs that are great for listening to during classes you’d rather not be in!

🍜• Shiho may not be the most affectionate in a relationship, but she shows her affection in other ways. To her, actions speak louder than words. you can see how much she loves you through everything she does for you!

Pink’s extra notes♡ - I had to study hard to make this lol, I don’t know too much about Leo/Need, so I watched the Journey To Bloom digest story and all of the Leo need self intros so that this was at least a bit accurate! Beelz helped out a lot with Shiho and Honami’s parts when I ran out of ideas lol. I hope everyone reading enjoyed! :))

[iamnotawomanimagod]

My first* ranking of The Great Impersonator

*'Cause I'll definitely revisit this as time goes on!

Here's my current ranking of TGI, from favorite to least-favorite, with a tiny blurb of my thoughts for each.

Dog Years - This one really sunk its teeth in me. I love the metaphor, as brutal as it is. I love the dumb B+ and O blood type pun in the first verse. I can't get over the Jagger reference, for some reason, it's a real knife twist. The vocals suit the lyrics so well. It's bitter, heartbreaking, but stands out from the rest of the album because it sounds kind of sultry and cool the way other Halsey works do. It's a perfect blend of what makes this album, and Halsey's writing in general, so good.

Lonely is the Muse - When this song came out, I knew it would become one of my favorite Halsey songs of all time. That didn't change with the full album release. I love moody, dark, slightly goth Halsey. The fact that Evanescence/Amy Lee was the inspiration for this one gives it major bonus points, too. Long before Halsey entered the scene, Amy Lee was my first real obsession. I love the lyricism here, especially in the bridge/final verse. The way this song builds up until she's basically screaming at the end - sooo good, gives me goosebumps. I hope I get to see this one live some day.

Alice in the Upper Class - I have to reiterate that I'm SO mad this song isn't available on streaming. This is a really fun, chaotic rock song. Feels like being manic, in the best way possible. I love the lyrics, the beat, the guitars. I hope it comes out on streaming soon!

Arsonist - I had a feeling we might get some really juicy break-up songs that are probably about Alev. She went for his fucking throat. I also just love the vibe of this one. I think they nailed the Fiona Apple homage, I would've made that comparison anyway even if I hadn't seen the IG post. And haven't we all know an arrogant, narcissistic asshole who just wants to burn your life down?

Letter to God (1998) - All of the Letter to God songs are beautiful, and I think they're best examined as a trio. But if I had to pick my favorite, it's 1998. It's the culmination of the concept, and it's just a really sweet, heartbreaking song. I love that it's about her son. And the way she pleads with God is so desperate and heartfelt. I also just love the way it sounds. Really does remind me of some soft pop/rnb from the late 90s.

Life of the Spider (Draft) - I didn't think we would ever get a song that was more raw and personal than "More". This song is an aching, gaping, open wound. I'm almost surprised they released it. It's bitingly honest and so, so sad. How could someone have made her feel this way, when she was so sick? It makes me angry. But the song itself is so beautiful and so gut-wrenching.

Hurt Feelings - Probably one of the more relatable songs on the album, especially for those of us with daddy issues. The chorus is so sweet and refreshing. There's a quiet defiance in this song that I really like. Halsey hasn't really written extensively about their childhood or family before this album - except on "I forgive you" but that's unreleased so we don't count it. I was surprised at how honest they are about their struggles growing up on this album.

The End - Where this era started, for us. It's a very sad song, but I think I hear the sweetness in it now, more so than when it was a separate single from the album. It's vulnerable and soft. I love how their voice sounds, the layered harmonies, and the guitar melody. It's a warm blanket on a rainy day.

The Great Impersonator - This is another one where she really nailed the inspiration - Bjork. I love her voice, she's singing in ways she normally doesn't, which is fun. And the lightness of this song, while it's still sad, is much appreciated after how heavy the previous songs are. It feels tongue-in-cheek, a little flippant, but in a good way. Halsey has always had a sense of humor about themself, and I think this and "Ego" are the two songs on the album that feature that humor the most.

Only Living Girl in LA - I think this is a perfect introduction to the album. It also doesn't feel six minutes long, which is crazy. It goes on a journey, which is something I love in a song, and I really like the weird little production elements. All the background noises, extra voices, etc. Plus that "this is Halsey St" line immediately after the lyric that she has no name - love it. And the ending is really powerful.

Darwinism - Their voice sounds sooo gorgeous, ethereal, but I'm not big on the lyrics. Weirdly enough, on an album of almost painfully specific and personal references, I find the lyrics to be a little generic. It definitely resembles a Bowie song, though. I love the way it sounds, the composition and production are beautiful. It's one I think I can listen to more casually because the lyrics don't stab me directly in the heart. The "you all know something that I don't" bridge is haunting, though.

Ego - Turns out this is the most fun song on the album, especially without AITUC! I love the self-deprecating lyricism, and it's a fun little bop. I think it's actually pretty weak compared to the rest of the album, but it's a very fun radio song and great as a single. I like it more if I separate it from the album itself.

Letter to God (1974) - I really like how messy this one feels, how you can hear Halsey's producer (I think?) instructing the musicians on when to come in. How muted her vocals are. It feels like an interlude, which is part of why it rates a little lower. But it also starts the story of this trio of songs, and I think it sets really important context for 1983 and 1998.

Letter to God (1983) - I did see someone say that each version of Letter to God represents different versions of Halsey - child Ashley, Halsey as a performer, and Halsey now/as a mother. This is the performer version, and I do like it. But, much like 1974, it feels more like an interlude than a full song. It works best in the context of the other two. I also love the little reference to "Hurricane" in the first verse, talking about moving to Brookyln and a boyfriend with track marks.

I Believe in Magic - This song is really sweet. It's very telling to compare the song Halsey wrote for their mom versus the song they wrote for their dad, lol. But I think the production and instrumentals are a little boring, and I don't relate to the lyrics very much.

Hometown - This song is cute, but it doesn't do much for me. If it wasn't a Halsey song, I might not listen to it. I love the storytelling aspect, and I also like the "oooohs" after the chorus. It's just not my favorite genre and I don't think Halsey is strongest in it.

Lucky - I can finally admit that I've never really liked this song, lmfao. I think the concept is so, so good. The video was brilliant. And the Y2K Tiktok blitz was very fun, if a little long. But I just don't really like the song very much. I like that she made a very, very sad bubblegum pop song, but I don't enjoy bubblegum pop very much.

I Never Loved You - I'm not a huge fan of the production or the lyrics. Just doesn't hit me very hard. There are some good lines for sure, but overall I just find it kind of boring, especially compared to the rest of the album. And it feels very toothless when compared to the other songs that she (seemingly) wrote about Alev. Maybe it's not about him, Idk. Or maybe she wrote this song later in time, when they were a little more healed about it.

Panic Attack - This is the only song I've had a hard time getting through on the entire album. It's catchy. I get it. And I love the delivery of "you make me fucking nervous" and the pre-chorus is good. I do not like the rest of this song at all. I had a feeling that'd be true the moment we got the very first snippet of it.

Final thoughts!

I think there's a slightly shorter version of this album that I would have enjoyed more. That being said, some of the songs I would've cut act as moments of relief and respite on an otherwise very painful and heavy album. So they serve a purpose on the album itself, even if I'm not a huge fan of them personally.

But I don't think I will go out of my way to listen to Hometown, I Never Loved You, Lucky, I Believe in Magic, or Panic Attack very much.

The rest of the album is absolutely incredible though. Halsey has grown so much as a songwriter, storyteller, and vocalist. I see what they mean about this being Manic 2.0, or Manic with Badlands confidence. It's like Manic's older, wiser sister.

I do think I might continue to struggle with how sad it is. I love sad music, but I need to be in the right mindset for it. I can't put this album on casually the way I can the others. That might be less true over time, as the initial sting/shock of how personal and painful this album is wears off, but for right now, there are some songs that I'll have to avoid if I'm already feeling sad.

I'm so glad Halsey was able to make this record. It must have been very cathartic and therapeutic. And the fact that they were still around to make it at all is a miracle. I'm really excited to see a lot of these live, and curious about what the other bonus tracks will look like.

That's all for now!

[teshadraws]

What advice if any do you have to someone wanting to write a long form story?

Oof. Good question, anon! Seekers is my first long-term writing project, but I guess a few things off the top of my head:

Map out what you want the project to be, at least roughly. A lot of Seekers has been developed along the way, but even in the first few chapters I knew the story’s starting point, its vague ending, a few milestones in the middle, and a general idea of the story/theme/character arcs I wanted to build. Everything else (imo) can develop organically as you go.

Keep in mind that you probably don’t want to tackle only one “plot point” at a time and then move on to the next. Are your characters on a mission to find something? Well, maybe they’re practicing a skill along the way or they get sidetracked by something related to a different plot point. Or maybe you’re having two characters talk about their surroundings en route, but it develops into a deeper conversation about their motivations. Think about how you can weave character and plot developments around each other to help those different developments feel a bit more natural.

An example of the above from Seekers (because I feel like I didn’t explain it very well, lol) is Nia and Tobias’ recent trip to the town in the desert. Originally they only go there to complete a mission for Rosalind so Tobias can get more info on Team Zenith, but a lot more happens in that arc that further develops other character/plot points: Tobias getting his guitar, Nia seeing Giratina in the tunnels, the two of them meeting Samir and witnessing another human conflict, Nia using her aura in a new way and glimpsing Tobias’ aura color, the two of them making friends/connections with Calder and Takeo and Granite, etc.

I think my biggest piece of advice though is just to write!!! And by that I don’t mean “think up cool plot lines and make character reference sheets but never write a single line of actual story.” You don’t have to start at the beginning of the story or even within the story at all, but work on getting a grasp on your characters’ voices and how they’ll interact, even if that’s through a random one-shot that will never see the light of day. Don’t write as if it has to be perfect, or even good. Write as if you are the only one who will ever see it.

Hope some of this might help! ^^’

[mikufigure]

i intended to write this as a comment on this https://archiveofourown.org/works/42448821/chapters/110444814?view_adult=true fan fiction (nsfw), but comments are disabled. i’m a fairly private person in regards to erotic content, i don’t like sharing what i enjoy outside of very limited circumstances, but i feel i need to set that aside for a moment in order to praise this. this is one of my favorite fanworks of all time.

let’s set some background so i can formulate my thoughts and also give a proper info. i rarely read fan fiction, only occasionally indulging whenever visual art can’t scratch the itch of enjoying media. guilty gear is a franchise that i, excuse my wording, feel guilty for enjoying due to my lack of participation in the actual fighting game side of it. i’ve been about actively into it for ten months, but i first started looking into it because of bridget’s depiction in strive, as she was transgender, and openly accepted as such by her franchise.

putting the rest under the readmore since this got long

after listening to her theme song a few times i ended up hearing other songs as they came on autoplay, and loved them. passively listened to just the music for a few months before plunging into what the series actually was. i am not good at fighting games. i’ve tried a few, played a few rounds against friends, but ultimately did not stick with them for very long. the way i enjoyed guilty gear was by listening to music, learning about the story, and enjoying fanworks.

as much as i like to pretend that i don’t, i do have an anxiety disorder, and the general culture of media led me to developing the mindset of becoming a ‘poser’ for not actually playing the games. there was a reputation of fans that got into the series because of bridget never playing the game and being looked down on because of that, and i did not want to fall in that crowd. with this factors, i was reserved in my emotional investment for quite some time.

what ended up drawing me out of this shell was meeting people who enjoyed the series, and seeing them enjoying it without hesitation. there was no breakthrough moment of “oh wow! i can just enjoy things without worrying about opinions!”, but rather a gradual build up of confidence in seeing the happiness of others.

do you wanna know the fun part of this? the people i’ve met got into it for various reason, still play the game, and enjoy the franchise as much as me. the only other uniting feature between us is that we’ve all been transgender. guilty gear has cultivated a safe community for transgender people solely through their addition of characters like bridget and testament. don’t think i’ve forgotten about testament, i’ve just only been addressing bridget due to her widespread impact.

i think i’m ready to actually talk about that fanfiction i linked forever ago. go read it if you haven’t, or at least read between the first and second line break. the part that got me wanting to write all of this was two specific paragraphs:

She doesn’t know what to tell this gothic nonbinary transfemme to keep them safe. Maybe spit out some stupid platitudes. Shit advice like, don’t ever write poetry. Don’t ever write song lyrics. Don’t ever write your heart and your trauma and your hope into trans erotic fanfiction; don't do it, it's not worth it.

this first one made my heart ache. it made me realize why comments were disabled, why the work was posted anonymously. i had already decided i needed to write something in response to it by then, as a sort of “tribute” to whoever might have written this.

And in response, I-No brushes her guitar’s strings, enough to summon her magic. Transformative magic, the kind that you’d archive online in the hopes that another trans reader would find resonance between the lines.

i’ve found such an intense resonance with this. it’s hard to convey with words the emotion that this makes me feel. i’m grateful to have found this fan fiction, to have found this community, for a game like guilty gear to exist which could foster a community for transgender people. i’m grateful for transgender erotica and expression as a love letter to the source material and for personal indulgence. i don’t think i can make a much more compelling closer than that, just simple adoration for transgenderism and love.

[spotaus]

HOWDY!!! I got another question about your little oc guys 😈!!! Where do they live? I’m trying to decide if one is living in a huge mansion, or maybe even if some are just wanderers across the galaxy with no home. Ooorrr if they are all just in one tiny suburban house heheh!

Ooooo and another good one that kinda goes along with this: are any roommates with each other?

(Also you make me smile and giggle every time I see your ocs! You make me happy never stop 😭👍)

AHHH!!! HI!!!! Always happy to see you back, Anon! ♡♡♡ (and ooh??? I hope you'll drop another ask if what I throw out here helps ur curiosity lol! You spoil me with compliments too!!!)

This is a bit of a silly one since a lot of their stuff is Omega!Timeline style... but for ease I'll explain my world building vibes: I call the space where all these guys exist the Goldverse. Most of my ocs travel the multiverse, abd those who do have AUs usually exist in a different timeline to end up there. So, we'll be going off of Goldverse lore here! (<- It's the home-universe of Eternal Ashes) Everyone can freely move between AUs and timelines.

Ichor: His universe (in GV) was destroyed by the Human. He lives in the Omega Timeline in a little apartment in a "city" portion! It's cozy, a living room, a nice bed, a kitchen, a bathroom. The usual! More cushy than most apartments in the area tho (favoritism lmao) EDIT: His apartment is actually 2 bedroom because he has Sons to watch over. They're immortal and don't stay with him often, but they do need an extra set of beds lol-

Pretender: His universe was... also destroyed by his human. Kinda. He ends up living in a suburb house, I think, on the outskirts of a city. Two bedrooms, two bath, one floor + a basement. He visits the city often though, and can be spotted staying across the multiverse when given the chance (ex. Nightmare's Castle)

N: ??? She just kinda pops into existence when she's needed. But also? She's a couch-surfer and sleeps under the stars. Ichor once found her on his couch in the morning, had no clue how she got in. (So, occasional roommate to Ichor :3)

Orchid: Lives strictly with Nightmare in his castle, even post-story EA. She has her own room that's decorated in purple decor and dreamcatchers she made and a bunch of books! Very Cozy. (I say strictly. Sometimes she goes to Underswap and stays with the bros there for a week or two when she gets overwhelmed.)

Reset: Used to live with Geno in the save screen (he and Kane went out to visit Reaper often tho) but now he has his own place in the Omega Timeline. An apartment, a few buildings down from Ichor. A bit small, but filled to the brim with video games and movie posters. And guitars. He's not the best at playing, but no noise complains yet, so that's good!

(The two above Eventually might be roommates, but as of now they get limited (and supervised) times that they can see eachother due to the whole.. genocide thing.)

Stereo: Post-EA he lives with Fresh still (I Imagine it to be like a random house in a void or maybe a Van? Yeah, I could see Fresh living that Van/Modified Bus life). It's an ever-changing living situation tbh, but Fresh is a good role-model, so who's to judge?

Monochrome: He's living with Cross after the whole EA situation. Aka, he lives in Nightmare's castle too. His room is one over from Orchid's and has a bunch of art supplies and crafts happening constantly. Orchid doesn't mind him, but does Not let him in her room... (Unless he's having a nightmare.)

Teddy: She has two houses! One that Ink made for her in a pocket void (she only goes there to sew now) and Haphazard's house in the Omega Timeline. She likes staying with Hap because he's her older brother, and she also hates being alone. (She's also been known to stay with Stereo or Sprite and Merlot.)

Haphazard: A house in the Omega Timeline as previously stated. Pre-story he never had time to stop moving so he ended up sleeping very little, but post-story he and Lost move in together and relax a bit.

Shotput: A lil different, he moves from AU to AU. Technically he prefers a Royalty AU (the one where he met his boyfriend, Roman) because it's an au where his parents actually pay attention to him. Besides that though, he'll bum at Nightmare's (thanks to Killer) and does technically have a room but it's pretty barren. So, 90% he's at a castle.

Ark: Lives in the city. But like, specifically in the Lab sectors. Work-a-holic that's a danger to everyone? Yeah. No. He's gonna stay Mildly Contained.