#maybe one day I will rework heart of night

[stardstgf]

been looking at old character studies of old characters that I wrote and I miss. real ones remember kaeira🫡 been thinking abt her a lot today.

[kiss-inthekitchen]

same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him. 

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.  

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone. 

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet. 

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum. 

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?” 

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.” 

“Yeah.” 

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do. 

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics. 

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice. 

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.” 

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.” 

“But I think I should be right more often than that.” 

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.” 

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?” 

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?” 

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.” 

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while. 

“Spence?” 

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door. 

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.” 

“I’m already inside with the door locked.” 

“Man, I’m good.” 

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already. 

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.” 

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.” 

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.” 

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice. 

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic. 

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does. 

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster. 

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.” 

You laugh. “For the whole day?” 

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.” 

“Okay, rest day all day.” 

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.” 

“Maybe the floor.” 

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?” 

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.” 

“Say no more.” 

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.” 

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?” 

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.” 

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.” 

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke. 

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.” 

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?” 

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.” 

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.” 

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates. 

You let out a little gremlin laugh. 

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone. 

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’. 

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs. 

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.” 

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’” 

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.” 

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part. 

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.” 

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.” 

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.” 

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.” 

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird. 

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him. 

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice. 

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh. 

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it. 

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes. 

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.” 

“We did.” 

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy. 

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him. 

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters. 

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon. 

[storm-angel989]

Papi! I need you! (Valentino x Daughter)

I pushed open the doors of my fathers studio. It has been weeks since I had actually had a full on conversation with my father. His work kept him busy, and to a point I understood it. But both Uncle Vox and Auntie Vel ran their own companies too and they still made it home for dinner each night. Now both of them were  busy, and I needed his help. 

Well, even moreso, I needed my dad. 

My father was on his feet as soon as he heard my voice.

“What are you doing here, niñita?” He asked as he stepped in front of me, effectively blocking the view of whatever was going on onstage. “I’ve told you time and time again I don’t want you in here.”

“I need your help with my math homework. You said I couldn’t watch TV until it was done and I’m stuck.” I said, crossing my arms as defiantly as I could while fighting the urge to run to him and wrap him in a hug. “Papi, please.”

He sighed and guided me back towards the elevator. “Isn’t that an issue Uncle Vox or Aunt Vel can handle?” He asked as he guided me back towards the elevator. “Ninita, I need you to stay out of my studio.” 

“Then Papi, I need your help with my homework.” I said firmly. “And they’re busy.”

He sighed. “Fine, mi amore.” He ensured I was safely into the elevator before he turned his back to me and hollered orders at the demons in his studio. 

He stood in front of me, his arms crossed as the door closed behind us muffling the sound of the scattering of his employees. As soon as the door closed, I wrapped my arms around him in a hug. His expression softened instantly as he returned my affection, planting a kiss on my forehead before releasing me. 

“How was your day, Daddy?” I asked as I stepped out into our home. “I missed you.”

“Busy, muñeca,” he replied, “Very, very busy.”

I could feel my face fall. “I’m sorry, Papito. I can keep trying on my own, I’m sorry I bothered you. I know your works important and I know you’re really busy.” 

“I’m never too busy for you, my princessa,” he replied quickly. “I’m glad you cam and got me. Tell me, what exactly are we working on?”

“Algebra. They keep asking me to find x and I’m not a relationship expert, but maybe they should let x go.” I replied with a grin. 

If he understood my joke, he wasn’t amused by it. 

I took a seat at my pink work desk and looked down again at my math book. I had finished every problem except one. I had attempted it three times, just like Uncle Vox made me, and watched a video and I still could’ve got the problem to check. I yanked my hair in frustration as my father looked over my shoulder. I felt his hand wrap around my wrist and his other gently untangle my fingers. 

“This is a terrible habit, bebita. You’ll ruin your beautiful hair.” He pulled one of the pink chairs over next to me. “Show me what’s troubling you.”

I showed him the problem and he studied my attempts, and then looked at the book. 

“Ah. Mi amore. Try moving 3x over to the left, rather than 4 to the right. See if that fixes the issue.”

I did as he suggested and he waited patiently as I reworked the numbers. To my delight, it checked. 

“Thanks, Papi!” I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face into his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his office. Strawberries, maybe. And something spicy. “Best Dad ever.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, ninita,” he said as he returned my hug. “Is that all you needed?”

I held him tight in response and rested my head on his shoulder. “Unless you want to let me read my English essay to you?’

I saw the hesitation in his eyes. I felt my heart sink- he probably did have to get back to work. I shouldn’t have interrupted him to begin with, really.  After all, he was so very busy. But to my surprise he kissed my forehead. 

“Of course mi amore, I would love to hear it.” He took a seat on my bed. “Present away, carnino.”

I felt my heart swell as I grabbed my paper. As soon as I finished, he clapped his hands. 

“Beautifully written, muñeca”

I flung myself back around him and practically toppled him in the bed. “I missed you, Daddy.” I said as I clung to him. “I want you to put me to bed tonight. Not Uncle Vox or Auntie Vel.” 

His grip tightened as he sat us both up. “ I suppose I have been a bit too busy with work, mi amore.” He tucked my head under his chin. “How about a daddy daughter night? We can go out to dinner and watch a movie when we come back?”

I liked the sound of that very much.

[avocado-writing]

Gale Anon returns to Say: Yes absolutely the Mummy fic. I''m requesting more good boy Gale if you happen to have more thoughts on it. Or maybe a dirty talk Gale? Follow your heart. Thanks again for ur time, ur writing, and ur filthy mind.

well this got a lot more kinky than I meant it to oop. Thank you to M for helping me flesh out the idea!

cw: kinda cnc?; mild bimboification; mild puppy play; consent checks; excessive use of the words “good boy”; sub!gale; dom!reader

rating: E minors dni

Poor Gale is having a hell of a time of it.

Between teaching his classes; all the admin that the college has him doing; and his wizarding duties outside of academia, he’s barely had a chance to rest. Every night he stumbles home exhausted, barely able to keep up conversation with you, let alone indulge in any more intimate activities. It makes you so sad to see. You thought that after the Absolute was dealt with he’d have more control over his life - but it seems like the exact opposite has happened.

It’s been ages since the two of you were able to indulge, since you’ve been able to lay him out on your bed and ride him into oblivion. Reduce him to a quivering mess who’s barely able to speak or think. It’s something both of you enjoy, you getting him to let go and be a good boy for you.

That’s the issue, really; he’s been using his brain too much. He needs a break. To let himself go lovely and empty-headed, sweet and pliable under you. Let you decide what he needs.

When the college breaks for its spring holiday, he comes home to you so desperate that you think he might cry. You’re sitting in your reading nook when he appears, collapses to his knees in front of you and l buries his face in your lap.

“Today,” he says, voice thick with exhaustion and emotion, “it needs to be today. Please.”

There’s only one thing he can be talking about.

Sometimes it takes a little while for him to empty his head. After all, if you’re as brilliant as Gale is, your mind is always thrumming with ideas and duties, a veritable beehive of thoughts. Usually you’re able to get him there using your myriad of tricks, but sometimes you’re worried it takes too long for him to fully enjoy the session.

So the two of you have been working on a spell.

It is, at its core, a rework to be a far less powerful scroll of Feeblemind. Designed to put its target into a sweet, thoughtless state for a handful of days, where all they can do is experience pleasure and praise. No room for thinking, just feeling. 

The two of you have been refining it for a while now, and though you’re certain it will work - and is able to be lifted with no adverse effects - you still chew your lip, nervous.

“Gale, love, are you sure? If I cast it, you know you’re probably not going to be able to tap out.”

Gale groans and nuzzles into your further, pressing his face into your leg for comfort.

“I’m aware of that, but gods I need it. I trust you entirely with it, with me. I want you to take complete control over me. I want you to take care of me until I’m too boneless to move. Please, my love. Please.”

When he asks like that, how can you say no?

That night, he sits on your bed in only his smallclothes, cock straining in excitement despite his tiredness. You give him a long, sweet kiss, before pulling away.

“Last chance, darling. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he affirms, and you begin to cast the spell.

As you chant, you see Gale begin to go a little vacant. His body relaxes, all the tension immediately flooding out of it, the only thing remaining rigid being his cock. Soon there is only a sweet emptiness on your lover’s face, a dopey smile, eyes soft and aroused as he looks at you.

“Gale, are you with me?” 

He turns his head to the sound of your voice, managing an ‘mmm’ of affirmation but no words along with it. You reach out to cup his face and he immediately presses into you, mouth seeking out the warmth of your palm to kiss at it. You giggle.

“Gale!” you squeal, and he gives you another sincere, saccharine smile. Interesting…

“Aren’t you a good boy?” you hum, and his lips open just enough to let out a little moan. He twitches in his underwear. Despite his current state, he still responds to your praises, and you intend to use that to your advantage. 

“You’re so lovely, Gale. My handsome wizard. You’re so clever, but I love having you like this, just a silly boy who wants to behave for me. To be good for me. Don’t you want to be good for me, Gale?”

He nods, tears of desperation forming in his eyes. He scoots forward on the bed until his length is flush with your thigh and gently starts to rock his hips up into you, so needy for any kind of stimulation like this that he’d fuck your leg. 

“Awww, you want to get off, baby?”

Another moan of confirmation. You card your fingers through his hair and his eyes roll back in pleasure. You continue to pet him through your steady stream of praise. 

“Always so good for me, my good boy. Go on, honey, fuck yourself up against me. Let me just pull these down…”

You reach to his underwear and tug at the waistband, allowing his cock to spring upwards. He mewls at the cool bedroom air on his tip, already dribbling with precome, and begins to rut against you with more enthusiasm now that he has your consent. His face is buried into your stomach as his arms wrap around you to hold you close, his hips pressing against you in an erratic pace. When he comes for the first time it’s with a relieved little whine from the back of his throat. He coats your skin with his release, shiny and pearlescent; you feel him collapse into you. 

“Good boy. Good boy, Gale.”

He hums happily. You pet him some more.

“You know what good boys also do? They don’t leave a mess. Why don’t you clean me up, sweetheart? And use your tongue, hmm? Alright?”

Gale looks up into your eyes, soft and sweet and pliable, nodding enthusiastically at your suggestion. He’d do anything to get your pretty words anyway, but like this he is even more open to your kindness. He drops to his knees and begins to lick his spend from your thigh, lips trailing upwards from your knee where it has started to drip down. It is a powerfully erotic image to see him so thoroughly at your beck and call. Your leg is left damp when he is done but he licks his lips to show you that he’s finished and ready for more instructions. 

Oh, you are going to have a wonderful few days. 

In order to keep him near you, you decide to employ the use of a leash. The collar is snug but comfortable around his neck and he’s happy to go wherever you bring him. There’s no point in him wearing any clothes as the tower is always at an ambient temperature, so he spends his days nude by your side. Whenever he’s desperate for attention he searches out your warmth and buries his face into you, and you either run your fingers through his hair if he’s looking for sweetness or use your hand on him if he’s looking for stimulation. Either way he’s left a dizzy mess afterwards who you coddle and praise. 

He’s so relaxed, and it’s an utter pleasure to see. You sit on the sofa, propped up with plush pillows, while he reclines at your feet with his cheek resting on your leg. His proximity to you is a calming presence for him, and often he turns his head to press a kiss into your skin for no reason other than he wants to.

He loves you so completely. In return, your heart is entirely his. 

Occasionally he gets very needy and presses open your thighs, hitching up your robes and nuzzling into your sex.

“Gale, are you sure?” you ask, his glassy eyes shining with surety as he nods. He fucks you with his mouth as if it’s his gods-given duty, ekeing as many orgasms out of you as you’re able to give him. When he’s done and his face is shiny with your come, you see he’s spent on the floor; it is a simple order for him to clean up leaves him moaning in arousal. 

He is thoroughly taken care of. You’re never far from him to offer comfort, constantly checking in that he’s happy. He always nods his affirmation but lets you know if there’s anything the matter; hunger or exhaustion weighing on him. 

You feed him. You don’t need to, he’s capable of doing it himself, but he gets hard as he sits in your lap and you offer him bites of sandwich from your hand, face in a permanent grin of adoration. 

The last night you expect the spell to last is when you finally ride him. The two of you have had so many orgasms over the past few days you’re surprised that there’s anything left in the tank, but you still find it in yourself to fuck him into sweet oblivion. He’s able to clutch onto your hips and moan your name, pleasure his only feeling, your love the only thing he knows.

You fall asleep entwined in an embrace, gorgeous little words dripping from your lips until you drift off. 

The next morning you wake and the bed is empty, but you can smell bacon being fried in the kitchen. You groggily drag yourself along its scent until you find Gale standing at the stovetop, in his purple dressing gown and an apron, humming happily to himself. A couple of sleepy steps forward allow you to embrace him and tuck your face between his shoulderblades.

“The plan was to bring you breakfast in bed, but you seem to have thoroughly waylaid it,” he remarks. You can hear the smile in his voice. He’s verbal again - you’re glad he seems to be back to his usual self. 

“Mmm, I just wanted to see you. How are you, love? Are you alright? I tried to check in with you as much as I could…”

He turns to face you, and you’re immediately struck with how relaxed he looks. His eyes are soft, jaw loose, none of the tension he was carrying apparent any more. 

“My heart, I’m more than alright. I’ve never been so thoroughly taken care of. I’m so glad - blessed, really - to have you to look after me. I love you.”

He kisses you, and it’s long and delicious. 

“So, successful experiment, Professor Dekarios?” you ask, a cheeky grin on your face. He groans at that title, and you feel his cock throb. 

“I think you might have drained me dry over these past days, but I’m more than willing to see if I have one more in me…” he mutters, stepping forward to trap you between his body and the table. 

“It’s for research, after all.”

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13@trappedinlimbo15@infinitely-kate@dhampling@wereallbrokenangels@tilldeathdonugget@useless-contributions@beardedladyquee

[si11yw0rm]

LATE NIGHTS.

pairing: soft dom chan x gender neutral reader x bottom felix (no use of y/n) blurb: you happen to have a late night shift at the company, and you run into two of the members who make you an offer you can't refuse. tags: oral (reader rec.), dirty talk, brief mentions of sharing, use of pretty thing + baby. a/n: i started this out last year, and thought it was too good to let go of, so i reworked it and cleaned it up. i hope you like it. :) . fic below the cut.

You are about to head downstairs to clock out and treat yourself to a well needed splurge on ramen and fried chicken when you hear a groan come from one of the recording booths, and you stick your head inside to see both Chan and Felix bent over a piece of paper.

"Problem?"

Your voice makes the two of them flinch, and Chan's head lifts and he immediately smiles. You try not to think too much about the way your heart tumbles in your chest. "Hey! I thought you left earlier with the other interns."

"You know me. I like hanging back to see how I can help." You walk into the room slowly, and Chan folds his arms, making your eyes dip to how his chest and muscles got more defined.

Focus.

"Is it for the new album?" You point at the paper on the desk as you speak, and the air in the room shifts.

Felix finally lifts his head and nods, his eyes darting to Chan before he spoke. His voice came out surprisingly smooth, considering you knew today was recording day. Chan didn't usually let them leave until he was sure they gave their best. "Chan is worried about the lyrics."

You watch Chan blush before tugging on his beanie and rolling his eyes, and if you didn't know any better, you would say he was nervous. "What Felix means is that we are trying to get the feel of it. Do you mind giving it a listen for us real quick?"

When Chan's eyes land on you again, you nod and take the seat across them. The warmth in Chan's smile is nothing compared to the one that spreads over you when your hands brush against each other as he slides the paper over to you.

Chan moves away to start fiddling with his laptop and gestures to Felix as he pulls up a screen you can't exactly see from where you are sitting. "You can sing now."

You watch as Felix nods and starts singing into the mic, and your heart skips a beat as you internalize what the lyrics are saying.

Finger lickin', yeah, we cookin' up a Super Bowl In the kitchen, Michelin, irresistible Open wide , have a bite  Make it mine, all the time

Maybe it is just Felix's voice, but you feel your eyes widen and when you met Chan's eyes, his eyes are dark, and there's a smile on his lips. One that wasn't there before.

"You did good, Lix." Chan brushes his hand over Felix's hair and Felix makes an odd purring sound in his chest.

Before you can speak, Chan interrupts you. "What do you think?"

One thing Chan admired was honesty, so you clear your throat and glance at Felix before answering. "It…It sounds awfully like something else."

You were being vague, but they don't press you to explain further. Instead, Felix laughs and lowers the headphones, glancing at Chan. "I told you it was obvious."

Chan ignores him, still staring at you with that unreadable expression. "What do you think it means? I want to know your opinion."

Felix catches your eyes and bites his lips before clearing his throat. He grips the headphones so tight his knuckles turn white, and when he looks at you again, the look in his eyes makes the word fly out of your mouth.

"Sex."

The word seems to shift the air in the room again, and you expect Chan to blush, but all he does is laugh. A rich smoky laugh that sends heat skittering across your skin.

He finally turns to Felix, who was still gripping the headphones. You would have thought him uncomfortable if not for his relaxed posture. "You were right. So are you going to ask them what you wanted to?"

Felix blinks, before blushing so hard his entire face went red. Even the tips of his ears turned red, and you couldn't help but notice what a pretty picture he made. "Oh.. That…Urm…"

Chan moves closer to Felix, before whispering something in his ear that makes the latter sit up straight and abruptly dropping the headphones.

Felix clears his throat and shifts closer to you, reaching for your hand before settling for placing his hands back on his thighs. "You are experienced, right?"

You stare at him in confusion and when your gaze moves to Chan, he laughs that same laugh again, and your heart tumbles around in your chest. "Felix wants to fuck you."

Something went static in your ear, and you feel your heart drop before it starts to tumble around in your chest as Chan leans forward, seemingly oblivious to the racing of your heart.

"To clarify, we want to fuck you."

You manage to find your voice. "Why me? I…There has to be a reason."

Chan's eyes drift down your body and he mutters something under his breath, just as Felix leans in and finally grabs your hands.

"It's totally professional. We want to…" He glances at Chan who slides his hands up Felix's neck and into his hair.

"What Felix is trying to say is that we need more inspiration for the lyrics. We have a basic idea, but we feel we could do better. And we both like you."

"So we choose you." Felix inputs, leaning into Chan's hand. Felix's eyes were fluttering close, and you felt your mouth turn dry.

This couldn't be happening.

"If I didn't stay back, would you have waited?" You ask, finally finding your voice.

Chan laughs, a low laugh that sends shivers down your spine. "You would have stayed back because you want to fuck us too, pretty thing."

You try to stop your jaw from dropping but fail and Chan lets go of Felix to get off the couch before leaning over you, trapping you between his body and the couch.

"I see you watching us."

His lips drop to your ear where he kisses your neck. "Not just me and Felix either. All of us. Someone's a little greedy, aren't they?"

You find yourself nodding, and Chan's lips leave your neck to climb up your jaw. "Don't worry, pretty thing. We are going to take care of you."

He lifts off you and turns to Felix, who nods, dropping to his knees. 

Chan moves, pushing the couch forward, leaving space between the both of you and the desk. Felix crawls closer, settling between your thighs.

Chan speaks, still hovering over you. "Felix is a little eager."

Felix only blushes, before dropping his eyes to the spot between your thighs, and the pure lust you see there has you melting. "I just want to make it feel good for you."

"Spread your thighs wider, pretty thing. I want to see you too. You know what? Don't worry." Chan murmurs, getting off you before bending down to grab you up in his arms.

When you gasp and grasp his shirt, he laughs. "I am not going to drop you. Binnie has me working harder in the gym. He is a monster, to be honest."

Chan settles into the couch before placing you on his lap and spreading your thighs, holding you open as Felix moves closer.

Chan's lips presses against your pulse and you feel your head swim as Felix starts working to remove your bottoms.

"Felix…"

"You are our first course." Felix says, as if that explains everything, his voice dropping several octaves lower.

"And if you behave, I would personally make sure you get dessert." Chan whispers his grip on your thighs tightening.

"Are you going to be good for us, baby?" Felix whispers, his mouth just inches away from you.

You nod, and you feel Chan smile against your neck as your eyes track Felix's lips lifting. "Good. You are ours to devour, aren't you?"

You are about to answer Chan when Felix suddenly pulls your legs over his shoulders and brings you right against his mouth and everything in you melts.

"Lix…" You gasp just as Chan's hands leave your thighs to start tracing a path up your torso.

"You can be a bit louder, pretty thing. Don't worry. The room is soundproof."

Felix laughs and the vibrations trigger a jolt of electricity up your spine, and you can't stop the whimper leaving your mouth.

"You feel it in your system, you want it more." Chan whispers almost absentmindedly, and before you can wrap your head around what he means, Felix starts a new rhythm, determined to make you forget your name.

"Please…" You whisper and Chan's hands still against your waist.

"I told Minho you would beg pretty."

His hands slid up to grab your throat and he pulls your head back until you can see his eyes. 

The dark look is completely different from the sweet warming Chan you know, and he looks more like the kind of person to eat you whole.

"Are you going to beg again? You wouldn't get what you want otherwise."

Felix pulls you closer and you feel everything in you tighten and pull taunt and Chan smirks.

You can see the meaning in his eyes and you immediately mutter. "Please."

"Please what, pretty thing?"

Your hands immediately drop to Felix's hair, pulling him closer. "Please, Daddy. Give me what I want."

And they do.

[dalamjisung]

Matching Set Masterlist

college!AU

popular!jeongin x introvert!reader

summary: Y/N and Jeongin had been together since birth. Seriously since birth– their mothers were best friends and while hanging out to complain about their never ending pregnancy, bam. Rumor has it that Y/N took a little while to cry, blinking around for a couple of minutes until the gentlest of screams came out of her tiny body. Only later, when the parents got together to congratulate each other, did the mothers found out that Jeongin had been born five minutes before Y/N, and it seemed that her quietness had been her own early way to wait for who would later be her best friend. And as if sharing a birthday wasn’t enough, these two had to share everything else; from their lunch at school to the bed they slept on. Thankfully, as next door neighbors, the trip was minimal.

It continued like this for decades to come, through middle school, high school, and finally, college. Their applications were sent together and their letters came in the same day. Miraculously, they chose different degrees, and for an entire night, Y/N cried to her mom about losing her best friend. Maybe this will be a good experience for you two, she laughed, petting her daughter’s head. But Y/N just couldn’t see a positive side to being without her Innie. Later, they would make a pact– one that vowed to always be there for each other. And he looked so earnest and honest that Y/N just couldn’t understand where that nagging doubt tugging on her heart was coming from…

What happens when these two experience freedom like nothing they’ve ever seen? And what will be of the matching set when they are put apart? Can the lifelong friendship survive the ultimate test of time– college?

update schedule: Every Sunday :D

——————————————————————————————

🌚 chapter one: hyung I’m suing you

🌝 chapter two: fellow clowns

🌚 chapter three: what bothers you, my little freeloader?

🌝 chapter four: forgiven but not forgotten

🌚 chapter five: she doesn’t need me anymore

🌝 chapter six: Mandatory Movie Marathon™️

🌚 chapter seven: delayed reactions

🌝 chapter eight: no turning back

🌚 chapter nine: things are about to change

🌝 chapter ten: another case of innie being innie

🌚 chapter eleven: see you then

🌝 chapter twelve: it’s a date

🌚 chapter thirteen: we need to talk about yesterday

🌝 chapter fourteen

🌚 chapter fifteen 

🌝 chapter sixteen

——————————————————————————————

hi lovelies! I know I have been a bit gone from the fake text scene, but I’ve been working on this for a bit now, and I am really, really excited to share this new story with you all! Han’s story will be going into HIATUS as I’m trying to sort the overall plot and details and will be reworking it after I get my muse back fro Rhythm & Rhyme. Also: there are timeline plot-holes and for that I apologize! Because it’s been a while since I wrote these, there was a mixup with the timeline of all the following stories, so truly, I am sorry-- I’ll do my best to keep everything together neat and tight! Thank you for your love and constant support!

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO GET TAGGED FOR THE RELEASE OF MATCHING SET PLEASE LET ME KNOW AND I’LL START A TAGLIST!

[romana-after-dark]

Flightless Bird, Fat House Cat: The Wrong Way Anniversary

The Wrong Way Universe

Title taken from a song on the playlist, Flightless Bird American Mouth by Iron and Wine.

ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF WHEN I FIRST POSTED THE WRONG WAY!!!!

I could never comprehend the love I got from this series.

Due to everything happening and the targeted harassment, I can't celebrate the way I want to but I couldn't pass up an opprituniety to celebrate this story.

Three POV's, Tommy, Lorenzo and Jack. I know Jack got v little play in TWW as he was just on the side in case I needed him (and I did end up needing him!) But through talking to Clem, Mary, Kate about the universe in this last year, he also has a special place in my heart and in Stolen Lullaby, aka my reworking of this story into a dark novell, he will have more of a roll. IDK if I ever mentioned it, but his faceclaim to me is Garrett Hedlund in his most yeehaw looks.

Because of everything, reblogs are disabled because I don't want attention to this blog and I'm taking a risk posting this but I want to be brave for this story. After this, I'll be gone for a bit so check out romana_rose for updates until this is over. If you enjoyed this, please leave a commnt. I need it right now.

I can never thank you guys enough for all the love you'e given the wrong way and the sequel series, Ghost of You and Going Under. This series was so important to me to explore my own trauma, family, friendship, motherhood, fatherhood, brotherhood, siblings, found family, morality, manhood, victimhood, etc.

You are all so important to me, every like, comment, reblog ive gotten i've looked at and loved.

Here we go.

Very little Joel, but I promise we'll have more for the celebration of the finale in a few months when i hope I can celebrate properly. But, seeing as Joel is the bad guy, I thought more exploration of the side characters would be interesting.

*****************

If Tommy closed his eyes, he could imagine it was her.

Things had gotten better in the raiding house for her, even if Tommy had lost a lot of her attention. Since Zach had tried to take her away, her brother she thought was dead until that night, the girl had been… less than pleased with him. It was understandable, he knew. From her perspective, Tommy had known her only family left that hadn’t abused her was a still alive and he had kept it from her… but from Tommy’s perspective he was protecting her. She had said to him to him, the day thought fought, that the only person that can protect her from Joel, is Joel, and she was right. He couldn’t protect her if she left again. Last time she tried, strong thing she was, she was burned and humiliated.

Thing were better for her now.

Refusing to escape with Zach, which confused Lorenzo to no end, had made Joel trust her more, and now she had more freedom. She’d started cooking, which she seemed to like, and Joel had taken to finding items for her she needed. Lorenzo watched her when Tommy was busy. Jack even made her a birdfeeder, and she liked watching the birds fly in and out. Sometimes he wondered if she longed for the freedom they had. 

Flightless bird, wings clipped her whole life, subject to the whims of men. 

Sometimes he watched them too, Blue Jay’s and Robins and other kinds he didn’t know shit about. He thought next time he saw Maria, to ask if Jackson had any bird watching books… maybe the girl would like them, help pass her time. He wanted to fly away too, he wanted to leave, leave everything and take her with him… but he wasn’t a bird. He wasn’t a bird whose wings had been clipped, he didn’t have his freedom stolen away by cruel men wanting to possess and break down something less powerful than them. 

Tommy had given up his freedom to follow Joel, his brother, the only thing he had now. Tommy knew he was a cat, once a stray and free to follow his fancy but had grown complacent and comfortable and lazy. He was a fat house cat pretending to be a lion.

Instead of saving her, he was getting his dick sucked as he listened to her moan.

It wasn’t all that loud, you really had to listen to it to hear it and God… god did he listen. Tommy was sat on his chair, legs spread, Lorenzo on his knees sucking his cock. Everyone knew Lorenzo was gay, that’s why he was allowed to watch the girl. Jack, they couldn’t figure out yet. What Tommy did know is sometimes Jack and Lorenzo fooled around with each other, and after a few weeks he got in on the action. Tommy wasn’t gay, but a mouth was a mouth. Tommy couldn’t sneak out to Maria as often as he wanted and the girl wasn’t making things easier. Joel had taken to finding dresses for her and god, did she look cute. Happier too. Smiles and laughs and fresh air did him good. From what she had told him, she’d never known peace a day in her life. Between her dads physical and sexual abuse and selling her out to man after man, just letting them beat her for money… this was comparatively peaceful now that Joel had relaxed. Still, she wore that brand on her thigh, and constant reminder that his love was conditional. Tommy wasn’t sure the reminder was working.

He tried to focus on Lorenzo, his mouth taking him deeply inside… but most importantly, her voice. In the next room, Joel was fucking her and whatever he was doing it was making her go crazy. How was Tommy supposed to know what her pussy felt like and not think about it? Not remember what it was like sliding in? Not think of her beautiful smile, still gentle and tender and patient after everything she’d been through? Everytime Joel made her moan those sweet, sweet sounds he pictured it was him, and his hips buckled up a little.

He could pretend it was her pussy if he concentrated.

*

Lorenzo knew something was up.

He loved sucking dick, would rub himself through him pants until he came every time if he knew he wasn’t getting action back, and with Tommy he didn’t. Lorenzo knew Tommy was picturing a girl when he closed his eyes, that death grip on his chair so he didn’t touch Lorenzo’s head. The shaved head would throw him off, ruin the bit for him. Still, Lorenzo opened his eyes. Tommy was focused, teetering on that edge, that wide, barrel chest of his panting and panting… He really was handsome, as was Joel, the prick. If Lorenzo was in that girls position, and he wouldn’t be because he’d fucking leave, he would run away with Tommy before spending another day with Joel. What was Tommy waiting on? He had a pretty girl that clearly loved him, that he clearly loved even if he was a man whore.

Lorenzo didn’t really have room to talk, honestly.

It wasn’t like he was cheating on Zach. They weren’t dating; Lorenzo didn’t date point blank. They were just fucking. And cuddling after. And hanging out whenever they could both sneak away… So they watched shooting stars together and talked about their moms and sisters, so what? It was just sex. He was fooling himself and he knew it, but letting go of the delusion was too painful. They’d never have a normal life so what was the point.

Tommy came in his mouth, saltier than Zach but not as strong as Jack; that strong, musky taste that was so masculine Lorenzo couldn’t help but swallow down. Even subduing himself, Tommy was loud.

When he died down, that’s when Lornzo heard it.

The girl in Joel’s room, the next one over. She was moaning.

Lorenzo didn’t mind Tommy picturing a girl. He didn’t even mind that maybe he was picturing her. But something about the fact that Tommy was getting off to the sound of that girl’s moans, a private moment, a moment which although she was clearly enjoying now, had been brought about by kidnapping and violence, disgusted him. She was just a kid to him, and yeah he could be a dick but he didn’t want to think about the horrible shit she’d been through.

“You’re fucking pathetic, Tommy!” Lorenzo stood, flustered and embarrassed and fucking angry, he headed to the door.

Dumbfounded, Tommy blinked up at him. “What? You offered!”

Lorenzo whipped around, stormed back to Tommy who had stood up and stuffed his dick back into his pants and Lorenzo fisted his hand up in Tommy’s white shirt. 

“You’d rather listen to you brother fuck that terrified child than be a fucking man and take her away. You got all these excuses but the fact of the matter is Joel matters more to you than an innocent life. When she’s dead in the ground, remember this is how you spent your time.”

He was about to let go and walk away when Tommy had to open his big mouth. “I don’t see you do’n anything to help her.”

It wasn’t rational. Lorenzo really should care this much. He wasn’t supposed to be making friends or attachments, but here he was, he cared about Zach, he cared about Jack, he cared about the girl.

Lorenzo punched Tommy square in the jaw.

*

Jack found Lorenzo outside smoking a joint. He didn’t smoke weed but he pulled out his cigarette and joined him.  “What’d you do to Tommy? The girls there icing his face.” Unfortunately, Jack knew their routine. Sex, bath, sleep. When Joel carried her, wrapped up in a towel and laughing at something Joel said or falling asleep in his arms, Jack always turned away. It didn’t matter much considering he’d seen her completely nude when Joel violently took her after charring her flesh. Sometimes he swore he could still smell it. Still, he wanted to offer a bit of dignity.

Jack didn’t pretend to be a hero like Tommy, but he didn’t put on that fake asshole defense machanism Lorenzo did. He felt for the girl, he just wasn’t going to risk his skin to help her leave. So, unlike Lorenzo he didn’t tell her she was dumb for staying, and he tried to make little things for her here and there. He was working on whittling some dominos. Unlike Tommy, he didn’t promise to whisk her away. Middle ground.

Lorenzo rolled his eyes. “He’s a dick. Joel’s probably gonna clock me.”

But Jack waved him off. “I doubt it. He ain’t running to Joel to fight his battles. If he wanted you hurt, he’d’ve hit you back.”

Lorenzo sighed, but nodded and took a fat hit. “Which being logical, it’s annoying.”

Jack just chuckled. When they were done, they walk back inside the girl was icing Tommy’s face. After she’d exited the bath with Joel, cuddled up in a ratty towel, she saw Tommy exiting his room with a swollen eye and tapped Joel. Clearly he’d dressed her, and let her tend to him while he stood, arms crossed and glaring. He tried to get Tommy to tell him who did it, but Tommy insisted it was just a small beef with one of the men, but they’d handled it.

When Jack and Lorenzo entered the living room, the girl gave Lorenzo a death glare.

That child had been beaten within an inch of her life again and again and again, forced to suffer the worst thing imaginable and yet she still managed to be so uniquely her. Bravery despite it all.

Brave little bird.

*************

thank you, thank you, a million times thank you.

and thank you to everyone whose reached out in this trying time.

Tagging people who were active reachng TWW or who still talk to me about it. If you want to be tagged for the finale celebration, lmk!

If you liked, this series, Rooms on Fire has similar vibes.

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @milla-frenchy @pimosworld @miraclesabound @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @the-fox-den @lunar-ghoulie @foggymoonbanana @dinsbaby @pedge-page @koshkaj-blog @rubyfruitjungle @gogh-with-the-flow @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @justagalwhowrites

[sluttyhenley]

Tag Game: First 10 Lines Challenge

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to and see if there are any patterns!

Tagged by @starrybouquet - thank you!! 💖

bluebirds singing a song masters of the air, buck/bucky/marge

Marge was puttering around in the kitchen; she felt like she’d been there all day. Avoiding John Egan, though she wouldn’t admit that unless pressed. Gale had to go into the office to put out a fire. He made it sound like a literal fire and now there was no buffer between her and John, no one to smooth out John’s increasingly obvious discomfort with her.

nothing but blue skies from now on masters of the air, buck/bucky/marge

Marge pulled back the curtains and looked out the window to see clouds piling up outside, dark and heavy with the promise of rain. A storm was brewing. She grimaced. John was supposed to arrive a couple of hours ago; instead, he had gotten stuck somewhere around Douglas when the storm hit, and now it was rolling their way. With the weather growing worse, they had no idea when he would arrive.

can't tell your best buddy (that you love him) top gun: maverick, rooster/phoenix

Phoenix is tipsy and her feet hurt. She’s been out all night, one of those mandatory fun, social events with the other officers in her squadron, but it had been fun. It had been fun and she had dressed up. She’s wearing one of the most impractical pairs of shoes she owns, and she’s definitely regretting that choice now.

come monday, it'll be alright top gun: maverick, gen

Missiles fire all around her. Bob is in her ear, watching her back, a second pair of eyes. Adrenaline floods her veins but still she doesn’t panic. They can all get home. Nothing about her training could have ever really prepared her for what it is to be in an actual firefight against enemy pilots.

you rattle my brain top gun: maverick, rooster/phoenix

The thing about Natasha Trace, callsign Phoenix, is that she’s really difficult to ignore. The first time he sees her walk into a room, Rooster can’t seem to stop the way his entire focus zeroes in on her.

been around a time or two top gun: maverick, maverick/phoenix

Phoenix was puttering around her apartment downtown, thinking about dinner. It was late and the sun had dropped below the horizon long ago. She couldn’t even get off the air station before sunset. She opened her refrigerator door and contemplated ordering in.

put a hold on my heart top gun: maverick, rooster/phoenix

Rooster didn’t call her when he got back stateside, and it shouldn’t even matter. It’s just that, she told him she was recalled back to TOPGUN. She thought maybe he’d say something. It hurts. She wishes it didn’t, wishes she was mad at him. And she is; the anger is there, too, but it’s mostly hurt.

made a lot of mistakes in my mind the bear, sydney/carmy

The restaurant is practically empty now. There’s only a handful of the staff left, and the streets are almost quiet in the aftermath of their soft opening. Sydney can’t stop the list running through her head. It’s a loop: things done, things in process, things still needing to get done.

my heart is working overtime 9-1-1, buck/eddie

Eddie has been going on dates. So many dates and not a single one of them has felt right. Hen and Chim are starting to tease him about being too picky. Bobby keeps reassuring him it just takes time. Buck doesn’t say much of anything at all.

tomorrow and tomorrow edge of tomorrow, bill/rita

“Yes? What do you want?” Rita Vrataski doesn’t remember him. Of course she doesn’t. This is his reset. Not hers.

first line, first paragraph, whatever

one thing about me is i will drop the reader in the middle of a scenario. but i'll establish pretty quickly what pov i'm working in too so i mean, i guess there's that? also. first paragraphs my absolute beloathed. every one of these was reworked over and over and over and over before posting

tagging (no pressure as always!): @redbelles, @ladywaffles, @reachingforaspark, @lannisterdaddyissues, @katetylers and uhh idk anyone else who sees this and wants to do it

[dateamonster]

i believe ive shared this thing once before in one form or another. in case i havent, this is a sorta rework of a poem i wrote maybe five years ago while i was reading "Letters from an American Farmer" by (deep breath) J. Hector St. John de Crèvecœur for a class on colonial american literature. the names an obvious giveaway but i still like it.

anyway, i thought itd be fun to the text an accompanying visual element this time around. like i said, the writing is old, so cut me some slack. 

also its horror so you know proceed with caution.

plain text under the cut

Letters from the Last American Farmer

Frontiersmen do their souls neglect,

Turned to trappings, metal bound.

Hid away from the Elect,

Noses pressed against the ground.

From hand to mouth- the path’s direct.

I’ll stand apart and hold my worth,

A farmer be, and earn respect;

I till the soil, turn the earth.

Who is he, the favored son,

Who raises up the fruit and grain?

And works until the day is done,

And come the harvest reaps the gain.

This is he- I’ll be the one

To give my life to righteous toil.

I wield the pitchfork, not the gun;

I turn the earth and till the soil.

Proclaim the men from off the docks,

“Ubi panis ibi patria”

And to her fortunes they will flock

In love of fair Columbia.

Perhaps it comes to you a shock

Or else a simple source of mirth

But this pride you mustn’t mock;

I till the soil, turn the earth.

The silver hand of Justice fair

Does lightly steer the citizen,

Brush’d his cheek, as soft as air

With good will towards his countrymen.

And although we know it rare

To her blind axiom we’re loyal.

For sanctum from the noble glares

I turn the earth and till the soil.

The story’s whispered, be it true,

Often is it I have heard

Although he’s swaddled in the glue,

Tar and feathers make no bird.

No wings, no eyes, yet high he flew,

The rope raised up a deathly girth,

And bid, as I, this soft adieu:

I till the soil, turn the earth.

The snake pursues me, long and white.

Its doubts do pull me from the fold

To embark into the night,

To embark into the cold.

Far to the West they say there’s light.

Though ill-bred souls may curse and roil

Like gold, my virtue still shines bright;

I turn the earth and till the soil.

The land’s the heart and heart’s my own.

With little cabin, hearth, and fire,

I make this wilderness my home

And faithfully snuff my desire

For meat that melts clean from the bone.

I’ll overcome the winter’s dearth

If God’s good graces He may loan.

I till the soil, turn the earth.

Desolation scrapes my spirit,

The rifle shakes within my grip,

An anthem’s sung- I cannot hear it,

Teeth set upon my trembling lip.

Do in my labours I promerit?

Or show some moral split or spoil?

The end is nigh and as I near it

I turn the earth and till the soil.

One final verse I will extend

As cold and hunger overtakes

In hopes that you, my final friend,

Perhaps may learn from my mistakes.

Here all is ruin, all shall rend

Revolutions come unbirthed,

Yet compelled am I to tend

And till the soil, turn the earth.

Till the soil, turn the earth.

Till the soil, turn the earth.

Till the soil, turn the earth.

[ashoppingtrolleyintheliffey]

Hands.

(ps: I felt like reworking this story. So I did it. )

an exploration of Janine’s relationships through handholding.

Janine is sixteen when Tariq’s hand settles atop of hers. They are in the cafeteria, and their friends are there. It’s an unusual move for both of them. It’s not completely uncomfortable, she finds. Her hands grow used to Tariq’s hands. 

She’s almost twenty when Sahar’s hand holds hers as they walk to class together. Sahar holds her hand like it’s nothing unusual. And it makes Janine’s heart beat faster in her chest. But she’s still with Tariq, and she doesn’t want to break up with him or cheat on him. A few weeks later Tariq says, at a party, that kissing Sahar isn’t cheating, it’s just hot. But when Sahar pulls Janine closer to her, when their lips meet, it does feel like cheating. After that Sahar hands touch hers and Janine feels as if it’s burning her. Her automatic reaction is to take her hand away. Holding hands stops after that. Sahar seems to think it’s Tariq’s fault; that Tariq is jealous and complaining about it. Janine never corrects her. Janine doesn’t dare think about what it all means to her. What it means about her. 

At twenty-five, Janine is having a specially hard day at work. Jacob sits by her side, in the parking lot. They don’t say anything, but he holds her hand between his, and squeezes. She knows he’s scared too, that he’s also having a hard day at work. They all are. But they’ll calm down and they’ll work it out. Because that’s what they do. But first Janine lays her head on his shoulder. They have five minutes before going back to make things right. 

At twenty-five, she’s having dinner with Barbara Howard. She’s telling about the teacher-parent meet and how it went right, and how she feels like she’s finally getting the hang of it when her mother angrily calls her. She apologizes and explains to Barbara, her voice barely gets out. She feels smaller than she is. Barbara’s hand holds her with certainty, squeezing it so Janine will look at her. “You don’t have to answer that right now. Silence it. Let’s go back to our conversation.” And that’s that. And Janine has a good night afterall. 

At twenty-five she breaks up with Tariq. It’s a new school year, and Janine is decided to have a good year. She’s at Melissa’s kitchen, learning how to cook. The redhead’s hand sits atop of hers, teaching. If Melissa notices how her touch makes Janine blush, she doesn’t comment on it. But Melissa’s hands seem to find their way to Janine during the cooking classes. Nothing provocative; it’s a way of saying all the words. Neither of them think much about it. And Janine can’t really imagine Melissa would have any interest in her anyway. 

Janine is twenty-six and maybe her year isn’t going as well as she hoped. But it’s going well enough. And now she’s dancing with Gregory, and his hand touches hers. And Janine maybe thought it should feel different. It should fit their hands. It should feel like it’s right, right? But it doesn’t. 

And the truth she doesn’t want to admit is that it doesn’t feel like Ava’s. It’s after the first Step presentation, and they’re sitting side by side. Ava’s hand settles by Janine’s hands side, barely touching it. It’s warm, and it makes Janine blush. They’re at Ava’s office and Janine is trying to help Ava to get ready for the presentation to the Superintendent. Ava holds her hand softly, so lightly it’s barely holding it at all and it makes Janine’s heart beat fast and she wonders if maybe she’s going insane. It’s the day of the presentation and Janine’s hand holds Ava’s in a firm, confident grip, not an uncomfortable one. “We’re going to get through this”. It’s Halloween, and Janine is surprised, looking at herself in the mirror, wearing the Marilyn costume Ava found for her. It’s Janine’s hands that find Ava’s. A silent ‘thank you’ and Janine’s eyes avoid looking at Ava, and she’s glad the blush in her cheeks is barely noticeable. 

-

It’s summer and Ava would never admit that she’s hanging out with Janine. But that’s where she is, or well, that’s where Janine is. At her apartment. Apparently, Janine had told Gregory she didn’t want to be with him, and now she and Erika actually went out because it was summer (well, Erika went out, Janine went out… sometimes) and they had ended up in a club where Ava was. And one thing led to another. And now Ava’s hands are holding Janine’s hands. Ava pulls Janine closer, their bodies touching softly. Ava’s hand leads Janine’s to grip her waist and then moves to hold Janine’s chin. Janine’s eyes are pleading almost, and Ava finally moves to close the gap between them. Lips touch and their fingers intertwine. Janine dares to think that she might want to hold those hands for the rest of her life.

[perotovar]

hi bby ✨ I’m hoping to spread a little love around today (it is someone’s birthday after all — so you might see others answering this)!

I am a big fan of people enjoying cake and celebrating, and sometimes cake can be just tooting your own horn 💁‍♀️ so with that in mind, I’d love to know what THREE pieces of work/gifs you’re super proud of that you’d recommend others reading / gifs they should absolutely see, and why 🍰

i'm sorry i left you hanging on this, hun, i was having a really shitty day yesterday and wasn't in the "tooting my own horn" sort of mindset. i'm usually not, but i'll do my best today!

i recently actually showcased some of my favorite gifsets i've made (it's more than 3 but shhh)

so i'll stick to 3 of the fics i've written that i'm proud of (especially now that i've got more than one LOL)

1. bloody kisses (miniseries, shane x tim) - maybe it's because it's fresh/new but i'm genuinely so proud of this one. i think it's some of my best writing so far, but i also didn't expect this much positivity/reception to this fic at all. it centers around a character of pedro's that i think goes overlooked (for good reason, the source material leaves much to be desired), but i really like him and wanted to give him a sort of redemption/twist on who he is. i really can't thank y'all enough for the love on this one.

2. into the beat of the night (series, frankie x oc!river) - my darling babies ♥ this is something i'll probably always be proud of. i may rework it one day, now that i'm more comfortable writing again, but i think leaving it as is might be a good lesson as well. this was the first thing i'd written in 10 years and the premise/river mean a lot to me personally. the love for them has been so overwhelming and makes my little black heart soar.

3. ásjá - a winter solstice story - (oneshot, pero x ofc!helga) - i feel like i showcase this one a lot, but i can't help it! i think it's the underdog of all my fics and that's why i love it so much. it suits pero as a character too, i think, being the underdog (amongst the rest of the ppcu anyway). i don't talk about being pagan very much, but doing this sort of fic was just as close to my heart as itbotn is for me. it's just as much a part of my life as the subjects touched on with river so i'm proud of how i portrayed that.

thank you, darling jo, for asking! ♥

[celestialrose3]

So, I don’t post my writing ever, but Cass and the whole series has been inspiring. The last part of Donatello’s chapter spiked interest for this one-shot.

Taking place between CJ running for his things, and coming back to see Uncle Tello in the bath, thoughts overwhelm Tello and make him question everything they’re about to accomplish.....maybe.

Potentially slightly ooc for Uncle Tello, but it’s my first go. All credit for story line goes to @somerandomdudelmao 

TW: little angsty, (it gets better) anxiety

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

D is for Denial

Uncle Tello woke up in his enormous room with disheveled blankets and a somehow missing mask. He groaned and reached down in an attempt to feel his adoptive nephew. Poor kid passed out midway through his brilliant revival rant last night after being so convincing that sleep wasn’t needed. His hand fell into pure blanket and he glanced over his shoulder to confirm Casey’s absence. 

Rolling over onto the empty blankets, Don muttered to himself, “Where could that kid have gone at this hour of the day?” A sigh escaped his throat as his arm draped over his face. “Maybe ran off to figure out how he found me? …That was a big piece of our puzzle we’re missing.” He dropped his arm above his head, making a mental note that his mask had been found there. Eyes carefully looked over his surroundings. The colors are so vibrant here. Plants were somewhat familiar and thriving. When was the last time he felt rays of sun coming down onto him? The warmth brought a feeling of safety, like there was…hope?

Donnie sat up with a desperate ‘huff’, suddenly extremely aware of what was being planned for his brothers to be revived. Sure, he had done this once before. Sure, he documented the process to a ‘T’ so it could be repeated by almost anyone (including Leo). Sure, Casey Junior was here to help, but something wasn’t sitting right. Something felt wrong about this. Dee’s brows furrowed and his knees came instinctively to his chest.

“What the hell is this?” he questioned himself. “W-we know- I know what needs to be done for this…” Thoughts began flooding his brain like a tsunami. ”Denial”  

“What if these calculations only work for Raph?” “Denial”

“W-what if we can’t find all the materials?” “Denial”

“What if this doesn’t work in this timeline?” “Denial”

“What happens if something goes wrong?” “….”

“Why in the hell am I only thinking of worst-case scenarios?”

“I don’t know, maybe DENIAL?”

Casey’s words from their last conversation silenced his constant questioning. Were any of their combined efforts even worth it? Could this unprecedented experiment even be replicated? Could the Great Donatello…have been wrong? Air had been cut off from his lungs this whole time, like a wall of future regret and past anguish made a home in his throat. Thoughts set fire to his mind- he couldn’t stand losing his brothers a second time, let alone by his own hand. Tears threatened their way into the genius’ eyes, whether from lack of air, or the overwhelming feelings creeping in didn’t matter. Something clicked as the salty water began to creep down his face- he was alive. 

The breath that came after this realization acted like a fire extinguisher to his burning thoughts. 

‘Why wouldn’t it work here?’ a smirk formed on his face as His Brilliance got back to work. ‘It has to, the physics would be the same-mostly-. Calculations can be reworked for any situation. Materials can be bought, made,...or stolen. And replications?’ He looked at his own hands as his legs lowered to the ground. 

“I’m my own proof this is gonna work”

Blinking the remaining water from his vision, Donnie looked back up at the light now pouring in from above. He knew, in some heart-string-pulling way, that for the time being, he was going to need to be the strength, razz, and face-man of the Hamato’s until he and Casey could bring his respective brothers back. Don gave a signature “scoff” to himself.

  “A man of science being ruled by emotion…how embarrassing. The results are here.” A smile replaced the smirk that had been sitting on his face. A small shiver ran down his back. Guess the light can only give so much heat….

Donnie grabbed his mask and robe earnestly and marched his way to the bathroom. “If I’m gonna be thorough, I’m gonna be thorough, comfortably.” With the door partly closed, warm water began to run in hopes the heat would well replace that of the sun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[letsdeconstructtogether]

An excerpt from my anthology of magical tales,

(link below, please enjoy~)

Edward was born with a crooner's heart. One of gentle, tender flesh. He believed in the fables of love. That there was a one, that love conquered all. He wasn't a shame of it at all either, he wore his heart on his chest.

When he felt an emotion, he would feel it in all its intensity. Happiness would set his heart ablaze. He would feed off the frenzy around him, getting high off the excitement that electrified the air. With his friends, he would take on the town with full force. Bar crawls, races through the countryside, sails through the Mediterranean.

He took life on with full force. He bit deeply into its succulent fruit, the oils from the rind bursting in the air, its juices rushing to his tongue. He would have a wild look in his eyes, one that was ready to conquer the world.

Hiro was one of his conquests.

Once Edward's heart was set on him, it erupted in flames. Everything else faded away. He wanted him. He wanted his heart, his soul, his being. His entire being. He wanted to bite into him.

He felt himself inching closer day by day. At night, he would vomit his lovesick heart on paper. He rarely ate, he rarely slept. Wide awake in his bed, he would look up at the ceiling, daydreaming, trying to solve the enigma that was Hiro.

What would he like? He doesn't seem to respond to me. Maybe he doesn't like me?... But, when I look into those eyes, ohhhh he snags me!

Once the king felt that Edward was adequately caught up from his tutoring sessions, Hiro was released from his mission. Thus, the two were separated. Edward was put under the wings of his father so he would learn first hand what it took to be the figurehead of a nation. Hiro headed back to Trinity College to start his career in teaching, to pass down the tradition of the mages to those who would never have had the opportunity.

Edward was tempted to avoid his responsibilities so he could indulge in Hiro. He simply wanted to be near him, to smell him, to taste him. But alas, he didn't want to see disappointment in Hiro's face. He instead reworked his schedule by starting his duties earlier in the day, allowing him some time near the evening to see Hiro.

He felt enlivened by the chase. Chastened by the chase. Enthralled by the chase.

His walk turned into a full sprint.

He would seek chances to see Hiro. He asked Eiken for Hiro's office address. Eiken happily obliged, he figured something was happening between the two. After deliberations with diplomats, he would hurry to shower, change into his best suit, jump into his carriage, and ride full speed to the college. He wanted as much time as he could get with Hiro. He wanted a full bite.

Edward found Hiro hunched over an old leather-bound book half his size. He looked through a magnifying glass over the apothecarial text. Edward grinned, he missed him. He missed him dearly.

"Hiro!" He said, elated.

Hiro whipped around to Edward's direction, bewildered.

"Oh!" He took a moment to settle, holding his chest. "What brings you here?"

"You! I wanted to see you."

Hiro smiled warmly.

"I'm happy you came. I started to miss our sessions. Come."

Edward walked toward him, taking a closer look at the book. It contained illustrations of various roots along with text.

"So, what have you been up to?" Edward said.

"I've been researching medicinal roots that can be found some of the rural parts of England. This book was written while these roots were practically the only available medical treatments." Hiro shone as he spoke.

"Oh nice. I know you're a real nerd for those things." Edward admired his glow.

"Oh yes, I could scour through these texts all day."

"... Am I intruding on your reading session?"

"You are, but I don't mind."

"Would you mind if I stayed here then? I'll let you read. I'll only be a bystander."

Hiro obliged.

Hiro went back to his readings, magnifying glass in hand. Edward looked around the room, occasionally peeking at Hiro. He admired his deep focus, he was lost in the text.

One day, you'll be mine.

He busied himself by looking at the books in the study room. Many were left by mages, many in subjects that did not interest Edward. He trudged through, flipping through the books as the sun lowered by the horizon.

By dusk, Hiro closed his book, rubbing his eyes.

"Let me take you home." Edward said.

Hiro hesitated.

"I'll be fine, it's not too far."

"I insist, I brought my carriage with me."

Hiro took a moment to deliberate.

"I'll be fine. I appreciate the offer though." Hiro said as he packed up.

"Did you walk?"

"...I did."

"You've had a long day. Let me make today easier for you."

Hiro deliberated some more.

He obliged.

The ride home was quite awkward, they made due with small talk. The next day, Edward made sure to bring a novel on his visit. He continued to visit Hiro as much as he could, drawing closer to him. A hand on the shoulder, a close lean in to peek at the book Hiro was reading.

Eventually, they started to loosen up around each other. They began to speak quite freely, laughs would burst out between them. One day, their eyes met. They now knew that something was there. That this was more than a friendship. It wasn't a relationship either, it was more a spark, a spark that would later erupt into a flame. Edward squeezed the rind of the fruit of life, taking a whiff of its citrus notes. It was the appetizer to his senses, he anticipated the bite.

On a hot summer's eve, the carriage stopped before Hiro's home. After a last few words were exchanged, Hiro began his exit, but steadied his eyes on Edward.

Here, the two saw each other. An expanse of eternity stretched between them. Edward gazed into Hiro's eyes, he saw his love, he saw his beacon of hope. He trusted him, he adored him. He wanted him to be a part of his life, a part of his eternity.

Hiro leaned forward, deepening their gaze. They felt their breath brush against their faces. The heat warmed their lips. Edward admired Hiro's eyes, he's never seen them this close. They looked back at him with equal measure.

He then realized, Hiro returned his gaze. That he too admired him. How blessed was he??

Edward felt his heartbeat intensify. He went in for the bite.

The kiss, the kiss brought the catharsis he so eagerly panged for. The crescendo, the long awaited answer to his puzzle. Sweet, tart juices rushed into his mouth, spilling onto his clothing. Everything was alright in the world. Bliss, pure bliss pulsed on their lips.

As they pulled back, they kept their gaze. He couldn't even fathom what had just occurred. The air was stilled.

Hiro sat back. They looked in silence.

"Good night." Hiro said with a light sweetness, honeysuckle dewdrops leaving his lips. He stepped out the carriage.

On his way back to the palace, Edward replayed it in his mind, again, and again, and again. He savored the fruit. His fingers were sticky from the dried juice, his tongue licking the taste from his lips. His eyes rolled back. He wanted another bite.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story. If you would like read more, please follow the link below:

Have a nice day!

[providing-leverage]

Fic in Review 2023

This looks fun, thanks to @writer-and-thrasher for the tag

Total Number of Completed Stories: 16, which is great because my goal was 12 (one a month, which didn't happen, but oh well)

Total Word Count: 77,440! Again, I had a goal and surpassed it (getting to 300k on my account) and it feels really good.

Fandoms Written In: So much Ted Lasso, which I discovered after Sunflowers came out and was trending. I saw canon gay characters and went sign me up even if I don't normally like comedy stuff. I'm super glad I did because I've not written so much for a fandom so fast since my Shadowhunters hyperfixation years ago. Other than those 12, I did some PJO, Supernatural, and Batman, and Teen Wolf.

Looking back did you expect to write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expect: so much less! Ted Lasso brainworms truly won this year

What’s your own favorite story of the year, personally?: I'm super proud of myself for finishing Past and Present Now Embrace, one of my few non Ted Lasso fics. Bianca was a very interesting character and the Percy Jackson universe it a great sandbox to play in.

Did you take any writing risks this year?: I think my trend towards gen stuff, because obviously romantic stuff gets more hits a lot of the time so I've trained myself to sprinkle it in even when it doesn't really need to be there. But with Ted Lasso I really felt like I could embrace the platonic stuff and when I did write romance it was because I wanted to.

Do you have any fanfic goals for the New Year?: I want to write a multichapter, and I'm hoping that multichapter will be either Stranger Ranger or Guard Your Heart. I've also been watching to rework the second and third parts of SSA Sam Singer.

Best story of the year: personally I'm really proud of the Fundamentals of Love and Lying, which is so self indulgent

Most popular story of the year: Get It Off Your Chest for sure, and I think that's all to do with the blurb I used in the summary

Most personal story of the year: Oh for sure it's a rather touching notion which is also probably the one I wrote the quickest. An aroace character figuring out who they are, feeling outside of so many social interactions because they lack romantic and sexual attraction? Pure projection. Also The A Team because yay autism.

Funniest story of the year: While the summary for Get it Off Your Chest is funny, Colin's reasons for picking up lesbians is deeply sad so I can't really say that. Eliza's exasperation with Jamie in Flowers for Dani is pretty funny though.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: Fundamentals took a lot of work but it's also a rarepair I invented the tag for and narrated by a character that is basically an OC, so I understand why it's not everyone's cup of tea.

Most fun story to write: Holy Novelty Socks Batman is pure fluffy crack and made me smile a lot

Story with the sexiest moment: none of them really. Fundamentals and some of the other TL fics have some sex allusion though.

Sweetest story of the year: I'll say Shake It Out, a teen wolf fic from early this year that I'd completely forgotten about. What's sweeter than breaking into your school at night for a date?

“Holy crap that’s wrong even for you!” story: dito on not doing scandalous, but for angst then maybe this fic where I give Dani my caffeine sickness

Hardest story to write: Past and Present Now Embrace, for sure took the longest, with me working on it for over a year. I wanted to get it up before the Sun and the Star came out but that didn't happen.

Biggest disappointment: Not any published fic in particular but I have a lot of drafts I wish had been able to see the light of day this year

Biggest surprise: the community I feel like I've found this year, especially within Ted Lasso. Doing these tag games, trading asks and ideas with other writers, is something I've never gotten to do before and I feel so lucky and grateful for my mutuals.

Speaking of... @orbitalpirate @mearpsdyke @manwholovescabins sorry if any of you have already been tagged

[rarepairnation]

5, 8, 12, 15, 33, and 34! <3333

YAYY thank u jamie for all of these <333

5. quote one of your fics out of context

A memory, to an architect, is a prison, a haunting, a noose.

from two shadows burning out a glory day, my bizarre inception/bond crossover fic. its very close to my heart it was kind of my first. idk if i can say non-conventional fic but it kind of is. like conceptually and narratively Weird. something that messes with the reader's head.

8. share the last line that you wrote

oh BOY. im trying to ease back into writing after the wackass week i've had but something seized me and i AM up at 3am picking away at umbar fic. but its time for bed because i have work and also i just thesaurused "retreat." when i start looking up synonyms of VERY simple words its a sign the night is over.

[his father] would give him every honour, and would that not mean he would accord him every accompanying sin?

hehehehe the thorongil-ecthelion-denethor dynamic IS absolutely in the air. its funny because right before this denethor basically curses thorongil out for daring to bring up His Damn Father when they're making out. yeah its pretty insensitive. but it leads him here and from MY perspective the introspection is yummy. don't think of elephants or whatever.

12. what fandom do you want to write for most often

hmm i feel like. my answer is just whatever im? hyperfixating on at the moment? when i get in there i REALLY get in there. but maybe pacific rim. it just lives at a low simmer in the back of my mind at all times but it's also the hardest to bang something quick out for because it is one of, if not THE most emotionally fraught for me to deal with. its just. well its a lot of grief. and also a lot of times my style becomes very um. Particular. because of my personal headcanons about how drifting fucks with your head and how that kind of comes across in the prose. and i gotta be in the right headspace for All That.

15. what fic of yours would you most like to rewrite

honestly i'm not sure if? any of them? i saw a quotation once about only having been able to write certain things at certain points in your life and i really believe that. current me could not produce a lot of my old stuff at all. there's small parts of many things i might change but not complete rewrites, and i also want to preserve them in their posted form for posterity. e.g. there's parts of dreamlike, and yet no dream that i would want to tweak to match my current Denethor And Faramir complexities (it's missing a Little of the nuance. and the terrible pity that i think faramir ends up feeling for his father) but i would NOT want to completely rewrite it. i'm scrolling through my ao3 and like. yeah. and i do think that after maybe 2020 it really begins to stand the test of time and most of my prior stuff i don't have a strong enough attachment to really want to rework. i leave it up entirely for archival purposes.

33. which of your fic titles is your favourite?

i really like five year plan for the afternoon. i honestly really like most of my titles i’ve probably mentioned i think really hard when im choosing them and i hope it shows in the match between the title and the energy/themes of the fic. but i DID create this one from my own mind (rare) and i feel like it really gave the energy of like. having the future you never thought you would have because you've spent your whole life fighting an impossible fight thinking you would die trying...and getting to not have to have a plan for the future not because you think you won't have one but because you just have all the time in the world.......wow.

35. have you ever written a fic because you were inspired by a title?

hmm. not really. i do have some inspired-by-songs ones (talked about those here) that eventually ended up with corresponding lyric titles but it doesn't really work the reverse way. i mostly will hear a lyric and create a Scenario rather than a title

fic writer asks

[misdreavusmishap]

⛅️.🌙.☁️

And finally, flowers start to bloom.

Alola, and welcome. What you find here might not be what you're looking for, but I hope you enjoy your time here anyways. I intend to chat about my travels here, maybe I will send some pictures of what I find, and I would love to see your journeys as well.

I personally love speaking about Misdreavus, as a large haunt of them have been following me in small groups for many, many years now. Hopefully they will not bother you too much though, haah. The three most common are a family, consisting of Monsieur, Madamoiselle and Lady, the newest and youngest of the shroud to my knowledge. Though I am no expert in any manner, I like to consider myself experienced with this line in particular.

I enjoy seeing water types as well. Very free little creatures.

As our short time together ends, I wish you a peaceful day or night. Or, stay a little longer, if you'd like. :]

Charmie: A loyal Elgyem, Psychic type, with some eludes to Fairy typing as well. A very curious creature, as he tends to sneak off and find treasures without me even noticing.

Lotus: An Araquanid; my starter, I'm certain of it. Supposedly, my Rotom had retrieved his Pokéball during... unfortunate circumstances. He is Water and Bug type.

Jubilee: A sweet Joltik that I'd rescued from a sudden overpopulation surge earlier in 2023. She is Electric/Bug type, I believe the cause for her purple spikes is albinism.

Pyuku: A Pyukumuku under an original name, but I can't find it in my heart to change it, nor remove this Pokémon from my team. This one seems eerily special, much like Lotus. It is pure water type.

Paral: A Charizard, though crossbred with a Drampa, a flying Pokémon when I needed her most, when I needed to get off of that wretched island. A trusting and powerful battling partner, but far too reckless, and tall for that matter, for enclosed battle spaces. I battle with her on occasion, but mostly she is my mode of transport. She is Fire and Dragon type, with some heavy Flying type qualities.

WOW! I AM SO APPRECIATED AND DEFINITELY MENTIONED AT LEAST ONCE IN THIS STUPID INTRO. THANKS METALHEAD. ⚡️⚡️

Hey-ho! Egg here from @spikyegg! Welcome to a Pokémon IRL account!

Please keep in mind that with the nature of this account, it is prone to cover some sensitive topics! I will do my best to tag things as necessary, but please correct me if something gets through to your end that you didn't wanna see but still want to enjoy the blog. Otherwise, if you're unprepared or do not know what might not be sensitive to you, I say skip this blog for now!

Some frequently mentioned tags may include:

#misdreavusposting

#misd-re-avusblog

#misdreavusirl

#misdreavusanswers

#tikposting

#tikblog

#tik's video logs

#tikplies

I love interaction! I will always answer asks when I can.

Goodbye for now! ^_^ 💕

Previous event tags: #a ghostly goodbye (reworking), #hello ''mother'' (reworking), #humming a kricketune, #hardly the very best (kanto)

Current event tag(s):