#ripping my vocal chords out guys

[the-woild-is-y-erster]

fuck this “maybe having a stutter” shit

[qulizalfos]

adrianne lenker. guys

[msafterhours]

Play

Male Reader x Rocket Punch / EL7Z UP Yeonhee

~4.7k words

"You're overthinking this."

"No, I'm not!" you argue. "If I sneak over there, I can—"

CLANK!

A sudden bang silences your sorry excuse for hesitation as a shot glass appears in your line of sight and splashes liquor all over your arms.

“Apologies for the spillage,” Yeeun says to you. Her eyes tell an entirely different story as they roll: one of an identical exasperation that’s found in Yeoreum’s expression beside you. “A gift from the lovely lady at the end of the bar.”

You follow her gaze, eyes skipping along the bar stools until they reach the far side, where you hear hints of a giggle from the other side of the curtain of blonde they hide behind.

A sigh rips itself from your chest—not at Yeeun, mind you. Mostly at yourself, because you shouldn’t have assumed Yeonhee would let you host a party for the group without stirring up at least a bit of trouble. Then again, you didn’t expect her to put her plan into motion this early into the night.

“Ah, I see. Thanks, I guess.”

After another roll, Yeeun’s eyes turn to Yeoreum, capturing her in a conversation and leaving you entirely with no options other than to follow up on your gift. You rise, scoot in your stool, and walk around the countertop until you reach the end, where a certain someone awaits. “What are you doing, Yeonhee?”

The curtain parts as she flips her hair with a professional grace, revealing those twinkling eyes and slight smirk that refuse to ever leave your heart and mind. “Oh hey,” Yeonhee says, running a finger along the rim of her own shot glass. “You come here often?”

“This is literally my kitchen.” You remain standing, refusing to sink to her level and take the bait.

“So that’s a yes?”

You chuckle, you grimace, but most importantly, you cave. “Yes Yeonhee, I come here often.”

“Interesting …” she says, stretching the word out long enough that you almost believe her. “I would have guessed you’re the type who’d die without food delivery.”

“Hey!” you scoff, nose scrunching in indignation as you relent and pull up a stool beside her. “Who are you to talk when you’re constantly begging for me to make you midnight snacks?”

“Shush, not so loud,” Yeonhee murmurs, pulling you in closer as she leans in. “So … that means you know somewhere private we can go together?”

Her question tells you two things:

What exactly she’s trying to do with this little performance

That you chose a terrible time to try to take a drink of the drink she’d so kindly gotten for you

You fall into a fit of coughs as the burning liquid goes down the wrong pipe, leaving you gasping for air as everyone else in your apartment turns and grimaces at the sight. “Hey, you alright?”

A large hand slaps against your back, finally allowing you to inhale as Nana’s boyfriend looks at you with concern. You turn, still struggling to form words as you tell him, “Thanks, I—” but it gets cut off as another cough rips through you.

“Sorry, what was that?” he asks, leaning in closer.

You grab him by the shoulder, pulling him even closer as you finally regain the ability to string together words and whisper, “Name a number and I’ll pay you it if you can get the other six out of my apartment right now.”

“What? I—”

“Right. Now.” You silence any further questions with a slight smirk of your own, conveying everything he needs to know.

“₩200,000—”

“Done.”

“... and a favor,” he finishes.

You grimace, but in a split second and a single glance, your mind is made. Because you see her. Yeonhee. Eyes trained on you, expectations clear as day even as she’s so casual about it all: blowing a bubble with her gum—when the hell did she—hand in her hair as she twirls it around. 

“Done.” Turns out her hair’s not the only thing Yeonhee’s got wrapped around her finger.

“A pleasure,” he says, then turns to face the others. “Alright girls, first round at karaoke’s on me! We’re gonna give this guy,” he says, with a pitiful glance in your direction, “a chance to rest his vocal chords and Yeonhee a chance to play nurse. Everyone ready?”

It’s a pitiful excuse with all the subtlety of a freight train, but it seems you’re a sorry enough sight for the other members to let you off the hook. A few minutes later, once all the goodbyes are said and done, they finally depart and take their judgemental eyebrows with them, leaving you solely in the sights of Yeonhee’s fuck me eyes.

“Hey stranger,” she calls out, crossing her legs as she lounges against the countertop. “Looks like it’s just you and me now. Alone.”

“Looks like it,” you say, striding around the island to the excessive amount of alcohol intended for the party that was supposed to happen tonight. “Can I buy you a drink?”

A spark of pleasant surprise tugs at the corner of her mouth, mirth filling her expression as you play along. “Please do.”

You reach down, opening the cabinet and pulling out another pair of shot glasses—ones much bigger than you'd ever use for “responsible” social interactions. Two heaping helpings of hard alcohol later, you slide a glass across the countertop and into the expectant hand of your houseguest.

“So, what are we toasting to?” you ask. “Our good health? Family? Friends—like the ones we just kicked out?”

“Nah, nothing like that,” Yeonhee responds, the sparkle in her eye shining as bright as ever. “How about something even more special?”

“To us?” you suggest, offering your drink to her.

She leans forward, as if she’s intending to indulge and take a sip, but instead, she leans further in. It takes a moment for you to realize that she’s kissing you—subverting your expectations seems to be her specialty tonight—but as soon as the realization sets in, you’re all too eager to indulge. Your hairs stand on end as you melt into the contact, losing yourself in the connection and cursing its loss when she pulls away.

“To us,” Yeonhee confirms when you reopen your eyes and stare into hers, tipping her own glass to your lips as you both down the other’s drink, savoring the saccharine burn as it flows down your throat. You waste no time pulling Yeonhee into another, deeper kiss before she can take a breath. The faint hint of strawberry from the flavored vodka remains, but the softness of her lips is even sweeter. Your mind spirals as the kiss deepens, and the lids of your eyes shut, allowing you to focus on the other sensations overwhelming you.

The needy scrape of her teeth against your bottom lip. A moan, barely escaping her lungs and echoing against the inside of your mouth as she leans into you. Her scent: hints of vanilla hidden amongst the overpowering scents of alcohol that have long since overtaken your kitchen. Another taste entirely emerges as the kiss deepens further and her nibbles become more insistent, nipping at your skin and drawing the taste of iron from your veins.

Some foolish sense of self-preservation forces you to pull away, leaving you stunned by the sight of Yeonhee, eyes focused on you as she drags the back of her hand against her lips, wiping away any evidence of her misdeeds as she smiles all too sweetly. “You wanna like, get out of here?”

“Oh yeah? And go where?”

“You could take me back to your place.”

“Yeonhee, we … sure. Let’s go back to my place,” you accept, eyes too wide to roll as she stands and saunters over to you.

“Wonderful. Mind giving me a ride?” Yeonhee asks as she closes the distance, stunning you once more as the scent of her perfume reaches your senses.

“Of course,” you say, sweeping her up into your arms. Your heart melts all over again as she yelps in surprise, wrapping her arms around your neck as you hold her close against your chest. You circle around your living room once, twice, thrice, and while the sound effects of screeching tires and honking horns might be a bit unnecessary, the melodious laughter that rings out from Yeonhee makes it more than worth the effort.

Finally, you set her back down, but make sure to pull her into a hug, keeping her close as you whisper, “Alright babe, we’re home. What now?”

“We could do another round of shots,” Yeonhee offers, though the suggestion’s a formality at best when she pulls away from you and sits down on the couch with legs so invitingly spread. “Or …”

“I could taste something even sweeter,” you finish. A quick glimpse at her eyes gives you all the invitation you need, gives you that last bit of confirmation that your thoughts couldn’t be more aligned.

You settle into a familiar position: seated between Yeonhee’s creamy thighs, head shaking in disapproval at the sorry excuse for a pair of shorts separating you from your desires. It’s with a practiced poise that your fingers hook into the waistband of her shorts and then further still, capturing her panties and removing both barriers in a single tug.

“So eager …” Yeonhee murmurs, corners of her mouth curling as giggles slip past her lips. You lose any chance you might have had to respond as you look up into her eyes and your train of thought is completely derailed by the sight of her bottom lip, captured between her teeth as she wordlessly begs for you to continue.

Unfortunately for her, instead of diving into the main course, your exhales serve as an appetizer, cascading hot breaths across her glowing skin. Your fingertips trace symbols alongside the insides of her thighs, spelling out names, places, and whatever the fuck else your imagination can come up with as you send faint shockwaves across her synapses, triggering the slightest of shivers across her body. Any hints of laughter died many moments ago, replaced by her best attempt as disinterest as she mumbles and grumbles and asks can’t you just get on with it?, but her words quiver and die on her lips as she whimpers in frustration.

Her hands find a home in your hair and dig into your scalp, growing more insistent by the second as she stares at you through half-lidded eyes, letting out impatient, exasperated sniffles as you just barely miss her most sensitive areas. In the dim glow of your apartment, you see a faint sheen of arousal coating her folds, but it’s nothing compared to the torrent of pleas and promises as Yeonhee asks why? and please? and begs for you to stop teasing me …

Part of you wants to acquiesce, give your beautiful girlfriend what she wants like you always do, but instead, your hands clamp down on her thighs, capturing them in a firm grip, denying Yeonhee the friction she so desperately craves even as she squirms and kicks and struggles to bring herself over the edge. You’re perfectly in tune with Yeonhee’s desires, reading her shudders and shakes like notes on a sheet, using her body as the instrument of your desires as you play her a symphony of suffering, a cacophony of crescendos that you cut short before they can ascend all the way up the scale.

The performance sends ripples across the rest of her body, sending waves of tension along the tight muscles of her stomach before ascending further upward. One of your hands follows the path up to her breast and its painfully hard nipple, capturing it between two fingers and tweaking the sensitive nub, earning another heavy gasp through gritted teeth as Yeonhee loses further control of her labored breaths.

A sigh.

A plea.

A moan.

A scream.

All of it mixes together in your ears, just another drop amidst the river of incoherent muttering spilling forth from Yeonhee’s lips. There’re curses and cries, requests for mercy and hopes that you die, a spate of stammered and slurred syllables that grow your smirk ever wider as you oh so slowly inch closer to her core.

Another exhale, a brief brush of the back of your knuckle against her clit, another pinch of her nipple—you employ every tactic available in your arsenal as she slumps back against the couch, reveling in the raw desperation on her face as arousal overwhelms her ability to fight back. You’re sadistic enough to keep her teetering on that precipice for a few minutes longer, just long enough for her cloudy eyes to fog over and for every single muscle in her body to clench.

It’s at that pinnacle of tension that you pounce, lips latching onto the swollen bud of her clit and sucking hard as you slip a pair of fingers into her dripping folds. Immediately, her whimpers turn to wails then die in her throat, her voice breaking as little raindrops of relief spill from the corners of her eyes.

Yeonhee melts into the couch as the tremors overtake her and waves of pleasure crash over her body. The gasps of breath she breathes in between her sobs are your favorite song, an orchestra of overwhelming release that you demand an encore of. Even as her back arches, her toes curl, her eyelids shut and her fingertips dig into your scalp, your hunger persists, driving you to demand more.

Another thrust of your fingers. Another kiss on her thigh. Another brush against her clit. Then another. And another. Her fingers dig deeper still, clinging to you like you’re her only tether to reality even as you’re the one bringing her to the brink of madness. Her moans climb an octave, then higher still, offering little affirmations of fuck and yes and please as you chase your shared desire.

The second orgasm comes quicker and hits much harder than the first, sweeping over Yeonhee like a hurricane and leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. The way she spasms, the way she shakes, it’s picturesque how her juices leak out and coat your face. Her walls clamp down on your fingers and force you to slow your pace to a crawl, allowing Yeonhee to come down from the high you’ve brought her to.

With that, you finally withdraw from her, mesmerized by the sight of her chest rising and falling in time with the heavy breaths she desperately sucks into her lungs. “So?” you ask, shamelessly smug as you lick the juices off of your soaked fingers. “Was that everything you were hoping for when you saw me from across the bar?”

“Not even close,” Yeonhee fires back, eyes burning bright as she stands and meets your eyes. “But it’s a damned good start.”

She leans in before you can reply, capturing your lips with fervent need as she pulls you close. “You know what I think?” she murmurs.

“What?”

“You, my dear,” Yeonhee murmurs. “Are way too overdressed.”

Yeonhee punctuates her point by dropping your belt to the ground—when did she even—and skating her hands up your stomach before hooking her fingers into the waistband of your jeans. With an insistent tug, she catches your eyes, pouting oh so prettily. Her teeth catch in her lower lip, pressing against it so, so softly as even as her desire threatens to set the room ablaze. And just in case that wasn’t enough—

“Please?”

No’s never an option when she asks so nicely. You do as she desires, lifting your shirt above your head and plunging the room into darkness for a moment. As your vision returns, you’re met with the sight of an empty room, save for Yeonhee’s shirt fluttering in the wind, acting as the sole hint as to where she’s gone. Well, that and the melodious laughter echoing down the hallway.

A soft smile spreads across your face as you follow the sounds of her footsteps, leaving a trail of clothes in your wake as your mind races. Part of you wants to play this slow, deny her desires even further, but that single syllable echoes throughout your head. Please. It’s unfair, really. She’s unfair. But that’s also what makes it so fucking fun.

At the top of the stairs awaits the entrance to your bedroom, and within lies an image that stops your heart for a swift second: Yeonhee, lounging atop the bed, her golden river of hair cascading over the pillows as she licks her lips at the sight of you.

“So.”

“So?”

“So,” you deadpan, taking slow, measured steps until you reach the foot of the bed. “What now?”

“I had an idea … if you’re willing to humor me,” Yeonhee offers, recapturing her hair around her finger and twirling it around, just like she did at the start of all of this.

“I’ve been doing so all night, no reason to stop now,” you jest, earning a mirrored smile that manages to just barely hint at Yeonhee’s adorable charm beneath the sultry expression.

“So … what if I laid back?” Yeonhee asks as she twists herself on the bed and hangs her head off its edge. Her eyelashes, still damp from your earlier torment, flutter up at you and send your stomach spiraling into knots. There’s this magnetism to her, something about those doe-like eyes that sends you into decision paralysis as you ponder whether to lean down and kiss her on the nose or shove your cock down her throat and see just how messy your pretty girl can get for you.

“What if you took this incredible cock,” she purrs, warm breath cascading over your cock and sending shivers down your spine. She tilts back and parts her lips, mirth lurking in the corner of her smirk as she asks:

“And fucked my face like this?”

Your body reacts before the words even register in your mind, one hand cupping her cheek as the other guides your cock closer, positioning yourself right above her face. Her eyes widen in both desire and delight as she opens her mouth even wider, allowing you to push yourself forward into her waiting warmth. Yeonhee wraps her lips around you, enveloping you and sucking you even deeper as her tongue darts forth, exploring every available inch of your shaft as you continue ever deeper.

A deep, guttural groan rips itself from your chest as Yeonhee bobs her head back and forth, sending waves of boiling crimson through your veins. Both of your hands find a home amidst the silky strands of Yeonhee’s hair, gripping tighter with every withdrawal and subsequent thrust of your hips. Your eyes keep glancing downwards, checking for fear in your lover’s eyes, but Yeonhee meets your stare every time with a mirror of the desire and arousal she evokes in you so effortlessly.

As your breaths shorten, Yeonhee’s tongue grows more daring, more insistent. Her intoxicating presence quickly overwhelms your senses; the sight of her in such a vulnerable position, the scent of her skin so tantalizingly close to you, and the downright vile symphony of chokes gasps moans and more as she struggles to withstand the intensity she demands of you. Even with her words taken from her, the way she claws at the inside of your thighs and the seal her lips have on your cock—she makes every single movement and action with the single-minded focus of bringing you to an orgasm just as intense as the ones you’ve given her.  

Your pulse quickens, pulses, and rises, pounding at an elevated, erratic rate as you approach the edge. As you look down and catch one last sight of the beauty giving herself wholly for your pleasure, you do nothing to fight the oncoming storm, instead allowing yourself to tip over the edge into bliss.

The first of your senses to go is sight. Your view of the room goes dark as your head feels light, disconnected from the only part of your body demanding attention.

The next is sound. Any chance you have of hearing the harsh and heavy groans of pleasure reverberating out from your gasping lips is lost, swept up under the current of the sanguine rush pounding in your ears.

Touch spares you no such mercy. Your teeth grit as shockwave after shockwave pulse up your spine and to each and every one of your extremities, turning what would otherwise be an already incredible orgasm into a full-on out-of-body experience.

You remain unmoving, barely keeping upright and at the mercy of the merciless mess before you. Yeonhee refuses to let up even for a moment, oxygen unimportant as she laps at your shaft, gulping down each drop of your cum until she’s drained every ounce of pleasure from you.

Only then, when your sight is barely coming back into focus, do you see her: a single string of saliva connecting the corner of her lips to your cock before breaking off and glistening on her chin. With a coy smirk, Yeonhee wipes it away, making a show of lapping it up off of the back of her hand as her eyes sparkle with sultry satisfaction.

A moment of silence passes between you two, one you’re more than willing to spend admiring the aftermath of your shared desires. Yeonhee’s face is an absolute fucking mess, cheeks flushed with pleasure, lips reddened and swollen, altogether a perfect image of debauched beauty.

There’s something about Yeonhee like this, eyes half-lidded as she awaits her well-deserved praise that kick-starts your heart in a way no one else has even come close to replicating.

“Fucking hell, Yeonhee,” you murmur as you climb into the bed beside her and take her into your arms.

“Wasn’t that fun?” she asks, words light and airy as her eyes sparkle, faux innocence painted on every feature as if she hadn’t nearly sucked out your soul. “Pretty good idea, right?”

“Oh yeah babe, 11/10, no notes,” you respond with a huff, flopping onto your back like a starfish as your eyes close and you take a deep inhale.

The opening notes of your favorite song play as laughter overtakes Yeonhee, sending her into a fit of giggles that leaves you short of breath all over again. A small oof escapes past your lips as she lightly hits your chest, letting out one last bit of playful energy before she snuggles up against your side and wraps her arms around your torso. “The night’s still young, you know. I bet the others haven’t even finished their first round of drinks at the karaoke bar.”

“Oh?” you ask, eyebrow arched even as your eyelids remain firmly shut. “Were you hoping to join them?”

“Of course not. Do you want to be the one who has to explain that you faked an illness just because we were too horny to wait any longer?”

“What do you mean ‘we’? You were the one who just had to play out their filthy fantasy right then and there,” you fire back, opening up your eyes just enough to glare at her.

“I don’t seem to remember you putting up much of a fight,” she responds, shrugging as she looks away to hide her smile.

You opt to let silence be your response because, well, she’s right, but honestly, when you pull her close and feel the way she nuzzles her face into your chest and you catch a whiff of the floral scent of her conditioner, you realize you have higher priorities.

“So.”

“So?”

“Round two?” you ask.

“Wasn’t that round two?” Yeonhee asks, eyebrows scrunching together in deep thought.

“I’d argue that was the second half of part one—evening things out, if you will.”

“I think the pause and change of location means it’s a whole new round.”

“This whole thing started because you pretended my kitchen was a bar and that we were complete strangers. Is this really the time to argue semantics?”

“Actually, yes; I would argue immersion is integral to—”

“Yeonhee.” You cut her off there, interrupting her mid-sentence as you shift your weight atop hers and pin her wrists to the headboard. Your other hand finds a home in her hair once more, twirling those golden locks as you let the silence speak volumes.

“Yes?” she whimpers, eyes wide and breaths heavy.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Another moment passes. Another. Her pulse pounds in your grip, her lips part, her chest heaves, yet you let the silence linger. The air grows tense, making it hard for even you to breathe, but you hold your tongue, patient enough to make her ask, “Why?”

You free your hand from her hair, instead using it to position your cock as you line yourself up with her sopping heat. As you’re about to slip inside her, you lean forward, letting your lips brush against her ear as you whisper, “Because I’m going to make you lose count.”

With that, you push forward into her once more, eliciting another gasp that dies in your mouth as you claim her lips with your own. Her body presses against you, back arching in a truly exquisite display of the pleasure overtaking her. Bit by bit you press onward, breath tight in your chest as you pull away from the kiss and her velvety interior suffocates your cock.

Yeonhee’s breaths come in short, desperate puffs, ragged and scarce as you ruin her further; her teeth find a familiar home in her lower lip as she tries to suppress the signs of satisfaction showing across every inch of her immaculate form, but fails spectacularly.

“More than you bargained for?” you tease, running your thumb over her bruised bottom lip. She opens her mouth obligingly and sucks on your thumb, tongue tickling the pad before moving on to nibble on your knuckle.

“It’s never too much for me,” Yeonhee pants out, words still shaky as she rolls her hips up to meet yours, issuing a further challenge.

“You’re insatiable,” you chuckle. Yeonhee begins to respond, but you silence her once more by capturing her hips in your hands and slamming them down against the bed. You keep her pinned there, perfectly in place for you to achieve your pleasure. Each thrust becomes more insistent, finding a deeper depth inside of her as her hands grasp and claw at your scalp.

Everything feels too close yet not enough—the curve of her body molds against yours, legs clasping around your waist and pulling you ever deeper; she looks at you through tear-stained lashes, eyes unfocused as she tries to keep sight of you. Her fingers weave into your hair and pull, sending tingles of ecstasy and agony into your mind as she clings to her only tether to reality.

Somewhere in the heat of these moments, time fades into irrelevance, seconds slipping past like grains of sand through your fingers. You pin her to the bed, push her up against the headboard, pull her into the shower, bend her over the sink, toss her onto the bed once more, and drown her in the waves of euphoria all over again. Long after the clock ticks forth into a new day, you sink into the silky sheets alongside Yeonhee. You look over and you’re mesmerized by the sight of her, skin shining with the sheen of sweat as she wears your cum as a point of pride.

“Tired yet?” she challenges you, smirking as she trails her delicate fingertips down your chest.

“Fucking exhausted,” you admit, smiling just as wide as her eyes sparkle with mirth. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t go another round if you’re desperate for more.”

“Oh god no, I still need to walk out of here in the morning. Hold me though?”

Yeonhee tries to rest her head against your chest, but you’re quick to pull away and respond, “Go clean up first, you’re a fucking mess.”

“And whose fault is that?” she huffs, crossing her arms in protest.

Your eyes roll, but you sweep her into your arms as you stand, chuckling to yourself as she yelps in surprise and wraps her arms around your neck. “Fine, we go wash up and then we can snuggle as much as you like. Deal?”

“Deal.”

…

…

…

“You're such an idiot, I can't believe you got Yeonhee sick,” Yeoreum huffs from the other side of the phone.

“What do you mean? She seemed fine when she left earli—last night.”

“Really? She's been complaining all day that her throat hurts!”

“O-oh,” you stammer, badly masking your surprise with a cough as your phone dings. “That is … yeah. My bad then, sorry.”

(My most genuine gratitude to @capslocked for their assistance in making this fic far better than it would have been otherwise and for just being significantly more helpful than I could have ever hoped for. I have two other short story ideas in mind that I'll likely try to finish before diving into a mid-length project, after which I think I'm going to try and fully tackle the Saccharine rewrite. As always, thank you so very much for choosing to spend your precious time reading my work, it means everything to me.)

[chasingthestarss]

Jealousy Jealousy

Just a little short thing I wrote because I wanted jealous James. It's really just a bunch of dialogue but enjoy!

Words: 955

Barty Crouch Junior was a problem.

A big problem.

The biggest problem James had ever had.

He kind of wanted to kill the guy.

James had never felt so violent as he did watching Barty lean in and whisper into Regulus’ ear.

He wanted to rip out Barty’s throat when Regulus laughed at whatever Barty whispered into his ear.

James knew he had no right to feel that way. He had no reason to want Regulus to not go near Barty. They were friends and James didn’t have any claim to Regulus. It wasn’t like Regulus was his boyfriend. And if he was James’ boyfriend, James wouldn’t have the right to tell him how to act with his friends.

He was out of his seat in seconds when Barty's hand settled on Regulus’ waist, like it belonged there or something. James wanted to cut his fucking hand off. Maybe then he would quit touching Regulus. Maybe then he would leave Regulus the fuck alone.

“Something wrong, pretty boy?” Barty smirked when James reached them.

What was he gonna do? Tell Barty to stop talking to his friend? Really why did he even walk over? What could he do other than observe violently.

“I need to talk to Regulus,” James said shortly, not giving Barty any attention.

Barty smirked. Of course he did. When was he not smirking at James? Like he knew something that James didn’t. It pissed him off.

“We’re busy,” Barty smiled at James and waved him off like some sort of child.

James wanted Barty to never talk again. Maybe he just wanted to rip out the boys vocal chords so he couldn’t whisper things in Regulus’ ear. Speaking of, that is what Barty was doing now, once more.

“Do you have a problem, Potter?” Evan chimed in as he watched James silently seethe over Barty and Regulus’ closeness.

Evan Rosier was also a problem. He was always talking to Regulus. He was always with Regulus. Why did everyone always have to be with Regulus? Why couldn’t they just leave him alone.

“No, of course not,” James muttered and stormed off to go find Sirius. Sirius needed to get Regulus away from those fucking Slytherins or James was going to rip their heads off. He couldn’t risk getting expelled.

Sirius was found lounging in Remus’ lap, talking to Marlene about something that James didn’t care about. Right now he needed his best friends.

“You okay, Prongs? You look pissed,” Remus asked, then looked behind James and laughed. “Oh, I see. Sirius, you're needed for Regulus retrieval.”

“Oh my god, just tell him you're jealous and quit bringing me into this shit!” Sirius groaned.

James may have done this more than once. But Regulus’ friends were just so handsy. Sirius was always able to get Regulus away, so James just went to him.

“Pads, please!” James whined.

“No, figure it out. Moony time,” Sirius denied as he leaned forward to place kisses on Remus’ neck.

James grumbled but walked away and sat back in his old spot. Silently seething as he watched Regulus lean into Evan, while Barty talked about something.

He lasted longer than he thought he would.

Maybe five minutes. (thirty seconds)

But then Barty Crouch Junior leaned in and kissed Regulus’ cheek and James lost it.

James stormed over, definitely shoving people as he did so. He ripped Barty away and grabbed Regulus’ arm.

“Sirius needs you,” James spoke sharply, glaring at Barty.

“Does he? I don’t see him around,” Regulus smirked up at James, his eyes twinkling with something akin to mischief.

“He does, come on,” James tugged Regulus’ arm a little, trying to get the younger boy to stand.

“I’ll wait for him to come get me. You can go tell him that. I’ll just hang out here with my friends,” Regulus retorted, shoving James’ hand off him.

“No! You can’t stay with them,” James replied.

“Why's that?” Regulus asked.

James froze. He looked at Regulus, really looked at him and saw it. Regulus was going this on purpose. He was definitely doing this on purpose. There was no way he was just being this antagonizing and mischievous for no reason. How many times had he made James jealous on purpose.

James spun to Barty and saw that he was also smirking at James. Evan too. So they all knew what they were doing. They just didn’t care.

“You were doing it on purpose?” James asked.

“Doing what on purpose, Jaime?” Regulus tilted his head in mock confusion.

“I wanted to cut your buddies hand off. What would you have done if I had done it? Would you have felt guilty? Would you feel remorse?” James questioned, leaning close enough that his breath could probably be felt on Regulus’ cheek.

“I’d probably feel turned on, actually,” Regulus challenged

“Oh yeah?” James taunted.

“What can I say? You’re hot when you’re jealous. So are you going to act now or keep seething in your little chair? Because I’ve been waiting for you to do something. I'm tired of waiting for Jamie. I have other options, Barty for example," Regulus gestured vaguely in Barty’s direction.

“Hell yeah!” Barty agreed moving towards Regulus.

“No.” James snarled, turning to him furiously.

“I told you it was hot,” Regulus chimes. James is sure if he was talking to him or Barty but he doesn’t care.

“Come on, let me show you how hot jealousy can be,” James pulled Regulus a little gesturing toward his dorm room with his head.

“Jealousy sex! Jealousy sex! Jealousy sex!” Barty cheered in the background.

“Shut up Barty,” Evan groaned.

James may hate Barty Crouch Junior, but that was some of the best sex he had had.

[agendabymooner]

jollibee, madrid and all that romance fiasco ! oscar p. x ofc (filipino!gen z!ofc)

summary: carlos sainz and his wife, magda, were heading back to spain after taking her and her cousins to the final race before the summer break. they hoped to have a decent break but their wishes were long gone as soon as the mclaren drivers told them about their plans to spend their week in madrid - where the couple conveniently lived.

OR oscar piastri had the fattest crush on magda's cousin, paloma 'lomi' san pedro, and needless to say, he wasn't even making it less obvious as he purchased a ticket to madrid just so he could spend his time with her. was he only looking for that summer romance or did he just fall in love with carlos' in-law?

content warning: use of explicit language, oscar and ofc shitting on each other, tagalog dialogues and translation ahead (i'm not as good as i used to be at speaking it, sorry lads), carlos sainz x ofc, mentions of alcohol use, fictional brother character (niño san pedro), carlos has a close relationship with his in-laws, A LOT OF JOLLIBEE, lando norris and oscar piastri being cultured (filipino), filo humour, lowkey protective!carlos

note: melody is in progress and i gotta let this out because i've been looking at too much unhinged filipino memes today. enjoy xx

masterlist

tagged carlossainzjr, charles_leclerc, landonorris, monamagdalena, ninojames

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, charles_leclerc

monamagdalena "rich in-law" 😭 liked by lomisanpedro

carlossainzjr you weren't "forced" to wear my number 🙄 get it right hermana liked by lomisanpedro

lomisanpedro ur right. i asked for charles' number and they just conveniently "ran out" of my size 🤔

landonorris look at that handsome man in papaya and black tho 🥵 liked by lomisanpedro

lomisanpedro i'm gonna pretend i haven't seen this comment 😕

landonorris guys i think she's a charles leclerc fan liked and pinned by lomisanpedro

oscarpiastri i have a lot of oscar piastri shirts in your size 😊 liked by lomisanpedro

ninojames what 😄

lomisanpedro how do u know my size 🧐

oscarpiastri i've been looking, observing and mentally measuring

carlossainzjr oscarpiastri compadre do you wanna repeat what you just said?

landonorris don't mind me i'm just watching 🍿🥤

logansargeant so you're the girl he's ogling throughout the week??? liked by lomisanpedro

lomisanpedro and you're the florida boy? 🤓

logansargeant fair enough. nice to meet you though 🤠

lomisanpedro likewise sarge 🤠

carlossainzjr posted a new story !!!

tagged ninojames, lomisanpedro, landonorris, oscarpiastri, carlossainzjr

liked by logansargeant, alex_albon, georgerussell63

user1 i just know it hits different spending your vacation in a filipino-spanish household 😭 liked by monamagdalena

monamagdalena there's a lot of "ordinary" volume arguments that's for sure 😅

user2 rip oscar's vocal chords. i know it's barely there but it must've abandoned him the moment the sainz-san pedros pulled up the karaoke liked by monamagdalena

monamagdalena landonorris might have slipped some tequila to get the party going for oscar 🙃

mclarenf1 lando we taught you better than this

landonorris mclarenf1 what happened to "one more shot lando!"

mclarenf1 i don't like these accusations, lando.

user3 i can just imagine lando, carlos and oscar yelling "THAT'S NOT HOW DRS WORKS" at your cousins lmfaooo 🤣 liked by monamagdalena

monamagdalena yeah my cousins live to give carlitos a headache every once in a while - seeing as they live in philippines and all

carlossainzjr we should have a daycare, mi corazon, because we don't get paid enough for this liked by monamagdalena

monamagdalena i agree bebe, if anything we lose more than we earn money 🥲

ninojames stop lying to me carlossainzjr you literally helped me get my tourist visa because you said "you wanted to see your favourite cousin"

lomisanpedro oop- lemme just send this to caco rq 🤭

carlossainzjr ay lomisanpedro you do that, i'm not gonna set up the ac in your room 😒 see how long you'll withstand the heat in spain

lomisanpedro i live in ph but yes po master 😇

lomisanpedro if i have to go golfing one more time, i'm gonna hit you with the club landonorris carlossainzjr ninojames

ninojames speak for urself lmfao

landonorris it's ok i can take it paloma 🤪

carlossainzjr watch your words landonorris

landonorris that's not what i meant ??? 🤬

oscarpiastri barca did good last night no? liked by monamagdalena

monamagdalena heheheh carlossainzjr what do you think?

lomisanpedro carlossainzjr you should've shot him in the foot with the paintball when you had the chance 🤡

carlossainzjr i really should have.

landonorris that's tactical and against the fia rules carlos know better.

mclarenf1 yeah what landonorris said ^^

oscarpiastri that is incredibly mean of you, lomisanpedro 🥲

lomisanpedro show me how you cry rq??

tagged landonorris, oscarpiastri, lomisanpedro

liked by carlossainzjr and monamagdalena

monamagdalena putang ina pati pa naman sa spain, y'an pa din kinakain niyo? what the fuck, that's (jollibee) what you guys are still eating even in spain? liked by ninojames

ninojames patingin nga kung pa'no yung galit na mukha ate hahahaha ate, show me how you make an angry face

lomisanpedro ba't ka inggit lmaooooo why are you jealous

monamagdalena hoy lomi at niño, nagluto ako kanina di niyo ba kinain 'yon? i cooked earlier today, didn't you guys eat it?

lomisanpedro maarte yung mga bisita mo madam bertud. your guests are picky, madam bertud.

oscarpiastri monamagdalena I AM NOT picky, do not listen to what that gremlin is telling you

landonorris we ate and even washed the pot of sinigang so that gremlin is lying

lomisanpedro this gremlin is her cousin and how tf do y'all know what we're saying-

landonorris we're very smart men

oscarpiastri i'm a diplomat on the side

carlossainzjr NIÑO YOU AND LANDO JUST RACKED UP OUR BILL FOR DOING THAT TO OUR OVEN 🤬 liked by ninojames

ninojames lando was teaching me his dj skills 😕

carlossainzjr DONT MESS WITH THE OVEN LANDOOOO

landonorris we were trying to get lit 😭 you literally had nothing in there but uno and monopoly wtf were we supposed to do???

carlossainzjr i don't know? not play with fire and not rack up our house bill?

oscarpiastri are we having a filipino language session tomorrow then? liked by ninojames

ninojames with tequila?

oscarpiastri i found their stash so yeah with tequila- we should get some bucket of chickens for the session too :)

landonorris wag puro pulutan, dapat inom din. don't just eat, you have to drink too. liked and pinned by ninojames

lomisanpedro I HAVE TAUGHT YOU WELL, YOUNG PADAWAN 🤩

ninojames monamagdalena rate my teaching skills ate magda

monamagdalena what are you guys teaching these two??? 😭

oscarpiastri the basics magda 😊

INCOMING: dog show 😎 (oscar) SENDER: my pal(oma) 🐝 (paloma)

tagged jollibee, lomisanpedro

liked by carlossainzjr, logansargeant, landonorris

user1 BRO HARD LAUNCHED HIS CRUSH WTF 😭 what god did you pray to?

user2 puro jollibee si bro edi sana nag pinas ka na lang 😭 bro eats a lot of jollibee like you should've just gone to philippines instead

user3 madrid is paloma san pedro, in case you guys didn't know 🤭

landonorris god you are so whipped

mclarenf1 jollibee x mclaren when? 👀

jollibee when there's a philippine grand prix 🐝

ninojames oh so you ditched our session for this? for this ugly ass? liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri we got some palabok and two buckets of chicken joy and we're otw home 😅

ninojames ok maybe i can let you slip for once

lomisanpedro you are so annoying liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri annoyingly considerate when it comes to you because you wanted jollibee this morning 🤭😊

user4 there is too much filipino rizz within pastry guys i think he wins this one

logansargeant was this why you've been rejecting my facetimes today?

oscarpiastri you can wait. jollibee can't.

user5 i'm sorry logan but i agree with him this time

user6 him tagging jollibee 😭 this man is clearly obsessed

bonus !!!

PS the fictional san pedro people

ramona magdalena 'magda' (ibañez) san pedro sainz (carlos' wife)

niño james (balagtas) san pedro (carlos' cousin-in-law)

paloma 'lomi' (balagtas) san pedro (also carlos' in-law)

[sefusneezed]

What was Kat's upbringing like (with having three dads)

Ermm TECHNICALLY one dad and two uncles 🤓🤓🤓🤓

UHHHH probably not the typical admech upbringing experience. She didn't have any like, tiger parent stuff. But its honestly not any typical upbringing experience in general lmfao Von Kuronar is nuts.

She's an orphan and adopted RIP but she doesn't remember her birth parents because she was literally an infant when Von Kuronar took her in. Like five months old. This guy who claims he's ALL logic NO emotion went out and adopted a baby just to spite the ecclesiarchy who was calling her blessed by the Emperor when it was his skitarii blessed by the OMNISSIAH who found her. Then he comes back to the rest of the gang ranting about the hardships of being a single father and Kalanis and Mordekai are just confused as hell.

Problem is this guy had no idea what he was doing. A SUPER old archmagos who's not only disconnected and out of touch, but also unhinged and strange in general to begin with. He's literally the worst guy you could pick for parenting. Dude yells way too much at everyone, he had to get his vocal chords augmented so they can handle the amount of yelling he does. He just seems angry all the time. Literally everything he says can be taken negatively. And he just Cannot Relate to stupid biological child problems so he has no idea what to do when she comes crying over random kid stuff and he ends up saying and doing the stupidest most braindead stuff you can imagine to try and "fix" it. I mean, dude tried his best. He read as many parenting books as possible. Let's her get away with everything (literally bans her from the biologis labs and then conveniently "forgets" the next day) And he spoils tf outta her. So then you get this weird disconnected dynamic that's literally just based off miscommunication where he loves her as his own and thinks her not wanting to be around him is just "grr my dad is old and NOT cool" but then actually she's just scared of him and every interaction is awkward as hell. He will not admit any fault though he did nothing wrong he is the best dad. UHH MORE INFO She was homeschooled. She was so bad at basic admech stuff that she would not has survived in any kinda schola and it got too expensive to keep bribing them. She does not vibe with the machine spirits and tbh didn't have much interest in them anyway. But its ok she makes up for it by being a biologis savant. Literally ten years old and doing open heart surgery sticking augmentations on people messing with clone vats. It's so weird she is so bad at machinery unless that machinery has SOMETHING to do with biology, and then she's a genius. So Kuronar just let her focus on that because mechanics was just painful for everyone involved when she did that. Unfortunately UHH she also had no friends. Literally none besides like, SUPER old people and servitors because like she just simply didn't know anyone else. She was so lonely she harassed anyone who made the mistake of giving her attention RIP to all of Kalanis' offworld diplomat guests.

In general umm it wasn't really good but it wasn't bad either?? I mean, its kind of shit but in the context of 40k childhoods she was soooo lucky. Didn't even have the typical admech rigid structures and schedules and whatever smh smh they just let her do whatever she wanted. Sucks for her though because she's still a big nerd who made HERSELF study biologis stuff and now everyone must suffer for it when the latest Kat Beast escapes containment. They should have just left her with the ecclesiarchy and made them deal with her.

[defire]

Back to the Dregs Part 16

Part 1 Next

Content: gun, hostage, self-sacrifice, injuries, fighting, adult child abuse, police arrest

Michael watched Morgan hurry up the stairs to stop his father from coming down.

"Don't get hurt." Michael said, struggling to get up.

Morgan rolled his eyes and headed upstairs.

"Morgan." Michael heard Mr. Huer's chilling voice. He fumbled with a shirt Morgan had given him and pulled it over his back. feeling the wounds crack back open with the movement.

He cursed and scooted onto Morgan's desk chair to get the pants up hastily. Some of the bandages unstuck inside the pants, but he ignored it.

"You're lying to me." Mr. Huer's hard voice struck a chord that ripped terror down Michael's spine, making his hands shake as he jerked open Morgan's desk drawers. He rifled through the ones he'd missed before, finding a burner phone and more alcohol and receipts.

He wasn't going to hide.

I'm a detective. He told himself, feeling like an imposter. He kind of was.

No, I'm a detective! The statement was more like an order. This is my job. Stop the bad guy. The bad guy just happens to be someone who beat me up and burned me for years...

His throat clenched as his hand fell on Morgan's old revolver in the bottom drawer.

He pulled it out, hands shaking.

"You've got him down in the basement, don't you." Mr. Huer's voice carried down the stairs. "Tom told me everything. Stop lying, Morgan. And get the hell out of my way!"

"I... I can't--" Morgan's voice was desperate.

Michael's chest tightened so much he could hardly breathe as he dialed a number on the phone with his left hand, turned the volume on the speaker all the way down, and checked the cylinder of the revolver. Loaded, as expected.

There was a crash and stomping, as Michael assumed Mr. Huer had thrown Morgan out of the way and stomped down the stairs.

And Michael met the eyes of his former foster father.

Mr. Huer's eyes widened as he stared Michael in the eyes, then slowly walked down the stairs.

Michael raised the revolver, trying not to shake. The power of actually being able to do something was both exhilerating and terrifying--because now he had to face him. It was the only right thing to do.

"Michael?" Mr. Huer said. "Look at you... So much older and grubbier."

Michael tried to smile.

"Getting kidnapped can do that to a person, Joseph."

Mr. Huer's eye twitched at the disrespect, but he ventured one more stair down.

"Yet you're still that scared kid. I told you, boy. You can leave, but you'll never shake the Huer out of you."

Michael pressed a breath out to still his vocal chords.

"Joseph Huer, you're--"

"Did you forget who owns you?"

Michael winced as the scars on the back of his neck stung a little.

"Joseph, put your hands up, or I'll shoot you." He said.

Mr. Huer shrugged and raised his hands with a mockingly placating smile.

"Calm down, Michael. Nobody's in trouble. Not yet."

Morgan came down the stairs cautiously, his eyes widened when he saw the standoff. Michael noticed he was limping and holding his stomach again.

"See, Morgan, I don't think your brother understands his place." Mr. Huer said. "I might need your help showing him."

Michael was mostly frozen, finger shakingly moving inside the trigger guard. His arms were getting tired of holding the gun ou tin front of him.

"Morgan," Mr. Huer said in that warning tone.

"Yes sir." Morgan's words came out immediately, reflexively.

"Come here." Mr. Huer beckoned with a slight smile to where he now stood.

Morgan did, slowly.

"You don't have to do what he says, Morgan." Michael said, but his hope died when he saw the glassy stare of hopelessness in Morgan's eyes.

Mr. Huer pointed in front of him, between himself and Michael.

Michael gritted his teeth. What was the protocol for this again? He couldn't remember.

This is why I'm a shit detective. He thought.

"Yes sir." Morgan murmured.

He stepped in between Michael and his father, with that disgusted wince of betrayal. He caught Michael's eye, and once again, Michael saw him mouth the word "sorry".

"Morgan." Michael said. "I know it looks like he has the upper hand, but--"

"But you have a gun?" Mr. Huer came up behind Morgan, pushing him forward in front of him like a shield toward Michael.

"You'd sacrifice your own son?" Michael panted. "You amoral bastard."

Mr. Huer's response was to push Morgan forward again.

Michael shrank back, but Mr. Huer pushed till the gun touched Morgan's chest.

Morgan closed his eyes and swallowed.

"You said you'd kill me." He said, with a small shrug. "Go ahead."

Michael blinked as his jaw dropped.

"Annd time's up." Mr. Huer grinned, stepping out from behind Morgan. With one deft move, he siezed Michael's hand and twisted, pointing the barrel of the gun away.

He followed with a hand to Michael's face, turning a slap into a grab, hooking his thumb in next to Michael's trachea, fingers digging into the back of his neck as he threw Michael to the floor.

On the way down, Michael grabbed his sleeve tihgt and yanked Mr. Huer down with him.

They tussled on the floor, rolling, kicking, grappling, biting. At some point, Michael squeezed the trigger, and then the gun was gone, and punches were raining down, blinding, overwhelming, on his chest and face. Mr. Huer pinned down his right hand, took his left and twisted it until there was a pop, and Michael screamed.

Then there was a jab into his throat by the jugular as the warm muzzle of the gun pressed in under his tongue.

"I don't know if I have use for a family member like you."

Michael gagged.

"Dad please," Morgan begged.

"I'll deal with you later." Mr. Huer spat the words over his shoulder. "As for you, I want to hear it. Apologize."

Michael grimaced, trying not to cough as his trachea was irritated. His eyes teared up.

"Morgan, I--"

"Not to him, you idiot!" Mr. Huer panted. "Apologize. And then beg for your life. Beg."

"I'm sorry..." Michael squeaked. Mr. Huer moved the muzzle so Michael could breathe a little. "I'm sorry I didn't treat you like a real brother, Morgan."

He met Morgan's eyes and caught a tear-filled exasperation before Mr. Huer started pistol-whipping him in the face, silent rage knocking into Michael's temple and cheekbone and jaw as he turned and flinched away from the blows.

He was vaguely aware of Morgan trying to pull Mr. Huer off him, and then there was the tramp of feet upstairs, shouting, and people running down the basement stairs.

Reinforcements.

"Let him go! Now!" The order was barked in a familiar gnarly voice. Michael's brain, dizzy from the blows, refused to compute.

Then Joseph was tackled from the side and knocked off Michael, who scrambled to his feet, staggered sideways, and was caught by someone, who kept him up.

Instinctively he jerked his arm away and spread his legs to keep his balance, head pounding as he watched the bodies in blue and white wrestling down Mr. Huer.

Police. The 911 call had paid off.

Michael glanced around to see Morgan, looking terrified behind a few officers.

Then he nearly fell again, and the same officer caught his arm.

"Oh..." He panted. "Davie."

"Michael." Davie's deep voice was comforting. "Glad to see you're okay."

Michael barely nodded, watching his partners arresting the star of his nightmares.

"Joseph Huer, you're under arrest..."

Michael stared, then crumpled down onto the bottom stair. He felt Davie's hand on his shoulder.

"You did good." Ross thumped him on the back, then frowned when Michael hissed in pain. "Are you okay?"

"Wait..." Michael looked around. "Where's my brother?"

Morgan ended up laying low for awhile. At least, that was what Michael hoped he was doing.

The moment Michael got back into his regular duties, he was shifted to the position of media liason for the police department since he sucked at his job.

I suck at endings. Sorry. But this one has one like long angsty scene as like an epilogue, which will be the last part I post.

Epilogue...

Hey, if you enjoyed this novella, it would mean so much to me if you leave a review of Back to the Dregs on Amazon.

Taglist:

@fleur-a-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @whumped-by-glitter @whump-writings @mimostic @tildeathiwillwrite @hellodecisionparalysis @phoenixpromptsandstuff

:)

I have a question for members of my tag list,

When I post another story here, do you want to be tagged in that as well? I'm still deciding what story I will post but if you want to be tagged in the next story let me know :)

[okwritingandpain]

Penny Lane's Getting Better (The Beatles x Reader)

Chapter 5: All My Loving

You hate school. You hate it a lot more than you expected you would. Now it wasn't because of your classes, but rather the absolute trash fire that John and Paul's relationship was.

They fought at every hour of every day and you couldn't avoid it. It didn't help that you had recently become John's girlfriend, which made you an easy target for Paul to vent his frustrations. You wanted to rip out his vocal chords, but decided not to as he was a good singer.

"..and then he just walked away!" Paul was blabbering about some sort of argument he had with John earlier that day. It was lunch time, but none of the other guys were around except for Paul. You silently play with your fork, pretending to listen to Paul's lengthy story. When did he become so annoying?

"Are you even listening to me?" Paul suddenly asks. You snap out of your daze and stare at him. He sighs, already knowing the answer. You rub your eyes, hoping Ringo or George would show up already.

"Where are the rest of the guys?" You finally ask Paul. He raises and eyebrow, chomping down on some salad he stole off some girls tray.

"Ringo is sick, remember? George and John dipped today," Paul explains. You groan at the fact you're stuck with Paul for the rest of the day.

"Are you serious? Why'd they dip?" You question, slamming your tray on the table next to him.

You both sat outside in the gray weather. The white lillies bloomed in bushes near the small outdoor area. Usually you and the guys ate lunch together under the nearby oak tree, but recently the group had become pretty divided.

"I heard that John got a solo gig at a local place and he invited George to play bass instead of me," Paul mutters. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette.

"I'm sure that's not true, Paul," you say with a frown. He shakes his head, muttering under his breath. The cigarette hangs from his mouth as he searches for his lighter.

"I wish you were right." He lights the cigarette and takes a long drag. You cough which makes him snort.

"So what now? Are you just going to follow me around all the time now?" You ask, almost jokingly.

"Pretty much," he replies instantly. You frown. Of course he was serious about it.

"I have a life outside of you and the boys, you know."

"I don't see you doing anything else besides hanging out with us,"

"At this point, I'd rather be on my own than with you guys,"

"Is it that bad?"

"It's worse," you say, poking around your food.

Paul sits on the table, looking down at you. He takes another drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke surround him like a darkening fog.

"You really like John, huh?" he asks, looking up into the distance where the school sits. The gray building is bustling with students heading in from lunch. Class must be starting soon.

"I do," you reply. You're not sure what Paul is getting at, but you can tell he's holding something in.

"I get that." His comment is confusing, but he doesn't look at you. He mutters something to himself and then shakes his head, standing up from the table. He extends his hand to take you back to the school. You roll your eyes and take his hand.

John hasn't walked you home from school in days. You feel a little disappointed, like he didn't want to be around you anymore. Of course, since he hasn't been around, Paul's been following you everywhere.

"If you could be any musical instrument, what would you be?" Paul asks, following behind you. You're passing the fire station which is where Paul throws his cigarette on the ground.

"That's a stupid question," you reply. You were growing tired of Paul, and you honestly wanted nothing more to do with John or the others. Ringo might be the only one who had a pass from her because he was sick.

"It's not stupid, it's a question," he says. He's humming some song that he was writing. The band hadn't met up in awhile though.

"I would want to be any instrument you can't play," you mutter. Paul hears this and smirks a little.

"Than you must be pretty obscure." He grabs your arm, pulling you towards him. His hand lets you go almost immediately as he points at a small bakery across the street. He gives you a quick smile before pulling you towards the bakery.

"Paul, I need to get home," you say, fighting his every move. He doesn't seem to care as you enter the shop. The smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the air, making your mouth water. You try to hide how much you love the smell, so Paul didn't notice.

He stares at rolls, croissants, donuts, and more. It's like a paradise of bread and sweets that you could devour within an instant. Except you didn't have money and you did actually need to get home.

"I'll take two croissants please," Paul tells the clerk.

"Paul, I don't need one--"

"Yes, you do," he cuts in. You roll your eyes, sifting through your pockets for some cash of any kind to give him. You know he would refuse it anyhow, but you couldn't help it. He hands the clerk some money and in return he gains croissants. He walks back over to you with a dorky smile, handing you one of them. You reluctantly take it from him.

"Thank you," you whisper, admiring the golden bread in your hand. He smiles at you, taking a big bite of his own. You can't help but notice the way he is staring at you.

Originally you may have thought he liked you, but this stare feels different. It feels more genuine, more friendly than it ever had been. He almost seems to be holding something back, but you can't quite place what that is. 

"Y/N," Paul whispers, staring at the floor. He looks like he's on the verge of tears. Her heart begins to swell with sadness, what happened between him and John? What happened...

"Paul--"

"There's my girlfriend," John walks into the bakery. He grabs her shoulders and leans in for a kiss. She reluctantly kisses him back. "Hanging out with Paul I see," he mutters. Paul looks up at his once best friend and quickly backs away.

"He was just walking me home since you've wanted nothing to do with me for the last few days!" you snap at him. He glares at you and steps away to the counter. He orders something for himself, while you recollect yourself.

"I'm sorry," Paul says.

"It's not your fault," you reply.

"It might actually be," he replies before John ushers you out of the bakery. You look back at Paul one more time before following John down the street towards your houses.

You both don't say anything, the air is tense and prickly. You want nothing more than to leave his side. You hadn't expected him to act so cruel after you started dating.

"I want to take you out tomorrow," he says. You frown, stopping your pace. He keeps walking but stops to look behind at you.

"I'm not going out with you until you tell me what's going on between you and Paul," you hissed. You were done with all this nonsense.

"What is there to say? Me and Paul aren't that close right now okay!?" he shouts back at you.

"Why?" you ask, quietly. He pauses unsure what to tell you, the truth or the partial truth.

"He likes you," he replies.

"Like you do?"

"Not exactly," John shakes his head, muttering to himself.

"Then what does he feel, John?" You urge. What could they possibly be beating around the bush so much? What was so important?

"I don't know if I can tell you, if I can trust you," John replies. He looks defeated as he collapses onto the street. He sits cross legged with his head in his hands.

"Trust me?" You say, kneeling beside him. You look into his eyes which look back at you with more love than you could imagine.

"It will come with time," he whispers back.

"Then you will go out with me another time," you reply back. Standing up, you walk back to your house without John. You can feel his eyes watching you leave.

"I'm sorry, John," you whisper to yourself before you walk into your house where your family is waiting.

"Where's John?" Your mother asks, but she sounds more urgent than usual.

"He's down the street, what's going on?" you ask, suddenly feeling your heart drop in your chest. Something happened. What happened? WHAT HAPPENED?

"Mimi found Paul a couple miles from here," she says, her hands shaking.

"What the hell's going on, mom?"

"He was trying to catch a train out of the city..."

You feel your heart return. You thought the worst had happened, but it looks like everything is alright.

"Thank god," you whisper.

"John was supposed to take him and the band to a city nearby, but I heard about the fighting...I guess Paul was going to talk to John," Your mother explains.

You glance at your father whose face is stoic, he rubs your sister's back trying to reassure her. She's crying into his side which makes you want to rush over and hug her.

Your mother still seems worried which you don't quite understand. Paul was okay, right?

Paul was okay.

"Honey, he got hit by a car."

@sabrielka-133

[voidisverytired]

Luka tended to check out sometimes. He'd be fully immersed in a conversation one second, and the next he's staring off into space, catatonic, unresponsive to even the loudest screams.

In his teen years, his mother thought he was on drugs and had him taking a drug test randomly every couple weeks.

And he might as well have been on some type of drug. Maybe it was a hallucinatory one that plagued his sight with visions of Chat Noir getting impaled by his own staff. Or Vesperia getting her miraculous ripped from her hair. Or that time Ryuuko jumped a little too late and was flung into a wall of brick.

By now, he knew the identities of every miraculous holder in Paris, plus some other uncomfortable details. Like the fact that Gabriel Agreste was Monarch, or that Alya once willingly caused an Akuma in her teen years, or that Felix's dad was an abusive dick (don't even ask how that one was found out in the span of five minutes).

Luka had witnessed a thousand different possibilities. Each one haunted his dreams, twisting the once sweet melodies echoed from his life to his dreams into dangerous and violent tunes. Screeching of chords that would have normal people covering their ears and begging for it to be turned off. But no, not Luka. He'd grown so used to the clanging of cymbals that he sat and listened to the sound, trying to make a sense of a beat. A melody. A pattern, so he could better understand.

But he never found one.

That did not stop him from pursuing one fervently each time the screeching chords revisited him.

As Viperion, Luka had seen horrible things. Witnessed things that only he would remember.

Rena Rouge wouldn't remember the scream she let out that rubbed her vocals raw when Carapace had fallen from the Eiffel Tower with no shield available. Rooster Gold wouldn't remember the feeling of having his arm torn apart by the claws of a panther. Pegasus wouldn't remember the feeling of having his hair ripped from his head. And oh so thankfully, Purple Tigress would never remember the way she choked on her own blood when she was stabbed by a violent villain.

It was terrifying, Luka supposed, to be the one who remembered. To be the one who'd carry those screams, those sounds, those sights, to an early grave.

It was utterly terrifying.

"-erion! Viperion!"

Someone was shaking him, Luka realized. When he focused his eyes and looked up at the person who had their hands on his shoulders, he came face-to-face with Ladybug. Behind her, the other heroes of Paris stood, each with equally worried looks on their faces.

"What happened?" He asks, though he fears he already knows the answer.

"We were hanging out, but when Pigella tried getting your attention, you weren't responding." Carapace responds.

"You weren't reacting to anything." Chat Noir was crouched in front of him, worried greatly. He was one of the few present who knew Viperion's identity.

"Sorry." He supplies dumbly.

When he gets no further verbal response, just worried glances, he decides to give them more context.

"When I have to use my second chance during an attack, I usually check out for a good hour. It's best for me to go to my flat and relax, but you guys were really insistent that we all hang out." Luka immediately regrets his words when he notices the guilty looks of the heroes. He hadn't meant to inadvertently blame them. "It's fine, really!" He tries backtracking. "I only had to use it a total of 17… no, that's not right." He shakes his head quickly. "16… no 15 times. That's a bigger amount than last time I had to use it. This guy was hard. In one of the scenarios, Argos got stabbed." And oh, Luka realized as he rambled on about what he had witnessed, he was slipping again.

"Ladybug got her earrings ripped out one time and this other time, Carapace used his shell to protect Rena but didn't account for himself and got crushed by a giant rock. I spent an entire loop laughing uncontrollably after Chat was thrown off a building and hit the ground. And oh, that was such a fun thing to hear. Can someone take me home?" He tries to use some of his still intact brain cells to interrupt his rambling. "I really need to go home or I'll keep rambling and you guys really don't need nor want to hear this stuff. I need to go home!"

"I've got you." Argos steps forward and helps Viperion up. "Your loft is on my way to my place anyways."

—

As Felix, detransformed and wearing some silky pajamas, tucked him comfortably into the weighted blanket and sat by his bedside, Luka recalls a conversation he'd had with Sass after a particularly bad loop.

When Luka screamed that he felt he was going insane, Sass looked him dead in the eye and said, "Insanity is a given for the people who wield my power. I chose you because you can deal with it. Do not make me believe I chose wrong, Luka."

Luka had no choice, really, to lay down and take what the universe threw at him.

He'll wake in an hour or two, screaming for someone— who? He doesn't know— to run, to jump out of the way, to get out of the fight.

He'll spend tomorrow walking around his flat in a haze. He won't remember how he spends his day, but he will remember the bone dead tiredness seeping into his veins and locking him to his bed, like vines made from the strongest of metals.

He'll live.

He has to.

[waterparksdrama]

When you’ve said most of IP sounds like rip off’s from awsten’s influences or the fact they sound really similar, what ones come to mind? his songs and influences with their counterpart I mean

i can name a couple off the top of my head i think

end of the water is awsten's shameless attempt at being charlie puth. just listen to light switch by him awsten's definitely ripping that off except he doesn't have the vocal chops to hit that many high notes so it comes off very grating.

2 best friends sounds so generically like a disney channel montage song i can't even pinpoint a specific song it sounds like

funeral grey and brainwashed were both cowritten by julian bunetta who is most famous for his works with 1d and though i honestly didn't really listen to them i can tell that influence is very much there with their big hits (also julian wrote guys my age by hey violet and the eye rolling edginess of funeral grey makes more sense when you see those side to side)

closer reminded me of 1979 by the smashing pumpkins even when awsten only leaked a chord progression a while back. it's not completely alike but. close *ba dum tss*

i'm not gonna lie i think a night out on earth is just like an alternate universe version of see you in the future that tries living up to that frantic nature but it's almost toned down in comparison despite being the big ending and all that - iz

[solaneceae]

first days are the hardest

a team bolas oneshot (read on ao3) tw: cannibalism, violence, blood, temporary character deaths (just bolas things)

When they all get off the train, wary and rattled by the ominous images and words streamed into their minds by the strange new entity, everything is red. Like a mist, heavy and thick and clogging up their airways. The train station echoes with dozens of voices, yelling and calling out for silence alike. (Some are singing, which is par for the course, because who could resist belting out the Halo theme song in such an echo-y place?)

They look for a way out, but there isn’t one. They check their inventory, and it’s empty, no backpacks and no warpstone and no weapons or food. They call out for Cucurucho, but no sign of the usually too-present white bear. Then they all freeze, and collective stumble-jolt as images and information flashes behind their eyes. They learn about Purgatory, and about teams, and fear and anxiety clutch at their hearts. Rip each other apart, the entity had said, and already wary glances are being thrown around, the cracks that had been slowly appearing between island residents suddenly growing into chasms.

(They could try to work together, despite what their Host said. They could be lying after all, about the eggs, and the curse. But they all know that until they can gather solid evidence, they will all play along this fucked-up game if it means their children might be returned to them.)

Hearts and minds are numbed, goodbyes exchanged. Bagi hugs Tina so tightly her bones creak, and whispers something into her ear that makes the girl blush furiously. Forever and Cellbit speak in hushed tones, not for long, but part with their eyes gleaming in determination. Bad and Baghera exchange an embrace, the duck giving the demon one last ducky kiss on his nose (which is more of a nip, but Bad giggles and retaliates with a peck on her forehead).

Then they all walk away, because time is running out and they have eggs to save.

***

The red team is. Something, alright.

Jaiden squeals in surprised joy when Foolish, Baghera and Slime all gather before their assigned door, the energy suddenly shifting from bleak and resigned to strangely, unnaturally manic. “Holy shit, the Swellers!” the conure woops, trapping them all in a hug that has them bumping heads. “That’s— okay, best team, best fucking team, we’ve got this.”

“Fuck yeah!” the slime hybrid cheers, way too enthused by all of this (but then again, he doesn’t have a kid on the line, convinced that Flippa is still waiting for him at home. None of the others say anything, because now is not the time for that overdue conversation.) Foolish makes a sound that should not be produced by a living thing’s vocal chords, but that Baghera eagerly mimics as she flaps her arm-wings elatedly.

Cellbit is a bit further away,  scarred arms moving animatedly as he talks to a disgruntled Phil — the crow nods and reflexively reaches behind him for a familiar mass that is no longer there. He keeps swaying forward and catching himself last-second, thrown off-balance by the absence of his usual black backpack, and his wings are exposed and god they’re a mess. Baghera and Jaiden both wince at the sight of clipped, damaged feathers and exposed skin, red and inflamed, an obvious sign of stress-plucking. They look at each other, a silent pact to deal with this later.

“Half our team isn’t even there,” the detective groans, rubbing at his face in barely-suppressed despair. “How is that fucking fair?”

“I mean, I know my way around hardcore shit. And I heard that Carré was pretty good at PvP,” the older man hums, glancing at the Argentinian in the cat onesie. Carré glances back at him at the sound of his name, raises a hand in greeting. “Yo.”

“Yeah, but—” Cellbit makes a low sound, something between a growl and a whine. “Caralho. Not to underestimate you guys, but the green team has Étoiles. Étoiles, and Forever, and fucking Fit from 2b2t. Blue has all the Create geniuses, and Pac, bro, you have no idea how good Pac is at combat, he’ll destroy us. And two weeks of this?” He sighs. “...Hey. Is Wilbur any good at this type of stuff, and is there a chance he’ll show up at all. Be honest.”

Phil grimaces, and that’s all the answers Cellbit needs. “Puta que pariú. That means we’ll be five, tops... six if we get lucky with Carré. We’re so fucked.”

The team immediately settles on the name Bolas?!?!?!, exclamation and interrogation points very much included, and Cellbit looks like he wants to perma-die right there and then. “Right,” he says, flat-toned and dull. “Of course. Fuck it, we ball I guess.”

Two minutes later, Carré’s dislocated body is soaking the coarse dirt of Purgatory with dark red, and they’re all collectively losing their shit. “Open your paragliders you dumbasses!” Foolish screeches over the manic laughter, and that’s the exact moment they all know there’s no way they’re winning this.

They are right. And it only gets worse as the day progresses.

***

The red skies loom over them oppressively, fresh burns and cuts all over their bodies from all the bullshit that has smacked them around for nearly four hours now. Charlie has given up on armors or weapons, hitting a meathead with a single stick as he screeches at it like a bat with rabies. “This isn’t Purgatory!” he screams into his cellphone thingy, his dying voice rattling the brains of the rest of his team, wherever they are. “This is Hell!” He startles and yelps, because he’s spotted a tree in the corner of his eye and thought it was Bad, back again to drive cold metal through his body again. He fucking hates the demon so much right now, even thinking about him makes him want to bash his head against a rock until sweet oblivion takes him away from this nightmare.

“Holy shit, kill yourself!” Jaiden yells out to the skies as yet another curse falls onto them, forcing their limbs to flail and move the way they don’t want them to. It’s not directed at anyone in particular, maybe it’s at herself, maybe it’s at all of them, even she cannot tell. Her eyes are blown wide, soot and dirt in her wings and hair, her limbs tingling with recent respawn. She’s smiling, and Charlie’s smiling, Baghera as well as she sobs before the firepit, rocking back and forth. “Just take my egg,” she giggles, a broken sound. Her eyes flicker with green and purple for a split second, and she feels like she’s losing her mind, grief and rage and despair devolving into pure chaos. “Just take my egg, I don’t care, I don’t care.”

“Holy shit, that’s what we’re at,” Jaiden cackles, barely avoiding getting impaled by another mob. “Kill Pomme!” Cellbit is laughing from the other side of their comms, loud and high-pitched, and Baghera should be mad at him, shouldn’t she? She knows he’s been killing innocent workers, that was still a thing, right? She still cared, right? So why was she laughing? Had they really been broken that badly, that fast? And Philza, Philza who’s been driving himself mad looking for his own eggs, the bastion of their sanity, he’s laughing too, and screeching about some fish attacking him, and god, Carré isn’t responding anymore, he’s fucking dipped, and it’s all gone pear-shaped.

The rest of the day melts into red-grey sludge. They find themselves gathered around a campire and they’re laughing and wailing and sobbing and more laughing, and there’s some singing at some point as their limbs flail in something like dancing. Everything hurts, everything sucks, and it’s somehow so goddamn funny, and everytime they begin to calm down one of them says something so unhinged that they all devolve into hysterics again. Foolish is off building a castle somewhere, eager to start their emerald empire.

Bad kills Slime once, twice, and then he kills Baghera, who feels a part of herself wilt. She understands, though. She cannot stay mad at Bébou, even after that. She knows he’s doing this for their children, and will run over everyone to save them, including her. She’s strangely okay with that. (She hopes she gets to kill him, later. It’s a visceral want, like hunger. It scares her, because she still loves him to death, but she wants to wrap her hands around his neck and watch the life bleed out of his mismatched eyes. He won’t hold it against her, she knows.)

They start to kill each other at some point, tired of being killed by the ones they used to trust. Slime and Cellbit beat the shit out of each other with sticks until the smaller man is downed, and Cellbit finishes him off by ripping out his throat with his very teeth while Jaiden cheers from somewhere at his right. Baghera loses her shit when she learns she’s been grinding for saplings for nothing, and drives a sword through Philza’s back, who just laughs and chokes in his own blood because alright, that’s fair. Jaiden and Slime wrestle in the half finished tower as Foolish hums, placing block after block, unbothered by the conure beating the slime hybrid into the ground until his goopy green body becomes mere jelly. The totem huffs at her, requests that she cleans up the mess as Slime rushes back, fresh from respawn, and snaps the young avian’s neck.

They start walking willingly into the fire, the pain barely registering because their entire self just tingues and aches from laughing nonstop. They burn, and they fall, and respawn with the smell of charred flesh and void-ozone in their nose before climbing into the fire again just to feel something. Their commlinks are buzzing with messages from the other teams, some of them concerned, some of them mocking. None of them care. “We should start a cult,” one of them says, and none of them can remember who because their minds are mingling, fucked-up osmosis. They wonder how hard it would be to craft gas masks for all of them, decide it's an issue to tackle another day.

Jaiden eats the last potato, and they’re all starving to death. Eyes glide over to the pile of charred bodies around the fire, and Cellbit doesn’t remember much from what happens after that. Only the taste of blood and meat of all kinds, human and not. (Part of him knows that Baghera tasted particularly delicious, but he tries his best not to linger on that.) “I think we should all only use our own corpses,” he drawls, pupils mere slits and blood on his chin. The others don’t look much better, and he wonders if this is divine punishment for his sins, seeing people he cares about be dragged onto the same horrible path had been on — was now back on. “I don’t— it’s too much. Too far.”

They all agree. Cellbit never tastes bird meat after that. (And he’s strangely disturbed by the idea of a duck eating meat, let alone duck meat, but he’s so fucking done.)

“I could not ask for a better group of people to be stuck in this shit with,” Philza breathes out as night falls, sprawled onto his back on top of Foolish’s tower with his wings dirty and blood-soaked. Étoiles killed him earlier, and that’s kinda fucked, but he still trusts the man with his life. And his death. The others all acquiesce around him, every single one staring up at stars and constellations that don’t look right, eyes too shiny and smiles too wide, and they know that something in their brain chemistry has irrevocably changed.

This cursed place has no sheep, which means no wool, which means no beds. So when exhaustion crashes into them like a freight train, they forego all sense of personal boundaries and crawl into each other’s arms on top of their little tower of despair, in one fucked up pile of aching limbs and blood-soaked clothes.

Tomorrow will be another day. But they all know nothing will ever be the same after this.

[sevicia]

The other day I was thinking of how some people have voice claims for their OCs (learned what a voice claim is veery recently 😏knowledge loves me) and thought about what my OCs would sound like but the only ones I have ANYTHING in mind for are Mary and Agnes because ummm... obviously....

Agnes -> goes from Some Guy (deadpan edition) to Raspy Voice 3000 (deadpan edition) after his creepy girlfriend rips out his vocal chords (slash romantic)

Mary -> no idea on pitch (???) or anything like that but I realized I imagine her talking kinda like Bkornblume from Reverse: 1999, purely because her voice in the game is super smooth, carefree and soft.... But Bkornblume sounds too young in her aactual Sound

[jules-has-notes]

APAP 2019 — VoicePlay live performances

Every trip to the Association of Performing Arts Professionals annual conference in NYC included a showcase concert to show off the guys' talents for potential show bookers. The setlists they put together each year included a combination of established crowd pleasers and new material that demonstrated the breadth of their repertoire. These two recordings are great examples of their appeal.

.

This medley was incredibly impressive when they released their videos with professional audio recording and mixing, and the ability to record as many takes as they wanted. Seeing the guys tackle it live might be even more astounding.

Details:

title: Panic! in 4 Minutes

original songs / performers: "Victorious"; "I Write Sins Not Tragedies"; "Emperor's New Clothes"; "Miss Jackson", feat. Lolo; "The Ballad of Mona Lisa"; "This Is Gospel"; "High Hopes"; "Say Amen (Saturday Night)"

written by: all songs by Brendon Urie in collaboration – "Victorious" with Mike Viola, Morgan "White Sea" Kibby, Jake Sinclair, Alexander DeLeon, Rivers Cuomo, & CJ Baran; "I Write Sins Not Tragedies" with Ryan Ross & Spencer Smith; "Emperor's New Clothes" with Jake Sinclair, Lauren "Lolo" Pritchard, Sam Hollander, & Dan Wilson; "Miss Jackson" with Dallon Weekes, Lauren "Lolo" Pritchard, Jake Sinclair, Amir Jerome Salem, & Alex Goose; "The Ballad of Mona Lisa" with Spencer Smith, Butch Walker, & John Feldmann; "This Is Gospel" with Dallon Weekes & Jake Sinclair; "High Hopes" with Jake Sinclair, Jenny Owen Youngs, Lauren "Lolo" Pritchard, Sam Hollander, William Lobban-Bean, Jonas Jeberg, Taylor Parks, & Ilsey Juber; "Say Amen (Saturday Night)" with Jake Sinclair, Sam Hollander, Lauren "Lolo" Pritchard, Imad Royal, Nathan Abshire, Suzy Shinn, Tom Peyton, Tobias Wincorn, & The Budos Band

arranged by: Layne Stein & Earl Elkins Jr.

performance date: 6 January 2019

My favorite bits:

Layne including the tape rip sound effect in his percussion

that gorgeous "Victorious" chord

Eli's fantastic grit on "Emperor's New Clothes"

the clean cut-offs during "Miss Jackson"

Geoff taking over the beatboxing during Layne's lead for "This Is Gospel"

the lowkey step-touch groove

sparing J.None's vocal chords by substituting a harmonized ♫ "we're gonna feel alriiight" ♫ for the squealingly high "Saturday"

such a well coordinated ending

Trivia:

This medley was originally released in two parts, with a week-long cliffhanger between "The Ballad of Mona Lisa" and "This Is Gospel". Clips from those videos play on the screen behind them as they perform it live.

.

This number was a longtime fan favorite at VoicePlay's live shows. The bandmates often refer to each other as brothers, and that comes with the occasional bickering. Luckily for us, this battle for the spotlight is entertaining as heck and (as far as I know) only pretend.

Details:

title: Elvira

original performers: The Oak Ridge Boys

written by: Dallas Frazier

arranged by: Geoff Castellucci

performance date: 6 January 2019

My favorite bits:

"Are there any country fans here?" / "Boo." / "This is gonna go great. Thanks." 😒

the trio in the corner hastily rearranging themselves

everyone cutting out for the first ♫ ⇓ "miiine" ⇓ ♫

Earl's strategic retreat after Geoff gives him the stink-eye

that extra low-end riff at the end of J.None's solo

and Eli's incredible vocal agility, sheesh

Geoff adding an extra deep dip at the end of the second chorus just to rub it in

the surprisingly lovely voice of the cameraperson

that impressive breath control from Earl

Geoff being unable to make eye contact as he strokes Earl's beard

the big ending that never disappoints

J.None dabbing on the way out

Trivia:

Their pals in Home Free enjoyed VoicePlay's version of the song so much that they used this arrangement as a starting point for their own recording with The Oak Ridge Boys.

[j0ht0-gh0sthunt3r]

Top ten of horrors that do scare you?

the unown. no explanation needed.

herobrine. ive been having nightmares about him corrupting my pc and deleting all my minecraft worlds that me and my sister worked super hard on.

drifloon. im about the size of a tall 12 year old so they’d probably mistake me for one and kidnap me

MX. he beat me in uno and im still salty about it.

Mimikyu. I love the little guys, theyre so so silly and scrunkly, but im constantly worried i’ll accidentally see what’s under their costume and fucking die.

the wigglytuff that cant sing. she looks like she’d rip out my vocal chords and i just generally dont fuck with her vibes

any glitchmon that can just. completely wipe you from existance. fucking horrifying

eternatus. that fucking thing. that unidentified creature. i dont like its aura.

The entire region of Kalos

whatever the fuck Paldea has going on

HONORABLE MENTION: my fucked up and evil charizard

[runawaymun]

I posted 1,740 times in 2022

That's 999 more posts than 2021!

466 posts created (27%)

1,274 posts reblogged (73%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@blueberryrock

@arofili

@jaz-the-bard

@makalaure-kanafinwe

I tagged 1,581 of my posts in 2022

Only 9% of my posts had no tags

#elrond - 297 posts

#out of uniform - 229 posts

#(humor tag) - 149 posts

#celebrían - 114 posts

#boil em mash em stick em in a queue - 113 posts

#lotr - 92 posts

#my art - 87 posts

#maedhros - 71 posts

#the silmarillion - 67 posts

#celrond - 67 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i don't necessary *sexually* ship them because i do read frodo as being very ace or demi but i can totally understand romantically shipping

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

idk you guys when it gets late my brain starts making the saddest possible inferences but like 

I’m just thinking about Arwen saying “I’d rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone” and how she’s watched her father carry six thousand years of grief for all the people he’s seen come and go. Esp. Elros & Celebrían.

idk i’m tired & not wording things well and this is a sign i need to go to bed but I’m currently Very Emo about this. 

409 notes - Posted May 19, 2022

#4

Sometimes I think about how not all the trauma the Sons of Fëanor have is immediately obvious or visible as trauma they wear on their bodies.

After Angband Maedhros’ brothers keep finding caches of food hidden away in odd places. They promise that there’s plenty. That there will always be plenty. He says “I know, I know” but can’t make himself stop, because when you’re held captive by a minor god food is nothing more than a cute bargaining chip. Maedhros can’t stand on top of towers or climb hills or even trees anymore. It’s not that he’s scared because he’s Maedhros Fëanorion and isn’t afraid of anything— but the second he’s too high up, he feels sick to his stomach.

Maglor still sings. Everyone always compliments his voice. It’s so powerful, ricocheting off mountainsides, loud as thunder. It can stop a blade it it’s tracks. Make a legion of orcs clutch their bleeding ears and scream. But he can’t sing ballads anymore, or lullabies the way he used to. He hates it. He hates it. Each note that’s fashioned to hurt someone else feels like it will rip him in two. Sometimes he wishes he could rip out his own vocal chords just to be free of the responsibility of such Music, from the expectations of how he’ll use it in battle. He just wants to sing like he used to.

Celegorm never replaces Huan. He knows— he knows it’s his fault that he lost him. He lies awake at night and cries into his pillow, wishing it was Huan. Wishing he could bury his hand in his thick fur and feel his steady heartbeat again— because no matter how it ended a childhood pet is a childhood pet, and they will always take a piece of you when they go.

Caranthir talks less and less as the years go on. His brothers used to ask him for advice in Valinor, but a levelheaded temperament isn’t much use in times like these. He withdraws and he withdraws and he withdraws, until he’s so lonely it wears a hole in his chest.

Curufin covers his mirrors. He hates the sound of his name. Loves and hates the forge until he’s sick at heart and wants to throw himself into his own fire. The boundary lines, for him, had always been laid in the shape of his father, and without him he no longer knows who he is. He is only a shadow of him. A reminder of what they’ve lost. And he will never, ever, ever live up to his memory.

Amrod won’t light a fire in his bedroom no matter how cold or dark it gets. He can’t sleep in a room alone. Can’t be left alone for more than a few moments before his mind twists into panic— of “please, please, I’m right here, don’t forget me, don’t leave me—“

Likewise, Amras never lets Amrod out of his sight. The panicked “where’s Amrod?” happens on a biweekly basis. His brothers assure him that Amrod is fine. But their eyes betray their own worry. None of them have forgotten the ships.

551 notes - Posted March 23, 2022

#3

Also a concept: Maedhros riding a moose because if you’re that tall and armored you’re heavy as shit.

660 notes - Posted July 25, 2022

#2

Things that are really fucking me up today

Just how close in age Elrond and Elwing are, by the Elf standards. It must be so strange when they finally meet, to look at each other and realize the difference between them is only a little over thirty years.

Like, in comparison Finwe was a thousand years older than Finfarin, and Elrond was already roughly 4000 years old when he had Arwen.

So idk it just must have been so strange for them. A mere thirty years is such a wildly negligible amount of time. They’re basically peers when they first meet.

721 notes - Posted January 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Elrond and Celebrían invented true love, actually. 

832 notes - Posted September 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[zenyuumi]

for the ask game: your feelings on shiratori aira??

Oh i hate that guy i think alkaloid is honestly better off without him. Hes so annoying his stupid little "rabui" thing gets on my nerves i think someone shoul rip out his vocal chords, not that it would make any difference bc he sings like he alr has a ripped out throat anyway. Plus th fact that hes racist as hell and also his relationship w hiiro is incredibly toxic 🙄 hiiro should direct his feelings to someone else instead of a stupid piece of shit who only berates him in response methinks