#i feel like i should give my sona a name instead of just calling them rudy....idk any ideas besides glitter maybe

[obscureother]

🌑 ˚x'˙ intro. . ??

Hello. . !! im new to tumblr, so sorry if wonky things happen while im setting this up. im still trying to figure things out guys-

i lurk on other accounts for general content but im closeted n shy so i made this one to yell about things instead so i don’t expose myself to people i know lolol

if you know or find other profiles i own, i request you not expose it for those reasons before im comfortable to.

so this is just an f/o blog/journaling. . thing. I'm not entirely sure what content will be here, but it will be centered around f/os, self-shipping, and its just to give me a place to yell about the people that live in my/your brain rent-free and know they don’t exist but we pretend they do anyway for comfort reasons and serotonin, dopamine, uhh what other things feel good and ok??

some of it will be for you if I happen to think of something, other times it is for me to explode over my fixation f/os!!

youre also welcome to come yell about your f/os if you just need someone to talk to them about!! dont think i know em?? COME OVER and INTRODUCE THEM. you can come in DMs, asks, or however you want to!! id be happy to know your f/o or listen to you talk about them if no one else will :00

This is a comfort blog to me, so there wont be any room for meanness or intended offenses here. Dont come to me with troublesome things or somehow twist/morph my content into something its not, we're just here to have a cool time with our fictional people, bro. . :((

ok who r you tho:

To be honest, I don’t have a name or something to go by as of posting this, I might get one later or just make a new comment all fancy for the pin. . For now you can just call me whatever you deem good or just go off my blog/username!! Don’t be mean tho. i may take one you guys think of or figure it out on my own.

they/them

im 21 yo. (if youre a minor, i dont mind you coming to say hello, but do look below the other stuff content for what you need to look out for. you should also know some of you goofy kiddos have energies i dont know how to respond to sometimes, so dont worry if i get awkward or something, its not your fault lolol.)

im in college, so forgive me if im slow, im also just not on tumblr very often :v i dont ghost people on purpose i swEaR-

i might post my f/os on a whole list, idk yet, but theyll prolly be mentioned sometimes to the very least. you can def ask of them tho!! (edited: i made an f/o list if you want to see them.)

i dont know if ill post content of my own f/os or me/my sona for them, but it could be there.

i dont mind sharing f/os!! id love to yell about them together. if you dont like that, then its ok!! i either wont talk about them with you so you can be their person when we talk of them, or you can just block/not interact. ill be sad i dont get to meet you, but its ok.

other stuff:

Nothing explicit/detailed will normally be posted. but: The worst there will be is just being hormonally silly from kind of "rrr ovaries go brr, chew on theM-" energy of my f/os. i will try to create a tag to mark it with so you can exclude honky content if you want or need to later, tho. from what i know, you can "block" tags. . so i think that will work if you like the other goofy stuff on the blog??

(edited: I DID IT, I DID THEM, LOOK: 🌑obscure tags list for the obscure blog )

NSFW talk can be in DMs, tho.

DO NOT come to me with those concepts if youre a minor tho, oh dear GOD. honky grown-up talk is not for you goofy child-folk.

LGBTQ+ friendly!! im nonbinary and love everybody. youre ok too. 💙

i do roleplay sometimes, but only in dms n please dont go exposing our roleplays to others. . i would be very not comfy :"0

if you want to roleplay, you can dm me to ask but i dont have to say yes or i might not be able to. im slow too dfsdf=

i may or may not make a side blog once i figure out how to do stuff, but know that until then, im going to just post whatever on this one til i know how to do things on tumblr lolol.

forgive me if some of my content gets deleted, edited, whatever as we go. like i said, this whole thing is very new to me and its not very organized for now. its just there. its gonna get wonky over here on my side for a bit.

• tiny bat gif •

#f/o community #introduction #f/o blog #blog intro

[upagainstthesunset]

Oc name asks from here for Heartbeat (Cadence Claudia Hampton)

Answering these all at once instead of taking asks. I like doing these memes as a way to talk about Heartbeat instead of just rolling her around aimlessly in my mind.

1. how did you come up with their name?

For Heartbeat, I wanted something that was complementary to Metron's. As his name means a unit or a measure, hers is in a sense like that too. It's a regularly occurring pulse. It also works as a speedster name because sometimes people say the phrase "in a heartbeat" to mean right away without hesitation.

And her actual name is Cadence, which is again very much a regularly occuring, repeating thing. A cycle. And it's a musical term on top of that. So her names all fit together very nicely and work on a lot of levels. And i guess I'll also mention Cadence is kind of a subtle nod to Kate. They have a similar sound, but are different names, kind of like how Heartbeat first started as a sona but became her own thing entirely. Part of me is still in there, but only subtly.

2. which parent (if either) chose their name and why?

Her mom, Lorraine, was a talented singer, so Heartbeat was named Cadence because of the musical connection. Earlier in life, Lorraine was abducted for having a portion of the Anti Life Equation in her, and during that time met Claudia Shane, who was much more involved with Orion and Darkseid's goings on. That's about where canon ends for these two women, so I took some liberties and in my OC's story they became close friends. I think the two could've bonded over a shared traumatic event like that. So when Lorraine had a kid, she gave her the middle name of Claudia.

And of course the name Heartbeat came from Metron inadvertently. He mistook what she was mumbling about as her name, but when she tried to correct him, she realized she had no memories. So he kept calling her Heartbeat since there wasn't an immediate alternative.

3. do they like their name?

For most of the story Heartbeat doesn't know her real name, but she probably wouldn't have any problem with it.

At first she feels weird about being called Heartbeat because to her that isn't a name, but she gets used to it. Eventually she comes to cherish that name because it was given to her by Metron.

4. is their name easy to pronounce?

It seems to be!

5. is their name common enough to find on a gift shop key chain?

Definitely not for Heartbeat, doubtful for Cadence but who knows maybe.

6. how many names do they have in their full name?

Three! First, middle and last.

7. what titles accompany their name? official or otherwise?

No titles.

8. what nicknames do they have? do they like any of them?

Sometimes I refer to her as HB for shorthand writing, but in the canon of her story she doesnt have any nicknames. Maybe i should give her one.

9. if they have a partner, do they use pet names? if so, what are they?

Not at all, i think pet names would make her cringe.

10. if they want children, what names would they pick for them and why?

She's nowhere near wanting kids and has never given names a single thought.

#ocheartbeat #metron if i fits i sits

[gabberteeth]

teh funniez 🌈

#fursona #furrycore #rainbowcore #randomcore #uhh i dunnoe if this counts as sc3ne sooo o3o ima leave it out #hatenacore #is dat a thing even???? #i feel like i should give my sona a name instead of just calling them rudy....idk any ideas besides glitter maybe #super neat art tag! #cringecore #sum1said it counts..soooo! #scene #scenecore #scene furry #scenecore furry #sparkledog #sparklecat #[theyr a cat but the sparkdog tag is more known i assume XD] #eyestrain #eye strain #IDK HOW I 4GOT THOSE MY BAD

[incorrectmadrigalfamilyquotes]

Hullo again coolio person !!

Not an ask about the question game, but we were just wondering what ocs you have since I heard you mention ‘em (We have like a lot of ocs and we want more people to bond over with our ocs)

OMG OMG OMG THIS ASK MAKES ME SO HAPPY OH MY GOD TYSM FRIEND FOR THIS OPPORTUNITY I'VE BEEN KEEPING THIS IN THE DRAFTS FOR A WHILE NOW SINCE I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO REACT (/POS) BUT I'M JUST FILLED TO THE BRIM WITH OC BRAINROT AND IT MAKES ME SO GIDDY SEEING SOMEONE ASK ME ABOUT THIS TYSM FOR THIS AGAIN JULIAN YOU KIND, KIND SOUL WE SHOULD DEF INTERACT MORE SOMETIME YOU SEEM LIKE SUCH A COOL PERSON OMFG AND SORRY FOR REPLYING SO LATE I TOTALLY FORGOT 😭😭

anyways, the ocs i have currently compiled do not belong to any set fandom as of now and only exist as characters i may use for roleplays, lore building, practice, etc etc. i did use to have ocs belonging to fandoms but i've grown out of them since their creation and have since moved on to making my own original content <3

the ocs i did used to have in fandoms were most of the time cringey and embarrassing to look at; the memories i had with them weren't embarrassing however but anybody who makes ocs can mostly agree with me here when i say, old ocs... some— no. correction: most of them are bad. if not all of them. and that's not necessarily a bad thing.

moving on, i have no idea which oc to go first but i might as well just describe some of them in the simplest format possible to save everyone some time (disclaimer: most of them need therapy):

first off we have a zombie guy with amnesia who does stand-up comedy sometimes (he's like a sona-oc-whatever the fuck hybrid i draw sometimes. he's great. don't have a name for him yet but i just call him c for simplicity.)

a token white man vampire hottie (marshall) with daddy issues and an unchecked superiority complex he needs to work on. yes, i know he has the same name as marshall lee from adventure time, who did you think i based him off of?

the little mermaid's long lost australian danish sister (cecile/cecilia) but instead of daddy issues she has stepmommy problems! and... a manic pixie dream girl/"i can fix him" complex she needs to get checked on...

aroace homeless incubus (thomas). a personal favorite of mine.

a literal god trapped in the body of a dorky highschool boy (blake) as punishment for being an absolute diva in heaven. i detest him very much (affectionately).

a literal genderless god (indigo) who's trapped in the same punishment as the previous guy except voluntarily! they're dating and have homoerotic staring contests most of the time 😊

batshit insane furry woman (belle).

batshit insane furry woman's batshit depressed anemic twin (johan).

that's all i can share atm.

have a good day, sorry for the late reply again, julian, didn't mean to keep you waiting <3

if anybody wants to talk about their ocs (encanto related or not) and stuff, feel free to flood my dms. if i don't reply i'm probably busy or forgot to respond but still— shoot your shot! go girl (gnc) give us everything!

#vas posts #not quote #ask reply

[rosiedabbless]

Thomastair Bakery Shop AU : Sweet Things

Chapter 4 : Blackberry Muffins

Cordelia nearly hopped over to them as soon as Alastair and James entered the house.

"Dadash!!!! Guess who's coming!!!"

"Your stupid gossipy 'friends'?"

"Ugh! No- who's gonna invite them? I don't even talk to them anymore. Neither does Jamie."

James nodded in agreement before setting the cake down on the table and accepting a kiss on the cheek from Cordelia. "I had news for you too but go ahead I guess."

Cordelia widened her eyes in mock surprise. "Did you, my bff since kindergarten, really tell me to go ahead instead of fighting me to speak first- who are you and what have you done to my bestie and boyfriend?"

James chuckled. "Well it's your birthday."

"True."

Alastair rolled his eyes. "I'm still here so stop flirting and tell me."

"Lucie is in town!!!!!"

"I was gonna give you the exact same piece of information!"

"Well your sister called me and said she was coming and bringing some of her friends with her too. I am so excited!!!"

"There goes my position of your bff."

"Aww, you're still my boyfriend though. Unless I change my mind."

"Don't you dare-"

Alastair had to interrupt again. "I am still here so please refrain from the flirting for now. I'm gonna go help Risa, Maman and Farhad with whatever they need help with."

As Alastair left, he heard Cordelia and James talking excitedly about Lucie and speculating which of her friends she'd bring. He smiled to himself.

His sister was in good hands.

Sona and Farhad were busy decorating the hall– once upon a time used as the ballroom– with Risa. As Alastair entered, Farhad ran to him. "Dadash! Look I did that!" He pointed at a corner decorated with balloons.

Alastair picked him up and ruffled his hair. "You did a great job."

Farhad beamed.

Sona smiled at them. "Lucie called while you were gone."

"Yeah Layla told me. Turns out James was about to provide us with the same information."

"I heard Lucie has some very handsome friends. And since they're friends with her, they must be very nice too. Why don't you settle down too now, Esfandiyār? Look how Layla has."

"Maman, we are not having this conversation again."

"She is not wrong, you know." Risa chimed in.

"No. Not this conversation again. Definitely not now."

As Alastair carried his little brother to the corner they were assigned to decorate.

"Dadash?"

"Hm?"

"What does it mean to 'settle down'? Is it like how Layla has Jamie?" Asked Farhad as he handed Alastair the colourful ribbons.

"You will know when you grow up, Farhad."

"Everyone says that whenever I ask something." Farhad pouted.

Alastair ruffled his hair. "You're too young, joon. But yeah, it is kind of like Layla and James."

Farhad oohed. "Then I also think you should settle down. Jamie is so cool. If you get a cool boyfriend it will be so fun!"

Alastair chuckled. "Let's talk about that later. Now are you excited for Layla's birthday?"

Farhad nodded excitedly. "Lucie is also coming right? It will be so cool!!"

"It will. Now hand me that balloon right there-"

The two brothers worked together as time passed by.

***Key : Farhad means "feeling of great happiness". It is the name of a character from Shahnameh, the Persian epic Alastair and Cordelia's middle names were taken from.

Taglist : @shadowrunner2000 @shadowhunting-hooligans @revvs-trash @life-through-the-eyes-of @herondalesunsetcurve @livingformyself @merry-thieves @totalbookmaniac @ddepressedbookworm @proofthatshithappend @melanielocke @obsessive-sapphic @have-a-holly-jolly-angstmas @thomaslightwood @carstairrs @the-enchanted-dreamer @haline-of-troy @thewraitth-deactivated20211103 @jesperisamfbicon @fortheloveofthecarstairs @emablckthrn @corvid-idiot @thisismyusernamedealwithit @isla-kady-blackwood @just-gm @fuckthepatriarchytv @thestarkster1465 @azure301 @myangelbach (ask me to be added or removed) (I combined my snippets and fic taglist here, i hope that's okay)

#alastair carstairs #thomas Iightwood #thomastair #thomastair bakery shop au #thomastair au #matthew fairchild #James herondale #heronchild #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #tlh #the last hours #chain of gold #cog #chain of iron #coi #chain of thorns #cot #rosiedabbless #sweet things #let's bite de queue-incey

[sun-lit-roses]

Are you assigning rose-sonas??? Because that's a concept I could really get behind and I would like a rose-sona 😂

MY TRUE CALLING

I feel that assigning a rose-sona is a heavy responsibility, so instead I will offer a rose-sona option that may or may not be your true rose-self. Only you can connect with your inner rose 😁

In that spirit, I would humbly suggest the Over the Moon rose. The name is *chef's kiss* and the color is the loveliest apricot, which I think goes well with your blog theme! Like all tea roses, the colors can shift depending upon the sun and weather, which is just the sort of magic that we all need. (Also, I only considered hybrid tea roses. Modern roses are very pretty, but have almost no scent. What is a rose without a delicious scent?? This rose smells lovely and rosy, as it should.)

They are a very stubborn rose, and don't give into the doubters (like those downers: bugs and rose diseases). Also, bees find them very attractive, and bees have excellent taste:

(Image courtesy of Heirloom Roses)

#rose #rose-sona #i got to look up so many roses #and now i *want* all of the roses #my new goal in life is to be a rose hoarder #this was fun! #i now have the urge to pick out rose-sonas for everyone i know

[greaterlandscapes]

My Dean Blunt Rotation aka High Fidelity Left A Bad Taste in My Mouth

For the past 2 to 3 months, my listening habits were teetering to an end; mostly via burnout by spontaneously listening to local artists daily and less likely of a musical discovery drought, whereas my interests of a certain artist or genre hasn't found its, sort of, "eureka", moment per se. I've been feeling less enthusiastic over the things i listen to since my friends have gradually lost their flare when it comes to discovering/exploring untapped parts of the music realm. Thus, in return, my enthusiasm not being reciprocated. It leaves an empty feeling from someone who has been yearning social interaction, may it be media being latched on the topic - it's a feeling that's been guilt-tripping me ever since I was stranded in the other end of the metro. I feel closed off, exposed to the crippling loneliness the lockdown has punished us: a defacto solitary confinement in a national level. Our act of staying online is also an act of staying alive outside.

To be fair though, it's a valid move to not boomerang compliments/gripes over an art you haven't consumed due to someone's autonomy. Your able body being to consume the art you wish to finish with free time is a luxury in of itself. The art is then failed to serve its purpose to reach its goal: You have squiggly lines heading straight to oblivion rather than swirling in the earlobes of a wandering cyber nomad. We, eventually, need to find something that could help us exit, rather than escape, from capital. We, in return, do not shut ourselves from the outside. Instead, we then tend to avoid the stress of protocols and outdoor fascism; Not avoid the indoor liberalism that is eating us alive and online. It's a capital punishment we never knew we signed up for ever since the onslaught of the virus and the state. Art for art's sake is nonexistent now, always has been, it seizes to ever since we went inside. Feeding off of a holographic meatloaf coming from a glowing screen. We have a real-life Karen acting as a nightlight in our rooms.

The COVID lockdown made us listen to music — both for better, for worse. For one, it made us pass most days. You could say the same for any sort of media: film, mixed media art, or whatever pre-Covid activity that sprung up during our time in isolation. For music, however, there was an uptick of new listeners that made others Wheel-of-Fortune the fuck out of their music discoveries in sites like RateYourMusic, Bandcamp, or even Sophie's Floorboard. We've continued to expand and became more open change of opinions and be less of a jackass towards someone else's opinions. On second thought, our opinions have been catalogued, leaving more notes than actual footprints of our previous listens. Our new discoveries made new bands and re-emerging bands, bands who faded to obscurity, crawl back in the surface with newfound interest from younger listeners (ie Panchiko, Jai Paul, and Dean Blunt) and this glowing, previously unseen and unexpected overwhelming support from fans of departed artists (ie SOPHIE, MF DOOM)

For the other, we've hogged gratuitous amounts of media, resulting into losing our primary direction as to how we want to consume our media based on the preconceived notions of what we want in our art. There is goodness in becoming directionless when you think about it, but there comes a cost to our identity as music listeners. Instead, we end up widening our tangents, falling in endless rabbit holes, having zero chances to emerge from the surface. In fact, i refuse to call it a "rabbit hole" instead i'd rather call it a "pipeline" of sorts — transitioning casual music fans into a full on, different, unique versions of themselves that would define them when laws and protocols have eased in the outside world. Our act of staying online has either made most of us break our character or enliven our past selves. The music pipeline is now more apparent, stretching the norms of what was once alienated by a silent majority, but now accepted as an acceptable form of expression. The more music we are exposed to has made casual listeners stranged out or react in ways that our personality have betrayed us or deemed not as acceptable to them. Still, not changing anything that was prominent pre-pandemic. Liberal cop behavior is stronger, now more dangerous than it ever was once perceived by the outside world.

HIGH FIDELITY? NO, THANK YOU.

Imagine a situation inside of a record, pre-pandemic of course, where you do not feel like lifting a record out from the shelf, instead, you window shop just for the sake of windowshopping. Capital and media made us think that going to record shops is a semi-productive activity. The age of discovery has died ever since High Fidelity romanticized and normalized the incelage of horny record diggers. Does this movie age well, yeah sure it does, for old 90s nerds at least. But did it translate well over in the past 20 or more years of events and tragedies that unfolded in pre-9/11 America? No it didn't. It was an age of free expression, only liberals would dream of whenever they take a sip of Guinness beer in their favorite dive bar.

Mind you, over a couple of months ago, it was my only chance in seeing why this movie was the talk of the town back when it was released. There's music, yeah, and attractive leading leadies, yeah, it has everything a 90s kid would love to salivate and drop their gonads over while they watch this movie. I obviously did not live to see the movie on opening day but i could imagine the scent that came out of that movie theater with attendees donning windbreakers and The Who shirts with popcorn dressing stains on their plastic cups. If there was a Filipino counterpart to this movie, i'd bet corporate champions Eraserheads and Rivermaya would soundtrack their music over and have either Tado or have Boy 2 Quizon, but i sense it to age like milk more than it could age like fine wine due to the senseless jokes one can execute in a Cubao or Cartimar record store.

John Cusack is obviously the incel in question here: a damaged, vengeful ex who constantly fails to live his partner's expectations and weaponizes his personality over the situations that has nothing to do with his interests. I spent the entire time being absolutely disgusted over the spineless responses of John Cusack's leading character. The movie then treads on flashbacks with John Cusack's failed relationships and what he could do to move on from each and one of them. If i could stand a SONA for 3 hours then I can't stand John Cusack being the dull entry point to incel, making more reasons why you should hate record store clerks who don't give an iota of shits to someone's inviting rapport. High Fidelity is opium for massive music circle jerks who can't take a single breathe of fresh air or a single quota of touching grass. There's more targeting weak and inferior guys and hot women who dump dumb overconfident dudebros more than the actual "music recs" in the entire movie. The more I think about this movie, the more I realize how our personality is in line towards Dick, the record store being unmercifully dunked on by the movie's two leading characters. He's an angel in the world of cynical bastards, witnessing both demons pitchforking record store customers in the ass while they're purchasing the latest Sonic Youth album.

I believe that Jack Black, the dark horse of High Fidelity, has a pleasing personality more than an irritating demeanor due to this behavior in the record store. In fact, outside of the record store, Jack Black doesn't seem to take the business is your pleasure act pretty seriously. Unlike John Cusack's character he brought his obsession over involving a record in an important memory/point of his life. There is so much stuff that has happened outside of the record store, so much for Rolling Stone and NME being the bible of music at the time, endlessly christening and shilling artists that believe to become the second coming of the Beatles. The music references here however are treated as fluff than it is a mechanism that would drive the senseless plot forward. If anything, there are events pointed out in the event that doesn't have anything to do with the life of the characters.

If anything, this movie did a great job at capturing the feeling of music bros being dumped on the wayside by a mature set of characters and how their current conditions aren't perfumed by the studios' liking of having to Cinderella story the shit out of a bunch of normal record store owners. The reality is in the reaction of one's social capital being invaded and we're here to witness how those reactions panned out in 2021. This is a villainous depiction of music nerds being the salt of the earth, the bane of all media discussion, still reflective of the insufferable salt of cyberspace found in music forums like 4chan and RYM. High Fidelity is a pipeline of 90s musicology, a dreaded fever dream of an owner waiting for the decade to end, trends ossifying and re-emerged by the hands of nostalgia-savvy individuals. It was, at its time, every music-movie nerd's excuse equivalent of Scott Pilgrim VS. The World. There are memories worth remembering and cherishing, and this movie isn't one of them.

DEAN BLUNT, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

In the past two weeks I've been fancying myself into sitting down and listening to different projects from the ever elusive, UK-based sound artist Dean Blunt. The first time i chanced upon his music wasn't too long ago - albeit a recent one in the time of COVID - was when I randomly stumbled upon his records at a Spotify recommendations section under John Maus (yeah lol i know the implications whenever his name is mentioned) - but then i was enamored by his online presence so quickly I put everything down and dedicated an hour or two researching about this man's music.

Other than the fact that his album "The Redeemer" wasn't the best record to start off in journeying through his discography: ending up disgusted and borderline bored even and I was more likely to lambast this record's aimless, pretentious art-pop inflections. By the end of the day, it was a preference long solidified by his undying fanbase. According to his hardcore fans, the music isn't really music, evaluating it as a free form of sound art, rather than sticking to a structured and conventional cues; the genre is nullified by most analysts of the arts. The growing interest of the general public towards Dean Blunt's pranks and antics have long appealed to my tastes as a chaotic neutral individual. Pranks that are well executed to piss off UK gallery connoisseurs and entertain ironic attendees who'd shit on the art piece rather than participate in it.

More of the resources I've found about Dean Blunt online: numerous aliases and collaborations that lasted around almost 2 decades. The most notable of all them, at least for my money, are either Hype Williams, a duo consisting of Dean and frequent collaborator Inga Copeland, and Babyfather, an art performance parodizing the pirate radio culture in the UK. I have not delved enough in Blunt's body of work to evaluate everything and what i could synthesize from it. For now, I enjoyed it as a form of entertainment. Well, color me impressed because Dean Blunt isn't clowning around, he, in fact, makes blissful and transcendental music from left to right.

Dean Blunt was the only few artists that made me want to binge on their discography. His movements in his music has attracted this pesky listener who thinks that being mysterious is a plus. I mean, look at me who thinks The Paul Institute, Panchiko, and Burial are the greatest artists that have walked the face of the earth.

The most I've enjoyed from Dean Blunt's discography are his mixtapes and collaborations: preferably his Soul Fire and ZUSHI, both of which were packaged as B-sides or supplemental releases rather than major releases such as the Babyfather project or the Black Metal releases. His knack for blurring the lines between genres still fascinate me as of this writing, and it continues to amaze me how he doesn't seize to compromise his art, he's here to prove a point and it sells quite well despite the lack of direction in his music. Blunt's music has more aggressive and hazy texture than the hollow, wide, soulless structure of art-pop/hypnagogic pop released today. He creates terrains from the rubble of his country's current shortcomings. The music overlaps the actual intentions with abstract concepts, becoming deconstructed down the line. In Babyfather, noise music coincides with Blunt's amateurish rapping. In Black Metal, Blunt isolates himself along with the assisted skeletal guitar playing. Both projects throwing all tropes in a vaccum alongside Blunt, who he himself would sought to become a personification of a musical void.

--

(Excerpt from the Babyfather album review in TinyMixtapes)

--

Dean Blunt is an entity that wishes to become one person, but no, this isn't a figure in a specific art form; this isn't Banksy, this isn't Bob Ong, this is made by one person, clearly it is if you listen closely, and it's been entrancing me ever since his presence was felt on the horizons of the internet. Dean Blunt, what the actual fuck.

#dean blunt #high fidelity #music #film #music review #2021 #hype williams #Youtube

[bellakitse]

Of cute beagles and decidedly cuter owners

For @gra-sonas who had this excellent post and let me use it. I hope this is fluffy enough for you, hon!

Michael, Rosa, Kyle, and Jenna just moved into a new place that doesn't allow pets, luckily across the street is the cutest beagle ever. Rosa is ready to plan a dog-nap, Michael suggests writing a note to the owner instead.

All Rosa wants is to play with Buffy, while all Michael wants is Buffy's owner.

Michael arrives home sometime after six p.m., the hallway of the modest townhouse he and his roommates moved into, still has boxes lying around. They've been in the two-story home for three weeks now. But with work and school, no one has found the time to finish unpacking. Michael has his new teaching post at the university while he works on his doctorate. Kyle has medical school. Jenna, a rookie cop, works crazy hours, and Rosa, their resident artist, has been using all her waking hours to work on a set of pieces she hopes will end up in the city’s next art exhibit. None of them have been particularly motivated to put boxes away, but Michael is starting to think he’s going to have to say something soon, or there’s a chance the boxes will become part of the décor.

“Guerin!” Jenna greets from the kitchen as he makes it into the living room. “Thai or Chinese for dinner?”

“Whatever Valenti doesn’t want,” he calls back out to her, smirking when he hears the man in question curse at him from the kitchen. He hears a chuckle and turns to find Rosa in her favorite spot of the house, the big bay windows. It was the selling point for Rosa when they decided to rent the place together.

“You have to start getting along with him eventually, Michael,” she says, not looking up from her sketching pad.

“Do I have to?” Michael questions as he drops his bag on the couch and walks over to her, lifting her legs to sit down. He leans over to sneak a peek at what she’s working on to find the drawing of a beagle.

“It would help,” Rosa says, a smirk on her face. “We did sign a one-year lease, you’re stuck until then.”

“Cute dog,” he points at her work, instead of acknowledging her comment.

“It belongs to the neighbor across the street, I saw them this morning,” she explains with a smile that turns into a frown moments later. “It sucks that we can’t have a pet here.”

Michael nods; he’s heard all three of his roommates complain about it. Their landlord had killed their hopes for a pet before they signed on the dotted line of their lease.

“I love that expression,” Michael points at the drawing, the beagle has an impressive resting bitch face.

Rosa laughs, nodding in agreement. “I only saw them for a second, but that face is memorable. I had to stop myself from running across the street to beg the owner to let me play with his dog, probably would have freaked the guy out.”

Michael chuckles at the comment, Rosa is the more impulsive one of them all, he could totally picture her on a puppy-high scaring some poor guy into thinking that he was going to get robbed for his dog.

“We just moved in, Rosa, can we maybe wait a few weeks before scaring off the neighbors?” he teases, laughing when she gives him an unimpressed look.

“You’re supposed to be the fun one, Michael,” Rosa pouts. “Kyle and Jenna are the strict, boring ones. You should be helping me plan a dog-nap.”

Michael opens his mouth, only to be interrupted by Kyle and Jenna walking into the living room.

“What’s this about a dog-napping?” Kyle questions, coming to sit down on the couch. Jenna sits next to him, leaning into his space. Her hair is messed up, and her lipstick smudged off, some of it transferred to Kyle’s white polo.

Michael and Rosa look at them, and then at each other, wrinkling their noses in distaste. This is what they get for moving in with a couple who can’t keep their hands off each other.

“Whatever you did in our kitchen, I hope you disinfected it,” Rosa comments still making a face. Michael nods in agreement, a part of him a little jealous of what Kyle and Jenna have. He wants someone to make out with in the kitchen, someone to smile at him the way Jenna and Kyle smile at each other. Something real, like what they have.

Kyle blushes under Rosa’s judging look, but Jenna just rolls her eyes, running her hand through Kyle's hair to settle him.

“Dog-napping, Rosa?” she questions, getting back on track.

“Oh!” Rosa lightens up at the mention, and Michael is starting to worry about just how serious she is. “The beagle across the street, it’s precious.”

“I saw it the other day,” Kyle says with a smile of his own. “Very cute dog.”

“Very cute owner, too,” Jenna comments, tugging on Kyle’s hair when he pouts, it says more than Michael needs to know about their relationship.

“True,” Rosa agrees after a moment, thinking about it. “But not so cute that I’m not totally willing to steal his dog.”

“We haven’t even been here a month,” Michael speaks before Rosa can really get going. “Let’s not commit a crime just yet.”

Rosa exhales loudly like she thinks he’s the biggest party-pooper ever, for not encouraging the stealing of an animal. “What do you suggest then? Because I need to cuddle that dog, bad.”

Michael thinks for a moment before his eyes light up with an idea. He pulls Rosa’s sketch pad and pencil out of her lap. “We can write the owner a note asking if we can meet his dog,” Michael suggests, quickly composing the letter when no one says no. “Dog people understand crazy dog love.”

“Tell them they have the best dog,” Rosa instructs him.

“Ask what treats it likes,” Kyle chips in, getting into it.

“We can take it for a walk if they’re too busy,” Jenna adds, just as excited.

He finishes the note, signing it with all their names and adding Rosa’s drawing. “There. I’ll drop it off in the morning,” he says satisfied, the others nod seemingly pleased themselves. “Now, about dinner…”

*

Michael doesn’t think about it the next day, he tapes the note to their neighbor’s front door and goes to the university where he spends the day teaching freshmen in his Engineering Physics class. It’s only when he gets back home and finds Rosa practically vibrating with excitement that he even remembers about their neighbor and their dog.

“They wrote back, Michael!” she shouts as soon as he walks through the door, waving a piece of paper in the air.

“Who?”

“Buffy Manes!” Rosa exclaims, rolling her eyes at him when he doesn’t answer. “That’s the beagle’s name, look they left a note.”

Michael takes the piece of paper, instantly charmed by the paw print on the back.

It starts:

‘To my new friends, Michael, Rosa, Kyle and Jenna’

Thank you for your nice letter! It made my tail wag all night. The drawing was so good, whoever drew it is very talented, a perfect likeness.

My name is Buffy Manes, and I’m 4-years-old. I love treats of any kind. I love playing catch, -tennis balls are my favorite- and digging holes.

I am the bestest girl! Thank you for noticing, my dad tells me that every day.

I would very much like to meet my new friends, so I’m giving you my dad’s number, call any time.

Sincerely,

Buffy and Alex Manes

505-718-2035

 “Okay,” Michael starts, a smile tugging at his face. “This is seriously fucking cute.”

“She liked my drawing,” Rosa says happily, which Michael finds hilarious. “And her name is Buffy, how adorable is that? If it’s for Buffy, the vampire slayer, this Alex guy is my new best friend. He has the cutest dog and good taste in 90’s tv shows, we need to call them, now.”

“What about Kyle and Jenna?”

Rosa waves his question away. “They went on a date,” she says, tugging at his shirt impatiently. “Let’s call.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs as he pulls out his phone and dials the number, ringing a few times before someone picks up.

“Manes,” greets a deep voice that makes Michael stand up straighter as it sends a shiver up his spine. That is a very nice voice.

“Um, hi, Alex?” he starts, suddenly nervous. “This is Michael, your neighbor from across the street, my roommates and I left you a note about your dog, Buffy?”

“Right,” Alex says, letting out a soft chuckle. “With the drawing, it was really good.”

“Thanks,” Michael says, grunting when Rosa pokes him. “That was Rosa, she’s the artist, and she’s in love with your dog.”

“You’re not?” Alex questions, sounding a little offended.

“I’m actually the only one of my roommates that hasn’t seen Buffy,” he admits, as Alex makes an amused noise. “But I’m sure she’s great, her letter was perfect. Did it take long to teach her how to write?”

Alex laughs, making Michael feel pleased and oddly proud. “No, she’s a genius, it took no time at all.”

“Well you should be very proud,” he jokes getting another laugh out of Alex. “So anyway, we were hoping that we could arrange that meet-up with Buffy, and you, of course, any time you want,” he rushes to say, ignoring the way Rosa is looking at him.

“We’re home now,” Alex starts, a little hesitant. “If you want to come over.”

“Now?” Michael questions to which Rosa starts nodding vigorously. “It would just be Rosa and me, Kyle and Jenna are out, is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex breathes, sounding more at ease. “That’s probably better actually, I don’t do great with a lot of people. We’ll meet you two outside in 10?”

“Okay,” Michael says quickly. “See you guys in a few, thanks.”

“Not a problem, Michael,” Alex says before hanging up. He decides then and there that he likes the way Alex says his name.

“Were you really flirting with a stranger over the phone?” Rosa questions incredulously.

“No!” Michael denies, blushing when Rosa raises an eyebrow at him. “Maybe?”

Rosa shakes her head at him, amused more than anything else. “Keep your head in the game Guerin, we are in it for the dog. Let’s go.”

Michael follows Rosa out of their home, she’s practically shaking by the time they cross the street and open Alex’s gate.

“Don’t freak them out,” he warns. “Alex said he’s not the best with people.”

“I’ll behave,” she promises just as their neighbor’s door opens.

A robust beagle comes out first, followed by what has to be the most beautiful man Michael has ever seen. He has tousled dark hair, big deep brown eyes, cheekbones that could cut glass, and full pink lips quirked up into a hesitant smile. The rest of him is perfect too, strong shoulders and arms, wrapped in a soft-looking grey Henley, and he’s in a pair of black jeans that hug his legs nicely. As he takes a step forward, Michael notices the crutch in his left hand.

“Michael, Rosa?” he questions as he comes down two short steps, standing before them.

“Hi,” Michael breathes, if possible, Alex is even more gorgeous up close, especially when he smiles at Michael.

“Hi,” he greets back at him, before looking at Rosa to give her a smile of her own. “Well, you didn’t come to see me,” he says, looking down at his dog, who is standing faithfully at his side, waiting. “This is Buffy.”

Buffy looks up at him at her name.

“They’re here for you, baby girl,” he speaks to her. “Greet.”

The moment Alex says the command, Buffy leaves his side, making her way toward Rosa as she gets down to her knees to pet her. Buffy’s tail starts wagging excitedly the second Rosa starts to pet her.

“Who’s a good girl,” Rosa coos at Buffy. “You are, you’re such a good girl, so sweet.”

“She’s a therapy dog,” Alex tells them with a proud look on his face as he watches his dog. Michael bends down too, letting Buffy sniff his hand first, chuckling when she starts to lick it.

“She’s very friendly,” Michael comments, looking up at Alex, his breath catching when he finds Alex’s eyes on him.

Alex nods, his expression soft. “She likes to make friends.”

“We can be her friends,” Rosa says quickly, as she rubs the top of Buffy’s head, looking back at Alex. “Her name? Is it because of the show?”

“Yeah, when my friend Maria and I picked her at the shelter, she said that Buffy would slay my demons,” Alex says with a slight laugh. “It stuck, so I named her Buffy.”

Michael bites down on his lip as he stands up, he does it to keep from asking what Alex’s demons are, wanting to know everything about him.

The rest of the visit, they’re on Alex’s porch. Rosa plays with Buffy, while Michael stares at Alex like an idiot as he tells them cute anecdotes about his dog. He shares a little bit about himself with them, each tidbit Michael stores away for later. He learns that Alex was in the Air Force until he got hurt. Alex knocks on his leg, which Buffy responds by leaving the belly rubs Rosa is giving her to press her small head against her owner’s leg. The gesture obviously meant to comfort him, which going by the smile on Alex’s face it does. He still does military work but as a private contractor and mostly from home and has had Buffy since his enlistment ended, and he hasn’t been in town too long, only a few months.

“I don’t really know much around here,” he comments with a shrug. “The base, the market, and the dog park, but that’s pretty much it.”

“I can show you around,” Michael blurts out before he can stop himself, he feels himself go hot as he feels Rosa’s eyes burn into the side of his face. He knows the second they’re alone; she’s going to mock the hell out of him.

Alex starts to smile only to look over at Rosa. “Umm,” Alex begins nervously, and Michael realizes with surprising clarity that Alex thinks they’re together.

Luckily Rosa seems to notice too, jumping in before he can make a fool of himself. “You guys should go,” she says with a grin. “This loser barely goes out himself, it’s just home and the university for him. Sad, really.”

“You’re just as bad as me,” he argues, trying to defend himself. “When’s the last time you went out?”

“Last week,” Rosa says smugly. “I met up with that hot blonde who modeled for me a few weeks ago, she showed me her portfolio,” she continues, waggling her eyebrows which makes Alex laugh. “You guys could go get a bite, and I can stay and hang with Buffy.”

Alex smirks at her, his eyes dancing with amusement. “That’s really what you’re after, isn’t it?”

“I’ll be honest, you can turn out to be Dahmer and eat Guerin,” Rosa says bluntly, ignoring him when he makes a noise of protest. “I’m cool as long as I get to keep playing with your dog.”

Alex looks at her, letting out a low whistle.

“As you can see, I need better friends,” Michael says, shooting Rosa a glare. “Do you want to go get something to eat?”

Alex bites down on his bottom lip, and it takes everything in Michael not to lean in and do it for him. “Now?”

Michael nods. “No time like the present.”

Alex smiles softly at him, there is a slight rosy color on his cheeks that makes Michael’s heart skip a beat. “Okay, let me get my wallet.”

“And I get to watch Buffy?” Rosa asks hopefully, as he stands. “I’ll take real good care of her, give you picture updates and everything.”

Alex looks at Rosa for a moment before nodding, his amusement obvious. “Sure, she’s really mellow, so I don’t see it being a problem if you really want to watch her.”

“Alex, you’re my new best friend,” Rosa says with a serious expression on her face.

“I’m sure that would mean more to him if you hadn’t just offered your current best friend up to be eaten,” Michael grumbles at her.

Alex laughs as he heads inside.

“This is where you say thank you,” Rosa whispers at him.

Michael frowns at her.”You did nothing,” he answers, getting a snort back.

“I just wing-womaned the shit out of this,” Rosa gripes. “You were just staring at him like a smitten idiot.”

Michael hates that he can’t argue with the truth, and in a fit of childishness, sticks his tongue out at her.

“Mature,” Rosa laughs as Alex comes back.

He gives them a curious look as he closes his door, leash in hand. “We usually go for a walk at seven,” he says, handing Rosa the leash after attaching it to Buffy. “She likes the park two blocks away.”

Rosa nods as she starts walking towards the gate with Buffy. He and Alex follow behind them, crossing the street back to their place where his truck is parked.

“We’ll go for a lovely walk, don’t worry,” Rosa promises.

Alex kneels down to rub Buffy under her chin, getting a lick for his troubles.

“Be good Buffy, I’ll be back soon,” he says tenderly before pressing a kiss on the top of her head, it makes something inside Michael flutter behind his ribcage.

Standing back to his feet, he walks over to Michael, giving him a charmed look when Michael opens the door of his truck for him.

“Have fun you two,” Rosa tells them as Michael puts the car in drive. She picks up Buffy and heads inside.

“You just made her night,” he tells Alex as he starts to drive downtown.

“I’m glad,” Alex answers, flashing him a smile. “You said in your note that you guys can’t have pets?”

“Grumpy landlord,” Michael explains.

Alex makes a face. “That really sucks. I got lucky, my landlady didn’t seem big on pets either, I wasn’t even going to interview for the place, but I brought Buffy with me and explained that she’s my therapy dog and I guess Buffy won her over. It’s hard resisting her face.”

“Probably hard resisting yours too,” Michael blurts out, already cringing before the words are completely out of his mouth. He keeps his eyes on the road to avoid looking at Alex, but after a moment of silence, he can’t help but sneak a peek at him. There’s a shy smile on Alex’s face, and his eyes are welcoming as he looks back at Michael, making him feel more confident to continue. “It’s a very nice face.”

Alex’s smile grows until he’s laughing softly, shaking his head at Michael's boldness. “You have a very nice face too, Michael.”

Michael grins to himself, his heart beating faster with excitement. He parks the car outside his favorite Mexican restaurant. “Hope you like tacos,” he says as he gets out, going around the car to Alex’s door.

“Are you even allowed to live in New Mexico if you don’t like tacos?” he questions, passing Michael his crutch. He gets out, and Michael reaches out his hand at his waist to steady him, his body responding instantly when Alex lets out a small gasp at his touch.

Michael lifts his eyes to Alex’s face, finding his gaze already on him, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, and Mickael knows Alex just felt the same spark he did at their touch. He steps in closer, crowding Alex in the door, his pulse spiking when Alex’s eyes drift down to his mouth.

“Proposal,” he starts, his voice low.

Alex hums softly, his body seemed to sway, brushing against his, his eyes half-closed.

“We turn this into a date,” Michael suggests, smiling at the surprised but happy look Alex gives him.

“How does it differ?” Alex questions with a teasing glint in his eyes.

Michael squeezes the side of Alex, where his hand still rests. “I get to kiss you at the end of the night,” he answers, inhaling sharply when Alex closes the small space between them, brushing his lips against Michael’s.

Alex takes his crutch and Michael’s hand leading him into the restaurant.

“You should text Rosa,” he throws over his shoulder, giving Michael’s hand a squeeze.

“Why?” Michael asks, still a little dazed from the touch of Alex’s lips.

A couple of hours is too fast to fall in love, right?

Alex turns back to him, a beautiful smile on his even more beautiful face, and Michael decides that, no, a couple of hours is more than enough time to fall in love with Alex Manes.

“To tell her that starting tonight, she’s going to have plenty of opportunities to borrow Buffy if I get to borrow her roommate.”

Michael grins, pulling out his phone even as he pulls Alex back into another kiss, this one deeper and longer as he takes his time, enjoying the taste and the sounds Alex makes. Rosa will be pleased with the arrangement, and he’s good with it too.

#roswell nm #malex fic #malex #michael x alex #my writing #buffy manes

[theraikouhotel]

Massive Headcanon Post

ALRIGHT I HAVE IDEAS!!! I think.... Headcanons below the damn cut because they’ll be separated into different series! God I hope this becomes a thing I do...

Please enjoy!! 

Fate

Raikou’s favourite time of day is dawn. She likes to see the sun coming up and the hope of a new day washes over her, making her look forward to another day of her being not insane as she believes she is. 

Shikibu secretly collects figures of the other Casters and sometimes makes them move with her magic, re-enacting something she sees in her head. She then writes out in her little diary, as if it was the most interesting thing ever when really...she made them kiss with her own figure she had gotten made.

Arturia also does baking on the side whenever she’s alone and she’s made sure that the cafeteria is empty. She’s been caught several times but they let her do her thing as she looked determined to get the recipes down. This is usually to thank everyone who has helped her, especially her master.

Tiamat likes to decorate mindlessly when she’s stressed. She’ll do it usually with Christmas decorations she has in her room, because she likes how fun they look. Sometimes it might be with Halloween ones. The Primordial Mother just likes decorating so much.

Europa sometimes might summon Talos and pet him to calm herself down. Having her bull close to her soothes her, especially when she sees things aren’t going as well. If she doesn’t have her bull, she’ll curl up and try to breathe but it doesn’t work sometimes.

Irisviel isn’t too fond of people badmouthing her children. Especially those she considers her own. She’ll kick the crap out of you so hard that you won’t even get up for the next week.

Black Clover

Asta hates it when people ask about his parents or drill into him that he should have died way too long ago. He’s never had any proper blood parents so he’ll say the Father at the church he was raised at is his dad. But when people say that doesn’t count, he won’t like it. He’ll also say that the belief in his comrades helped him live.

Noelle isn’t actually too close to the Mama Squad. She feels awkward around them. Or any sort of mother figure as she has no idea what to say. She’s also afraid of breaking down in front of them as it’s not becoming of a royal as she has drilled into her head. 

Vanessa only drinks to make sure the lonely thoughts don’t invade her mind. She hates feeling lonely and drinking helps alleviate it. But when she doesn’t, her mind starts playing on the fact that she’ll be alone forever and she just heads to bed, crying.

Bleach

Ichigo has nightmares about Yhwach from time to time. He always thinks about how he could have ended it a lot more quicker so that everyone could have lived. He always imagines several outcomes. But whenever he opens his eyes, he remembers those who have died in the War and it hurts him so much.

Orihime wishes she was as strong as Yoruichi. She has one of the strongest abilities yet she hates how indecisive she can be. She has kept to herself that her kind heart has hindered her so much, even with the amount of people telling her it’s her best trait and one that should be kept as there was enough hate in the world.

Yoruichi often feels like a failure. She has strongly felt this ever since Aizen and it continues to eat away at her even after the Thousand Year Blood War. 

Highschool DxD

Issei often feels like the girls that love him aren’t real. That he’s not really deserving of their love. He has these thoughts that plague his mind every other day that tell him that Rias is lying or that Raynare is actually still alive and is playing tricks on him.

Rias does her best to be there for everyone. But hates how her own duties stops her from doing that which instead makes her rely on Issei to see how everyone is. It’s not just as the alpha female in the harem, it’s as a friend to everyone.

Sona secretly enjoys dressing up with her sister, Serafall, as it reminds her that one day she may not be able to spend much time with her. So she never tells her to go away whenever Serafall is with her, rather she’ll just bear it and blush in embarrassment.

Date A Live

Kotori still enjoys the kids meals at the nearest restaurants as she loves how cute they are always made. She’ll always add it in with another order so she gets to indulge in how cute it is before devouring it.

Kurumi isn’t a big fan crowds. Whilst it does help her with her concealment, she feels her heart race whilst being within them. She has to take a moment in the shadows to get her heart to a more normal rate before going back in there again.

Love Live!

Umi is always the strict one. However, she almost always feels bad when she has to berate someone because in her own home, she has been treated a lot more harshly as the next head of the Sonoda household. But she keeps this fact closely guarded.

Kotori is always thinking about something. Usually about how to get Honoka to be hers only but she never acts upon it. She’d hate that she’d feel horrible if she did make Honoka only hers and “took out” the other competition that is her idol group. So instead, she gets out of this habit through fashion designing.

Mari isn’t actually a big fan of showing her wealth off to other people, only her friends. Sometimes she accidentally does it and then they try and cosy up to her. She hates that. She can see right through them and immediately denies them.

Chika doesn’t actually have many passions except idols. If it weren’t for idols, she would most likely stare blankly into the ceiling of her home as she would take over the Ryokan Inn that her mother owns. She’d just wonder what she was doing, whether or not if existing was right or not.

Karin has been offered various modelling gigs, which is of no surprise. However, there have been times when she has considered going 18+ modelling but refused in the end. She was curious yes but will never do it.  Of course, she’s just about getting by.

Emma has always been Karin’s best friend. They always look out for each other. However, Emma can see whether or not something is bothering Karin but doesn’t ever bring it up. Instead, she just wants to see her happy.

Bang Dream!

Sayo is a girl of many secrets. She only ever tells them to her twin sister, Hina as of late. Before, she’d never tell anyone about herself and if she did, it was only the bare minimum. She’s still closed off as she refuses to get hurt by anyone.

Tomoe is always overworking herself. She has lots of volunteering and things she does, which always leaves her knackered (tired as fuck) at the end of the day and all she wants to do is sleep. Even on days when she looks like she’s okay, she isn’t. She wants to rest.

Aya is clumsy and will get lost, just not as often as Kanon, her friend. However, she feels inadequate as an idol. She has trained for this but it always bothers her, as it goes into late night practices and early dawn nap times. She has considered giving up so many times, because of all the hate she has seen, even with her idol group, she’s usually the one with the most hate as she is at the centre most of the time.

Arisa is just gay as fuck. But she isn’t sure if it’s right to feel that way or not about certain people (KASUMI TOYAMA)

My Hero Academia

Kyouka has an innate talent of analysing quirks as well, she has never realised it. She has an analytical brain that can probably compete with Midoriya’s if she applied what she knew about music into hero work. 

Momo hasn’t been the biggest fan of being raised rich. She always wondered what it’d be like to live a normal life, without all the privilege and weight of a legacy she has  on top of her.

Danganronpa

Tenko has always been confused about what to feel about the ‘degenerate males’ she has met. Especially the likes of Shuichi and Makoto. She has wondered if her view of them being horrible is skewed as she seems Shuichi as one of her closest friends. But she won’t ever admit that, ever. 

Kaede really wants to know if she can stop with the piano puns. She likes to make them too much.

Makoto hasn’t exactly had the easiest time mentally. The death of his friends always haunts him even in his sleep. The screams, lights, flames, everything. He remembers all the details vividly and when he tries to reach out for them, their dead bodies are there on the floor.

Komaru has a hard time of knowing if she fits in or not as she had been taken from school and is now older than what she believes she is. She sits there wondering if it’s right to be this way now or not.

Other Muses

Jotaro is very cautious of everyone he meets. He doesn’t want a repeat of what happened in Egypt if he gets too close to anyone he likes. Even if DIO is gone, he’s never gotten rid of the feeling that someone will die in his presence or in his name.

Levi has a soft spot for his brats. He basically sees them as his children as this point and he may have been called dad once or twice by a few them. He enjoyed that but only gave them a glare.

Weiss is a soft gay for Ruby. But apart from that, she’s fine with both guys and girls. 

Mami always has the feeling of her wish being selfish at the back of her mind. It’s there nagging away at her as if it would come back to bite her in the ass so she’s always out there doing her best for her juniors and always on the look our for Kyoko Sakura.

Natsu hates how his former guild had treated him. He isn’t a dumbass who can’t do anything right, rather he’s someone who was the most attuned to his emotions as his flames prove. If he meets anyone from there, he won’t hesitate to take them out with one punch.

Lelouch actually had a crush on Cornelia for a brief moment before knowing of his relation to her. He decided to drop it and add her to the list of “Siblings I absolutely adore” but from time to time he does wonder if they weren’t related, would they take over the world together?

Haru has pictures of her friends in a small box. She also has one thing they owned within it too. She’s unaware of how strange this is.

#{stories - writing headcanons}

[shadowtarot]

(THieves in Inaba.) Are they still in their swimwear??? If so... I'd like for the boys to lure in Kashiwagi and ask for her to let them in. It's a bit of revenge for the girls XD (Kashiwagi was present in P3P and in P4 so a Cognition of her should exist as the dungeon is using their memories)

Thieves in Inaba Part 60

With the forest now a mesh of the Arc and the hollow woods, Joker goes over his plan with the others. 

“Okay so Shido’s Palace we needed to get key cards to get to the heart of the palace, right? Well with this place being made up of entirely our thoughts, this would mean we’d need to overcome this the same way.” Ren smirks, brushing some of his frizzy hair out of his face.

“Okay, that’s neat and all but what does this have to do with all of us being in swimsuits?” Yosuke asks, hand placed on his hip.

“Everything.” Ryuji smirks. “One of the guys we needed to grab a letter from was a total perv. We had Ann and the other girls put on swimsuits and talk to him. Got him off guard and everything. And to top it off? It was my plan.” He sounds so proud of himself as he talks.

“Yes, but we still had to fight him in the end….” Morgana sighs.

“So…you’re saying there’s going be a guy on the other side of these trees and we have to…seduce him?” Yukiko asks, before bursting out laughing. “I’m just…imagining Chie and I trying to do that and it’s just….ahahaha!”

Chie sighs, placing a hand on her head and shaking. “Give her a minute. But I’m so not down for this! What if he follows one of us out of this place? What then?” 

“It won’t be a real person, merely just a cognition.” Akechi explains, looking over at a now calmed down Yukiko before continuing. “Think of doing this as solely being a puzzle. Complete it and move on, there’s no need to get worked up about it.” 

Yusuke seemingly isn’t even paying attention to the conversation however, instead he’s more focused on Akihiko and Kanji. He has his fingers done in his typical picture frame work as he nods to himself. “It is a shame I left my sketch book at the hotel, so many of these experiences could make for wonderful pieces…”

Kanji crosses his arms in annoyance. “Well I sure hope you aren’t implyin’ I’m one of those ‘Experiences’.”

“Well one of should at least scout and see who we’re dealing with,” Ken suggests, hand in his pocket. “If we go in blindly it might not end well.” 

“Well who’d be the most willing to take a risk at being spotted?” Makoto looks among the group. 

Mishima sighs “I can go check, I need to contribute more to this team after all.” He walks around the corner and comes back fairly quickly.

“Well?” Yu asks, concerned as to why he came back so fast.

“It…it’s a woman!”

Ren and Ryuji look confused, the others all turning to them as to see if they have a new plan. 

“Yeah, it was a woman, with a black one piece swimsuit…and-” But as Mishima goes to describe her…Minato, Junpei and Akihiko’s faces go pale.

They know who’s around the corner.

“Yo, those three don’t look so good all of a sudden. What’s up?” Ryuji asks, leaning closer to them. 

Minato clears his throat. “Was she…well endowed?”

“I don’t know how relevant this question is but….yes.”

Akihiko sighs, shaking his head. “If this place is pulling from all of our memories, then some of ours must be in this mix as well. Back during our journey, we went to the beach…and Junpei suggested we go on a ‘Babe Hunt’.”

“Yeah..and one of the women we chose to flirt with was an older lady…she seemed pretty into it…like creeply into it…” Junpei lowers his head.

“H-Hold on…you didn’t…happen to get her name did you?” Yosuke starts to have a bad feeling himself. “Damnit! I-I have to check!”

He pokes his head around the corner, and comes back even faster then Mishima did. 

“Uh huh, I was right. It’s Kashiwagi.” Yosuke sounds defeated as he talks.

“You can’t be serious…” Yu sounds tired. “We’ll have to get past her..”

Chie laughs. “Hey Akechi did say it’s only a cognition thing, so don’t get cold feet boys! Ohhh I am so getting front row seats to this.”

Ann laughs as she starts to shove Ryuji, Ren, Yosuke and Akechi. “You four go as well~”

Yukari playfully winks. “You three might actually succeed this time. Good luuck~”

Ken starts to object. “Hey! Why am I being roped into this too?! I was too young to have been apart of it before!”

Teddie starts to slowly sneak away, only for Naoto to grab him by the hand.

“Morgana, Koromaru and Adachi each have an excuse, but you don’t. The better the numbers, the greater the chance of success. Go help.” 

Teddie lowers his head. “Why must I be cursed with good looks?”

Persona Training Center, TV World

Ai finally wakes up, her eyes fluttering open only to meet Kou’s again. She realizes she had fallen asleep on his shoulder and jolts up.

“Ah! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Kou shakes his head, smiling. “It’s alright, you were tired from all of that excitement. No one would blame you.”

Ai smiles a bit, nodding slowly. “Thanks then…so, where did they go? It’s awfully quiet in here…” 

“They headed out to save the next victim, apparently.” Daisuke says, walking out from the restroom. 

“So…they really are out saving people. But those…freakish monsters! How are they dealing with them all?” The Moon holder looks to the floor. “They took so many people, and they’re just putting themselves in danger…”

“Well, I think it’s because of those powers they have.” Kou looks to the ceiling. “Persona..I think it’s called. All of them have it, and it makes fighting those freaks easy.”

“Per..sona? Sounds like some dumb fantasy mubo jumbo…” The curly haired girl shakes her head. “But all of them you say? That means…even Chie?” 

Kou and Daisuke both nod, and Ai seems a bit more hurt by that response. 

“Just another thing I have to compete with…if at all…” She mutters under her breath. 

Kou then sighs. “But yeah, who’d think that this is the big secret Yu and his pals were hiding this whole time. The whole group is out of our league…”

Hearing him say that, Ai has a bit more hope. She nods a bit, which Daisuke notices but says nothing to acknowledge it. 

“So you’re giving up on what you said before, man?” Daisuke asks casually. 

“Possibly..right now, I don’t know if I can compete with this kind of secret life…” The blue haired young man shakes his head. “No, I don’t think I can at all.”

“Well, there’s always more people out there for you.” Ai says quietly. If Kou heard or not, she’s unaware. 

Back in The Hollow Forest

The girls are having trouble trying to get the guys to go over to cognitive Kashiwagi. 

“Come on, don’t be such a baby! It’s basically a shadow!” Chie yells, trying her best to shove Yosuke. 

“I don’t care what the hell it is! I’m not dealing with this!” He barks back. 

“This is revenge for that swimsuit contest! Now you can see how we felt!” Yukiko states, trying to push Yu.

“Wasn’t the cross-dressing contest enough of a punishment? This is a straight up death sentence!” Yu responds.

Ryuji looks to Morgana for any form of assistance, but he’s greeted only by a shit eating grin. 

“Damnit Mona! This would be a good time to help us!” He pleads.

“Help? Last I checked, you had a second reason for that plan in the Palace in motion, so seeing this go through is good enough punishment.” The cat laughs.

The guys all sigh, seems they’re not getting out of this whatsoever.

#thieves in inaba #persona 3 #persona 4 #persona 5 #kou ichijo #daisuke nagase #ai ebihara #minato artisto #junpei iori #akihiko sanada #goro akechi #yu narukami #ren amamiya #Ryuji Sakamoto #ann takamaki #makoto niijima #naoto shirogane #teddie #morgana #yosuke hanamura #yukari takeba #Yuki Mishima #yukiko amagi #Kanji Tatsumi #chie satanoka #yusuke kitagawa #ken amada #compendium

[fantroll-purgatory]

I’ve been a little afraid to submit this one since it’s my sona and I’m a terribly flawed person but here we go, don’t hold back.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Albino Isn’t A Personality.

You shouldn’t be so self-depreciating! Don’t talk like this about yourself or about your creations. It’s not a good habit for your mental health (or to spout to strangers), as temporarily relieving as it can be. As for your characters- if you know that you’re having a problem with them, try to work on that problem instead of just throwing your hands up like this. You have creative concepts, so I know you can let your character development fly with a little more elbow grease! 

For this reason, I’m going to cut out all your additional self-depreciating jokes! No self-disparaging on this blog! 

World: Honestly? No clue. My memory of Beforus is a little iffy, so I can’t remember if it has/had limebloods.

Beforus does have limebloods! Though they’re called yellowgreens over there. I think we might lean into the beforus thing here just to give you some more wiggle room than being stuck with another Lime Rescued By Jade story. 

Name: Ablanc Canois  Age: 7 Sweeps

Theme/Story: So I kinda just made him albino for fun, because my sign is lime and regular old mutants are boring. I was thinking maybe some overly soft jadeblood hid him until he was old enough to survive deeper underground?

Like I said, I want to shift this more towards a Beforus Story than an Alternian one. I might keep the cave thing, though, and maybe consider the low-light adaptation angle? I Think instead of just being an albino troll, you could go with a Depigmented troll, like the condition arachnids get when they live in caves for extended periods of time but in fast forward. Maybe he was accidentally left in the caverns for longer than intended/got lost and had to survive on his own until eventually being rescued and culled into the hands of a jade when he was a toddler troll? Feral Wolf Child type of troll but with a cave crawler bug instead.  Goals: I’d say the sprite is pretty good for my standards, but I might be completely wrong so you can take a look if you really want. Mostly I just need help with [reworking the personality to make it stronger].

I think your sprite is definitely pretty good! My only recommendation might be changing the outline on the sweater to a lighter gray instead of black, since that makes the sweater detail hard to see. And maybe in inverse of that, turning the hair’s outline black so that it stands out better against the skin. 

Strife Specibus: Scissorkind, don’t ask me why because I have no clue.

Baby Ablanc: [running around the house with scissors]

Their Custodian: no! no!! get back here!! Fetch Modus: Probably something with memory since I’m really forgetful and irony am I right kids

It could be something the jade custodian gave him to try to force him to practice! Or you could do something even more blatant in that regard, like a Manners Modus where the jade custodian tries to get him to Practice Etiquette With His Modus.  Blood Color: Albino Lime, or just lime if you want. Symbol and Meaning: Cano Handle: concernedConfusion (My most common mood)

Relatable! But I think we should tug in the interests you have a little more. Maybe confusedProgrammateur? The latter part is a mashup of Programmer and Amateur, to reflect that he’s very new to the skill but still working on it!  Quirk: Er… I’m not very good at quirks.

You can probably just base what he does around your own habits or quirks! If there’s a particular piece of media you like or something, you could try to theme it around that? Since you like fluffy things, you could also consider adding *** around his sentences to create some Pompoms, For Fluffiness. **his sentences are soft and fluffy just like him*** Special Abilities: Since we don’t really know what limes could do, I’ll skip over that. He can see without any light though.

Limes are said to either have soothing abilities or have powers that let them manipulate the natural world! Like, firebending. Those are just theories, though, and not everyone of every caste has powers, so I think it can definitely slide. The low light conditions are accounted for in the backstory I gave! He can see well in darkvision hours. The tradeoff is that he probably can’t see AS well in the light. Still adjusting even after all these sweeps.  Lusus/Guardian: uuuuuuuuuuuh

Like I said above, Jade Custodian is probably the way to go.  Interests: Oh boy. Writing, drawing, programming, none of which he’s actually very good at. Also likes fluffy things.

Being “good” doesn’t matter as long as you’re enjoying it, that’s what hobbies are for. No Commodification Of Pleasures On This Humble Blog. You should try writing up a Homestuck Intro style introduction for yourself so you can see if you can remember more particular interests to add to the list. What kind of programming do you like in particular? What sort of stories do you like to write/read? Having an interest in writing usually comes from a place of liking a particular genre, right? 

Personality: Acts confused and annoyed by people to make them go away, wants friends but doesn’t think the ones he has actually like him. Very self-deprecating. Is this based too much on me?

It’s a trollsona, that’s what trollsonas are for! But you do gotta remember to try to integrate to the environment. What would you feel like or be like under these new circumstances we’ve imposed?  Lunar Sway: Derse

You need to put more emphasis on dissatisfaction if you want to play up the derse side. What do you want to fight against? What aspects of yourself do you hide or struggle to hide? Remember that the fight can be silly if you want. Is your rebellion against society or against your Troll Mom for not letting you run with scissors? Either one can a dersite make.  Title: Rogue/Page of Heart.

Interesting choices for sure. It’s always hard to classpect for trollsonas since I don’t know you or your Life Arc personally, but I think from this character writeup I might be leaning Page of Heart. You’re in that Potentiality Phase, now, where you’ve got to build up and strength your sense of identity before you can put it to proper work.  Land: You might know by now I suck at land.

How about… the Land of Honey and Drops, a cavernous planet that smells of honey, fragrant and floral and sweet, it is easy to lose yourself here, to walk among the caves forever and to forget who you are. The inhabitants of this planet are kept wandering husks by the perfumed honey and need your help to rally them and help them take back their identities. 

Anyway I’m going to go rethink my life choices. Thanks for tolerating all my requests. You guys are the best.

Don’t rethink your life choices, be excited you sent in a neat character. That’s what we’re here for after all! Thank you for sharing and I hope this all helped!

-CD

#limeblood #submission #yellowgreenblood #review #ablanc canois #ablanc #canois #cd review #buttercup-n-stuff

[yi-dashi-a]

Whispers from Ionia -- Memoriam

Sometimes, Yi felt as if the weight of his helmet compressed his very mind. Not often did he feel compelled to doff the thing, yet in the darker hours of the day he set the helmet down by his side. The techmaturgy growled in protest, though in actuality it was actuating in response to his bare eye’s adjusting to the low light. But even just ridding himself of armor, the Ionian felt, wasn’t all it took to let his thoughts run free. It always had to be a damn process.

He’d been experimenting with ways to unclog his forever working mind, ever since he’d been old enough to be troubled by it. Meditation helped somewhat, but only when he had the concentration to sit a time. When concentration became impossible, training was in order. However, his mind was fickle, and in his attempts to escape his body paid the price. So, in the dim light and simple surrounds, that was how Yi found himself at a desk, with scrunched up false starts scattered about him.

When Yi could do nothing else, at the very least he could write.

Though only fluent in one written tongue, he at least felt he wielded it well. Well enough, at the very least, to contextualize things. His father had taught him, since very young, that penmanship was power. It put things into boxes of plain language, and helped to understand his own self. So, with parchment supplies dwindling and his hand cramped, he closed his eyes, took a breath, and started anew for the last time. The months gone by needed to be contemplated, and even as he felt his neck hairs prickle at the thoughts of what his Master might say, he did what needed to be done:

|I write to myself with internal trepidations. I brace my penhand against every inscribed symbol, for fear that spirits of Wuju Master’s Yore will be summoned by every stroke, and shall banish me wholly. Such is my indoctrination from my Wuju upbringing, yet in times where my mind has whirred along with the machinations of my headdress I always find ink, charcoal, or lead, like my parental upbringing. Though as sociable as I’ve ever been, my thoughts still fell misunderstood by others, and as such I must relay them to myself in wrote so that they might be at least understood by me.

I even must explain this to myself every time, as if I have not done this time upon time before. An urgent cycle, but a required one. I would have gone mad if not for letters such as this. I would hope, then, that those one with the Stars would understand, if ever they read this. I’m trying. Wuju can live on proper in generations hence.

I spend my time in Demacia maladjusted; I could never call this place my home in earnest. Despite the company I’ve found here, after years of observation the culture shock has yet to leave me. Isolationist as they are, it is hard to feel like I will ever be accepted for what I am, nor is there any potential for tutorage here. A protégé with the sword would sooner scorn me Devil than they would find my art intriguing, and this is what bolsters my feelings of downheartedness. My current student, too, would surely find himself relegated to heavy disguise, if even that would help him, and his very nature might be sickened by this place’s aversion to magic. It’s still a wonder if, pending a reunion of course, he could cross the border without trouble.

But what troubles me the most, and has prompted me to be scorned by the spirits of my ancestors in my written practice, is events as they have previously followed. A lot has occurred, and my mind had been sullied for some of it, so it is hard to know the order of events as I remember them are correct. That is, as it were, the importance of this written word, after all.

I could go as far back as murders of men who, in spite of their debaucheries that led them down their path, caused upheaval in the noble house to which I currently align myself. These, however, were only my struggles in passing, and have since passed myself, and herself, by in some regards. On the tail end of this, was the beginning of my own curiosities. A chance encounter; another Ionian all of this way. A thief, and a poor one, at least compared to my own senses. Tan of skin, jade weaponry on her back, and clearly imbued with the magic of my home. From Bahrl most certainly. From the mountain of Wuju perhaps, but not certain. Whoever she is, she tried to rob me, then stopped dead as dust when our eyes met.

It was enough to consume my interest. I cooperated with the local area’s guardsmen, one of whom being an overly eager bowman who was very keen to exercise his bowfingers. I shall not name him, because I know I will remember the name, and the Stars need not. He partnered himself with me, and we tried together to find the thief once more. She was drawn to me, it seemed, yet she would not answer my questions. The only thing she had to say was spoken on but a breath, and asked as a flat, distant question.

I’ll not repeat it in wrote, because I know I will remember my name, and the Stars need not.

Quietly, the scribbling of automatic writing fell silent for a time. For a moment he considered letting the last sentence hang, much like he hung back in his chair. To abandon this whole exercise, for fear it would stir up the worst memories in him.

But, as Yi focused on the beat of his heart, and the whirring of his hextech, the took his quill in hand and continued on,

We did not know she was a woman until then, though as shocking as that revelation was at the time, it seems laughable that the archer and I were surprised. She slipped away despite the archer’s efforts though, and he stood against me as I told him she would not come to harm. I had to know how she knew what she knew, and why she spoke in the way she spoke. In me, in retrospect, there must be some idiotic paternal instinct. Or, at least, my guilty consciousness that causes me no end of suffering. I hope, after this is through, I can read and see that this was stupid, and weed sentimentality out of me completely. It has never helped me do my job.

But for brevity’s sake I shall say this, months went by. My beard grew long, and stays long even this day, and yet I could not find her. The weather got cold, though not so cold that the pricks of dew in the morning summoned nostalgia in me. |Happy Snowdown, |is what they say here, a holiday about family and gift giving. I spent this holiday staining the snow red. Drawn by similar information to a similar place, the archer and I had our last words, and I confronted the thief. He shot her through me, with a ballista pretending to be a longbow, just as he said he would. I am strong, but just a man in the end. She was taken into custody not knowing what stains of red were hers, and which were mine. I was released, tentatively, in spite of the multiple Wuju feats I had displayed to the guardsmen of this land. I’m thankful, at the very least, to have a bastion where I can retreat, and warm company to recover with.

Depression and disgusting pangs of psychological vomit aside, I’ve recovered mostly out of spite for this other man. I feel a stiffness to my gut, but I am sure that is the ghost of misplaced healing meditations. I am sure I’ve scarred on the inside. It’s not a pleasant thing to think about. I was at least well enough to reprise my role as a drunkern Wuju menace for the archer when he came to me once again. He was feeling guilty of all things. They wished to put the thief to death for magical crimes, and he was being investigated. Not satisfied with either, and with few other places to go, he came to me. If I could have spit on him then, as honestly disgusting the thought might be, I would have done so. As I have written though, I chose instead to dull myself to it all. Happily enough, I have not indulged since then. I call it a victory, if nothing else.

The thief lived – a miracle if ever I’ve seen one – and our conversation as observed by Demacian prosecution taking notes was a tense one. Where are you from? I’d rather not say. What is your name? It doesn’t matter. She had a very distinct accent, though I couldn’t place it. The only thing I’ve taken away from my questions of her was that she knows Wuju, in some regard, and that, for more than just having her stuck with an arrow, she scorns me. Yet without a name to place to a face, or a hometown, or any information about anything; Well, I can’t say anything for certain. I tried my best to speak for her, but it seemed imminent that she would have gone to trial for a punishment not befitting her crimes.

That’s why I am so thankful for the company I keep here. Surely I could write pages more on Sona, but I won’t. I don’t even know exactly what she did, or what she wrote, in order to receive pardons. All I know is that, after finding jest, then shooting, then crying on me, the archer almost got knocked flat by me at the news that she would at least suffer exile only. And all would be well if I could have ended the story there.

All of this leads things to as they are in the present: Upon the day of her exile from these lands, I am sure she had no understanding of the Common babblings the law system spat at her. When given leave to walk, she instead ran, adding more towering Demacian men to her assault charges. She can fight it seems, at least when it fancies her. But she were already so close to the boarder, from what I’ve been told, that she was just left to be, ‘Someone else’s problem.’

But now there is a lone, still somewhat injured, Ionian vagrant somewhere out there in Valoran, and I am left with the regrets of hours spent wondering what I could have done better. Of course I have other things I should be worried about that aren’t strangers, but even as I will read over what I’ve written I am sure I won’t understand why I am how I am. Why did things happen this way? Why did I let it come to this? Do I chase this woman out of Demacia, and across the whole world, based on the slither of hope that she might be one of my own somehow; or do I just be thankful for what I have already?

I don’t know, and I still don’t know. I’d suppose this whole exercise was useless then.

But these are my thoughts, from mind, to body, to paper. I offer these to someone, somewhere, so that maybe they might understand things as I see them. Perhaps, one day, give me a sign so that I might know I am treading in the right direction. In the end, that’s all I could hope for. My feet fall without direction. I am a student without direction.

Please,

Yi Da Shi|

Suddenly, as if the last stroke in his title were enough to snap him out of a dream, Yi found himself beset upon by the tug of gravity. The room glowed only with the dullest yellow from his lenses, and anything that wasn’t before his nose was all but invisible behind the blackness. Night had either come, or was well on its way. The papers upon papers he’d scribbled on had to live by his eyes to see them at all, and it was a wonder he’d been able to write in the dark. But he had, and even if it were the worst penmanship of his life, his thoughts lay all there.

He didn’t even get half way through reading his pages of scrawl before one page fell victim to his scrunching hands. Yi threw it at the nearest wall, a frustrated huff leaving him as the wad left his hands, then bounced defiantly back onto the desk. All but kicking his chair out from under him, he rose with all his writing in hand, and clutched it like one would clutch a portrait of their worst enemy. The writing changed nothing. All it did was parrot back the mistakes he made, and let him know that things could have been so much better. He could have been so much better. Why did he always do the wrong thing?

More importantly, why was he always the one left behind to write about it after? Why was he always the lucky one?

“|It’s not fair...|” He said almost mindlessly, “|I’ve never deserved a damn bit of this time to stop and think.|”

As the words faded away, his features remained frozen in soft concern; frown slight enough that perhaps he might have just been mistaken for getting old. He took a sigh, straightened himself, and walked the Buvelle Manse as if it were his own. There was only one thing to do with doubts, he’d learned, and it was to destroy them entirely. Luckily, at this time of the day, he was sure there would be a fire already kindled in the great home.

And perhaps, if he’d taken the time to look, his mood might have been broken by the sight of the House’s Lady comfortably sat in her parlor, engrossed in the warm of the evening and a good book. But no good book could keep her from cheerful pleasantries, though he did nothing to return them. Lost as he was, Yi had no place to exchange even a glance as he casually walked in, stared down the embers of a fire for a moment, then began to commit his writings to the flames page by page. Any quizzes or queries were lost on him as well, if any came in the first place, to the sounds of his own doubts.

“|I’m just keeping the fire stoked.|” The man mumbled, regardless of whether that aligned with anything being asked, said, or done by anyone.

There was at least something cathartic about watching the pages burn, their form lost to the ages. Watching meaning become meaningless, a cycle continue, and the curious brows of a Lady over his shoulder, at least made him think that this was just how things were. Maybe on another day there would be some optimism in such a thought, but at that moment Yi merely locked his eyes on nothing, and stoically retired from the presence of any other. At that moment, all it felt like was that he was destined to keep burning letters, to keep failing, and to keep not knowing how to plan for the future.

Because what is next? He asked himself as he tried to take himself to his own room, What am I supposed to do now..?

#Event #drabbles #gotta put my tags back in at some point #but ayy look its content at the dead ass time of the night again #bad content but I at least wanted to get a post out that explains the crud that happened on the bleg #from before the goddamn wukong update sheesh #that I went back and forth on whether I could keep the blog story or not #so I can at least tweak this post for people to refer to if they wonder why Yi is a beardy mess pffft #I at least did some bad draws to suppliment the bad writes #also #ladybuvelle #there is a concerned chin dabbing sona at the end as per your description #pffft

[spookydru]

Shadow of My Heart

I’ve gotten a lot of asks and messages asking when I was going to post my TLH fanfic and because of all the drama and lots of people going on hiatus, I decided to post the first chapter now as a thank you to everyone who is still here and dedicated. I love you guys!

There are probably a lot of grammatical and spelling errors but oh well. Also title is a work in progress but I thought it would be weird to post a fanfic with out a title so that’s what you get lol. 

If you want to read on AO3 there’s the link. Hope you guys enjoy!

Chapter 1: Life on Fire

In the winter of 1902 Cordelia Carstairs parents died from a fire that erupted in their home in Paris. Her brother Alastair and Cordelia were on patrol in the city, when they got back to their house all they could see was debris, smoke, and flames where their home used to be.

Cordelia put her hand to her sword Cortona to give her strength and started to run towards the flames when Alastair caught her arm and pulled her back to the sidewalk.

“But mother and father, we have to help them, Alastair. Let go they are still in there.”

“It’s too late Cordelia. The fire has already spread to the roof. We should call the clave.” She turned to look back at her brother, a gleam of anger and confusion was in her eyes.

“So we are to just stand here watch our home and parents be burned to the ground?” Cordelia struggled to get out of her brother’s grip but it was firm and ungiving.

“We do what we are ordered to do and now, that is to report to the clave what has happened”. Cordelia glared at Alastair and looked at him as if he was no longer her brother. That he hadn’t been her brother for a long time. He let her go and grabbed his stele to send a fire message. Cordelia couldn’t take her eyes off their once beautiful, parisian home where she had so many memories. Not all were good, most of them were her mother scolding her to be more ladylike or her father saying she should be more responsible like her brother. She wiped the tears that had escaped from her eyes. She hadn’t cried since she was young and the feeling of her throat and eyes stinging was unfamiliar. She tried to take a deep breath but she choked on the smoke.

She could hear wagons coming near and her neighbors yelling in a panic but she didn’t move, didn’t say a word.

“They should be here soon” Cordelia hadn’t noticed her brother come up behind her.

“Where will we go?” Alastair didn’t reply. She whispered under her breath so low she wasn’t even sure herself if she spoke or not.

“Ave atque vale mother and father. Delam barat tang shode, man asheghe shoma hastam.”

It wasn’t long before the Inquisitor and the Silent Brothers were there along with the High Warlock of Paris, Cain Clack. Mr. Clack was working on clearing the debris and putting out the flames, red sparks came out of his hands while doing this. The Inquisitor walked toward Alastair, who was standing and analyzing the situation as if he was playing some integral role in the situation, and Cordelia who was sitting on road holding a piece of paper that looked like it had once been part of a book but the edges had been charred away.

“The Silent Brothers are taking a look around the house to see what caused the fire” The Inquisitor took a look back at the house as if just then realizing they could no longer live there, “ Miss Carstairs you have a parabatai don’t you?”

“Yes, Lucie Herondale”. She missed Lucie dearly. Her best friend, her parabatai. She hadn’t seen Lucie in almost a year. Sona, Cordelia’s mother, and Tessa would take them to Alicante to spend time with each other or Tessa would take Lucie to Paris. Sona hated London which made it difficult for Cordelia to see Lucie.

“Ah yes, daughter of William Herondale.” He looked at Cordelia deciding if what he was thinking was a smart idea, “You will stay at the London Institute with your parabatai for the time being. I will send a fire message to the Institute that they should be expecting your arrival.”

“I would like to request that I be sent to the London Institute as well,” Alastair spoke in a posh voice that made Cordelia’s ears hurt like someone had put nails to a chalkboard. It was the voice he would use with anyone with a higher position than him to make himself seem more distinguished. To Cordelia, it was just annoying, “I went to the Academy with Mr. Herondale’s son and I do not like the idea of my sister being left alone with him.” Cordelia rolled her eyes.

“Pateh kesi rā ruye āb rikhtan. You don’t even know him and besides it wouldn’t be as if I’d be alone with him”. Cordelia smiled as she remembered the golden eyed boy she had met when she was twelve. She thought he was beautiful with his uniquely bright gold eyes and his contrastingly dark hair. She hadn’t seen him since she was fourteen when both of their families had been visiting Idris. Alastair looked at her like she had just cursed in front of the Inquisitor. Like their mother, Alastair didn’t approve of using  Farsi when there were others around who didn’t know the language. Cordelia didn’t care, she loved speaking Farsi and if it annoyed her brother then that was even better.

The Inquisitor coughed awkwardly, “I’ll talk to the warlock about obtaining a portal to London.”

Cordelia walked up to what used to be the front porch of her house and she entered what remained of the entry way and drawing room. Everything around her was black, she was still wearing her gear from earlier which made her almost blend in with her destroyed home. The only way she could see around her was from the moonlight coming in through the now burned and exposed roof. She climbed up what was left of the stair case, being careful not to go too close to where the banister had been burned away. When she made it to the second floor she went to where her room was and took in the sight of her ashen room. This was the bedroom in which she had first touched Cortana, this was the room where she had her first kiss from a Parisian boy in the neighborhood. This was the bedroom where she stayed up late writing to Lucie about the latest pranks she had played on Alastair and the latest adventures she had gone on. It was not her only bedroom, she had a bedroom in Carstairs manor in Idris, but still, it was special to her because Paris was special to her. She turned to where her closet would be and saw burned scraps of material. She sighed and looked to her clothing trunk that was at the foot of her soot rudden bed. It was also black but at least it was still intact. She opened it and the bright material inside contrasted greatly amongst the grey and black. Relieved that she at least had a few clothes that had survived changed out of her gear and into a dark blue dress. She closed the trunk and tried to wipe it as clean as she could with her already dirtied gear. She carried the trunk downstairs but not without a last glance towards her parent’s bedroom. Is that where her parents died? Did they even notice the fire? Did they suffer?

She carefully walked down the stairs and set the trunk down by where the front door used to be. She could see Alastair following the Inquisitor around like a puppy dog. She walked towards the back of the house to where the library was. She braced herself and pushed the door opened. It only opened a quarter of the way, so she slid through the opening and saw what prevented the door from opening.  A book case had fallen against the door and hundreds of books, or what used to be books, scattered the floor in charred, ashed piles. The library had been one of Cordelia’s favorite places. It was the only time her father had shown much interest in her. They would talk about all the books he had collected over the years, from all over the world. Cordelia hadn’t read all of them, not even a quarter of them, but they were comforting to her and the ones she had read had been brilliant new worlds she could lose herself in when she was younger.

What has been lost cannot be replaced. Said a voice in her mind that was not her own. She looked behind her towards the door and saw parchment colored robes, a clear indicator of the Silent Brothers.

“Brother Zachariah, did you know my father well?” Cordelia knew Brother Zachariah was the youngest of the Silent Brothers but he looked ancient. She also knew he had once been a Carstairs.

A time ago, when I was just a boy I met him. My father’s brother. Then I met him again when you and your brother were born and then again on your parabatai ceremony. The Herondales were very close with Brother Zachariah and even called him by his Christian name, Jem. James was even named after him. It had always struck her mother as strange and unnatural the Herondale’s relationship with him, but Cordelia had caught her father once looking at Mr. and Mrs. Herondale speaking with Brother Zachariah with fondness, there was also a sort of sadness in that look which Cordelia had never understood. But no, I did not know him well.

“Cordelia the warlock is read-, oh pardon me Brother Zachariah.” Alastair looked confused as to why Brother Zachariah would be talking to his sister in their burned down library.

“You mean Mr. Clack.” Cordelia reminded her brother. Alastair had a prejudicious habit of calling downworlders by their race instead of their name. He turned and walked away from them without another word.

You will feel more at peace once you are with your parabatai again. He said it as if he were completely certain of it and Cordelia hoped he was right. Remember that the Carstairs owe the Herondales.

“I will.” She said and then she was left alone with her thoughts. Even in the room that for so many years brought her comfort, she could not suppress the utter loneliness and grief she felt.

After Note:

Delam barat tang shode is Farsi for I miss you or literally, my heart becomes tight for you.

Man asheghe shoma hastam is Farsi for I love you.

Pateh kesi rā ruye āb rikhtan is a Persian idiom that is similar to the phrase, I call your bluff.

#tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #shadow of my heart #Cordelia Carstairs #tlh #the last hours #shadowhunters #tsc fanfic #tsc fanfiction

[m0llystars]

Saw you liked my previous question, so let's try something different now... General questions! Game that inspired you to do/start something? Tell us what does "yevi" mean, please? A language that is really interesting to you (for any reason)? Name 3 things that make you happy! Favorite character of the day (from your series or creations)? Give us a fun fact about yourself!

-there’s a lot of games that inspired me honestly...undertale and the mother trilogy really got me interested in game development, certain games like hotline miami and katana zero really have been a big inspiration for me aesthetically and even as a storyteller (the writing in those games is...so fucking good honestly good lord), i could say a lot of the games that inspired me are mostly because of the aesthetic, but more recently in regards to my own game development ventures it’s helped me understand how indie devs do what they do without going too off track

-”yevi” is a shorter name for my russian name (yevgeniy), J started calling me by that nickname when we started talking and something about it stuck to me and...just sounded like a really fitting “artist” name knowing what kind of stuff i do

-finnish seems really interesting to me just because of how...unique it sounds, like its almost absurd and part of me wants to learn it just to see why it is the way it is

i think i wanna learn japanese too at some point, beyond just the aesthetic i’ve always wondered how languages like that work they way they do

-3 things that make me happy...

1. my friends and bf, i cant thank them enough for still being around after so long

2. my content and knowing that it reaches people in some way despite how unorthodox my way of storytelling may feel sometimes, even in something like an ARG/webseries context

3. waking up to see a bunch of snow outside and just the beauty of it- i love winter when it just has a metric fuckton of snowy weather, its...a really unique feeling that i enjoy

-my fav character...if we’re talking about from my series/creations, there’s some  sonas i drew last night, one of them being “the tragedy”...i really like that one a lot...

-a fun fact about me...i actually had been technically kind of aiming to be a content creator since before i was 12. like- when i got into ARG’s and the slenderverse back in like 2012/2013, it completely fascinated me and it made me want to make videos. i even tried making a little webseries of sorts but that didnt really go anywhere (and no it’s not published anywhere sadly :< wish i had saved the footage instead of like leaving it out out of fear of being...”cringy” or something). but yeah before 2015 i’d been wanting to do stuff, i just never got to commit to it till then

(also here is the tragedy, i should prob post the full of the sonas on here...)

[redstarfiction-blog]

Simple. (pt.9 of Sonas/Happiness)

Hi guys, I really hope you like this chapter. I spent a long time thinking about it and what I wanted was something that captures the best of these characters. Not just their love, but their humour, resilience and kindness too and that is what I have tried to write here. Thank you for all those of you who have followed this story so far, thank you to @yesfangirl for the prompt which has led me down this route and thank you to everyone who shares my work and takes the time to say something nice. Much love, Han xxx

p.s. you can find the links to the rest of this series here: https://redstarfiction.tumblr.com/masterlist

Jamie’s eyes fluttered open again before the sun was fully risen. Pale pink light was filtering through the windows, casting a faint rosy glow across the room and casting squat shadows.

For a moment, his mind was blank, memory lost in the foggy space between sleep and waking and then it all rushed back. Brianna. His daughter! Ah Dhia!

He sat up, careful not to wake Claire, and got out of bed, crossing to the window and easing it open. He needed air and drank huge gulps of it as quietly as he could whilst waiting for his heart to slow back to its regular rhythm.

Brianna.

Jamie smiled, laughed and then realised he was about to cry and closed his eyes tightly, forcing the emotion back. He would not meet his daughter with red-rimmed eyes and a wobbly chin. God! The thought alone made his stomach knot with shame.

As if eager to make its presence felt more keenly, Jamie’s stomach rumbled loudly and he realised with a vague sense of surprise that he was ravenous. Not surprising considering it had been nearly eighteen hours since he last ate. He decided to shave before eating. The stubble on his cheeks was itchy but the moment he was done and suitably fresh faced, Jamie tugged his breeks on, not bothering with a shirt or stockings and barefooted, made his way down to the kitchen, casting a lingering look at the door behind which Brianna was still asleep before descending the stairs.

There were scones in the breadbox that Jenny, as their mother before them, kept stocked free for whoever was hungry to rummage through and help themselves. Jamie helped himself to a generous dollop of jam and then another for good measure and set about the scone, using his right palm as a plate.

As he lifted the last morsel to his mouth, a blob of jam fell from the crudely broken scone and slid down his forearm. Without thinking, Jamie lifted his arm and craned his neck, trying to lick the smear of strawberry from his elbow.

“Oh!”

His head snapped up and his eyes widened in shock. Brianna stood in the doorway, a chamber pot held out before her like a bizarre offering, her own face a mirror of his and her cheeks rapidly reddening, just as Jamie’s were. She was wearing Claire’s dressing gown, a rich blue that contrasted beautifully with her red hair and Jamie could scarcely believe how incredibly beautiful their child was. Despite seeing her the night before, looking at her now, poised and elegant as her mother, Jamie found himself at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry … I was just trying to get outside …”

The lass looked down at the pot in her hands and her face flamed a truly magnificent shade of crimson. Jamie was recovering his composure quickly and he smiled, hoping it looked welcoming, encouraging, and fatherly and not the deranged grin of a fool who was just licking his own arm.

“I didna hear you approach, you have a light footstep, lass.”

She gawped at him as if he had spoken a completely different language.

“What?”

Jamie opened his mouth to say something but she cut across him.

“Are you my … I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but are you Jamie?”

 *

Time seemed to slow down for Bree in the second between the question leaving her lips and Jamie … her father … answering her.

“Aye, and you are Brianna.”

The way he said her name was strange and not at all like anyone else had pronounced it. Jenny and Ian had been careful to say it exactly as Mama had when they had been introduced but Jamie said it with a completely different inflection. It was as if the word meant something more to him than just being her name, he spoke with a sort of reverence that made her feel at once incredibly self-conscious but also very happy.

“I am.”

She stood awkwardly for a moment. Neither of them seemed to know what to say and then Jamie, stepped forward and held out his hand.

“Can I take that for ye?”

Bree looked down and remembered afresh that she was holding a pot of pee and wanted nothing more than the ground to swallow her whole.

“No, it’s fine. I … Oh God. Okay I’m going to get rid of this … if that’s alright?”

She stammered and hurried to the kitchen door and out into the courtyard before he could answer. Around the side of the house, Bree set the pot down, closed her eyes and leant back against the sturdy stone and took three very long, very deep breaths. Once she had let the last one go, she opened her eyes and very quietly, but distinctly said

“Fuck.”

That said, she felt immediately slightly better. She knew he would be waiting for her and she knew, instinctively knew, that he would be kind and patient and he wouldn’t be annoyed that she had just run out on him, babbling like a crazy person. He had that air about him, gentle despite his size and God! He was huge! Mama had made him sound like a giant and he wasn’t that but he wasn’t far from it either. Bree had noticed the size of his hands and the breadth of his shoulders immediately, but when he had noticed her and drawn himself up to his full height … she snorted. Well she was six foot tall herself, he was hardly likely to be a small man, was he?

And they looked so similar too! Everyone had said it. Mama of course, Jenny and Ian and all of her cousins had made some exclamation to that effect but seeing it for herself had been a bit of a shock because they truly were startlingly alike.

Jamie. James. Father. Certainly not Daddy. Never that.

Bree shook her head. She didn’t know what to call him at all. ‘Jamie’ felt a little rude, a sort of improper use of the affectionate pet-name his family and friends called him. ‘James’ sounded too stern and ‘Father’ was painfully formal and perhaps even more improper because despite what Mama thought, there was a chance that he didn’t actually want that relationship with her at all.

Bree wished fervently that her mother or Jenny, anyone really, would get up and come and save them both from the clumsiness of the encounter. She knew she should go back in; it wasn’t fair to just leave him stood there in the kitchen. She smoothed her hair and then lifted her chin and made her way back to the kitchen.

*

Jamie watched his daughter hurry past the window, her gaze rigidly on the garden path in front of her. The moment she was out of sight, Jamie slapped his forehead with the palm of his left hand and closed his eyes, making a noise that was half-way between a moan and a laugh. The poor thing! She had just been trying to go quietly about her business and instead stumbled upon her father, half-naked and licking jam from his arm like a dim-witted child.

His back! Jamie didn’t think she had seen it but she surely would if he didn’t dress himself properly before she returned. He barrelled from the kitchen and took the stairs three at a time, snatching a clean, white shirt from his dresser before sprinting back down the stairs, tugging it over his head as he went.

He entered the kitchen cautiously in case she should have already come back and was relieved to find it empty. What would Claire do? Tea. He should make a pot of tea, it would give him something to do with his hands if nothing else.

He crouched by the stove, packing in wood carefully to make sure it stacked evenly and as he worked, calm began to descend. The familiar task was gratifyingly soothing to his nerves and as he struck the flint over the little pinch of kindling fluff, Jamie felt the last of the tension leave his shoulders and heard the back door ease open.

*

Bree had paused by the window watching him work on the stove and as she watched him, her heartbeat slowed and she felt a small smile tug at the corner of her mouth. He had put a shirt on and was building a small fire, most likely for tea judging by the kettle on the table. Whilst she wasn’t exactly used to seeing people stoke fires just to make a cup of tea or coffee, it was the sort of domestic chore that was familiar enough to normalise most situations and if she helped, it would give her something to do with her hands if nothing else.

“Hi, sorry about that.”

“No bother.”

Bree noticed that when he smiled at her over his shoulder, the smile reached all the way to his eyes and it relaxed her slightly more.

“Would you like me to fill the kettle?”

“If ye would, aye. That would be a help.”

Bree nodded and lifted the heavy black iron, carrying it over to the sink where Jenny kept buckets of water from the well overnight ready for the morning. She filled it halfway and carried it back toward Jamie who had finished with the fire and was now standing again.

As he took it from her, their hands brushed and Bree was shocked by how warm he was despite the slight chill in the kitchen. He was as warm as she was.

Jamie gave her another one of those eye-smiles and Bree found herself returning it without even thinking.

“This is strange, is it no?”

Jamie gestured for her to sit at the table and Bree did so, picking up a small saltshaker and rolling it between her palms, absently.

“Yeah. I mean, it is strange for me but it must be for you too. I hope you don’t mind me being here, this is your home and I …”

Bree trailed off shrugging

“Whatever is mine is also yours, Brianna. As to ye being here, no I dinna mind at all. Quite the opposite. I am truly glad to meet you.”

Bree brushed her hair behind her ear and smiled shyly

“Thank you. I … ah … I’m really sorry but I don’t … I don’t know what I should call you?”

He seemed to consider this for a moment, his brows drawing in ever so slightly and his fingers drummed once upon the table, something Bree herself did when thinking she realised with a small start.

“Weel, ye may call me ‘Jamie’ if ye wish, most people do but if you would like, and if it wouldna be too presumptuous of me, maybe ye could call me ‘Da’.”

“Da? Is that Gaelic for father?”

Bree asked and saw his chest swell and his lip quiver ever so slightly as he said

“No lass, it’s only simple.”

*

Jamie held his breath as Brianna considered the options he had given. Her hands were gathered neatly around the saltcellar and Jamie desperately wanted to reach out and fold his fingers around hers. To try and convey through his touch everything that he felt but he forced himself to remain still, he didn’t want to frighten her or force anything upon her.

“Da? Is that Gaelic for father?”

Jamie swallowed the lump which bobbed in his throat and tried to control the tremble of his lower lip.

“No lass, it’s only simple.”

“Da.”

She repeated the word as if testing it and then smiled brightly at him and to Jamie it was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, the light of it warming him from the inside out.

“I don’t know how I pictured meeting you but it wasn’t like this. It’s fine though, just different.”

She shrugged again and Jamie grinned despite himself

“Aye, I must have imagined it a thousand score times and maybe more over the years, but I was never looking such a dolt as that in my dreams.”

Bree nodded, eager to join in with his joke

“I wasn’t expecting to be carrying my pee a chamber pot.”

Their eyes met across the table, the last of the tension left them, and suddenly they were both laughing.

“I’m sorry, Brianna. Truly for the first impression ye had of me and for scarin’ ye half-to death.”

Jamie reached his hand across the table in invitation and Bree placed her own hand over his as if it were the most natural thing in the world and really in a way, it was.

“Don’t be. It was fine. Mama will think it’s hilarious!”

“Och! Aye no doubt she will.”

Jamie nodded in agreement and squeezed her fingers.

“I daresay everyone has been commenting on how similar ye and I look, and we do. But I would like to tell ye also that you have so much of your mother about ye. I often … over the years I often thought about you and what ye might be doing and I knew ye would be beautiful and canny but I never could have imagined just how perfect ye truly are, Brianna.”

Jamie watched the tips of his daughters ears glow pink with pleasure at the compliment and was glad to have made her feel so.

“Thank you … Da.”

Bree squeezed his fingers back, and just like that, everything was simple. 

#Outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander tv #outlander au #Voyager #redstarfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #jamie and bree

[bellakitse]

Cowboy for sale

Isobel is hosting a costumed date auction and she puts Michael in a sexy outfit, Alex comes in to save the day.

Thanks to @gra-sonas for the picture!!

Alex sits back on one of Michael’s lawn chairs, a beer loose in his hand while Michael, on his second beer, sits comfortably next to him. It’s quiet between them but not awkward. It’s taken months, it’s taken fights, screaming matches, and tears, but they’ve finally found a sense of peace between them. Something comfortable between the love they’ve always had for each other and the friendship they have been building. For the first time since they were 17, he can honestly say that he and Michael are friends, and there is a comfort in that knowledge that leaves him at peace. They can just sit here outside Michael’s airstream after having the burgers he brought over from the Crashdown, share a beer, and share some silence as the sun starts to set behind them.

“Did you hear about this charity thing Isobel is running for Halloween next weekend? A date auction?”

Alex’s lips tilt up at the question, but he doesn’t say that not only has he heard about the auction but that he had jokingly given her the idea the last time they were out shopping. It’s not like he was actually serious. He’d just commented on not dating for a while and joked about buying a date. Isobel’s sassing him about that being prostitution should have been the end of it. But there had been a glint in her eye, and two weeks later flyers around town started showing up, announcing an all-male date auction with a Halloween after-party, costumes required. Rumor had it that the housewives of Roswell were eating the idea up and that the event was already sold out.

“Yep,” he says with a smirk. “I’ve heard rumblings.”

Michael, who has been looking up at the sky until now, turns his head to shoot him a look. “And did you hear that she is blackmailing me into participating?”  

Alex quirks an eyebrow. “And just how is she accomplishing that?” His grin growing when Michael lets out a huff while taking a pull of his beer instead of answering. He laughs softly, smirking when Michael shoots him an annoyed look. “It’s that embarrassing, huh?” he comments, only imagining just how much dirt Isobel must have on Michael, on either of her siblings, really. “I wonder if I can get it out of her next time she and I go for drinks,” he teases, raising his hands in a sign of peace when Michael scowls at him.

“Okay, relax,” he continues appeasing, shaking his head. “You can keep whatever embarrassing thing Isobel has on you a secret, it’s fine. So, are you going to do it?”

Michael shrugs. “It’s Iz; there’s nothing she’s threatening me with, no matter how much it amuses you to think so. It’s just I don’t like to say no to her. To rile her up sure, but she’s my sister and if she wants to put me in some ridiculous and in her own words ‘demeaning’ Halloween costume, to raise money for the Immigrant rights fund, who am I to say no? One, I get to show off the goods, which I have no problem with-“

“That’s because you have no shame,” Alex cuts in, with a quirk of his lips.

“Thought you liked that about me,” Michael drawls out, his eyes hooded in Alex’s direction.

The look sends warmth directly to Alex’s belly, and he finds himself holding his beer bottle tighter to keep from reaching out to Michael, pulling him out of his chair and settling him on his lap. Michael has a sly grin on his face as he watches, letting him know that while he might be controlling his impulses, he might not be doing as well controlling his face from showing what he wants.

“Among other things,” Alex answers, unable to keep from rising to the challenge. It’s a game he and Michael have started to play now that their friendship is established, and there is a quiet understanding that more is inevitable, underneath. He gives Michael a heated look, the kind that Michael has always responded to by pushing him against the nearest flat surface. The way Michael swallows now, his eyes on Alex's mouth as he licks his lips, tells Alex he's thinking about it. "What's two?"

"Huh?" Michael grunts, obviously lost in thought. Alex bites down on his bottom lip to keep from pushing for more.

They're taking their time with this.

"You said one," He continues, going for safer ground, instead of pushing the subject. "What's two?"

Michael's face brightens, taking on a wickedly amused expression. "Two, it will be hilarious to see the faces of the bigots as Isobel raises money for immigrants just because people are thirsty in this town."

Alex smiles, sharing Michael's amusement. "Almost makes me want to go."

Michael frowns. "You're not coming?"

Alex scoffs. "It's not like I'll be bidding on some straight guy, and I'm smart enough not to let your sister get dirt on me to blackmail me into participating as part of the auction. I'll just give Isobel a donation check."

"Don't you want to see what horrible costume Isobel puts me in?"

"And watch the real housewives of Roswell start a bidding war over you?" Alex frowns back at him. "I'm not actually a masochist."

Michael throws him a smirk, but Alex can see underneath the façade, a tiny bit of insecurity. “You think I’ll start a bidding war? Is that your way of telling me you think I’m pretty, Manes?”

Alex rolls his eyes, using every bit of his military hardass persona to keep from blushing. “Don’t fish for compliments, you have a mirror in that tin can you call home.”

Michael shakes his head as he lets out a laugh, and Alex can’t help but grin back at the man as he gives him a soft look.

“Fine, don’t come,” Michael gives him a fake pout, he bends his head down and looks at Alex through his lashes and the curls that have been getting longer. “Maybe we can meet up after Isobel is done objectifying me. Dinner at your place?”

“You might have to stay with your bid winner,” Alex reminds him, hoping his face doesn’t show how much he dislikes the idea.

“Alex,” Michael says his name gently, tilting his head to the side. “Meet me afterwards, okay?”

Alex licks his lips and finds himself nodding, helpless to say no. “Okay.”

 ***

 Isobel’s Halloween event rolls around, and Alex tries to pretend it hasn’t been putting him in a foul mood to think about it. He had lunch with Isobel a few days prior, and she had shown him pictures of some of the costumes she was going to put the volunteers in, they were brow-raising to be sure, but she had refused to show him what she was going to put Michael in. The downright devilish smirk on her face told him everything he needed to know.

“You could come and actually see for yourself, you know,” she had countered when he asked again to tell him. “Maybe bid on him and finally get your man.”

Alex shook his head at that, that’s not how he wanted Michael and him to reunite. They were building towards something real; he wasn’t going to let his impatience or his jealousy get the better of him. Michael deserved better than that. They both deserved better than a trashy town event with small-minded people.

Isobel just rolled her eyes at him as she dug into her salmon and warned him not to call one of her events trashy, though she didn’t argue the small-minded people part.

No, instead of going, he was going to stay in his cabin and wait for Michael. He has steaks marinating and a nice pasta side planned. He wasn’t sure how Michael was going to get out of having to stay with his bid winner, but Michael had asked him to wait for him, and that’s exactly what he planned to do.

He’s in the kitchen, making sure he has everything for dinner when his phone buzzes with an incoming text, followed by a couple more in rapid succession.

‘Change of plans.’

‘Isobel has lost her damn mind.’

‘I didn’t think I was capable of feeling embarrassment, but damn was I wrong.’

‘Alex, if you ever loved me, you’ll get here now and get me out of this.’

Alex raises an eyebrow at that last text, for all their talking and acknowledgment of their feelings; both a skittish of using the L-word.

Without a second thought, he grabs his keys and his wallet and heads for the car.

He gets to where Isobel is hosting the event in under 30 minutes, not even pausing when one of the door people ask him for his invitation. His stone-cold stare more than enough to shut the poor guy up, he’d feel bad, but he has something more important to worry about then his lack of manners. He looks around at the mostly female gathering, all in costumes, some more revealing than others, and in cheerful moods anticipating the night's entertainments.

He spots Isobel by the bar and makes a beeline for her. She sees him before he gets to her, and the smirk she sends his way makes even his harden Air Force ass nervous for a moment, and he wonders not for the first time if it was a wise move to become friends with her.

“I knew you’d cave,” she says smugly.

“I came because I got a series of alarming texts from Michael,” he starts, giving her an unimpressed look, because no one, not even Isobel Evans is going to out bitch him. “What monstrosity did you put him in, Isobel?”

Isobel’s grin widens if possible, and it’s obvious she’s trying hard not to laugh. “You want a sneak peek, Alex? That way, you’ll know just how much you are going to have to spend tonight to win him?”

Alex doesn’t answer, just shoots her another look and starts to follow her when she beckons him with a curl of her index finger, making her way toward the back behind the setup stage and down a narrow hall.

She knocks on a black door, letting out a huff when it’s met with silence.

She knocks again, harder.

“I’m not coming out like this, Iz,” Michael yells from behind the door. “I don’t care what I promised, you suck.”

Isobel snorts, her eyes twinkling with glee.

“Damn, Isobel,” Alex comments softly. “Just how bad is it?”

Isobel just shakes, and Alex realizes that it’s with silent laughter.

“Oh, Alex,” she breathes. “Wait till you see him.”

Alex stares at Isobel for another moment, before he knocks on the door himself. “Guerin, open up, I’m here.”

“Alex?” Michael asks tentatively.

“Yeah.”

“You came,” comes back through the door, his voice surprised and hopeful as he turns the knob.

“You said you needed me,” he starts as the door opens. He trails off as Michael comes into view. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, not when Michael is standing there, in that. He looks back at Isobel, who is practically vibrating with satisfaction.

"Isobel,”  he hisses as he takes in Michael's appearance, the leather straps, the tiny blue fabric, all that skin.  He doesn't know if he should throw a blanket over Michael or throw him down on the floor. "Have you lost your damn mind?"

“No,” Michael answers for her, a sour expression on his face. “She’s just a horrible sister.”

Isobel scoffs, lacking any remorse. “If anything, I’m paying you a compliment! That I actually think you can pull this look off.”

Alex watches as Michael stares down his sister for a couple of more seconds before he rolls his eyes, his lips twitching as he gives her an exasperated look. “You’re such a brat, Isobel,” he mutters, his voice fond, the smile Isobel gives him no longer smug but equally warm.

“You two are so weird,” he comments, realizing that this is a part of sibling relationships he’ll never get because he doesn’t have it with his brothers. The closest he’s had to this sibling need to rib each other is his relationships with Liz and Maria. He rolls his eyes when they both grin at him.

“He’s not going out like this,” he continues, holding up his hand when Isobel goes to argue and pulls out his wallet and the blank check he had put away for his donation, handing it over to Isobel. “Fill it with the amount you feel is best.”

He turns to Michael. “Pants, Guerin,” he orders. “I have steaks marinating back home, and I need a drink. I’ll be in the car.” He doesn’t wait for either of them to say anything and instead walks away, muttering to himself about crazy dramatic aliens.

 ***

 They get back to the cabin a little over an hour since he first left his home, Alex heads straight for the kitchen, confident that Michael will follow him. He pulls out two beers, placing one in front of Michael as he lifts himself to sit on the kitchen counter. Alex leans against the sink across from him and takes a good gulp, drinking half the bottle before pausing.  Michael, who thank god is back in his usual cowboy clothes, watches him, his beer hanging off his hand that rests between his knees. Alex takes a moment to study him, he looks comfortable in Alex’s kitchen, but that’s about as comfortable as he looks right now. The car ride had been pretty quiet, and now the silence has gone on too long, and awkwardness is starting to settle in between them. Alex hates it.

“What I don’t get is why you agreed to put on the outfit in the first place if it made you uncomfortable,” Alex questions. “Isobel was teasing, but she wouldn’t force you to go out like that if you didn’t want to.”

Michael shrugs, peeling at the label of his beer. “I wasn’t uncomfortable at first. I thought the costume was hilarious when she first showed it to me.”

“And very on brand, you even have your own hat,” Alex comments, making Michael chuckle.

“A cowboy, through and through,” Michael jokes, there is a boyish playful look on his face that always riles Alex up.

Alex clears his throat, trying to clear his thoughts too. “It works for you.”

Michael raises an eyebrow at him, a slow smile making it’s way to his face. “Guess that answers my question from the reunion. It didn’t get old for you,” he states, challenging.

Alex pushes off the counter and walks towards him, his pulse racing as Michael spreads his legs some more to let him in. He places his beer next to Michael, his hands gripping Michael’s thighs, smiling when he lets out a shaky breath. “I think we’ve established that it’s always worked for me.”

Michael gives him a grin, his eyes bright and Alex decides that they’ve wasted enough time, he lifts a hand to Michael’s hair and starts to tug him closer. For once, they seem to be on the same page because Michael is more than ready for him, leaning down and pressing his lips against Alex’s with a relieved sigh passing between them.

Alex savors the taste he’s gone too long without, his hands slightly shaking as he cradles Michael’s face and pours all the love and longing he’s been carrying around into their kiss. He can’t stop the wet laugh that escapes when they part as Michael continues to touch him, a happy grin on the face Alex loves ever so much.

“I didn’t want anyone else to see me like that,” Michael whispers as he touches his forehead against Alex.

He frowns confused, and Michael must feel it because he lets out a small laugh before continuing. “The costume was ridiculous,” he starts to explain. “I wasn’t embarrassed by it, but when I put it on, I knew I didn’t want anyone else to see me in it but you. I didn’t want to go on a date with anyone but you, I wanted to just come straight here and have dinner as we planned.”

Michael pulls back to look at him, those whiskey-colored eyes of his, shiny and wet.

“I don’t want to be with anyone but you, Alex,” Michael says, holding on to his hands. “So, can we just be together now?”

Alex nods, swallowing over the lump in his throat, his heart thumping hard against his chest at Michael’s words.

Michael lets out a relieved exhale, and Alex just has to kiss him again.

They get lost in it, no rush as Michael sits on his counter, and he leans against him.

“The costume wasn’t so bad,” he says between kisses.

Michael pulls away, laughing.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you in it again,” he teases, feeling his cheeks go hot at the memory of the outfit and the smirk that Michael gives him now.

“You’d have to ask Isobel for it,” Michael warns, the grin on his face so smug.

Alex makes a face because no, he doesn’t want to do that.

Michael chuckles again at the face he makes. “Well, we don’t have the cowboy outfit, but I do have a hat…” he trails off, his hands going to the top button of his shirt, popping it open.

Alex pulls him off the counter as Michael opens another button, still laughing as Alex leads him to the bedroom. “The steaks can wait.”

#roswell nm #malex fic #malex #michael x alex #my writing #honestly i don't even know anymore #i get more and more ridiculous with every fic #but damn it we deserve something light #and fun #they're so angsty all the time #heads up there is a pic at the bottom of this that is NSFW-ish but it is funny