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#full out storm rn  with thunder and all
nightingale2004 · 3 months
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What if Poseidon had a daughter before Percy Jackson but forgot about her mom and never claimed her.
Here's my version of this.
Poseidon took advantage of a drunk woman way before he even met Sally, and from that relationship, the woman was pregnant with his daughter, but he left her before she was born.
The girls name is Audrey. Her mom did try to get an abortion but she couldn't afford it, so she kept Audrey but she didn't raise her right.
From the moment Audrey was born, she was different. She was mute, she spent her time near the beach, loved the rain, and would stand outside for hours when it did, and even dance in the rain and with the sea and she would even smile when she heard thunder or saw lightning. She was never afraid of storms. She barely spent time inside, which in her case was a good idea. But she was never a good student and the teachers never cared for her, or the students
Audrey's mom became a drunk full-time. She went to work drunk and came home drunker with a new guy almost every day. She would also abuse Audrey both physically and verbally if she felt like it, which was all the time.
The ocean was her only escape, and when her mom first laid a hand on her, Audrey decided never to speak again the fifth time her mother laid a hand on her, which irritated her mother even more and made Audrey more of a target.
Audrey taught herself sign language during this time and would escape to the beach more often, and she would even stay the night most days if things got too bad at home.
One day, Audrey was met with a woman at the beach who took her in her home and made sure she was well fed, then when it was late, Audrey tried to leave but the woman wouldn't let her go and tried to make up excuses. But then two other women appeared, and Audrey panicked and ran. Then, the women transformed into furies and went to attack her. They managed to get her down, and Audrey tried to scream for help, but no one came. When the furies went in the kill, one last scream from Audrey was heard until three of the Furies exploded in front of her.
Audrey was in shock at what happened but took this chance to run away back home. But when she got there, another thing awaited her. Her mother lay in her bed completely still and breathless with bottles of alcohol and pills scattered with a note next to her that pretty much said, "I wish I never had you. You were a mistake. And if I had the money, you would've been gone a long time ago, and I wouldn't have done this. This is all your fault."
Audrey was in more shock. She killed three creatures, and now her mom is dead. So after a few days, she rolled up her sleeves, packed up everything she could, and left on the first bus she could get. She was 10 at the time (Percy is 6 rn), and at every turn, more monsters were after her, and she had no idea what to do other than run away.
She kept running and accidentally killing the monsters until a cyclops tried to eat her. But then, one of Luke's followers found her and took her to the others. They didn't know who her parent was, but then again, she didn't either.
They took her in, trained her, and informed her of everything they could about their world that she got herself into. And she started seeing them as family. It wasn't until a few weeks before lightning theif that Luke found out who she really was, and he told her who Poseidon was and after that she started training with her powers but she remained hidden until the time was right for her reveal.
Audrey's appearance description: Black wavy hair with blue highlights (did them herself), grey blue eyes like the ocean and a storm, light tan skin (being out on the sun all day mostly), 5'5, slender with a slight build
Weapon: Trident
Hairstyles: full braid, half braid, ponytail, messy bun, fully down, multiple braids.
Jewelry: Seashell bracelet (she loves making things out of seashells), blue gem necklace, pearl clip
(This is just my oc. Don't take it so seriously. It belongs in my imagination)
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romeulusroy · 10 months
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Summer Storm (Roman Roy Oneshot)
Characters: Roman
Word Count: 1,228
Requested: Roman interrupting a baking/cooking session but he’s like completely clueless? - anon
Requested: could you do spending a lazy weekend being fluffy spent with Roman Roy pls??💕💕 - anon
Tag List: @locke-writes
A/N: I decided to combine these requests, I hope you don't mind!!! This fic is currently inspired by the thunderstorm happening rn lol. I love Soft Roman. I love him, I love him, I love him. I hit a bit of a writers block getting this done, so I'm sorry if it isn't my best!!! Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💜💜
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The thunder rolls in like the tide. You watch the bright sky darken, the clouds pooling in. The heat, the humidity, the thick, sticky air becomes electric. You hear it first, the tantrum. The growling, low and angry. So angry. So breathless. Don't you scare him, you thought, watching the storm. He never liked them. You don't have to say a thing, though he knows. Drink in hand, he pushes your float towards the steps of the pool. The water is warm, not like it was when you first got in. You drag your fingers all the way there, hands pruned, skin burning from the long day in the pool. His sunglasses are big, covering those puppy dog eyes. He holds it in place as you step out, thanking him with a kiss. Don't be here long. You look up from him, his small frame, his red cheeks, to the sudden wind. Strong, passionate, prickling your skin. Suddenly it had gotten cold. Dark. Even in the city you can smell the Earth, the wet soil, the soaking leaves of home. From far away. You stood there a second, on the edge, dripping, letting him take you in. He wasn't the type to look you up and down. Your relationship wasn't like that. There was love outside of your bodies. Now though, something must've caught his attention. Something about you, smelling of chlorine and sunscreen. What are you staring at? You ask, smiling despite your shaking. You're freezing. You're awfully full of yourself, he defends, sipping his drink. You know, even as you turn around, grabbing a towel, he's watching. He can’t take his eyes off you. 
The rain pours in sheets. The sky opens like an open wound without a tourniquet. Patting against the windows, leaving tiny handprints, the rain is angry, defensive, falling with all their mite. He left the glass door open, the smell intoxicating. Clean. Fresh. Stormy. The rain patters down the streets, the empty sidewalks, against the rooftop. Cars below honk their horns, everyone forgetting how to drive in the rain. Their tires plunge through the puddles. You stir the vegetables in the pan, watching the lightning flicker. Flashes so fast you question if they're even real. Ooooh spooky! He laughs, pouring you a glass of wine. He comes up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder. Are you scared of a little lightning? Watch out, it's got a knife! You take the stem of the glass, taking it in. A white wine, summery. Chilled. Distracted, he takes his chance, slipping the spatula from your grasp. Do you even know what you’re doing? You laugh. This isn’t rocket science, I hate to break it to you. But the asparagus is beginning to burn. Outside the sky cracks like shattered glass. Low, moaning, the wind blowing through the apartment. The curtains blow violently, dramatic. Beads of rain are beginning to come in. Neither of you make any moves to shut it. There is something too familiar, too nostalgic, about thunderstorms. About this thunderstorm, as if you have lived a million lifetimes together, the three of you. There is safety in this idea. Security. 
You take a step back, leaving your back against the counter, taking him all in. He’d taken a shower after the pool, his hair still wet. His stubble was shorter, but never gone. His soap, yours, a vanilla scent, mahogany, woodsy. Warm, inviting, opposite the character he forgets he’s playing. He moves through the wound so uncomfortable, as if existence is agonizing, excruciating. He can’t keep still. He nurses his own drink, his tumbler reeking of gasoline. He stirs lightly, as if afraid to bother, to be a nuisance. The oven timer dings and he turns it off, leaving the rest of dinner in the warmth. You resist the urge to wrap your arms around him, to hold him tight and never let him go. But you don’t, because you know he will jump at your touch, any touch, without warning. And it will ruin it. It will ruin everything. So you watch and want. You want him. You want him to feel full and safe and satisfied. You want to wrap him up and never let him go, never let anyone near him again. There are things in this world too precious for mankind. They get used and abused and ruined all because they are beautiful, because they are something otherworldly. He is one of those things. Your Romulus. Your Roman. 
Need any help? You ask, already reaching for the oven mitts. The rain has lightened to a steady downpour. The thunder growing fainter. The lightning is as bright as ever. Sometimes it regains its strength, the storm, and it will throw a punch you have not yet braced yourself for. Your vital organs go unprotected. Your teeth sprawl out across the floor. Sometimes it makes him jump, catches him off guard. He is frozen for a moment, before your hand reaches his shoulder, squeezing lightly. Do you need any help? You ask again, nudging him out of the way. He does not object. It is his time to observe you. You reach in, grabbing the pans, leaving them on the stovetop to cool off. The apartment fills with blinding light, just for a few seconds. Maybe less. You both take another sip. It’s his favorite meal. Your favorite to cook. Easy enough, anyways. The breeze cools your back, your neck, your cheeks. You watch the goosebumps on his arms. Want me to close it? The sliding glass door. No, no- you, you like it. No. He shakes his head. He should be drinking water, you think, he’s spent all day in the sun. But you don’t push it, not now. Later you’ll hand him a glass and watch him drink. He’ll be so full of sarcasm, of quips and jokes and anecdotes, but you will get your way.
  He gets two plates for you, handing you one. You know, if it wasn’t for me, we wouldn’t even have any vegetables. You give him a fork and knife. Oh yes, where are my manners? Thank you Roman Roy for this delicious meal. Where would I be without you? You kiss his cheek, making him smile. He shrugs. Probably dead in a ditch, I don’t know. You laugh. Fuck off! You sit at the kitchen island across from him, glancing at him. What? What are you looking at? He asks, chewing. Can’t I look at my boyfriend? You finish your glass, meeting his eyes. No, actually you can’t. It’s illegal. You’re under arrest. You get closer to him, leaning in. Do I get parole? Mmmm no. Who’s my lawyer? Tom. Fuck you! Despite himself, you catch him grin. You’re tired. The sun took everything out of you. What you want is to leave dinner, leave the dishes, crawl into bed beside him where you can listen to the rain all night and fall asleep. You don’t want the day to be over though. It was too good to be true. Even the storm, even the rain could not ruin it. Whatever quiet time you had together lounging in the pool, cooking dinner, whatever peace you created was enough. More than enough. It was wonderful, it was everything you wanted. Who gets to be the judge? Greg. Are you kidding me? Nope.
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For one of the ask games,💡
💡- What’s a idea you’ve enjoyed but never/couldn’t write?
oh man, i have so many of these
there's the first "novel" i started in middle school that i never could finish because it was dystopian, and then the world got so dystopian and i was like. hm. nope. (actually just had the thought that if i shift the central message that i could make it uplifting instead of beaten down like it originally was... 🤔 )
and then i have several uhhhh religious/good vs evil dichotomy stories i started in high school/college when i was trying to figure out my world view. they're kinda cringe but i want to write them so badly. the two that stick with me are:
"follow the morning star" which is a kinda complex idea but it boils down to: god is dead, the angels have waged war against humanity, and lucifer is their silent protector. also stained glass full face masks to protect from angels. it follows the son of a rebel, whose dad disappeared trying to find god, who follows in his footsteps but accidentally ends up following the clues his father couldnt/didnt find. there's a nonbinary fallen angel and it ends with everyone (lucifer, eve, lilith, seran the fallen angel, and the MC) piling back into mum's house bc we love found family tropes
wing story where the pattern on your wings reflects the sky the moment you're born. so the main characters have wings (both bird and bat-like wings bc gotta have some separatism in the story) of all colors and types. their other physical traits also mirror their wings to a degree
some of those are: a vibrant red, orange and pink sky with a bright red sun (a sign of warning), deep blue with streaks of lightning (born during a thunder storm), his brother that has a dark sky with the stars and moon, the winter sky the moment before the sky becomes blue with light purples and blues, the sky just before dusk with bright reds and oranges mixed with indigo and dark blues (these are the bat wings), another set of star and moon wings but when her wings are folded they make the moon, a boy born at noon who has bright blue wings with the bright yellow streaking sun on his wings
and my two personal favorites: the tornado babies. nova has purples reds and greens on her charcoal wings and lilu has yellow-green wings on dark, dark wings
the world classifies what kind of person you "are" based on your wings, so the brighter more conventionally pretty wings (read: bright sky), are treated better. those with dark, or ugly, wings (Nova, Lilu, the others with dark wings) are shunted to the edges of society. even though no one has any say over what their wings look like, its still how the society is split. (there's lots of fun fucked up things you can do with the world building. parents attempting to schedule c-sections to ensure their children have the prettiest wings, getting nervous when storms come through bc they often precede booms in births, etc etc.)
i would love to work on these fics again but they ALL need massive amounts of world building and plot restructuring to not be so cringey and samey (i had a fascination with rebellions when i was a kid lmao) but rn DP has my entire hyperfocus
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4,8,17,22,24, and 35?
4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?
Gossamer ~ (used to refer to something very light, thin, and insubstantial or delicate) Idk why but that words creates such a specific image in my head; moon beams and abandoned spider webs and old tulle curtains fluttering in the breeze. I love that word ✨
8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?
Since it's mermay mer-creatures are on my mind, and I'm thinking, it would would be really interesting to write something that takes place entirely underwater, between ocean-dwelling characters/creatures who communicate via action and eye contact instead of words.
17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.
I'm actually dual-writing two different comfort fics rn as;ufghioch both that I wrote in the heat of the moment of feeling distressed and needing comfort, and later decided 'hey if this was finished and fine-tuned/edited this would be really good actually'. The first is a rather silly one about me struggling with school and feeling stupid when things get hard, and it includes me sneaking into Funn Funerals to make copious amounts of breakfast (because cooking is something I'm quite capable at and it makes me feel in control when I feel very distressed) and Rudyard having to stop me in my tracks and tell him what's really going on. It's silly and there's breakfast :)
The second is less silly, and I wrote the first chunk of it after a very very scary experience I had a couple months back, when I got caught in a storm that quickly developed into hail and electrical problems in my neighborhood (it was very bad and I had a very pad panic attack when I got home). In it, Eric is the one who comes home while it's storming outside, but he comes home to find me falling apart at the seems because thunder is loud and scary and I hate it very much!
I'm have many many WIPs but those two are receiving the most attention currently! :)
22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?
Google docs and nothing else. When I first started writing I'd leave my drafts on the sites in which they were to be published (at the time: quotev, deviantart, etc.,) but at some point I lost some very important draft and navigated to google docs, where all my drafts and old stories stay in a very messy pile, organized only by pulling the most recently-edited one to the top :)
24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?
Depends on what you mean by 'prep work'! If you mean prepping in order to write a story, I don't do anything! It's a miracle if I can get myself to focus enough to write in the first place so I can't really afford to have a sitting-down-to-write-ritual or anything. If you mean prepping a story to be fully completed, then it changes lol. Sometimes I'll edit a story once and be done, though more often now I'm deciding to do heavier edits and full rewrites, which I mostly like because they do turn out better! I do get bouts of Ugh Why Do I Have To Do That though lol
35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?
'Close all tabs except for your WIP' I cannot functionally write without several tabs open, my possibly ADHD ridden brain will not allow it.
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cacophonylily · 3 years
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Wannabe gardeners baffle me. Like, dude, no need to lose time watering your crops today. Look up at the sky: it’s def gonna rain in a couple hours.
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goldafterglow · 4 years
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Headcanons on Ezra and/or Frankie not feeling good enough for their S/O and their S/O comforting them?
A/N: first of all these are definitely a choice I made and it’s okay; second of all, why did this take me all day to write haskghfdj but I did both Ezra and Frankie bc I was having a soft Frankie moment; third of all I literally did not read though this so it’s probably full of typos and redundant words but fuck me
Word Count: 1k+
Warnings: angst, fluff?, soft!hours bitch everyday is soft hours on this blog, the same thing twice except it’s not the same thing at all but it is lol, some quality ass lines going to waste in a headcanon but I loved writing this so it’s okay
Ezra
he absolutely feels this way when he falls in love after losing his arm
Assuming his right hand was his dominant one, he was nearly sobbing from the emotional loss. Ezra thinks a lot, he assigns musings to inanimate objects like books and buttons and arms, because he wants the believe there is beauty in everything, that everything has meaning.
Feeling things is very important to him. The texture of a tree trunk, the cooling glitter of river water, the bumps on your skin. When he says “no love too intimidating,” he definitely means how his right arm holds his most intimate secrets.
He wants to love you to his fullest capacity, love you with his whole body and every last molecule of his tattered soul because you deserve so much more but that’s all he has to offer.
Ezra gets touchy when he’s feeling less than. It’s difficult to notice if you don’t pay careful attention; he is touchy enough on its own. But his insecurities rear its ugly head in the most timid of ways: a kiss that lingers for just a moment more, a hug that lasts a second longer, a nuzzle that travels deeper into your neck than you thought possible. Because he doesn’t know how to compensate for that arm, that missing piece of him.
Ezra is a very honest man; it’s hard for him to keep his emotions in his chest for them to rot and suppurate in the swollen heat. So he’ll probably ask you if you think he’s enough in more ways than one.
It’s confusing to you at first; Ezra has always been somewhat of an enigma, always saying so much and yet the meaning behind his words is so complex that you couldn’t begin to comprehend how the stars over his head cross each other.
“Won’t you lay here with me, my starlight?” and “Just one more kiss, butterfly,” and “Can’t an enamored man tell his muse that he is in such a state?”
And it’s hard for you to say no to him when he looks at you with his pathetic doe eyes, begging you to let him love on you.
But as his doubts grow, his questions begin to concern you.
“Dandelion, you’re happy here aren’t you? With me?”
It breaks your heart to see him so lost, feeling to destitute.
But Ezra trusts you, gives you his whole essence because he doesn’t believe you’d ever want to hurt him, so it’s just a matter of cooing “sweet boy, of course I’m happy. Ezra, you make me happy.”
Or even telling him that “pretty poet, you just being is enough” and that “your existence is a gift in its own, Ezra”
It takes time, requires cycles for him to learn that his love for you is not tied to a limb, attached to anything physical. His love is misty, a cotton candy fog that fills your atmosphere and enters your lungs, melting down to sugar so that you can hear it rattle when you breathe.
But he learns.
Frankie
our beautiful angel bottom
Frankie always feels like he’s taking from you.
You’re so good to him, so loving, and he has spent his time with you letting the little moments with you add up.
He has the ability to recognize every little second of time you spare for him: bringing him take out after he’s had a long day, letting him drive you far off to the ridged edges of the earth so he has a human cushion to hold while he star gazes, sitting in his lap in the backseat of his truck during a drive-thru movie doing anything but watching.
You’re a lot for him, you give him so much, and he doubts that he filling your cup in the same way you empty it. The way you empty yourself into him.
Frankie’s not the best at communicating his problems. He likes to hold things in, to sit and observe and hold his own thoughts until he bursts and his words sting as they leave his lips. He lets his insecurities build, develop in a static silence that he thinks he can resolve on his own because he doesn’t want to burden you more, dump even more of his baggage onto you.
When he gets like this, when he’s festering, he gets distant. It only ever aggravates the issue, rubbing sandpaper on a sunburn and rolling coins into a stab wound, but he’s afraid of offending you. He’s scared of pushing you away.
Frankie’s words do not come in a million small drops of rain, a thousand dainty freckles peppered along cheekbones. Frankie feels like he is the storm, the flood, the monsoon, and that when his feelings flow they crash onto the ground and destroy homes in his path and uproot trees buried deep in the Earth.
He doesn’t tell you until you confront him, asking him why he’s been so distant. Asking him if everything’s okay.
And he can’t lie to you like that, he can’t tell you that there isn’t anything wrong, because something is wrong and it’s with him.
He’s barely able to get out a “Baby I-” before his throat constricts, choking out the flames of his sweet voice. He always tries to be delicate with you.
You have you hold him in your arms for a little bit, give him a safe space to collect himself and pull his shit together because he can’t believe he’s putting this on you, drawing pity out of you.
You’re tender with him, not that it’s hard. Holding him is like balancing a scared puppy in your hands; how could you ever hurt it, be rough or mean towards it?
Telling him that “it’s okay, baby, I promise I can handle it.”
Once his thundering has quieted and the lightning stops striking, he musters to courage to tell you that “I know I don’t deserve you. Just - please, take me as I am.”
Your heart fills with his pain, pins pushing out the walls from the inside. You had no idea.
 But with a little “I think you deserve everything Frankie” and a little “baby, if I took all of you I think I’d drown,” and even something as simple as “Francisco Morales, you have always been enough,” he feels universes better.
It doesn’t take much for him to back to that sweet, soft man that loves you so kindly.
Your gentle giant.
Tags: @mrsparknuts @girlwithanewplan @mrschiltoncat @agentpike
i’m still figuring my tags bc I’m a mess but child anyways here’s the link for my tags bc WOW pls just take it because I added a question about fics/drabbles/headcanons which is why I’m having hot girl problems rn
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jefferoni-quotes · 4 years
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I'm having a pretty hard time rn (my grandpa passed away two days ago and my best friend and me had a major fall out the day before) so.. could you maybe give me some fluff? I don't care who about, I just need something nice and sweet -
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First of all, anon, I'm so sorry about your grandpa! I hope you're okay, if not feel free to message me!
Take this short, fluffy Jamilton which had been sitting in my drafts for months. Thanks for making me finish this!
a copier room for two
Jamilton, 973 words
Reblogs > Likes
tw for anxiety
Full fic under the cut!
Jefferson grabs Alexander by the arm and tugs him down the hall. The office is long empty, the employees filed home hours previous. A rumble of thunder breaks the unpleasant silence, and Hamilton lets out a pathetic whimper, suppressing the overwhelming urge to curl up into a ball. 
Jefferson is still pulling, less harsh and more caring with a focused expression plastered over his features. If he weren't so utterly caught in the net of fear, Alexander would've taken a moment to admire him. 
They turn a corner, a left he notes and then a door is thrown open with urgency. Another loud clap of thunder and a strike of lightning has involuntary tears tracking down Hamilton's cheeks. A choked sob comes from one of them, and it takes Alexander a second to realise it was him. He's guided by a strong hand into the room, a printer room, how classy he thinks. 
The door shuts and a light flickers on, suddenly the storm is nonexistent. Standing before him is a tired looking Thomas Jefferson. His usual arrogant smirk is replaced with a sad looking frown, his forehead wrinkles with the expression. He looks old. Well, not old. But older than he is. As far as Alexander knows, Jefferson is thirty-five, a full four years older than Hamilton, but he could easily pass for his mid-forties. 
Jefferson opens his mouth to speak, and that familiar sultry drawl does not escape. The accent itself is the same, but his tone has changed dramatically. His voice is quieter, lighter. He sounds more friendly, approachable and in a way… shy? It's an emotion he wasn't aware the ignorant jerk possessed, but it was a breath of fresh air. 
"This is the only soundproof room on this floor," Jefferson breathes, stepping away from the door, releasing the handle.
Alexander sighs. That's how he can no longer hear the crash of thunder. There aren't any windows either, so he's safe from seeing any of the storm too. Then he raises a questioning eyebrow. "How do you know that?"
He examines with intent as Jefferson's face lights up red, all the way up to his ears. The blush isn't as noticeable as it would be, and he susses the man must be grateful for his darker skin hiding his fluster. "Unimportant," he mutters and turns back to the door. "Would you like me to leave?"
Alexander blinks a few times. Despite being unable to see or hear the storm, he knows it's out there. And he really doesn't want to be alone. "Stay? Just until it's gone?" He musters the willpower to ask for help, and it doesn't feel good. Not until Jefferson lets go of the handle again and nods, his hands dropping to his sides like he doesn't know what to do with them.
With a moment of silence washing over them, Alexander sinks to the floor, tugging his knees up to his chest. The tears haven't ceased in their tirade of running down his face, and he sniffs as he realises this fact. His - admittedly hot - political rival has seen him at his lowest point. Great.
He doesn't notice Jefferson sitting down next to him until a thumb graces just below his eye and wipes a bitter tear away. He flinches and the hand is gone. He looks over, Jefferson automatically glances away. This is a side he's never seen of the man. This shy, bashful, quiet man is such a difference to the cocky piece of shit Alexander knows. 
They sit in silence for a minute longer, enjoying the feeling of not arguing. Alexander has calmed down significantly when Jefferson speaks.
"When I have panic attacks I come in here." He says with a simple shrug, but his eyes shine with fear and regret as soon as the words pass his lips.
"What?" Alexander asks, exasperated. He takes big gasping breaths.
"You asked me how I know this room is soundproof," Thomas (when did Jefferson become Thomas?) reminds him. "Well, I come in here when I'm having a panic attack, or I need to cry or whatever." The man looks away, averting his eyes from a confused Alexander. 
"What? When you need to…?" Alexander's voice wavers with the effort to hold himself together, for his and Thomas' sake.
Thomas catches his bottom lip between his teeth, rolls it back and forth as he considers his words. "Cry, or I'm panicking. Usually twice a week at least."
"When was the last time-?" Alexander asks, throat thick. It feels as though he's the cause of this.
"Yesterday-" Thomas announces, "you called me a pathetic disgrace to the earth," he adds, glancing off. The storm may have stopped by now, and yet neither dare move. 
Alexander caught his bottom lip between his teeth, rolled it back and forth nervously before letting it go. "I'm- sorry about that. You're… you're not that bad actually."
Thomas scoffs. "No, Hamilton. I am that bad."
Shaking his head, Alexander cuts in. "You're not. You wouldn't have helped me if you were."
Thomas snorts out a soft laugh and drops his head to Alex's shoulder absent-mindedly, not thinking about his actions. "You're not so bad yourself, Hamilton."
"Alexander," he corrects, threading his fingers through Thomas' curls. They spring - much to Alex's delight - to the touch. Not only that, but Thomas makes no objections, merely leans closer to Alexander.
"You're not so bad, Alexander," he repeats, name changed to fit better. It brings a gentle smile to Alex's face, and in this moment he's completely forgotten where they are. In his mind, they're no longer huddled in a cramped printer room, there is no storm outside and Thomas hasn't just opened up about his anxiety to him. No, it's just him and Thomas in their own little world together.
And it's perfect for now.
-
Tag list (ask to be added!):
@a-nice-tea-time @skyluni @khiara1776 @beetlejuicebeetlejuicebeeeecause @slushy-sloosh-musical-person @patt0n-sanders @karixx @tryingtohealandgrow @justthehopeleft @pufflypuffle @swagdiplomatlightkid @i-can-get-extra-with-my-ships @revolutionary-romanticv
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gerrymike · 3 years
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does your mike crew have psychosis? i’m asking because of that one bit in the most recent chapter where gerry says that ophelia gets to go insane and mike immediately shuts that down
ROIGHT the short answer here is thats very likely the Diagnosis. The long answer is wait hold on two seconds while i cite my sources id like to be academic about this. Cut bc itsa long boy. cw refs to paranoia institutional gaslighting Spiral typical content etc
i think preface should be that mike in canon (and by extension satg) is pretty mired in the spiral yeah. twisting deceits want me fish fear me. And i’m very much not the ideal person rn to be fully unpacking themes and implications and whatnot wrt TMA and mental illness but i think it’s safe to say that spiral = pretty direct allegory
and while it draws on real world stigma/perceptions of psychosis i think it’s good to keep the fiction/reality distinction (i.e. fantastical evil entity out to get you and convince you you’re out of your mind VS actual hallucinations). obviously they cannot at all be divorced from each other because of how fiction/reality affect, intertwine, and represent each other, but personally with like what i write id hesitate to directly conflate the two especially in my position
HOWEVER! On the part of YOU the reader. Yes valid interpretation re: Mike. I think definitely with his hot entity commodity status how people around him (parents, other adults, healthcare professionals) perceive his panic regarding the lichtenberg would go that route. Much like other victims of the spiral
For one, awful moment, I found myself frozen in a tug-of-war with whatever was inside that door, clinging desperately to that rope as it stretched away and vanished into blackness. But I was six, and felt myself starting to lose my footing and fall towards it, so I did the only thing I could: I let go, and I watched my most treasured possession disappear forever as the door closed behind it, and I ran back to bed. I told my parents, of course, but they didn’t believe me. They just thought I’d lost it, and was making up wild stories to cover it up. The wall was the wall again, and the picture of the old sailing boat was back where it should have been.
Sims, J. (2019). “MAG146: Threshold”, in The Magnus Archives. https://snarp.github.io/magnus_archives_transcripts/episode/146.html
mike’s parents in satg do try but with the nature of the Spiral down the road mike definitely feels the lasting effects of people not believing him. It’s part of what pushes him to be independent in his hunt for something to escape the lichtenberg (he’s tired of being told he’s mad, he’s tired of being told he’s NOT mad and a liar instead, he’s tired of talking to terrible adults, etc.)
When I was twelve, curled under my bed to escape the pounding of the rain against my window, the roll of thunder that just rattled my skull, I began to travel them once again. My hands ran down and along those jagged, discoloured lines, every branch, every turn, my nostrils full of ozone, my veins full of fear. And they didn’t stop. I knew where my scars ended, but… those I traced in the dark that night, they just went on and on and on, far beyond me and to somewhere that still flashed with that unspeakable white light. That was the night everything changed. Before it I was odd, certainly, probably traumatised, and gripped with a terror of storms, but after that night, things were different. I think, looking back, that was when I called it. That was when it caught my scent.
Sims, J. (2018). “MAG91: The Coming Storm”, in The Magnus Archives. https://snarp.github.io/magnus_archives_transcripts/episode/091.html
and i think in his early teenhood when he’s still new to the evil lightning man thing. hes young and scared enough to go to his parents which leads to going in and out of facilities and talking to people who lets be real dont have his best interests at heart. and psychiatric/therapeutic malpractice leaves a mark on the psyche for sure; messes with one’s self perception and esteem to. A Degree. More on that in further chapters
Oh, other doctors did, did they? Mm. Well, that sounds reasonable, let me just have a look at your case file here, a gander at the old medical history. Medication, diagnosis, medication, oooh, hospitalisation. Hm. Trouble is it’s all lies, isn’t it? Because I’m your doctor now, Doctor David, and I say these people, these ‘professionals’, had no idea what they’re talking about because, well, I understand what they simply didn’t. You made it all up, didn’t you? What was it? A plea for attention, trying so desperately to make the world notice you?
Sims, J. (2020). “MAG177: Wonderland”, in The Magnus Archives. https://snarp.github.io/magnus_archives_transcripts/episode/177.html
so. Combination being gaslit by professionals and constantly hounded by manifestation of madness. understandably one would be touchy about implications re: Ophelia even when theyre not targeted
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etherealeeknow · 3 years
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hello. it’s gen. and i’m warning you that below is a longass and useless paragraph of... me crying/pouring my heart out?
(just in case) before any of you go “uhhh why is she exposing her relationship on a skz tumblr fic account?” i have my reasons, skz included. if you’re still questioning the exact same thing, you’re more than welcome to scroll past this! thank you.
tw: bad break up. me being hyperbolic. mention of scars (metaphorically).
these past few months have been amazing to me— well, despite my shitty work lol. but really, i’ve been blessed with such awesome and lovely moots, anons, and readers!! 🥺💞 however, /cue thunder sounds and lightnings and all the scawy effects/ things suddenly took a toll last friday night (wow it sounds like a katy perry song but n e ways!!), long story short, i’m on the edge of a shaky relationship.
last year on march, i also went through a bad break up, a bigger one, even, with my two year boyfriend (make it four if you wanna include how many years i l*ved him). this one’s actually nothing compared to last year, but shit still hurts as bad, apparently, sadly, pathetically, lol. ngl i did have a thought to delete or at least leave this account (don’t get me wrong, this account has done nothing wrong, it’s just because i was so overwhelmed, i didn’t know what to do), but i’ve decided not to.
last year on september, skz came into my life (thankfully, i have gotten over my ex by that time and have come to the fullest realization that what we had IS toxic.). still, skz brings so much joy to my life, even until this very moment when i am typing this. i’ve been into kpop since i was... 14?? and i’m turning 23 this year. i took a two year hiatus because my ex wasn’t into kpop (and i was such a fricking simp!!! heh). skz was the first group i came back to and is actually the only group i’m paying full attention to now (i was and still am a huge multistan, but i don’t keep up with other groups as much anymore).
this person i’m seeing, is also a stay. as much as i’d like to think/say it doesn’t affect me at all, i can’t. they’re a stay and we’ve talked about skz a lot, obv it has left tiny, faint scars on me, and— idk, like i said, it’s been really tough and i can’t think straight. on top of that, today’s my first day being back at work after having my five days break and i’m gonna shamelessly admit that i cried at work today lmao (thank goodness we’re working from home and i had no zoom meetings!!).
but as i’ve told you, last year’s storm was bigger, but i passed it, didn’t i? so oBV I AM SO GONNA GET PAST THIS TOO!! eazy peazy lemon squeezy!! besides, there is no way, nO WAY, i’ll let a person who has hurt me to take away my happiness. they’ve hurt me and that’s enough. i’m not gonna let them take skz and writing, and you guys, away from me. i’m gonna get back on my toes. i’m not gonna set any deadline, but i’m here to say that i am here, i am not going anywhere. i wanna be happy. i miss the girl who i used to be— independent and a full time minho simp <3 and this time, i’m gonna be exactly just that pLUS more mature and stronger!
now, this is all so sudden but i’ll be closing my rant? here because it might go on longer and i don’t want that to happen sldkfkfkf since it’ll only be filled with me blabbering nonsense. for those who’ve read till the very end, thank you so much. for those who sent me asks, thank you too— i’ll get to answering them soon. also i can tell you’re probably going ??? at me rn but really, it’s just the stupid effect from my shattering heart. i can assure you i am still gen.
-gen 🧷
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rocorambles · 4 years
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it’s typhoon season in japan rn and it’s been pouring non stop—so like can i get a comfort hc with kuroo and bokuto 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 thunder storms are also occurring
Omg, this request made me so soft. I also HATE rain and any type of precipitation with a passion, so I felt this!!!! Hope you enjoy <3 
Kuroo
- This perceptive cat immediately notices when your mood goes downhill as the rain continues pouring down and he notices your little flinches with every roar of thunder. His attention is always on you, so even the smallest change in your mood rings a warning bell in his head. 
- He won’t directly confront you or ask you about what’s upsetting you. He prefers the more subtle approach, but you can be sure he’ll do everything in his power to distract you from the torrential downpour outside and to raise your mood back up. 
- As soon as the two of you wake up and you groan about how grey it is outside, he’s quick to wrap his arms around your waist and throw the sheets back over you two, insisting on morning cuddles and sleeping in and you let yourself be lulled back to sleep tucked against his warm body. 
- You groggily wake up later that day to an empty bed and you blearily look around for the messy-haired boy, but your search is cut off by said boy rushing back into your room, hot mugs of tea and breakfast in his hands and the two of you sit side-by-side in bed, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you consume the prepared meal. When you’re finished, he sets the empty cups and dishes to the side and you nuzzle into his side as you both languidly chatter and he gently rubs comforting circles on your arm with the hand slung around you.
- The rest of the day is spent playing board games and making a blanket fort that takes up your entire living room. You have a perfectly good couch in front of a TV, but what’s the fun in that? The two of you cuddle and laugh underneath the billowy shelter, curled up with every pillow you could find in your home. With your head placed on Kuroo’s chest and his hand gently stroking your hair, you think to yourself that typhoons and thunderstorms aren’t so bad as long as you’re with your big overgrown cat. 
Bokuto
- Let’s be honest, this baby owl is probably even more scared of thunder than you and the dreariness of typhoon season has him in one of his full-out Emo Modes. 
- BUT when he sees how down you are and how nervous you are with every roar of thunder, all his negative emotions are pushed down by his desire to see you happy
- When the two of you wake up and he hears you sigh sadly as you look at the grey skies outside, he promptly flops on top of you and you yelp at the sudden weight squishing you, but soon you’re giggling as he covers your face with excited kisses. 
- The sound of his grumbling stomach stops your playful exchange and you laugh as he looks at you with a sheepish grin. Climbing out of bed, you pull the excited boy with you to the kitchen and he wraps strong arms around your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder as you cook. (He wants to help, but you flick him on the forehead reminding him of the disaster that took place the last time he tried to use the stove.) 
- The two of you spend the rest of the day playing video games and you get so caught up in Bokuto’s intensely competitive and fun-loving spirit that hours pass before you both even realize it and not once do your minds even think about the weather outside. 
- Too lazy to cook again, the two of you order food in, heavily tipping the drenched deliveryman, before curling up on your couch and watching some action movies. You jokingly fight as Bokuto insists on taking bites of your food, but you soon find yourself willingly feeding him. How can you say no to that smile and those eyes? You roll your eyes, but smile when he insists on also feeding you. Curled up next to his broad figure, feeling safe, warm, and protected, you could care less about the weather outside.
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judeloski · 4 years
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💀  * [ ella purnell + demi female + she/her ] —— have you met judith ‘jude’ loski? they are a twenty-one year old junior currently studying fine arts. they live on farrow house, and word around campus is that this capricorn is creative + magnetic, as well as contradictory + morbid. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive. a skull pattern stained onto fine china, flowers plucked too soon, red wine staining the seam of your lips.  [ ooc: pepper. twenty four. she/her & est. ]
ABOUT THE MUN.  hey baby, hey baby, hey baby, hey baby, here’s twenty dollars!
hello it is pepper again with my second muse because i have no self control. depending on whether or not i can handle this amount of muses i might drop one but for now i am hype!! i have had jude living rent free in my head for like ??? a year at least, and this is the first time i’ve gotten to play her so i’m living large! the entire inspiration behind her is inspired by my creative writing teacher in uni so this is a shout out to you jen i love you!! okay that is all. 
BIO.  kidnapping tw, death tw, child neglect tw. holiday candles that smell just like your years as a feral child in the forest!
i was gonna write a nice sexy bio but honestly my brain is offline rn so i don’t think that’s gonna happen, instead, welcome to these sexy bullet points. 
judith evianna loski was born approximately two minutes prior to her twin sister juliette elenora loski during a frightful blizzard in londan, england. while judith popped out of her mother kicking and screaming bloody murder from day one, moment one, juliette was a docile baby. she was so sweet and quiet that the doctor’s had to check her breathing more than once. while, of course jude made her presence, and her posession of a working set of lungs and killer set of vocal chords, known to everyone within a ten kilometre radius. let’s just say the loskis knew the difference between their daughters instantly. 
which was fine. jude and julie liked being different anyways. where jude was colour coded green, julie was colour coded blue. while julie was always thrilled at the prospect of a new dress or doll, jude was known for covering such gifts in mud or paint until they were utterly recognizable or suitably ruined. where julie was sweet, and quiet, and shy, jude could fill a room with just her presence, could make a friend in a sea of strangers. the fact was, jude always had what julie lacked, and for the most part vice versa. they fit together like two puzzle pieces, and they complimented each other perfectly. and despite their differences, both their parents adored them unconditionally, and equally for the first six years of their lives. 
which of course meant the girls were spoiled rotten. how could they not be? damon loski was an english gentleman coming from very old, very lucrative oil money. he ran his business like a hobby and yet the loskis still had more than enough money to buy an island or two, especially considering annette’s status. annette loski was a french photographer, and a talented one at that. her work was desperately sought after and world renowned for it’s beauty, and so in her own right, annette was more than well off. and thus, the twins were more than well off, and even if they couldn’t quite understand the concept of that yet, they definitely understood that they could have whatever they wanted just by asking for it. they understood that wherever they went they were to be accompanied by a nice man or woman who was supposed to keep them safe. and they understood that because of mummy and daddy’s jobs they weren’t allowed to play like the other kids did. but as young as jude and julie were they never truly understood why.
that was until three weeks after the girl’s sixth birthday. jude remembers the whole thing like it was yesterday. it was snowing that day and it was that thick puffy snow that made everything seem quiet, the kind that made it hard to see too far ahead on the path you were trekking. the loski twins had taken advantage of the weather to slip between the fingers of their caretaker for the first time and go to the local park. their escape with thrilling, a game of espionage turned reality and the two girls basked in their victory as they made snow angels and twirled and twirled in the snow. that was the day jude had set out to swing higher than she ever had before and demanded that julie watch. and her sweet sister, as submissive as she was, had never quite learned how to say no to jude. so while jude swung and swung and swung, julie stood and watched her from across the park by herself, eyes wide and innocent as she warmed up her numb fingers with her breath. until she wasn’t. alone that is. jude remembers spotting the woman approaching julie. she remember seeing them talking. she remembers the warm clouds her own breath made, almost in sync with the breaths huffing past her sisters lips, foggy up the air before her eyes and obscuring her view. she remembers julie taking the woman’s hand. she remembers the two of them moving to leave the park. and she will never forget that heart stopping moment of quiet, of confusion and fear as her swing slowly came to a stop. she remembers losing julie in the blur of the snow that day.
eventually the police found jude huddled under a tree a block away, still calling her sister’s name into that eerily quiet snow storm, blue lipped and half frozen to death as she shook like a leaf. jude came out of that experience with phemonia. julie didn’t come out of that experience at all. 
well, in all honesty there was no way for the loski’s to know that. after all, they never saw julie again. for all jude knew, her sister could be alive and well, living a new happy life where she had no memory of having a sister. where she had a family that was whole for no reason other than she doesn’t remember it falling apart, and where she loved and was loved in return. it was always so easy to love julie. so honestly, it was entirely possible. 
jude would like to believe that was true. even if in that scenario it would undoubtedly mean that jude got the short end of the stick. 
you see, after julie’s kidnapping anette and damon’s marriage fell to pieces over the years. the trauma of losing a child can do that to you, you know. during that time, as her parents bond splintered apart at the seams, jude remembers hearing her grandmother tell her mother to keep it together for jude. to stick out out for the child she had left. 
her mother left them both in the middle of the night without warning less than a week later. so, jude supposes she wasn’t quite enough to hold things together. 
jude might have been comforted by the fact that she still had her father if he could even look her in the eye. the fact was, jude looked exactly like julie and julie and jude were always both told they were dead ringers for their mother. jude was a physical reminder of literally everything her father had lost, and he didn’t take that quite well. suddenly damon’s hobby of a job became his life. anything to not be home with his ghost of a daughter. 
now the doom and gloom of all this might make it seem like jude took all this trauma and just got really down in the dumps about it. that would be incorrect. jude took that trauma, buried it very deep and only ever used it to fuel her art but otherwise completely ignored it altogether. there’s a difference. one option requires years of therapy and the other can be dealt with pretty easily with years of denial, even if you’re forced to go to therapy anyways because your twin sister was kidnapped in front of you and that kind of thing generally gets you a ticket to therapy for life. very different. 
jude isn’t sure if it was that trauma, her parents name, the fact that the news of her sister’s kidnapping was pretty spread all over europe for about a month, or even unlikely enough her talent that launched her art career, but something did. maybe it was a combination of everything. but either way, jude loski was able to find herself with her own small art gallery opening at the tender age of thirteen. and her success in the art world only grew from their, her art galleries and portfolio growing and growing until the point that jude was able to find herself with a place at holloway. and considering there wasn’t much left for her in england anyways, considering her father barely spoke to her and her mother was gone like the wind, jude decided to go. 
and that’s all i got for now, and also i’m tired but if you want to plot give this a like and i will slide into your dms.
HEADCANNONS.  *aggressively makes tea*
here is her pinterest board. 
do not call her judy,  
hates her birthday and hates snow storms understandably. is a big fan of rain though. particularly enjoys thunder storms. 
is allergic to bees but is super chill about it. had an allergic reaction when she was fourteen that her dad was too busy on a business call to notice was happening. the nanny ended up being the one to stab her with the epipen. 
has pretty bad nightmares and night terrors sometimes and hence generally likes to sleep when the sun is out if she sleeps at all. because of that she tends to seem pretty nocturnal. you can probably catch her at the library in the middle of the night. 
loves weird little knicknacks. like voodoo dolls and like shrunken heads or like other weird stuff you find in the corners of antique shops and stuff. her side of her dorm is probably full of them so rip to her roommate. 
really loves skulls and other modern kind of contradictory things on fine china. learnt to make the designs herself cause there isn’t nearly enough of them, but she just does it for herself as a hobby like she doesn’t sell them or anything. 
learnt to weld on a whim. catch jude in her dorm welding things to make sculptures out of metal. 
bisexual as hell theydies. 
spent a lot of her teenage years with her godmother but i’m too tired to get into that rn i might add to this later
loves poetry and novels, but likes the flowery shit yk, the stuff that makes you feel something. 
is a good student for the most part but is horrible in math and science. sits in on english and classics courses for fun though. 
is v english and therefore very particular about her tea. 
i do headcannon that julie is fine and okay and just living that finding carter life so if anyone was wondering yeah she’s out there somewhere and alive with a new kidnapper mom yk 
a bit witchy. the kind who washes her door in rosemary and sunwater because she believes in that kind of thing and doesn’t understand why people don’t. that said, she doesn’t believe in god even a little bit but she goes to church every sunday anyways just to admire the stained glass and ask very specific questions to spark debate. she also just genuinely likes the vibe of jesus. not god, but jesus, she’s cool with. 
unfortunately is a dirty smoker. smokes nicotine and weed. probably vapes. 
the type to quote poetry when she’s drunk or high. can be very annoying because she always thinks that she’s like transcended into another world. 
i have a feeling in my heart that she’s really bizarre and she was really bizarre as a child after losing julie. big lilo from lilo and stitch vibes yk. just weird and sentimental and lonely. 
has a pet rabbit named julius. 
doesn’t tend to talk about her dead missing sister so unless you think your muse would know about it she probably wouldn’t tell them i’m ngl 
as for personality i have no clue!!! this is my first time playing her so i’m gonna figure it out yk
WANTED CONNECTIONS. I kinda need a hug but I’d rather DIE than let anyone know I am a human being that desperately craves intimacy
CHILDHOOD FRIEND. please. they can be from anywhere okay i will make it work i live for childhood friend connections. 
ENEMIES. i mean why not 
BEST FRIENDS. again, pls.
CONFIDANTES. someone she trusts, we love to see it 
EXES. i have a feeling that jude is one of those ‘i’m gonna leave before you leave me’ kind of people, so she definitely could have self sabotaged this kind of thing
MUSE. self explanatory but consider this: please. 
CRUSH. jude has a crush on your muse or vice versa
FAMILY FRIEND. self explanatory, but it could be wild that’s all i’m saying. 
and other stuff ofc, but my brain is so tired y’all i have to knock out
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historias-multorum · 4 years
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greek god aesthetic
Bold and italicizes what applies to your muse!
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Tagged by: Yoinked From @sphinxsmuses​
Tagging: @quirkless-wonder​ @multimuseheart​ @jojoingjoseph​ @warraigoe​ @pinafcl​ @frogprinceus​ @relectus​ and anyone still up or seeing this rn
Aphrodite 
laughter-loving. sweet smiles. dressed in silk and satin. flower in their hair.  sees the world as a runway. unapologetically sexual. the sea washing their ankles. in love with love. stirrer of passion. cunning concealed by painted lips. secret daggers. doves. revolution in their kiss. delighting in the waves. flirtatious winks. strolling along the beach. staring wistfully from a balcony. this is how to be a heartbreaker. wants to be adored. gets turned on by danger.
Apollo
glitz and glamour. art galleries. turning the volume up. being made of gold. neatly organized music sheets.  notebooks filled with poetry. bathing in the sunlight. the powerful urge to create. collecting vinyl records. beautiful cover of wonderwall. playing multiple instruments. tasting like sunshine. healing touch.  speaking in prophecies. smile mingled with wrath. shunning lies.  sporting shades. hanging out at music festivals with their friends. sleeps naked. arrow to the heart. paintbrushes. probably has a tinder account.
Ares
armed for battle. wants to raise a dog with their significant other. soft spot for children. gives piggyback rides. scarred body. blood on their hands and face. willing to fight the world for the ones they love. fights against injustice. warm hugs. well worn combat boots. boxing gloves. bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles. fist raised in protest. ignites revolutions. fear is a prison. more sensitive than what their tough shell would have you think. exhausted. damaged goods. force to be reckoned with. red roses. curses under their breath.
Athena
discerning gaze. unreadable face. quiet museums. owl perched on their finger.  armor that intimidates. eye for architecture. plays the sims for the sole purpose of building houses. studied the blade while everyone else was busy getting laid. big fan of logic. loves brain teasers. ancient buildings. sweaters in neutrals and cool colours. hair done up. can kill you with their brain. heads to the library often to research.  sharpened pencils. abs that can cut steel. stoic statues. pottery  classes.
Demeter
soil-covered hands. smile that can bloom flowers.  skin loved by the sun. being the mom friend. can lift you and your friends. flowers kept in the pockets of overalls. takes pride in their beautiful garden. speaks to their plants. leaves rustling in the wind.  stalks of wheat. picking fruit. greenhouses. heart as strong as a mountain. values simplicity. daisies dotted across a collarbone. curls crowned with flowers. folded pile of sweaters in warm hues. pulling out fresh-baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air.
Artemis
keen sense of a hunter. freckles like constellations on their skin. piercing eyes. disheveled braid. moonlight peeking through the shadows. the calm of the forest at night. lying on the grass and staring at the stars.  mother doe and her fawn. protecting their kin. the moon shimmering on a still lake. quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree. running with wolves. bonding while circled around a campfire. not being much of a people person. arrow hitting a target.  popping egos. patience on 3%. touches heaven and returns howling.
Hephaestus
the calloused hands of someone who knows labor. sweaty brow. flame burning in their eyes.  inventive mind. broad shoulders. steampunk goggles. nuts and bolts  stored away in little boxes. ashes. striking a match. blueprints for  future projects. fixing up a busted-up car and giving it cool upgrades.  wrestles with bitterness. work boots have seen better years. wrinkled plaid shirts. iron melted in blazing fire. huge jackets. crafting  masterpieces. greased stained overalls. fascination with robotics. pain is fuel. stack of weaponry. even their muscles have muscles.
Hera
resting bitch face. dressed to the nines. cows grazing on a pasture. cool rain. loving and hating fiercely. hand clutching a string of pearls. large chandelier with glittering crystals.  plays the sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims. romance to realism. pictures of the sky while flying on a plane. files that  under fuck it. downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath and netflix. like their selfie or you’re grounded. knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man. dark eyes that penetrate your soul. marble and gold.
Dionysus
drunk shitposter. on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second. seductive smirks. untamed curls. rich fabrics on dark skin. sleek furred panthers. theater masks. stage productions. receiving a standing ovation. rose caught between their teeth. being the baby of the bunch. wild parties that last from sundown to sunup.  creeping vines. inspiring loyalty. grand opera houses. masquerade balls. rolls of film. shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the wine spilled floor. pouring champagne into flutes. lives for the applause.
Hermes
devil-may-care smile. always up-to-date on the latest technology. will steal your french fries. does it for the vine. shitposter. puts googly eyes on everything. meme hoarder. long drives on the highway. ma and pop diners. spontaneous road trips. folded maps. fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop. shooting hoops on the basketball court. chatting up strangers as you all journey  to your own destinations. goes jogging in the morning. mixes redbull  with coffee. menace on april fool’s. hoodies and sneakers.
Hades
walking home alone in the early morning. back alleys. drinking alone in a  graveyard. crippling loneliness hidden by sarcasm and cynicism. crows picking a carcass. untended dead flowers. the black sheep of the family.  black coffee. money can’t buy you happiness. murder mystery dinner parties. blood on your shirt collar. dust illuminated by sunlight. classical music.  dogs are better than people. a quiet wrath. shady business deals.  taking what you are owed. paint it black. seasonal affective disorder.  popping the suit collar. grey rain on a cityscape.
Poseidon
storm with skin. colorful coral reefs. waves crashing against the shore. stroking the soft fur of a cat. their heart pounding as their horse’s gentle trot speeds into a gallop. tousled locks. clothes smeared with paint. owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns to own more. leather jackets. fondness for diy projects. handwriting that flows across the page. nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin.  velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams. mood as ever-changing as the sea. the roar of a motorcycle. compass with a spinning arrow.
Zeus
thunder in their heart. running on coffee. flash of lightning. unnatural charisma. eloquence. badass in a nice suit. aficionado of history. force of nature. lennyface. nightmare-filled nights. proud arm around their lover’s waist. high - rise buildings. planes soaring through a cloudless sky. technician on the piano. maintains order. strong handshake. juggling multiple events on their busy schedule with ease. expensive watch.
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cygin · 4 years
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SHAKESPEAREAN AESTH.
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ROMEO   &   JULIET.      suburban july.  scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems  in your diary. a  window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill-fitting party dress.  a  t-shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs.  biking to your friend’s house.  bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a  car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a  heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a  sharpie. switchblades.  red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn-looking basketball hoop at the end of a  cul - de - sac.  climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a  eulogy written on loose-leaf. the merciless noontime sun.
HAMLET. speaking in a  whisper. holding your breath. a  browning garden. a  half-remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn,  mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins.  books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out.  prayers on all souls’  day.  a chipped ceramic bathtub.  a  cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a  child.  a  dirty nightgown. an oversized t-shirt. a  collection of your favorite words. the soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a  cliff with a  long,  long drop down.
THE   TWELFTH   NIGHT.        wicker deck furniture.  new  england summer.  large sunglasses and a  blonde bob. a  storm over the ocean.  patio umbrellas flapping in the wind.  the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm.  starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a  vagabond with a  guitar.  fishermen with tattoos.  a  pretty boy with a  slacked tie. a  lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big,  floppy sunhats. double-speak. a  song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze.  margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a  balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far.  bad poetry. pining. becoming  less of  a  stranger.
MACBETH. the space  where your grief used to be. a  bird that’s lost an eye. old bloodstains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat.  the stillness after a  battle. a fake smile. a  curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house,  unfamiliar in the dark. a  dusty crib.   the smell of sulfur.  an orange pill bottle.  streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob,  shaking. a  chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a  moonless night. clenched hands. a  rusty swing set. a  flashing digital clock stuck at 12: 00.  a  snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a  dog that runs when you approach. red smoke,  dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a  baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches.  nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.
MUCH   ADO   ABOUT   NOTHING. the high drama of small towns. a  pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall, hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a  wraparound porch.  a  pitcher of  iced tea.  a  rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill-timed proclamations.  stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down and thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a  sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore,  and her mama before her.  a  dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties.  lawn flamingos. gossip.  a  crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you’re home until you’re there.
KING   LEAR. cement block buildings.  power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words.  rainless thunder, heat lighting. a  too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a  cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags.  grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the tips of your teeth. the blown-out windows of a  skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes.  biting your tongue. prophecies.  aching muscles. tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers.  numbness.  the unequivocal feeling of ending.
A   MIDSUMMER’S   NIGHT   DREAM.  the smell of wet soil and dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a  pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a  pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a  bass beat in your chest. a  butterfly landing on your nose. a  kiss from a  stranger.  a  dark hollow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a  twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a  dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over,  completely. afterglow.  the long,  loving,  velvety night.
tagged by: thanks @stonerbyleth​ tagging: anyone in their pajamas rn is tagged.
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datapadz · 4 years
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OLYMPIAN AESTHETICS
tagged by: stole it from @lghtpulled​  :-* tagging: everybody else that’s awake rn
APHRODITE. laughter-loving, sweet smiles, dressed in silk and satin, flower in their hair, sees the world as a runway, unapologetically sexual, the sea washing their ankles, in love with love, stirrer of passion, cunning concealed by painted lips, secret daggers, doves, revolution in their kiss, delighting in the waves, flirtatious winks, strolling along the beach, staring wistfully from a balcony, this is how to be a heartbreaker, wants to be adored, gets turned on by danger.
APOLLO. glitz and glamour, art galleries, turning the volume up, being made of gold, neatly-organized music sheets, notebooks filled with poetry, bathing  in  the sunlight, the powerful urge to create, collecting vinyl records, beautiful cover of  Wonderwall, playing multiple instruments, tasting like sunshine, healing touch, speaking in prophecies, smile mingled with wrath, shunning lies, sporting shades, hanging out at music festivals with their friends, sleeps naked, arrow to the heart, paint brushes, probably has a Tinder account.
ARES. armed for battle, wants to raise a dog with their significant other, soft spot for children, gives piggyback rides, scarred body, blood on their hands and face, willing to fight the world for the ones they love, fights against injustice, warm hugs, well-worn combat boots, boxing gloves, bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles, fist raised in protest, ignites revolutions, fear is a prison, more sensitive than what their tough shell would have you think, exhausted, damaged goods, force to be reckoned with, red roses, curses under their breath.
ARTEMIS. keen sense of a hunter, freckles like constellations on their skin, piercing eyes, disheveled braid, moonlight peeking through the shadows, the calm of the forest at night, lying on the grass and staring at the stars, mother doe and her fawn, protecting their kin, the moon shimmering on a still lake, quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree, running with wolves, bonding while circled around a campfire, not being much of a people person, arrow hitting a target, popping egos, patience on 3%, touches heaven and returns howling.
ATHENA. discerning gaze, unreadable face, quiet museums, owl perched on their finger, armor that intimidates, eye for architecture, plays the sims for the sole purpose of building houses, studied the blade while everyone else was busy, big fan of logic, loves brain teasers, ancient buildings, sweaters in neutrals and cool colors, hair done up, can kill you with their brain, heads to the library often to research, sharpened pencils, abs that can cut steel, stoic statues, pottery classes.
DEMETER. soil-covered hands, smile that can bloom flowers, skin loved by the sun, being the mom-friend, can lift you and your friends, flowers kept in the pockets of overalls, takes pride in their beautiful garden, speaks to their plants, leaves rustling in the wind, stalks of wheat, picking fruit, greenhouses, heart as strong as a mountain, values simplicity, daisies dotted across a collarbone, curls crowned with flowers, folded pile of sweaters in warm hues, pulling out fresh-baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air.
DIONYSUS. drunk shitposter, on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second, seductive smirks, untamed curls, rich fabrics on dark skin, sleek-furred panthers, theater masks, stage productions, receiving a standing ovation, rose caught between their teeth, being the baby of the bunch, wild parties that last from sundown to sunup, creeping vines, inspiring loyalty, grand opera houses, masquerade balls, rolls of film, shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the wine-spilled floor, pouring champagne into flutes, lives for the applause.
HEPHAESTUS. the calloused hands of someone who knows labor, sweaty brow, flame burning in their eyes, inventive mind, broad shoulders, steampunk goggles, nuts and bolts stored away in little boxes, ashes, striking a match, blueprints for future projects, fixing up a busted up car and giving it cool upgrades, wrestles with bitterness, work boots have seen better years, wrinkled plaid shirts, iron melted in blazing fire, huge jackets, crafting masterpieces, greased-stained overalls, fascination with robotics, pain is fuel, stack of weaponry, even their muscles have muscles.
HERA. resting bitch face, dressed to the nines, cows grazing on a pasture, cool rain, loving and hating fiercely, hand clutching a string of  pearls, large chandelier with glittering crystals, plays the sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims, romance to realism, pictures of the sky while flying on a plane, downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath and netflix, like their selfie or you’re grounded, knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man, dark eyes that penetrate your soul, marble and gold.
HERMES. devil-may-care smile, always up-to-date on the latest technology, will steal your french fries, does it for the vine, shitposter, puts googly eyes on everything, meme hoarder, long drives on the highway, ma and pop diners, spontaneous road trips, folded maps, fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop, shooting hoops on the basketball court, chatting up strangers as you all journey to your own destinations, goes jogging in the morning, mixes redbull with coffee, menace on april fool’s, hoodies and sneakers.  
POSEIDON. storm with skin, colorful coral reefs, waves crashing against the shore, stroking the soft fur of a cat, their heart  pounding as their horse’s gentle trot speeds into a gallop, tousled locks, clothes smeared with paint, owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns to own more, leather jackets, fondness for diy projects, handwriting that flows across the page, nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin, velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams, mood as ever-changing as the sea, the roar of a motorcycle, compass with a spinning arrow.
ZEUS. thunder in their heart, running on coffee, flash of lightning, natural charisma, eloquence, badass in a nice suit, aficionado of history, force of nature, lenny face, nightmare-filled nights, proud arm around their lover’s waist, high-rise buildings, planes soaring through a cloudless sky, technician on the piano, maintains order, strong handshake, juggling multiple events on their busy schedule with ease, expensive watch.
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heirxann · 5 years
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𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒.
Bold all that apply to your muse / repost, don’t reblog !
Tagged by: @italitude ( thank you friend! ) && probably a bunch of other people whoops
Tagging: feel free to steal from me im very lazy rn
𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑.
A chill right down to the bones. Tobogganing. Teeth chattering. Sleeping all day. Sitting by the fireplace. Spending time with family. Layered clothing. Seeing another’s breath. Loving the cold. A state of inactivity. Cold hands. Blistering winds shaking the closed windows. A bookcase full of brand new books and all of the time in the world to read them. Cable knit socks. A bitter remark. A log cabin in the middle of nowhere. Hating the cold. Full-length windows to peer out of. Pale skin. Deep conversations. Watching the snow fall. Sharp edges. Hot chocolate. Smelling every candle in the store. A wild snow storm. Melancholy. Lighting candles around the bathtub. Snow globes. Expressing yourself but never finding quite the right words. The softest blankets. Liking, but not loving something or someone.
𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆.
The smell after it rains. Being in control of yourself. A soft breeze blowing through your hair. Lightning when it strikes. Cherry blossoms. Bright mornings. The first sign of hope. The relief of finding something you lost. Paris in the spring. Birds chirping. The art of growing. A kiss on the cheek. The clap of thunder. A tornado in the valley. Smiling at a stranger. Planning. Saccharine pinks. Making promises. Trying something new. Hugs when you need them the most. A bee sting. Sitting on the steps of the met. Coming inside drenched from the thunderstorm. Picnics on a red checkered blanket in the new sun. That feeling you get when you put on a good dress. A long hike. Rushing when you can take your time. Going to the gym at ungodly hours. Excitement for what’s coming. Becoming yourself. Rain boots.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑.
Lanterns lit around a campfire. Seeing the sunrise like it’s the first time again and again. Melting ice cream. The warmth of the sun rays on your skin. Fireworks. The feeling of never wanting something to end. Beach days. The lone blow up floaty left in the pool. Drifting with the warm nights breeze and nothing else. Music blasting at 3 AM. Palms trees on sunset boulevard. Longer days and shorter nights. Wanderlust. Night spent staring at the stars. Sand castles. Road trips. Blood orange sunsets. Leaving the laundry to hang outside. Flowers in bloom. Sneaking out of your room late at night. Pure contentment. Barefoot in the sand. The street lights coming on. The sound of the ocean in the seashells. Freshly squeezed lemonade. Loose clothing. A cannonball into the pool. Sunflowers. The hazy pink before dawn. Relaxation.
𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋.
The leaves changing colors. A heavy backpack. The smell of old books. Dark woods. The silence in loudness. Abandoned houses. Ripped jeans. Crunching leaves beneath feet. Feeling like you’ve been somewhere before. Sitting at a bay window. Having an endless amount of homework. Charcoal drawings. Screaming into a pillow as loud as you can. Pumpkin patches. Creaky floorboards. Accepting that some things have to change. Museums.Small talk. Being ignored. Procrastinating. A door slamming shut. Going to bed early. Baking pies. The fear of walking alone in the dark. Feeling completely and terribly lost. A twig snapping. Crisp, cool days. Belly laughter after crying. Converse. Foggy mornings at the shoreline. Writing a daily entry in a journal. A lonely day.
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im-whatchamccallit · 6 years
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Determination//Lee Felix (Stray Kids)
Request: Hey darl! I love your blog x I was wondering if I could request a Felix from stay kids idol AU where him and his s/o are both aussies and your on a music show outdoors and the stage is wet and stray kids performs after your group but he watches you dance and slip many times during rehearsal and the stage and is like kinda agnsty but cute! Thank you :) x Keep writing cos it’s amazing :D
Pair: Felix x Reader
Genre: Fluff, slight angst (but not really), Idol!AU
Warnings: Bodily injury
Words: 2.4k
(A/N: Thank you, anon! Sorry this was late btw. Also, sorry if it’s bad or has typos, I’m running on lack of sleep rn. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and, if it’s not to your liking, message me again and I’ll be happy to redo it)
You and your members sang acapella as your bodies lazily followed along, practicing before practice because this was the biggest show of the year, especially for your group, you couldn’t afford to screw this up.
Your group had only recently debuted but had so much buzz around them that they were more than popular around South Korea and most parts of Asia. Besides a few music shows to promote your debut album, this festival was the one of the biggest moments of your life, getting to perform alongside your favorite groups for tens of thousands of people, this is something you could only dream of but, now, it was truly happening.
You smiled brightly as you opened your mouth, the first few lines of your rap leaving your lips before a deeper voice took over, using aegyo and causing your entire group to laugh. You peeked over at Changbin, watching as he danced and rapped cutely which caught the attention of other idols, making them smile at the act. He turned to you and continued to dance as you pouted, his lips curling into a smile.
“Felix wants to see you. I’ll take your spot for you.” He spoke softly for the others not to hear as you nodded understandingly, excusing yourself from the group, not that they minded.
You shyly greeted the other artist, bowing and waving as you went deeper backstage, finding Seungmin and knowing you were close. You listened closely through one door to hear the sound of talking, a deep and familiar voice catching your attention as you eagerly stepped inside, your eyes widening as you saw him. Felix and the others sat around, chewing happily on the pack of Tim Tams and bags of Twisties that immediately caught your eye. Felix looked up mid-chew to see you approach happily.
“Your mom sent you some snacks.” Your face dropped as you wanted to slap him for opening another one of your packages but, instead, you watched as he grabbed one of the cheese curls, holding it out to your lips before you snatched it away bitterly, his lips curling into a smile he knew you couldn’t stay mad at.
You and Felix had been dating for only a few months but it felt like years. When you first arrived to Korea, You knew no one and barely spoke the language. It wasn’t until you were running late to practice that you met him, crashing into his body and apologizing profusely, only for him to give a goofy grin and comment on your accent. Sure, it was nice to meet another Aussie but for him to mock your broad accent to his general one, every time you saw each other, was annoying. You had grown close to Chan, finding his company enjoyable whereas you made an effort to avoid Felix at all times. It hadn’t dawn on you that your actions would hurt him until he pulled you aside one day, his lips drawn into an unfamiliar frown and his eyes hard but sad, questioning why you hated him. From that day on, you began to act kindly to him and him you, cracking jokes and wasting the days away together until, eventually, you two fell for each other. It only took two weeks but you sometimes wish it would have been sooner.
“You realize you owe me more food now?” You uttered as you devoured the single cheese puff, your hand reaching for a Violet Crumble bar, Felix grabbing it first and opening it for you slowly.
“Anything you want, honey bee.” He passed you the chocolate covered candy with a sweet smile, your tongue pressing to the inside of your cheek as your face heated up with embarrassment that he’d say that in a room full of people, people who were oblivious to your relationship.
Before you could respond, a loud explosion-like sound caused everyone to flinch, Felix subtly but instinctively moving closer to you as the lights flickered a bit before going out completely. Your eyes widened as you could hear everyone’s confusion and fear, some even moving from their seats to find the exit and an explanation as to what was going on.
You jumped slightly as a hand reached for yours, lacing your fingers together as warm air grazed your cheek.
“You okay?” Felix whispered to you, your face turning to meet his only to find darkness.
“Yeah, why? Need me to protect you?” You joked back but the way your hand trembled from the sudden events, his body leaning forward before his lips pressed to your forehead.
“I got you.” Luckily it was so dark or else everyone would’ve saw how hard you were smiling.
The lights suddenly came back on, causing you to push away from Felix as quickly as possible, you both finding some pose to seem casual just as a slightly older woman entered, a metal clipboard in her hands as she looked at everyone apologetically.
“What happened?” Jisung asked, everyone eying the woman as she adjusted the glasses slipping from her nose.
“There’s a major thunderstorm right now and its right around this area but it’ll clear out by the time the show begins. (Y/N), your group needs to rehearse and then-“
“But you just said there was a storm.” Felix muttered but was just loud enough for her to hear.
“Yes but the show begins in almost 3 hours. We need everyone with working headsets, microphones, and to know the stage well enough to perform in front of the tens of thousands of people attending. It’s too late to cancel so, let’s go, (Y/N).”
You smiled at Felix who just glared at the women waiting on you. You began to walk with her, the sound of footsteps behind you making you turn but the feeling of a hand grasping yours through the now empty halls. You slowed your walking until the woman was a good distance away before turning to Felix, watching his face twitch a bit as he was deep in thought.
“Are you sure you want to perform today?” His question shocked you but you kept your composure.
“You know I do. I’ve been practicing for this for so long, it’s all any of us could think about. This could be huge for us, Lix.”
Your voice came out more as a plea than a definite statement. You had ran yourself ragged just preparing for this day, losing sleep and meals in an attempt to make sure everything was perfect so, if performing tonight was really what you wanted to do, he had no place to stop you.
“What if you get hurt?” You both stop walking to stare at one another, your fingers wiggling between his as your free hand reached to play with them gently.
“Then you’ll take care of me. Seriously, Felix, I’m going to be fine and we both know I have to do it anyways, I don’t have much of a say on that.” You turned to see the woman from before staring intensely at you, your hands leaving his as you gave a small smile.
“Come watch me practice. You’ll see everything is fine because I’m what?”
“Cute and clumsy?” You rolled your eyes playfully before pushing him, approaching the small huddle of your group members.
No time was wasted as you attached your earpieces, making a few sounds into your microphones to make sure they worked properly before cautiously filing onto the stage, a few of you screaming out as the large raindrops pelted against your skin.
The sound of the music fought against the sound of thunder, causing you to fall a beat behind as the choreography began. You could feel more than just Felix’s eyes on you, glancing to the side to see Momoland and A.C.E watching closely, your nerves suddenly getting to you as you tried to focus on your moves but the sudden gust of wind that blew a wave of rain into your face made it hard.
Although the look on your face was slightly amusing, adding it to the scenario was heartbreaking for the Sydney boy. He couldn’t force you and your group to come back, that would be major trouble for all of you, not to mention this was just the first step of you getting to perform on such a large platform as this so what more can he do than support you?
The sudden call of your fanchant over the water droplets pelting against the stage made you smile slightly, suppressing a laugh as Felix comically screamed to you, eventually the other boys joining in, making the rain, your drenched hair that hung over your eyes, and soggy shoes seem like nothing. You tried to push through the performance, catching yourself as you felt your feet touch large puddles forming on the ground but, the seemed scream of your groupmate startled you, the grip of their hands around your forearm as they fell bringing you with them. You landed on your side with a thud as you held on tightly to the mic, felling them help you stand as you both tried to quickly and quietly continue. You looked over briefly to give Felix a thumbs up, his hands returning the motion but with complete uncertainty, not happy with the circumstances so far.
The next minute or so was painful for everyone to watch. You were all falling like dominoes, especially you. Whether it was the puddles, the slick stage, or losing your footing, you somehow spent more time on the ground than on your feet. But, still, you stayed optimistic, only having your rap and the final chorus to go before rehearsals were over. You smiled brightly as you tried to rush to the center of the formation, falling once more but the silent yet loud crack caused your eyes to widen as your foot curled beneath you. You took deep breaths as the pain crawled up your body, creeping up your spine and around your vocal chords trying to project a scream but you only let a small whimper out. Everyone looked at you expectantly as it was your verse. You couldn’t screw up now.
You grabbed the mic just a few feet from your hands and pushed yourself up, gasping as your injured foot touched the ground, finally deciding one foot was enough as you hopped to the front, standing still as you rapped in shallow inhales, the situation riskier than before.
You were obviously hurt, everyone could see it. Your leader scurried away and told them to stop the music, leaving you dumbfounded as the only beat you had was the slight drizzle left behind from the slowly passing storm.
“(Y/n), let’s get you backstage.” One of the staff members spoke as he and Chan rushed to your side, trying to hold you steady but you pushed them away, nearly toppling over.
“What are you talking about? I’m fine, let’s finish this up.”
“(Y/N), if you can walk over here right now, you can finish practice.” Felix voice rang out, his eyes focused on you with only seriousness as you scoffed, rolling your eyes and hopping closer, his eyes squinting a bit.
“I said walk.”
Everyone seemed to grow silent, waiting for your next move. You pursed your lips and slowly set your foot onto the ground, your face contorting in pain as you applied pressure, the sudden lightning like pain causing you to cry out, Chan catching you immediately and began to guide you backstage, the boys and your group following with concerned looks, but the only one that mattered was Felix’s.
~*~
You eyed your bandaged foot before staring back at the hospital’s television screen, watching the performance once more as it played back to back just in case anyone missed you. The storm had passed long ago and your group did great, Stray Kids were amazing, EXID killed it, and VIXX looked handsome as always; if only you were there to see it all.
“Do you think I’ll be able to stay the night?” You turned your head to see Felix entering your private room with a small woman that looked and acted more as a grandmother than nurse, making you smile that she was here.
“I don’t know, Mr. Lee, (Y/N) might not be too happy about that.”
“Its fine, Nurse Chae, but thanks for being cautious of weirdos.”
She laughed at your comment before quietly dismissing herself, leaving you two alone to stare at one another. The silence and intense eye contact became too much for you as you opened your arms invitingly, beckoning him with your hands. He didn’t hesitate to approach you, crawling into your bed and wrapping your arms around one another.
“You did so well today.” You mumbled into his shoulder, pulling away to see his face, his eyes focused on your leg held up by a sling.
“How’s your leg?”
“Better, actually. I kinda feel like dancing.”
He couldn’t help but smile at your optimism, readjusting so that his arm stretched behind your shoulders, the other by his side. You had a plan today and stuck through with it, almost, and he couldn’t have been prouder of you, even if it meant you wouldn’t be able to promote with your group for your next comeback for the next month. But that surely didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy your time off.
“But, the bright side to this is that you get to stay home and rest and, when I’m not practicing, I’ll be with you or, when you don’t feel like staying in, I can bring you to me and you can stay with me and we’ll spend every day together and I get to-“
“You wanted me to get hurt, didn’t you?” Your question made a mischievous grin appear on his face, his eyebrows playful wiggling as he sat up, your head cocking to the side to look at him.
“I’m just trying to be positive like you and show you that everything will be fine, because you’re what?”
Your tongue pressed to the inside of your cheek as you recognized the statement as the one you made earlier.
“I’m dating an idiot.” You pushed him playfully, only to have him nudge at your neck with his head like a cat.
Of course, it was a bit annoying as his stray strands of hair tickled you but were you going to stop him? Definitely not.
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