#short hiatus to tend to real life

[etoilesombre]

Chapters: 2/4 Fandom: Black Sails Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver Characters: John Silver, Captain Flint | James McGraw Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, light for Black Sails i mean, Fluff, also only by Black Sails standards, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Related, s02e01, fuck Dufresne Flint will never not be captain, the intimacy of sharing food and space, wound care, Medicinal Drug Use, Watersports, But not really though, only in the context of hurt/comfort, John Silver: I hope this doesn't awaken anything in me, silverflint weird sleepover in which they try not to kiss, hm i'm not gonna say the sexual tension is resolved exactly, Hand Jobs, Interrupted Sex, something exhibitionism adjacent, Edging Series: Part 3 of our feast is but beginning Summary:

“This is your plan?” Flint sneers, looking at Silver like he’d expected no better. “Hiding below decks like a rat?”

“Now Captain, that’s unkind,” Silver pouts, trying to hide his hurt behind teasing reproach. All day he has attempted to match Flint, to fight alongside him though he is ill-suited to it, and it has earned him nothing but disdain. Now it’s time to do things his way for a while. “Like a stowaway, at least.”

---

After they have taken the warship and been cast out of the crew, Flint and Silver are forced to contend with each other and the nature of their relationship.

____________________________________________________________ HERE WE GOOOOOOO chapter two: morning after time! Did we actually think touching dicks was gonna be the endpoint for these fools? Oh no, this is just a stop along the way.. it can get SO MUCH weirder and more intimate than that. 

[pedros-husband]

pLEASE i’m dying for an enemies to lovers with do djarin and male reader. maybe the reader is also a bounty hunter and they’re going after the same bounty (possibly the Child) but have to reluctantly work together. maybe they have previous reasons to hate each other, but there’s a LOT of tension and fluff! no smut, please, and thank you <3

I have no clue when this was asked so I’m so sorry if you’ve been waiting for centuries, but I’m back from my long hiatus and ready to fuck this shit UP!!

You have been heard and I will try my best to do well! I’m a tad rusty but I hope you like it 💗

I hate your guts (not)

Summary: you and din had been tasked to work together to protect the child, after years of being rivals. (Set in season 1 pre- knowledge that grogu is well called grogu)

————————————————————————————

You fucking hated din Djarins guts.

Well, maybe that was an exaggeration,but you sure as hell hated him. Ever since you had begun to bounty hunt he had been trying to beat you in almost every aspect. It was a sort of unspoken challenge to see who would get the first part of beskar armour- which he had won, then who would be higher ranked, which he had also won, then it was who would get a better shop, he had won yet again. This repeated over and over until your paths inevitably crossed. Some higher ups had believed you two LIKED eachother - which to you two seemed utterly insane.

Cut to you two standing in front of Din’s ship, awkward silence handling heavy in the air, with only the occasional clunk of armour or heavy breathing. You were the first to speak, muttering a quiet “this is fucking stupid, you’re fucking stupid.” Din wasn’t supposed to hear you say it, but he did.

You could only assume he rolled his eyes before he sharply turned to you to whisper-yell “I’m about as happy as you are about this whole… arrangement” he made sharp gestures with his hands and his words where punctuated sharply “so cut the shit and let’s just get this over and done with.okay?”

You simply scoffed and entered the ship.

————————————————————————————

Neither of you had planned for this ‘short mission’ to drag on for nearly a year yet it did, and now here you were, tension even thicker than when you started- if possible- with a small green alien in the ship.

Over the year you had thought lingb and hard about the real reason you began hating din, and too be honest you couldn’t quite remeber the reason why you had started to be angry at him to begin with.

Occasionally you would pear around the bunk room to see him cleaning his armour, hunched over on the small bunk, under armour tight against his sculpted body, with the occasional peak of tan skin from under his gloves. You would find yourself standing there for hours, only being torn away when the child would tug on your leg, indicating he wanted to be fussed over.

Or how you would sit slightly behind sun when he would be piloting, eyes concentrated on his hands, watching the skilled way he would flick between controls and expertly fly the large ship gracefully through the universe. No stars nor glaxy could capture your attention like he could. You would brush it off as resentment or ‘judging his work’ often giving him snide remarks to throw him off, but your voice was often laced with an undertone of- compassion.

Or just in every day life when your gaze would linger on him for just longer than it should, before you would return to your task.

You where resting after a tough mission, tending to your wounds whilst playing with the child, who was sat on the table looking at you with his big eyes full of concern, when din entered.

His stance was different today, and you had become good at reading how he held himself, seeing as you had no context clues from his face, his body language spoke volumes. However , today, he seemed- well you couldn’t quite tell. That concerned you- din was a simple man to you, he never held himself in any other way than tense or angry around you. Or at least your perspective of it.

You had obviously been silently staring at him too long trying to figure out what his body language was, when he coughed loudly.

“What do you want space boy” you groaned out, space boy had been your nickname for him, much to his annoyance. However today your tone didn’t hold malice nor anger, it wavered slightly and sounded more cautious. Din sensed this and slowly sat, not next to you by the table, but by the bunk room a few metres from you. He sat slumped against the wall, hands hanging by his sides. He sighed loudly before speaking ina. Hushed and croaky tone- one associated with crying usually.

“Look, m/n, what’s the problem between us… tell me, because I don’t think I can go one more day on this damned ship with you, the tension between us is fuxkjngn killinn me” his tone slightly turned more frustrated and he let his head fall back to rest against the wall.

You took a long pause before whispering “I don’t know.” You tried to finish your thought, to explain why you hated him so, but your words caught in your thought and brain fuzzed over, so he started talking again.

“I notice you, I feel you look at me, m/n” his tone adopted a more subtle calm one, and he inches closer on the bench, being slightly closer to you.

You raise your gaze from the floor to look into his dark visor, squinting your eyes in a desperate attempt to see his eyes- to gauge what he means by this.

He continues again, mindlessly rambling at this point. “M/n, I-…” he trailed off, but stood up and turned the lights off. Your breath hitched and body tensed.you hear The sound of his helmet hissing as it was removed from his armour, and then set down on the table. He tapped the side of your helmet to motion for you to do the same, and you complied.

In the few seconds that followed something seemed to click in your brain, you figured maybe the same things had clicked for him earlier.

You stood from your chair, and it clattered behind you and scraped against the floor. You took one step towards din and he pulled you closer by a hand on your lower back. He didn’t kiss you at first, instead taking his time to trace every feature of your face with his fingers, trying to memorise it. He didn’t say a word and neither did you.

After a while you lifted your own hands to cup his face, a soft gasp falling from your lips as you felt the warm scruff of his beard, then the soft skin of his cheeks, and his beautiful hooked nose. You took your time to imagine his soft brown eyes and paint your own image of his face in your Brain, carving it there so you could never forget it. After a while you felt his hot breath against your cheeks, and he whispered “I want to kiss you,may I?” You slowly nodded your head and he pressed his lips to yours.

As your lips connected you felt the years of tension slip away, instead replaced with a warm glow inside you. You kissed back, lips pressing against his. You knew it wouldn’t go any further today, and so did he. You just stood in the dark room of his ship, holding eachother quietly. There was no conversation of the hatred held by one another over the years, nor one of what was to come after this.

All that you knew right now was you had him and he had you.

——————————-——-//end//————————————

A/n: I’m sorry if this is super shit, I know it’s been like 6 months since I’ve posted but I was taking a mental health break, and I’ve recently been diagnosed with spondylolisis so I’ve been navigating that.

Hopefully I’ll start posting more!! I have 2 more fics I’m hoping to get done by the end of the week so that’s another thing.

Lots of love

Finn

[wackyscreamswithraisin]

Indefinite Hiatus and Clearing the air BIG TW ON //PERSONAL

Before I say anything this is the fanfic summary: It’s/ it was revolving around Raisin and Malcom (and Hamilton) from the Smart Talk With Raisin short, somehow stealing a meta cartoon remote from the, inaccessible to them; Cartoon Network ‘toonworld’ (like when you see the characters crossover in CN bumpers). They’d watch Courage the Cowardly Dog on their tv in their room like a comfort, but with the remote they start meddling with the character’s awareness of meta for entertainment - and when Barbara accidentally fuses with a glitched artefact, she is unable to be reverted to normal and she breaks the constructs of her own minor characterdom to try and track them down. The fic idea has changed a lot over the years but that’s what it (currently) has changed to. It’s rather Pibby adjacent and would focus on a lot of what’s changed about cartoons between every half decade - yeah it’s very complicated and over the top lol.

I know y’all are sick of me making these long ass walls of texts instead of proper content and I’m really sorry I keep pulling this 💀. I was going to make a nicer pinned posts] of explanation but since this blog is in a confusing place at the moment I just decided to do it quick instead so I don’t put it off.

For those who don’t want to read the full thing: TLDR,

1. I have personal attachment to Fred that has probably affected my judgement

2. My thoughts on Fred as schizophrenic rep is certainly not universal and the partial embarrassment about writing content revolving around him continues to catch up with me

3. The related problems below are reason why I have been so adverse to seeing Fred as being a r-pist m—-ster or SA’er

And 4. I’m starting to accept that it’s not that deep if my fanfic never gets told. Even if it would make me happy, it’s not the end of my work or me if I don’t. Nevertheless I hope you all understand and I’m sorry for any disappointment.

On the personal issue: First, bc some might not know, I am mentally ill and have had a vague diagnosis of psychosis for years that was never fully decided and that I understand now and abridge as ‘schizopsec’, but follows all the traits of OSDD 1B, enough that I tend to use both terms. ‘Fred’ is one of my alters - he’s my main ISH (internal self helper), caretaker, and fictive (fictional introject), and he has been for around 10 years. This is not a joke. This is as cringe as it sounds, even worse in real life when he fronts of course, and is embarrassing for me to admit even when I attach this post to my main blog where I share schizospec upliftment posts. It’s a complicated and excruciating subject matter for many many reasons, and it’s important that I clarify this, even though it’s uncomfortable for me, since this naturally affects my ability of separating Fred the alter from Freaky Fred in my writing and art. This is part of why I have to keep scrutinising my writing drafts. I believe I can keep them separate, but this is part of the reason why I guess my attachment for him and making content to do with him is there at all.

My thoughts on Freaky Fred in episode : As a schizospec, putting the alter aside, schizophrenic representation means the world and the moon and the stars to me, even when it’s bad. I can’t tell if this is an agreeable opinion amongst other schizospec/ psychotic people, but even damaging and dangerous rep involving homicidality like the axe crazy maniacs have something of catharsis in their rises and falls that I can appreciate, depending. Sexually depraved and violent rep however, crosses a line; obviously schizo killers in fiction are heavily drenched in misinformed stigma and is mostly bullshit and can be dangerous- we are dramatically far more likely to hurt ourselves or be hurt - but I think most people would agree that sexual violence is a different evil altogether, and I cannot stand to see the marginalised mentally ill conflated with such horrendous shit.

There’s the problem. I think Fred is a schizophrenic; other than him getting the equivalent to straightjacketed at the end and taken to presumably some asylum or how he narrates/ talks/rhymes in his own head and otherwise barely talks just disjointedly - he’s got that classic 90s-00s cartoon crazy grin and is instilling fear in the viewer through said unbalancedness,his whole deal is very ‘of its time’ on displaying scary madness. And, all that being said, even though he’s clearly not good rep by any stretch of the imagination, he doesn’t harm anyone - he’s even ‘nice’ - or at least doesn’t seem to be blatantly malicious. The bar is on the floor, but that’s already better than idk William Afton or something.

Fred as a predator: The point of view of Fred as a metaphorical molester is pretty obvious and is a popular opinion, and it would be dishonest to say I don’t completely see it, especially with how he says naughty - the implication steers more into the sexual predator area. Hair shaving isn’t violent as much as taking something away - subtracting, and this can be interpreted in a murderous or SA fashion, but the murderous interpretation I stick with, one akin to Sweeney Todd, is a very flattering view of it and I know it. It’s easy to see how it comes off fetishistic which favours an SA view and is naturally the reason why a lot of people see it as rapey.

The episode as a metaphor for SA or CSA enabled in a household that turns the other way is popular, and at first I didn’t like this theory because it felt like a dark theory made almost to tarnish child content with a deeper or darker meaning, which I had seen a lot elsewhere. But this wasn’t really honest; ‘The Mask’ works well as an episode with no subtext but is respected moreso as an episode clearly about domestic abuse and misandry born from trauma. ‘Freaky Fred’ can also be this.

I think the well and honest truth for me is, even when I do everything I can to touch grass, and remove my personal connection to the character/ the idea of him through the alter, away from the conversation; I really don’t want Fred to be a schizophrenic and a sexual predator character at the same time, and I cannot remove my view of him as the first one, but I have to admit that, in some ways, both was intended for him and this episode in some variation. It’s pretty upsetting to think about; I know a majority audience isn’t going to be that invested in the representation of mad people, especially not in cartoon antagonists, but it matters a lot to me. Obviously it would still be bad if he wasn’t a crazy character and it would still be scary and awful if he acted more ‘normal’, but that craziness is there and the combination feels particularly wretched because, once again, schizophrenics are far more likely to be victimised.

What I’m trying to say with all this; Fred is a mad character who despite being the most offputting and scary character I’ve ever seen in my life, managed to become irremovable from my psyche for almost my whole life, for better and for worse, and in some small way, seeing him as so scary and uncomfortable, but equally ‘good-willed’ and harmless by technicality in that episode, made me feel a little less alone. But people who have been yucked out by this blog and this fixation as I said before are fully in their right, and I am taking a step back to consider if I want to continue with making stuff to do with Fred or not.

The fanfic?: I still think about the story a lot but as you can probably tell I’ve made it very convoluted by involving a meta narrative, and as I’m just about to head into university by the time I’m writing this, it’s difficult to tell what will come of this. I will let you all know, but it’s in a continuous grey area and I don’t want anyone to get their hopes up. I’m sorry.

Will I still post art?: Maybe haha, I never know how to feel when I post it. Sometimes I worry it gives off the impression that I ship post-shaving incident Barbred (I don’t) or that I endorse Fred’s ‘freakiness’ at all. And sometimes I think it just looks bad, as in not a good recreation of the ctcd art style, or too sad - like idk why I think the audience is just going to understand these alarmingly emotional pieces when I’ve been pretty scarce on context, I apologise for everyone’s who’s gotten tonal whiplash scrolling. Fred art may come up elsewhere on my other blog which I will reblog here if I think it’s appropriate.

If you read all the way thank you so much💚, I hope you get what I’m saying, and if you don’t I understand. Consider following my main zebedeezing if you want somewhere I post more often though non ctcd related.

[astroboots]

hi hi just wanted to say congratulations for finishing every you, every me! that series was a wild ride and i enjoyed every bit of it. just curious, with the series finished does this mean we’ll get to see more of boxer!miguel? no pressure ofc !! xxxx

hello lovely! thank you for this lovely lovely message.

So answer is technically yes, but not immediately, I'm going on a short hiatus break because real life has gotten really busy and this is that time of the year where I tend to go travelling abroad quite a lot so it will be hard to be stuck and glued to my computer the whole time. I've also recently started a very senior position at work which has also ramped out making it a bit harder to spend as much time writing/on here at the moment.

But I hope to be able to deliver you the rest and conclusion of Boxer Miguel fairly soon, please bear with me!! <3

[mywifeleftme]

325: The Go-Betweens // 16 Lovers Lane

16 Lovers Lane The Go-Betweens 1988, Mushroom

You don’t need to put a gun to my head: I’m a Robert Forster guy. Everyone agrees that Australian jangle pop legends the Go-Betweens had two first-class brilliant songwriters under their tent, but Grant McLennan tends to get the edge in most people’s books, even if they don’t exactly come out and say it. He had the sweeter voice and the more direct way with melody; wrote most of their best-known songs (“Cattle and Cane”; “Bachelor Kisses”; “Streets of Your Town”) and might have the higher overall batting average when it comes to quality; enjoyed the more consistent solo career; even died first. I love Grant! But I’ve always been more drawn to Robert’s wordy complications, his slightly dour, guarded stripes of shadow to Grant’s sunlight. Both very bright men gifted with an ear for melody, both serially doubtful in their lyrics, with McLennan I have the sense that he trusts himself to be guided by feel whereas Forster leads with his intelligence. Normally, the latter would be a minor indictment of an artist, but at Forster’s best the results are neither cold nor stiff. His songs have a complex character in the literary sense, made lively by their contradictions and keenly observed behaviours. When a pristine, jangling hook breaks through his typical reserve, it’s like he’s been moved to sincerity despite himself, and I’m moved in turn.

On 16 Lovers Lane, their last album together before an 11-year hiatus, real-life circumstances conspired to cast each songwriter in their most representative mood. McLennan was in the midst of a relatively new relationship with violinist Amanda Brown, and there’s an impulsiveness to the way his songs document the highs and lows of romance, even as one senses all’s not entirely well under the hood. Meanwhile, Forster writes with the sobriety of hindsight as he grapples with the recent dissolution of his own partnership with drummer Lindy Morrison. (Bassist John Willsteed’s feelings about not having an on-stage date are unknown at this time.) This difference makes 16 Lovers Lane both a relationship record and a breakup record, each songwriter exploring love from his own side of the divide. Grant’s songs are all gems: “Love Goes On!,” “Quiet Heart,” and especially “Devil’s Eye” make the adult work of negotiating life with another person sound like something to dreamily twirl around the house to, while the saucy crazy chick sketch “Was There Anything I Could Do?” rivals the Smiths at their most revved up. His “Streets of Your Town,” the band’s closest thing to a hit, isn’t explicitly about love, but retains the bemused contrast between form and content that marks many of his 16 Lovers songs—the way it’s possible to experience happiness even as the future seems increasingly murky.

It’s Forster’s songs however that raise 16 Lovers Lane from another very good Go-Betweens record to the short list of my all-time favourite rock albums. What makes these songs so poignant is that, while Forster’s insights into his relationships are sensitive, empathetic, even wise, it’s also clear he’s in that daze of post-breakup delusion when you still love someone and aren’t yet ready to accept what “over” really means. I adore the surreal visual, from “Love is a Sign,” that marks his first words on the record: “I’m ten feet underwater / Standing in a sunken canoe / Looking up at the waterlilies / They’re green and violet-blue / Still the sun it finds / A place to light me.” Throughout the song he gently, charmingly acknowledges the real problems at hand, but all he has to offer is the fantasy that one day something will be different, that he’ll be different, and then things will be as they were. The chorus (“This is what I find / No matter what you say / No matter what you do / I want to be the one / And love is a sign”) can read as a declaration of unconditional love, but from another angle, it’s a blanket denial of the possibility that the other person might not be right for him.

Throughout the record, a lot of Forster’s most basic assertions can be immediately disproven. “You Can’t Say No Forever”: The public record shows she could!

“I’m Allright”: A cursory read of the song’s lyrics suggests otherwise!

On “Dive for Your Memory,” he closes the record by declaring:

“Now I dive black waters The waters of her dream Are black and forgetful I'd like to make them clean So when I hear you saying That we stood no chance I'll dive for your memory We stood that chance”

Not having been there, I can’t say whether he’s right or wrong. What happens in this life isn’t fated. But to me it smacks of a man standing at the last station before real acceptance, when you feel that before you can truly let go you must demand some dignity for what you had. It is too galling to endure thinking this relationship you poured your soul into was anything less than a vessel that deserved the commitment; that you squandered your best self on a fantasy. Therefore, it must’ve been a Great Romance, and you bend all of your creative powers to constructing it as such. After enough time has passed, this sort of emotional absolutism fades and you can live with how things really were. But in the moment, there is nothing more terrible to endure than the notion you are performing in a tragedy the other party perceives as a farce.

Despite all this baggage, the wonder is how Forster’s words nestle within absolutely pristine jangle pop songs, sparkly and spangly and crystalline and all the other words critics use to try to pull their sweetness from the air to the page. It was years before I really dug into what Forster was saying because of the way he says it, part Tom Verlaine, part Gene Clark. And, like McLennan with “Streets of Your Town,” he also takes one song off the Rumours beat to offer a more introspective number that both demonstrates his pure pop gifts and summarizes the outlook he brought to the sessions. “Clouds” feels like taking a much-needed walk to clear your head, to get back in touch with who you are at the root:

“Blue air I crave, blue air I breathe They once chopped my heart, The way you chop a tree Told to equate Achievement with pain I took their top prize And paid them back with rain Visions of blue, I’m angry, I’m wise, And you You’re under cloudy skies.”

325/365

[fanficallergy]

Hello! This is the admin from thgfanfictionlibrary (backup account for the library)! I just wanted to let you know that I responded to your reblog question/concern under the active authors part 5 post. Below is the reply:

Hello! I'm sorry that you felt you were deliberately excluded from the lists-that is 100% not the case! I'm sorry to hear that you're undergoing cancer treatments and that people have been nasty to you online as well, that is truly terrible on both fronts. I pulled these lists directly from the page of authors I created (which you are present on!) BUT I missed the "a" for active in your tagging for the listing despite having you as an active author! I've remedied the issue and you are now tagged as an active author using the tagging filter on that page. I've also added your listing to the current "active authors" post that is in my draft for when I have ten active authors. Again, I'm sorry that you felt you were excluded on purpose, that wasn't the case it was simply a coding error on my end! Sometimes things just slip through the cracks when I'm coding and I don't pick up on it!

-----

The page system I'm referring to is "Libraryofauthors" in case you wanted to take a look at it. Again, I'm sorry that you felt I had intentionally excluded you for one reason or another but I did have you listed, it just slipped through my coding when I was inputting the tags into it. Sorry about that! Let me know if you have any further questions, comments, or concerns and I'll be happy to update anything! (Also as an FYI I haven't gone back through after making that page to update the information I've added since late August of 2023 so if it says something is incomplete that is now complete or if your popular fic is different now that's why! I'll be updating probably mid-march when I have a little more time!)

Thank you for addressing this. ^_^

I figured it had been a mistake and not a deliberate slight, but it still felt not great, you know? Especially since there is a huge stigma where people stop reading your fics or commenting when they think you're inactive. Comments and feedback are the only currency we as authors receive and the feedback which often encourages us to write more (especially if it is more than just a "write more!" or "When's the next update!") can really feed our ability to write and to write with joy such that we want to share our work. Without that feedback, people give up. Decide the effort isn't worth the reward and really do stop writing in the fandom or at all.

Feedback matters and authors who are considered inactive get less feedback. People can have very good reasons for not updating and it can make them feel unwanted and unwelcome if they get tagged as inactive in their fandoms. In my case, I've been fighting 3 different, unrelated cancers since 2021, and while I've updated and written in that time, most of my energy has been devoted to my health and work so I can pay for health things. I know of other authors in this fandom who are going through major deaths in the family (parents/spouse), domestic abuse, or new parenthood all of which eat into someone's ability to update/write.

I kind of feel that the authors should make that distinction themselves (ie. state that they are on hiatus) or the length of time between declaring someone as inactive needs to be lengthened... A year feels short to me unless the author has declared a hiatus or died... because I do feel that death does put a damper on someone's update schedule. ~_^ From chatting with @rosefyrefyre we tend to consider a fic/author on hiatus if they haven't updated since 2020, and we allow for longer delays because of COVID, Real life, and the world going to hell right now.

I also understand that this is YOUR blog and you can decide what works best for it. I don't get to dictate what you do do on your blog. ^_^ I do appreciate you doing this in your free time, it has to be a lot of work. I also appreciate that we, as authors, are often easily upset or can get defensive. So dealing with all of the personalities can be tough.

So once again, thank you for addressing the error and correcting it. I do appreciate all of the work you're putting into this.

[lemonadecabaret]

🍋    about the mun

first of all, welcome to the blog! feel free to call me marcy (short for marcella), i’m over the age of twenty-one and use she/her pronouns. currently, i am living in the eastern standard timezone and have a pretty busy life outside of tumblr, meaning that my activity may not be that constant. i’ve been roleplaying for a really long time and have a pretty decent amount of experience under my belt. i tend not to give out personal information so please do not ask for it. 

🍋    guidelines

first.  this blog is nsfw and not safe for minors. i will not be following or interacting with anyone under the age of 21 on this blog and i do not want anyone under the age of 21 to be following me. i will tag most triggers but i am human, so if i mess up on that front please remind me nicely through inbox or ims. i will not be posting any written nsfw under a ‘read more’ and various taboo themes will likely be present on this blog, please do not follow if these things make you uncomfortable. your space is yours to control.

second. this is a drama, hate, and kinkshaming free space. if there’s something that you don’t like on this blog it takes about three to five seconds to unfollow/block. i don’t judge others and i don’t like to be judged, respect is a two-way street. if you come to me to plot and lay out things that you like and things that you don’t, i will happily keep them in mind when interacting with you.

third. mun does not equal muse. i cannot stress this enough. just because i write a thing or a character that i write is into a thing, this does not necessarily mean that i, as a person, condone the thing. the writing on this blog is all fictional and not a representation of real life.

fourth. i really don’t care about formatting. i’m going to be making my font small and using gif icons for the most part. you do you.

fifth. it’s possible that i may drop a thread or two. don’t take this personally. rp is a hobby for me and tbh i have the attention span of a goldfish at times. i’m absolutely into multiple threads with the same people, always accepting of memes and starters, etc. don’t be afraid or nervous to interact!

more to be added as i think of things.

🍋    banned fcs

youtubers. tiktokers. viners. any sort of social media celebrity tbh. most disney channel stars. (notable exclusions: zendaya, dove cameron)

🍋    misc.

i can be persuaded to take on additional characters or use certain fcs. i’m not saying that i’ll immediately agree but if you’ve got a good plot or something interesting to throw at me, i can and will entertain the notion.

1000% here for aus and whatnot. i love aus. just because i’ve given my muses a basic verse to start them off in, it doesn’t mean that they’re only limited to that universe.

currently getting back into the swing of rp after a hiatus. give me some time and patience when it comes to getting used to all these new changes. because this is a new/revamped account i'm using beta editor.

🍋    interest checker .

[pandawriterstuff]

Writeblr Introduction Post

So, I figured it was probably time to make a proper writeblr introduction post instead of leaving my ramble about finishing my last WIP up forever.

I'm Panda, I'm in my thirties, I mostly write middle grade to new adult(maybe?) stuff if it's original, fanfiction is more a bit all over the place. I dabble in Sci-Fi and Fantasy, but generally my stuff is set in the real world, or at least adjacent to it. I follow a decent amount of writers, but not really any active middle grade authors, and I definitely see (and love) more fantasy than anything on my dash, so if you're writing realistic fiction or middle grade please interact with this post so I can follow you!

I tend to write about families, the ways they can fall apart and rebuild themselves and all the things in between. I love happy endings, but they aren't always possible-hopeful endings can be.

You can find the things I deemed worthy of it, ie actually finished, on my AO3 page.

My Stuff

So, The Buster's a Narc... My finished Fast & Furious AU! When Brian is recruited out of Juvie to go undercover with Toretto's team it changes a lot things. Hurt/Comfort and found family, with a tiny bit of romance between him and Mia(I'm aro/ace, but I tried), and an attempt to deepen characters that I felt had a lot of potential, but got short changed in the actual movies.

Home Is Where The Crankshaft Is My current wip! Mia/Brian Hurt/Comfort, found family, and deals with both past child abuse and current abuse of an adult child to warn you. Also a whole heck of a lot of Brian being torn between the team and his job/sense of right and wrong. It gets angsty. But there will be a happy ending! Because I write what I want to read. Summary below :)

Brian's big challenge today was supposed to be not breaking Vince's nose while helping Mia pick up stuff for a garden project. That was it. Nice and simple. He sure wasn't expecting to see his dad.

Untitled Brian & Vince as half brothers AU. This is a pre-series AU, where neither Brian or Vince know they're related until their dad dumps Brian on Vince when his mother goes to jail. This is going to be my nanowrimo, and it already has a massive outline and a couple test pages. When I shared a small chunk in the comments of Buster, a commenter used the phrase 'platonic slow burn' in response, and that sounds about right, it's not going to be an easy fix with Brian or Vince instantly or quickly getting along. I am really excited about it :)

Superhero 'Series'-an original series, though initially inspired by prompts from @writing-prompt-s and @gingerly-writing. A cartoonish, golden/silver age of comics without the chaff, inspired world, where all the superheroes and villains except a few rebels have two part names (The Charming Gunner, Golden Cricket, The Dapper Daemon, Mighty Mamba...I had fun), superpowers and mad scientist type devices are plentiful, and every powered person(they don't all go into heroics or villainy) has a familiar. Only two stories so far, but a sequel to the first is outlined.

Pinehallow Ranch-Monty, an eleven year old boy who has spent most of his life traveling from place to place with his in-demand lawyer mother, Irene, is sent to live at his uncle's horse ranch because she thinks he needs roots. Used to nearly everyone but his mother not being around long enough to get to know, Monty is more than a bit uncertain about this. But in scrambling to find his place in a town different to anything he's ever known, he finds friends, both human and animal, makes discoveries, and even manages to foil a plot against Pinehallow Ranch itself. (an actual summary!) This story is on hiatus for the moment, but here is a link to a WIP introduction with a bunch of character and some town/location descriptions and if you search #pinehallow ranch you can find a bunch of excerpts/last line tags I shared.

Middle Grade sort-of-suburban fantasy WIP-Wally and his friends aren't pretending to be secret agents, they're practicing for their future careers. Also walkie-talkies make it much easier to alert each other of bully sightings. In this world certain magical animals exist, but they've always been there and aren't too special, some people have powers, but they're almost always pretty mundane-being able to change your own hair color, to hover a few inches off the ground, heal minor injuries, etc. Wally's power is on the extreme end, it lets him sense people with bad intentions-but what a ten year old considers bad intentions, so it's sometimes pinging on his teacher on the day of a pop quiz. In the first of this 'maybe a series' Wally and his best friend Alison are convinced there is something nefarious in the eyes of the class hamster...(inspired by a prompt, but I don't remember from where)

Middle Grade Sci-Fi Wip-inspired by a prompt from @writing-prompt-s. "When Glenn saw the proof, he packed up his little sister and they went.  That was all it took." A story about how sometimes the promise of the unknown, whatever it might be, can be better than what you have. Also a story about two kids getting adopted by aliens that look like a cross between spiders and teddy bears. Only a few pages long so far, but this one calls deeply to my heart and is going to be finished. Probably Novella length.

Aiden's Day-planned future rewrite of an old WIP I started when I was 17. Parts of it have been rewritten many times, and there is still a copy of it up on an old Fictionpress account I can't get into anymore. "Aiden knows his mom had to leave. If she hadn't left town, she was going to leave them permanently. It burns, but he gets it. But he's still a 20 year old drop-out with four siblings he suddenly has sole responsibility for and has to try and feed on a gas station salary. When desperation leads him to reach out to his long absent father, things get complicated." Themes ranging from, 'we get by with a little help from our friends' and 'family is something we make' to suicide, neglect, and religious abuse, and with a definite touch of 'broken doesn't always mean you throw it away'. Angsty and humorous. It was originally written as a diary style novel, and while I don't want to entirely drop that, in this version each chapter would start with a diary entry rather than it being solely that. (I had the man grocery shopping with three teenagers and he was writing in his diary while doing it. My only excuse is that it was very, very fun to write, and I was very young.)

This is getting ridiculously long, so I'm just going to end it with, 'Happy Writing!'

[theghostpinesmusic]

I've been pretty obsessively watching Goose livestreams and archived concert videos since late 2019, but never really share much online about my enthusiasm for the band. Unless you know me in person or have listened to my currently-on-hiatus KTEC radio show in the past, you likely have no sense of how fully this band has completely taken over the Phish-shaped space in my brain over the last four years. And...maybe that's a good thing for you?

Part of the reason I don't post much about the band specifically (or the music I listen to in general) is that most people I know don't get the overwhelming level of joy out of live music that I do. Which is, obviously, fine. Different strokes for different folks and all that. The other part is that even those who like live music don't often go in for jam band music. There tends not to be a lot of actual crossover in the potential Venn diagram of people who freak out over getting to be in the stadium for one night of a Taylor Swift tour and people who freak out because this third version of "Arcadia" the band has played on this tour is *definitely* the best jam from the six shows they've attended over the last seven nights.

I mean, there's not *no* overlap, but...let's just say jam band fandom is kind of its own thing. It's sort of like being a baseball fan, but somehow nerdier. And your team never actually loses.

Anyway, long story short: I just happened upon this YouTube channel that posts webcast excerpts from Goose shows, which means I can write about and share some of my favorite recent performances without constantly dropping three hour long full-show videos that nobody is going to realistically watch into my feed.

Of course, it's possible that nobody is realistically going to watch a twenty-four minute video either, but shh...

I'm just finishing up catching up on the band's recent European tour, so I'm starting with this video, of "Madhuvan" from the opening show of the tour, which took place in Paris.

"Madhuvan" has long been one of my favorite Goose songs, partially because it's both a fun and interesting song musically and partially because I like the lyrics a lot as they speak to (as many of the band's songs do in some form) the transitory nature of life and the value of focusing on the present moment instead of on wealth, fame, popularity, or other similar things. If you're interested, the lyrics are here.

The "formal," composed part of the song in this video runs up through 6:50 and feels a bit more raw and rock-and-roll than usual. Either it's just my imagination, or it's the fact that the band was touring in smaller venues than usual throughout Europe and were all playing with at least somewhat stripped-down gear. Maybe it's both?! It's probably both.

Either way, after Rick's initial, brief guitar solo, we're off into the improvisatory part. Lately, it's felt to me like the band is deconstructing each version of "Madhuvan" that they play, trying to get more and more minimalist at the beginning of the jam and seeing what they can build up and into from (nearly) nothing. This version's no different in that regard.

The first little bit is what I often noncanonically think of as a space jam: there's no real melody or beat to follow, and everyone is just sort of chaotically throwing noises around to see what happens. This sort of thing can get kind of boring to me if it goes on for minutes at a time (The Grateful Dead's "Drums/Space" sequences have a mixed reputation for this reason), but here it's just brief bit of casting about and it's fun to be along for the ride. Then, around 8:30, a catchy riff that Peter is somehow playing both on his keyboard and guitar at the same time emerges and everyone else falls in musically around it.

This riff and Trevor's basslines lead the band along through a few minutes of this really unique musical space that, during my watch of the entire show a few weeks ago I thought of as "Evil Salsa." Like most jam bands, the "up front" melody instruments (guitars and keys) tend to overshadow the rhythm instruments in the mix during most of Goose's jams, and I'm a big fan of this section of this "Madhuvan" specifically because the percussion and bass are way more upfront than usual. I'm pretty much always going to enjoy hearing Trevor drive things.

The jam starts to metamorphose a bit around 13:00, as Rick starts chording a little more aggressively and Peter joins in shortly after. We're in a little bit more standard blues territory here, but the percussion stays in backbeat mode for a minute, producing some neat tension.

At about 14:00, the transition into the next stage of the jam is complete, and now we're in much more bread-and-butter territory for Goose: a major-key blissful gallop with Rick's guitar taking the lead. This is great, but it just kinda rolls along in the same vein for a bit, so I'll skip over picking through every detail...

It's at about 18:45 when Rick interrupts the gallop the band has going by holding on to a particularly grungy chord for a bit. The rest of the band immediately adjusts to reform the music around this move (this is the stuff I absolutely love hearing bands like this one do), and then shortly after we're off on another upbeat section of the jam that nonetheless has a bit of a noisier and messier inflection than the previous few minutes.

This bit roils along for a few minutes before Rick breaks the tension at 21:15 right after throwing a look at Trevor to warn him a key change is coming. This change resolves the tension of the previous jam space, making you feel suddenly relieved and happy even if you know literally nothing about music theory. If you're an absolute dork like me, you'll notice at this point that they're back in the key that "Madhuvan" starts in, which usually means it's about time to wrap things up.

There's a little more fun breakdown/tension action happening at 22:00, but we're otherwise locked in to the rush toward the song's composed conclusion at this point, so everyone's having a good time. The last minute or so is the song's typical ending.

I've really been enjoying watching the videos from the band's Europe tour, and this version of "Madhuvan" was probably the top highlight of the first night for me. For me, it's a song that a) is fun and well-written from a songwriter's standpoint as well as b) one that the band almost always seems to take as an opportunity to improvise outside of the kind of playing I usually hear from them. There's a lot of that in the first few minutes of the jam here, and then a lot more of that in the version of "Red Bird" that follows. I guess my only complaint about this video is that it's not the full Madhuvan > Red Bird combo from the Paris show :)

I'll be back before too long with some words (fewer than this time, most likely!) on the version of "Hot Tea" from the band's next night in Germany! Thanks for reading.

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

Hey Puddles! How are you? I wanted to ask…are you still writing Endless Night, Feral Woman and Whistle in the Dark? No rush at all, I just miss them so much!

Btw, loved the snippet from your new WIP!

Hhhiiiii Nonnie!

The short answer: I'm doing okay. I'm still writing all three of those stories. It also makes my heart do a weird lil flip knowing that you read that much of my shit. <3

I'm excited for it, too! I promise I haven't completely abandoned all my other stories!

Long answer under the cut:

I have been doing alright. I had a recent dip in mental health due to some real life things that were out of my control. Things that brought me back to very bad times in my life. Even the things that I do have some control over haven't been tended to like they should be, but that's on me.

It just so happens that each of the three works you mentioned are all at a certain point in the story where the thematic elements involved are more challenging for me to work through. I draw mainly from personal experiences with what I choose to write, so it is hard to compartmentalize things sometimes.

Trust and believe I beat myself up every time I can't manage to finish a paragraph or a scene or what have you. I feel like I should be able to "handle it" while I simultaneously know that I should show myself love and patience when I need more time to process things.

When I tell y'all I'm like a sad clown, I mean it lmao.

I have being opting to write for different stories at the moment, but I hesitate to say any of the three you mentioned are on a "hiatus" because I am still working on them weekly. Whether or not it's productive is a different story. I have also been working on a few things that have been teased or are still ~a secret~.

Basically, I try to toe the line between writing as an outlet/hobby and not pushing myself too far into my sad girl hours.

I so much appreciate you being interested in my work, though. I can't stress that enough. It means SO SO much to me.

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

[thesecrethistori-an]

Vamos a hacer un repaso a los tags:

Estos son los tags principales de Fiscalista (pequeño glosario para los que sois nuevos):

#Fiscalista #Fisca-Verse: son los tags que identifican nuestro universo, donde se desarrollarán las historias de nuestros personajes

#Fanficción: creo que solo yo (yodu) uso este tag, así que en principio debería llevaros a todas mis fanficciones

#Fanfic/español vs #Fanfic/english: para las fanficciones en español vs las fanficciones en inglés

#Juanchutre: protagonizadas por Juan

#Olivia: protagonizadas por el alter ego de yodu/Alicia

#Carmencita: protagonizadas por Carmen

#Kinai2000: protagonizadas por Iñaki

#Safo de Baranda: protagonizadas por Ana

Glosario de tags para entender el universo de la fanficción:

Si os da curiosidad, tenéis todo el glosario aquí:

#Adult: contenido +18

#A/N: author’s notes, mis notas, info que quiera daros a los lectores sobre la historia que vais a leer

#Angst: refers to a genre of stories with prevalent physical or, mainly, emotional torment of characters. Most stories with an angst description contain significant levels of characters feeling emotions such as fear, anxiety, or sadness.

A/U = Alternative Universe: quizás nos sea útil si algo se sale del canon de la Fiscalista

#Backstory: todos sabéis lo que es backstory y si no pues diccionario

#Bandom: fanficciones sobre una banda de música, generalmente One Direction (vamos a necesitarla)

#Bashing: refers to a practice in which an author or reader who does not like a character or pairing consciously or unconsciously demonstrates their hatred for the character/pairing within the story. (Puede que la usemos para hablar de El Niño del Clima)

#BDSM: ya sabéis, mis niños

#Bonding: stories in which two (or more) characters are connected psychically or emotionally, possibly even telepathically, in an often predestined and permanent bond such as soulmates.

#Canon: en mi caso solo lo utilizaré para historias que hayan sucedido estrictamente así en la vida real. DISCLAIMER (de nuevo): todo lo que no lleve el tag #Canon está en mayor o menor grado alterado, ficcionado, fantaseado, sea pasado presente o futuro, y por tanto no se sacarán conclusiones sobre las acciones de los personajes en el mundo real. Si te picas, te jodes. Si quieres saber qué partes son ficción y qué partes son realidad, PREGUNTA.

#Con = “Convention” or Xuntanza: real life gatherings

#Continuity: diccionario, que continúa

#crossover: no tiene mucho sentido porque todos somos del Fisca-verse, pero podría aparecer gente de otros verses (por ahora especialmente del Praga-verse o el Twitter-verse

#Dark

#Drabble: solo 100 palabras

#Ensemble: aparecen una mayoría de personajes del Fisca-verse

#Epistolary: aparece cualquier tipo de documento (carta, mail, wpp) escrito por los personajes

#ER = Established Relationship: refers to stories featuring characters already involved in an established romantic or sexual relationship prior to the beginning of the story.

#f/f: lesbianas (e Iñaki)

#Fanservice

#Feels = feelings: refers to intense feelings experienced by reader over certain scenes or character developments within a story or canon that cause a strong emotional response.

#Filk o #Songfic: basado en una canción

#Fluff: stories or scenes in which there is no angst or, often, any real plot-advancement either. Fluff fics tend to be short and sweet, with little to no depth, but often quite comforting to read. May also indicate scenes of pleasant, happy non-action (like domesticity) in a larger, more complex work.

#Fuck or die: refers to a situation in which characters must have sex or face dire consquences. While the characters will often be reluctant to participate and are often coerced into doing so by some outside factor (DISCLAIMER: no es non-consensual, es “forced” en el sentido there is only one bed left)

#Future-fic: en el futuro

#Hiatus: cuando hay un espacio temporal entre episodios

#Imagine: type of self-insert fanwork written in the second person to allow the author or reader to imagine themselves in a scene or story with the character(s). By not actually identifying the POV persona of the Reader by name or description, it provides the author and/or reader with a way to explore personal fantasies (though not always sexual or romantic in nature) they may have about interacting with the characters.

#Kink

#M/f: male/female

#M/M: geis

#Mary-sue: (lo siento, Olivia a veces será esto) refers to the presence of an original character that represents an idealized image of the author. They are often portrayed as the most beautiful, intelligent, powerful character with whom everybody falls in love and they can fix everybody's problems. They have often also survived some great tragedy that has molded them heroically into being a better person, and we should all bow down before their perfect greatness. *rolls eyes* Essentially, Mary-Sues are annoying and completely unrealistic figures as they have not a single human flaw within them. They are strongly detested by most readers, but most frequently written by young new authors without the age and/or experience to differentiate between an interesting original character and the dreaded Mary-Sue

#Minor character: por ejemplo basado en el vecino de abajo de carmen

#Multiple partners

#NSFW

#OOC = out of character: characterizations used by an author are not those established by canon standards

#OC: original character

#OFC: original female character

#OMC: Organización Mundial del Comercio, también original male character.

#Oneshot: historia que está completa o que se puede comprender sin haber leído el resto del fanfic (o sin seguir leyendo después)

#Outsider POV: narrador en 3ª p.

#Pairing: pareja

#Smut: sexo explícito

#POV

#Pre-series: stories set before the official canon's timeline begins (por ejemplo, mientras estábamos en el instituto)

#Pre-slash: concretamente para geis y lesbiónicas, antes de empezar a ser pareja o un ship

#Prompt: story idea issued in the desire that it will spawn a plotbunny and inspire an author to write a fanfic. May consist of as little as one word, a phrase or quote, or be more detailed scenarios even listing preferred pairings and/or kinks

#reader: vosotros

#Retcon: retroactive continuity, story or idea written to change or add to the already established history of a canon or fanfic

#RPF: real person fiction (nosotros)

#RST: resolved sexual tension

#Rule 63: For any given male character, there is a female version of that character.

#Series: pues eso, conectados, lineales, etc.

#Schmoop: especialmente románticas, rozando lo exagerado, mucho fluff, mucho romance, PDAs, etc.

#Slow burn: characters who gradually and naturally fall in love or lust before beginning a romantic or sexual relationship.

#Spoiler

#Stream of Consciousness: monólogo interno

#TBC: to be continued

#trope: tropes

#UST: unresolved sexual tension

#WAFF - warm and fuzzy feelings: pues eso

#Worldbuilding

[hyunfilms]

all for nothing | one.

♡ series masterlist

—summary: after experiencing heartbreak and betrayal, hyunjin has become incredibly closed off and reserved. he hated opening up to people, nor did he think the time or effort was worth it. but when hyunjin meets you, he finally realizes the importance of having someone by your side throughout all the ups and downs of life.

—pairing: hyunjin x f. reader

—genre: (18+) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 3.7k

—chapter warnings: nothing too bad, some cussing, very basic introduction to the fic, someone’s a meanie, hints at infidelity, mentions of parties and getting too drunk, some hints of anxiety, they all attend brigham in hawaiʻi but not every depiction of the school/area will match what it is in real life, apologies for any errors as i quickly skimmed through this before posting!

—notes: hi everyone! i hope you enjoy the start to this series. i’ll try to update every weekend from here on out. i’ve been on a writing hiatus for awhile, so i’m sorry if it starts off a little slow or anything like that. also, my chapters tend to be short because i like to spread out my chapters and lengthen the series that way. i do hope you like it! ♡

"Okay." You breathe out, staring out at the campus in front of you. "Shit." You mutter to yourself when you realize you have no idea where your first class of the day is located on this campus.

"Need help?" A black, shaggy haired boy appeared from behind you, a small smile creeping at the corner of his lips. You simply stare at him as you fully turn to give him your attention— clock ticking down to 7 minutes before your class would start.

"Is it obvious?" He shrugs and chuckles a bit.

"Yeah, kinda. No biggie though, still taking me a bit to get used to." His voice is deep, Australian accent strong. You almost wonder where it comes from with how not-so-intimidating he looks. "Felix." He puts his hand out.

"Y/N."

"Pleasure to meet you." He takes a look at the paper in your hands. "May I?"

"Sure." He takes it from your hands and nods slowly.

"Ah, okay. Duley Hall is down that way. I just had class there earlier this morning." He checks his watch. "We'll get you there in time."

"Thanks." You smile before awkwardly following alongside of him. Honestly, you were a bit relieved he had bumped into you. Your decision to attend the biology graduate program here at Brigham Young University was abrupt, almost incredibly last minute. You had decided on staying near home, continuing your education at Chaminade with familiar faces and staying comfortable in your safety zone. However, your teacher had offered you a position to work at his new lab in Brigham, offering to pay a good salary while being flexible with your class schedule. Dr. Kreher trusted you solely because you had been a student and intern of his since your undergrad sophomore year. He had seen you grow, seen you through your best and worst, seen you flourish in his lab. Because of the last minute agreement, you didn't have time to tour the entire campus before they were trying to meet deadlines to shuffle you into the next cohort. You were grateful, happy to have this opportunity come up right out of undergrad. Still, it wasn't easy suddenly having to switch from one university to another. You missed the friends you made, you missed the comfort and knowing the familiar. You missed being near home, you missed the convenience. Now, you were an hour and a half away by car, living in a small in-law on a family friend's property in exchange for some occasional nannying and light housework.

It all happened so fast. For something that placed you on the right path, somehow, you still felt lost.

You wondered how long it would last.

"Where'd you come from, if you don't mind me asking?" He turns to you, hands tugging onto his bag strap.

"Chaminade." He nods.

"That's on the opposite side of the island, isn't it? Almost two hours or so?"

"Mmm, pretty much."

"Why come out here?"

"Well, I was going to continue at Chaminade's graduate program, but one of my professors moved here and offered me a position in his research lab."

"Oh, that's sick. You're in the biology graduate program?" You nod.

"Mhm, I work with Dr. Kreher." Felix furrows his brows a bit and cocks his head to the side, confusion evident on his expression. "He's an infectious disease professor, not entirely sure what classes he'll be teaching though." He chuckles a bit.

"No worries, that's cool though. Must feel nice to know a professor like that, yeah?"

"Kinda." You give off a small laugh. "I feel like it's more pressure."

"I get that."

"What about you?"

"Psychology graduate program."

"Oh, cool!" You look at him with a smile.

"Mm, I suppose." He shrugs, shyly smiling. "So, I'm assuming your family is back in Waikiki?"

"Mhm. I was born and raised there. What about you? Are you from the island?" He shakes his head, which is probably a dumb question to ask being that his accent is pretty thick.

"No. I'm originally from Australia, my family's there. I moved to the big island for undergrad, then Oahu for the graduate program."

"Wow, now that's far. Why move from the big island?"

"Ah, I just like new sceneries, new adventures." He smiles again before leading you into Duley Hall, climbing up the steps right near the front entrance. He leads you to the second floor, turns left at the top and passes two doors before he stops in his tracks. "Welp, you made it with—" He checks his watch. "2 minutes to spare." He pokes his head into the classroom and notices a few empty seats. "Still have some good seats left."

"Thank you, Felix."

"No problem."

"Is your class nearby?"

"It's in another building across campus, but I'll get there, don't worry." You felt bad, but all you can do is nod. "See you around, Y/N. It was nice talking with you." And with that, you give him one last smile before heading into the classroom. The class sizes are standard— nothing too big, nothing too small. You head up to the third row of seats, sitting close to the opposite end. You silently sit your bag down, taking out your notebook and a couple of different colored pens, setting it neatly on the desktop. Suddenly, someone comes to sit next to you, a soft, warm smile on his face as he settles into his seat.

"Hi." He smiles and sets his bag down before crouching over to grab his book and notebook. "No one was sitting here, right? I should've asked before." He chuckles, making you scrunch your nose at how cutely shy he was.

"No, you're good." Maybe this move wouldn't be so bad after all.

"I'm Jeongin." He slides on his glasses before holding out his hand for a quick shake.

"Y/N."

"Cool. I don't think I've seen you around here before."

"Around Brigham?" He nods. "Oh well, yeah. I went to Chaminade for undergrad."

"Ouuu, Chaminade's nice. Why the change?"

"Hm, one of my professors started working here and offered me a position in his lab."

"Wow, that's awesome. You're pretty set then." You giggle and shrug.

"I wouldn't say that just yet." You look at his notebook, watching as he jots the date down neatly. "So, you've attended Brigham since freshman year?" He nods.

"Sure have. I love it here." He gives you a toothless smile.

"Seeing a lot of familiar faces?"

"Some, not a whole lot though—" At this point, the professor walks in, setting her stuff alongside the front desk before booting up her laptop and getting her   slide deck onto presentation mode through the projection.

"Class, hello hello. I'm Dr. Kuo, I'll be your professor for Advanced Molecular Biotechnology." Her eyes dart from the class to the individual who walks in a bit after her introduction. You can't help but stare a bit at him as he quietly walks in with his head hung low; black hair to the length of his neck, beautiful pale skin and plush, pink lips. He doesn't really look at his surroundings even though most eyes fall on him as he heads to the back of the classroom. You look over your shoulder, watching as he lets his bag fall to the ground before slouching in his seat. "Please be on time for class, as I'll be starting our agenda right away." She's pretty much directing her remark to him, but he doesn't budge. Instead, he takes out a notebook and pen, then rests his cheek on his fist.

"I'd hate to be on her bad side." Jeongin whispers to you, even though he pays no attention to the individual that just got settled into class. Almost like he knew him, like this was a natural, day to day occurrence.

"Is she mean?"

"I heard a few things about her. She takes awhile to warm up and is pretty harsh with her quizzes, tests, even grading projects." He pushes his glasses up his nose a bit, squinting at the projector screen.

"Mm, we'll see. It is the master's program, after all. I shouldn't even be surprised." He quickly looks at you with a smile before jotting down notes. The rest of the class is pretty standard, with you and Jeongin pairing up for some partner work towards the last half of class. You find out he's the middle child, having a younger brother in elementary school and an older brother— two years older, as matter of fact. He's super easy to work with and is incredibly patient after all the questions you've thrown his way during the partner activity. It may be early, but you were already considering Jeongin to be someone you could get close to while you were here, especially being that you were in the same program together.

It would be nice to have that while you were away from home. You had to remind yourself it wasn't too far, but it also wasn't easy for you to go home every single weekend. Not with your upcoming schedule already being packed with classes and work. Can't forget the help you've promised the family you live with.

"What's your next class?" Jeongin tugs on his bag strap while he walks alongside of you out of the building.

"Advanced biochemistry." He does a slight head tilt.

"I have the later class. I'm off to lab."

"Where's lab at?"

"Hale Center. It's where most of our labs and science classrooms are." He chuckles. "Well, except this one. Pretty sure advanced biochemistry is there, yeah?" You nod.

"It is."

"Cool. I'll walk with you till we have to part ways." The two of you continue to engage in small talk until you reach the middle point of campus, where most students are at— either making their way to on-campus dorms, the dining hall, library or other nearby buildings for class. It's much livelier around these parts, Jeongin already greeting a few familiar faces as you walk to the other end where Hale Center is located.

"Jeongin!" He looks up ahead of him, waving at a friend coming towards you two.

"Changbinnie." He teases, making the other laugh. Alongside of him was Felix, to your surprise, making you smile and wave at him as well. "What's up, dude?"

"Just going to my last class, what about you?"

"Got lab." He responds.

"Loser." Changbin responds, making Jeongin pinch his bicep. "Ah, hey, this is Felix." Jeongin laughs, putting his hand out to shake Felix's.

"This is Y/N. Y/N, Changbin, Fe—"

"Felix." You call for him softly.

"You survived class." He laughs.

"Nice, you two know each other?"

"He helped me get to class earlier." You turn your attention to Changbin. "It's nice to meet you though, Changbin."

"Same to you." He smiles. "Hey, I'm gonna go to the library and get some work done later. You down?"

"Since when do you go to the library?"

"Shut up. New year, new me." Jeongin laughs.

"Maybe, I'll let you know." Changbin nods.

"You guys are welcome to come too, if you want! The more the merrier." You and Felix smile with a small shrug.

"Thanks. I might take you up on that if work doesn't go overtime for me." You all say your goodbyes and part ways for the time being, the walk falling silent until Jeongin chimes in again.

"Already going to work?"

"Yuuuup."

"Well, you should definitely come meet up with us afterwards anyway."

"I'll try to. It'd be nice to get a head start on things, anyway." He hands you his phone as the both of you stand inside Hale Center's main lobby. You give him a toothless smile, grabbing his phone to plug in your number. When you hand it back to him, he fiddles with it for a minute before you feel the vibration of your own phone in your pocket.

"That's me." He smiles. "Let me know if you'll come meet us."

"Okay."

"See you later, maybe? Have fun in class and work!" He starts to walk backwards, waving enthusiastically before he darts up the steps to his lab room.

Your day goes by pretty smoothly, with you darting off to Dr. Kreher's lab as soon as you finish off your last class of the day. Surprisingly, he's in the lab, mainly because he wants to show you where things are and where the shared supply room was at. He also informs you that he'll be taking on an undergraduate class, so he'll need some help printing out the syllabus to hand out, plus stocking extra supplies in his lab alone just so he has everything in one place. You happily agree to help him as you toss in your lab coat and wipe down the UV hood, immediately getting started on your usual routine. So now, not only were you in charge of running this malaria study with him, but now, you'd be helping him out with his undergraduate students.

You'd for sure be busy for quite some time. You wondered when the next time you could go home would be.

When Dr. Kreher leaves you to your peace, you work under the hood for a couple of hours until you have some down time while you wait for your stained slides to dry. You take this opportunity to print extra copies of the syllabus just as he asked before running to the storage room next door. You grab a couple of supplies from the list he handed over and drag them back to the lab, arranging it neatly along the shelves and countertops. By the time you were finished helping him get ready for class, your slides were ready to be examined under the microscope. It took you a couple of minutes to check out your samples, determining next steps and acting appropriately before wiping everything down and shutting the hood down for the night. You sigh, the clock already hitting 8pm as you hang your labcoat onto the rack and grab your things. You swiftly exit the lab, grabbing your phone to text Jeongin to see if they were still at the library.

However, you felt yourself crash into another body before you could even hit send, the sound of disposable pipette packs and paper towel rolls hitting the floor in front of you.

"Oh my god, I am soooo sorry." You crouch down to grab the pack of pipettes, but a large hand snatches it from the ground before you can even try to help out. "Let me help—"

"Jeez. I got it." He says with an attitude. You look up at him when you stand, realizing it's the same guy who had walked in late to Dr. Kuo's class. He looks at you with his brows furrowed, removing an airpod from his right ear. "Wanna watch where you're going next time?" He plugs his airpod back into his ear before snatching the roll of paper towels on the floor.

"Sorry." You mutter softly. He simply brushes past you to the supply room. You stand there, feeling a bit awkward and upset at the interaction, but you brush it off to finally send the text to Jeongin.

You quietly tug on your bag strap as you step out of Hale Center and follow the signs that would lead you to the library. It was bigger than you imagined, your feet automatically bringing you to the loud section of the library. There were tables lined along the middle, sandwiched in between the aisles and aisles of books. You catch sight of Jeongin towards the back end, Changbin sitting next to him with Felix in front. He sees you as his eyes scan the library, eyes turning into half crescents as he smiles and waves you over.

"Hey." You say as you approach the table, slipping into the seat next to Felix.

"Oh hey!" Felix and Changbin say, scooting their things over to make room for you.

"How was work?" Jeongin asks.

"It was alright, I guess." You take out your laptop and start logging into the student portal to see if there were any introductory assignments you needed to get done for the rest of your classes this week.

"You guess? Bad day already?" Changbin teases.

"No, everything was fine. I just—" You look at them and shake your head, afraid to spill too much on the first day. Not that you felt like Changbin, Felix or Jeongin would judge you for being upset over such a small interaction, but you felt the need to suppress it anyway; like you shouldn't sound like a complainer or a brat on the first day of school, even if that wasn't your intention. "I'm just tired."

"I'm sure." Felix says. "You shouldn't work yourself too much for the rest of the night."

"I won't. I'm just going to see if there's anything else I need to do for the rest of my classes." They nod. "How was today for you guys?" Changbin nods.

"Honestly? Pretty boring." He chuckles. "But, at the same time, I can already sense the stress coming. So, I'll take what I can get for now."

"Yeah, that." Jeongin laughs.

"We should go to more social events together during grad school." Changbin adds.

"Did you guys not go to a lot during undergrad?"

"I did, this dude didn't."

"It gets overwhelming, okay." Jeongin chuckles. "People just get sloppy and weird." He puts his hand out as he corrects himself. "Not everyone, but most."

"I get that."

"It's because of that one party, huh?" Changbin looks at him and laughs. "Fuuuuck."

"Shut up." Jeongin's cheeks turn a faint red.

"What happened?" Changbin continues to laugh while Jeongin sighs.

"Some girl that had a crush on me got really drunk at a party, threw herself on me then tried to kiss me before she threw up." Jeongin visibly cringes. "Some of it got on my jeans before I moved out of the way." He fake cries. "Those were my favorite jeans."

"Oh shit." Felix says.

"I'm sorry." You make a face. "Understandably overwhelming."

"Ah, no biggie now. I would just prefer to not deal with throw up on my jeans again." He looks at Changbin. "But, if Felix and Y/N are down, I'll go."

"Yeah, that sounds fun." Felix responds. You continue to work amongst yourself, your eyes glancing around the library from time to time when the library gets a little nosier than usual. The last glance you take, you catch sight of that same black-haired individual heading down an aisle nearby, grabbing a book and heading back to the front to check out. You didn't catch yourself staring with a certain expression plastered on your face, but Jeongin does, and he can't help but scrunch his nose before giving off a small laugh.

"Do you not like him or something?"

"Huh? Who?"

"Hyunjin." So that's his name.

"Is that his name?"

"You're looking at the guy that walked late into Dr. Kuo's class, right?" You nod. "Yeah, that's Hyunjin."

"Hyunjin as in Hwang Hyunjin?" Changbin adds in this certain tone. "He's a weird one." Now, they both look at you. "Why, what about him?"

"Nothing." You shrug.

"You think he's cute?" Jeongin chuckles as he teases you. You're not gonna lie, the dude is attractive as hell. Tall as hell. Built right as hell. Attitude, though? Hard pass.

"Aw babe, save it for a guy who would really appreciate it. He's not gonna budge." Changbin chimes in before you can even respond to Jeongin's question. "We've known him since undergrad and dude barely says a word to anyone."

"Hm, he's just quiet." Jeongin says.

"Doesn't mean he's weird, though. Maybe he just likes to keep to himself, or maybe he's quiet in general." Felix says to soften the conversation.

"No, he's weird, alright. He doesn't say shit, nor does he even try with anyone. Couldn't be me."

"That's cause you're always so fucking loud." Changbin pinches his arm, making him yelp in return. "Ouch, stop! It's true!"

"Anyways." Changbin glares at him before returning his attention to you and Felix. "I say weird because in the beginning, he was pretty talkative and social. He hung around certain people, had a girlfriend at one point. Everyone thought they were the cutest couple on campus. Then, after sophomore year, he just flipped. Now, he's always pretty cold when people talk to him and try to be friendly. And it's crazy, cause I've talked to a few girls who think he's pretty attractive too, but he just brushes it off. He really doesn't try with people anymore."

"Maybe something happened to make him closed off like that." Felix pouts a bit.

"I heard it was because his girlfriend was cheating on him with his own bestfriend." Jeongin furrows his brows.

"Chan?" Changbin nods.

"Yeah, dude. Crazy, huh?"

"Well, we don't even know if it's true."

"I honestly think it is, I don't remember seeing him hanging around with Chan or his girlfriend after that."

"Mm. It's not really our business anyway." You look behind you to see if Hyunjin is still in the library, but he isn't. Even if it were all true, you weren't sure if that was a good enough reason for Hyunjin to act the way he was acting towards other people. You didn't know him though, didn't think you could get to know him, so this— this is what you'll leave it at.

The conversation about Hyunjin dies down after Jeongin responds with it not being anyone's business. You and the boys end up finishing some work and leave the library a bit past 11PM, Jeongin offering to walk you to your car before parting ways with you for the evening. It's a little too late for your family back home, but you decide to send them a text anyway— letting them know about your busy first day and that you're heading home.

It's quiet on your street. You park your car alongside the sidewalk, street light dimly lighting your surroundings. You grab your things and slip through the gate, heading straight to the back of the property where your small in-law studio is nestled. You lock your door and set your things down before getting your kettle going to boil some hot water for a quick bowl of ramen. You get washed up and throw on your pajamas, settling onto your bed with your bowl of ramen and Youtube on your laptop. You didn't realize how hungry you were until you looked down and saw that you had finished every bit of your ramen. You pout to yourself before your phone vibrates off to the side, signaling a text coming in.

Yeah, maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe, you'd make new friends and make yourself feel at home. But, your mind suddenly flashes to Hyunjin. Even with someone like him, a minor interaction as such, it was easy to bring you back to feeling alone. Still.

Can't win them all, I suppose.

♡ taglist: @lotus-dly​ @hyunk1ss @sstarryoong​ @laylasbunbunny​ @azeret98​ 

[tpwkxxangel]

Is this the real life? pt.1

*not my photo*

my materpost; fic materlist

[warnings: mentions of dark thoughts, fatigue, heart disease, fainting, language]

"I think we should steal a car," Rachel huffs, pouting at the walk. We had been walking for approximately two minutes before the complaining started.

I roll your eyes while chuckling, "That would be illegal. And I’d really rather not have to tell my mother I flew out of the state without her permission." She thinks I’m at a friend’s house this weekend.

"Ugh," she whines some more, "but we would get to the stadium faster! I don't want my future husband to see me sweaty like this!"

This night has been a long time coming. Of course, being the person I am, me and my friends planned out everything to the last detail, including the hotel being a five-minute walk from the stadium. This was mainly for after the show. Everyone didn’t want to walk that far after the concert and simply ubering to a hotel father away would take more time in the long run.

"I promise we'll get there, and he will see you and it will be like love at first sight," I smile at her responding giggle. I was finally with some of my best friends about to see the guy I’ve loved for the past decade.

I met everyone over Twitter. Stan Twitter to be more specific. Since the One Direction days, I’ve been a fan of all the boys. The number of tears I shed when the band announced their hiatus was too much, but I wasn’t the only one. Everyone knew they were over worked and just wanted some peace. No one could blame them.

During the first two years of their break, I grew as an individual. I graduated high school and started college, I moved in with a few of some irl friends and was truly finding myself...until I wasn’t.

At first, I didn’t know how I got there but I sank to rock bottom. There was no real cause for it, at least to me, but one day my thoughts just became too much. Everything was too much.

On a particularly low day, my roommate at the time was playing the morning news when a familiar face popped up. That’s when Harry Styles smiled and played a song. It was simple. He was just doing his job, but somehow, he knew the words to sing that would pull me right out of the darkest part of my life.

That’s when I returned to the fandom full force. I joined a group on Twitter and made quick friends. The group chat grew, some came and went, but eventually when Harry released his next album, my friend group was solid. We all bought tickets to the shows we could so we could see each other face to face and watch the most amazing human prance around stage. We were lucky enough to buy five pit tickets each to his shows and we all get to fly around chasing him in each of our cities. I am so thankful to Harry for what he has done, and no one is going to keep me from this show.

“Do you think we are going into that holding room?” Dove asks trailing behind slightly. She’s the mom of the group. Always checking in on everyone and doing a head count before we leave places. Tonight, she decided to go simple and old school, dressed in black shorts, a white vintage band t-shirt and some Docs. Needless to say, she tends to have her life more together than anyone else in the group.

“The security guy said he was opening the doors at 6pm for GA to head to the holding room. It looks like it’s about 5:45pm right now, so probably,” Sofie said from my right. She also took it old school tonight. She’s sporting black jeans and a tour shirt from Harry’s last tour paired with some colorful vans.

“Thank God,” Rachel rolls her head back, “We’ve been here since 2am. I would like to get some air conditioning.”

We all laugh nodding in agreement. It has been one hell of a day. We all flew in yesterday so we could hang out and then head to venue. When we arrived, there were only four people in the GA fan line. We are technically supposed to line up until 8am, but it’s really their fault for thinking we were going to follow the rules. At 8am, a security guard walked the line of nearly 300 people to the designated line up spot. From then on, we waited...and waited until we could get into the event center.

“Here. Let me fix your boa,” I turn to Rachel as we step back in line. She chose a more one brand looks for tonight. A simple green patterned two piece with a big green boa to match.

Once the feathers are adjusted, I drop my hands and lean against the concrete wall and sigh. I am utterly exhausted. I can feel my body screaming to get some sleep, but I can’t for obvious reasons. I listen to my friends talk to everyone around us. The fans are so nice, and it truly feels like home here.

I shake myself out of it. I am not going to wallow away because I’m physically and emotionally exhausted. Sure, I’m beyond tired but I’m about to see the love of my life in concert! I get to see him with my two eyes!

“Y/N,” Dove calls over. I look up before she continues, “Doesn’t H have another cat? Like doesn’t he have his own cat?” I see her talking to the beautiful fans in front of us.

I nod my head. “Yeah. He has Evie who lives with his mom while he’s traveling. He even bought her a laptop to play, like, cat games,” I wave my hand and roll my eyes. He is so extra sometimes.

“The amount of money he probably has sitting around in his bank account is frightening,” Sofie chimes in, everyone agreeing. We all get lost in conversation about the rockstar and before we know it, we start to line up.

“Alright everyone, be sure not to run or we will not let you on the floor,” a security guard motions for us to move forward.

This is the moment. As the worker scans my ticket and hands me a wristband, I feel a buzzing in my veins. I can already tell this will be a night to remember.

Dove grabs my hand to stop me for a moment.

"Are you sure you’re, okay?" she asks quietly.

Technically I’m not supposed to be in pit. I have a weak heart and crowded, hot places are usually a no go, but this is Harry fucking Styles. Just because my doctor, mother, and irl friends all told me this cannot happen, I chose this. It's honestly for my mental health more than anything. I just want to see him once, as close as I can be. Then for the other shows, I could just hang in the back of the pit.

"Yes. I'll be okay. I have my inhaler and I took my meds this morning. Nothing should happen. If I start to feel poorly, I'll head to the back of the pit," my tone reassuring.

She stares at me for a moment before nodding and releasing my hand. We all file into a large waiting room. Some people order drinks and a snack at the bar area. After about twenty minutes we are all lined up once again in front of two black curtains.

“Remember not to run. Please hold up your wrist with the band as high as you can as you go through,” the security guard spoke loud.

They really did try, but I could help but laugh as we all ran to the stage. My friends and I all knew where we wanted to stand. Since it was a circle stage, we knew there was really no bad spot to stand. We just wanted to be right behind Sarah and Mitch.

“Holy shit,” Sofie breathes out. It was almost like we all blacked out.

When I look down at my hand, it’s gripping tightly to the black barricade. Holy shit is right. We all erupt in cheers and excitement.

“All we have now is to wait the three hours for my husband to make his appearance,” Rachel sighs sitting down with her back to the barricade.

I lay my head on Rachel’s lap. She softly strokes my hair before I fall into a light sleep.

~~~

With the little power nap, my energy picked up in full force. I was able to dance around during the opener and talk to more people. Maybe my body just need that little rest. This will totally be fine.

"...Sweet Thang..."

The entire stadium erupts in cheers of excitement. The energy was electric, pure anticipation seeping from every corner of the arena.

I start to dance with the others around me while shouting the lyrics as loud as I could. Tonight, is going to be the best night of my life.

When the first strum of Golden starts, I can't help but scream. I strain my neck to see the small head starting to pop up from the middle of the stage.

"Oh my God-" Rachel yells, "THE OUTFIT!" she slaps my arm.

It just so happens I seem to be matching Harry. He was wearing a shimmery white top with cream-colored pants. I just so happen to be wearing a similar top with it unbuttoned. I’ve had the Victoria’s Secret bralette since high school too. The only difference between out outfits is the fact that I’m wearing black slacks with black heels.

My smile couldn’t be bigger. This was the moment my entire being has been waiting for. The way he draws every eye in the room. I stop breathing when he makes his way over to your side of the stage.

His eyes look into the crowd waving to a few people while singing. He was always meant to be a rockstar. There is no other occupation that could hold the amount of charisma leaking from every pore in his body.

“How is everyone doin’ tonight?” his sweet slow words sound through the microphone. The responding cheer was deafening. He chuckles a little into the microphone. “Y’ sound so sweet,” he smiles.

“Oh my God!” Sofie screams and hits my arm repeatedly. “He’s real!”

“I don’t believe it. He could totally be a hologram,” I say in awe as he starts the next song.

I feel myself get lost in the music and his funny antidotes. I never thought I’d have an opportunity to see him this close after One Direction. He went into acting and the fandom really thought he was giving up on music, but little did we know...

He dances his way over to our stage during Carolina and he almost trips on his mic chord. I can’t help but bending over to laugh at his facial expression of pure relief. When I pull myself together Harry is standing right in front of me. My heart jumps up to my throat. He’s singing out to the crowd, but I could swear his eyes drift down to my group of friends a few times as his smile widens. If my frozen frame has anything to say about it, he totally just made eye contact with me.

When he starts to move again, I turn to my right shouting “Did you see that!” at the same time Dove yells “You’re kidding me!”

My throat was definitely going to be sore from how loud I’m screaming tonight. The next hour is filled with dancing and great interactions with his fans. It’s like a blink of an eye when he says, “Now, we aren’t done quite yet, but we are gonna act like we are. I’m gonna slip off stage and I want you to chant, scream, for me. I’ll be gone for about two minutes and then I’ll come back.”

“That’s the narcissism for you,” I chuckle. My breath catches in my throat when he throws his head back almost like a moan when the stadium starts chanting his name. He totally knows what he does to us.

During the two minutes he was under the stage, I start to feel the adrenaline drain from my body. My chest had already started to hurt during Fine Line, but I didn’t want to miss a moment, no matter what I promised my friends. I gently grab onto the barricade and close my eyes for a moment. Usually this helps. If I can center myself enough, maybe I can make it through the rest of the fifteen minutes of the show. I’ve gotten this far, what’s another three songs? It seems like just seconds before the lights are back down and the starting notes to Sign of the Time starts.

When I open my eyes, I see Harry standing just a bit in front and to the side of us. He has his eyes closed and when I look up at him with the biggest smile on my face. He looks so beautiful. His open slowly as if in response to my thoughts.

The moment our eyes meet, he starts singing in his deep voice. It’s so soothing. This song was one of the ones that helped me the most. He looks away blushing softly, but I chalk that up to the flush of performing. He did just run around the stage for an hour. he’s bound to be a little flushed.

It’s about halfway through the song that I start to feel the pain in my chest worsen. This was going to get bad fast. I needed to get out of this pit. I try to shove backwards, but everyone is too caught up in Harry’s singing to pay me any mind.

When I turn back around, I grasp the barricade tightly. If I could just make it to the end of the song--

That moment I feel my breath catch. In a last-ditch effort, I look up desperately only to meet the big round green eyes of the man who saved my life once before.

As I clutch my chest, struggling to breathe, I could only hope he can save my life one more time.

Before my knees finally give out, I hear a frantic voice sound, “Someone catch her!”

Funny thing is it sounded throughout the entire stadium.

[n1ghtcrwler]

Tall Tales is a urban/paranormal fantasy webserial. It's currently on hiatus as I get a head start on Volume Three to (hopefully) avoid the medical hiatuses I've had to take in the past.

What is Urban/Paranormal Fantasy?

Paranormal Fantasy is usually listed as a form of Urban Fantasy, but that isn't strictly accurate. It has similar elements to UF (modern setting, real-world issues, etc), but it isn't built around an urban setting and tends to rely more on the paranormal (ghosts, psychics, the occult, etc) than on the mythological (elves, dwarves, the fae, etc). Tall Tales blends elements of both. Tall Tales also includes horror elements or, at times, outright horror stories.

What is a Webserial?

A webserial is a story told through regular updates available online. This can be done in any format, either free or behind a paywall. Tall Tales, when it isn't on hiatus, updates five days a week, once per week on five interconnected blogs. Every story necessary to follow the plot of Tall Tales is available in early draft form for free on the website.

What Are the Volumes?

The overall plot of Tall Tales has been broken into five volumes, each composed of a number of short stories. This usually has little impact on the website (except the short stories, which are used as the primary means of navigation); however, when I finish writing a volume, I then focus on putting it through final editing stages, adding additional stories, and then self-publishing the volume as a book. You can find Volumes One & Two on Amazon, I am currently writing Volume Three. I've taken this opportunity to go on a scheduled hiatus and build up my publishing queue in the hopes that my recurring migraines don't cause me to add unplanned breaks going forward. This means that now is an ideal time to catch up on the story, as there will be no new posts added to the website until August 1, 2022.

Five Blogs?

Yes, Tall Tales publishes as five blogs. Each follows a different story and is told by a different POV. The blogs cross over, and each is moving toward a shared fate. They are as follows:

Narrator: An unnamed narrator who tracks events that impact the story but happen beyond the POV of the other blogs. Updates on Mondays.

Benediction: A multi-POV collection of in-world files relating to the trial of Father Benedict de Monte, a Catholic priest tasked with hunting a global mystery cult called the Brood of Nachash. The Brood uses murder and the summoning of ancient elder gods to achieve its goals. Updates on Tuesdays.

Matteson, P.I.: A mostly in-world blog written by John Matteson, a human who can interact with the metaphysical realm and serves as a living source of anti-magic energy. Follows his various investigations into the supernatural and the problems this causes in his life. Updates on Wednesdays.

Over the Hedge: A mostly in-world blog written by Jackie Veracruz, a witch receiving training from Hecate. She is heavily focused on understanding the nature of magic and how she and her friends relate to it. Updates on Thursdays.

Wonderland: A mostly in-world blog written by Alice Templeton, a biology student in Greater Pittsburgh who finds herself connected to the world of magic. Updates on Fridays.

Is There Minority Representation?

Most of the stories take place in the United States or Europe after 2000, so this will assume a definition of 'minority' that fits that setting. I am a white male, and as such am always open to input on how to make the following characters more accurate.

John Matteson: African-American male. It has been speculated in-story that he's asexual, but he personally hasn't expressed interest in answering that question. His ancestry includes a spirit that took on human form and resembled a Native American; as such, he has physical traits that resemble that ancestry, but no actual or claimed ties to any tribe.

Jackie Veracruz: Hispanic (Honduran) bisexual woman. Entered the US as a refugee from Nicaraguan/Honduran fighting in the 1980s.

Akshainie: A naga who shares the spotlight in most of Benediction. Her human-looking half (and her human form) is that of a woman from the border region between Pakistan and India. Her sexuality has not been discussed.

Supporting Cast and Spirits: Other characters that appear at different points in the story include John's family, a nonbinary friend of Jackie's, a gay male couple, and various spirits whose forms resemble the culture from which they originate.

Is there a Taglist?

Yes. The taglist gets notified whenever my monthly newsletter is released and when a new blog post goes up on the website. This amounts to 5 posts per week when the website is updating, plus one additional post per month. It is very rare that I use the taglist to make announcements beyond the newsletter, but occasionally circumstances require that. Please ask to be added/removed/edited on the taglist. If you have been removed without requesting it, chances are tumblr no longer allowed me to tag you and I assumed you changed your url but don't know what you changed it to.

Newsletter and Other Points of Contact

When the blogs are updating, you can receive each post as an email by joining the Newsletter list. You can also hang out with me and a bunch of other people over on Discord, where we talk about gaming, writing, and general hanging out. The Discord has places for you to share your writing, is the hub for my livestreamed ttrpg campaigns, and hosts an RP section getting started for if you enjoy the world of Tall Tales and want to build characters in it.

[camuslittlesister]

All the Okita in Otome, ranked. Or not.

I had a bit of a hiatus while dealing with real life and shit, but I finally got around to playing all the games I know have been translated into English. Here’s the ultimate ranking of all the variations of my otome husbando.

Destined to Love (Cybird)

Please please please can you pull this app and redo it as Ikémen Bakumatsu with Yamada doing the art? I cannot deal with Okita, Sōji Okita of the Shinsengumi, whose swordmanship is nothing short of legendary, looking like some edgy marshmallow. C’mon, guys. You’re taking all sorts of liberties with history already, why stop there and not make him look the part? Just make Hijikata even hotter, everything will be fine.

Era of Samurai: Code of Love (Voltage)

Still one of my favourites even after venturing into the realm of premium games, although he looks too much like Leon for my liking (I guess that’s what you get with Voltage and also a byproduct of my refusal to even contemplate ever liking that lion even though, like for Iori in SITS, I clearly do and I just refuse to admit it, although I did exactly that a moment ago). His modern AU stereotypical indie kid version is everything. It’s like they made him for me.

Hakuoki (Otomate/Idea Factory)

Why do I love this Morikubo-voiced jerk more than my actual life? I have many questions to ask of myself and I don't even know if I really want to know the answers, but I have spent about £50 so he can be on my wall alongside another less jerky Morikubo character in what is slowly and not deliberately turning into a shrine to the man himself since his characters dominate my merch purchases. (Author’s note: This post has been a cumulative draft over a year or so, and I wrote this pre-Piofiore. It’s only gone worse since)

Hakuoki Sweet School Life

The god of chaos and love of my life. That’s it.

The Amazing Shinsengumi

Side note, what is it with games making Harada the hot one? Also let me romance this Hijikata please and thank you.

He’s hella cute and double-faced, which I tend to like, but also he appears to go through every trope I don’t like in the span of a conversation. 6/10, although solid 10 for looks. In fact, make it 20/10. Top 3 for looks with Voltage and Hakuoki.

Ninja Shadow

I keep forgetting that I did play this Okita (and it was my first while at that...) but even with that dream ponytail it’s not the greatest version. He’s a jokester, which is fun, and he hides a big dollop of angst as it’s right and just, but he was a bit OTT with the humour and it’s a strange storyline that does him a disservice.

Bakumatsu Renka Shinsengumi

If he doesn’t threaten to kill you is he even Okita? I’m living for that one CG that looks like he is Kondō and Hijikata’s kid, but aside from it being probably the most historically accurate of the otome portrayals (at least in localised games) he started off a bit of a disappointment for the same reason as Destined to Love. He was also not helped by the fact that Shinpachi has a brain, Sakamoto and Yamazaki exist and (omg, can’t believe I’m saying this) Hijikata and that line about loving his woman in Sanan’s route. However, when actually playing his scenes etc, he grew on me. I would happily go raise cats and babies with him like I would with his Hakuoki and Era of Samurai incarnations.

Dateless Love

I have questions. Why is this version Iba’s lovechild with Saito?

Why is he like Gin in Ayakashi Gohan if he was a soldier? Don’t get me wrong, I’m a major sucker for lovely characters going full on deadly from a moment to the next, so I’m digging it, I’m just extremely disoriented because Voltage is my canon Okita personality (Hakuoki took that and turned it up a notch and ruined my life in the process) and every deviation I’m like “new number who dis?”

It took him 10 chapters to show a hint of the teasing we all know and love. TEN. Out of like 15. I have had three kids with Tokugawa by now (and I don’t even do blondes. Except Ayumu. And best boy. And omg I’m still in the Kiro phase but also could be a Helios phase soooo 🫣 okay, fine, I do blondes). It was really cute tho and I watched him die in the good ending which is a plus.

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

The Couple Next Door IX (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Find Part Eight Here

A/N: Surprise! I’m briefly back from a year-long Hiatus and I have one chapter for TCND, one for ATU AND a George Harrison one-shot I’m just gonna drop and then probably disappear again for another few months. I’m also finding it even more difficult to write for Roger seeing as I’ve kinda been listening to nothing but The Beatles for the last fifteen months and I really only hear Queen at work, so that’s gotta change. But I am very sorry about the LONG wait. I really do appreciate you guys, and I think you’ve all waited quite long enough to find out what happens next...

Summary: Roger and Y/N spend the morning taking care of Bobby; they talk a little more about the future and come to the conclusion they both want the same thing.

(Let your imagination run free, bc this can be either Canon or Borhap!Roger)

WARNINGS: Swearing is probably a given at this point, self-doubt, mentions/ suggestions of sex (advise you to avoid if you’re under 18), and I usually revise when I’m stoned so there’s probably some typos in here too, sorry.

Rated T for Teen-- (I feel like a video game rating smh)

Bobby was crying again.

Granted, it was about seven in the morning, and he did sleep for the rest of the night.

Roger was the last of the both of you to wake up; not because of the crying-- he didn't even hear the crying-- but he was wrapped up in the blankets with you, and you were trying to remove yourself from his grasp.

"Don't leave," Roger grumbled as he pulled you tightly against his chest, eyes remaining closed as you whispered back to him.

"But I have to go. Baby's cryin'."

Roger loosened his grip on you, much to his dismay, and you slipped from his embrace, leaving him cold, and alone.

"Come back, Baby..." He really hoped his gravelly plea would entice you to return from the nursery after tending to Bobby, and although you were probably against having sex in your friends' bed, he figured there was no harm in testing the waters.

"That's not how that works when you have a baby, Rog. The day starts now."

Roger groaned in protest, but as he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, he revealed to himself that you were no longer in the room, and the baby's cries settled when he heard your voice float down the hall from the nursery room.

Roger, as much as he didn't want to, tossed the comforter off of his body, and after rising to his feet and combing his fingers through his hair, he shuffled out of the bedroom and made a beeline to the stairs.

He was glad he was familiar with John's kitchen; because he was certain you had no idea where anything was, meaning he would be the one preparing breakfast that morning, and the one following it, most likely.

Fuck it, he would (try to) cook you up seven different meals a day if you asked him.

Anything for you.

He put the kettle on, and moved to the pantry in search for John's teabags, yawning lightly as he pulled the door open.

Nothing in the pantry really stuck out to him as being a good breakfast that morning, so Roger ended up migrating to the fridge after retrieving the tea, where his eyes fell on the carton of eggs on the bottom shelf.

He settled on making French Toast for breakfast seeing as he, according to you, made the best French Toast in England.

So he got to work whipping up some eggs and pulling four slices of bread from the bread box on the counter-- but not before he got one of Bobby's bottles out for you, warmed it, and placed it on the kitchen table.

Roger was frying the French Toast in no time, and he hummed gently as he busied himself with focusing on the now whistling kettle, and when the right time to flip the toast would be.

"... I thought you were still in bed," your words were sudden, and it made Roger jump a little. But when he realized it was only you, Bobby in your arms, his mouth contorted into a dopey smile.

"Nah," Roger turned the pan's burner down a little, and after he flipped the French Toast, he set his spatula on the counter, turning to face you.

"I was gonna let you sleep in, since you were so reluctant on waking up," you explained with a yawn. "But here you are awake, and making breakfast before me."

"Well it wouldn't be fair then, would it? Me sleeping in while you've all this work to do?"

"I don't know, would it?"

"I really don't think so, Dove."

He felt pride swell in his chest when pink dusted your cheeks at the sound of your new nickname, and he took this chance to swoon you further by pulling you in gently by the elbows, and he enveloped both you and Bobby in his embrace.

"Beautiful..." Roger's voice was barely a whisper as he touched his lips to your jawline, and you responded with a soft exhale.

"Even when you've just woken up," Roger mumbled against the skin of your neck, lips curling into a smile, "you are the prettiest goddamned thing I've ever laid eyes on."

"Mmm, down, boy," you purred back jokingly, taking a small step back. "Baby still needs to eat."

"Well yours is coming right up," he teased, "and Bobby's is already at the table." Roger pointed to the bottle on the other side of the room before tapping your rear. "Take a seat, and I'll bring your food over."

You didn't have to be told twice. You took a seat at the table, and although Bobby was growing a little agitated, it was short lived when you put the bottle of milk in his possession.

Roger, not five minutes after you sat down, joined you at the table with your French Toast and your mug of tea, made just the way you liked it, of course.

"'S the right tea, yeah?"

You took a quick look at the label hanging from the mug.

"Yep." Your eyes squinted after letting the label fall where the string tied to it would let it. "Y'know, you've been making my tea right for months, you don't have to check to make sure you're right."

"You know I'm always gonna make sure it's to your liking."

"And I love you for it."

"Hopefully for other things too. I'm not just good at being your barista."

"Oh, don't you worry. I'm not overlooking your other good traits," you smiled as you brought your mug to your lips and having the first sip of tea of the day.

As Roger sat down next to you with his own plate of food and mug of tea, he decided to wait on Bobby to finish so he could eat with you.

So, naturally, he took the time to evaluate again what kind of situation he was in.

There was nothing like watching you care for Bobby. Roger had known you for years, and not once in his life did he ever think he would be sitting next to you at breakfast while feeding a baby, whether or not the child was his own, or yours.

The whole scene looked too good to be true, though like the previous night, Roger just drank in the sight of you putting all your love and care into a child at breakfast with him.

How did you think you weren't cut out for being a mother?

This was in your nature.

The domesticity of the situation made Roger a little emotional. This was the closest he'd ever gotten to experiencing a breakfast with a family he'd built, and he spent every passing second filling his mind and heart with the beautiful sight before him.

"Y/n, you would make a wonderful mother." Roger's words left his mouth faster than his brain could register what he'd said.

You looked to Roger from Bobby, cheeks and tips of your ears darkening, and Roger was talking again before he could realize it and catch himself.

"Any man would be so damn lucky to have you. I honestly can't believe you stick around me still."

Your face was feeling real hot, now. Roger's head was still lagging behind his words, and clearly, he wasn't done talking.

"You could be out building a beautiful family right now, but instead you're babysitting with your best friend who you also occasionally sleep with. I just... I don't understand."

It took you a second to respond, but Roger didn't blame you. Honestly, he didn't even know what he would have said if he were asked the same question.

"... Well, I love you, Roger."

Your words were simple, and Roger knew your statement was nothing but platonic, but that didn't stop his heart from pounding against his ribcage.

You'd said those exact three words to him minutes earlier, but the context of the conversations contrasted their meanings.

"But we promised each other at the beginning of all of this that we'd be fine giving up pursuing family life if that means living with one another..."

"... You sound unsure, now."

The atmosphere felt heavy, and it was almost as if Bobby had known making noise wasn't in his best interest. He decided to finish eating at the right time.

"... It's not that I'm unsure. It's just..."

Roger waited patiently for you to answer, but you had noticed Bobby finished his milk, and you took the bottle from him.

You burped him, and placed a pacifier you pulled from your pocket in Bobby's mouth. You must have gotten it from upstairs before you came down.

"Let me," Roger offered his arms out for the baby, and you let him take Bobby. You'd stood up and moved to the sink to wash the bottle.

Meanwhile, Roger, who'd also gotten to his feet, was slowly walking around the kitchen. He was praising Bobby for finishing all his breakfast, insisting he was so proud of him, his smile wide and gaze adoring as he evaluated the child in his arms.

"It's just that. There. The way you're behaving with him," you turn to face Roger, finger pointed at him. "The way you're treating him as your own."

Roger's mouth opened and closed a few times, but after shutting his jaw for the third time, he decided the best thing to do in this situation would be to keep quiet.

"You'd make the most wonderful father, Roger. The way you behave with Bobby, god, the way you behaved with Raymond the other day," you sounded frustrated, and all Roger could do was watch you pace the kitchen, his sheepish face now a deep red.

"It's just that I would want the father of my kids to be just like you. I wouldn't settle for anything less."

Roger opened his mouth again to speak. He felt like his chest was on fire. Your thoughts were becoming painstakingly parallel to his, Roger had noticed. He couldn't get any words out before you started speaking again.

"Like you said last night, this job is giving us a chance to experience what it'd be like to have a family... and maybe I'm upset I did throw the chance to have all of that away."

You looked like you were on the verge of tears, and all Roger could do was watch you and listen to what you had to say.

"Roger, I hope you know you will always have a special place in my heart. You're my family, you have been for the last five years of my life, and there's no doubt about it. But being able to have a child..."

Your hands ghosted over the robe's fabric covering your definitely unpregnant belly. "... I think I want to have children."

"... Y/n I hope you know I feel exactly the same way."

And then everything was clear.

Roger understood where his band was coming from.

Getting married to you would solve all your problems.

He knew what the both of you were thinking in this new moment of silence, but there was absolutely no way Roger was going to fall to one knee and propose to you right now when he wasn't even romantically involved with you.

And he just felt it would be very inappropriate if he took this moment to spontaneously ask you on a romantic date with the intentions of courting you.

"Listen, Y/n," Roger finally built up enough courage to break the silence. Bobby cut him off with a short cry, and Roger immediately started swaying the baby in his arms. Sure enough, Bobby's agitation ceased, and Roger could continue, keeping the movement going.

"Just because we're living together without families now doesn't mean we won't be able to have families, say, five to ten years down the road."

At this point, although it was necessary, Roger didn't really want to mention the discomfort he felt when imagining you falling for someone who wasn't him.

Your eyes were big and sad, lip pouted as you considered Roger's words. "... are you sure?"

The idea of you and him having to move out of the condo Roger risked the both of your love lives for didn't sit well with him.

You'd be gone making sweet love to some lucky asshole who probably didn't deserve to be in your presence, while Roger goes on a bender, gets ahold of some weed and coke, and sleeps with enough girls to distract him from realizing he'd thrown the best thing in his life away-- you.

He didn't want you to think he thought you were selfish. The last thing he needed right now was to feel guilty for making you feel guilty.

So he just nodded. "No house isn't forever anyways." When you didn't respond to his little joke, he sighed.

"Y/n, we're still so young. You don't have to commit yourself to anything like that just yet. Enjoy being able to go out drinking with me every weekend, and sleeping in on our days off. Your chance to start a family will come when the time is right."

You let out a shaky breath. Roger was actually a little surprised with how well you were keeping yourself together.

But his actions put the both of you here, and to see that this conversation nearly reduced you to tears had Roger drowning in guilt, even without the help of mentioning any of his inner conflict to you.

"I just hope you're right." Your voice was broken and your fingers were tangled stressfully in your hair.

"Hey," Roger's voice had gone soft again, his rocking slowing to a halt, and you looked up to find him with an open arm, awaiting your touch.

You slowly unravelled your fingers from your hair, and you gave into the hug not moments later. Roger pulled you to his chest tightly, his free arm occupied by the baby.

"Y'know... I made you French Toast to start the day off good." When you didn't say anything in response, Roger pulled away from you just enough to look you in the face.

He was giving you that same look he did at the Garrison's again; that unreadable gaze he'd achieved with those big blue eyes that seemingly bored holes into your very soul.

His free hand slipped up from your back to your neck, and he leaned in to just touch his lips to the corner of your mouth.

So close, yet so far away.

It wasn't before long that he pulled away from you, but Roger just couldn't keep his eyes off you.

"You come sit down and enjoy your French Toast, Dove. I've got Bobby."

"But--"

"Please?"

Roger knew he'd convinced you as soon as he said that magic word. Though you took a moment to look from the bundle in his arms to the breakfast you really were dying to dig into, you eventually sighed out a gentle "thank you," before taking your seat again at the table.

He came around and kissed the top of your head. "Enjoy, Honey." Roger took a seat next to you, Bobby still in his one arm, and the both of you ate your French Toast in relative silence for the first few seconds.

"... God, you really do make good French Toast, Blondie." Roger was smiling now. At least you were talking again.

"I only improved my cooking skills for you, y'know," he admitted with a mouthful of his food, though he didn't sound ashamed of it.

"And thank God for that. Cooking every other night sure beats cooking every night."

"You can say that again," Roger mumbled before shoving the last of his breakfast into his mouth. You still slowly ate away at your meal, and Roger was making funny faces at Bobby in between taking sips of his tea.

The telephone in the living room started ringing, and you stood up to go get it, but Roger immediately dropped his fork and grabbed your wrist.

"Nuh-uh. I just finished eating. You still have a little bit to go. Take Bobby and I'll get it." You scooped the baby up without another word, smiling when he opened his eyes.

"Can you at least bring back his rattle from his play pen?"

"Can do, Princess," he called over his shoulder as he approached the phone.

"H'lo?"

"Roger?"

"Oh, hey, John!" Roger tucked the phone's handset under his chin, carrying the telephone in his left hand so he could get Bobby's rattle.

"Isn't it a little early to be up?" Roger glanced at the clock, which read that it was quarter after seven.

"Biological clocks. Just wanting to checking in. Is Bobby okay? Has he been any trouble?"

"No, of course not! He's doing fine, John." Roger tucked the rattle in his back pocket when he found it, and returned to the writing desk where the phone was meant to stay.

That was something he loved about you. You always bought him pyjamas with pockets. The concept was cool, and being able to use them was even cooler.

"Y/n's got him in the kitchen right now," he explained, taking the handset again with his now free hand. "We're all just finishing up breakfast, actually."

"Oh good. How is she?" John paused for a second, his voice dropping a little lower. "... How are you guys?"

Roger made sure his voice was a little quiet, as well. "John, this may have been your guys' best idea ever. I don't know why I was against this in the beginning."

"Really?! What's happened already?!" John, everyone would have guessed to be one to avoid certain kinds of gossip, though when it came to Roger's business with you, he liked checking up on that.

"I told her about all that family stuff."

"And?"

"And, well..." Roger set the phone back onto the desk and scratched the back of his neck. "... She may or may not be having the same problem," he mumbled.

"So... so you both want a family?" John tried clarifying.

"Yes."

"Then why are you two not together?!" Roger slipped away around the corner into the main hall with just the receiver so he was a little further away from the kitchen. He didn't want you hearing their conversation, or John through the receiver.

"Well I'm not asking her here!"

"Then where? And when?"

Roger knew John was just getting excited, and his questions honestly had Roger brainstorming every possibility when it came to asking you.

"... I don't know, yet," Roger said after a while of thinking. "But soon. God, it needs to be soon." He didn't quite know why he was pressuring himself to ask you sooner than later.

Maybe it was because he was scared someone much better and more deserving of you (or alternatively, a selfish prick) was going to waltz in and steal you from him just before he had you for sure.

"Do you need any help with that part? I can get Fred and Bri--"

"No no no, it's okay, John." Roger leaned up against the wall of the hallway, fingers tapping the handset absentmindedly with his eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

"You guys have already done enough, really. I... I think I'm good on my own from here."

"Well, I'm glad," John expressed to Roger. "It's not every day you need to help Roger Taylor get with a girl, y'know."

"This is different, and you know it."

"I just like to tease," John defended, and Roger could even hear a smile evident in his words.

"Anyways, Veronica and I will be home tomorrow around noon. Y/n's got our number. You two take care."

"Of course, you too," Roger was making his way back to the writing desk.

"Thanks. Oh, and Roger?" John added quickly.

"Hm?"

"If you two end up doing anything, for God's sake, please wash the sheets."

As John was speaking, you'd walked into the living room with Bobby in your arms. "We're gonna go and have some play time, now! Yes we are!"

Roger was too panicked by your presence to even realize you weren't paying any attention to the phone call, and he hoped to God you didn't hear a single thing John had said. "Yeah-yes! Laundry. Will do."

He nodded his head once, though John couldn't see him, and after saying their good byes, Roger hung up the phone.

He turned to where you were in the living room. You were looking in the play pen for something, and Roger suddenly remembered the rattle in his back pocket.

He pulled it out hurriedly and held it out to you. "Shit! I'm so sorry about that--"

"Don't swear, Roger," you took the rattle, a smile on your lips you both knew you were trying to frown away. "There's a baby here."

"What? He doesn't know what that word means."

"Well, the more you keep saying it, the more of a chance he has at that being his first word, and I do not need the Deacon Family hunting us down for teaching their kid swears." You looked from Roger down to Bobby, shaking the rattle gently and grinning when Bobby squealed happily and reached out for the toy.

You took a seat on the couch, and played around with Bobby while Roger went back to the kitchen to do the dishes.

From 7:30 AM to about 2:30, all that really happened was play-time and lunch, something Roger prepared. You offered to do the dishes, but Roger wouldn't allow it. He just suggested you put Bobby up for his nap. He'd fallen asleep in your arms during play-time, like he did with Roger the night before.

The both of you thought it was crazy Bobby would just fall asleep rather than cry, but honestly, neither of you were complaining. Quiet baby for the win!

Roger just finished putting the last plate on the drying rack on the counter as he listened above for your footsteps leaving Bobby's room. He dried his hands off with the dishtowel hanging over his shoulder after turning off the faucet.

From behind, Roger felt a pair of arms slowly circle his body, and he smiled warmly at the feeling of you pressed against his back.

"He asleep?"

"Mhm."

Roger's smile only widened as you inched your palms up his chest. He turned in your arms and pressed his hands against your hips, inching you closer as he leaned back against the kitchen sink.

"Well, what do we do, now?" Roger asked. He sounded like he was up to no good. With the sultry look in his eyes and the way the smile on his lips looked like he was repressing a naughty suggestion, he knew you knew he already had something on his mind.

"Well, I mean," your hands slipped up into Roger's long hair, fingers tangling themselves between the strands. "Anything, really."

You knew what game Roger was playing, and you loved how cute he was, thinking he was going to have you on your knees for him.

His eyes shamelessly raked over the top half of your body, and he squeezed his hands, still at your hips.

"What'll you be doing with your free time, Roger?" You took one more step closer to him, and he pulled you the rest of the way to him so your groin was flush with his.

"I'm looking right at her."

He was already strained against his jeans, and you just offered a smile, fingers tightening their grip in Roger's hair.

"Mmm... I kinda like the sound of that," you admitted lowly, half of a smile on your lips. You shifted your hips from side to side, and Roger tried to pull you even closer.

You rolled your hips against Roger again, and the cheekiness in his face fell with a look of long-awaited relief, and his head dropped to your shoulder.

One of his hands moved up to grab you by the back of your neck, and when he lifted his head to look at you again, his second hand dragged upwards from your hip to squeeze your waist.

Roger lifted the hand by your neck, and combed your hair back with his fingers. His eyes fell onto yours for a brief moment, and you could have sworn there was something he tried to tell you there.

You just couldn't read him.

But he didn't care. He pulled you in close again, and his lips were on yours.

You'd kissed Roger before. Not in public, but definitely in the bedroom. And they weren't very scarce. Honestly, if Roger's lips weren't somewhere else on your body, they'd be on yours.

But why was this feeling different from all the other times he'd kissed you?

He was being a lot less forceful and needy than he usually was.

His grip wasn't tight on you, and it wasn't like he was crushing you against him as if indicating he needed more of you, now.

He was holding you rather, and the hand at your waist circled around to press against your lower back. The hand on your neck shifted a little forward so Roger could gently slide the pad of his thumb down the column of your throat.

The both of you were holding your breath, and Roger was the first to pull away. The both of you sucked in some air, and before you could even draw in a full breath, Roger's lips were on yours again.

He pushed towards you, guiding you backwards until your back was flat against the refrigerator. His warm hands grabbed for yours and he pinned them above your head by your wrists.

Okay. This, was something you were used to. But there was nothing that could have prepared you for when Roger's hands loosened their grip on your wrists, and he was lacing his fingers between your own.

Your hands felt very small in Roger's. How had he never noticed that before? What else had he neglected to realize about you?

In that moment, he felt you pull away to breathe, and he looked down at you worriedly, fingers frozen, yet still laced with yours.

"I- uh... I-I'm sorry--"

"No no, don't be. It's okay," your response was very rushed, but you didn't skip a word.

There was about a minute of silence, your hot breaths mingling in the space between your lips, though your gazes were locked with one another, and you couldn't look away.

"Did-uh... did you want me to... to stop?" His question was gentle, almost sincere-sounding, but he still made no effort to move from his place.

"No. God, no." And as soon as you'd answered, Roger closed the space between the both of you again, his fingers unwound from yours to grab you by the jaw, and you just held his waist, pushing your body as close to him as he would let you.

He shifted around a little, and moved his leg between yours. You could feel his mouth bend into a smirk against yours, and he began to apply pressure to the apex of your legs with his knee.

Before long, as much as you wanted to resist it, you fell to Roger's submission, and as you waited for him to grab your waist and put you wherever, he hesitated for a second, and dropped his hands from yours.

You opened your eyes again to find Roger, face red, and staring at your chest. Not in an ogling way, but more of a method to avoid looking you in the eye.

He could tell you were looking at him, and he shifted his gaze to you. He itched at his hands awkwardly, mouth opening and closing as he tried to explain himself.

You just waited. You gave him time to think, and he had an answer for you sooner than either of you would have thought.

"I just... I wanna try something else. I don’t want to control you like I do every night."

It wasn't much of an explanation, but a good beginning to a demonstration.

"Will you come to bed with me, Y/n?" His offer was gentle, yet confident, despite offering a hand out hesitantly.

When you dropped your hand into his, all of the tension in Roger's being relaxed, and he quietly led you up the stairs, past the nursery, and into John and Veronica's room.

Before you could say anything he gently explained that he'd do laundry later, and then he pulled you in for another kiss he'd been waiting to give you since the last one.

Roger pulled you closer to him, hands cupping your face as his lips began to desperately chase after yours. You kissed Roger back with just as much vigor, but then he slowed the movements of his mouth, and guided you backwards until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Roger helped lower you down onto the bed, and he leaned over you, dipping down to kiss your lips again. He knelt between your legs, and pulled them up around his waist so he could lean in even closer.

You felt his hands squeeze your hips, and he pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth. You hummed lowly, your eyelashes kissing your cheeks as Roger pulled away ever so slightly-- just enough to pull his shirt off of him, and close the distance between your bodies again.

You tangled your hands into his hair, and he hummed in approval before pulling back just once more.

"I'm sure that's hardly fair..."

"What?"

"This," Roger tugged gently at the hem of your shirt.

"Why's yours still on?"

"... I never said it had to be."

Roger exhaled, and slowly pulled your shirt up over your head after you raised your arms to help him out a little.

He placed the palm of his hand over the smooth skin of your belly as he stared at your bare torso. And before long, he dipping down to kiss you again.

You reciprocated his actions, wrapping your arms around his neck and tightening your legs around his hips, to which he rocked himself against your core, and then---

Bam!

The headboard hit the wall, and Bobby woke up.

"Nooo..." you squeezed your eyes shut as the baby's cries began to reverberate down the hallway.

"Fuck!" Roger groaned, eyebrows knitted together helplessly as he climbed off of you. You both knew it was Roger who technically woke the baby up, and it was just silently agreed on that he went to put him back down.

"Dammit to hell, those separated headboards."

Roger opened the nursery door, and made his way to the crib in the corner of the room. Bobby's cheeks were wet with tears, and Roger's heart sank. "'M sorry, little guy. C'mere. Come see uncle Roger."

He picked the baby up and rocked him back and forth, though it wasn't exactly doing much, so Roger took a seat in the rocking chair on the opposite side of the room, swaying the both of them with a push of his feet.

Bobby's cries settled, and Roger felt proud of himself. Sure, he wanted to get back to what he was doing before, but instead he took his time in making sure Bobby was comfortable and not in need of anything before he drifted off to sleep again.

Bobby played around with Roger's fingers a few moments after his agitation ceased, and he couldn't believe how large his hands were in comparison to Bobby's. He was once that size.

A little while later Roger set Bobby down in his crib, and the infant was out. The drummer smiled at his accomplishment. He didn't even need your help.

With that, he left the room without a sound.

He stepped into John and Veronica's room, and closed the door quietly behind him. He was in the middle of turning on his heel when he stopped dead in his tracks.

You'd taken some of the pillows off the bed and wedged them between the wall and the headboard to keep the bed from making noise.

You were also splayed out on the bed in a lot less clothing than he remembered you in when he left.

With a teasing beckon from your finger, Roger knew three things were for certain.

1. You were the smartest woman he knew.

2. You were the most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

3. He, the Roger Taylor, had fallen madly, and helplessly in love with you.

-------------------------------------

A/A/N: Again, you’ve all been waiting long enough for the next chapter, so here you are. i hope you all enjoy, and if my response is great with this one, I’ll see if I can spit out another one soon <3

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@ohtheseboysilove​

@demo-wise​

@suavishowell​

@bohemianahoy​

@pippin248​

@maisielou

@hardyshoe​

@queenlover05​

@imjustboredso​

@juliarvra​

(Leave me a message if you wanna be added to either of my taglists)