Just Getting Dinner In Then Jumping On @docmohan Then Back Here. The Muses Is Screaming.

I just wanted to make a bit of a tiny psa; in that, there’s many instances where, if I’m shipping with someone, I don’t want to write with or ship with duplicates ( pending ppl using the same fc for multiple characters cause all interpretations are different). I have no interest in writing with the same face claims over and over, it’s not authentic to my brain. Nor is it authentic to what I’m building, canons are different, yes but there can be major associations with how someone plays them. if we’ve discussed it, then I have no issue practicing exclusively, especially with face claim association. for example, I will only ever write with one frank castle and billy russo because I have no desire to write with any others based on dynamics built. Face claim wise, I will not write with any others based Oliver Jackson-cohen face claims or honestly Jensen ackles because they’re associated with characters from partners I like writing with. But if we don’t have any conversation about these things, I won’t know. I’ll still prioritize your character if I’m not writing with any other canons or ocs with their face but I’m not tied to exclusivity unless we talk about it. But this psa is also me saying NO I DO NOT EXPECT THE SAME MANNER OF THINKING FROM OTHERS. and again unless the conversation is there, it’s business as usual.

Did this make any sense cause I feel like an asshole trying to explain my brain and I know I should put the list in my pinned and carrd but anyways.

I want to know what everyone’s muses FYP looks like cause Gloria’s is : bodega cats, 90s nostalgia and dad bod thirst traps…are they also masked… no comment.

❛  we're  not  going  to  fight  her,  she's  the  devil.  and  you  don't  dance  with  the  devil  cause  you  get  burned.  also  in  her  case,  because  she  has  no  rhythm  and  her  hands  are  like  little  rat  claws.  ❜

holt & diaz quote starters // @washsins ( this feels like a dean conversation )

how are you holding up ? @pittmade

her  gaze  fixed  on  the  horizon,  where  the  light  filters  in  too  softly  for  the  weight  in  her  chest.  she  stifles  any  wryness,  any  iteration  that  MIRRORS  how  he  might  stand  in  her  position.  though  to  her  credit,  she  isn't  standing.  legs  curled  over  railings,  her  hands  are  still,  clasped  in  her  lap  like  she’s  holding  something  fragile  there.  a  memory,  maybe. or  the  version  of  herself  she  used  to  be  before  the  uniform,  before  the  field  kits  soaked  in  blood,  before  the  nights  that  still  wake  her  up  sweating  through  the  sheets.

the  question  lingers  in  the  air,  burning  through  her  with  guilt.  he  asks  with  that  arc  of  militant  sureness  and  grace,  but  she  hears  the  worry  beneath  it.  ❛  some  nights  are  louder  than  others.  ❜  she  doesn't  speak  it  outright,  doesn’t  mention  the  dream  that  clung  to  her  ribs  this  morning,  or  the  way  she  caught  herself  zoning  out  between  rounds,  replaying  things  she  can’t  fix.  but  he  knows,  he  always  does.  the  way  he  sees  her—  really  sees  her  and  doesn’t  flinch,  doesn’t  try  to  fix  her.  JUST  STAYS.  and  as  long  as  she's  above  ground,  she'll  do  the  same  for  him.  new  as  it  was  between  them,  it  wasn't  by  way  of  soul.  a  synchronicity  extended  by  the  universe  to  make  amends  for  how  much  it  worked  them  over.

❛  that  young  private  on  leave  —  ❜  it's  coarse  on  her  tongue  from  how  it  crawled  up  between  serrated  edges  in  her  throat.  her  hand  reached  for  jack,  quietly  and  without  rumination,  like  a  reflex  her  body  had  already  absorbed  into  its  DNA.  ❛  he  reminded  me  of  someone,  felt  like  losing  them  all  over  again.  ❜

her  hand  doesn’t  move.  it  stays  there,  over  his  chest,  over  the  heat  of  a  heart  still  BEATING,  even  if  it  feels  like  it’s  barely  holding  on.  her  fingers  curl  a  little,  as  though  she  could  press  through  flesh  and  bone  and  cradle  it  in  her  palm  with  tenderness.  ❛  what  am  i  without  my  hypocrisy?  ❜  her  smile  is  world-weary,  a  life  lived  before  she  ever  stepped  foot  into  the  emergency  department.  one  she  couldn't  shake  from  her  bones  or  broken  soul.  just  the  same,  she  couldn't  shake  off  obligations,  duty,  her  purpose  in  this  world.  ❛  i  know  we  do,  trust  me  on  that  —  ❜  a  pause  to  relinquish  touch,  if  only  to  toy  with  the  pocket  of  his  hoodie.  ❛  i'm  just  asking  for  a  day.  the  details  of  which  i  will  be  forcing  you  to  relax  and  in  turn  i  will  relax  so  it's  mutually  beneficial.  ❜

tired   eyes   flick   to   the   hand   on   his   chest   like   it's   an   open   wound.    the   warmth   of   it   hurts   and   sears   his   skin,   in   the   way   that   softness   does   when   you're   starving   for   it.    he   can't   afford   to   vanish.   too   many   people   need   him   functioning,   unflinching.    to   unravel is not an option,   not   even   at   the   seams.    “     have you ever thought about taking your own advice? ”  he   offers a small grin before shaking his head.    “     people   like   us.   we   belong   here. ” they couldn't walk away if they wanted to.

indefinite hiatus.

ADRIA ARJONA as Madison Figueroa HIT MAN (2024)

❛ i  could  have  been  easier  on  you. ❜  admittance  turned  over,  softly  spun  by  the  same  bedside  manner  she'd  developed  since  her  FAREWELL  TO  ARMS.  she  shrugs  gently  and  twists  around  in  the  exam  room,  prepping  her  station  for  sutures.  concern  knits  her  brows,  a  thousand  questions  hiding,  but  nothing  said.  what  bar?  how  far  his  mouth  ran  before  the  fist  hit?  how  many  punches  he  got  in? 

lyrical sc//@frthestars ( bradley )