…⁠ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ

I firmly disbelieve one has to be a tortured soul to write music.

[autumnsnowcone]

simple rules: I'm open to any genre and au! this blog will include very triggering themes (substance abuse, addiction, horror, heavy mental health topics, toxic relationships, body issues, self harm etc) which will all be tagged, but please unfollow if it's too much. I love shipping, but it's not required to keep my attention, i love writing friendship/enemies plots as well. I'm happy to write smut but we can fade to black if you prefer, though I am much more of a slow-burner writer, i am a sucker for chemistry and suffocating desire. I am Open to multiple threads, fuck it lets go! Sometimes I go overboard but dont worry about matching, write what feels natural, and reply when you can, no issue here. I can roll with whatever formatting you use, and can handle cutting posts if needed!

check out my starters and wishlist

21+ full time worker/student and lazy bones.

[ad0rati0ns]

katherine scans the other in desperation. she is not surprised that he does not believe her. the tale sounded absurd to her, as well. "i do not want to break your heart. far from it, actually."

she tilts her head, lips twitching into a small smile. "i do not find you doggish. merely...idealistic."

[autumnsnowcone]

He felt no sting in her words, had there had been any, they would have ricocheted harmlessly from the sturdy cage of his ribs. If anything, he felt honored by them.

"Pardon?" he asked, feigning disappointment as he allowed himself to step closer to her. This distance would not do. "Only idealistic? You wound me." And yet, the smile threatening his lips betrayed him entirely.

"I was hoping for something rather more enlightening."

[autumnsnowcone]

hi everyone so sorry! I will be getting to replies soon, I came down with a nasty cold and all the NyQuil has been helping me sleep through it, but I finally feel much better!

[autumnsnowcone]

closed starter for @@pearlwhitcs

Was she making it obvious? Tapping her ballpoint pen against her bottom lip while Gabriel spoke at the front of the lecture hall? Normally, Autumn would’ve found herself entirely absorbed in the intricacies of postmodernism itself, not in the man teaching it. Yet there she sat in the middle row, one leg crossed over the other beneath the tiny fold-out desk attached to her chair, following not only his words but the subtle furrow of his brow whenever a particular point stirred something passionate in him. She'd never seen a professor so fiercely demand attention. It was part of why she’d signed up for the course in the first place. The university postings alone had made him sound fervent, obsessive even, and she’d wanted to see whether passion like that could be contagious. Watching him now, she thought perhaps that it was. To her, he possessed a strange gravitational pull, entirely unconcerned with discomfort, disagreement, or whether people liked him at all.

So why hadn’t he spoken to her?

It had been weeks now since she’d received the notification that he’d liked her photo. At first, she thought she imagined it. The same way she’d convinced herself she imagined him staring at her too long from behind his desk on particularly warm afternoons like today, dark eyes lingering for a second longer than appropriate before flicking back toward his lecture notes. But, no, she had checked the profile. It was his. Adorably, she had told her friends, he hadn’t even tried very hard to disguise it. What she couldn’t figure out was whether the accidental like had come from ignorance with technology… or if he’d secretly wanted her to know it was him. That question had been eating at her ever since, and in an attempt to draw something out of him, her posts became increasingly deliberate after that. Smaller skirts. Fleeting glimpses of bare skin marked by the lingering attention of somebody else’s hands. Little provocations scattered carefully across her profile like breadcrumbs meant for him alone. And still, nothing.

It became quietly maddening, coming to class day after day and watching him pretend not to notice while she caught the subtle shifts in the way he looked at her. Autumn had begun watching him longer too, lingering on his face just to see whether he’d avert his gaze first. The tension of it all had been simmering beneath her skin for weeks now, until last night, when she posted a picture just meant for him. Did he know? Did he hope it was? The possibility fascinated her more than it should have.

The lecture ended beneath the scrape of chairs and the loud swell of students flooding toward the exits, but Autumn stayed behind. “Professor Tamayo?” Her voice came soft and sweet as she crossed the room toward his desk. “I uploaded my essay revision,” Her fingers toyed absently with the strap of her bag as she stopped beside him, "did you see it?"

[onxthexequinox]

OPEN.

for: whoever!

plot: a little chat in the park.

The hustle and bustle of the day is quickly forgotten in the quiet serenity of Centennial Park. Frankie needs quiet, especially after the day she had. Two emergency surgeries and unexpectedly losing a mom. "I can count on one hand the times I have lost a mom. It just makes me think about what would happen to my kids, now that I have my three. Maybe that being my first thought is selfish, I dunno. She had a clean bill of health when she came in, too."

[autumnsnowcone]

The smell of the pinewood trees was one of the many reasons Kurt always came back. He was convinced that somehow, when the sharp earthy scent of the branches filled his lungs, even a plain baloney sandwich tasted better. That, and well… her. He’d grown strangely accustomed to this little routine of theirs; lunch in the park, before drifting back off into their separate lives again. The predictability comforted him, that was unless, she had other important places to be. Being a surgeon came with much more excitement than an IT tech in a floundering company.

Still, he liked listening to her talk, whatever the subject happened to be, even if he’d never been particularly good at the comforting part of things. “Don’t even think about that,” he muttered around a bite of sandwich, voice muffled as a piece of lettuce slipped out and landed sadly in his lap. With a small grunt, he pinched it between his fingers before glancing back at her beneath furrowed brows. “You’re too stubborn to let something happen to you anyway.”

[ohtempt4tions]

⊹ ₊ ⁺ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⸻ 𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤     :      @autumnsnowcone !

“ but…     you’re the one that always turns me on,      you keep me comin’ around. ”

[autumnsnowcone]

Meadow hated when he did that, when he held the contradiction of her own behavior right up in front of her so plainly. “But you always open the door, don’t you?” She tilted my head, nose wrinkling faintly as she tried to turn the accusation back on him instead. “Unless…” Her brows lift just slightly. “You’re expecting someone else to show up at 3in the morning?”

[autumnsnowcone]

I'm going to be working on all drafts throughout the day :)

[nouvelis]

muse: kwang joonho, bistro owner, early 30s open to: m / f / nb potential connections: significant other, dating, best friends, colleague, etc. note: please read my rules before replying and don't like my starters.

“are you really going to sulk all night without telling me what happened?” joonho asks, raising an eyebrow as he settles in the seat opposite them across the dining table. the restaurant is now closed, leaving the two of them alone in each other's company amid the low, thrumming noise of his worries. “you haven’t even touched the cake, and it’s your favourite.” he can barely recall the last time they looked so defeated and it casts a deep concern in his eyes. “what’s wrong?”

[autumnsnowcone]

The gentle aroma of the coffee lifted softly to his nose, but no matter how much he inhaled the sweet hazelnut scent, the swell in his chest would not subside. Sam supposed he was sulking a little, curled into the corner booth with his knees drawn close to his chest, shoulders hunched over a mug he’d been sipping so slowly the coffee had long since gone tepid. It was embarrassing, really. Moping like some petulant child, just without the tears. Even at his size, he somehow managed to make himself appear small.

Usually, he appreciated Kwang’s observant nature. It was the reason a slice of cake had appeared beside his coffee without him needing to ask, the same little ritual he indulged in after work nearly every day. But today, more than anything, Sam wished to be left alone with the strange heaviness sitting in his chest. He couldn’t quite explain why seeing that young boy being fussed over by his parents had unsettled him so deeply. Something about the easy affection or something he never received, something he didn't even know mattered to him, was difficult to shake off. Still, the least he could do was muster a small, reassuring smile for the worried man across from him. “I’m alright,” he assured gently, his thick brows lifting in a familiar way seen by the customers he beckoned to the shop. “I think I’m just catching a bit of a cold. Don’t want to spread it around to all the customers.” He curled both hands a little tighter around the mug. “The coffee should perk me up, yeah? After a good night’s sleep, I’ll be good to go again.”

[springrides]

❛     you     know,     i     really     dont     get     it.     ❜           pulls     on     zipper     of     denim     with     a     sharp     zip,     shifting     to     readjust     himself     in     driver’s     seat     after     climbing     forward     from     the     backseat.            ❛     you're     dating     him,     but     fucking     me.     why     dont     you     just     break     up     with     the     guy?     ❜

[autumnsnowcone]

Noe’s question stopped Meadow in her tracks as she fumbled with the button of her jeans in the backseat. Ah. Not this conversation. Not now. Things between them felt so easy like this, and she didn’t want to muddy it with questions she wasn’t sure how to answer yet. With practiced evasion, she leaned herself around the driver’s seat and loosely wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re not changing your mind, are you?” she whined playfully, tilting her head just enough for her warm brown eyes to catch his. “Because I really want to see you Friday.” And before he could drift any further into that guilty little spiral of his, she pressed a kiss to his temple, then the curve of his ear, then his brow, little offerings meant to steer him gently away from what she suspected would become a very exhausting conversation.

[lesbiharrie]

— open: f 18-20 — connection: newly betrothed highborn lady, possibly a stark, tyrell, lannister — plot: prince aerion targaryen (18) is set to meet his betrothed, a match made by his father without his consent, at the tourney of ashford meadow. he is not excited at all, but maybe, she might actually be interesting. bonus points if you make her as cuckoo as he is. content warnings: nsfw. disclaimer: this starting message is quite long but no need to match length! i'd even prefer shorter messages but i like my starters to have alllll the detail (: i also have not done rp directly on tumblr in years soooo be nice!

"somebody fetch me some wine and a pretty wench to keep busy—" "you idiot." maekar snapped, grabbing his son by the back of the collar to prevent him from wandering into the ashford castle once they had gotten off of their horses. they had just arrived at the tourney, and aerion was in no rush to meet his betrothed. his father was clearly losing his patience, muttering into his son's ear, "make yourself presentable for the girl, i will be sending for her and her father shortly. no wine, no wench. you will spend the day with her, and i do not want to hear another fucking thing about it, aerion." with that, maekar released his son with a harsh shove, and the furious brightflame silently made his way inside. having hoped for a brief moment of solitude to sneak drink and lounge, aerion found himself vexed by his father’s continued presence in his designated chamber. with the current theatrics of his wretched siblings gone “missing,” a trifle that aerion believed called for no true concern, he predicted his father would hastily join his uncle—heir to the iron throne and most anticipated guest of the tourney—with lord ashford to attend to such matters. as it seemed, maekar deemed it of greater consequence to greet the girl and her father (and, no doubt, to ensure his son conducted himself in a manner expected of a targaryen prince before leaving them be). no wine. no wench. only a valet laying out fresh clothing of crimson and black, combing his cropped white hair, and smoothing scented oil to the skin. aerion hardly had a moment to sit in the solar before he could hear them approaching. he couldn’t be held accountable for the low groan that slipped from his throat; he truly could not possess less of an interest in this. “up.” maekar sounded pained in his sharp instruction, both already rising for the attendant's introduction while the guests stepped in, “maekar targaryen, prince of summerhall, and his son prince aerion of house targaryen.” aerion inhaled slow through full lips, summoning the will to force a pleased expression on his face.

[autumnsnowcone]

“Lord Beron Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North, accompanied by his daughter, Lady Elowen Stark.”

The sun beamed down harshly, beads of sweat gathering along Lady Elowen’s pale collarbone as she dipped into a practiced curtsy, bending her knees with the very picture of a well-bred maiden, her gown scarcely brushed the floor. When she rose, dark eyes lifted toward the prince before her. Prince Aerion. The man whom singers claimed had eyes that burned violet in candlelight, like dragonfire.

Elowen did not see much fire now. In truth, he looked utterly miserable to be in her presence. Rumors had drifted through Winterfell for weeks now, whispered softly between fittings as seamstresses stitched her into southern gowns. Tales of his cruelty. Of a prince as beautiful as he was dangerous. The women around her had spoken of him carefully, as though fearful to wound the already aching princess, who truthfully, did not wish to leave her home.

Yet standing before him now, with his father looming sharp at his side, Aerion did not look fearsome to Elowen.

Gods, if Wylla could see him now, she thought, nearly smiling. Her poor handmaiden had spoken of Prince Aerion as though he might breathe fire across the supper table. The thought had struck her so suddenly, that before she could help it, a giggle escaped past her apricot colored lips.

Beside her, Lord Beron Stark looked faintly alarmed, his hand settling against the back of his daughter’s spine.

Elowen quickly lifted a clothed knuckle to her lips, meaning to disguise her laughter as a polite, quaint cough.

[bynoctus]

open to: f/m/nb 25+.

plot: lucan is a bard that has (perhaps annoyingly) attached himself to your muse, so now they travel around together. good luck lol.

replies will be moved to a new post.

the lute is quickly ripped from his hands before he even has time to strike the first chord. his mouth, first opened with the means of serenading about their journey thus far, now lets out an exaggerated gasp. "first, you exile me off the horse," he points out with an indignant huff, turning to glare up at them as they continue to ride their horse while he attempts to keep pace with them down on the dirt path, "and now you deny me my basic right of song? perhaps you are black of heart after all." he dramatically crosses his arms over his chest and upturns his head, as if somehow him behaving like a brat would make them change their mind. "wasn't it the other day you said you liked my singing?" they had used the word tolerate technically, but his point still stands.

[autumnsnowcone]

Winnie wasn't particularly a pleasant travel companion on the best of days, but several nights sleeping on hard ground with little more than stale bread in her stomach had only worsened her temper. “You are lucky I do not smash it,” she warned, though the lute nearly met its end when she tossed it carelessly towards the ground, causing it to squeak out pathetically. “If I must listen to one more excruciating song about the trees," She paused, struggling to remember exactly what nonsense he had been rambling about for the better part of the journey. One hand tightened around the reins while the other gestured irritably through the air with each word. “Or the stars, or... or something else equally tragic, I may very well leave you for the wolves myself.” Still astride the horse, she shot him a flat look from beneath the mousy curls of her red hair that stuck to her with sweat and grime. The two of them did stink, didn't they? Though despite herself, the corners of her mouth threatened the faintest twitch. She could not quite bear the look on his face. As much as she could do without the off-pitch vocalizing, she had grown strangely fond of the little critter. The horse plodded onward a few more steps before Winnie finally sighed through her nose and slowed the reins just enough for him to catch up beside her. “Besides,” she added dryly, “you will scare our dinner away with all that noise, perhaps you could make yourself useful and hold onto my musket, will you?"

[ferociouslyenchanted]

open to -> f plot -> a solider coming home after battle (can be wife, or the princess or queen that he should not be seeing)

Harris had been in battle for weeks now, the only thing that got him through the battles was the thought of them, being able to see them again. He had just gotten back and had washed himself off before he got to see them, he walked to the home they had always gone to and a breath escaped him as his eyes landed on her "there you are."

[autumnsnowcone]

"You're home!"

Bare feet slapped against the weathered porch as Elowen came tumbling down the steps without a shred of queenly composure. Her hair had long since escaped its pins, bouncing around her shoulders as she gathered her skirts in both hands to keep from tripping in her haste. Any court lady would have been aghast at the sight of her, but Elowen did not care. She was far too giddy for dignity.

but, just as she did reach him, smack. Nimble palms struck uselessly against the rough plate of his chest. “How dare you,” she scolded breathlessly. “Have you no concern for those who worry after you? You do not write. You send no word!”

[chaotcrphelp]

Send in a ⚔️ for a duel with my muse.

[vamplire]

human/vampire enemies to lovers but they’re not completely in trust yet so each gentle touch & fang graze while exploring each others bodies has the potential to be the mortal’s demise but the vampire is also wary because the human came back from olive garden & there’s garlic there

[yeuphoria]

╰   * OPEN TO F / NB . loosely inspired by f.ar cry 5. elias' older brother has started a cult new church in a small town and elias is used as the face of the operation to charm and reel in new recruits. DO NOT LIKE THIS STARTER .

trapped under the afternoon sun that beat down upon the row of stores that made up downtown, elias had been stood in this very spot all day. nobody who wandered by had been spared from his attempt at introductions, and even those who tried to avoid him still ended up with a glossy flyer begrudgingly clutched in their grip. as male waved one group of giggling women off with the promise they'd stop by his brother's service on sunday, a new passerby caught his eye, the pearly white of his smile promptly showing. “ now that's a virtuous face if ever i've seen one . . . ” big browns widened, head angled to the side as if to steal a better look at them. “ you're a local, right ? i've been seeing you around town. ”

[autumnsnowcone]

Meadow gently hurried through the crowd, the big brown back crinkling as she held it against her chest, nestled between both arms. It was heavy, cans of corn and stalks of celery squished up against eggplant and squash. She'd wanted to hurry, soon she'd have hungry mouths barking at her for food, and if she wanted to keep all ten of her fingers she'd whip something up. It wasn't like her to fall behind, but the market square had swelled unusually full that afternoon. Meadow slipped carefully between strangers with quick little apologies, breathless from the effort of keeping both herself and the groceries upright. Though even in such a hurry, she couldn't bring herself to ignore a kind stranger speaking to her.

Her wide doe eyes lifted to his at once, pupils dark and round as saucers. The bag sagged in her grip, and she bounced it higher against her hip the way one might soothe a fussy child. “Yes, that’s right,” she answered with a small, flustered smile. A pink warmth dusted across her cheeks at the state of herself. Her wind-tossed hair, flushed face, “I’m awfully sorry,” she said softly. “You’ve caught me in a dreadful rush. I don’t typically look quite so…” Her voice trailed off with a sheepish laugh as she hurried to smooth her skirt flat against her legs and tuck loose strands of mousy brown hair behind her ear.

[autumnsnowcone]

Open to: All! Give me your supernatural muses. I am hoping this to be fantasy or supernatural within a historical setting.

Muse: Elowen (Winnie), Tavern Keeper.

The stranger had stayed at her inn for nearly a week before Winnie found the blood. Not human blood, she realized quickly enough when she bent down and pressed her fingers into the dark residue. It was animal blood, that she was sure of.

Outside, the village bells rang sharp in the distance. Hunters would be off, again. “They say it slaughtered an entire hunting party,” one of the patrons downstairs whispered fearfully. “Tore them apart like animals.” Winnie hushed them with a smile on her face as she climbed up the steps, a warm tray against her chest. She wouldn't have her guests be scared out of their wits due to all this nonsense.

The hall creaked softly beneath her feet as she made her way toward the last room. Her quiet guest had barely eaten since arriving, and worry had settled stubbornly in the back of her mind because of it. She knocked once before easing the door open. For a moment, Winnie said nothing at all. Then, careful not to tip the bellied copper, she set the kettle down beside them. "I know you're awake," she said gently, uncapping the crock pot, releasing the scent of steamed carrots and rabbit into the air. Her gaze lifted toward the figure beneath the blankets, brows creasing with quiet concern. “You missed supper again.” A small smile tugged at her mouth. “Does my cooking truly smell that awful?”

[deathwritings]

"are you saying it's my fault you led me on?" silas asked. he wanted to be shocked but at the point, he didn't know what to feel when it came to bobby anymore. he felt stupid for falling for someone like him.

[autumnsnowcone]

"I told you I was married, didn't I?" Wasn't like he ever took the ring off. He made a vow, after all. "Look," he sighed, gaping his mouth open as he rubbed his jaw. Christ, was he tense. He could see the look on the kid's face, how hurt he'd been, but he'd get over it, wouldn't he? This was just something Bobby needed every now and then. "We both let steam out, didn't we?" he muttered at last. Maybe this wasn't the best choice of words, but once he got his mouth going, it was damn hard to stop.