WILL YOU REMEMBER?

ᵂⁱˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵂⁱˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵐᵉ ? ᵂⁱˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ

[oldastime]

Sea ( twenty-seven, she/her ). This is my lazy copy-and-paste attempt at another blog. Had to fix this cause I suck, but here we are! Originally, I wanted this blog to focus on more mature muses I don’t have on my other blog, but instead, I just ended up doing whatever I wanted, like usual. Again, I am lazy, so guidelines and all that will be listed on my main page, which is listed below.

Well, I guess, welcome …

Muses

Test Muses

 My main @seasclt​

Guidelines

Wanted ​Relations

Wanted Opposites 

Starters

​Updated! Feb. 2025​

[waveofstars]

This felt like dangerous territory. He wasn't sure why that was, but his stomach twisted into knots as he continued looking at her in the dim light. If he wasn't a fool, perhaps he'd bring attention to it - this electricity between them that he had with no other. But he was a fool and it felt easier to hide behind their friendship. She completely gave him an out to be honest about his plans, but he only shook his head. "You and I both know how much I hate most people. You really think a guy like me has plans?"

He watched as she got up and felt a pang of disappointment that she was leaving, but also a strange sense of relief. Relief that she'd go to bed before he said or did anything he regretted.

Gently, and without thought, he reached out with his good arm and grasped her wrist to stop her momentarily. "Being around you is never too much, by the way." It was more sentimental than he intended, but it was true. He could spend every day and not get tired of her - annoyed, maybe, but never tired of her. He let go as if he realized just how intimate the moment was. "Even if you drive me fuckin' crazy." He cracked a smile.

[oldastime]

Her eyes blniked, caught off guard as her body jerked at his grasp. She took a moment trying to shake the feeling of his grip along her wrist (which, of course, was totally normal.) Except her cheeks betrayed her in shades of red, and her eyes couldn't settle on a damn thing. She cocked her head back, turning her body slowly to face him as he spoke. She stood there, taking his words in, trying to find the friendly response in her head but the only answer showing up blurred every line. Somehow, like some haunting succubus, every thing he was doing triggered her so much more, lately. Involuntarily, at that. It was making her furious, like she had no control over her body and the way she felt. As if she hadn't been doing a fucking fantastic job before. She noticed the warmth he made her accustom too grow cold. God, She didn't like that. She didn't like how hyper aware she was of him, his (fucking) touch. Dropping her head, she let out a quick laugh and scratched the back of her neck. Saying nothing felt safer. So she pivoted, awkwardly speed-walking toward her room. Great, she thought, because that wasn’t obvious at all. Once the door closed behind her, she deflated against the frame, exhaling everything she’d been holding in. Maybe she could hide in there forever, or at least long enough to calm down and fetch the man his damn blanket.

A few (long) minutes go by before she came back out, pillow and blanket in hand. "Here," She didn't wait from him to grab them, throwing them at his chest. "Good night!" With a short wave, she started back to her room again, safety, blessed safety, but paused with her hand on the doorknob. Her voice came softer, smaller, but clear. “I, uh… feel the same way, by the way.” She looked over her shoulder. "I like when you make up most of my day..."

[beingalones]

open starter for w plot: your muse is a werewolf with no pack who recently moved to the pack's territory and was taken to their compound to be assessed as to whether she's a threat. this is her first time meeting cyrus and oh, oops, they're fated mates.

her scent invaded his senses before he even reached the door, something unfamiliar and sweet, addictive in a way he'd never encountered. it slowed him as his fingers touched the door handle and he turned his head, seeing the way two of his seconds hesitated behind him, wearing looks of distaste. he dismissed them, deciding he'd go in alone, but it was self-preservation. part of him seemed to know what he was walking into, as he stepped into the guest bedroom and his gaze fell on the girl sitting on the edge of the bed. her scent, her presence, the way her hair fell in her face as she looked up at him, it had his breath caught in his throat. heat flooded through his body and he longed to get closer, to inspect her, to touch her. he stood firmly by the door, forcing himself to not get any closer, but he knew... she would have felt it too. "i've been told you apparently don't know wolf customs enough to know that living in our territory without notice is a punishable offence." cyrus' voice was stern, his jaw clenching before he continued. "what's your name?"

[oldastime]

It felt good, really fucking good, to finally be somewhere by herself. Not exactly a lone wolf, but definitely a young one. Leaving her pack to find her own footing had been a conscious decision (not the whole territorial-wolf thing), but still… she’d made an oopsie. And an oopsie it was. Dispersing is normal, they told her. Everyone does it.

So here she was. She sat there with shaggy hair, partially sweaty, and honestly too tired to put up even the slightest of a fight. Her eyes swept across the bedroom, guarded and alert in a space that didn’t belong to her, unfamiliar aesthetics, unfamiliar air, and the scent signatures of a pack she had absolutely no business being around. The air was already thick, but her fingers drifted to her nose anyway, subtly trying to block a smell that hit her so hard it terrified her. She stared at the door as the swirl of various scents collapsed into one. His. The one that made her frame lock, loosen, then go hot, an involuntary full-body jolt of recognition as he stepped inside. And suddenly the room felt smaller.

“Josephine,” Her name slipped out before she could stop it, soft and involuntary, like her mouth remembered him before her mind did. Her eyes traced him, how his jaw tightened, the way he held himself, the deliberate calm in the way he watched her. (Ugh) “You didn’t really give me a chance,” she murmured, voice catching somewhere between apology and accusation. “I had a—a jello mold.” She lifted a shoulder, a flimsy shrug, leaning into her own dry humor for cover. “I was going to formally introduce myself. You know… ‘hi, please don’t kill me, hope you like gelatin.’ A whole thing.”

[waveofstars]

There was a time when Chey was the life of the party. She'd reign champion at any and all drinking games and happily out drank anyone who dared to go against her. Now she was in her thirties and a little more honest with herself - she didn't necessarily enjoy partying. Sure, she didn't mind rubbing shoulders with others and meeting new people, but she was growing more fond of the irish goodbye every day. The only reason she found herself at this particular party was the promise of a pool, sun, and free drinks. And food.

She was in the kitchen rifling through a bag of pretzels. Chey barely noticed him at first - just another loud, pissed-off stranger stomping through the party like he owned the place. But then she heard the wet slap of bare feet against the hardwood and glanced over just in time to see him lean against the counter, leaving a growing puddle beneath him. "I was just thinking this floor looks way too safe and dry. I was hoping someone would come and ruin it," she spoke sarcastically through a chew of a pretzel before glancing at his dripping trunks.

[oldastime]

An angry man by default, that much was obvious to anyone with eyes. When Tim was pissed, the whole world blurred into background noise. But her comment cut through it anyway, sharp enough to make him flick his gaze toward her brow knitting like she’d personally volunteered to make his evening worse. “Get a fuckin’ mop if you’re so worried,” He pushed his tongue into his cheek, scanning the sea of bodies again. And of course, of course, the little shit was exactly where Tim expected him: roped around some girl like a damn barnacle. Tim’s jaw locked. Cam was laughing, having the time of his life, not a single thought spared for the brother he abandoned outside like an idiot. He didn’t move, though. Didn’t go after him yet. His hand tightened around the beer, jaw flexing hard enough to make a vein tick across his temple. His attention flicked back to Chey, only because her crunching was somehow the loudest thing in the damn room.“Pretty sure you’re the only one giving a damn about the floor,” he added flatly, lifting his beer to his lips.

@waveofstars

[waveofstars]

Perhaps the two of them had both assumed the other would write or draw some kind of profanity or wildly inappropriate thing. They had both done something thoughtful instead. He finished up what "shading" he could do with a marker before finally taking a look to see what she had written. The words were vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. A warm smile pulled on his lips and he nodded in approval at both his cast and her arm.

He looked at the marker tattoo he gave her and then his eyes met her own. "It's what could've been." For some reason, those words seemed to hold more meaning than one. He didn't mean for it, but maybe he did subconsciously. Maybe there was a universe where he had finished that tattoo on her and she saw him more than just a friend - what could've been. He cleared his throat while he also tried to clear his mind of that. No, no. He simply meant the marker tattoo was what could've been if she let him actually tattoo her. Nothing more.

That became increasingly harder to believe when he found himself almost too eagerly agreeing to fit her into his day. Truth be told, he did have plans. A dentist appointment, drinks with Chey and her brother, and he had hoped to catch a movie that night. "Nothing," he replied instead. "So I guess I can manage some space for you." He smirked and nudged her a bit. "I sort of owe you for saving my ass tonight."

[oldastime]

He always had a captivating stare. The kind that made you feel adored, nervous, and happy all at once (It drove her fucking nuts). Maybe he looked at other people that way, maybe even other women, but Elliot couldn’t shake the feeling that this particular stare, the one he gave her most of the time, was meant just for her. Still, she wasn’t special. She never was. And she wasn’t about to fool herself into thinking otherwise. Yet, her eyes lingered a little too long, and his words were deciphered in her head, and nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Not while they shared the same space, and definitely not while they called themselves best friends.

She dropped her head with a soft chuckle, resting her cheek against her palm as her hazy gaze drifted toward him. “Nothing?” she teased, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips. “You doing nothing seems so unrealistic.” He nudged her playfully, and she swayed with it. “In fact,” she added, “if you’ve got things to do, we can hang out another time. I’m sure seeing me again after today would be… too much, huh?”

Pushing herself up from the couch, she stretched, stifling a yawn behind her hands. “Mm, you don’t owe me for that. Being there for you is always on the house.” A small smile followed as her hand reached out to ruffle his hair. “Anyway, I’m going to bed. I’ll grab you a blanket and a pillow.”

[waveofstars]

A slight shiver ran down her spine at the thought of Naz's hands on her and vice versa. There was a time when something like applying sunscreen was nothing more than an innocent gesture. A simple platonic thing to do. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Nora wondered if there would ever be a time when things felt normal again. That's what she was aiming for, at least. To go back to the friendship they always had before last summer. "Yeah, of course," she answered a little too late, though did her best to pretend like the hesitation was never there.

Despite everything that had gone wrong in such a small period of time, Nora was relieved to see the pool functioning. She half anticipated it to be empty, closed for emergency cleaning, or a sickly green color with god knows what inside it. No, it was a beautiful pool on a beautiful afternoon - Nora simply had to look at the bright side. She gave Naz a cheeky smile and moved her brows up and down. "At least we got one thing right, today."

Claiming two lounge chairs for themselves, Nora put her bag down before retrieving the sunscreen. Motioning for the other to turn around, she poured some lotion into her hand. "So, I was going to keep it a surprise, but since today has gone so swimmingly, I'll tell you now. I booked us a day at a spa for tomorrow." Though the other half of the reason to reveal this secret was simply to distract herself while she rubbed the lotion into Naz's skin.

[oldastime]

"Sounds fun. I haven't been to a spa in a while. I could release the tension." She swept her hair to the side, giving better access to Nora as she put sunscreen on her. "Especially since most of it began once I landed." She chuckled and held her hand, fluttering her fingers towards Nora to squeeze lotion into her hand. "Maybe the'll have drinks, too. I could use several." And by several she meant exactly that or more. Besides, she didn't care that their trip so far was a bit of a bust. What called for a drink or several was the fact her mind was hung up on last year and what that meant for their friendship forever.

The thought alone got a shiver out of Naz, "Sorry, my body is spazzing out on me." She stated, rolling her shoulders back and fixing her posture. "Does the festivities for the day end tonight then?" She wondered. "Or is there another surprise later this evening for us to do?" With the question still hanging in the air, she took the sunscreen and gently lathered some onto her face and neck. "Because, if there isn’t…" Her lips curled into a grin. "I cordially invite you to a night out at a club."

[oldastime]

open to: All (f for friendship) 25

plot: Joesephine is meeting your muse in person for the first time. They’ve been pen pals since college

Her face didn’t show it, not with all the Crusty eyes, messy hair and 4am bags that were puffier than her actual face.bBut, she was actually overjoyed. She sat tucked in the corner while crowds of people funneled off the plane, craning her neck every few seconds to make sure she didn’t miss them walking up. She leaned forward and craned her neck, making sure she didn’t miss them one hand clutched the armrest while she dangled her head to get the best view possible.

The flight had landed ten minutes ago, but they still hadn’t let anyone off. By the time they finally did, her head had lolled back, mouth slightly open, and arms folded across her chest. Joey was practically dead to the world—until her head snapped back too far and jolted her awake. "Ugh!" she groaned, "Where-" Her eyes shot up. Suddenly bolting upright then thought better of it and scrambled to her feet instead. She reached out to grab something from their hands—then froze. Maybe a hug? Or maybe she should actually say a fucking word first? "Oh! Oh my God. Hey!"

[insporp]

©

[oldastime]

He had no fucking idea where he was, matter of fact, he had no fucking idea where his little brother was either. The little mirgrane that brought him out (just to disappear) leaving Tim to suffer around a party of shameless strangers. He didn’t consider himself introverted, not by the slightest, but he was tired, irritated, and sick of people jumping in and out of the pool where he sat. He gripped his beer tight, pushed himself up, and, out of pure frustration, shoved the next guy beside him straight into the water before he could jump in.

“Fuck,” he grumbled, catching his balance after the shove. “Cam!” he barked, all barbaric-like, earning a few looks as he scanned the crowd and realized his brother was nowhere near. With a heavy sigh, he trudged into the house, bare feet and soaked trunks dripping all over the wooden floors until he reached the kitchen. “I’m leaving his ass,” he muttered, pushing past partygoers and leaning against the counter. He said it like he meant it, but there was no way in hell he’d actually do it. He’d lean there all damn night just to make sure he caught sight of Cam, so he could kick his ass the second he did.

@waveofstars Plot: Some random California Party he was dragged into where he meets Chey for the first time.

[waveofstars]

Elliot wasn't the first to back out of a tattoo, though the blonde's dramatics left a lasting impression on him. Whenever he saw her again, he knew she was someone impossible to forget. That's what he liked about her. Connor often teased her of his unfinished masterpiece, though he knew she'd likely pass out if he got her under the needle again. "I'm a professional, Elliot. I think I'll be just fine," he told her with confidence and rose his brows some, "Though I'm confident that gusto you speak of will never return."

Pleased to see she caved, he took a marker from nearby and examined his canvas. He wore a victorious little grin as he thought of all the awful things he could draw on her. Instead of making her suffer, he decided to do something nice. Why? He wasn't sure. It just felt right. "While I do my work, you write me something encouraging on here," he said extending his casted arm to her.

Connor began to draw intricate flowers on her, doing his best to shade them as he went with the marker. It was the tattoo she never got, but even bolder. More beautiful. Like her. God, he shouldn't think like that.

[oldastime]

She sat still, quiet as a mouse, eager eyes and button nose following the trail of his hand as it sketched along her arm. For a moment, she was fixated, lost in the movement, before pulling herself back to the task at hand, his cast. She squinted, lips pursed, determined to think of something really good, something better than her own words. He wanted encouragement, apparently. And while her own words fail short, she thought only of lyrics. A particular song that had a lot of meaning to her.

I hope you find someone who always sees the better side of you; You know I'm right here, holding these dreams for you.-EL

Her handwriting wobbled, she was clumsy with her right hand, but the message was clear enough, and she smiled to herself, proud of what she managed. When her gaze drifted back to Connor’s sketching, she studied the cluster of flowers scattered across her skin, and a softness crept in. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t think I’ll ever finish that tattoo,” she admitted, voice quiet but uncharacteristically sincere. “Thank you for at least showing me what it could have been.” She looked up, flashing her signature showy grin, wide-mouthed, gapped, and genuinely happy. “Now I can sleep knowing that my tattoo was going to be so fucking amazing.” She scrunched her toes and swung her arm out all stiff ( as if it'd suddenly hop right off her arm). "What are you doing tomorrow?" She asked, leaning her head against the cushion of her couch. "Got any space left to fit me in?"

[oldastime]

Guess who's going away???

Me. I'll be gone until the 28th. I'll try to get replies done ahead of time. But, the way my slowpoking has been kicing in, probably won't. Either way, I won't have acess to internet so expect to hear from me once I get back.

Toodlelooo

[waveofstars]

He did his best to move out of her way, practically wrestling his way out of her grasp but falling short. He laughed with her, holding his long, casted arm out of reach as much as he possibly could. They both knew that he would cave and let her do just about whatever she wanted. It's what he always did. Connor was extremely stubborn and often times unmovable... but not with her. He never really knew why that was, almost determining that she was his kryptonite.

"I'm going to let you write something, you gremlin! Stop your whining," he spoke through his own laughter. Once she stopped trying to get a hold of him so much, he gripped her wrists gently to prevent her from attacking him any further. "I was going to draw something on you. Give you a fake tattoo since you never got the other one finished anyway."

[oldastime]

Her eyes oscillated between his hands against her wrist, and she gave him a look ( one with narrow eyes and a slight smirk ). She'd used up the majority of her energy, finally succumbing to his words and grip. “Fine,” she groaned, her tone layered with mock defeat and playful irritation. She shifted, maneuvering her body until she plopped down beside him, arms wrapping around her knees in a lazy cradle. One brow arched at his suggestion, her expression half-skeptical, half-amused. “That painful thing? I can’t believe I let you scar me like that,” she said, stretching her leg just far enough to nudge his thigh with a soft kick.

“Once I get the gusto back for the rest of it, you’re gonna be comfortable tattooing near my breast?” The memory played sharply in her mind—how she’d been drunk, fueled with liquid courage, ready to get a matching tattoo with a girlfriend she’d lost touch with not long after. She had wanted a delicate cluster of flowers under her right breast, but Elliot had been (too much of a pussy) to finish it, leaving her friend to suffer through the pain for both of them. Elliot had whined, cried, and even vomited that night. She was always one for first impressions; loud, unforgettable ones at that. What she didn’t realize then was that the bigger impression wouldn’t be the tattoo at all, but Connor himself. As it turned out, the two of them would grow into far greater friends than she ever expected.

She fell quiet, only for a moment, before scooting closer and thrusting her arm out with mock grandeur. “Alright,” she teased, lips quirking as her gaze found his, “draw on me like one of your French girls.”

[waveofstars]

It felt like a rarity to witness Nora's optimism dim, but it was already flickering out like a flame in the wind. It was no secret to anyone that Nora often had difficulties facing something she deemed challenging. No, this didn't apply academically, because she'd happily go to the ends of the earth to prove a point, but emotionally. Thinking of their last trip and all the unspoken words was simply too much - and now all of this? All of these wonderful, beautiful plans of hers were supposed to be a distraction.

Almost as if Naz was reading her mind, she grabbed her and pulled her out of her own head. Nora's smile turned into something genuine as she looked at the other. Oh, that smile of Naz's wasn't helping anything. Her stomach twisted a bit. "Same to you," she told her before quickly pulling into her a hug. She needed that reminder and dose of positivity. After changing into a bright pink bikini and oversized sunglasses, Nora was slathering her body with too much sunscreen (though she was already sweating it off). "Did I miss a spot?" No, she didn't. Her body was lathered. She chuckled and grabbed her bag before excitedly raising her brows. "Oh, now you're surprising me? Wait, wait, you gotta show me!" Nora was the worst when it came to surprises - always impatient if they were not her own.

[oldastime]

She wasn’t easily persuaded when it came to her surprises. For as long as they’d been in each other’s lives, Naz had a knack for holding her tongue, especially when she knew the payoff would be worth it, the kind of reaction Nora couldn’t fake. She shook her head, lifting a finger to wag it with playful finality. “Nuh-uh, Nor. What I’ve got in store for us is too good to sell short.” Her lips curved into a smirk as she closed the space between them (one leg at a time, steady and deliberate), before reaching out to tug at Nora’s cheek with a teasing wink. It was cute (besties kinda cute, right?) until her fingers came away slick, coated in a mix of sunscreen and sweat. She rolled her thumb and pointer finger together, the texture drawing out a quiet chuckle.

“Alright, sweaty. How about letting it oxidize first?” she teased, eyes glinting with mischief. “Honestly, I think letting me lather you up at the pool would’ve been the better idea, yeah?” The joke softened into something gentler as she smiled, gaze lingering on Nora with an adoration she couldn’t disguise (she was a doll, that one; too easy to stare at, too easy to admire). For a minute too long, she let her eyes rest, and it was just enough for Naz to notice, enough to make her shift, suddenly aware she might need to look anywhere else. She broke the moment with an airy laugh, jiggling her bag as if the sound alone could change the subject. “Well, anyway. Will you help me? I was going to lather up by the pool.” She tilted her head with mock innocence, pulling at the strap of her bag again to hint at her own bottle of sunscreen. “Could use the extra hands.”

Eventually, (because apparently the heat made them too delirious to actually leave their room sooner, Crazy), they finally stumbled their way down to the pool. Her white chunky flip-flops clacked against her heel and the pavement. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes, squinting against the sharp bite of the sun’s rays as they bounced off the surfaces. “Well, damn,” she muttered with a grin, the disbelief coloring her voice. “And here I was, almost convinced the pool was going to be a complete disaster.”

[dezmoines]

Visit Original Link

[oldastime]

@waveofstars

[margoterobbies]

MATERIALISTS (2025) dir. Celine Song

[lavenderfairy01]

florence pugh by josh shinner (2021)

[waveofstars]

Connor kicked off his beat up converse at the door, muttering something about her definition of “get comfortable” being code for “subject yourself to chaos.” His eyes followed her blonde blur vanishing into the other room, his lips twitching despite himself. "You're making me nervous with how excited you are for this." It was likely he would be sporting some sort of obscene drawing on his arm for the world to see for the next few weeks.

The man plopped down on her couch as she rummaged for a marker that actually worked. He rubbed his eyes and smiled lazily as she entered with that shit eating grin of hers. "I expect nothing less." He supposed he owed her this much considering she dropped everything for him that night. Yet, soon as she approached him ready to start her masterpiece, he held his arm out of reach and cocked a brow with a sly smile to match. "I should get something out of this. Let me draw something on you, too." Yes, she didn't have a cast, but he'd just use her arm as his canvas.

[oldastime]

She deflated, dropping her arms and her jaw. A look of utter betrayal etched across her face, “You’ve got to be kidding me?” Was he really bargaining with her like he had a choice over his cast? Ah, a fool he was. Quickly, as one short little devil could, she hopped onto the couch, knees dipping into the dark blue velvet cushions as she lunged for his arm. It was dramatic, yes. Even wild and uncalled for in the middle of the night. (What kind of moonlit energy was she even on?) Yet, it was gentle, given the circumstances and her particular care for him. “Give me your fucking cast, Connor,” she demanded, but her rosy cheeks betrayed her, blooming from all that rummaging around. Her grin was far too wide, too showy, to carry the threat. And then there were the giggles, the laugh track she couldn’t mute, no matter how hard she tried. This was indeed a failed attempt at intimidation.

And yet, she pressed on. Pressing against him like a stubborn cat, refusing to move, she pinned him with playful persistence. It was her peak tactic, feline mimicry, and, annoyingly, it usually worked. Voice bubbling, she added, “You have no right to withhold this from me. I wanted to write one thing before I went to sleep." She whined, like some toddler not getting her way, or like a grown-up with a lack of sleep, " What do you even wanna write, anyway? It’s not the same without a cast.”