I BURST INTO FLAMES (SO BRILLIANTLY)

(it's what everybody wants to see.)

[sommersong]

# SOMMERSONG.      simeon sommerfeld, selective and private multi-verse  ORIGINAL CHARACTER. verses include: modern, generic fantasy, historical, grishaverse, fae / tfota, bg3 / dnd, dragon age, star wars, etc. originally est. 18 feb 2020.  mutuals only.  low activity.  adult themes may be present.  do not follow if you are under 21.  penned by  becks,  30+.

carrd. pinterest. prompts. also found at @vipier and @echospast.

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐀 𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 .    (  a collection of  mixed action prompts.   adjust phrasing as desired.   potentially mature content within.  )

[ 1. ] sender steps between receiver and an aggressive stranger, voice low and steady: "walk. away."

[ 2. ] sender teaches receiver self-defense, hands firm on their hips as they adjust their stance.

[ 3. ] sender presses their forehead to receiver's, voice breaking as they murmur, "i don't know how to fix this, but i'm not leaving."

[ 4. ] sender shoves receiver out of the way of a projectile.

[ 5. ] sender combs their fingers through receiver's hair in the aftermath of a traumatic event, whispering words of comfort.

[ 6. ] sender whispers, “i’ve thought about this all day,” before pinning receiver against a wall for a searing kiss.

[ 7. ] sender wipes away the receiver’s falling tears with their thumb and whispers, “i’m here."

[ 8. ] sender patches up receiver's wounds, hands trembling as they whisper, "you can't keep doing this to me."

[ 9. ] sender shoves receiver into a hiding spot, hissing, "stay here or i’ll kill you myself."

[ 10. ] sender finds receiver drunk at a party, sighing. "let’s get you home."

[ 11. ] sender is discovered sleepwalking by receiver.

[ 12. ] sender steals receiver’s weapon and presses it to their own chest, daring: “go ahead. prove me right.”

[ 13. ] sender ‘accidentally’ flashes receiver while changing, purring, "see something you like?"

[ 14. ] sender whispers, "you’ll ruin me," before biting receiver’s lip hard enough to draw blood.

[ 15. ] sender takes over while receiver is giving themselves stitches, promising to handle it.

[ 16. ] sender frantically grips receiver by the shoulders, "don't you dare close your eyes."

[ 17. ] sender fixes receiver’s crooked [ tie / jewelry ], teasing, "nervous?"

[ 18. ] sender shakes receiver out of a nightmare, comforting them in the aftermath. "same nightmare again?"

[ 19. ] sender brings hot tea and medication to a [ hungover / ill ] receiver.

[ 20. ] sender invites receiver to dance with them, insisting, "what? this song's perfect."

[ 21. ] sender leaves a single rose on receiver’s windshield with a note: "you’re being followed. smile."

[ 22. ] sender pins receiver’s wrists during a sparring match, grinning, "yield."

[ 23. ] sender playfully steals something from receiver, initiating a chase. "come and get it, then."

[ 24. ] sender drapes a blanket over receiver, accidentally waking them. "sorry, go back to sleep."

[ 25. ] receiver returns home only to find sender already there. "finally."

[ 26. ] after a pleasant night out together, sender asks: "can i kiss you goodnight?"

[ 27. ] sender wipes the blood from receiver's face, murmuring, "let's get you cleaned up."

[ 28. ] sender shoves receiver against a vending machine to dodge security, breathless. "act natural."

[ 29. ] sender wakes receiver in the throes of a nightmare, reassuring them, "it's okay, it's not real."

[ 30. ] sender purposefully antagonizes receiver, hurling insults; "what are you gonna do about it?"

[niallhoranhasthat1thing]

Logan Lerman

5th Annual Academy Museum Gala | October 18 2025

[sommersong]

i'm still not here properly because i'm very busy, trying to limit online time for my mental health, and we're dealing with some stuff including tragically losing our beloved jellybean very recently, but i'm planning to start writing a little bit again on @sovietperil specifically so catch me there !! same blog as before but i've purged all posts, followers, asks, etc., for a clean slate.

[sommersong]

i'm still not here properly because i'm very busy, trying to limit online time for my mental health, and we're dealing with some stuff including tragically losing our beloved jellybean very recently, but i'm planning to start writing a little bit again on @sovietperil specifically so catch me there !! same blog as before but i've purged all posts, followers, asks, etc., for a clean slate.

[sommersong]

me logging on after a month and a half to say happy birthday to my best boy ( simeon david jonah sommerfeld, leo extraordinaire ) and immediately logging back out

[thatbothersmeh]

[sommersong]

tell me what you want me to say .

THIS IS THE HARD PART – AND SIMEON HATES THAT THIS IS THE HARD PART. all his life has taught him an indispensable lesson : people see what they want to see. such that he's always found it remarkably simple to pull the strings of others. and he'd discovered quite young and in the earliest stages of his career that, from him, people want that sparkling boy, all bright-eyed and full of life, funny and charming and dripping charisma. he isn't that boy right now, far from it, and he hates himself for it. the discontent simmering in him hasn't even the decency to be interesting or exciting. instead, it pulls his focus to and fro, leaving him uncharacteristically stoic and quiet. the man who never has trouble finding the words finally rendered speechless by the confusing well of his own emotions.

tell me what you want me to say, aaron tells him, and simeon doesn't even know where to start. how is he meant to respond? I don't want to tell you what I want you to say, I want you to know what I want you to say and for you to want to say before I tell you I want you to say it, and then just say it. god, fuck, it sounds insane even to his own ears, and given how irrational he’s been told over and over he has a tendency to be, that’s certainly saying a lot. the spiral has begun and it feel like all sim can do is watch himself slip down it as though from the outside of his body. tell me what you want. but has he ever known? and even if he does know, has he ever truly figured out how to ask for what he wants most? perhaps most importantly, would he have the courage to?

he wants to snap that he shouldn't have to tell aaron what to say. but that isn't really the truth, is it? the truth is that he's terrified.

" stop, " he bites out instead, all venom in that moment, the beast of self preservation rearing its ugly head from within sim's many facades. " that's not fucking fair, to say that to me. that's not fucking fair. "

but it's not about fair, and even if it was, sim knows even now in his gut that it's actually not unfair. simeon sommerfeld has made such a tangled web of himself that he's often wondered if he'll ever manage to untie the knots he's created over the years. aaron can't fix him – nobody can fix him – and he's known that for a very, very long time. it doesn't matter that he doesn't want to fool this man, that he's never closer to his genuine self than when they're together. it doesn't matter that he would do anything not to hurt aaron again, to ensure he was never anything but perfectly kind to his heart. it doesn't matter because, in the end, simeon is who he is and maybe all he can do is burn and destroy.

he gazes down into his tumbler of gin, to the olives floating in the sloppily made dirty martini sloshing about in the wrong glassware. not even in his vices can he manage any self respect, he supposes. anyone deserves better than what little he can give – especially the man before him. this man, whose exterior conceals a shocking warmth, a certain caring to which sim has never grown fully accustomed. life has seemingly done everything in its power to extinguish the light of hope that glows within aaron, but it flickers on in a way sim cannot comprehend. always, they dance around the idea of together, of negotiating their impossible lives to somehow make it possible, yet still they both resist – aaron in his saintly martyrdom and sim in his sickly selfishness.

find somebody better, simeon wants to beg, somebody who can give you the peace you deserve, the peace I'm too broken to offer. but he's never managed maturity, so the best he can do is to lash out like a cornered animal.

" just forget it. don't want you to say anything. " and there it is, the cock of the hammer before he fires the proverbial revolver blindly into the center of his life.

as he drains a third of his glass, sim's gaze wanders the smoggy los angeles skyline silhouetted against a distant sunset and he wonders how they got here. everyone else in his life, sim's seemingly managed to run off. even his mother can only send the occasional plea to call, tell her how he is, most of which go unanswered. it is the boy who has for years insisted I'm no good for you, sim, and I don't know who I am, sim, and you shouldn't be with a criminal, sim who relentlessly finds him, who seems utterly unwilling to give up on him. some distant, rational part of simeon knows he shouldn't resent him for it, yet somehow he cannot help the impulse to bite back against anything that stands in the way of his compulsion to set fire to himself.

" did you really fly across two continents and an ocean to tell me drugs are bad? great. thanks. revelation of the fucking century. " he knocks back the rest of his martini in one gulp, setting the empty glass on the heavy marble countertop, still staring distantly out the ceiling-to-floor window before them. there's an irony he can't quite put his finger on that they're standing in his condo in the ritz-carlton residences while a mafia thief of all people expresses concern about his substance use. is this what rock bottom feels like? " look, we both know how this conversation will go. you'll get cagey about the medicine cabinet and start talking about how worried you are about me because of whatever shit you saw in the tabloids, then I'll call you a fucking hypocrite because mob, then you'll try to argue that it's different somehow, and I won't agree, and it'll escalate, and I'll yell and get nasty, and say some shit I regret later and you'll leave or sleep on the sofa and just– "

simeon sighs then, pinching the bridge of his nose. he knows he's doing it, his – what is it shoshana calls it? – stupid aloof bullshit. he doesn't even really want to, he never does, and yet it's as though a switch flips in his mind, as though he suddenly becomes a puppet on strings under the control of some invisible force. the words tumble from him too sharp, too rough, even as the heart trapped in the cage of his ribs swells in his chest to reach for the man he feels lingering near his left shoulder. " so, yeah, let's skip all that shit. I've got everything under control and I'm not talking about it. either accept that and stay, or don't and go. up to you. but there's no third option. "

[exitvelo-a]

the world has always seemed grand to him in a metaphorical sense. grand because of what it gave so naturally to people who trampled upon it, may it be the beauty of a summer day or something as small as a lover's hand, not because of the vast expanse of a continent uncovered or all the others bridged only through air or through water. if the singer were honest with himself, most travel seems off-putting when it exists for the sake of travelling alone, especially journeys that take so many different steps to conclude them. arriving somewhere on his feet, maybe with the car or train, is the most pleasant thing he can muster, though even the latter makes his stomach turn now and again when his father pulls him along into cars and travelling that is a bit too close to breaching the speed limit. then again, that might be because hermes rarely drives himself, if ever, and orpheus has no need to breach out beyond the pond he is in right now. new york seems fantastical, unbelievable, and something orpheus could paint in his dreams but not colour in reality. his prose has always been inspired by the ancient, the poetic cadence of folk songs and stories, not brick and concrete of the modern day.

naturally this is where he and his new companion begin to differ greatly, though it seems there are even more of those differences than that or their temperaments vastly at odds with each other. the singer is known more as a wilting hot house flower left astray unless he is on stage or working on his songs, while this exuberant stranger is the kind of flower in full bloom and too peculiar to be understood by the simple eye of a quick passer-by. this orpheus can tell from the first glance, even more so up close and after a few words exchanged, and he wonders how someone like this man finds his way to their moderately maintained bar, a night of performances here because there is on at just about any bar, and not because orpheus is such a prolific star on the rise. looking over at the other, orpheus is intended to ask why he bothers, but the man appears so content in his seat, so at home in his bones, that even posing a question such as this one becomes obsolete the longer they talk.

" it's a long way to me, though i know you find that hard to believe. do men like you prefer places you can drown in? i wouldn't know where to begin with them. i like where i am, more or less. the sun here feels different to anywhere else i've been, " orpheus explains himself, knowing fully well that most of the time he's tried to do that to people that asked him why he is not in new york or los angeles, or even chicago, to chase a dream that isn't even his own per se, why he prefers the dimly-lit depth of bars with a small corner as a stage or the gray-scaled night sky above his head to sing for anyone who would lend him an ear. some called it career suicide, but they never quite grasped that this is not a career for him - more a calling, a push, something in his mind and body only at ease when he is humming a melody or getting to put pen to paper for something new to alight his chords.

his nerves sustain him through everything though, familiar to him like the breath in his throat, and he lets them run a shiver down his spine as the other keeps his attention so wholly trained on orpheus that it is almost too much, off stage anyway. he has never boded well with that kind of attention, could never quite deliver and live up to what those giving it to him expected of him, but the glass of wine in his hands is a lifeline where his guitar rests against his back. he couldn't possibly pull it forward now, knows that would be rude, so he tries to offer simeon a few of his own glances to let him know he is not on a whole other plane of reality just yet. curiousity and kindness are nothing for him to shy away from, though he's made a pretty good living out of it, to the dismay of everyone who knows him, his soul too sensitive even for that. " a lot of blues and other folk music. my father likes showtunes, jazz, and that kind of stuff. but i prefer it a little quieter, the kind that makes you lean in to listen to the stories they told. it's got to - it's got to be honest. "

ducking his head again then, stuck between a rock and a hard place, he searches for words again before he looks at the other once more. " i didn't want to deflect, it's just hard to talk about. heartbreak, that is. i find it easier to sing. it comes to me as easy as breathing. does that make sense? " chin nearly touching his arms, he softly shakes his head then. " i don't mind. i'm already talking to you, don't i? and you to me. that's how it should be, i suppose. "

[sommersong]

" MEN LIKE ME DON'T EXIST. JUST ME. " the way simeon says it sounds confident, almost self-satisfied – once more layer to conceal the complication within, the tangled web beneath the veneer he's cultivated for himself. he means it, of course, but perhaps not entirely in the way it sounds. there are no men like him, and privately, he suspects that's a good thing. for all the light and talent he knows he brings into the world in his own right, it comes more complications than most understand. and those who do understand never last long, once they do. for as tortured and strangely pure orpheus seems, sim doubts it's a possibility that would even enter his mind. and although the star of all people knows anything can be falsified, something about this man feels almost unbelievably earnest.

sim isn't sure whether he's envious.

" and you're assuming any place can drown me. if only. a man can dream, can't he? " he sighs in a way half wistful, bordering on playful, easily maintaining the whimsy out of which he's crafted an reputation of a man who cannot be fully pinned down. despite his unsubstantial height, simeon has for all his career been recognized as larger than life, a man who brings with him his own light wherever he goes. " but new orleans is a favorite of mine. great place to play music. that's most of the reason I make my way down here. that, and the food, of course. "

he's a curiosity, this orpheus, and sim can't help but think that perhaps it's better this way, that his talent be restrained to this small corner of the world. few know better than he does the sort of steel required for fame ; sim's a man far cleverer than he appears – not to mention tougher – and something about the musician before him suggests a vulnerability he suspects would likely be quickly smothered by the pressures. there had been a softer man beneath sim's skin in his youth, a casualty of the industry. it certainly isn't something he would wish on anybody else, especially not anybody with any amount of that same tenderness. but there's little to do and sim can hardly afford to regret his life.

" if I'm honest, I like it all. " sim gives a shrug, sipping at his beverage, his gaze still trained curiously on the other man. had he a different face, a different bearing, orpheus's opinion may have seemed ... pretentious, almost. yet delivered with the borderline innocence it is, sim understands quickly, thoroughly, that this, like everything else, like his performance, was utterly in earnest. " sometimes feels like I can only truly experience anything through music anymore. and down here, feels like it's even in the water. "

he takes another sip, thoughtful as he inspects the other with that pinpoint attention of his, as though he might look right through to the depths of him. it's a strange trait of his, one that contributes to his somewhat ethereal aura. sim can't decide if orpheus was affected or simply if he was like this. " oh, it makes sense. never found it easy to talk about my hurts either. singing it all makes it easier. " he knows, to a degree, there's a certain amount of distance it provides as well, as though he could lessen his pain by performing it – but that seems far too raw to mention. " but even though you're talking to me, you're still avoiding my question, I notice. for someone who isn't intentionally deflecting, you're awfully skilled at it. an ex? "

[sommersong]

reverse meme call !! like this post and i'll send you 3 - 5 memes. it doesn't matter if we've written or not, or if you already have memes from me or not! i've been super absent from the dash and i've had a lot of trouble gauging interest across the board lately so this will both help me catch up with what i've missed and take the temperature of who wants to write w me these days.

[sommersong]

when i talk about simeon being beautiful, especially in a way that's like ... somewhat ethereal at times, it's absolutely imperative to understand that i'm not really talking about physical beauty. sooooo much of what makes simeon a magnetic person is charisma and sheer aura, which is generally imo what makes people attractive anyway, but in my vision, it's almost magnified on him. unfortunately a lot of that also goes to longtime undiagnosed mental illness, which is why so many people find it fascinating for a period of time, then become overwhelmed and need to escape from him. which of course leads to his heavy and abiding belief that the only form of him that can be loved is a carefully curated and heavily diluted version. anyway i love my little tormented manic pixie dream boy who has many many many issues thank u for coming to my ted talk.

[sommersong]

hey guys scale of 1 - 10 how emotionally adjusted is it for me to genuinely almost start weeping because my puppy woke me up with soft persistent snuggles and soft content coos

[sommersong]

I am alive and someday … someday I will be reliable again. rifp to my dms and my writing output. ( read: aiming for sat - sun, and if I manage earlier then a win is a win. )

[niallhoranhasthat1thing]

Logan Lerman

via ohhi_movie

[sommersong]

I expected to be writing more over the past few days but I forgot how demanding it is to raise a puppy !! that said, miss dottie is adjusting really well — and shockingly, so is jellybean, because while he doesn’t LIKE her, he is tolerating her remarkably well even when she’s being an unholy terror. it’s looking like I may have more time and energy today so I’ll be trying to pick at memes and drafts in between some reading !! in the meantime, enjoy miss dot :

[ohisms]

‪‪❤︎‬ ˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 & 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 !    (  a  collection  of  75+ kisses.   feel free to specify the initiating muse.   potentially mature content within.  UPDATED 02/25 !  )

finally kissing the person you’ve been pining for.

pulling them in for a kiss while showering together.

a kiss shared during a game  ( truth or dare,  spin the bottle,  etc ).

kissing your lover to show you forgive them.

a coy, chaste kiss meant to say thank you.

an intimate kiss full of relief the second you're finally alone.

wiping away your lover’s tears as you kiss them.

a kiss muffled by laughter in a library, hidden away among the shelves.

lazy kisses on the sofa while the television runs.

kisses while wrapping your legs around your lover.

a quick peck on the cheek as one party rushes off.

a kiss to prove you don’t have feelings for them.

a kiss to convince them not to leave bed in the morning.

a kiss to distract them from stitching a wound.

a parting kiss before one party goes away for a long time.

biting their lip amidst a kiss, drawing blood.

heated kisses while tugging on their hair.

abruptly kissing a stranger to scare off the people following you.

an emotional kiss bringing one party to tears.

a bruising kiss full of desperation and urgency.

distracting your lover from a task by kissing their neck.

standing on your tiptoes to kiss their forehead.

kissing down the column of your lover's neck, leaving marks.

a kiss while being reunited after a long time.

kissing your lover in a moment of sheer joy.

a dutiful kiss with no true feeling behind it.

kissing your lover to take away their pain.

colliding with a wall, then each other's lips.

a kiss placed over their freshly bandaged wound.

a kiss while slow dancing close and intimately.

sharing a spontaneous kiss with a stranger.

an abrupt ,  heated kiss during the middle of a fight.

a kiss motivated by a dare from a third party.

an adrenaline-fueled kiss while standing on the ledge of a rooftop.

kissing them to shut them up.

urgent, messy kisses as both parties scramble to undress.

a kiss to wake your lover up in the morning.

sharing a kiss in a heavy downpour of rain.

kissing your lover just above their waistband.

kissing your partner to seal a marriage.

pushing your love down onto the bed to worship their body with kisses.

a possessive kiss to stake a claim.

a kiss to resolve suppressed ( romantic / sexual ) tension.

a kiss attempting to convince the other party to stay.

kissing the top of their head as you hold them.

a risky kiss between forbidden lovers.

a kiss while hiding away from flashing cameras.

a kiss that means absolutely nothing.

kissing the swell of your lover's breast.

a kiss that leaves lipstick stains.

a kiss shared on a rooftop while the sun ( sets / rises ).

a flirtatious kiss on the back of the hand.

sensual kisses down the length of their back.

kissing them to confess your true feelings.

sneaking off to a public bathroom to make out.

a kiss to forgive one another after a fight.

a kiss on the forehead as the other sleeps.

an  ( accidental / mutually )  drunken kiss.

an unexpected kiss during a fake dating scheme.

kissing your partner after they've given you head.

caging your lover against a wall with your arms to kiss them.

a kiss after receiving good news.

an emotional kiss, relieved to find your lover alive.

crowded, heated kisses in the backseat of a car.

a tentative ,  exploratory kiss between friends.

a kiss shared between enemies during combat.

a kiss that smears blood everywhere.

kissing them even though you know you shouldn't.

kissing your lover after believing you’d lost them.

a kiss after a devastating event ,  meant to comfort.

a possessive kiss in front of a jealous third party.

kisses while pulling them into your lap.

a heated kiss while holding them by the throat.

kissing your lover under the night sky while stargazing.

a kiss to seal a promise that you just made.

kissing your lover lazily first thing in the morning.

holding your lover by the jaw to kiss them.

holding their face, kissing the tears from their cheeks.

a kiss to your lover’s stomach as you travel down their body.

an abrupt kiss that you melt into after a moment of hesitation.

sleepy ,  domestic morning kisses in the kitchen while making breakfast.

a rushed kiss before one party leaves for work.

a final kiss shared while holding your dying lover.

[niallhoranhasthat1thing]

Logan Lerman

via elitedaily