#practically unpractical au

[the-angst-k1ng]

Some old Practically Unpractical!Chris art. Still really proud of this one tbh :)

Villain Chris <3

[echoisanidiot]

Your practically unpractical au is quite interesting! and here some (many) questions:

Why exactly does Chris despise the crew and especially Martin? I'm mainly interested since in your most recent ask about the au you mentioned that Chris' hatred towards Martin is combined with fear and trauma, what happened between them for those emotions were mixed?

What kind of villain is Chris? I mean, what kind of criminal acts does he engage in? Is he an inventor? A hunter? A t3rror1st? 👀

Why did Chris choose that type of outfit? I mean, regardless of what he does, the cape doesn't seem to be very useful 😅 (it might even get in his way).

Chris has a villain nickname?

Does Chris ever redeem himself? Or does he go to jail? Or maybe he dies?

And lastly, does Martin or the crew ever find out the true identity of the villain as Chris? How do they react?

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO ANSWER TwT

Well, (TW FOR THIS PART), Martin is very verbally ab*sive towards Chris, and the crew didn't do shit or try to defend\protect Chris at all. that's why he despises them all.

Chris usually helps Zach invent; he's also an arsonist :D

He chose that outfit bc it was so different from his former creature-adventuring outfit, and also bc he liked the vibe lol. the cape was just for fun, but it's retractable!! so it wont get in his way :)

Ummmm, not that i know of, or at least in this point in the AU lmao

Damn, another thing im still brainstorming on, sorry TwT

Anddddd another thing I'm brainstorming on :'))

but omfg, thank you sm for this ask!! it was a lot of fun to answer fr fr

[scribesynnox]

Jazz and Prowl Meet Cute

Fuck it, I have too many thoughts about mer au Jazz and Prowl and how they met, I'm not confining my ramblings to the tags anymore. Text post be upon ye. @keferon for their apocalyptic ponyo au

Everyone has been writing such excellent ideas for jazz and prowl, and I'm gonna add my own.

language barrier my beloved, jazz can understand humans, maybe even MULTIPLE human languages due to getting bounced around a lot, but doesn't have enough practice with mer and can only speak in a bastardized chimera version that is 10 different dialects in one ugly torn up trenchcoat. And also it's limping. He only knows that much in the first place because that's what he was able to pick up from the short conversations he has with other trapped mers.

Meanwhile Prowl doesn't know ANY human speech because as far as the merfolk are concerned, humans are like land dolphins; smart and cute but also clever enough to know it and very capable of being assholes. Still not as intelligent as them though, and language being a mystery to merfolk. Like, Prowl will recognize certain tones and gestures, sure, but he doesn't know enough to be able to hold a conversation. He didn't know they could even DO that!

which leaves them both in an awkward position. Neither knows the other's language enough to hold a proper conversation, and Jazz is woefully very very unpracticed speaking with another mer (the humans were scared Jazz would eat/hurt any other rare mer that gets put in the same tank as him so Jazz remained woefully alone alone ALONE).

Jazz overhears the humans talking about bringing another orca mer in with him and he is SO EXCITED!!! Finally, FINALLY!!! Something new, something different, and stars and moon above, something that can TALK and treat him like a PERSON!!

because he IS a person, he IS! The humans took a lot away from him and treat him like a dumb animal, but he knows he isn't, he's smart, he's clever, and he is so so SICK of not being treated like a PERSON.

and this orca will be with him for an extended period of time! Not just a small wave or quick snatches of simple conversation during performances or check ups. The orca will be WITH him, long enough to TALK.

Long enough to plot, even!

So Jazz is maybe a little overenthusiastic when Prowl wakes up from being drugged and Prowl maybe doesn't react super well to a strange orca after having just recently fallen asleep from trying to nurse his wounds from the LAST orca mers he met.

then you add language barrier on top of that and the two are kinda just left there staring warily at each other.

no matter! Jazz has a goal and by the MOON he is going to GET it.

Call Jazz an octopus with the way he keeps escaping captivity (sometimes he sees them on his own nightly escapes and it makes him laugh at seeing the little guys be just as bored and disdainful with captivity as he is), but he still hasn't actually. you know. ESCAPED escaped. But with Prowl here, he has a better chance!

Prowl REMEMBERS the outside! Remembers what the ocean is like, clearly is old enough and experienced enough to have lived to adulthood, and maybe! remembers how close to the ocean this place actually is!

Prowl has INFORMATION and Jazz does not. He needs information if he is ever going to get OUT of here and get back to where the water is not Wrong and Forward doesn't run out after 5 idle tail swishes, and also not DIE immediately in the new waters because Jazz isn't stupid. He knows this place isn't the ocean and knows his chances of surviving in the ocean after spending most of his life in captivity is going to be low. It's going to be one hell of an adjustment.

(I'm starting to realize why I'm constantly running out of tags in the posts now, wow, this is getting long. Better go put this under a read more)

Jazz is going to need information if he is ever going to get HOME.

(but what is home? Is home a fuzzy, blurry memory that he doesn't remember anymore? He doesn't even remember what the water felt like anymore, he only knows that the water here is WRONG)

(What a joke. To remember enough that the water feels Wrong, but not enough to remember when it was right)

Well Home sure as hell isn't HERE, so Jazz is going to get OUT, and this new mer here is going to help him!

Meanwhile on Prowl's end, he just woke up from being poisoned by the humans and is trapped in a weird artificial ocean. He must be in one of those structures the humans like to build, and as fascinating as it is to BE in one such structure. It also does not bode well for getting BACK to the ocean because humans are very infamously land bound.

Then all of a sudden a weird loud orca mer is in his face and speaking in the most dizzying language he's ever had spoken to him. One klik and it's the low, loud notes of the open sea dialect, the next klik it's the rapid staccato of the lake dialect, and in another klik it's the sing song tones of the northern foggy dialect! Prowl can barely keep up, even as the mer is clearly slowing down to speak with him.

Prowl doesn't know and he doesn't care, the other mer is a stranger and Prowl doesn't know WHAT is going on. Is he one of the orcas that fought Prowl earlier, who ended up getting dragged here with him? Is he a random orca that just HAPPENED to also be caught?

The chances of a random orca being here by coincidence is low, and so Prowl assumes it's an orca who had tried to come back after him to finish the job but got caught along with him.

It doesn't explain the horrifying butchered language being spoken to him however.

Unfortunately for Jazz, Prowl is still keyed up from being injured and now from being poisoned, so he whistles harshly "STAY BACK" at him anyways, and Jazz doesn't know what was just said, but he can tell when hackles are raised as well as anybody else, so he raises his hands and slowly backs away.

It takes a couple more tries and several hours of being in each other's company where nothing happens before they both calm down enough to actually get anything done. They both want to escape, and they both can't understand each other.

Yet.

Prowl pantomiming "what is your name?" to Jazz and Jazz replying with a very distinctly human noise of "Jazz".

Jazz immediately clocking in the sneer/pity on Prowl's face at the name and he is Offended! Like, it's HIS name! HE chose it, and so help him Moon, Prowl is NOT allowed to be all judgey about it. So he likes jazz music! Sue him! He's allowed to name himself whatever he wants!

Because stars forbid he get to decide anything else about his own life.

If he wants to name himself after a human noise, then he will name himself after a human noise! He doesn't want to hear anything from Mr. "low throat rumble with a weird echoing undertone to it", whatever that means. He's going to call him Purr for short. Isn't that nice, now they BOTH get to have human names.

"Is it JazzProwl if they're not lying to each other about something?" Now it's a a little tricky given their language barrier, less opportunities TO lie, but I live to please, and I can work with this.

Jazz is a performer. He knows how to put on a show. He's done nothing BUT put on a show his whole life.

Act cute. Act docile. Act dumb. This is what protects you.

Jazz is TOO used to putting on a show. He automatically hides his intelligence and skills from Prowl.

Wait no, even better: Prowl lies to Jazz about something, taking advantage of the fact that Jazz doesn't understand mer language yet or is ignorant about something. Maybe he lies about what someone said to them or maybe he's lying about a secret. Or maybe he's just lying because Jazz is one weird and suspicious orca and Prowl just doesn't trust like that.

Either way, Jazz realizes it and gets so so so MAD that Prowl is treating him like a dumb animal just like the humans did and THAT'S when Jazz starts acting dumber and less competent than he actually is, because if Prowl wants a dumb animal, then he's GETTING a dumb animal.

Jazz starts pretending that he doesn't understand what Prowl is saying, even when he does, and he doesn't do things to help even when he COULD, but it would leave him vulnerable/involve trusting Prowl to hold up his end of the deal. I.e., they need to get to the other side of a collapsed building but the only way through is up and over. And Prowl doesn't do "up". Jazz does, but in order to do it, he'd need to trust Prowl to lift him over, or maybe there's like, mutant birds in the area (or just regular seagulls, the vicious little fuckers) and he'd need Prowl to keep watch or something along those lines. Or maybe it would just hurt to go over the wall because there's broken glass on the ground, and he COULD hurt himself to go over, and then help Prowl follow through without hurting him, but Jazz decides to not let Prowl know that he can go over the wall. They go to find another way around.

Act dumb. Dumb is what protects you. Performing keeps you safe.

Well this got HELLA long, so I'm going to cut it off here. Plus I am eepy. Time to hit post and leave this for future me to find every spelling mistake ever, later. Or never. Who's to say.

I am just Consumed with mer thoughts. They must be released.

Edit: i cut this one a little short cuz it was getting long, so here’s a second part. Bonus content let’s goooo.

[v3nomly]

hiii saw your post abt modern au astarion and how you have requests open🤭 first of all i'm begging you please give us every single astarion thought you have........ kinda obsessed with modern au astarion🤭 could you please give us something about that where astarion still works in the justice system?? i'll never understand why people say he would have a different job, boy is literally born to be a lawyer/judge!! also have a lovely day😽😽😽 if you plan on keeping tabs on your anons may i be a 🍓 anon teehee

Ooo, I love the idea of modern lawyer Astarion. Instantly my brain went feral and threw my mind into the hyperbolic gutter. NSFW additions and a surprise appearance from ascended-adjacent Astarion under the cut. As always let me know if you want me to continue! Either as more thirsty ramble of an actual fic! Also I created a tag for you 🍓 anon! ♡

Astarion is just so charming and beguiling. He has everyone wrapped around his finger in that courtroom. Hanging off every saccharine word he says.

God, he’s just about lying through his teeth, but no one seems to care. He's spinning a careful web of truths and mistruths so intricate and show-stopping that he knows he has the jury right where he wants them.

You’re a bottom-of-the-food chain lawyer. New enough to the scene that you get stuck with all the shitty cases like this one. But veteran enough in the art of assholes to know the type of man Astarion is the moment you see him. The worst type of lawyer, one more befitting the name of a conman. Happy to line his pockets with the misfortune of others.

You couldn’t lie he was captivating. Every utterance of a word was a performance. Every gesture was a dance, and he played the part so well. It is what he does best.

It is when you utter one simple word that he finds his show comes to a halt.

“Objection,” you state voice almost meek, all eyes turn to you, and suddenly the spotlight has shifted.

Of course, the judge dismissed your claims, but it was enough to throw Astarion off his game. Sure, this wasn’t the first time someone had called 'objection', nor would it be the last. Yet, even with your voice as meek as it was your eyes held something he hadn’t witnessed in years. Clarity.

You saw through him, and the revelation almost made him want to laugh. You were refreshing, like an ice-filled cup of water on a sweltering summer day. For the rest of the trial, he gave you a chance to match his dance and god where you beautiful.

Maybe you stumbled or stepped on his toes, but you were merely unpracticed and the thought of you honed, your skills sharpened like a knife, brought a fiery excitement he hadn’t realized he was missing.

I could see him being subtly flirty every moment you were alone during the trail. Something that flustered the hell out of you, but you never let it affect your performance, which only furthered his interest.

When all is said and over, with the defense winning, a very proud and victorious Astarion comes over to shake your hand. Taking the opportunity to pull you just a step closer and invite you for drinks.

You knew better. Certainly knew that a guy like him was trouble, but you didn’t say no. While you wouldn’t admit it, you were somewhat eager to see what else Astarion was capable of. So much so that you had practically brought up the idea of him fucking you in the alley.

Your hands braced you against the wall, allowing you enough resistance to push back into each thrust, allowing Astarion to hit you deeper. His hands held firmly onto your hips, no doubt leaving the imprints of his long fingers on your skin.

"Fuck," you utter your legs wobbling, slowly turning to putty as he brings you closer to the edge. Astarion pauses his hold shifting to better support you. You hear him pant behind you, and you can only assume he's trying desperately to catch his breath. Just as caught up in the steamy exchange as you were. Before he steps back, allows his cock to slip free.

"Turn around, wanna see you, beautiful," the pet name speeds up your already racing heart. They were nothing new, something you had grown used to when his flirtatious remarks had started up, but the cadence of his voice felt more real, intimate.

Turning was a blessing and a curse, and both for the same reason. Astarion was handsome, there was no denying that. An air of royalty surrounded him, so perfectly pristine with so little effort. Now replaced with something just as gorgeous. White curls lay jostled, a few strands stuck to his forehead, pupils blow wide with lust, and lips swollen and bruised with the faintest strain of your lipgloss.

It isn't until he had you in his arms, a leg thrown over each one that you realize how strong he is. In the dim alley, you had only been able to make out the makings of what you assumed were abs, and while you had run your hands along his chest plenty during your initial makeout session you hadn't pegged him to be this fit. Nor did you realize how much you liked being picked up as if you were nothing but a small toy.

Astarion simply asks if you are ready, only waiting for your nod before he's once again buried deep inside you.

He kissed you sloppily, swallowing every breathy moan you let escape your pretty little mouth. Only pulling away to rest his forehead against your own.

There was little regret to be had when you let your gaze linger on him. Even as someone walks past the alleys threatening to expose your rendezvous. You think that you wouldn’t mind having him fuck you senseless again.

Dark Astarion

Imagine being his little Legal Secretary who deals with all his boring administrative issues.

Late office hours where he has his hand fisted in your hair, pulling tight, as guides you to choke on his cock. The deep laugh that would rumble through his chest right before he begins to mock you. Astarion would start off sweet with a little tease about how cute you are. Before his mouth would twist into the cocky smirk he wore so often. He’d make you look at him, mouth still placed around his aching length. You meet his eyes and moan around him. In the light, they almost appear red, like a predator ready to devour its prey. A sly fox and his dumb little rabbit.

You think for a second he’s going to praise you. Tell you how good you make him feel, so you look up at him eagerly with big doe eyes. Ready for whatever compliment would slip from his perfect lips.

“You're my personal little pet. Aren’t you darling? Only good for serving me,” he says, with little room for argument. Demeaning and possessive and the best compliment he could ever bestow upon you.

His smirk grows as he observes you squeeze your thighs together, cock growing impossibly harder when he thinks about how wet you’ll be when he has you bouncing on it later.

© 2023 v3nomly do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing to any other site.

[dekuscalves]

hero student toga from my swap au again. i know its unpractical she didnt mean it to be practical

[rust-bearer]

Using your own home as a sort of template for a house scavenging run is an interesting writing experiment for the zombie apocalypse au. It really helps you expand on how every house is unique, by literally using your own as an example. Hammer it home. Try to insert the reader’s own possessions into the narration as well.

How many spices do you own? And your pots and pans. The laundry detergent you said you’d buy more of, the toilet paper you have far too much of. The cupboard that has five bottles of identical shampoo you got as a gift once. Practical things that the character would scavenge for.

What about unpractical things? The plush you won on vacation. The holiday decorations you still have out, and now you’ll never put away (hundreds of houses, just like this). Your books on your incredibly niche interest, and the ones you left strewn about because you forgot to put them away. The half charged DS somewhere in your room.

What would a scavenger have to think? Surely they’d be almost numb to all of this, at a point. Seeing the photos on your walls, the photos on the fridge, the pet food bowl that’s desperately empty. Who would want those things, anyway; what are they supposed to do but leave them, letting your home be a shrine that time will reclaim. Maybe they come back for the shampoo. Maybe they don’t.

It’s just so incredibly different than writing about scavenging a store, for instance. Every character reacts differently. But it’s more personal when it was something to someone. I imagine a car is somewhere in the middle of this: still personal, but maybe not as bad.

[cenviswasteland]

For the fanfiction writing ask: 10, 18, 20 and 22 please. Also sorry for encountering the fandom loon in these parts, hope that doesn't sour your tumblr experience.

hey!! thanks so much for the ask :D let's talk!

[Re: "The Fandom Loon". to anyone that comes across this post after the fact, i recently got bombarded with spam asks from one particular person. feel free to follow this specific link if you'd like to experience the whole story hahaha. also no, my tumblr experience isn't soured in the slightest. i found it all pretty funny at the time.]

10. Do you work on multiple wips or stick to one fic at a time?

it tends to come in waves for me. i'll get the idea for one (1) fic, which adds itself to the pile of "things i'm writing". i'll work on one fic as inspiration hits, forget about it for an extended period of time, and then pick it back up again. this happens for every single fic i'm working on, as well as all my original pieces.

it's not an ideal way to operate, since it slows down my process severely, but eventually my AO3 will be populated by a whole bunch of really, really good work. i hope. right now it's a baren wasteland. oops. i promise i'll have some good fic content coming soon! i just have to get back into the swing of writing characters that are not my own.

18. Do you enjoy research? Which fic of yours required the most research?

oh, i LOVE doing research. it's probably my favorite part of the process. for example:

sorry, i know it's a little hard to see, but this is a FULL rack of tabs that i was using for my writing at one point. it's all direct research pages, note-taking google docs, etc etc. my wife (love her to pieces) eventually told me "that's going to destroy your computer" and made me bookmark and close like 90% of them, though. they live on, though! hahaha.

generally speaking, any AU fic is gonna require a little extra research. i really want to do "it" right if that makes sense. so that's looking up common tropes for the AU, background history / knowledge if needed, looking at other fics that have the same AU, etc etc. i'm not a super published fic author (sorry), but Promise it to me. took a lot of external research to get the terminology and speech right.

20. Do you prefer writing AUs or canon fics?

if we're talking in terms of "traditional AUs" (coffee shop, flower shop x tattoo parlor, college, fantasy, rockstar etc), i actually don't write a lot of them. i was working on a flower / tattoo fic at some point with a buddy, but that was between our OCs and it kind of flickered out. i'm kind of unpracticed when it comes to AU fics.

but more broadly, every fic i write is an AU or canon divergence in some way. such is the way of fanfiction. but i tend to stick closer to canon than i do to AUs. that's not to say that i don't love me an AU fic, but they tend to take a little more time (see above) and they don't go down as smooth for me. maybe that'll change with more practice. who knows? :D

22. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

at the end of the day, i'm a song-lyric-title guy through and through. when i get a song in my head, it actually really helps me figure out where i'm going with a piece. so that's where most of my titles come from.

before i get to that point, though, i'll usually make my title a keysmash or some basic descriptor. sometimes i tag the piece with a temporary name or something else basic:

and it's actually pretty rare for me to pull out a full, original title. not impossible! but very, very rare.

in general, if i'm not actively stealing a song lyric, the title will just be some description of what the piece actually is. i'm not a very creative guy when it comes to titles, haha.

===+++===

thanks again for the ask! again, i'm really happy i get to talk about my work and writing in general. if anybody else wants to send in an ask or two, you can find the prompt list here!

peace love and little donuts! have a nice day :D

[violixs]

LETS JUST SIT A WHILE

lee felix x reader

fluff, bf2l, almost unmentioned college!au

cw: lots of kissing and making out ><

wc: 1.7k

a/n: i swear this started off soft, but rn i’m just working on spreading my slightly needy lix agenda because it is the only thing i can think about 😵‍💫 i hope you enjoy! pls rb if you do, all and any feedback is highly appreciated <3

The first thing that brings a tugging feeling to your stomach is the proximity between you both.

From where you’re sitting, you feel as though you could count every single one of Felix's freckles a million times. Maybe, you could even see every shade of brown and gold within his irises, and from the way his glossy eyes are refusing to leave your own, you think you might have already. When he breathes out, you can feel his warm breath tickle at your skin, but it’s not as unpleasant as you thought it was going to be. In fact, the only feeling present is that of being overwhelmed—by the boy facing you, his body inching closer, your own tugging towards his as though you’re opposite poles of a magnet.

It shouldn’t happen. You can’t do this. Despite the faux blond looking at you as though you have the secrets of the world and the answers to all of his problems, you don’t think you should lean in any further. How long have you been friends now? You can’t even remember the date of the first time you met because it was so long ago, but the date of when you first saw him like this has also become hazy.

That change in view ruined it all, and now you don’t think it’s possible to control yourself when his lips are practically touching your own.

When they finally do, it feels right. A hum of satisfaction and relief escapes from his throat when your lips push back against his, and he wastes no time in going back for more, as though you’re going to disappear. Of course you won’t be here forever, but you’re not going anywhere right now, you don’t even think you can bring yourself to pull away.

When they finally do, it feels right. A hum of satisfaction and relief escapes from his throat when your lips push back against his, and he wastes no time in going back for more, as though you’re going to disappear. Of course you won’t be here forever, but you’re not going anywhere right now, you don’t even think you can bring yourself to pull away.

Magical isn’t the right word to describe it. It’s neither of your first kisses, and you’re sure you’ve both done more than just kiss, too. The way his mouth moves with your own is slightly clumsy and the way your tongue darts out to find his own is unpracticed, but that doesn’t make it a bad kiss. It’s not magical, but you are more than convinced it’s the best kiss you’ve ever had, no matter how awkward and clumsy it may be, because Lee Felix is kissing you like he wants you more than anything in the world and you are kissing him back as though you've felt that way forever. That is what makes it special—not a magic spark or any sudden feeling.

Eventually you have to pull away for air. Your eyes open slowly and you can feel them flutter into a smile at the sight of the boy in front of you. He’s panting, just like you, and his cheeks and ears are tinted a gentle crimson while his eyes shine with both lust and a deeper emotion you can’t quite unpack. Resting your foreheads against each other, pecking any exposed skin that’s close enough to reach your lips, the two of you sit in each other’s grip for a steady second.

His head is down, almost like he’s hiding the flush that paints his face delicately, but you’re doing the same thing. Nervous, excited. You feel like a tea kettle on a stovetop that has almost finished boiling, and is just starting to squeal. “Lix,” You begin, and you can feel the steam spilling out of you before you can stop.

He doesn’t reply with words, instead the press of his puckered lips against your jaw indicates he’s heard what you’ve said. In a selfish way you wish he’d have just responded with a simple yes, because your heart strings are already being strung like a guitar and you don’t know how much more you can handle.

“We can’t do this just because we have a lot on our plates and we both need something else—someone else—to help us forget.” The words tumble from your lips a little too fast and it’s painfully clear you don’t know quite what you’re saying. He knows you’re scratching for an excuse to avoid the reason why you kissed him back, and to excuse the reason why you keep going in for more. “I’m not ruining our friendship for a kiss just to be awkward around you for the rest of my life-“

“Who said it had to be awkward?” He asks, sliding his hand to your jaw before you even have a chance to push it away. He cuts off your sentence without giving you time to think because you’re doing too much thinking. You're thinking about things that don’t need to be focused on, when all you need to do is think about how you feel right now. Catching onto his eyes, feeling his hot hand against your skin, you feel as though you want to kiss him again. And again after that. And until you can’t breathe again because Lee Felix seems to have that sort of effect on you and you can’t even say you hate it.

But that’s the problem. You love it—so much—the way he feels as he holds your face and the way his tongue explores against your own. You aren’t supposed to love your best friend in ways like this, but it’s like you’re under a spell and can’t grab hold of yourself because it’s only seconds before you give into the desire.

It only starts off small. A kiss that reunites your darkened, wet lips and is over as soon as it starts. Then he goes in for another one, but his hand on your jaw keeps you against him for a slight second longer, and just the second makes all the difference, because as he pulls himself off you chase after him like a dog to a ball and find him instantly. It’s messy and your teeth clash slightly, but when his hands move to your waist and you have the chance to grip onto his golden locks, you can’t say no. The way his lips smirk against yours as you poke your tongue out makes knots tighten in your gut, and suddenly you pull away. You’re not too sure why, perhaps it’s the shock of sudden feelings or the impact of so many emotions at once.

However when you take a moment to pull away, you can’t help but daze at him in a trance. He’s slightly sweaty yet all it gives him is a dreamy glow, emphasised by his flushed cheeks and mauve ears. Glossy, scarlet lips look impossibly more plush and he seems to be an angel sent from hell, staring back at you like he’s fallen in love with a human.

He ghosts his hand from its hold on your waist to your flushed cheeks, his thumb gently caressing the warm skin in its hold. Almost unconsciously your lips part, and you’re left staring at him like he’s the sun, or someone who is way too good to let go of. This time, his thumb softly runs over your lips, still swollen from his kisses yet beautiful in a way that makes his own heart speed up. You look like you’re his.

Deep voice quiet, he calls out your name and in seconds every bit of focus you have left returns to him. “There are no rules to this- to anything. And more than that, I am not kissing you because I have ‘a lot on my plate’,” He pauses, and you think if you weren’t completely hypnotised by him you would be sending him a mean glare. “I’m doing this because I want you. I want to show you that I want you and that’s what I'm doing.” He finally breathes out, words resonating in your ears and you don’t know how to feel.

He’s your best friend. He has been for a long time, and you hoped he always would be. When he leans in to kiss your forehead, despite the sweat and hair that sticks to it, you know he still is your best friend. You know he always will be that, and so much more, and you can’t complain about something you’ve wanted for forever.

The two of you don’t really move after that. On Felix’s bed, in his dorm that he shares with one of his classmates, you both seem to melt into each other’s arms. You fall into him and he wraps his arms around you as if you’d run away if he ever let go, tugging you to lie on the mattress and come closer to his body. Your face is flush against his chest and in the position you’re in, you can feel his heartbeat against his rib cage, and it lulls you to sleep within minutes. It’s not normal exhaustion, it’s the fatigue that hazes over your mind after emotional roller coasters that you don’t expect to face, but you don’t regret it one bit.

Felix tilts his head down ever so slightly to look at you, caged against his body and fast asleep, and the sudden wave of love that hits him is entirely overwhelming. There is no doubt about it, he’ll hold you like this and kiss you like he did for as long as you let him.

[nexfarious]

A DANCE? — TSUMUGI SHIROGANE

pairing — tsumugi shirogane/gn!reader.

content — non-despair au, fluff, dancing, hand holding, a singular (1) hand kiss.

notes — not a request but entirely my own brainrot. for the women lovers out there!

Tsumugi understates herself, but to you? She is the most beautiful person in the room.

She is absolutely enthralling as you watch her spin across the room, the ruffles of her dress swaying in time with the motions she dances with her fellow classmates - it’s a little awkward, unpracticed and unconfident, but something about the way she even manages to make her stumbling graceful is appealing.

From your position at the drinks table, you pour a glass of something sweet, not pausing for a moment to take your eyes off her. Wallflowering yourself to the tables has its benefits, as you can tether yourself to a spot and spectate.

The dress she wears is long, just like her daily uniform. You presume she created it herself by the meticulous way in which it has been crafted. You can picture it; Tsumugi sitting at the sewing machine, embellishing it with the utmost care, each individual thread carefully stitched as though it were a matter of life or death. Even the thoughtful expression she would wear as she pondered what the colour scheme she was to wear was a perfect picture frame in your mind.

As she socialises with her other classmates, you page each expression she makes like you’re pressing flowers into a book. The way she smiles awkwardly at Shuichi, neither of them able to take the lead in their dance as they interlock hands, or the way she falls into step with Rantaro as he leads her across the room in a friendly manner as he makes casual conversation with her. She may call herself plain, but you find the predictability comforting amongst your eccentric classmates.

It’s too warm all of a sudden, a dizzying and cloying feeling the more you look at Tsumugi who absolutely dazzles you. You watch her gaze flitter around the dance floor, searching for something - you’re not sure what it is, but you feel the need to step forward and help her search, direct her towards what she’s looking for.

Then she spots you.

You’re not much, just the nicest outfit you owned from your array of clothing but it’s apparently enough for Tsumugi, as you watch her perk up and practically sparkle as she untangled herself from a corroboration of dancers. She strides over, a little uneasy as she flashes you a bashful smile - you could just melt at the way her cheeks upturn.

“Y/N! You… you’re here,” she says, slightly breathless from the strenuous activity that is dancing.

Unsure of what to say, you smile back. ��I- Yeah. It’s nice, Kaede and Kaito did really well with the place.”

“Well, for a plain Jane like me, this is a dream come true…” she steps closer and you catch the scent of perfume, was that vanilla? “I still wish they would’ve let me cosplay - Cinderella could have been perfect for an elegant party!”

You watch as the excitement blooms once more as she settles into familiar topics, things you have heard a million times but because it’s Tsumugi, she could tell you a million more and it would still would never be enough.

“I think you look wonderful, even if you’re not cosplaying,” you tell her honestly. She blushes bright red for just a moment, covering her face in embarrassment. You commit the expression to memory once more, to be visited on the worst of nights.

“Someone like me? What about Kaede, or Miu? Everyone’s looking at them.” she quizzes, half curious and half introspective.

It’s true, to a certain extent. Both girls are wearing something much flashier as they weave between crowds of students - particularly Miu, with that low cut dress.

“Well… Sure, they both look really nice, but I can see the work that you put into that dress. It’s obvious that you worked really hard on it, and I appreciate that more.” you explain, rubbing the back of your neck nervously.

Tsumugi looks at you with a reverence you’ve never seen before, like you’ve opened up her world and pried something out of her no one else has. Gently, you move to take her hand, giving her ample time to back away or reject your advance. She doesn’t.

“May I have this dance with you?” is what you ask as you lead her back towards everyone else. She nods, unable to form words.

The dance you perform isn’t perfect. Far from it, actually. Both of you stumble and almost crash into someone at least once and you’re ever so slightly out of time with the music.

No one is staring at the both of you in awe at your dancing skills, there’s no spotlight to illuminate your sudden display of skill like in the anime Tsumugi frequents, but that’s what completes it all. You’re in your own pocket of time and space. No one bats an eye as you share this memory between one another and no one notices when you press a kiss to her hand.

It’s plain - just like Tsumugi. A normal dance. It’s complete.

[the-angst-k1ng]

I present to you: my Practically Unpractical AU!!!

[echoisanidiot]

Yooo Im so interested in your practically unpractical au !! Do you have any more stuff about it you can share ? :0

How does the first confrontation with newly-turned-villain Chris and the rest of the crew go ? How’s Chris’ relationship with the rest of the villains ? Does he change his looks to better fit the villain persona ?

IM SO SO SORRY IT TOOK ME THIS LONG TO ANSWER YOUR ASK 😭

Well, for the first confrontation, I'll have to explain his appearance first: Chris's invention of a miniature hologram projector on the side of his face causes his entire face minus his eyes to be covered in a sheet of black. The hologram can also change his eye color; most of the time his eyes are a deep shade of red. His adventuring clothes were swapped with a khaki suit and vest; paired with a long olive green cape for dramatic effect. Also his hair has been slicked down.

(TW for mentions of verbal ab*se in this paragraph)

In the first confrontation, the crew doesn't even know it's him, but most of them could care less. Martin is very verbally ab*sive towards Chris in Practically Unpractical, and the crew did nothing to stop it. So Chris despises the crew for not helping him, and he hates his brother with a burning passion mixed with fear and trauma.

(End of TW)

Now for his relationships with the other villains:

Zach: Chris honestly enjoys Zach's company and Zach was the first person to actually help Chris out after he left the Tortuga. So they're chill with each other and are basically a villain duo

Donita: She and Chris don't interact much but when they do she usually is fairly nice to him. So Chris doesn't really mind her

Paisley: They haven't interacted at all yet other than Zach mentioning Chris to her

Rex/Dabio: Chris doesn't mind them, he just thinks they're very naive

Gourmand: He and Chris hate each other and will purposely avoid each other

Andddd that's all I believe!! Thank you so much for the ask and feel free to send more!!

[theminecraftbox]

In the it cost a leg au, since Dream has a lil bit of an emoty space, how on earth does he do much to fight Sam and Bad, and then the people outside a bit? Or does he sorta have to sit back?

I just imagine Dream hopping over to the horse on one leg like 'Okay I'm leaving Techno!'

/dsmp rp

Yeah. That’s pretty much what happens.

Dream’s got the crutches Techno brought for him, so he’s not fully hopping, but he’s definitely not very mobile. It takes decent upper body strength to operate crutches effectively, and that does not describe Dream, who on top of months of torture and starvation, has not lifted anything heavier than a book in nearly a year.

He’s clumsy and unpracticed on moving around without his leg. It’s not like the cell was a very good place to practice physical therapy—though Dream did try, both with Techno and after Techno left. (Using the support of the bell to lean against, instead of just the walls, was actually a decent help.)

Mostly Dream is trying to stay out of Techno’s way and keep on his feet. It’s not anything like how he’s used to acting in battle—he’s used to drawing aggro and being capable of ducking away or using a shield. It terrifies him that he’s so obviously vulnerable. Even with the strength pot Techno gave him, it’s taking most of his effort just to move around fast enough, much less to fight—though he discards one crutch to try to use his sword. He can’t do a lot besides swing it intimidatingly, but luckily his reputation precedes him, and in the chaos of the fight outside the prison, with the help of pearls, it gives him enough space to book it for the horse. And on horseback he can actually fight (though it’s still hard; he can’t grip or balance well with a missing knee).

As for fighting Sam and Bad in the prison: this is the first time Bad sees the extent of Dream’s injuries. He’s shocked. He’s horrified. He knows exactly what must have happened, and that it was worse than he imagined. He just stares, he doesn’t even make a pretense of trying to fight Dream. He only vaguely defends himself when Techno attacks him, and when he respawns, he drags his feet on returning.

Sam, on the other hand, is deliberately trying to target Dream’s injuries, the weak points that he knows are painful, that he knows he can use to easily subdue him. He swings straight for what remains of Dream’s missing leg, and then goes for Dream’s other knee to fully cripple him. Dream is lucky Techno is there to force Sam away.

[red-doll-face]

just a thought, do you think michael myers, even though he is well into his sixties, has a 6 year olds handwriting? and so like on the rare occasions he's writing it'll be large, and almost looks like he wrote it with his non-dominant hand?

ok SO… the reason most kids have bad hand writing is because they have bad motor skills and the skill of hand writing isn’t well developed to make their own stylistic writing. He obviously hasn’t had a chance to work on writing much but I do believe he knows his alphabet and has had some practice writing. I don’t see him writing much, but if he does write, I see it being all capital letters, big and straight lines. Most likely spells things incorrectly. He can only spell his name and his address correctly. He does, however, have great memory and has retained some reading skills. I don’t think it’ll look wobbly necessarily but maybe just unpracticed. His handwriting, if he had gone through school, like in my au would mostly be like, a messy mix between print and cursive. Thanks so much for the ask 💖💖💖💖

[ghostwise]

2 and 8 for hamal or/and refugio 👀👀

Keeping the Hamal train going <3

What does your OCs handwriting look like? 

Unpracticed lol. It's legible but it's not beautiful, and it tends to veer in uneven lines. His spelling is not very good either. In a way it's very practical! Though he presses on the pen a little too roughly.

If your OC were to live in some other time period, which era would they be best suited for?

I think he was born right when it was necessary, but I do have fun with his modern AU (which I am placing circa 2007 because why the fuck not!)

[starhwngs]

PAIRING: Hwang Hyunjin x Kim Seungmin kind of but not really bc ambiguous ending lolz | GENRE: comic book superhero | AU: spider-man!hwang hyunjin

Oh, it fucking sucked being Spider-Man. Hyunjin had been rushing to finish his calculus homework an hour ago, and right now he could've been in a chemistry lab with his lab crush, spouting puns to woo him as they do fuck all with chem fluids. Instead he was fighting a literal furry. Fuck. Off.

"You mother—" Hyunjin shrieked as the gas-mask wearing, winged man lunged at him and made them both fall in a heap of feathers and horrendously sticky web. "I hate pigeons!" he screamed.

"Pigeons?" Gas Mask hissed in his very awkward definitely-not-threatening voice (Hyunjin was an ex-theatre kid, he knew when someone was failing at voice modifications). No matter how bad and uncomfortable his unpracticed voice made Hyunjin's throat feel, Gas Mask had practice with his wings that Hyunjin didn't have with his webs, and effortlessly picked himself up and flew back. Huh. Only practice Hyunjin had was with his yoga-style sitting, and that was probably because Aunt May was a yoga teacher and made him do yoga in her classes growing up. "I am the Vulture."

"I know this is a furrycon, I'm just specie-ist," Hyunjin said, then shot a web line that landed surprisingly easily on Gask Mask's mask. Gask Mask's mask. Hyunjin quickly whispered that under his breath three times and found it to be a good tongue twister.

Unfortunately, Gask Mask grabbed his web and yanked him forward. Hyunjin, in a panic, ran on the wall while screaming. Gas Mask yanked on the web once more, hard, and Hyunjin fell on top of him and hopefully gave him a good case of lumbago as they landed in a heap of sticky web-covered feathers once more.

Hyunjin used the time the furry was stunned to rip his mask off, but then said furry nearly pulled Hyunjin's mask off. The fabric only revealed some lower half of his face but the messy removal displaced the eyeholes.

Ah, shit.

Hyunjin very blindly punched down with both of his fists. One hit concrete and the other hit Not-Gask-Mask-Anymore, and Hyunjin heard a very familiar voice moan in pain. What the fuck?

Hastily, he pulled his mask down. His eyes met a squarish SpongeBob face, and then he froze.

Kim Seungmin? His lab crush?

[phantomato]

Your feet above the ground—Flintwood body swap AU

—

The low, concerned murmurs surrounding Marcus settled into focus as he felt himself come up through the fog of unconsciousness.

“They’re waking up now…” a female voice drifted into his head, and he just barely had enough presence of mind to wonder who else was with him.

He couldn’t remember much. Last he was awake, it was some horrid midweek day—Wednesday?—so he would have had potions practical. All that mattered was that it wasn’t a weekend, and he hadn’t gotten in a chance to fly yet this week. Had he been to potions or skived off? Probably attended, he thought, Snape had been adamant that his quidditch captain needed to actually pass his courses this year. Warrington had been assigned to mind him and hustle him to most of his classes, now that Higgs had graduated, graduated like Marcus should’ve done, if he hadn’t been such a fucking failure.

And if he’d attended potions, and couldn’t remember anything, and was now groggy and prone in front of multiple professors in the Hogwarts infirmary, that could only mean one thing: potions accident. He groaned.

“Oh, good,” he heard Professor Snape’s distinctive drawl. “That would be Mr. Flint.”

What the fuck did that mean?

Marcus opened his eyes and moved to rub the sleep out of them but came up short when he saw his hands.

They were not his hands.

These hands were tanned, freckled, and though male, smaller than his own. Messier, too—callused and winter-dry, like these hands belonged to someone who never learned to look after himself.

“What the fuck,” he said inelegantly.

Only, it wasn’t him who said it. He felt his mouth move, knew he had spoken, but that voice was—

“What the fuck” came barrelling out of the person in the bed next to him in Marcus’ voice.

“Mr. Wood, language!” admonished Professor McGonagall, that old bat, and Marcus couldn’t help but snicker. Gryffindors were so strangely uptight. Except his snicker sounded weird, unpracticed, and Marcus nearly choked when the implications of their exchange hit him.

He almost didn’t want to turn his head, but he had to know. He had to.

[Read more on AO3]

Credit to @mxrcusflint for posting the body swap idea to the flintwood tag back in October!