#this is all just my own au but it is definitely heavily inspired by other ppls ideas

[wickjump]

Hey how do you think the sans AUs would act like if they had hair.

Like who would dye it , what haircut , how often would they wash it and stuff.

i’m choosing to go for ‘human au’ on this one because skeletons with hair isn’t something i want to think about for long. mind you these are my hcs and everyone is allowed to have their own interpretation of characters! this is just how i view them. i still enjoy other human designs for them tho and arent really that picky with anything really.

error’s hair by all logic should be in awful condition because of the years without caring for his hair in the anti void but his body seems to be in a sort of stasis. oh well, to hell with all logic. i love both long dreads and braids on him and i’m always unable to pick so either or, no preference. i adore both interpretations equally. definitely blue hair, at least at the ends. maybe it’s dyed, maybe the antivoid gave him blue hair, who knows. he doesn’t remember.

ink. this is heavily inspired by a design i found on tiktok (by hlebna11) that i enjoy the concept of. long thin white hair, a good bit below waist length. he’s dyed his hair plenty times before but it all seems to fade out completely after a week or two no matter what dye he uses. his hair gets in the way of a lot/is dipped in paint/gets caught on things, but he refuses to cut it. thankfully once it hit his ‘below waist length’ it stopped growing out. (edit: by inspired by, i mean exclusively the hair part, not the skin tone! i was unaware he was canonically poc, and the design mentioned shows him as white. whitewashing is a bad thing and i did not mean to support a design featuring that!!)

dream and nightmare both have long hair. dream’s is thick and wavy golden (i don’t mean blonde, i mean actually unnaturally bright gold colored), while nightmare’s is thin and straight. nightmare’s hair would be more like dream if he wasn’t ‘corrupted’, and it was more of a curly darkish purple when he was younger than pure black like it is now. his hair is also much longer than dream’s, reaching down to near hip length while dream’s hair is like. middle of ribcage length. dream puts his hair up a lot, nightmare doesn’t. for some reason, nm’s hair never gets tangled. like at all. lucky mf

cross had short hair most of his life because it was the royal guard standard, but over time at nightmare’s without those rules, he grew it out a bit. not too much, less than shoulder length, but it's still visibly longer and more full. his hair is naturally white because xgaster had a theme going on, possibly with a black underside. he’s huge on ‘keeping it natural’, as in not dying it, but nobody believes his hair is naturally those colors.

(100% inspired by crixcrocz on tiktok you have my favorite human design for killer ever) killer’s hair is about shoulder length and the cut looks like it was done in complete darkness with a chainsaw. not much else to say here. it’s uneven and always ruffled. who let him cut his own hair. he also has that ramona style ‘two strands in the front that are longer than the rest of the hair’ thing going on. he’d dye it if dyeing it didn’t require bleaching it, which he doesn’t want to put in the effort of doing.

now for dust. i am physically incapable of imagining dust in any way other than junipers-insects’ design for him?? i’m in love with it. so that’s what i forever see him as in ‘human form’. im far from picky with designs for him tho, i've seen a lot of cool ones.

classic’s got short dreads i’m sorry i don’t make the rules. i really don’t. while i love the idea of him dyeing it he’d be way too lazy to. also this ain’t about him but classic papyrus would likely have short hair with shaved sides. you know the style. he probably also has ‘cool guy’ shaved into said sides. or flames. either that or he's got cornrows. sans does his hair

geno’s got classic’s same hair because they’re the same guy, except it’s gone pure white in the save screen because he has a theme to keep up. he jokes that he’s gone grey due to stress and i wouldn't doubt it. i also like to think his hair is longer but that "wouldn't make sense" because "his body doesn't function normally when in the save screen" or whatever so SIGH i guess he has short hair (lame)

fell is similar to classic but his dreads are longer, a little bit more than shoulder length i’d say? he puts his hair up in a ponytail a lot. there's this one human design i love for him but i cannot find it which is killing me.

swap on the other hand has short curled hair. on the hair scale i’d say it’s 3a? 3b? it’s above shoulder length but it goes below his chin. he showers like twice a day so 30% of the time you see him his hair is wet. his hair is thick too so it takes forever to dry which annoys him (me fr). i like both white and black and brown hair for him so i have no preference for color between those three. he probably dyed it blue for a while for sake of color scheme but didn't like it much. i've also seen good designs for him where he's got ginger hair too.

fresh’s hair i imagine the same as his actual human design so there’s not much in that regard for him. greaser’s hair is the same as well. i don't have many thoughts for them because their hair has already been ingrained into my mind for years

horror has thin hair due to malnutrition. like it’s really not healthy at all. it used to be much fuller and shorter years ago, but time and starvation both do numbers. his hair reaches halfway down his humerus and is often knotted or tangled, he just doesn’t care much for it compared to other things.

reaper has long straight dark gray hair that goes down to his waist. geno (or rt!tori, or whoever you ship him with/hc him to be close with in general) likes to mess with it and put it in different styles. reaper lets him because it’s fun to see him so concentrated on something.

i’m so torn on lust. honestly i’ve never seen a bad hairstyle on him, he can pull off literally anything so i don’t mind what hairstyle he has nor do i have a preference. in fact, he probably switches styles all the time, so there’s no definitive one he uses the most. his hair is def dyed purple/pink/teal at the ends. he probably also uses that hair glitter spray on it

btw i am in fact white so if i messed up with any of the poc hairstyle descriptions PLS PLS PLS let me know!!!

i also don't really imagine any of them with facial hair because i don’t like facial hair i’m too lesbian for that. stubble is fine. they got arm/leg/other such hair too when applicable but i personally just do not like big ol beards/mustaches. that's just my personal preference with that one no shame in having facial hair or enjoying it it’s just not my thing ^^;

ok yeah that’s all :33

[the-coranic-jinx]

My take on altean Pidge

[hyunnie04]

puppy love

inspired by that one scene in skip and loafer where mitsumi pets shima's hair;; not my best but its cute jskfdh

kim seungmin x reader

genre: fluff, non-idol au

you have been staring at seungmin the entire day. not because of anything bad, it’s just that there's this one thing that has been bothering you lately. propping your fist against your chin, you let out a burdened sigh.

ever since he had dyed his hair this captivating caramel color at the start of senior year, which was only a few weeks ago, you can’t seem to get your eyes off him. 

the change was refreshing, like seeing him in a completely different light. it had suited him so well, the blondish gold complemented his features like it was supposed to be like that from the start.

whenever you would place your curious gaze on him, the gears in your mind start turning, unable to place your finger on what it reminded you of. it had definitely started to become sort of a routine for you.

you’re also pretty sure seungmin had figured out you have been burning holes at the back of his head during lectures or lunch. he would sometimes look back at you with a quirk of his lip and a questioning gaze, making you shift your focus to somewhere else, cheeks reddening like a child catching glimpses of their crush.

but now you are sure he looked like someone. but who? you’re trying to figure that out yourself.

you don’t know where this sudden fascination with his hair came from, was it because it made him look so handsome? or maybe the way it looked very cute whenever it flopped around when he moved? 

confused feelings for the caramel haired boy aside, you decide to let it go.

you were hanging out with the man himself and a bunch of other friends one afternoon and started scrolling through your phone. they wouldn’t mind, seeing as to how all of them were currently preoccupied with playing a board game.

“hey, you can’t just do that! you have to give me money!”

“i can do whatever i want!”

you subconsciously block the noise coming from your rowdy friends, very much used to the chaotic nature. your thumb landed on a really adorable picture of your sweet little puppy back at home, already missing him. a thought instantly strikes you.    

you look up from your phone. and then to seungmin. and then back to your phone. 

it’s the exact same?!

you’ve finally cracked it. he looked exactly like your family dog. comparing him to an actual dog sounded mean, but you meant this genuinely as a compliment, you absolutely adored your golden retriever puppy- haru, more than your own family. the longer you thought about it, it’s sweet demeanor and honey colored coat resembled kim seungmin right in front of you.

after thinking about this revelation, you kept it to yourself, out of context it could sound mean. the last thing you wanted was to offend someone when you meant it in an endearing way.

so upon walking home one day, hurried footsteps trailed behind yours, prompting you to turn to see who it was. it was seungmin himself, his hair flopping in the wind, resembling the cutest pair of puppy ears.

he finally stopped, panting heavily after chasing you for a good while now. he straightened up, opening his adorable mouth to say something to you.

you couldn’t help yourself, the thought of wanting to feel his soft looking hair.

“haru-” you cover your mouth as soon as the words left it, extremely mortified to have said it out loud.

“haru? who’s that?” seungmin teases your increasingly flustered state. “are you mistaking me for someone else?” it was too late, you have to explain now.

“no...its...my…family’s dog…” you blurted out, embarrassed of saying it in front of him. you had fully expected him to get mad but he doesn’t. instead, seungmin lets out a chuckle, his eyes crinkling in what seems to be delight.

“well, my hair is really soft.” he watches your face morph into confusion as he tucks his hands coyly into his pockets. he wasn’t mad?

 “do you want to touch? you've been staring at it all week.”

seungmin wasn’t known for being touchy with his friends or anyone for that matter so you can imagine the shock on your face when he leans down to your level, silently allowing you to do so.

placing a hesitant touch on his honey hued locks with one hand, you slowly bring your other to ruffle his head, really going at it and much like you would do to haru. a grin graces your features as his strands get messed up, absolutely elated that you now know what his hair feels like.

once you were done, he straightens up and pats his messy hair back in its place as best as he can. seungmin quietly wraps an arm around your shoulder, as if nothing happened.

“got it out of your system?” you nod gleefully.

“good, now i can ask you out for a date.”

[shina913]

On Tilt, Part 6 | KNJ

On Tilt, Part 6

Definition: a poker term for a state of mental or emotional confusion or frustration in which a player adopts a suboptimal strategy, usually resulting in the player becoming overly aggressive.

On Tilt Masterlist

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: idol!AU; strangers-to-FWB-to-lovers; toxic relationship; angst; fluff; smut

Warnings: cussing; dirty talk; neck kisses; heavy petting; nipple play; clit play; body worship; oral (mutual); protected sex; switch!Namjoon; switch!reader

Word count: 5.6K+ words

Summary: You’ve said time and time again that you wouldn’t lose yourself to him. You were in control now. You were going to make better choices. For a minute there, you were able to keep up with it. It wasn’t ‘til Namjoon’s extended break that you found yourself falling into old habits. Will you ever learn to quit Kim Namjoon?

A/N: It's been a long time! If you're still following along, thank you for being patient! I hope to write more frequently. I haven't been inspired to finish much of my wips but I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! I've missed these two.

"I don't know... I think the second half of it seems..." Namjoon sighs, trying to think of an adjective. "Lame?"

"I don't think so," Jon, his co-producer, disagrees.

“Are you sure? I feel like we should add more to it. My vocals sound kind of flat.”

Namjoon, despite having 1,001 tasks to complete before his album release, had also agreed to do a feature verse on a track for one of his industry friends. He sits in one corner of the room, his gaze fixed on the large screen displaying multiple layers of squiggly waves that represent the various instrumental and vocal tracks he’s recorded.

Jon has worked with him long enough to know when he’s actually giving notes or just being nitpicky.

“Your vocals are fine,” he says reassuringly. “Your verse is perfect–it really fits the song!”

Namjoon sighs heavily, still feeling some apprehension. His phone buzzes and he glances at it to read a text message. “Ah, good. He’s on his way. Maybe he can give me some input on this. He’s got a great ear for these kind of things.”

“Ouch, bro,” Jon feigns offense as he cleans up the track layers some more.

Namjoon turns apologetic immediately. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that we’ve been at this for a few weeks and I just want to get a different perspective?”

A minute later, the door to his studio opens, and in comes Yoongi.

"Hey, you got here fast!" Namjoon greets Yoongi. Yoongi nods in acknowledgment. "I was already on this floor when you texted, so I thought I'd swing by before my next appointment. What's up?"

Namjoon motions for Jon to play the track for Yoongi. He observes his teammate and frequent co-producer tilt his head to the side and close his eyes. He always does this when he wants to analyze the track by ear.

Once the track ends, Namjoon anticipates his comments.

“Can you try it without the cymbals in the bridge and drop the echo off the doubling track?”

Jon nods, clicks on a few functions, and plays the song according to Yoongi's notes. Hearing the track with the new modifications, Yoongi and Namjoon make eye contact. They both nod their heads enthusiastically to the beat. No other words are exchanged, but the smiles on their faces and the subsequent high-five provide enough reassurance.

******

“Thanks for the input, hyung. I appreciate it.” Namjoon walks Yoongi out of his studio.

“It’s nothing! We’re still a team even though we’re all off doing our own stuff at the moment.”

Namjoon silently agrees, then raises a hand to rub his eyes while trying to suppress a yawn. They pause for a moment, standing in front of each other in the quiet hallway.

“Tired?”

"I've accepted my fate of being tired forever," Namjoon laughs wryly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know why I assumed that completing my album would bring me some relief and relaxation.”

"Ah, it'll pass." To a stranger, his deadpan tone might sound insincere, but Namjoon knows that he means it in a consoling manner. "Are you excited about your launch party?”

“Yeah, I am. And I’m taking YN with me!” There was a sense of pride and comfort in the way he said it.

Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot upward. “Are you?”

“You think it’s a bad idea?”

Yoongi shakes his head and smiles. “Not in the least bit. Have you told PD-nim?”

Namjoon nods. “He was cool with it. She’ll be there as my guest but we agreed that her presence there isn’t an ‘announcement’ or anything like that. Still, I’m confident that we’ll be safe since she and I will be interacting out in the open instead of sneaking around.”

It was simple logic. Photos weren’t worth much to tabloids if they were professionally taken with the subject’s consent.

Yoongi laughs at the rationale but he can’t deny that his friend makes a good point. “I’m glad you’ve got something worked out. And she’s okay with all that?”

Namjoon’s head tilts slightly and his shoulders shrug. “Apprehensive at first but I let her know that the front office was supportive so that helped convince her and made her feel safe about going.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows rose and his lips twitch upon hearing his last comment but he caught himself and managed to force a smile. “Good. That’s…good. I’m really glad to hear that.” It wasn’t fair to project his personal grievances with management toward his friend.

Realizing his misstep, his excitement is replaced with a pang of guilt. “Shit, I’m sorry, hyung,” he grimaces. “I didn’t mean to come off insensitive, especially after what happened to–”

Yoongi cuts him off. “Nah, don’t feel guilty about it. I’m happy that you’re happy. I’m glad that you have someone who supports you and that you’ve found ways to compromise.” His sober expression makes Namjoon’s face falter.

It hasn’t been long since Yoongi and his partner split up. It was a few weeks before the hiatus announcement but by then, they’d had enough and decided to move onto separate ways.

“I’m really sorry that you couldn’t figure out a middle ground between the label and–”

Yoongi waves his hand in mid-air to stop Namjoon from bringing up something that is still fresh in his mind. There was a time and place to be vulnerable but this moment wasn’t it. “S’okay. We tried…for a long time…” He sighs and finishes with a shrug, effectively dropping the subject.

“Anyway, speaking of PD-nim, what did you think of last week’s contract meeting?” Yoongi asks to shift the focus away from him. “Have you thought about what you wanted to do for the next year?”

Namjoon exhales and confidently answers, “Yep. I’m taking the option for the longer hiatus.”

A few weeks ago, the label held a meeting with all team members, offering different paths for their careers. They could either continue pursuing solo activities or 'take a break' by having a more flexible schedule and the option to choose the projects they want to participate in.

“Wow. Really? Even with all of the offers to collaborate?” Yoongi bulges his eyes out at his friend knowingly.

Two years ago, Namjoon would have been tripping over his feet if he ever got a call from his idols for a dream collaboration. Now that the group has hit record-breaking fame in the world stage, each member’s time was in high demand.

“I did that one song last summer with my idol and crossed that off my bucket list. I don’t need to be greedy by entertaining every request,” he laughs. “It’s also an opportunity for me to take a break and find a new sound.”

Although Namjoon's new album has not been released yet, Yoongi does not argue because he understands that as an artist, one needs to constantly evolve. As soon as you finish one project, you should already be in the midst of planning the next one.

“That’s fair,” Yoongi concedes. “Was this decision influenced by a certain someone?”

“Yes and no,” Namjoon admits. “She’s a factor but it's my own decision. It’s what’s best for me…for us. I owe it to her.”

“Is she collecting a debt?”

Namjoon laughs. “No, no. She didn’t say that. In fact, I haven’t told her that we had that meeting. All I know is that I made a commitment to her and I plan on sticking to it. Walk the walk, you know?”

“I guess it’s good that she didn’t talk you into it. The last thing you want is to make hasty, emotional decisions then regret them later.”

“Hyung, I swear I’m not being hasty or emotional about this.”

“Alright,” Yoongi relents. “Just saying, I’d hate for you to feel regret or resentment if things don’t pan out.”

The truth was, Namjoon had that thought buried in the far corner of his mind, but he wouldn't let it deter him. He believed that fate brought the two of you back together and he was determined to do everything he could to make the best out of this second chance. Things will work out this time.

They have to.

You're in a rush to send out two more emails before the holiday weekend. These emails are crucial for sealing the deals for two of your clients. One has received interest from a film production company that wants to buy the rights to their novel and turn it into a movie. The other client is preparing for wider distribution after self-publishing the first edition of their book.

Your phone starts to buzz after you send off one email.

“Hey, I just got here. Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up?” Namjoon walks through your front door then pockets his keys, which include a copy of your house keys. It was a huge step for you and your relationship.

He was bringing food from the restaurant that you two were supposed to have dinner at. But after a client call ran long and a few other last-minute tasks piled up, you asked if you could reschedule. Instead, he was insistent and completely fine with the idea of spending the night in.

“I’m sure. I drove so I have to bring my car home anyway.”

“But you could leave it at the garage and I can have my manager pick it up tomorrow.”

You laugh at his offer. He just really wanted you home. “Why don’t you let the man enjoy a decent weekend off, for once?”

“Alright,” he relents. “I’ll be here waiting. I’ve got wine chilling in the fridge and pasta and chicken, just like you asked.”

You acknowledge all the effort he’s putting in. He’s been sleep-deprived the entire week but he was still determined to spend time with you. Still, you take the opportunity to tease him. “You know that kind of behavior will get you laid.”

“Look, I don’t really care if anything happens tonight,” he says simply. “I only wanted to bring dinner and be with you.”

“Mm-hm,” you hum in amusement. “What kind of pasta did you get?” You ask him as a test.

He answers with your favorite. It’s been so long and yet he still knew. “That’s it! I’m getting on my knees as soon as I walk through the door!”

A low laugh escapes him. “Not if I get you on your back first.”

His response makes you want to log off this second and rush home to him. 

Unfortunately, even if you leave the office, you still need to continue working from home. However, you would rather put 100% of your focus on him. So, you decide to stay until you finish everything.

Two hours later, you walk through the door. The room is dark and quiet, with the only light coming from the television. Namjoon is snoring in the living room.

He stirs when you brush his hair back to kiss his forehead from behind the couch.

"Hi," he says, his lips curving into a languid smile as he blinks his eyes open.

"Sorry, I'm late."

"It's cool." He stretches his arms and sits up. "Have you eaten?"

"No. Have you?" You ask him.

He shakes his head as well. "I'll heat up the food in the oven—"

"No, let’s go to bed so you can go back to sleep," you suggest. It's been a long day and fatigue is setting in. However, Namjoon gets up from the couch, shakes his head adamantly, and laughs. "You know that I know that there's no way you'll have a good night's sleep while hungry."

Just before you protest, your stomach growls, betraying you. He knows you well enough. With a snort, he takes your hand and guides you to the kitchen.

*******

After dinner and a quick shower for you, you get a second wind and decide to watch some late-night TV. It was a weekend, and Namjoon didn't have to be at the office until late the next evening.

He gazes at the week-old gardenia arrangement that he brought over when you first moved in and wonders aloud, "I'll never understand why you keep holding onto these until they're completely dead. Just throw them away and I'll get you fresh flowers!"

"I like them when they’re in this in-between stage of brown and white. They have a stronger scent and I love it," you explain.

"Yeah, but the aesthetic is—" He clicks his teeth in distaste.

"Forget about the aesthetic! I think it smells romantic," you say confidently.

At first, he furrows his brows at your strange remark. But instead of arguing, he’s endeared. He shakes his head and chuckles, returning his attention to the TV.

You and Namjoon are on the couch, watching old reruns of a show that you've seen many times before. Despite the outdated punchlines, you still find them funny years later. You're sitting sideways while your legs, covered by a throw blanket, rest comfortably on his lap. Instead of watching the show with him, your gaze is fixed on his profile. At the sound of a joke you both had heard before, he still lets out a guffaw, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement as if hearing it for the very first time. His laughter makes your heart swell so much that it feels as if you could float away.

At that moment, as his laughs subside and the scent of wilted gardenias fills the room, you utter, "I love you." You can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

He slowly turns his head to face you, his eyes searching yours. After a few beats that feel like an eternity, he says, "Say that again."

Suddenly feeling shy, you giggle like a schoolgirl and attempt to hide under your blanket, but he pulls it off, revealing your flushed cheeks.

"Please say it again," he says, grinning and patiently waiting.

You take a deep breath, savoring the moment. You purse your lips for a few seconds, then smile back at him. "I love you," you say softly, but with conviction.

He throws his head back dramatically, clutching his chest as if he's been shot, before collapsing onto the bed with a theatrical flourish.

Giggling at his antics, you playfully shove his side and tell him, "Stop being so dramatic!"

"I'm not being dramatic! I'm in love," he declares with a sigh.

You’re mildly irritated by his response. “You know, if you’re just going to joke about this—”

Just as you turn serious, he does the same. “I would never joke. Not when it comes to you.”

This was a huge step for both of you and it was the first time you’d actually said the words to each other. Years ago, he used to say that labels and verbal declarations of feelings were ‘superficial’. Anybody can say ‘I love you’ but never really grasp the full weight of it. He was all about ‘showing’ not ‘telling.’

The old you thought that made a lot of sense. It sounded logical. And because you were actually in love with him then, you believed it.

You swallow the lump in your throat. "I want you to know that this is still scary for me. This isn’t like when we were sleeping around at the dorms or hotels. The stakes are higher now."

He turns his body toward you. He cradles your legs with one arm and circles the other around your waist to pull you closer.

“I really fucked things up by not telling you how I felt and ignoring your needs. I was selfish and a coward.”

You shake your head gently at how he was placing all the blame on himself. “We were young and had a lot of growing up to do. Both of us needed that time apart.”

He looks at you with a mix of regret and determination in his eyes. "I recognize that now," he says softly. "And I want to do better and be better for you. Things will be different this time."

His words fill you with hope, and you feel your heart fill with warmth as you realize that he is committed to making things work between you.

The thought of it also turns you on wildly. You lean in and press your lips to his. “Take me to bed,” you whisper.

He pulls back slightly and stares into your eyes. “I’m not saying these things just to get it in,” he chuckles. “Like I said, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want—”

“I know,” you interrupt gently before your lips curve into a smile. “Let me worry about what I want. And what I want, is for us to go to bed.”

Nodding, he switches the TV off and you both walk upstairs into your bedroom.

******

You walk into the room, with him following closely behind. As you turn to face him, he stops in his tracks, cautiously anticipating your next move.

You reach up and cup his face in your hands. He closes his eyes, reveling in your touch. Tilting your chin up, he meets halfway, and seals his mouth to yours. The kiss starts soft and sweet, but quickly builds up to a fever pitch.

Desire surges through you, and he matches your fervor. His fingers grip the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. He groans against your lips, making those low, sexy sounds that you turn you on. Your hands explore his chest, feeling every inch of him. Just as you're about to lose control, he breaks the kiss.

He spins you around, your back pressed against him, caging you while his hand roams all around your front.  You threw your head back in a low moan as he nipped at your neck, grinding his hard cock between your ass cheeks.

He wraps his arms around you and nuzzles your neck. His heavy breaths send shivers down your spine.

“How did I get so lucky?” he whispers as his teeth graze your earlobe.

"I wouldn't call it luck," you murmur breathlessly, shifting your head to give him better access to your throat. "...More like a well-deserved outcome," you finish. He runs his nose down the slope of your neck, and you feel him smile against it.

"I'm really trying to control myself," he sighs. "But I'd be lying if I said I haven't spent a lot of time fantasizing about how this evening would go."

You release a pained groan, squirming as he lazily sucks on your neck. "Tell me," you say.

He pauses his ministrations, giving you a chance to break away and turn to face him.

“Tell me about your fantasies,” you say to him.

Namjoon teasingly swipes his tongue between his lips and leans forward. “I can tell you and show you.”

In anticipation, your chest rises as you inhale sharply and bite your lower lip. It was all the consent he needed.

"First of all, you're wearing too many clothes," he smirks.

You reach for the hem of your sleep shirt, intending to pull it off, but he stops you. He gently wags his finger and tuts. "In my fantasy, I do all the work."

You release the material and relinquish control to him. Wrapping his arms around you, he repeats your earlier action and pulls your shirt up. You lift your arms above your head, allowing him to easily slip it off you. As he leans in, you anticipate a kiss, but he surprises you by tossing you over his shoulder.

He walks across the room, and his hand reaches down to tug on your panties, pulling them below the curve of your ass. You yelp as he spanks you hard enough to sting.

He sits you down on the mattress and crouches in front of you. As he pulls your panties past your bare feet, he asks, “Are you good, baby?”

“Yeah.” You smile and touch his cheek. The moment of tenderness makes your heartbeat stutter as if he wasn’t just about to ravish you seconds later.

He nods and flashes a dimple before he picks up where he left off.

He plants a soft kiss on your inner thigh. “Are you ready for me?”

You arch an eyebrow at him in response. “The better question is, are you ready for me?”

You let out another squeal when Namjoon jerks your hips to the very edge of the bed with your legs on either side of him, exposing your center to his gaze.

“You’re going to be sorry you said that.”

You pushed at his shoulder, challenging him. “Teach me a lesson, then.”

He presses your thighs wide with gentle hands, his thumb stroking over your clit, pleasure pulsing through you.

He lowers his voice to a dangerously low tone. “You know, I’m trying to set the pace here but you’re no help.” He gets some revenge when he pulls his shirt over his head.

“You know I can take it,” you say as evenly as possible while trying not to drool over the sight of his bare chest.

“I know you can,” he murmurs. “But I want this to last a while.” Your stomach tightens when he lowers his head. As soon as his tongue licks through your folds, you grasp desperately at the sheets beneath you and fall back onto the mattress. He parts you with his fingers, teasing your sensitive flesh while you keen and writhe in pleasure.

“I’ve imagined this so many different ways,” he purred, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your hips buck but he holds you firmly down.

“On my bed.” He sucks. “In my studio.” And licks.

“In the back room of the restaurant that I took you to on our first date after we had the no-sex conversation.”

“God. Namjoon,” You moan pathetically, dizzy at the sight of him savoring you.

“I imagine pinning you down,” he went on roughly, “Giving it to you all night…your nipples swollen from me sucking on them. The room filled with all those sexy sounds you do…when I make you cum over and over…” He gives your clit one long suction.

You whimper, biting your lip as he flutters his tongue. He has one of your legs hooked over his bare shoulder. The heat from his skin burns the flesh behind your knee.

“Yes, I want all that,” Your hands roam over your breasts, pinching at your aching nipples for relief.

He grins mischievously. “I know.” He continues to suck on your bundle of nerves, teasing you relentlessly as your climax builds up further. With his lips still wrapped around your clit, he slides two fingers into your soaked opening, curling them upward to massage your inner walls.

You gasp sharply at the assault when he pumps into you. Hips moving of their own volition, grinding into his greedy mouth.

You climax with a breathless cry, your legs shaking with the rush of release after months of pent-up tension between you.

You were still coming down from your high when his body loomed over you. He shoves his bottoms down just enough to free his cock.

You watch as he carefully slips a condom down his length. Wanting to feel him in your hands, you attempt to reach for it, but he catches you by your wrist. He brings your hand to his lips and kisses the inside before pinning your hands above your head.

His eyes studies your face, his lips still glistening from your orgasm, his chest heaving. You blink up at him in wonder and ask yourself, 'how did you get so lucky'?

“I love you,” he pants.

“I love you,” you reply before he slides his length between your folds. He pushes in, parting the slick opening.

He buries his face in your throat with a groan, then surges inside you. He gasps your name, slowly grinding his hips against you, trying to get deeper.

His hips work in a steady rhythm. The feel of him inside you, stretching you, drives you crazy. You shift and wrap your legs around him for leverage and meet his thrusts.

His lips brushed against your temple. “Fuck, you feel so good. I don’t think I can last much longer…but I…I want to—“

He sounded apologetic, but he didn’t need to. Your throat tightens. “I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere. Don’t stop!”

He pulls out, lifts your ass, then thrusts deeply.  You moan helplessly, your cunt squeezing him greedily. “Fuck yes…” you hiss. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

He strokes into you and you writhe under him, your thighs grasping his hips. Digging his knees in, he gives you what you begged for and fucks relentlessly into you. His cock plunges deeply, over and over, breathing naughty fantasies into your ear and pushing you closer to another climax.

Your core tenses and your clit throbs with every slam of his hips against yours. He pounds into you, every muscle in his body flexing.

“I’m gonna cum so hard for you,” he strains, sweat sliding down his temple.

The promise of him filling you sets you off, and before you know it, you come undone for him again, your pussy spasming furiously. The obscene sounds of hot, sweaty fucking fills your bedroom while he chases his own climax.

He slows down his movements deliberately, and with one final stroke, you feel him spurting inside of you. Rough sounds of satisfaction rumble from his chest and resonate against your sweat-slicked skin.

He lies there for a moment, his heartbeat gradually slowing to a steady rhythm. When he lifts his head, his fingers run through your hair.

Namjoon cradles your face in his hands and kisses you. “Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for? You did all the work,” you laugh.

His slow smile showed pure satisfaction. “I’m only grateful for the privilege.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Stop,” you giggle. “You’re just saying that because you’re horny.”

“Nah, I’m love-drunk,” he grins lazily before planting another kiss on your lips. You’re so endeared…as if you couldn’t love him anymore.

He flops on the bed beside you, and you rest a hand on his chest, patting it softly. "By the way, top-tier fantasy," you remark.

Turning to face you, his smile widens and he mischievously squints at you. “Oh, you thought that was it?” He laughs. “We haven’t even gotten through the half of it!”

The thought of being the recipient of Namjoon’s insatiable desire for you sends a flutter of excitement through your body.

******

You are jolted awake by a dream you had. In it, you were falling into a bottomless pit.

Your heart races as you quickly turn your head to the other side of the bed, where Namjoon is sleeping soundly.

You’d been at each other for at least two hours before both of you passed out from exhaustion and fell asleep.

You carefully slide out of bed, trying not to wake him, and make your way to the bathroom.

When you reenter the bedroom, the scene before you takes your breath away. Namjoon is sprawled across your bed, with one arm tossed over his head and the other draped across his chest. When you were shopping for a mattress, it seemed excessive to get one so huge. However, now that you see his feet resting comfortably on the bed instead of dangling off it, it doesn't seem like such a bad investment after all.

God, he was breathtaking. When he was onstage, he exuded an unstoppable force, trained to be the object of many people’s fantasies. And yet, you were the only one who could bring him to his knees.

He shifts as you climb onto the bed. He blinks up at you.

“Hey, come here.” He sounds drowsy, but you find it incredibly sexy.

“I love you,” you say as you lower yourself into his outstretched arms. His warm skin is perfect for snuggling. Seeing him like this makes you want to be close to him, but in a different way.

He kisses you deeply, but you pull away just in time to regain control. “I'm not done with you,” he warns. Despite already going three rounds (that you can recall), he shamelessly craves more. Admittedly, so do you.

You gently place your pointer finger on his lips and shake your head. "It's my turn."

He raises an eyebrow in curiosity.

“We spent all night living out your fantasies but didn’t even get to mine. Not fair–that’s not how this relationship is supposed to work,” you pout.

“I’m sorry,” he says sweetly, brushing your cheek with his finger. “What do you want, my love?”

You wrap your legs around his thigh and rub against it, letting him feel that you are already wet for him. The friction makes you moan, as does the promise of being naughty.

You kiss him, press your body against him. “Two things.”

His finger grazes your forehead. “Anything.”

“One, I want to taste you,” you whisper then glance downward at his crotch.

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, already into it. “And the second thing?”

This is when you try to hold back your excitement. “You have to be very, very still.”

He’s suddenly puzzled. “Huh?”

“I want you to keep your hands to yourself while I work on you,” you state.

He groans in frustration. “You know that’s impossible–”

“Just trust me!”

Eventually, he acquiesces. “Alright. How do you want me?”

You purse your lips and motion for him to sit up against the headboard, and he obliges. You lift his arms and direct him to hold onto the gaps in the frame.

Next, you grab hold of his boxers' waistband and he lifts his hips to assist you. As you pull them past his feet, you ask, "Are you good, baby?"

“Yes,” he answers with a gentle smirk.

You spread his thighs apart, but before you position yourself between them, you lean forward to give him a kiss. He instinctively embraces you, with one hand pushing into your hair and the other resting on the small of your back, urging you to come closer.

Clearing your throat, you flick your eyes to his hands, giving him a warning look. He smiles, suddenly remembering one of your stipulations, and lets his hands fall to his sides.

You press a light kiss to his lips before moving your mouth across his cheek, down to his throat. Your tongue darts out to lick his golden skin before latching on, causing him to let out a pained growl. You graze him with your teeth, leaving a mark. Rough sounds of pleasure vibrate against your lips.

Pulling back, you admire the bright red bruise you left and giggle triumphantly at your handiwork. “Mine.”

"Yours," he vows with hooded eyes.

"Good answer." Pleased, you continue to move lower, finding and teasing his nipples. You lick over them, around them, then blow. Namjoon hisses and growls at the shot of cool air against his sensitized skin. He resists the temptation to roll you onto your back and pin you to the mattress, but instead, he grips the headboard tighter, his knuckles turning white.

As you make your way down his torso, you feel his entire body tighten with anticipation. When your tongue rims his belly button, his hips jerk up.

If he only knew just how excited you were to see him in this state. You want to reward him for having this much obedience and self-control.

With your hands on his inner thighs, you urge him to spread open wider, giving you room to settle comfortably. Dipping your head, your lips part, and you give his cock a precursory lick.

“Fuuucking…hell…” he growls.

It sends another wave of arousal through you. Wrapping your lips around him, you give him back what he gave you last night. Using only your mouth, you worship him, sucking gently and caressing him with your tongue.

He mutters a mix of curses and praises, feeling both lost and dizzy with pleasure.

You pause for a moment and tease him. “You like that?”

He sits up on his elbows, and looks at you wryly. “No, I hate every second it!”

You laugh then wrap your lips around his tip and hum.

“Aaaahh…fuck me. What the fuck,” he groans at the vibration. You see his eyes roll to the back of his head. “Deeper, please,” he begs.

Since he asked so nicely, you oblige and take him in completely until the tip reaches the back of your throat.

He cries out, his back arching as if he wants to pull away, but you hold onto him with your lips and hands, cupping and massaging, encouraging him to reach the peak of pleasure.

“Fuck…fuck…” he chokes out, fighting every urge to wrap his hand around your nape to control the pace. He knows you’re enjoying this too much and the thought of it sends him into a frenzy. His thighs ached with strain, muscles hardening by the force it took to restrain himself.

You feel his balls tighten and you know he’s close. Hollowing your cheeks, you bob your head at an even pace, swirling your tongue around his length simultaneously.

“Ahh, baby, I’m gonna cum…fuck…”

In the same moment that you pull off, he grunts and spurts right at your chest. You sit up and lean back on your heels, pumping him with your fist to prolong and intensify the sensation. You can feel the contractions against your fingertips, pulsing from his flesh as he lets out a drawn-out groan.

When his body calms down, you release him and move to lay by his side.

After a few beats, he croaks out, "Am I allowed to touch you now?"

With a playful giggle, you give him permission. Finally, his heavy arm shifts, blindly searching to pull you closer. You snuggle into his embrace, feeling his heartbeat gradually steadying against yours as he plants a kiss on the top of your head. Both of you collapse in a tired, satisfied heap, but you loved it.

And you loved him.

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Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

Tagging: @internetjunkdrawer @roaminginthenights @serendididy @majamarantha @mrskiminami @joonschocochip @yoongukie-ff @midnightagust

[astarion-can-spawn-me]

Archon

Club Owner!Astarion x Journalist!Reader

Modern Au

Warning: Heavy partying, drugs and alcohol mentioned

Just a little continuation of the modern one shots I'm making of the Baldur's Gate 3 characters and what their modern jobs would be. At first I pictured him as being some flamboyant designer, but it started to seem way too obvious and surface level for him. Though something about him meticulously rising in the party scene with his own club seemed to be way more fitting in my head the more I thought about. I'm also heavily inspired by my big city club scene, I spent many weekends getting sucked away in their extravagance. Also a little bit of my mom's stories of the 90's and early 2000's club scene.

The lights were heavy and blinding, the smell of sweat and body order in the air. The smell of lust was all too familiar between all the mingled bodies under those strobing lights, moving and swaying. All either high off the meaning of the life of night, drugs, alcohol. Hair and clothing swishing back in such a mesmerizing way, almost as if it was under the influence of witch craft, if you would count the party scene as such.

Which it could, the party scene was extravagant in the big cities, it was a time to let loose and let the big city take you in with it's embrace, whether it be done with safety or with the smirk of the devil disguised as a smile. You couldn't tell as you glanced around you, almost feeling yourself getting hypnotized by the graceful and sometimes sloppy movements of the people around you. Hell, it could have been the second high of the weed that hung heavy off their panting breathes. Though you were here with a purpose, with a job to do.

You sent here to hopefully snag an interview with the owner. He popped out of nowhere in the big cities downtown party scene. It was catching the attention of everyone. Anyone who had a name and a credit to follow, frat boys and sorority girls, even the minorities such as the LGBTQ community. That one garnered much attention from the conservatives the minute they introduced their drag shows to their mainstage, even now old women and men stood outside those tinted windows of the front doors clutching their pearls and purses as they yelled their obscenities to ward whatever evil they felt lurking behind those doors. Also other groups were starting to raise the worries of drug fueled nights happening within the building, worried of a spike in drugs within the city.

Now that was a worry that your local newsletter was raising within their own cubicles. They wanted the hot and heavy scoop on this place that almost everyone seemed to be in harmony in. Drunk off the simple charisma of the atmosphere.

Definitely a form of witchcraft in the air you thought as you continued your journey past the outstretched hands beckoning you to join them in their blissful stupor, tacky hands of sweat a reminder of all those people passed by upon your exposed arms and clouds of smoke from vapes swirling your senses. Your eyes kept scanning the crowds, looking for what, you had no idea, the building was packed to the brim as you continued your journey. A perilous one at that, you thought you felt the crunch of a broken glass cup beneath your shoe here and there. thankfully what you guessed were employees were quick to push everyone backed to sweep up the mess, that ocean soon engulfed that once empty space.

"Sweetheart, you look lost! Have a seat and get your bearings! It's $3 shots tonight!" Called out a voice almost crystal clear from over the heavy techno music. A man beckoned you forward, silver hair taking on the shade of whatever strobing light sweep across those strands. The sleeves of his button down rolled upon upon his arms. You could see that it was slightly wrinkled from his constant and skillful movement behind that bar. Faint droplets of whatever alcohol he poured tonight resided upon those wrinkles as well.

Despite all that, he still managed to look put together, mesmerizing, unlike the sweaty fools all around you.

But you were no fool, definitely not. You marched up to the bar that was littered with the remnants of condensation from the last glass that once rested their, slightly damp napkins also littering the surface.

"Actually, as shocking as this might sound, I'm not here to drink, is there anyway I can speak to the owner?" You called back over the obnoxiously loud music. You could have sworn it was vibrating ever organ, every cell, every single fiber of your being.

"Oh?" He spoke with a raise of his brows as he slid a drink over to another patron, them swaying off with their liquid luck to help them pushing for their night of fun and carefree. "He's not in at the moment, but I'll tell you what! He usually comes back when the lights come back on for clean up at 2:00, come back then." you didn't know if that smile was genuine, you couldn't help but sense a hint of mischievousness upon those pale lips.

"Good! I'll be back then, let him know that the Baldur's Post wants to ask him a few questions!" You shouted back. Though you weren't too hopeful that it would even happen as you made past all those sweaty hands once more and back into the fresh air of night where people lulled about, making out, fighting with the few protestors, or even wiping away tears as their friends coddled them from whatever happened that night.

Your cue to reenter the coven like place was when the hoards of people began to file out, all dazed, stupid drunk smiles slapped upon their lips, beads of sweat glistening upon their foreheads thanks to the streetlight that shined upon above along with the flashy neon light of the club. The unsuspecting prophets bidding their children of the night home and farewell until their next outing of extravagance.

Only few people were left within the building, only the few sweaty stragglers and the clean up crew sweeping and mopping the tiled floors. Now you good see the walls were a deep burgundy color, the floors and ceiling matching in the color of the dark void of sleep. It was almost as the void threatened the partiers, almost like they were dancing with death itself. You thoughts and observations might have been dramatic, but if you were in that scene as you were in your younger years, you would have found the so called dance with the void invigorating and thrilling.

"So, what do you think of the place, I hope it is to the Baldur's Post's standards" soon piped up a voice, that same man now walking up to you, hands lazily shoved within the depths of his pockets. Now a definite mischievous smirk upon those pale lips. "Welcome to the Archon, I'm Astarion who just so happens to be the owner of this fine establish."

The feeling of annoyance that bubble up within you came with a racing heart. You had to hold back the eye roll that your stare wanted to dearly display to the man before you.

"I know, it wasn't very um...hostly of me to do what I did, but I didn't think it would have been a very appropriate time to introduce myself, plus I wanted you to soak in the liveliness of the night" He said, words holding a playfulness to it as he slide onto one of the bar stools, a hand sweeping back his hair that was just ever so slightly damp. Probably from his work behind the bar or maybe it just because of all those sweaty dancing bodies that had surrounded him only moments before. "But nevertheless, what questions does your fine establish have for me?" he asked, his eyes only looking to you innocently, but at this rate, you didn't think it was very real.

"Well...do you mind if i record our conversation?" You asked, but he only gave a lazily wave of his hand, which you took as acceptance as you place your phone, now recording, on the bar between you him as you sat down. "Alright, how do you feel of all the eyes being on you? It's not all the time a club is so accepting of all groups, if you know what I'm saying.." you soon asked, notepad now out on the bar, those droplets from earlier smudging the note of whatever piece of paper was the unlucky one to be the one resting there.

"Well I like to say were are collectors of misfits, it doesn't matter if you are a football star or just a person who sells their soul to a bone crushing 9 to 5, those people can feel like an outcast and we are just the ones to give them a little pick me up, a moment to be seen" He said with a shrug of his shoulders, but he was soon calling out to one of the bartenders who was left on cleaning duty. "A drink would suit you, you are so up tight. Leon, maybe a vodka cran, they strike me as someone simple" You quickly objected, but the drink was already placed before you and also one to the now newly introduced Astarion in front of you who was already taking a nursing sip from the glass.

"Please do go on"

You couldn't even wrap your head around the character around you. Was this person real? How can someone be so...this? You didn't know if it was cockiness, but some how he was also so charismatic in the process. You were starting to slowly see why maybe this place was drawing so many people in. He was the on placing the spell upon every single warm body that walked past those doors. You were even so sure that if he were to ever speak to those bible thumping protestors outside, he would bid them farewell with only ever speaking just a few words to them.

"The community is also worried about this place fueling more drug habits" You finally spoke up, your fingers tucking a strand behind your ear. You were nervous under that piercing and analyzing gaze of his. it was like he was calculating every little thing about you. He gave a simple huff at your questions.

"Drugs were already a problem anyway and its not like it is my responsibility to say 'hey! stop doing that!'" he gave a small shake of his head as he leant his cheek upon his hand as he looked to you through those silver eyelashes of his. "But if your little post would be happy to learn that we have a zero substance policy, we can't control who does anything before they come in here, but we don't allow the activity to take place in here. I have employees undercover in every part of this bar, even in the bathrooms, to kick out anyone who is, is that satisfying enough?" His eyebrows now raised to you, waiting for your response.

"I didn't know that.." you could only respond with a simple lift of your shoulders, almost as in a surrender to the man before you.

"Hmm.." he only looked to you, you could practically see the thoughts swirling behind those eyes of his. "Com again tomorrow night" he simply stated, now standing up. "Give this place an actual chance, let that guard down. Clean slate, leave those poisoned words whispered in those pretty little ears of yours at home"

You were trapped in that little spell of his as you actually showed up the next night, clean slate. Old party clothes busted from their forgotten spot within that small apartment closet of yours. All smashed back into the void by the work clothes that took their priority over the years. You let yourself get sucked into the Archon, accepting the maze of hands this time as people happily pulled you in.

But there he was in the crowd, beckoning you with a delicate hand.

He was intoxicating as he took you by the hands, lovingly and caringly. A temptress. He so easily got you to sway with him to the music, letting the rhythm take him and yourself on a journey under those colorful lights. Each and every beat taking away an ounce of care from your shoulders as you became entangled with him. The smell of sweat all around the two of you, but it was invigorating. Feet never tired, body never tired. Laughter came so easy, smiles and grins.

It finally occurred to you that this was it. The freeness. It was the ability to just do, to let go, to breathe. No crushing feeling of impressing the editors at work or get the dirt on the next target. It was just you and nothing holding you back. Not a drink or substance to coax that feeling out of the soul within your swaying body.

Well the taste of his lips upon yours was possibly the equivalent to any drink that could have been brought to your own lips. The feeling of his fingers within your hair a shivering sensation. Such a superficially thing it could have been viewed as from someone glancing, but how it all seeped and swirled into your sense and his own. In a blink of an eye the lights were on and your were sitting on a bar stool, glass of water rolling with condensation sat in front of you, the same for Astarion besides you, his chest almost moving in the same rhythm as your as he also to catch his own breath.

"I forgotten what that felt like" you finally was able to say in your breathlessness.

"I know it may sound a bit cliche of me, but same" Astarion said with a laugh. "The moment I opened this place I was always behind the bar or making sure everything was running smoothly, you know, being such a mindful business owner. Though I let it make me into what I'm trying to make my patrons forget. Selling my soul to that pesky 9 to 5."

You understood what he meant. It gave a new insight into him. A business owner.

"But that still means we have jobs, dear. Go home before you fellow writers and editors send hounds after me" He said nonchalantly as he handed you the small hand bag you brought with you, leaving you to make your departure from the establish, the night finally catching up as you could feel those pesky blisters forming on the parts of your feet and toes that didn't agree with the shoes you were wearing, but it wasn't much of a concern to you as you bid those neon signs and street lights a goodbye.

Though it took you until the next morning to find that crumbled up napkin within your purse that had a number scrawled on it with the name 'Astarion' following after it, slightly smudged by a droplet of something wet it must have encountered at some moment during that night. Your fingers automatically typed the number into your phone, but you were at a loss at what to actually message him as you stared to the messenger bar on your phone. You could have face palmed at the fact of your simply sending a 'Astarion?' to him was actually a good way to approach it. It wasn't much of a shock when he sent your name back, he knew exactly what he was doing, whatever it was, it was unknown to you.

Nevertheless, that little insignificant text sent a flourish of something. Novels of words spilled between the two of you during the week. Jokes, slight flirting, slight windows of emotions of opening up about certain things. People would notice that stupid smile that would come to your face the moment his name would appear onto your cell phone. It was the same for him, but he was too prideful when someone would call him out on it, simply waving them off.

That's how you found yourself wrapped within his arms on the worn down couch of your apartment. A simple sunday night, the worries of work long forgotten, even if only in merely hours the two of you would have to bid bitter goodbyes to worry about work all over again.

What a pesky little thing.

But none of that matter, not even the heavy pattering of rain upon your window mattered as you snuggled up to him, basking in his cologne as a corny vampire movie played on the tv before you. His arms were good about melting the worries of the real world beyond this mortal realm along with those fingers that absentmindedly twirled your hair around his fingers, snagging on a little knot every now and then, but he was always quick to give a soft sorry that you could feel whisp by your ear.

the shivers that he subjected you to should have been criminal.

"And just to think, you sent to take down my little empire" He joked as his arms pulled you in close, the feeling of his rumbling chest up against you own.

"Good thing you have such a good way with words to stop me.." you quipped back, lifting your head to look up to him, his hand soon cupping your flushed cheek.

"Yes, good thing..."

[chrollohearttags]

because I’m in bed sick af and bored..the musician au (reverb series) characters and who I kin/model them after:

no warnings, just a fun lil list and drabble. (Feel free to headcanon them after whoever you feel, these are just MY personal muses) this is a lil something until the next chapter is done.

eren aka ej the don: I feel like I’ve already stated this but I hc him after Bones. From the music, the looks..everything. He favors him so much. I feel like his music videos have this dark, mysterious aesthetic just like his. In the same turn, he also sings and makes these R&B esque, love songs (just take a listen to Bones’ 2 Million Blunts album, it’s what inspired this whole AU). His musical style also ranges a lot. He may play a guitar on stage and sing for one and then start a mosh pit with the next song. Bones calls himself the ‘Underground God and The Reaper’ and if Eren wouldn’t do some shit like that, idk who would. Just like him, EJ produces and makes his own instrumentals. Like the Grammys or these awards shows don’t have to give him his flowers but he’s adored by the underground and independent scene. Super talented all the way around. Gives me heavy $uicideboys vibes too.

connie aka prince cee: I know a lot of ppl say Central Cee (who I personally don’t care for but I can see it way more for him than eren) but I actually modeled him after Yeat. I feel like Connie can rap his ass off but he never takes himself too seriously either. He’s a meme rapper but every last one of his songs is a hit. His soundbytes go viral alllll the time on Tiktok. His music is super fun and hype. But put him in a freestyle, he’s devouring every time.

onyakopon aka ony the god: now he reminds me so much of a mixture between Bryson Tiller and MO3 (🙏🏾). He definitely has bars but he has an INCREDIBLE singing voice so he combines the two and does it sound godly (no pun intended). I also think he’s a very talented piano player. He’s probably the 2nd most multi-faceted behind EJ. His style is so unique and so many try to mimic him. But they can never out do the doer. Him and EJ be having a ball in the studio; just bouncing verses off each other and singing they asses off! 😭 I also think all 3 have a few joints EP’s together.

jean aka j. kirschtein: my boy is the only non rapper in the mix. But he is the epitome of a rockstar. I mirror him making music heavily akin to Coldplay or James Arthur..alternative but still with a touch of soul in it..simply put, he’s amazing. Skilled on bass, electric and drums. Also writes for a LOT of people as well. He was Mikasa’s bassist when she performed but she took one listen and knew it wasted potential to not have him at the forefront. The first time she heard him sang, she actually cried! He has such a strong register and can do a variety of genres. He might be the most popular behind EJ signed to AMG.

mikasa aka mika ASH: even though her music career was short lived because she preferred being behind the scenes, she was cold as hell as a performer. I personally have a few I mused her after and that was Saphir, AshNikko and Thuy. Some of her music was soft and melodic but she was the epitome of a goth girl or rather, the label played on that whole aesthetic and branded her as such! She was so good though. Mixing heavy metal type music with light vocals. She had a large fanbase and of course, the alt girls LOVED her but she just couldn’t handle the pressure of fame and stepped back to be a talent scout/manager. She’s much happier with that.

armin aka arminhammer: now armin is more of a producer than artist himself. He sticks to making the beats and directing the music videos. I think of him as like a Cole Bennett or Kenny Beats. When he’s not chasing half the hoes in Miami, he’s behind the mixing board and contrary to belief, he’s the best to do it and the man you want working on your projects. He’s HIM for sure. When he DOES make music, he sounds like Chase Atlantic or The Neighborhood. (He just looks like a Chase Atlantic song, I can’t explain it!)

christa reiss aka HISTORIA: we haven’t talked about her much outside of being Eren’s ex but she’s one of the biggest pop stars in the entire verse. She’s very similar to Zara Larsson, Dua Lipa and Maggie Lindemann. Very much Top 40, bubble gum pop. She had this whole good girl gone bad vibe going on for a while and EJ still heavily influences her music and even helps her music but she gives basic white girl (but in a cute bubbly way! ☠️)

[nights-flying-fox]

It's Not Pain (It's Applause)

So!! I learned today is one of my fav albums' anniversary, and of course i had to write something quickly based on a song in the album!! I present you this Dimension Hopper Leo AU fic, which is just Hop looking through his adventures and thinking at late night hours. I didn't check it for any mistakes, so i hope everything is correct haha!! The song that the fic is heavily inspired is "Battle Cries" by The Amazing Devil :]

(Also Null belongs to @noxvee6 and Twin-Sync AU belongs to @little-banjo-frog ^^ )

Tagging @tmntaucompetition because it is mentioned here too, even if not very detailed hehe

《 words and ao3 link will be added later, I don't think there are anything that needs warning, but if there is please tell me so I can add!!》

☆ ☆ ☆

 He had never thought he would see an older version himself from an outside view, let alone himself. But fate had surprised him. Perhaps it wasn't fate at all, but his choices.

 Turning the pages of the notebook he wrote his discoveries in, he sighed. He looked at the pictures of Neon. He was one of the future versions of himself that he had met. He had ended up being a great friend to him, teaching him some basics. He smiled at the picture of him being busy as a leader. Neon had given him hope, maybe one day he could be like him. He was afraid of the possibility and the responsibility, but those were just a few details next to many good possibilities. 

 He still regretted not asking him some things, but who knows, maybe one day he would. And maybe one day he could annoy the heck out of him, tell him he met a Leo with hair, pointing out his lies. (He was aware he could never know about that possibility, but it was worth teasing the old man.)

He also was one of the people who had proven he wasn't alone. When alone, at night he thought about how without his family he wouldn't go far, he would remember him just like others. He would answer the question of who would save him if he fell (but could they save him when he fell in the deepest part of it all, when he would accept he wouldn't be able to go back home?).

 Leo shook his head. He didn't want to think of any possibilities about the future. He had found a moment of relaxation, a calm hour. Who would've known it would be so hard to rest while visiting almost every timeline that exists? Somehow, trouble never stopped finding them. Make it a villain, a plot twist, or a war. There always was something to do, even if he didn't belong. Even if he had his own war to win, a home to reach.

 He turned the page, humming at the image of the four turtles who had recently discovered they were a family. Honestly, they  must've been idiots to not notice they were related. Or maybe it felt like that to him because these faces belonged to his family as well. Whatever, he was happy to have met them and to know fate had reunited them. They had a lot to catch up to, just as Leo would when he would reunite with his family. 

 Turning pages he came across the picture of younger Big Mama and Lou Jitsu. He cringed, remembering the way he ended up in the past. They sure had an interesting love story, but it definitely was not Leo's cup of tea. 

 He turned the page quickly. After a short while he ended up seeing the grumpiest Leo in the universe. Null's big frown was visible in the picture. His smile returned, big and genuine. Who would know a version of you who wanted you dead would end up being as close to you as your real family? Leo hoped to see him soon, tease him by calling him his big brother. He was sure Null didn't mind, but the guy would do the favor of rolling his eyes and going along with it. He was proud to know him, seeing how he grew to be a better person. He hoped he was proud to know Leo as well.

 And then there were the pages dedicated to the competition he had found himself in. Various alternative versions of his family were all over the pages. He wasn't even sure if he knew all of them. He still grinned, it was fun. The other Leo and Donnie– they were team Twin-Sync–  had become great friends of his, and multiple pictures of them together decorated a single page. He had also gained a new fear towards mushrooms, and had found a new fun game to play. Who would know Muppets could be so bloodthirsty? Game nights were wild…

 He closed it and sighed, so many memories. So many dimensions and timelines. He was happy for all of them. Everything he had learned, everything that helped him become someone better. Everyone he had met and knew and helped. Every time he hopped somewhere new, it felt like restarting a new work of art– at least a Mikey had used that metaphor once he explained to him his adventures. And so many times he was told to hop away once he could, but so many times Leo refused. He couldn't stand to see his family in danger (again). And no matter the pain, it was worth it. Everything was worth for any version of his family. With them he felt like he could summon the Gods and the stars. Heck, he even felt like they were Gods. (He pushed back the memory of an older self of his saying that they were just kids.)

 And there were times he had trouble with those versions. Some that didn't trust him, and some that he had to not trust. There were bitter moments, but there were good ones too. (He swallowed down the pain of the words he had heard from some. The way some wield them as if he was an enemy.) They tried to get rid of him, sometimes. They must've forgotten Leo was stubborn. They could say goodbye, but he won't.

 Leo took a deep breath. It was crazy how he had ended up here. Everywhere. Whatever. It was as if he was walking in the darkness searching for light, but the darkness grew. (And he was afraid he was sinking so deep it was too late.) But he wouldn't give up (even if everything felt like going against him). He wouldn't turn his nights into them, especially when he was about to hop again. 

 Maybe one day he would do everything. Enjoy the calm, or show his skills in a fight. Maybe he would make a season finale, find the right portal. The smiles of others that he reflected would be truly his family's. (And no longer his mask would hide the tears.) Instead of staying, he'd keep hopping as much as he would keep hoping. (He would hide his fears with every new beginning.)

 And he would take a sigh. (And the battle cries in his mind would be buried deep.)

 And every time, it will be worth it for them. It can't hurt him if he'd have people he loved with him.

 (He wouldn't scream. Maybe he was at the end of all the things. It wasn't the time to ask himself how he was.) As long as he believed, he was okay. He was fine.

 Maybe tomorrow was the day. And finally, maybe everything would be over.

[fayes-fics]

Balnea Interruptus

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem! reader, modern AU

Summary: Modern AU. Benedict barges in on you taking a bath

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, drunken people, drunken confessions, fingering, vaginal sex, bath sex, some verbal sparring, a smidge of humour.

Word Count: 1.6k (urghhh, godammit Faye, that's not a blurb)

Build a Blurb Prompt: Benedict 👹smut 👥friends to lovers 🍻drunk confessions 🛀shower/bath sex

Authors Note: 1k follower celebration fic. Here I go, getting carried away and breaking my own damn rules right out of the fucking gate. I got this one earlier today and let's say I got inspired shall we? Yes lets. Also sorry for the lethal picture, I needed one with a light blue shirt, okay? Unbetaed. Enjoy! <3

“What the fu…!!!” you squeal as the door flies open and slams against the tiles.

You were quietly sitting in your oversized bath after a long, hard day at work. Soaking away your troubles amongst some bubbles and drinking a second glass of bubbly, just the right side of tipsy and relaxed. Or at least you were.

You heard your flatmate El come home with some people but didn't expect this invasion. You really should have checked that you locked the damn door. But then there is another bathroom they could have used; this is your private en-suite off your bedroom.

“Oh, shit… sorry,” it's a slurred, delayed reaction. He’s definitely inebriated. But he doesn't move; he's just leaning on the door, hand wrapped around the door handle. “That looks comfy,” he adds, a stupid but attractively goofy smile on his face.

Benedict bloody Bridgerton, just what you don't need right now. The owner of problematic blue eyes and a handsome lopsided grin. The occasional guest star of your masturbatory fantasies, not that you would admit it, even to yourself, let alone him.

“Hello, flatmate’s brother,” you scowl pointedly, raising an eyebrow and slinking lower in the water to ensure the mountain of bubbles hides everything.

“Please don't be modest on my account,” he winks—the bloody troublemaker.

“Any reason you are barging into my private bathroom?” you ask with mock breeziness. He only picks up on the latter.

“Shaving foam,” he states definitively as if that explains everything.

“What about shaving foam?” you frown.

“Need some; it’s Bridgerton family prank time,” he grins, those adorable creases around his eyes appearing. Wait, adorable?

“Sorry, I don't have any,” you shrug.

“Pity,” he huffs and closes the door, sitting down on the closed toilet seat right next to you as if you invited him in for some form of chat.

Something roils in your stomach at his actions; there is no reason for him to be here still.

“Show me your leg,” he demands, apropos of nothing.

“Why?”

“Just humour me,” he reasons, bemused, raising an eyebrow and looking at you expectantly.

You sigh and extract one calf from under the bubbles, lifting it over the edge of the bath, wary that nothing else is visible.

You squeak when he grabs it and runs his warm palm over your shin. All sorts of feelings erupt in your belly.

“Well, that makes no sense,” he mutters, a hand still resting heavily on you, curled around your damp kneecap.

“What doesn't?” so much of this encounter is not making sense.

“How do you have smooth legs but no shaving foam?” he queries, shooting you a nonplussed look.

“I get waxed,” you explain.

His eyebrows pop up, and his pupils dilate rapidly. “Just your legs?” that voice is pitched so low you feel it vibrate through his hand and down your leg, right to your core.

Dear god, what is he doing?

“N…no,” you stutter.

“What else?”

“Many places….” you obfuscate, the humidity and heat in the room somehow cranking up as the hand on your knee slides higher, or rather lower, into the bathtub and onto your thigh.

“Put your arms in the air,” he demands, as only an intoxicated person would.

Without quite knowing why your soapy arms shoot up and connect with the wall behind you, your nipples are only just obscured under the foam.

His other hand brushes your armpit, and you reflexively giggle, which he seems to find utterly beguiling based on the playful smile that dances across his handsome face.

“Very smooth,” he opines, “and apparently quite ticklish,” the tone is low and teasing, his face now carrying an expression you could only categorise as very troublesome. “Where else?” it's a sinful low murmur. Very troublesome indeed.

You keep quiet, flashing a look but pretending not to know what he is asking as you lower your arms. The hand on your thigh slips lower, his light blue rolled-up shirt sleeve darkening as it absorbs bathwater.

“Where else do you wax y/n?” he rumbles, knowing he is crossing a line and, by god, you are letting him.

“I think you know,” you whisper, feeling your heart pound as his fingers spider along your inner thigh, inching further and further.

You gasp as he connects with the smooth flesh between your legs.

“Just how I like it,” he growls, his thumb petting the small strip of hair as his fingers slide into your folds.

“Fuck Benedict,” you exhale and lean back, not caring your breasts are now exposed above the water. You feel the heat of his gaze on them, your nipples pebbling in the cooler air above the water.

“I've always wanted to fuck you.” The blunt confession tumbles out of his lips, and even he looks momentarily surprised at his admission—before rolling with it and smirking at you dangerously, his fingers expertly rubbing a slow teasing circle on your clit.

You close your eyes and rest your head against the end of the tub as he teases you. Waiting for your response to his confession.

“So do it…” is your hushed reply.

He doesn't need to be told twice.

There is a growl as he grabs your chin with his other hand and pulls your face up as his face descends until your lips are crushed under his. His mouth opens, and you are flooded with the taste of expensive smokey whiskey and a hint of mint. God, he tastes good. And he kisses really well. Those sinful fingers are still playing you expertly under the water, making you so very desperate for him.

“Are you getting in or not, Bridgerton?” you mumble with feigned annoyance as his lips move to your neck, sucking the skin there in a delightful way.

“Definitely getting in,” the declaration buzzes against your skin as you watch him fight with a few buttons on his shirt. Giving up with a shrug, he pulls away from you slightly to yank it over his head and throw it aside.

“Oh fuck yes,” it escapes your mouth unbidden as you stare at his torso, and he preens in a way that would make you roll your eyes were you sober. The hand between your legs smear up your body underwater and grabs your breast, tweaking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Likewise,” he groans as his other hand fumbles with his jeans.

“Allow me,” you purr, and he smirks as he stands up fully, removing his hands from your body and nonchalantly offering his fly to you. Your inebriated states make you both much bolder than you usually would be.

You can see the outline of his hard cock straining against the denim, making you want to pitch your face forward and nuzzle it. Instead, you flick open the button and carefully pull down the zip. He is wearing dark grey boxer briefs, and you immediately grab him through the material, so warm and steely. The material rapidly grows darker and clings to his outline as the dampness of your hand soaks into the cotton. He groans heartily and pushes down his jeans to the floor as you continue to tease him.

Then he grabs your hand away from him and rather sweetly brings it to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. He lunges over, flicks the door lock with two fingers, and climbs into the bath all in one swift motion. You sort of hate how sexy it is. Except now he is settling between your legs and covering your body with his.

“Don't be too good,” you warn, but you surge against him, loving the feel of his skin on yours.

“Excuse me?!?” he exclaims, pulling up from worrying your clavicle with his teeth. “Did you just ask me to be bad at sex?”

“Do you want your sister to hear us?!?” you argue, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh…” realisation dawns on his face, but then it morphs into a look that should be labelled lethal, especially this close-up - a crooked grin with a fiery twinkle in his eye. “Maybe you’ll just have to learn how to shut the fuck up,” he opines, and you feel him tugging down his underpants under the water. “Because now I'm going to do my level best to make you bloody scream.”

“Fuck you, Bridgerton,” you snarl playfully, grabbing a handful of very shapely bottom and assisting in the removal.

“Oh no, I'm fucking you,” he fires back, and a wave of water slops onto the ground as he surges into your body without preamble.

You clamp your mouth shut but scream behind it. He feels absolutely fantastic; there's no other way to describe it.

“Well done for keeping quiet,” he compliments, holding still buried deep inside you, “also fuck, you feel good,” he admits with a shuddering groan.

“Move,” you bark in a somewhat impatient tone, desperate to chase an orgasm that you are so long overdue.

“Are you always this bossy? Or only when there's a cock inside you?” he swaggers, the alcohol making you both very frank with your exchanges.

You flick a soap bubble onto his nose and pout. “Wouldnt you like to know,” you respond cryptically.

“You know, I think I would,” he smirks “maybe when I'm done here, you’ll let me into your bed?” he proposes as he withdraws slightly.

“Hmm, maybe,” you volley, but the last word becomes a moan as he thrusts back into you, a hand pinching your nipple as his teeth bite your earlobe. “Okay, okay, yes, you can be in my bed too,” you surrender, not exactly a loss.

He never did leave your room that night. In fact, he was barely out of it for a week. Eloise suddenly found a reason to go on a business trip for a few days and returned with state-of-the-art noise-cancelling headphones. Funny that.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess

[poohsources]

hi, pooh, is everything alright with you? i hope it's a yes! so, i'm sorry if you already answered something like this, but i just started to follow you right now (because i found your blog really interesting), saw this post of yours and was thinking: do you have tips about "losing our musing while roleplaying"? i see a lot of friends losing their muses, sometimes i do lose mine (which is sad, because we do have affection towards our chars), and i think some tips would help a lot and you seem to have the good ones. i would really appreciate if you could share them with us! the biggest thank you already and have a good, good day!

p.s: if i didn't made myself clear, sorry, english is not my first language ):

hi there! well, i'm sick again but other than that i'm fine, thanks. no worries, if questions are asked multiple times i tend to link them to the original answer. but it's one thing i haven't talked about yet, so you're good.

unfortunately, there is no definitive answer that will definitely help but there are some things i've either done myself or have heard about that are supposed to work, so i've compiled a list of all the tips that would help when you've lost your muse.

look at your muses' source material. this mostly applies to canon muses, but depending on the kind of oc, it might work for them as well. the idea behind it is to potentially watch a few episodes ( maybe ones that heavily feature or develop your character ) of the show your muse is from if you're writing a tv show character; reread the book / certain passages if you have a book muse, or just generally interact in any kind of way with the source material. even if you're canon divergent it might help ignite your muse again when you "see them in action" so to speak.

listening to music. if you're into music, you can probably make a playlist for your character including songs that either remind you of them or are something you think your character would listen to in their own free time. now whenever you're listening to that playlist it can help you inspire your muse.

read fanfics. if you're like me and spend an ungodly amount of time reading fanfics, it's something that can help you get inspiration for your muse. again that mostly only applies to canon muses but seeing the way others write your muse and the different scenarios they can be thrown into, might help with your own muse ( and especially plot ideas / au ideas ) that you can talk about either on the dash, to a friend or someone you'd think could be a great writing partner.

create your own stuff outside of rp for your muse. it kinda ties in into the playlist tip, but there are other ways to "channel" your muse outside of rp. do you enjoy drawing? draw your muse. do you like making mood / aesthetic boards? make one for your muse. there are so many different things you can do for your muse outside of roleplaying / writing that can help you get your muse back. even if it's just by doing other stuff.

talk to your friends. if you have friends or certain writing partners you talk to a lot, it can help to just talk to them about your muse(s). you don't even have to spew plot ideas or discuss things that have to do with roleplay but maybe just some casual talk about specific topics ( or if it's a canon muse, you could talk about their source material and what you like / dislike ).

dream up scenarios. if you're someone with an imaginative mind, one thing that can help is dream up certain scenarios that involve your muse. perhaps certain things that could happen to them and how they'd react, or interactions with other people or just random day-to-day stuff ― just put yourself in their shoes and think about them. ( potentially you'll even have some great plot or verse ideas this way. )

last, but not least, take a step back from roleplaying your muse. i know that this is probably the one people will dislike the most but sometimes the best thing you can do when you've lost your muse is to take a step back from it. if you're forcing yourself to write because you think it's what you're supposed to do, it's pretty much bound to frustrate you and therefore make you lose your muse. we all love our characters and the things we've created for them, but sometimes we have to let go. of course it doesn't have to be a permanent thing, maybe someday you'll get your muse for that character back and make a return to it, but sometimes you'll realize that you can't get your muse back and that is okay.

occasionally, people connect to characters that speak to them during specific times of their life and if these change, it can change the muse for that character because you don't feel as connected to them anymore. you can still cherish that time and love that character but as i said above, if you're forcing yourself to do anything, it's bound to be bad.

anyway, i hope these tips will help! :)

[diorsbrando]

AOT MEN AS FOOTBALL PLAYERS !

purely, completely inspired by this fan art i saw, i SWEAR drool leaks at the corners of my lips every time i lay eyes on it. i meant to post this weeks ago but i got distracted, life is busy, and i came up with like 10 other draft ideas. but here you are! pls enjoy, reblogs are heavily appreciated!! <3

cw ! ━━ college/professional football au!, fluffy things, suggestive themes + scenarios, mentions of sports related injuries

notes ! ━━ here is the artist and fan art for reference, pls go support her work she’s truly talented and amazing: link link link (there’s no art for connie but ima include him here anyway) this wasn’t even supposed to be long but here i am getting carried away once again

ꨄ . . . EREN

based on the picture (linked above), his stance, facial expression and body language, all tell us one thing . . . .eren is the whore of the team.

LMAOOOOOOOOOOO i said what i said <3

to elaborate, he’s like... the most desired out of everyone (he gives most eligible bachelor vibes) and the team has him to thank for all the extra publicity and support they get from a wider audience aside from adolescent, teenage and middle aged men. 

he likes to act dumb like he doesn’t notice all this extra attention he gets, especially from women, but it’s  obvious that every time he goes to a conference, or he’s on the field, or taking a break on the bench, he is literally basking in the screams and praises of his name or the number on the back of his jersey; it feeds his ego until it’s overflowing and spilling over. that smug smile he wears is always plastered on his face because of it.

also because of all this attention, he’s one of those players that barely show up to practice. he’ll really only show up a couple times a month, and it’s an even rarer sight if you see him at morning practices, the ones that occur when the sun is just peaking over the trees and tall buildings on campus and the sky is rich, navy blue hue. it’s not even because he’s busy with other things like school or a job, he just doesn’t show up because he ‘doesn’t feel like it’. coach erwin smith verbally scolds him for his lack of team spirit and collaboration, but coach levi ackerman simply just makes him run and do suicides until he nearly passes out from exhaustion.

eren still does what he pleases though, and somehow maintains his position of the team’s quarterback. as many absences as he has, he can still keep up and is knowledgeable of team plays and strategies.

definitely the one to play jokes and pranks on the rest of the team alongside connie. more on that soon

back to what i was saying about him being the local manwhore though (as cliche as it is, it fits this version of him), a lot of women and even some men want a piece of mr. yeager and he thoughtlessly entertains any flirtatious encounters he may come across. lowkey he’s kinda superficial, and a liittle shallow, but always get what he wants. if he does end up getting with someone for the long term, the lucky girl wouldn’t fall for his beguiling smiles so easy; they’d humble him, making him a better person and that would make him fall deeply in love with them.

ꨄ . . .  JEAN

in the pic jean looks like he was attending a conference of some sort. therefore, i like to believe he never liked going to those things, and his cute lil thick girlfriend me as well as his manager forces him to attend and participate. i hc that he doesn’t really like being in front of flashing cameras and reporters all that much (camera shy <3) . he’d rather have scouts come to his games and hunt him down for questions afterwards.

jean gives me wide receiver vibes idkk. i think he probably wanted to be quarterback but he had to compete with eren for that spot, and eren beat him to it. over time though he’s grown to love playing the position 

definitely has his own little harem of girls that would drop their panties for him, but he’s so incredibly loyal to that pretty girl he has laying in his bed back at his dorm or his apartment, so he politely declines or weave around their advances. 

he lives for the massages his gf gives when he goes home after a long day of practice & work and/or school. the way her hands work into the tense and stiff muscles on his back or shoulders either leave him incredibly aroused or incredibly sleepy

i feel like he’s one of the more... serious ones, like he follows plays strictly by the book, shows up to every practice on time (maybe even stays late if he has extra energy), the whole 9 yards.

wants to go pro, and he does eventually

if one of those programs should happen where high school football teams, or a group of kids from a rec center shadow his team for a whole day, i feel like he’d be very involved with the younger kids. he’s really eager to teach them all the skills he’s picked up over the years, run a couple plays and give them tips to succeed if they wanna get into the sport or get drafted in the nfl.

i hc that he would do like... commercials for things  and get brand deals n’ stuff because he just seems approachable, despite not liking being in front of a camera in that way

unfortunately, the pranks that eren and connie play are on him 75% of the time :( my poor boy. def gets a grey hair or two dealin with them

expanding on what i said before, there was a little teeny bit of resentment he held towards eren because he got to be quarterback instead of him, and he gives ‘ren shit for it sometimes ( ‘ren is offended and acts like he doesn’t know why but deep down he has an idea, and taunts jean about it). but when it’s crunch time and they’re in the zone, they work so well together;  they are definitely a dynamic duo and no one can stop them

ꨄ . . .  ARMIN

oh precious baby armin <333 he looks so delectable in the fan art i just wanna lick up his neck and kiss all over his face while i bounce on that veiny colossal cock he got in his━

ahem, sorry about that

anyway, yes. armin is definitely very beefy here as a football player and we love that

naturally, eren is his best friend on the team. matter fact, he’s the one that convinced armin to join in the first place. he did really well at tryouts and practice, so they also made him apart of the starting lineup as a (full back) running back

building off this, i feel like him (and connie) are the most agile on the team. sure everyone is fast and has to have a certain level of agility and speed to even be on the team, let alone be a starter, but armin...he’s just slightly better than everyone else in that department

i headcanon that he’s the rookie of the team, meaning he joined a tad later than everyone else, which was strange because usually coaches levi and erwin don’t accept no late comers; if you miss tryouts then that’s it. but that just made everyone believe that he had real potential if they accepted him anyway

armin initially saw football as a hobby, an extracurricular if you will. but the longer he played for the team, the closer he gets to his best friend eren whilst making new ones, the more he started to realize that football was more than a hobby. it was a de-stressor, he really enjoyed being out on the field everyday. it made him forget about all his troubles for a while

speaking of troubles, he’s in college (as i previously alluded to), majoring in environmental science and ecology. he usually has a lot of stuff on his academic plate but he manages it really well and maintains a good academic standing

after his first game, a month after he joined, all the girls flocked to him and sweet ‘min isn’t used to getting attention like that, so it left him a bit frazzled, trying to listen to everyone at once and give them a thoughtful answer, while flashing them a sheepish smile (which only made his new harem swoon even more)

he’d never admit it to anyone, but all this attention definitely boosted his self esteem and his ego. it’s something he now anticipated after a game or practice, and he only got more suave and sly, taking everyone off guard

def the type to invite the boys to train or hit the gym outside practice and then hangout or something afterwards

also the type to get brand deals and be special guests on kids television or award ceremonies to present awards or whatever

ꨄ . . .  REINER

oh reiner.. my everything. the kids miss you bb

okay UH when i first saw the fan art for reiner my immediate thought was he is a line backer. like immediately. to me it suits him well because he’s so bigggg n’ muscular and beefy like YUMMMM he’d be tackling mfs

another one of those kinds of players that would take the game a little more seriously than others; like jean he does things by the playbook and does it very very well

part of this is because reiner is that team member that has been playing football for most of his life: as a fun little thing in middle school, played all four years in high school, and intends to play all through college. his dream since he was younger is to be scouted by one of his favorite teams, get drafted, and go pro

spoiler alert: he does. (when they announced his name, number and what team he was gonna play, he was so shocked and almost teared up as he walked up the stage to accept his jersey. he’s so cute. )

reiner just.... looks the most natural in football attire let’s be real with ourselves. like it suits him. he loves the game so much

i headcanon that he becomes the nfl’s “it boy”, like he’s the talk of the organization for a while, people won’t stop talking about him, companies are reaching out to him for endorsements and brand deals bc why not. sports magazines reach out to him as well and he also looks natural posing for a camera as he does on the field

in his future, i can see him being inducted into the nfl hall of fame. that, he will cry at, because it’ll make him feel like he accomplished something in his life, and that people acknowledge him.

sees his college and/or professional team like family fr; all the boys like his brothers

it’s a given reiner will kiiinda be a meathead, always the first to take up offers to go to the gym or stay longer after practice.

likes coach erwin a lot, and is...intimidated by coach levi LMAOOOO

ꨄ . . .  CONNIE

ahhh, cornelius constance jamal springer III

he lowkey gives me laid back skater boy turned jock 

he plays entirelyyy too much like he gets threatened to be benched every other week

sometimes he does end up getting benched and when he pouts his pink puffy lips, coach levi narrows his eyes at him, slaps him upside the head with his clipboard and goes “if you’d just shut the fuck up during practice and do what you’re told, that could be you out there” and then proceeds to put him in bc levi wants all his boys to play

but this ain’t about levi. he’ll come next

connie def runs the most suicides bc of his aforementioned behavior

unrelated but connie is one of the most agile/fast people on the team, right next to armin. so what’s a few laps? the coaches think. the way the coaches see it, all that talk he was chatting about the latest kickback, they’ll wear him down so much he’ll be too sore to attend

connie’s position... he gives me tight end, maybe even a cornerback . i’d like to think he really enjoys playing offense more than defense.

to be frank, everyone on this list has their own little group of fangirls, and constance eats up the attention he gets. before he started playing football, it was never like this, and he wasn’t all that well known, he just blended into the crowd. but playing for his college...despite it actually being kinda fun, was the best decision he ever made

probably knew jean and was friends with him in high school and just when jean boy thought he’d escape connie (he’d never tell him or anyone how much he’d missed him at their high school graduation) there he goes at the information sessions....then at tryouts...and the locker rooms and practice... and on the field. all the while connie is just smirking at his friend’s annoyed expression

back to what i was saying before, connie is probably the prankster on the team, well, more like comic relief to liven things up. he is definitely the type to do that thing when you wring a towel up tight, all that pressure packed up in a stiff coil, before releasing all that pressure in the form of a loud smack! on someone’s unsuspecting bare ass

jean is the victim of this most of the time

everyone is howling in laughter, even armin let’s out a hearty chuckle

and that thing i said about eren being included in these schemes? yeah if the pranks are on jean, then he’ll gladly oblige because they have this unspoken rivalry between each other. but connie always gets in trouble, eren almost always slipping away at the last minute with a snicker

ꨄ . . .  LEVI

levi ackerman.... he looks delicious in the fan art don’t you agree? that piercing and silver chain he got make me wanna drop my panties fr

in this case, i think it’s a given he’s one of the coaches for this team. if this was like good cop bad cop, levi would be.. the ‘bad’ cop

LOL he’s more strict and kind of demands more from his players. the way he carries himself, he’s intimidating and just exudes authority. but the boys got used to it overtime

very punctual. he takes that seriously so the boys try their hardest to be early or arrive on time. levi don’t got time for all that shit, he just wants to do his job and get today’s session over with

in terms of coaching, i hc that levi handles practicing whatever plays are in the playbook, taking the time to make sure everyone knows what they’re doing and that they’re doing it right. that doesn’t mean his patience is extensive though, he will get irritated if someone is doing something wrong too many times. he whips them into shape by threatening to bench them or ‘sarcastically’ joke that he’ll give one of the boys a broken bone, “so now you really will be on the bench because and won’t be able to play.”

heheh, silly levi <3 

erwin has to remind him he can’t blatantly make threats like that 

i headcanon that he’s also the one that schedule most meetings and press conferences, as well as handle everything when the boys have an away game

now if we’re talking about levi in his glory days...whew baby was dat shit fr

back when he was in college he was one of the star players on his team. he used to be the kicker, the muscles in his legs taut and strong; he never missed btw. but for the majority of his professional career, i’d like to say that he played wide receiver, like jean. he seems like he’d enjoy weaving past the opposing team (his more slender stature coming in handy) and running damn near the entire field to catch passes

the competition couldn’t keep up with him

he was that guy that had never touched a football in his life, but as soon as he started,  he was damn good. eventually got inducted into the hall of fame. one of the few times he genuinely smiled at something

out of everyone on this list, him and erwin have suffered the most injuries. one time when he was younger, levi was tackled down and he fell wrong, dislocating his entire shoulder

he loves the boys so much, outside of football, he cares about their well being and what’s going on in their lives, he’s just awful at expressing it

ꨄ . . .  ERWIN

first thing that came to mind for erwin smith was ‘head coach’. i think it makes sense considering his ranking in the aot canonverse

referring back to my good cop/bad cop comparison from before erwin is the ‘good’ cop. and good is laying it on kinda thick. bc erwin can still be strict, he’s just slightly more lenient then levi is

if the boys had to choose, eight times outta ten, they’d pick coach smith

in terms of his role on the team, most of the time he’s the one in charge of days where the boys condition their bodies, so like endurance training, increasing their stamina, flexibility exercises etc. truthfully speaking though, him and levi’s roles are interchangeable ; they’re perfectly capable of doing each other’s jobs

but i can see erwin yelling out counts and commands during practice a little too well. sometimes he’d even do conditioning exercises with them bc “what’s the harm in that ?”

side note: he’s tall and muscular and strong it’s crazy fr

also, coach erwin is a milf chaser . kiindaaaa unrelated but it’s definitely true. esp a milf who happens to be a black woman. just imagine he’s goin to a high school game to scout out and new players who show great potential, and then he notices this gorgeous, dark skinned woman a few seats away and he just has to go talk to her . turns out her son is on the field he’s been the one that he’s been eyeing the whole time . he puts his silver tongue to use and flatters her almost immediately. by the end of the night erwin just might have scored a new member of his team and a new stepson

;)) that needed to be said

but besides that, he finds that a lot of single moms often offer him a lingering glance wherever he may go. i mean who can blame them ?

i feel like back when he was younger and he used to play he was a lot like reiner. which kinda explains why reiner admires erwin so much , bc he sees the resemblance too. erwin was the “golden boy” in his days.

in high school, he played quarterback and in college he was positioned as center . bc again, him leading offense and yelling out commands to the quarterback is very on brand for him

levi and erwin first met at a college kickback (yes levi occasionally went to those bc he was on the football team, but he hated every minute of it) . they met at a bar , talked about stuff, discovered they both played ball and their friendship went from there. things got interesting when they say each other on opposite sides on the field the following saturday, their schools playing against each other . they continued to hang out and meet for drinks after that .

erwin is in love with the game it would take something really serious to force him to stop playing . that serious thing, was when he tore his ACL. the way he and the opposing team member charged at each other, you’d think they were in a brawl to the death. one wrong movement and a tackle to the ground and that was it. although his knee was burning with excruciating pain, erwin gritted his teeth and stood up on his own , stumbling to the bench with the help of other coaches and teammates. he didn’t think it was that serious so he didn’t get it checked out right away

it was this mistake that cost him . now he has a long lasting knee pain which prevented him from seriously playing. he can still do physical activity, it just took him a while to get back to it

naturally, he got inducted into the hall of fame early on in his nfl career— well, at least earlier than levi did

and like levi, he cared deeply for his players and their futures, on and off the field <3 he’s such a sweetie

あ taglist ━━ @yamaguchism @aaphroditeeeee @heartsfrommars @poohbea

[emanation-aura]

joker palace fic. im in love with your writing. please share some with us

Oh my god anon I'm so happy you asked!! I made some fantastic progress recently so I'm definitely going to talk about it now

So actually I have. um. two Joker Palace fics. One of them is based in the third semester and is basically what I talked about in this post: in short, due to some Wild Card Bullshit™️, instead of living in Maruki's altered reality in third semester, Joker actually forms a Palace as a cognitive defence and basically it becomes Goro and Sumi's job to get him out (like Maruki, he physically resides in it).

The other one is a post-game Palace au, where Joker forms a Palace out of the stress and debilitating isolation of prison. This one is the one I've been working the most on and it's at 11k words and counting— when I'm not even close to finishing it!! I'm having so much fun with it so I guess I'll talk about this one.

He thinks about the past year a lot. About the Metaverse, discovering it with Ryuji by accident, that terrifyingly free moment when he ripped Arsene from his face and felt as if he could challenge the world itself, and proceeded to do exactly that. About Personas and the Velvet Room (he tries dreaming for Lavenza, but if she exists and can hear him, she makes no reply,) and the final chains breaking under his command, all the anger and hatred burning off Arsene in waves of blue flame morphed into physical form: the cold, immovable steel of Satanael. He thinks about how the unyielding heart of Satanael, a strength unto its own, had slowly melted in the face of a perfect reality. How Maruki’s lies had snared everyone but him, and that unique, awful loneliness melting the devil’s limitless island of strength into Raoul, the trickster just as capable as Arsene but acting under no name but his own. How the truth and free will, his own real self, triumphed over the benevolent lies of yet another false god.

This Palace AU revolves heavily around the theming of first, second, and third-tier Personas (mostly Joker and Goro's). Like, we all know the pattern to the Persona awakenings in P5R, right— trickster-god-true self. Raoul is the original name of Arsene Lupin in Maurice Leblanc's series (btw did you know I actually bought The Adventures of Arsene Lupin, Gentleman Thief kinda for this fic), Hereward is the historical figures whose exploits inspired the tales of Robin Hood, etc. And like.

The Palace Joker has in this fic is a prison. But unlike the Velvet Room, it's not a prison where Joker is trapped; in fact, Cognitive Joker is the ruler of the Palace, and instead the stuff being locked away is memories. It takes the kinda passive/wallflower nature Joker has in the Confidant interactions to something more extreme: because Joker has literally nothing to do in prison but be trapped in his own head thinking, he starts categorising and compartmentalising his memories of the past year, wounds and traumas that are still fresh and raw.

And the crux is that he doesn't want to face his trauma. He locks away all his memories of the interrogation, of police brutality and being arrested and being deleted by Yaldabaoth out of existence... and most importantly, Akechi.

He had once said that Akira never allowed himself to be enslaved by things like human relations or past selves, leaving his heart forever free, but now Akira’s locked in juvie with nothing but his own misery for company, he thinks that’s wrong. The Velvet Room, taking after the shape of his heart was a prison, after all, and after that he’s simply traded one prison for another. (One might say that only the flesh remains imprisoned while the mind and heart remain forever free, but solitary confinement is a unique hell precisely because its containment reaches far beyond the flesh alone.)

So to tie these two tangents together, Cognitive Joker is the ruler of the prison Palace where he locks away his most painful memories, serving as a guardian/warden. The thing is, Cognitive Joker's true form is actually just Raoul.

Raoul is Joker's 'true self', but Joker's 'true self' has morphed in solitary confinement.

(Tighten the perimeter! It roars, golden mechanical wings spouting from its back, vivid red and gold trim dotting its jacket. Lock everything up. I will deal with him. There is no mask over its face, nor does there need to be. This is his true self: the lord of a fortress, the guardkeeper of a prison— the real occupation of gentleman thief, hoarding his hard-earned treasures.)

Instead of being a heart of a phantom thief willing to stand up to reality, Raoul has come to represent the worst side of a gentleman thief: hoarding his treasures (memories) and never letting them show. Hiding his trauma, even, from himself, just to try and convince himself that he's ok.

This has most been me rambling about the workings of this fic from behind the scenes, so anon, I'll treat you to two nice long passages now: the first one is the delivery of the calling card, and the second one is when Goro confronts Cognitive Joker— because this is also a shuake fic, by the way, although no actual romance happens yet beyond homoerotically beating the manifestation of your rival's heart to death and saving his soul from despair. Goro is the one to infiltrate the Palace (thanks to some intervention by Lavenza) and learn about all of the absolutely horrifying shit happening in Joker's mind.

(Continues on from right after the snippet in this post.)

Finally, Maruki speaks, jolting Akira out of his stupor. “Kurusu-kun… to tell you the truth, I didn’t plan on visiting you at all. I thought it would be better if I kept away from all of you, after causing you guys a great deal of hurt. I still intend to stay away, but—” Maruki pushes his glasses up, the reflective sheen hiding the strange, intense quality in his eyes. He reaches for his jacket pocket, pulling out an envelope. “Someone asked me to come today— I can’t tell you who, but they asked me to deliver something.” Akira’s breath catches, and his eyes dart to the invisible looking-glass that the security guards must be looking through. He’s not been allowed any communication from outside (either that, or he hasn’t received any, but he tries not to think about that). But Maruki catches his glance and shakes his head, in that soft, disappointed way he had shaken his head back when he carried Sumire in his arms and drove her Persona berserk. “It’s been cleared,” he says, still ever so soft. His fingers fumble, but he slides it under the glass partition like an immigration officer returning his passport. “And, before you read it… I understand you may be angry with me, which is fine. The important thing is that you read it and understand what it means.” He picks up the envelope with a curious hum, eyes hovering uncertainly around Maruki’s tense figure, a nervousness that is visible to him the same way bloodhounds pick up scent. Whatever it is, the therapist expects him to be angry, and will allow him. Short of a letter from— Akira wrenches the door shut, but the fading impression of brown hair and a thrown glove lingers anyway— short of him, nothing else could possibly faze him. Akira opens the envelope. Slips the small, black-and-red card out in one move. Flips it over— wrong, he seems. Flinches, at the words written there. I have not ever written one of these, and as such, find myself at a loss. I have no theatrics to demonstrate, no declaration of war, no enmity, even. Thus, I will simply state what happens next. Akira Kurusu, you have lost yourself in a fortress of loneliness, even going so far as to suppress yourself for the sake of others. You may call it protection and name it your guard, but that doesn’t change its essential nature: a prison of your own creation. Twice, now, has your heart been a prison. No more. I will steal your distorted desires without fail. No signature. Akira drops the card. Stands up suddenly, not even registering the sharp, panicked breaths he’s taking. Distantly, the blob of maroon in front of him stands up as well, saying something he can’t hear. No. Not possible. He cannot— he is (was?) a Persona user. He simply cannot have a Palace. Raoul screeches, long and loud, in his head. It used to be a deep, bellowing comfort, drowning out the silence in his head with a hearty laugh that wrapped around him like stage curtains, enveloping him in its warmth. Now it just sounds unhinged— the scream of a bat or the lone howl of a wolf, pounding through his skull with the force of a gunshot. No! It screams, pitched lower and deeper yet strangely similar to his own voice. When he closes his eyes, it’s not Raoul there but himself, with glowing, yellow eyes. The one person we allowed in— to betray us like this, not again! Throw him out, throw them all out! “...Kurusu-kun! Please, say something! I know it’s a great shock, so please try to calm down—” Akira’s eyes snap open. The world slots back into focus, colours swimming back to their original places. Maruki stares, eyes wide with stress. He can’t think. He can’t even feel. All he was and will ever be shrinks down into this point in time, crushing him under its immense weight. “I’ve heard the calling,” he says quietly. Any louder, and his voice will break. “And I understand what it means. Please leave now, Maruki.”

And for when Goro confronts Cognitive Akira/Raoul:

“You’re not Akira,” Goro states dumbly. He’d known, of course, that Cognitive Akira was not the real one— but it had the real one’s face and mannerisms, however foreign it had been. This, though… “You’re his Persona, Raoul.” “I am thou, and thou art I,” Raoul recites, punching a hole through Goro’s tattered heart. Goro had only seen Raoul once: in the final battle against Maruki, merciless curse damage and powerful sleep magic forming a potent combination against Azathoth. He’d assumed that Raoul was a new Persona Akira had fused, a powerful addition to Yoshitsune and Attis and the likes he’d brought to the battle. Yet… If this is the form Akira’s Palace Ruler takes, it can’t be just any old Shadow he picked up from the sea of collective unconsciousness. “Are you surprised, General of the Wake?” Raoul smirks, leaning back a little. He’s floating off the ground now, lounging on the air. “A phantom thief needs a place to hoard his treasures, for the hearts he steals cannot be treated like regular old trinkets.” Hereward rears his head, sensing his name. Goro thinks back to Hereward’s namesake— an ancient nobleman and leader of a resistance movement, nicknamed “Hereward the Wake”, whose exploits may have inspired the tale of Robin Hood. Raoul recognises not Loki, who he used for the longest, nor Robin, whom he had first, but Hereward— fancifully, neither a masked hero of justice nor a god, but just a man. The name comes to him easily. Goro read Sherlock Holmes in the run-up to his public deceit as Detective Prince, and thus, he also knows of its rival. “Arsene,” he says. It makes a terrible, hilarious amount of sense: who better to lead the Phantom Thieves than the quintessential phantom thief himself? “Arsene Raoul Lupin.” “Bravo,” Raoul claps, crimson eyes twinkling with blue flame. “Praise be to my rival, who has never failed to see through me. Yes, I am the gentleman thief of old, the one who took up the mantle of Arsene Lupin, master of a thousand faces, whose actions constitute my identity sufficiently*: Monsieur Raoul.” Goro pictures the original awakening, the blood pouring from Akira’s eyes. That blue-flamed trickster behind him, bursting with energy. Arsene Lupin. “I did not wish it to come to this,” Raoul says, his hands gesturing to the red flashing alarms at the complex. “Truly, mon corbeau. The gentleman thief keeps many secrets, but conversely, it is the detective on his heels who sees them all, not any of his closest acquaintances. That is why me and I have let you in, time and time again. Yet you end up betraying our trust to the very end. Let it be said that these precautions—” Raoul waves at the prison at large, demonic eyes wide with a sad kind of triumph— “have come to fruition at last.”

Goro flinches. He thinks about putting a bullet through Akira’s brain. The splatter, even though it had never been real. About reporting to Shido with glee that the Phantom Thieves were well on their way to falling into his trap, then going to Leblanc and playing chess with Akira, talking about Hegel and antithesis over rapidly-cooling cups of coffee. The deceit of Robin Hood and the truth of Loki. He has betrayed Akira. And while he’s been valiantly avoiding thinking about the boy ever since he woke up, the Palace— it has forced him to grapple with it. He cannot say he regrets his betrayal, nor can he say he enjoyed it, or felt it was necessary. Those things mattered to the Goro of the past, but not to him now, because— because— Because he lives with his sins every day. Wears them on his sleeve, because everyone else must know the true him before deciding whether to engage or not. He will not bend to their standards of social grace— you will live as yourself, sins and all, forever, Hereward says. It is not atonement nor punishment. It is your path to walk. This is still a realm of distorted desires, Goro reminds himself. He cannot start believing in the distorted rhetoric of the Palace Ruler. “It is still a prison,” Goro says calmly, perhaps the calmest he’s ever been since waking up in the god-forsaken place. “You think you are protecting yourself from the horrors of the world, from betrayal, from pain. But you are only locking it away so that you do not have to deal with it. You are not primarily protecting yourself from others— though I should think some part of that is true. No, you are trying to protect you from yourself.” Thinks of Maruki’s text. Done. Akira was defensive and cynical. Shocked by the calling card. Speaking as someone who’s been in contact with many traumatised teens over the past years… trying very hard to compartmentalise his pain, too. Raoul recoils, eye-like slits narrowing into a sliver of crimson. But Goro has already found the truth, written in video tapes of the “interrogation” and the partition falling on the engine room. This Persona might be Akira’s true self, not the invincible anonymity of Arsene Lupin, phantom thief, but it has distorted itself into a man chained to the prison of his heart, locking away pain and tragedy to fool himself into strength. Simply another mask, but not one aimed outwards. A mask placed over his soul in the hopes of fooling himself. “I know how this goes,” Goro says cockily, refusing to draw out the philosophical tangent, drawing his sabre. Raoul raises an eyebrow, or what passes for one on his face, and magic curls under his metallic talons. “You won’t go down without a fight.” “Indeed, detective.” Raoul sighs, languid and calm— like Akira, right before an ambush. “A thief cannot avoid confrontation forever. It is time, then, to use martial prowess to settle what trickery cannot.” Goro grins. This— this is familiar ground. This is adrenaline running through his veins, Loki’s enthusiastic bloodlust rippling into existence; the mask materialising over his features, the desire to rip, tear, kill. This is the same feeling their duel had evoked all that time ago, turned up to eleven. Truly, a no-holds-barred fight against the distorted ruler of Akira’s heart? The part of him that misses combat revels in this. (The part of him that played chess with Akira in Leblanc mourns it— not the battle, exactly, but the loss of what made him Akira.) Novel battles call for new tactics. Pressing a hand against his mask, Goro’s first command is not Loki, but— “Hereward! REBELLION BLADE!”

*whose actions constitute my identity sufficiently is specifically taken from Maurice Leblanc's tales on Arsene Lupin, where Lupin says:

"Why should I have a definite, fixed appearance? Why not avoid the dangers attendant upon a personality that is always the same? My actions constitute my identity sufficiently. [...] It is all the better if people are never able to say with certainty, 'There goes Arsene Lupin.' The great thing is that they should say, without fear of being mistaken, 'That action was performed by Arsene Lupin.' "

By the way, to any other writers of Joker Palace AUs out there using themes of masquerade/masks/theatre, with Joker represented as a person who has lost his identity by being a social butterfly and putting on 'masks' for other people: rock on!!!! That's literally exactly what the theme around Arsene Lupin is!!! He literally says "I myself have forgotten what I am really like; I no longer recognise myself in a glass" in the tales!!

Anyway. Yeah.

Here's your food, anon! Hope you enjoy. I plan on publishing this fic for Whumptober (if I finish it in time, haha), so keep an eye out for it then!

PS. if you want to read about the Third Sem Palace AU you'll have to give me some inspo, cause I'm a lil stuck >.>

[ciciceyina]

Touch Starved part 1

Pairing: Idol!Mingyu × Fem Carat!reader

Genre: Soulmate AU. Soulmates can't be apart from one another for more than a day otherwise they will become deathly ill. Fluff/comfort

Short Summary: Y/n has her life completely uprooted the day her and Kim Mingyu meet for the first time. Follow along as y/n moves to South Korea in order to be with her soulmate and soon realizes that the life she once fantasized about isn't all that she thought it would be.

Notes: Plus size/fem reader, reader swears a lot, soft Mingyu, reader suffers from severe depression and anxiety, golden retriever!Mingyu × black cat!reader relationship. In this first part the italic text is Korean being spoken by the boys. Inspired by other fic tropes l've read, but with my own spin on it. Hope you enjoy! This is the first time I'm publishing a piece of my work, pls be nice lol

  “We are going to get into so much trouble if they find us out here, without security mind you. I don’t know why I let you talk me into this. Hyung is gonna ring us out if he catches us.” Chan pulls his baseball cap down further hoping that would keep the eyes of the fans away. Who was he kidding? The fans would spot them out immediately, this was a suicide mission. 

 “Chan, you’re too uptight. Listen, I have to find her.” 

  Mingyu pulls his face mask up to round the corner outside of the venue. The two had slipped into some casual attire to not attract attention before sneaking out from the rest of the boys. Chan didn’t really believe that they fit in. Not with the two of them looking especially suspicious with face masks and ball caps barely covering Mingyu’s grown out hair. Carats are smart, there was no way they wouldn’t be noticed.

  “Yes that’s all fine and well but if it’s meant to be it’ll happen without you having to sneak around.” Chan tries to keep up with him as he’s speed walking his way through the crowd.

  “She doesn’t know I’ll be here, I have to take measures into my own hands. The clairvoyant specifically said that I would need to be careful. My window of time is slim. I just had Covid, most carats don’t even know I’ll be here. This is exactly what she was getting at.” Mingyu was getting extremely excited, the younger of the two could tell from the pep in his step. Chan grabs Mingyu's arm and turns him around.

  “And how exactly do you expect to pull this off? Say we make it around the venue without getting caught. Are you just going to start touching everyone in your path?” 

  “I was going to leave that part up to fate. I knew I needed to be out here at the very least. Give my lady in waiting a chance.” Chan could imagine the absolute shit eating grin that was under Mingyu’s mask. The man pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.

  “You’re so lucky I’m a romantic at heart.” 

                                        ~

  “Ahh I can’t believe this is real. I’m so excited guys.” You stare in wonder at the venue hall. They had set up a merch stand and a photo op with a cardboard cut out of the members of Seventeen. You bounce up and down with excitement, you’ve been looking forward to this moment for a long time. 

  Seventeen wasn’t even on your radar until two years ago, when your two best friends had shown you the tall goofy member and claimed he was totally your type. He totally was. Ever since then you fell completely hard for the one and only Kim Mingyu. Something inside of you, something you couldn’t quite explain, drew you to him. Of course you’ve had celebrity crushes before. Nothing new to you, but he just felt different. You were enamored. You chalked it up to K-pop’s highly effective way of selling the members looks and charms to your infatuation. 

  Besides Mingyu, the music that Seventeen produced spoke to your heart. To be here, seeing them live in concert, was definitely the highlight of your career. You needed this ultra boost of serotonin. Work has been a drag, you wish you could move on from your high school job. You have been stuck there for years. Seeing your old classmates move on and up to greater things made you a bit sad. But you didn’t have a clue of what you wanted from your life. This job was comfortable, but was comfortable all you wanted? 

  Pushing your thoughts away you reached into your bag to find the freebies you had made of the members. This was your favorite part, making other fans gifts. Seeing them coo at their biases made you feel seen. These were your people. You handed your friend the bags that were clearly sorted by unit. She was fairly new to the group, but was adamant that she be your little side kick. Having her hold the freebies was a way of teaching her. Although with all the chaos there was little room for teaching. 

  “I plan on handing them out in the merch line. If we’re not too overwhelmed then I’ll start approaching some other people, is that okay?” Marie nods.

 “You got it boss. Just let me know which group you need and I gotcha.” Marie was a newer friend of yours but it felt like you had known her forever. You were only a little sad when you first made contact, hoping she was the one. Sadly not, but you gained a friend you thought you’d have for the rest of your life. At least you had hoped so. 

 “So are we planning to hit up the merch line now or later?” Your other friend, Lauren, asked as she dragged along her twin sister towards the line. Catching her hint you nod and take the lead to the line, weaving in and out of all the other fans. 

  “Now to gain the courage to actually talk to others” You look to Marie and she nods.

  “You got this bestie, I believe in you.” 

                                          ~

  After the (fun) chaos that was the merch line, you had about a couple hours before the doors to the concert opened. The other three had made their way to the restroom. You decided to take a peek outside. It was a little overwhelming with the constant flow of traffic inside. Your antisocial side of your personality was rearing its head. You needed some alone time. 

  As you took in the outside of the arena, you noticed the tour sign on the digital banner. You decided that you absolutely needed to take a picture for the memories. As you did so, you noticed two guys looking a little out of place. They mostly looked confused. The taller one, gosh even with the ball cap and mask you could tell he was hot, was especially bug eyed. Wiping his head around as if he was scanning looking for something…or someone.

  Something inside of you told you to approach them. Maybe they needed help? Or maybe they were fans but were confused about where the entrance was. God knows you and your friends were at first, getting slightly yelled at by the security here. The shorter one made slight eye contact with you, yikes talk about being a creep y/n. You decide to walk up to them so that 

  “Hey, are you guys here for the concert?” The taller one looks spooked by you. The other one goes frigid. Maybe he was just as anxiety riddled as you are. 

  “Um, yes.” The taller one has such pretty eyes, you note to yourself. Maybe you could warm them up to you by being friendly. 

  “Would you like me to take your picture in front of the banner real quick?” You ask sweetly hoping you weren’t disturbing them. 

  The shorter one looks a little confused but the tall one nods his head yes. You reach your hand out for one of them to give their phone to you. They both stare at you. The shorter one, you decide is the younger one, jabs the other one in the side. 

  “Give her your phone.” The tall one hisses under his breath unbeknownst to you, still with your arm outreached. Finally the taller one hands over his phone. With phone in hand you take a quick snap of the two. A weird sense of deja vu hits you, trying to shake it off you rummage into your concert bag.

  “Do you guys want a freebie? Who are your biases?” Shuffling through the little pictures of the members,  you fan the pictures out for them to see. You loved seeing male fans, and you think the members do as well. The two look a little confused at first and the shorter one mumbles something to the taller one. They lean in to look at the pictures in your hands. 

  “Mingyu.” The taller one says, you smile. Shuffling for said man in your pile. 

  “Ahh Mingyu is my bias too, I’m actually kind of bummed that he won’t be here tonight. Here’s a cute one…” you hold out the freebie for him to take. 

  When he does his fingers lightly brush over yours and that’s when you feel it. What you have only imagined before, that first contact with your soulmate. His touch sends heat shooting up your arm and you can actually hear your heart beating faster. Shit. You look up into the man’s eyes to see them blown wide. So it’s not just you feeling this overwhelming sense of comfort. Like you knew this man already. Like you had spent every past life with him wrapped in his embrace. Just like that, hot tears are steaming down your face. Gosh, why were you crying? You didn’t want to cry, but you couldn’t stop yourself. What were the odds of you finding your soulmate at a Seventeen concert, were you dreaming? 

  “Who are you?” You ask as you reach to pull down the mask from his face. You had to see his full face, but before you could an absolute bulldozer of a woman plows into your side. You’re manhandled to the ground and you really wanted to cry now. It felt like she had cracked your whole spine, maybe cracked open your skull too while she was at it. You groan in pain as you try pushing the woman off of you. Who the fuck does she think she is. 

  As soon as she was straddling on top of you, she was yanked away by that strange man. No, not strange, your soulmate. He looked scared. Oh god, what if he didn’t want a soulmate. What if this was the last thing he could have ever wanted from you. Despite your worries you couldn’t help but get lost in those chocolatey brown eyes that you noted earlier. Soulmate, my soulmate. No, don't second guess this, of course he wants you. Why would he look so concerned otherwise? You couldn’t help but think you were so lucky, you could tell this man was extremely attractive. Way out of your league. If you hadn’t just got the wind knocked out of you, you’d laugh at yourself. 

  “Are you alright?!” He touches your arm and you sigh, feeling that warmth again. He sat crouched over you looking for god knows what. Probably some sign of injury. Maybe you had knocked your head a bit too hard, things were starting to become fuzzy. His touch is heightened when he comes across your bare skin, your heart about to burst from your chest. But you felt safe at the same time. You wanted to be cocooned in that feeling for the rest of your life. 

 “I’m fine.” You assure him with a small smile. You lazily reach up to hook your finger around his ear quickly taking in how soft his skin was. You quickly slid off the mask before your chance was taken away from you again. 

  “No way.” You exclaim in surprise. There was no way that your soulmate was Kim fucking Mingyu.

                                                           ~

  “Y/N!! Why did you just leave us like that, are you okay?” Marie strides into the secluded room that you were taken to after getting thrown to the ground. You watch as the twins pile in too. They look a bit upset. Probably with you.

  You hiss, the aid poked a sensitive spot on the back of your head. They had called on the venue to send over their medical staffing to come and check on you. The lady was deep in your hair trying to find the gash she suspected as the cause of your insane dizziness. You were chalking it up to meeting Mingyu, and finding out that he was who you were looking for your whole life. But that was probably the butterflies in your stomach. You laughed a little, this wasn’t seriously happening 

  “I’m fine guys, really. Just a little bump on the head.” You shoo your friends away from you. 

  “I wouldn’t say it’s just a little bump on the head, he told me she all but ran you down into the hard cement. You would be lucky to not have a concussion.” The lady commented. 

  “She was just doing her job. If anything it brings me comfort to know she would protect the boys in such a way.” Your friends look at you curiously. 

 “Boys?” Lauren asks, she crosses her arms and stares at you. You gulp. 

 “I’m like ninety percent sure that I’m currently in a dream. You won’t believe who my soulmate is.” You look at your friends, they all stare at you with weird looks. 

 “Who are you talking about?” Hanna asked. 

 “I think my soulmate is someone from Seventeen.” All three of them let out a little laugh. 

  “I think you hit your head too hard. Could she be having some delusions?” You pout at Lauren who only looks at the aid. Just like you said, it was unbelievable. You didn’t believe it yourself, but you’re sure it was him. 

  “I don’t like the look of this gash, you should be taken to the hospital to get looked at. That hard of a fall could lead to a concussion.” You shake your head and lean away from the woman. 

 “Absolutely not, I’m fine. I’m not going to miss this concert. I’ve been looking forward to it all year and plus I’ve spent too much money. No, there's no way I’m going to a hospital right now.” 

  “We can take her after the concert.” Marie tells the woman. She shakes her head. 

  “I don’t recommend waiting.” She retorted. 

  “That’s okay, I appreciate all of the help but I’m sure you have others to look after.” You grab your bag laying on the chair next to you. Standing up blood rushes to your head but you won’t show signs of discomfort in front of her out of stubbornness. 

  “C'mon, let’s go guys.” You pass the other three to the door which you swing open. Outside are a few men dressed in suits, one with a briefcase looking straight into your eyes. He made you nervous as he started to approach. 

  “Is she well?” He asks into the room that you just left. The aid slips past the four of you to his side. 

  “I told her that we should run some tests at the hospital and to bandage up the gash better, I don’t have all of the necessary equipment here.” The man looks disappointed at the news. 

  “I’m extremely sorry for this, Miss L/N. But please let us make it right by taking you to the hospital. We can talk there about your arrangements.” How does he know my name? 

  “I’m sorry, who are you?” Marie asks from behind your shoulder. 

  “Please forgive me, I’m Mr. Kang. I’m the head lawyer of Seventeen's legal team. We’ve been informed by Kim Mingyu that he and Miss L/N here are Soulmates. We really shouldn’t discuss more here, we will need to talk in a more private area. We can discuss Seventeen's Soulmate contract once we arrive at the hospital. I have some cars outside to take us there right now when you’re ready.” He holds his arm out to gesture to the door down the hall that you all stood in. 

  “Mingyu?!” Your friends shriek in unison.

   You cringe at the loud noise in your ears. Now you don't feel well. It feels as if your head would split in two at any given moment. You clutch at your face, fuck.

  “No fuckin way y/n, no fucking way.” Marie  shakes you and you feel like you’re going to hurl. 

  “Don’t do that. Can we sit down for a moment?” You lean into Marie  as your legs become a little wobbly and you feel slightly numb all over. She clutches at you.

  “Y/N what’s wrong?” 

  “I’m just a little sleepy..”

                                                             ~

  You could hear someone talking over you, but you didn’t want to open your eyes. Sleeping felt so nice, though you don’t remember when you laid down to rest. It didn’t really matter because your head felt amazing. Like someone had laid your head down on a cloud. Now that you think about it, it felt as if someone had their palm resting against your forehead. It didn’t matter, sleeping was more important. 

  “What’s wrong?” You could barely make out the voice. They sounded scared, you noticed the voice was deep. The voice didn’t bring up any memories. 

  “Sir we have to go, she needs to be seen.” 

   “No.” You were curious, of course, but opening your eyes seemed so difficult at the moment. Could they be quiet while you slept? It was very rude of them. 

  “Sir I’m not asking again, let go of her.” The warmth on your forehead shifted to your cheek. Shivers went down your spine, finally you cracked open your eyes. 

 Brown soft eyes were what you noticed first, then the large hand cupping your cheek. You knew this man, you spent hours focusing on him during dance rehearsals on your tv at night. It was Mingyu. Oh Mingyu. 

  “What are you doing here?” You ask softly, a small smile forms on your lips looking at his pretty face. God he was so attractive. He smiles softly back at you but turns his attention elsewhere as you hear someone else call his name. 

  Closing your eyes you return to your sleep. This was such a nice dream. You heard that same deep voice from earlier say something above you. Though you couldn’t understand what they were trying to say. It didn’t matter, you were sleeping, they could leave you alone. You needed your rest. You felt the warmth from your check fade but then again as something was pressed into your hand. You brought your hand up to your face to curl onto your side into a more comfortable sleeping position. 

                                                               ~

[campbyler]

ok. a genuine question. how do u guys write 20-30k *chapters* bc i will outline fics minutely or i will just let myself start writing based off a vibe & either way i will get 600 words out of maybe. two hours of work. on a good day with no distractions/interruptions, & i very much do not have an uninterrupted two hours to write very often, so you can imagine how slowly things get written T_T so i’m interested if there’s any aspect of any of your writing processes that really enables u guys to write so much or if it’s not really something you think about? anyways i really like ur guys’s work, & thank you for deciding to write for byler bc i know me and a lot of people enjoy it a lot. thanks!!

hello !! this is a super valid question and i’ll try my best to answer it for you 😗✌️

andi infamously writes a lot faster than thea and i do (she finished draft 1 of chapter 3 in like. two days. which was so scary. i’m in awe of her fr) but she has also spent a lot of time editing ch3 so it’s definitely not like these chapters are publish-ready in a short amount of time by any means! it took thea a couple of months total to fully write + edit ch1 and it took me about 3.5 weeks to write ch2 and another two weeks to edit it which is part of the reason we’ve spaced out our posting schedule like we have — we put a lot of effort and care into these updates and we want to give ourselves as much time as possible to get ahead before all 3 of us inevitably get so super busy with work and/or school in the fall!! so while we do write a lot, please don’t think we are so insanely speedy about it because unless we are having Really Good Writing Days, that’s definitely not the case. sometimes we do have days where we are really in the zone and write more than usual, but at least for me, this is so so so rare. whatever i write in this time gets heavily edited because so much of it was nonsensical brain vomit LOL

as far as writing process goes, i think one of the things that motivates us a lot is that we genuinely do just talk about this au constantlyyyyy like we’re always coming up with silly little hcs or drawing for it or adding to the Lore ™️so we’re always getting inspired to write! all three of us are definitely people who use writing as a way to relax or even reward ourselves after a long day; we would probably die if we had to go too long unable to :/ messages like “i can’t wait to get home and write after work today” or “i’m going to write a little bit of ___ before bed because i deserve it” are very commonly found in our gc because we really just look forward to it so much! as for our scary word counts, i feel like there is a lot of worldbuilding in this universe specifically, and pacing is really important to us — we want to make sure introductions and set-up to a scene and character interactions are meaningful and flow naturally, and building tension (which is a hallmark of this fic hehe) does take some time, which can definitely add up word count-wise.

for the most part, none of us usually have a solid few hours to sit and write either (unless it’s on our days off or after work if we’re not too tired) and we get a lot of writing done in chunks! we hold each other accountable for short check-ins (“ask me for a snip in 30 minutes”) which is super helpful when you’re stuck, because it kind of forces you to get Something down without worrying if it’s super polished and edited and perfect. if you’re writing on your own, something i’ve started doing lately is setting a 15 minute timer and just seeing how much i can get done in that time, and then setting another and doing it again (up until however much time you have to write that day). i’ve found that the artificial deadline helps break the monotony of sitting in front of your computer for Hours on end with nothing to show for it bc TRUST we’ve all been there and it sucks so bad 😔✊

this got super long so i apologize but i hope at least a little bit of it was helpful! it definitely helps that we are constantly feeding into each other (i.e: having brainrot) and offering inspiration and advice, which does wonders for creative flow tbh. we’re definitely not cranking these chapters out as quickly as people might seem to think — thea started chapter four, which won’t be posted for about a month, maybe a week or two ago. i just started chapter 5 — about 6 weeks away — yesterday lol so we do take our time! don’t be scared by the giant chapters, we just had a lot of content we wanted to include in each one and are in too deep to take anything out 🥳🥳 thank you for the question! good luck with your writing we believe in you 🫡

[it-happened-one-fic]

Rumba - That Unfamiliar Side - Strictly NRC Dancing

Author Notes: I'm posting early because I don't trust myself to remember to do so later. Today has been a little busy. But anyway, this fic was nerve-wracking because it is always nerve-wracking to write this character. I really want to do him justice but that is easier said than done. The dance in this fic was heavily inspired by Courtney and Gev’s Rumba to “Wishing on a Star” by Rose Royce from Season 4 of So You Think You Can Dance. Just like the rest of this AU/series the reader is female for this fic. I hope you enjoy!

If you would like to read more this AU/series, the fics can be found here: Strictly NRC Dancing AU Master-List

Type: Dance AU/fluff/kind of romantic/female reader

Word count: 1419 words

We genuinely seemed to be unable to get out of the Latin/rhythm dances since we were doing the second one in a row for this class. But this one was, according to both Trein and Crewel, different from the others. It wasn’t as aggressive, fast-paced, or energetic as the samba or the paso doble. 

No, this one was a slower, slinkier dance that was sometimes referred to as the Dance of Love. This time, I was dancing the rumba.

A dance that required a heavy amount of intimate, non-verbal communication between partners. The results could be both beautiful and steamy depending on who performed it. But my first partner of the day was Floyd, so steamy was definitely not to be expected.

Not that Floyd was a bad partner. In fact, he already knew how to perform several different dances and, according to him, swing was best.

I wasn’t surprised by that statement though, since this wasn’t the first time I’d danced with Floyd. There had been numerous times when I would enter the Monstro Lounge and be swept into some sort of dance. Be it swing, disco, or something else entirely.

Floyd was definitely well-versed in dancing, and I could not deny that the rather chaotic young man was also elegant in his own strange sort of way. Though he didn’t necessarily show it through his everyday motions like his twin, Floyd did have a certain innate grace, which often came out to play at the strangest of times.

My only concern was whether or not he would get bored and ditch part of the way through the performance. After all, since the rumba was a slow dance, even with Floyd’s innate love for dancing, he could grow bored. But choreography practice had wiped that fear from my mind. 

During practice, it quickly became evident that Floyd was not going to abandon our performance. If only for the choreography Crewel had devised for us, with Floyd allowed to make his own contributions. 

So I was, if anything, excited when it came time to perform. 

The room was dark as the music started, and I sat on Floyd’s shoulder with one arm outstretched towards the ceiling and the sky beyond it. I smiled to myself as I recalled Floyd’s earlier teasing about whether or not I was afraid of heights. 

I couldn’t deny that this was indeed incredibly high in the air considering I was just sitting on a man’s shoulder. But then Floyd was incredibly tall. Either way, I wouldn’t be up here for long.

I leaned back with my arms reaching back over my head as I arched my back and began to slowly slide back and over Floyd’s shoulder as I grasped his leg. His arm wrapped around me, supporting me as he helped me along and down to the floor, where I was then lying on my back, looking up at the young man who now towered over me.

I held his gaze as he leaned over, a slight grin appearing on his face as he reached down and pulled me back up to my feet like I weighed absolutely nothing. I smiled back briefly, but we didn’t stay still long before we started across the floor. 

My hand was still in his as I sashayed along the floor, exchanging glances with the young man as I followed his lead.

He pulled me along in front of him, and I twisted, almost like I was trying to keep him in my field of vision, only for him to rapidly twirl me. But such rapid motions were a big part of what made the rumba such an interesting dance. 

While it was a mostly slow dance, it was interspersed with sudden rapid motions that, if done incorrectly, made for a jarring effect. But, when they were done correctly, they created interest and a sense of intensity that was found in many of the Latin/rhythm dances.

But that rapid pacing didn’t last long as we slinked across the floor with our hands interlocked but our bodies a fairly wide distance apart. Then I spun once more, put my back to Floyd, and leaned against him. Allowing him to lean backwards with me before I knelt in a low spin and was pulled back up into a dip in yet another surprisingly fast transition of positions.

That didn’t last long either though, since I was soon back upright and entering a closed hold for the briefest of moments. I let my gaze flick up and meet his just before we separated and I danced across the floor and away from him.

The song built as I rejoined him though, twirling across the floor and kneeling as he grasped my arms and spun freely with me in a low hold. 

It was then that the song truly began to pick up in tempo as we raced towards the climax of both the dance and the song. I leaned back, relying wholly on him to support me as we spun, before I straightened and locked my arms around his neck in a close embrace while he pulled me backwards across the dancefloor.

It was here that we stayed our closest. In a dance where we had been largely separate, our bodies were now plastered together and our breaths mingled in the minimal space that was between us as we moved our hips in the manner that rumba was so well known for.

 Those figure eight patterns that added the sensuality to our dance as we both dipped closer to the ground.

But then the song relaxed once more and I spun out before Floyd whipped me back around. My leg wrapped around his waist as my arms wrapped, almost instinctively, back around his neck. 

 We stared at each other for a beat and I realized that this was a Floyd I was less experienced with. This one retained a certain seriousness even as his mismatched eyes sparkled at me. 

And then that brief moment of realization came to an end as he slowly, and with incredible gentleness that I hadn’t known he was capable of, lowered me to the ground with me still looking up at him. He followed me down though, lowering himself into a kneeling position as he looked down at me with an indefinable expression.

The crowd erupted in applause, and I blinked, briefly startled at the sudden, loud noise that surrounded us. But in truth, I had somehow managed to forget about our audience’s presence.

 At some point I’d become so totally wrapped up in the dance that it had just been  me and that unfamiliar side of Floyd which now disappeared as he tugged me to my feet with a wide grin on his face. 

Floyd had, to me, always been a fairly free being who was unpredictable, but ever true to himself. And I suppose in that way he was like the rumba itself. A technically slow dance that would suddenly have a fast motion to accent its overall mood. Ever true to itself and, when executed properly, mesmerizing to see.

As I glanced over at the now grinning merman on legs, who was once more his usual happy self that moved to his own rhythm, I found myself smiling. Who knew Floyd was capable of such delicacy and intentness?

It truly had felt like I was the only thing in his world while we danced. And, embarrassingly enough, I could say the same was true for me. During our performance, it had just been me and Floyd, with nobody else in the world.

I couldn’t deny that, in an odd way, I was still slightly dazed as we received our scores. I didn’t even realize that we’d passed until Floyd had picked me up and was hugging me while he spun, laughing all the while.

Startled laughter bubbled out of me while Trein scolded us both, telling Floyd to put me down so the rest of rumba class could be graded.

There was a pout on Floyd’s face as he complied, mumbling something about how everyone else may as well call it quits since ours was bound to be the best performance of the evening.

But then he glanced my way, a distinct sparkle in his mismatched eyes as he gave me one final squeeze of a hug and wink before releasing me and walking away. Assuring me all the while that he would watch the rest of my performances before he ditched.

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[peevishpants]

hi!!! first of all i’d like to say that your art is so wonderful it tastes like grapes. a nice crunchy grape

i’m not making sense but anyway- i wanted to ask- i love your chapter designs and outfits, esp your overall vibe when you’re doing your botw modern au stuff. What’s your inspo?

hi & thank you for finding my art delicious! A nice grape is so precious ^^

Not sure what you mean by chapter designs? Like my outfitober stuff? (I did number them in the artwork, maybe that is what you are referring to by Chapters hehe) but to answer your question based on that assumption, I get inspired a lot by just stuff I like! I think tbh the majority of what makes an artist special just comes down to what they like and what their tastes are. I like aquatic life, I like ceramics, and I like designing stuff that is heavily referential to the thing they're inspired by because it means I get to do fun research into the thing and then come out the other end knowing more about it! Let me know if you were talking about smth else re: chapter designs tho ^^"

I haven't really drawn much zelda art recently beyond guesting in zines, but my zelda university AU comics/doodles are definitely mostly inspired by my own academic experience + the zelda games of course. University as an institution is peak comedy. Everyone goes a little bit nutty in there, especially if they're also terminally online during their studying years. Also I have an intense bias for Groose from skyward sword so I end up making most of the comics about him HAHA

[cinnamon-bunni]

Once More, With Needles

Rating: T Word count: 4.3k Relationship: Gen (Medic & Scout) Warnings: Canon-typical gore (like, as much as you'd expect from Medic), body horror

Read it on Ao3!

Hey there! This fic was written for @a-scary-lack-of-common-sense's AU, their Job Switcheroo AU! I was heavily inspired by this AU and just fell in love with the characters, so of course I just had to write something <3 I decided to go with Medi-Scout and Engie-Med, as they were the first ones i fell in love with (but honestly, all of the characters are already so good <33) If you haven't, i definitely recommend checking out the AU, as well as OP's art in general! He makes some great stuff :)

I really hope you enjoy! &lt;3

Medi-Scout watched the baseball game that was played on the small TV that sat precariously on his medical cart–Boston Red Sox versus Detroit Tigers–with vague interest. In all honesty, with the way his cap was pulled down far enough that it obscured half of his view, and how he slouched in the cheap office chair with his feet propped up on his medi-pack, he was on the verge of just falling asleep due to boredom. Other than the few times the Tigers did some outrageous play against the Sox, the game really couldn’t keep his attention all that well. He was bored out of his mind–hell, he wouldn’t even mind having someone to dissect; just open them up a little bit, poke around a bit, until his boredom was cured by something else.

Thankfully, his favorite patient (read: the one who always tested his patience) knocked on the open door before letting himself in. The clicking of his boots against the cement ground had warned Medi-Scout before his voice could say anything. He raised his cap upwards a bit to see, and sure enough, Engie-Med was there, creepy-ass smile and all, and was fast approaching him.

“Germs, good morning!” the man greeted. His hands were behind his back as he approached, until he planted himself next to the operating table. The overalls he wore were drenched in dried blood–which was hard to tell, because they were already a brown color, but the splashes of red of fresher blood made it easier to tell. They’d been like that for a few days now from what Medi-Scout had seen, and he wondered how long the newly named Engineer had been working on himself. His face, other than that huge fucking smile, portrayed unease. Ludovic always seemed to know how to creep someone the fuck out. “I hope I am not interrupting anything?”

Germs’ eyes darted back to the TV. “Sorry man, but as you can see, my time is being used up with some very important work. Have a full schedule over here, if it ain’t obvious.” The sarcasm didn’t drip off of his voice, it was fucking pouring off of it.

“Good!” Ludo replied, voice ever chipper, “Because I need a medical professional to look at something for me–a bit of a problem in my hand, you see.”

Germs sat up and stretched his hands overhead. “‘Kay then, just take a seat on the table, I’ll take a look at it.” Ludo complied, lifting himself onto it, while Germs stood up to stretch his legs. The newly named Medic always did enjoy seeing what monstrosity Engie-Med would create with his own body. The man, last Germs had seen, was cutting himself open to stuff in some titanium in his body, as well as drafting blueprints for more complicated contraptions he wanted inside of him. It was interesting, in kind of a weird, fucked-up morbid way, but a part of Germs kinda enjoyed to see the work Ludo would do–even if it did always had to be him to clean up the mess.

“Alright then Ludo, lay it on me: what sorta damage did you do this time?” he asked, walking over at a leisurely pace. “Did you put some more things in that arm of yours? Let me guess–mini saw blade? Another pair of scissors? How about a can’a Bonk for me?”

Ludo laughed and shook his head. “No, I am afraid to say it is a bit more…complicated than that. You know, blood problems, things like that.”

Medi-Scout frowned, and made a motion for the other to show him his hands. “What, as in problems with circulation or somethin’? What could’ve you done that woulda done tha–holy fuck what the fuck happened to your fucking hand?” 

Ludo’s smile never faded, but more creases of worry appeared on his face. “Aheh. Well, you see, as I said: blood problems. After doing a bit of work on it last night it seems that the hand has lost blood! And a lot of it.”

A lot was an understatement. Ludo’s right hand, after what seemed to be poorly done jobs of setting and resetting the bone, was crooked from healing incorrectly. His fingernails were nothing but shortened and cracked from obvious miscare, and the cuticles were all bloody and ripped to shreds, open wounds that bled from mistreatment. There were pieces of metal that came out from underneath his skin on the back of his hand, only to dip and go back, without a doubt for the weird experimental shit that he had inside of his hand that went up all the way through his arm. All of that, however, was not the worst part. The entire right hand was shades of a darkened purple and gray. The fingers looked the worst, with a dark, almost-black color filling them instead of a normal, healthy color that a person should have. Holy fucking shit.

“What the fuck happened to the circulation? You do know you need that, right? That you need blood for your hand to work? Because it’s kinda essential for your hand to work, you moron.”

Ludo scoffed, but there was no anger in his voice, or anywhere on his face. “Of course I know I need it! That’s why I came to you!”

Germs stared at the hand for a few more seconds, then looked up to the other man. He wasn’t quite sure what emotion he was feeling, but his quiet “what the fuck” was the best explanation to what was going through his head. He gently grabbed the hand, the slow movement giving room for Ludo to say anything, before turning and examining the hand. From the wrist he could see large, horribly done stitches to keep the skin together–not from injuries or cuts that were healing, but because those were the spots the items would pop out of from his arm, and it was a way to keep it closed until he needed something like a knife to come out from the contraption that was inside of Ludo’s arm.

Germs pushed up the sleeve–he struggled a bit, the buttoned-up cuff that was too form fitting being hard to push up against the fucked up forearm, but Ludo used his other hand to properly grab onto the dress shirt sleeve and bring it all the way up to his shoulder, to where it bunched up against his red sweater vest.

The engineer’s arm wasn’t in any better condition than his hand. It was littered with long, fucked up stitches, in similar condition of his wrist. All of course were there for the same reasoning, to have a spot where the tools could come out of his arm, but jesus fuck was it hard to look at. The purple-gray tone to his arm certainly didn’t make anything better.

“Well, my guess–just a thought, by the way, just a random guess here–is that you have a bit too much shit in your arm. Just a bit.” Germs poked and prodded at the arm, feeling around the stitches. “And this stitching job is great, by the way. Better than mine, yeah?”

Ludo’s smile never faded as he crooked his head to the side. “You are being sarcastic.”

“Of course I’m being fuckin’ sarcastic! Dammit, it’s like everyone here is useless without me.” He sighed, and let go of the arm. “I don’t even know how you expect me t’fix this. Unless you already got some sorta plan-”

“I do, actually!” Germs watched with a blank stare as Ludo fished out folded up, bloodied blueprints from the front pocket of his waist apron, held down by a belt. He then held it out for the medic to grab, a friendly yet terrifying smile on his face. “I began drafting them this morning,” he said as Germs started to unfold the print, “and I finished it just a few minutes before coming here.”

The blueprints were hard to read. A mix of the folded creases, bloodied spots, and poor handwriting made Germs squint to read it. He soon realized that the majority of the writing–what he could decipher, anyway–was in German. The only English that was written went along with the circle that was around the design of the machinery and an arrow pointing at it, reading “put around + in upper arm!” which was finalized with a crudely drawn smiley face.

He looked back up at the engineer. The smile on his face was wide, and the creases of worry grew. “Well, I never said the design was well-made, but I assure you that the real thing will be better in quality. It will simply just direct more blood into my arm and hand and sort of–aheh, push its way into my hand. It will work, trust me.”

“It better,” he said, handing the blueprints back over. “I ain’t putting some faulty machinery in you because you think it might work.” But in all honesty, Germs wasn’t all that picky; he trusted Ludo, believe it or not, and if he said it was safe enough to use, then Medi-Scout wouldn’t have too much hesitancy with stuffing random shit into the man’s arm.

“So, how ‘bout this,” the medic continued. He pointed at the top of the upper arm. “I put your weird machine thingy here,” he trailed down the arm, “and all the weirdo blood-pumping-slash-forcing-blood-in lines inside. And then I can even fix up your shitty stitches for you! Free of charge.”

“Yes, how kind of you,” Ludo replied, “truly, I’d be useless without you.”

It was sarcasm, but Germs still smirked at the praise. “Yeah yeah, I’m amazing. Now go get that thingamajig already and let me see it.”

The pair worked well into the evening. Dinner had been missed, with Mikel knocking on the clinical doors and shouting that they could get leftovers in the kitchen once they were done. Ludovic yelled back in acknowledgement as he sat on the medical table, and Germs was busy opening up his arm. From his wrist all the way up to his upper arm, Medi-Scout cut him open, and Ludo only twitched a few times in pain.

“I stopped feeling things in that hand after the first few implants. Especially in the fingers,” the engineer explained with a smile. “Probably should have thought there was something wrong. Oh well!” Germs had no idea how the hell to put Ludo’s contraption into the arm. Germs kept looking for the right place to start, bringing it close to the shoulder, only to bring it back to him again. “It’s simple enough, Germs. I made it with you in mind, afterall.”

“Yeah okay, thanks chucklefuck. That makes everything easier for me.” Germs stared at the arm for a few seconds before giving a low grumble. The main module of it–a circular thing, with a clasp that let it open and close with ease, and a shit ton of wires connected to it–was supposed to be on the arm, right below the shoulder, where it could then do whatever the fuck it’s supposed to do with Ludo’s blood. The main problem Germs was finding were the wires; he was sure there was some sort of intricate way Ludo expected him to place the wires, and he didn’t want to fuck that up.

He quickly changed his mind about this in about three seconds though, as Ludo gave a quiet, “any day now, Germinoma.” So, Medi-Scout clasped it on the arm, and started shoving wires just about everywhere and anywhere he’d felt would need the blood. Which were a lot of places. Jesus fuck the arm hadn’t even bled for the whole ass five minutes it’d been open. Again: cool, but in a fucked up, morbid way.

Hooking up the blood circulation system and making sure it actually did its job was a bit of a pain in the ass. In the end the wires and other mechanical bits were just about everywhere–many pieces not so much inside of the arm anymore, but out in the open, with metal openings back into the arm and to hold them in place, where everyone could see. It was not a pretty sight, not at all; the stitches had disappeared thanks to the work of the medi-gun, but they’d only come back after a few uses of the arm. It was still a disgusting color, but they watched with bated breath, and both released it with mirroring sighs when Ludo’s arm went from a purple-gray color into a slightly less purple-gray.

Plus, his cuticles started to bleed. Which was only a good sign.

“Wonderful!” Ludo exclaimed, hopping off of the table. “Danke, my friend. You have helped me a great deal.”

“Yeah yeah, I know, I’m pretty great,” Germs said. He couldn’t help the proud smirk he had on his face–he supposed in the same way Engie-Med couldn’t help the crazed smile he always wore–and Medi-Scout, not for the first time since he picked up the job as the resident medic, felt a satisfied feeling deep in his chest. One that told him that this was right.

“Just come back over if it gives you any trouble. Or if you find some other way to fuck up your hand again.”

Ludo rolled his wrist in slow movements. “I might just take you up on that offer,” he said. He shot Germs one last creepy-as-fuck smile. “But for now, good night. Hopefully dinner was kept warm for us.”

Germs waved the engineer off before turning his attention to cleaning up the infirmary a bit; he could get dinner afterwards, once he was done shoving the medical utensils back into random drawers and kicking the medi-gun back into its place of being right in front of the TV. It didn’t take all that long really, and he was able to spend the rest of his night in blissful boredom. He was also able to spend the next day the same way. A quiet day-in was nice, if not a little slow. But he had the whole day to himself, and Germs spent that day without anyone busting the door down. It was pleasant, if not boring. But those days were few and far in-between, so he relished it as much as he could.

It was only the day after that did Ludo knock on his door again. As a formality of course, as he entered right away once he did.

“Oh. Back already?” Germs asked. “Two days–that must be a new record or somethin’.”

“Aheh. Well, what can I say? I’ve been busy.”

“Which is great for me, by the way. I loved so much how I had to jury-rig your blood system thing, that I am ecstatic that I have to do it again. Really brightens my day, you know.”

A forced laugh came from Ludo. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m afraid it is my other hand that will need attention.

A sigh left Germs. “Alright, what did you do now?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Engie-Med, with excitement clear in his face, walked with a pep in his step to reveal left hand. The once perfectly normal left hand was now not so perfect.

“Dude. What the fuck is that?”

“Needles!” he exclaimed. The hand, while still a natural and alive hue, was pale from blood deprivation. All of his fingers, sans index, had a metal piece that protruded at the end of his fingers–almost as a covering of sorts, or perhaps a replacement of the fingertips. Before Germs could ask him to clarify, thin and very sharp needles popped out of the metal pieces. Ludo did indeed gave himself needles in his fingertips. The fuck.

“They’re retractable,” Ludo explained, not retracting them. Which, yeah, was fine because Germs totally felt fine with the engineer moving the hand around and flexing the fingers with the pin-point needles inches away from his face and felt perfectly safe with this engineer and his dangerous body modifications. “And I am also planning on maybe having screwdrivers too!”

“Dude, your hand is gonna be fucked up, just like your other one,” Germs said, shoving down the urge to admit that that sounded like a pretty cool idea, despite all of the obvious health risks there was with shoving metal inside of a human body. He didn’t focus on it, because Ludo’s right hand, the one decked out in crazy shit, caught his attention once again. “Like, what the fuck happened to it over the two days?”

“Oh! Funny story actually.” Ludo gestured with his still-unretracted-needles hand to the blood circulation system. “You will be very happy to hear that it is working! My hand has been filled with a lot of blood.”

“Okay yeah cool, that doesn’t explain why your fingers are fucking dying.” Ludo frowned at that, and looked down at the hand, while Germs hadn’t stopped staring at it. The right hand, still crooked and now with new, fresh stitches made by the engineer, had a healthy-ish hue to it. It was certainly better than it had been before, but the fingers were still a dark gray color.

“Yes, I sort of ran into that problem a bit ago. The hand is getting plenty of blood and yet,” Ludo looked back up to the medic and shrugged. “Nothing. Still dying.”

“Which shouldn’t be happening,” Germs insisted. He looked back down at the hand–it really was still a healthy color. Yeah, there was a bit of an abnormal purple hue to it, and sure, the cuticles bled far too much and were probably filled with too much blood, but it was fine. What was not fine were the still darkened and dead fingers.

“And you didn’t even get to shove needles into those ones,” he commented.

“I know! Truly a shame.” A sigh left Ludo. “Perhaps one day I can add something else to them that can make them shine.”

“You know I think that’s probably just adding to the problem. But yeah no, go ahead and add more shit. Sure it’ll do wonders to that hand of yours.”

“But! That is not why I came to see you, my friend.” He raised his left hand up, and finally retracted the needles back, making it look at least vaguely normal. “It is this one that I need you to look at. I’m dealing with a bit of a, uh…aheh, jam, so to say. At least I think it is, anyway.”

Germs blinked. “Jam?”

A smile grew on the engineer’s face. “Well! As you can see, my forefinger was the only one I did not modify to have a needle point. That is because I decided to make it into a finger gun!” He even formed a little gun with his hand, giving a “pew pew!” for emphasis. His smile became one of worry. “And it is not firing, no matter how much I mess with it. It is harder to mess with it with only one hand, I’ve found. So why not find someone who can use both his hands and is already acquainted with my work? A second pair of eyes and opinions, so to say.”

A sigh left Germs. “Aright, yeah man. Just get on the table already.”

The workload this time, when compared to jury-rigging the blood circulation contraption, was quite small. Especially since Germs decided he’d look at the hand with dying fingers another day. Ludo could wait like twenty-four more hours, it’d be fine.

Cutting into the hand revealed a shit ton of titanium lining along his bones and muscles. Not as much compared to the other hand, mind you, but Germs was sure it was still an unhealthy amount. He messed around with the mechanisms for the needles for a short bit–Ludo watched silently as he did this, with the needles coming out and back and out and back as Germs stared with a slight fascination with it all.

The same could not be done with the index finger. It had metal wiring and such, just like all of the other fingers, and yet nothing happened when he poked or prodded at it. Germs frowned. He rolled in the stool that he sat in to get a different view of the arm; he pushed to get the squeaky wheels to move, until the hand in question was directly in front of him, with the fingers pointing toward him. He kept poking, even trying to move the different metal bits to see what’d happen. A piece–which Germs guessed was some sort of piston–was stuck, and didn’t move as the other counterparts of the piece had.

“Ich habe es dir gesagt, it is jammed." Germs glared at the man, who met him with a smile. 

“Gee, thanks. Your insight really helps.” The man simply shrugged, and Medi-Scout focused back on his work. He tried more pressure, more force in moving the piece–he was met with nothing but a bit of fidgeting from the engineer. “The hell could’ve gotten stuck in there?” Ludo gave another shrug as an answer, and the medic sighed. “Cool, that’s just great.”

A lot of yanking and pulling on the piece made Germs the victor, only by brute strength on the thing. In the end he moved it a few centimeters backwards, but that was good enough. He was able to poke and prod in this new space, which worked just fine with him.

“Wait, I think I got it.” Germs narrowed his eyes as he focused on his work, with Ludo craning his neck forward as much as he could to look over.

“Dude, what the fuck.” Germs worked harder, hunched down closer to the arm to get a better look. “Is that a fucking bone shard?” In the small space was, indeed, a small bone shard. He was able to pull it out, thankfully; it was drenched in blood, but Germs knew his way around the human insides enough to easily recognize it. “What the fuck are you even doing to your body?”

“Science,” Ludo answered with ease. His smile never left his face–in fact, it grew with his answer. “And engineering. Sometimes the things in the body get in the way.”

“You do know that you still need your bones to, I don’t know, function, right?”

Ludo simply laughed as a response. What took place next only took seconds to happen, but both men watched with alert eyes. How, as Medi-Scout attempted to move the metal-piece-possibly-piston back into place, started to activate, now with nothing in its way. They watched as the piston moved further and further, and followed it by an ear-splitting bang. And they realized in horror that the finger gun did indeed work now, as blood started to soak the bottom half of Medi-Scout’s shirt.

“Fuck!” Ludo was quick to pull his hand back away from Germs. Germs, hand down and putting pressure against the wound, pushed with his feet to propel himself to a few feet away from the table; the wheels shrieked loudly from the abuse, but it fell on deaf ears. Arriving at the medi-pack, he kicked the backpack piece hard, and strained to get the gun portion to point it at himself.

“What the fuck, dude! You fucking shot me, asshole!”

That damned smile of his never left the engineer’s face, but at least it was one of worry and concern. “Aheh. At least we fixed the problem, ja?”

The medi-gun slowly closed up the wound, though it did not do anything about the pain, nor the bullet that was still inside of him. “Oh yeah, thank God we did that. Good thing nothing bad came out of it, yeah? I’m having a grand ol’ time, asshat, if you couldn’t tell.” Germs held the medi-gun against his lower abdominal region for a few more seconds before pulling it back. He felt around the area–no blood or open wounds, but the bullet was still inside of him, which caused only a bit of internal agitation. It would be fine, he was sure of it.

He used the gun to also close up Ludo’s arm, which somehow hadn’t bled out that badly despite Ludo’s movements with said open arm. Which was a shame, because a major loss of blood would’ve been just fine with Germs, just as a small form of payback for fucking shooting him. 

Ludovic rolled his wrist and stretched his fingers as Germs put away the medi-gun. “Well then! With that figured out, I can finally move onto my next projects. What do you think about me adding a mini saw blade to my right pinkie?”

Germs blinked, and realized that Ludo was waiting for an answer. “You do know that I won’t help you with it, right?”

“Ja, ja, of course.” Germs hated that they both knew it was a lie. If Ludo needed help with anything, especially if it pertained to the human body, Germs would be there. It was his job as the medic after all. Besides, he found joy in the weird work.

“And I’m guessin’ there’s no way I can get you to be more careful so you don’t shoot me again?” Ludo’s smile grew, and Germs already knew the answer to his question.

In the same vein of Germs’ joy of being a Medic, he knew Ludo would never stop being an Engineer. Not from creating things and stuffing said things inside of himself, probably not until he ran out of room in his body for the modifications–even then, Germs had a feeling that he would reach out to the other mercs to continue his work. But the engineer reveled in his work, and took extreme joy in fucking up his body. 

Both had found gratification in these roles that they played. So Germs wouldn’t ask Ludo to stop, never seriously–and besides, Ludo was arguably his favorite patient. Even with the visits that ended with Germs being shot, no he will never forgive the engineer for that, he still found joy in the work. The whole team did, they loved their newly discovered roles. So Engie-Med would always put machinery inside of him, and Medi-Scout would always be there to be apathetic and sarcastic towards the whole thing, despite loving any chance he had to show off his skills.

And he was perfectly content with that.