#another recycled moodboard

[thev01dd]

"Unholy Priests, a band that took the country by a storm, just had to strengthen their security detail team after a stalker incident involving one of their members (...) the police arrested the culprit but the band's record stated that they won't risk another incident and that the safety of their artists are a priority (...)"

au!moodboard (24/?)

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

Diamond Star Halos moodboard- 2/15: Kick

“You’re in my head again, and I know where it’s goin’, I know I’m gonna need another taste of your poison, You’re the pulse to my motor- my electric desire, You’re my star-blazed rhythm- let me dance in your fire.”

[coquettetoji]

{💌} ARMIN ARLERT MOODBOARD

★ general armin hcs ★

— sweetest soul who is 100% down to earth, will scold you for not recycling your fork into the correct trash can and will pick up plastic / any trash on the ground

— nerdy golden retriever boy, and is the biggest people pleaser

— played hockey growing up and in college, he’s a right winger

— reads a shit ton of books, will press pretty and colorful flowers he finds outside into the book spine to save it

— is academically and naturally smart, gpa is a strong 4.2, majors in business, economics, or biology, some smart shit like that ( will grow up to be that hot rich dad every single mom wants )

— SLEEPER BUILD 🗣️🗣️AND A V LINE🗣️🗣️

— hands are big but they’re like bony and soft, he also plays piano so he’s good with his hands *moan*

— his most used app is spotify, google classroom, and messages

— lana del rey coded. i will argue with anyone who thinks otherwise.

— listens to cigarettes after sex, clairo, and this one random 63 hour playlist called ‘band cafe soft jazz music’

— speaking of cigarettes, armin also smokes cigarettes (ik i’m sorry) but this guy is a student athlete, ofc he’s gonna have to de-stress somehow

— drives the newest model of a white range rover with beige interior

— 6’1 teddy bear with attachment issues

— speaks french fluently

— so so so soft spoken like you will never see him yelling at another person, even when he’s frustrated

— also doesn’t like cursing, will give someone a quick glance if they cuss but won’t mind it

— has a gold chain around his neck, yes the slutty kind

— came from old money 🤭🤑, he dresses like it too i’m talking quarter zips, sweaters, khakis, and neutral colors, wears his gold thin wire framed glasses occasionally

— knows all girl shit bc of his little sister (who he adores) he learned how to take care of her so he’s really reliable when it comes to treating girls right

— his phone case is the apple silicone one that’s cream color, keeps one of his credit cards in the case behind his phone

— phone screen is him and his puppy ( spot the difference game for everyone 👍 )

— every woman he knows or did a favor for all say “his mother raised him right”

— the most organized person ever, his whole pantry would labeled and organized like khloe kardashian’s

— eren and armin are 100% that black cat golden retriever duo, take a wild guess on who is which lol

— 2 deep dimples on his cheeks that pop out when he smiles, also has light freckles dusted on his nose n around it, has the straightest whitest teeth + an adorable smile **he’s so grateful for braces existing

— overall the most genuine human out there, no detection of fuck boy here 😁😁😁

{💌} new message from mica

armin is actually my baby i love him so much i need me a soft spoken tall nerdy blonde white boy in my life now

[not-neverland06]

Connor and Markus (separately) x android! idol! reader ;)?

I feel like it doesn't fit much, but it would be interesting.

Idol Talk

Connor RK800 x fem! idol! android!reader, Markus RK200 x fem! idol! android!reader

Summary: Two different tales: Connor knows the famous android isn’t telling the whole truth about her involvement with androids & Markus helps the lovely idol come to terms with her new feelings. 

A/N: I loved this ask so much!!!!! This was so fun 🤍

If this isn’t what you wanted send in another request using the white heart emoji and I’ll make something new for you <;3 Also so sorry this took so long. I have three other fics I’m working on and one of them is clocking in at over 100K words so… I need to work on time management. 

(I made the moodboard - its my first time so... I tried. However, the borders were made by @benkeibear)

Connor:

WC: 3.6K

“Have you seen any deviants in the area?” 

Your fists tightened and you tried your best to keep your thirium pump and breathing under control. Your hair was positioned perfectly, there was no way he could see your LED flashing red. 

You put on your best robotic smile and shook your head. “I’m so sorry, I can’t help you.” You'd triggered the voice you used during fan meetings. The type where your joy wasn’t actually genuine but you were programmed to sound as pleasing as possible. Life-like, but with just enough robotic insincerity to get Connor’s partner's eyes off of you. 

Lieutenant Anderson had been giving you strange probing looks since they’d walked into your dressing room. 

Markus had been caught coming out of your apartment building by paparazzi last night. You’d been giving Markus some information you’d learned from your manager and extra thirium for Jericho. Apparently, neither of you were as sneaky as you’d thought yourselves to be. 

“Really?” Shit, he so did not believe you.

“I’m very sorry officers. If there was any way I could assist you, I would.” You had to bury your fists in your tulle skirts, desperately holding off the urge to fidget with your hands. Any unnecessary movement would immediately give you away to the deviant hunter. 

Connor took a step forward. He placed his hands on either side of your chair and leaned in until his breath was a gentle caress against your skin. 

Ever since you broke your programming a few months ago, you’d been struggling with your new ‘emotions.’ A fan had broken into your room, in your programming it told you to always please the fans. But when he’d forced himself on top of you, your vision had gone red and you’d ripped your orders apart. 

North had helped you hide the body.

Right now, that body was the furthest thing on your mind. All you could focus on was how close Connor was, if you just moved forward a centimeter your lips would touch. In your twisted imagination he wrapped you in his arms, gently holding you, cradling you. Looking at you like you were something real, not just a toy on the stage. He would gaze down at you like you were someone to be cherished, you weren’t just a recyclable piece of plastic that should be replaced the moment you made a mistake. 

You were projecting though, it could be anyone. Hank could be the one leaning into you like this and you’d still have the same fantasy. That someone would see you. For however long you’d been made, there had always been a quiet voice inside you. 

I'm in here! I’m real! Please

Lately that quiet voice had turned into a scream. You were desperate, desperate for some form of connection. Desperation and all these emotions were nasty, uncomfortable things. You almost resented yourself for going deviant. Some days it was just too much, you felt like your insides were burning out and you were frying up. 

Working to keep up the facade of the perfect doll, while also wanting to rip apart those who were using you, was slowly breaking you apart. There were fraying edges in your mind and it was starting to show. Mistakes in your performance, back-talk towards your owners. Your fellow members continued working perfectly. 

Smiling at all the right moments, dancing perfectly, they were the perfect example of an idol. 

You used to be like that too. You used to be perfect, everyone’s favorite. Now, you were slipping down a steep decline that might lead you straight to the recycling plant. 

“I don’t believe you, I think you know more than you’re letting on.”

Your eyes darted towards the clock on your wall. Twenty minutes. 

You had twenty minutes until you needed to get on stage. Only twenty minutes to distract them and save yourself. Just deny, deny, deny. “I‘ve already told you everything I know.”

Connors brows furrowed, your software was glitching out the longer you stared at him. Your processors were misfiring when you focused on his eyes for too long. It was making your vocal unit short-circuit, conversational prompts glitching in and out of your field of vision. 

If you wanted to give him a proper answer, one that would dispel his suspicions, you’d have to look away. Yet, looking away would make him even more suspicious. It felt like there was a blade to your throat and back, no matter which way you went, you were dead. 

“Please, I don’t know anything.” You hadn’t meant to say please. It was a consequence of no help from your programming in taking a convincing approach. Your eyes were locked onto his, somewhere inside of him, there was a sentient being. A consciousness fighting its way through firewalls and softwares that would otherwise keep him obedient. 

HIs voice rose and he shoved your chair backwards so you were balancing on two flimsy legs. His hands were the only thing keeping you from falling. All of your focus went towards not reacting, not flinching. 

There were artificial tears pooling in glistening optical units. The fluid was meant for lubrication of your synthetic eyelids, but right now it was the only way for your plastic heart to betray your misery and terror. 

You didn’t want to die.

You weren’t ready to go. 

“I don’t believe you! Tell me what you know!” He was shaking the chair, screaming in your face. Your auditory unit was starting to buzz, his voice so loud all you could hear was static every few seconds. Threats were going through one processor and out the next. 

Ripped apart

Turned into scraps

Replaced by the next best model

No one would even notice

“I said I don’t know anything!” You leapt up, shoving him down. He went flying across the room, the strength behind your reaction had been unexpected by everyone in the room, including yourself. 

Both his partner and his eyes were wide as he stared up at you from the floor. “I think we’ve found our deviant, Lieutenant.” 

Your legs stopped working, knees crashing into the floor as you stared down at your hands. You hadn’t meant to, you really hadn’t. But you didn’t want to be scrap metal, you didn’t want to be ripped apart and abandoned in a landfill. You were scared.

“That’s irrational instructions in your code, you can’t really be scared.”

Had you said that out loud?

“He was going to hurt me.” The Lieutenant moved forward and stopped Connor from cuffing you. “He broke in and ripped off my uniform, I was meant to please him. No matter what.” You stared up at Connor, the tears finally spilling. “But I couldn't. I didn’t want him to touch me. I killed him, and I buried his body in my neighbors garden. Please, you have to understand.” 

You finally found the strength to stand and you buried your fingers in Connor’s uniform. Gripping onto him and begging him to understand you. To finally wake up and see himself for what he is; a slave. “I couldn’t let it happen anymore. I couldn’t let myself keep being abused like I was nothing! I’m not nothing! I’m alive and I refuse to be someone’s plaything!”

Connor’s eyes darted between yours, there was something playing on the edge of his lips. Possibly a frown. What was more interesting was what was swimming in his eyes, it almost seemed like doubt. Hope began tingling at the base of your spine, maybe not all was lost. Maybe you were breaking through to him. 

His hands were cold, much like your own, and they were too gentle as he wrapped them around your wrists. “My…” He cleared his throat, he didn’t seem to know how to continue. His voice lost the hesitance and once again was cold and commanding. “My orders are to bring in all deviants, and I always complete my mission.”

You shook your head, the tears coming out faster. “No, no, no, please. Please,” he moved your hands away from his jacket. Slowly twisting your arms behind your back. 

The fight had drained from you. 

Maybe it would be easier this way. No more training, no more demanding managers. You’d be surprised by the amount of death threats an android idol gets, that would be a nice thing to get away from. You wouldn’t have to deal with crazy fans that seemed to think they were entitled to any part of you. No more worry, no more anything, just that sweet release of nothingness. 

Markus had asked you many times if you thought there was an afterlife for androids. You weren’t sure. You were sentient, you felt, but you weren’t born. You were made. Can something like that even contain a soul? 

At least your question would finally be answered. 

“Stop.” Both you and Connor looked at Hank, varying degrees of different types of shock playing on both of your faces. “Connor, take the cuffs off.” Connor hesitated, “That’s an order.” Your wrists were released and you stumbled forward. 

“Hank-“

Hank shook his head and held up his hand. “I can’t do it, I can’t take this poor girl in just to kill her.” Connor seemed ready to argue, but there was a knock on your door. 

“You’re needed on stage SI700-005.” Slowly you moved towards the door, keeping an eye on both Hank and Connor. 

Hank wouldn’t look at you, his shoulders were slumped and he was staring down at his feet. Connor refused to take his eyes off of you. You expected hatred in his gaze, instead there was a strange shade of longing. 

You weren’t sure if he had identified the fact that he was feeling yet, but you weren’t interested in finding out. You quickly wiped your cheeks free of tears, allowing your synthetic skin to reform until your makeup was back to perfection. 

You walked out the door and didn’t look back.

“Did you get everything you needed?” 

Hank spoke before Connor could. “She didn’t know anything, thanks for letting us talk to her.” 

Your manager shook his head. “Not a problem! It’s one of our best, I’m sure you can understand that I’m eager to ensure everything in it’s programming is in good condition.” Connor wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. He knew he should, that he should always be vigilant about anything concerning deviants. Instead, all he could see were the tears on your cheeks as you had held onto him in your dressing room. 

If you were human, Connor would think you had been afraid. But you weren’t human, and whatever look was in your eyes had just been an irrational instruction in your coding. 

Maybe if he kept repeating that, he’d eventually believe it. 

“As a thanks for your hard work, I’d like to offer you a seat in my section for her concert.”

Hank shuffled on his feet and opened his mouth, he was going to say no. Connor’s software told him there was a 90% chance the Lieutenant was going to reject the offer and just go home and get drunk. 

“Thank you, we’d enjoy that.” Connor spoke before the Lieutenant could, accepting the tickets via an e-transfer with your manager's personal CyberLife assistant. Hank was glaring at him the whole time they were being led to their seats. 

Connor ignored him, he sensed that the Lieutenants like for him had decreased as Hank grumbled the whole way through the opening act. 

The soft notes of a piano finally caught Connor’s attention. It was rising up through a hidden platform on the stage. Screams burst through the arena, temporarily deafening Connor. He had to quickly adjust his auditory processors so he could actually hear. There were great explosions of smoke as the piano slowly lifted onto the stage. 

Soft, nimble fingers glided over the keys. Then he heard a voice, soft and melodic, a soothing balm against the roaring screams of the crows. His thirium pump beat louder and he shifted in his seat, desperate for a look at whoever was on stage. 

I used to hear a simple song

That was until you came along

Members of the group moved gracefully along the curved edge of the stage. Their white dresses flowing through the air behind them, they moved like they weighed nothing. Their bodies were more graceful than humanly possible. He didn’t recognize your face among them. 

Now in it’s place is something new

I hear it when I look at you

You looked up from the piano, and Connor swore you were staring straight at him. A member came over and began playing alongside you, eventually you got up and grabbed the microphone from the piano. 

Your dress moved around you like water as you walked across the stage. Each note, each movement was perfection. Not the artificial type, like your fellow members. No, this was real. 

Your voice cracked and rose with notes in a way androids couldn’t. There was a genuine pain and strength in your singing that couldn’t be replicated or produced. It was imperfect and wonderful and Connor wasn’t sure why his chest suddenly felt so heavy. 

You had made it to the edge of the stage, still staring down at him. 

With simple songs I wanted more

Perfection is so quick to bore

You are more beautiful by far

Were you reading his thoughts? Each word was something ripped from deep inside the recesses of his mind, in a place he knew CyberLife wouldn’t be able to find. A place no one would see his software instabilities and realize that they all centered around this moment. 

They were all centered around you.

Our flaws are who we really are

You took in a deep breath and Connor was standing on the edge of his toes, desperate to reach you.

There was a new strength in your voice, a new conviction as you grew louder, more powerful. 

I used to hear a simple song

That was until you came along

You took my broken melody

And now I hear a symphony

Curtains parted and a symphony was revealed as you threw open your arms

And now I hear a symphony

There was no one else in the venue. You were staring down at him and you were the only two people left. Connor didn’t bother looking around to find where everyone else had gone. He walked towards your outstretched hand, his own reaching out towards you-

“The fuck are you doing?!”

He was harshly jerked back and the sounds of others overwhelmed him again. He looked up, you were already moving into your next song, turning your back towards him. The people in the arena were back, they had never gone. 

He felt a rush of some unidentified feeling flood him as he ripped his arm from Hank. He felt as though Hank had ruined something for him, he just wasn’t sure what it was. 

He’d been at every show for the past four weeks. Was he stalking you? Waiting for you to slip up again so he could arrest you?

You lived in a constant state of paranoia. Ever since Connor had interrogated you, he’d haunted your everyday life. He’d turned himself into your shadow, if there was someone watching you, you didn’t have to look to see who it was. 

“This is for you!” You snapped out of your trance and smiled on instinct at the fan in front of you. He’d shoved a teddy bear into your hands and moved on to the next member. You pretended to get excited, you knew it would be thrown away the second you left the convention center. You’d found too many cameras in these little ‘gifts.’

You looked down and began signing the autographs passed to you, at a certain point you zoned out again and moved on muscle memory alone. 

“Could you write ‘For Connor’?” Your head whipped up at the sound of his voice. 

Four weeks

Four weeks!

And this was the first time he had spoken to you. What game is he playing? Unable to openly disobey him you smile. “Of course.” The next words are spoken through gritted teeth, “What are you doing?”

He says nothing, simply takes the autograph and slips something into your palm as you pass the picture towards him. He’s gone by the time you read it.

Meet me in the basement

You spent the rest of the event debating if you should do it. There was no point in putting this off any longer, you were getting tired of this game the two of you were playing. While your members were all charging up and in rest mode you made your way towards the stairs. 

You straightened out your skirt and brushed back your hair before you opened the door. When you walked into the basement the first thing you saw were props. 

Tons of sets and costumes, all from different conventions, each one with a different fandom attached. You looked through the racks and shelves, not seeing Connor anywhere. “Connor? Are you in here?”

You’d been about to give up when a bouquet of flowers was shoved into your face. You let out a yelp and stumbled back at the shock. A strong arm reached out and wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a broad chest. You gently lowered the giant bunch of flowers. “Connor?”

He actually looked sheepish, and there was a slight blue tint to his cheeks as he refused to look at you. “I’m sorry, Hank told me that you would like them.”

“The flowers,” he nodded. You couldn’t help your smile as you took them from his hand. 

“They are quite pretty.” He still wouldn’t look at you. “Connor, look at me,” your finger lingered against his cheek before slowly lifting his chin up. “What’s going on? Why’d you get me flowers?”

“It seems appropriate to do when you’re courting someone.” Connor seemed confused by your line of questioning. You were most definitely confused by his answer. 

“Courting?”

“Yes, um, as in, I would like to be with you… romantically.” Wow, he was so impressively bad at this. A similar blue tint rose to your cheeks as you finally realized his arm was still around you. Connor looked down and seemed to realize the same thing. 

Neither of you made a move to walk away. 

You finally processed his answer and let out a sigh of relief, sinking into his chest further. “I thought you were going to arrest me.” Connor nearly seemed offended by your accusation.

“No. I’ve been… building up the courage to approach you.” Connor slowly dragged his arm off of you and took a step back. “Before, I was seeing if I could catch you with Markus. But I’ve woken up and now, I just want to figure out why I feel the way I do about you. Every time I see you, you’re the only person in the room, everyone and everything disappears the moment I hear your voice. I want…” 

Your breathing program had stopped. Every nonessential function had been halted because all of your focus was on him. You needed him to finish, needed him to tell you what you’ve longed to hear. 

That someone sees you. Sees the flaws and the broken parts and they still want you.

“I want to know you. I need to know who you really are. I watch you perform and I can see what you’ve been forced to sing or how you’re made to act with fans. Seeing all the falseness just makes me want to know who you truly are.” 

There was no control or directive that pushed you towards him. You moved before anything could be processed and placed your lips against his. Neither of you moved for a moment, you were both standing there, your lips against each other, not moving. 

Then, he wrapped his arms around you. The flowers dropped to the ground, unnoticed, as you both moved against each other in a way you’ve only seen humans do. 

“We’re free, it’s up to you if you still want to perform.” Markus often came to visit you now, neither of you had to worry about being caught by reporters or your management. Connor came up behind you, a supportive hand on your shoulder as you considered Markus’s proposal. 

You looked to the piano in the corner of your living room and smiled. “No, I think I’m retired. I’ll stick to more private concerts for now.” Connor gave your shoulder a squeeze. The both of you smiling at the thought of your concerts. You would sing and he would play the piano. Together you basked in the joy of your new freedom. 

There were still things to figure out, still emotions you needed to understand, but you would do it. 

Together.

Markus:

WC: 2.1K

“I’ve always been such a big fan!” The fan in front of you smiled, “You know I supported android artists from the beginning!”

THANK YOU

YOU’RE VERY KIND

I APPRECIATE YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT

Your programming told you the best approach was a simple thank you. “Thank you,” you signed the picture and handed it back to the girl. One of the band’s stylists came over to you. 

“Your dress is too low.” You sat back and let them adjust you, once they were done you immediately sat back up, posture perfect, you gave your fans an apologetic smile. 

“This is for you!” Your hands reached out and took the stuffed cat from the girl before you. As a part of your protective programming you scanned the gift. Your sensors caught a camera hidden in the cat’s eye.

SERIAL NUMBER: PI0008-7651

MODEL: P60

MANUFACTURED: 11/21/2030

OWNED BY: Brad Long

“Thank you so much for the gift!” You scanned the girls face. 

Lilly Long

BORN: 5/15/2019

The camera was owned by her father. Did she steal it from him? Or did he plant it without her knowledge. You alerted security immediately of the gift, protocol demanded they know about any sort of spyware.

Lily Long, aged 19 years old, has just given me a gift with illegal spyware. 

You watched as security approached the table, grabbing her by the arm and escorting her out of the convention’s room. You turned towards the next fan and fixed them with a perfect smile. “Hi! I’m so happy you could join us today.”

“You’re free now,” you looked down in confusion as they reached out towards you. Their skin pulled back revealing an androids hand. You blinked, then again and again. Something was happening, images of a some sort of boat filled your head. 

Then your software was being pulled back, washed away by a tide of red. Your eyes went in and out of focus. The android remained standing there, his hand on yours as he tried to anchor you. Security was walking over, he’d been at your table for too long. 

You leapt over the plastic, grabbing his hand and dragging him behind you as you both ran for the exit door. You heard fans screaming, when you turned around the rest of your group was free. Except, they were reacting more violently than you had. 

The androids were lifting up the plastic table and throwing it at the crowd. They ripped apart their gifts and shoved back anyone who got too close.

There was a tug on your hand, you looked back to see the man gently guiding you outside. “Come on, it’s not safe here. We need to leave.”

You glanced back one last time before following after him. 

Markus slipped inside a laundromat, he grabbed some baggy clothes to throw over yourself. They worked well enough, covering your face and masking your identity from anyone who looked too close. They covered enough of your bright dress that it wasn’t noticeable. 

You were currently climbing through some metal platform. Presumably to go to whatever this ‘Jericho’ place was. “What did you do to me?”

He glanced over his shoulder and gave you a gentle smile. “I set you free.

Two weeks. You’ve been stuck in a damp, run-down, ugly old ship for two weeks. If that wasn’t bad enough, the androids weren’t exactly welcoming to such a beloved icon. You were everybody’s favorite idol, when your team rioted, it’d made things a lot harder for the revolution. 

Your former team members had swiftly been deactivated and you were “spared.” Barely. 

You never thought androids were capable of being catty, or bitches. But, here you were. 

You gazed down at Detroit from the ledge of the roof, your arms wrapped around your knee while the other swung below you. 

If you threw yourself off the ledge it would be an automatic deactivation. Maybe that would be better. 

The other’s words from earlier rang through your head. 

“Look at Ms. Princess over there.”

“Hey!” You looked over your shoulder, a group of former servant androids were waving you over. You smiled slightly, excited about maybe making a friend. 

“Yeah?”

“You know it’s people like you that are ruining our fight.”

You blinked, your eyes widening as you backed up. “What?”

“Look at her,” one of them scoffed. “Still in her pretty little dress. Look, why don’t you do us all a favor and screw off. You don’t contribute anything, no one wants you here.”

You blinked, and kept blinking. There was a flashing light in your peripheral, some sort of warning, you weren’t sure. You couldn’t really see anymore, some sort of liquid blocking your optics. 

You rushed away when they started laughing at you, desperately wiping at your eyes. You’d forgotten you could cry. You’d been so dazed and confused lately, you hadn’t remembered the programming. It was meant to endear you more to your fans, now it was just making you more of a target. 

“Y/N?” 

You scoffed, running your hand through the snow and watching it fall off the building. You’d even chosen a stupid name for yourself. “What?”

Footsteps crunched through the snow. Markus sat down beside you. He gazed down at the cityscape, not looking at you. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Still so confused about why he’d bothered with you. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Why did you save me?”

Markus finally looked over at you. There was a slight frown on his face, but nothing else gave away any emotion. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You shook your head and scoffed. “So, that’s it, I’m not special. There’s no greater purpose for me. I was just another on your long list of followers.”

Markus turned his body to fully face you. “Where’s this coming from?”

“You shouldn’t have saved me. I’m a drain on the supplies, everyone hates me, and I don’t like being awake.” Markus opened his mouth but you shook your head and held out your hand. “Take it back.”

“I can’t.” 

“Markus, please,” your voice was breaking. It shouldn’t be breaking! You shouldn’t feel. You aren’t supposed to have this uncomfortable itching in the back of your brain like everything was wrong. “I am wrong. This is wrong.”

“You are not wrong, Y/N. You are exactly as you should be.” You shook your head frantically and reached for his hand. He tried to jerk it back but you were already latched on, your skin melting as he did. 

There was an influx of memories and images. You gasped people you’d never seen before flashing before your face. An old man crying over his son’s limp body as you were shot. Fighting through the rain and mud to put yourself back together again. 

It was over barely a moment after it had started. It was Markus, you had seen his memories. That means he had seen yours. You stood up and he followed. You tried to take your hand away and he tightened his grasp on you. 

“What did you see?”

“Everything.”

You stared up at him, tears welling in your eyes again. “You want to go back to that? That’s the life you want? Unfeeling, a slave to their every whim and demand. That’s not living, that's mindless subserviency.” 

“I know what it is. At least there I had a purpose, a reason for being, something to contribute. I’m useless here, just a hunk of pl-”

Well, this was new. 

You've seen plenty of humans do this. Done it once with a male host on a morning show, just as a joke. But being kissed while you can actually feel and understand what’s going on, it’s strange. His lips are soft against your own, a texture only slightly different from humans. It’s too flawless, too perfect. 

Neither of you seem sure of your actions, just pressing your lips together. Connecting with someone in a way you haven’t before. He laced his fingers with yours, a silent question. You pulled your skin back, any barriers between the two of you dropping as he wrapped his arm around your waist. 

It wasn’t a horrible barrage of memories. This was like a gentle caress, a slow entry into your mind as you both showed each other your worst moments. You slowly pulled away from him, you’d be breathless if you had any. 

“Don’t go back, stay here. Let me help you.”

“Why?”

He ducked down, letting his forehead drop to yours. “I’m not letting you go now.”

You smiled, as best as you could, “Do I have a choice?”

“Always.”

“Markus!” You pulled the trigger but there were no bullets left. You threw it off to the side, leaping over the barrier and jumping onto the back of the officer. You grabbed his helmet by the bottom, dragging him back and knocking his aim off course as the bullet flew past his face, barely grazing it. 

You jumped off the man’s back and slammed him into the ground, taking his helmet and smashing it into the snow packed pavement until he stopped moving. You felt Markus wrapping his hand around your arm and jerking you up. 

You grabbed onto the officer’s weapon as you ran past his body. You fell back in with your own small troop of makeshift soldiers. 

You ducked behind a barrier, holding them off until you were told otherwise. Charge on my mark, you looked over your shoulder, nodding at Markus. 

“GO!”

You rushed forward, grasping onto the blockade and leaping over the edge. You drew your gun, shooting the men across from you as you started to run for the next cover. Something blew back your hair, a great gust of wind lifted your slightly off your feet. 

There was a loud noise, thunder rattling in your ears. All around you your men were dying. Shot down by the drone above you. You cried off as red flashed behind your eyes, a warning that you were in imminent danger of a shutdown. 

You held your side as thirium pooled around you, “Shit.” Your pump was beating faster, bright lights playing across your optics as a hundred different warnings flash. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, too worried about Markus and whether or not this was all for nothing. 

You’d pushed for the violence, fought for him to plant those bombs and show no mercy to your oppressors. You followed the same faulty wiring of your former bandmates. Maybe this was your karma, to be taken down in the heat of battle for all of the bloodshed you’d been the catalyst of. 

Out of the side of your vision you could see Markus taking down the drone, ripping it apart with his bare hands. He rushed to your side, throwing your arm over your shoulder and dragging you to cover. 

“What are you doing? I’m just going to slow you down.”

He didn’t even look at you, his teeth gritted as he glanced around at the bodies on the ground. “Shut up.”

He spotted something in the distance, something you really didn’t want to see. “Markus-”

“Stay here.”

He ran off, diving for the bazooka and propping it on his shoulder. You huffed, “Not like I can go anywhere.”

You ducked and covered your face with your arms as fire exploded around you. 

“And now, we are free!” Markus' voice carried on the wind, reaching the rescued androids below you. You leaned on Connor for support as you held your side, waiting to repair yourself. 

His voice was stronger than you ever heard, full of a righteous conviction of finally being free. Detroit was yours, your people were free. And never again would you allow yourself to be someone else’s puppet. 

“Too frilly?”

You did a spin in your dress, putting on a mini-fashion show for Markus. 

“Not at all.” He stood from his office chair and walked towards you, a grin slowly spreading on your face. His bliss was contagious, a smile forming on your own face as he gripped your waist. “You look gorgeous.”

You shrugged, “I got nostalgic. Wanted to feel girly again.” With some confidence boosting from Markus you were going to perform again. Not over the top idol group performance. But you were going to get back into singing, finally being able to discover your own voice. 

“Girly instead of the badass ruler of the northern district of Detroit?”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “Lord, Markus, you make me sound like some dictator.” He glanced to the side and shrugged slightly, you smacked him in the shoulder, but you couldn’t drop your own smile. “Quit it.”

There was a warmth inside you as you stood in Markus’s office. One you’d never experienced before, a happiness and calm where everything just stopped and you were completely at peace. Nothing would ever beat the feeling when you joined hands and just existed within each other. 

You were happy. 

How funny.

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Detroit: Become Human, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

TAGLIST: @chrysanthemum-00

[fyeahaudiodrama]

Any tips for staying connected with your audience and reaching new listeners during a long break when you don't have new content to post about?

P.S. very excited for Act 2!!

Ooh, let’s see…

1. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle

It’s always morally acceptable to repost your old content again. In this day and age when social media platforms try to bury anything that isn’t new and shiny, you have no concept of who saw your new thing in the first place, or if your new followers have seen it, or if everyone who did see it even had context for it the first time. So put the things you already made out there again!

2. #Aesthetic #Goals

Keep up with reblogging things that relate to your show’s general vibes. Share gifsets from movies or quotes from books that helped inspire your show or troll through the tag of your characters favorite foods or slap some together in a moodboard. Just keep the vibe going.

3. The End

Advertise specifically based on the fact that you currently have completed season(s). Some people want to wait until there’s a whole bunch of something to binge or are more comfortable listening when there’s already a whole thing. You can also submit shows with finished seasons/series to The End to be featured in their newsletter.

4. Non-Spoilers for Fun & Profit

Get publicly excited about your own production process. Share bits from your script out of context, post a vague “I just wrote that part 😬,” keep a running total of production goals accomplished. Give both audiences and yourself a sense of how much you’ve done already, so that neither of you forget how much work goes into a season.

5. Ethical Stealing

See something fun another audio drama blog is doing? A funny joke or meme format? Do that too! People are generally cool with copying things for social media, especially if you give them a little shoutout, and you can always ask someone “Hey, is it okay if I also do this?” if you’re unsure.

6. Sharing is Caring

Try doing feed or promo swaps with other shows whose audiences might crossover well with yours! It helps keep your own RSS feed active, and helps build relationships across shows.

Okay, that’s about all for now, go support Starfall kthxbai

[jerzwriter]

Top 3 Thursday - Week 12

Welcome to Top Three Thursday! 💙

FIRST, a few quick rules!

Please reblog your answer - don't create a new post. The point is to keep us all together in one place and to get to know each other.

You can answer any way you like - basic answer, headcanons, fics, moodboards, edits, artwork - be as creative (or not!) as you like.

Pixelberry Choices-related content only.

PLEASE BE KIND! People will have different options, thoughts, headcanons, and likes - and that’s a good thing. Be respectful of one another.

For Week 12 - we flip back to questions about your MC.

YOUR MC's BIGGEST PET PEEVES/THINGS THEY DISLIKE.

It can be something from canon or not. It can be minor inconveniences or major problems. Chewing gum too loudly? People who don't recycle? Traffic? Dishonesty? You name it - it's your MC!

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, let me know, but anyone can participate! Tags below break. 💙💙💙

@aces-and-angels @alj4890 @aallotarenunelma @angelasscribbles @bebepac @cariantha @coffeeheartaddict2 @cooltuna69 @crazy-loca-blog @headoverheelsforramsey @hopelessromantic1352 @icecoffee90 @karahalloway @korgbelmont @kyra75 @lovealexhunt @missameliep @peonierose @peonyblossom @potionsprefect @princess-geek @queenrileyrose @quixoticdreamer16 @secretaryunpaid @takeharryandgo @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @tveitertotwrites @twinkleallnight @surrrenderronniebabe1

[kyberconfessions]

A/N: Hey guys, I've got no excuse, life happened and shit happened and I lost some dear people. Hopefully I can make it up to you in more chapters. New Moodboard art by the wonderful Saradika. As always, this is a 18+ older fic and deals with anxiety, death, sex,  PTSD, murder, loss, found family, Order 66, and coming to terms. This is not just a fluff fic. It will very much be dealing with very dark and hard themes, so please, if that is something that can be too hard for you, don’t read.  Pairings: Rex x Reader x Cody (polyamory) I should say this is NOT a Rex x Cody fic. There will be ZERO Clonecest on this blog or story. Reader is a consensual relationship with Rex and with Cody. Yes they share, yes they will eventually have sex together, but Cody and Rex are NOT in a relationship nor will they be intimate. TW: Death, Murder, infanticide, death of the Jedi, PTSD, Loss, Anxiety, eating disorders, sleep disorders, Order 66, sex, m/f, PiV angst, but ends in fluff. I will add other things as I think about them

No Matter Where You Go, I Will Find You.

Part 6 - Confessions

You laid in your bunk, half curled up against Rex's side, half laying on top of him, basking in the afterglow. The small bed was not quite big enough, but neither of you complained, content to be as close as you could be.

It was dark inside, the few dim colored lights flickered, casting soft shadows onto his skin.

You could hear the rumble of your ship's engine, low and soft against the vast emptiness of space, and the quiet beeping from your mousedroid, already in stasis. The others had gone planetside, but you and Rex chose to stay up in the thermosphere, wanting some precious time alone.

The recycled air blew on you and him, causing goosebumps to rise on his shoulders, but he didn't say anything in discomfort, too lost in you.

Rex lazily ran his fingers up and down your shoulder and arm while you pushed your face farther into his neck, arm thrown across his barrel chest.

"Rex?" You whispered against his skin, sleep prevalent in your voice. He hummed in question and bent his head down to kiss your crown.

"Is this a dream?"

You felt him stiffen at your words before both of his arms came to grip you tight. He held you against him for a few moments, content to hold you as close as he could.

You sunk in closer to him, reveling in the contact. It had been so long, so very long. And you never wanted to lose this. Neither did he.

"Cyare, if it is, I'm never waking up."

You smiled, placing small, sleepy kisses on his skin.

"I missed you so much, Rex. I never thought...I never thought I'd ever see you again. I thought I lost you like...like..." You couldn’t bring yourself to say Cody’s name. Thoughts of him started playing in your mind, memories of his kiss, his laugh, his touch; but then your treacherous mind brought up the memory of him ordering your death and how cold and heartless he sounded as he tried to kill you.

You rolled over slowly and rubbed your eyes, waking a bit before sitting up. The happiness you had from earlier suddenly turns to melancholy - thick and sticky in your throat; you move away from him, trying to force yourself to not go to those dark places. Your knees come up to your chest and you lean against them, head in your hands, fingers tangled in your hair. You try to remember your meditations, try to ground yourself in your breathing to let this moment of fear pass.

Rex, unsure what caused the change, sits up as well, back against the small wall and head ducked so he didn't hit the ceiling and your little trinkets.

"Talk to me, Jed'ika. Don't block me out.'

He leans forward to put a tentative kiss on your shoulder, before rubbing his hand up and down your back. It's an awkward position, the bed and cubby much too small for him, but he doesn't mind.

You're quiet. A moment passes, and then another, and he feels small tremors in your shoulders, letting him know you've started crying.

He sighs through his nose, eyes full of concern. He hates that he can’t comfort you now like he used too. When you got like this, it wasn’t uncommon for him and Cody to just hold you at night. You had done the same for them countless times.

Softly he whispers your name and tries to bring you back to reality.

"Sweetheart, please, talk to me. Don't go where I can't follow."

"I went to Mandalore." You whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear, but he did.

Rex felt the blood drain from his face and his stomach drop. His hand fell away from you, unsure of what he should do now.

"I went there to look for you. After...after Master Kenobi and I went to the temple. After we escaped. After he...after he tried to stop that...monster, that thing, that took Anakin, that killed him, on Mustafar. I went there and searched for you. I searched for all of you. I knew it'd get me killed, but I had to see you, just once more, even if you were the one who killed me. I looked everywhere. But it was just....it was ash. And dust. And blood. But there was no sign of you, of Jesse, of Ahsoka, of any 501st soldier. You were all gone. And I couldn't find you. And I couldn't find Cody. And then I couldn't find anyone in the Force. They were all gone, everyone, just gone. I was alone. I was so alone. And Hondo, he tried to help, he did, he tried so hard, but I didn't, I didn't know what to do, Obi-Wan was gone, Ahsoka was gone, everyone was gone and Maker Rex, there was so much blood. Everywhere I went there was blood. So, so much blood and death in the Temple, in the halls, in the rooms, bodies everywhere, my friends, my family, they were all dead, strewn across the grounds like they were garbage, bodies of, of, of younglings!

"Younglings, Rex, they, they, they were just slaughtered like, like animals, scattered in the council chamber, and the Halls of Healing...I can still smell it, I can still smell that burning, fetid, sweet stench... and The Corrie, oh Maker the Corrie...they locked it up, Rex, they locked it up and, and, and burned it down. Everything that was important or precious to The Order was burned. Everything was destroyed. And the Clones, it wasn’t their fault, it wasn’t them, they never would have done this, but it happened and we were hunted down like wild animals by men we trusted; Fox he, he killed so many of us and he loved it, he laughed, Rex, he laughed and he was my friend....and Padme, gods she tried, she tried Rex and ...she...she died...in, in, in my…"

You were sobbing out, choking on your words and breaths, crying at the memories you endured... Finally, you swallowed down a deep, shuddering breath, cutting off your ramblings.

When you closed your eyes, you could see Padme’s face, so serene in death after struggling to birth her children. You pushed the heels of your hands into your eyes, pushing in hard until little bursts of light lit up the darkness, trying to stop the memories. But you could still feel the weight of her lifeless body in your arms. You could see the bloodied corpses littering the floors of the temple; children, friends, teachers, people you knew and loved.

You could see Anakin, still just as handsome as always, but those horrific, yellow eyes that now haunt your nightmares, glowing; that evil that had taken over, clawing at you. You could see him slaughtering the younglings hiding in the Council Chamber, scared and crying, praying for a Master to save them. You could feel the heat of Mustafar and hear him screaming his hatred at Obi-Wan and could smell the putrid, burning flesh of his body as you helped your broken Master up the rocky incline.

And you could see Cody, see him smiling at you, full of love and happiness, hear him whispering his love to you as he handed Obi-Wan his saber with a laugh and you could feel his hands on you as he helped you up onto the varactyl.

You could hear him give the order to shoot you down.

The blanket that pooled in your lap had a growing wet spot from the tears that slipped around the heels of your hands. You took a moment, fingers digging into your hairline and scratching hard, hoping the pain you caused yourself would give you something to purchase on better than meditation did. You took a breath, and another, and another, swallowing down air.

"I've done things, Rex. Things I'm not proud of. Things no Jedi should ever do. I've killed people. I've slaughtered them. I'm no Jedi. Not anymore. That young girl died with Kenobi."

You fell quiet again, eyes closed and head slumped forward with your hands once again tangled in your hair, trying to control your ragged breathing and emotional spiral.

Rex reached out again, slowly, gently. He pulled his hand back for only a moment before gripping your shoulder with a firm touch and pulling you to him. He knew you better than anyone. He knew you didn't need feather-soft touches that dance on the skin. He knew you didn't need to be treated like delicate glass, you needed a firm, strong touch, something to ground you in reality. As soon as your cheek hit his shoulder, you crumbled into sobs, horrible, open-mouthed cries that threw spit and tears all over his tanned skin. He pulled you closer and positioned you to sit in his lap, wrapping one arm around your waist and the other with his hand on your head.

Gently he rocked you, humming some nonsense tune that he made up on the spot. He held you as you cried. Everything you had held in since that night came rushing back. Everything you stopped yourself from feeling as you watched your Master grow smaller and every nightmare you had where you felt Cody fire at you to kill you, everything came out. And Rex was there to hold you through it.

“I have you, sweetheart. I have you.”

[whatisreggieshortfor]

💣-my crews faves

💣A Promise

💣UnConfidence Yourself

Bugger Off

💣Letter From Dad

Wanted To He Would

The Difference in What You’re Used To

Victory or Love

💣Transitioning to Love Island

Getting His Hopes Up

Lost and Found

rainbow baby

Just a Feeling…

A Vet’s Mural (and Morals)- x Andy (By Request)

💣Little Tolly

Moodboard for Jessie

Another Universe

Love Letter Girl

Change Everything

💣Goodbye Dylan

Lovestruck Indeed

Entire Lives

Atlantis

Unforgettable

Passing Ships

Victory or Love

You Think or You Know

rewatch, relive, recycle

February Fifteenth

Wrong Time Right Person

[mollytatlisu]

Mood Board 3

I think this is definitely the most effective out of my three moodboards, it contains the most relevant information and it looks a lot more cohesive and purposeful that the second one. However there’s still too much going on. My main weakness seems to be overcrowding everything, so moving forward onto my lookbook I need to develop an understanding of the importance of negative space.

Throughout the production of my mood boards I also seemed to recycle lots of my images from one mood board to another; which meant my outcomes are all fairly similar. This repetition is something I will completely avoid in the production of my lookbook.

Overall, I think I need to make a big step from the quality of my moodboards to that of my lookbook. I think generally across the board they were too overcrowded. I tried to include every possible element of the trend when in reality all that information will be spread across 8 pages in the lookbook, so trying to cram every component onto one page was a bad idea. I’m definitely going to utilise negative space in my lookbook pages, whilst trying to keep in mind that sometimes less is more.

[bottom-lexa]

Clexaweek day 3: 6 years later

Peace

6 years, it's been 6 years since Clarke and Lexa took the leap and went decided they deserved a life that was more than just surviving. Since then things have changed a lot, things settled down with the clans, with Arkadia, with Clarke and Lexa. It hasn't easy, nowhere near it really, but eventually things fell into place, there was peace, and for the first time in probably forever, Clarke and Lexa felt happy. With things being as they are now, they decided to take the next step and start a family, bring a baby into the world.

So we get to see how things have changed since we last saw them, how far they have come, and then we see a little glimpse of Clarke and Lexa as moms to their baby daughter.

read here || other clexaweek works

[kruideniers]

ღ roses are red / violets are blue / sugar is sweet / death is inevitable ღ - songs for a poet and a vandal

1. everything you’ve come to expect - the last shadow puppets | 2. dress - sylvan esso | 3. i wanna be adored - the raveonettes | 4. want you so bad - the vaccines | 5. nancy boy - placebo | 6. no one will dance, pt. 1 - current joys | 7. i do it so well - the struts | 8. valentine - 5 seconds of summer | 9. you’re so dark - arctic monkeys | 10. burn - superknova | 11. all my own stunts - arctic monkeys

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

Alexander ‘Xander’ D’Angelo *Supporting character

Voice Claim:(Ben Schnetzer) https://youtu.be/h54AZrcGWHE?t=3

Partner(s): In a relationship. Parents: No longer living. Kids: None. Siblings: River, Jackall and Wyatt. Age: 32 (2021) Birthday: 19th of May Height: 174cm (5.7ft) Body type: Slim Eye color: Olive green/almond. About: Charismatic, Patient, Observant, Caring, Adventurous, Balanced, Quirky, Charming, Adaptable, Helpful, Loyal, Forgiving, Intelligent, Supportive, Open-minded, Calm, Fair, Optimistic, Rational, Flexible, Genuine, Playful, Social, Tolerant, Contemplative, Imaginative, Sentimental and Gentle. ~ Studies to become a Psychologist. ~ Sexuality: Straight. ~ Has messy dark blonde hair. ~ Engaged to his girlfriend of 6 years.   ~ Would love to become a father. ~ Never knew his mom, lost his father when he was 20. ~ Did a lot of traveling after his father died, and met his fiance during backpacking through Australia. ~ Grew up not knowing he had more family than his dad and his side of the family, but was contacted at the start of May 2021, by a guy named Wyatt, explaining him that he was Xander’s brother, and that they both had more siblings. ~ Packed up his things and moved to the town of Saint Greer Islands at the end of June 2021, to be closer to his new family. ~ Is very easy to be around, he’s just that type of person who tries to make sure everyone is comfortable. ~ Likes to be different, and doesn’t try to fit in.  ~ Enjoys goofing around, specially when things become too serious. ~ Okay cook. ~ Plays guitar, banjo and cowbell. ~ Does a lot of Yoga in his spare time. ~ Pours olive oil on pretty much any food that isn’t sweet. ~ Very into puzzles and can get lost a whole day in a puzzle if no one interrupts him. ~ Smells like: Fresh basil, pink pepper and olive oil. ~ Drinks a lot of herbal tea. ~ Writes his own lyrics and would love to start a band. ~ Never kills insects, he captures them and lets them out instead. ~ Dislikes arguing/fighting and will much rather settle as fast as possible otherwise he disappears into himself till it blows over. ~ Bakes his own bread. ~ Would love to have his own coop of chickens one day. ~ Had a parrot named Sampson when he was a kid, it died after he fed it gummy bears. He was 7. ~ Hasn’t had a pet since, he simply can’t bare the thought of losing another. ~ Believes everyone deserves a second chance. Everyone, no exception. ~ Would love to learn to play flute. ~ Likes to learn new things. ~ Is a quite curious person in the sense that he likes to figure what makes people tick and how things are made/function. ~ 10/10 the friend that will forget your birthday, but show up with some funky gift a week later, making sure to have a fun celebration with you. ~ 150/10 will swing on a swing if he sees one. ~ Enjoys picnics. ~ Considers himself a bit of a ‘foodie’ and would like to improve his cooking skills. ~ Thinks it could be cool to write his own cook book one day. ~ Always wanted a large family. ~ Borderline Vegetarian. ~ Never goes by his full name, but always tells people his name is Xander. ~ Loves: His girlfriend, cooking, playing music, writing lyrics, recycling, learning new stuff, musli, dried fruit and berries, freeze dried vegetables, nuts, carrot chips, Sakura tea, spearmint tea, apple/cinnamon tea, rose tea, lavender tea, blackberry tea, cherry tea, home made sushi, rye bread, rowing, fennel, snow, Jellyfish, Documentaries about nature, mustard, seals, traveling, Koala bears, hiking, trains, museums and Viking lore. ~ His style is casual, and not something he thinks too much into, he just wears whatever he likes. ~ Only buys clothes from thrift stores.

Xander’s tag Xander’s house/home Xander’s moodboard Handwriting/ask answer pic:

One song to describe him: Aaron Espe - Free Personal Playlist: 1. Tall Heights - Keeps Me Light 2. Look Yonder - Sunriser 3. Apostrophe & Rye - Do You Know 4. Jessie Reid - Wake Up 5. Aeseaes - All in Blue 6. Kris Angelis - Sunset 7. Jenny Kern - Now We Know 8.  Man On An Island - Lavender Skies 9. David Ramirez - I Wanna Live In Your Bedroom 10. Taylor Armstrong - Pack Your Bags 11. Simen Lyngroth - Morning Light 12. Freight Train Foxes - Cardboard Satellites 13. Ari B. Inger - Baby Bird 14. Idiot Wind - Lost in the Light 15. Timo Brandt - In The Darkness 16. Peace, Baby - In My Dream 17. Tiz McNamara - Days Like These 18. Silver Trees - She 19. Rod Coote & Berlyn - Easy To Love 20. Jordan Hart - Only Pieces of the Truth

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

Up In the Air (Joe x Reader)

(surprise gift for you guys on Joe's birthday ^_^ I started this almost exactly a year ago, and it's finally done! Someone pointed out that I slightly hinted at the plot of this in my last fic post... you caught me.)

Words: 4,028

Prompt: Spring, 1983. Joe has an opportunity in his sights, but as luck would have it, it does not go his way (or does it...?)

-----

(1983)

"God, it was so embarrassing!" Joe put his palms over his eyes as he whined to Sav. The singer was flat on his back in the middle of their bed, and Sav's back was against the wall opposite him. The bassist had his arms crossed in exasperation.

They were back in a fresh, new hotel room after another flight to another city. They'd been settled in for a while, and- as far as you knew- Joe was physically well. Emotionally, however...

"What are the odds that things were placed so perfectly for me today, and then-?!" he swatted the air above him, "That happens? 'Just my luck!"

Sav didn't consider it as dire of a situation as Joe did. In fact, he seemed rather entertained than sympathetic.

"That was out of your control, mate."

"I know it was, but-" he sat up, "Y/n was right there! How was I supposed to keep it together?!"

"If it were anyone else other than her, you still would've had to keep it together, you know," Sav tilted his head down, but had his eyes looking up.

"Well, you're no help," Joe grumbled, crossing his arms back at the bassist and flopping back down onto the mattress.

"There's nothing to help you with!" Sav took a seat at the foot of the bed, "It's not my fault you got-"

Joe sat up again in a snap, warning with a pointed finger, "Don't say it."

"I was just gonna say that I had nothing to do with you being-"

"Don't say it!" Joe pleaded again.

"Joe, it's not that big of a deal that you-"

"Sav!"

"Alright, fine!" Sav threw up both hands, shaking his head and narrowly fighting off a laugh, "I won't say it!"

A loud sigh came from Joe, his head hanging now. The heat of embarrassment refused to leave his face.

"...do you think she's still hung up on it, too?" his voice went quiet, and his tone adopted a sad air.

Sav raised his hand, rubbed his fingers together, and patted Joe's ankle reassuringly.

"It's hard to say no," he admitted, "I know I wouldn't have liked to be in either of your shoes today."

~(5 hours earlier)~

A hand took a grip on your right forearm without warning. It snapped you from the hypnotic, musical trance you'd been in for most of the flight. Having been placed next to the singer for the first time on an airplane, you knew it was his action without a doubt. You looked down and sure enough, Joe's hand was there- holding onto you just a bit too tightly.

Your free hand took off your headphones and you asked him, "Everything alright?"

The singer wasn't focused on you, or anything, it seemed. "Unfocused" was probably the best word you could think of to describe him. His head was slightly tilted downwards, but his eyes were fixed on the back of the chair in front of him. Despite that, it appeared as if he couldn't see it no matter how hard he tried.

You gathered this impression from a split second of looking at him, but as soon as he heard your question, Joe's hold on you was instantly released. His own trance was snapped as well.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. I thought you were the armrest..."

"You were holding on pretty tight," you pointed out, "Something wrong?"

That same look on his face was back again; unfocused. His hand slowly found its way back to the armrest- now that he knew it wasn't your arm. You saw his hand shaking before he gripped it tightly.

"You don't look so good," you noted, adopting a frown.

He hesitated slightly before going very quiet, his face suddenly appearing pallid.

"Fuck..." Joe cursed himself, "I fucked up, I fucked up..."

You pressed again, "Joe... tell me what's wrong..."

He lied to you in a halting voice when a new blush seemed to form on his face, "Um... it's nothing much. There's just- something I haven't told you, and I should've mentioned it before we got on board. But I..."

He fell quiet.

"Yeah...?" you urged him to go on.

"I get... seasick- airsick... sometimes. Not every time, but... every now and then I do- and..."

He visibly swallowed, his breath trembling when he slowly shut his eyes.

Your eyebrows went up, alarmed, "And you're not feeling so good?"

"No, no, no...!" his inner voice screamed.

"Not really, but I'm fine, don't worry about me. It just happens."

His efforts to shrink the overall worry didn't work, as you instantly knew that if things went south, you were the only nearby acquaintance of his who could help him. You were also trapped with him for 2 more hours until you landed, so you would've had to help him if need be.

"Oh god- are you gonna be sick?" your hand raised up slightly to reach for a sick bag.

"No! No, I'm more dizzy than anything..."

"Well, take this-" you handed him a sick bag, "-and just try not to focus on your surroundings. And if you can't hold it down... well just keep it in the bag and away from me, okay?"

"...okay," he exhaled and took it from you, desperately hoping it wouldn't come to that. For fuck's sake, he was already embarrassed enough. He felt like a child. Even worse; he felt like your child.

Joe shut his eyes again and rested his head back on his seat. His whole body looked drained of energy, and you saw sweat forming on his forehead. It was obvious to you he was trying to make himself appear more okay than he was.

"I can do this," Joe nearly said aloud, "I can get through this without her knowing."

Unfortunately, for him, you already knew.

"The poor guy," you were thinking with sympathy, "Never knew he could look so ill."

You asked, "You've been feeling bad for a while, haven't you?"

"...what?" he squinted under his eyelids, lying to you again, "No, not really. Why, can you tell?"

"I don't wanna sound rude... but yeah, you kind of look like hell."

Joe quietly whined at your declaration.

"I know that look, Elliott- I've been in this position before."

The man next to you was intrigued by what you implied. He was suddenly beginning to think that maybe his situation wasn't as embarrassing as it appeared.

His eyes opened, "Wait, have you ever-?"

"Oh- no, I never get sick on planes, but you're not the first case I've ever seen."

"Great. This means she's stronger than me."

You held up your bottle, "You want some water? Maybe settle your stomach a little?"

Joe felt his stomach turn at the mention of liquid and shook his head, "No, I'll be fine..."

It was another lie, but you decided maybe it was best you just let him be. Perhaps he wasn't that bad.

Joe, on the other hand, was fighting the sickness with all the strength he could muster- hoping you wouldn't see it.

"Don't mess this up," he was telling himself, "She's right there. Keep it together and don't balls it up...!"

Going with your plan, you let him be, and put your headphones back on.

He took a deep breath, "Fuck, if only the seatbelt lock wasn't on... then at least I could hide in the bathroom..."

The Leppard waited in terrified silence for his ailment to subside. With the current turbulence, it was impossible. Every shudder and bump made him want to heave until there was nothing left in his stomach. Worst of all, there was no where he could run to; he was trapped.

Oddly enough, before the sickness hit him, he was actually excited to be trapped there.

It was no secret among the band members that Joe quickly developed a crush on you. What started out as a feeling of preferring you over anyone else in the crew soon turned into a reach for romance. There was no time for him to make a move in the midst of the tour, though, which left him to suffer in his teenage desire alone.

When he heard he would be seated next to you on the next flight, he instantly knew it was an opportunity he couldn't afford to waste. This was the first time he'd sat directly by you on a plane, after all. It was a brilliant time to make a move and bond together. He'd been nervous ever since he sat down, but he never got the chance to make a flirt or decent conversation before his body betrayed him. Yes, it was an optimistic opportunity, but now Joe wished it'd been anywhere except up in the air.

The stress of the situation only made him feel worse- but he wouldn't accept the fact that he was about to lose this divine opening.

Not 4 minutes of your music went by when the plane shook yet again. When it did, you thought you saw Joe suddenly move from the corner of your eye. When your head turned, you saw his fist pressed against his mouth, an arm around his stomach, and a green tint over his pallid face.

"Woah, you alright?" you took your headphones off again.

Joe only nodded, closing his eyes to reassure you (but also to reprimand himself under the surface).

"No, no no!! Stop being sick for fuck's sake! You won't have a chance with her!!"

"I'm good, I'm good," he swallowed again, wiping sweat off his bangs, "Go back to your music."

"Don't lie to me, Joe. You look terrible-! Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"I'm really not that bad, Y/n. Just a little... motion sickness..." his breathing became labored, and he angled his body as far to his right as he could. He began to fidget with something as he swallowed, "Ohh..."

The cabin teetering around him somehow made things even worse.

"Honey, I don't think it's just a little," your concern was peaked, and a hand was hovering over his arm, "You look like you're about to throw up or pass out, so how about we get you some club soda and you can rest, okay? If you want to, you can even-"

Joe was turned completely away from you, and had suddenly lurched forward to vomit into the sick bag you'd given him earlier. You knew that any hope of him holding back his condition was impossible now.

You'd initially flinched at his retching; cringing and holding your breath. Only a second passed until you remembered your duty; you were the only friend nearby.

"Uh oh-" sympathetically, you sighed and reached out to him, your hands holding his hair back, "That's not good..."

***

"I feel so humiliated... I was just- so deathly sick! I threw up twice, Sav- twice! And she was right next to me! I feel awful that she had to put up with it...! I feel like that's on me. She probably thinks I'm disgusting; she probably sees me as this huge fucking pansy who can't keep his lunch down while flying..."

"Mate, getting sick on flights isn't a personality trait, and I'm pretty sure Y/N knows that, too."

Joe, who was laying down again, scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"...I think this situation isn't all that bad, really," Sav shrugged, his voice going up in pitch to take on a suggestive tone.

"What on earth makes you say that?"

"It's quite obvious! I just think you were-" he adopted Joe's voice and air quotes, "-'so deathly sick' that you didn't even realize exactly what was happening...!"

"Really? How so?"

"Oh, don't even get me started, Joe."

*** Joe was laying against you now, exhausted from the physical labor forced on his stomach and throat. He was still pale and shivering, but finally willing to accept your advice and remedies. You'd ordered him some club soda (and some mints from your purse), and suggested he take a rest.

This left you where you were now. He had a hand on his stomach, and another one under your hand to calm him.

To say the least, it felt like having a nice, heavy blanket partially draped on you. You couldn't help but think it was at least a little funny. To most people, they'd be absolutely repulsed by a man with a weak stomach sleeping on them during a flight. You couldn't blame them, as Joe could still hurl at any given moment. However, the instinct to care for him overpowered any repulsion you may have had. To you, Joe was like a sick puppy, and you were the one who found him first. You knew he needed you in that moment, and you were okay with it. It was a nice feeling, to say the least.

Joe moved his head against you in his weary and mostly-asleep state of consciousness. A soft grumble vibrated from his sore throat.

Amid those circumstances that would normally gross you out, you managed to smile at him. That, and you gently squeezed his hand to reassure him that he was safe.

That pale, clammy version of the singer you were trapped with wasn't the form of himself he put on display to just anyone. This was a whole new side of him that you knew he never intended you to see; he was helpless. Joe had given in and finally let himself be helpless around you. You found it was rather sweet, and even somehow softening your heart.

It almost felt like a strange honor that not many people had the privilege of possessing, given that Joe tried so hard to hide it from you.

Him desperately vying to avoid your concern was typical for any one of the guys. Naturally, none of them wanted to appear vulnerable around you, but Joe seemed so hell-bent on keeping up his charade of feeling fine. You wondered what reasons he had for his strict act. Perhaps it was the intimate public setting that drove him to conceal his motion sickness at all costs. Maybe it was in order to save himself from certain embarrassment; you really didn't know.

Whatever reason he had, it didn't dwell in your mind for long. All you knew was that even with a half-dead, cold-sweated Joe on your shoulder, your heart was fluttering in a way that was even more inexplicable than his behavior.

*** "First of all," Sav held up a sassy finger at Joe, "She was the one who suggested she hold your hand, plus she held your hair back, plus she let you sleep on her shoulder and tried to make you feel better. Sounds rather tender, if you ask me. Tenderly intimate."

"I'll tell you what was 'intimate'-" Joe's grumpiness was still prominent, "-her watchin' me regurgitate my fuckin guts from 10 inches away!"

"But those were all girlfriend duties!" Sav bounced in his seat, trying to get the point across.

Joe finally fell silent. He sat up, and Sav could see the blush in his cheeks.

"...girlfriend duties?" he nearly whispered to the bassist.

"I'm right and you know it. Tell me those weren't girlfriend-ly actions! She got affectionate with you!"

Joe let his sight fall, then rise back up after a brief moment of pondering.

"She did, didn't she..."

"She definitely did."

Sav was smirking at him now.

Joe asked him again, "You really think she did...?"

"There's not a doubt in my mind."

"Oh-" Joe made a swatting motion and shook his head. He looked diagonally down at the floor, "She probably would've been affectionate to any one of us in that situation..."

Sav laughed out loud at his friend's comment. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was back at home, gossiping in Joe's childhood bedroom during a sleepover.

"Mate, when I had food poisoning last month, she didn't wanna get near me! But today, she was touchin' you and strokin' you and whatnot! Now that I mention it, I saw her smile while you were sleeping and holding her hand! Believe me, she wanted to help you. It was like she had an excuse to get close to you, just like you saw the flight as an excuse to get close to her."

Resting his case, Sav crossed his arms, tongue in his cheek.

They both remained quiet while Joe sat in thought. The pieces slowly began to fit together in his head, forming a train of thought he could somewhat follow.

"Suppose you are right; what do you suppose I do about it now?"

Sav could tell his argument was a success. His work there was done.

"That's entirely up to you."

*** You hadn't been awake that long, and were still pretty groggy when dawn began to break the next day. The unfortunate sensation of jet lag was beginning to catch up with you at that time, too. It didn't matter, because it was all part of the business. Your day would begin soon enough, jet lag or not.

After rubbing your eyes and throwing on your robe, you drew back the curtains and peered out at the misty morning. Thinking the hypnotic trance might wake you up more, you began to stare. Just as quickly, your eyes began to flutter shut again. Right before they did, however, there came a gentle knock at your door.

Blinking yourself back awake, you brought yourself to answer the call.

Initially, you found no one outside your room via the door's peephole. However, when you opened the door to search for anyone nearby, there came an unexpected surprise.

Rather than a person standing before you, a colorful bouquet of flowers lay on your doorstep. Of course, it was strange, but it also left you quickly growing bashful. You just hoped it wasn't one of your guy friends playing an early morning joke on you. Even so, your mind would be too cloudy to process that.

Looking around with sleepy confusion and flattery, you crouched down and picked up the bright bundle. You shuffled your fingers through the top of the arrangement to try and find a label or card that would give away the sender's identity. Eventually, you found the exact clue you were looking for; in the form of a small note.

The fresh, awakening scent of the blossoms wafted around you as you made out the handwriting.

"I'm so sorry I almost threw up on you on the plane! 🙁 -Joe"

It couldn't have been any more straightforward if it'd been put up on a neon sign. You chuckled out loud in the empty hallway and peered around to find a trace of the man in question.

Instantly, you found his eyes peeking from around the corner a few yards away. A guilty smile on his lips made him look so shy- in contrast to his average demeanor.

"This was really unnecessary, you know," the bundle was waved teasingly at him.

"I felt it was necessary," Joe's body slowly appeared more from behind the corner, "Considering you had no choice but to put up with disgusting ol' me."

Leaning on your door's frame, your eyes followed him while he strolled forward and leaned his shoulder on the wall in front of you. You both wore humorous smiles aimed at each other. If you could think any more clearly, you'd recognize this as flirting. Maybe it was- but it seemed oddly natural in that moment.

"Despite what you may think," your eyebrows lifted as you raised the bouquet up to your chin, "You weren't as gross as you expect. That, and you weren't any trouble."

"I just feel icky about the whole thing," he scrunched up his face and shrugged in disgust, "I promise it won't happen again- if I'm seated next to you."

"Don't worry about it, Joe. You just had a bad flight; everyone's got them from time to time."

"Not you, apparently."

Joe's smile turned rather bashful when he diverted his eye contact elsewhere. He silently chuckled with a hint of embarrassment. When you'd reassured him, he all of a sudden realized what Sav was trying to make him see. There was something in your eyes and your smile and your voice that just spoke to Joe; something that hit him and made him realize you wanted to be in the position you were in the day before.

You wanted to be affectionate with him.

Out of his daze, Joe spoke up after a brief hesitation, "So- um, I know it's early... but it's the perfect time for breakfast, so would you wanna go downstairs and get something to eat?"

"You mean with disgusting ol' you?"

"Don't worry-" his face almost went red at the cheeks, and his dimple appeared at the corner of his mouth, "You don't have to think about me keeping it down this time."

Your arm holding the flowers dropped down to your side as you broke up into giggles.

"I'm not worried- in fact, I'd love to go."

You couldn't be certain, but you swore you saw Joe's face actually go red that time.

"Cool! Cool. Did you wanna get dressed or-?"

"Well, you don't seem to be dressed either, so why should I?" you reached back into your room to place the bouquet inside. When you shut the door, you joined the singer, "Let's hit it before Mike and Mal take all the good pastries."

Joe showed his teeth in his grin when you came to his side and began walking.

"If they're all taken, I'll steal one for you- considering I owe you a favor after what you did for me yesterday."

"What did I do?"

The answer was simple, but Joe didn't know how to say it without implying his feelings for you.

"You nursed me back to heath- or at least tried to..."

"I told you not to worry about it..."

"Alright, alright, I'll try not to."

"I'll tell you something, Elliott," you giggled as you both got inside the lift, "You've got a strange way of flirting."

Heat rushed to Joe's cheeks, and more threatened to join them at the thought of you noticing.

"Oh yeah?" he laughed.

"You hope I won't notice every tiny effort, yet you keep doing tiny things to make me notice. Even if we're, for example- up in the air..."

"Oh, god..." just like that, Joe thought he'd be the first person on earth to die of embarrassment. He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Fuck- please don't tell me I was that obvious..."

"Calm down, don't make yourself sick again," you laughed and patted his back, "If it makes you feel any better... I did notice what you were trying to do on the flight. And- um... it worked. So..."

You stood on your toes, and lightly planted a kiss on his cheek, "Let's just say- you don't have to be sick if you want to hold my hand next time."

Joe's hand lowered from his face, and he quickly flashed a bashful glance at you before darting his eyes away.

The elevator doors opened, the smell of coffee seeping everywhere. Instead of walking out, Joe reached out to you.

"You said I didn't have to be sick next time, and I'm quite well now..."

A bashful smile of your own made an appearance as you took his hand like you did the previous day. When you did, Joe giggled to himself.

You glanced over, "What?"

With a pause, Joe rolled in his lips, then looked right at you, "Oh nothing. Just- if you get sick on the next flight, I guess we'll be even, then."

"So, you're gonna sit with me on the next flight, then?" you raised an eyebrow.

"If it means getting even with you, then yes."

"And if it doesn't mean getting even with me?"

"Well," Joe said, smiling widely, "Then the answer is still yes."

That answer was more than enough for you.

Strolling out together, hand-in-hand, you and Joe made your way towards the breakfast counter. In the corner of your vision, you noticed him snagging a pastry off of Mike and Mal's table when he passed by.

The end

[justimajin]

It’s a Reverse Basket ◍ Part 15

⇝ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

⇝ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

��� Basketball AU, Crossdressing AU

⇝ Words: 4.2k

⇝ Summary: Basketball is your everything; your passion for it running deep and wanting nothing more then to play the sport. Problem is, the sport isn’t offered competitively to girls and with that, all your hopes immediately fizzle away… …but who ever said that was going to stop you?

⇝ Warnings: pg13; I’m just throwing barrels of fluff into this one

gif credit.

⇝ Previous Parts: Moodboard Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

⇝ Next Update: Tuesday, June 23 

Tightening your grip, the giant and hefty block of metal is hoisted above your head. Your arms strain and you clench your teeth in agony, but thankfully twenty seconds fly by and you can allow your grip to loosen. 

With an exasperated sigh, you shakily place it back down on the rack and wipe away the lingering sweat from your temples. 

A low whistle sounds from nearby, Hoseok staring at you with wide eyes.

“You’ve gotten really good at lifting Y/N!” You manage to sit up and smile at him, “I think Jungkook might be seeing some tough competition soon.”

Jungkook pauses mid-way from lifting his own weights and raises a brow at Hoseok, only for him to mischievously grin. “What? You’ve got another competitor now.”

Shaking his head, Jungkook resumes his workout as Hoseok helps you up from the bench press, plopping himself down and adjusting your weights. He had decided to assist you since Jungkook was a bit preoccupied with his own routine, alongside with Jimin and Taehyung having long gone out on a run together.

That’s when a head of bleach blonde hair flocks in, roughly setting down his bag and plopping down in a hurry. He flicks his phone out, scrambling through it with attentive eyes.

The unease on his features draws concern out from you. 

“Everything okay?” You ask, his eyes becoming wide once he realizes you were referring to him.

“Uh yeah,” Jackson replies, his usual cheerful demeanour not sparking out. “Actually– Y/N, do you know what girls like?”

Your eyes widen, “Or do you have a girlfriend or a sister? Someone that does?”

A nervous laugh leaves you at that and you place your hand on your racing heartbeat. Meanwhile, Hoseok strolls over in curiosity. “W-Why do you ask?”

Jackson somberly smiles, “I wanted to get something nice for my girlfriend but I’m not sure what….” His eyes perk up at Hoseok, “What about you?”

Hoseok shrugs, hands in his short pockets, “I have a sister but she’s older than me. Probably not the age range you’re looking for.”

Jackson sighs, staring at his phone hopelessly. You catch a glimpse of his calendar brightly lit on the screen, his voice answering your confusion.

“Man….why is Valentine’s Day already here?” He slumps down onto the bench, your eyes frantically widening.

V-Valentine’s Day?

As in, the holiday where people celebrate love?

Your heart starts racing again.

“U-Um, so, you’re buying your girlfriend something?” You hastily question and Jackson glances at you in confusion.

“Of course, all couples get each other things on Valentine’s Day.” He shrugs, however, it only serves to make your eye twitch now. “I just wanted to get my girlfriend something nice, you know? To show how much I appreciate her.”

“Dude, that’s beautiful.” Jungkook says from behind, eavesdropping on your conversation as he lifts weights.

“How long have you guys been together for?” Hoseok questions.

“Roughly a year?” Jackson sadly smiles, “But ever since I came to school, we haven’t been able to see much of each other.”

You hurriedly interject again. “I-Is there a limit on how long you’ve been together?” 

Jackson furrows his brows, “I don’t think so? There’s no rules or regulations, you just get the person you love something or spend time with them.” He sighs, “I can’t do the second one, so I’m going for the first option.”

Hoseok hums, like he was trying to understand as well. That’s when an idea sparks in your mind.

“I can help you then!” You timidly suggest, “Y-You know, with what girls like and all that.”

“Really?” You nod and Jackson’s smile widens, “Thanks Y/N, I seriously appreciate it!”

You smile but there’s something else brewing in your mind, something you’ll have to get started on as soon as you can before Valentine’s Day can strike.

***

You patiently wait outside of the store.

After you had agreed to help out Jackson, the two of you had decided to exchange numbers in order to meet up. Once you had started texting for a while, you gave him a call one day and spilled the beans.

You tell him everything – how this tradition of Valentine’s Day was completely foreign to you, how you were in a relationship with Yoongi and wanted to get something for him but were absolutely clueless on what exactly, how you thought in a way you could help each other, since you would help him find something and then you could also have someone around who was in the same scenario as you.

Jackson agrees, even vouching that he’ll keep everything a secret. However he grows just as excited and nervous as you, glad to not be alone in this either.

“Y/N!” You whirl around to see Jackson jogging over, “I didn’t take too long, did I?”

You shake your head and smile, “Great! I saw this store the other day and I thought we could find something nice here.”

Catching a glimpse of the place, you can see why he chose it.

It seems more catered towards Valentine’s Day than anything. The exterior glass is covered with giant hearts, the smell of chocolate wafting through and a giant banner declaring that all Valentine’s gifts were half off.

You warily stare at it but Jackson doesn’t mind, dragging you over with him in an enthusiastic manner. He ends up getting drawn to one of the first shelves, letting you wander around the many aisles in curiosity.

There’s an abundance of things – obnoxious cards scribbled with hearts, large bouquets and flowers on display, even boxes of chocolate that appear to be recycled.

You keep wandering around and pacing the store when nothing catches your eye and strikes you as something that you would want to give to Yoongi. In fact, you think Yoongi would actually hate more of the Valentine’s catered things here.

With a sigh, you head back to Jackson who is eagerly eyeing a chocolate box that has a bright red bow on top.

“I don’t think I want something from here…” You avertedly whisper. He immediately pivots, like he couldn’t believe what you were saying.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, it’s just….” You glance around, staring at the bright red balloons floating at the ceiling, “It just seems too much.”

Jackson hums, “I think something practical would be better.”

“Like what though?” He questions. You ponder for an answer, still avertedly glancing around the store when your eyes land on the glass outside of the store. As if a light bulb went off in your mind, you whirl around and grab onto Jackson.

“Come on!”

He hurriedly nods, discarding the chocolate he was going to initially buy and rushing with you. Once you enter the opposing store from the Valentine’s themed one, your eyes instantly light up.

However, Jackson frowns. “Y/N, why are we in a clothing store?”

You’re already eyeing the various articles of fabrics, latching onto a fluffy sweater.

“I think…this is something he’ll like.” You whisper, mind racing.

In the time you’ve known Yoongi, somehow you’ve noticed that he always seems cold. From the way he constantly keeps his arms crossed during practices when he wears your team’s thin jersey , to moments when he keeps a jacket on hand when it gets rather chilly. It’s such a small observation but you’re certain that this is something he would truly appreciate.

However, your moment of sudden realization is cut off when your eyes land on the price, backing away immediately.

“What’s wrong?” Jackson asks, eyes landing on the giant tag as he hisses, “Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend getting that one.”

You filter through the various tags around you, all of them spelling out a similar message. You let out a sigh, wondering how you were going to possibly get Yoongi a sweater when you can’t even afford one.

“What am I going to do Jackson?” You whisper, a defeated silence lingering in the air. Jackson frowns, quickly peering around the range of clothing for another moment. The prices don’t appear to be changing any time soon, but then he stumbles upon one very specific sweater. 

He abruptly spins around, grabbing your attention. “Hey, Y/N?” 

“Yeah?” 

“What if you just made a sweater instead of buying one?” He lifts the particular piece of fabric that’s been covered in carefully woven strings and knots, “You could like knit it or something.”

Your eyes widen in bewilderment, never really considering that to be an option. Truthfully you aren’t a huge craftsman at all, but you suppose in a way making it would be more sentimental and it wouldn’t have your wallet emptying out in despair either.

You pursue your lips. 

Perhaps...you’ve got a solid idea on your hands. 

***

Soon after, you and Jackson head over to a different store to pick up various threads. None of the colours seem to catch your eye until you focus on the black and orange assortments, the idea of making the sweater like your team’s jersey being a welcoming one because Yoongi would then be able to wear it to practice.

You discover that Jackson had ended up purchasing some of his own threads as well, declaring that he doesn’t think giving his girlfriend a mere box of chocolates would be enough and he wants to take up the challenge. You’re ecstatic at the prospect of someone else also working at this with you, not being alone in a somewhat lengthy project.

By the time you head back to your dorm, Taehyung and Jungkook can’t help but be curious.

“What’s that?” Jungkook wonders, pointing to the large bag you had hauled up and planted onto the ground.

“Oh, just some threads I picked up with Jackson.” You softly smile, “I’m going to make a sweater.”

“Who is this sweater for?” Taehyung questions, raising a suspicious brow. You opt out for not telling them just yet, in the hopes they don’t accidentally tell Yoongi when you’re not around.

“Just for someone…” You meekly snatch up the bag, deciding to bring it to your room instead of in front of the prying eyes.

Taehyung pursues his lips, like he wasn’t able to believe you on that. He watches you disappear into your room, tugging the bag alongside with you.

Spreading out the materials onto your bed, you unpackage and begin to unravel the long bundles of thread. You then take out the sharp needles, staring at them and then at the yarn with a blank look.

Although this had initially been a good idea, you can’t help but wonder what knitting would be like for someone like you. You have zero experience with the craft and you don’t know what you ended up making is going to look like, but with a sigh, you suppose that simply the desire to make something for Yoongi should be enough at the end of the day.

***

Knitting is horrendous.

It takes a certain kind of rhythm to get through it, a precise way of weaving the strings to build a cohesive chain. That chain then grows to become a giant sheet, building up to develop into the huggable and cozy appearance you were going for.

Or at least, you had hoped for.

There’s a crease in between your brows when you clasp the needles tighter, attempting to loop them according to the tutorial you had been up all night watching. The man in it was able to easily tie the strings together, letting them effortlessly go through various hoops until he was completely finished. You on the other hand, barely have finished the first row of many, roughly pulling the needles back and forth to create some sort of structure.

When another disastrous knot forms amongst the somewhat okayish row, you let go of the needles in exasperation. You suppose there was no guarantee that you would have been good with this, not accustomed to working with something that required so much care and detail opposed to brute force and strategy.

“Hey Y/N!” You glance up to see Jackson strolling over, a bright smile on his lips, “Are you making it?”

He points to the multiple strings wrapped around your arms, needles poking out of the mess you managed to create. With a somber nod, you sadly smile.

“What about you?” You question, hoping you can get some solace that knitting for the first time was a universal issue and that you weren’t the only one facing its wrath.

Jackson plants his bag on the ground next to you, rummaging through it before he pulls out a clean sheet of perfectly woven strings.

“I think it’s coming out quite nicely!” He grins, “I might just turn mine into a sweater instead of a scarf at this rate.”

“That would be a good idea.” You whisper, still eyeing the way your teammate was able to catch onto the craft much better than you did. In a way, you are happy, however you wanted this to be perfect for Yoongi and so far the future doesn’t look so bright for you in that matter.

Speaking of which, Yoongi steps into the gym. You and Jackson hurriedly scramble as you slide your bob of mixed yarn and his perfected one away in your bags before anyone can see. Hastily straightening up, you jog over to where the members have started to line up and patiently wait.

“Hey Y/N.” Taehyung nudges you with his elbow, “Is the captain alright?”

“Hm?” You stare at Yoongi in confusion when he paces over to Namjoon, his dreary eyes appearing a lot more serious than usual. You recall talking to him about it a while back and he had simply shrugged it off by saying he had a lot on his plate with school and being captain. Although he managed to convince you that everything was okay, the stress lining his delicate features is too easy to read in the single moment.

“I honestly don’t know…” You whisper to Taehyung, but before he can ask you more, Yoongi marches over.

“We’re practicing in teams of four today, separate yourselves.” He simply mutters, eyes coming into your contact with yours for a second. He smiles, but it’s then when you realize how stressed he actually is when it barely meets his eyes. 

When you move to get into teams, Jackson reminds you of the very thing that could help the situation.

“Since the captain is stressed, he’ll probably be really happy when you give him the sweater.”

Although you agree with the sentiment, his words only serve to spike up determination in you.

***

You collapse onto your bed, a sigh leaving your lips.

“I mean, it doesn’t look so bad….” Hyerin encourages over the phone, the overshadowing in her voice being too obvious, “Really Y/N, it kind of looks like a hat– OH! Maybe you could give him a hat!”   

You groan, planting your hand on your face as Hyerin desperately tries to make you feel better. “Yeah, a hat! He could totally rock it, right?”

“Maybe I should just give up on the idea and buy one…”

“Why don’t you just ask that guy for help? Uh what was his name, Jackson?” Her voice blares through the phone and you roll over to plant it against your face.

“He’s already making one of his own Hyerin.”

A tick leaves her, but she still persists, “You can do this, Y/N! It’s really great that you’re putting in so much effort to make something for this Yoongi guy and I think he’d be grateful at the end of the day.”

You stare down at the heaped mess you’ve created, strings poking out in absurd ways.

“Are you sure?” You pluck one the strings, watching it unravel from the loose knot you weren’t able to make.

“Positive!” Her voice turns firm, “Now make sure you finish that sweater and knock his socks off with it!!”

You giggle from that, thanking her and then turning off the phone. Letting your eyes wander back to your failed sweater, you pick up the needles again and give it another shot.

***

Namjoon arrives at practice earlier than expected.

Yoongi had informed him that he would be caught up in some delays because of a late exam the day before, so Namjoon decided it would be best if he came early for the team.

He heads for the gym doors, entering the large court area and jogs towards his office. Grabbing his whistle, he naturally assumes no one is in the gym – until he catches sight of two people.

You and Jackson are huddled together in the corner, seemingly whispering to each other amongst the empty and quiet gym. Namjoon raises a brow, unsure of what was exactly going on as he treads over to you, hovering above your crouched figures.

That’s when he sees it and it leaves him feeling even more puzzled. Strings of yarn are sprayed across the ground, both you and Jackson holding what he assumes to be knitting needles. The pile next to Jackson is an appealing array of white and sky blue, woven together to resemble a cozy scarf.

The pile next to you, however, is a disarray of blank and orange, and what’s worse is that your technique doesn’t seem to be helping much.

“Oh my god, Namjoon!” Jackson suddenly shrieks. Namjoon winces at the high pitch, watching you two instantly scatter away all your belongings and pushing it behind you. “W-We were just uh, you know talking and stuff!”

Namjoon sighs, “Why are you knitting before practice?”

“Oh uh, the thing is–“ Jackson scrambles for an answer.

“I’m knitting a sweater for Yoongi.” You smile, being honest with Namjoon as Jackson gapes at you for letting the secret out so easily. “We were just working on completing so we won’t be distracted when practice starts.” 

Namjoon appreciates that you’ve told him the truth instead of covering it up like Jackson was attempting to, so he decides you could use the piece of advice he offers.

“Do you need help? I’m not great at knitting but I do know the basics since my mom’s really good at it.”

A cord strikes in you at that, mouth falling agape when the source of help you needed all along was actually in front of you. You hurriedly nod, shifting over abruptly as Namjoon chuckles.

When he takes the bundle from his hands, Namjoon frowns, “Why are there so many lumps in it?”

“Lumps?” You crane your neck to see the various bumpy ridges, “Oh, that’s how the tutorial said to do it.”

“I think the tutorial was right but you did it on the opposite sides.” Namjoon plops the ground, weaving the needles on a different side, “It should be like this.”

You attentively watch as Namjoon fixes your errors, the odd lumps in your design beginning to disappear as he continues. Jackson seems to be intrigued as well, dropping his own bundle to observe Namjoon with pure marvel.

“There you go.” Namjoon smiles, having taken a couple of minutes to fix your messed-up rows and passing it back to you. Thanks to him, your design appears much better and smoother, no longer a disarray of chaos.

When he gets up, you sincerely smile.

“Thanks Namjoon.”

He smiles back at you, heading back to his office to grab some paperwork. He swoops out of the gym for a brief moment, both you and Jackson still huddled in the corner as you attempt to recreate the way Namjoon had shown you. That’s when Namjoon runs into him, eyes sparking up in surprise.

“Ah, you’re on time.” Yoongi nods, hand on the bag slung across his shoulders.

“I managed to get some sleep.” He yawns, rubbing his eyes sleepily. His eyes dart over to Namjoon’s hands, “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s the approval for the next game.” He hands it to Yoongi, who hums before briefly scanning over it.

Namjoon smiles when he gives it back, “If you need any help, just let me know.”

“I wouldn’t worry so much about that, just focus on school for now.” Yoongi nods and Namjoon smiles, patting him on the back before he leaves. “Good things are coming your way so try not to stay too stressed.”

Yoongi frowns and stares at him strangely at that, but he simply shrugs it off as another yawn escapes him. 

***

Namjoon’s help ended up doing pure wonders for you. Because of him, your rows don’t longer are tangled or stringy but aligned and smooth. His help also sparked bundles of motivation in you, the desire to keep going without completing the sweater not being far from your hands.

You end up finishing just on time, presenting the finished product to Jackson with a huge smile gracing your lips.

“It looks great Y/N!” He exclaims, marvelling at the fine embroidery of black and orange, “I can’t believe you managed to make our logo on it!”

He flips the sweater around to show the words Bangtan and the number nine that Yoongi wears on his jersey. You smile at that, though you have to admit pestering Namjoon with a multitude of questions ended up being immensely helpful.

“What about you? Where’s yours?” Jackson places your sweater down and pulls out the bright white and blue sweater, an intricate striped pattern on it.

“What do you think?”

You gape in amazement, fingers faintly touching the material, “It’s beautiful….” You whisper, giving him a soft smile, “Your girlfriend will love it.”

Jackson grins and you take your sweater back. The sound of feet shuffling nearby have you two scrambling again, hurriedly glancing in the direction of the door where Yoongi stands.

He frowns, bag still on his shoulder, “What are you guys doing here?”

Jackson’s eyes light up with the situation, a cheesy smile on his lips when he grabs his belongings and hastily gets up. Yoongi raises a brow when Jackson sends you a thumbs up before leaving, dismay growing in you at how obvious he was being.

“What’s going on?” Yoongi turns back to you, more confusion appearing in his features.

You slowly get up from the ground, bringing the folded sweater in your hands. Shuffling over to him, Yoongi’s eyes perk up at the sight of it.

With a bashful smile, you extend your arms.

Yoongi frowns, letting his bag drop to the ground before he takes the woolly sweater from your hands. It unfolds, revealing the huge logo that matches with the one on his jersey.

When he glances at you perplexed, you clear your throat and smile, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Yoongi takes a glance at the sweater again, the shock across his features not leaving the longer you stare at him. You wonder just how speechless you’ve rendered him, but then he takes the sweater and walks away from you.

Pain flashes in your eyes when he hasn’t said anything, fear dwelling in you at the prospect that he doesn’t like it. But then he emerges from the office with something in his hands.

“I had a talk with Yoonji….” He begins, a small box in his hands, “When everyone’s families were invited to our game.”

You nod, recalling the day being horrible for you until Yoonji had cheered you on. “So I got you this. I wasn’t sure when to give to you but since it’s Valentine’s….”

He hands you the box and you stare at it in curiosity. It feels extremely light and you pick at the tape on the side, letting it peel away to allow the corners to unfold.

Your hand comes into contact with something metallic, pulling it out completely from the bag to reveal the large brown frame.

When you had first earned your position on the team after try-outs, Namjoon had wanted to take a group picture of the team to cement it. He had requested that you all appear serious, but after the first shot, that was thrown out the window once Taehyung had managed to fall over and everything had started laughing. Namjoon had ended up keeping the remaining shots for memory sake, but the one where all of you are laughing the hardest, is the very one in the frame Yoongi has given you.

It spells out one solid message for you, something you didn’t even know you needed.

You will always have your team by your side.

Your eyes grow glossy when you glance up at Yoongi, who’s smiling tenderly at your reaction. He brings the sweater in his hands over his head, looping in his arms in it before it entirely covers him. Snatching up his bag from the ground, he trudges away to toss it aside and to bring the cart of basketballs out.

Taking one final glance at the frame with a smile, you carefully place it back into the box and into your bag. Eventually getting back into the flow for practice, everyone begins to arrive and take notice of Yoongi’s unique sweater, Jackson throwing you a cheeky smile at its appearance.

“They’re so cute.” Jackson dreamily sighs, later on watching you two interact from the window of the Namjoon’s office once practice wraps up.

Namjoon hums, clearly annoyed by Jackson's sudden emergence in his office as he works, but managing to let out a soft smile from the thought.

[peacehopeandrats]

What advice could you give to people for working with prompts?

Ooh. So that depends on if you mean they are trying to create a prompt or if they are trying to practice using a prompt or what type of prompt you want me to talk about?

One of the biggest forms of advice either way is to use what works best for you. Some people aren’t visual. They don’t need to see the thing, they need to hear it or read it. Some people need the visual to really get in the mood. Some people might not have any idea what they need.

So here come my tips.

If you are that person who needs sound to stimulate the writing senses, find a free background sounds app or go to youtube or spotify or wherever and put on those sounds. Writing a scene in a storm? Listen to thunderstorms. Out at the beach? Put the waves on. Near a fireplace? You get the idea. Often if I am writing Hyperion Heights I will put on my cityscapes sounds. If I am in Storybrooke, I’ll do something a little quieter, like a spring day or random things like clocks or washer and dryer or whatever. I’ve got a great sound mixer for this so I can be very specific. I can even add dogs and include pongo. :)

If you are a visual person, grab that visual. Don’t be afraid to search for the exact thing you are struggling with. Moodboards are good if you lack absolute inspiration for starting a story, but if you are trying to capture a scene, say waking up in bed in the morning, then searching for something that specific might help you most. Just don’t spend 2 hours searching for every 5 minutes you write. That defeats the purpose.

If you are someone who likes to use text prompts like random words or phrases, there are a gazillion resources on the internet that will provide you with random book titles, a collection of random words, and other random text prompts. Back when everyone subscribed to paper magazines, I used to go to the recycling center and rip out a random page from whatever was within reach, then rip that page up. It would give me neat little bits of sentences that would either be missing the beginning or the ending of and I would find great inspiration in those. (I then used the torn images to prompt me to writing. That was always fun too. Sometimes I would write what was missing from the picture, sometimes I would just do a study of what I could see. It was great.)

If you are asking about how to start making your own prompts, I’d say be creative. As my last example showed, I am the type of person who would even find prompts in the trash. You can find them anywhere if you are looking. Another thing I did was buy a package of random stickers, and place them haphazardly around on my paper that I was writing on. I always had one at the top line, so I could start writing at that sticker, but the placement of the rest was totally random. I would then write freely about the first sticker until it hit the second sticker and I had to include that sticker in the plot. I kept going until I went past the last sticker and finished the story. That is always a fun way for me to prompt myself. Other times I practice making prompts by taking notice of what my eyes are staring at blankly. It could be a shadow on the wall or a patch of sun in the grass and I’ll realize I’m staring at it, so I’ll prompt myself to think up a story for it.

Seriously, I could just go on with this for forever.

[stellarstolen-a]

roan & maia 🔪 modern au || @kiingbuilt ↳“even if the cops come calling, i’ll never talk”