#he actually looks a lot like my tattoo artist now lol

[bigbigtruck]

what’s that boy up to in 2022? He’s doing pretty all right.

[skzdarlings]

the rescue ; skz; aotm!hyunjin x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood: ❛ i'm simply enjoying the view. it's not every day i get to fuck someone so pretty. ❜ would 100000% fit Hyunjin 🩶 + requested by anonymous: ❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜ with hyunjin? thank you

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: artist of the month!hyunjin was inspo here. gangster stuff, reader has been kidnapped and is in a see through nightdress, most violence off page though, bad guy hyunjin who is actually a good guy, arranged marriage, multiple smut scenes, not great communication but gets better lol. smut includes fingering, blow jobs, pussy eating, piv, spanking, light choking, husband/wife kink. word count: 6300 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

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“I’ve already explained,” you say, equal parts frustrated and exhausted.  “My husband isn’t coming for me.” 

The gangster cronies still don’t seem to understand.  You are tied to a chair in their basement (because they are preposterously corny goons, tying you up like a comically silly damsel in a ridiculous film) while they berate you for your husband’s tardiness.    

You have tried explaining, over and over, that Hyunjin is not coming, but they won’t accept that answer.  The fools try in vain to reach him again, but his line leads straight to a dial tone. 

He went radio silent after the initial video contact, when your captors demanded a price for your healthy return. 

Hyunjin was quiet on the call.  Your husband is a quiet man in general, though he knows how to use his charms and work a room, and he has certainly perfected the art of severe intimidation.  When your marriage was arranged, one mob family to the other, you mistakenly assumed you were marrying a monster. 

Hyunjin is very reserved when not conducting business.  He doesn’t engage in any of the more debauched sides of the business, unlike the men in your family.  Evenings at home are silent and still, the penthouse view of the glittering cityscape the only real bustle. 

Maybe that shouldn’t have surprised you.  When he took over his family’s business, Hyunjin altered a lot of their practices, cutting the crueler sectors, opting for illicit crimes of more practical varieties. 

The country is in a political chokehold, government affairs conducted none too differently from the criminal underworld.  The cops are all dirty, the politicians corrupt, the wealthy depraved.  Hyunjin has taken it upon himself to alleviate the pressure suffered by the regular people, the civilians who truly pay the price of a broken system.

In a world with no good guys, sometimes only villains can be heroes.    

You think of his face now, how he certainly looked the part of a villain on the video call.  Hyunjin has a very austere demeanour, exacerbated by his severe appearance: sharp marble features and dark, vicious eyes often further darkened with heavy lining, sleek black hair, scattered scars and tattoos, and the sort of regard that judges at a glance.  He is young, but he has the air of a man who has already traversed the universe and found it wanting.       

You think of his face now, the silent perusal he gave your bound body on that video call.  You are dressed in your favourite nightgown, your underthings partially visible through the light material, but it was not willingly donned.   At the time of your kidnapping, you were attired appropriately for the wealthy wife of a famous gangster.  You were returning from a family visit when your captors intercepted you in transit from the airport. 

Either to intimidate or threaten or just because they could, they made you remove all your jewelry and fine clothes.  They rifled through your luggage and demanded you change into the nightgown. 

Hyunjin recognized the nightdress, realized you must have been stripped, and likely inferred the very worst. 

“Address,” was the only word Hyunjin said.   He ended the call seconds later.    

“Oh, he’ll come,” your captor says.  He points at you with a hand that feels more threatening than a knife.  It makes your terrified heart leap into your throat.  “Or else.” 

“He won’t, though!” you exclaim.  “You’re wasting your time!”

They are not listening.  They leave the basement, slamming the door behind them.

You huff and settle back in your bonds. 

It is only a matter of time before they realize you are telling the truth.  Hyunjin will not waste the money or resources to rescue you.  He has always been respectful of the marriage arrangement, but your husband is not sentimental.  There is a professional distance between you.  His decision will be based in the logic of all his strategies: nothing personal, just a matter of business. 

You sometimes see a different side of him, something buried under that quiet intensity.  He collects fine art and spends hours poring over his favourite pieces, listening to music, losing himself to artistic fantasies.  He always comes back, but you know there are other worlds in his mind. 

Every attempt to bridge the gap has been gently rebuffed, but there have been moments when your husband seems curious about you.  You often catch him staring.  He gets a wistful look that softens his face, even with that shield of make-up.  His eyes are gentle when you talk about your passions.  You never let his quietude deter your friendly penchant for chatter.   He seems more than content to listen.  He remembers everything too. 

You know he finds you attractive, if nothing else.  He has caved on that front several times over, though not right away.  He didn’t touch you on the wedding night, nor the honeymoon.  He left your beach holiday early to return to business, leaving you in a villa with security and his credit card.  It was the first time you realized the material world was no replacement for true companionship.  You missed his dark eyes.

Your family also had expectations.  There would be consequences if the marriage fell through.  You would be blamed, not him.  Worried he would renege on the nuptials, you did everything to try and seduce him. 

He politely rejected you at every turn. 

Just when you were resigned, he arrived home after a job.  It was almost three in the morning when he entered the penthouse.  You have separate bedrooms but they share a connecting bathroom.  You could hear him cursing above the running water. 

You only meant to peek.  The sliding door on your side was partially ajar so you tip-toed over. 

Hyunjin was standing in front of the mirror, shirtless, pressing a rag to his wounded shoulder.  There was a mess of blood streaked down his back, making you gasp at the terrible mosaic of pain, his body littered with violent scars. 

That gasp contained multitudes, for the horror, for his beauty.  His dark eyes were as severely lined as ever, expression intense as he breathed hard through the pain.  Smooth black hair fell across his face when he tipped his head. 

He froze at the sound of your gasp.  His turn was very slow, eyes peeking through the curtain of his short hair.  They captured yours.   

You held your breath. 

Eventually, he straightened, flicking his hair out of his face.  He looked in the mirror and sighed.    

“You can come in,” he said.   “This is your home too.” 

You slid the door open, just enough to squeeze through.  Your attention was utterly transfixed on his bleeding shoulder.  You could see the wound was a thin stripe.  It was not deep so stitches were not necessary, but it was slightly out of his reach as it sloped towards his back.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you said, thoughtlessly taking the rag right out of his hands.    

In spite of the violence that raised you, or maybe because of it, you can’t stand to see suffering.   You and Hyunjin have had that in common from the start.  You were quick to help him clean the wound, wordlessly wiping all the blood then applying cream across the clotted cut. 

He flinched when the stinging cream made contact.  You went to apologize but your words evaporated when your eyes met through the mirror.  You were surprised to find him already looking at you, that expressive gaze as thoughtful as ever. 

“How did this happen?” you couldn’t help but ask, eyes rivetted to his reflection.   “You – you have people to protect you.”  You managed to rip your gaze away, looking at your task, feeling hot in the face. 

“I do,” he said.  “But I’d never ask someone to do something I’m not willing to do myself.” 

This did not surprise you to hear.   It is obvious that Hyunjin cares very deeply about the wellbeing of other people.  It is a fact known to few.  It aggravates you at times, but his reputation does not seem to bother him.  He would rather people think him a monster while he secretly does good rather than be praised in public while cruel in private. 

You have never known another man like him.  Looking at that scar that night, the realization truly struck you. 

Your fingers began to tremble where they brushed his bare skin, your eyes widening as you looked at the scar and many others.  If something happened to him, what would become of you?  Certainly, as his widow, you would be financially sound, but what did that matter?  This world would lose something irreplaceable if it lost Hwang Hyunjin.  This penthouse could be brimming with silver and gold and it would be empty, worthless. 

Tears in your eyes, you succumbed to desire, kissing him very gently on his hurt shoulder. 

“Hyunjin,” you said, your eyes closed, lips grazing his skin as you spoke.  “Please make sure you always come home, okay?” 

He did not answer at first.  When you lifted your eyes and looked in the mirror, those dark eyes were so enflamed that you were surprised nothing caught fire. 

“Hyunjin?” you said softly.   

“You mean that,” he said, not quite a question, more like a realization. 

“Of course,” you replied. You looked at his scarred back again, let your fingertips brush down the length of his spine.  It made him stand a little straighter.  “Have you ever known me to lie?” you asked. 

He finally turned around, looking at you with an long-engrained wariness, but also a hunger.  He was a starving man presented with a banquet, but one who did not easily trust when sitting at someone else’s table. 

“You’re a smart woman,” he said.  “I know that.  And I know that you’re – good.” 

Good was an exhale, like the word was too heavy for his tongue.  You realized that his wariness was less suspicion for you than hesitation regarding himself.  He was only starving because he though himself undeserving of the meal he wanted. 

“You’ve seen – and done – many bad things tonight, haven’t you?” you asked. 

Having the full force of his gaze was overwhelmingly heady.  You remember how it made your heart race like you were being chased, your breath catching over and over until you were almost panting. 

Arousal struck quickly, a sensation like you never experienced before.  You thought you understood attraction, but not until that moment when he released a breath, so close to your face, and you became truly aware of his proximity.   Of him, of all that he was, all that he did.  His character, his hidden depths.

Your husband. 

It made your racing heart thunder something fierce, your blood pumping hotly, throbbing places you did not know were so sensitive. 

You desperately wondered what was on his mind.  The gears in his head were spinning and whirring, delaying his response.  Was he feeling the same tension?  Were his thoughts the same realization?

 My wife.  

“Yes,” he finally said. 

“Is there something I can do to help?” you asked.

His tattooed hand cupped your head, tilting it just so.  It made your lips part with a gasp, eyelids heavy with anticipation for a kiss. 

He took his time looking at you, like he was scrubbing all those bad memories away, replacing them with the flustered look on his aroused wife’s face. 

“Yes,” he said again, and kissed you for the first time. 

You were so glad he rebuffed your previous half-hearted advances, clumsy seductions made out of obligation rather than desire.  It was so different to that kiss.  You would not have known how to even ask for a kiss like that.  You never knew what you were missing. 

Your quiet husband and his multitudes.  All that simmering intensity, hot just below the surface of his icy demeanour, burned right through his skin.  His kiss was ravishing, entirely possessive, like he wished to take your whole essence into him and hold it forever. 

He walked you backwards.  With a snap of his wrist, he slid the door open the rest of the way, so sharp that it tried to bounce back.  He continued onward, kissing you until you were dizzy with it.   

He picked you up just to put you on the bed himself.  Your kiss separated only then as you landed with a bounce and a breath. 

He loomed over the edge of the bed, this man who was both stranger and husband, hero and villain.   He looked at you like he already loved you.  He looked at you and saw the reciprocation.  You had fallen for him without realizing you had ever even stumbled. 

He ran his hands through his hair, the sleek black locks fluttering back into place.  His eyes were still rivetted to your face, to your body.  You were wearing the nightdress you are wearing now.  It is why it became your favourite. 

He looked down at you, the material translucent enough to see the details of your body.   It broke through that last layer of ice.  He surrendered with a choked breath. 

He unclasped a holster on his thigh, dropped a knife that was hidden in a pocket.   Once unarmed, his hands went to his belt.  You watched those nimble, efficient fingers, swallowing hard.   You were aching to an embarrassing degree, undoubtedly obvious in your desires.  No one ever warned you it would feel like this, just being looked at, never mind touched.

Then his belt was on the floor and he touchedyou for real.   His calloused hands moved up your thighs, pushing the nightdress up and out of his way.  He climbed on top of you, swift as a feline, mouth descending onto yours with that same desperate hunger as before. 

Recollection makes you crave another kiss.   You think you will always be starving for more. 

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, hands on his face, his shoulders, down to his chest. 

He took your hands and laced your fingers with his, pinning those hands to the bed.   He kissed you again, long and slow.  It was all more sensual than desperate.

His voice, however, was desperate when he begged, “Let me make you feel good, please.”  He kissed down your face, your jaw, your throat.  “Please, my wife.”  He kissed further down still, through your nightdress, tracing the curve of your breast with his tongue, wetting the material and awakening every nerve beneath it.   “My wife,” he repeated. 

“My husband.”  The words left your lips in a dizzy, delirious whisper.   

It was all the confirmation he needed.  Those deft and skilled hands, so quick to assemble weapons and pull triggers, applied themselves with a startling gentleness.  He took you apart and put you together with the same efficient ease.   

He hooked his fingers in the only material between him and his desire, tugged it out of his way.  His fingers went to you, slipping through all that wetness.  Those intense eyes rolled back even though it was just his fingers inside you, then he closed his eyes like it was too much, and it seemed he had to temper himself, murmuring nonsense as he let his fingers sink into you. 

He kissed you again, drinking down every sigh and gasp and moan while he fucked you with his long fingers.  It was like he could taste your pleasure, like he was trying to get drunk on it, every noise you made filling his mouth.  He gave them back and brought you over a peak, first with his hands, then with his mouth.  He laid between your legs and put your thighs around his head, losing himself entirely in you. 

He did not remove a single article of your clothing nor his pants, not that first time.  He simply held the material to the side as he unzipped and finally got inside you.  It made your whole body keen, coming to life like it never had before.  You forgot all your sensibilities and let every wanton sound and action loose.

He responded in kind.  His kiss tasted like your pleasure, his heart pounding as fast as yours where your chests pressed together.  You were careful near his injured shoulder, fingertips dodging scars.  Your soft touch made him whimper, this powerful man entirely undone by a few caresses. 

His skin was hot and he worked up a sweat, but his stamina seemed endless.  He always wanted more. 

You fell asleep tucked in his arms, content to believe the walls had crumbled.   However, they revealed themselves in the morning light, as concrete as ever.  He slipped away and left a note to excuse his absence as he was called away to business.   You thought about phoning or messaging him, but those lines were not always secure, not for such intimate conversations. 

When he returned a few days later, he hid behind those concrete walls, but too much had changed.  There was now an awareness of your proximity and your distance.  The lack of intimacy was not called into question before, the absence of something being a nothing.  But now that nothing was something, or had been something for a moment, and it made you both very aware of how it was now missing – and anticipating always when it might again appear.

He tried very hard to keep away, to stay cordial at best, his habitual quietude even heavier than before.  But while his silence was significant, so was his glance.  Every time you turned around, he was already looking at you, a longing in his eyes and a thought on his lips that he never dared to speak aloud. 

You granted him some distance for a time.  When it became abundantly obvious he was holding himself in check, you realized that your own vulnerability was required to bridge the gap. 

One night you crossed through the bathroom, slid open the door on his side.  You found him at his desk, dressed down in a white dress shirt and pants.  His blazer was discarded on the floor, his face still made up. 

He stood quickly when you entered, though he didn’t say anything. 

It was strange to imagine this man would need any reassurance, but you felt that was the case.   His fingers fidgeted at his sides, his roving eyes studious.

You said nothing.  You approached him, laid your hands on his chest, and gently guided him back into his chair.  He sat slowly, his eyes on your face the entire time, even when he had to tip his head back to peer up at you. 

You ran your fingers through his hair.  When you entered the room, his face was tightly screwed in an expression of aggravation, but all those harsh lines softened as you traced a thumb down the sharp slope of his cheek. 

There were some wipes on his desk.  You took one and began to carefully remove that shield of dark make-up.  His hand lifted but not to stop you, simply to rest his palm on your waist.  He began to really touch you, feeling the shape of your body through your robe as you helped him come back to himself. 

“Hello,” you finally said, looking at his bare face.  Still impossibly beautiful.

“Hello,” he replied. 

His fingertips dipped towards the hem of the robe.  Before he could distract you with your own pleasure, you sunk to your knees in front of him.  This startled him, his hand frozen in the air as you fit yourself between his open knees. 

He caught your hand, his reflexes fast, before it could reach his fly.   You could see he was already affected, a heavy bulge in the black material making your mouth water and core tighten. 

He squeezed your hand and you looked up at his face.   He tipped his head, blinked rapidly, an expression of mild confusion.

You took your hand back and unknotted your robe.  The silk fell from your shoulders and down, sliding like water right off your body.  You were completedly naked underneath. 

It clarified everything, his confusion gone, replaced with surprise.

“You—” he began.  It was interrupted when you put your head in his lap, resting on his thigh.  You led his hand to the back of your neck and kissed him through his pants.  It made his fingers clasp tighter around you.  

“Please,” you said. 

He would never deny you anything.  Not the smallest gift nor grandest gesture.  When you started a new charity to further your combined philanthropic efforts, he spared no expense in aiding the endeavour.  You shared passions, and now you shared this.

He was stiff at the start, but gradually let himself go lax in his seat.  His hand kept a steady grip on the back of your neck, not guiding but holding, like he thought you might disappear otherwise.  He murmured your name, letting his head fall back as you worked him in your mouth. 

You intended to make him finish like that, seeking nothing for yourself at that precise moment.  He had other ideas, needing more of your shared pleasure to take him over that brink. 

He lifted your face, adjusted his pants, and was on his feet in a matter of seconds.  That hand on your neck dragged you up, up, up until your naked body was pressed against his clothed one.  He clung to you needily, claiming your mouth in a wanting kiss. 

His hands moved over you, every new inch of skin making him moan as he walked you towards the bed.  The kiss only broke when you both sat down, his lips against yours as he breathed, almost smiling, “My pretty wife.”

“Hyunjin,” you said, shaking your head, feeling suddenly shy just because of a simple compliment. 

He did not allow you to curl into yourself with any shame.  When you tried, he seized you, pulling you onto his lap so you straddled it.   His eyes moved up and down your body, hands following, from your thighs to hips to waist and up. 

 “What are you doing?” you said, laughing helplessly when he kissed somewhere ticklish on your throat.  The sound made him smile, even softer than before, though it turned a little wicked as his mouth went lower. 

“I’m simply enjoying the view,” he said, then wrapped his lips around the stiff peak of your breast, ran his tongue up and over.  He licked and kissed back up to your mouth.   “It’s not everyday I get to fuck someone so pretty.” 

As he said this, he opened his pants again, eyes on yours as he grabbed your thighs and moved you so he could thrust up into you.  His hips moved with a slow roll, letting you adjust to him.  It had been a little while, and this angle was different.

And Hyunjin is not small.  Your husband is built in perfect proportion, his body a long, hard, slender build – everything inside you at that moment was no exception.   This angle made you whimper, clinging to him like  he was a life preserver in a storm.  The roll of his hips kept coming like waves and you were sure you would drown otherwise. 

Your arms were around his neck, his graceful but strong hands digging into the meat of your thighs as he fucked you.  He felt impossibly deep, every upward stroke feeling like it was bursting past something, pushing everything inside your body up to your throat. 

You swallowed again and again, the taste of him still on your lips, the feel of him inside every inch of you.  You clenched and tightened involuntarily, just pure animal reaction, and it made him moan and find all those sweet spots to make it happen again.    

“Help,” was your somewhat nonsensical request, blurted in the midst of some moaning babbling.

Fortunately, he was and is a smart man.  He understood.  He clasped you tight to his body and fell back on the bed, thrusting up into you with sharper, more focussed determination, faster until you were weeping on his chest, delirious with pleasure.  His shirt was unbuttoned and you accidentally ripped a few buttons right off, trying to press your face to bare skin. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said as you tumbled over a height you never reached before.  You never knew you could come just from that, stimulated somewhere so deep inside you, but it made you come undone in his arms. 

He watched you unravel and it made him follow, clinging to you as he just barely pulled out before coming between your dripping thighs.  It was all so messy and wet, your legs trembling, but it felt so good that it hardly mattered. 

He caught his breath, then looked at your face just lose that breath again.  He moaned and dragged you in for another kiss.

Then you were on your back, the night far from over. 

That second night is the one that truly opened the door to more.  Though your husband can be reticent in other regards, he is not quiet when he is inside you.  You have come together again and again, a conversation with your bodies as you look for pleasure in a dangerous world.   You always find it, tucked in the protective circle of his arms, wrapped around every inch of him. 

You have been out of his arms for too long.  Your visit to your family grew tedious before long.  Your home is with Hyunjin now and you were eager to return. 

Now it seems you may never see it again.  You may never see him again. 

No.

Just like the night when you took control for yourself, you must take control now.  You realize if anything is to happen, then you must take the reins of your own rescue.  You would not want Hyunjin to compromise himself or his important business.  You know if something bad happened to you, it would weigh on his conscious, even if it was the better business decision.  You must eliminate the need for choice. 

It turns out, comical rope bindings are truly best suited for silly movies.  When the men come to check on you again, you have slipped free of your bindings.  There was an array of weapons in the room, so carelessly disposed because the assailants never assumed you would get free – or, if you did get free, that you would not know how to use them. 

It is true, you do not like violence. 

That does not mean you do not understand it. 

You leave the two men unconscious in their basement.  Unfortunately, you cannot find your suitcase and you do not want to hang around, so you venture outside in your nightgown.  You are debating your next move when a car pulls into the driveway. 

You back away quickly, raising the gun you stole as more men get out of the vehicle.  You only stay your hand because you recognize one of them, though it takes a second to place him as one of Hyunjin’s lieutenants. 

Then Hyunjin emerges.   You have seen your husband before and after a confrontation, but never during it.  If you thought he was an intimidating figure in the aftermath, he is all danger and darkness as he storms up the driveway now.   There is such an energy radiating from him, it makes you stumble and forget yourself entirely. 

Then he stumbles, recognizing you.  You are both startled, staring at each other with the gun raised between you. 

He looks nowhere but your eyes. 

“Hyunjin?” you finally say. 

“I—”  He looks at you, the gun, the nightdress.  He shakes his head.  Some of that bravado returns when he says, “I’m here to save you.”

“Ah,” you say.  You slowly lower the gun, at a loss how to reply.  You were so resigned to the idea this was all still business.  The reality of your husband risking himself to rescue you from unknown hostiles is making your heart pound.  

In the end, all you can think to say is, “Sorry.  You’re late.” 

That wicked smile crosses his face, his tongue pushing at the corner of his mouth.  He is suddenly nothing but amused, looking at you, then at the house.

“I can see that,” he says. 

He whistles sharply and gestures to the house with a gloved hand.  His lieutenants run past you and charge the door, no doubt heading inside to finish the job you started.        

You turn to watch them go.  In your distraction, Hyunjin grabs your arm.  He is fast, effectively disarming you.  He catches the gun with a twirl before tossing it aside.

It is not the gun he wants; it’s you.

Still holding your wrist, he tugs you into him.  You throw your arms around him.  The hug is surprisingly chaste, his face in your neck as he squeezes you like it is the only thing keeping him alive and standing.

“Are you hurt?” he asks. 

When in his arms, it seems impossible to consider you could ever feel any pain. 

You shake your head, daring to kiss his cheek.  He turns his face to yours, your lips close enough to brush in a swipe. 

“I’m all right now,” you say.  “Sorry I beat you to the punch.  I – I wasn’t sure if—”

His brow crinkles.  That gloved hand goes from your wrist to your chin, seizing it between thumb and forefinger.  He tips your head so he can look at your face.  He always regards you like he does one of his masterpieces, like he can never get his fill, like there is always something new to find.  He is enchanted every time. 

“You’re mine,” he says.  “And I take care of what belongs to me.” 

You gasp when those fingers go from your chin to your throat, just enough to pull you in that last breath of a space.  He kisses you there in the sunlight, utterly shameless. 

“Do not ever doubt that,” he says.  His eyes are soft with his affection, but his voice is hard, skirting the edge of a threat he would issue an adversary.  It makes you tingle from head to toe.  “Do I need to remind you?” 

You never actually answer.  You are not sure if your answer would have made a difference, as Hyunjin is determined to show you the very second you are home. 

You reach the penthouse. There is no time to shower or decompress once you cross the threshhold.  He sweeps you off your feet, your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist.  You are wearing his blazer over your nightdress to preserve your modesty – not that it will last long.

He carries you to the bedroom where so many slow and subtle exchanges took place.  Now, he is not slow or subtle.  He is a force of nature.   He tells you that he held no greater fear than losing you and he tried to keep his distance, but he regretted it the moment he saw you on that video call. 

“You’re my wife,” he says, peeling his blazer off your body.  “I’m your husband.  There is nothing I should be holding back.” 

“Yes,” you say, running your fingers through that smooth black hair.  You shiver as he bunches the fabric of your nightdress, the material spilling over his fingers.   “Don’t hold back,” you say, mouth open against his, stealing his every breath.   “Do whatever you want.” 

He tells you exactly what he wants, using his words for a change, finally letting those walls come down.  He whispers every filthy thought into your ear, between kisses, between bites.   You shiver at every suggestion. 

And so, moments later, he is sitting on your bed.  He arranges you to lay across his lap, facedown in the pillows while he runs his hands down your spine and over the curve of your ass. 

“You’re my wife,” he says.  The first tap of his open palm is through the thin material of your nightdress.  It is truly just a warning tap, just enough to make you bounce.  “Don’t ever doubt me again,” he says, swinging that strong hand a little harder.  

This time a yelp escapes your lips.  You wriggle until he pins you down, a hand on the back of your neck and the other lifting your dress.   He already stripped your underthings, his open palm smoothing down all that bare skin.  

You tingle with anticipation, braced yet still unprepared for the sharp smack he next delivers.  You feel it tingle all the way up to your head, as well as the next one, and the next.   You squirm under his firm grip, groaning his name as your thighs get tense and press together. 

“Don’t say my name,” he says, and smacks you again.  “Who am I?”

“M-my husband,” you say, practically mewling like a kitten when he next brings his hand down.  “My husband,” you say again. 

“And you are—”

“Your wife,” you say, though it comes out almost like a sob, a desperate gasp as he slips his fingers between your thighs and finds a new way to torture you.   With your backside hot and stinging, the pleasure of his hand in that sensitive place feels amplified by a tenfold. 

“Husband,” you say, hips bucking.  His free hand goes from the back of your neck to your lower spine, holding you in his lap as he slowly finger-fucks you.

“Yes?” he says.

You do not even remember what you were going to say, or beg, or plead.  You are overcome with sensation, tingling all over, intensifying the press of his fingers as he curls his fingers into that soft, soft place.  Then you are really squirming, helplessly, instinctively, whining into the pillows. 

“I make you feel good,” he says.  “I take care of you.  You, who are so good, and so smart, but so—”

You cry out when he angles his hand just a little differently.  Your vision swims with stars as he speeds up. 

“So soft,” he says, his own voice going soft, just a whisper as he makes you come all over his hand in a throbbing, aching, desperate wet mess.  “Just for me,” he says in that whisper.  “Just for your husband.” 

“Mmmf,” is all the response you have left in you. 

Your thighs are trembling and your pussy throbbing with aftershocks when he picks you up.  He stands and turns, laying you on your side in the bed.  You are grateful, as your backside still stings, though you suspect he is not done yet.

He strips out of his clothes, tearing through his shirt, leaving the pants in a heap.  He forgets to remove his necklace.  All that silver is cold against your hot skin as he lays down behind you.   You do not have time to linger on it, as he gathers up the hem of your dress and adjusts himself behind you. 

He has taken you many times, in many ways, many positions.   When you are on your hands and knees, he is overtaken by a primal urge, your hips as leverage in his hands as he pounds into you like it is a chase.   When you are on your back, he sinks into you slowly and deeply, rocking his hips into yours like he intends to fuck you forever.  When you are in his lap, he rolls his hips in steady, needy waves, captivated by the sight of you in his arms. 

He lays behind you now and wraps his arms around you, coaxes your thighs apart.  Your nightdress is bunched every which way, leaving nothing to the imagination, and you feel especially exposed and vulnerable in this position somehow.  Perhaps it is the fact he is the one holding you open, keeping you in position so he can take you.

You let yourself fall into it, fall into him.  You let him tell you, with words and actions, exactly how he feels. 

Before it ends, you change position.  He lays back and you straddle his hips while stripping off your dress entirely.  He keeps rolling up into you, only stopping when you plant your hands on his chest to slow him down.  Then he practically sinks in the mattress, murmuring your name.  His make-up is smudged, his calloused hands rough on your body.  Whatever pains you experienced have been overtaken by his hands, by the smarting on your backside, still tender as you bring your body down onto his again and again.  He has completely claimed you for himself and you take the same in turn. 

“Hyunjin,” you say.  “My husband, oh—”

He kisses your hand, long and hard, like he needs his mouth on some part of you desperately.  Your fingers are curled into his pretty mouth when he comes, his hands on your hips and his cock buried inside you. 

“Oh,” is your final sound before you slump on top of him, skin to skin. 

He rolls you onto your side, though he keeps you wrapped around him, his arms around you in turn.  His hair is already a sweaty mess and you rub your thumb through some of his shadowy make-up, but those familiar dark eyes are gazing at you with so much warmth.   There is no more ice, no more cold concrete. 

“I should let you rescue me more often,” you say with a laugh. 

He doesn’t laugh back, but he does smile softly.  It should be incongruous with his severe appearance, but it somehow comes together, layers of him exposed all at once as he strokes your cheek.

He looks at you like his favourite work of art. 

“You were the one who rescued you,” he says.   “Just like you rescued me.” 

You cannot find the words to reply, so you kiss him.  It speaks volumes, and he replies, kissing back. 

You lose yourself to the sweetness, to the heat, to the passion, to all those things more, knowing there are many more to come with this man as your husband. 

[izzyspussy]

fic where lucius mentions during talk it through time VERY early after the reunion, like still in ed's catboy probation era, that he understands ed and izzy a lot better now, even though he wishes he didn't and doesn't absolve either of them of anything they've done, because after having All That done to him he often gets the urge to hurt people now in a way he never quite did before. have i already made this post. whatever.

so izzy is like this guy needs an outlet, not in those terms obviously because he does not know what that is, BUT. he does know that lucius is a good guy, soft at heart, and he needs to be able to hurt people without doing any harm or scaring himself (two totally separate needs, one of which is MUCH more difficult to navigate lol). but he's already got artistic skill, and he's on a damn pirate ship - and clearly, after all this, he can never go back to not being a pirate - so he needs to learn some piratical shit anyway, right?

so he either has someone else go or goes and gets the needle himself and then he gestures with it to ed, and he tells him, "you're gonna give me one on my right shoulder, just enough of something to fucking show him how to do it, and if you put your hands on me anywhere the fuck else i'll cut 'em off." (because it's early, like i said, and like. he is genuinely angry, and he does want ed to keep his hands to himself... mostly... but more than either of those he's scared to find out he STILL will let ed do whatever he wants so he has to just make sure ed doesn't do it in the first place, and also maybe he's performing a little bit for the rest of the breakup crew who want him to both Be Safe and Not Be With Ed. but anyway, it's complicated, and that's what he says but it means more and different than the sum of its parts, you understand.)

anyway, so then the two of them sit in front of lucius and ed gives izzy a little tattoo on his right shoulder exactly like he was asked and doesn't touch iz anywhere else exactly like he was told and all through he explains what he's doing and why he's doing it that way and he's also maybe slipping in some fun facts about izzy that may or may not actually have any bearing on tattooing him. just, you know, in case there's any other reasons maybe that lucius might want to know. or whatever.

and then lucius takes his turn tattooing izzy under both izzy's and ed's watchful eyes, but mainly ed's because izzy frankly does not really care what it looks like he's doing this for utility for lucius's sake - and also it's been. maybe a bit. a little while. since he really felt any genuine connection to his body, nvm how it looks (tho, as those of us who have tattoos can attest, getting a new one probably helps him with that issue at least some).

[amiharana]

ok I was reading thru your tattoo/flower shop au and I had to share the brainrot.

I hc revali as indigenous (particularly great plains native american) and oh man, what if at some point he very hesitantly brings up with link that he wants to get facial tattoos or something similar that's significant to him but he's nervous?? And Link goes out of his way to learn traditional stick-n-poke techniques so he can be the one to give revali his tattoos?? And it's like super sweet and meaningful for them both and Link feels honored that revali trusts him enough to ask? (and also revali is scared shitless and Link has to stop several times so he doesnt mess up and hurt revali more than it typically would)

like what if though???

ahem (taps mic) Hello can anyone hear me. i haven't written a tumblr ask in ages i feel ancient

first of all, i'm glad to hear that you still think of my tattoo/flower shop au haha it's been way over a year now since i wrote it. i still very much appreciate everyone who drew art for it 🫶 i've had a few passing thoughts about writing it into an actual proper multi-chaptered fic but i've been busy wrestling with school, work, and my personal demons for the past year that it's been quite difficult to even think about writing anything. thank you to anyone who's still here; i appreciate you a lot 🤍

i love the hc of revali as indigenous and i think it really fits in with the presence of the rito people as we're introduced to in the games, but i won't touch on that too much since i'm not indigenous/well-versed in indigenous culture. you know what i Am well-versed in though? these gay ass mfs

i had to reread my own au post for this Lord it's been too long, i wrote back then that i thought of revali as someone who isn't too fond of tattoos and doesn't have a great pain tolerance for them, and i still believe in that LOL. mixing that in with a hc where revali is indigenous is quite interesting, because i would assume that tattoos are an important/frequently appearing aspect of the culture? revali's parents have also passed in this au and he's alone with no family running the shop, so perhaps revali was estranged from his indigenous culture while growing up/at some point and became interested in trying to connect with it as an adult. maybe he came across the topic of traditional tattoos and after researching about it, he became interested in getting one but again because of his low pain tolerance, he thought it probably may never happen. well...

during one of their shared lunch breaks perhaps at a new cafe that's opened up on tabantha street, revali absentmindedly mentions his family and the tattoos. link immediately looks up at him from his food, those lovely blue eyes searching his face curiously.

"traditional tattoos?" he says, cocking his head at revali. revali blinks. well, of course link would have interest in the topic since he was a fellow tattoo artist himself, but the way he was looking at revali was...

"well yes," revali continues. "i suppose i haven't really talked to you much about myself personally, have i? i'm an indigenous hyrulean and my blood is descended from the rito tribe, but i'm not well-versed in my own culture." he mumbles the last few words, looking down at his coffee. "my parents and i lived on reservation land until i was 5 and then we moved away to a bigger city for work. there weren't many other rito there and so i didn't grow up with a lot of other indigenous folk. i don't know much about my family or my culture because of it, and even after my parents passed, it's never come up until now." revali glances back at link, who is now watching him with rapt attention. he looks away again, his cheeks beginning to warm. "i thought it would be nice to connect with my culture by getting a traditional tattoo of the rito tribe, perhaps something small so i can handle it. though, i wouldn't be able to travel to the reservation to find a traditional tattooist because of the shop and neither do i know of any tattoo artists nearby that could do it..."

"i'll do it," link says suddenly. revali looks at him again and blinks. link's eyes are bright and wide, blazing with determination. he's still holding his sandwich in his hands.

"i-i couldn't ask that of you," revali says, heart skipping a beat. "you'd likely have to learn an entire new and unfamiliar technique, and—"

"i'll do it," link insists, placing the sandwich down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. his eyes are still trained on revali, just as insistent as his mouth is. revali swallows.

"use a napkin, please," he mutters, passing link one. the blond takes it and grins at him. "if it's something that you greatly desire to do... i will assist you in offering as much information as i can. i... appreciate it, link." i appreciate you, he thinks but the words get stuck in his throat. link's smile only grows.

thinking about link who researches rito tribal tattoos for a few weeks and reporting and discussing his findings with revali during their mon/wed lunch breaks. thinking about link who spends countless nights staying up compiling everything he finds into a document, the different types of tribal tattoos and their meanings, researching the materials and tools needed for traditional tattoos, sketching different tribal symbols endlessly for the perfect one for revali in between tattoo sessions with other clients, thinking about where on revali's body it would go, thinking about revali's warm skin under his hands... let's keep it PG link 🫡

the day finally arrives when link introduces the tattoo sketches to revali. link probably shows him a few ideas of a small rito symbol on his fingers, wrist, deltoid, ankle, and even ribs. HOWEVER. i really like the idea of the winged rito symbol across the back of revali's shoulders to represent his wings in canon? so what if. link who sketched a drawing of revali's back muscles with the winged rito symbol and he doesn't mean to show it to revali since it's a much bigger tattoo than revali wanted, but revali happens upon it anyway while scrolling through the sketches on link's ipad.

"what's this one?" revali says pointing at it.

link glances over at the screen and flushes. "oh, i didn't mean for you to see this one," he murmurs. he uses two fingers to zoom in on the image slightly. "i just had an idea for this particular symbol, so i sketched it out because i thought it'd look nice. i know you wanted a smaller one, so we can just focus on the first sketches—"

"it's beautiful," revali cuts him off, voice soft and still looking at the winged sketch. "how much do back tattoos hurt?" and link is jaw dropped, staring at him with hearts in his eyes LMFAOOOOOOOO

thinking about link who actually reaches out to a traditional tattooist from revali's tribe and asks if he can mentor link so he can learn their technique??? maybe link and revali who end up traveling to the reservation together so revali can visit and link can learn directly from the tattooist??? revalink road trip and sharing a bed trope??? link would probably only take a week tops to learn the technique since he's like a prodigal artist and the tattooist is impressed. also revali getting to spend time with and learn more about his culture from others from the tribe who live there 🥺

if revali does get the winged rito symbol tattoo on his back, he probably wouldn't get it as a solid color, maybe link would incorporate more tribal lineart into it like the totk zonai imagery? i've never gotten a tattoo so i don't know if back tattoos or the style of solid color tattoos would hurt, but regardless, link would make revali as comfortable as he can throughout all the sessions 🥺🥺🥺

originally when i read this ask and you mentioned facial tattoos, i thought about link gently holding revali's jaw between his pointer finger and thumb to readjust the positioning of his face in the midst of tattooing him, and revali sucking in a breath at the contact WAHHHH but with the direction i took with this post, i also thought about link laying a flat palm between revali's shoulder muscles, feeling the warmth of his skin and tracing his shoulder blades with a featherlight touch and revali getting flustered but muttering, "are you going to keep me in suspense?"

link traces a line down revali's spine. "are you sure you want to get this tattoo?" he murmurs. "we can still do the smaller ones instead if you want. i know how you feel about it, with your pain tolerance and all."

revali snorts, trying to mask his nervousness. "i've already made up my mind. it's a beautiful piece that you put a lot of thought into and i'm not backing out now. besides..." revali's voice lowers into a mumble. "i wouldn't have gone through with it if it was anyone else. i trust you."

link's cheeks pinked in the sweet way they do when revali catches him off-guard, but he can't take it back. he doesn't want to take it back, because it's true; revali trusts link for this with everything he has.

hhh . AHHHH . i just think. yeagh.

[hughiecampbelle]

Random Headcanons About Baby Roy:

Warning/s: addiction, addiction mention, drugs, alcohol mention

A/N: I think about Baby Roy all the time, lol. I just love them. I thought some fun headcanons would be nice :) Based on these headcanons and this fic series!

Baby loves screamo. Anything and everything screamo. Also any alternative artist! The more raunchy, the better. Any car or room they're in, they're listening to it or humming it or playing it in their headphones. Everyone's come to expect it and ignore it as best they can. Especially Karl and Frank, they hate it. Gerri just shrugs. it's not hurting you or anyone else, leave it be

It absolutely drives Connor insane, especially when you and Roman gang up on him and recite verses. Roman doesn't love your music, but it's so worth it to watch your other siblings cringe and get all uncomfortable

"That d*ick tastes like yankee candl-" I love Ashnikko lol

"Y/n, please."

"You wanna hear a so-"

"No."

Baby unironically plays Where's My Juul?? by Lil Mariko in front of Connor who has no idea what a juul actually is lol

Baby has a wicked sweet tooth. Kendall's been sneaking them candy since they were little, but it seems like you always have something sweet. A lollipop, gumballs, gummy bears, etc.

"You'll get a cavity."

"This is my one vice, let me be."

Shiv is always holding out her hand for whatever you've got. She doesn't ask, she just expects it. You never mind, it's nice to share with her. Besides, it makes her feel like a little kid, too

Baby loves gory movies. Growing up, when all the kids were together, they'd have movie night. When it was your turn, you always chose the goriest thing you could find. Rome would sit with his hands over his eyes and Connor would hold a pillow, But you, Ken, and Shiv would be totally into it

"Just wait! His head gets ripped off!"

"This can't be appropriate."

Baby is actually very smart. Despite all the partying, their grades were perfect. Logan had no need to worry. Maybe you weren't showing up to class, but you were there for tests and that's all that mattered. You throw your intelligence in your brothers faces

"Can you even spell egotistical?"

You make endless jokes about your sobriety that none of them like except for Roman. The others shoot daggers at you with a look that says "not funny" You think it's funny though, and that's all that matters

"I'll be at the bar, you guys chat. Kidding! I was kidding, jeez."

"Does anyone else need a strong drink right about now?"

"They say the food is like crack, but I know crack and this isn't that."

"I used to take handfuls of pills to this song. Now look at me, I've become a monster."

Connor is horrified. Every time you say anything, he's speechless. Shiv gets very serious and Kendall spirals, but Rome likes it. If you can't joke about it, what good is it?

Baby has lots of tattoos and piercings. It's the only socially acceptable way to self harm that isn't drugs and alcohol. Logan hates them and Connor thinks they're unsightly, but you don't really care. Gerri always wants to see the new ones you got, though she prefers they be covered up in the office

"I like that one, that one's very cute."

"Thanks, Mommy."

She hates when you call her that. For you, your and Gerri's relationship, it's not at all sexual like it is with Roman. She is genuinely your mother figure. She is warm and caring and only wants the best from you. She can always tell when things are getting bad again

"Oh honey, you don't look so good."

"Mommy, I don't feel so good."

She really does love you. Someone has to. She knows your mother and Logan don't. Someone has to be there for you

Both Karl and Frank are afraid of you. Between the music, the addictions, the tattoos, the piercings, everything is intimidating to them. You're not competing like your siblings, that scares them the most. You want nothing to do with the company

"Think they're rabid?"

"Might be."

You love it, the way they always back away when you get too close, like you're demonic or infected

Baby, I think, would write a lot. Not just your feelings, which are so hard to put into words, but good things that happened, reasons to stay sober

You have a notebook or something that they use to write in. You've brought it to every rehab you've ever been to and constantly reread it over and over. No one knows about it, and if they notice, they don't bring it up. It's yours

Reasons To Stay Sober: Connor, Kendall, Shiv, Rome. Connor, Kendall, Shiv, Rome. Connor, Kendall, Shiv, Rome. Connor, Kendall, Shiv. . .

You have a sobriety birthday and every month you bake a cake. It always turns out shitty, lopsided, and burned and runny at the same time, but decorating it makes you feel like a kid again

You're always wearing your siblings clothes. You're always stealing someone's jacket or socks or shirt or sweater. You like it. It makes you feel close to them

They've just come to expect it

"You look better in that shirt than I do, keep it."

"I was going to anyways."

You have those moments of deep regret and embarrassment and self-consciousness that always end up in tears, but your siblings are there to pick up the pieces

Connor especially will just hold you as long as you need and listen to everything you have to get out

You feel so deeply sorry for hurting them and scaring them so much. You just wanted it to stop. You wanted not to he angry anymore

They tell you they understand, but you know they don't. Not really. They can't unless they've felt the way you have

Baby falls asleep on all the siblings. Even Roman will let them get away with it, but no one else. You snuggle into them and have the best sleep of your life

"Quit moving."

"Don't use me as a pillow, then."

You get away with (mostly) everything because you're their baby and they love you so much. They love you so much it's gross

Connor still prides himself on the way he raised you. There were bumps in the road, but you ended up perfect. Absolutely perfect

They all pride themselves on how they raised you. It wasn't always good, they weren't always there, but they're making up for all that now. Logan is gone. Slowly they're breaking the cycle, for you and for them

Things will get better. You've hit rock bottom so many times and always found a way out. This is that. This is your out

[yoinkschief]

What’s your general HCs for the fellas ? (Identity, race, sexuality etc)

Whooaagh, that's gonna be a long list, I have a ton of like small headcanons for them that mean like absolutely nothing, but I'll try to keep it to a simple list

Just quickly though:

I HC them all to be generally around 27/28 and in their late 30's/early 40's during WTFuture/in the future,, there was no real way to put that in a good list with them lol

And they're all best friends - just cause they're a group of people doesn't mean they only get to have one bestie yk, they're all super close

Also Ellsworld is canon alongside Eddsworld, they co-exist with each other

Tom - Mixed Race (Black/Irish from his mom, White/American-Hawaiian from his father - Trans Masc-Nonbinary (AMAB) He/They/(sometimes)It (It/Its depends on who it is) - Bisexual (massive masculine lean) (worst taste in men EVER) - Styles his hair to look like his fathers (otherwise his hair is usually textured around the 3's,,, like 3A/3B) - Very pear shaped like his father, and hairy too lol, the alcohol certainly doesn't help with that - Wears reading glasses (later this turns into him genuinely needing a prescription,, another thing he gets from his father - he looks very similar to his mother in terms of facial features and skin tone, but has a lot of his father's aspects) - Fear of eye contact (has gotten a lot better about it now that he's an adult, but still struggles with it with people he does not like/does not know) - Autistic - 5'5" (the shortest of the ensemble) - Works at a diner while part-timing music independently - "Monster" form is man made and extremely painful to turn into (there is no way he could control it,,, in some iterations of my headcanons like in different stories there are ways that he can have like a pact with it,,, like in my Mattsworld AU (WHICH I NEED TO POST ABOUT AUGH) he's "controlled" it a bit by making a deal with it,,, of what I haven't quite figured out yet oof) - Has quite a few tattoos on him,,, (Polynesian shark teeth on his left upper arm, cyan colored harpoon tattoos on his left side, a pinup mermaid girl on his right side, and the Nordic rune for "Wolf" on his right outer thigh) - Also he inherited his anger issues from his father as well, forgot to add that earlier with the list of things he's inherited from his old man lol - Momma's boy (/affectionately, not like he can't do anything without his mom, moreso like he really loves her a lot and obviously they're very close since they both lost Tom's father that day so for a while they were all the other had to remember him by) - Tamara is his cousin from his mother's side of the family - His first friend was Edd - His mother died when he was in highschool - father when he was in elementary, it really hit him hard (it was just before his senior year and had he not done so well the years prior he would've failed HS because of it) - Diesss ???? It's like the whole "OMG they killed Kenny" bit more than anything - like if I had to describe it, he has the Loony Toons death curse, where he dies on screen but in the next panel he's fine cause no one can actually die on a kid's show, yk ? - Tons of piercings,, mostly on his face but also in other places on his body too, though it's more like two other places other than his face area - Loves Ska music obviously, but also punk and rock, thinks artists like Destroy Boys, GRLWood,

Edd - British,,, and probably has some Italian in him somewhere, y'know like family rumors/talk of like "well I'm 1/4 Italian" or "your some odd greats grandma was Italian" that kinda thing,,, not quite sure, not curious enough to care to get some DNA test kit - Homophobic (/j) Gay, man kisser, masculine hug enjoyer, he holds hands with other boysss - On the AroAce spectrum, not really a hard no on either, just more of something he doesn't think about on a day to day basis nor really care about unless the thought is put in his head - Moles scattered across his body (not many, just one or two here and there - and none that are particularly bad or harmful) - Wears reading glasses (more specifically blue light glasses cause he's looking at a screen all day every day) - The only one of the gang that doesn't have any genuine mental disorder,,, he's got his problems sure but he's neurotypical through and through - His problems being main character and plot armor - More seriously though he has a raging hero/savior complex that gets him into a lot of trouble at times - 6' even, second tallest of the group - Very apple shaped,,, when I draw him I think very round thoughts if that makes sense - Had a major emo phase in highschool,,, he kinda snapped out of it during Senior year, or rather the summer leading up to it, but man it was wretched LOL - A child of divorce (they still made it work for him - it wasn't like they fought or it was a domestic abuse thing, they just fell out of love with each other and couldn't stand being in the same house anymore, but they love Edd so they made it work for him the best they could) - Works as an animator - professionally and freelancing ! Hard fucking order but he LOVES they process of creating art, seeing the end result is so gratifying to him and being able to see all the love and attention he put into it - Has a Youtube channel where sometimes he reviews animated movies/shows/shorts - he doesn't update it a lot, it's like a "if I feel like it" cause he only does Youtube as a hobby and as a place to hold his animation portfolio - His first friend was Matt, they've been friends since like diapers - REALLY really good friends with Tord - doesn't really know why but they are like bound by the hip - He's only got ear gauges - he doesn't try and stretch them a ton like Tom does, he's fine with just normal sized gauges that don't stretch his lobes all that much - Has a VERY BROAD music taste, anything from Lemon Demon to Oingo Boingo, to PinkPantheress, to Joey Valence & Brae, to Weird Al,,, anything under the rainbow of music genres he's probably heard one song from each - PowerEdd is canon still !! Not the superhero, but the powers he and Eduardo now suffer with lol,, but they're not really potent, his body chemistry is just kinda fucky now cause of it,,, bro glows in blacklight and sometimes just in general

Matt - British/French,,, basically he's incredibly white - Pansexual (he used to also be GenderFluid in my headcanons,,, but in the past year or so I've decided against it - he's more of just a guy who likes makeup and to wear dresses more than anything else) - Ginger with freckles, they cover his body in splotches mostly, but he's got a few individual ones here and there on his body as well (they've clustered around his face, hands, elbows, shoulders, hips, knees and like two separate patches on his back) - His hairstyle has changed so much with me over the years and it's my own damn fault lol, I don't draw him enough but that most comes with the "I don't wanna draw him wrong" thing but if I don't ever draw him how will I draw him right ?? It's a cycle is what it is - The only one with prescription glasses since middle school - he just wears contacts instead, he HATES how he looks in glasses - his parents had him get LASIK surgery to correct his vision,,, since then - His personal account where no one (except like the gang) knows it's him is very unhinged, he says some devious shit on there (it's a public Twitter account) - Also Autistic, but in a DRASTICALLY different way than Tom is, they're like opposite sides of the spectrum (Tom doesn't mask often, Matt masks like all day every day, Tom can't make eye contact, Matt makes intense eye contact, that kinda thing yk,,, even despite the fact they both have texture issues they have very different issues with textures - also Tom was very early diagnosed and Matt only got diagnosed after Tom kept pestering him to do so) - He's some kind of narcissist, just haven't been able to really pin point it down yet,, I need to do some more research on it - this could change in the future because of that so this is like a maybe canon - His father left him when he was very young like maybe 5-8 range, and his mother married his step father WAY too soon after, him and Matilda is his step sister (He HATED her at first, she tried to be very kind to him cause they're the same age and everything, and this is the first time she's had a sibling, but every time Matt looked at her all he could see was his father leaving him,,, it took until after college for them to actually grow closer as siblings and friends) -6'1" just an inch above Edd - Edd was his first friend - they've been through thick and thin together, they comforted each other when both their parents divorced, so obviously they've got a bit of a trauma bond through that, and are really the only ones who understand that kind of issue - at least in their eyes - Twink. Through and through. Despite being partially French he's got very back luck with growing hair on his body, and when he does it's thin and very lightly colored - Works as a model and "social media influencer",,, basically he's a walking propaganda poster - Has earrings, mostly wears a lot of gold - Doesn't like listening to music often,,, this hurts me to write as someone who can't NOT listen to music, but he just doesn't have a music taste,, I've mentioned before how he listens to some female rappers and other song artists like Mitski and Girl in Red, but that's only because he's listened to them on like the radio or had someone else recommend them to him, he doesn't actively listen/search for music - Still a vampire,,, er, really just half vampire ?? I'd like to think they lads did a séance of some sort on him and for the most part it worked but like Edd his chemistry is still a little fucked cause of it, y'know ? Like he's still got pointed ears and teeth, can't really do much about that, and a BIG craving for red meat and the like, but he can survive without a constant need for blood, and his skin was already sensitive to the sun anyway so there's nothing really new there

Tord - Just a Norwegian fool - Trans Masculine (AFAB) He/Him - Bisexual (with a MASSIVE fem lean,,, he IS the bad taste in men) - His hair ? Yeah that's natural - he's got some WICKED cowlicks,,, when he was younger his mom would try to brush them back to make him look more normal, but even when his hair was longer it didn't really do much for him - ADHD haver, VERY late diagnosis and still doesn't really believe it, but that's a whole lot to do with misinformation of negative dumb jargon shoved down his throat - Narcissistic Personality TRAITS, not the disorder, but TRAITS of the disorder (as in he doesn't actively have the mind set and intentions of people with NPD, but he does have the mannerisms and habits of one,, but that's because of how he was raised by two Narcissists - it's a damn miracle he doesn't have the disorder, but either way he's gotta go to therapy about it,,, and he will,,,,,, eventually,,,,,,,,, after you drag him there by his hair but I mean he'll be there) - Tattoos on him as well (Left shoulder to a half sleeve of a snake, tramp stamp of Ouroboros, and between his shoulder blades beneath the back of his neck is Jason Voorhees' mask) - Can not regulate or understand his emotions,,, the only way he really knows how to deal with intense emotions of any kind is through very physical and aggressive means,, it's why him and Tom get into so many spats, but mostly cause Tom doesn't put up with his bullshit as someone who is very good at reading and understanding his own and others' emotions - Bro's got a very broad chest,, he's like incredibly male passing, even before having gone on Testosterone - Redditor. Sorry I don't make the rules except I do and he's a Redditor. - Also has an Instagram account and it's all thirst traps,,, and I'm torn between how much interaction he'd get on them,,, like I wanna say he gets none because he's a damn loser weebcell dorklord, but I've also seen how EW fandom craves him and that makes me think that this would be no different, ykwim ?,, sigh,, realistically speaking he would get a lot of interaction with his posts and I hate that for him I hope something bad happens to him - Technically Tom was his first friend (??) in the sense that Tom was the first person he met in highschool and was the one he talked to the most during then,, at least when Tom's life was stable, it gets kinda iffy after Tom's mom died and that's where the first part of their rift really started - But him and Edd and SUPER close, despite Tom being his first friend, Edd and him just click REALLY well - Has a similar death thing like Tom, except his is more of like the anime death curse - if he dies off screen, no the fuck he did not, he is coming back as the villain - LOVES Twenty One Pilots, favorite band of all time, usually he's not a die hard for a lot of things, but TOP is one of them, he also likes poprock/poppunk, things like that, think like Imagine Dragons and Mindless Self Indulgence (YES THEY'RE TERRIBLE I KNOW, LOOK AT WHO'S LISTENING TO THEM AND GET BACK TO ME ABOUT IT) but he also listens to hyperpop like S3RL and Machine Girl, but that's just cause of all the base it usually has - that's like background music for him to work to

That's pretty much all I can think of off the top of my head of just general thoughts for them,,, I'm sure I could think of more specific ones but then we'd be here all day

[finkinthisfrew]

Anything (Pt.3)

A Matty Healy Fanfic

cw: sexual tension? lol

Chapter 3

Poking my head out of the bathroom, I walked through what must have been the man's bedroom. Not wanting to be too nosy, I quickly walked out of the room, avoiding looking around too much.

Shuffling down the unfamiliar hallway, I admired the comfort of my new outfit. I had chosen a black, very soft, and very worn-in hoodie, and a pair of warm grey drawstring sweatpants that pooled at my ankles, adorned in thick white knit socks. It all smelled so comforting- something warm and spicy mixed with something else familiar that I couldn't quite put my finger on. 

The concrete walls and ceilings continued through the hallway, but the floor was charming old hardwood. A few photos adorned a long rustic console that ran along the hall. I couldn't help but look at them- one of someone who was most likely his mother, another of him with his arms around three men, and a photobooth strip of him with one of the three men from the previous photo. My heart dropped a little at the bottom square, a picture of him and the other man kissing.

Of course, it had to be too good to be true... I thought to myself. 

But I thought back to the moment we shared in the bathroom. There's no way I was the only one that felt whatever that was back there. Or was I truly just concussed?

I continued down the hall and stepped into a breathtaking room.

I stared at the giant wall entirely made up of gridded windows. Beyond the window wall was a patio full of greenery- a private little oasis. The ceilings soared in the giant room that housed what looked like the kitchen, living room, and dining room. The decor was artistic and modern while still looking homey and lived in. I nearly bumped into the vintage pool table that sat to the left of the doorway, I was so breath taken.

It became even more unbelievable when I remembered that we were supposed to be above the coffee shop. 

"You look lovely." I turned to see the man smiling cheekily behind the kitchen island as he plucked ice cubes out of a tray and into a bag. He was now wearing a brown striped knit crewneck with black trousers. His wet hair was pushed back into a ballcap. He looked so effortlessly handsome. I smiled back at him as I momentarily thought back wistfully to when I could see his tattoos through his shirt.

"How are you feeling, still cold?" he asked, his brows now furrowing as he rushed over to the couch to pick up a large orange blanket.

"A little, but the clothes and the tea are helping. Thank you for that, by the way."

He nodded his head affirmatively as he put the blanket around my shoulders. He gestured to the couch.

"You have nothing to thank me for, don't be silly. Now your burn, how is your burn?" he asked as I sat down, him continuing to bundle me up in the blanket, eyes looking up at me intently.

My heart skipped a beat. I was so touched by how caring and concerned he was. I was a total stranger to this man, and yet he treated me like kin.

"It's a lot better actually. I don't know if it's the painkillers or just that I'm going numb from the pain, but it's not nearly as bad" I said, as he winced in response. 

He promptly stood up and strode over to the kitchen island, picking up the bag of ice and wrapping it in a hand towel. I saw him start to reach to put the ice on me and then stop himself, putting it in my hand instead.

He sat down in a large armchair as I put the ice on my chest, any pain I still felt immediately relieved.

"Thank you... what's your name?" I said, realizing.

A mix of emotions riddled his face. He looked slightly surprised, but pleasantly. And definitely happy. I wondered if he didn't expect me to have asked, maybe he thought I would have just left out the door after he left me on my own in the bathroom.

"Matty. Well, technically it's Matthew, but everyone including my own mother calls me Matty. And what's yours?" he asked.

"Anna. Sometimes people call me Anne, but mostly just Anna."

"Anna," he repeated, almost savouring the word, analyzing how it felt on his tongue. He smiled again. After a moment of comfortable silence, he asked "So what do you do, Anna?"

"I'm an artist," I answered. "I do a lot of different things, but ceramics is my primary medium. What about you?"

"Oh cool! I'm also an artist," his eyes lit up as he continued. "A musician, actually. I play in a band with some friends, but your art sounds much more fascinating. Your accent, you must not be from here?"

"No, I'm from Canada. I'm here doing an artist residency at the gallery just down the street from here actually."

"How long are you here for?" he asked, keenly.

"Five more months."

His face dropped a little, but before I could register its meaning, he asked "So how do you like London so far? Is this your first time visiting?"

"Oh, I love it so far! I mean, I've only been here a month, but I already love it. My apartment is great, and the studio I work out of is perfect. I haven't tried too much in terms of food, but I have tried a few places and the food's been amazing..." I trailed off, then remembered, "Oh, my cookies!"

He must have known exactly what I was talking about because he promptly stood up and walked out of the room and into the hall. A few moments later he returned with my brown paper bag. "I know what these puppies are worth," he smiled as he watched my face light up.

"Yes, oh my god, thank you! These are my favourite, and they almost always sell out" I said as he handed me the bag. 

"Oh I know," he responded. "I had to tell the owner she wasn't allowed to sell me them to me anymore after I ate two a day for six weeks straight when I first moved in here."

I laughed as I opened the bag and saw the cookies were still intact, as the smell started to make my mouth water. 

"Would you like one?" I offered.

"Are you sure? I know those are hard to come by."

"Of course," I scoffed. "You've taken such sweet care of me, it would make me happy to be able to repay you."

"I wish you wouldn't act like I was some knight in shining armour, as if I wasn't also the dragon that almost killed you," he groaned again into his hands. "You really are too kind. Actually..." he paused. "I wanted to ask you- would you like to stay for a coffee? The least I could do is replace the one I made you drop."

I hesitated. I was in a stranger's apartment, with a man I had just met. I didn't want to overstay my welcome. But I felt so at home with Matty. I already felt like we were friends, and he was just too sweet and handsome for me to want anything other than to have a coffee with him.

"I'd love to," I replied with a smile.

His face broke into a bright-eyed smile, my heart once again sent into overdrive from his beauty. 

"You stay right there and I'll go grab us the coffees. You were drinking something iced- a latte?" 

I nodded in response.

"I'll be right back."

Not more than five minutes later he reappeared with two coffees in his hands, both iced this time, which made me smile. He sat back down on the couch as we shared the cookies and continued to chat about everything under the sun. We talked about music, the type of music he made, our favourite bands, what my art looked like, our favourite tv shows, all interspersed with moments of recognition of how much we had in common. I felt like we could talk for ages, and before I knew it, I had glanced over at the clock on the wall and saw that three hours had passed since he'd come back from the coffee shop, even though it had only felt like one.

"I really should get going," I said, standing up, not wanting to overstay my welcome.

"Oh," he said following suit, his voice laced with disappointment. He tried to cover it up with a more chipper tone. "Alright then. Let me call you an Uber," he said as we walked towards the staircase that lead down to the front door.

"That's really not necessary, I can just take the tube."

"Absolutely not. I don't send my burn victims to fend for themselves on public transit. As much as I'd love an excuse to nurse you back to health again, I'm not letting you go on there in such a state," he said too busy concentrating on his phone to notice me blush at his words. He looked so cute frowning down at his phone with such determination. "Where can I send you to? Do you have a friend that could take care of you? Or a boyfriend?" his voice hitched before he said 'boyfriend'.

I shook my head with a little smile. "No, I actually don't really know anyone here other than my landlord and my residency mentor, and I don't know either of those well enough to accept me in this state." 

He looked at me in disbelief.

"Besides, I feel so much better. The warm clothes and the ice have helped so much," I hesitated before I added "And your company. I think that helped a lot too. This has been really lovely getting to know you." I smiled at him and he beamed back at me with a giant smile, clearly very happy. He passed me his phone to let me enter my address and I tried not to blush as I felt his gaze on me. I could feel myself failing as my cheeks burned.

"Thank you for everything," I said as I stepped forward to hug him. He immediately reciprocated, wrapping his arms around me. He smelled of that warm spicy smell that I smelled on my new outfit, it was so comforting, almost intoxicating. I couldn't help but melt into his chest, inhaling what I knew could only be my new favourite drug. We hugged for what could only be described as too long for two people who had just met, swaying a bit as neither of us wanted it to end. 

Eventually, we pulled away as he said "This really has been so nice getting to know you, Anna. You're a really lovely girl." His eyes radiated sincerity as he looked down into mine. We stood there looking at each other for a few moments, tension building. Once again chickened out and broke eye contact, dropping my gaze to his chest, the same moment I could have sworn I saw him begin to lean towards me. I was already kicking myself for it when he said, "If only I hadn't started this relationship off by pummelling you to the ground and burning you to a crisp before giving you hypothermia," he said, groaning as he put his forehead on my shoulder, hiding in embarrassment. 

I laughed as I patted his back. 

Eventually, he pulled his head back. I noted how I already missed his touch.

This time I couldn't ignore his lips. They were too perfect not to want to kiss. I watched as he looked up from my lips, leaning in again, just a fraction as if to ask permission. I wanted to tell him he didn't need permission. Leaning in slowly, taking in the sweet colour of his lips, I looked back up into his eyes one last time. 

*DING*

His phone rang as the Uber driver arrived.

Both startled, shaken from the intense moment, we took a step back.

"Your car is here. Here, let me help you with your shoes," and before I could decline, he rushed over with my boots and offered his arm to help me step into them.

My heart swelled at how sweetly he was treating me as I thanked him.

We walked down the stairs together and he opened the door to the car for me as he leaned in one last time to say, "So if you ever need another burn, or fancy some hypothermia, you know where to find me- I'm your guy." he joked before continuing. "Or a coffee. At this point, I think I owe you a lifetime of coffee."

"A coffee would be nice." I smiled at him and savoured how his eyes crinkled as he smiled in response. We looked for just a moment longer into each other's eyes before he gave a sweet little gesture farewell and closed the car door, leaving me to gather my absolutely shaken heart after what I think had been my favourite day I'd ever had. 

[raethethey]

Tucked Away Tattoos

Member: Lee Minho x gn!reader

Word Count: 3087

Genre: fluff, friends to lovers, tattoo adventure!

Warnings: swearing, general anxiety, small existence crisis attack lol

A/N: I love this. I think I'll always love this. This was so fun to write even though it is now 7am (haha my sleep schedule hates me). Thank you loml for requesting this @labyrinthgate <3 I hope ya'll enjoy!

Part of @the-writing-nook's monthly prompt for January: write something set in a small town. Go check out the other ones here! (link to be added when the masterlist comes out at the end of the month)

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Summer break was right around the corner. You had so many plans to adventure and get out there. First on your list was to get a tattoo. You had been thinking about getting one for years, something special to you and meaningful enough that if your parents ever found out (you, an adult with your own money) got one they wouldn’t absolutely hate it. (They’d still frown at you because they thought you ruined your career life forever, but it’s not like they could do anything about it either.) So you called up your best friend, Minho, called the tattoo shop you’d researched for weeks, and made an appointment for the first weekend after finals.

Time flew by fast. Maybe too fast. Your appointment was approaching and your nerves were on the fritz. Were you really doing this? Really getting something completely and totally permanent (besides the laser removal options)?

Yes. There was no turning back now.

Minho pulls up to your dorm building in his beat-up family car, the one you snuck out of the house in so many times in high school, the one that took you to all your club activities in middle school, the one you threw up in during elementary school. He rolls down the window and as always lays down on the horn, loud enough and long enough everyone in a five-mile radius turns their head to see what’s going on.

Jogging to the car as quick as you can, you hop in and slam the door shut, punching his arm, “Shut up, you menace! You’re going to get the police called.”

He just laughs, putting the car in drive and turning on the radio to a quiet volume; it’s a level just for background noise. “So, where is this little tattoo shop you’ve decided to throw your money at?”

“Just outside of town, kinda near that cat café we went to last month,” you say, pulling up directions. It’s only a twenty-minute drive from the university near the small lighthouse at the bay.

“Oh, I’ve been there! It has plants everywhere and this cute little shop cat that none of the artists know where it came from, they just accept that it lives there now.” He turns out of the parking lot making his way to the main road, the GPS silently telling him which directions to turn.

Quirking your eyebrow, you turn toward him as much as you can while being buckled, “You’ve been to a tattoo shop? Without me? Traitor.”

He rolls his eyes, “Jisung wanted another piercing, six wasn’t enough apparently.”

“Hey, one can never have too many piercings. Wait! Was it that forward helix one he got? I love that one.”

He nods, leaning back in his seat to get comfortable for the drive. “I may have also gotten a piercing.”

Unbelievable. Lee Minho? A piercing? He has his lobes pierced, you know that much, but another one? “You’re joking. You’ve gotta be joking.” He glances at you. “Oh my god, you did not. You did? Where?!”

His lip twitches. You slap him on the arm resting in between you on the center console.

“You did not, you asshole. You’re always doing this to me.”

“Okay, okay, I didn’t, but I did get a tattoo.” A small grin graces his face.

Not believing him this time, you turn back to the front of the car and turn the volume up, rolling your eyes at his antics.

He turns it down again and looks at you, glancing at the road every few seconds, “I actually did though. I’m not kidding about this one. It’s small, almost invisible, I’m not surprised you haven’t seen it.” He holds his arm out in front of your face, close enough to have you crossing your eyes at the proximity. He uses his thumb to point at the side of his middle finger. There, the tiniest marks you’ve ever seen is a tattoo, a real tattoo, of a minimalist cat face. Two tiny triangles for ears, a smaller filled-in triangle for a nose, and six lines for whiskers.

It’s cute. It’s very…him.

You’re stunned, to say the least. It takes you a while to come up with something to say, something normal and not a babble of ‘oh my god you’re adorable can I kiss you?’ Because that would not be good.

Instead, he speaks up again in your silence, “I swear I was only there for emotional support for Sung, but the dude asked if I wanted anything since I went all the way out there and you know Jisung is a terrible influence, so I got this. It was small enough they didn’t even make me pay for it.” He huffs a laugh, putting his arm back down.

Your eyes follow his hand, still trained on his finger even though you can’t see it from this angle anymore. Finally, something in your brain starts to work again and you grab his hand, tugging it to your face again, this time to see it right side up instead of upside down as he had shown you. It leaves his wrist at an awkward angle.

“Ow! Not so rough, I am driving, you know?”

You risk a touch. You lick your finger and rub it across the ink to see if it would smudge.

He pulls his hand away and rubs it on his pants. “It’s real, y/n, ew. Why would you do that?”

“Oh. My. God. IT IS! You got a tattoo! Without me! Not only are you a traitor, but you’re also a backstabber! We promised! You promised we’d be there together if we ever got a tattoo for the first time.”

“No, we didn’t! I do not recall a promise like that ever being made. What are you talking about?”

“Fifth grade. We were on the bleachers listening to this dude talk about motorcycle safety and he had the sickest arm sleeve. You don’t remember?”

His mouth falls open and his head hits his seat, “Ohhh, yeahh. Sorry.” He grimaces at his forgetfulness.

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

As the shop comes into view, Minho starts looking for a parking spot. Miraculously, there's an open one right in front of parlour. And it’s free. No wonder considering how small this town is. He parks and you both hop out, heading into the shop. The little bell rings signalling your arrival and a woman walks out from the back. Presumedly, she’s an artist what with her arms decked out in ink and a few piercings littering her ears and face.

“Hi, how can I help you two lovely, blank people today?” A friendly smile stretches across her face revealing another piercing just inside her lipline, in front of her teeth.

You smile back, “Hey, I’m here for an appointment? Y/n at 4:30?”

She checks her computer and nods, “Yep. Can I see your ID?” You hand it over, having it ready. “Great, I’ll just have you sign these papers and we can get right to it.” She hands you a clipboard from behind the desk.

After filling it out and handing it back, she takes it to the back to get it into the system, telling you your artist will be right with you.

A few minutes pass as you wait in the lobby, flicking through the binders laid out on a small coffee table of all the artists' past works and styles. Minho is scrolling on his phone and tapping his foot.

The silence, save for the rock music playing through the speakers around the room and Minho’s tapping, is making you nervous. You start wringing your hands together, biting your lip and glancing out the window, at the decorations, and then at the cat that saunters into the room from who knows where. You nudge Minho and point to the white feline. He glances up at you and follows your line of gaze, a small grin appearing on his otherwise stoic face. Ever the cat dad with three of his own, he starts making noises at it. Small clicks of his tongue and soft tuttings. The cat gingerly makes its way over to him and rubs its face against his pant leg, meowing quietly.

You whisper, “How is it that every cat loves you?”

“It’s universal,” he whispers back, “They all communicate telepathically telling each other which ones are the good ones. Turns out I’m a great one.” He smirks at you as he pets its head, scratching the top of it and eventually its chin.

Rolling your eyes, you reach out a hand to let it sniff you. It bumps its head against your fingers, purring. When it jumps into your lap all of a sudden, you coo overcome by its adorableness. “Who’s the great one now?” You smirk back at Minho.

A man walks out of the back this time and calls your name. Standing up, the cat leaps from your lap and scurries back to where it came from.

Minho follows you and the man to the back of the room where a station is set up and a chair, reclined to a flat position is waiting for you.

The man, also covered in an array of swirling lines, more colourful than the lady’s, asks if you’re ready as you sit down. Nodding you pull out your phone and start to look for your reference pictures. Once you find them you show them to the artist and a few minutes pass as you talk about placement and the different pain levels for each area. Deciding your forearm would be the best place for your first tattoo, he starts drawing up a stencil of your idea, asking for your opinion every few seconds.

The closer he gets to finishing it, the more anxious you get, rubbing your hands up and down your thighs as you tap your toes together. They’ve gotten quite sweaty in the past half hour.

Minho has been characteristically quiet since you walked in, but now he speaks up, “Hey. It’s gonna be fine. Just half an hour, maybe less and you’ll be walking out of here a new person. A new, badass person with ink to show off to all your friends and to make your mother faint and father threaten to never speak to you again,” he gives you a reassuring smile. The one that only brings up half of his mouth and makes his eyes twinkle. “This guy’s done thousands of these, there’s no reason to worry about how it’ll look, plus,” He takes your hand in his, the one with the little cat face on it, and squeezes lightly, “I’ll be right here the whole time. You can squeeze my hand as hard as you like. Now breathe.”

You take a deep, shaky breath and exhale slowly, returning his calm smile as a silent thank you. Unconsciously, you start gently rubbing his little tattoo, the placement already ingrained in your brain.

“Alrighty. Here’s the final product. You like it?” The artist shows you the stencil and you nod, giving him a thumbs-up with the hand that isn’t holding Minho’s.

He starts placing it on your forearm and the process begins shortly after. It’s not as bad as you thought it was going to be, but damn you if you won’t take this chance to hold Minho’s hand.

He isn’t really a touchy guy and prefers witty comments to lift you up instead of hugs or pats on your head. Any chance you get to be closer to him without giving away your true thoughts is a chance you’ll take.

Growing up, you and Minho had always been close. Not just proximately by way of living arrangements as kids, but practically joined at the hip all throughout childhood. You did everything you could together. Whoever said absence makes the heart grow fonder, would change their mind if they got to spend almost every waking hour with Minho like you did. Shit, you were head over heels for your best friend. He was funny in the weirdest, bestest way, charming, caring in his own odd ways, and smart. So fucking smart. Nobody knew the most random facts about anything like he did. And if you thought he was the most handsome man on earth, no one needed to know but you. Fuck, you were in love with him.

Maybe getting this tattoo would change things. If you were brave enough to do this maybe you could be brave enough to tell him. Or maybe all your courage would desert you as soon as it’s over.

You squeeze his hand instead. He squeezes right back, softly rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand to soothe you. “You’re doing great, just keep breathing. I’m not carrying you home if you pass out.”

You chuckle and it just slips out, completely on accident, “God, I love you so fucking much.” You take a deep breath and close your eyes. For barely a millisecond. They fly back open immediately as soon as you process what you actually just said. You’re too scared to look at him. The ceiling is a much better view, you think. Why did you say that? He’s gonna reject you. He’s gonna stop being your friend now. It’s going to be awkward every time he sees you if he doesn’t completely avoid you. You’re going to have to tell your parents why he’s stopped coming around. You won't ever get to see his cats again! Why, why why did you open your mouth? You’re frozen in fear. You might have stopped breathing. Maybe you’re dead? Please, you want to fade out of existence right now.

“Breathe, y/n. You’re turning purple.”

You let out the breath you were holding. Hopefully, your last breath before you follow the light to sweet, sweet endless nothing where you never have to face him again. Why couldn’t you just respond normally? One simple word change and you wouldn’t be having a crisis right now.

The artist speaks up, “Almost done here. Like he said, you’re doing great. Just a bit more and we’ll patch it up and you can go home.”

A weak smile tugs at your lips, though it’s more of a grimace thanks to your inner turmoil.

“See, almost done. And like you said, I love you so fucking much too.” The world stops spinning. You chance a glance at Minho though you can’t be too sure you’re meeting his eyes; the world may have stopped spinning but the room is going 80 miles per hour. However, as soon as your gaze lands on him, everything slows and it feels like the world fades around you. You can barely hear the tattoo gun anymore.

There’s no mischievous glint in his eyes, just pure honesty. And love. Maybe you did die and this is just a poor excuse for heaven; hearing what you want to hear in the afterlife. Some joke life is.

You don’t know how long this purgatory lasted but all of a sudden someone is helping you sit up. You feel a tightness around your arm and look to find saran wrap around it, the tattoo covered in gauze to protect it.

“All done! You were a great patient. Here’s an aftercare worksheet to make sure it doesn’t get infected and some extra gauze to switch out occasionally, I assume you have saran wrap at home. If it starts itching or you get a rash, call a doctor, yadda yadda; that paper will tell you everything you need to know. Enjoy being part of the community and we hope to see you back again soon!” The man starts cleaning up his station as Minho gently helps you stand up and gather your things to pay and leave.

Unfortunately, your knees don’t really work right now and you start to buckle. Shock catching up to you; more from what you think you heard than the tingling sensation in your arm. You never hit the floor though, Minho guides your slight fall back to the chair and sits you down again.

You hear muffled conversation from him and the artist as you try to gather your bearings, Minho’s hand firm your grasp.

A cup of water enters your vision and you flimsily take it, gulping down its contents. Then Minho’s face, his beautiful, perfect, angelic face enters your vision, smiling like a cherub sent from heaven. Goddamn him. Why does he have to be so pretty?

“It’s just genetics, angel. Don’t worry, you’re not too bad looking yourself.”

Did you say that out loud?

“Yes. You also said that out loud. Come on, love. This man doesn’t have all day and we gotta get back home.”

“I-” Your voice cracks. “Sit. Can’t move. You-”

He chuckles looking at the man still cleaning up his station. “Sorry about this. They’re usually more coherent with their words. They might be in shock right now.” He gathers you up in his arms again, careful of your arm, and with your clumsy steps barely helping, he moves you to the waiting room again to sit for a bit longer, until you have your wits about you again.

His figure disappears for a while as your senses start to return. You don’t know how long it is again before he comes back, but he’s got his own bandage around his middle finger.

Worry speeds up your reviving process. “Are you okay? What happened? Why do you have a bandage around your finger?”

“Relax, love. It’s just a new addition. You needed a bit more time to come back from lalaland and the nice man offered when he finally recognised me from when I came with Sung.” He squats in front of you, loosely taking your hands in his. “Can you walk now? Without falling on your face?” You nod, blinking. “Good,” he stands up, pecking your forehead on the way up, “Let’s go home now and talk about this wonderful revelation you’ve just made while high on brave juice.”

“Oh god, I did say that out loud for sure, didn’t I? Fuck.”

“Don’t forget what I said. That’s kind of important too, angel.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Bonus:

“I can’t believe they let you get another tattoo for free.”

“I can’t help it if people just like me more, besides it’s cute.”

“It’s an ‘x’ and a squiggle on the other side of your finger.”

“It’s a cat butt and it matches the face I got.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

[crestfallercanyon]

Hi! 💖 7, 12, 21 for Mickey or Ian (or both if you feel like it!)

Hello! Thank you so much for the ask, these are fun questions! Um, I did try to answer for both on each which made this fucking LONG (so I put a break because I don't want to flood people's dashes because I'm also rambly lol) so my apologies. Hopefully they're fun answers!

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

I give a kiss to all the gif makers who make gifsets of how these two have been looking at each other for years. Especially Ian, to be honest. I mean, the fact that Ian was SO smitten in the beginning, when he was still floppy haired and freckle-faced and the squishy little smile he has ALL THE WAY to the way he gets so excited when he says "now?" at the altar?

Mickey, too -- there's not many times where Mickey looks adoringly at anything other than Ian. And there's really no other word for the way he kind of holds Ian in his regard, he adores him. It's just lovely and I like how the fandom points that out.

Just having those side-by-sides, and the fact that there are many people who -- I think they're right -- point out how the two of them see each other as having been their one and only for so long? It's really just so touching.

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Mickey -- I didn't come up with it by any means -- but I do like the idea that he's actually quite artistic if he was ever given the chance. AUs where he lets himself get into drawing or playing music or is a tattoo artist or even bakes -- I think South Side just wasn't an environment that encouraged that. But when he finally gets to, I just think it'd be really beautiful for him to do that (I also think poor boy needs a way to work through his trauma in a healthy way and I think the arts could be really good for that).

Ian -- I actually talk about this more later, but whereas Mickey has a lot of anger and kicks the crap out of people ("this is your errand?" still makes me laugh) and all that, I actually headcanon that Ian's anger is more frightening and threatening. It just comes out less often (often when he is protecting something else). Like, if they were ever to have kids, and something bad happened to their kid at school, Mickey would actually be the smarter parent to send to that meeting with the principal and Ian would be on "get the kid" duty because I think Ian would scare the ever living shit out of them.

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

For Mickey, I love writing his internal perspective. Especially writing the snappish sentiments that come with his reluctant demeanor to show that he cares, but then contrasting that with the action that he obviously cares a lot. Just kind of "I don't know what you're fucking talking about, I'm looking out for number one here, so get out of my way," and he's not even lying, it's just that MICKEY is not Mickey's own number one, Ian's his number one. I love when I can tap into that and when that flows.

Something I dislike? When I can't get into that mindset to write him, then fucking nothing's being written lol. It's very easy to not feel right and to not feel like I'm in rhythm with his character. And I have a really hard time just writing through the block with him, if that makes sense.

Ian's a little more complicated. Ian's that rare combination of being deeply romantic and steadily diligent -- I could talk about how complex he is for hours (and my initial answer here did but believe it or not this is tamped down). Ian lets himself be vulnerable when others in his position probably wouldn't, he works so hard to do the right thing but sometimes he goes about it wrong; Ian's rock bottoms tend to be hard falls. But his comebacks? They're so good. So, to actually answer, I find it really cathartic to write him when he's had his feet kicked out from under him and is trying to reorient himself. My favorite thing I've written from his perspective is the "recordings" from all these things I have left to say to you, despite it being dark and tragic because his manic state is worsening, but I was really invested in the writing and exploring that aspect of his character. Others might disagree, but he's just a boy you can't help but root for and I like writing him.

Something I don't like? It's not that I don't like it, per se, but there are aspects to his personality I'm just not good at writing. Particularly two: 1) I'm not very good at writing the silly aspect to his character (he's a middle older brother! he's got wonderful silly moments and puns, but I'm really not good at writing that kind of thing) and 2) I tend to have a hard time writing Ian being just as vicious as Mickey is. (side note, the "fuck you!" to the military police in season 5? I'd flinch. The look on his face? I think I might flinch faster than with Mickey because Mickey's baseline is agitated but that's NOT Ian's baseline, so if Ian's angry there's this intensity to it) Ian is softer, but he can also be fucking dangerous. I mean I believe even Mickey points it out "you'll go overboard and fucking kill him" (or whatever the line is, but I believe it's directed at Ian); Ian just has a capacity for anger that I'd like to explore in my writing more.

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK! I love doing these kinds of games. Here are where the questions come from. And have more questions? I'll answer whatever!

Have a lovely rest of your day!!

[josephtrohman]

wait, now I'm curious, can you show your fob tattoos?

sorry for the delay anon, i wanted to take the time to potentially take some better pics and i had a very busy evening last night lol. tattoo tour under the cut!!!

my futct keyhole tattoo was my first tattoo gotten at the beginning of february :3 i can’t wait to go back to this artist bc she killed it but it also was my most expensive tattoo (understandably so) so i need to save up but i have more non fob ideas i want to take to her based on her portfolio. it’s a little purple cuz this is from when it was still fresh and the purple is from the stencil but i feel a lil self conscious about my arm rn so i can’t take a better pic rn lol it’s not purple tho

this one was the second one i got and it’s a difficult location for me to photograph since this is on the outside of my ankle lol. i got this one incredibly impulsively near the end of february, bc i had a stressful evening and before going to bed i looked up tattoo shops near me that had online booking availability for the next day, and i booked after looking at the guy’s portfolio a bit even tho he practices more traditional styles n traditional tattoos aren’t my fav. i really wanted to get something special to remember my 8ball, and i was really excited and proud about coming up with this idea on my own!! this one i was slightly upset with at first bc i just think i should have waited but now that ive gotten used to it i appreciate it soooo much more!!!! and now im really happy and think it looks cool :) also this one hurt like a BITCH i wasn’t expecting it given the relative ease of my first one (the shading was rough on the first one but that was it), and the guy even offered me numbing spray for the black, but i powered through and he was very impressed with me and said i was tough lol :)

these next two i got at the same time and for some reason i can’t take a good pic of the one rn (it’s got a lot of adhesive on it from removing the second skin so it looks kinda bad right at this moment until the adhesive washes off more, but beware the second picture has a little bit of blood)

pls don’t make fun of my chubby arm but anyways these two i got at the same time just this past saturday from a lady who specializes in tiny tattoos :) the xo is based on how it actually appears on the back of the record, and she tried to font match it and i think it’s soooooooo cute (it’s rly little on my wrist, so little she just charged me for the i swear i say tattoo!!!). i know it’s kind of crazy to get two tattoos for the same song but 1) that’s my song im the number one highest streamer on stats fm, 2) xo has gotten me through so much :( i am considering one more xo tattoo in the future (getting “love never wanted me but i took it anyway” in pete’s handwriting using the font someone made out of his handwriting). but it’s my plan to wait on that one and make that be a far future tattoo, UNLESS they play xo as my 8ball in which case my ass will get it the next chance i get. lol

i maybe have one or two fob themed tattoos i’m potentially interested in getting in the future but that’s like a long term thing, i want to get some tribute to whatever my 8ball may be at minneapolis to go with my fame < infamy tattoo, especially if they play a song that’s one of MY songs, but this is generally where i’ll leave the fob tattoos for a bit and just getting more personal/non music related tattoos lol

[bisonaari]

So I've mentionned wanting to do a list of weird music recs a while ago, and the idea hasn't left me so here it is!

If you enjoy weird music, come with me in the read more ohohoho I've got beautiful things to show ya

First I'd like to mention that my specialty is asian pop, especially japanese pop (I've been hosting a panel about weird jmusic at my local con for more than 10 years). So there's gonna be a lot of that stuff here hahaha

Golden Bomber

They're my absolute favourites they're incredible. First of all… THEY'RE NOT A REAL BAND. ONLY THE SINGER SINGS, THE OTHER MEMBERS DON'T KNOW HOW TO PLAY. Their music videos are always a delight because nothing makes sense

Other songs from them:

dance my generation

Yokubou no uta

Odoru na yo -do not dance-

Norazo

Norazo is this weird korean duo that I've been following for the last 15 years. Their videos are always the result of like if you could film someone's fever dream and it's DELIGHTFUL

Some other songs from them:

Your fortune

Wild Horse

Cider

P'tit Belliveau

I need to show off my country a little bit! P'tit Belliveau is an artist from Canada, singing in chiac. What is chiac? It's actually a variant form of canadian french, spoken in the east of the country. It's honestly pretty cool sounding, and sadly not valued enough. Anyway, his videos are very 80's/90's graphics inspired (with a lot of weird ass CGI lately hahaha) and he just seems really friendly I love him

Some other songs:

J'feel comme un alien

Cool When Yer Old

Téo Lavabo

I love this guy SO MUCH HAHAHA. So Téo Lavabo is from France. He's proudly lgbt and that's a recurring theme in his songs. His style can be described as… yodel/electro/pop??? I SWEAR I'M NOT MAKING THIS UP LOOK FOR YOURSELF

Other songs:

Vernini Vernana

Caresse ma salopette

TATI TATTOO

Little Big

Of course a lot of people here will know them, as they were selected for eurovision 2020 (I have been following them since like 2014 and I was HEARTBROKEN when esc 2020 was cancelled I wanted them to win so bad haha). They've started as a band that made music a lot heavier (still weird though), but they've mellowed down in the latest years. After the war, Ilya and Sonya moved to the USA.

Other songs:

Faradanza

Skibidi

MOUSTACHE (feat. Netta !!)

DJ OZMA

I have to speak about him because he's the person who started me on this weird music journey all the way back in 2009 (my mom HATES him for that HAHAHA I haven't been normal since). DJ Ozma was the pop side project of rock band Kishidan's lead singer, Ayanocozey Show. It lasted only for 3 years but oh boy what incredible 3 years they were. He was mostly doing japanese covers of kpop songs, with some original ones from time to time.

Other songs:

Spiderman

drinkin' boys

I RAVE U

Momoiro Clover Z

Momoiro Clover started as a fairly standard jpop idol group back in 2008 (I've been following them since then, it has been a while lol). In the following years, one of their members decided to leave to pursue an acting career instead. They switched the group name to Momoiro Clover Z and all the videos took such a turn, it was quite the whiplash. And it was for the BEST, they're aliens in the idol world, including the fact that some members are pushing 30 now! Their style is mostly back to normal nowadays, but they've still produced gems

Other songs:

Neo Stargate

PUSH

I think that's enough for today hahaha. If you want more or if you want to share some interesting artists, please don't hesitate!! I'm always in for new weird music hahaha. After ESC 2023 someone suggested Hooja and I absolutely LOVED it, and katinkulta has sent me some KAJ it was a delight. So please send all the weird stuff my way I need it like I need water

[the-type-a]

Words can not describe how much I love this blog! I have a few headcanons if you’d like to possibly expand on them?

Courtney and Duncan got back together a few months after All Stars, as she and Duncan’s mom were still in contact while he was in jail

Went to college together and while they both knew they would be married, they didn’t actually tie the knot until Courtney’s career took off

So, they lived in a two bedroom apartment right above Duncan’s tattoo parlor

Courtney wakes up early, Duncan forces her to cuddle and go back to sleep by refusing to move his arm off her

Courtneys parents HATE Duncan with a burning passion and that doesn’t change much over time, not even when they have kids

Courtney forces Duncan to listen to Taylor Swift literally every time they’re in the car

Going off that, Duncan proposed to Courtney at a Taylor concert. Courtney had just been accepted into a law firm, so this was a celebratory vacation with the KB5 + Gwen, Heather, and Alejandro

The wedding was actually really small and lowkey

Gwen, Cate (Courtney’s younger sister), and Bridgette were all brides maids while Heather was the maid of honor

Geoff was Duncan’s best man, and DJ, Alejandro, and one of Duncan’s brothers (I have no idea who tho lol) were all groomsmen

Duncans parents were there and for once Duncan and his dad didn’t argue. Courtney’s parents was a much different and sadder story though

Brittany was the flower raccoon, as kids weren’t allowed at the wedding. Courtney even put her in a tiny white dress

Speaking of which, Brittany is still very much alive and loves to ‘mother’ all of the Duncney children (mostly snuggling up to them when they were babies to keep them warm)

Thats all for now, but I have PLENTY more lol. Anyway, hope you enjoy :)

Aw, thank you!

Here are my little add ons:

I 100% agree with Duncney getting back together after all stars. Though it would be years later— the two need to mature quite a lot before coming back. I’ve always imagined it about five years later.

Courtney for sure stayed on track for college after the show ended. Duncan took courses in prison to stay ahead of the game. Plus it gives him a thumbs up on good behavior and reinforcement— making it easier to serve less time than expected.

Courtney’s parents will never see eye to eye with her choice of partner, but it doesn’t stop her from seeing Duncan. Maybe back when they were on the show their approval influenced her more, but never now. Unfortunately, yeah— they don’t give up that cold shoulder even when their grandchildren are in the picture.

At first it seemed like Courtney was forcing Duncan to listen to a bunch of her favorite artists, but over time he secretly liked it. He loves to hear her sing her heart out no matter what artist it is. He’ll even turn the volume down slightly to hear Courtney more clearly.

I feel like Duncan would propose in a very private manner. I just don’t see Duncney doing the whole concert, restaurant, stadium, video, etc proposals lmao It would be something extremely intimate for the two of them— and lowkey? Would probably stem from a joke about marriage but then Duncan would deadass look at Courtney and be like, “You want to get married though?”

Duncney would probably have both a big and small wedding ngl. They both have huge families that would take up the majority of the guest list before friends are even mentioned. But I do think they’d sneak away beforehand and do a small little courthouse ceremony with the KB5 + Gwen, Heather, and Alejandro.

Brittany is so protective of the Duncney children. Whenever they start walking she follows them and will pull them by there pants or whatever to stop them from bumping into a wall or corner. She’s their very own guard-dog— but ofc in raccoon form.

These HCs were so cute! I’m glad there’s so many of us still keeping the ship alive! 💜

[soft-tummy-lovin]

Have you ever done a tattoo tour? Your tattoos are cool :)

i have not, actually. but i can now!

my first tattoo, left forearm, i got it when i was 16 after my first trip to the psych ward 🫣

then i got this one, right bicep, i got this one during my “forgotten years” when a nurse practitioner drugged the hell out of me, i think i was 17. the lyrics are from karma police by radiohead.

followed by my iconic triforce…fun fact, i don’t have this because i played a bunch of LoZ growing up. i got it because my dad (technically my stepdad, i grew up with a single mom) and i bonded over watching him play old zelda games. i myself didn’t play a lot of them, but now that i’m older with money and emulators i can catch up lol. this was also during the forgotten years but i have told the story enough that it’s burned into my memory lol.

koi fish on my left thigh, a coverup for some barcodes. like the last two, it was also during the forgotten years. i don’t remember the reasoning i had at the time, but i’m sure it has something to do with the folk tale of koi swimming up a waterfall, and also for my time living in japan.

also during the forgotten years but i know this one very well. this is a stick and poke on my right hip that looked actually really clean before it got covered by the hip roll…it’s a silhouette of the plane hijacked by richard “beebo” russell back in 2018. he was a baggage handler who hijacked the empty plane, flew it with no flight experience, pulled off an amazing barrel roll with 10 feet of clearance above a lake, and crashed himself into a deserted island in a spectacular suicide. his final conversation with ATC is recorded, and his story has stuck with me for years.

i start to gain memory around here. right forearm, i was 19. it’s my most commented on tattoo irl, and my favorite. it’s paint strokes that the artist did by hand to cover up years’ worth of barcodes lolll

probably my least favorite. left forearm, i wanted this to be a great tattoo, but the artist was a douchebag and i didn’t feel safe stopping him when he had a needle already in my arm while he gave me major attitude, fought me on the spelling of the word “breathe,” called my cats disgusting, and blared screamo the whole time. he did me so dirty with this one. my bugs are generic google images and the moth is the wrong color. i was 21. also, choose the bear 🥲

this is my most recent tattoo on the back of my right forearm. it’s the karma system for the game Rain World, which is my favorite game of all time and means so much to me. it was winter time and i had really dry skin, so the ink didn’t take as well as i wanted it to, so i’m going to get it touched up eventually. i was 23. also it’s super funny because i’ve been accused of being a white person with a poorly translated kanji tattoo by clueless virtue signalers 😂

so yeah, there’s my tattoo tour ✨🎉

[theendofuno]

the jester and his marionette

real infodump hours (tm)

all this text was sent on a few messages so i just did a rough translation on it, it may not be 100% accurate lore-wise bcs of that lol

i like to imagine Lass being Uno's guide on living, on how to "be" human, how to get rid of the strings from the past, he breaks Uno's strings and give him new ones

tho, Lass does not want to control Uno, he wants Uno to control himself, he wants him to create and change his own destiny, he wants Uno to be himself

Lass was a marionette his whole life, so he dedicated himself into helping getting another marionette on finally feeling human, he got rid of his own strings and he will guide Uno into doing the same, even if Uno isn't on a literal, actual circus, he's stuck in a mental circus

(i think you can assume why I choose a jester instead of any circus character for Lass amirite)

now for the clothing choices! for context these were my references: fearless clown & lifelike

Uno

i changed all the roses for forget-me-nots for obvious reasons, and i added eyes that look everywhere on his skirt as a representation to paranoia

i added tears into Uno's sleeves, and if you pay attention they're the most common places to cut yourself while self harming (i'll never be tired of talking about uno self harming but i wont get into details for today SDAUGDSGDS)

i added vines with spikes on a few clothing parts as a representating of being stuck, along with the actual strings

i changed the checker board pattern by asanoha, which is a meaning about growing stronger and without much help, and are commonly seeing in children kimono as a way to hope they grow strong and healthy, i also read it's supposed to protect you from harm and evil spirits :)

i kept all the strings white except for the neck one, who is red, and since his transformation form is all black/white except for the marking on his face and chest, neck is the mid-way between them, and is also the only string who is thigh and suffocating him, while the white ones can be easily taken off

the triangle pattern on Uno's bow is supposed to represent a few flowers petals growing

now for Lass

his clothing has a few Uno "motifs", such as the growing petals and his hat (im absolutely clueless on the actual english translation mb) has X and "loose strings" as a way to represent strings being taken off, being freed

i added his arm tattoo on his hat thingy :D it was originally stars but i thought it would look cute

(artistic fun fact hours: i shaded the blue part with red and the red part with blue)

i thought a lot about doing the clothing only blue or perhaps blue with yellow, but keeping the red seems to make him closer to Lupus, who is an important person on his life and is an important on his growth, and is someone Lass loves (even if he refuses to admit)

+ the lyrics translation (in order)

guess thats all god bless the wilde sibilings (salute emoji)

[tearlessrain]

7 and 12 for the durge creator asks:)

eey thanks! (ask meme)

so for clarity, my durge is actually two people, they're twin brothers (or yknow, they consider themselves that, not even gonna try to figure out the exact biological fuckery behind their existence), one of whom (Ryldimar) developed a conscience after getting tadpoled and the other of whom (Veil) really didn't. They were extremely close all their lives and are basically one soul in two bodies or something similar, but forgot each other after they got tadpole'd and were both just vaguely aware that they'd Lost Something Very Important until they started respectively piecing things together. their story inevitably ends tragically but Ryldimar at least more or less survives to move on from it.

Ryldimar is the one whose playthrough I consider "canon," while Veil didn't encounter much of the main plot up to act 3 and carved his own way to Baldur's Gate, where he proceeded to kill Orin and take her Netherstone before Ryldimar got there and basically replaced her as the Bhaal boss in my own canon. How did Veil resist the Absolute without the prism? some kinda twin bond/Bhaal blood bullshit, don't worry about it.

I somehow don't have proper art refs of them yet but they are each other's dream guardians in-game so I have screenshots like this hoarded.

just. imagine that Ryldimar is wearing a bunch of scraggly bloodstained furs instead of shiny plate armor. he didn't even look that put together before the tadpole.

so that was a bit of a ramble but yeah lol.

7. Is their personal story represented in their overall design? Do they carry any mental scars or physical alterations from the shit that happened to them? It is, but not all of it is on purpose lol. I made Ryldimar first and wasn't terribly invested in the whole durge concept, I just wanted to see more of the game, so I threw together something visually appealing to me and picked drow because I'm one of those people. then I decided to do one(1) evil run and made Veil by just mucking up Ryldimar's design a little. it was actually my friend who suggested that they could be twins and I immediately got super attached to the concept (because who doesn't love a good Evil Twin trope) and now here we are, and I've since adjusted their designs a little accordingly (they've both got the red swirl tattoo, but Veil's is canonically on the opposite side and it's not a tattoo so much as a remnant of whatever process split them into two people). Ryldimar is the one who ended up in Kressa Bonedaughter's custody for a while, so he's got a fair amount of scarring from her various vivisection attempts. It's also the reason he experienced such a stark personality change in a way Veil didn't; Kressa's poking around in his brain (mostly in an attempt to make him slightly more docile so he'd stop trying to strangle her with his own intestines) had unforeseen long-term consequences. Veil's face scarring is intentional and decorative, and it predates the tadpole. They both had some artistic inclination though they uh, kept it a lot more reined in than Orin obviously. Veil always leaned more toward visual arts and Ryldimar preferred music (mostly as justification for the single level in Bard I gave him).

Veil also does absolutely have brain damage, but aside from the memory loss it mostly just fucked up his emotional regulation a bit. Though ironically, he doesn't remember his name (Veil is something he picked for himself post-tadpole) while Ryldimar does remember his.

12. OC Art/Stories or shipping content? What do you enjoy the most? What's ur little hidden passion? Okay so arguably a bit of both; the two of them have a whole story arc intertwined with @elaphaemourra's tiefling oc Dragonfly (same person who is the inspiration between Veil and Ryldimar in the first place). I really love throwing my ocs at other peoples' ocs and the whole conversation started as just throwing whump ideas around by letting Veil get his hands on Dragonfly. that evolved into "Dragonfly is the hostage in Ryldimar's storyline, he was originally captured by Orin but once Veil killed her he didn't need a hostage anymore, so he just kept him for fun."

It was already canon that Ryldimar ends up killing Veil and rejecting Bhaal, now he just. also gets a very traumatized tiefling out of it and by this point we've written walls of text about these two recovering and helping each other heal from the insane shit they've both been through.

also they fuck. so much. they're the absolute epitome of "that which doesn't kill me gives me kinks that are difficult to explain."

[emeritus-fuckers]

Yaaaaay ministry event!!!!

1. Would you say you're more likely to be a Sibling of Sin or a Ghoul? Why?

Sibling of Sin. Im weird but still within the bounds of humanity. I would likely end up in ghoul dens though, I would be fascinated with them.

2. Which Papa would you prefer to work with? Why? (Sister Imperator is included)

Outside of my personal feelings for each one, papa 3. He seems the most... personable. Im a little anxious and sensitive, i feel like it would be easiest to work with him or papa iv as a back up.

3. Are you an introvert, ambivert or an extrovert? Tell us a bit more about it.

Ambivert. I love being around people but I need my quiet time at the end of the day. I like parties, for example, but I keep to myself during them.

4. What chore do you like the most/hate the least?

Hate the most? Dishes. I have sensory issues and wet food makes me want to peel off my skin. Like the most? Laundry. I love the smell of clean laundry and knowing i have clean underwear lol.

5. Do you like to travel, or maybe you prefer to stay at home?

Both, for different reasons. I love seeing new places and going fun places (I like to identify new plants and birds) but honestly it's a relief to come home to my own bed.

6. Freebie. You've got five sentences to tell us anything you want about you.

If I could live in a natural history museum, I would. The smell of incense is comforting. I find myself staring at people a lot, I don't mean to, but I prefer watching to interacting. I crochet a lot, and make scarves for just about everyone I know. My goal is to be a tattoo artist.

This post is part of the 1250 (I think?) followers Role in ministry event. Entries for the event are now closed.

Your role in the ministry is…Tattoo artist for the clergy

You work for Papa III

Terzo is happy for you to spend a lot of time in the chapel as he knows you like the smell of incense. He suggested you crochet there when it isn't being used for anything else. He'll sit with you and write his sermons but you often end up people watching. Terzo's favourite game is to watch then tell you who is going to get together next, he loves match making. He is very happy when he gets it right.

He'll invite you along to all the parties he goes to but he always understands if you want to miss one.

He will set you up with someone if you ask or he is also really good at introducing you to the perfect people to be friends with.

He nudged you towards the Ghouls because he knew you wanted to see the dens. He made sure Omega kept a very close eye on you so nothing bad happens and you aren't allowed there unless Omega is around, because, well you know what Ghouls can be like.

But you are one of their favourite siblings, they often offer to help at your tattoo parlour, they helped you set it up. Although sometimes they cause more chaos than actually helping. But it's always good natured and fun but sometimes they do need to be gently reminded to calm down. Swiss once tried to tattoo and obscene image on Sodo when he fell asleep.

You made Terzo and his Ghouls scarves and they all were really happy with them. Terzo wore his around the Ministry with great pride right up until summer when he was too hot. He is now looking forward to autumn.

You also made friends with Primo, on your lunch breaks you go and sit in the gardens to identify the plants and birds. Primo saw you and his eyes lit up that someone else appreciated things like that. He has sooo many books on it that he lends you and, he'll often join you for a walk round the garden showing you all the new plants he put in.

You do get some rather interesting requests for tattoos. There is a wide variety of different artworks asked for, some more serious and intricate others because someone lost a bet...

~

Written by Nyx