#i know the post is somewhat vague lol

[muttmedley]

laying on your stomach while a girl slowly and steadily fucks you from behind so that even once you cum you're still begging for more and she can use that as an excuse to ruthlessly pound your brains out and cum inside of you

[paranorahjones]

you know it's bad when you start journaling about him

[ezdotjpg]

Hi!!! Sorry if you've been asked this before but is it possible for you to summarize the Bonus Links' personalities? Just asking because I'd like to get a general idea, apologies if this is too much of a pain to answer 😭🫶🏻

hey! luckily I already wrote up character intros a while back that I never posted to tumblr lol, so I'll go ahead and post them now! under the cut since this is mega long lol

Loft

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Skyward Sword

Age: 22

Height: 5’3”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: World’s Nicest Man Pushed To His Limit. It’s his nature to be light-hearted and easy-going, but ever since the events of Skyward Sword he’s been unable to let the implications of Demise’s curse and Zelda’s connection to Hylia go. He’s usually mild, but he’s got a lot of suppressed anger in him that comes out at inopportune times. He tends towards being optimistic, but has lately been caught in a depressive spiral. As a result of all these conflicting emotions, he hasn’t felt like himself in a while. Before everything, he could have been described as a little bit lazy, but these days a better word would be lethargic. He’s got a mischievous and thrill-seeking streak that often surprises people. He knows he’s powerful, but he’s lost some confidence in the years since his quest. He’s wracked with guilt about the way everything ended.

Slate

Pronouns: tends to use he/him, but really any

Game: Breath of the Wild (ignoring TotK for now)

Age: 21

Height: 5’0”

Communication: Mainly signs, speaks occasionally

Personality: The Reviews Are In: Friendly Guy, Vaguely Off-Putting. He knows he’s not pre-calamity Link, but he’s not exactly sure what he is instead. He’s accepted this about himself, and it grinds his gears that other people refuse to. He’s not sure what to do with all these memories inside him that aren’t his, and that he feels nothing for. He’s become more expressive, but when he’s upset his face goes entirely blank. He has a tendency to be distracted, blunt, intense, impulsive, somewhat abrasive. But he’s not unkind, and can even be outright friendly. He’d offer his help to anyone who asks, and he makes it a point to know everyone in Hyrule. He’s happiest out in nature, and doesn’t mind the solitude. He only ever lies by omission, and otherwise says exactly what he means. There’s something a little otherworldly about him.

Mask

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Ocarina of Time, Majora’s Mask

Age: 15

Height: 5’2½”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: Local Teen Needs Hug So Bad, Will Bite If You Try. He’s prickly, hot-tempered, moody. He’ll pick verbal battles he probably shouldn’t. Everything is a touchy subject. But he’s developed this behavior as a coping mechanism. He’s kind by nature, and it takes effort to lash out. The person he is with Malon- gentle, more soft-spoken, with a good sense of humor and a love for harmless mischief- is a lot closer to the person he’s comfortable being. He’s a scared kid. He feels out of place, both mature and immature, of this world and not. Sometimes, he gets scrambled between Termina, the Hyrule he’s in now, the Hyrule he left behind, and the Hyrule of the war. He has a lot of resentment for both the gods and the royal family, and all he wants is to be left alone.

Wolf

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Twilight Princess

Age: 23

Height: 5’5”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: Thank God I’m A Country Boy. He’s a gentle soul, probably the gentlest out of all of them. He likes to be useful, and he has made being the problem solver of Ordon Village part of his identity. He’s a bit of a mother hen and likes to take care of people. Midna was good at bringing out a little bit of attitude and snark in him. He’s got a bad case of Resting Bitch Face, but he’s not an angry person. However, he’s had a hard time adjusting to life back in Ordon. He’s usually even-tempered, but lately he’s been irritable and easier to anger. He feels isolated by his experiences, and has been avoiding most of the villagers, including his loved ones, even though it makes him lonely. Mostly he just doesn’t want to take it out on them, but it’s also about his pride. He enjoys the company of animals far more these days. He wants a quiet life, and has been avoiding Zelda's attempts to make "Hero" a political role for him to fill.

War

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Hyrule Warriors

Age: 25

Height: 5’7”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally, had Proxi speak for him at one point during the war

Personality: Link “This Is My Jaeger, I Make The Tactical Decisions” Faron. He comes across as a very charming young man, witty, helpful, pleasant in conversation, well-adjusted. In reality, he is constantly doing complicated political 4D chess in his mind at all times, even when it’s not necessary. Many years of being subject to the whims of the Royal Court and pressure to be a perfect symbol have poisoned him: he’s become calculating, manipulative, superficially polite, two-faced. He has to be the one holding all the cards, considering all the variables, fixing all of the problems, because he can’t trust anyone else. If you were to strip him of all pretense, he'd actually be a dry, resigned person, perpetually annoyed with everyone around him. He values status and reputation, and he wants more power than he has. His appearance is important to him because he knows his pretty face is an asset. He holds deep respect for the gods and the mantle of the hero. He has a strong sense of duty, but one that often leads him to justify terrible actions. The ends justify the means.

Mirror

Pronouns: he/they

Game: A Link Between Worlds, Triforce Heroes

Age: 22

Height: 5’1”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: Local Link Doing Pretty Well Actually, All Things Considered. He’s just living his life, having a mostly pleasant time. He used to be quiet and reserved when he was younger, but has come out of his shell in a big way. He’s a bit vain, and fond of doing things with a dramatic flair. They like to have an audience, they like to make people laugh, they like to have your attention. Rather than being poisoned by court politics, he thrives in them. He doesn’t pretend to be charming, he just is. They can be on the arrogant side. He’s interested in fashion and art more than fighting these days, but still keeps his skills up to date. He pretends the scar on his face doesn’t bother him, but it does. He’s particularly obsessed with the legend of the hero before him.

Mage

Pronouns: he/him

Game: A Link to the Past, Link’s Awakening, Oracle of Ages, Oracle of Seasons

Age: 32

Height: 5’3”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: Weird Uncle You Just Stopped Hearing From One Day. He’s a difficult guy to get a read on. He comes off as deeply serious, imposing, no-nonsense. He is actually full of nonsense. The fact that no one can tell what is and isn’t part of the bit is part of the bit. He mostly ignores his own problems by dedicating his life to solving other people’s problems. He wanders from place to place, helping people and becoming a bit of a larger than life folk legend in his own right in the process. He’s leaned into learning magic more than the sword, and has built up quite the arsenal of spells. He doesn’t speak often, and is content to let other Links lead despite being the oldest and the most experienced. He’s difficult to rile and even more difficult to get a straight answer out of.

Spirit

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Spirit Tracks

Age: 16

Height: 4’11”

Communication: Mainly signs, speaks occasionally. He has a stutter when he speaks.

Personality: Wants To Be Anywhere But Here, Preferably On A Train. He’s fully given up swordfighting, and basically just wants to go back to being a Royal Engineer like nothing happened. He has no interest in gaining any kind of attention, authority, or power from the mantle of the hero, and would actually prefer that everyone stop looking at him. He’s quiet, sweet-natured and generally non-confrontational, but he’s not afraid to stand up for himself when pushed. It’s just that it’s easier to let Zelda stand up for him instead. He’s pretty mature and in-tune with his emotions for a 16 year old. Seeing spirits everywhere, he has a lot of private thoughts about grief and death that he doesn’t share with anyone. The gears in his brain are constantly turning, and once he’s stuck on an idea, it’s all he can focus on. He often doesn’t give himself enough credit for how capable he is. Please let him tell you about trains.

Mini

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Minish Cap

Age: 14

Height: 4’3”

Communication: Only signs, mute.

Personality: He’s Just A Little Guy, Only 2 Pixels Tall. Mini doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do. He’s not very expressive in the face, and it can be hard to tell what he’s thinking or feeling. Mostly, he’s a little rascal. He likes to root around in the garbage and build strange little machines from what he finds. He spends a lot of time hanging out with the Minish, moreso than humans. It’s a little bit of an escapism thing. He hasn’t really processed what it meant to become the hero so young, and is actively trying to avoid doing so. He’s very independent, and simply doesn’t compute attempts to coddle him.

Wake

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Wind Waker, Phantom hourglass

Age: 20

Height: 5’5”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: Everyone’s Favorite Cousin At The Family Function. He’s a fun person to be around. Friendly, energetic, laid back, good-natured, outgoing. He is always up for a good shenanigan. But he can get serious when he needs to, and often plays the important role of mediator in group dynamics. He’s the glue that holds the team together! He seems to take everything in stride, and presents himself as unbothered by the things that have happened to him. Whether that’s actually true, or he’s just compartmentalized everything too well remains to be seen. He has a strange way of being very open, and yet a closed book at the same time. He’s sentimental, and family is important to him

[endless-weightless]

Ford Pines x GN!reader headcanons!

I'm surprised it took me this long to get into Gravity Falls. Anyways this has both SFW and NSFW so beware. There's also a brief mention of being AFAB as a possibility but other than that it's completely gender neutral (I'm 99% sure, I didn't proofread too well lol).

SFW

Right off the bat, I’m saying he’s autistic because so am I and I said so.

If you’re someone who needs reassurance or is generally anxious/paranoid about anything he’ll go into long (often scientific) explanations to ease your mind and also throw in some fun facts.

Both a listener and a yapper. He loves nothing more than the sound of your voice but also loves being able to spout all sorts of things about his research and interests while you stare at him lovingly.

Can’t sleep unless you’re next to him. You don’t even need to be cuddling, your presence is just the one thing he needs to fall asleep.

That being said, he will NEVER pass up an opportunity to cuddle. Watching a movie? Cuddling. Working at his desk in the lab? Cuddling on his lap. Cooking something in the kitchen? He’s got his arms wrapped around you as he presses loving kisses into your temple.

He rarely swears, but when he does it always makes you do a double-take (and maybe giggle because it sounds so odd coming from him).

Probably tried weed once or twice in the '70s and was somewhat part of the psychedelic rock scene. Stan has some old photos of him during that time somewhere but Ford is absolutely mortified by the idea of you seeing him in bell-bottom jeans.

It doesn’t matter how long you two have been together, every time he sees you he feels the same as he did the day you two met. Ford will never stop becoming flustered at the sight of you.

Post-Weirdmaggedon he became very anxious at the thought of you being out alone or not being near him. He feels like he needs to be on guard at all times so that he can protect you. He eventually calms down after some reassurance from you and a fuck ton of therapy.

While he lacks some emotional intelligence he’s actually very attentive and knows exactly what you need when you’re upfront about your feelings. As long as you’re not vague and communicate, he knows what to do to help you.

Adding onto that, I think he briefly studied psychology in college so he’d have a pretty good understanding of any mental health issues you might have.

Said “No more Mr Nice Guy” one time and hasn’t heard the end of it from anyone.

NSFW

Has to stop himself from cumming too quickly when you tell him how good he’s making you feel. Stroking his ego (and other things) is the best way to get him horny.

Will always ask you for consent no matter what it is. You could be mid-fuck and he’d still ask if he could put his hands on your hips.

This is just my personal headcanon but I believe while he didn’t really have too much experience before he got stuck on the other side of the portal (probably hooked up with Fiddleford once or twice tho), I fully believe that after a few years of dimension-hopping, he would’ve had a few one-night stands (mans gotta blow off some steam). So when he gets the chance to fuck you, a real human from his dimension, he’s more than ecstatic, especially since he’s picked up more than a few tricks over the past thirty years.

Knows how to use all twelve of his fingers.

Since Ford was sucked into the portal in the early ’80s and spent thirty years in there, he’s super confused when you mention shaving down there or being embarrassed about your body hair (if you do either) since the last time he was around everyone preferred going all natural.

This one’s less sexy but I’m putting it here anyways. He avoided taking off his shirt for ages since he didn’t want you to see all the scars he’d gotten over the years or any of the tattoos related to the things he did in the portal, especially the ones related to Bill. Surprisingly not as insecure about his “Flirty Gal” tramp stamp.

Doesn’t understand that he’s ridiculously hot. 

You jokingly said “Yes sir” one time and he got hard so quickly.

Although he does rather enjoy you taking the lead.

Loves experimenting with cock warming and edging. Literally. He’ll time the both of you and have everything written down somewhere and draw a graph with extra info like if you’re someone with a menstrual cycle and how that affects the results.

[flowerquib]

CREATION

why must you hurt me why must you hate me why must you do i need this is this for me

do i need pain?

...I am important.

guys i love him so muchhhh ahhh i meant to post this yesterday but I forgor

anyways

very brief character sheet bc im gonna go on a ramble

Main things: - he has no face besides a mouth qtubbo built (i will get into that) - the wheel of glowing eyes constantly move - he's like an inverse of my qtubbo design (the robotic parts of his body switched sides)

I have 2 stories but one thing stays the same

Creation acts as a guardian/protector off the eggs and uses any force necessary (aka his pointing making people disappear or making them "logging out")

ALRIGHT to my little story (based off hc and the theories)

PRESENT ROBOT Creation was made by qtubbo (in the present) and is gaining his own consciousness. That's why the others can't tell qtubbo. This also goes off the theory of fed tubbo (or not it kinda doesn't matter?) Basically, Creation was made up by a spare qtubbo body that qtubbo found. The spare body was a failed experiment by the fed that they threw out. Qtubbo found it and was like "hey this could be cool." He built this robot that is somewhat sentient (connected emotionally to qtubbo in a way).

TIME TRAVEL Creation is a future qtubbo that has been so changed/deformed that has come back to the present. He vaguely knows who he is and his purpose. He's just a confused little guy. I might go back to add more but that's the basis for this one. okay thats all i have rn ive been distracted by tubbo stream lol

[eoieopda]

meet me at the bar (ksj)

You're supposed to be staring down the barrel of the last — and most important — examination of your life, but you only have eyes for your study buddy.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x AFAB!Reader Type: One Shot | Fluff w/ Smut | 18+ — Minors DNI Word Count: 7.5k AU: Law school, study-buddies, best friends to lovers, highly educated idiots in love CW: Bad jokes, Latin, fingering (v), unprotected sex (p in v), Seokjinnie hits it from the back. A/N: My inaugural Seokjin smut is dedicated to my donsaeng-in-law (see what I did there?) @yoongiphoria, who is now embarking on this stupid, stupid gatekeeping journey IRL. Best of luck, my lil love. I'll be waiting for you on the other side of the war! MJ FIGHTING ~ Big ups to my other lil love, M, for beta reading 💕 I posted an epilogue drabble on 7/26/23. Also: This is written based on my experience in the American legal (educational) system. I was, frankly, too lazy to study up on South Korean law for a fanfic, lol. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors will be blocked, on sight. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

You are not spiraling.

You are a paragon of health and wellness, you tell yourself as you gulp down a mug of coffee that is still far too hot, like you’ll die without it. 

More bitter than the taste on your tongue is the realization that you might die with it —  your third cup in fewer hours. As far as you can tell, though, it’s a win-win situation: You’ll either generate enough anxious energy to finalize your property law flashcards, or you’ll drop dead before you have to review them.

And you won’t have to take that exam…

And you won’t have to pay off your student debt…

Besides, you figure, the stomach ulcer you’re likely inflicting on yourself will be infinitely less painful than dragging your under-caffeinated corpse through yet another day of studying. Another eight, consecutive hours spent forcing forgotten subjects back into your maxed-out brain. 

It’s worth it, you repeat to yourself, though this gauntlet has turned out to be a full-time job that steals, rather than pays. You can faint on top of the finish line, so long as some part of you crosses it.

You should be used to it by now, running a marathon at a dead sprint. That’s all you’ve ever done — push yourself. You attended your first day of preschool and never stopped, never took a breath. Through elementary, middle, and high school; then for four years of university. Going, going, going.

Stumbling through that eighteenth lap around the track, you kept going because — well, being a student was all you’d ever been. That’s your toxic trait, you’ve since discovered. Your concept of self is rooted exclusively within the context of a classroom.

You didn’t know it at the time, but your decision to take the Law School Admission Test — or the HellSAT, as you’ve come to call it — might have been the start of a quarter-life crisis. But you didn’t stop there. No, you took that score and ran with it. Slapped it onto every application as a desperate plea for acceptance. 

When you received your admission letter, you were a bright-eyed twenty-two-year-old with a bachelor’s degree and a vaguely defined dream.

Call it naïveté or call it gravitas, there wasn’t a doubt in your smooth little brain that law school was the logical next step to take. That being intelligent and hard-working made you well-equipped for the challenge that came with pursuing a Juris Doctor. After all, you’d spent nineteen years delaying gratification — what difference would three more make?

Within the first hour of your orientation, you — a professional student — had already learned something new: You were a masochist and, frankly, somewhat of an idiot.

Thankfully, you weren’t alone. 

Sitting — dissociating, more like — at a nearby table was a lanky boy you’d first noticed on your tour of the law building. His glassy-eyed stare was aimed somewhere in the middle-distance, and even though his slightly agape mouth said nothing, it communicated everything. He was the only other person in that atrium who looked the way you felt: scared shitless and riddled with buyer’s remorse. A can crushed under the boot of self-doubt.

It was the first time you and your wobbly knees went running in his direction, but it wouldn’t be the last.

He was so deep in a daze at that moment that he didn’t notice the way you threw yourself into the open chair next to him, didn’t look up at the scrape of wooden legs against the granite floor beneath them. He nearly jumped out of his skin when you announced your presence with words, however. 

It was less of an introduction — the way people in a society tend to greet each other for the first time, ever — and more of a twister. Words whipped through the air at a dangerously high velocity, no syllable ending before you started on the next. Just one breath, a few consonants, and a pair of dark eyebrows shooting up to cower behind his bangs. 

“Was — was that Korean?” He asked when you finally ran out of wind. 

Judging by the way his wide eyes softened, you knew he wasn’t making fun of you. You’d simply scrambled his brain so thoroughly that you’d transcended the known limits of language.

More of a question than an answer, you peeped, “I think so. Maybe?” You wavered with a sigh. “I’m no longer confident that I know any of the things I thought I knew, though. So, um, don’t quote me on that.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. I didn’t catch enough of whatever that was —” He gestured vaguely. “— To even attempt to quote you.”

Within seconds and without knowing, he’d disarmed the bomb ticking away in your gut. He must’ve sensed it, too, because his face lit up so completely that you had to look away. One glance at the floor-to-ceiling windows confirmed that the sun hadn’t reappeared at that time of night. 

That rush of warmth you felt then  — that absolutely insane brightness — was powered exclusively by the grin taking up the entirety of his face. If that megawatt smile alone hadn’t rerouted your oncoming anxiety attack, the distinct, squeaking laugh that erupted out of his chest would’ve done the job. 

You doubled over, either under the weight of your own giggling or with the relief you felt in finding someone equally lost. Eyes swimming with mirth, you wiped wetness from your cheekbone and snorted. “Was that a windshield wiper?”  

“No, that was embarrassing.” 

The tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks went some dizzy shade of pink. 

He rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck with one hand and held the other out to shake yours.

“And I’m Kim Seokjin.”

Now, when the door of your apartment flies open without warning, it’s that same savior standing on your threshold. That designation may be melodramatic, but if that brown paper bag contains what you suspect it does, it’s deserved.

Seokjin, patron saint of breakfast sandwiches, flops down on the couch that stretches along the opposite side of your coffee table. From where you sit on the floor — hunched over your notes like a hobgoblin — you reach out your expectant arms and make grabby hands in the space between you.

You see mischief flash in his eyes, but only for a second. In the next, he’s pretending like he doesn’t see you; doesn’t hear your petulant little whines. He extends long legs out over the cushions, clutches the bag to his chest, and lets his head roll back to rest on the couch’s arm.

“Wanna know what I did today instead of practice essays?” He asks, eyes unfocused on the ceiling above.

All you actually want is whatever that smell is. You can’t stop staring at the bag of food in his hands. If you try hard enough, maybe you can summon some sort of psychic energy, make it levitate towards you.

He doesn’t wait for your response. “The math.”

“Huh?” 

You frown; and as you do, you reluctantly shift your gaze from Seokjin’s hands to his face. He isn’t looking your way, but you can tell he’s grimacing based solely on the way his jaw twitches. It’s a miracle he hasn’t ground his teeth to dust over the past three years, given how often he makes that face.

In an attempt to ease the tension in his posture, you tease, “Didn’t we go to law school because we can’t do math?”

He cracks an unwilling smile. A tiny one, but a smile nonetheless. Without turning his head, he extends his arm out in your direction. In the split second it takes for yours to spring forward like a snake, that blessed bag dangles; the scent of sausage, egg, and cheese wafts through the air and restores your will to live. Clutching your prize, halfway to feral, you tear into it without hesitation.

As you bite off more than you can chew, Seokjin prepares his rant with a sigh, “So, consider this.”

“Mmphf,” you advise through a mouthful of greasy bliss.

“Bar exam prep takes eight weeks, right? If we’re only counting business days, that’s forty — forty days, for a minimum of eight hours each.”

He becomes more restless, the more he talks. Heated, he sits bolt upright and turns wild-eyed to you.

Oh, he’s gone full-tilt insane.

“Three-hundred-and-twenty hours, then. And if you think about that in terms of our clerk wages —” He slaps his hands down on his thighs for emphasis. “— at 2,625 won per hour —” 

Then, he points to you, as if the increasing volume of his voice wasn’t already holding you hostage.

“— we’ve sacrificed nearly two million won in income, just by studying for this fucking test.”

You swallow down the last bite of your sandwich, which you downright hoovered while Seokjin took the path of most resistance. After clearing your throat, your interjection overlaps with his next point: 

“Seokjinnie, why didn’t you just double our monthly —”

“That’s after we paid ninety million in tuition, hundreds of thousands on study materials and registration fees —”

You cut him off. “Is this your way of asking me to Venmo you for breakfast?” 

He freezes, caught fully off-guard. Shocked eyes widen like you’re the ridiculous one. “Of course not!”

He waves you off like his thoughtful gesture is no big deal. Then, like he’s tired himself out, he sinks back onto your couch. From his back, he grumbles with crossed arms, “‘M just sayin’ that I’m tired of this shit.”

You can’t help but giggle at the pathetic pout working down the corners of his mouth. “Felt,” you agree, though it feels a little bit like a lie.

Truth be told, you feel more awake now than you did ten minutes ago, and you can’t attribute it to the coffee — not when the evidence so clearly indicates otherwise. 

Over the course of three years, you’ve built up quite the case against yourself. You’ve made the following findings of fact:

Whenever he pops up, Seokjin brings your mood up with him. Even now, as he marinates in anguish on your couch, his presence gives you a reason not to beat yourself unconscious with the four-kilogram prep book that sits beside you on the rug. Makes you hate your circumstances a little less, if only because you share them with him.

And, for a rapidly deflating balloon, you have to concede that Seokjin looks stunning this morning. 

Unlike you and your day-three hair, he somehow had the energy to wash his. The mid-sections of some strands are still damp; the parts that aren’t frame his face in fluffy waves. His shampoo is something fruity mixed with something crisp — grapefruit and mint, maybe? — and it floods your senses, causing question marks to replace any coherent thoughts you might otherwise have. You’d be lying again if you said you didn’t want to find out for sure how soft those tresses really are.

The verdict? 

Well, the jury’s still out, but you know you’re guilty. 

If being down this bad for your best friend isn’t a criminal offense, it should be.

You shake your head to clear it. To smother the flame licking up the inside of your belly, you grab the certified mood killer off the coffee table and hold it up in front of you. Surely, the cure for a sexual tension headache is an eight-centimeter stack of color-coded, neon index cards covered in information you shouldn’t need to memorize in the first place.

“Exam’s in one week,” you say with a shiver.

Seokjin rolls onto his side to look forlornly at you. You are not looking at his bare hip bone, which appears where the hem of his shirt shifts from the waistband of his joggers. Nope.  

You continue the search for the point you’re trying to make. “I can barely spell mortgage, let alone explain what the fuck to do with one.”

“Don’t think I know what land even is at this point,” he sighs. Dejected, he lets his arm go limp. It spills off the edge of the cushion and dangles until his knuckles brush against the rug. “What is this property you speak of?”

Biting back a grin is impossible, so you press your lips together instead. Just like that — just by Seokjin being Seokjin — the hellscape you willingly walked into gets a little brighter. Maybe, you think, you can do this.

You look down for a moment to shuffle up the cards you spent the better part of two days preparing. As you stare down at the staggering amount of knowledge you might be tested on, you can feel the crease returning between your eyebrows. Your grimace is back, too, like a reflex. 

If you make it through this experience without premature wrinkles, you’ll be shocked.

There’s shifting on the couch ahead, but you don’t look up until Seokjin breezes, “From this angle, it almost looks like you’re smiling.”

His arm is no longer dangling off the edge of the couch. His entire upper body is. Knees now hinged over the backrest for balance, he’s upside-down and smirking impishly at you.

He has to know you’re in love with him, right? How could he expect you not to be?

You clear your throat and arch a single eyebrow as a challenge. “What is the rule against perpetuities, Seokjinnie?”

Like you, he can recite it in full at a machine-gun rate of fire. It’s been beaten so far into your heads that you might utter it on your deathbeds, with your last gasping breaths.

“No interest in land is good unless it must vest, if at all, not later than twenty-one years after some life in being at the creation of the interest,” he responds with a smug smile. “Easy.”

It’s your turn to smirk. 

“Great. Now, what does any of that mean?”

Without missing a beat, he fires back, “Does anyone know?”

“Absolutely not. Next question!”

Having had the same day, every day, for seven weeks straight, Seokjin is struggling. He’s spent hundreds of hours on the same routine, feeling beaten down and burnt out, all the while. It goes like this:

Every morning, he wakes up and goes for a run in a feeble attempt to feel something other than dread. After that, he eats a lackluster breakfast, and then he promptly chains himself to his desk. When he finally gives himself permission to get up again, it’s dark out; and he’s too brain dead to check the hundred or so notifications that amassed on his phone during his fugue state.

Scratch that. There’s one person he responds to, no matter what. As far as everyone else is concerned, though, he’s a ghost.

Today is the first day out of the last fifty-five where Seokjin doesn’t feel like his brain is being hydraulically pressed. For the first time in too long, he fell into an old routine; one he’s missed. It started with a shower — and honestly, that was overdue — then, he swung by the café he’s frequented over the past three years. There, he made his usual order.

One iced americano, and one sausage-egg-and-cheese croissant with extra hot sauce.

Before he walked back up the block, he downed the former, but he didn’t touch the latter. The latter wasn’t for him, anyways. None of the breakfast sandwiches he ever stops for are.

The subsequent hours looked semi-similar to the three-hundred-and-twenty he’s already devoted to studying. Well, sort of. To be clear, the subject matter still sucks, and he’s still angry that he has to touch it at all, but he isn’t waiting for the sweet release of death in the same way he has been all summer. 

This might have something to do with the fact that, for the first time in nearly sixty days, he’s not on his own. 

More than that, he’s with you.

Having switched away from covenants, easements, and servitudes, he feels a slightly less stupid. Contract law is a little more straightforward and a little less caked in colonialism. Unfortunately, after six hours of burning all his brain cells on shit like liens, Seokjin has begun his descent into madness. 

The worms are digging in, he can’t focus, and neither of you can stop — fucking — laughing.

“I’ll give you a hint,” you giggle, shifting in your spot on the neighboring cushion. You give his knee a pat that feels a tiny bit patronizing, but that makes his pulse race, nonetheless. “It’s a Latin term.”

He snorts so loudly that you do a double-take, just to make sure it wasn’t a sneeze. You both stare at one another for a beat, then comes the eruption.

“It’s all Latin!” He roars. 

To muffle the way he’s wheezing, Seokjin slaps his hands over his face. It’s already tear-stained from his abject failure to keep his shit together. At least he can attempt to hide how red he knows it is.

Your laugh comes straight from your belly. You double over completely when his comes out in squeaks, hand reaching out to squeeze his forearm. It used to bother him, the sound he made when he truly loses it, but it doesn’t any more. 

How could it, when it makes you cling to him like that?

Wiping at your cheeks, you take a deep breath, then sigh, “Does it help if I give you the translation?”

He doubts it because you just pinched your bottom lip between your teeth, and now, his mind is blank. 

Really, it’s a fucking miracle he graduated at all with you around. You and that face you make when you concentrate have always made it impossible for him to do so. It’s why he wasn’t paying attention in class when this shit was taught in the first place, he realizes now. 

To cool himself down, Seokjin grabs the Camelbak bottle off the coffee table, realizes too late it’s yours and not his — oh, well — and shoves the straw into his mouth. He nods once, firmly, and sucks in as much water as he can. 

It all sprays back out of his mouth when you say:

“Naked promise.”

He had always wondered what his life would look like if it ever flashed before his eyes. Now, he knows. It’s not a montage of his finest moments, the most recent of which would not have made the cut. All he sees is you, wide-eyed, glancing between him and the wet spot that’s now soaking through your sweatshirt.

You press your lips together, probably to keep from laughing in his face. It’s a valiant effort on your part and a kind gesture, but honestly, he doesn’t deserve it. His fingers twitch as he clutches the bottle, wanting nothing more than to dump the remaining water on his face. He embarrasses himself more often than not, but this stings his cheeks like a sunburn.

“I am —” he raises his hands, flustered, “So sorry. I don’t remember waking up in a sitcom this morning, but I, uhhh, clearly did.”

When you stand up, you’re grinning. And not in that scary way you do when you’re about to retaliate for some prank he’s pulled. No, that look on your face is genuine amusement. 

Thank god.

You shrug as you cross your arms over your torso and grip the hem of your sweatshirt with both hands. “All good, Seokjinnie,” you laugh. “This needed to be washed, anyway. You see that coffee stain?”

No. 

No, he does not see that coffee stain because the tank top underneath your sweatshirt is clinging to the wet spot as you tug the top layer up your stomach. He feels bad for staring — really, he does — but fuck, your skin looks soft. Like, so soft that he has to grip his water bottle to keep a grip on himself.

Eventually, your tank top separates from your sweatshirt. It falls back down to where it belongs, to Seokjin’s dismay, and the sweatshirt keeps going. 

“Nudum pactum,” you remind him as you pull the drenched hoodie over your head. Playfully, you toss it at him. It smacks against his chest, splays out over his lap. 

Once more with feeling: thank god. 

You sink back down beside him on the couch, and he can’t help but notice that you’re the tiniest bit closer than you were before. It’s innocent, just your bare knee bumping his shin as you re-cross your legs. Still, it leaves his tingling through the fabric of his joggers when you don’t move away.

The silence surges as it settles, crinkling like static in his ears. He almost doesn’t hear you when you ask him again: “What’s it mean?”

Uhhhh.

“It means —”

Unfortunately for him, the water he just forcibly ejected from his mouth didn’t help him. His throat is dry now, and he sounds strangled, he’s sure. The way you’re watching him so intently doesn’t help one fucking bit, either.

Are you doing that on purpose?

You nudge him physically this time, knuckles connecting gently and playfully with his leg. He wonders if you can hear his heart hammering against the wall of his chest in all of this quiet. You might, he figures, especially when you tuck your hair behind your ear.

Instinctively, his eyes flick down to the length of your neck. Without a curtain of hair in the way, it’s even more exposed skin that he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with. Making matters worse for him, you tilt your head to the side expectantly. His breath catches when he tears his gaze away, back up, and sees the way you’re looking at him now.

You are absolutely — without a goddamn doubt — doing this on purpose.

If that’s the game you want to play, Seokjin can play it, too. He turns away from you to set the bottle back down on the coaster he took it from. As he does, he finally answers your question — the nonchalance he’s faking even sounds convincing.

“It’s an unenforceable promise,” he replies casually. “One with insufficient consideration.”

He rights himself in his seat, stretches a bit further backwards until he’s resting comfortably against the arm of the couch. You hide it well, but there’s a hint of a pout on your lips when you clock the newfound distance. 

Check, he smirks to himself, your move.

A flash of pink slips out. Your tongue wetting those lips before you prompt him more quietly than before, “And consideration is…?”

He slips up, makes the mistake of noticing the rise and fall of your chest as you take measured breaths. So, he sees, you’re buzzing with anticipation, too. He wonders if it’s him that’s having that effect on you, or the circumstances. 

For all he knows, it could be pent up steam that you need to release. Stress weighing down your body that you want to get off.

Fuck, he wants to get you off.

He swallows thickly. “Can’t get something for nothing. There has to be an exchange, otherwise it’s meaningless.”

You say nothing, so he keeps talking.

“Quid pro quo, essentially,” Seokjin adds. He chuckles slightly when he realizes. “See? Told you. It’s all fucking Latin.”

The corner of your mouth twitches at his joke, but you don’t make a sound. The hand that previously pushed against his leg inches closer, just barely. It’s such a small shift that you don’t seem to realize that you’re moving it. 

Maybe you feel that pull, too; the one he’s been fighting since you barged into his life without warning. 

Maybe the consideration has been there from the start; a promise for a promise. I’ll jump if you do. Because it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? Since orientation.

Pulling all-nighters in the library, developing matching caffeine dependencies, getting sick too often from the strain of it all. 

You and him.

Laughing quietly in the back of lectures, cold sweats through cold calls, bitching about unpaid internships while you spend indisposable income at the bar down the block without acknowledging the irony.

There are only two real differences between this night and that first one, he notes.

Now, Seokjin isn’t questioning every decision he’s ever made that led him to this point. He’s not scared shitless, not really. Not when you’re around.

You cut through the silence with a sigh that’s barely more than an exhale, so breathy that your voice dissipates as soon as it hits the air.

“Seokjin.”

He could probably hear a pin if you dropped one — can hear everything you don’t say. It’s all packed tight inside that utterance of his name like gunpowder, locked and loaded. 

So, who shoots first?

You shift again. Now, when you speak, it’s deliberate and in a language he can parse.

“Tell me you want me, too.”

Bang!

His body answers for him, pushes off from where he leans until he can get his knees underneath him. He’s waited three years to kiss you, but he can delay gratification for the brief time it takes to overtake you. Pinned with his palms bearing weight on either side of your head, you wind up caged in and breathless beneath him. His right knee occupies the space between your spread thighs.

Again, it’s a miracle he’s made it this far with you around.

He hums, beyond pleased with the position he finds himself in. “Maybe. Tell me if I got the answer right.”

“Oh my god.” You toss your head back to the extent that you can, which admittedly isn’t far. Your frustration rolls off you in waves, heat palpable. “I’ll kill you, I swear.”

“Sounds admissible to me,” he teases further. He flexes an eyebrow. “Isn’t that an exception to the prohibition of hearsay evidence? Speaks to motive, I think.”

Seokjin has no idea why he’s riling himself up like this. If he could shut up — just this once — he could be kissing you by now. You seem to be aware of that fact, too, because you grip his shirt so desperately, one right move might tear it.

You huff out a laugh despite the circumstances,  “This friendship is over, by the way, in case that’s not clear.”

That tiny smile on your face spreads to his. Not over, he knows, just modified. Amplified, finally. Knowing that, he continues to push his luck. 

“Can I make one more joke?”

“So over!” You emphasize with a wail.

He takes a second to center himself before hitting you with award-winning drama, sincerity dipped in the kind of humor he never misses out on with you: 

“You have adversely possessed my heart.”

Your jaw drops at how stupid that line was, but you reign it in just in time for his lips to crash into yours. 

It almost knocks the wind out of him, the way the pieces fall with force into place. They slot together easily, just like you do. With fingers clinging, the weight of his body molding overtop of yours. 

You kiss him until he forgets what life tasted like without your tongue licking into him, your little moans melting in his mouth — until you break apart, gasping for air. Panting, you ask, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting on you?” 

He doesn’t, no, not at all. Thankfully, you take his stunned silence for what it’s worth. After relinquishing your grip on his shirt, you bring your hands up to cup his face gently in your palms. 

With you touching him like this, he has no option but to stare down at you. Bit redundant, he thinks, since his focus has always been locked right here, right on you, by choice. Given that, it’s a little funny that he managed to miss every signal you’ve apparently sent him. But really, it doesn’t necessarily surprise him to hear that he’s even dumber than he thought.

You kiss him slowly this time, briefly, before nipping affectionately at his bottom lip. It drives him exactly as crazy as you want it to; makes his cock twitch inside his joggers, makes his brain foggy with a potent combination of fondness and filth.

Do you have any idea how many times he’s thought about this? He’s genuinely wondering because even he doesn’t know. He’s lost count of all the times he’s watched you nibble on your own lip and wished it was his instead. A million or more, if he has to guess.

Seeming to sense the way you've scrambled his brain, you nudge the tip of his nose with yours and giggle.

Seokjin can’t help but grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Thought of a good one,” you answer. Your smirk does his head in. The contrasting, goofy wiggle of your eyebrows squeezes his heart. “Better than yours, I think.”

He kisses you quick and hums, “Oh?”

You nod. 

The suspense is killing him. So is the way your clothed cunt grinds ever so slightly against his thigh. 

Fuck. 

He wants you, he wants you, he wants you. 

“You gonna make me come, Seokjin, or do I have to wait for you to file a subpoena?”

You may have to seek a refund for the prep course you paid for. 

For as long as you can remember, you’ve learned best through application. You could read the same chapter, over and over, and not absorb a word. The same was true with lectures, even more so when they’re pre-recorded rambles by the weirdest adjunct professors known to man. Sure, you may eventually memorize concepts this way, but they don’t sink in deeply enough to stay. You can’t use them in any way that helps you.

To no one’s surprise, no part of your civil procedure lecture sticks until it falls into your lap. 

Strike that. 

Until Seokjin loses his balance in trying to take his pants off, and falls onto your floor with a yelp.

A moment or two passes while you stare at each other in shock, but that dissolves quickly. And so do both of you, right into another fit of laughter that makes your shoulders shake. Then, you jump to your feet and hold your hands out to him.

Seokjin accepts them, though he doesn’t rely on them at all when he stands back up. He seems more than content just to hold onto you, whether or not he needs you to keep him steady. You have no complaints, for once in your life.

Shaking his head, he chuckles, “Venue change?”

“I think —” You hum and kiss the column of his throat. He swallows hard enough that you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips. So sensitive.  “This is what they call forum non conveniens.”

He’s having none of that, and you don’t necessarily blame him. As it turns out, the shoe isn’t terribly comfortable when it’s on the other foot.

You’re lifted without warning, bent over his shoulder, and hauled off in the direction of your bedroom before you can even squeak in protest. You drop like a bag of dirt — albeit a beloved bag of dirt — onto your mattress once he reaches it; his lips are on yours to swallow the gasp before it can leave your mouth.

As eager as his mouth are his hands, roaming down the curve of your waist and over your hips. With fistfuls of the pajama shorts you hadn’t bothered to change out of, his head dips down under your jaw. The warmth of his breath is quickly replaced by that of his tongue, flicking a short, languid line along your neck.

“Want you so fucking bad,” he breathes. A shiver shoots straight down your spine and you keen, head crashing gracelessly back against the pillows. “Just like this.”

And he means it — you can feel how true it is with him settled between your spread legs. He presses his hips forward to meet your clothed cunt, cock teasing you through four goddamn layers’ worth of fabric.

His lips flutter against your earlobe just seconds before his teeth graze your flesh. He continues, voice vibrating through his chest to yours, “All the time.”

You outright whimper when he grinds against you a second time. Halfway to crazy, you knot your fingers in his hair and wrap your legs around his back in a silent plea for friction. So hungry for him that it aches.

“Seokjin, need — oh, god.” 

You lose your train of thought the second his hand slides into the gap between your bodies. Long fingers slip below the waistband of your shorts and panties, too. He doesn’t stop there. Not with fingertips whispering over the mound of your cunt, not until he finds you wet and wanting.

So wet that you can hear it when the pad of his index finger runs along your slit.

His mouth curves against your neck, prompting you to shift your head on the pillow. You tilt your neck just enough to meet his eyes. 

To your surprise, he’s not smirking. Not even close. If anything, he looks awestruck. Like he’s finally realizing what he does to you, how your body reacts to him. From the looks of it, that discovery is flipping his whole damn world upside down.

For once, Seokjin doesn’t crack a joke and neither do you. It’s quiet, save for your tiny gasping breaths and the ripple of his fingertip swirling over your clit. Even the moan building in your chest gets the memo. It disappears somewhere in your throat when — fucking finally — that middle finger penetrates you.

And god, he sounds so wrecked when he finally speaks. 

“Tried to imagine it a thousand times, you know,” he murmurs. 

You clench around his finger as it curls upwards, shiver when he starts to stroke the sensitive spot along your front wall. His thumb picks up where his middle finger left off, pressing against your clit in a way that makes you mewl.

Seokjin only stops talking to kiss you deep and leave you dizzy. It’s too brief. If asked, you’d never be able to quantify what amount of time is enough, but you know that wasn’t, so you pout.

Ignoring your little whines, he continues with a hum, “How perfect you’d feel, if I ever got this lucky.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

You laugh as you say it, but you’re dead serious: “If you keep talking to me like that, you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

Marry me, why don’t you? Beautiful bastard.

“Threat or promise?” 

He adds a second finger; and suddenly, you’re not laughing anymore. No, the strangled sound you make while you grind against his palm isn’t funny at all, but you can’t care about that now. Your focus is stuck on remembering how to breathe. In, out. On the stars blinking behind your eyelids when they give up and flutter shut.

He works you open for him like he’s already attuned, like it’s the fiftieth time he’s finger-fucked you and not the very first. And, quite frankly, it’s embarrassing how little time it takes for him to pull you apart at the seams.

No one has ever made you cum with such little effort. You’re scared to learn what it’s like when he tries.

You catch the triumphant gleam in his eye in the split second before you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He’s earned it, you suppose, so you’ll let him relish the personal record he’s managed to set on his first time out. You might even let him brag about it, so long as he continues to make you tremble like this.

“Shit,” he chuckles low near your ear. 

If he sounds muffled, it’s because you’re still waiting for your system to reboot. He knows this, knows how fucking sensitive you are, and slides his fingers out of you as slowly as possible. Still, those aftershocks throttle you; the unintentional stimulation makes you jolt.

“Yes,” you nod helplessly, squeezing your eyes and jaw shut simultaneously. “Shit is right. Perfect analysis, no notes.”

A chaste kiss is placed on your temple. It’s petal soft and subak sweet, but it functions like a defibrillator. Within a split second, he’s revived you. Eyes now open again, you exhume your face from where you buried it and blink up at him. Warm brown eyes light up when you reappear.

He’s so fucking beautiful that you almost want to avert your eyes. Key word: almost. You’ll drink in the sight of him until you drown, you think.

Seokjin looks concerned. With a shy smile, he checks in: “You okay? We can stop right now if you’re not.”

You don’t know who they are, but you know that they don’t make them like him anymore. Which is a fucking bummer for the rest of the world — just not for you. This one is all yours.

“You quitting on me, Kim?” You let your knee fall inwards to nudge his side, and you pretend not to notice how boneless you still feel. “Didn’t wait all this time to tap out early, did you?”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, nonetheless. His warm palm massages the outside of your thigh affectionately, if only for a moment. Then, he pats his fingertips against the same spot. “Shorts off, champ.”

You follow his instructions and move to shimmy out of them, but not before snorting, “Champ?”

“Fine. Old sport?” He offers with a shit-eating grin. Your shirt smacks him in the face once you peel it off and chuck it at him. He pouts. “Hey!”

“Thanks, I hate it.” 

He tugs his shirt over his head, launches it over his shoulder without looking. Your unabashed stare immediately clocks the slight hint of his abdominal muscles. Lean, but not sharply contoured in a way that looks painful to touch. Soft. Perfect, even.

What lab were you engineered in?

“For someone with so many opinions, you don’t offer many suggestions.” He shoots you a pointed look while he unties the knot at his waistband drawstring. “What’s your proposal?”

You’d love to bite back at him. Really, you would, but he pulls his boxers down alongside his joggers, and every meaningful thought you’ve ever had goes flying out the fucking window. All that’s left is I want you, I want you, I want you.

Automatically, you reach out with a tentative hand, craving nothing more than to feel his velvet length in your hand. To your surprise, he stops you. He catches your hand in his, lifts it to his lips, and brushes a kiss over your knuckles.

“Rain check, baby,” Seokjin smiles against your skin. There it is. That’s the one. “Need to fuck you, posthaste, or I’ll simply pass away.”

You open your mouth to comment; he breezes right past you. He points to the mattress, then to the wall to your left. “On your side, love.”

That works, too.

“Face away from me.”

Never in your life have you moved so fast, all but throwing yourself down where he told you to. As you land with a slight bounce, you mouth to yourself, Posthaste? Nerd.

A second slips by, then Seokjin slips into the space behind you. His lips tickle the back of your neck when he kisses the base of it, causing you to gasp yet again. Maybe that’s just how you breathe when he’s around — like you don’t know how.

His hand drifts down the length of your side, passing over the doughy flesh of your ass. He gives it a squeeze for good measure — because of course he does — but he doesn’t linger, not now.

That hand continues until you feel his fingertips scratch affectionately at the back of your right thigh. He doesn’t need to ask; you lift your leg, allowing your knee to hinge overtop of his hand. Now that his hands are occupied, you offer yours to assist. 

This time, he doesn’t stop you when you wrap your fingers around his length. And fuck, there’s so much of it. Part of you wants to ask where the hell he thinks he’s going to fit all of it, but you’re not a quitter, so you keep your mouth shut. 

Seokjin shivers under your touch, breath catching in his throat so blatantly that you can hear it right behind your ear. 

“Hmmm,” you tease, squeezing the crown gently as you circle your wrist. “Does that work for you, champ?”

His forehead drops against your shoulder. The groan you force out of him is twice as long as necessary, followed by an unwilling laugh. “You’re right, okay? You’re fucking right. It’s awful. Just so fucking bad.”

Your thumb swipes over his leaking tip, smearing the bead of pre-cum waiting for you there. You’re relentless. “Sure you don’t like old sport better? Huh, buddy?”

“Baby,” he warns. There isn’t much heat to it, but it burns white hot in your core anyway.

The stretch of his cock does, too, when you finally stop fucking with him and start letting him fuck you. The breath he holds as he enters you slowly is let out in a shuddered groan when he bottoms out. Perfectly full and fully incapable of teasing him further, you simply melt back against his chest.

He’s careful to start, testing the waters and refusing to push you too far, too fast. You want more, though, you always have. Greedy, you rock your hips back against him to force him deeper into your weeping hole. He takes the hint, fingertips pressing bruises into the underside of your knee as he picks up his pace — and you’re far too blissed to care.

He pistons into you eagerly, deliberate. His hips clap against the flesh of your ass, but the sting of it all can’t compete with the way he splits you open. Makes you reach back to cling to any part of him you can get your hands on, claim whatever you find for keeps. Buried to the hilt, and somehow,  he’s still not close enough.

You’re close, if your fluttering walls have anything to say about it. You’re babbling, too, so lost in pleasure that you can only repeat — over and over — how fucking perfect he is. How perfect for you he is.

Seokjin peppers kisses down the curve of your shoulder as he thrusts. It’s the only real indication you have that he’s at a loss for words, too; that he’s compensating for the quiet. He kisses you with an open mouth, teeth grazing the space he finds, leaves a mess on your sweat-slicked skin.

“Fuck,” he grunts. You mewl. “Can’t stop thinking about —”

“Just like that, please.”

“— how many times I could’ve —”

You wail, “Shit, Seokjin, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

The staccato strokes will be the death of you, you’re sure of it. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. Not when he kisses the back of your neck again, and not when he murmurs directly in your ear, “— had you like this, if I’d said something years ago.”

Please, please, please. 

It’s all you can say, again and again, as if he isn’t already giving you everything you want before you even ask for it. Responding to every movement you make, fucking into you with precision so that each vein of his cock brings friction where you crave it. Fucking you through your orgasm when it catches you in a riptide and sends you reeling.

“That’s it, baby.” His voice is soothing despite the recklessness of his thrusts. “So good for me. So fucking good.”

You’re still gushing when he snaps his hips forward and stills, cock twitching as he lets himself go inside of you. Still trembling when his head droops forward to nuzzle against your shoulder blade, and when you feel his breathing begin to slow in tandem with yours.

Once he pulls himself out of you, a few moments pass in fucked-out silence. It’s comfortable, if you ignore the mess between your thighs — and you do, for now. Your brain is too busy to waste time on that.

You’re exhausted and bordering on delirious when you say it, but that doesn’t make it any less true:

“I might love you, probably.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. He doesn’t move either, which makes you wonder if he’s fallen asleep with his face smushed into your bare back. But you feel the tiniest exhale through his nose; the kind of laugh you get from him when he’s too tired to be any louder.

His reply is muffled, lips still pressed against your skin, but you hear it perfectly.

For the record, he probably loves you, too.

Epilogue, posted 7/26/23.

final a/n: i have a follow-up drabble planned for these two! stay tuned 🥰

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[creampuffqueen]

I wanna hear more avatar headcanons! From the novels or just the avatars themselves! I loved reading your kavik and yangchen hcs 🥹🫶🏻

ahhh thank you!! i'm glad you like my random thoughts lol 🫶

here are a few more random thoughts i've been having that i just haven't quite made into posts yet (mostly yangvik because i love them but some other avatars as well):

yangchen is actually a terrible cook 💀 she's basically always had people taking care of her so she never really needed to learn! she can make a good cup of tea and that's about it. she regularly burns rice. she's also just generally bad at remembering to feed herself. kavik, who is a decent cook, is largely the only reason she remembers to eat

as for the other known avatars: kyoshi is by FAR the best cook. she's genuinely good at it. aang is a very close second. roku, kuruk, and wan are all average at it. korra has been banned from every kitchen in republic city

yangchen and kavik both strike me as people who really enjoy physical touch. they both really enjoy cuddling with each other, even before their relationship turns more romantic. acts of service is also a major love language for them

i also feel very strongly that they never used typical labels for their relationship. they usually referred to each other as their 'partner', occasionally 'lover', but most often just continued to use 'companion'. these vague labels frustrate scholars to no end, and today in the atla universe nobody can agree on the nature of their relationship. which is exactly how they wanted it lol, they were extremely private about their relationship

yangchen does have the iconic crooked smile that all the avatars share, but it only comes out when she's well and truly happy about something

her laugh is the same way. she has a very convincing fake laugh, as her real laugh is kind of 'ugly'. it's some kind of snorting, wheezing sound that kind of sounds like she's dying but is also absolutely adorable. yangchen hates it. kavik adores it, and will make an absolute fool of himself trying to hear it

yangchen is a massive, merciless flirt and takes great pleasure in seeing just how red she can make kavik's face turn. but on the rare occasion kavik gets enough confidence to flirt back, she turns into a total mess

pik and pak's favorite place to sleep is right on top of kavik's face

because of how hard she works herself, yangchen often falls asleep in the strangest places. if she's actually tired, she can fall asleep literally anywhere. it's simultaneously a superpower and a massive annoyance

a somewhat sad/bittersweet headcanon i have is that yangchen dies first. i've seen a lot of people saying that she lives to 150 but i can't find a source for that anywhere so i'm choosing to ignore it. yangchen has already watched too many loved ones die, she doesn't need to see kavik die before her as well. they both live very long lives, but kavik outlives her by a few years. after yangchen's death, he returns home to the northern water tribe

at one point, only a few months before his death, he is out for a walk when a little toddler wanders up to him all alone. he chats with him for a few minutes until the boy's parents find them and thank him for watching over their son. 'kuruk, what have we told you about wandering off like that?' the mother asks. the toddler waves goodbye, and kavik walks home feeling oddly contented. he never meets the boy again, and he dies well before kuruk is revealed as the avatar, but he feels a sense of peace from the interaction, knowing deep down that yangchen has made it safely back into the material world

when kavik dies, he wills his bone necklace to kuruk's family. they don't understand why until kuruk's sixteenth birthday. (SERIOUSLY THEIR NECKLACES LOOK ALMOST IDENTICAL ITS WILD)

that's all the thoughts i can scrape up off the top of my head, but i'm just generally thinking about avatar characters All The Time lmao. thank you for asking!!!

[golbrocklovely]

outsiders // colin and penelope

A/N: i know this is unlike anything i've posted before on here. i'll be honest, idk how else to explain this other than i direly need to see luke newton play a vampire, so this is about as good as it's gonna get until then. this is also very vaguely based off of a tweet that said this picture of polin makes them look like a cunty vampire couple and you know what??? they ain't wrong about that lol i used direct lines from the show, particularly in the drinking scene with the boys and the carriage love confession (which will be in part two). there are also some quotes and line sprinkled throughout that are similar to those in the show/book. but most of the dialogue is not from the show/book directly. also this is the first time i've ever written a fanfic using characters rather than real ppl… well minus a spn fanfic i never finished. so, please be kind since it's all fiction anyway. hope you enjoy and lmk what you think :)

prompt: Colin is trying to deal with the fact that he is not only in love with his best friend, but that he is incredibly lost as to who he is as a person. It also doesn't help that he's a monster; a vampire. Pen just wants her freedom, her ability to be Whistledown without anymore people finding out. And in her mind, Debling is the solution to her problem. But one fateful night brings Penelope and Colin together in ways they never imagined.

trigger warning: jealous!colin, protective!colin, AU!vampire, the entire bridgerton family are vampire, colin's friends are dicks lol, formal english (but that's a given), vampire powers, manipulation, ANGSTY AS HELL, idiots to lovers (not until part two), somewhat of a cliff hanger but not really since the next part will be out soon, mentions of blood/blood drinking

word count: 3054

~~~~~~~~~~~

Colin knew deep within himself that going out with Fife and the rest of his so-called friends was a mistake. Mostly because his mind was preoccupied tonight, many thoughts swirling around him; all of which pertained to a certain red head he had known since childhood. The mistake was thinking that he could relax while being around these exhausting men and their childish ways.

However he really did need some revelry after what he witnessed during the day.

When he walked into the library party and caught Pen with Debling, smiling and laughing at whatever he was saying, his blood boiled. A permanent frown etched into his face and had stayed there the entirety of the day.

"Say, what ails you, Bridgerton? Are you not enjoying your night?"

Colin turned to Stanton, blinking slowly. He took a swig of his drink, shaking his head. "I am well. Please continue with your story."

Stanton smirked, turning back to the table, "On my Grand Tour, I encountered this Greek girl in the Balkans. My bear leader..."

Colin zoned out again, unable to truly listen much longer to the men's stories of different conquests they had over the summer. His mind was still reeling, his thoughts ever consumed by the image of Penelope. Of their shared kiss. Of his constant reoccurring dreams of her and him. 

"She sounds like the young woman who made my time in the French Quarter worth the length of the voyage. Much to offer upstairs, and I do not mean her mind." Lord Wilding motioned with his hands, causing all three men to burst into laughter. Colin sighed, staring at the ground for a moment.

Fife looked up at Colin, "What about you, Bridgerton? You were gone for quite a while. I am sure the girls of summer made your trip quite... fulfilling?"

The gentlemen chortled, and Colin could feel them all eyeing him, waiting for an answer. "I did tell you my story of the contessa, did I not?"

"Yes, but you did not give details." Stanton whined.

Colin half-heartedly smiled, "Well, a gentleman must keep some things to himself."

Wilding pffted, "Oh, come now. I do not see a gentleman amongst us."

"I concur with you there." Colin shook a finger at them. The gentlemen gave him a quizzical look, freezing him for a moment. "Oh, forgive me… But it is tiring, is it not? The necessity imposed on us to remain cavalier about the one thing in life that holds genuine meaning. Do you not find it lonely?"

Colin gazed upon the men, hoping to see agreeing eyes; but instead the table chuckled at his expense. He sat back in his chair, defeated.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain Featherington girl, now would it?" Fife teased, his glazed eyes staring at Colin's face.

"You know, Bridgerton? Congratulations are in order. I heard that apparently Debling plans to propose to her." Stanton raised his glass, "The marriage mart whisperer actually made a match. Cheers."

"May God have mercy on that poor man's soul." Wilding whispered, finishing his drink.

Colin narrowed his eyes, "I beg your pardon?"

"I know you have a fondness for the girl, but I cannot fathom what type of wife she would be. I would never marry a Featherington, but especially Penelope." Wilding remarked, almost disgusted.

"Maybe that's why Debling plans to travel for years." Fife quipped.

"Well, like your lady in the French Quarter, she at least has a lot to offer upstairs." Stanton snickered.

Colin leapt to his feet, his chair slamming to the floor. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides as his anger raged through him. His red eyes shot up, glaring deeply into the gentlemen's souls, captivating them instantly.

"You will never speak about Penelope or the Featheringtons ever again. And if ever asked about them, you will say nothing but the kindest of words." Colin grunted, his gaze shifting from man to man, "If I ever hear you speak badly about her or her family again, I will tear your throat out with my teeth. Your trivial existence will be ended, and the ladies of the Ton will be better for it... Know this as true, but forget I said this."

The gentlemen blinked rapidly, clearing their throats and looking at each other confused. Fife glanced behind Colin, "What happened to your chair?"

Colin smoothed out his vest, calming himself, "Oh, it must have fallen over when I stood up. Goodbye gentlemen, I am growing rather tired of this night."

~~~

Colin had the privilege of being born a vampire; and with that privilege came the ability to manipulate those around him. However, there were only two types of people he couldn't manipulate: other vampires - which really only applied to his family since he knew of no others - and those he was in love with. That applied to all the Bridgerton siblings. It was their own little family quirk, as they so lovingly called it. In a way, it kept everyone in check. Because they knew out of everyone in the Ton, the people they loved couldn't fall victim to their ability.

But luckily for everyone in the Ton, the Bridgertons were a good family. Violet had taught her children to seldom use their ability, and the children all followed suit. Hyacinth and Gregory did occasionally use it on the maids in the house, so that he could get extra sweets or she, the latest issue of Whistledown before bed; but for the most part all of the Bridgerton siblings fell in line with Violet's beliefs. 

While most of the Bridgertons enjoyed being vampires, Colin did not. Maybe it was because he was battling with himself over who he truly was. All this did was make him feel even more like an outsider. He wanted to be normal, to be known and loved for who he is, but how could he? He was a monster.

And now this monster, deeply annoyed by the past couple weeks of events, was on the search for blood.

Colin did not enjoy hunting. In the day, when he couldn't hunt, it was easier to forget what he was. But at night, his cardinal urges always came to the surface. 

Hunting on the poorer side of London wasn't challenging. There was always someone out and about. And Colin only needed a little bit of blood. None of them ever killed; the rule was only take what you need and leave no trace. And they were all excellent at that.

The worst that could happen was being caught by authorities. Or even worse, somehow ending up in Lady Whistledown.

Colin lurked around a corner, waiting impatiently for a passerby. He glanced at the printer shop, the light inside telling him someone was there. He needed to move further away, in case those inside would hear his victim if they were to scream out suddenly.

He casually walked down the cobblestone street, his sense of smell picking up someone near. It was a woman; that he was sure of.

He knew he should have just drank from the prostitutes, the ones he couldn't even bring himself to sleep with tonight. But he didn't like the idea of drinking from them. They oddly had shown him kindness, something he couldn't even acquire from his friends.

A woman rounded the corner. She was young, and her dark black hair was slightly unkempt. Colin rushed over to her, their eyes meeting instantly. The only sound she was able to make was a small gasp.

"Don't be scared, Miss . This will be over quickly. I'm just so...." he swallowed hard, "hungry."

Colin cupped the woman's face, turning her head so her neck was more on display. His fangs grew, his mouth watering at the thought of blood. Her pulse had quicken when he rushed her, her blood now calling his name. He sunk his teeth in, moaning as the liquid poured into his mouth. He closed his eyes, his thoughts shifting slowly back to familiar ones...

Penelope. 

He hated admitting it, but he had wanted to drink from Pen. His dreams not only consisted of touching her in the most inappropriate ways or confessing that their kiss was all he thought about; it was how he longed to bite her neck, taste her salty skin and rich blood. He knew she would be heavenly, but he never allowed himself to ponder on it too long. These were fantasies after all. She would never, ever find out what he was. And he would not damn her to a life like this.

He groaned against the woman's neck, lapping up spilt blood. Penelope was haunting him, even in real life. How was it that he could smell her, even right now? Even with his mouth on a different woman's neck, drinking her life essence, was he able to feel Pen's presence? It's like he could hear her say his name.

Colin glanced up, the printer shop illuminating the archway leading onto the street. A short person stood frozen, watching him. 

He froze too, his eyes focusing on the figure. The woman in his arms slurred incoherently. His eyes connected with her for a split second, telling her to forget what occurred and to go home. He pushed her off down a separate street, his eyes remaining on the silhouette.

He took a whiff of the air, his eyes widening.

The person ran the opposite way, racing back towards a carriage nearby. Colin made it there long before they could, grabbing them by the shoulders and pushing them up against the wall. His hand covered their mouth instantly, staring deep into the blue eyes he was captivated by since childhood.

"Penelope?"

~~~

Penelope had known the Bridgertons were vampires for years. While she might have met Colin first, Eloise had been her closest friend; mostly because it took Pen a while to really strike up the courage to actually talk to Colin. But when Eloise and her were young, outside and playing in her mother's garden, El casually told her what she was. At first, Pen didn't believe her. Who would believe such a thing without proof? El suddenly waltzed up to a butler nearby and told him to start doing a dance for her, and he did. The girls laughed at the sight, and from that moment on, Pen knew.

She never asked questions, but she was curious as to what vampires were really like. El wouldn't confirm anything to her, understandably wanting to keep some things private. And once Lady Whistledown rose to power in the Ton, El was even more hush about vampirism. Pen could tell she was nervous about her family's secret getting out there. But Pen assured her that Whistledown would never write on such a thing, otherwise she would become the laughingstock of Mayfair.

And now with El completely ignoring her because of Whistledown, she hoped that El understood that statement still rang true. While she would write about what everyone was talking about, no one but her knew their real secret. She would never share it, even if her and Eloise were no longer close.

The carriage came to a stop, the footman opening her door swiftly. She stepped out, the newest addition of Whistledown in her hand. She smirked as she read it over, noting how many in the Ton were speaking on her and Debling's possible engagement. While Pen did not enjoy being the center of attention, she did enjoy knowing that the sniveling mamas of the Ton were wrong about her.

Not only was Penelope courted, she was going to get married. That is, assuming she accepted Debling's proposal. Or that he actually planned to ask her mother tomorrow.

A life with Debling seemed... fine, to her. And if that's all she could get, she would take it. She wanted a love filled marriage, that was true; but maybe time would change that. It's possible that Debling one day might love her. Or that she may grow to fully accept what she had.

Part of her hated admitting it, but her feelings for Colin were still there too. But she accepted that reality as a fantasy and nothing more. Somehow, vampires were real, but Colin reciprocating her feelings wasn't. 

God had a very wicked sense of humor.

She walked down the street, turning the corner to the printer shop. When she raised her hand to knock, something caught her eye. She gazed down the street, two figures stood out in the open. It appeared to be a man and a woman. She squinted her eyes, watching them. The man cupped the woman's jaw, burying his face into her neck. Pen blushed at the notion. She had thoughts similar to that of her and Colin. Dreams, even. But to see two people doing something like that, so out in the open, was very scandalous to her. She wanted to look away, but curiosity got the better of her.

The couple swayed into the light unintentionally, and Pen's eyes widened.

The man's mouth was latched onto the woman's neck, and she was limp in his arms. It almost appeared like he was biting her. As she took in the man, she noted his dark brown coat. His tall stature and quaffed hair were familiar to her. It almost looked like...

"Colin?" She whispered.

The man looked up, locking eyes with Pen. She gasped, seeing his face for the first time. Dear Lord in Heaven, it was Colin. His mouth was stained red from blood and his fangs were prominent, even from such a distance away.

Her heart raced, and she knew she needed to get out of there, now.

She spun on her heel, running back to the carriage. Before she was able to get remotely close, her body was pushed up against the wall, her mouth covered.

"Penelope?" Colin hissed, his red eyes almost glowing in the dark.

She studied his face, taking in the features she had yet to see of him. His eyes were the most surprising, but his fangs were shocking up close.

"I am going to remove my hand. Please don't scream." He moved his hand slowly, her face feeling hot from his skin touching hers. "What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same question, Colin." Pen argued.

"It is none of your concern, Pen. Whatever you saw..." Colin fought to speak, "was not what it looks like."

Pen suddenly became aware of the Whistledown papers in her hand, "Well, if that's the case, then I should be heading back home."

"You didn't answer my question. Why are you-" He began.

She cut him off, trying to sidestep him. "Colin, I need to-"

"What is that in your hand?" He questioned, pointing down.

Her blood ran cold. "W-What?"

Colin grabbed the papers from Pen's hands before she could stop him, her heart dropping instantly.

He gazed at the papers, reading over the words hastily. She backed up, her body hitting the wall. His stare hardened, eyes watering. "You're... Whistledown."

The hurt in his eyes, his voice, made Pen instantly tear up, "Colin, please I can-"

Colin backed away from her, "I cannot believe this. How could you?"

Pen wiped away her tears, "I am terribly sorry, Colin. Please let me expl-" 

"No, no. I do not want your explanation. What is there to explain? Clearly you are the one who has been writing such horrid things about my family. I cannot believe you would do this to us. To El." He choked out, "To me."

She begged, "Colin, let me explain myself."

"On top of being Whistledown, you come out here in the middle of the night to do your dealings. Unchaperoned, and presumably with no one knowing where you are. You could seriously get hurt! Not only could you ruin your reputation, but you could be harmed. How can you be so careless, Penelope?" He furrowed his brow, his eyes boring into hers.

Pen hated being talked down to. Who was Colin to act so scared for her safety, or her reputation for that matter? He was a vampire, for God's sake. She spat, "The only thing out here that seems to be harmful is you, Colin."

She knew she made a grave mistake. Damn her mouth.

Colin's eyes glowered at her, his body tensing. "What did you say?"

"I-I," Pen took a moment, gathering the courage to speak. "I saw you, Mr. Bridgerton. You weren't simply... caressing some random woman on the street. You were feeding on her. You're a vamp-"

He glared into her soul, demanding, "You are going to forget we had this conversation. You are going to forget what you saw moments ago. You are going to go home. Now."

Pen copied his gaze, shaking her head. "Who are you to tell me what to do? Have you gone mad?"

This was a terrible time to find out that Colin was, in fact, in love with Penelope. He knew he was, but the timing of it all really could not have been worse.

Colin growled, walking up to Pen's carriage door and opening it for her. "Get inside, Penelope. We will talk about this on the way back to your home."

"How can I trust to get in a carriage with you? Are you still hungry?" She sassed, her hands on her hips.

He lowered his gaze, his eyes darkening. "Do not make me force you inside."

Her skin felt hot suddenly, his tone hitting deep within her body. She had never seen Colin like this, and she wasn't sure what to make of it.

Her mind was cautious, nervous. But her body... felt something else entirely.

She sighed, stepping inside her carriage with the help of Colin. He followed her in, sitting across from her. He called out to the footman to go to the Featherington residence.

"Take the long way, please." Colin sat back against the seat, staring at Pen.

"Make a stop at the Bridgerton's house first... please." She called out. The footmen acknowledged their commands, and Colin rolled his eyes at her petty attempt of control. She squirmed under his gaze, unable to make eye contact with him.

He asked bitingly. "Should you start or should I?"

|| Part 2 >>

[theamityelf]

If you had to put a twist on Makoto's parents what would it be? Honestly the fandom doesn't do them any justice, I barely see any headcanons with them and that makes me a bit bummed. I saw someone make a post on how maybe they were ultimates in the past with Makoto and Komaru vaguely inherting their talents (Ultimate Lawyer for the mom and Ultimate Sniper for the dad). What really caught my interest though was when someone pointed out that the reason Komaru might be so cool with Toko/Syo is because one or both of her parents were kinda yanderes. Mr. Naegi definitely has that look that something is off about him so it kinda works but Mrs. Naegi could be to but manages to behave in a way that doesn't draw attention to her.

Honestly I could see how Makoto's strong belief may have come from them as well but that might be a bit far fetched. I just enjoy the idea of everyone thinking Makoto and Komaru are normal only for them to turn around and do some crazy sh*t.

The funny thing is, before I clicked to check this ask, when I only saw the first sentence, I was already thinking in somewhat yandere terms.

(Also, all of this is just me brainstorming, lol.)

I don't think I want them to be Ultimates, because I really value when characters aren't Ultimates, but I definitely lean in the direction of them being lowkey super abnormal in ways that resulted in both their kids' guise of normalcy and their kids' unusual tolerance for ridiculosity.

The first thing I imagined (again, before I read the full ask) was that Mr. or Mrs. Naegi killed the teacher who snuck into Komaru's room that one time. Like, they caught him sneaking in and now he's buried in their yard, and when Komaru brought up seeing a ghost in her room, they were just like "That's right, honey, it was a ghost." I don't know if I more enjoy the idea of them being hypocrites about this (like, teaching the kids that murder is Just Wrong no matter what, without a hint of irony) or super honest (like, "Murder is wrong, but if someone messes with my kids, I'll kill 'em. I'll do it." "Daaaad..." "We're not saying we want to, honey, we're just saying we will." "Moooom!")

(Or maybe we could take that same intensity, and instead of murder, make it more psychological warfare, to kind of mirror Makoto and Komaru's people skills.)

Just generally, I find it fun to imagine the Naegi parents as almost bizarre caricatures of normalcy. Almost like they're putting on an act of what humans are like, except they genuinely think they're being normal. They're deliberately availing their kids of the most basic, popular media enjoyed by the masses, because that's what people do; those are the things people enjoy. (They'll go to the movies, not having seen any trailers or feeling any anticipation for a particular film, and they just pick whatever movie the most other people in the ticket line went for.) They know the exact average time most people have dinner and that's dinnertime for the house. (It doesn't end in :00, :15, :30, or :45; it is a very irregular and specific time.)

It sounds like it would be strict and meticulous, but in execution, they're so casual about it that it wouldn't seem weird until you heard them explain it.

When Makoto says he's extremely average, he's not just being self-deprecating; he is giving an accurate description of his family's lifestyle.

[apatheticrater]

i think you posted or reblogged a picture of mike faist that was giving professor! art and mentioned how he kinda looked like spencer reid and that reminded me of something lol (if this wasn’t you, i’m so sorry. my memory has been shit lately 😭)

when my best friend was in high school, there was a teacher who started in the middle of the year who also looked like spencer reid (how i remembered this lol) and he and this other teacher were CONSTANTLY flirting with each other. got so bad that because her and other students knew they were both single, they started telling each of them to ask each other out. they did. and now they’ve been engaged for sometime

so it got me thinking of being a teacher at a school and teacher!art randomly coming in the middle of the year. you’re the only two teachers around your age and constantly flirting with each other in that subtle way teachers do, except everyone knows and just thinks you should get together already…

You were correct!! I was referring to this gorgeous photo of him <3

I also made this into headcanons because it's what felt the most right to me when trying to write it. I left reader's gender and what type of school they teach at somewhat vague as well <3

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Teacher Art x Teacher Reader headcanons

Art was a newer teacher, having come in the middle of the year after the usual history teacher went on maternity leave

It was his first year as a full-time teacher, having only done substitute work previously

You were an English teacher whose classroom shared a wall with Art’s, and you were his first friend on the staff

You had already been working at the school for two years at this point, so you knew your way around and the students pretty well by now, making you the perfect candidate to give Art advice and show him around

You were both on the younger side of the spectrum in terms of the teachers around the school, and you were closer to your students, making you the perfect victims of their jokes and sass (when appropriate)

You guys quickly became good friends and after two months of Art working at the school you guys started to flirt with each other heavily

Whether it was started as jokes between close friends or due to genuine attraction to each other, no one knew, but either way, your students had a field day with it

Every time either of you would enter each other's class, whether to ask a question or grab something you needed/left behind earlier in the day your students would start be little shits making jokes or ‘ooooo’ing at you two, gossiping about things like “did you see how Mr. Donaldson looked at them?” and “Have you noticed that they smile at Mr. Donaldson in a completely different way than they do everyone else?” and so on

It becomes such a running joke around the school that it’s something every student talks about at least once in class, which leads to your boss having to ask you guys to, ‘please tell the students to stop talking about your relationship’

Despite not being able to talk about you guys in class anymore, they still try to set you guys up, especially when they get the confirmation that you’re both still single

It’s almost like that one plotline from ‘Clueless,’ when Cher and Dionne try to set up their two teachers by tricking them into situations together and making them think they both like the other

They keep coming up with excuses that force you guys into the same room; Friends texting each other while one of them is in your class and the other is in Arts, coincidentally both of them need something printed and their computers just ‘won’t work’

They tell you that Art said your hair looked nice today, they give Art a small gift and say it was from you (even though it’s so obvious those things aren’t true because you could’ve walked to each other's class instead of having the students do it for you)

They keep telling you guys to ‘just ask each other out already!’ saying ‘you already flirt constantly’ among other things

What they don’t know is that you and Art already are dating and have been since months before he started, you just found it too funny to not mess with the students and let them try to matchmake you two, plus it showed they cared about you guys

They were shocked the first time one of them saw you leave the school in the same car, you kissing Art's cheek before the car pulled out of the lot

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for not noticing I hurt my friend's feelings?

I (24F) had a somewhat close friend (24F) whom I've known since highschool but only got closer to recently. I've had a friend crush on her forever and apparently she did too. We share a lot of interests and we're both neurodivergent (I'm diagnosed with adhd, and we're almost certain she has autism). We also sort of bonded over a shared trauma -- basically we got two-timed several years ago by a really abusive asshole.

Anyway something happened a couple of months ago and I feel our friendship has gone downhill since then. It was multiple occasions really: what would happen is that I would say something impulsively, and she would misinterpret it and get sensitive about it, we talk it out, I apologize, and we move on. But one time it was a bit too much that i burst into tears while texting her because I felt I really hurt her and I felt that all my friendships will go downhill because whenever I get comfortable with someone I just completely lose my filter and end up hurting them. What happened that day was that we were hanging out and a guy apparently told her something sexist but I didn't hear him. She came to me to complain and I sort of brushed it off because from the way she said it happened it just seemed he was vaguely pointing out something but I later understood that I was just wrong. Then her dress had a tiny hole which I pointed out to her in front of my boyfriend rather impulsively and she got really upset about that. Later on I was telling her about a book I'd read that had great autism representation that didn't have the character just be -- and here I did the dinosaur arms thing (no offense whatsoever to people who do that; I know full well it's a common thing, I was just saying the character had more to him than just that). The problem is that she didn't hear the part where I was talking about a book character because we were changing tables in a crowded cafe and I was just talking non-stop because that's what I do and she thought I just did the dinosaur arms out of nowhere and got offended but didn't say so except over text later and just looked unwell for the rest of the next half hour before she suddenly excused herself and left. That day she texted me about all of these things and we talked it out and I pretended that I was not literally having a meltdown all while apologizing (but not before I tried to plead my case a bit). This all happened on the same day, but before that there were other occasions too. One time she would be talking about something, then I change the subject, then she'd say I know you didn't mean to but I wanted you to give a reply to what I just said. Another time we had a particularly bad exam which I did okay on, but she was telling about how she botched it. I couldn't tell from her face how serious it was and I gave her what i thought was a sympathetic smile (which she later told me was a weird smile) because I really didn't know what to say and then turned away to look for my boyfriend to check on him as well. She told me that day that she felt that I brushed her off when she was having a difficult time and didn't console her enough.

It's just multiple things that made me feel that I need to be more on guard around her for her sake. She moved to another city recently and even before that we were texting less and less. I even asked her if she was upset about the cafe day and she said no since I apologized and we talked it out, but I could feel something in our relationship changed. It just felt like such a shame because I felt a great connection between us and I have massive difficulties when it comes to making friends. She was sort of my last friend that I felt close to aside from my boyfriend, and now I can't help thinking that the problem has always been me.

Sorry if the post was too long and sorry for the sob story lol

[typh0nas]

Your Safety is My Priority

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Content Warnings: angst to fluff, mentions of blood, violence lol(ie. slight torture sequence ig???), sexual innuendo when Hex shows up LMAO

Character(s): GN!Reader(no pronouns mentioned), Ver Vermillion, Kotoka Torahime, Doppio Dropscythe, Hex Haywire

Authors Notes: holy shit ive been gone for a bit im so sorry guys. Anyways this is somewhat based on that one ASMR that kaichou posted where we're tied up with him hehe, but this time you're the only one that was kidnapped LOL

_______________

Your Safety is My Priority

Darkness envelops your senses. You're vaguely aware of the steady drip of water behind you, and of the chilling cold that sinks into your bones. You groan softly, the wooden chair pressing against your back and the ropes binding your hands rubbing against your skin, most likely leaving marks for you to wince at in the coming days. If that's even possible to say the least. You're not sure where you are, or how much time has passed. Your memory is hazy, bleary images flashing through your mind as you attempt to recall what even led up to your current predicament.

Right, you were in the council room waiting for Ver to arrive. He had asked you to meet him there, letting you know that he had something important to tell you. Even though you and Ver aren't together, there was no denying the lingering touches and the stares that lasted longer than they should have when it came to the two of you. Your brow furrows, as what happened next is a hazy blur.

A rough jerk of your head startles you out of your thoughts and you wince at the blinding lights. "Owwwww..." you hiss, squinting up at your captor, arms folded in front of them. "Really, is that any way to treat your guests? Rather rude to manhandle them," you laugh softly, attempting to make light of your situation whilst observing the surrounding room. The room is dark, save for the singular lightbulb practically blinding you, making it even harder to make out your surroundings. You can sense someone in front of you but their features are unclear to you, the shadows practically enveloping them.

"You shut your mouth," A gruff voice growls out, pain erupting in your jaw. You cough, the metallic tang of blood filling your mouth, and you're pretty sure that's gonna leave a nasty bruise behind.

"Oooooo, the boss isn't gonna like that," another voice cuts in. Although you can't see them clearly, you can practically hear the smirk in their voice. "But then again..." their face comes into focus and you practically grimace from how close they are. They grab your jaw and you let out a small yelp of pain, gritting your teeth, "Why should I care?" Steeling yourself you bite down, hard. Teeth meet flesh and again, the taste of blood floods your senses. You're pretty sure you've cut deep into their hand, which gives you a sense of satisfaction. The individual let out a yell of pain, their expression hardening, any instance of mock sympathy gone from their gaze. They scoff, cradling their injured hand, blood streaming down from the punctures in their hand.

The wind is knocked out of you, and pain erupts in your lower abdomen. Their leg makes contact with your stomach, kicking you so hard it sends you and the chair you're tied to crashing to the floor. You cough again, wheezing as you try to catch your breath, completely disoriented. After a moment, your chair is uprighted once more, your head lolling down.

"You should have just left them there," the second voice comments, meanwhile the first person says nothing, roughly putting you back in place. Your head spinning, you can practically sense yourself slipping in and out of consciousness, struggling to keep your head up. "Whatever, let's just leave them here for now. We can deal with them later." Their footsteps recede into the background and you finally succumb to unconsciousness.

-----

Ver's POV

His leg bounces anxiously, fingers fidgeting as he checks the time. It's been an hour and still no sign of you showing up. He sighs, wondering if his impromptu request was too jarring.

He perks up, hearing the sound of hurried footsteps outside the council room door. With a smile on his face, Ver is able to envision the flustered state you would be in, while profusely apologizing for being late.

A knock at the door alerts him of someone outside. Clearing his throat, Ver gets up from his chair, leaning against the desk. "Come in," his voice is light. However, instead of you, he's instead greeted by Kotoka. Ver frowns, "Koto? Did something happen?" Kotoka pauses, her brow furrowed. "In a way," she sighs softly, "It has to do with Y/N."

Ver can feel his blood run cold, eyes widening slowly. "What do you mean, 'it has to do with Y/N?' Did something happen?" His expression hardens, his hands balling into fists. Ver's thoughts are racing, worry overtaking him. What if something happened to you? Is this why you were so late? Where were you now? Ver knew you were capable of taking care of yourself, but the worry gnawed at him.

Kotoka places a gentle hand on his shoulder, startling Ver out of his spiraling thoughts. Pulling out her phone, she opens up a tracker app, showing Ver. "This was the last known location of their phone." Wordlessly, Ver takes the device from her hands, realization slowly dawning on him. "I should have known..." he murmurs, taking a deep breath, "It seems I didn't clear up all the loose ends from my previous mission....and now I'm paying the price for it."

"Should I have Doppi handle this?" Kotoka gazes up at Ver, concern etched on her face. Ver pauses, before handing back Kotoka's phone to her. "No, there's no need. I will deal with this personally." Slipping on his coat and heading towards the door, he stops for a moment, turning back to Kotoka. "Let the others know I'm going out, but I'll be back soon."

-----

You don't know how long you had been stuck there, but at this point, your hands had gone numb, you were shivering from the incessant draft wafting into the dank, dark basement, and you're pretty sure you had a few broken ribs, based on the way it hurt to breathe. To put things simply, you were quite miserable and in a terrible state. Your captors had long since vacated the basement area, leaving you alone to your thoughts.

---

"Ver," you scold him gently, "You've been working for 4 hours straight, I think you should take a break." Despite the way your arms are crossed over your chest, a smile threatens to break out on your face. Ver sighs softly, rubbing his neck sheepishly, breaking eye contact from the mountain of paperwork on his desk. "I promise I will after I finish this. It's important that I finish and submit this proposal before the due date-"

"Nope!" You pull the pen out of his grasp, pushing the paperwork away from him. Ver lets out a noise of protest, his expression resembling that of a kicked dog. Taking his hands in yours, you pull him up and out of his chair. Getting behind him, you push him towards the door. "Come on 아저씨, you've been working for so long now, I think you deserve some time to yourself. Besides your stuff isn't due until two weeks from now, so I think you can take some time for yourself. Also, you've been sitting at that desk for so long I can practically hear your joints popping and cracking," You teased him, a bright smile on your face. Ver relents, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright I'll take a break. Only because you asked so nicely," he laughs softly, his hand wrapping around yours, fingers intertwining with yours. You feel your face grow warm, not expecting him to be so forward.

Ver tilts his head curiously to the side, before realizing what he had done, his face also flushing. "Oh whoops, I didn't mean to do that, it was instinctual I swear!" He's clearly flustered and you panic a little, feeling him start to let go, tightening your grip on his hand. Ver stares at you, eyes wide from surprise, almost as if he didn't expect you to continue holding onto him. The two of you stand there in between the council room doorway and the hallway, both of you speechless and unsure of how to proceed.

"Oh? Do my eyes deceive me? What do we have here?" Doppio's head peaks around the corner, a mischievous grin on his face. "Looks like you finally made a move, good on you Ver." His grin widens, shooting Ver a thumbs up. You and Ver both flush various shades of red, letting go of each other's hands. "We're not dating Doppi, it's not what it looks like!" You exclaim, trying to explain why you and Ver were holding hands. Another person peeks around the corner, a skeptical look on his face. "Yeesh, you guys really need to get a room, why don't you go back into the council room so you guys can continue eye-fucking each other in privacy."

"Hex shut up."

---

Yelling from above you is the first thing you can hear in your dazed state. A headache rages in your skull, and you lean against the wall. The cool concrete provides some solace, quelling the pounding in your head. The door crashes open, and a pair of frantic footsteps make their way towards you. You open your eyes slightly, immediately recognizing the person before you.

"Y/N!" You can hear the worry seeping into Ver's voice, his hands reaching to cup your face. You unintentionally flinch against him, your head jerking back from the pain in your jaw. Ver's gaze widens, his eyes trailing down to the bruise on your cheek, understanding dawning on him. He presses a gentle hand against your shoulder, conflicting emotions crossing his face.

"Ver-" your voice croaks out. Ver moves to your side, his hands make their way down to the ropes binding yours, a slight grimace on his face. "I'm so, so sorry. I was careless, and because of that you got dragged into my mess," his bangs hang over his eyes, hiding his expression from you. You open your mouth to speak, but you keel over, slight movement from your end turning a dull ache into sharp pain. Ver catches you, supporting you as his hands work his way around the rope. After a moment you clear your throat, looking him in the eyes.

"It's not your fault, trust me. You can't blame yourself for the actions of other people," your voice is scratchy and hoarse, most likely from disuse. He shakes his head, sighing softly, "But I'm the reason you're here now...aren't I?" He pauses, eyes trailing over your figure, seemingly taking in your injured state. "You got hurt because of my carelessness. I have no one to blame but myself."

Finally, after some frustration, he relents, pulling out a small knife, making quick work of the rope. It falls to the ground and you pull your wrists up, rotating them to get the blood flowing again. Your hands feel clammy and numb, and you can see the indents in your wrists, your skin rubbed raw. Ver moves down in front of you, kneeling as he works on cutting away the rope tying your ankles to the chair. Swiftly the rope falls away and your legs are free. You shakily push yourself up off the chair but you stumble, knees weak.

An arm reaches around you to support you. Ver hoists you up as delicately as possible, guilt etched on his face. "Ver-" you whisper, and his head tilts in your direction, indicating that he's listening to you. "I already said this earlier, but this was not your fault alright? I know you're bound to have many enemies, but I know that you'll always be there for me, no matter what happens. These things happen, especially in your line of work," you wheeze out, limping towards the stairs leading upstairs with Ver's help.

Ver gasps softly, a faint flush on his face, "I'm sorry," he murmurs, and you jolt a little, hearing how close his voice is to your ear. "I still can't help but feel guilty because I wasn't able to protect you fully...and I care a lot about you. You mean a lot to me, I'm being serious."

You blink, slightly surprised. You were expecting Ver to be worried about you, but his sudden confession catches you off guard. "...Thank you," you mumble quietly, "For coming to get me, kaichou." He pauses, his stare lingering on you, a quiet laugh emerging from him, "Of course, I will always come save you if you're in danger, no matter what the stakes are."

The two of you stop in front of the imposing staircase, and you wince a little, trying to figure out how you would hobble upstairs. Without warning, you feel your feet lift off of the floor and you let out a yelp, finding yourself in a bridal carry. Ver seemingly lifts you with ease, and you blush feeling his body pressed up against yours. Warmth emanates from him, and as embarrassed as you are, you can't help but lean into him.

You both reach the top of the stairs, emerging into a large warehouse. You peek out a bit, eyes widening at the sight of all the unconscious bodies strewn across the floor. Ver strides towards the open door off to the side, the slight breeze causing you to shiver. Ver takes notice of this, gently setting you down against the wall so you could lean against it for support. You protest a little, already missing his warmth, before a familiar coat is draped over you.

Ver kneels down, smiling softly, tucking his coat around you to keep the warmth in. "It's chilly out, so you can have my coat. I'll call the others to come pick us up okay, I'm sure it won't take them too long." His gaze lingers on you for a moment too long, before he reaches into his pocket to grab his phone. He takes a step back, getting up to make the call. Ver's coat provides a comforting weight, and you can't help but snuggle into it a bit, inhaling his scent that lingers in it. You're reminded of how gentle and tender Ver has always been with you.

---

It doesn't take long for Ver to finish up his call and he turns back to where you are, only to discover that you've dozed off. He chuckles softly, leaning over you to examine your features. "Ver reaches out to brush a stray hair out of your face but pauses, his hand hovering in the air. "Y/N?" he whispers softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair out of your face but hesitating. His hand hovers in the air, but after some more hesitation, he relents, fingers gently grazing your face. You barely stir, chest rising and falling with each breath that you take. "Heh, you look pretty good with my jacket on you," he mutters, his face becoming flushed. Against his better judgement, he leans over, tucking your hair behind your ear, his lips grazing your forehead ever so slightly.

"Sweet dreams, no harm will befall you as long as I'm here."

_______________

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[des-no9]

Des' Githyanki Genitals HC

Hey and welcome to another lore dump of Des' githyanki HCs!!! As usual, we're all about sex and fucking in here, and githyanki are aliens. So we gotta make their bits fun.

Also, they lay eggs now (never used to apparently, we'll get to that). So I've accounted for that in their genitals.

Also!! I'l got different HCs for the Older generation githyanki -think Voss and Orpheus age- as I HC the githyanki that were alive during their rebellion, and not long after it, differ somewhat to modern githyanki like Lae'zel, and one of my OCs who will be modelling, Tuj.

Gonna go chronologically here, and start with the oldies. Voss is my model for this (obviously).

This is a long post btw lol. Also disclaimer: I'm only talking about the githyanki mostly. Thinking about the githzerai and their reproduction is a whole other beast LOL. Enjoy <3

Obvious TW for talk of slavery, breeding, eggs, violence, rape, lots of genitalia talk and art by yours truly

Older Generation Githyanki Genitals - during ensalvement to early Vlaakiths.

So the vague general consensus in the lore seems to be that the gith originally descended from humans in the very beginning, and this makes me think that their genitals early on during their enslavement and early in their freedom were closer to what we know our human genitalia to be.

But, then we have the illithid's experiments and how that changed their physiology quite vastly over the X number of years.

I HC that many of the illithid colonies varied, and so therefore so did the githyanki (shall be using githyanki to refer to them then even if that wasn't their name then). Some colonies were more focused purely on the numbers, breeding, breeding to send to other colonies for X purposes in their slavery. (I HC Vlaakith I was a branded breeding slave). So would have efficient genitalia. Maybe very little sexual dimorphism. Maybe closer to the modern githyanki like now with asexual breeding.

Some other colonies (like one I HC Voss came from) were bred purely as soldiers, attack and guard dogs. So they refined their physiology very strictly to breed the best, the strongest. Bearing in mind the need for the best warriors and breeders, so therefore keeping their genitalia tucked away and protected when not in use was essential.

It also makes me think things about some of the illithid colonies essentially neutering the githyanki in gestation and only keeping a select few breeders (much parallels to modern githyanki lol) basically to stop their slaves having sexual desire for each other or anything else, cutting it off and only having necessary urges. But I digress.

Basically during this era and the early years before they started breeding through eggs, I HC there was MUCH more variance in their genitalia (and probably some of their other physiology honestly) before it started to become much more streamlined through their eggs and no doubt the Vlaakiths interfering with their breeding to create the best, supreme, unified race in the one Vlaakith's vision.

So, I sketched up what I imagined Voss' genitals to be (obviously). I HC he has a slit where his bits are protected during fighting, since he was bred to be a fighter/attack dog for the illithid.

NOTE: his slit extends further down.

Notes and important points if you can't read my writing:

cock (easy word to use for it) sheathed inside slit

slit widens and gets wet when aroused, and the skin inside is rough, but is usually wrapped around to protect the cock even if the slit widens on arousal

cock can be pulled out from its sheath manually and how it sits soft

so, Voss' is a little different to the rest of his colonies would have looked purely because it's scarred to shit (from his hubris) They mostly all had two dicks, but the scar tissue healed his together (don't worry, he gets them separated again :>) and they can stick together as one if you want during arousal, or can be used as two For Their Pleasure :tm:

the tip can move independently. Very sensitive.

can come through slit and cock

slit gets wet and easily over stimulated

can come from slit stimulation alone

I think his colony bred more 'traditionally' how we know it as humans. Voss was a traditionally bred and live birth baby to me (Orpheus too). I think a lot of the early githyanki were traditionally bred as we know it, but some with varying ways of conception, birth lengths, delivery, even incubation

I like to think that maybe little spikes come out of the ridges on his cock to embed into whoever he's fucking if he wants to, to hold them in place, for some extra pain and usual githyanki sadism. This was specific to his colony and maybe one or two others, and maybe appears again in some modern githyanki.

I HC Orpheus has a slit too, but is maybe a little more in the human camp to what we know genitalia to be like since he's also ancient and a traditional non-egg baby. Closer to the ancestors they came from. I just like to HC that because he IS a little more....gentler, rounder, smooth, 'humanised' than a lot of the other githyanki we see. I love thinking about the little differences that set Orpheus apart from his people, even though he IS his people, the lifeblood of them. The blood of their Mother. Anyway, I digress.

Basically, for the oldies I think there's a LOT of freedom to be creative and almost do anything, using the illithid experiments, that they're aliens and so much unknown as our excuse. Also don't forget the most important - fun, and shoving all our kinks onto our fictional loves 24/7.

Modern Githyanki Genitalia HCS - egg time

So, the shift to egg laying and apparently it's asexual. I have a LOT of thoughts about this. With this happening thousands of years ago and also with them transitioning from NOT egg laying (putting in the assumption of live births here) to egg laying, there would be some sort of accommodation and change in their physiology for this, right?

Also this doesn't happen quickly. Magic can help yes! Also, they're aliens. Aliens can defy everything and anything we know as humans. I try not to press too much of our human and earth knowledge and experience onto alien races because who is to say their experiences and such are like ours. And also it makes it more fun for me to step away from the known into unknown and other possibilities. But anyway.

Lae'zel says the transition happened to egg laying after they were freed from the illithid and under Vlaakith's power. Now, I like to HC that Vlaakith kind of has this under her control (and therefore, all the subsequent Vlaakith's control). It's kind of like, a mass population control, sterilisation, selective, experimental and controlled breeding to try create her own perfect race in essence.

The execution is flawed, of course. Probably changes over time with all the (over 100) of Vlaakiths and leadership changes, in-fighting, evolution of the githyanki from the beginning of their enslavement to now. But the idea is there. And it sticks.

Okay so. As above I mentioned I HC there was a lot of differences between the githyanki in their genitalia from the different illithid colonies. And at first, transitioning to egg laying was probably a slow process as the first generation probably died out, or through their own ghustils, technology, psionics, they started to try to change their own bodies to accommodate egg laying. Some failed, some managed it. It was a difficult process that also in essence weeded out the weak for Vlaakith too.

And then once the eggs started laying, hatching, they probably still tinkered with them. Making sure the hatchlings that were born would be able to breed more and were born right, strong, and the proper future of their people. There were still probably live births happening at the very start during the transition, but magic and psionics probably sped this process along - even if it was probably very traumatic for a lot of newly annointed githyanki. Jumping from being experimented on by illithid in slave colonies to experimenting on yourself, and by your ghustil on order of your Queen? Fantastic. Just brilliant.

Fast forward to now and the githyanki genitalia are mostly uniform I think. Much more so than when they first gained their freedom and called themselves githyanki.

I think there's probably still some differences. Like genetic anomalies. And also that the atmosphere/plane etc of long-term creches can have influences on their hatcheries/eggs. Say a creche on a completely different material plane to Faerun's, or it's near like somewhere with intense psionic or void energy. I think things like that could (and do in canon!) have definite changes on physiology. (NOTE: I also like thinking about this in regard to things like skin-tone, texture, spot pattern, hair colour, face shape, accent.....the list is endless lol)

Okay. So. Without further delay here is my OC Tuj'da to model his bits for you :3

Notes:

some githyanki have less/more slits. Less is much less common as three is standard for efficient egg-laying.

all sexes can lay eggs

their shape and layout can look unique/different. eg, longer, smaller, more protruding. Think like different penis and vulva shapes. (Note: I took a lot of inspiration for the shape of their genitals from Art Deco shapes and style lol)

much like the older generation githyanki slits if they had them, they widen when aroused, and also when carrying eggs and to lay them

some githyanki are more sensitive in their smaller/egg slits than their main slits

their is sexual dimorphism between their genitals usually, but that can only be seen when aroused.

their cock positioning can be different too from where it comes from, and folds up and inside the githyanki. Lots of githyanki can control the length of their cock by using their psionics, but does require significant concentration and skill

very sensitive at the middle of their cock so some of them like to shorten it to cover that bit up to last even longer sometimes

they can be fucked with their cock tucked inside. It's uncomfortable for some, for others it's the best thing on the menu.

very short refractory period, if at all

they cum a lot. It tastes kind of sweet.

(after Vlaakith's sterilisation and population control is dissolved) fertilisation often requires psonics of some sort

I'm undecided on this, but for such a violent race that rape and also enjoy consenting sexual violence, I think maybe they'd also evolve/keep/develop the small spikes in their ridges that they can make pop out at will to embed into their partner. These ALSO come out from the ridged skin inside the sheath, not just the cock :>

their skin in general is rougher, tougher than other istik races so can take a much rougher fuck, and I think a willing istik's first time with a githyanki partner, there might be a bit of adjustment for...soreness lol

I haven't got many HCs for their actual fertilisation, their eggs, pregnancy etc as pregnancy etc can be a bit of squick for me, but most other things around it and eggs etc are okay. So I haven't thought too much about the actual way they GET egged up, lay them, fertilised etc. Maybe that's for another day.

For now, hope you enjoy these HCs! Some of them may change/I may adapt them as I continue to write the githyanki, but I feel like I'm happy with most of this!

Feel free to use any and all if you enjoy them <3! Thank you for reading and getting this far, hah. I just love the githyanki so much, they bring me so much joy. And I hope they do to you too.

-Des

[dipplinduo]

So happy to see more DipplinShipping!!

Do you have Headcanons for the two?

So you asked this awhile ago, but I wanna personally thank you because I vaguely referenced how I was putting off your ask to give it some thought. And then, I asked the community about their headcanons. And y'all showed up with that and it's become such a fun way to interact with you all and talk more about this ship as a community. So, in essence, you started this Jazzy!!! Thank you!! There's been a lot that others have submitted that I love, and ones that I'll sprinkle into my fic(s). Right now, I just have Sweet & Sour Dipplins up on AO3. So while there's a lot I could potentially say here, I'll keep my answer very general with all things considered:

Kieran falls first and harder. He had a crush on Juliana during Teal Mask. Juliana didn't really know what to fully think of with her feelings, but she later realized she developed feelings for Kieran here, too. She is also oblivious to Kieran's feelings. They had a lot of unofficial dates during Teal Mask.

Kieran assumes Juliana has had feelings for other people/has a dating history - she does not. She may have thought others were cute before, but Kieran's her first true real crush.

Kieran gets taller than Juliana during the time skip between Teal Mask and Indigo Disk. Before he was the same height. He is also stronger and can carry her.

Kieran and Juliana don't get together officially until post Indigo Disk because Kieran needs to have an edgy phase for personal development reasons. Juliana also needs time to grow as a person, too (in general, she's very sweet and dotes for a lot of people, but she leans more into her strength and resolve when her social relationship with Kieran is strained. Her adventures in Paldea also give her a sense of confidence, too.

Kieran actively denies his feelings for Juliana in angsty sleepless phase. He instead sees her as an obstacle to defeat because of his own insecurities, and tries to convince himself that everything she does (whether to him, or in general) is manipulative. Juliana is uncertain on how to approach him because she feels his anger even if he's not fully speaking on it, but gradually recognizes that showing up for him anyway is meaningful. Meanwhile, any time she is sweet to him, Kieran is having an internal crisis with his feelings.

Juliana likes both sides of Kieran but doesn't know what to make of it. She's also somewhat disgusted in herself for realizing she likes Kieran while he's clearly not too well mentally, let alone not getting along with her (or anyone) too well.

Biggest shippers of this ship include Carmine and Drayton. First shippers were Kieran's grandparents. Carmine helps Juliana figure out her feelings for Kieran, Drayton observes and suspects Juliana's feelings for Kieran and Kieran's feelings for Juliana. He has fun with this while also being on team "calm Kieran down and save him."

Everyone realizes Kieran and Juliana are dating before they do. By the time they announce it, everyone's like "well, duh". This especially embarrasses Kieran, who gets red in the face very easily. On the other hand, Juliana isn't really a blusher.

I'm trying to avoid listing headcanons that others have submitted, but I just have to list the whole "Kieran says wowzers after the first kiss" one because it's so funny and perfect. Juliana also likes hearing Kieran say "wowzers" even though he's trying to outgrow it because it's part of who he is at his core (he also still goes "aww man" sometimes).

Drayton can still mess with Kieran even while he's dating Juliana publicly. #Brotherly love (Note: Crispin also tries to tease, but it does not go as well for him LOL)

Post-angst Kieran is very attentive to Juliana and views her as an unconditional love because she never gave up on him. Nothing can ever distort his view of her again. In some ways, he pedestals her a bit for this and might take her side blindly.

Kieran retains his champion title (i.e. Juliana does not retain it because she's not a full time student), but he does so by working his way back up the ranks because he wants to earn it with his true ideals (i.e. channeling love and connection rather than revenge and winning). Juliana offers to help support him in his redemption arc at Blueberry, but he for the most part prefers to handle it alone since he himself was responsible for his action towards others. Drayton is proud of him when he gets beaten and teases him about Juliana's influence on him, which riles up Kieran.

In Teal Mask and angsty Kieran arc, Juliana leads the dynamic more. Post that, Kieran leads. Juliana thought she was more of a physically affectionate person, but then Kieran waltz in and becomes very lovey-dovey in this area once they're dating. Sleepy Kieran is especially clingy no matter what Kieran version we have. They also both love seeing each other's hair down and enjoy playing with it.

Juliana isn't a good cook and really only knows how to make sandwiches because they were useful. She does, however, learn a bunch of apple-based recipes because it's Kieran's favorite food flavor.

Kieran is technology deficient because of the way he grew up and often needs Juliana's assistance. Carmine, on the other hand, quickly adapted and uses technology better than the average person.

Kieran and Juliana trade each other aaplins as a surprise/way to confess love. They're both flustered when they realize they both traded aaplins.

Juliana flirted first, but Kieran made the first real move. He just needed the push/reassurance in knowing she liked him too.

Juliana can fluster Kieran very easily. By indigo disk, Kieran tries to get under Juliana's skin by turning the tables. It works. But he wasn't ready for that. So he flusters himself as a consequence.

I probably have more, but figured this was good enough for now. :) <3

[connorsnothereeither]

I dont know if youve talked about this before, but if not, how did you come up with some of your characters' names?

I’ve talked about it before for Ulysses here in this post but not some of the others!! But I would love to I shake their names about!!

Virgil Coronis (Sky Bound SMP)

So Virgil went through a lot of potential names. He was built up vibes-first in development, so I had my gothic, conspiracy librarian, and no names. I wanted something that sounded more sharp, and angular. Crow-like.

I went for some classic gothic literature names to start. Jonathan (for Jonathan Harker from Dracula), Percival/Percy (for Percy Shelly), and Auguste (from Poe’s The Murders in the Rue Morgue), along with some others were all potential candidates. By then, however, @jamphibiann had already chosen Pietro, and so I looked for some other Italian names to match since we were playing brothers. Romeo, and Salvatore were somewhat higher contenders then!

Landing on Virgil was actually sort of stolen from @venear-tmblr . When throwing around potential names, one of the ones that didn’t make the cut for him was Dante. And while Dante didn’t quite fit the character I had in my mind, Virgil definitely did! It had Latin/Italian roots, and felt angular and distinctly raven-like to me! :D

“Coronis” as a last name is actually an ancient Greek word, which is both referring to the curved flourish in old handwriting, and is same root word (corone) for the Greek for crows or ravens, referring the curvature of their beaks! So it felt very fitting too.

Leopold Haust (Terramortis)

Leopold was honestly… kind of a silly one. He never had any alternate names. I knew he was going to be from the 1920s, so I wanted a vaguely old-timey name, which fit the vibe, but could still be shortened into something more modern and easy to quickly say. And, at the time, I was reading Ulysses by James Joyce as a joke… and “Leopold” is the name of the Odysseus/Ulysses counterpart in that novel. So it just sort of… ticked all the boxes lol. It wasn’t supposed to be connected to Ulysses at all, but it jumped out at me as a perfect name for the character I had created. Haust was just a made up name that sounded like it matched well when spoken allowed!

D’Hakth’rkael “Daniel Thorns” Thoricht (Cantripped)

So Dan was… interesting name wise. I had the “bit” in mind long before I came up with the name. I was somewhat inspired by a lot of people I know or grew up knowing, who would have long, intricate names, and would shorten it to just like,,, “Mike”. But mostly I was inspired from the “folk hero” angle of how through Christianisation and colonisation, Celtic mythology names were super worn down into common, short Anglican names. Things like “Cú Cuhlainn”/“Conochubar” or “Fionn mac Cumhail” being worn down to names like Connor or Finn. I also just love when folklore figures have what feel like really mundane names, with a descriptor or trait. “Robin Hood”, “Jack Frost”, etc. it’s very English folktale to me.

For a while I wanted to play with “Tom” of “Jack” but for whatever reason “Dan” just stood out to me as a very mundane feeling name (and to be fair, Dan does go by Jack sometimes… in some places… just nowhere we’ve been yet…). So Dan Thorns came first, and I worked backwards from there.

From “Daniel Thorns” it was basically just a process of mashing fantasy sounds together until they sounded like a name. Thoricht felt like a believable evolution of “Thorns”, and could still pass as a human name. “D’Hakth” came next; I liked the juxtaposition of sounds, and the ways you could linguistically interpret it, taking it in a D, H, Y, or even J direction. The final part, “rkael” was mostly just for flavour. I started looking into vengeance Paladin, “avenging angel” imagery for Dan for a while, felt biblical, and I really liked the vaguely biblical feel it brought to the name, while adding another layer of “oh that’s why he just goes by Dan” akgakag

[the-lesbian-orpheus]

Hello tumblr people! Been doodling today and decided to actually post

Please enjoy a somewhat finished JoeHills muppet and a very messy pearlo that I drew on actual paper

Ignore doc that was a vague sketch and I haven’t drawn him before, I need to fix it

Rbs are appreciated :)

Uh-

If you guys are interested in me giving you guys stuff like this more often I’d love to throw in some old finished art or even lien math class doodles. I’m just a little wary of posting things due to ai even if I’m no real artist the robot doesn’t know that it will still try and take it- but like I enjoy posting and I feel like I’ve gotten better and faster with my art so yeah!

Also I might miraculously finish the 3 unfinished drawings I’ve made for my Hadestown life series AU soon who knows

ALSO anyone have tips on how to draw the skizz parliament wig?

You can see I gave him a big cartoon expression in the corner so his face doesn’t matter that much in this particular drawing but like I want the wig lol