#left the song out and the description of the character out so yall can put your own spin on it

[thicc-ray-of-sunshine]

Hellooo, I don’t know if you do request but what if Ford was overworking himself down in the basement, and to surprise him, you cosplay as your DD&MD character but in lacy lingerie while give him a lap dance…Sorry if that’s too much my imagination going haywire 😃

Oh I'm soooo behind this

Suggestive content under the cut

MINORS DNI

It was late, very late actually. You were not especially surprised that Ford had yet to make an appearance; having been cooped up in the lab for most of this week tinkering away. Now was the third night in a row that he had come to bed late. Yesterday you had to drag his sorry sleep deprived behind upstairs at the ripe hour of 3am, finding him passed out in his chair and hunched over in a position that was definitely not good for his back. Tonight though he had promised to do better, to return to you at a reasonable hour. It was now 12:43am so the hour was not in fact reasonable. Old habits die hard you mused, how else was a man able to get so many PHDs?

Typically you slept rather restlessly, even more so without the comfort of Ford besides you. Tonight though you were awake at such a late hour for a reason. Said reason being what you deemed as 'positive reinforcement.' You had every intention of seducing Ford the moment he entered your shared bedroom.

Which is how you got here; in probably about a third of your Dungeons Dungeons and More Dungeons persona, lounging somewhat lackadaisically on your stomach in an extremely raunchy set of lingerie that left very little to the imagination. You fiddled with the dice next to you on the bed, enjoying the sound of them clacking together. Well the night isn't getting any younger and neither is Ford so if he wasn't gonna come up to you- you were gonna go down to him.

Bouncing up and off of the bed you plucked Ford's neatly folded bathrobe off the back of the chair at Ford's desk and pulled it over your ensemble, checking in the mirror to make sure there were no clear indicators of your chosen attire. Securing the tie around your waist, you picked up the dice and your phone, sliding them into pockets before checking your appearance one last time in the mirror and adjusting the circlet and elf ears you donned.

It was late enough that you had no real fear of running into anyone else but you still chose to be cautious; it would be incredibly obvious to anyone on the outside to just what you were doing sneaking around like this With that thought in mind you took your time getting to the basement.

Unsurprisingly Ford was still very much awake and actively working. His back and shoulders were tense and he scribbled down notes in his precious journal, still oblivious of your presence. He jumped a little when you slid up behind him, sliding your arms loosely around his neck and letting your head rest on his shoulder.

"Hello Dear. I'll be up in a few minutes, I just need to finalize this calculation."

You just hummed and coiled your arms tighter around him, fingers playing with the knit of his sweater while waiting for Ford to play catch-up. Your lack of genuine response paired with your unwillingness to leave seemed to be all Ford needed to put it together, all the pieces snapping together in his big wonderful brain. He paused in your embrace, gears grinding to a halt, pencil suddenly unmoving.

"I've done it again haven't I? What time is it my Love?"

You just laughed, cheeks flushing at the term of endearment and moving your hands to rub his tense shoulders while pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"It's well past midnight Darling."

Your tone was sweet but matter-o-factly in his ear, letting out another small airy giggle when he dropped his head to his desk abit dramatically. You tutted at him and moved to grab ahold of his chair so you could turn him to face you; he let you. There was a rosy tint to his cheeks, clearly a little embarrassed for making you get out of bed to retrieve him like a petulant child past their bedtime for the third time this week. His eyes were apologetic when they met yours, then turning suspicious when he saw your clothing choice. You gave him very little time to scrutinize, wanting to get the drop on him. And drop you did: the robe you stole falling to the floor just as fast as Ford's jaw did. In that quick movement to had also taken liberty in placing your phone face up on his desk, a D20 in your hand as you slunk down to straddle his lap. You took great care in pressing your body to his as you placed a chaste kiss next to his open mouth, ghosting your lips across his skin until you met his ear.

"Persuasion check. Roll for seduction."

Your voice was low, a sweet beckoning whisper against him and it sent a shiver down his spine. He tried to pull you in for a kiss but you resisted him, instead flicking your wrist and letting the die in your drop onto his desk. You both watched as it rolled to a stop against the corner of his open journal. Ford gulped loudly, eyes flitting back to you.

"Eighteen."

Ford's voice was a low rasp, sounding dry in his throat. His gaze was intense, eyelids hooded. You leaned back and he chased you, still trying to kiss you. Again you resisted him, tracing his jaw with your forefinger.

"Eighteen with a multiplier of plus two for being a bard and a secondary plus two for being a half elf. So twenty-two."

Taking his jaw in your hand, you decided to have mercy on him, leading him into you for a kiss. He needed no convincing, meeting you eagerly, lips meeting yours in a bawdy open mouthed kiss. It was a little clumsy at first, noses bumping together momentarily and his glasses making themselves known against your cheek before his brain caught up with his body; influencing his handiwork. His tongue worked against yours diligently, your own wrapping around the smooth muscle and sucking lightly. That was all you allowed him, pulling away again and sitting back on your heels, letting out a laugh at the disappointed whimper that left him as you did so. The hand that had snaked it's way into your hair attempted to pull you back in, putting gentle pressure on the back of your skull to encourage you.

You smoothed your hands down his sides, stopping to squeeze his thighs, smiling when you felt the muscles clench under your fingers. Ford's hips reflexively bucked up into yours when your hands skimmed higher, against his pelvis. You turned your attention to your phone on his desk, swiping up on the screen to press play on the song you had queued up. It wasn't anything special per-say, but it worked for the occasion.

"Should've come to bed Honey."

He blinked slowly up at you, finally catching onto your plan. His grip tightened reflexively as you moved to lift yourself up before you gently grabbed his hands, bringing them to your lips, hot breath fanning against his knuckles in a way that made him feel dizzy. You placed a kiss to both of them, maintaining eye contact as you brought them both to rest back on the arms of his chair. You kept your hands over his, leaning in close to nip at his earlobe; voice low and spilling from your lips like honey as you spoke.

"Gonna keep your hands right here and to yourself okay Sweetheart?"

He nodded dumbly at you, your words and honeyed tone ringing in his ears and knocking around inside his skull.

Taking great care to actually move gracefully, you used Ford's body as leverage to smoothly stand. Making sure to arch your back in a fairly evocative way on your ascent, pushing out your breasts invitingly towards him. Your body moved lithely, almost balletic as you swiveled around on your feet, throwing a saucy look over your shoulder back at him before gyrating your hips to the music. Ford was hypnotized, watching silently from his place in his chair. Music barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears as he watched you drag your hands sensually over the contours of your body, feeling his cock come further to life beneath his slacks. He shifted in his seat, attempting to adjust his pants and relieve some of the pressure he felt somewhat discreetly. You easily caught him of course, observant at you were. Simpering at him, you closed the distance between your bodies again.

"Feeling tense Stanford?"

Upon closer inspection of your lascivious apparel he spotted some interesting and rather complex looking stitching zigzagging across the crotch area. Any and all questions he had pertaining to your undergarments were suddenly dashed and graciously answered as you whipped your body forward, arching your back harshly and tracing your hands up your spread legs tantalizingly. The new angle your body took on completely showcasing the fact that the stitching he was admiring was actually a seam, a seam that was now very much open and giving him a front row seat to your glistening folds. He balked, letting out a choked sound as he shot ramrod straight up in his chair, cock at full attention.

You smiled with a sadistic satisfaction, running your hands up his thighs just to make him squirm. Fingers just barely brushing against the clothed length of him where it was now tenting in his pants. A groan rumbled low in his throat, eyes greedily eating up the sight of your breasts sitting prettily against your torso, framed beautifully by the delicate lace trim of your bra.

He hadn't seen this piece before he realized, not recognizing the pattern of elegant lace pattern decorating your chest and hips. He felt a level of fondness rise in him right alongside want at the idea of you surprising him like this. It then struck him in the chest that this was a planned effort, orchestrated with the goal to seduce him. Although he very much doubted that your original plot had taken place in the lab; a slight on his part he imagined.

You laughed and leered lecherously at him over your shoulder before crawling your way back onto his lap. Ford was hyper aware of every movement you made on him, knowing that only his own clothing separated him from your sex. You gave him no reprieve, sitting on your haunches as you just barely hovered over him, not giving him the satisfaction of your pussy dragging against his clothed member.

His fingers flexed, clenching aggressively around the armrests as he fought to keep his composure, unwilling to be the one to end your little game. You just smiled at him again, fluttering your lashes almost innocently as you brought your hands down to play with his where they sat white knuckling the worn leather, humming thoughtfully as you traced around each individual finger.

"You're being terribly good Ford. It's really no fun."

You teased him without any bite, giggling a bit as he raised a brow at you.

"I'm just doing as you asked Dear."

He couldn't help the smirk that worked it's way onto his face, his voice taking on a lower register that he knew would get you all hot and bothered. Your reaction was subtle and he had to give credit where credit was due but he knew your every micro expression and could see straight through the slight wobble in your lip you tried to mask by biting it.

"Don't you want to touch me Ford? "

Your voice took on a pout, feigning hurt while you finally dropped your weight onto his lap, grinding heavily against his erection. Ford hissed through his teeth at the sensation, being able to feel you glide against him even through his pants. Your eyes were still on him, still waiting for an answer from him.

"Yes. I would like to very much."

You giggled again, finding his phrasing both a bit silly and endearing in your current situation.

"Roll for it."

Ford's hand was trembling slightly as he reached back for the die, fumbling around behind him on the desk blindly until he felt the smooth edges of the die beneath his fingers. Your fingers delicately traced edges of his jaw, regarding him with a sardonic expression as you watched him try to regain some semblance of his composure. He made a noise, a grunt maybe, in an effort to clear his throat; his adams apple bobbing briefly when he swallowed, his mouth feeling dry. You took the moment to bite at it, scraping your teeth and laving your tongue across the column of his throat as he wove the die between his fingers; pulling back only to watch it drop back onto his desk.

Ford's breath hitched, head turned and Lazer focused on the die as it slowly came to a stop. A loud groan could be heard throughout the space, immediately followed by howling laughter.

"A two! Critical failure!."

You gasped out between laughs that shook your whole body, having to grasp at the arms of the chair to steady yourself atop Ford as his head dropped back in defeat, hands falling limply at his sides. Ford leveled you with a chastising look at your continued snickering. You simply brought your hands back up to his face, leaning in to pepper his face with sweet kisses.

"Oh you should have come to bed Darling."

You cooed against his skin, breath tickling his cheeks as you withdrew abit. His face was softer now but still frustrated, lips turned into what you'd dignify as a pout. As much as you wanted to tease him more about it you had technically accomplished your goal; knowing full well he'd follow you wherever you would go once you got up off his lap, if he let you that is. He was being a terribly good sport about this, even with his straining, clearly painfully hard cock trapped between your bodies. Being ever so merciful whilst also indulging in your need to make Ford squirm you ground down against him hard. Absolutely languishing in the loud shattering moan that escaped his chest and the way his hands shot up to dig into your hips.

"I'll tell you what-"

A dreamy sigh left your lips along with a soft moan of Ford's name as he bucked up against you. Leaning in closer your breath fanned against his earlobe as you finished the thought he had interrupted.

"You come with me to bed and I'll let you make a saving throw."

----------

Sure you knew this "positive reinforcement" would probably never break this bad habit but you'd reap the very pleasureable consequences all the same.

[psychhound]

Tabletop trick or treat! 🦇

hello jade!!

it seems only appropriate for this to be ... a trick!! and treat kinda :) three treats maybe. so everyone lets all go say

happy birthday @hmooncreates

you can check out hollis's itch here for lots of very fun and cool stuff!!

i want to highlight a few of his games even though definitely poke around through the whole library

in want of a match - yall its so fun. its so so fun. ive played it twice now and i cant wait to play again. in iwoam you play as two characters, one looking for their One True Match and one looking for an Opposites Attract. and its ... a dating sim!! you throw all your blorbos in a blender and then they go on silly dates. its a bit of a numbers game where youre trying to roll similarly to the character youre on a date with, and the table decides which traits you roll on your date. we played once with original characters (god they all became such freaks immediately) and then again using blorbos from other ttrpg games, and both were suuuch fun. the character creation is pretty simple but works really well for the game, and then you just put all the blorbos in a jar and shake em up to see what happens. we want to play a third time where we make a roll table of all our characters from other games, roll randomly to see who were playing, and then just let chaos ensue. its not a hard system to pick up at all, great for silly one shots (especially if someone cant make your usual game), and honestly is really flexible with how much roleplay you want to do for it. you can totally roleplay everything out or mostly stick with broad descriptions and just run up those numbers. tons of fun either way. sometimes the characters that end up being great matches numbers wise are like. absolutely hilarious (freak ass lesbians i love you)

for truth's sake series - for truth's sake is a series of games (with a free srd people have made cool stuff on) where you are an anthropologist studying a fantasy culture and writing an ethnography on it. its a medium crunch solo journaling game that has four really cool settings/cultures (urban witches, a werewolf neighborhood, an inn on the border of the feywild, and a high fantasy city) that all have a unique cast of characters, locations, events, and questions you get to ask the inhabitants. all the games are very fun, but i think my best experience with it was playing urban witches when hollis was over at my house and i was narrating my game out loud instead of writing it down. i was rolling SO DOGSHIT and it honestly became a bit of a slapstick comedy of my guy just absolutely whiffing it with this apartment complex of witches. i was weeping i almost lost the game on like. day three. astoundingly bad at talking to these witches. but all of them are very cool and very fun and devs out there should check out the srd too!!! a lot of the groundwork is laid out for you so you just get to make fun roll tables!!!

the fool who got married (extended edition) - this one is a duet+ epistolary game where one player is a young bride moving away with her husband during the 1840s california gold rush, and the other players are female family members whove been left behind. the main mechanic is that you are on a time limit of crane wives and oh hellos songs as you write your letters to each other, with each character archetype getting a different album they have to put on shuffle as they write. i will be totally honest i was NOT sure how this one was gonna play for me but i ended up really really liking it. i chose to play as the aunt and even though i only went through like five songs or something, she ended up being a really dynamic character and also, as is my way, a little nuts. getting into the mindset of these historical women to this modern music was a really interesting experience. so many of the songs like. really tap into female pain and rage in a way that transcends this time gap and really makes you feel for the character youre inhabiting. the lyric prompts under each song are really evocative, and honestly as someone who hates handwriting things because of hand pain the short time limit on the letters was honestly really helpful. this one is definitely niche but like. i really suggest trying it out. it might surprise you like it did me!!

i think hollis's birthday is as good an excuse as any to check out her games, and if you already have & like them, maybe go leave some comments and ratings too!! :D hollis is an up and coming developer and i cant wait to see the next games he has cooking (i know what they are and im chomping at the bit). so go check out!! give a rating!! give a follow!! you wont regret it !!

[wordbunch]

The Hobbit re-read: favorites, thoughts and honorable mentions

thank u to my tumblr besties for encouraging me to rant abt this book for a little while, and brace yourselves for a LOOONG post; aka We're Going On An Adventure!

this quote abt Gandalf: "tales and adventures sprouted up all over the place wherever he went, in the most extraordinary fashion" like. THIS exactly is Gandalf to me ✨✨✨

the whole good-morninged sequence (as if he was selling buttons at the door! can you imagine! By belladonna tooks SON of all people!!!) 😱

"a cake or 2 would do him good after this fright" me too bilbo

"he had a horrible thought that the cakes might run short" me too bilbo 🍰

Gandalf constantly selling Bilbo's skills to the company and just hyping him up and believing in him all the time!!!! most excellent and audacious hobbit!!! 😎

"this was thorin's style... if he had been allowed he would probably have gone like this until he was out of breath" aka he is Dramatic and Important

"bilbo was getting excited and interested again so that he forgot to keep his mouth shut" how many times will i write ME TOO BILBO in this post

"THE EXPLANATION DID NOT SEEM TO EXPLAIN" 💯💯💯

gandalf: i found him in the dungeons of the necromancer; thorin: girl what were YOU doing at the necromancer's??? 🧐🧐🧐 gandalf: finding things out as usual O M G like what else would he be doing there 😚

bilbo constantly wishing he was back home as soon as he left

"off bilbo had to go before he could explain that he could not hoot even once like any kind of owl" yall this book has so many funny moments but like in a very chill humor way

the fact that one of the TROLLS is called WILLIAM 😂😂😂

"i am a good cook myself, and cook better than i cook" okay bilbo rizz 😏🔥

"they had not at all enjoyed lying there listening to the trolls making plans for roasting them" you don't say. i love this deadpan humor SO MUCH jrrt snapped

that whole beautiful iconic description of kind as summer elrond

"their clothes were mended as well as their bruises, their tempers, and their hopes" WHEN will i go to rivendell 😩

"there is nothing like looking if you want to find something" thorin life coach realness 👏🏼👏🏼

thoring gesturing at a miserable desolate land: these tRuLy hOspiTabLe moUnTaiNs 😍

then gandalf lit up his wand. oF coUrSe it wAs gaNdaLf, but they were too busy to ask how he got there. 4ever mood

he thought of himself frying bacon and eggs in his own kitchen ME TOO BIL- 🍳

"Gollum brought up memories of ages and ages and ages before, when he lived with his grandmother in a hole by a bank by a river" this kind of made me cry. it brings unexpected humanity to such an appalling character; kinda makes you want bilbo to spare him eventually

and the fact itself that bilbo felt so bad for him he decided to just leave him be

"you would have laughed (from a safe distance)" LOVE how JRRT puts random little comments addressed to the reader

gandalf just being like ok i gotta go do other things now. good luck besties. ✌🏼😚

beorn: what are you, a traveling circus? and he is actually right 🤪

"you have got to look after all these dwarves for me, gandalf laughed" and i cried

bilbo being like hmm how will i get down from this tree (except by falling)

bilbo's song while killing gigantic spiders "not very good...but you must remember he had to make it up himself in a very awkward moment"

the dwarves starting to respect him and bowing down until they FALL OVER is such a comical image to me

the whole alluring magic of the elvish feast in the forest which disappears when they get closer!! a whole fairytale mr tolkien!!! 😍

thranduil is a greedy b <3 and especially VERY fond of wine 🍷🍷🍷

"i will lock you all in again and you can sit there comfortably and think of a better plan" bilbo badass mode and we love to see it 💋

tolkien being like WELL u can laugh but you wouldn't have done any better if u were him. real.

when they're in dale i love the numerous references to "songs and stories of old" and all of them basically being a living legend and turning their stay in dale into a public holiday and spectacle

thorin is cocky af

/freeze frame/ "you are familiar with thorin's style on important occasions so i will not give you any more of it" its ok jrrt, let him be a drama queen 👑

bilbo when he takes some gold from smaug being like "this will show them!!!1!1" 😠😠

sassy bilbo strikes again with "did you expect me to trot back with the whole hoard of thror on my back? if there's any grumbling to be done i think i might have a say" GO OFF KING 👏🏼

i just rly love him okay, he stole my heart in this book like a real legitimate professional burglar that he is

"i am the clue-finder, the web-cutter, the stinging fly" etc. basically this whole exchange btw bilbo and smaug is pure gold (pun not intended) 🤫

talking birds that eavesdrop. enough said.

the descriptions of the arkenstone which make you actually want to have it too. genius. there could be no two such gems, even in so marvellous a hoard, even in all the world." 💎💎💎

the harps (untouched by the dragon who had a small interest in music).. WHY is this so funny to me

bilbo putting on some elvish DRIP and being like ✨✨ i feel magnificent ✨✨ (but probably look dumb 😩)

"this is the great chamber of thror" ok thorin the tour guide king

BARD MY KING i love one (1) man 🎯

bilbo being absolutely against any wars or battles and just wanting to go home BUT also being a sneaky lil shit who takes the arkenstone to bard and thranduil BUT also still not wanting to leave his dwarf buddies

when he gives them the gem "not without a shudder, not without a glance of longing" AHHH i want it!

ambiguous gandalf returning. always love to see it

"if you don't like my burglar, please don't damage him" 🙄 ffs thorin chill

"you are not making a very splendid figure as king" yes gandalf call him out

defeat seems "very uncomfortable, not to say distressing" to bilbo. we love.

the fact that he was just knocked out cold during the battle so thur we know very little abt what really happened?? jrrt genius writing hack. might use this one 🤔

fili and kili deserved a better sendoff than just mentioning that they died. come on.

thorin's last words and reconciliation w bilbo... PLEASE I WILL CRY until i throw up. "it has been more than any baggins deserves." "no! there is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly west. some courage and some wisdom blended in measure. if more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world."

i might still be crying

"tea is at 4 but any of you are welcome at any time" my heart... ❤️😭 Guess he's no longer scared of running out of cake

bilbo gifting thrandy a necklace as an apology for eating and drinking his stuff secretly, king shit 😉

bilbo having the absolute NERVE to say to ELVES "your lullaby would wake a drunken goblin". wig wig

he deadass borrowed a handkercheif from freaking ELROND 😳

bilbo arriving home to being presumed dead and his stuff literally being auctioned off

"it was a long time before he was in fact admitted to being alive again…" and sackville-bagginses having sm beef with that HAHAHA

he lost his reputation but he lived his best life so who's the winner here 😌😌😌

the closing lines "you are a very fine person, mr baggins, and i am very fond of you; but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world after all" "thank goodness! said bilbo laughing."

like. THIS. literally embodies everything. he is just a little guy. just some smol person. BUT STILL had a say in how BIG things happened. BUT he remains happy to be just a smol simple person.

overall an incredibly fun read and it was way more genuinely FUNNY than i anticipated. bilbo is a whole mood. thorin is a diva. gandalf is there to start shit and hype up bilbo. jrrt with random author's notes throughout the book gives me life.

[herotome]

Devlog #88

Hi-ho, Wudge here.

I’ve been doingggg a loooottttt of client work!!! But I did a lot for Herotome, too! So uh... I gotta watch myself and make an effort not to work too hard, lest I burnout. :’) For now, here’s what I’ve done:

- fleshed out a bunch of menu choices, including one that leads to this line on the rooftop. (Image Description: Jade Wilds saying “Everyone wants to be liked by cute girls.”)

- Updated a dialogue choice from “I can take care of myself in a fight“ to "Bet I can beat you up."

- put in and tested a bunch of pause dialogue tags (giving the text our distinctive... pacing... when the characters are talking).

- played through the ENTIRE GAME and reviewed+added sfx and ambient background noise where necessary.

- played with panning the cityscape background and Jade’s sprite up and down, to simulate levitation (it looks really good!!)

- redid one of Griffin sprite’s expressions

- added some text to the puppy’s sprite.

- edited a few of Jade lines per my good friend @brightoakgame​ ‘s suggestions

- found a phenomenal song to play during Jade’s scenes - which I had been struggling with for the better part of the year so you can imagine how ecstatic I am about it. Yall were THIS close to having weird ambient meditation gongs for her theme! (And ambient meditation gongs are nice, but didn’t feel perfect for her character.)

- ran Lint and got some interesting numbers from renpy. (Apparently our Landlord has more dialogue lines than Dart. For now.)

- fixed a bug wherein I accidentally deleted the smallest and most subtle image in the world, and thus took longer than I should have to understand why the game was throwing an error page at me.

- accidentally left a few art files saved on my old computer and had to fight a few blue screens to transfer them over skjdbfkbsbk. But the files have been rescued!

- made significant progress on THREE future NPCs, and worked on an alternate textbox.

.... Yeah that should be most everything.

Stay safe and keep warm,

Wudge.

[organic-guacamole]

episode 210 here we go

awww seb doing the intro

congratulations to milky white and her baby chocolate milk😌

seb is so funny

but seriously, clean up that milk fast or else it will smell so bad in there....

was that Lauryn just randomly doing cartwheels? idk any theatre kids irl but that seems like it's a common thing...

is it just me or has ms Jenn been getting more harsh to Ricky and Seb mainly-

like what did they do to her

no because I actually snorted with laughter at the "you came back" WHAT IS THAT VOICE-

AND THE MASK OMG

yeah so my throat hurts now

I'm dying over here

KOURTNEY'S FACE

SAME GIRL SAME

Ricky's fake death got the whole place in tears /s

he looks like an asthmatic walrus

Seb's on piano, I love

we all know if he was the beast we'd all actually be crying✋

ok but I listen to Julia's version of home on Spotify when I want to cry-

right so gimme a second

is Ricky scratching his face.....while he's dying?

"belle i-" *flop*

round of applause to Ashlyn for trying to make Ricky's earthworm seizure look less.... yknow

Kourtney's just dying there

WAIT IS THAT NATALIE

did she really just disappear for 9 episodes just to come back and stare dramatically into the camera

WAIT SCRATCH THAT SHES HERE TO MURDER ASHLYN AND RICKY

oh so Ricky's wearing a gay shirt now too

so that's the real reason why Rini broke up, see y'all next season when Gini and caswen become canon /j

wait that was a long intro scene-

what was that look Carlos-

TALK TO MY BOY OR ELSE

carlos' run is so funny to me

therapist Ashlyn to the rescue

"that is...super" son you good?

ms Jenn call Benjamin, he would willingly put his loved ones on a rocket and blast them into Venus for you....

maybe

"I don't want you kids to be disappointed" girl you do realise you're the one that's most invested in this?

"a smooth opening night" wasn't there just 1 show though-

like their opening night was closing night too

"I think I was Troy at one point" PLEASE THATS THE MOST ACCURATE DESCRIPTION OF THE SEASON 1 FINALE

me Jenn looks like a serial killer during that clap and I'm lowkey scared for zacky

"I have notes"

oo if you're taking suggestions, lemme get my list

"mother is freaking out" uhhhhhh

right....'mother"

"is everyone sitting down?"

*looks around awkwardly*

*big red slowly sits*

"no..."

please seb was the only one sitting-

does that mean Carlos looked at Seb as soon as he walked in and assumed that everyone else was sitting too or am I a seblos clown🤡

"is this about the transformation"

WOW MAYBE OT IS RICKY

WOW HES A DETECTIVE FOR FIGURING THAT OUT SO QUICK🤩

YO WHY IS NATALIE HERE-

she just shows up when it's convenient? is she gonna be at the sleepover too?

Seb's heavy swallow after Carlos shouts at him makes me so sad

"I never learned how to lie but I figure if I keep my mouth closed, I can't tell the truth" *nods and smiles at Nini when she asks*

why are they casually standing up all over the pizza shop, just sit at a big table and talk instead of blocking passageways and blocking off at least 6 tables-

"how about I invite myself" WHY DO PEOPLE ALWAYS FEEL THE NEED TO INVITE THEMSELVES TO ASHLYN'S HOUSE-

YOU CAN ASK BUT JUST FORCE YOUR WAY IN?

so Cash Caswell has a bigger house than... Dennis Caswell.... who would've thought

ah yes there's the good old EJ 1.0

Nini: "boys vs girls"

Gina: *looks devastated and glances longingly at EJ*

way to be inconspicuous

"but north high should be" *cracks her knuckles in the most uncomfortable way*

good for Ashlyn for getting more confident though

oo bossy big red

"i get bossy around the power tools"

is that why Ashlyn was holding up the drill in episode 8 orrrr 🤠

oh

Lily, leave him alone please

she's literally not blinking, is that what makes her creepy?

the diss at big red and his face afterwards is priceless

isn't that similar to what Gina's mom said to her in season 1? hmmmm

but seriously please don't try to redeem lily, let us have a character to hate, or to love because they're evil.

not everyone's a good guy.

"im not liked here and I don't know what to do"

let antoine finish his salad and it'll fix everything

"hug emoji" *gags*

y'all realize Lily's literally 14?

why is she calling a 16/17 year old from another school for personal advice-

"he gets weird around tools"

I shouldn't be laughing so hard

"deja vu maybe?" awkward silence

I'm dying here I love EJ so so so so much

"where's seb"

*cuts to seb being held hostage hoping that they'd notice he's missing and go look for him*

"don't ask"

"oh ok"

"100% real faux fur" as you should queen

sponsored by target

Kourtney is singlehandedly saving the entire show.

Seb making finger guns make me happier than it should

why is this kinda making me want to have a co-ed sleepover with my non-existent theatre friends

YES YOU DO NEED TO TALK/SING TO SEB CARLOS THANK YOU FOR KNOWING THAT

wait what-

you haven't talked to him all WEEK-

Carlos are you stupid /hj

Benjamin is so adorable I can't

he turned around to come back for her instead of going home. you're "what do you want Jenn🙄X act isn't fooling anyone Benjamin 🙃

10101

1+4+16= 21st?

they placed 21st?

or do I just not remember how to convert to base ten

GIRL DON'T BE RUDE TO HIM, HE'S GONNA SAVE YALL

no ms Jenn, the kids are not eccentric 35 year olds.

aww sebby

is he thinking that Carlos is only with him cuz he's the only other openly gay guy at school-

son you are a perfect little bean don't put yourself down

yes they all ship portwell as they should.

they'll be throwing risotto at the wedding.

not the chocolates. stop there are no chocolates. please stop I'm dying.

Gina you don't have to explain yourself to her

it was a misunderstanding and it's in the past

why is Ashlyn still laughing-

exactly it wasn't a big deal please just move on Nini

Kourtney really be out here saving everything

WHY IS ASHLYN STILL LAUGHING

why do I feel like when Gina finally told Ash about it, she didn't think it was that funny but wanted to feel included in the inside joke so now she brings it up randomly to show that she's in on it....I totally don't do that...

"idk, the farmer type" oh son...

Ashlyn and big red are just spilling the secrets back and forth huh?

OOO EJ AND GINA SITTING IN A TREE K-I-S-S-I-

cmon guys don't look at me like that-

"she is the best" and "we're buddies" don't sound right together

"pretty boy" "sweet boy" best ways to describe EJ

I love him.

and aw he's scared of rejection so he'll hold back just to keep her happy and not awkward how sweet

is Ricky wondering if letting her go(literally his song from last episode) was the best thing he did for Nini because he doesn't feel like it now? hmmm this is getting good

why is everyone so invested in Kourtney and Howie's relationship

PACK UP THE LAZY RICKY THING

oh yes Benji, that's exactly what she's doing

she couldn't follow her dream or whatever so now she's using the kids to gain some of the success she craves. why else would she have that massive hsm poster with her name on it in huge letters in her office.

just casually grab his hand with both your hands and stare at him creepily 🥰

ship jennzzara y'all

the first bump was a missed opportunity to do the baymax "falalala" as a reference to the fact that they watched big hero six while committing arson✋

wait so big red and EJ just left Ricky in the basement and now Ricky invited Carlos when they're supposed to be at the stage?

help no Ricky looks like he's about to tell Carlos he likes him (I know it's about writing the song for seb but still, look at his body language and tell me it doesn't look like that)

Ricky is so mature about this, he really just wants Nini to be happy even though he's hurting-

baby you deserve love, maybe Nini isn't the one for you but don't say you don't deserve it

why does he keep adding bro to the end like he doesn't know how to address Carlos

PLEASE CARLOS HAVING TO ADDRESS THE BRO THING

"let's write a song when we have like 45 minutes to get to the place and help our friends possibly win $50000 at the show in 2 weeks"

"can you hit a high C?"

"that's like the bottom of my range"

why am I laughing

this is so cool to see friendship interactions that we don't normally get to see

Nini why are you being like this-

Gina did nothing wrong??

I saw that, EJ and Gina being the only ones going in the same direction👀

right so obviously Kourtney's waiting until after the menkies to get back with Howie just in case he really is just using her as a way in to east high... obviously... right?

CARLOS

OK ITS COMING GET READY YALL

Why is portwell so awkward all of a sudden

OMG EJ

OMG GINA SAY YES or not, do what you want.

the way she doubts that EJ would genuinely ask so she has to make sure it's not Ashlyn behind it

OH

THE "NOT THAT I KNOW OF"

LIKE WHAT GINA SAID TO JACK ABOUT EJ BEING HER BOYFRIEND

GUYS THEY'RE SOULMATES

I want risotto now please

THEY'RE SO SWEET AND ADORABLY AWKWARD ITS LIKEEK LITTLE KIDS

OOOOOOO what is this place that seblos is in, looks fancy....and secluded

oh wait no Ricky's just standing there

wait is it the bomb shelter

it looks so good what

HSKAGSJAGAJAGWISGSKAUASBWKSVAIWBAISBQKSHIQBWOABWOABDOQBZIQBAIAQBSIWBQISVQKSIANSGOQBSAISBKASBKWBAIABQOSBBSJAHAJAVAJSBAJHSKAHSJAHAJAJAAJAHHHHHHHH

@youranxiousnerd ARE YOU OK?

CUZ IM NOT OK

LOOK AT SEBBY'S FACE

LOOK AT HOW ADORABLE IT IS

THE LYRICS ARE KILLING ME

SEBLOS IS KILLING ME

I AM DEAD

PLEASE SEND HELP

I like to imagine that Frankie and Joe practiced this in their apartment and just had a blast with it.

or maybe that Frankie practiced in secret like what Joe did for the climb

OH THE SUITS

THATS WHERE THAT CLIP IN THE PROMO WAS FROM

AWWW SEBBY'S SO CUTE

HE'S A LITTLE MARSHMALLOW

they're still so awkward with the dance I cant

let's appreciate Frankie's voice though

this episode really was made just for the seblos and portwell stans and you gotta love it

BIG RED GET OUT

WHY DOES HE ALWAYS DO THIS

Seb's little "yeah" IS ADORABLE

you can't tell me that wouldn't have been the best time for them to say I love you....IF FREAKIN BIG RED WASN'T THERE

ok but wait Ricky needs more hugs like that, look at his face

the boy needs love

"bro" please don't let Ricky and Carlos go back to not talking because their friendship is amazing

EJ laughing at Ricky sounding like a cat coughing up a furball is so funny to me

RICKY'S FLOP GETS ME EVERYTIME

I knew it was too good to be true

ok so Ricky's dead, next in line please

this episode was so short but I love it so much. this is what I signed up for for season 2✋

[ddaenggtan]

black irises in the sunshine | kth

anger is everything. other gods tease you for the short fuse, but it comes with the territory. people have called you stupid, have called you dumb, oafish, useless, incompetent, insolent, rude, arrogant. all of it. insults and mockery flung at you, but even your skin isn’t thick enough to deal with constant abuse. it’s the exact reason you keep going to the underground, knuckles bloody and bruised, fighting anyone that dared enter the cage. it’s the reason you go to the clubs, surround yourself with mortals and their writhing bodies. it’s there that you see him the first time, voice husky as it rolls through the room. it’s there you find someone who treats you differently than the rest. you just never expected him to be one of the muses. | monsters and gods pt 3 (masterlist)

pairing | taehyung x reader

genre/warnings | greek god au, calliope!taehyung, ares!reader, theres a lot of violence and it does get descriptive so be aware of that, none of the main characters other than ares get hurt and its not uncalled for or anything in a narrative sense, so just be aware of that; there are mentions of other idols, but if you can guess them you get a cookie because they are Vague; suuuuper bisexual Ares, Ares Can Step On Me, like I am SO gay for her it isn’t funny; explicit smut ft: cunnilingus, taeHUNG bc hes got MASSIVE SCHLONG,  some body worship kind of and then just....regular worship? like? idk how to explain that? lots of praise and lots or orgasms

word count | 14k | cross posted to ao3

a/n | HOOOOOOO this has been sitting in my google docs for literal months waiting for an ending and i decided to try to get it out for tae's birthday bUT that didn't work because i have a Job and shit so YEET I GUESS HAPPY FUCKIN NEW YEAR??? LIKE??? YEEEEEEEEEEEEE this fic is very near to me because Ares is my sweet sad angry babie and i love her, and i love tae and i love suho and i love the muses and i just........lOVE this fic like i think this is currently my favorite of the mag series so!! i hope yall also enjoy it!!!! yall are welcome to send me messages about this even tho I'm terrible at replying to them in a timely manner!! thanks to everyone who helped me with this, and everyone who has expressed interest in it, and everyone who has ever read anything of mine, because you're genuinely the best people ever, and this is literally a gift to y'all because you deserve it. 

Fuck, that was too hard .

The guy across from you goes flying, hitting the chain link wall of the cage harder than you intended. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, and even holding back, you've got a better buzz than even the best nectar can give. Your blood sings as the guy gets back up, and you almost wish you could remember his name, because he's put up a hell of a fight. For a mortal, anyway. 

He charges at you again, and time slows as your vision tunnels. You can see the feint as he decides on it, how he hesitates in bringing his left up. You wait, watching him get closer and closer. You start to dart to your left, letting him think he's got you, before you side-step and dart to your right instead. His punch goes wide as you steady your balance and move. The top of your foot connects with his ribcage and the resulting crack of bone is lost amid the cheers and yells of the audience. 

Your opponent steps back and you're proud of the way he doesn't show the pain. He doesn't wince, doesn't move to touch the spot you hit, just tightens his stance and clenches his jaw. It's only you that notices the hitch in his breath, the way he flinches with every inhale. Your eyes narrow at that, zeroing in on the rib. You'd meant to just crack it, had been holding back most of your strength to keep from hurting him too seriously, but as he steps forward, you can see the way he grits his teeth against the pain. 

The fight leaves you immediately, like a bucket of cold water straight to the chest, and you drop your hands. 

"Yield." He just stares at you, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Yield to me, and then go to the doctor."

"I'm not gonna yield," He says. He spits a mouthful of blood out onto the floor. "I'm not weak."

"Seriously, dude," You insist. "You're not gonna win this, and I don't want to hurt you more." 

His scoff has you seeing red. "As if a princess like you could hurt me."

Your fist connects with his face before either of you registers that you've moved. There's a voice in the back of your head reminding you that he's just mortal, he can't take the same kind of beating you can, but it's lost in the haze of fury. The next thing you know, the ref is dragging you away and slamming you into the cage wall. Your opponent is being dragged out - you still don't know his name - and he looks beaten senseless. Victory rolls through you accompanied by a sick satisfaction at the way his blood looks decorating the canvas beneath your feet. 

It lasts for less than an hour. It's always like this; the thrill of the fight, the burn of success, it's gone faster than you can blink. It's what drives you to keep fighting, to keep going to match after match, just to seek out the under-the-table stuff afterwards. It's never enough, not anymore. Back in the old days, they'd let you fight anything. Bears, bulls, lions, giants, anything they could get a noose around long enough to point it at a colosseum. That was a long time ago, though, before all the rights movements happened. You won't lie: you miss fighting beasts like that. The sheer power and strength they have, the survival instinct that makes them such fierce competitors, it's so much better than the rules and regulations of the mortal world now. Fights have gotten dull, rehearsed, more like a performance or a show than an actual fight. People make more money losing than they do winning and it's made the world boring. 

You flex your hand as you open the door to your favorite bar. Something caught it at some point in the last fight, a cheekbone or a tooth, and it stings a little. Doesn't hurt, not exactly, not for a goddess, but it did enough that you feel it at all, which means it couldn't have been anything but torture for the guy on the other end. The bartender waves at you and gets your usual ready as you sit, and you idly wonder if Busted Rib Guy will be okay. It looked painful, for a human, and you'd tried to hold back, but…

Well, you weren't really responsible for what happened to condescending little fucks, were you?

You sip the bourbon, enjoying the burn as it goes down. The lights are dim, tonight. You're glad. You don't want to deal with people looking at you, men coming over to talk to you, trying to advise you on how to properly bandage your knuckles or how to avoid the bruise on your cheek next time. If you had wanted to avoid it, you would have. You'd intended it to hurt worse, honestly, but that first guy'd had a weaker right hook than you expected. 

You look around, wondering if anyone here would provide a decent distraction for the night. There's a pretty brunette in the corner with carefully crafted braids, and as your eyes travel, you imagine what's hiding beneath the silk and leather. You're pulled from the thought by the sound of music, and you curse under your breath. You forgot that it's an open mic night and you'd meant to go to the bar across town instead. Irritation colors your vision; every open mic night is awful, full of lofty poets talking about their trauma and wannabe Taylor Swifts thinking they're on the same level as Sappho. Ah, now that was a girl with a set of pipes. You miss her, wonder what she would say to the butchering of whatever song you're about to hear.

The voice that comes isn't what you expect. It's smooth and deep. The world turns to velvet around you as the voice wanders from one speaker to another, creating a mesmerizing multi-dimensional effect despite the way the singer doesn't ever leave the stage. You turn, knuckles white around your bourbon glass; he's utterly magnetic, every eye in the room trained on him as he purrs into the vintage mic. Long fingers are wrapped around the scuffed metal, decorated with jewels that glitter in the dim light of the bar. You can smell the lingering cigarette smoke from the guy beside you and the Jäger from the girl two stools down and for once, you don't even care. He's captivating, voice travelling between speakers in the bar and coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. 

Your eyes don't leave him, and you wonder if you can memorize the way the blond waves fall against his forehead if you stare long enough. 

The red seeps away from you, slinking back into the corners of your mind, settling once more into a low thrum under your skin. It fades into the background of this man's voice, the charisma that rolls off him in waves as he pulls the mic in close just to push it to the side with a teasing smirk. It settles something in your chest that hasn't been calm since the fight in Athens so long ago. 

The music fades out sooner than you'd like, and he gives a slight bow before wandering into the crowd. You do your best to follow him, but the gold of his hair disappears almost immediately, lost in the throng of people around the stage waiting to speak to him. You turn back around, downing the next bit of bourbon that Suho pours you. 

"I know," He says with a grin. You cock a brow at him, not having said anything he could agree with. "He's good. That's what you were thinking, right? He's why we're so packed on open mics. Got the audio and lighting guy whipped, so he's got all these special effects, too. Drives people crazy.”

"He's alright," You mutter. You toss a few bills down on the bartop and step back. Suho gives you a courteous nod as you leave. The bouncer gives you a dirty look when he spots the lit cigarette between your lips, but he knows better than to try to tell you otherwise. You've taught him better. 

You lean back against the brick wall of the alley and take a drag. The warm smoke fills your lungs and you close your eyes. It's a different kind of burn than you're used to, a distraction from the crawling sensation that drives you to fight. It's calmer, more controlled. Feels like the smoke from Hestia's fires. Feels like home. 

"Never expected to see you here," A voice calls out. It's deep and startling in the darkness, but you don't jump. You just open your eyes, exhale, and look to where it came from. 

The singer stands before you in the same undone white button up and black tee he performed in. He doesn't have a cig, doesn't seem to have much of any reason to be outside. He moves almost lazily, as if he doesn't even need to, just wants to, and when his gaze flicks up to meet yours, your vision fills just for a breath with every opponent you've ever faced lying at your feet. 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" The words slip from your tongue before you can stop them. It's not his fault, the voice in your head says, he didn't mean it that way, but still, your blood is thrumming now that he's here and you want to know what he's talking about. Want to know why he thinks you wouldn't be here when there's attractive people and good bourbon and you've never seen this man before in your life. Want to know why he already seems to think you aren't civilized enough to be at a bar, why he spoke but all you heard was Zeus' voice in your memories.

"Exactly what I said. Should I be clearer?"

"Yeah, probably," you spit. Yet another person that assumes you're stupid, that you don't understand basic languages, as if you haven't been speaking them since the ancient times. As if you couldn't speak circles around him if you wanted. "Unless you want your teeth on the fucking ground."

"Good to know the stories are true." He tsks and you're filled with a strange sense of disappointment and fury, both at him and yourself. Your vision turns red at the edges and the cigarette between your fingers is crushed in your grip. He pays no mind to it, just saunters past with a lazy, swaying gait that draws your eyes to his hips and then down the long leather-clad legs. "See you around, Ares."

"That's not my fucking name," You yell after him. He doesn't respond when you shout your actual name, the one you chose, on your own, as a middle finger to the Olympians. "Get it right next time, dickwad."

He turns the corner of the alley and the streetlight catches his face just enough for you to see the smirk he wears. For once in your life, you're torn; you want to smash his face in, yes, because how dare this random guy speak to you like that when you could kill him with one finger to the right pressure point. You also find your skin's hotter than usual, stretched too thin over your bones, and you want him to run his hands over you until it feels right again.

Until it feels like it did when he was singing. 

How did he know my title?

The thought comes unbidden, days later, with the desperate hit of a palm against your shoulder. You've got the woman in a headlock, patiently waiting for her to pass out completely so the fight can be called, and your mind is wandering. 

How did the singer know who you are? You hadn't thought anything of it at the time, distracted by fury and frustration, but with time comes a special kind of clarity. You've never seen him before, not that you know anyway, yet he didn't hesitate to call you Ares. The only ones who know of your kind are your kind, but you haven't seen any of your siblings among mortals in a long time. You thought you knew the other gods and goddesses, but maybe not. It has been a while since you stepped foot in the golden city.

The woman in your grip goes slack and you release her. You're still lost in thought as the ref calls the match and leads you out of the makeshift ring. The cheers of the audience are background noise at this point, akin to static or the buzz of electricity, and you pay them no mind as you head to collect your winnings. You didn't even get any kind of buzz from success this time, too immersed in the way the singer walked and talked and looked. The image of his smirk is burned into your retinas. 

"Yeah, you didn't hear? He just got out of the hospital. They had to keep him overnight because they thought he might puncture a lung. I heard that if it had been a little worse, they would've had to wire his jaw shut." You stop, fingers brushing over the stack of bills you don't even remember being handed. You look up, making eye contact with the guy whispering nearby. Your suspicions are confirmed when his friend smacks his arm and juts his chin in your direction before they both disappear into the crowd. 

You shove your way outside, frustration creeping through you and coloring your vision. You manage to keep it contained long enough for you to make it to the alley behind the warehouse, but it explodes from you in a rush of thrown dumpsters and sheet metal. 

Fuck , you never meant to hurt him like that. You told him, you fucking told him to yield, it isn't your fault he didn't listen. It's not your fault that he went and insulted you, acted like he was better than you just by virtue of being a dude, as if you weren't worshipped in the old days for the power you had and the blessings you could give. You'd held back, through all of it, you'd told him to yield, and he insulted you. It wasn't your fault. 

You slide to the ground, running a shaking hand through your hair. It isn't your fault , you repeat. You close your eyes and take deep breaths, the way Hestia taught you, willing the fury to dissipate. It's like a fire in your veins, burning and bubbling your skin until you can't resist anymore. You take another breath. It isn't your fault. You tried. You offered an out. It isn't your fault. Fuck, what was his name? 

With a growl that quickly morphs into a scream, you kick the dumpster once more before stalking off into the darkness. You need a fucking drink and you're gonna find a distraction in someone else if it's the last thing you do. 

The club is packed when you get there; you're not usually a fan of clubs like this, too full of people who are too friendly, but they're perfect for nights like tonight. You don't even need to wait in line, just slip the bouncer a 50 as you pass, and the bartenders are quick to spot you. You're pretty notorious in the city for over-paying, which means you're knocking back bourbon before you have a chance to ask for it. There are people everywhere, pressed up against both sides of you while the bass thrums in your throat, and it takes you longer than you're proud of to realize why. 

There's a band playing, apparently. They're not bad; the vocalist isn't anything like the singer from Suho's, but it doesn't make you want to tear your ears off, so you consider it a success. 

You're dancing before you remember deciding to. Everything's a blur when you get the itch in your bones, the need to make someone bleed. To feel something that isn't rage or condescension. People are even closer here on the dance floor, suffocating in their proximity, but there's a woman grinding her ass into you, and it sparks the dying fire in your gut. The beat of the music drowns your own heart, and it's all flashing lights and heat and a body pressed against yours that is all too willing.

She follows when you go back to the bar for another drink, and giggles when you lick salt from her wrist before downing tequila. Her hands are wrapped in the leather of your jacket as she kisses you, your own resting lightly on her hips. She laughs against your lips and says something you don't hear before ordering another drink. Something makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You take the brief reprieve to look around the club, searching for whatever it is that has you on alert. You find him on the upper level of the club, leaned over the balcony with a drink in hand. You can't make out his expression, exactly; it's too far away and too guarded. But you'd know him anywhere now. The singer knocks back whatever's in his glass, eyes never leaving yours. You don't know why he's here, if he comes here often or if the Fates are having a laugh at your expense, but you do know you want to make the most of it.

The girl is back, pressing a heated kiss to your lips and drawing your attention from him. You return it, nipping at her lips and getting a small gasp in return. You smirk and bite your way down her neck. She's breathy in your ear, hitched moans lost in the beat of the music, but you barely hear her as you suck bruises into the skin of her neck. He's still watching you. His drink is gone and he's gripping the bannister of the balcony, rings glinting in the light. You wonder if the cool metal could soothe the burn in your bones. You want to know if he can bring that calmness from before back, if he can soothe the frenzy in your mind with his hands the way he can with his voice. Just imagining it has you soaking through to your jeans.

The girl makes a particularly loud noise in your ear and you're brought out of your thoughts. As if he can sense it, the singer straightens. He gives you one last look before disappearing back into the crowd, and you wonder if you're imagining the disdain in it. You draw back from the girl's neck, about to tell her to find her friends when she slides her hands in your hair and tugs.

The burn in your blood is back, now, and you hope this girl is prepared for what awaits her.

"You're here early," Suho says when he spots you in the nearly empty bar the next night. He's not wrong, either; you skipped the fights tonight completely. There was no buzz last time, no relief, and you have no reason to believe there would be tonight. Not with the way the singer captivates your thoughts. 

Besides, you have enough money leftover from the previous few to last a couple days.

"What, did you decide not to kick someone's ass before getting wasted?" Suho doesn't wither at the look you give him, just pours you a couple fingers of bourbon and slides the glass over. "Or did they just stop letting you in completely?"

"I might change my mind if you don't shut up," You tell him. There's no real heat behind it. You've known Suho for years now, been coming to his bar for so long it almost feels like home. You're almost friends at this point. 

It helps that he knows when to bite his tongue so he doesn't get his teeth knocked out.

"Seriously though, I don't think I've ever seen you here this early. Especially not on mic nights." You're very careful in your lack of a reaction to his words. You'd seen the workers setting up for it when you came in, and even if you hadn't, you know when mic night is. You've spent enough time avoiding it.

"Does he sing every time?" You ask in lieu of an explanation. You don't look away from the amber liquid in your glass, letting the silence hang as the bartender does his best to follow your thought process. 

"Taehyung? Most weeks, yeah. It's been a nice change from the usual drunken karaoke. He goes around to some of the other places in town, too. Apparently he just likes to sing." 

"Taehyung," You repeat. The name rolls from your tongue a bit awkwardly. It's more than you expected, somehow, but you can't place exactly how . Just...more. "Is he always that good?"

"Oh, yeah. We have regulars now for mic night because of him. He's got a whole fan club and everything."

"Hm." You drain the rest of your bourbon and Suho refills it. He leaves you in peace then, serving some others that appear at the bar. 

The place fills faster than you can blink. That's what it feels like, anyway. It's like one moment there's you and a handful of other people scattered around, and now you're being jostled between some dude a million feet tall that definitely doesn't look old enough to be here and a girl with her tits up to her throat and surrounded by a cloud of perfume so thick that it starts a migraine behind your eyes almost instantly. She flirts with Suho a little, likely trying to score free drinks, and you roll your eyes. She pouts at him when he gives her the total, batting eyelashes that go on for miles, and for once, you wish Suho would just give in and comp the drinks. 

"I'll pay for them," You say. She was definitely saying something, maybe you should have been paying attention to it, but fuck , this migraine is only getting worse the longer she stands there. "I'll pay for your drinks."

"Oh, thanks," She says. Her smile is hesitant, and quickly turns apologetic as she takes in the boots and the ripped jeans and the leather jacket. "Um, I'm not...I don't, uh…"

"Do I look like I want to fuck you, sweetie?" She looks a little affronted and a laugh escapes you. You lean closer, letting your breath ghost over her cheek as you speak in her ear to be heard better. "If I wanted to fuck you senseless, you'd know it. And I can guarantee you it would be a hell of a lot better than the watered down rat piss this guy's giving you." 

When you lean back, her face is flushed and she's stammering. You smirk and hand her the drinks she'd ordered. 

"Too bad you’re not, you don’t, huh?" You tell her. The patronizing tone isn't lost on her, nor is your mockery of her earlier words, and she shuts her mouth with an audible click before strutting off. Suho glares at you as he pours more bourbon.

"Can you please try not to run off my patrons?" He mutters. "Some of us actually need money to live."

"Some of us would like decently timed refills and to not choke on perfume," You quip. "And better bourbon, for that matter." He hisses something about what he's giving you being top quality but you tune him out, throwing one leg over the stool Perfume Girl vacated. You'd like to keep just a little bit of personal space. 

Across the bar, you catch a brief glimpse of the girl from the night before and you wince. Her neck is thoroughly bruised, and you catch a peek of bruises and scratches on her back as she shrugs her jacket on. You didn’t mean to be so rough with her, even if she had been into it; you’re usually pretty good about remembering that the mortals are just that - mortal - and as such have to be handled delicately. They’re so fragile, it feels like they could break with a strong wind. Guilt settles in your gut and turns the bourbon in your glass to cough syrup. You’ve half a mind to just leave before she sees you, are about to turn and do exactly that, but the speakers screech to life and the deafening feedback from the mic keeps you glued to your seat. 

The crowd quiets even as the excitement ramps up, all talk silencing but for the occasional hushed whispers here and there. The first few notes of the song echo through the speakers, and a spotlight appears on him. 

He looks different this time, his hair dyed a vibrant blue that matches the glinting jewels in his ears and on his hands. He's an absolute vision and you wonder how Aphrodite has allowed him to live so long when he's so beautiful. His voice hangs in the air and calms you, the same settling in your chest as last time, the same freedom from the burn in your veins. It's addictive. 

The song doesn't last nearly as long as you want it to but the stillness inside you lingers long after he's done caressing the microphone. You place a few bills down for Suho and light up a cigarette as you head outside, ignoring the dirty looks from other patrons as you do. You're on a mission, the thrum of bloodlust returning with every second that passes, and you can't even be sure if he's still around or if he's wandered off already. 

You stand in the alley for what feels like hours, turning at every sound and smoking cig after cig just so you have something to do. You've almost decided to say fuck it when footsteps sound from the back of the bar, coming closer to you. 

His blue hair is visible even from the other end of the small alley, a giveaway similar to the light at the end of your cigarette and the smoke you blow into the air. There's no way he hasn't seen you, you think, you're making no effort to hide or be sneaky, and yet he's continuing forward as if he doesn't see you at all, eyes focused on a phone in his hand. You wait until he's just a few steps away before speaking.

"How do you know my title?" You ask him. He stops as if he'd always meant to and doesn't even bother to glance up at you or respond. The edges of your vision turn scarlet at the blatant disregard and you're speaking before you can even process the words. "I asked you a fucking question, pretty boy, you're gonna answer me. Unless you want that precious mouth bloodied up."

"And you wonder how I know who you are," He drawls, still not bothering to spare a glance at you. A scowl grows over your face at his sarcastic tone. "If you're going to hit me just get it over with. Otherwise, I have places to be."

He stands, waiting and expectant, but you don't move. He's humming, quiet and to himself like he doesn't even realize he's doing it, and the red seeps away from your mind until you're left clear-headed once more. You sigh, long and heavy, and crush your cigarette into your denim-covered thigh to put it out. It tickles. 

"I'm not going to hit you," You tell him eventually. "I just wanna know how you know me. And how you do it."

He cocks a brow at that, finally looking up from the phone in his hand to level dark eyes on yours. "Do what? Sing?"

"No." You swallow around the sudden lump in your throat. The words are harder to find than you thought they'd be, lost in the depths of his gaze, in the clarity you're so unaccustomed to, in the way you feel like you can breathe for the first time in days. "I don't care how you sing, that's not important, it's the...fuck, you know what, never mind, it doesn't fucking matter." You push off the wall and step past him to head towards where the streetlight gleams off the bar windows. 

"Tell me." The command has you stopping in your tracks, and you're again flooded with just wanting to know how. How he clears the haze, how he stops you, how he makes you feel real. You turn, hands stuffed into the back pockets of your jeans. "How I do what?"

It takes you several long breaths before you can answer, and you aren't even sure he can hear you over the sounds of people leaving the bar, and you find yourself disappearing into the crowd without waiting for a response. Your own words are reverberating in your skull, getting louder with each step you take, and you wish you could just turn it off . 

"How you make me feel like a person again."

You avoid the bar for a few weeks, going hours away from your usual area to an unfamiliar hole in the wall just to make sure you don’t see him. You’re more deadly than usual in your fights, victories coming quicker, injuries piling up along with the guilt, but you can’t bring yourself to return. It’s unnerving, the way everything goes quiet around him, the way you can think, but the worst is the way you can feel. Everything’s calm and steady and blue, and it only makes it easier for the regret and the guilt and the anxiety to curl around your throat and squeeze until you can’t breathe, to clog in your throat while the laughter of your siblings echoes in your ears, and you...can’t. You can’t do that, you can’t let it win, you can’t let them win, they can’t know that you’re everything they think you are and worse. 

You can’t let yourself drown in that, and yet you find yourself back at Suho’s, lost among the crowd while Taehyung’s voice surrounds you. The ache in your bones fades away, chased by the thrum of the fight that still lingers despite the hours that have passed since you felt your opponent’s femur break under your palm and their screams echoed in your ears. Everything is calm again, and the guilt nearly drowns you.

He hasn’t even finished singing before you’re outside, chest heaving as you gasp against the weight on your chest. You broke someone’s femur , and did you even really need to? The fight itself is a blur even now, snapshots playing through your mind like a montage. The way they’d darted at you first, how their foot felt connecting with the backs of your knees, the determination in their eyes when you went down, the jolt of shock as your hands wrapped around their leg, the dull throb of a barrage of hits against your waist as you pulled them down as well and bloodied their face, the blood-curdling scream as you snapped the bone like a pretzel stick.

Your breath comes faster in your lungs, forced out by the growing guilt that lodges there in its place. Images swirl in your mind, chased by a never-ending stream of thought and regret that you should be used to by now. Fuck, you didn’t need to, and you still did it; you lost control, you fucking hurt them, and for what? A couple hundred? Was it even worth it? Who knew when they’d be back into shape to fight, what if they needed the money? They weren’t even half-bad. They got you down, at least, shouldn’t you have gone easy on them? You don’t even remember their face, can’t remember what the announcer said their name was, words drowned out by the buzz under your skin.

Metal crumples under your grip and you spare a half-second to mourn Suho’s dumpster before you slam your knuckles against it. It tingles, not even real pain, and you don’t hesitate to repeat it. By the time the metal is disfigured completely, a distorted mess of paint and steel and garbage, you still aren’t in pain, but there’s a sheen of gold across your knuckles and you feel less like you’re drowning and more like you’re suffocating. The usual. You can handle that. You think. 

You don’t even realize that you’ve slid down to the ground beside the dumpster until the back door of the bar opens and footsteps echo through the alley. You wish you knew how long you’ve been here, how long you’ve sat among empty bottles and stale beer and broken glass, but you can’t be sure. The brief reprieve brought by Taehyung’s voice is long gone, chased away by the guilt and rage that still sits heavy in your chest. You hope you’re not noticeable here, that whoever’s left will just pass by and leave you to piece yourself back together on your own. 

Voices tell you that it isn’t likely, the deep baritone of one too familiar to ignore. The other is new, but you’re familiar with the tone, the inflection, the intent behind it. You've heard it before, in crowded clubs as a guy pushes too close to some girl who can barely stand, in a coffeeshop when a random customer can't take a fucking hint, at the local campus when some professor insists that there could be maybe one thing her student could do to pass. It makes everything in you curdle, the bourbon from earlier threatening to work its way back up; it screams predator , and you absolutely refuse to let anyone fucking talk to someone like that, like they have some right to whatever it is they want. 

You refuse to let someone talk to him that way. 

"Seriously, Kratos, didn't I tell you to leave me alone? Did Aphrodite not teach you your lesson last time you harassed someone?" Taehyung's voice brings a calm that's an unsettling match to the anger washing over you. You're used to the red at the corners of your vision, the tint to everything you see, but you aren ' t used to the way it all turns purple and focused and clear . 

There's no haze this time, there's no abrupt shift of you moving before you know you've done it. You can feel the glass crunching under your boots with every step you take, can feel the way the air has a chill that creeps down into your lungs with every breath, can almost taste the apprehension that's rolling off of Taehyung despite his relaxed stance. The only thing that gives him away is the tense set of his jaw and the mix of relief and fear when his eyes land on you. 

"I'm pretty sure he said no, Kratos." The god turns at your voice and you watch the realization wash over him as he realizes what - who - you are. 

"Been a while since anyone's seen you, Ares." He scoffs a little, not moving from where he has Taehyung caged against the wall of the bar, one hand pressed firmly into the brick. He's entirely too close, and you have no doubt that the stench of him permeates the very oxygen around them. 

"Been busy. Doesn't change the fact that the man said no. Take the loss, walk away." Kratos' eyes narrow at your words and he steps away, but only to move closer to you. 

"Why do you care so much? You've never been one to care about any of us before." Kratos inches closer and the hyper-focus that Taehyung's voice causes starts to melt away with every twitch of your fingers. You've never liked Kratos, all brute strength with no respect for the challenge, no appreciation of the fight, too focused on sheer power and exhilaration. He is the worst of the worst of the worst of your kind, of all the war-focused gods. Every bit of yourself you hate is every piece that Kratos loves about himself. 

"I care that you don't seem to be able to understand when someone doesn't want to be around you, you absolute piece of filth. Taehyung had a point though, I really thought the whole thing with Aphrodite would've taught you how to back off. Or should I pull the video out, I think I still have it saved for when I need a good laugh." Malice and fury twitch across the other god's face and you absolute revel in it. You can feel his anger prickling across you, like needles in your very pores, and you ache for it. It's been so long since you last had a good fight, a real challenge where you didn't need to hold back at all. 

Too long since you fought a god like yourself.

"You're testing my patience, cousin," Kratos spits. It's a little generous to call the two of you cousins - you're several times removed, at best, and potentially closer than that with your family's warped history - but you let him have it. It might make him feel better. "I'm having a conversation, that's all. And if said conversation means that we end up back at my place, then, well, can anyone really blame me for what might happen to this pretty little m-"

Your fist connects with his jaw immediately and the red floods you for the few seconds it takes to register Taehyung calling your name. The calm struggles for a second, warring with the rage, but it wins out eventually. The singer's talking, but you can't make out any actual words. You're too focused on Kratos, the way he's righting and readying himself for a brawl. There's a fire in his eyes that matches the one in yours and everything in you feels alive for the first time in too long. 

This fight is different than your usual ones. There's no blur, no warped sense of time that usually comes with the adrenaline. You're focused and controlled in a way you haven't had to be for centuries, careful and precise and deliberate with every swing and every kick. The red seeps back in slowly and every time you think you're about to lose it, you hear Taehyung, still pressed against the wall of the bar. 

Kratos lunges at you for what has to be the tenth time, clearly trying his best to knock you to the ground - he succeeded, once; you let yourself get distracted, too caught up in thoughts, but it didn't last long - and you sidestep him just in time for him to ram into the ruined dumpster instead. He looks pissed when he turns back around and something in you sings at the sight. He makes for you again and you dodge again, only to be dragged back towards him by the grip he has on your jacket. Fuck, should've taken that off , whatever, he's too close.

Pain explodes in your side and you're fairly sure he's busted part of your rib, but you just slide your arms out of the sleeves and twist to plant your knee straight into his gut and then slam your heel down onto his much-less-safe toes, and then back up to knee him in the groin. It's nowhere near enough to take him out, but his nose is oozing golden ichor and he groans with every shift of his weight, and you've got him pinned against the wall with your forearm pressing hard into his windpipe. 

"Now, you're gonna listen to me you steaming pile of dog shit," You hiss. "When someone tells you no, it's not a fucking negotiation. It means you fucking leave and find someone with loose enough morals or enough internalized self-hatred that they're willing to subject themselves to your absolutely pitiful fucking excuse of an existence for the thirty-two seconds it'll take for you to get off." 

Kratos doesn't respond, just sneers and spits blood at you. It's a miracle you don't actually try to rip his head from his body, because the thought crosses your mind for a second too long. Instead, you just press harder against his windpipe and enjoy the choked gasp that it draws. 

"You don't stalk people either, the way you did with 'Dite. Don't you know it's better to let them come to you sometimes?" You tsk, ignoring the way he claws uselessly at your arm. Gods may not need to breathe, that's a fact, but they feel pain, and there is no way this isn't absolutely excruciating for him when even you can feel the small bones in his neck cracking and breaking. "And if I hear even a whisper of you pulling shit like this again, then I'm gonna find you, you pigshit. And when I do, I won't hold back even the slightest, and do you know what comes after that?" 

His eyes are full of fear now, and only grow wide with terror as you lean in close enough that he can feel your lips against his ear as you whisper. 

"You are going to wish that you could die." 

When you do release him, he disappears instantly, with a cloud of acrid grey-green smoke curling around your ichor-spattered boots. He's only been gone a second when you slump, the adrenaline fading as quick as Kratos had left. Your side is throbbing now, your knuckles are bruised and broken and gold, there's a pain in your leg that you aren't sure what's causing, your head is screaming even through the high of the fight, your face stings in the crisp-cool air. Every breath makes the pain worse so you stop breathing. The brick wall of the bar is rough against your palms, but it's the only thing around that can keep you upright, so you'll take it. 

"Well," a voice drawls from your left. You'd jump if you had anything left in you, but every ounce of energy is gone, spent teaching Kratos what Aretha Franklin meant when she sang about respect - and really, there was another fantastic singer, you really should visit her sometime soon - so instead your head lolls to the side. You aren't sure what it is that jolts through you when your eyes land on Taehyung, fingers curled carefully around the collar of-

Your jacket. That's your leather jacket. You barely remembers shrugging out of it, but you're glad it's not on the ground, trampled and covered in the gold spatters that decorate the rest of your body. 

"Well?" You echo, wincing at the pain it causes. You've definitely got a busted lip, that's for sure from the way it feels different and swollen, and you're pretty sure there's a head wound, too, because you don't remember there being a golden halo around Taehyung before the fight. 

"Well," He repeats, slinging the jacket - your jacket - over a shoulder. "You should get that looked at." He starts walking, making his way to the entrance of the alleyway. He gets halfway there before he stops and turns and cocks a brow. "Are you coming, or do I get to keep this?" Your jacket waves a little, as if he's wiggling it, and it makes you feel like a stray dog being lured off with treats. 

You're never going to tell anyone that it works.

Taehyung's place is as nondescript as the car he parks outside. It's a plain apartment building on the outside - looks like maybe it was a hotel back in the 1930s, based on the outdated carpeting in the lobby and the grate on the elevator he steps into. Even the hallway is plain and unassuming as he leads you to the end and uses an old, tarnished brass key on an older, more tarnished brass knob. You aren't sure what you expected, you can't even begin to guess what Taehyung is like outside of the dirty alley or the stage where he sings, can't fathom what kind of decor he could possibly have. 

What you step into isn't anything you could have guessed. It looks like he has the entire rest of the floor to himself based on what you can see, but there's also a spiral staircase tucked into a corner, bookshelves built in under each step that are filled to the brim, and a fireman's pole in another corner, so there's at least one more level above this, but something tells you both the staircase and the pole continue past that. There's artwork everywhere, pieces you recognize and pieces you don't, several van Goghs and a couple from Matisse and you think in the corner you spot an actual fucking da Vinci sketch that's supposed to be somewhere in Europe. There's a gramophone beside a top-of-the-line sound system, an entire wall that's just a record collection, books upon books, framed bits of poetry - including an actual hand-written rupi kaur, a signed Maya Angelou print, and a signed cover of ain't i a woman by bell hooks that you would die to know how Taehyung got his hands on. It's a museum's wet dream and yet it retains a lived in atmosphere. There are mugs left on tables, blankets strewn about as if someone just got up from a nap, an easel propped up by a far window with what looks like an impressionist painting of the cityscape, books tossed down half-read with receipts and coupons and candy wrappers and everything but a bookmark tucked between the pages. 

It feels like a home and it makes your heart flutter in your chest at the same time that something in your stomach shrivels up into itself. 

Taehyung walks like he’s meant to be followed, so follow you do. You spy another man - older, you think, but it’s hard to tell, really - sprawled across a couch, blanket splayed across his lap as he watches some kind of dance show on a flatscreen hung above a warm and roaring fireplace, a couple of girls in what looks to be the kitchen, one sitting on the counter while the other stands between her legs and pretends not to notice the former stealing strawberries from her bowl as she taps at her tablet, and there are footsteps creaking above you, hidden behind walls even as Taehyung leads you up the staircase. They all look up when you pass, but only the man gives you a second glance; his eyes are a weight on your back that doesn’t leave until you’re upstairs and following Taehyung into a large, rather nice bathroom. 

It’s vintage as well, but it’s spacious and well-kept, like the rest of the place. Taehyung pats the marble counter by the sink and you bite your tongue against the urge to tell him you aren’t a dog. You don’t move though, instead watching him as he lays your jacket across a brass bar on the wall and then digs around in a cabinet for a minute or two. When he straightens up, he’s got a somewhat dusty off-white box in his hands, and he frowns. 

“Up,” He says. “I need to look at your ankle.” 

You don’t move, but you can tell he doesn’t miss the twitch of your nose at the thought of being commanded like an animal. Like someone who can’t understand. Like-

He sighs. 

“Please, will you sit on the counter, so I can look at your ankle?” You huff, but you do as he says. 

He doesn’t speak as he works, completely silent except for the odd command - “Roll it for me...alright, now flex that...deep breath...stop fidgeting or I’ll only make it worse…” - and the occasional hum under his breath. It seems to be second nature, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and it endears you more than you’d like. His touch is gentle but firm as he lightly squeezes your ankle and wraps it, lifts your pant leg to rub some kind of cream into a somewhat worrisome golden bruise forming on your calf, darts under your shirt to quickly and painlessly set your ribs before wrapping those as well. He doesn’t say anything at all until he’s almost finished with the cuts on your hands, golden ichor long gone and wounds already on their way to healing thanks to some sort of mist he spritzes on them. 

It only stings once, as he’s spraying something over some kind of cut on your thigh where Kratos ripped through the denim there without you noticing. You can’t stop the hiss as the pain hits, though you regret it when he glances up at you. 

“Sorry,” He mumbles under his breath as he dabs lightly at it with his long fingers. 

“It’s fine,” You tell him. “I’m used to it.” Your voice is rough, always, but softer than usual. You don’t know why. You can’t decide if you like it.

The entire time he works, you wait. For him to tell you it wasn’t necessary, that he can fight his own battles, that he’s not surprised a brute like yourself got into a fight, that you’re no more than what the rumours say you are. You’ve got a million different curses and insults ready to spit back at him when he finally speaks.

“Thank you,” is what comes. It shocks the words out of your mouth, and you actually look up from where you’ve been watching him methodically wipe gold away from a scrape on your forearm. His gaze is concentrated on the injury and his lips are pursed and you wish you could figure him out. 

He must take your silence for the confusion it is, because he continues. 

“I mean it,” He says. “I’m usually not someone that lets other people fight for me, but we both know that I couldn’t have taken Kratos. He’s too strong, and he was counting on that. Until you showed up.” You don’t respond. “Is there a reason you left before my set was done? Or why you were sitting in an alley beside what is possibly the most gnarled dumpster I’ve ever seen?”

You don’t answer him, instead focusing on the way his hands feel as they tilt your chin so he can look at the cuts and bruises and scrapes that decorate your face. You focus your gaze just past his shoulder, content to memorize the pattern of his gaudy vintage bathroom wallpaper, and he doesn't press for more. The distracted humming picks up again every time he stops talking, and eases the storm of guilt shame rage pain hurt grief loneliness in your chest. 

"I fight," you eventually say. Your voice is too loud in the quiet of the bathroom, shatters the silence like a sledgehammer, and you hate the way it trembles. Still, Taehyung doesn't look away from where he's carefully wiping gold from your skin, just cocks a brow, and it's as if a dam breaks in your throat. "Like, real fights. Actual competition, with rules and shit, and...sometimes the bad ones, because they tend to fight differently, it's a different kind of fight, y'know, and it's never really fair, because I'm...I'm me, but I hold back, just for fun, y'know, and it's, uh. It's alright usually, I go in, do my thing, I win, I go drink, and it all gets, I dunno, easier, maybe, for a while, like I can think right, but, um.”

You hesitate for a split second and force yourself to focus on the way the alcohol-soaked cotton tickles the cut on your head. 

“Sometimes it's not...sometimes I can't control it as well, the anger, and I kind of just lose it on people, and a while ago this guy, he almost needed his jaw wired shut, but he was kind of a prick anyway, I guess, so whatever, but, uh, today, I...there was this girl and she was doing really well, actually, y'know, managed to get me down to the mat, which is rare and pretty impressive, and I'm pretty proud of her for it now, but then, I just. I just kinda lost it, like, I just kept swinging, I couldn't stop, and then I just...I broke her leg, for no real reason, just because I wanted her to hurt, and I don't...I'm not sure why I even did it, because I'd already won, right, like what was the point of doing any more, it wasn't even helping at that point, y'know, it's not like the buzz kept up any longer because I broke this kid's leg, and I love the fights, they help clear my head for a second, but I never wanted to actually-"

You words stop short, like there are too many of them to say in too short a time, and it's then you realize Taehyung's hands are in his lap and he's looking at you fully. His expression isn't neutral anymore, it's not the carefully crafted mask of a performer, it's real and open and genuine and all you see there is pain . For you. Pain and understanding and compassion you never expected to find anywhere but the deepest corners of your soul. Looking at him looking at you like that makes you feel like you can breathe again.

"You never wanted to hurt anyone." His voice is rough, like maybe there's emotion clogging his throat as well, and you aren't sure what that does to you, but something in you jumps at the thought.

Tears mar your vision as you nod and you curse under your breath before wiping them away. He catches your quivering hand in his and just holds it for a second. His eyes don't leave yours and there are a thousand things you expect him to say but what he says is: 

"I believe you."

And that...it's more than you can take, and you break, right there on his bathroom counter, sobbing into his chest while he just rubs your back and hums and you remember the face of every person you've ever hurt and the look in their eyes as you left some of them for dead. 

You wake up the next morning curled up on the most comfortable chaise lounge in human history, sitting up and shoving the blanket off of you in a rush before you remember where you are, why you're there. A glance around tells you that you aren't alone; there's two guys bent over a table that you think might also be a tablet, conversing quietly and pointing every so often at whatever they're looking at, a girl balanced along the edge of the staircase holding a lyre - which, wow, you haven't seen a lyre in that good condition in a while - and strumming lightly along it before she frowns and shakes her head and restarts whatever melody she's playing, and the same guy sprawled over the couch with a blanket strewn haphazardly over him while he watches a different dance video on the flatscreen. He's the closest and you don't really want to talk to any of these people but you think you might have to because you aren't really sure how Taehyung got you here last night but you know it was quite a drive. You'd just mist over to the bar if you really wanted to, but your ribs hurt like a bitch still thanks to that fucker Kratos. Anything as intense as misting is out of the question for the time being.

The man on the chaise spares you a glance that feels longer than it should, full of a judgement you have no doubt you deserve and yet somehow fires your anger anyway. 

He rolls his eyes before you even say anything and waves a hand towards the kitchen. You snap your mouth closed and shoot him an irritated look, but you storm in that direction anyway. Healing is exhausting, and you want nothing more than some meat to tear into and a cold beer. 

When you get into the kitchen, however, Taehyung is standing there already, as if he’s been expecting you any minute. There’s a plate in front of him, full of food you barely recognize, and he slides it towards you. 

“Eat,” He says. You grit your teeth, unmoving, and he sighs again. “Please sit, and eat. You need the strength to heal properly.” 

You resist for a split second, but there’s a softness to him now. Something you can’t exactly put your finger on, but that you know is different , somehow, and it changes things. It makes you want to listen, to do as he asks, because he is asking . He’s not telling, he’s treating you like an animal. 

It’s a request, not a demand, and that makes all the difference. 

Taehyung is quiet while you eat. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t watch to make sure you’re doing it, but you have no doubt he’s keeping an eye on you. It’s quiet, but not unbearably so; the air is broken by the sounds of the lyre and the television, as well as the soft chattering of the men at the table. It makes it comfortable, makes it soft in a way you’re unaccustomed to being, like the way people talk about lazy Sunday mornings or that voice they get when they see a cute animal.

It feels like home should be, instead of what yours is. 

“So why’s Pretty Boy giving me the death glare?” You eventually ask past a mouthful of food. Taehyung barely looks up, just glancing past you to the guy laying on the couch. You can feel his eyes boring into your spine, but it’s nothing new. 

“Taemin’s just protective,” Taehyung says softly. “Especially considering the stories.”

“The ones about me, you mean.”

A myriad of emotions passes through his eyes when he nods, and you wish you could more easily decipher them. Maybe in time, you will. 

Maybe.

“Those, yes,” He says softly. “But he’ll learn.” He doesn’t say it, but nonetheless, you hear the words as clear as day. Just like I did.  

Someone hums behind you and you glance over to see a woman - the strawberry thief - making her way into the kitchen. She gives Taehyung a look you don’t care enough to figure out, and they have an entire conversation in the span of five minutes. Something about it irks you, and it only gets worse when they start moving around each other, Taehyung handing her things without her asking. 

It’s ridiculous, and you know it, but the air gets heavy in your lungs and your head starts to swim and suddenly you’re suffocating. It’s too much, there’s too much here, and you can’t take it anymore. 

The force with which you shove away the counter would have slammed it into the wall were it not already attached. There are slight cracks in the granite tops, though, and there’s just enough clarity as Taehyung calls your name for you to feel guilty about it. It’s not enough to stop you though; you have to get out, you need to get out, before you do something worse, and the cracks in the granite are proof of that. 

You’re out the door in an instant, your form coalescing painfully back into solid matter as you reach the hallway. Your ribs ache, screaming with the effort of trying to mist away from this place, this home , and you lean against the wall in the hope that it will help steady you. 

The door opens behind you, the creak of the old hinges deafening in the silence of the hall. There’s a commotion behind it, voices overlapping each other and reverberating in your skull until they’re a twisted mockery of your siblings. 

You stumble down the hall, one hand clutching your ribs to keep them as still as possible despite your movement. It’s not lost on you that there are footsteps following you, but you can’t focus on them now. You’re not moving fast, and you need to be, you should be running , but you can’t. Your vision is already clouding slightly at the edges, the sudden spike of adrenaline waning now that you’re out of the apartment. 

Someone says your name and you swing. 

It’s instinct, the way your fist flies through the air; you can’t control it, not this, not when the red is all you can see even as it seeps away and turns lilac. It doesn’t matter anyway. You don’t make contact with anything but the wall, plaster crumbling around your fist and onto the carpeted floor. 

“That was rude,” Taehyung says softly. He doesn’t sound mad, though he should, considering you almost decked him straight in the nose. “I’ll take you back.”

He drapes your jacket over your arm and walks away, toward emergency stairs tucked into the corner instead of the elevator, and you follow. He hums as he goes, and he lets you lead the way down the stairs, keeping pace with your quick steps until both of you step out a side door into an alleyway. 

Out of habit, more than anything, you light a cigarette and put it between your lips. You don’t miss the disgusted scrunch of Taehyung’s nose, but you do ignore it. The smoke is familiar in lungs, comforting, and he doesn’t understand it, won’t ever understand it, but he doesn’t have to. 

“Sorry, Tae,” You say after a few minutes of silence. Taehyung shrugs one shoulder and moves to lean beside you against the stone of the building. 

“Are you okay now?” You nod, taking a deep breath, remembering how Hestia had taught you, so long ago, how her hand felt against your chest, the warmth and love it held. “Then you’re forgiven. And you can call me Calliope, if you want.”

You’re both quiet after that. He doesn’t make fun of you, he doesn’t judge you, he just silently drives you back to Suho’s bar, which is when you remember that he doesn’t know where you live. You’re fine with it; you don’t want to see him in your run down hovel. It’s not much, especially compared to his own apartment, but that makes sense, too. 

What could ever live up to the home of a Muse? Not even a muse, really. The Muse. The Head of the Nine Muses, the one called on most often by those in need, the one that everyone knew, the one that Hephaestus just put statues of in the gardens of Olympus, according to the rumors that Apollo sent you. 

The calm that he brings lasts until you get back to your apartment, nearly ten full minutes after you disappear into the alley beside Suho’s bar. It’s the longest the calm has ever lasted, and the view of the city tinted lavender is one you think you love. 

If you can love. 

Things get clearer, somehow. The weight on your shoulders lessens, makes you feel less like Atlas and more like you, how you were all those years ago in the now-ancient days when things made sense. When people fought for honor and glory and justice more than they fought for oil and death and greed. 

It could be because open mic nights are frequent around the city, and you’re able to figure out his schedule pretty well. You don’t go every night that he sings, just when it gets to be too much, when the scarlet haze starts to bleed into your irises like a flag in front of a bull. It helps, for a while, lets you settle long enough to pull the pieces of you back into a shape that vaguely resembles yourself. 

It could be because the fights happen every night, and Taehyung is no stranger to where to look to find them. He watches every one that he can, when he isn’t singing, and his presence anchors you. Focuses you, so that you can pull your punches just enough, so that there’s less hurting and more fighting. It doesn’t work every time, you still lose yourself in the rage and do more damage than you ever mean to, but it helps enough. And when it doesn’t, he’s there, to slide a hand across your shoulders in that exact same way that Hestia used to, that Apollo might if you let him close enough to know you’re alive, that Artemis would , were she anywhere but where she is. 

It’s a strange feeling. You’re not used to companionship, you don’t know how to have friends. You still say the wrong things and do the wrong things and he still speaks to you like he expects to be listened to, but you both are learning. You apologize more often, and he corrects himself quicker. It’s a slow, fragile thing, this friendship, but it’s there. 

Until the night when it’s not. 

You aren’t sure how it happens. It’s been weeks since you last saw Taehyung; he mentioned some project he was working on, something or another that would have most of his attention along with that of several of the other Muses. You had brushed it off when he said it, some snide remark about how you don’t need him there to win. 

You would take it back if you could. 

Because you were right, of course, you don’t need him there to win; you can do that on your own. And your control has gotten better, stronger, over the last few months, but complacency is what always leads to disaster. 

The guy deserved it, is what you tell yourself as you’re pulled out of the ring. He was a piece of shit anyway, you remind yourself as you call Apollo with shaking hands. He didn’t deserve your mercy, you tell the golden gold after you’ve begged him to help save the man’s life. Artemis would have done the same, you insist to him, long after he’s hung up the phone and left to follow the ambulance to the hospital. 

You don’t go to Suho’s. You can’t bear it, not when he might be there, not when he would read it on your face in a heartbeat. You don’t want to watch the disappointment crumble into something more familiar, something worse, you can’t watch him look at you with the knowledge that your siblings are right, that they’ve always been right, that you’re nothing better than a crazed animal. 

The club is packed full when you get there. The bartender starts to pour you a drink and you just take the bottle, leaving a too-thick wad of bills in return. The bourbon tickles as it goes down but it warms your stomach and distracts you from the haze in your mind, the repetitive beat of they were right they were right they were right they were-

“Whoops, sorry,” someone says, a second before they knock into your shoulder. You’ve been around long enough to know a fake fall, and you scowl as you glance towards them. 

He’s cute. Taller than you, with skin that would hide the marks you so love to create, and hair that looks like it would be soft in your hands. His clothes fit well, and they look like they were chosen for comfort over style despite the way he walks like a model in them, which you always find attractive. 

The smile that slips onto your face is familiar, as is the way you bring your hand up to rest on his hip in an effort to steady him. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” You tell him, not being subtle in the way you eye him. He looks soft; you love them soft. “You headed to get a drink?”

“I might be,” He says teasingly, a coy grin forming on his lips. 

“I’ve got something better, if you’re interested.”

His eyes roam along your body, his breath drawing somewhat quicker when he notices the scrapes on your knuckles. “I might be.”

It takes five minutes to get him to a corner quiet enough to talk. Less than three to get your lips on his. One and a half to start sucking a mark into his neck that makes him moan so pretty you can’t help but want to hear it again. 

One of your hands is up his shirt, playing with the pebbled buds and the metal pierced through them, while the other teasingly massages the skin of his hip when he’s torn away from you roughly. 

“What the fuck?” Your voice growls as you look up. The guy is standing there, looking for all the world like he’s ready to run, but he isn’t watching you. 

No, his eyes are on a familiar sight; Taehyung, his hair now a pretty lavender that makes you think of a home you don’t have, even as he doesn’t look at you. 

“Taken,” He growls, releasing the collar of the guy you had every intent to make cry with pleasure. The guy scurries off before you can stop him, though, and you don’t bother to hide your disdain. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” You demand, already lighting a cigarette as you head outside. Taehyung follows, pulling it from between your lips and crushing it in his hands before you have the chance to get your lighter out.

“Me? You looked like you were about to eat him .” He follows you all the way to the street outside and down the sidewalk, pulling each cigarette out of your hands before you can light it. He waits until you’re a decent distance from the crowd outside the club before he stops you, one hand lightly encircling your wrist. 

Your boots scuff against the ground as you stop, not turning to look at him. You’re too afraid to, too worried he’ll see it all on your face and just know that you’ve fucked up, maybe beyond repair. 

“Apollo called me,” is what he says instead. “Said I might want to find you tonight.”

You should’ve known. That little fuck, of course he would rat you out. 

“I didn’t-” 

The words choke in your throat. You want to say you don’t need him. You don’t need him to come running like you’re some scared little girl who can’t control her strength, you don’t need him to piece you back together because you aren’t broken, you don’t need him because you don’t need anyone, you never have. 

“I know you didn’t,” Taehyung says quietly. “I know he deserved it, I know what he did, and I know you didn’t mean to.”

Something inside of you breaks and you find yourself shaking. 

“He hurt her , Tae, I heard it, I heard her telling her friend about it on the phone, I saw her crying, I saw her clothes, okay, he-”

“I know,” Taehyung says, pulling you into a loose hug. “I know you did, it’s okay. He’s going to be okay. He’s not gonna escape his punishment from that, you didn’t send anyone to Hades today. It’s okay.”

The cloud struggles, for what feels like hours. Guilt settles like lead in your stomach, and you wish you weren’t so used to the feeling. The rage returns every time you remember what that girl looked like, what she sounded like on the phone, how you felt when you realized it was your competitor who had done that to her. 

There’s no honor in that. There’s no justice, no glory, in beating an opponent who was never aware they were in the ring, and it makes your blood boil all over again. Taehyung’s voice soothes you, slightly, makes the edges of your vision turn indigo, but it isn’t enough. 

It’s never enough. 

“I have to go,” You say, pulling yourself away from him. “I need- I have to find-”

“A distraction,” He finishes for you, too aware that you can’t find the words you need. “Some mortal that you can bruise and break and bang until you feel less like a monster?”

That’s exactly what you want to do, what you had been about to do with that guy at the club, and it’s only Taehyung’s voice calling your name in that soft, sweet way of his that makes you wonder if that’s not a good plan. 

“I’ll be a distraction, if you need one.” You whip your head around, staring at him, but he doesn’t flinch. “I’m sturdier than the mortals, I can take more. Let me be your distraction.”

“I…” You hesitate. You don’t know why. You shouldn’t even be entertaining this idea, it’s not a good one, but then...when have any of your ideas been good? “I can’t fuck in a house with eight other people.”

“You have an apartment,” He says easily. “Let’s go there.”

It’s a bad idea. You don’t do that, you don’t fuck people at your apartment, you don’t have people in your apartment, it’s your space. It’s a bad idea, it can only end in disaster. 

“Okay.”

Taehyung’s lips are soft against yours, yielding and pliant just the way you’re used to. His hands are big and warm against your ass, even through your jeans, and the feeling gives you the courage to slide your own under the ridiculously patterned button-down he’s wearing. 

He lets you lead the way through the door, kicking it closed behind you with slightly too much force. Your apartment is small, a studio with a bed tucked in the corner for the rare times that you need it. 

You push Taehyung onto it and slide yourself onto his lap, already grinding down onto the hard length you can feel there. He's not quite as enthusiastic, but his fingers are like steel against you, pulling you down with every rut of your hips. 

This, you can do. This, you're familiar with. 

You push on his shoulders, doing your best to get him on his back so you can have better access to the clasp of his jeans, but he resists. You try again, firmer, using a harsh suck against his skin as a distraction, but he still doesn't go. 

Frustrated, you pull back. 

"Not like this," He says. His voice clears some of the fog, and you frown. 

"Do you want to be on top, then? Because I don't mind, I just need it," You tell him. He sighs a little, but he flips the two of you over so he's kneeling between your open legs and your back is cushioned against the mattress. 

"How long has it been since you spent the night with someone who knows who you are?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he sits back on his knees. 

You shift, uncomfortable. "A while. Why does that matter? Just fuck me."

"No," Taehyung says, voice gentle but firm. You cock a brow at him and move to get out from under him, but he stills you with a hand on your thigh. 

"You are a goddess," He tells you, trailing his hands down so he can undo the laces on your steel-toe boots and slide them off. "You have held Victory in your palms and set her free." 

His palms burn through the denim on your thighs, but you welcome it as he slides your jacket over your shoulders to the bed beneath. 

"You are the winner of wars. You are the one who grants battlefield wishes. You are the dead's escort to Hades." He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek and then down your throat. 

He pulls back as he gets to your collarbone, eyes blown wide with unfamiliar desire, and it makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You," Taehyung tells you, with desire in his eyes and belief in his voice, "Deserve to be treated like the goddess that you are, with the respect you have earned, and the care you deserve." 

As often as you fuck people, it's been a very long time since anyone wanted to fuck you for any reason beyond your appearance and the personality you show them. But this? This look in the muse's eyes as his hands settle on your knees as he waits? 

Taehyung wants to fuck you because you're you. Not despite it, not because he doesn't know . He has seen you at your worst and yet he keeps coming back, keeps showing up as you fall apart. Each time he stays, hands you a basket so you can pick the pieces of yourself up off the ground, holds the tape so you can mash it back together, and is ready to help steady you when you start to crumble again. 

He's here for you , to treat you in a way no one has ever treated you before. He's your friend.

He cares.

You nod, however tentatively, and his lips are on yours in an instant. They're firmer now, less pliable and more controlling, but you don't mind. Not this time. 

Not with Taehyung. 

His hands don't hesitate as he strips you both of your clothes, but you can feel it each time he checks to make sure you're okay. The way that he watches your expression, the tense of your muscles under him, the cadence of your gasps for air between kisses, he reads all of it as clear as if it's a book in front of him. He slows down before you can stop him, his lips drawing back from the kisses he draws across your thighs, and he speeds up as your thoughts start to drift, swiping his tongue and two fingers through your folds to tease and bring your attention back to him. 

His fingers bury themselves in your heat, crooking slightly to brush against that soft part of you that makes the world spin, and it's all too intense. His lips are hardly even touching your skin, just pressing gentle kisses against the skin of your thigh, a gentle complement to the way he glides his fingers in and out of you, slow and steady and delicious, but it's absolutely intoxicating. 

He's talkative, too; he gives you constant praise. He tells you how well you take his fingers, how good you look with his fingers inside you, how absolutely fantastic you taste on his tongue, how he'd live between your thighs if he could. 

It's too much, and you can't be sure why, not when your orgasm is approaching quicker than it ever has, not when your walls clench around him and you soak your sheets, not when he's cleaning your cum off his fingers with his tongue.

"Good," He purrs. "Now you're all warmed up." 

His mouth hits your heat without hesitation or warning, before the aftershocks are even finished, and your hips buck upwards. His arms slide underneath your thighs only to grip them and bring them back down. You can't move much in his grip except to grind your pussy against his mouth, which he seems to enjoy, if the muffled grunts that escape him are any indication.

He doesn't stop until his tongue is buried inside you with one finger drawing lazy circles on your clit and you're cumming again, hands gripping the soft strands of his hair so tight that you would be afraid of pulling it out if you could focus on anything besides the feel of him against you.

He lets you ride the aftershock, this time. Waits until your pants die down slightly, until you're back in your mind. 

"Good?" He asks you. His voice is deeper, rumbles instead of slides, but it breaks through the post-orgasm haze long enough for you to nod. “More?”

“More,” you agree, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him into a heated kiss. You haven’t been this clear-headed in a while. Every sensation is clear and crisp, every sound heightened, everything is simultaneously more while also being exactly what it’s always supposed to have been. 

Taehyung’s cock is everything you could have expected from a muse; thick, long, beautiful, and it fills you in a way that’s indescribable as he slides inside. He groans at the feeling, deep and throaty and beautiful, and begins his thrusts nearly immediately. 

It’s as slow as he was with his fingers; steady and forceful, but unhurried. As if he wants to take his time. As if he wants to savor it. Savor you . 

“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?” He mutters, almost as an afterthought. “What you look like right now, what you look like when you’re fighting, when you’ve won and you’re triumphant? It’s fucking addictive, seeing that confidence in you.”

“Shit, Tae, don’t stop-”

“It’s so fucking intoxicating,” He groans, pace quickening. Your arms wrap around him more fully, nails like claws down his back as you arch your back to get him deeper. “You get this look in your eyes, like you can do anything you fucking want to, and it’s so fucking brilliant, because you can , you can do anything and everything you ever fucking want to do, and no one can stop you.”

A whine you’ll never admit to escapes your throat, and Taehyung drives his cock further into you. 

“Let go, my sweet,” Taehyung purrs in your ear. “Let yourself relax, just this once. For me.”

His hand touches your clit and it’s so much, too much , you’re feeling everything so intensely that it takes a solid minute to realize you’re coming down from an orgasm. Taehyung has stilled inside you, unmoving but groaning as you flutter around him, and you push weakly at his shoulder. 

He slides himself out of you, looking entirely too proud of wet spot underneath you and glistening against his lower stomach. You wobble your way up to rest your elbows underneath you, and it’s like he can sense your words before they come. 

“No,” He says simply. “I don’t you to get me off with your mouth.”

“A hand then? I don’t want you to leave unsatisfied.” 

A frown pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he leans down just enough that your lips are almost touching, a not-there kiss that you can only wish for. 

“In what world is fucking you to the point of Elysium unsatisfying?”

The crowd around you is deafening; some of them are cheering for you, but the majority are rooting for your downfall. Such is the life of a challenging the champion, you suppose. 

You don’t know how Taehyung found this place; maybe Artemis had heard rumors, or maybe he searched for it himself. You can’t bring yourself to care, not when you’ve got someone worth fighting on the other side of the arena. 

The sand crunches beneath your feet. It’s hot, hotter than it should be since you’re still wearing your signature jeans and boots - without the jacket this time. You learned from that mistake. 

Your vision tints pink as you size up your opponent; he’s massive, not one to be easily defeated, and you relish the challenge. It’s been so long since you’ve fought a giant. Excitement thrums under your veins as he turns to you. He scoffs. 

If you had a little less control, you might be flying across the arena already. He clearly has no idea who’s standing across from him. Probably thinks you’re some demigod, come to challenge him for the fleece he isn’t supposed to have. 

He’ll learn. 

Something moves in the distance. It should blend in, considering how dark it is, but instead it draws your eye, and you don’t even question why. You would recognize him anywhere, have recognized him everywhere, and his presence calms you. Makes you remember a few nights ago, falling into bed in a hotel in Rome because the burn was to much and you needed him to help you release it. 

“Try not to be too quick, princess,” The giant across from you huffs. You cock a brow and send a look to your muse, who just rolls his eyes, despite the smile playing across his face. 

Violet rings your vision as you ready your stance. The announcer yells something that’s lost over the noise of the crowd. Taehyung leans forward, elbows on his knees, excitement and pride in his eyes. 

The giant swings. 

[scarlettkat86]

Eyy, @fluttyseed, remember the stripper Sharky fic idea? Well I took it and did a little less funny and a little more steamy. Hope you enjoy. Also tagging @deaconmcsexypants and @jacobmybeloved for reading snippets, appreciate yall. Theres also stripper sharky edits at the end because I have no shame.

Characters: female dep/rook, brief Hurk Jr, Sharky Boshaw.

Word Count: 1584

Warnings: Um, its a stripper fic, so if steamy lap dances and sharky taking his clothes off aint your thing turn away now. 

Notes: Sharky’s stagename is from a disco song of the same name by Boney M, and the song he chooses to dance to is Fire and Gold by Bobby Saint

"There is literally nothing to do in this town." Rook huffed, slouching down into the couch. "What's there to do other then betting on which local a start a fight down at the Spread Eagle?"

Hurk Jr. takes a seat beside her, shotgunning a beer before he answers. "Well amigo, we can always get wasted and let the pigs loose at the Woodsons farm. Think I could ride 'em like one of those fancy rodeo cowboys!?" 

Rook laughs at the image but shakes her head. "No way dude. Last time you and Sharky blew up a silo and set a barn on fire when i took yall cow tippin." She leans over putting an arm around Hurks shoulder. "Speaking of Sharky, where is he? Does he still think I'm gonna arrest him, cause that was just a joke."

Hurk jumps up from the couch, knocking over a few beer cans from the side table and points an acquisitive finger in her face. "You was serious that day man! I ain't ever seen someone ticked off as you was. If he hadn't of saved your ass from that bull man, you'd have taken us both in!" 

Rook stifles a laugh before pushing his hand from her face. "That'd make me an accessory to a list of crimes I'd rather not admit to being a part of." She sees his face twist with amusement, then he flicks her nose. 

"Dang, you know what. Bonafide disaster of a cop cause you're always aiding our criminal adventures, but you're the best damn friend I ever had." He rubs his thumb along his goatee then says, "I tell you what. I'll let you in on where Sharkys at, but you've gotta sweeten the deal for me brobafet."

"You insult me, then insist I sweeten the deal, seriously?"

"I'm deadly serious, like a ninja. I ain't blind and I know what you're gonna see tonight will be far more better then anythin' you could imagine. Now, what I want is simple. I wanna use your jeep while you visit Sharky at his new job. That's it."

After a few stipulations, Rook drove the 40 minutes to the next town over. "That's it!" Hurk yelled. A neon sign read, 'The Swinging Sirloin Bar'. 

"You mean to tell me I drove nearly a hour to pound a few back in some sleezy bar?!" She says squinting her eyes at Hurk.

"Whoa whoa whoa. That's somethin' I don't need to know. Now a deal's a deal amigo." Hurk says with his ears covered. She's confused, nothing she said should make him cringe like that. Rook stepped out of the jeep and he took over the driver's seat. 

"I'll see ya tomorrow amigo, dont worry Sharky won't mind riding you. Shit, what I meant was giving you a ride. In his car. Oh hell, just...bye!" He stammers and flies out of the parking lot.

That was...odd. Opening the door to the bar, everything suddenly makes sense as her ears are assaulted by women hollering and catcalling. She sees a stage with a semi naked man gyrating on a random woman seated on stage. To her right is a hallway with multiple doors, and to the left is the bar. She makes her way over, taking a seat at the end furthest from stage. Her cheeks flush, not for the sight in the room, but because she thought this was a hole in the wall bar. That serves steak. Not a strip club. 

The bartender makes his way over. "The names Seth. What can I get you beautiful?" 

Rook shrugs her shoulders, "Whiskey sour I guess. I'm here to see a friend, maybe you can point me to him? Goes by Sharky."

The man behind the counter slides her drink to her. "Only know stage names and faces, got a description?"

There's a loud commotion center stage, the man on stage now had his head up the back side of the random womans skirt, seemingly motorboating her ass. Rook curses, horrified but unable to look away. "Do uh, do all your dancers get so, hands on?"

Seth raises an eyebrow. "Well now, are you curious to find out, or jealous the friend your crushing on feels up on all the ladies in the same way?"

Rook snaps her head back around glaring daggers at the bartender. "What! How did you, I mean no. I'm not... jealous." She folds her arms across her chest. "I'm-Oh. Oh my God, he's a stripper?" She pulls her phone from her jeans and shows his picture to Seth.

"Crushing on Daddy Cool? His no touch rule drives the women crazy." Rook chokes on her drink, spewing it all over the counter. 

"He's got time for a private dance. Or you can wait for his shift to end." He laughs pouring her another drink and wiping up the mess. "But if you wait, some other woman will probably take his last dance."

That's how Rook found herself sitting on a questionable leather couch in a dimly lit room, waiting.

Ten minutes felt like an eternity, before she finally heard the door open. She resists the urge to turn around and face him when he starts speaking. 

"First things first, I got a couple ground rules. One, no touching unless you have my consent, two, hav-" Sharky stops dead in his tracks when he finally comes face to face with his customer. He twists the owl ring on his left finger, opening and closing his mouth before finding his voice again. "Uh, he-hey shorty. What uh, how-why are you here?"

Rook stretches her arms out, relaxing into the couch. "Well isn't it obvious? I've been missing you lately. Now I know why you've been gone." 

"I ain't been avoiding you if that's what you're thinkin'. Just need extra cash, and well with my record'n all..."

"Well I've got plenty of extra cash." 

"Hell dep, I can't ask for your money, I-"

Laughter bubbled up from Rook, catching him off guard. She stood up, placing her hand on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. "I don't want you to ask. I wanna see your skills, Daddy Cool." She watches as he pulls out his phone, unsure if he's actually gonna strip. Maybe it was the way she purred his stage name in his ear, maybe it was part of his act, but the next thing she knew, he's carrying her to a chair in the center of the room. Music she's never heard before starts playing and Sharky starts circling her. It's an odd song choice, she's beginning to think he's joking but then his hand reaches from behind and wraps around her neck, the other tracing her shoulder and chest. His lips graze her ear, "Remember, no touching." 

The song slows to a sensual beat and he's rolling his hips in sync with the rhythm. He slides across the floor, hands on her knees, pushing her legs apart. Her breath catches in her throat when he slides his hips between her legs, grinding against her. He leans back enough to pull the white tshirt off, wrapping it around her shoulders before running his hands down his chest. She slips her hands down his back feeling his muscles contract with each roll of his hips. Suddenly he's moving away from her, a playful smirk tugging the corners of his mouth. "Shame dep. I had one rule and you've already gone'n broke it." He sways his hips, thumbs tucked behind the waist of his jeans. "Maybe I should go?"

Rook is flustered, what she thought was going to be hilarious, is actually turning her on more than she wants to admit. She turns her head to the side, clearing her throat. "No. Don't- don't stop." She hates how desperate that came out. 

Sharky nods his head, sliding his hands to the button on his jeans. He bites his lip as he pops the button open, turning his back to her, moving his body until they drop to the floor. Sharky looks back over his shoulder and slaps his ass. Rook giggles at the sight, though the orange thong actually looks like sin on him, then he's striding her way. He puts one leg up on the arm of the chair and takes her ponytail, pulling it free, grabbing fistfuls of loose hair. 

He starts singing with the music "I need it, jesus. Burn baby burn." Pulling her head to his waist and snapping his hips. She can't resist the urge to grab his thighs, and he makes no move to stop her this time. Her cheeks are hot as his erection brushes against her chin. He pulls her head back, leaving kisses along her jaw and neck as he slides his body back down. Instinctively she wraps her legs around his hips. Sharky cups her ass, picking her up, and begins rocking against her. The music stops but neither of them seem to notice. Rook smashes her lips to his, all teeth and tongue. She pulls away as she realizes she's just kissed him. He gently lowers her back to her feet, taking a few awkward steps back. 

"I um, I don't know what came over me..I" 

He shakes his head, "Shit dep I didn't mind whatever that was."

"I wasn't finished. I was gonna see if you wanted to take me back to your place, finish what you started here?" 

"Hell yeah, but just so we're clear, you started this."

[lichlover]

3, i wanna say 12 but lup doesnt count, 13, 14, 15, 21, 23, 25, and 27 but im not forcing you to answer that last one that shit is hard

fanfic end of the year asks!

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

gosh, that’s a hard one. no spoilers for anyone who wants to read it still, but the last half of the first chapter of the other side of paradise turned out really well? i’m really proud of how harmonic the dialogue and descriptions are, particularly because i tend to struggle with that sort of thing, and i feel like i have merle and magnus’s voices pretty solid. it was also super fun setting up for the big twist at the end of the chapter!

12. favorite character to write about this year

god dammit, eden.

okay, it’s no secret that taako is one of my absolute favorites, and just looking at the sheer wordcount i’ve racked up for him alone, i know the numbers are well in his favor. but i will also cheat a little and say this, because i want to tease an upcoming special something: ren is so much fun to write. she’s a doll with a good heart and a wonderful vibe, and writing from her perspective gives me the best of warm fuzzy feelings.

13. favorite writing song/artist/album of this year

this playlist, for sure! there’s something about the warmth and rhythm of 20s-40s jazz that never fails to be inspiring.

14. a fic you didn’t expect to write

most definitely rise, thanks to someone and their absolutely stellar fic, just saying, eden. the idea was completely impulsive and self-indulgent, and i was originally just planning to do a little drabble in response, but the longer it went on, the more invested i became. i’ve never been happier to be in umbra staff angst hell and—psst—if you liked rise, just know it isn’t the last you’ll be seeing of lup sassing an umbrella.

15. something you learned this year

i’m a good writer.

no, really.

like, i’ve always known that i’m above average in grammar and spelling, and i can certainly put together some clever sentences when i want to. but this is the year i learned that not only do i have talent, i can do some pretty great things with that talent. this is the year i stopped making excuses for myself and started taking compliments when they came. it’s been hard, and i still catch myself self-deprecating more than i’d like to admit, but i know that i’m a good writer. even on my worst days, i excel in my craft unlike anybody else does, and that counts for something.

21. most memorable comment/review

okay, i swear��this isn’t just me sucking up, but you left a comment on rise about how my lup voice is “incredibly original and fittingly charismatic” and it’s really stuck with me. lup always struck me as a very charismatic person through wit, intelligence, and compassion alone, and i’m so, so happy that i was able to convey that through a fic that’s solely dialogue.

also, all iterations of “I WILL JOIN THE LUP CULT” on obtaining a cult following (and other essentials) were an absolute delight and i just want all of you to know that you are now formal, admitted members of the lup cult. congratulations. please pick up your red robes and “best of lup” compilation cd at the door.

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t

ugh, i have a taakitz ice skating au (not that one, the other one) that i just cannot do right now, not with eoae and cyberpunk au ongoing. patience is a very difficult thing for me, but i forced myself to set it on the back burner for now. maybe next year.

aaaaand… there’s another reaper squad bonding fic i have in its conceptual stages! a very silly, self-indulgent thing that ends with krav, lup, and barry getting tipsy and telling stories. i’m very excited to write it.

andasequeltorisebutthat’salongtimecominglmao!!

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

i’m going to cheat again because holy heck, yall, there are so many amazing fics out there that you need to read.

permanence by @raininginadelaide is one of my absolute favorite fics. ever. it’s a gorgeous taakitz modern au and it’s been hugely influential in how i’ve developed my writing style.

bury the lead by @marywhal is the best feel-good high school au you’ll read all year. it’s narratively and emotionally satisfying in the best of ways, and it also has one of the most solid taako povs i’ve ever read.

hold together by @transdavenport is chilling and visceral and utterly gorgeous. it pitches you headfirst into some grade-a eldritch imagery and amazing reaper-centric concepts with excellent writing to boot.

and i recommend absolutely anything written by @inkedinserendipity, but i will link a quiet refrain in particular. this, everybody, was one of the first taz fics i ever read, and what spurred me to start writing for the fandom. it’s heartwarming and utterly spectacular in every aspect of characterization, and it’ll always hold a special place in my heart.

27. favorite fanfic author of the year

well. guess i’ll die.

no, honestly, though, i’m going to give a shoutout to the entire taz fic writers discord right here. this is a groupchat full of the most fascinating, brilliant angst liches i have ever met, and it’s the oddest family i’ve ever joined, but i’m so, so glad i did. i’ve read so many stellar fics over the year just thanks to them alone, and every day is just a constant flood of support and inspiration. thank you, all of you. you’re uniquely wonderful and i’m sure i wouldn’t be where i am in the fandom without you.

that said, i have to give another shoutout to @inkedinserendipity for literally inspiring me to get involved with the taz fanfic scene. seren’s writing is accessible and stunning—visually, character-wise, plot-wise, in absolutely everything she does. seren, i swear i’ll get through your entire fic archive one day. i might burn through all the emotions i have on reserve, but by god, it’ll be worth it.

[krupnick02]

Mun meme

tagged by: @mettatoniic my dash’s princess charming tbh tagging: @wabbitseezon @hoopsheartthrob @bugsbunnyhere @schmendriiick @breweddeath @sangdeath @wandererwendy @killingmoonlight @weebiter @pxcifrisktic @ofishd && tbh ?? all yall. who my mutuals. who are you. tag me if you steal this bc i wanna know if ur cool with that?? pls??? there’s so many of you and idk who’s done this yet pls

RULES: Answer the questions in a new post and tag some blogs you wanna get to know better !

A - age: 24 B - birthplace: texas!  C - current time: 12:21 am HOOH ! D - drink you had last: i thought this shit said cola-cola but it’s coca-cola cola-cola .. E - easiest person to talk to: @jose-carioca @wabbitseezon @angelton @mettatoniic !! i’m not the easiest person to talk to so bless yall for giving me yalls time, i love yall. F - favorite song: dude it depends on the time. currently, it’s DANCE WITH THE DEAD’s “ANDROMEDA���, Pat Benatar’s “Promises In The Dark”, Rob Zombie’s “DRAGULA”, Syringe’s “shoot the party” & Papa Roach’s “Blood Brothers”. ♥  G - grossest memory: TOO PERSONAL. LET’S SETTLE FOR THE TIME MY ASSHOLE EX SENT ME A VID OF A THING BEING KILLED PAINFULLY. :) boy that scarred me for life H - horror yes or horror no: HORROR YEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. HORROR IS MY LIFE, MY BLOOD, MY STYLE, MY EVERYTHING. I can get hella gross and descriptive when you write horror & gore with me, so watch tf out lmao. I LIVE for horror. I LIVE FOR IT! I - in love ?: for the past 9 years? yeeeeeeeeesss. ♥ i’mma marry this girl and make a future with her asap J - jealous of people: yes. :/ i hate it lmao. K - killed someone: time will tell lmao .. but nah, i haven’t. i got into a massive fight with two bullies from my school tho as soon as we got off the bus. gave those asshole neighbor boys black eyes and bloody noses. ya don’t fuck w’ me my uncle’s a retired boxer & taught me not to go down without a fight. L - love at first sight or should i walk back by again?: ttthaAAHt’s lust at first sight, morty. love at first sight doesn’t exist, it’s a bunch of bullshit morty. humans need to get to know each other and see each other’s bad sides and shit and get comfortable together before they can fall in love, morty. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT IS A BUNCH OF SHIT FIGHT ME, DISNEY. THAT SHIT TAKES TIME, TRUST AND SOME REEEEAAHHL HUMAN COMMUNICATION. 🤘 M - middle name: nicole! my first name was almost martina and tbh i wish it was that instead. :// i’ve known some asshole nicoles lmao. N - number of siblings: 1 big bro. he’s .. something. :/ O - one wish: why you gotta put me on the spot like this. why? I DON’T LIKE THESE BECAUSE I’M ALWAYS IMAGINING A GENIE LOOKING FOR LOOPHOLES TO CONSTANTLY FUCK YOU OVER. EVER SEEN WISHMASTER? YOUR ACTIONS WILL HAVE CONSEQUENCES. but if I had to have one wish that DIDN’T FUCK ME OVER WHAT-SO-EVER .. it’s financial stability for both me & my mom for the rest of our days. good money income pls. if I can’t wish for money then goddammit I WISH I WAS A SHAPESHIFTER.  P - person you called last: my mama. had to help her escape a social scenario lmao. Q - question you’re always asked: “how’s the ged going?” IT AIN’T I’M DYIN SCOOB R - reason to smile:  LMAO DUDE I FORGOT TO EVEN FILL THIS PART IN. SORRY, HATTER ( @mettatoniic ), I LEFT YOUR ANSWER IN DFGJSDFG.

but shit, a reason to smile? the things that make you laugh. that’s a reason to smile. the ships you ship and love so dearly. the good friends you’ve managed to make. those are reasons to smile, man. S - song you sang last: “he will never be satisfied, satisfied, satisfied!!” T - top 3 fictional characters:  s..hit. uh, maka albarn (anime), molly grue & the unicorn from the last unicorn. and fizzgig. i love them vry much yes. U - underwear color: white. v: creepy. you wanna know if they’re laced, too?  V - vacation: expenses free & luxurious visit to disneyworld. nice hotel with a bomb ass pool and awesome, relaxing hotel room. B) W - when’s your birthday: march 23rd! X - x-rays: s h r u g. i’m sure something’s out of place somewhere with how my joints are always POPPIN’. Y - your favorite food: homemade flour tortillas, homemade beef stew, spaghetti, beef rice & tamales, cheese pizza, french fries, cheeseburgers, chorizo & eggs (my grandma made this all the time and o my god i miss it .. ), moist chocolate cake, flan, cinnamon ice cream, country fried bacon oh my god. country fried bacon + flour tortillas = im Dyin Z - zodiac sign: Aries !! MAAAAAH -

[chikkou]

Imma just need you to answer every one of those OC questions. I thirst for more information.

STOP this is so sweet omg…ive answered some already but ill definitely answer the ones i havent for u! 

this is super long by the way so for yalls sake im putting it under a cut lmao

1. Is there any OC of yours you could describe as a “sunshine”? 

i think id definitely say amara and jeanne fit this description a lot. jeannes favorite color is even bright yellow, like the sun! 

12. Name an OC that isn’t yours but who you like a lot

i LOVE @elliexer‘s ocs… like all of them. every single one. theyre amazing

14. Introduce an OC with a tragic backstory 

ill talk abt dominiques! basically, in my story she becomes queen at age 20 after her own parents (the previous monarchs) died tragically. she married her then-boyfriend, marius, and he became king. in their universe, the king and queen rule jointly, and one can override the others actions, etc etc.

she was really in love with him at first, and she did her best to be a just monarch, but power corrupts and marius, whose family were nobles always aching for more, became more and more evil the longer he ruled the kingdom. it got to the point that he was killing innocents based on his whims, like just because he felt like it. dominique had loved him, but after seeing what he became, she knew what she had to do, and had him assassinated. 

on top of that, she had been sick for many years and was dying of her illness, she had no family left, and none of her children were interested in ascending the throne. she had to give her entire familys lineage away to her closest lady-in-waiting (actually annaliese) because of her husbands evil ways. and thats ALL JUST THE BACKSTORY… not even starting with what happened to her in-story lmao

15. Do you like to talk about your OCs with other people?

yes omg i fucken love it… i get worried when i do tho cause i feel like i talk too much lmao 

16. Which one of your OCs would be the best at biology (school subject)? 

annaliese definitely, and probably mathilde as well! also dolores because thats literally her job (shes a doctor)

18. Any OC crackships? 

i think takako x aurelie would be cute!

19. Introduce an OC that means a lot to you (and explain why)

all of my ocs mean the world to me, but i gotta give special mention to annaliese and marianne! i first created them when i was figuring out my sexuality, and initially they were just the queen and her lady-in-waiting. around the time that i was starting to embrace my gayness, i made the switch from that to them having been good friends (but still the queen and her lady-in-waiting), and finally i changed it from that to them being joint rulers together and also married and in love. thats definitely the first time i began to accept that gayness was ok and good! 

20. Do any of your OCs sing? If they sing, care to share more details (headcanon voice, what kind of songs they like etc)?

i like to think that all of my ocs sing! itd take so long to go into the details of it LMAO but i definitely imagine different voices and musical styles for each!

22. Is there any OC of yours people tend to mischaracterize? If yes, how? 

not to my knowledge :o 

23. Introduce OC that has changed from your first idea concerning what the character would be like?

most of them! i think, of all of my ocs, annaliese has changed the most. initially, she was supposed to be a cruel tyrant that, at the end of her story, was going to be deposed and possibly killed. she was also russian i think LMAO… and she had the throne by birthright

in the current story, annaliese is queen not by birthright, but by choice. in her story, she was initially a servant in the castle of the queen and king (dominique and marius), and worked her way up the ranks to being dominiques closest confidant. after a long time, dominique, who was dying, sent annaliese to kill the king, and, because the princesses were not interested in ruling, she was given the crown as payment.

while annaliese does still have a bit of that “iron-fist ruler” type thing, its not NEARLY as bad as it was, and shes certainly not a cruel tyrant anymore. shes also not russian now, shes french

24. If you could meet one OC of yours, who would it be and why?

i think i would meet elyse! shes cool and can do magic

25. The OC that resembles you the most (same hobby, height, shared like/dislike for something etc?)

amara for sure. the only real difference between me and her is that she has violet eyes, which i decidedly dont lmao

26. Have you ever had to change your OC’s design or something else about them against your will? 

not to my knowledge!

27. Any OCs that were inspired by a certain song? 

annaliese was inspired by dont mess with me by temposhark, and i DONT wanna hear ur judgment.

28. Your most dangerous OC? 

probably elyse… shes a wild card!

29. Which one of your OCs would go investigate an abandoned house at night without telling anyone they’re going?

definitely jeanne, probably elyse30. Which one of your OCs would most likely have a secret stuffed animal collection? 

jeanne, dolores, ophelie, and aurelie!

31. Pick one OC of yours and explain what their tumblr blog would be like (what they reblog, layout, anything really)

i think takako would have a really minimalist blog, like, just a black and white transparent theme, and she’d only reblog aesthetic pics

33. Your shyest OC?

i think that would be ophelie… shes VERY quiet and nervous a lot, but shes really nice!

34. Do you have any twin characters?

yes!! i actually had a bunch of twin ocs back in the day, but the only ones i still actually use are mathilde and aurelie! theyre identical twins and are the children of dominique and marius, which makes them the princesses!

35. Any sibling characters? 

yes! mathilde and aurelie, of course, and marianne and jeanne! 

36. Do you have OC pairs where the other part belongs to someone else (siblings, lovers, friends etc)? 

as in, i have an oc in a relationship with someone elses oc? if so, sort of! @agithahime and i used to be really into rvb, and so we made rvb ocs that did everything together lmao. their names are charlotte (hers) and marceline (mine) !

37. Introduce an OC who is not quite human 

definitely the goddess of night, who is more like the physical embodiment of night. she actually doesnt exist on this plane, but whenever she does arrive on earth, the night follows her wherever she goes. she looks roughly like this (also designed in rinmarus dollmaker!): 

38. Which one of your OCs would be the best dancer? 

i think marianne and aurelie would be really elegant dancers!

39. Introduce any character you want 

this is mathilde! she is one of the princesses in annalieses story. shes a really sweet girl, and very beautiful, but also very shy. shes also trans! and she decides against taking the throne because, apart from having no interest in ruling, she wants to travel the world and find her calling. shes a very intelligent girl and i love her

(also designed in rinmarus dollmaker btw!) 

40. Any fond memories linked to your characters? Feel free to share!

honestly i just get so happy writing their stories… it feels good knowing their tales are being told! 

41. Has anyone drawn fanart of your OCs? If yes, maybe show a picture or two here (remember sources & permissions!)

not to my knowledge, but id be SO HAPPY if someone drew one of my ocs… id honestly sob my eyes out LMAO

42. Which one of your OCs would be the most interested in Greek gods? 

elyse!! she LOVES greek mythology, but like. to an unhealthy degree almost. aurelie also really enjoys greek myth! 

43. Do you have any certain type when you create your OCs? Do you tend to favour some certain traits or looks? It’s time to confess

i always give my ocs wavy or curly hair, without fail. the only time i ever give an oc perfectly straight hair is if their hair is short, because then straight hair looks cool LMAO

44. Something you like about your OCs in general

theyre always really creative and intelligent! 

45. A character you no longer use?

i have SO MANY characters i dont use lmao… a lot of them were either ocs for a work that im not interested in anymore, or their stories just made no sense. of all my ocs that i dont use, my favorites are definitely the two twins! their names are momo and naruka

in their story, momo was shot and killed, but because they had been switching clothes that day, everyone thought it was naruka who had died and naruka decided to keep the charade up, too scared to tell anyone the truth. its really fucked but anyway! heres a picture i drew of them, but never finished:

46. Has anyone ever told you that you treat your OCs badly?

thankfully no lmao… i love my ocs!

47. Has anyone ever (friendly) claimed any of your OCs as their child? 

im sure sam has a few times LMAO

48. OC who is a perfect cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure

definitely jeanne. she is a ray of sunshine and i love her

49. Which one of your OCs would most likely enjoy memes

ABSOLUTELY JEANNE LMAO… also i think probably aurelie too 

50. Give me the good ol’ OC talk here. Talk about anything you want

of all my ocs, only one thus far is straight (marius) - the rest are all same-gender attracted in some way!

as for gender, thus far 4 of them are trans, but i definitely plan on looking at some characters again and maybe changing that :^) if ur wondering, the trans characters are elyse (agender), mathilde, dolores, and ophelie (trans women) !