#sorry if youre on mobile bc this is ridiculously long

[seancekitsch]

Setting: Cabin

Genre: Mystery 

Trope: Undercover Married 

Prompt: On a roadtrip together 

Kink: Exhibitionism

from the fic prompt generator with Adrian?

ok i hope you were hoping for a full on fic bc here it is

Being Watched

smut, basically the prompt, i got carried away

“Adebayo I just don’t understand why we have to be married on all of these missions,” you sigh into the receiver of your burner phone, the sound of the shower in the cabin drowning out any possibility of your best friend hearing. The shitty flip phone looks ridiculous, and anyone would peg you as undercover at this resort. There are senators here, senators who very well could be butterflies, and you’re here with a flip phone in the honeymoon cabin after driving 6 hours in the Vigilante-Mobile with Adrian singing along to Carly Rae Jepsen. Not that you minded that part, you sang along with him and fed him sour gummy worms while he got you there safely. 

“You guys just… work like that,” she responds, not even trying to hide her snickering on the other end. She’s right, check in at the resort went smoothly because Adrian slipped his right arm around your waist and made a show of waving around his wedding ring to all of the staff, kissing the side of your head and gushing about how excited he was that the bed was one of those vintage round ones from the 70s in the cabin. You yourself couldn’t stop blushing while you curled into him and clutched your suitcase close. You looked like a couple madly in love. Leota reminds you to keep your head on straight and to stay safe and all the other things you have to do before you’re rushing off the phone because you hear the shower stop. 

It’s only a few moments until your friend, your best friend, comes out of the little bathroom of the cabin with nothing but a towel draped low around his hips. 

Fuck, this was going to be harder than you thought.

But wasn’t it always? Don’t you always go through this? Adrian always parades around the hotel or villa or cabin you’re in with that damn wedding ring on his finger and you always practically jump out of your skin, itching to move closer to him under the sheets at night or to kiss his lips in private, away from potential counter surveillance. 

A part of you suspects this is just a forced proximity thing. You didn’t always want to fall into bed with your best friend since high school, and you didn’t always wish the wedding rings were real. But now you do, sometimes overwhelmingly so…

“What? Did I scrub too hard and accidentally wipe a nipple off?”

Fuck, you’ve been staring, checking him out like some kind of perv. You shake your head, nervous that somehow Adrian gained the ability to read minds or something from too many hits to the head. 

“Nope, I didn’t,” he confirms to himself, looking down at his bare chest to check. 

“Sorry, Ade, I must have zoned out,” you physically shake yourself out of it. You can do this. 

“Are you gonna shower too?” he asks, and you swear he’s flexing now, his biceps chiseled and shiny in the lamplight. You never thought of yourself as the type to go after muscular dudes, and you still aren’t really, Adrian is just an exception. 

You nod, quickly rifling through your bag for your toiletries and speeding to the bathroom door for some privacy.

The click of the door in the latch triggers a sigh you didn’t realize was building in your chest. Just three more days, you tell yourself, three more days of this week long recon mission and you could go home, scrub the smell of his cologne off of you and touch yourself until you passed out to get rid of all this tension in your body.

You fiddle with the nob on the shower and shed your clothes quickly to jump under the slightly too hot spray. 

This is exactly what you needed. You let the steam rolling off the tiles and your skin evaporate all the tension in your muscles and your mind. You relax fully. Maybe you can just spend the rest of the night in bed watching shitty cable movies and laughing and your feelings can bury themselves for the evening. 

Your relaxation is short lived, though. 

“Hey Honey?” Adrian calls through the door; Honey is the codename for when things go sour. Shit. 

“Can I come in?”

You fiddle with the nob and quickly end your shower, lucky to be done with the shampoo so you can hastily grab the towel and wrap it around you. 

“Of course, Sugar!” you call, back, quickly unlocking the door and open it for him to scurry in, now clad in his sweatpants and an athletic training top that truly did you no favors in sparing you from his looks. He presses his back against the door, looking up around the perimeters of the ceiling. 

“What’s going on?” you whisper, clutching your towel tighter to yourself. 

“We’re being watched,” Adrian tells you, pushing up his glasses and only letting his eyes dart briefly to your body, “I just saw one of the cameras turn on, little red light next to the smoke detector.”

“There’s supposed to be a light, Ade,” you sigh, “There’s supposed to be a red light. That means it's working to y’know, detect smoke.”

You roll your eyes and turn away from him, grabbing the loose sweatshirt you brought in here and bringing it down around you without disrupting the towel; a talent you mastered from having to bunk with the guys on too many occasions.

“No that’s—“ Adrian stops himself and curses under his breath, “I know that. You have a smoke detector in your apartment.”

You snap your head up to look at him while you grab your sweatshorts. 

“Why do you say that like your apartment doesn’t have a smoke detector?”

Adrian just smiles at you. 

“Okay,” you physically shake your head to keep yourself from doing the mental gymnastics on that one, pulling your shorts over your thighs, “So, typical plan H?” 

You hate plan H. Plan H is a fake-out make-out until whoever is watching stops. You’ve done this countless times, and never has it gotten easier. Once you stop kissing its back to the normal friend shit and the ice cold longing that sinks into your gut. Every time his lips fall on yours you beg and pray to any god that will listen that this will be real, that you won't stop once you realize the coast is clear. Every time he makes you moan it's for real, and he always compliments your acting skills. You’re a shit fucking actor and you know it. You thought he knew it too, for how well he knew you. 

You sigh.

“Plan H it is,” and you towel off your hair as much as possible. It's going to get ruined and you'll just have to re-shower in the morning. But if it gets surveillance out of your room, its worth the risk. No one ever wants to watch “newlyweds” go at it. He watches you squeeze the excess moisture from your hair with an expression you can’t exactly place. With Adrian, it’s usually so easy to tell how he’s feeling. Somehow, he never learned how to hide himself or how to be sarcastic or to read emotions. But this look in his eyes you can’t figure out; it’s dark and far off and seems to be trained on your knees of all places, from what you can tell of blotting your hair upside down.

This dance is like all the rest. You come barreling out of the bathroom all hand and lips and limbs and he practically throws you on the rounded mattress. Its like this every time, you throw your leg over his hip and he licks at your jaw and you moan and you cry out genuinely because you're sensitive and you love it.

You let yourself fall onto your back, not even putting your elbows down to break your fall. Adrian’s arms quickly cage you down like a vice, his entire body pushing onto yours, his weight apparent but not crushing. 

“Fuck, I’m so glad I can call you my wife,” he says, looking into your eyes but loud enough for any camera to hear. You roll your neck back, opening it up for him to kiss the full expanse of it and play the role of dutiful lover.

“My love,” you gasp, his mouth latching onto the skin above your jugular. He sets your skin aflame, makes you burn. Adrian kisses all the skin on your neck he can reach before he throws the covers over you. This is the finale piece.

And god, how you wish this was real. It feels like torture to be so close to the real thing and to not actually have it. Knowing that you’ll be pent up and jumpy for the rest of this mission and spend an entire night with your vibrator between your legs the moment debrief is over. That the expectation now, that’s what always happens.

What you don’t expect is for Adrian to push himself back from you to pull his shirt from his chest. Fucking hell, you think, your eyes following the reveal of skin, from his happy trail on his abs to the little dusting of chest hair on his sculpted pectorals, the finale being his broad shoulders that lead to arms strong enough to carry you like you’re weightless.

He spreads your legs and pushes himself between them, and you immediately curse yourself for not putting on underwear when you threw on your shorts. That meant your panties were somewhere in the bathroom and there were so many more chances to embarrass yourself now. He slots himself between your legs in a way that looks real. Anyone watching on the other side of that little red light wouldn’t know the difference. That was key to Plan H, something you and Adrian had actually fumbled through practicing in his apartment one night, setting up his phone in different vantage points and testing what motions looked real. 

Adrian pulls at the neckline of your sweatshirt, already stretched out from years of wear as you thread your fingers through his curls. God they feel so soft, so much more defined and luscious since you convinced him to ditch the five in one.

Adrian moans against your skin, and you go stiff. 

“Do it again,” he whispers, the breath of a laugh on his words and it’s only now that you realized you had tugged on his hair. 

You open your eyes to the sight of the mirror over the bed, taking in your appearance. Your hair is tangled and damp, you look like a drowned rat. Adrian however, is all rippling back muscles and reddened scar tissue from a nasty fight the two of you barely got out of making his pale skin look even more beautiful. Shit, this really looks real, the way he’s eagerly nipping at your collarbone and neck, the way he’s flexing his muscles and taking control of the situation. Adrian is many things, your best friend, a possible maniac, weapons expert, slightly emotionally stunted, but he could easily add erotic stand in on a movie set to that list.

You decide to help him out, hiking your parted knees up until they’re around his hips, and one of his hands grips the back of your knee and pushes the leg even farther. Without thinking, you let out the neediest whine you've ever heard, feeling your skin ignite. You have entirely too many clothes on. You watch your own eyes in the overhead mirror, pupils blown wide and a stray tear leaning from the outer corner, your lips fallen open in desperation. You’re fucked. 

You tear your eyes away from yourself, desperate to do anything but break your own heart over the fact that this is not at all real and you will have to sleep in this very bed with him tonight. Your gaze drifts to the smoke detector with its damned red light. 

It’s singular red light. 

Just one, not two. 

That means…

“Adrian! Adrian, stop,” your hands move to brace themselves on his chest, putting distance between you where his lips had made connection with the underside of your jaw.

He pulls apart like he’s been burned, all except for where your legs are still hitched around his waist. 

“What’s wrong, did I hurt you?”

His eyes are wide with panic, darting around your face to look for signs of pain, of anger, of disgust. You know exactly what he’s doing. He’s been searching for that disgusted look since high school and he’s never grown out of it. You know the look well, having watched him make it towards women at community college, as well as being on the receiving end of it once or twice.

“No,” you say, your hand rubbing at his shoulder to try to soothe him. As much as he tries to say he doesn’t have emotions, you can feel them in his tense muscles. 

“Ade, look at the smoke detector again.”

He does as you say, giving you a full view of his toned neck; gorgeous and just there for the biting and if this was real you would have wasted no time in sucking a dark hickey into the expanse of skin there, claiming him as your own for all to see. Not that he’s exactly someone who has people lining up to get with him, but still. If anyone wanted to they just couldn’t. 

“It’s the normal amount of lights,” he says, but he makes no move to get off of you. You don’t want him to though, and it’s not like you untangle your legs from his waist either. 

“They stopped watching,” he continues, eyes darting around, searching your face for a new game plan. 

“I guess we should…” you trail off, avoiding eye contact as much as possible and finally starting to slip you legs away from where you had so hastily wrapped them around him. You had made a mistake there, getting way too into it yourself. This isn't the kind of place where you can get selfish, you think, there are lives at stake.

Adrian’s eyes are dark with something unknown, his expression unreadable as he searches your face once more. 

“We don't have to,” his voice sounds so matter-of-fact.

“Adrian… what-” your eyebrows furrow as you wrack your brain trying to figure him out. You start to move your legs, unhooking your ankles and unlocking yourself from Adrian’s hips- when he stops you in your tracks; hand planted on your thighs to keep them in place.

“What if… What if I want to keep going?” he asks a bold question with an equally bold straightforward delivery. What if he wants to keep going? Is this a fucking joke? He isn't the type to joke like this.

“Do you?” you ask, ready to risk it all. The words are out of your mouth before you can weigh the consequences of them. 

Adrian scoffs.

“Duh,” he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. As if, of course, of course he would want to keep going, would want to keep ravaging you and throwing you into the deep end of this torture. 

“We… Our friendship,” you gasp, grasping at something almost dumbly.

“You mean our friendship that I already totally ruined?” he balks, as if you're late to the party, as if you should already know.

“Ruined?” you parrot, and his left hand shoots to your knee,keeping you from slipping away from him.

“Yeah, I mean like, by falling in love with you and shit. I thought you knew. Chris makes fun of me all the time,” he admits, and finally his grip on you loosens. He gives you every opportunity to move away and get out of this position. That look of bracing for disgust evident in his eyes again in full force and absolutely killing you. 

“Adrian,” you say, trailing off, the words confirming in failing on your tongue. Of course you'd heard Chris making fun of Adrian, but he makes fun of Adrian for everything so you figured it was better to ignore it.

Adrian pushes himself off of you to lean back on his knees, starting to pat the bed feeling around for his shirt. 

“Wait, Ade!” You almost scream, ready to beg as long as he stays exactly how he is. Between your legs.

He freezes, his expression unreadable to you for maybe the first time ever.

“What if I want to keep going too?” you ask, voice timid and far away, but your arms remain loose and planted around his neck. 

“Do you?” he asks, not at all hiding his enthusiasm. You fucking love that about him. He looks so excited. So happy, and knowing it's all for you...

You fucking kiss him instead of formally responding, arching your back and pushing yourself up to connect with him, forcing your lips to make contact so he knows, he knows, that you’re desperate for it. His tongue licks against your lips and you moan wantonly, not unlike your fake recon moan, but this time entirely real and something you fully intended on hiding until Adrian embarrassingly pulled it from you. 

You accept his tongue in your mouth eagerly, letting him take the lead and pulling more moans from you, absolutely kissing all of your resolve out of you.

“Fuck me, Ade,” you whisper, puling your lips away from his for a moment, ready to scream the same words if he asks.

“Me?” he asks, “You want me? Jesus, I’ve been waiting so long to hear that.”

“Not as long as me, I promise,” you laugh, and pull him back down onto you, fingers threading into his curls again.

You tug on his hair again as his teeth graze your bottom lip, earning an absolutely sinful groan from his lips. You've heard this man yell and scream and groan in pain but nothing like this; this is like heaven itself, better than any drug you could think of. Better than the indica strain in your vape that Adrian always yells at you for hitting in the Vigilante-mobile.

He bites down on your lip, not worrying about whether or not it hurts, reveling in the yelp you let loose against his mouth. Adrian’s hands travel up your thighs, over your hips and those little sweat shorts, squeezing right against your pelvic joints, and then finally they dip under your sweatshirt, his hot calloused hands against your smooth skin. 

“You know,” he starts, open mouth working its way back from your mouth to your jaw, “It kinda sucks they aren’t watching anymore. Woulda been hot.”

Your brain fries and short circuits at his words. You peek an eye open at him, eyes blissfully closed and still continuing his kissing as if that was the most normal thing for him to say. Honestly, you figured Adrian had to be into some kinky shit. You've heard him discuss his threesomes with Chris, and you've seen what the trunk of his sebring looks like. He can protest all he wants but you know the fuzzy pink handcuffs aren't for any kind of “bad guy” he could be up against. Plus, he just kills them. He doesn't exactly take prisoners.

“You wanted an audience for this?” Surprise more evident in your voice than you meant it to be. Part of you thinks you might have slipped and fell in the shower and this is some sort of hallucination or fucked up knock-out dream. 

His hips twitch and buck into yours, and you easily respond with a roll of your hips in return. 

“Want those fucks to see I finally got the girl,” he responds, rocking his hips back up into you again, but on purpose this time. His hands travel to your chest and your heart breaks for him a little. You know if this goes well you'll be his first real girlfriend. The first girl to spend more than one consecutive night, the first girl to do dishes and laundry with him, the first girl to not run because you know all the ugly shit he’s done and you already don't care. 

“Always had me, babe,” you pant. Your back arches off the mattress as you meet the movement of his hips, now working up a rhythm against each other.

“We both just needed to pretend to be married to get it right,” you joke, pushing him back only enough for you to wiggle out of your sweatshirt and throw it towards the edge of the bed. Now you know what Adebayo was talking about on the phone. You guys just work like that. Like a married couple, like a real couple. He laughs and starts kissing down your chest, immediately latching himself onto one breast while he grabs at your waist. You tug on his hair again as your other hand starts to travel his toned back. He’s absolutely beautiful, you think, running your fingertips over the freckles along his shoulder blades that you've memorized at this point.

“Need to-,” you gasp as he bites down on the underside of your breast, and you're sure youll be covered in marks by dawn, “Need to feel you.”

You aren't sure when you became a beggar, or maybe Adrian just made you one. 

“Oh you’ll feel me,” he promises, starting to kiss his way down your ribcage, down your stomach. He’s much more of a kisser than you imagined, much more attentive and much more loving. You almost feel bad for not thinking of him like this when you used to touch yourself to the thought of him. That feeling immediately dissolves when he then bites at your hip, his hands pulling at your shorts to give him more access to your skin. 

It’s awkward and fumbling to get you out of your shorts, not unlike two teens going at it on prom night, all nerves and fear and curiosity bound in eagerness. He tries to whip them off of your calves, resulting only in jerking your ankles up awkwardly, and the two of you burst into a comfortable laughter as you remove them yourself the rest of the way.

He freezes for a moment, finally seeing you completely bare. At first, it’s extremely flattering, his lips hanging open and his eyes wide as they search your form.

And then you find your arms slinking from their position on his shoulders to try to cover yourself, only to be stopped by Adrian himself. His rough hands wrap themselves around your wrists, pinning them down so they can’t go where you wanted. 

“Can’t hide from the Vigilante,” he jokes, bravado evident in his voice. 

You only roll your eyes and giggle in response.

“Please don’t tell me you’ll be Vigilante in bed too,” you counter. 

“Might chase you.”

You know he’s serious, just like you know he’s serious about wishing the camera was still watching. 

Heat floods your body, and suddenly all of this is so real, Adrian, his hips pressed against your bare body between your legs, his dusting of curly brown hair on his chest, the warm eyes behind glasses staring straight back into yours.

“Adrian…” you trail off, not sure what you're trying to say or ask. It's all just, the Adrian of it all.

“No, I’m serious, babe. I might chase you,” and everything in his tone tells you he’s serious.

“Please… Adrian,” you don't even finish the sentence, because he knows exactly what you're asking for. His hands abandon your wrists to find themselves on your hips again and his lips find your own. He kisses you deeply, like a promise, hard and slow as his fingers move eagerly. Featherlight touches you didn’t expect him capable of trail from your hips to the apex of your legs. You’re so thankful you shaved in the shower; you know Adrian wouldn’t actually give a fuck about body hair, but there’s just something about a first impression you can’t help but feel. 

You gasp against his mouth the moment his finger dips and bumps against your clit, clumsy, but perfect. He doesn't stop kissing you as he explores further, tracing circles against your clit delicately, and then more forcefully.

You can tell by the way he kisses you that he’s studying, testing the waters to see what gives you the most pleasure, what you react most to. He switches from his circular motion to a rocking back and forth of his fingertip over your clit, and you think it's lights out for a second; Fuck, it feels so good. 

“Oh, that's it,” he whispers, lips still smashed against yours. You can only whine in response, high pitched and needy. You try to arch your back, try to move in any way you can to get Adrian better access to you. He only pushes you further, his grip of one hand so tight on your hip it could bruise, the other working hard to make you feel good. But he doesn't even need to work that hard, with the way you are moaning and crying against him. Your skin burns under his touch, and freezes with the absence of it. You come alive like a wire tripped and electrified under him. You love it, and you knew you would,  but it feels so different from the idea of him and the real thing. There's so much romance here, even if Adrian’s lack of romance could possibly deny that.

“Fuckin’ love it,” you moan against him, and he tries to roll his hips, incapacitated by his own hand. Quickly he pulls himself away letting his sweatpants clothed cock shove against you.

You can feel it, sort of. You can feel that his cock is big and that he knows how to move his hips but you want to know everything about it, want to memorize every ride and twist and dip of his body.

You pull your lips from his, ripping yourself to the side just long enough to speak.

“Gimme all of it,” you beg, and he absolutely does not hesitate. Adrian removes his hand from where he's working you over to the waistband of his pants so he can free himself for you. 

He wiggles his sweatpants down awkwardly, fumbling and tangled up, but frees himself without any comment from you. You can’t say that you were exactly graceful either, the eagerness taking over your motor skills momentarily.

Adrian pauses for a second, letting the moment sink in. You’re bare before each other for the first time on purpose. It’s not like when he would come in through your window unannounced after work and you’d scream and throw shoes at him. It’s full of lust and love and sheer nerves. For both of you, it isn't your first time, but as he pushes into you without weird decorum of virginity, it feels almost alien, but at the same time, this is how it's supposed to happen. He bottoms out with a little smile, searching your face for any sign of pain or discomfort. If he finds any, it fades away quickly with a kiss. His eyes are the prettiest shade of brown, you think, feeling your own little smile grace your lips. 

“Guess the newlywed cabin is living up to its name finally,” you joke, stopping again to press a kiss against his lips, “only took, what, multiple missions?”

Seven. It took seven missions.

Adrian snaps at this point. His hips move, completely without warning to thrust back out and into you again, so roughly and perfectly Adrian that it feels too good. It's everything you imagined and more.

“Wish this was happening every time,” He thrusts more, “Imagined us actually married.” 

He moans, relinquishing his self control to how good it feels. All of your nerves were already on fire, but his words kick you into overdrive, the same way that when you hold your finger over a candle too long it feels almost cold. Your nails rake down his back as his pace picks up, your legs around his back giving you leverage to thrust back on every snap of his hips. 

“Wanna be yours,” you moan, your head thrown back against the pillow to give yourself better leverage to arch your back.

“Wish that fuckin’ camera was still on,” He groans, “Want everyone to know you’re mine.”

He dips his head down, first connecting with the underside of your jaw, then to the side of your neck where he bites down, hard and unapologetic; You know it's gonna bruise up to a dark purple by morning.

“Fuck,” you moan, “Keep that up and they’re gonna.”

Adrian only laughs against your skin, and bites down again. He doesn’t falter or change his pace, his hips always snapping recklessly against you. You feel more full than you ever have, something about Adrian invading all of your senses and overwhelming all of them has you a mess already. You’re sure he’s gonna last longer than you, already your body feeling like it’s floating in space and already your mind drowning in everything Adrian.

“Adri-” you whine, but off by your own voice, as your body jolts under his touch. More accurately, his slap. Its light and playful and just enough to drive you that much further towards the edge.

“Oh… You liked that?” 

You nod.

He laughs, scrunching his nose to try and push his glasses back up his nose.

“I knew you would. Had to be kinky if you were into me,” he sighs, before slapping your cheek again a little harder, and you find your moan melting into a laugh. He’s so effortlessly hot while still being adorable Adrian. He knows you so well.

“Fuck me harder, babe,” you beg, finding it harder and harder to form words as tension rises in your body, your body overheated and every nerve like fireworks. Adrian seems to be spurred on even more by the pet name, immediately pushing into you even harder the second you call him babe. 

You can feel your orgasm building quickly, now completely sure you're gonna finish before him. He pistons into you, hips pressing flush against you, his balls against your ass. He’s no longer pulling all the way out, instead staying deep inside you and grinding his hips harder into you. It's absolutely driving you wild, moans and whines spilling from your lips. You're close, so incredibly close, and there's no way he can’t feel it from his position. He presses his whole being against you, his sweaty chest against you, his forehead pressed against yours. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, this is even more perfect than you ever could have imagined. And now you see it, the way Adrian could so easily pretend you were actually married. How easily all of this came to you both, how well you knew each other's bodies without ever doing this before. That deeper feeling without a name.

Your fingers move from his back, surely scratched and maybe even a little ripped up from your nails, and to his scalp, to those bouncy curls that you always look for in a crowded room.

“Fuck!” Adrian practically shouts as you pull at them, rutting harder into you even still. That pushes you over the edge, and you barely register the shaking of your legs or the low moan in your throat as your fist tightens in his hair. 

“Goddamn,” he chuckles, hands leaving their place on the mattress to cup your cheeks as he lets you come down from your high and finishes off himself. You whine almost pitifully as you can feel the searing heat of him spilling inside you, and he just soothes you with the sweetest kisses you've ever tasted. He stays there a little while, a lot more gentle and intuitive than you expected of him. He wipes away tears you hadn't realized had fallen and he lets you catch your breath. 

“My pretty wife,” he sighs, moving slowly as he finally pulls out of you, the sting of his departure and the cool air of the cabin knocking you like a wave. 

“Not your wife,” you correct him, but your voice is full of love and exhaustion. 

Not your wife, yet, at least. You can't afford to get ahead of yourself, especially not when you work on this team, but you let the thought pass through your mind without punishing yourself at least. 

Adrian just laughs, full and boisterous as he pulls you into his chest and holds you there in an iron grip. You think for a moment, that maybe he does that so you won't leave. You weren't planning on it anyway. 

“I still wish the camera was on,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to your hairline. 

“I know, babe,” you mumble, eyes getting heavier. 

And then. 

“Wait, Adrian, can we circle back to the thing where I don't think you own a smoke detector?”

[chaomother]

I don't exactly celebrate holidays or christmas, but bcs its such a special day for everyone else, I wanted to make my lil gift smth special too 👉👈

Does it give motherly vibes yet? I rlly tried 😭 Regardless I hope it makes your day a little better 👉👈

(Ngl I was attempting to draw all of your anons including me as chaos with your large coat wrapped around us as you give us a biiiig hug and all, but I just dunno what designs to give everyone @@ thinking of probs asking everyone what theyd like to look like as a chao, then maybe it can happen!)

+

I FINALLY FINISHED BOTH 🥺🥺😭😭😭😭💀🗿🗿

Ngl, reading Muffy dumps 🎀 anon wrote I couldn't help but think Muffy would wear lolita magical girl-esque clothes, not only is it because it's cutesy and pastel, but they're so poofy at times it reminds me of a parasol XDD But it fits because, I think 🎀 said Muffy can jump rlly high? Or did I misread it @@ I DON'T REMEMBER FORGIVE ME. But yes! I made her dress wide so she can float easier in the air as if she's a parachute on her own XDD ALSO ALSO, If you noticed, I gave her a bunch of 🎀! Ridiculous maybe but it's in honor of her creator and parent! AND HER HAIR! I apparently have a thing for drawing curls now because of Human Ava 😔 End result Muffy is beautiful! I hope everyone thinks so too I really tried my best to integrate everything that I remember about her and balance it with all the colors and design @@ Anyway, here's Muffy along with Mother!! I hope u love her 🎀 and im SINCERELY sorry if it isn't up to your expectations or if I fell short on smth:"(( PLS LET ME KNOW IF I FAIL I WILL TRY AGAIN JSHDBDHFB

- 💞🌺 the neverending dreaming creative anon

THE FACT THAT I HAVE THIS OUTFIT? HELP!!! miette looks so motherly and sexy and alluring and i absolutely adore it! your painting style(?) is drop-dead gorgeous, you give the characters such lustrous detail!!

MUFFY IS SOO INSANELY ADORABLE TOO i just love her, she's too cute!

i had seen this yesterday when you sent it in and i'm truly sorry i took so long to respond, rosa, i was at a family gathering with the in-law until just now! i'm on my laptop and i knew mobile-posting wouldn't give me the ability to convey how much i appreciate this gift!♡

[morimyth]

Hi. Disabled person here. No hate here, just adding some perspective, and OP I'm sorry in advance if this hits another nerve for you. I genuinely respect you and your opinion here, accessibility is something society needs a basic grip on in the most basic of ways before I believe we can see that same accessibility extended to other branches of disability, and I recognize this is a complex issue as like a whole, and it's very hard to come across in a genuine way here, but here goes nothing.

I only need physical mobility aides sometimes, and I need other accessibility aides that help me navigate public spaces, so I apologize if this doesn't seem compelling enough to believe, but there are plenty of buildings I can't access for various reasons, and all of them present invisibly unless I have one of these aides with me (I still sometimes push it bc of stigmas, and have had fainting/falls happen). My legs don't work well. I have chronic pain, chronic fatigue, weak joints, and frequent debilitating migraines (some of the flare ups are neurodivergent and some are physical). I have special earplugs I use, as well as UV protective prescription sunglasses, and a cane.

I have been harassed for using my cane as much as I have been harassed for needing my sound dampeners in public (they look like hearing aides) or my sunglasses indoors, due to the intense pain I experience. I have also been thrown down a flight of stairs before, by my own brother, due to a violent ableist reaction, bc he didn't believe I was "disabled enough" to need these things, and assumed I was lying. I dislocated my hip in this fall, at less than 30 years old, an injury I still struggle with getting treated to this day, for the same ableist reasons that are unfortunately being described here. Doctors assume I'm lying, because I'm otherwise "healthy" and it's not "bad enough" to run tests, but when they do, everything looks fine and they don't look deeper, etc. I'm still in the process of fighting to be seen and heard by professional long enough to receive a diagnosis, so the guy in the Best Buy asking me sarcastically if I "really need that stick" means little to me, and by extension it doesn't really matter to me if anyone on the internet calls me a liar either, I'm used to it, and imagine most folks that have had similar struggles might also feel similarly, but I don't want to assume.

One disabled person's case cannot the prototype of who deserves to have their needs met, and having a debilitating disability does not mean that all other disabilities on your shoulders to diagnose in others to deem them worthy of basic necessities. Having any blueprint of when someone stops "deserving" accessibility is the point at which the divisiveness helps the oppressor inextricably, who would much rather us both be dead in a ditch, even if one of us puts the other in it to do so. Disability validation isn't just for people who look like you, but you and I, and everyone who needs it should still be able to live in a world that can provide that accessibility regardless. Maybe we can eventually get to a point where that stigma and oppression goes away too.

Someone having a different experience from you does not mean they are automatically lying, and them wanting to say words that reach you does not necessarily mean those words are fabrications. I don't agree with how you we're approached OP, and I agree that anyone falsifying their experiences for sake of an internet argument is ridiculous at best and malicious at worst, but I genuinely believe that there's not a way thru this oppression to the other side of it that doesn't involve finding some sort of common ground of respect or of community somewhere in the equation. I recognize that not everyone wants that for themselves or agrees they want a part in it as well, and that's fine.

We can only make progress if we stop going for the throat of the person next to us, leaning into death threats when that person is (whether genuinely or not) trying to help bridge a gap of understanding, even if that may seem blind to your experience, that person is also suffering by the same ableist hands that are harming you. This stupid stigma causes all of us the same level of oppression that says "you don't deserve to show your face in this world, so don't go out in public or you're dead freak". That doesn't mean those with less physical disabilities are less deserving of care, nor that they're immune from logical fallacy, or blundering thru something badly for the right reasons.

Make all the death threats you want, really, if it helps you feel better about living in this hellscape of a society, do it. Goodness knows I've ripped throats like this myself, but genuinely, I know I can't convince anyone of anything, and can only speak from my experience in good faith, so I hope this perspective helps in some way.

I’m sick of “accessible” going from a word that meant “disabled people can physically access this space” to ablebodieds using it to describe their comfort levels and sensory needs. my brother in Christ we can’t even get through the FUCKING FRONT DOOR

[8circles]

i finally got to see the national live!!

so after 6 years of falling in love with the national, i finally got to see them live yesterday!! this is gonna be super long lmao

since the national never come to my home country during tour, when they announced their tour i booked the tickets without even knowing whether i was returning to manchester or even the uk. so when i got my offer to return i was relieved af lmao. a once in a lifetime opportunity was worth the risk and anxious waiting LOL

anyway

seeing them live was like a whole new world for me. when bryce came out to perform with the opening act (who were very good!) i was so overwhelmed. this guy, part of the band i love so much, was right in front of my face!

(like literally, cause i ran in after getting my merch and managed to snag a place right at the barrier!)

ive watched tonnes of their live performances on video, but nothing prepared me for how great they were. since bryce was right in front of me i ended up paying most attention to him.. but then when hed play the piano aaron took his place and id end up paying attention to aaron... sorry matt, scott and bryan!!!!

of course matt is such a character that hed command your attention some way or another. i did make myself look at scott and bryan at points in time bc i love all of them! i found it super cute how scott and bryan (and at one point bryce) would hold like a shaker instrument and use it when theyre not playing their own instrument. its like theyre always gonna be involved somehow lmao.

at the beginning it felt a little detached compared to the bastille show i went to last year. but i dont blame them or think its bad, cause at bastille’s dan would stand close to the stage while matt prefers to hang about with the band. its just two different performers. it kind of made me think that i was watching the national perform in their own world.. until matt stopped midway through empire line and asked security to help someone.

at that point it kind of hit me that wow, actually we're in the same space! like im not actually watching them in their own world, like im there too! and theyre not in their own space either, theyre watching us too! and of course, how nice of matt to stop because someone wasnt okay 😭 he started all over again once he made sure they were okay. by the end he said "just some problems with dehydration. stay cool!"

and he threw a plastic pint across the theatre and i got some white wine on me. LOL. at another point he threw a red solo cup so hard i think it hit the opposite wall cause there was a super loud sound. then he went on to say "...one day..." during the last song he brought out a bottle of white wine or prosecco on stage but said he said couldn’t open it because it was corked and it was hard to open those on stage with his teeth(!!!) he asked for another bottle and smashed the corked one on the ground. i love drunk matt so much.

bryce is so interesting to watch tbh. he keeps changing guitars lmao. i got so excited every time he brought out the blue one, bc i had a super clear view of his bow hanging from his mic stand and i was like "vanderlyle?????"

in the end they didnt play it, but no matter! they played so many good songs that i cant complain. my jaw hit the floor when they played hard to find cause i wasnt expecting that at all! i kept saying "oh my god" when i heard the chords lmao. it was so beautiful. i remembered the interview where one of the twins said they think hard to find is one of the most beautiful songs theyve ever written. i felt so honoured that i could listen to it live! they also played this is the last time - my favourite off twfm! i think a lot of people in the theatre love that song too! we were all shouting “it takes a lot of pain to pick me up” together. 

of course they played standard classics too. it felt so good to sing along to bloodbuzz and i need my girl. i kind of expected they were gonna play england since it was their first show in england for this tour so when aaron started playing the chords i was super happy. mr november was the best in terms of crowd involvement, you could hear everyone shouting I WONT FUCK US OVER together. conversation 16, too.. everyone screaming "CAUSE IIIIMM EEEVILLLL" was so much fun. slow show and apartment story were so great live as well. singing “SO WORRY NOT ALL THINGS ARE WELL” was so wonderful. during fake empire the twins did the guitar thing as they always do. i was so happy! 

tbh when i was there i mostly felt out of place since most of the people there were white hipsters and they came with their friends/partners so i barely talked to anyone, but singing all the classics live made me forget all of that awkwardness.

the new album was good live too. carin at the liquor store is my fave off the album and it sounded so beautiful live. matt went one octave higher during turtleneck and he sounded so clear. i was actually so surprised at how clear and almost rasp-free he sounded! we shouted “great uncle valentine jester” during day i die, it was so great!  they dedicated apartment story and born to beg to a lady who took care of them while they were in manchester. the opening act luluc came out and sang with them during born to beg. it was beautiful and perfect! ive been falling in love more and more with born to beg with each listen, and the live performance really sealed the deal with how much i love it.

terrible love was the last song off the setlist and it’s my first favourite song from the national so listening to it live was like coming full circle of some sort. during that song (and mr. november) matt went out and leaned over the barriers so that people could reach out and hug him. during terrible love he was super close to me, but i was too scared to touch him cause so many people were clinging onto him already but he was literally right there! he also stood at the edge pretending to fall from the other side. a member of the audience hugged his knees to stop him from falling!

bryce kind of smiled at my general direction at one point when he was setting up his guitar. the girl next to me blew kisses at him, i wish i did or said something too, but honestly i just stood there and melted into a puddle. during fake empire bryce went to play the piano so aaron was on my side of the stage and he waved at my general direction when they finished. a double whammy! matt came over to our side of the stage during turtleneck and screamed the chorus at us. it was so surreal. waiting for two hours outside in the cold and rain was definitely worth the place right in the front.

of course i have a soft spot for the twins, so seeing them live was the best part of my night. bryce (and at some points aaron) being in front of me was a dream come true. it’s no doubt that bryce is fantastic at guitar, but hearing him live and actually picking up the way he plays with my own ears was really something else. not only his playing, but also how he was using all the different guitars and using the mics on them and all the different pedals - it was all like a work of genius. i didn’t really get to see aaron’s artistry since his stuff was on the opposite side of the stage and he played more piano (which was on his side of the stage) but i could clearly see him playing when matt stepped back and let the twins perform guitar together. i caught him smirking at bryce on multiple occasions. i ascended each time. 

it was obvious that bryce was the more shimmery, flashy player when it came to guitar, so i tried to distinguish their styles of piano too! maybe it’s just me, but i think aaron has a deeper sound and bryce has a sharper sound! maybe that’s why they take turns for specific songs. regardless, they were so great, playing together and separately. i admire them greatly since they have so many projects and interests and even though their musical interests differ, they end up intertwining. seeing them live really showed that tbh!

it was the best night of my life. i wish i could be going to today’s show as well, but unfortunately i don’t have the money for that! anyway, everything ive always dreamed of already came true when i managed to stand right in the front and watch the national in all their glory perform live. i never expected to be right in the front - literally at the barrier - but i was! and it was worth the two hour wait in the cold without any food (this was my fault for forgetting to eat before coming, but it was worth it tbh!). hopefully i’ll be able to go for another concert if possible because that was probably the best experience ive ever had.

[demonicheadcanons]

Obey Me Undateables / Side Dishes and Little Affections

AN: The last post for the brothers was ridiculously popular and this was requested so! Here we go. Just little ways the undateables are affectionate to the MC. Romance-coded but not for Luke bc he’s baby. I did this on mobile so forgive me for any formatting issues, and for the lack of a read more!

As you may have seen, I struggled a lot with Solomon because I really view him as being indifferent. I’m sorry if his is a little underwhelming! I also wrote this differently from the last one because I forgot how I formatted it, sorry ;u;

.

Diavolo

- He’s busy all the time. Like truly, this man rarely gets a break, and even when he does, his mind is still tick-tick-ticking away. Crawl into his lap and hold his face in your hands and he’ll finally relax, you can see the clouds clear away from his eyes. He kisses your forehead and holds your face in return, shining again. It only takes a few moments for him to settle completely, to shut off all his worries.

- He really just,,, likes to pick you up? So long as you’re not absolutely terrified he’ll completely randomly walk up to you and lift you up and carry you around with him or just hold you there. Bonus points if you wrap your arms around his shoulders and / or bury your face into his neck. Extra bonus points if you kiss or nuzzle against his cheek. His grin is so wide and bright it could light up the whole Devildom. Additionally, if you run and jump at him he will drop everything to catch you, no matter what. He has not and will never fail to catch you, and it makes him laugh so hard you can feel it in the way his arms and chest shake as he holds you.

- He likes to lay down beside you and link pinkies. It’s so soft, such a delicate little thing, and yet you trust him enough to let him do that. The minimal contact makes it feel even more special to him, there’s no pressure there. You’re close and he has a reminder of your presence beside him and it’s enough, it’s enough.

- With Diavolo, if you decide to teach him cute human things, you might regret it later, because he remembers them all. You put your palm out once, telling him that he’s supposed to rest his chin there, and from then on he’ll do it immediately. He will also expect you to do it too, and his timing is completely random. You’ll be talking to Barbatos and he’ll hold his hand out and wait for you to rest your chin in it. When you do, he pokes at your cheek with his thumb and walks off again.

- Please play cute games with him. Farming games like Stardew Valley or things like Terraria and Minecraft, or the Sims, or anything like that. He also doesn’t mind matches on more competitive games, but he likes to relax and make a house or a farm with you, and his reactions to everything is adorable; you two make Sims and he cheers when they get married, and even if they’re not representing you two and are just random Sims, he jokes about how you should do that too someday. He’s amazing at games that are strategy based, but prefers to play anything else so he can relax and not think for a while.

.

Barbatos

- Random tickles. It’s completely unexpected and he is very sneaky - the first few times it’ll catch you heavily off guard, and even after that it’s hard to predict when you’ll feel his gloved hands brush against your sides. He’s an expert at guessing where someone is ticklish, and abuses that power when alone with the people he loves (namely you!)

- Food fights but on a small scale. He’ll walk past you in the kitchen and brush flour across your face, disguising it as him simply being affectionate as he passes by, a reminder that he cares about you and is thinking about you even as he works. His movements are graceful and confident as always, to the point where it’s actually quite hard to even realise what he’s done. He will consider telling you before you leave the kitchen. He really will consider it.

- Similarly, if his hands are wet, just before drying them off he’ll flick water in your direction and then act like he has no idea what you’re talking about when you ask if he just did that. Really, MC, why would he do that? He’s been so busy cooking, and you’re accusing him of doing something so childish?

- He quite likes just, holding you up and carrying you around but in a different way to Diavolo. Instead of Princess carries, it’s more like if you jump onto someone and wrap your legs around their waist and your arms around their shoulders? He loves carrying you around like that. Cling onto him! He’s not fond of having you cling to his back, but his sides or front is fine.

- Barbatos tends to keep an eye on you and it’s really hard to tell, but if you’re in the same room as him he’s keeping tabs on what you’re doing. You could swear he has eyes on the back of his head, because he always seems to know what you’re up to. In reality, he really just likes seeing how you look when you’re focused, or, alternatively, when you’re completely zoned out and off in space, thinking of something completely random and irrelevant to the current situation. He’ll come up and tap your forehead and smile at you when it looks like you’re back in the room again.

.

Solomon

- Solomon isn’t super affectionate and he’s not really an acts of kindness kind of guy. The most important thing for him is proximity; he doesn’t need you pressed up against his side all the time, but he likes having you in the same room as him as often as possible. You spend your evenings in his room in Purgatory Hall, laying or his bed or working at his desk, as he busies away with some new spell or writes down results of experiments with different potion ingredients. He doesn’t bother thinking too hard about it and just accepts it, but the reality is that it’s very calming and comforting for him. He’s also not someone who worries much about being judged or anything, so regularly having another person around doesn’t bother him.

- He asks for your input a lot. Simply put, he wants to hear you talk, and he’d love to know what makes you tick and how your brain works. “What do you think of this?” “How do you think Satan would react if...” and so on. So many ‘what if’ questions that it might make your head spin, because he’s always playing a game in his head of ‘what would happen if...’ despite rarely following through with it outside of experimenting with his magic and potions, and he wants to involve you in it too.

- Solomon doesn’t mind holding hands, and likes to play silly games when you are. Things like having thumb wars, or he’ll tangle his fingers up with yours and watch, amused, as you try and fail to pull your hand from his grip. Afterwards he’ll hold your hand with both of his and run his fingers and thumbs over it to soothe you. He also likes to just rest his hand on top of yours when you’re sitting beside each other.

- He’s going to try to be affectionate if it’s something you seem to want, and just out of curiosity. The one thing that sticks is that, if you’re cooking for him (because he’s not allowed to) he’ll wrap his arms around your waist and hug you from behind, his chin in your shoulder as he watches whatever you’re doing. He’ll blow air at the side of your face or at your fringe / bangs if you have them, so long as you’re not doing anything too dangerous and aren’t at risk of getting seriously injured.

- Bonus: If Solomon calls you and says “try this” or “drink some of this” don’t do it. Or at the very least, ask about any possible effects first. Moreso for food than for potions; he’ll find a way to reverse the potion, but the memory of eating his food will be stuck with you forever.

- Bonus bonus: Solomon loves giving you squishy hugs but he will squeeze you too tight and he will laugh even if he feels your spin click against his arms as you yelp. He won’t hurt you, but he will squeeze you hard enough that breathing will be difficult for a moment. You can tell from his smirk that he doesn’t feel guilty at all.

.

Simeon

- Simeon likes having you play with his hair. The way you twirl strands of hair between your fingers and try and fail to make a mess of his soft locks, which always return to their place no matter how hard you try to stop them. Bonus points for innocently wandering fingers that brush down the sides of his face, thumbs and fingers that ever so lightly brush along his cheekbones or around and under his jaw. He relaxes into your touch, eyes fluttering closed before he opens them just enough to smile at you, silent but oh so visibly delighted.

- If he knows it won’t make you sick and it’ll wipe off, he actually quite likes to draw on your hands and arms. He’ll let you do it in return, of course, but simple doodles and patterns, hearts and diamonds and sweet little reminders you’ll see later when you have to wash them off.

- Laying on your stomachs with your sides pressed together on a thin, soft blanket, knees bent and legs swinging in the air as you both read the same book. Simeon always finishes the pages first and so you take charge of just turning the pages, until he mumbles that he had lost focus - he’d been too busy watching your expressions, almost lulled to sleep by listening to your gentle breathing and wondering if you were enjoying the story and what your thoughts on it were, trying to piece it all together without disturbing you.

- You pass him at RAD or out in the Devildom and you don’t necessary stop, but he always waves, and god is it impossible to ignore how he lights up. His eyes gleam and he looks so, so happy just to see you and be reminded of your existence and if you’ve been unsure before about how truthful he’s being when he says he loves you and adores being around you, that look on his face will erase all your doubts. He’s beautiful and he’s glowing and it’s because he saw you!

.

Luke

- It’s an obvious one but baking together! Making cakes and decorating them. Letting stress out as you knead bread, experimenting with making different types of pastries. One time you make a batch of cupcakes and decorate them to look like dogs and he feels really sad when people eat them but he’s proud all the same, and he likes that he gets to feel proud around you.

- He acts like he’s indifferent, but he quite likes when you call him your brother. If you call him your little brother, he’ll protest because he’s hundreds of years older than you in reality, but he allows it after a while. So long as he can call you his big sibling in return, it’s worth it. If any of the brothers tease him over being the little brother, he remarks that at least you trust him and care for him so much as to call him your brother. None of them can really respond to that.

- Pat! Him! On! The! Head! Adjust his scarf! Fix his hat! He doesn’t understand why he enjoys it so much, but then Simeon points out that it probably makes him feel cared for, and that’s absolutely it. No teasing works or harsh gestures, just little acts that show you care about him or are thinking about him. It makes him feel so safe and happy.

- He always remembers things on your schedule for you, from little reminders that you might forget about to big important events. The only other person he does that for is Simeon, so it’s really a big deal for him - he shows enough interest to listen to you and remember all the little details you tell him, and then to reach out to you and make sure you remember or just to say he hopes you have a good time. If it’s something stressful, he might not message beforehand, but he’ll show up when it’s over with some treats and act like he just happened to be baking today and had some to spare.

Tag list: @katsukis-sad-angel

[the-stray-liger]

I gotta know, what are your opinions on Guel Jeturk so far? Cuz like... Twitter is NOT a good place to discuss this guy at all.

You have a dude who's struggling under the weight of the expectations given to someone in his position, and is desperate for his father's approval. Only now he's starting to realize that his jackass of a father's love is very much conditional, and then Guel is given unconditional support from the last person he'd ever expect; from Suletta Mercury, the girl who had defeated him and ended his previously unbroken winning streak. She defends him from his peers who had been ridiculing him and telling him to discard his pride and cheat his way to victory, who encourages him to stay true to his convictions in her own way, and even when he loses to her a second time, she honestly praises him for his skills. It's easy to see how he could fall for her in that moment.

But then, the same guy is subject to humiliation YET AGAIN after jumping the gun with his Wacky Marriage Proposal to Suletta, who had now beaten him a second time, when he realizes "oh fuck she's freaking out" and tries to walk back his wacky proposal... only for Suletta to fly off in her Mobile Suit and once more humiliates him in front of the entire student body. So like... yeah, it sucks to see him backsliding into his shitty attitude from the first episode, but at the same time, it does makes sense that he's salty as fuck, and leaning hard into the Tsuntsun side of the Tsundere spectrum after Suletta unintentionally humiliated him again. At the very least, he stuck to the terms of the duel and apologized to Miorine for what he did, even though he could have just as easily welched on the promise he made because of Suletta humiliating him and hurting his feelings, like one might expect of a shittier person.

I don't think he genuinely hates her, but he's definitely got a long way to go before he unlearns a lot of his shitty behavior and adjusts his attitude for the better.

MAN I've been waitiing all day to be able to open my laptop and get into this ask omg

So far I actually like Guel. You put the reasons in writing so much better than I could! I was afraid he was gonna turn out a solid brick of shit like Jerid, but fortunately we dodged that bullet.

I was afraid of a couple of things going into GWitch related to Guel, and one was that he wouldn't apologize to Miorine or do any kind of development and have the writers still expect to sympathize with him, but I was incredibly satisfied with how it all went: Suletta got to him in the end, he refused to be nothing but his dad tool (which is great bc like. Both Guel and Miorine's dad do that and this anime is coming strong with the theme of agency) and lost to Suletta after a fair fight. And then he flew a bit off the rails by proposing to her, which Im not gonna lie was super funny. My man Guel just went full Patrick Colasour it was delightful

BUT he also actually apologized to Miorine!!! He respected the rules of the duel and apologized to her!!! I loved that!!! and it was a genuine apology!

Of course he's not perfect and he has a LOT of stuff to work through. He clearly has been a shithead at school for ages and probably has a lot of prejudice, plus probably trauma from having a shitty dad, but I actually like the direction where he's headed. I think he's a good character and I want to see how he grows.

Im sorry if none of this makes sense I spent the whole day in a special training for work with no breaks and my brain feels like burned popcorn

[desiree-harding-fic]

The Phantom of the Opera but Taakitz

In which Kravitz fails pretty spectacularly at Phantoming but he’s trying very hard. Taako fails at “damsel-in-distress”-ing but to be fair he’s not really trying.

My parents were watching Phantom and my brain went taakitz because you know... spooky one and pretty one. But then I had to make it fit, and idk y’all. It’s pure silliness. Lmk if you want a kissin’ part bc if you do I have like 1/3 of that written. Thanks to @fandomsnstuff​ for encouraging me in every way to post XD

@herbgerblin >:333

*~*~*~*~*

Taako woke up not knowing where he was.

Which was, to begin with, just a massive red flag.

His head hurt. He felt heavy. And where the fuck was he? All he could see was grimy stone brick, and on them, softly flickering candlelight - and the sound of - was that water? He was having a hard time breathing - Lup’s fucking corset, he swore this was the last time she convinced him to take place in some fucking hairbrained scheme -

He shoved himself up to sitting and was immediately assaulted by a voice - 

“LUP TAACO, I HAVE BROUGHT YOU HERE TO -”

“What the fuck?!” Taako shouted, leaping to his feet, and then the fucking skirts got tangled and then the floor underneath him tipped -

And taako was wet. He was in water, in all these fucking skirts and he was wet and Lup was going to pay for this. 

He pushed himself up again, sputtering, and thank god it wasn’t very deep, he didn’t know what he’d do if was forced to swim in this ridiculous outfit - 

The voice came again.

“MISS TAACO, YOU HAVE BEEN SUMMONED TO THIS SANCTUARY OF MUSIC TO-”

“I’M NOT LUP!!” Taako shouted desperately, just to get it to shut up, the voice that was splitting his fucking head in two, and trying to arrange the soaking wet gown into some semblance of order, and he didn’t know where he was, and he woke up here, which was just - there was something immensely wrong with that because Taako didn’t remember going to sleep.

“TO- I’m sorry?”

“I’m not Lup!!” Taako shouted again, throwing his hands up in frustration, and giving up on the stupid dress, and looking toward the direction of the candlelight, and the whoever was standing there screaming at him, and - huh.

A man, half his face obscured by a mask meant to look like a skeleton, in a suit that looked more at home at the opera (where Taako was a moment ago - or it seemed a moment) than - was this a fucking sewer? - and a full on-cloak atop that, and a fucking ridiculous hat-

As Taako’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see more of the man’s face, which was, even with the one eye obscured, contorted into an expression of confusion.

He may have registered, distantly, that he also looked rather handsome, but fuck that honestly, because Lup’s corset was cutting into his side and he was wet and - and his brain wasn’t working. He was in the opera house, and then Lup - Lup had begged him to switch clothes because please< Taako, I can’t get Grimaldis to quit following me, please, just to throw him off - and then he was going out the stage door, but he didn’t get there… he didn’t get there because-

“Did you fucking kidnap me?!” he shouted.

“I - I didn’t - you’re not Lup Taaco?”

“No!! Fucking - look at me!” he gestured to the ruined dress, the way it hung, now clearly fitting ill - “Do I look like Lup to you?!”

“Yes! Well, no, I mean, but you - but you- you’re wearing her clothes!” The man sputtered.

“And?!” Taako shouted, “you don’t fucking know me, kemosabe! I can wear whatever the hell I like!” The man, whoever he was, was standing on some kind of shore, and Taako, sick of standing in waist-deep water, started hauling up his skirts and wading toward it. “And that’s another thing! Who are you to fucking - get off kidnapping my sister?!”

“I - No!” Tuxedo Man said, stumbling back further from the shore as Taako advanced, “it’s not like that, I - I can see where you’d think, but I - I didn’t want to -”

“Didn’t want to what?!” Taako continued, finally stepping out of the water, the heavy gown dripping on the stone, so much heavier soaked like this. Taako couldn’t take it anymore. If he had to fight this motherfucker over his sister’s honor or whatever, he wasn’t going to do it in a goddamn evening gown. He started tearing at the clasps at back of it, the ties, anything to get the fucking thing off of him.

“You mistake me for my fucking sister,” he fumed, “which firstly, you’re stalking my sister, apparently, so you’re gonna fucking die - and then you -what? Fucking chloroform me and drag me to some kind of sewer sex-dungeon god knows where, what am I supposed to think?!” The outer-most layer of the gown finally came off, and Taako flung it into the water behind him because honestly fuck this.

“No!” the masked man said, shaking his head furiously, “I didn’t - I didn’t mean anything untoward!”

“I think kidnapping is pretty untoward-”

“I wasn’t going to do anything to - I don’t - it’s not a sex dungeon!” he cried, “I don’t even like her!”

“OH?!” Taako said, and god, he wished he could get the corset off, because he was really running out of breath with all the shouting - “what’s your name, thug, because I’m about to-”

“Kravitz, but - Wait! No! I - I - please don’t, I didn’t mean any harm, I was - I was just trying to give her a violin lesson!”

“Give my sister a violin lesson?” Taako growled, “She’s the goddamn concert master of the Paris Opera I think she knows how to play the violin pretty fucking well-”

“It’s just the solo in the third scene of act five!” Kravitz pleaded, actually pleaded, and Taako supposed that was a point in his favor somehow, but still, “She - she keeps - the phrasing is all wrong, and it’s the climax of the piece, and I couldn’t stand it-”

“So you were going to kidnap her?” Taako said, completely dumb with disbelief because who did this motherfucker think he was - “Who are you to give notes on her fucking performance, huh?”

“I’m the composer!” Kravitz said, throwing up his hands.

That stopped Taako in his tracks, because what? Of all the off the wall lies to get him off the hook, that’s what spooky Kravitz went with? The composer of the opera taking Paris by storm. The opera that just had its run extended another two months. And sure, sure he might as well fight the skull-mask man in the fucking - sewers, he guessed, while wearing his sister’s evening wear, the composer of her fucking opera, who wanted to kidnap her for a violin lesson in the sewer because sure! Taako’s life was already so goddamn weird, he figured this might as well happen too, why the hell not?

Maybe he didn’t wake up at all. Maybe this was all one horrible, drawn-out nightmare. Maybe he’d been hit over the head and this was his brain’s last fanciful imagining before he went out.

He buried his face in his hands, tried to breathe deeply. And then couldn’t. Because of the corset.

Ok, he thought, if this is a dream, it has to end now, because I figured it out. I’m dreaming. Time to wake up.

He counted to five and then peeked out from between his fingers. Spooky skele-man Kravitz was still looking at him. In the moment, without all the screaming, Taako managed to just get a better look at him. He was leaning back against something that looked like a manual for an organ. Weird, but then again, no weirder than the whole. Sewer-dwelling skeleton thing.

There were a few things Taako could do. He could fight the skeleton composer man, who, the more Taako looked, didn’t cut nearly as imposing of a figure as he did a moment ago. Or he could play things out.

The thing was, Taako wasn’t particularly a fighter. And Kravitz the skele-man had kidnapped him once that evening. And getting flustered when Taako shouted at him didn’t mean that he wasn’t capable of taking Taako if he made good on his threats.

And Taako was tired.

Taako sighed, removed his hands from his face. Pinched the bridge of his nose. He was so tired. His head felt like someone had reached down into it and was pulling it slowly apart from each side.

“Uhm,” Kravitz said, “are you alright?”

“No,” Taako groused, and then sighed. He removed his hand. “I would love to kick your ass, darling, because no one stalks my sister and lives, but first,” he gestured to the whole… rest of his get-up. “Would you mind lending a guy a hand in getting this off? It’s fucking cold and ‘chaboy’s gettin’ real tired of not being able to take a complete breath.”

“I’m sorry?” Kravitz squeaked. His voice sounded about two octaves higher than before. His eyes, just for a moment, flickered over Taako’s body, panicked, and - well. That was interesting, wasn’t it.

“The clothes, Kravitz,” Taako said, purposely evoking his name. “Please? I’m wet as all hell and fucking freezing, and if I’m gonna throw you in this water and drown you or something I’d like to at least have a decent range of mobility so if you wouldn’t mind-”

“Um,” Kravitz said, “Please don’t drown me?”

“Gimme that cloak to wear and we’ll see,” Taako said back. Fuck, his head hurt. He was too tired for this.

“I can - I can actually do you one better, if you need me to. I have um…. men’s clothing around the corner if you’d prefer-”

“Fucking fantastic, skeletor, just get a move on.”

“Oh. Alright then, um. Follow me?”

And Taako did. Kravitz pushed himself off the organ and moved to his left, and sure enough, there was something like a corner, and a sort of tunnel, lower-ceilinged, and in it was - well, practically an entire apartment’s worth of furniture, all arranged just-so, with candles perched all about on tables and sconces on the walls. The place was drafty but all the same, it looked quite like Kravitz had made it into a perverted imitation of a home.

Beside the frankly absurd number of candles, and the lakeside organ, there was a series of screens, separating out the space where walls did not. Rugs, slightly tattered and faded. Old brocade armchairs that didn’t match. A desk, ink and pen sitting atop it with scattered papers, and, in the last “chamber” of the long, successive home, a bed and chests in something that looked quite almost like a bedroom.

Kravitz turned around and regarded Taako with a fair measure of confusion as though unsure exaclty what to do next, but after a moment, he fumbled with his gloved hands around his neckline, until he was able to untie the cloak from around his shoulders. He thrust it toward Taako, quite sheepish-looking now behind his half-mask. 

“Here,” he said. “You can um… use it to cover up, while I - find you some clothes.”

“Corset first, bones,” Taako said, only just in a small part to watch him squirm. Sex-dungeon indeed. Taako was feeling out the boundaries of the conversation and Kravitz was bashful, of all things. Probably not kidnapping Lup for - well. Probably not that then. Maybe the violin lesson wasn’t an excuse after all.

Taako was beginning to think Kravitz was… well. For lack of a better term, somewhat pathetic. Maybe just insane.

Still, he’d do. All Taako needed was an extra pair of hands. He turned around, back to Kravitz and facing one of the screens. “Help me outta this. I’m not used to the lacing and I need some more eyes. Might have to take the gloves off though. Dexterity, and all that.” That he did say to be mean.

“Oh. Um, yes of course,” Kravitz said, and Taako felt as much as heard him walk up to his back, closer than he’d yet been. Taako felt his hands pulling at the lacing of the corset, felt something come undone, and the constriction lesson by degrees. He pulled in a deep breath. It was heavenly.

For a moment, something frigid brushed against Taako’s back, and he jumped. “Christ!” Kravitz withdrew; Taako could feel that sixth sense of proximity dissipate.

“Sorry,” Kravitz said. “Poor circulation.” His voice was so much softer than before. Something in Taako’s chest twisted at the sound of it. “You should… you should be able to remove the rest of it, now. I can- I’ll get you some clothes. Oh, um.” There was a moment of hesitation from behind him, then he felt the weight of something thick and soft drape over his shoulders, felt Kravitz withdraw again. The cloak. He’d draped it over Taako’s shoulders. It was surprisingly soft. Heavy, too. Warm. Probably did him some good down here.

“There, you can - I’ll get you something to change into.”

Taako felt strangely hot. He busied himself pulling the rest of Lup’s clothes off of him, shivering as they hit the floor with wet slaps. Good god, it really was cold in Kravitz’s - dungeon… or whatever. Even with the many candle flames all around. Removing the corset was a blessing, though. Taako drew in several deep luxurious breaths, pausing in his undressing to stretch. He could hear Kravitz rummaging around in the trunks and chests behind him.

And the rummaging stopped.

“I’m just going to uh… leave these on the bed?” Kravitz’s voice came, “I’ll. I’ll leave you to it,” and he slipped out between a couple of screens, and Taako was alone in his… in his bedroom. In the bedroom of a mysterious masked man who somehow knocked Taako out, dragged him to god only knew where, shouted at him for being Lup and then seemed, inexplicably, very apologetic the moment Taako called him on it.

He supposed stranger things had happened to him in his life. 

Then he thought again, and no, they hadn’t.

It was almost disconcertingly silent on the other side of the screen. Taako wrapped the cloak around himself properly, stepping out of the last of Lup’s clothes, and left them in a heap on the floor as he turned around and moved to the bed. He dressed quickly (Kravitz’s clothes weren’t a perfect fit but they worked well enough), draped the cloak around his shoulders to keep out the persistent chill in the air, and stepped out from the screen. Kravitz was standing in the middle of what looked like his sitting room, as though he was waiting for Taako.

Taako crossed his arms. 

Kravitz began to speak. 

“Mister Taaco,” he said, “you have come to know too much of my domain. I cannot allow-”

“So,” Taako interrupted him, “Are we gonna throw down or what? I promised you an ass-kicking on account of defending my sister’s honor and all.”

Kravitz paused, and Taako could practically feel the frustration coming off of him. “I shall not be taking orders -”

“What happened to your voice?” Taako asked, cutting him off again, because god, what was he doing? “Is that a Cockney accent? What are you going for here?”

“This is how I speak-”

“My dude, we literally had a conversation without you going all Charles Dickens on me like not five minutes ago-”

“Could you let me finish?!” Kravitz finally snapped, accentless once more. “For once?! Please?!”, and Taako just waited, and watched as Kravitz realized what he’d done, as his whole schtick disintegrated before his eyes. “Oh goddamnit all,” he said, throwing up his hands in defeat.

Taako couldn’t help but smile. 

“Really nailing it on the whole spooky sinister vibe, my fella,” he said. “Really knocking it out of the park on that one.”

One hand came up to cover Kravitz’s face, laying over his half mask and eyes. Almost like pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It doesn’t usually go like this,” he sighed.

“How do the kidnappings usually go?” Taako teased. And god, what was he doing? He needed to get out of here. It was just that -

“I’m really more adept at hauntings,” his host said forlornly. “The abduction angle is new.”

It was just that everything Kravitz said was stranger, more unexpected, more absurd, more interesting than the last. And… strangely funny. It caught strange corners of Taako’s brain and captured his attention, raising flags and illuminating pathways that he wanted to go down-

But that didn’t mean he wanted to stay. In the dank candlelit sewer, with Kravitz, who, while it was clear he wasn’t a very skilled kidnapper and - whatever his thing was supposed to be here - had still been good enough to get Taako in the first place. And, atop that, was a person who’d just admitted to kidnapping Taako. And who seemed not to be terribly… thrown by the thought of it. Taako didn’t know anyone - well, until now - who seemed to view unwilling abduction as a done thing. No one Taako knew really considered that socially acceptable.

It reminded him that Kravitz, while… intriguing, was by no means safe.

It reminded him that he still needed to get the hell out of there. 

“Well,” he started, “the whole production could use some work, kemosabe. Points for the aesthetic,” he gestures vaguely to Kravitz’s getup, and the whole… opulent sewer situation, “but really, Taako’s rating this one a ‘room for improvement’ situation. Nice try, though, points for effort,” he cast his eyes around as he rambled, trying to see if there were any visible exits, but the only way he could see was back the way he came in - through Kravitz’s “house” - past Kravitz. 

Nothing for it but to try, he thought. 

“Thanks a bunch,” he said, inching forward, “glad to be of assistance workshopping - well, no, not glad, really - but I uh… I’m going to need to be on my way.” He stepped forward, purposeful. Kravitz countered, stepping in front of him, blocking his path. Shit.

“I am terribly sorry,” he said, and the thing was he actually sounded it, “but I really can’t let you do that.”

[officialmermista]

a friend on seamista discord shared an edit of seahawk with a beard which prompted these responses:

and i wrote something for it! can’t add a read more bc i’m on mobile sorry its long ahdjakfk

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was late in Salineas and Mermista had finally tucked herself into bed after a long day of working. She was absolutely exhausted: if she had to look at another blueprint or supply order she was going to scream. Her eyelids grew heavy as she shifted under the blankets, alone in her bed.

Not long after she fell asleep, she was awoken by a sudden weight in bed behind her. She glanced back to see the faint outline of a man illuminated in the moonlight.

She immediately elbowed the intruder in the face.

“Mermista!” came the sudden pained cry. She reached over to click her light on only to realize the person she hit was not an intruder, but Seahawk trying to slip into bed.

She almost didn’t recognize him with the beard.

“What the hell, Seahawk!”

Most of her was annoyed that he had startled her, but there was a small part that felt bad for decking him in the face. There was also the tiniest hint of surprise, he didn’t have that much stubble the last time she saw him.

He groaned.

“The supply run went- gah- went quicker than planned and i wanted to surprise you, so um... surprise?” With a nervous chuckle he reached up to touch his nose, which was currently dripping blood all over Mermista’s pristine sea-foam sheets. He winced and his eyes welled up with tears at the contact.

Mermista groaned. She sincerely hoped nothing was broken.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said, pulling him off the bed. She led him to the bathroom and sat him down on the counter as she began digging through the cabinet for a washcloth.

“So...” he started, his voice straining to sound casual and flirtatious through the pain, “what do you think of the beard? I think it’s rather dashing.”

“It’s awful. Hold still.”

He winced as she pressed the cold cloth to his nose. His watery eyes drooped. “You don’t like it?”

Mermista sighed. She lifted his hand to hold the cloth in place as she moved on to removing his blood stained shirt. He was absolutely ridiculous. Here he was with a nose gushing blood and the only thing he was worried about was her opinion on his facial hair.

“Mermista?”

She sighed again.

“It’s not that I don’t like it. I’m just not used to it.”

She felt her face redden slightly as she crumpled the soiled shirt in her hands.

“Also I like your dumb face. Without the beard.”

Seahawk grinned as she threw the shirt to the side. “You like my face?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she said. Sometimes she wondered why she was so in love with him, being the big cheesy dork he is. “Shut up. I’m going to check your nose.”

She removed the now-red cloth and tenderly pressed her fingers to the bridge of his nose. It was only slightly swollen, but nothing seemed broken. The bleeding seemed to slow more by the second. That was a good sign.

He whined in pain. “It hurts...”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” she replied. She felt bad, she really did. She could tell he knew, he had always been able to read her well- but ever since his love confession, not being so closed off was something she had been working on.

She leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the bridge of his nose. Her hand snaked around his neck as she pressed more little kisses along his cheeks.

“Don’t ever sneak up on me like that again though.”

He chuckled, his laugh an apologetic sound, and leaned forward to catch her lips in a deep kiss, being careful to mind his injury.

She caught his bottom lip in her teeth before pulling back and making a face. “Yeah no, the beard definitely needs to go.”

Seahawk pouted, but his face lit up as he came up with a sudden compromise, “If I let you shave it off can I get more kisses?”

Mermista smirked and agreed, digging through the cabinet once again for a razor. She was going to give him more kisses regardless, but he didn’t need to know.

[ziracona]

And I hate to do this- So on that thread, not that he's as bad, why do you think Michael is redeemable? (and also Frank) Especially by his main victim? :? I hope that isn't as bad or as judgmental as I think it sounds... - Sleepy (its like 5am here :3 living up to my name i see)

So, these I gave a short and a long answer for under cut, but forgot I’m on mobile and can’t do that. I can tag it “long post” but uhhh, sorry about this. Anyway, thats why Frank comes in two chunks. I wrote it expecting to be able to use a read more. :’-] also ya fine. And I hope you’re in bed 🤣 now. Okay so. Here’s my reasons:

For Michael, to start, Halloween is complicated af. You have to know what timeline people are talking about, because there are like 8+ and Michael has been written as a wildly different character by wildly different content creators, and I would not feel the same ways towards them all. They’re not the same character. When I talk about Michael, unless I’m going on about a specific other film, I mean either H20 canon, or DbD canon, which are in line with each other when it comes to characterization. (This also includes Halloween’s 1 & 2 in the H20 line, and Halloween 1 at least in DbD). In those timelines, Michael has like at best 2% agency and choice in his own life and what he becomes. That’s why I am sympathetic. I still root for Laurie to nail his ass to the wall of course, and everything he has done to hurt someone isn’t okay just because his life is unfair & awful & out of his control, but I still find him a very tragic character. He was canonically suffering violent psychosis his parents refused him treatment for, isolated with a monster as his doctor & only human contact for 15 years from age 6 on, overdosed on medications that when OD’d worsen psychosis symptoms and can cause permanent brain damage, and stuck like that until escaping briefly when he turned 21.

In Halloween canon, Michael tells his parents he hears voices telling him to do bad things like hurt people, but they tell him he is imagining stuff, and ignore his attempts to get help. The voices say they will be quiet, which is what he desperately wants, if he kills his sister Judith. So he does, at age six. Scientifically speaking, that’s literally too young to really have a complete grasp on death and mortality itself, let alone complex ethics. He immediately goes to his parents after doing the deed, so they can do whatever they need to do. Instead of getting him help, he is sentenced to 15 years in a 1960s American sanitorium (hell), until he turns 21 and can be tried for murder as an adult (fucking ridiculous and unfair?? Tried as an adult is for like, upper teens who commit heinous murders. How tf you justify trying a six year old literally too young to really understand murder as an adult for murdering someone??). They give him to Dr. Sam Loomis, a fucking horrible person, who says he spends 8 years trying to help Michael (a fkn lie), but canonically by only a few months of meeting the kid is thoroughly convinced he is evil, the devil or a demon in human form, faking his psychosis and side effect symptoms (trauma induced mutism from killing his sister, onset of catatonia/motion loss symptoms, etc, all of which are common with his disorder & trauma), desperate to kill again, and an evil mastermind doing the devil’s work, and says so. Spends four hours every day accusing Michael as a six year old child on, of planning to do horrible things and faking his illness and being a demon and not a human, and Loomis, from age 6 to 21, is this kid’s only human contact. And the staff knew it and how wrong and disturbed Loomis was, but did nothing. So from age 6 to 21—barring one or two visits from his mom & Laurie before his dad beat 4 year old Laurie for saying Michael’s, who he hated after Judith’s death, name—until she trauma blocked out having had a brother or sister at all, and then both parents died in a car crash—his only human contact in complete isolation was an adult man who told him for four hours a day he was an evil lying demon faking his symptoms and plotting murder and not a human and promised he would kill Michael and stop him, from childhood on, and that was it. He was never given an understanding of what was medically wrong with him, or that anything was at all. He was threatened and abused and kept overdosed on drugs for 15 years since early childhood, and his only understanding of the world taught in that absolute isolation, was that he was a demon who wanted to get out and kill again. And the violent psychosis, telling him if he killed both sisters, they would go away and leave him in peace with no more constant noise. With no normal understanding of the world or people or life like he was owed ever given to him, no understanding at all of what you were going through or were aside from the promise drilled into your head you were a monster who wanted to kill every day for 15 years while drugged up? Like, I’m a firm believe people are responsible for their own actions, but in a case as extreme as that, honestly, how else was that ever going to even be able to end? You forget, as a child. Who you used to be. That’s beyond grooming even, it’s being grown in a lab for the sole purpose of someday walking out, taking a large kitchen knife, and killing Laurie Strode. And it’s tragic. It’s unfair. Halloween is a tragedy, not a horror film. It didn’t have to be that way. He wanted help. He asked for help. Loomis is directly and pretty much solely responsible for the lives lost in 1978. You know he won’t even call Michael “him”? The only human he contact he had since age six on called him “it.” And no one stopped any of that. And even then. Even then, even with all that. With the drugs, and the lab grown killer, and all of it? Michael is pretty much the single least sadistic slasher killer there /is/.

Everyone he kills in Halloween? He kills fast. It’s actually kind of boring if you’re expecting a scary slasher, because there’s no chase until Laurie. He just appears, runs you through, and you die. Very fast. And if there is any emotion expressed towards the act of killing or aftermath, it’s not pleasure or hate or happiness, it’s curiosity, because literally everything is something he wasn’t allowed to experience growing up and just has no practical experience with yet. And on top of all that, he also just doesn’t kill people he doesn’t have to. He kills one man for clothes, kills Annie to re-do Judith’s murder since it didn’t work the first time and he needs both sisters for the voices to stop, and he kills Bob and Lynda becuase they stumble onto where he is & are a threat to success. (This + Judith 15 years prior is all the deaths in Halloween period, btw). Michael routinely only kills his target, and anyone who is a threat to success. Literally doesn’t even jump out to kill Bob or attack until Bob opens the door to the closet he was hiding in, and he has been seen. Walks past a security guard and lets him go in H20 becuase he doesn’t see him, steals keys from a mom with her 4 year old kid and doesn’t even hurt them because they don’t see him really either, steals a knife from an old lady making a sandwich who is one foot away but looking the other direction, so he lets her go. Even with all the possible stakes against him, really, Michael is like, the least cruel and most sympathetic and merciful version of that lab grown killer possible, which can only be a testament to the person he was initially/still somehow has managed to keep faint traces of alive inside.

As for Laurie finding him redeemable, answer is threefold I guess, and I’ll start with the most important. 1: in Halloween canon, Laurie cares for Michael and is incredibly sad about what he turned into and wishes he could be different (once she remembers who he is). That’s established canon, not a choice of mine. In Halloween 2, she tries to talk him down before shooting him, and he hesitates when she says his name and lowers his weapon for a moment. In H20, she talks about him a lot & even asks her boyfriend (a psychologist) if he thinks something so traumatic can happen to someone that they can never recover, bc even though she hasn’t seen him in 20 years, he’s still on her heart. She hesitates to kill him once she has him helpless in the finale, and when he reaches out for her hand, she almost cries and starts to reach back because it’s what she has truly wanted for so long. 2: Michael & Laurie are siblings, and that’s a very important relationship to me. Obviously, there’s lines where you cross, it’s fkn over, but it is special, and I’m weak for it. They were both cheated of the good family life they could have had, and I like characters I care for getting recovery and rehabilitation, and I would like them to be able to recover and have whatever fragments of the lives they wanted which are still possible. And then 3: Laurie is his victim, but they’re also both victims of Loomis, and the system, and her parents, and if she does /wish/ for him to be okay and things to be like they were, which was canon before me, so she does, then I think them finding happiness and her relief and new hope in regained family and him redemption and rehabilitation through the quite literally only person he has /ever/ known who treated him well or like even a human at all & is still living, that’s so good. It’s sweet, and it makes sense. I like broken people putting the pieces together and finding ways to be okay. None of the shit that happened to either of them was okay, and Michael sure did fucking do it, but it’s about as “it’s complicated” as literally possible, and Laurie wants him to be her brother again, and Michael deserves a chance to experience personhood enough to want anything like that again too, and I think it’s sweet. To be able to find happiness and peace and a new life in that rubble. It shouldn’t be possible, because Halloween is a tragedy that never gets a happy ending, no matter how many timelines they create or versions they tell, but I wish it could have one. It needs one. At least one, among all the fated tragedies for those two cruelly cursed siblings. They both had their lives stolen. Michael by Loomis, and Laurie by Michael. And I want them to find those stolen lives again. And if they can do it together, that’s a very odd and unusual set of circumstances for that kind of thing, but it’s a very complete way to tell the story. He tried to kill her, but if she asked him to stop and he stopped, if he himself chose to change on his own, when it really, really mattered—decided that it was what he wanted more than all the things he was before, and she decided that was enough, and they could both have a future as family? I like that. It’s a happy ending stolen back.

Long Frank Answer, in case you /have/ read ILM & thus short answer did not answer your question: So. Again, for me, I always talk about Frank as in the version of him I myself write, and I wrote ILM before the archives retcon, and also just ignore them because they’re usually dumb and blatantly contradict well established and longstanding canon. Even then, I usually don’t like Frank though—didn’t like him when I started writing ILM. But Frank has very little established canon character. All there is for sure is he was a foster kid that went through some bad stuff, he met Julie and changed his mind about desperately trying to be homed somewhere other than with Clive bc he liked Julie a lot, he met Susie and Joey, they became a gang chilling in Ormond’s abandoned lodge, then tried to rob a store Joey was fired from, were surprised by a cleaner who grabbed Julie, and Frank impulse stabbed him, freaked, and ordered the others to finish it with him and be in it together. Then before they’d even really finished burying the body, they got snagged. That leaves a whole lot of personality and thoughts and motivations and future choices and person wildly undetermined. Writing, sometimes characters just do their own thing completely out of my control, and I have to adapt. Frank chose not to kill Meg at the end of Tenacity, Adrenaline, & Grit, which surprised me, because he’d been nothing but a dipshit asshole bastard till one minute ago, but I knew it was because he recognized what she’d tried to do at great pain to herself because she wouldn’t bow down and die, and he connected/empathized or sympathized on some level. He also couldn’t go through with killing Quentin immediately after being helped by him in Distortion/Iron Maiden. Neither was like, planned. It’s just who the character was. I was frustrated. I did not want to like or feel sympathy for Frank at all. Then in The Lost, Jeff just fkn hijacked the whole plot and added 20 pages not in the outline because he wanted to be kind to Frank & it’s not like I can stop characters when they do whatever they do. And while writing it, I got to know that the version of Frank Morrison in the world I was writing—which is always the version I refer to/think of him as & write now myself—was not somebody past saving. He’s a piece of shit and he’s done fucked up and inexcusable stuff, and he pays for it. In many ways, Frank gets away with a lot over the course of ILM, but it’s always because characters choose on their own to forgive him, not because they or he doesn’t think it was fucked. And Frank suffers—a lot—for his choices, and has to live through appropriate and large amounts of regret and remorse about stuff he did before the end. He gets the chance to make better choices several times, and mostly he doesn’t. He continues to fuck up. But right near the end, he makes a couple good decisions when it’s down to the wire, sees where his bad choices got him and what he has to live with, and then he does live with it. He almost dies, and then ends up falling on Jeff’s mercy, which he knows he doesn’t deserve and doesn’t expect to get, for a last chance to make it, and because Jeff is an ungodly kind and forgiving soul, he makes it.

Frank isn’t a good person, and he does a lot of stuff that isn’t remotely okay or justified or excused, but he /is/ a kid—the upper end of it, but he’s not a full grown adult. He has every reason to believe nothing of himself or others, a fucked up childhood and life which isn’t his fault, and the Entity got all four Legion kids before they’d even had time to process the one and only violent crime they did (which was unplanned), and it is historically running a PHD in psychological warfare vs everyone. Absolutely none of that excuses or justifies him, but it is an explanation for some of it that is not as bad as say, doing that shit for fun or cruelty or hate or what have you, which makes him a bad person, but one with a lot more humanity left than say, Kenneth. Who is at -100 or something. If he’s still got a lot of humanity left, that means he could be redeemed, and he eventually chooses that path for himself and hits the appropriate “I did something horrible. Fuck. It was really bad. I should not have done it.” “I am really sorry I did this. I feel awful. I’m sorry.” “I cant change it, but I can try to do better and make whatever reparations I can.” “I want to be better, and I am going to try.” necessary stages of actually trying to improve. So, I like him. He did a lot of really awful shit that wasn’t okay, but he was never without sympathetic elements. He does love his friends and his girlfriend, he is a good boyfriend to Julie and selfless towards her and his crew (overall anyway—has even risked death for them very willingly, even the one who was fighting with/kinda hated him), will keep his word in deals and has some semblance of both sympathy and honor, feels guilt, is a kid, did not choose this life but was rather catapulted into it and too weak to climb out once he landed in the mud. All of that together makes him someone I feel sympathy towards and find quite redeemable, so long as he will decide he wants that, which, in ILM, he does. If you just meant Frank in general then idk how to answer because there’s not much established Frank period it’s kinda a shell like all original dead by daylight characters, and I have no thoughts on it by itself because it’s not a whole person, and so I really only think of Frank as ILM verse Frank now.

[iloveutoodeath]

sorry this became so long lmaoo that’s why i deleted all the tags in that post i last reblogged that i was gonna write. can u do read more on mobile?? anyways hmm ok so about the thing i last reblogged.. that’s actually something that’s been on my mind lately because i mean i’ve always hated working retail, but working retail during a pandemic has rly made me put my foot down, like no i really have got to get it together now and figure something out about what i’m doing with my life!!! ever since i dropped out of art school like 6 yrs ago i’ve always just kinda gotten by working this job or that job, thinking as long as i can pay my bills and student loans monthly i’m good.. but like still holding on to the hope of reapplying to at least an art program in a local community college (bc reapplying to another art university is too expensive and based on my previous experience not even worth it) to give it another shot bc well it’s still something i want and it saddens me that i had to quit that and completely derail my life dreams yrs ago because of terrible mental health. but like idk the art school experience i had was just so bad, it really did suck all the soul and enjoyment i had for drawing and making art out of me. i don’t think i drew at all for like 2 years after dropping out :-// and ever since i finally picked it up again i always thought to myself that i need to keep practicing and i would force myself to draw but i hated everything i drew because of the pressure i put on myself, kept procrastinating looking into art programs because there was always the fear in the back of my mind that i would fail again if i reapplied to any program, and also realistically feared that a job in cartoon animation would be just as soul crushing as whatever work i had to do as an art student. and yea.... idk every year i draw less and less because of the expectations i put on myself has made me really not enjoy drawing the way i used to. i really really admire everyone who is able to pursue a career in whatever art field they love, because yea i’ve come to accept that i’m not wired that way. not to be dramatic but this idea of turning your favorite beloved hobby into your career has honestly been one of my biggest sources of despair in my life for almost a decade now!!!! lmao!! and well honestly i should have probably given up on the “dream” a lot sooner because my life has been so pathetically stagnant by holding onto it as long as i did. i don’t want anyone to take this as like something sad or whatevs, because honestly me coming to terms with the reality of art being only a hobby and nothing more and that being a much more healthy relationship for me and art, is such a good thing for me personally (i think??)!! now i just kinda feel ridiculously lost bc well if not animation, then what will i do??? lmaoo. idk!!!! but i’ll probably look into becoming a vet or a zookeeper or something like that :”~)

[ssecretssanta]

@h-isforhome bro !! this is the last one !! holy shit !! :’)

MERRY CHRISTMAS, LOVE !! ✨🥰🎄 I seriously can’t believe it’s already Christmas ! (time isn’t real and no one can convince me otherwise lmao)

I read your message this morning and it literally made me tear up and I couldn’t stop smiling wow I can’t believe secret santa soul mates exist and we found each other :’) like wow can you believe that you’re also the sweetest and funniest person ever?? (my whole heart literally went like 😳💖🥺😍 when you called me babe wOw I’m a sucker for terms of endearment)

I’m a Pro at pretending that deadlines don’t exist and haha my room is already becoming a mess again bc I didn’t fold my laundry and now I have the Christmas Mess to deal with, but it’s definitely a mood booster to have a clean environment !

yeah I’m so excited for normal hours again and it’s not too bad working everyday cause the shifts are shorter ! your job sounds so fun ! I’m glad the scheduling is so flexible, that’s super nice ! I literally Could Not wake up that early lmao my sister and dad worked the early morning shift at Target for a while and I literally have No Idea how they did it ajsjakla I’d simply Die instead

me and my sister used to share a room and it was a Disaster lmao ! I put Christmas lights up all around my room and I just so happened to have a strand of rainbow lights and ofc I had to put them up around my closet for that Sweet Symbolism and I’m honestly gonna get a kick out of it when I come out to my family and point out how many hints I’ve been dropping lmao

(ALSJAKAL that family simply does not have rights !! who puts up more decorations RIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS??)

babe it’s mutual I guess bc you have my heart too :’) I would serenade you with some one direction songs but I simply cannot sing so I’ll have to learn the fingerstyle playing instead oR ACTUALLY I’ll play the kazoo instead of singing lmao (ukulele kazoo nonsense rights)

haha I’ve thought about watching hsmtmts but I just can’t get over how Ridiculous and Long the title is??? Like what was the Point of calling it High School Musical The Musical The Series when you could have just shortened it?? I’ve heard great things about Atypical but I haven’t watched it yet !

(literally wtf. some people just get to like See things?? without paying for it?? W A C K)

ANSBAKAL that’s so unfortunate !! (but also kind of funny ngl sorry for laughing but the image of that happening to anyone is kinda hilarious) I’m a queen of awkward situations and I’ve learned to just let myself feel Mortified for a minute and the just Repress It so I can function lmao (and then it comes back when I’m laying in bed and I can relive it and overthink my entire existence oop)

literally imagine just,,, not writing an entire essay every time we communicate?? couldn’t be me 🤷‍♀️

oh boy I Felt That. Family really is the only consistency in life, for better or for worse I guess lmao. and for real, my parents have gotten so chill and it’s nice but also frustrating bc my bro gets away with literally everything

it should be Illegal for younger siblings to be taller than older siblings tbh, it’s just not fair to disrupt the power balance like that

lmao you calling me smart made me laugh but thank you ! I live for a bit of chaos but I definitely also love the thought of having a more chill vacation so I can actually enjoy myself lmao

(that’s wack to think about)

if something ends bad I’ll literally make my own ending for it bc Nope No Thank You. fix it fanfics are truly the greatest blessing on this earth lmao. (I’m most definitely still a loser but like a Chill loser so it’s okay haha)

gay domesticity and yearning is what I live for. there’s no other point to life than to find a fellow gay to be domestic with and yearn for. (I literally had to put the book down and yell silently for a solid five minutes when I realized what he was doing lmao I was a Wreck) this is the fic !! (I haven’t read it in a While so I don’t remember much of it oof) and I want to buy trc so bad but I just have the mobile versions rn ! finding the Energy is really the biggest struggle in life

bro you’ll be able to flex so hard, just think of all that cash and like, Status. I’m already proud of you :’)

sleep deprivation and being gay are my only cultures lmao

askaklsjaka wHaT eVen?? I can’t imagine wanting to have a baby on my own birthday lmao !!

tøp is great !! I was really Into them for a long time and I still love their music but I’m not as involved in the fandom anymore haha (but !! Tyler and Jenna are having a baby !! i legit tested up when I saw them post about it on Instagram !!) your sister is Valid bc Alec Benjamin is a sweetheart and his concert was Amazing !! pit sounds like a nightmare sometimes but I want to experience it at least once in my life lmao.

I’m hoping it’ll be a fun summer bc I need some good after finishing highs school and before moving on to college lmao !

I would also love to go to Europe ! I really want to go to New Zealand, Japan, and anywhere in Europe really haha

teleportation would be So Nice like wow imagine not having to Walk. I’d personally like to be able to stop time because then I might actually be able to get Things Done for once (and sleep !! Imagine all of the sleep !!)

I’m,,, gonna cry holy shit. This is it. Time has flown this month and reading your tags is making me realize just how lucky I got to get you for this whole thing ! you’re literally The Best and I’m so glad I’ve been able to get to know you through all of these long ass messages (long is definitely our thing and i can’t imagine a better way to have done it) 🥺💕 ily !! can’t wait to be able to dm and talk more regularly !! (I feel like all our chats will end up being novel length anyways lmao that’s just the way we are I think)

merry chrismas again !! sending you all the love and good vibes !! 💕✨💞💖

with all the love,

kate @lightsupbabes (your not-so-secret-anymore santa 🎅) 

[baepsaets]

eight’s a crowd pt. 4 ~ bts

pairing: ot7 x reader

rating: sfw

word count: 6.6k

summary: you’re a bighit staff member in charge of stage set-up when you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the very seven men you’re setting stage for. soulmate au!

a/n: everyone... my beautiful followers... i’m so sorry it took me so long to post this! there will be one final part after this that will include smut. also i went to see aquaman tonight and it was so good. having jason momoa and amber heard kicking ass in the same movie made my little bi heart quiver lmao. also i want mommy nicole kidman to spank me with a trident. enjoy this update and i hope everyone has been having happy holidays!

disclaimer: i always put a read more in my fanfiction, but it does not always work on tumblr mobile. this fic has a read more already in place.

part 01 02 03 04 05

You were adjusting the sounding system in the pit when you felt a sudden weight on your back. You startled and turned around and found yourself pressed against Jae, who coddled you like a baby. He smelled like cologne and alcohol and something mechanical, vaguely oily and coppery.

“(Y/N),” he groaned, drawing your name out into one long sigh. If you weren’t so caught off-guard, you would have laughed. “We’re leaving early today!”

He was leaving early today. It was the last concert before the unimaginable—a month-long break. Set-up crew got to leave a whole half-day early, leaving mid-crew to pick up a little of their slack. But you knew they deserved it, especially since they’d been short-handed after you left.

It was hard to imagine that it had been a whole month since you’d switched to mid-crew, and even longer since you’d met Bangtan. Sometimes, it didn’t feel real. You missed your old set-up crewmen, but it was hard to miss them too much when there were seven other people around to eagerly keep you company.

Jae’s bag was already slung over his shoulder, and you knew he was about to leave. Your break didn’t technically start until after the concert tonight, and true to mid-crew form, you’d be staying with Bangtan wherever they went. The thought filled you with unimaginable excitement—for a month, you’d get to be with them without having to worry about work or scheduling.

“Remember to teeeeeeeext,” Jae slurred, clutching you to his chest. You patted his shoulder awkwardly, face smushed into his clavicle. “You never teeeeeeext anymore.”

“I text you every day,” you complained, your voice muffled by his flannel.

“But it’s not enoooooough,” he moaned. He was probably already a little intoxicated—a few people in set-up crew had already broken out a bottle of vodka in celebration, and no doubt Jae had already indulged.

You asked, incredulous, “How much more do you want?”

“I don’t care. I miss you,” he admitted, and you cooed at his cuteness.

“I miss you, too,” you laughed, pulling away from him. “But you need to get on the bus before they leave without you.”

“They would never,” Jae scoffed, but you raised an eyebrow. Sungjin would. Oh, Sungjin so would. And you could tell in his gaze that he realized that, too. “Okay, okay. I’m leaving. But I love you! I’ll text! Don’t think just because you’re famous now that you can get rid of me!”

He said this all while walking backward, voice raising with every sentence. Some of your other mid-crewmen stared at you curiously, and you waved Jae away in embarrassment. Your good rapport as a hard-worker had carried to your new job, but you still didn’t know the rest of mid-crew well enough to be weird in front of them.

You weren’t famous by any definition of the term, but you’d garnered a certain amount of attention in the past month. It was impossible not to, considering at least one member of Bangtan was around you every day. It was easy to pass off some of it as work, but the rest of the crew had to at least suspect that your professional relationship with them went deeper. No one had said anything about it, at least not to your face, and you were grateful that at least a portion of the people you worked with knew how to mind their own business.

Working for another hour, you were finally setting up the last of the lighting equipment. You were usually the quickest crewmember to finish your work, simply because set-up crew had conditioned you so well. When you finished early, you either helped set up the rest of the venue or went to seek out Bangtan to see if they had any time to hang. Because their schedule was so packed, they usually didn’t, but it was still nice just to see them. Their faces would light up whenever they caught sight of you, even to this day.

You reached up to adjust the light, and a warm pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Electricity buzzed through your body immediately. “Hey, baby.”

“Oh, my God,” you exclaimed. “Why is everyone sneaking up on me today?”

“Not happy to see me?”

You turned your head and saw Jimin smiling, bottom lip tugged between his teeth. He fake-pouted, and you had to suppress the sudden desire to wrap him in a hug and never let him go.

“I’m always happy to see you,” you replied, before you could stop yourself. Your face flushed, but so did his, which was your favorite thing about him—at least you could make him blush, too.

Jimin pressed his cheek against the back of your neck hard, and then released you. You kept tinkering, despite the sudden distraction.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you said. “The sound system on the left side burnt out this morning. We were able to replace it, but the sound check before the concert is probably gonna start early.”

Jimin grunted in acknowledgement, and you continued talking, back still facing him.

“And you need to be careful. There’s a slick spot by the—,”

“Mhmm,” Jimin hummed. His voice was closer than you expected and you turned around, freezing when you realized he was right behind you. Jimin’s mouth curled into a small smile, and he reached out to tuck a hunk of escaped hair behind your ear. “You look good in that sweater.”

“Thank you,” you replied automatically, but your heart stuttered.

Out of all Bangtan, Jimin was the touchiest. He was the one who complimented you the most, voice edging on flirting. Whenever he smiled his teasing smile, your face would heat up hot enough to fry an egg on your forehead.

“Can we stop by your hotel room after the concert?”

He could have asked you to commit second-degree murder and you probably would have agreed to it, if he kept looking at you like that. “Yeah, s-sure. I mean, yes. If it’s okay with BangPD and everyone.”

“We already approved it,” he grinned, unconsciously leaning closer. You could feel the heat radiating off his body. To the outside world the two of you may have looked like a couple, but in the past month, you’d slowly learned how to let go of the world’s opinion. You didn’t care what they assumed about your relationship unless it negatively affected Bangtan’s career.

“Oh?” you asked, smiling your own teasing smile. “Were you that confident I’d agree?”

Jimin’s face flushed, and that was normal for him, too—always so flirty, until the teasing was turned on him. Then he became a shy mess. “Well, I mean—not that we knew you’d agree, but you usually—and then we, um—,”

You couldn’t help but smile at his cute stuttering, but then your smile faded, stamped down by the sudden guilt and confusion bubbling in your chest.

When you’d first started hanging out with Bangtan, dazzled and starstruck, you’d thought whatever silly crush you had on them would fade. After getting to know them, you’d thought you’d come to love them only platonically.

But your crush—or should you say, crushes—spiraled completely out of control. Bangtan had thoroughly swept you off your feet.

How could you have fallen for seven different men? Being alone with each of them, or several at a time, filled you with such a strong happiness that was only rivaled by how you felt when the eight of you were together. Then, the world felt clicked into place, like a weight you didn’t even realize you were carrying was lifted off your shoulders.

“I need to get back to work,” you told him, taking a step back. Distance. You needed to create some distance, no matter how much it hurt. “We can talk about it later, okay?”

“Okay,” Jimin replied, pouting. You resisted the urge to pull him to your chest and coo.

You moved to turn around, but before you could, Jimin dipped closer for a split second and pressed his lips against your cheek. Face flaming, you turned to him with mouth agape, but Jimin was already backing away toward the door, lips curled in a teasing smile.

After he left, you absent-mindedly rubbed your cheek, still feeling the tingling imprint of his mouth on your skin.

Ten minutes later, your phone buzzed in your pocket, signaling a text. It vibrated again. And then a third time. It must be the group chat you were in with Bangtan, which could get ridiculously active. You glanced around for your manager and snuck your phone out of your pocket, just when it started vibrating multiple times in a row.

Namjoon, 1:35pm: So, party in (Y/N)’s room tonight?

Hoseok, 1:36pm: SWEET i’ll give the staff money to go buy snacks

Jimin, 1:38: remember to ask for TWO boxes of popcorn because :/ someone :/ ate it all :/ last time

Yoongi, 1:39: quit being so shady and just @ jungkook already

Jungkook, 1:39: IT WAS

Jungkook, 1:39: LITERALLY JIN-HYUNG

Jungkook, 1:40: NOT ME

Jimin, 1:40: WHAT?

You chuckled and glanced around quickly, typing a quick message.

You, 1:42: I’ll message you guys when I’m done with cleaning the stage and then you can come over. I’m putting the group chat on silent tho bc I’m still at work.

Already, your message prompted several quick replies.

Hoseok, 1:42: (Y/N)! <3

Jin, 1:43: We will not be silenced!!!!!!!!

Jimin, 1:43: HYUNG U SAID JUNGKOOK ATE THE POPCORN U LIAR

Taehyung, 1:44: lmao OOPS

Taehyung, 1:44: caught in a liiiieeeeee~~~

*Jimin has removed Jin from the chat*

*Namjoon has added Jin to the chat*

Namjoon, 1:46: Quit removing people from the chat just because they piss you off

*Jimin has removed Namjoon from the chat*

Yoongi, 1:47: as expected

“(Y/N)!” your manager called, almost making you drop your phone. You looked up guiltily and were lucky to discover she wasn’t even looking at you—she was too busy trying to keep a stage light standing. “Could you come over here and help me fix this?”

Sighing in relief, you pocketed your phone and went to help your manager. You liked your manager a lot, but she still made you nervous. You made sure to stay on your best behavior when she was around.

You held the top of the light while she screwed it into place, and when she was finished, she beamed up at you. “Thank you! And I’m glad you’re here.” Her bright look turned apologetic, so you knew you were in for some serious shit. “I have a favor to ask.”

“What is it?” you asked, cautious.

“Ji-sung is out sick tonight,” she admitted. “We need another crewmember in the camera pit. I know you don’t like going near the crowd, but you have the most experience with the stage material and I’d think you’d be a huge help to them.”

The breath left your chest. “I don’t know, I really—,”

“I know it’s last minute,” she interrupted, “and I know it’s a little inconvenient, but you’re our best replacement. It would only be for tonight.”

Your teeth clinked together, nervous. You were not a crowd person, and the camera pit was right in front of it. They were the pit that was most at risk of being tramped or attacked.

But you really wanted to leave a good impression with your new manager.

“Yeah,” you said, slowly. “That’s fine, (Y/M/N). I’d be happy to help.”

“Oh, thank you!” she gushed. “I’ll tell the camera crew. Think of it as a blessing! It’s basically a front-row ticket.”

A front row ticket in front of a writhing mass of fanaticism. Really, you didn’t mind people. People were smart—until you put them in a crowd. Then they were a hazard.

“Call time is 6:15!” And with that she flounced away, far too happy to be at work. Your manager truthfully was a different creature.

You let out a deep breath and shook your head. “Goddamn it.”

You distracted yourself with idle work leading up to the concert. It felt like everything and nothing needed to be done. You already knew Bangtan was busy with sound check and weren’t available, but that didn’t stop your from peeking your head in every once in a while to listen to them.

All you had to do was make it through the concert, and then the eight of you could finally relax.

You weren’t present for sound check, like you usually were. Instead you were busy introducing yourself to the camera crew and modifying their equipment. By the time the venue finally allowed people to start filing in, you were called away to help with lighting while the camera crew set up in front of the stage, so you didn’t get a chance to even wave at Bangtan until just an hour before the concert.

Walking into the waiting area, Namjoon’s head shot up immediately, and his gaze found your own. You smiled, and then the rest of Bangtan was turning their head. Hoseok waved manically.

You dodged a few frantic crewmen still trying to finish setting up before the concert began. Taehyung was the first to hug you, nuzzling into the side of your neck. Jin rubbed his hand along your shoulder and you smiled at them gratefully.

“We missed you during sound check,” Yoongi said, slightly pouting in a way that he would deny to be pouting, except it definitely was.

You sighed. “I’m not doing sound check tonight.”

“You look upset,” Hoseok noticed, and once he’d said it, the entirety of Bangtan circled you in concern. It was overwhelming in a good way, a flattering way, and you liked it because you weren’t used to people trying to take care of you. Jin cupped your cheek in one hand, analyzing your face.

“I’m fine,” you assured them. “I’m just nervous. I’m replacing Ji-sung in the camera pit tonight and I’ll have to be in the crowd.”

Namjoon nodded his head in understanding. “It can be overwhelming.”

“You’re telling me,” you muttered. “I’m afraid I’m gonna get dragged backward and trampled, never to be seen again.”

Jeongguk laughed. “That won’t happen, don’t be nervous.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for you,” Jimin said, and you realized he was smirking. “You’ll be in the front row. It’s the best seat in the house.”

“We’ll perform well for you,” Taehyung added.

“When do you not?” you asked, and then backtracked. “Perform well, I mean—not like, perform well for me—uh—,”

Jin laughed at your flustered expression. “Just keep your eyes on us the entire time and you’ll survive.”

You were certain that doing just that would be what killed you.

The eight of you chatted for a bit more until it was time for you to leave. Hoseok must have noticed how nervous you looked, because he leaned close to you for a second and planted a second kiss on your cheek. You didn’t see it, but Bangtan eyed him jealously.

“It’ll be fine,” he chirped, and you smiled.

“I’ll see you after the concert,” you told them, and then made your way to the stage.

The venue was an arena, and it was huge. The camera pit was set up in a small section in front of the middle of the stage, to avoid blocking a majority of the crowd view. It was protected by thin guard railing and a hanging sign that would do nothing to deter someone who was really interested in bypassing it. The second you stepped by the crowd your hair stood on end, but you put on a brave face and approached the pit, speaking with the camera crew. There really wasn’t much for you to do except help them with emergencies and fill in where you could.

You couldn’t help but glance back at the crowd. They were getting antsy, and so were you. It was like their infectious energy was seeping into you. You barely resisted the urge to scream when the concert began, and the entire crowd went wild.

The energy Bangtan brought to the stage was insane. It was like the entire arena was cradled in the palm of their hand. It didn’t matter who you were—if you were a fan, an employee, a stranger on the street—in that moment, they owned you. There wasn’t a choice about it.

It was amazing because at that moment you weren’t their coworker, or a BigHit employee—you were just a fan at a concert, who’d somehow gotten a really, really good seat. Seeing them perform so closely to you made your heart stop.

And throughout the entire concert, Bangtan kept staring at you.

You knew, logically, that they weren’t staring at you—they were staring at the camera. But you couldn’t help but feel like they were staring at you, trying to catch your eyes with their dancing and obscene hip thrusting. You were barely able to resist the urge to cover your face whenever it happened, giving in a few times when you were just too flustered to look. The camera crew, who were used to such a display, laughed at your embarrassment.

Sometimes they would point in your direction, stick their tongue out—Jimin, boldest of the seven on stage, laid on his back and thrusted into the air not one foot away from the lip of the stage, directly in front of you.

Heat was coiled so deeply in your stomach, you were afraid you’d explode.

Near the end of the concert, you got a message from your manager over your headset—since you’d done her such a big favor, she was letting you leave after the concert was finished instead of staying to help clean afterward. You were intensely grateful, because you were sweating and flustered and really didn’t know how much more you could take. You bid the camera crew goodbye and made your way backstage once Bangtan exited, the screaming of the crowd echoing as you walked further and further way.

Once in the back, you looked for them excitedly. It wasn’t often you got to see them directly after a concert. You were still hot and bothered, but you tried to push it to the back of your mind as your gaze snagged on them, all seven by the very edge of the stage.

“Hey!” you called, and the second Namjoon caught sight of you, his face split into a dimpled grin that almost made your heart stop.

He strode toward you, and you didn’t realize what he was doing until he swept you up in a hug and spun you around, giggling. Bangtan was right behind him, and suddenly you were in the middle of the sweatiest group hug you’d ever had in your life.

“How was it?” you heard Jimin ask, although you couldn’t see him through all the people in the way.

“It was amazing,” you replied. “Really, you all did fantastically.”

“It’s because we knew you were watching,” Hoseok declared. “You’re our good luck charm.”

You laughed and pulled your bottom lip through your teeth, looking away. A small smile curled your lip, and Jeongguk took you by the chin and planted a quick kiss to your cheek.

“So cute,” you thought you heard him breath, but you couldn’t be sure over the noise still echoing throughout the arena.

“Are you doing an encore?” you asked, and Jin nodded.

“Yeah, we’re gonna rest for a moment and go back out.”

“I got off a little early, so I’m gonna head back to my room and shower, okay? Come over whenever you want. I think Namjoon already has an extra copy of my room key.”

“We’ll come over the second we’re done,” Taehyung said, and then he was hugging you too, your face buried in his neck. “Thank you for watching us.”

“I always watch you,” you admitted. “I’m just never in the front row.”

Jimin’s grin was sharp and sly. “We know.”

You shooed them off, watching them glance back at you as they prepared to go back on stage. You waved them goodbye until they were gone, and then even peeked through the curtain to watch them from the sideline for a moment. I was just like all that time ago, when you’d caught a sneak peek of them before running into Jeongguk, except now you had permission to be here. Now you knew them. And now you knew just how much they meant to you.

Your hotel room was on the second floor next to the venue. You were still one of the only women in mid-crew, and had secured yet another room to yourself. It had two beds, and you threw your bag down on the closest one before showering and changing into something more comfortable. You put on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt and sat down to start browsing Netflix, looking for a new movie to watch. You thought, vaguely, about taking a moment to take care of the heat still simmering on low in your stomach, but knew you’d never be able to look them in the eye if you did something like that right before they came over.

After just over an hour, you heard the door unlock, and you perked up just in time to watch it swing open and reveal the seven people behind it.

“We’re here!” Hoseok hollered, and you laughed.

“And we brought towels,” Jimin informed. You noticed that they were still wearing their makeup, and were still in their stage clothes. They must have really come straight from the concert to your hotel room. Namjoon was the last of the seven to file in, and he held up a huge bag of food for you to see.

“We also ordered takeout,” he said, sheepishly. He knew how much you hated it when they spent money on your food.

You took the bag and shot him a mock-glare. “Go take a shower. You all stink.”

You were glad they’d brought extra towels, because the seven of them rotated through your shower like madmen before getting dressed and climbing into bed. You were sure they were used to such a routine, which explained how they did it so efficiently. You all chatted and ate while everyone showered, celebrating and laughing. It only took thirty minutes for everyone to get settled.

Jeongguk wanted desperately to watch a horror movie, and you relented and allowed it, all of you climbing into one bed. You ended up pressed against Jin, and his hair was still damp from the shower, and he smelled clean and fresh and manly. You had to bite your lip to resist leaning forward and burying your face in his neck.

An hour later, Jimin whispered, horrified, “Oh, no.”

“She’s so dumb,” Taehyung muttered. “She deserves to die.”

Hoseok curled further into himself, and you felt him rocking back and forth on the bed while you clutched your own pillow to your chest. The room was pitch black, except for the glow of the television screen.

The main character took another hesitant step forward, toward the murderer hiding within the house, and toward certain death. The scene was quiet, ominous music played in the background—you all knew a jump scare was coming soon.

“This isn’t even realistic,” Yoongi said. “The fake blood is too thick—,”

Namjoon interrupted, hissing, “Quit talking during the movie.” Not a second later, the murderer jumped out on the screen, making Namjoon yelp. You jumped, and Jin let out a shrill shriek.

The screaming on the screen was drowned out by everyone’s sudden gasp and Jeongguk’s maniacal giggling.

“Hyung—,” he tried to say, pressing his fist against his mouth. “Hyung—what noise what that?”

Jin’s face was red. “That wasn’t me.”

“Then who was it?” Jimin cackled.

“It was (Y/N).”

“Don’t pin that on me,” you immediately countered. “My voice doesn’t even go that high.”

Jeongguk dissolved into giggling again, while Jin’s face heated further.

“I can’t hear,” Yoongi snapped, still paying attention to the movie.

You didn’t know what time it was, and you didn’t care. For once, you didn’t have to worry about going anywhere.

Once the scary movie was finally over, you all decided to watch something lighter to calm down. Jimin picked out a rom-com that had most of you groaning, but no one protested enough to change his mind. It was fun to laugh, but whenever a romantic scene came on, you couldn’t help but eye them nervously. You were afraid that your ridiculous affection would suddenly be tattooed on your forehead.

In the particular movie you were watching, two people fell in love at first sight. It was almost like they were soulmates, and you sighed. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the movie, but watching a movie like that was hard when you were surrounded by seven people you loved but knew would never love you back.

“Have you ever been in love?” Jeongguk asked, suddenly. It took you a stuttered second to realize he was speaking to you, wide and dark gaze unreadable in the low light. You realized that the movie was already over halfway finished, and you’d been distracted for a majority of it.

You stared at him for a long time, lost in thought. It felt like the entire room was waiting for your answer with bated breath, and for the first time in a long time, you felt slightly uncomfortable.

“Not like that,” you said. “And I don’t know if I’d want to be.”

Jeongguk looked away, but Namjoon drew your attention as he asked, “What do you mean?”

It was hard to explain, and you weren’t sure how to begin. How did you tell these men that you wanted that type of love so desperately, you could taste it on the tip of you tongue? How did you describe to them how much it scared you, enticed you, beckoned you for more? A type of love you could only read about, hear about in movies. The type of love only shared between soulmates?

It was easier, pretending not to want it. Because if you pretended not to want it, then you wouldn’t have to live with the crushing disappointment of never having it.

“That type of love doesn’t exist,” you ended up saying, because you were a coward, and intimately aware that you’d managed to fall in love with every single one of them, so who were you to be so greedy?

“I don’t think that’s true,” Jimin said, quietly. The movie was just a humble hum in the background, barely audible. “Maybe you just haven’t found it yet.”

It hurt, thinking about it. Hope could be just as painful as it was uplifting. “If it does exist, I don’t need it to be happy.”

They’d ruined you, you realized. There would be no one after them. Any chance you’d had of finding mediocre love with a man who made you happy but didn’t light a fire in your soul was dashed, and all because for the first time in your life, you’d found people that made you feel alive.

“Of course, you don’t need it. But what if someone wanted to give it to you?” Taehyung inquired.

You turned your head and looked away from them, considering and contemplating fruitlessly. “I don’t know.” The mood in the room plummeted, and you couldn’t help but think it was your fault. “I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Jin whispered. “Sorry for interrupting the movie.”

“It’s fine,” you laughed, only a little awkwardly. “I wasn’t really paying attention anyway. Do you want to watch something else?”

They agreed, and finally settled on the first episode of a crime show you’d never heard of but pretended to watch avidly. Several of them glanced at you from the corner of their eyes, but you tried your best to ignore it.

By the time early dawn was creeping at your window, it was already decided that Bangtan would spend the night. Such was your routine. You ended up squished in one bed with Hoseok, Yoongi, and Namjoon, with Jin and the maknae line on the other bed. Everyone was so tired that sleep came easily, but you still lingered awake, thinking and worrying about the situation you’d gotten yourself into.

You needed to distance yourself from them, or tell them how you felt. You knew they’d never return your affection, but at least you wouldn’t feel guilty about lying to them.

I’m in love with you, I’m sorry. I need some distance to think.

It would almost be easy, but you didn’t want to see the look on their faces when you confessed. You would probably sound crazy. Who fell in love with seven people? They would probably think you were faking it because they were handsome, rich, and successful.

No, no, you knew that was your insecurity talking. But you also knew your friendship with them would never be the same afterward. You weren’t sure if you were ready to lose them.

You were so tired. You wished you could just fall asleep and not worry about anything until the morning.

“You can relax,” Yoongi whispered, suddenly. His voice was low and gruff and muddled by sleep.

You almost startled. Yoongi was lying right next to you, and you’d held yourself rigid to avoid touching him. You were afraid of making him uncomfortable. You could feel the pressure of Hoseok’s back against your own, but he was already fast asleep.

“M’fine,” you murmured. Yoongi snorted at how tired you sounded and scooted closer, until you had to actively fight not to sink next to him.

“Come here. It’s fine.”

You hesitated for a moment longer before settling down, letting Yoongi’s weight on the mattress roll you closer until you were pressed against his side. You rested your head against his chest, intertwining one leg between his. “Is that better?”

“Yeah,” you whispered into his sweatshirt, voice almost slurred with how sleepy you were. You wished you were at least coherent enough to appreciate his sudden closeness. “Are you comfortable?”

“So comfortable,” he muttered, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head. He maneuvered until his arm was underneath your head, fingertips drawing idle patterns across your back. “So, so comfortable.”

You laughed and looped your arm around his middle. “You’re such a sap.”

Yoongi’s body was incredibly warm, and you angled your face upward toward his neck. You could feel Hoseok’s back pressed against your own, and you wanted him to turn around and wrap you between him and Yoongi like a Bangtan sandwich. You dispelled the thought a moment later, knowing that it would lead nowhere except to awkward heartbreak.

“You smell good,” Yoongi said, instead of replying.

Unconsciously, you took a deep breath and smelled him. He smelled like the hotel’s scented body wash and whatever leftover cologne he’d put on before the concert. “You do, too.”

“Did you enjoy the concert?”

“I always do.” In the dark of the hotel room, with the only sound being the rest of Bangtan’s steady breathing, you felt safely cocooned. It was like living in a different world, where whatever pain and heartache you felt could be left outside, and inside this haven you could finally be free. “Sitting in the crowd, watching the seven of you do what you do. . . you just take my breath away.”

He went quiet. You were almost embarrassed for being so open with him, but blanketed by warmth and darkness, you found yourself too tired to care. Yoongi’s chest was moving up and down steadily underneath your cheek, and the soothing feeling was steadily pushing you toward sleep, until he broke the still and earnest silence.

“It’s better, now that you’re here,” he admitted, in a voice almost too quiet to be heard. “You make us better.”

“Mhmm, Yoongi,” you murmured, face still pressed against his chest. You were so tired, and your body was so heavy. You would never get over this feeling, of being able to exist absolutely comfortable in their presence. Hoseok shifted behind you, and you felt the curve of his spine through the thin material of your t-shirt.

“Yeah, baby?”

You hummed again, slipping further out of consciousness. You thought you heard him chuckle before he drew you closer, hand coming to rest on your shoulder. You cuddled closer to him and sighed, the beating of seven other hearts lulling you to sleep.

~~~

You woke up that morning cold, and a little bit barren. You didn’t understand why until you shifted and didn’t feel anyone next to you. Your hand met warm pillow, which meant you hadn’t been abandoned for long, but was still less satisfying than finding a warm body.

You nuzzled sleepily into your pillow and almost hummed, until the low sound of whispering caught your attention.

For a moment, you were too tired to listen, but as the whispering went on, you slowly starting paying more and more attention. Then, you recognized voices.

“We need to tell her,” someone said. You perked up at the mention of a her—you? Another woman?

“We can’t,” Jeongguk despaired. “You heard her last night. We need to give her more time.”

“You were the one that was so eager in the first place,” Yoongi hissed. “You’re the one who asked all that shit last night!”

“Be quiet,” Namjoon scolded. “She’s still sleeping.”

You turned your head just slightly, and caught sight of the hotel clock—it was only six o’clock in the morning.

“I just feel like we’re lying to her,” Taehyung whispered.

“It’s not lying if we plan on telling her later,” Hoseok said. “Now just isn’t the right time.”

Jimin butted in, saying, “It’s been over a month. What if there isn’t a right time?”

“We’re being too hasty.”

“We’re being impatient.”

“We’re wasting precious time!”

You sat up in bed slowly, and it was as if all of the air in the room was suddenly vacuumed away. Taehyung made a distressed noise in the back of his throat, and you asked, “What are you talking about?”

Your voice was soft and gruff with sleep, but still auditable. Someone in the room gulped.

No one said anything. You could see them now, piled together on the other bed, Jimin and Namjoon braced on the edge while the other five cowered behind them. You shifted until you were sitting directly across from them. The blanket was bunched around your waist, and your hair probably looked a mess, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Your nose twitched, and you asked again, “What are you talking about?”

The silence stretched impossibly longer. Everyone was looking between you and Namjoon, but even he seemed at a loss for what to say. You glanced at each other their faces, trying to analyze them for weakness. Someone would have to talk—someone would inevitably break.

“We’re in love with you,” Jimin blurted out. Everyone turned to glare at him while you gasped, raggedly. It was like a bucket of water being thrown over you.

You stared at him, wide-eyed and incredulous. For a moment you were too afraid to speak, until you breathed out an uncertain, “What?”

“We’re in love with you,” Jimin repeated, softer, slower. “All seven of us.”

Unconsciously, you shook your head. It didn’t seem possible, and your brain was having trouble making sense of it—there was no way in Heaven or Hell that all seven men in Bangtan were in love with you. You were nothing, compared to the women that surrounded them daily. You were nothing, compared to the money and the fame they had. You were nothing. Maybe you were still dreaming, and this was all just an elaborate fantasy.

Jin was quick to do damage control. “It’s not as weird as Jimin makes it out to be.”

“Actually, it’s weirder,” Yoongi commented, dryly. “We’re soulmates.”

To himself, Namjoon muttered, “God, we’re so bad at this.” He pinched the bridge of his nose but didn’t move to speak further.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“It means,” Yoongi continued, “that the eight of use are meant to be together. Every single one of us. We were meant to be together since the day we were born.”

“It’s not something we can explain easily,” Hoseok winced. “But the seven of us already knew what to expect, when it happened. Meeting your soulmate is like finding a missing part of yourself. It’s touching another person and knowing they hold a piece of you.”

“It’s looking into someone else’s gaze and seeing yourself reflected back at you,” Taehyung added.

“It’s filling a hole in your heart without even realizing it was there,” Jeongguk finished, quietly.

Namjoon decided to interrupt, saying, “We know it’s hard for someone who hasn’t seen it before to understand. That’s why we haven’t said anything until now.”

You looked up at the ceiling, not sure what to say. A part of you wished they would have told you sooner, but another part knew you wouldn’t have been ready to hear it.

“Didn’t you feel something?” Jimin asked, leaning forward on the bed. “When we first met, when we were finally all together? Didn’t something about it just feel right?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered, and your voice was embarrassingly weak. “I—uh—,”

You must be going insane. Soulmates didn’t exist, and if they did, you certainly would have seven of them—and they certainly wouldn’t be the entirety of Bangtan. All talented, handsome, special—and then plain, boring you? Nothing about it made sense when it was laid out in front of you, logical and analyzed.

But you couldn’t forget that feeling you’d had, when you’d first met them—all the heated touches, the electricity, how comfortable they made you. That feeling you’d had in the car, when Namjoon had shut the door and suddenly the world didn’t spin on a titled axis, suddenly a layer of static was lifted from your brain, and for once you could be at peace.

You couldn’t forget the rightness, buried deep in your chest.

“Why me?” you asked them. “I just don’t see why me.”

“Because you’re the only person in the world meant just for us,” Jeongguk breathed, and his voice was reverent, and the seven of them looked at you like you were something to be worshiped.

And it was too much. Your insecurity, your confusion—they pilled on top of each other and multiplied and multiplied, filling your body and your chest and it was too much.

You stood abruptly, startling them. “I think I need to leave.”

“Don’t go,” Jimin immediately begged, reaching out to you.

You took a step back. “I-I’m sorry. I need to think. I can’t think clearly when you’re all here.”

“Then we can leave,” Namjoon started to say. “This is your hotel room—,”

But you turned before they could stand, and you were out of the hotel room before they had time to stop you.

[ronniesshoes]

2, 4, 5 and 10? sorry so many, i'm curious!! 💛💖- andie

Andie omg hi!!!

2. Tell us about what you're most looking forward to writing - in your current project, or a future project:

Okay so I'm always looking forward to writing conflict - that's where the characters show their true colours, and it's so much fun to create conflict where no one is essentially right or wrong, which is something I enjoy and am very good at. If we're talking a specific scene, I'm dying to flesh out a trembling, desperate Freya begging Jo for a kiss in the locker room after fencing practice (which she has zero interest in, she just sort of showed up unannounced like surprise surprise how hard can it be (also who doesn't want to be backed up against a wall while your love interest presses a blade to your throat?)) in my coffee shop au because that. Is peak sexi

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you're really proud of (explain why, if you like)

Actually the entire bookstore au bc it required zero effort but it turned out so pretty!! But something that I feel has actually made an impact on people is a conversation between John and Roger in chapter four of my fic Keep Yourself Alive where John talks about realising he's asexual (it's v long and I'm on mobile so I'm not gonna share). It was very important to me to include an ace character in the first place but when I started writing the scene I realised how much I wanted to talk about the asexual experience as well as provide some comfort for ace-spec people who might need it. I think I managed well, and I've had people come to me and express their gratitude, so mission accomplished! (Also spoiler alert, in my upcoming fem queen au there are TWO a-spec people, one ace and one aro!)

5. What character that you're writing do you most identify with?

I pour my own personality into my characters to a ridiculous extent so I identify with parts of all of them (as I hope most people do). While I have a lot in common with John, I think I identify most with Roger personality-wise, or at least I aspire to be more like him where possible

10. How would you describe your writing process?

For many years it's been quite painful as it's come from a place of lack - it never turned out the way I wanted, if it wasn't perfect then what's the point, lots of procrastinating and painful attempts at forcing myself to write, then eventually getting so sick and tired of the whole thing that I would edit it all in one day, publish way after my bedtime but still not satisfied, then waking up every hour to check for likes or comments, the former of which usually made me more bitter. Now my writing comes from a place of abundance - I'm excited to write, rarely have to force myself, doesn't feel guilty when I don't. It was a long process where I really had to tend to some wounds and challenge some beliefs, but now the writing flows and it's a beautiful thing - and, funnily enough, requires way less editing even after a speed writing than it did when I suffered from perfectionism. Funny old world!

[love-loser]

16 or 2 👀 or maybe 16 AND 2? Like younger brat tony who’s breadwinner to his exasperated older hubby,,

16. professor peter x cocky student tony 

SORRY OMG THIS IS SO LONG jkhddh thank you for the ask! i didnt know how to combine 2 and 16 so i just wrote 16, but someone else asked for 2 so fear not, you will be getting it. hope you enjoy

prompts here 

MOBILE USERS READ HERE PLS!! 

Even though college was a volatile time for many, this whole higher education thing was going pretty well for Peter. Granted, he’s the one teaching the class, but still, pretty good seeing as see he was so young (25) and oh so (very) endearing, both of which helped him get along with his students.

Well, most of his students.

He never knew just how much one person could annoy him but walking into class, seeing that stupid smirk on the younger boy’s smirk, just made his coffee taste that much bitter, the junior never failing to make his day just a bit shitty, somehow. 

Even more- he’d always managed to somehow know the material even though Peter was sure he was either sleeping or on his phone half the time. The Engineering professor could probably count on one hand the number of times he’d seen the brunette actually take notes. And it was already halfway into the semester. It hadn’t even caught Tony off guard when he tried to call on the boy. 

What he hated the most, though, was the way Tony’s stupid, stupid, intense, dusky eyes always seemed to undress him everytime he walked into the room. The way his hands made his excessively big iPhone look tiny when he wrapped his capable fingers around it and- not to mention those same fingers that rubbed against his lips as he blatantly checked his own professor out, in class, no less. Did kids these days have no manners?

Yes, maybe Peter was exaggerating just a tiny bit–– it’s not like Tony tormented him everyday or openly harassed him, but it’s the principle of it, see. In Peter’s mind, he only has one goal when it comes to Tony Stark, aka (surprisingly) straight A student, aka genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist most annoying boy on campus. 

And that goal: To put him in his place.

Peter can’t imagine what it’ll be like for the student when he gets to senior year in just half a semester–– in fact, even the very thought of Tony treating any of his teachers this way (or anyone) sends the assistant professor’s matchbox heart into insistent, restless flames.

(He chalks it up to just pure concern for his student.)Not jealousy.

Peter even writes up a list between inputting scantron grades, of why exactly he hates Tony’s guts.

Eloquently, he titles it, ❌ Tony Stark ❌.

1. Taller than me by an inch 1.5 cm.

2. Somehow knows my favourite breakfast from panera bread.

3. Always borrows notes from other people when he’s absent EVEN THOUGH HE KNOWS I HAVE COPIES BY MY DESK!

4. Wears those stupid glasses all the time.

5. Spends an average of 6 minutes after class just cleaning up, making me WAIT

6. Never pays attention in class but always sets the curves on tests.

7. Always flirts with other people outside the hall before class. (distracting!)

8.

On the eighth, Peter’s mind draws a blank. He’d thought that he could go on and on when given the chance, but maybe now isn’t the time- after all, he does only have 2 braincells left after mindlessly typing in scores.

It’s about 5:43 pm now, which probably means he should go after entering this last girl’s score and-

Done. Rarely do other professors ever stay this late, but Peter isn’t really in the mood to stick around and see. He grabs his trusty bullet journal- the one he proudly spent 2 and a half hours on in the beginning on the year, and also the one he just slandered Tony in, which, speaking of the devil-Shitshitshit, avoid him before he annoys you, Pete. It turns out his stiff, minecraft esque speedwalking in the other direction still isn’t enough to deter Tony, who looks up from his phone and calls out a nonchalant, “Hey, Mr. Parker!” Peteralmost scoffs at the sheer level of disrespect in that one line- how dare he? Who does he think he is?! At least, that’s what he sputters mentally.

Physically, the brunet is ready to embrace a thousand year nap. 

Peter mentally debates whether or not to stop and give Tony the time of day, his aforementioned 2 brain cells bantering back and forth before, eventually, Tony just decides he will have a conversation with Peter, whether he likes it or not. “Hey, earth to Mister,” Tony says, suddenly in front of his face, dangerously close. 

“Hi, Tony. You do know my first name isn’t mister, right? And you should be calling me Professor.” Peter says, voice scolding. “Okay, then, professor,” Tony says, though Peter knows he won’t really listen to him, “What’re you doing so late? Isn’t it past your bedtime? You need sleep to grow taller.”Well- okay, this is getting ridiculous. 

“That’s no way you should be talking to your elders, much less your lecturer, Tony,” Peter reprimands, starting to walk again. Hopefully, he’ll be left alone now.Unsurprisingly, and to Peter’s horror, Tony only starts striding backwards easily, as if he’d grown up learning how to walk that way. “But you’re so young. You barely look like my elder, much less a teacher,” Tony’s eyes flicker down, then drag back up, and Peter tries not to flush at this. “That’s not to say you don’t look good, though, the opposite, really.”

Peter only scoffs at this, round eyes rolling in disbelief, a warm tinge to his cheeks to top it all off. He stops abruptly, ego puffing just a bit when Tony stumbles.

“Actually, why don’t we talk about that, Tony?” He stops just to mentally imprint Tony’s somewhat panicked expression, before continuing with an adamant, “I’ve seen the way you act in class- the way you look at me,” which sounds much more scandalous than it should be.

Peter’s voice lowers to a hush, registering that they’re still in a school building, where anyone could be listening. Trust no one, not even yourself. 

“It’s not appropriate. I’m not some romantic interest for you to try to indulge in, and I’d much rather you put some of that attention to the lecture’s material instead.”

A moment passes by, then two, and Peter is still staring Tony straight in the eyes, his own hard with determination, brows furrowed. 

After a pregnant pause, the student clears his throat. 

“Do you wanna be?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, yeah, you’re cute professor,” Tony admits shamelessly, “Why don’t you just give me a bit of a chance? I’m not that bad, I’m actually very great.”“That’s exactly what a bad person would say,” Peter points out.

“Let me prove that I’m not, then,” Tony says. Then, his phone dings, “Well, I have to go. But I mean it, mister! Bye,” And with that, Tony bids him goodbye with a wave and a blown kiss.

Peter shudders.

Yuck.

-

What is not so yuck, though, is the next morning, is when Peter gets in at approximately 8:30 am. There’s a still toasty croissant on his desk, with a orange post it note.  

Hope you enjoy this. I was late bc i was picking it up so i just decided to skip for the whole day- TS

Peter, infuriatingly, knows exactly who wrote the note, and couldn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes. He’d been doing that alot lately.‘Late picking it up so he just decided to skip the whole day over a croissant, are you kidding me,’ Peter doesn’t bother actually protesting against the innocent pastry, though, instead setting his bag down and taking it out of the pastry bag. He recognises the label- it’s from the campus coffee shop. Tony was late to class picking up food from an establishment on campus. 

The kid’s gotta have a demerit, or something, because that might be going just a little too far, even for him. It’s like being late to a party you’re already at, but leave it to Tony Stark to somehow find a way. 

Well, that’s too bad. There was suddenly going to be a pop quiz today. 

-

Peter, later, finds that he has to reach deep inside himself to not literally slap the living shit out of Tony’s face when the boy opens the door to his lecture hall as the professor is packing up later that day.

“So you are here,” is what he says instead, eyes narrowed accusingly. He still doesn’t get why Peter doesn’t just come to class if he’s already there- are his lessons really that bad?  

“Indeed I am,” is the answer that comes, infuriatingly nonchalant. “Miss me?” 

“Never,” He huffs, slinging his bag over his shoulder. 

“Did you at least like the breakfast I got you?”

Hell yes.“No. What would be better, Stark, is if you actually attended class while you were on campus.” Then, he adds in without thought, “Especially mine.”There’s a beat of silence, the words not quite sinking in for the professor yet- it’s a different story for Tony, though. “Especially yours?” Tony asks with a grin, and the tone in his voice makes Peter immediately regret whatever he said to induce said piece of shit’s intonation.“Yes. Is there a problem?” One strong brow raises in inquiry. 

“Not at all,” Tony’s stupid smile only widens, “The opposite, really.”

[imtrynnawriteshit]

Kassandra x reader x Alkibiades

I have nothing to say for myself

@ the anon who requested this: you're now allowed (and in some countries even legally obligated) to punch me!!!

Also you're v good friends with Aspasia in this bc the beginning had been stuck in my head for ages lmao

Thank c:

Words: I edited this on Tumblr mobile and now I'm too lazy to check (I'll do it later though. Maybe)

Warnings: Two swear words, I think. And the usual: suggestive themes, terrible writing, too many commas, me projecting my thirst onto y'all (I'm sorry, pals :/)

Characters: Kassandra, Alkibiades, Reader, a whole lotta name throwing, Herodotos makes a friendly appearance :)

Relationships: Kassandra x reader, Alkibiades x reader, Kassandra x reader x Alkibiades

Request: Your Kassandra/Reader gave me an idea for a request so sorry if its dumb haha. Basically I was super happy you included Alkibiades because hes my FAV and I'd die for him. ANYWAY. Could you write one where the reader is at Perikles symposium, and has always had a thing for Alkibiades but was too shy to take him up on his offers, and always regretted it. But then she meets Kassandra and WHAM INSTANT CRUSH so she basically convinces the reader to... eh. Join in the fun? Heh.

Damn Aspasia and her need to arrive fashionably late. She’d promised she wouldn’t be too long this time, but you should’ve known better. And here you thought you'd done a good job convincing her.

You’d been standing around for ages, casually mingling with the guests and steering very, very clear of Sokrates, no matter how many times he tried to catch your eye. You’d have to drain the city of it's wine before you could even consider the thought of engaging him in conversation. At a party, no less. You were here to enjoy yourself, and that did not include a conversation about philosophy going nowhere.

You’d just left Euripedes and Aristophanes to tease Sophokles when you ran into an already extremely tipsy Alkibiades, who seemed thoroughly pleased to see you.

His hands immediately landed on your waist to steady himself, yours going to his shoulders to aid him. You held on to him softly (after all, he might end up stumbling again, and you were a good friend who looked out for others; or at least, that's what you told yourself), and you almost had to physically restrain yourself from running your hands through his hair. Your stomach fluttering, you prayed to every deity that you didn't end up making an absolute fool of yourself.

“I hoped I'd run into you tonight," he paused, leaning in closer, taking in your form hungrily. "And don't you look absolutely delicious."

By the gods. You tensed slightly, your hands beginning to tremble a little. Thankfully, he didn't notice, although his hands did drop to your hips.

"Join me, wouldn’t you? The night is still young, and there’s so much more we can do to make it more…interesting.”

At Aspasia's request, you'd worn the robes she'd gifted you a while back. They were flattering, very much so, and Alkibiades’ attention proved it.

Then again, he didn’t really need an excuse to proposition you.

“I-It’s nice to see you too, Alkibiades, but-“

“But you can’t, yes, so I’ve heard. Many times. Trust me (Y/N), one of these days, I’m going to see if you’re just as magnificent behind closed doors.”

You just shook your head, smiling bashfully as he turned to walk away, stumbling into a pillar. Heaving a sigh, you decided to at least try and have a proper conversation with him tonight, one that didn't involve you stumbling over your words. Baby steps, right?

You were in the middle of hyping yourself up when you noticed Herodotos standing alone by the entryway, watching the festivities. You were approaching him when he was suddenly joined by a woman, someone you didn’t know.

But by the gods did you want to.

Herodotos smiled and shook your hand when you were closer to the pair, accidentally interrupting their conversation.

“(Y/N)! It’s good to see you again."

“You too, Herodotos. I didn't mean to interrupt, I'm sorry."

He smiled, shaking his head. "You always were too polite for your own good. It's no problem at all."

Even as you addressed him, you glanced at the woman by his side. "It’s been a while. I haven’t seen you in Athens, lately.”

“I’ve taken to travelling the Greek world. This is Kassandra of Sparta”, noticing your gaze, he gestured to the woman beside him, who was watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite place, “a misthios, and the commander of the ship I'm sailing on. Kassandra, this is (Y/N) of, well, Athens."

"A pleasure to meet you, Kassandra."

"Believe me, (Y/N), the pleasure is all mine."

You could've melted right there. The sound of your name rolling off her tongue was now possibly one of your favourites. Your face must've given you away, because you swore you could see the beginnings of a smirk on her lips. That you now couldn't stop staring at. You were quickly snapped out of your daze by Herodotos excusing himself to find the host.

Kassandra was quick to continue the conversation.

"How do you know Perikles?"

Thankfully, you'd become accustomed enough to this question that you weren't too flustered, and your response was almost automatic.

"Oh, my brother is one of the proedroi, and doesn't usually attend parties, so I'm forced to come instead. Not that I'm complaining, of course, it’s how I’ve managed to become well acquainted with Perikles and Aspasia." You smiled softly at her, trying not to let your eyes drop below her face.

It didn’t work, but you also didn't regret it too much. Those arms were sinful, and you could only imagine what they could do-

You shook your head slightly, mortified at how you'd been so caught up in your daydream you'd taken to ogling her, and thought you caught a glimpse of amusement in her eyes.

Why, oh why did this only ever happen to you?

You needed to leave before you embarrassed yourself any further, but at the same time, you were reluctant to deprive yourself of her company. Which was ridiculous, considering you barely knew her.

As if you weren’t bad enough when it came to Alkibiades.

At the same time, the fact that she was from Sparta intrigued you. And you were nothing if not curious. Clearing your throat, you continued, "but I must say, I'm surprised to see a Spartan here. What brings you to Athens?”

At this, she seemed to consider you for a moment. Her gaze had become calculating, and you almost felt uncomfortable under her scrutiny. But you must've looked trustworthy to her.

Or just harmless enough to deal with in case she was wrong.

(You hoped it was the former.)

“I’m searching for a Spartan woman. My mother. Herodotos thought I might have been able to find some information here."

You frowned in thought. You weren't sure of how much information she'd find, but the least you could do was point her in the right direction. “Unfortunately, I won’t be of much help to you-"

"Now, that is unfortunate. I would have loved to repay you in any way I could." Was it just you, or were her eyes lidded?

You had a hard time trying to finish what you were saying when your treacherous mind was instead focused on the suggestive tone her voice had taken, but you managed.

"but, I think, um, Alkibiades might know something. Aspasia too, but she - she isn’t here yet.”

She let out a little chuckle. "So you were of help anyway. Thank you, (Y/N)."

She smiled then, and gently squeezed your shoulder. Your skin burned under her touch, and almost as if she knew that, she let her hand trail down your arm before pulling away to talk to the others, throwing you another inexplicable look over her shoulder.

You definitely needed more to drink.

-

You were stunned, to say the least, when she found you again in the kitchens. The pitcher of wine in your hands, a source of comfort only a moment ago, now felt heavy with...shame, was it? You couldn't tell. The rush in which you set it on the table behind you only made you it worse.

Kassandra, however, didn’t notice. Or maybe just didn’t care. She stepped closer to you, glancing around the tiny room as you involuntarily took a step back.

Your nerves must have made themselves known, because she only closed the distance between the two of you, her amusement plain on her features now.

“I don’t bite, you know.”

What on earth were you supposed to say to that?

“I-I didn’t-“

“Unless”, she continued, ignoring your, frankly, pathetic attempt at redeeming yourself, “you’d like me to.”

Fuck.

You let out a shaky laugh, hyper aware of everything around you: the table digging into your back, Kassandra only inches away from you, the tension in the air.

Gulping audibly, you cleared your throat.

“Are you - is there something I can help you with?”

“You know, I believe there is. Alkibiades asked me to find some oil for him. You seem to be well acquainted with the kitchen", her voice had a teasing lilt to it as she shot the pitcher a pointed look. You wished the gods would take pity on you and strike you where you stood. They didn't. "So I hoped you'd know.”

You did, and with a stuttered "of course", you turned to grab it. Handing it to her proved to be a little difficult, though, when she pulled you even closer (if that was possible), her hands on your waist. You were fairly certain your heart had stopped beating.

“You’re looking a little tense.”

“Oh, uh, I hadn’t noticed. I think it might be the wine-”

“Wine relaxes you, (Y/N), but it looks like it hasn’t worked at all. Here, come with me.”

And before you could protest, you were led away, one of her hands now on the small of your back. In the blink of an eye, you found yourself in front of a door, which opened to reveal Alkibiades.

A very naked Alkibiades.

You immediately averted your eyes, questioning every decision that led you to this point. Kassandra, on the other hand, seemed unaffected.

"Your oil."

Oh, you were still holding it. Still looking anywhere but at the two of them, you held it out for Alkibiades to take. And for the second time, you were left holding it as he reached for you instead.

Kassandra grinned. "You're a shy one, aren't you?

"I just...didn't expect -"

"There's a lot you wouldn't expect from me, but I always satisfy." Alkibiades' grip tightened around you. "What say we put this oil to good use and I prove it?"

You hesitated, but you knew that you wanted to. Especially with the way those two were looking at you.

"I certainly wouldn't be opposed to it." Kassandra said, wearing a salacious smile that was mirrored on Alkibiades and almost made your knees buckle.

"After all, what's a party without a little fun?"

Oh, what the hell.

"You're right." The gleeful surprise on their faces filled you with a sense of confidence. "A little fun never hurt anyone."

"Although, my fun is hardly little", Alkibiades said as they led you in. Only one coherent thought ran through your mind as the door closed behind you:

Fuck baby steps.

[iobottle]

atissi

replied to your post

“it kinda makes me sad when artists giving out tutorials on character...”

oh could you talk more about this? :o

ABSOLUTELY thank u for enabling me to go off about designs i love this shit this may get a bit long so its going under a readmore (sorry if ur on mobile i hope it works)

gonna start this off with im no expert Nor have i taken any sort of official art class this is me just analyzing characters from what i found that makes them memorable to ppl (most of these examples are going to be from games sorry i got them on my mind)

ok so basically making a memorable revolves around personality and appearance now theres different ways to go about showing these things and i think from consuming media you like will help narrow down how you wanna go about it, basically thinking about your character inside and out!

SO shapes and hyperstylization is a good way to get a fun appearance across in a cartoon esp media and is often what a lot of artists stress on an example of using shapes and a good silhouette to make a memorable character is sonic!(specifically comic sonic)

(had to google idw sonic for a non...u know image)

but not only do they use lots of triangles for this hedgehog they also made him blue! you’d be more likely to remember a blue headgehog over a realistically colored one!(also almost all of the sonic characters have a combination of fun shape + unusual color to help you remember them! the designs werent afraid to use color to make a bold statement)(he’s also segas mascot so of course they put a lot of work in his design)

now sonics appearance is not the only reason why people like him or remember him so much he’s also got personality! he’s cocky, fast, always getting into trouble, “you’re too slow!”, accompanied by shitty butt rock and a cool guy persona ie he’s got personality! and they weren’t afraid to give him some weird interests(see the butt rock) and he’s not perfect( see arrogance) if youve ever played a sonic game you have almost always remembered the crush 40 theme that went with it

all in all to go with his unusual appearance he’s got some unusual traits! it helps make him believable! admittedly he’s not the most embarrassing of the sonic crew (see knuckles or shadow) but he’s definitely rounded and not boring from an objective standpoint(you can not like sonic or his games i dont care)

(another example of something that requires good shapes is pokemon altho they arent really like very depthy since there are 600+ and some only have like a pokedex entry worth of info but still they have good and memorable designs)

NOW something that doesnt have the most “good shapes” design off the top of my head is link

now in the most recent zelda game his most memoriable physical attribute is that he’s on the androgynous side w his longer hair and smaller build but in his older designs he looked something like this

(art for a loz:link to the past)

not really that much of a striking silhouette, but what do we look at and kinda leaves an impression on us? his hair and hat! its very silly to see someone in such a big green hat with that big of bangs/mullet, the hat at least became so ridiculous of a look that in botw nintendo didnt include his hat in links main outfit bc it was too hard to make look good, its silly! thats good! its fine to have a normal human looking characters because sometimes stories are about humans, but if you want us to remember them include something that will strike us as strange for them

also probably a good thing to note is the noises link makes when he swings his sword, jumps, pushes something, ie any action they have always been something that has stuck with me

(another example similar to this is in mgs solid snake in mgs is this cool super spy but is rocking a full on mullet which is considered a joke hairstyle. this leaves an impression on us. a spy with a mullet! how ridiculous! another example is raiden who was specifically made bc a woman wrote that she didnt want to play as an “old man” so the protagonist of the super spy game is a longer haired pretty boy (with a huge ass))

now ive explained a little on a character with good shapes and personality and a character with a more “boring” shape design that makes up for it with almost quirky design choices but i feel like theres another series thats what originally got me thinking about how even a memorable silhouette doesnt need hyperstylization

ace attorney! (which is out on switch now if u havent played it i would def recommend it)

if you dont know the protagonist is the guy in the blue suit(phoenix), which well he looks like just a guy...with ridiculously spikey hair enough so that in his silhouette you can recognize him but also his posture (the pointing) makes for a sticking recognizable image bc if you’ve played the games you can practically hear objection just from looking at phoenix’s silhouette

which is another thing id like to talk about! not only are a good shape a way to have a good silhouette but posture is also important! how the character holds themselves can say alot about them just from a glance! such as meekness, arrogance, confidence, sadness, anger, happiness its a very important too especially when you arent relying on stylization

now onto the characters of ace attorney ive gone over phoenix's design a bit but theres a few others id like to look at with some Weird style choices that make us remember them(just going to glance over them since this post is so long)

now, this woman, franziska von karma, she dresses kind of strange for a prosecutor but her outfit is not too out there and her silhouette is not striking

but you see that whip? remember how i said she was a prosecutor? yeah she will strike people in court for getting off topic and will even hit phoenix when he starts breaking down her witnesses testimonies, which what literally strikes up about her

another prosecutor, godot, now his hair could provide a somewhat memorable shape but what we first notice is the strange mask on his face which is weird, but not the Same weird as franziska bringing a whip to court thus having both of these prosecutors being Weirdly memorable for different things (another note is his liking of coffee that he does not give up even in court ha ha)

now onto the other protag for the aa games

apollo! who also has weirdly spikey hair, but even if you put a silhouette of him next to phoenix you could tell there some was a difference between the two! its showing a pattern with the protags while also keeping them distinct enough to be able to tell who is who! although you cant say the pointy haired guy from ace attorney and not get just One answer unlike saying the prosecutor who has a whip but still they are distinct to people who have little experience with the series

sorry i dont have any sort of conclusion on this this was just sort of me rambling on about character design, but my main point is if you are discouraged bc all your characters dont have wildly different silhouettes thats ok! there are other ways to establish a good memorable character! dont be afraid to make them a little weird! give your character pink hair in a medieval setting, have them be ridiculously in love with tigers they have a striped shirt and pants, let them love childrens tv shows and have them never miss an episode, give them wacky hair or an extreme love of gum, show us some personality!! but dont forget about how they act and their values and dont forget that posture can go a long way for establishing a first impression

there are also many other methods to making a good character! like colors and dress!

silly is the way to go! have fun with it!!

there isnt just one way to make a good character!! theres plenty of more series that have good character design that i didnt mention pay attention to why you like the characters you like! also watch this video bc its really good