#was a little nervous about the phrasing/pacing so i’m seriously so happy it’s well received

[forhyune]

· . ˚ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞

— the little mannerisms you pick up from the members of stray kids over the course of your relationship.

words・3.7k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / genres・fluff, humor, borderline crack, intentional lowercase, established relationship(s), they're hopelessly in love your honor / warnings・suggestive in minho's and jisung's, touch of anxiety in felix's, jeongin's is a little gross LMFAO

a/n・massive shoutout to @/http.dwaekkii on tiktok for their edits about the boys' habits, which i consulted for chan, changbin, seungmin, and jeongin (and to @astraystayyh for beta reading hehe. what would i do without u). these were sooooo fun to write, hope u guys enjoy (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )

chan + getting shy easily. poor thing gets embarrassed so quickly as it is. throw you into the mix and it’s just critical hit after critical hit. defense lowered. no health potions left. he folds like a lawn chair with a massive smile and a whiny “stooooop” every time you say something even remotely affectionate. the habit is adorable, and you love it to pieces.

but you like poking fun at it even more. “god forbid i find my literal underwear model of a boyfriend attractive,” you’d say, or something along those lines, which of course only triples his embarrassment and on more than one occasion results in him starfishing on your kitchen floor, his hood pulled over his face.

fast forward however many months. he’s still the worst compliment-receiver you know, but you discover one arbitrary afternoon that it’s rubbed off on you.

the two of you are cuddled together on the living room couch in your usual fashion, your legs thrown over his thighs and his hands tracing absently over your shins as you relay to him something you overheard on the subway. the conversation is painfully normal. you’re almost bored. you pause to take a breath, and he murmurs, out of nowhere, in the dreamiest tone: “so damn beautiful.”

“wha—huh? what is?”

“you. your voice, your face, everything. i‘m lucky.”

your expression of bewilderment persists for around ten seconds, and then slowly, so slowly, you begin to sandwich your head between your knees, balling yourself up like a spooked armadillo. chan wonders if he should call an ambulance.

“love?” no response. “what, uh, what’s happening right now, exactly?”

no response. no response. then, hoarsely, “you can’t...say shit like that…randomly.”

he notices two things after that. one, your skin is burning hot enough to fry something upon, and two, you’ve formed a fist in the fabric of his hoodie, which you only do when you’re pretending to be annoyed at him. the puzzle pieces fall into place, and he starts grinning like a madman.

“you’re…embarrassed?”

the guttural groan you emit is more than enough of an answer, and the cute aggression that overcomes chan is fucking debilitating. he wraps his arms around you and hauls you entirely off the couch and onto his lap, littering kisses over your face until it finally resigns into a matching smile. all intent to continue feigning grumpiness erased with the drop of a hat. you drape an arm over his neck.

“you’re so good to me, channie,” you sigh helplessly. “i love you.”

“love you more, baby.” he imprints these words directly upon your lips, then pulls away, giggles. “that was very me of you, by the way.”

“i know, right? i was just about to say.”

minho + butt touching. it’s quite simple, really. if lee minho is within proximity of someone’s buttocks, he will, as he lives and breathes, make it known. will it be a coy little swat or a yelp-eliciting, full-bodied grab? nobody ever knows, not even him. the unpredictability is what makes it exciting.

but it takes a while before this starts applying to you, because the way minho touches you is…different. doting. there’s no other way to describe how he always holds the nape of your neck while kissing you, how he rests a hand against the small of your back whenever he leads you somewhere, how during the nights you can’t sleep he guides you to the place on his chest where he knows his heartbeat is loudest. he even drags you into his trademark headlocks the same way one would hold an invaluable treasure. he’s so obsessed with all of you that he never thinks to pay just your butt special attention (though it is, indeed, a special butt).

you take it into your own hands. literally.

you don’t know what prompts it—maybe you’ve simply seen minho slap his members’ asses one too many times, or maybe you’re still thinking of the specific time minho slapped changbin’s ass in passing and it fucking echoed, or maybe minho just looks especially fine in this practice outfit, a skintight tee and washed sweatpants that hug him in all the right places—but you feel a new urge today as your boyfriend swings his duffel over his shoulder, circles around the kitchen counter.

he puckers up as he nears you, silently requesting his goodbye; you give it to him, relishing for a moment in the familiar, soft plush of his lips beneath yours. then he pulls away and turns to leave, and your hand acquires its target.

“go get ‘em, tiger.” thwack!

minho jumps a foot into the air. clutches his pearls and his left butt cheek. becomes the splitting image of that perplexed blonde lady surrounded by geometry.

but when he turns around to stare at you, the smirk melting across his face betrays how he really feels about what you’ve just done. good. really good.

you, meanwhile, look genuinely confused. “it’s like it moved on its own.”

minho beams. steps towards you daintily, intentionally, like a cat catching sight of a laser beam. brings a hand to your hip, murmurs, “that’s what we’re doing now?” kisses you again, for longer this time.

you fully foresee his fingers wandering to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze, but you reach up to cuff his shoulder when it happens anyways, and his laugh vibrates against your mouth. it seems you’ll be reaping what you’ve sown from now on.

(good luck.)

changbin + the Cackle™. yes, you said something exceptionally funny. yes, you expected changbin to find it funny too. but you couldn’t expect the godforsaken noise that left his mouth as he threw himself straight into the tree planter behind you.

your mind spun with frantic questions as you helped him out of the dirt. had the spirit of spongebob just usurped his vocal cords? were you on a date with the wicked witch of the west? most importantly—

“are you well?” you sputtered, which only made him laugh harder and his laugh so much crazier, so you started laughing, too. and you were goners, falling over each other until you’d been reduced to watery eyes and sore cheeks, your giggling interrupted only by the sound of you slapping his thigh every so often, heartily enough to reverberate around the little park in which you concluded your second date.

that’s how you fall for seo changbin: laughing. with a reckless, breathless abandon you didn’t think possible. stumbling across empty sidewalks, spitting noodles across dining tables, begging for mercy on studio couches. wrestling under tear-stained comforters, starting (and re-starting) silly stories, huffing into beaming kisses. the list goes on.

you never quite get used to that chortle of his, too busy enjoying its insanity to notice how your own chuckles grow shorter and shriller, how they gradually develop an edge like the chittering of a forest dweller.

you complete your transformation on your ninety-eighth date. 

no, changbin doesn’t say anything exceptionally funny. no, he doesn’t expect you to find it funny, either. he expects least of all for you to fold over the kitchen island and start cackling like cruella de vil on helium.

han turns around from his seat on the couch. chan’s footsteps come to a halt as he emerges from the bathroom. both of them have fear in their eyes as they witness your undoing.

the only thing on changbin’s face, though, is unfettered delight.

“b-baby,” he sputters with a growing smile. “are you—”

you lift your face off the marble surface and turn to face him. the entirety of your forehead and the point of your nose is covered in flour. you blow a cloud of the stuff out of your mouth like a dragon awoken from slumber.

he loses it.

the two of you make your way onto the floor in slow motion, ending in a tangled heap against the side of the counter. changbin tries to clean off the flour and smears it all over your cheeks instead. you are zero help whatsoever, smacking his bicep like that’ll help you catch your breath.  your synchronized, diabolical laughter reaches every corner of the apartment. your happiness reaches every nerve ending.

chan and han look at each other, sigh. han takes a video.

hyunjin + side-eyeing. this man is so god awful at controlling his face, bless him…and DAMN HIM.

on one hand, you love how in tune with his emotions he is, how confidently he puts them on display. and you love your synergy. you come closer to believing in soulmates every time you glance his way and discover your exact feelings written all over his features; it’s a special type of happiness, sharing a brain with your favorite person in the world.

on the other hand, you think there’s a time and place for candor, and he tends, well, not to think at all. during many a precarious situation, you’ll catch him wearing an expression so transparent that he might as well arrange the words THIS IS STUPID AND I HATE ALL OF YOU over his head in neon lights. cue a dig of your heel into his toe, a hiss of pain cut short by your piercing glare. if you’d known ahead of time that dating hwang hyunjin would have you doing so much damage control…you’d still date him, let’s be real. but you do get stressed at times.

the night the tables turn, you’re at a celebratory dinner for your coworker’s birthday. small caveat: you can’t stand her. she’s the type to spontaneously combust if she goes two minutes without talking about herself. certainly doesn’t help that she’s downing champagne like water, and her lips are looser than ever.

hyunjin comes with you, fortunately. or not. he spends the whole evening trying so hard not to laugh: snorting into his bread, excusing himself to “cough.” you think he actually starts doing breathing exercises at some point. you’re so, so grateful that he’s here, but you’re also deathly afraid that he’s gonna bring out those neon lights in front of your entire office.

then, she flirts with him.

from the opposite end of the table. perfectly wasted but still knowing perfectly well that he’s yours. the whole table goes silent. hyunjin’s jaw hits the table.

your fork clatters to your plate.

FUCK time and place.

the side-eye you give her is devastating. truly masterful. your brow furrows. your eyes turn to slits. your gaze does the up-down-up of unadulterated incredulity. hyunjin recognizes the motions straightaway and starts smiling so hard his whole face hurts.

you take your boyfriend’s wrist and stand up. he follows suit. you don’t say a thing as you leave the restaurant, and you don’t have to. the intensity of your disdain was more than enough; anything more and she might’ve started crying.

once you’re on the curb outside, hyunjin pulls on your interlocked hands, brings you close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear. you hear laughter and his smirk in his voice.

“you’re so fucking sexy, holy shit.”

jisung + how he applies lip balm. that han jisung is the pioneer of modern day babygirlism is the worst kept secret in the world. that han jisung applies lip balm the riveting way he does, however, is unknown even to you. until one morning.

you pop into the bathroom and make your usual beeline for your toothbrush, only to end up motionless in front of the sink, staring. jisung is a bit off to the side, hair pinned back by a cinnamoroll headband, eyes glued to his phone, hand holding a tube of chapstick that you can actually see getting shorter in real time. he looks so pensive, so concentrated. how long has it been since he last blinked? you’ve half a mind to pull out a stopwatch.

finally, he rubs his lips together, recaps the chapstick, and makes eye contact with you in the mirror. a smile crosses his face, equal parts confused and amused.

“baby, your mouth is open.”

you close it. then you open it again, and your words come out in a barely-contained laugh: “what on earth did you just do?”

“what do you mean?”

“the—” you point at his mouth, then do your best impression of an elementary schooler trying to color inside the lines. “—that.”

jisung looks aghast. “that was LIP BALM.”

“no, i know what it—you’re so—i meant, why do you apply it like that?”

jisung continues to look aghast. “like what?”

“like you’re one of socrates’ prized pupils and the answer to the universe’s formation lies at the bottom of—” you step in close, reach into the pocket of his sweatpants. “—this tube!”

it might be the craziest thing you’ve ever said to him. he bursts into laughter, the kind that leaves him no recollection of what he does with his limbs, and when he can see straight again he discovers he’s pressed you gently against the counter. his fingers latched around the hem of your top, his grin inches away from yours. can’t stay away from you to save his life, this one.

“do i actually?”

“yes! holy shit, it’s so cute.” your arms circle around his neck, also without an ounce of thought, also through a fit of giggles. “no way you’ve always done that, right?”

“i don’t know. i’ve never thought about it.” a pause. a tilt of his head, with purpose. “am i…doing it wrong?”

the question is a trap and you realize it too late. your gaze drops from his eyes to his lips—a ray of sunlight glistens off the pink plush like a paid actor—then back to his eyes. let’s find out.

you lean in. so does he. and his mouth tastes and feels like melted fucking sugar. it’s such a pleasant surprise that you actually moan, and he chuckles against you. lifts you onto the edge of the sink. your mind really goes empty after that, save for one thought. i have to start doing that.

felix + checking his own pulse. you saw it from afar, the first time.

he stood by the stage’s entrance just before from curtain up, pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of his neck. eyelids sealed closed, chest heaving. you tilted your head, puzzled. worried. then the concert began, and you pushed the image to the back of your mind.

it returned to the forefront right before bed.

“you do it when you’re nervous?”

“yeah. forces me to ground myself. turns off the world for a bit.” the hand rubbing circles into your back paused. “wanna give it a go?”

“what, checking my pulse?”

“mine.”

you lifted your head off the pillow. felix took your hand from where it sat upon his ribs, isolating two fingers and nestling them over his jugular. his quickened heartbeat pressed into your skin like the world’s gentlest tattoo.

the sixty seconds began and concluded in total silence.

“well?” he whispered.

“ninety-three,” you answered, lightheaded from the sheer intimacy of it all. “you’re nervous right now?”

he hummed. pulled you down, kissed you deeply. “something like that.” there were no more words exchanged that night.

the habit surfaced more than you knew. while driving to visit your parents. after a stupid argument with a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath his free arm. you started doing it for him in the times he couldn’t, and he’d cover your hand with his own and kiss the top of your head silently, gratefully.

two years have passed since, and you’ve vanished from the dinner table.

felix asks the nearest waiter for directions to the restrooms. you don’t notice when the door swings open, unmoving in your spot over the sink, your pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of your neck. 

his hand finds your hip. you let him turn you around and bring you to his chest; he glances at the crystalline droplets studding your lashes and falling from your cheeks. his eyes convey what his mouth doesn’t need to, not anymore.

let me.

you do.

his fingers replace yours the moment you drop them from under your jaw, the movement like clockwork. he counts your every heartbeat with unblinking concentration, his heart growing heavier the higher the number climbs.

the sixty seconds begin and conclude in total silence. 

“well?” you whisper.

“hundred and six,” he answers. to his confusion, a smile pulls at your lips. 

he wonders if it’s a trick of the bathroom lights when he sees the tiny box you pluck from your pocket, but there’s no mistaking the reality of the diamond ring that sits behind its open lid.

the earth slants under his feet.

“crazy.” you giggle through your tears, run your thumb over his cheekbone. “that’s how many years i want with you.”

seungmin + poking eyes(?) he’s hardly touched puppym when your voice is slicing through the living room air like a fucking beyblade. 

“KIM SEUNGMIN, UNHAND HIM THIS INSTANT.”

do you have a sixth sense just for this? he throws his hands up in exasperation. “he’s literally me. i’m allowed to do whatever i want with me.”

“he’s not you, he’s our son.” you pop out of nowhere to swipe the plushie from over your boyfriend’s shoulder. “my son, if you keep this up.”

“just say you hate me and my preferred avenues of self expression.”

upside-down, he watches you dust off puppym’s face and smooch his forehead with a tenderness that makes seungmin unhappier than he lets on. you then tuck him into your jacket pocket. the little shit’s expression looks strangely smug poking out of its cotton capsule.

“i’m asking you to not gauge his eyes out, not to deliver me the holy grail,” you say. “you’ll survive.”

but then he feels your hands on either side of his face, and you lean over him like the mj to his peter, leave a kiss on the space between his eyes, too. he has zero say in the bashful smile this brings to his face.

“but why do you do that, seriously?” you mutter.

“i have no idea,” he replies. “but it’s fun. try it.”

“i’ll think about it.” you lean in again, and he nearly forgets what you were talking about in the first place when you kiss him on the lips this time. “okay, i’ve thought about it. no.”

“hate you,” he says despite the literal hearts in his eyes, and then you’re off to work.

puppym takes strikingly after his father. they have the same bangs. the same compulsively squeezable quality. the same little :3 that can only allude to sinister plottings. you’d be loath to admit that you sort of comprehend seungmin’s poking predisposition.

one night, seungmin falls asleep before you even finish your nighttime routine, and you spot in his peaceful, upturned face an opportunity.

you lie belly-down on your side of the bed. your fingers splay into a peace-sign in the air. your smile stretches further into a cheshire grin the closer you bring your hand. you’re just about to reach the ends of his eyelashes when—

“I KNEW IT!”

you almost catapult into the ceiling. then you try to make a mad dash for the bathroom. but seungmin shoots a hand around your wrist like he’s actually peter parker and pins you down before you so much as take a step. your only remaining option is to sulk about your foiled plans. (and blush, because, well, you’re under him.)

“amateur,” he tsks. “you gotta test my breathing to make sure i’m asleep first. shit’s foolproof.”

you blink at him for a few seconds. his words finally click.

now you almost catapult him into the ceiling.

“HOW MANY TIMES?”

jeongin + eating food in one bite. so you might be an instigator.

“hwuck,” he grumbles, face scrunching into a brain-freeze-induced wince. “ayee ith waz a bah iyeah.” (translation: fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.)

“you got this. just take it slow,” you urge, except he’s stopped moving and speaking and closed his eyes as if he’s descending into a deep sleep. you’re actually concerned for about two seconds, and then his jaw begins to oscillate leisurely like an elderly cow in his favorite pasture. false alarm.

he swallows, beams. “so am i the fucking best or what.”

“yeah you are,” you echo, and he swings an arm over your shoulder, plants a chocolatey kiss to your temple. the two of you celebrate his daesangs with less enthusiasm. 

“when are you doing that with me, by the way?”

“the one-bite thing?” he nods. “mmm, coaches don’t play.”

“mmm, this one will.”

“doubtful.”

fast forward a few weeks and you, jeongin, and his younger brother are sitting cross-legged on the porch in his backyard. three full-sized oranges rest in the center of your makeshift circle. damn is yoon hard to say no to. (runs in the family.)

“the rules!” he declares. “eat the orange whole! first to swallow it wins! you can’t spit it out!”

you wait. “is that it?”

“yes!”

why was the delivery so grand?

jeongin places a fond hand atop his brother’s head. “i’ve brought you a new loser, yoonie. get excited.”

you feign an indifferent scoff, but jeongin spots the fire that ignites behind your eyes like that of an anime protagonist, the resolute grip with which you palm your orange. he smirks. he’s never known you to take trash talk sitting down. or sitting cross-legged on his porch.

yoon counts you off. “ready…”

“good luck, coach,” jeongin sings.

“shut up, pipsqueak.”

“set…GO!”

in amusing unison, you and yoon try and fail to fasten your teeth around even half of the fruit. jeongin, meanwhile, fits the whole thing into his black hole of a mouth and launches into that stupid elderly cow impression again.

desperate times call for desperate measures. you rip the orange from your lips.

“yoon! your brother’s ticklish, right?”

both yang siblings’ eyes widen—the younger’s in growing delight, the older’s in impending horror.

the latter reacts first. “ay, ay, ay, ah ahes eh ooles!” (translation: wait, wait, wait, that’s against the rules!)

but the former moves first, and you’re right behind him.

jeongin weakens when the younger boy assaults his sides, crumples when you target the sides of his neck, the sounds leaving his mouth getting progressively louder and somehow even less intelligible.

he eventually has to spit out the orange to avoid death by pulp going down the wrong pipe and spins around in indignation, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand. but his annoyance—

you’re back on the floor, gnawing hopelessly at the outside of the orange again. “ih ih eawhin, ooh.” (translation: this is embarrassing, yoon.)

“huh?” (translation: huh?)

—dissipates, immediately.

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[tokisguitarpick]

balcony

characters: Pickles the Drummer x Reader

length: 1700+ words

listen this is really self indulgent but pickles’ back story hits me on a personal level. tried to phrase the mom self in a way that even someone with a good mom could see themselves in the reader but s/o to bitches who’s moms stress them out, we see you

You sighed, holding your own hand and staring up at the night sky, sat on top of Mordhaus. About three months into your employment, you had found the perfect place for lunch breaks, sneaking out with a joint mid-shift, anything. Up the emergency ladder, around the smokestacks, and over a large generator, there was a tiny balcony that no one seemed to know about and it was one of your favorite spots on the whole ship. And tonight, you needed it for the clarity it gave you. 

Nails bitten to the quick, you had spent a couple of hours pacing in your bedroom before making your way up here to sit in the peace and quiet and really just be alone.

“Doode, what ahre you doin’ up ‘ere?” Your eyes closed. Of course.

It’s not that you would normally mind Pickles for company. In fact, quite the opposite. Something about the drummer drew you to him and between his chill demeanor and frequent offers of hits off his joint, he was typically your favorite band member. But tonight, any company felt like more energy than you had to spend.

But it was your job to spend energy entertaining, safeguarding, and checking on Dethklok so you fixed your face into a neutral expression and replied, “I like to come up here when I need some fresh air.” 

Pickles swung himself over the generator with ease and plopped down next to you, both of you sticking your legs through the wide gaps under the balcony fencing and letting them hang down. “Oh yeah, me tooh.” As usual, the drummer brought with him the stale scent of alcohol and sweat, as well as the very pungent smell of fresh weed. “You know me, I like to be high.” Pickles chuckled at his own joke as you watched him pull a silver cigarette case from his back pocket but his laughter died on his lips when he met your gaze. “Sam’thin’ wrong?”

Your head tilted as you looked over yourself in your mind’s eye. “What do you mean?”

Slowly, Pickles raised a calloused thumb to your cheek and you felt him wipe away some wetness. Fuck. You hadn’t cried much and the cool night air had dried most of the tears as Mordhaus chugged forward but apparently, there was enough evidence left for him to find. 

“Yah knoow,” Pickles started, his eyes trained on his hand instead of meeting your own, “I’m naht really one for… talkin’ about feelin’s and shit. But ah, uh, I can listen?” His eyes were a deep, comforting shade of green, something you noticed when they finally met yours, his pierced eyebrows raising as he ended with a question. 

Your heart softened and you smiled softly, prompting a lopsided smirk from the drummer as he finally dropped his hand. He fiddled with the cigarette case in his lap until he produced a blunt and held it out for you. “So whaht’s goin’ on?”

Taking the blunt from him and then the offered lighter- a zippo with a dill pickle carved on the side-, you lit up and took a long drag before passing both back to him. The paper crackled next to you with his inhale and you stared at the sky again, breathing your hit out like a cloud in front of you. 

“My mom called.” No longer a happy notification to receive, the information turned your stomach. Ever since you had gone against her wishes and applied for the stressful, dangerous, terrifying job of being a managerial coordinator for the band Dethklok, she had turned into someone you could hardly recognize. Cold, petty, always passively asking for money and aggressively telling you how little you must care about her since you were always too busy to call her when she was free (not when you were, though. She was a busy woman and she couldn’t wait around all day just for a call). You assumed she was angry you hadn’t listened to her and was even angier that you didn’t volunteer those, frankly, sweet as hell Dethklok paychecks to appease her.

You glanced out of the corner of your eye to see Pickles make a sour face, his cheeks puffed with weed smoke. Releasing his hit with a cough, he passed the blunt and nodded. “I know that feelin’. When my mam’ calls, I send it straight tah’ voicemail.”

“Maybe I need to start doing that,” you mused quietly. Puff and pass, you moved your gaze down to watch the traffic passing on the various highways around the house.

“That bad?” Pickles asked, holding onto the blunt for a minute as he tried to fix a run in the burn. You didn’t mind, your high creeping up and the wad of anxiety in your stomach loosening. 

Turning your answer over in your mind a few times, you finally spoke when you realized you had been quiet for an embarrassingly long time. “She’s just different now. I feel like she’s not the same person I knew growing up and the person she is now… I don’t know if it’s a person I like.” You had wondered a few times if she was destined to become this woman but when memories resurfaced, you felt as though your current feelings tainted them and you weren’t sure what the truth was. “I just- I don’t know. Do you ever feel like your family would like you so much more if you just shut up and gave them all your spare cash?” 

This time, Pickles was the one who was silent for what seemed like a long time and when you finally looked up, you were surprised to see he had completely disassembled the blunt and was rolling a joint with the leftover weed on one side of the open cigarette case. It was balanced carefully on his thigh- full of a few dime bags of ground weed and spare rolling papers- but his face was angled towards you. “Uh, yeah. That’s all I feel when it comes to my family.” Bringing the joint up to his lips, he gave you a curious look, furrowing his brow. “Cahn I ask you sam’thin’?”

You nodded.

“Is yuhr mam’ hasslin’ you for money?” Lighting up with a couple of puffs, he passed the joint to you and leaned back on his palms.

That was the long and short of it from as far as you could tell, you mused. You took a deep hit, studying Pickles as you nodded again. Your high was hitting you and suddenly, the terse phone call that had been weighing on you seemed much less important than the physique of the drummer next to you. Long, deep red dreads flowed in the light evening breeze, drawing your eyes down his neck and shoulders. Almost always in a dark tank top, his muscular shoulders and arms stole the show, lithe and wirey from years of being a professional musician. God, he was hot. Sure, he was more than a little older than you, and balding just a little, and maybe unable to be sober for longer than a half hour without complaining. But otherwise, very hot. Your gaze fell to his hands, fingers with blunt nails spread to support himself, and the backs of his palms flexed with large veins.

You were only moments away from poking one when his voice broke your concentration. “Like whaht yah see?” Looking back to his face, Pickles’ smirk was now a full blown grin and he wiggled his eyebrows at you. “Wanna take a picture? It’ll last longer.”

“Sorry,” you chuckled, the heat of a blush finding your cheeks as you puffed and passed the joint, “I’m kinda stoned. Your weed is always so fucking strong.” 

Pickles broke out into nasally laughter and you couldn’t help giggling yourself in response. “That’s why I get it, only the good shit,” he replied, still chuckling. He puffed then snuffed the joint and tucked it behind his ear for safekeeping as he sat up.

Unable to get a handle on the stoned laughter coming out of you, your giggle fit continued and you leaned over, resting your forehead on his shoulder. You put a hand over your mouth as you tried to relax. Pickles shifted under you, letting your head find his collarbone as he wrapped his arm around your waist. He seemed to freeze like that and if you had been sober, you probably would’ve stayed that way, savoring the feeling of closeness with your celebrity crush in such a private moment. There were over a million Dethklok fans who would kill or die for this to happen to them.

But you were high as fuck and didn’t like how stiff the embrace felt. You shifted yourself to lean more comfortably against him without realizing it, until his hand started to fall from your side. Instantly, you grasped his wrist and brought it back to your hip, murmuring, “You’re good.” 

Pickles laughed again, squeezing you and resting his hand on your ribcage. He was so warm, you could feel his palmprint burning through the thin cotton of your sleepshirt, so close under your breast that it made you shiver. “Oh, honey, I could get you tah’ say that a hundred different ways,” he stated confidently. It made your blush burn even hotter, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. Pickles, however, cleared his throat and muttered, “Uh, not like in a sexuhal’ harassment type way, just, uh, yah know… If you were down…”

You giggled again and nodded. “I got you, I got you… I’m down.” You erupted into nervous giggles and covered your face with your hand again. Unable to believe your own gall, you were about to dismiss your words with a quick ‘I’m joking’ but Pickles moved faster, goosing your breast with a bark of laughter.

“I’ll keep thaht in mind,” he said, seemingly to himself, his hand resting once again on your torso. You couldn’t say anything, your body alight with tingles radiating from your breast and your mind slowed, so you simply nodded against him. 

Quiet for a moment, you tried to settle your breathing while Pickles relit the joint and puffed in thought. Finally speaking up, he just said, “Seriously though, Y/N, I think you need to tell your mom to go fuck herself.”

[lowkeyaesthvtic]

Brainless - KINKTOBER Day 3

Day 3: Mind Control

Fandom: MHA (My Hero Academia)

Pairing: Shinsou x Kaminari

Summary: Kaminari’s having a stressful time with his Pro Hero work. Shinsou has the perfect solution. 

Word Count: 2,209

Prompt by: @lustyargonianmaid​

NOTES: CHARACTERS ARE 18+

Shinsou immediately took off his mask as he entered his apartment. He huffed a sigh of relief as he completed his first week of Pro-Hero patrolling. He thought it’d be the same as some of the sidekick work he completed with Aizawa during his third year at UA, but it was nowhere near the sort. It was nothing he couldn’t handle, but he was more than happy to be at home for the weekend. He was more than ready to spend the next two days relaxing with his beloved boyfriend and hero partner. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Shinsou heard Kaminari nearly shouting in frustration, something that was incredibly rare and out of character for the budding hero. “No, officer I promise you I sent the report in last night! No, seriously, don’t put me on hold. I promise you I can -” Shinsou had guessed that the officer on the phone had gone against Kaminari’s wishes, considering the next phrase Kaminari spoke was barely understandable, but incredibly audible. Shinsou calmly stripped off most of his hero costume, leaving him in a black shirt and black pants. He slowly walked over to their shared bedroom and tapped on the door. 

“Denki? I’m home.” He spoke as he opened the door, concerned by what he saw. Loads of papers scattered across their in-bedroom office desk and a rarely angry Kaminari about to throw his phone to the ground. Kaminari turned his head to see Shinsou coming in and near instantly tried to cover up his anger.

“Hitoshi! Hey, babe! How was patrolling?”

“Well, I’m glad it’s the weekend. What’s more important is what’s going on with you. You’re never angry, D.” Kaminari tried once more to shrug everything off, giving a look to say that everything was going fine. But Shinsou could see straight through him, his boyfriend was never good at lying about whether or not he was fine.

“I filled out this super long incident report from a hostage situation last week to send into the police station. Now they’re saying they never received it. So I have to do the whole damn thing all over again before the villains’ trial or the station’s going to get a whole bunch of bad publicity. That, of which, will fall onto me. They’ll never want to help me with a mission again!” Kaminari rambled to the point of speed talking as he paced around the room, as if his boyfriend wasn’t with him. Shinsou walked over towards Kaminari and placed his hands firmly on his shoulders, holding the shorter one in place.

“Denki, breathe. You’ll short circuit if you work yourself up this much.” His voice was low and rough when he spoke, but Kaminari understood the genuine concern underneath. He sighed and slowly walked over to the bed, letting himself fall and lay face flat on top of the comforter. It humored Shinso a bit, seeing how Kaminari was able to make such a joke out of his own emotions. Regardless of that, he was still incredibly concerned. He walks over to the bed and lays down on his back, turning his head to face Kaminari. “Have you ever thought of taking a break?”

“You can’t just take a break from being a hero. I have to be responsible now. Not gonna lie, it kind of sucks! It makes me miss the days at UA where I could go brainless and not feel like I’m risking people’s lives by doing so.” Brainless. That word immediately gave Shinsou an idea. He’d have to ask first, make sure everything was okay with Kaminari and that he’d feel comfortable with whatever would happen. But if he was okay with it, Shinsou had something he would love to try.

“Maybe you can’t take a break for long. But, I might have an idea on how to make you feel better.” Shinsou cooed, his low, raspy voice slowly nearing Kaminari’s ear. He leaned upward from the bed and sat gently atop the other’s lower back, beginning to knead into his tense shoulders. Kaminari let out an exhale at the contact, needing something...anything to distract him from the discourse going on in his mind. 

“What were you thinking?” Poor Kaminari. So incredibly oblivious. Shinsou ran a hand through the yellow hair, raising another sigh of content from the hero beneath him. He slowly lowered his hands back down to Kaminari’s shoulders, then his back, then his lower back.

“Well, clearly this paperwork thing has you stressed out. You said you missed the times where you could go brainless and feel no judgement. What you seem to have forgotten, Denki, is that you have an amazing boyfriend who knows how to do just that.” Kaminari paused, turning his head to the side so he could face Shinsou as much as possible. They had talked before about using their quirks in the bedroom, even went through with using Kaminari’s, but they had never had a thorough conversation about using Shinsou’s quirk in that way. He definitely wouldn’t mind it. He was already the more submissive one so it’s not like much would change. But a part of him longed for that warm, fuzzy feeling he’d get after going too many rounds. That mix of pain and pleasure where your head feels like it’s in the clouds and you can barely form a proper sentence. To feel like that the entire time? Sounded good to him.

“You’re talking about brainwashing me and then fucking me...right?” Kaminari spoke candidly, earning a small laugh from the other. Shinsou hopped off of Kaminari and used his strength to turn the shorter one onto his back.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking. Is that okay with you?” Kaminari’s breath hitched at the sudden movements. But as soon as he looked up at Shinsou, who glared down at him with the perfect mix of gentle admiration and fiery lust, he could already feel himself getting hard. Without a second thought, Kaminari leaned up and began stripping off his shirt. He leaned up and collided his lips with Shinsou’s, gently cupping his face as he did so. 

“Fuck yeah, it’s okay with me.” Kaminari quickly responded before smashing their lips together once more. He didn’t want it right away, though. He wanted to feel his partner grow more and more feral, knowing it’d make the payoff that much better. Shinsou started stripping off his clothes as well, inviting his tongue into Kaminari’s mouth. The two couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. Kaminari went to wrap his arms around Shinsou’s neck, but was pushed down onto the bed in the blink of an eye. The psychic hero quickly stripped off his pants, leaving him only in boxers. He slowly snaked up Kaminari’s body, kissing and sucking on his exposed skin before getting to the waistline of the other’s pants. He looks up at Kaminari, a little hesitant at what they’re about to do.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? Because once I start, you won’t be able to do anything unless I tell you to.”

“Yeah, I’m okay with it! You know what I like and what I don’t. I trust you, ‘Toshi.” Kaminari smiled as he responded. Damn, Shinsou loved that smile. There was something about the way Kaminari’s usually positive attitude contrasted his quiet and rough demeanor. An ‘opposites attract’ sort of thing that others were confused about when the pair first made things official. But it was beautiful to them. Shinsou took a deep breath, ready to activate his quirk; the second Kaminari answered his next question.

“So, are you going to let me in?” Kaminari gulped, both nervous and excited about what was about to happen. He’d feel everything, but he knew it’d be different. Would he even be able to say anything? It didn’t matter. He needed the stress relief and he needed it now.

“Yeah, I’m -” Kaminari’s response was interrupted with his own choked breath as the quirk flipped a switch in his brain. It felt weird at first. His head leaned back as he felt all the tension in his body leaving him. His head felt light and fuzzy, like a freezing body being covered with a blanket. Nothing but a pure wave of relief. Shinsou smiled, tucking a strand of his boyfriend’s hair behind his now blank and pliant face. 

“God, you’re beautiful like this. Why don’t you take these boxers off and stroke yourself for me, baby.” Kaminari immediately followed his words, not like he’d be able to do anything else. An uncontrollable sigh left his lips as Kaminari began stroking, starting slow at first. Shinsou snaked up the boy’s body and stripped off his boxers, letting his hard on free itself. “I’m gonna fuck that pretty mouth of yours so well, baby. You’re gonna take me in your mouth, aren’t you?” As he heard those words, Kaminari wrapped his lips around the length and began working his tongue everywhere he could, his mind relishing in the pleased grunts coming from the man above him. As Shinsou began to thrust into Kaminari’s mouth, the electric hero instinctively picked up his stroking pace. 

Their moans quickly began to fill the room. Kaminari unable to hold back and Shinsou unable to give a shit about who heard the two of them. “I’d ask how you were feeling, but you can’t talk with my cock in your mouth, can you?” Shinsou groaned out, his thrusts growing rougher and less rhythmic. He wanted more, so much more. He had to be inside Kaminari and he had to be inside of him soon. Much to both of their disappointment, Shinsou took his cock out of Kaminari’s mouth as he leaned over to grab a bottle of lube from their dresser drawer. He placed the bottle in Kaminari’s hand and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Here’s what I want you to do. You’re going to lube up those fingers and fuck yourself open for me, and I’m going to stroke this cock while I watch. You won’t stop until I say so. You won’t come until I say so. And don’t hold back, I love the noises you make for me.” That last sentence earned a moaned cry from the other. He felt so fuzzy and light in his head, but his body felt like it was going to sink into the bed. If he weren’t so focused on pleasing himself and his boyfriend, Kaminari swore he’d be able to fall asleep like this. He followed every one of Shinsou’s requests, his pleasure spiking as he felt his own fingers enter him. 

Seeing Kaminari so obedient only made Shinsou want him more. He began to stroke himself, watching every inch of Kaminari’s twitch and tense up as he moved his fingers in and out. Neither of them started off gently, wanting nothing more than to reach that peak of release. Shinsou’s grunts became especially loud, signalling that he was close to release. But he wouldn’t let himself come before getting to feel Kaminari’s tight hole clench around him. “Stop, baby. You’re open and ready for me, aren’t you?” Yes, Kaminari thought to himself. I am more than ready...please. He wanted to scream and beg so badly, yet he couldn’t say a word. Shinsou looked down at Kaminari’s lubed up hole, biting his lip in anticipation. Shinsou lined his cock up to the entrance, slowly thrusting into Kaminari inch by inch. Kaminari, unable to hold back his noises, yelped in a mix of pain and pleasure. With barely any movement, he could already feel the tingly, bubbly feeling of release rising in his stomach. He didn’t know how much longer he’d last. Once Shinsou had fully entered him, he began to slowly move in and out. He didn’t want to be slow, however. He craved the faces his boyfriend made when his mind was being blown. “God, you’re so tight around me. How good does it feel, baby?”

“S-so....hot. S-so good.” Given he was asked to speak, Kaminari was relieved to finally tell his partner how amazing everything felt. The pleasure coursing through his veins was thicker than his own blood. He even started to feel small sparks of electricity crackling around his body, heightening every sensation. Shinsou noticed this electricity, nearly getting shocked by the volts surrounding them.

“You’re going to short circuit, aren’t you? Get all dumb for me? That’s exactly what you wanted, darling. I promise you you’ll get it.” Shinsou could barely get these words up as he started to thrust rougher and deeper into Kaminari, brushing up against his prostate. Their moans skyrocketed as the two reached their climax together, Kaminari bringing a mild shock to the both of them as they did so. Tired and pleasure-filled, Shinsou lifted the control on Kaminari and collapsed next to him on the bed. 

“‘Toshi….h-holy shit.” 

“Better?”

“S-so much better..I can b-barely speak.” Shinsou laughed as he went to grab a towel, cleaning Kaminari off with gentle care. He laid back down next to the younger hero and covered the both of them with a blanket as he snuggled close next to him.

“Good. Get some sleep, baby, we’ll worry about your paperwork later.”

[carinyms]

We're three days from the Loki finale and I’m back to spout more meta and theories about episodes 5 & 6! It’s a long one (again.)

I really enjoyed episode five. People have complained that they felt it didn't do much to move the show forward, but one of the things I've loved most about this show is the time it takes to sit with the characters and learn about their backstory, their feelings. (I'm always a little bugged when critics say that an episode hasn't done enough to move the plot forward, because without adequate character development, why should I care about the plot?) I thought the pacing of it was really well balanced.

….and I have never been so nervous for a finale in my entire life. There’s a lot of reasons.

The first is just the fact that I’ve been waiting for this show for a whole year, and the anticipation and excitement of it literally helped get me through the pandemic--so when those final end credits roll I’m going to be a whole mess no matter what happens. (I really hope the rumors floating around about season two are accurate) I also just feel like it’s somewhat inevitable that this is our final farewell to Tom’s Loki, and like—I’ll never be ready, but especially right now, amidst all the rampant controversy around this show, I’m just not ready to deal with that. I have a *small* modicum of hope that this won't be the case, but it feels unlikely. Anyway, guess I’ll die.

I really want this show to stick the landing, so to say. I loved the last episode, but a lot of the response has been that it felt like a lull in the plot. I want this show to end in a satisfying bang so it can get the credit it deserves.

Also I’m a whole hypocrite eating my words from last week—I’m fully on-board with Loki/Sylvie now (not that I was ever really against it)--I’m not sure why I’m surprised. They’re so adorable and wholesome, and I’m in love with seeing Loki in love. It’s so precious. (Just as a PSA, if you’re not into them that’s chill, and you’re allowed to dislike a ship without trying to justify your opinion by labeling shippers as morally problematic. Selfcest isn’t a real thing, therefore there isn’t a moral high ground to stand on here. Okay? Okay.) Wherever it ultimately leads, their relationship is still a really sweet exploration of them both growing and learning how to love themselves and trust others. Also, them cuddling under a tablecloth is the cutest shit I’ve ever seen with my two eyes.

MY THEORIES:

I love Sylvie so much, SO MUCH — and she is 100% going to stab Loki in the back by the end of the next episode. I don’t think the betrayal is going to stick, and by the end they’ll both be on the same page again, but the conversations on trust have been way too one-sided for my comfort. If nothing else she's going to seriously consider it. Here’s one way I can see that going. Spoiler alert: it hurts.

Sylvie betrays Loki at one point—and we see Loki’s growth and arc come full circle as, even after being betrayed by the person he hinged his entire development around, he still believes in doing the right thing, in saving her regardless. It ends in a heart-wrenching self-sacrifice of some kind, and his actions serve as the catalyst for her full development as well. We keep seeing different versions of Loki die for their ‘glorious purpose’, just like how Classic Loki shouts the phrase as he was consumed by Aloith (RIP King, I love you).

Loki has already called Sylvie his glorious purpose (or inferred it). There’s been backlash around him saying that, but the way I see it, it’s less “I’m obsessed with this girl she’s my purpose now” and more “I believe that she’s the best version of us and I’m going to make it my purpose to help her succeed and be what the rest of us aren’t”. That’s why seeing all the other variant Loki’s at their worst in the Loki clubhouse (? what do I call this lol) only fuels him more to find her. I think about what Mobius told him: “You exist to cause pain and suffering and death, all so others can achieve the best versions of themselves”. I don’t think Loki truly believes he can be the best version of Loki — I think he saw Sylvie and thought, "it's her". He’s decided he’s going to help her achieve the best version of herself, but he'll do it giving her love and trust and devotion, rather than through betrayal, pain and suffering. He’s re-writing his pre-determined role, in his own small way. I’m so proud of him.

So who’s behind it all and what’s truly going on here? (This isn’t really one theory, more like a string of possibilities and I don’t really know how they’d fit together.)

I still think it’s another version of Loki. And if it is, I can’t help but appreciate the connections between his position dictating the end of time in the show in relation to Loki’s role in the Norse myths, where he’s the catalyst for the destruction of all things. It feels relevant, considering the whole idea that ‘the end of time hasn’t been written yet’ has come up twice now. That would be a fascinating tie-in to the mythology. (Also—Alioth looks like a giant dog. And Fenrir’s role in Ragnarok was devouring the world—I realize this is a reach but am I the only person seeing this connection?) The thing I really can’t predict is the motivation. What would cause a Loki to want to prevent Loki’s from changing? Was there something that happened in the sacred timeline this Loki is trying to preserve? (I also like the idea of us maybe seeing another version of Sylvie behind it all, but I’m just going to leave that rabbit hole alone. )

But here’s the theory I can’t stop thinking about. There’s a theory floating around tik tok (by user twelvepercentcredit) saying the ‘castle’ we see beyond Alioth looks like a place called the House of Ideas, something that appeared in a (discontinued?) Loki comic. Here’s the wiki page on it. Just looking at the imagery of this compared to the location we’re seeing in the trailers, it’s too similar to be a coincidence. The huge bookshelves, the towering ceilings.

Here’s a description from the wiki:

“The House of Ideas is also home to a library which archives the exploits of every hero who has ever existed in the form of books, written unconsciously by the collective minds of their believers. This collection is curated by Now and Then, two of the children of Eternity. Now and Then routinely seek out heroes to bring into the House of Ideas to bargain with them and give their collections more pages, therefore more time for adventures and exploits. “

And later on the page on how Loki ties in:

“Heeding the desire in Loki's heart to do more with his life, Now and Then approached Loki and brought him to the House of Ideas,[5] where they struck up with him the deal to give more pages to his collection of exploits, rewriting the Books of Loki with a hero's stories in exchange for an eventual hero's death.”

Are they gonna play with the exact happenings of this? I don't know, but it sounds pretty cool!

It would be gutsy to go this route with the show given how meta it is, but I love the idea of it. Would they put characters that embody the abstract ideas of “Eternity” “Now & Then” into the show in the last episode? I’m not sure. Something I could see as a possibility though is an alternate version of Loki having overthrown whoever was previously guarding the timeline, and Loki and Sylvie will have to take them down in turn, thus ‘releasing’ the multiverse to its default, chaotic state.

What if our Loki’s ultimate destiny, ultimate Glorious Purpose, is to release the timelines--restoring all the variants back to their original timelines--and remain in this place for eternity, guarding the timeline and ensuring the multiverse is allowed to exist in its natural state? It seems a pretty fitting role for the God of Chaos. It would also explain why whoever’s behind the TVA would be so desperate to eliminate all variant Loki, if that was his ultimate destiny.

It would be an effective way to remove Hiddleston’s Loki from the movie-verse without killing him, AND place both Sylvie and any other Loki variants back in the the main timeline for use in future films—which we know has to happen somehow, because Young Avengers is definitely happening, and Kid Loki has got to get out of the void somehow.

And yea, this outcome would hurt like a bitch. Because even though that would truly be a lovely glorious purpose for our Loki, he’d be alone. And the whole point of this show is that he doesn’t have to be alone! It would be a very poetic sacrifice for him to take on the burden of watching over the timelines alone for all eternity so that his other variants could be the best versions of themselves, but I really just want him to be happy. I will be crying my eyes out if this happens. I’ll be proud but I won’t be okay.

And this all is probably speculative nonsense and could go off in an entirely different direction. Who knows. All in all, I just really want to see Loki fully believe in himself and his ability, to truly absorb what he said about being stronger than he realizes, and to take control of his destiny.

WHAT I WANT (NEED) FROM EPISODE 6:

Let Hunter B-15 and Mobius team up to burn the place to the ground. She was nerfed in the time-keeper fight, I want to see B-15 kick some ass.

I kind of want Ravonna to escape and be a character that carries over into the films for her tie-ins with Kang? I want to see more of her.

Give Loki a new badass costume. I’m begging. If he’s gonna go down, he deserves to go down in something other than khakis.

And then I want to see him and Sylvie fighting side by side in matching outfits.

I want a Mobius-level hug between them. Or a kiss. Or both. But I want the hug more. And you know what? I want her to initiate the hug or kiss or whatever it is because I want Loki to experience receiving love and affection from others as much as giving it. He deserves it ok??

I expect Mobius on a jet ski in the post credits and if I don’t get it I riot

@marvel these are my demands.

As always, if you've made it this far I'd love to hear your thoughts!

[illegiblewords]

Fic Writer Meme

Swiped this because it looked like fun!

Name

Fandoms

Most popular oneshot

Most popular multichapter

Actual worst part of writing

How you choose your titles

Do you outline

Ideas I probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice?

Callouts @ Me

Best writing traits

Spicy Tangential Opinion

Tagging: @nilim, @azwoodbomb, @wouldyouliketoseemymask, @parvus-pica, @peregrineroad, @spiral-seeker, @frostmantle, @autumnslance, @strangefellows, @redbud-tree, @maccaroni-eh, @entropytea, @prettyparadoxes, @ivalane, @kunstpause, @fogfens

Name: Illegible or Illegiblewords lately. I’ve switched it in the past a few times.

Fandoms: I’ve been in Final Fantasy XIV for the past couple of years now. Passively I might be in Pathologic fandom and Dragon Age fandom? Maybe others too on and off. I was in comic fandoms for a long time but honestly that spiraled into a hot mess of epic proportions so I’ve mostly peaced out of there. Still love stories, characters, and buddies from there though.

Most Popular Oneshot: Ironically it’s Ideation for Bladerunner 2049 haha. I did exactly one fic there right after seeing the movie and didn’t go back, but I thought it was very good and I had a specific story I wanted to tell. It’s one of my most popular fics, and given it’s gen too I’m actually kind of happy about that.

Most Popular Multichapter: The Immortal Wound for FFXIV fandom! I had only just started writing for the fandom, and the series leading up to this fic was my first time writing NPC shipping in FFXIV. I was seriously, SERIOUSLY nervous at first! I wrote the first fic, Posturing, as a personal challenge to do an ambiguous protagonist/NPC since I saw other people doing that and wanted to see if I could pull it off. Posted it at around 4 in the morning then deleted within a few minutes out of anxiety lol. A week went by before I read it again, realized I still liked it, and put it back up for good. That being well-received helped encourage me to keep trying, and by The Immortal Wound it was getting solid attention. The experience really meant a lot to me!

Actual Worst Part of Writing: Probably chapter maps within the outlining process for me. It’s needed for how I approach things, but shit is anxiety-inducing and stressful af lol. I basically plan each event out in high detail before actually writing the fic, so when the time comes for me to legit write I’m more or less following a plan I can trust. Making that plan is the tough part.

How Do You Choose Your Titles: Often titles are the last things I figure out before starting the fic itself. I know I like punchy stuff if I can manage. Sometimes it’ll be one word, sometimes it’ll be a quote or song lyric, sometimes it’ll be a saying, sometimes it’ll be a phrase that feels fitting. I go fast and loose usually, and tbh I’ve tried to tell myself not to overthink it too hard. I do try title related works in ways that have some thematic link when I can.

Do You Outline: HahahahahaHAHAHAHAhaha yeah. Straight up my outlines are eldritch terrors for their detail, length, and complexity. I don’t mean that as a brag at all, seriously--I tend to get frozen a bit if I don’t have an outline by and large because it’s hard for me to keep track of what’s in my head and plan accordingly. Just end up with too many moving parts + revision and pacing get wonky otherwise.

Depending on the project I might have sections tied to setting, characters, magic systems, religions, etc. at the top. Fanfic this is less likely but does crop up sometimes.

To give an example of the first bullet of the first chapter of an ongoing fic:

Post-Shinryu, the Warrior of Light lingers in the Royal Menagerie alone at his own insistence to search for the Eye of Nidhogg. In the process he remembers the fight against Zenos and Shinryu. Note he was overcome by an almost feral rage at Zenos’ assumption that he was the target of anything resembling lust. Those attentions (“bite down upon my jugular”) belong to another, but note similarities of two pale-eyed, long-haired blondes. Seeing Shinryu, the Warrior had no idea whether Lahabrea survived within. The fusion was horrifying to see and as he fought he didn’t hold back because besides obvious dangers, he was also ready to mercy kill if needed. Also note Warrior wanted to intervene against Thordan for Lahabrea but wasn’t fast enough, questions a little privately how far he’d have gone against him. It might not have mattered even if he’d managed since he knows Lahabrea was going crazy and unable to listen. Locating and examining the Eye, he recognizes how drained it is. Certainly not enough to threaten him when dealing with post-battle exhaustion. So he reaches inside with his own aether, relentless in pushing aside every foreign element—Nidhogg, Thordan, the corrupted Rhalgr, the places Zenos caged them all under his own will. Zodiark’s tempering is what helps him ultimately find Lahabrea, who is barely alive. Zodiark’s tempering has preserved what it could but has a much more tenuous grip in consequence. When the Warrior finds him Lahabrea isn’t even aware, functionally unconscious. The tempering flares against him defensively and this time the Warrior focuses on it. This is all that has allowed Lahabrea to stay alive. He could force himself closer but there is no vessel. Besides, the process of separating a fragile soul so deficient in aether is too great a risk. So he keeps the Eye.

It’s not the only bullet of comparable size for that chapter. The overall piece has at least 40 total chapters, but probably more.

Ideas I Probably Won’t Get Around To, But Wouldn’t It Be Nice: Tbh probably some of the earlier WIPs I have that aren’t finished already. Not just FFXIV (Dead Language, With Good Intentions) but other fandoms. I could end up circling back in the future one day but who knows.

Callouts @ Me: “NO MORE WIPS HOLY SHIT YOU HAVE OVER 20″, “RELEARN HOW TO DO DRABBLES”, “GET UR PRESENTS DONE”, “REVIEW OTHERS MORE THE STAGE FRIGHT IS RIDICULOUS”.

Best Writing Traits: I try to write any character as the hero of their own story/with the capacity to be someone’s favorite. I do my research and prioritize telling a good story first and foremost. I can change my writing style according to need and am good at capturing the cadence and word choices of different characters.

Spicy Tangential Opinion: If no transaction has been made (esp. monetary), no one owes you shit online. Not reviews, not hits, not praise, not agreement, not content of any sort. It sucks to feel like you’re creating to a void. It sucks to be passionately in love with a rarepair when other ships are drowning in art and stories.

People still don’t owe you.

If you don’t like someone else’s content, create something exploring what you do like... or even why you don’t like that content. Tell a story. Create art. Make photosets and playlists and analyses. If it is not a literal crime (as opposed to portraying fictional crime), don’t discourage other creators no matter how awful you might find their stuff. Lend your own voice to an alternative as convincingly as you can. And if that doesn’t persuade others, you need to keep honing your own skills.

If you want more of something to exist, spread inspiration. Again this can be in storytelling, art, photosets, playlists, analysis, you name it. Give form to your passion. And if others disagree or don’t respond, keep working at it. This is a skill too, and it takes practice.

I’ve found it shows when work is created out of a sense of guilt, fear, or obligation. The quality is much lower and no one latches on to keep building in-turn. And IMO it is essential to build up rather than tearing down.

[a-nonny-mouse-0]

Jin Sibling Au Part 3

Okay before I start on day three of writing the next three pages of this outline I wanted to make a quick note. I noticed that my current blog may not be best place to put my writing in. It is eclectic with humor and politics along with story ideas that I’m still working on. So I may make another blog and just reblog this along with the other Jin Sibling Au. Just a heads up, I just need to come up for a name. 

Welp ¯\_(ツ)_/¯on with the outline 

Meng Yao meets Wen Qing. It takes a bit of finagling, but he convinces her to help him. It takes a lot of finagling! Especially when Wen Ning helps Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian. As far as he knows as long as they can keep Wen Ning safe she is fine helping him. She doesn’t know what he is doing with some information, but she finally gets an idea, but it’s too late. If she tells Wen Rouhan, her brother may suffer the consequences. All she can do is help Meng Yao and hope it helps her in the long run.

Notes: Meng Yao sees how Wen Qing protects her brother while Wen Ning is nothing like her.

He asks Wen Ning if has ever been jealous of Wen Qings forceful personality. Wen Ning say’s no because he knows his sister cares and loves him. In fact, he compares it to a warm blanket of love that he can’t get enough of. Meng Yao thinks it’s too gushy ￣へ￣

This is right after Wen Rouhan’s defeat:

After Wen Rouhan’s defeat, Meng Yao becomes Jin Guangyao. Both brothers have not talked, but Guangyao knows that Jixuan may be upset with him.

The news about Meng Yao formally accepted into the Jin sect is met with mixed reviews. A majority thinks this is wonderful, including Xichen who know’s how hard Meng Yao Jin Guangyao worked to have Sect Leader Jin to acknowledge him.

Nie Mingjue is skeptical but keeps his mouth shut. He still remembers the actions that JGY did.

He tries hard to please his father (he did an excellent job with the banquet) but is conflicted when he’s tasked to ensure the elimination of the last Wens. He speaks to Jin Guangshan that he could not have done this without the help of certain Wen’s but his father would not hear of it.

Jin Guangyao is now hesitant to talk to Jixuan. Jixuan however has become quite stubborn and meets face to face with his brother. They argue first about not sending each other letters (they both agree that maybe it’s pointless to fight about that) Then Jixuan pleads to please be careful about following father’s every whim. He says’s he can talk to mother and convince her to have him under her care.

Guangyao refuses, he knows Madam Jin would rather swallow needles than protect him, and states he just needs to do what father order’s showing he is worthy. He’s trying to convince both his brother and self. Jixuan doesn’t accept his choice and runs off. Guangyao has trouble swallowing the guilt he feels. He shouldn’t feel guilty, after all the Wen’s aren’t family and his brother surely won’t know what he’s about to do, right? He’s now part of the Jin Sect, he can finally spend time with his younger brother and he’s sure he can get father’s love.

Jixuan meets Yanli who is there to help her brother’s. They end up talking which is sweet and say’s he envies Yanli. This makes her confused until he states that even though her brothers are a terror for him, he can see how much they love her and what they will do for her.

Yanli states that yes, her brothers are a handful but they are wonderful to be around with and is grateful to have them in her life.

There is a lot of blushing and Jixuan may have wondered what it is like to hold her hand a lot. Then he remembers that he has yet to give her a formal apology for his accusation during the war. Yeah no, that simple apology is not good enough she deserves better.

Meanwhile, Xichen realizes that Guangyao is upset and suggests that they walk to talk in private. It’s okay, thinks Guangyao, after all it’s great to catch up with a friend.

They end up talking, which leads to a sweet, unexpected kiss. Xichen is excited and confused. He didn’t expect his feelings to lead to this, but it makes him happy. With Guangyao, however, he feels horrified. This will not work. His father will find out and cast him out and the cultivation world will have another reason to look down on him, after all he is the son of a prostitute (seriously his issue with this irks me, but I can see why he is hung up about it. It pisses him off no matter how much he tells Jixuan to not worry about it, however it will still be something that bothers him. I will unleash the sibling love from Jixuan as soon as they both stop arguing!)

Guangyao leaves abruptly, leaving a brokenhearted Xichen. o(TヘTo)

Nie Mingjue still does not trust, even though Lan Xichen tells him that he needs to give Jin Guangyao a chance. Mingjue is quick to bring up how Guangyao is now ignoring him. This does hurt Xichen but makes no comment on it.

In order to ensure that he can keep an eye on his competitors, Jin Guangshan wants Jin Guangyao to talk to them.

In an act of desperation Xichen asks for the vow of brotherhood Mingjue agrees and Guangyao is forced to smile and agree.

Xichen: Want’s to at least have a connection with Guangyao. He may not be interested in him romantically but maybe still be there for him as a friend and show Mingjue  that he is a good person.

Mingjue: Knows that something is going on and believes that Jin Guangyao is planning something.

Guanyao: Follows his father’s wishes to have some sort of alliance and keep an eye on both sects. He refuses to think about that kiss, even though he has taken a few careful glimpses towards Xichen’s direction.

Even though Jixuan is upset with Guangyao, he does end up going to him for advice:

        “Guangyao, I need your assistance!” Jixuan winces. He didn’t mean to make it sound like an order, but for sure his brother can tell not to take it to heart. The courtesy bow proves him wrong.

        “Of course, How may I be of service? (❁^◡^❁)” Jixuan frowns. This was not going how he thought it was going to go. ಠ_ಠ 

        “Stop that!” He orders placing his hands on his brothers arms, maybe a bit too forceful, so he did not have to bow. “I may be mad at you, but you're still my brother, not a servant.” 

         Guangyao surprised but nods. Jixuan goes back to the topic at hand. 

         “Anyway, help me, please.” Guangyao laughs. Jixuan looked embarrassed, it must not be easy for him to also for help, the question is why? He never had trouble asking for help on his education or phrases he did not understand in the common folk. 

          “All right, I will help you, brother. Now what can I do to help.” Guangyao replies, interested to find out why his brother is so nervous.

          “Better! Well, I need help-” he gets nervous visibly, hands behind his back, looking everywhere but Guangyao as he paced back and forth “-normally I go to mother but I don’t want to hear her nag at me again. I know you will too, but it won't sound as irritating.”

          “What does Madam Jin-” Begins Guangyao then instantly puts the pieces together. “Does this have to do about Lady Jiang Yanli?” Jixuan is silent, stopped pacing to look at his brother but his face is red. Guangyao laughs at him and retorts at him.

           “I told you so!” 

           Jixuan looks betrayed and then grumpy. Is this how brothers really interact? You fight with each other, but can still talk to one another and then betray you when you ask for their help?

          Once his teasing is done Guangyao smiles at him. “Tell me what do you need help with exactly?”

         “I need to woo Yanli, I did her wrong and accused her unjustly. I apologized, but only simply. Now I want to do her right, that apology doesn’t feel enough.” Then in a rather meek voice, “Please help me.”

          Something in that voice, how Jixuan is treating him now (no he’s done it before just never in public but wasn’t for the lack of trying) warms his heart. It also reminds him of how Xichen Zewu-jun treats him. No, that’s wrong. Is Jixuan looking up to him? That’s a little ridiculous. Shaking his thoughts away, he agrees to come up with a proper formal apology. Who knew he would seriously take his advice with ‘I’m sorry’. He may need to be careful with his teasing.

Okay, So I wrote more of the outline but still need to figure out some kinks here and there. I almost had a few events mixed in, that I had to consult the wiki. I love the web series, but I am not spending a lot of time going through it. So I do know that Jin Jixuan is older (Thank you @minutemarch for the correction :-D), but in this au universe he is now younger! You can thank my confused self who misread the wiki page and other sources.

So yeah, love interest for both siblings but still a hot mess for all parties involved. After all, Yanli may have received an apology, but after all the indifference she received from Jixuan, he will need Guangyao to help him. Especially with Yanli’s brother’s in her corner ready to defend her. (I don’t mean to make them sound horrible but this is in the point of view of Jin siblings so it comes across that way ಥ_ಥ)

And we are not forgetting Guangyao and Xichen. I feel that it will be extremely angsty at their end too. Tbh I have more written for them but I keep finding myself adding more for Jixuan and Yanli.

Next part: Jixuan tries his hand at helping Guagyao with Xichen... you should probably ask the right people and not the ones who’s sister you’ve made upset.

Note: the next part will be on my new blog @lolmouseywriting

[nhwoods-blog1]

I’m too shy to come off anon, but I love your writing.

THANK YOU........ that’s the nicest thing you could say to me, huhuhu. ;_; as for tips, the most important things i always remember are--

leave something for other characters to respond/react to, whether dialogue or action-- this is FAR more important than the length of a reply or miles and miles of introspect, since RP is a collaborative hobby and we’re only as good as our writing partners. i’m much happier receiving a one-liner with something for my character to react to than receiving six paragraphs that’s just a character reacting and having internal thoughts without ever acknowledging my character in dialogue or body language

seriously replies are meant to move things along, so if after your reply nothing about the scenario has changed, you’re probably doing it wrong. simple tip is don’t just let your character react to things; either a) make your character do something; b) describe something in the setting that can be reacted to; or heck, c) add an NPC that the other character can play off of

for open starters: find a reason for people to talk besides bumping into each other! sometimes you might have to stretch character personalities a little, like an extremely shy character having to be the first one to speak, but i guarantee having a shy character trying to stammer through a greeting is 200x easier to reply to than a shy character bumping into someone and then going “sorry!” like. i’d just be like “it’s ok, are you ok?” irl and then immediately walk away

in this same vein, stay away from starters that require your character being noticed UNLESS they’re doing something out of the ordinary. like, having a character sitting at a coffee shop is harder to reply to than a character in a coffee shop holding up a sign reading “TALK TO ME, I’M LONELY”; they both require noticing, but one is more easily noticed than the other, you feel?

not all replies have to be long! sometimes you just have to give a short reply because there’s not a lot to write about. like, if my character is nervous, i could ramble on and on for ages about all the little nervous tics they have, but if they’re confident? sometimes the brevity of “He grinned, head cocked and eyes bright” gives off a way better aura of confidence

take your time with replies; don’t rush things if you don’t have muse for them. likewise, if your writing partner starts haranguing you for replies, take a step back. rp is a hobby that we put work into for free; it shouldn’t have to be stressful

if a thread is starting to slow down or you’re finding your characters devolve into pointless conversation/actions that don’t involve exploring a) another character; b) the setting; c) a conflict; d) something meaningful in general, find a way to end the thread and start a new one with them. the best threads are the ones that keep the story going!

for dialogue: try to say the dialogue out loud without reading the actions between them. if the dialogue comes out sounding smooth/real, as in the sentences or phrases are chopped in ways that you yourself would chop them IRL, then you’re doing good

play with your sentences!! write sentences that fuck with grammar rules!! it can really change the atmosphere of your text depending on the pacing and the punctuation you use. there’s a difference between “His heart raced as their faces came closer and his stomach twisted in knots” and “His heart raced-- their faces were coming closer, closer. His stomach twisted, knot after knot.” like, the repetition of “closer” and “knots” gives the impression of coming closer inch by inch and your tummy gradually getting tighter and tighter-- you know?

sentences that flow good > sentences that have tons of pretty words. i think one of the issues of tumblr rp is it’s pretty prone to going into purple prose when you can just say the same thing in less sentences and simpler words. Big Words are all well and good but should be used sparingly, unless it’s a high fantasy scenario or something along those lines

that being said, even though rp is wish fulfillment and a lot of things can happen in it that don’t happen in our real lives, the best rp is the kind that’s realistic in some way or other. even high fantasy scenarios require their characters to feel real feelings that we do IRL. don’t make the mistake of falling into an “idiot plot”-- if terrible things are always happening and these terrible things always could have been prevented if characters just weren’t morons, it’s not very fun to play with, in my experience

just... have fun? have fun and love who you’re writing and who you’re writing with. play threads that have you finding out new things. think about rp as information gathering, and as long as you have something new to learn in a thread, i promise it’s going to be fun

AND THAT’S ALL I CAN THINK OF RIGHT NOW... i hope this helps!! if you have any questions, you’re totally welcome to ask them

and also, if we’re not writing together yet, we should >:’| i know in this hobby we’re all very prone to feeling intimidated by other people, but again-- rp is a two way street, and we’re all just happy to get new replies to our threads. :) of course you don’t have to write with me if you don’t want to but IF YOU DO... hmu!!!