#I'm sure that this is very long and drawn out and unnecessary

[clown-eating-pig]

One thing that I really appreciate about martin as a character is how you can observe him becoming more open over the seasons. Specifically with how he expresses himself, I like the way he noticeably becomes more vocal in his anger and pettiness by season 5. There are several things that I think contribute to this, and all of them make me varying levels of sad and happy all at once:

Obviously being part of the magnus archives in any capacity is enough to make someone more openly angry (as evidenced by pretty much everyone), and martin isn't excluded from that general "I'm being held captive by an invisible entity and the world is on the brink of collapse" rage.

Job security. This one is probably silly, but I can imagine that part of the reason that martin's season one, people-pleasing personality eases up slightly as time goes on could genuinely be because he literally can't lose his job. He's canonically stated to be manipulative, and I'm sure that one of his main reasons for him being so is that it was one of the only ways to assure that he and his mother were taken care of. Once he has the assurance that the only way he'll lose his job is via Death or Dismemberment (and also maybe once his mom died oop) I'm sure it was a lot easier to ngaf.

Comfort!!!!! Again! Martin is a manipulative guy! Not maliciously! Maybe not even consciously sometimes, but to me it feels like he's more likely to put on the gentle, friendly face with people he doesn't trust or isn't comfortable with. Come season 4 and 5, though, he's actively more petty towards and around jon (notably in how he reacts to Jon's gouging suggestion and just his general demeanor come apocalypse times). Part of this could certainly be bitterness leaking over because of The Circumstances, but I also feel that it has a lot more to do with the fact that he isn't necessarily trying to impress jon any more. In fact, at this point jon is the one actively seeking him out. He's beyond the point of needing to prove himself or make himself smaller for jon. By season five it's clear that jon loves him and that he'd go to the ends of the earth for him, so martin lets loose. He holds a grudge and he makes jealous requests and he snaps at times. He's a little bit bossy, and he ignores requests, and he sets boundaries. And all of this is so so beautiful because this is a person that, for years, has had to make himself as passive and small and as serving as possible - if not to appease his mother (who hates him) to keep her taken care of. So slowly watching him find people that he doesn't feel the need to act small around or to act as a caretaker to (unless he WANTS to) is a wonderful wonderful thing that I love.

[talieee]

Card Tricks (Remy Labeau x Reader)

A/N: bro i wont lie this kinda sucks but I loved thinking about it in my head so i hope you like this too! couldnt bring myself to write the nsfw bit into this version but i think I eventually will come up with the audacity...? tbd. if you enjoy please reblog im very scared of putting this out there but if people like it ive got more where this came from. I'd like to thank @thirtysomethingloser92 for being that voice in me just fucking all and writing this :') youre my biggest remy inspo love you all <3

warnings: mild fixation of hands ( god i love them so much)

=======

It was one of those rare days where absolutely nothing was happening,a comfortable silence whelmed the mansion with the occasional muttering of some passing students. The professor had decided on a short weekend for everyone and many had taken the opportunity to spend it in their rooms.You sat comfortably on the large sofa of the common area of the x mansion, headphones in listening to some podcast and sketching out a design on a little notepad, oblivious to the menace that is Remy Labeau, who unbeknownst to you, had spotted you whilst he was wandering around aimlessly.

“Cher~” 

he sashays towards you, hand reaching into his coat pocket to draw out a deck of cards, fiddling as he approaches. He stops right in front of you and awaits your response. You, now recognizing that someone is calling out, moved to pluck out your headphones; looking up to the source of the voice and finally acknowledging Remy silently. Remy, unfazed by the lack of a vocal response, moves to sit down next to you. His hands shuffled and manoeuvring the cards skillfully, “wanna see Gambit do a lil card trick?” 

“Hm ...be my guest pretty boy, wow me” You shuffle around to face him, abandoning the notepad and the headphones to focus on Remy’s deck of cards. 

You watch a small smirk press itself on his face, before he briefly shuffles the cards and hands you the deck “pick a card cher, and don't show it to me. Then put it back in and shuffle to your liking”

You squint in suspicion, repeating what he had instructed, taking a glance and returning the deck to him.

Remy nods a soft thanks, eyes glinting mischievously as he takes the deck back. He then starts to shuffle and cut the cards, his hands moving swiftly and nimbly. His eyes occasionally glance up at you before returning to the deck, watching your face for any kind of change in expression. You, completely fixated on the way he shuffles, could not help admiring the nimble fingers; thin and lengthy, gliding across the cards calmly seemingly bending the deck to his will. Remy almost immediately picked this up; very much enjoying the glances on his fingers and the very obvious gulp and licking of lips that he could not help but smirk and comment on, “like whatcha see cher?” his voice low and thick with the classic Cajun he carried about. You hum in agreement, continuing to focus on his movements. Eventually he finishes shuffling after a few more unnecessary movements, cutting the deck and setting both decks down on the table.

“Which one dya think it is hm?”

You think carefully , “why am I choosin’, you're the magician-”

Remy chuckles, “ butcha a smart one ma belle, i'm sure you know where it is~”

You frown “you're just gonna make me tell you the card i picked and scour for it?”

Remy mock pouts looking at you with those red eyes “awhhh cher tsk you've gotta have a little more faith in lil old gambit~” you roll your eyes and scoff at his response” ~maybe i've found it a’ready and m just messin witcha….ya disappointed?”

You couldn't help but chuckle “i'm disappointed that you're takin this long..” 

Remy feigns offence “and i thought you were enjoying the show ma belle….” he sighs, gesturing at the decks again. 

You squint at the deck judgmentally, and eventually point to the left deck “that one”

Remy hums, reaching to draw the first card of the left deck, displaying….the exact card you had drawn. “This one?” You nod, applauding “heh, toldya you're smart enuf” he chuckles, picking up the remaining of the deck and keeping the deck, basking in the applause. “See cher? Trust and faith”

You scoffed crossing your arms, “never doubted pretty boy”

Gambit’s smirk only grows wider, both at your words and the nickname you’ve chosen to address him as.

“Pretty boy, eh? You’re not so bad yourself, ma belle.” He hides the cards, now crossing his arms expectantly “Now that I’ve impressed you with my card trick, how about you show me one of yours? I’m sure you have a few tricks up your sleeve, petite…"

You couldn't help but giggle, “ what's this show and tell?” but promptly giving into his request, pulling out your deck of cards “hows abouts i read your fortune pretty boy?”

Remy raises a brow, clearly intrigued. He grins as he leans in a bit, resting his chin on one hand. "Oh? Now you've got my attention. You'd read my future, ma belle?" You nod and begin to shuffle the tarot cards, nothing as showy as Gambit’s was, shuffling and closing your eyes to take a few deep breaths to maintain a calming presence to the shuffling deck; after all, maintaining a calm allows the cards to pick up on the other being read upon.

“Impressive. I hope my future isn't as bleak as some fortune tellers have claimed." Slowly, you spread the cards thin across the table before turning to Remy.

“Heh” you joke “I don't know Remy...ya giving off some hella bad juju” Remy chuckles, amused by your bluntness "Bad juju, eh? Ouch. And here I thought you were starting to like me, petite."

You ignore his comment, “Pick three of them and turn them as you see fit.” 

Remy grins, his smirk never seeming to leave his face. He looks at the cards in front of him, eyeing them carefully. With a chuckle, he reaches out and tentatively picks 3 cards, flipping them over as you collect the deck to study the three he had chosen and you couldn't help but laugh at the irony of his statement, “well this one” you begin, pointing to the first card: the Death. “This sucks but...its the first card so it describes your past…?” You mutter and look at him for confirmation. Remy lets out a low whistle, most definitely not expecting something as accurate as that.

“Well Cher ...couldn't be closer to the truth yea?” 

“Have faith in me yea?” you replied, mimicking his earlier comment which had made him chuckle as you glance at the second card: The Five of Cups, inverted. “What does that mean?” Remy picks it up, waving it and glancing at the design. You snatched it from him as you noticed the tell tale sign of his purple hues of him charging the card “do not charge my cards Labeau-” Remy raises his hand in surrender “-now this card suggests your current state of being…which isn't the best. This symbolises a sort of disruption in your life and you feel disconnected…perhaps its time for you to focus on yourself labeau..”

Remy’s smirk slowly fade as you comment. “I feel highly targeted by al’ this- its like ‘m an open book for ya cher…which I very much am not”

You ignore his comment, clearly moving onto this last card would perhaps lift his spirits up: The Ace of Cups. “This” you say softly “This is your future…” Remy turns his attention to the third card. The card that represents love and happiness. He stares at it for a moment, then looks at you. The smirk from earlier returning to his face “love an’ happiness? Quite unexpected i’d say chere…not quite what i was expecting”

You shrug, taking away the cards and offering them to Remy to fiddle with “well, expect the unexpected Labeau”

He takes the cards, flipping through all of them to glance at all their different designs as he continued “hmmm~ you really know what to say to cheer a man up ma belle...would you be able to read on who would be involved in the ‘love and happiness’?” 

You motion towards the cards, and he returns them to you and draws the first card per your instructions: The Queen of Wands. You glance at it, humming, “hm, someone who’s upbeat, courageous…someone who seems to be able to play with their strengths and weaknesses….”

Remy listens and acknowledges, playing with the card that he had drawn, “so jus’ someone like me but in more control of their’ lives yea cher?” unconsciously, he had begun charging the card but you’d been distracted shuffling to get more comfortable on the sofa that when you realised the issue it was too late. Remy had put down the card and the moment his hand left the card- bomfph. A cloud of purple smoke puffed up on the table, and the both of you moved to swat away the cloud. 

“Remy Labeau I told you-”

“M’ so sorry cher I didn’t mean to-”

“Meow”

The both of you stopped abruptly and glanced at the table. In place of the card was now an orange cat- but it had a slight glowy tinge to it. A sharp breath was sucked in…would it attack? It tilted its head at the two of you and lept right into Remy’s arms, purring as it rubbed itself against him, kneading its paws before curling up on his lap.

“Thats….what the-” you sputter “Gambit what the hell did you do to my card” 

“Cher I don't know, does ya think lil ol’ Gambit knew he was capable of creating this??” he motions to the cat, whispering softly trying not to wake it up but completely failing. The oyen arose, shuffling towards you instead and repeating its process and eventually curling up to sleep. The both of you immediately plunged into silence, completely unsure of what to do. The cat, now completely asleep and in peace in your lap and clearly had no intentions of harming. 

“Gambit thinks he should-” “Remy Labeau if you leave me with a glowing cat I will come for you and you will pay for abandoning your problem”

"...does this mean this is our child"

=============

banner: pinterest

[kainagant]

i'm sure someone has already talked and theorized about this at length, but i just want to point out a minor detail that was never expanded on during lady nagant's arc. in her backstory, before she accepted to offer from the hero commission to work for them, her right elbow is wrapped in what appear to be bandages. her right elbow is where her rifle quirk extends from.

it looks like she mainly wears the elbow wrap when in public, around other people, or at least in school (left image), but takes them off when alone and/or in her own house (right image).

i think there's two main conclusions to be drawn from this. the first, that she wears the elbow wrap as a kind of support gear, possibly to help her control her quirk better like with aoyama's belt. it's not too far fetched to surmise that she might have had difficulty with her quirk as a younger child.

however, i'm going to argue with myself here and say that knowing what we know about "rifle", i don't really see how she would have a problem in the same way that eri or aoyama do. long story short, if that is what it's for, it seems unnecessary. moreover, going with the aoyama precedent, he never takes his belt off. because it's a real and actual possibility that his quirk will misfire involuntarily. whether he's at his parents house, inside the dorm, or alone in his room, he still wears his belt. so the fact that kaina felt safe taking off when she's alone would suggest that it's not actually a support item for her quirk.

i've seen some fans bring up that its illegal to purchase or possess a gun in japan. but i mostly dismissed this thought, although interesting to think about, because as strict as japanese gun control laws are, it's also illegal to set off explosives, and that never affected or stopped bakugou.

but now i'm thinking that perhaps it did impact kaina. if she's not wearing an elbow wrap for her own or others' safety (because, as i established, it seems unnecessary), then she may be wearing it for others' peace of mind.

which brings up a whole slew of possibilities for her pre-hpsc backstory. because there's plenty of examples of kids with destructive and/or weapon-related quirks that don't seem to get the same treatment. so there must be something specific to kaina that prompted her to wrap her quirk up whenever she goes outside. was she bullied? ostracized? simply told by an authority figure that it's "safer this way" and never questioned it?

this gives an extra layer of weight to kaina's motive to becoming a hero. because the hero commission came to her and said that the power which she, if not outright bullied for, was at least strongly discouraged from having, could be used for the better of society.

from the very start, she was defined by her weaponhood. the hero commission merely took a weapon which people were afraid of and made it into something to be admired as well. and most importantly, something that can be used. kaina took the opportunity to use her weaponhood for the benefit of others, after being raised under the assumption that her quirk was dangerous and meant for hurting others. and how did that end up, but exactly as everyone had always told her it would?

kaina tsutsumi was always doomed to be either feared as a weapon, or used as a weapon.

[vellichorom]

feel free to ignore this but I’m a little curious lmao ,, if you were to draw korekiyo is there anything you would do to tweak his design? Or how would you draw him in general

btw korekiyo is my fav danganronpa character all three games (four bla bla bla) UGH

i fucking LOVE korekiyo shinguji man... you know what's good,

& WHAT A GOOD QUESTION TOO! i don't think i have a very interesting answer for it but...

like with MOST danganronpa character designs ( or the designs of my blorbos period ) - save for a few tweaks here & there, i'm quite content with it! now, i'm sure others would beg to differ ( & they'd probably make a better point than i would ), but he's got a good design, i think! he's an eccentric & offputting, though compellingly mysterious, leaning-toward-the-darker-aspects-of-life, & is all about his research & existing, anthropologist -- which i think his design reflects pretty well!

i think the only things i myself might change -- tweak, rather -- about the design is removing / adjusting more of the unnecessary, more tedious details; his little punk shoulder spikes for one, or replacing the mummy-wrapped hands with off-white gloves for another,

&- you know, maybe making him look a bit more... imperfectly human, as opposed to the glimmering perfection most animes incorporate into their designs; a bit of a sicklier look about him, dark circles or bags under his eyes, obviously too-long fingers ( i like thinking he's got some arachnodactyly ), some acne or scars, a bit more meat on his bones maybe, off-white teeth ( when visible ) & eyes, such & such & such ( i've also always enjoyed tanned / dark skinned korekiyo takes, man's probably out in the sun a lot... )

just little things, you know? nothing big that i can dream of personally, though i have seen the most gorgeous dangan redesigns & Especially for korekiyo that do him even More justice than the games Ever could. i can't identify any by name, BUT BELIEVE ME, there are others WAY more educated & qualified to give their two cents on his design that mean way more than whatever i say - & i Know it's as deserving of criticism as anything Else in this damn awful franchise

but hey, you'll sooner see me coming up to plate regarding his WRITING rather than his design amirite

here, FOR YOUR NICE ASK & INTEREST - a modern day korekiyo drawn by yours truly after a couple years without;

with absolutely none of my proposed tweaks added because i'm cute like that

THANK YOU FOR ASKING !!!!

[smokestarrules]

May I ask about the Star Vs downspiral? I remember seeing commercials about that show but that's the extent of what I know. But I'm curious now.

Well, honestly there was a Lot that contributed to its fall from grace, but here are some of the lowlights.

(It's been a very long time since I watched this show so I may be forgetting some details; this is how I remember it).

A) Four prominent characters are drawn into a horrible, horrible love square. Star herself, Marco, who is the other main character whose family she stays with while on Earth, her ex-boyfriend Tom, and another character who we meet later, Kelly. I'm sure some people always shipped Star and Marco, whatever, but a significant amount of the fandom including myself were beyond content with their relationship staying platonic---romance was not a factor that needed to be brought in to make us care about their dynamic. In fact, romance just about killed any enjoyment for them at all because it was so poorly written.

Marco and Star go back and forth between taking that romantic step and subsequently rejecting each other for various reasons. At some point Star gets back with her ex, Tom, who seems to have turned over a new leaf. Marco and Tom even have episodes where they hang out together too. Then Marco starts dating Kelly at the same time Star and Tom start to fall out again.

Now that I'm writing this I've realized I actually forgot another entire character who was wrapped up in this; Jackie Lynn, who Marco has a crush on in the early season(s?). She and Marco are together at some point until she leaves him because he's clearly not into her anymore. There are five characters who get stuck in this terrible plotline.

It's just... so needlessly dramatic and completely unnecessary. Star and Marco end up together, of course, but in doing so they completely screw over those two other characters, and by that time, their relationship just leaves a bad taste in fans' mouths.

B) Star VS as a show initially started out as pretty episodic and pivoted to a more narrative-driven storyline later on, which isn't at all necessarily bad, but a lot of what I personally liked about the show ended up being pushed to the wayside because of the bigger emphasis on the plot, and it was disappointing. Not everything needs to have a massive earth-shattering narrative to be good.

The early episodes were character-driven, full of incredibly interesting worldbuilding, and just fun to watch. All of those things were shoved away to make room for something more dramatic and serious.

C) The main bad guys are also pretty much an entire species which is never a good idea because it breeds so many uncomfortable writing decisions. They're "monsters" and they are The Bad Guys, who the Regular People need to stay away from. The narrative kinda tries to challenge this concept, but in the end it's really just not important whatsoever.

Honorable mention) When the show was still good, Marco had a couple episodes in which really interesting things were happening with his gender; he crossdressed as part of Plot and then seemed as as if he was confused about how it made him feel? But later on that plotline turned into more of a joke than it already was and went nowhere. Just weird.

D) How the show ended was one of the absolute worst I've ever seen. I truly cannot explain to you just how--bizarre it is; anticlimactic, rushed, unexpected in the worst way. To stop people from fighting, Star makes the incredibly quick decision to just. destroy magic.

So she does.

The aftermath shows that the two dimensions (Earth and Star's original home, Mewni) are now merged together in some sort of 'happy' fusion, magic is completely not a thing anymore, and entire species that have before been shown to canonically need magic to survive are dead because of it, though the show doesn't think to provide a better explanation for that at all.

And it ends.

[writtenbymisunderstoodnerds]

How could I forget? (Christen Press x Reader) 18+

Part 2 of I'm Y/n by the way. Be warned this is filthy! Hope you enjoy! I'm slowly making my way through the other requests I have gotten.

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+ only. Slight mentions of choking, the word slut, lots and lots of smut.

Words: 3.5K

Y/n: Hey, not sure if you remember me but it's Y/n

Christen: How could I forget ;) Took you long enough to text me

Y/n: Sorry, I got busy editing that footage. It was a very pleasant time ;)

Christen: Was it now? I wonder why?

Y/n: I like editing

Y/n: Or maybe it was a certain brunette in a very short skirt....

Christen: I'm sure it was definitely the first option  

Christen: So what are you doing Y/n by the way?

Y/n: Now that is just unnecessary :( I'm having a very exciting Friday night of watching Netflix with the four-legged love of my life. What are you doing superstar?

Christen: Also having an exciting night filled with finishing off some work, maybe the last of my wine.

Y/n: Y'know, I have a pretty nice, unopened bottle of wine over here if you're interested.

Christen: Tempting.... What else is on offer?

Y/n: Homemade spaghetti squash bolognaise maybe some netflix and a cute puppy

Christen: You may have twisted my arm, is there an address accompanying that offer?

I sent her through my address before quickly tidying up my apartment. 15 minutes later there was a knock at my door. Christen was standing there looking just as stunning as I remembered though this time she was wearing sweatpants and a oversize hoodie. My 8 month old pitbull puppy ran and jumped up at her, trying to greet her with kisses, "Bruno down."

He sat down, tail still wagging furiously as Christen scratched behind his ears, "Sorry about him, he gets a bit over excited sometimes."

"Don't worry, he's cute, just like his mum."

"Hmm I think he's cuter."

Christen bit her lip, eyes racking over me. It was then I realised I was only wearing sweatpants and a sports bra. I did it so often I hadn't even thought about it, "Cuter maybe, sexier? Definitely not."

"Can I get you a drink?" I asked resisting the urge to take her against the door right there and then. Christen nodded, "Make yourself comfortable, living room is through there."

When I got back to the living room, Christen was sitting on the couch, legs tucked under her and Bruno's head resting in her lap. I handed her the glass, "Is he bothering you?"

"No, he's okay. Assuming he's allowed up here?"

"Oh really? So you'll be around more often then?"

I sat down next to Bruno, "Only when the blankets on."

We made small talk for a while until Bruno took himself to bed. She was actually really nice to talk to and we had a lot in common, but all I could think about was having my way with her again. Something about the way she played with her hair, ran her fingers over my arm, and lent in towards me, told me she may have been thinking the same. I scooted closer to Christen so our knees were touching, hand lightly brushing over her upper thigh. "I'm starting work with the USWNT in a few days."

"Yup, I'm quite excited about it and the people I get to be around," I ran my fingers along her thigh with more purpose this time, hoping she would understand the real meaning behind my words. Of course I was excited to meet new people, but I was much more excited at the thought of being around Christen. Christens legs parted slightly as she lent forward connecting our lips.

Our lips crashed together, her back hitting the couch. After settling between her legs, my hands slipped under her hoodie, resting on her hips as we made out. It was less rushed then the first time, we took more time to explore and it was softer after the initial rush. I ran my fingers up her sides making her shiver then slipped the sweatshirt off. My eyes were instantly drawn to her chest, she wasn't wearing a bra. I slowly ran a finger between her breasts then traced the curve of each one. Christen watched me intently, lip firmly between her teeth. 

I took a second to take her in. I was definitely right about her looking stunning with nothing on. "You are stunning," I whispered leaving a trail of kisses down her chest. I relished in the way her skin felt under my lips, she was so soft, intoxicating. 

Christen arched her back, pushing her chest further into me. I took my time kissing, sucking, and nipping at her chest. Quiet moans slipped past her lips as I pulled back briefly, "Don't hold back, I want to hear how good I'm making you feel."

Her fingers tangled in my hair, legs trapping me between her legs, refusing to let go when I pulled back slightly, "I'm no good to you if I can't move."

Christen loosened her grip just enough that I could sit back and slowly slip her sweatpants down and off. She wasn't wearing underwear either. It turned me on more then it probably should have. Once again I took my time taking her in. I don't think I had ever met anyone as attractive as her. I ran my fingers over her thighs as Christen bucked her hips, "Please don't tease, I need you."

I quickly pulled her up, legs wrapping around my waist. I could feel the wetness against my stomach as I made my way to my room. I slowly lay her on the bed, settling between her legs, tongue slowly licking a line up her folds. A moan fell from my mouth at the way she tasted. There was a hint of saltiness, but she was oh so sweet. Christens own moan followed, fingers curling in my hair. My tongue circled her clit, loud moans falling as her back arched off the bed. I took my time working her up, I wasn't going to tease her, but I also wasn't going to rush it. Her taste was addicting, given the opportunity I would never stop. Two fingers slipped inside her, trusting slowly as she clenched around my fingers, grip on my hair tightening, thighs around my head holding me in place. It didn't take long for Christens head to be thrown back, spasms taking over as loud moans fell from her, "Y/n! Fuck, fuck fuck, g-god Y/n."

Once she settled, I climbed up to kiss her softly. I was about to play with her clit again, but she stopped my hand, "Normally I would be all for multiple rounds, but I can't today, I'm too tired."

I lay down next to her, not complaining as Christen cuddled into my side, quickly falling asleep. It didn't bother me that I didn't get anything in return. As long as she was satisfied, nothing else mattered. Her pleasure was my pleasure. 

---

There was a quite knock at my door, Christen standing on the other side. I had been allowed to stay at my own place this camp. I pulled her in, lips connecting as her back hit the door. Christen had been wearing a short skirt again today, similar to the one that she had been wearing the first time we met. It drove me crazy and she was still wearing it.  

"Hey Christen, how are you? I'm great thanks, you?" Christen said, teasing smile present. 

"Sorry, you just looked so fucking good today. I had to resist the urge to fuck you all day," I pulled away going to sit on the couch, "But if you would rather conversation, how was training today? You seemed a little... stiff."

I smirked as I watched Christen try not to whine at the loss of contact and blush at the meaning behind my comment. Let's just say she was a little sore when she snuck out this morning. 

"It was really good actually, stretched and ached in all the right places." Christen stood against the door, arms crossed over her chest, determined glint in her eyes, she wasn't going to give up easily. Neither was I, but I also wasn't sure how long I could resist her.

"Oh yes, I've heard stretching is important and if you don't ache at least a little bit you're doing it wrong."

Christen bit her lip and I almost lost it. I couldn't let her win so when I remembered the toy hidden under the thin fabric of my shorts, I decided to play dirty. I pat the bed next to me, "Why don't you have a seat?"

Her hips swayed as she approached, just before she could turn around and sit down, I guided her so she was sitting on my lap. A silent gasp left her lips as I'm guessing she felt the hidden surprise. She tried her best to look unfazed, but I could see the anticipation and felt the way her grip tightened slightly on my shoulders. I knew I had won. I feigned innocent, "Thought this might be a bit more comfortable." 

She cleared her throat, grinding down slightly to prove a point, "It's a little hard actually."

"Isn't that how you like it?"

"Sometimes, it depends how I'm feeling."

"How are you feeling tonight?"

"Like hard isn't so bad."

The longer this went on the more I felt my resolve cracking. I reached down between her legs, wetness coating the back of my hand due to her lack of underwear, I slipped my shorts down just enough that the toy sprung free. It grazed along Christen wetness, her grip tightened, lip disappearing between her teeth, the quietest moan slipping free. "Let me try make it slightly more comfortable."

I ran it along her a few times before lining it up and pushing in slightly, "How's that?"

Christen gasped, bucking her hips, "Almost, just a bit more."

I slowly pushed all the way inside her. Christen tried to hide her reaction as best she could, I could still see the pleasure in her eyes. My hands landed on her waist, "Why don't you shift around slightly, try to find the most comfortable position. Let me help."

I guided her hips back and forth. Christen threw her act right out the window as she moved her hips willing, head falling forward as quiet moans fell, "Fuck Y/n."

Her hips moved in sync with my thrusts, slowly speeding up a bit. My arms wrapped around her as I stood up, her legs wrapped around my waist as I moved over to the kitchen counter. I placed her on the edge, thrusting slowly and stripping her of her shirt. I had always wanted to fuck her against the kitchen counter. I explored her chest, thrusts slow, but hard as Christen gripped my hair. I flipped her around, stomach pressed against the counter, ass in the air as I thrust into her again. Hand making firm contact with her ass through the fabric of the skirt, she moaned loudly, bucking back into me. I lifted her skirt, landing another firm smack, before leaning down to whisper, "Comfortable now slut?"

"H-harder, please Y/n harder."

"Pathetic, you can do better then that."

"Please Y/n, please, I need it harder, it feels so good when you slam into me, like I'm just a slut for you to use, fuck harder ple-"

I slammed into her, thrusting hard as her she slammed against the counter. She would likely bruise because of it so I placed a hand on either hip, protecting them slightly from the impact. As I felt Christen get closer I flipped her back over, back landing against the counter, breasts bouncing slightly, head thrown back as I landed a light warning slap to her clit. "Look at me while you come."

I circled her clit, thrusts never slowing, hand closing lightly around her throat. Her eyes flung open, never leaving mine as she spasmed and shook, low moans slipping out as she came hard. It was one of the most intense orgasms she had with me, I wasn't sure if she could go again after that. Once she untensed, her legs wrapped around me, keeping me inside her as I sat her up, letting her slump against me as I ran my fingers over her back trying not to move much knowing she was sensitive after her high, "Good girl. I've got you. Let me know when I can pull out."

Once her breathing settled, she pulled away to kiss me softly, "One more."

I decided to take this one slow. I kissed her softly, tongue exploring her mouth as I thrust slowly. It felt different to past encounter. Things were soft and intimate, like we were connected in a way that was different to friends with benefits. I knew I was starting to fall for her, I knew I wanted more, but I also knew I would rather have this then nothing at all. So I decided to keep my feelings quite, instead just being okay with what I had. Our lips remained connected the entire time I worked her up. Quiet moans falling against my lips as she came again. This time I slowly pulled out and held her until she calmed down. 

"Do you need anything Chris?" I asked carrying her to my room, placing her so she was sitting on the edge of the bed. 

"I'm okay," Christen replied quietly, tiredness obvious. I found an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers and helped her get changed before lying down so she could cuddle into me. 

"Get some sleep Chris, I set an alarm so you can get back in time."

---

It's like Christen and I were drawn to each other. The amount of times we had sex since we met was more than I had with anyone. Every chance we got, we would fuck each other. Whether it be at my apartment, my hotel room, supply closet, bathroom or car. We couldn't get enough. That's how we ended up in the supply room at the stadium, my fingers buried inside her, head thrown back as I left kisses along her throat. I failed to hear the door open, too focused on Christen. A gasp and balls falling to the ground made me pull away abruptly, hand pulling out of her shorts. Kelley was backing out, hand covering her eyes, "Shit, sorry. Man, I did not need to see that. No one will believe this."

Before either of us could reply, she was gone. Christen sighed, leaning back against the wall, "Fuck, I was so close."

I slipped my hand back in her shorts, "No reason we can't finish up here quickly."

Kelley looked utterly grossed out when we made it to the locker room a few minutes later, along with some of the other girls, "Don't tell me you actually finished."

I shrugged, trying not to laugh at the disgusted looks, "It's impolite to leave a girl hanging."

Ashlyn faked a gag, "Gross. So how long have you two been a thing for?"

Christen looked at me briefly before answering, "We're not."

"So what, friends with benefits?"

"I guess so." I replied knowing I wanted to be more, but also didn't want to risk losing this completely. So it would stay hidden as long as possible. 

"Interesting."

"I guess that explains where Christen sneaks off to at night."

---

"I should probably head off," Christen spoke quietly, placing her glass on the table and standing up slowly. She only had one glass of wine so I wasn't worried about her driving, but I also didn't really want her to leave. It was getting harder and harder to hide my feelings for her. We had been spending more time talking lately, more time getting to know each other. The more we talked, the more I fell for her. I didn't bring up anything about that though as I reluctantly stood up to walk her to her car.

I got as far as the front door before spinning her around, pulling her closer to me, "Stay."

Our lips connected in a soft kiss. It was different then our other kisses. There was no force or rush behind it. I would say it was almost filled with love, but I didn't want to read to much into it. A whine from behind us made Christen pull away with a sigh. I pulled away to find Bruno standing behind us, it had been a while since he'd be out.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I should go."

"You don't have to, let me take him out quickly then he'll leave us alone."

Christen sighed again, placing a hand on my arm, "Look, this is fun, it's amazing, but this isn't who I am, this was never who I was. I got so caught up in the pleasure. I-I'm not looking for casual sex anymore Y/n."

I cupped her cheek, kissing her softly, "If that's what you wanted I would go along with it because quite frankly Christen you are gorgeous, amazing. I've been drawn to you the second I laid my eyes on you. It's not what I want though. I was actually trying to work up the courage to ask you out properly."

"So do it."

"Will you um go on a date with me Christen?"

Once again, her lip was dragged between her teeth as a smile broke out, "I would love to."

"You really have to stop with the lip biting."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

My hands found her hips again, pressing her back against the door, "It drives me crazy. It takes every ounce of control I have to not rip your clothes off and fuck you whenever you do it."

"What are you going to do if I don't stop?" 

"I might just lose that control."

Christen smirked, slowly biting down on her lip. I dug my nails into her hips, not hard, but enough that a quiet moan slipped past her lips. A whine from behind us, reminded me of the reason we stopped in the first place, "I really need to take him out. Will you stay?"

"As long as you promise to lose that control," She whispered, connecting our lips in a lingering kiss. 

I pulled back with a wink and opened the door, Bruno rushed out, but waited at the top of the stairs for me. Christen followed me outside, lacing her fingers with mine as we walked to the park across the street. Bruno ran around for a bit while I left kisses along Christen neck, teeth occasionally scraping along her skin, tongue following to sooth it. "Y-you're go-going to leave marks."

"I'm going to do more then that," I whispered biting her ear lobe. "I'm going to leave marks all over that perfect skin of yours. Make you scream so loud you can barely talk. I hope you don't have practice tomorrow because you're not going to be able to walk straight."

Christen sucked in a breath, "I-is he do-done yet?"

My hand ran along her back, she instantly lent into my touch, "Someone's desperate, but yes he is."

Once Bruno was safe in his crate, Christens back hit the wall, my lips attached to her neck again. I wasted no time removing her sweatshirt, lips trailing down her chest until I reached her breasts. I sucked a nipple into my mouth, her back arching, a quiet moan slipping out. My mouth explored the skin that it had explored many times before. Dark marks left behind everywhere that could be covered. My knee slipped between her legs, pressure applied just right enough to coax quiet moans and turn her breathing erratic. By time my fingers slipped past the waistband of her pants, she was desperate and absolutely soaked. I let her pants fall to the ground, teasing her for a few minutes then plunged my fingers into her. I thrust hard, hitting all the spots I knew drove her crazy. It didn't take long for her to be thrown over the edge. 

Christen flipped us over once her breathing calmed down, I was about to flip her back over, wanting this to be about her, but she spoke up before I could, "If you do what you promised to do, then I'm going to focus on you first."

She quickly led me to my room, stripping my clothes off and pushing me back on the bed. All protests I had, slipped from my mind when her tongue ran through my folds, circling my clit. It didn't take long for pleasure to erupt, head thrown back, as moans and curses slipped out. Her tongue was quickly replaced with fingers, hitting all the right spots as I felt the pleasure build again. Christen was amazing, always managing to throw me over the edge quicker than anyone else ever had. 

After managing to get my breath back, I straddled her waist, kissing her once more, "You're such a good girl baby. I'm a women of my word. Just a warning, I won't be stopping until you are completely wrecked."

And I didn't. I threw her over the edge time and time again. Not stopping until she was pushing me away and begging me to stop, unable to form a coherent sentence. I helped her under the blankets, cuddling up against her. "Are you okay?"

Christen nodded against the crook of my neck, "I-I don't think I can move."

"I've got you baby, you did so well. Get some sleep."

Sex with Christen was amazing, but it was safe to say I was much more excited about the upcoming date. I couldn't wait for her to be mine. 

[aricat7]

Ineffable Intimacy Ch.2

Link to chapter 1: https://www.tumblr.com/aricat7/759590726338265088/ineffable-intimacy?source=share

Warning: This is a smutty fic of the ineffable husbands 🐍🪽

Chapter 2:

Though late at night, Aziraphale’s mind buzzed with the day's earlier events and refused to process them. He tried distracting himself by reading a book. That normally does the trick to keep rampant thoughts at bay.

"My type...is a being that's the complete opposite of me..."

"You think that's...okay?"

"To think of someone like that while I rub one off?"

Aziraphale almost curses, expecting this night to be a long one. He tries again at concentrating on the text staring up at him, but the page remains unturned. He closes the old book defeatedly - he would have slammed it shut if not for its old and feeble state.

Why, Aziraphale thought, rubbing his brow. Why did Crowley have to start that kind of conversation? It's wrong. It's unnecessary.

Unnecessary. Just as an angel engorges himself with the delectability of savory and sweet foods. Or how a demon sleeps almost every night and did mostly sleep through a whole century.

Unnecessary - those human activities were, yes. But oh how wonderfully satisfied they make you feel.

An angel being gluttonous was one thing, but for him to tap into lust? Well, surely there’s no difference, Aziraphale concluded wearily.

Just within arm’s reach was the telephone; Crowley was a phone call away.

"Oh temptation...you win. Just for tonight."

Without allowing any other thoughts to surface, without any regard for whatever consequences there could possibly be, Aziraphale takes the phone in hand and quickly dials. His head spins, his eyes wide and alert. The call reaches a third ring-

"Hey."

A simple greeting, yet it was drawn out and husky. Aziraphale stood no chance at stopping the inevitable flutter it gave his heart, no matter how much he tried to repel its effect. "Oh, sounds like you must've been sleeping?"

"Yeah. Been doing it almost every night as of recently. You try it yet?"

"I did. Unfortunately, I ended up sleeping for almost a full week! The shop's regulars weren't very fond of that.”

"That's why you've got to set an alarm, Aziraphale. You know? The type of clock that goes beep beep beep and it wakes you up? That."

"I did! I slept through it..."

Aziraphale could hear the faintest chortle. "Deep sleeper. Got it. What woke you up, then?"

"Not sure. Just sort of woke up- oh! No, wait, I remember! I was starting to get hungry. That's what it was."

"Right."

The conversation paused and within the silence, Aziraphale’s anxiety gave way. "Well, I should let you go back to sleep then."

"No, no. Why'd you call?"

Aziraphale took a deep, shaky breath. “I've been...I...can't get out of my head. Something's been plaguing my mind all day."

Crowley changed from lying down in bed to sitting upright. "Does it have anything to do with what we discussed earlier?"

"You know me too well, Crowley."

"Well, I mean, I think I do. I’m..sorta trying to learn more...if you couldn't take that hint earlier. Look, just, tell me what's tinkering around in that mind of yours, would you?"

"I called to...finish explaining myself about...the Ritz."

"You mean how you-"

"Yes,” Aziraphale interrupts, his grip on the telephone tightening.

"Ah. Then I'm all ears. Go on."

"I was imagining what our beach day would look like. The sun high in the sky, making the ocean below shimmer in its wake. The sound of laughter filling the air, everyone having a splendid time. Umbrellas scattered across the golden sand; underneath one of those umbrellas I picture you lounging comfortably. Your wings draped intricately down the sides of the chair-”

"My wings are out? In public? That's highly unlikely."

"Do you wish to hear my fantasy or not?"

"Sorry, yes.”

Very much, Crowley’s thoughts added.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and delved into the vivid scene his imagination was painting. “You were relaxing from a quick swim, letting the heat of the day dry you off. A drop of water trickles down from your auburn hair and follows your jawline down to your neck…to your chest…”

Crowley listens intently, ready to scream at Aziraphale if he stops now.

“All the way down…till it lands on your…what the humans call a ‘happy trail’...”

Crowley lets out a short, breathless laugh. Finally. Him and Aziraphale were finally exploring this new territory together that’s been begging to be explored.

"It's ridiculous, isn't it?"

"Of you? Definitely. I mean, you really imagined that? Are you currently imagining that?"

"Should I...not?"

"No. Keep going."

"I'm sorry?"

"Does anything else happen in this fantasy of yours or does it stop there?"

"Uh. Um…"

"You little…” Crowley’s jaw clenched, desperate for more. “You're gonna leave me hanging, aren't you?"

"It's... hard for someone of my kind to give such mildly graphic descriptions."

"Mildly?"

"Utmost,” Aziraphale corrected bashfully.

"Yeah, that sounds more like it."

Aziraphale toys with the telephone cord. "So, Crowley, you're not appalled by everything I've been telling you?"

"You having lustful thoughts about me? How could that turn me away? Hm?"

"Well, you and I...you know. It’s not that I don't feel comfortable telling you personal things but... if this is too much we can gladly forget about all this!"

Crowley’s desire ignited. There was no turning back from this, he wouldn't allow neither of them to let that happen. Aziraphale’s flustered little voice, the way he imagined Crowley, the vulnerability and tenderness that showed through it all - it harvested a warmth that spread throughout Crowley’s body.

Another effect had also taken place, one that happens often when Crowley lies in bed thinking about Aziraphale.

“Is that what you would want?"

"No."

"What do you want, angel? Tell me."

The words were there in plain sight, but Aziraphale lost the ability to read at that moment. He could hear the rustling of a bedsheet, and Crowley’s voice dropped a level as he continued to speak, “Come onnn! Your lips have already been tainted with a raunchy and dirty story about me, all coming from that marvelous brain of yours.” The sound of Crowley’s breath filled the receiver. “Let me hear a little more..."

"Crowley...you sound...very different."

"I’m sure. This miracle you gave me and all..."

"Miracle?"

"Yeah...not a small one either."

Aziraphale blushed incredulously. "I see. Oh Crowley, this isn't natural. An angel and a demon talking like this...thinking like this..."

“Don’t go spiraling into doubt now, angel. Don’t do this to yourself…to us.” Crowley’s pants were getting tighter by the second. His hand drifts down and palms the bulging fabric of his pants. “We’ve already made efforts, why not put them to good use, yeah?”

"I suppose there's nothing wrong with…experimenting with each other. I just… I don't want it to ruin what we have."

"And what's that? What is it that we have, Aziraphale? What are we?"

Aziraphale opened his mouth to say something, but found himself lost in the sound of Crowley’s breaths gradually laboring.

"How about we figure that out later, okay?” Crowley answers for him hastily. “If you're not going to finish talking about your fantasy, then allow me to continue it."

"By all means, my dear."

"Great. Set the phone aside. I'm coming."

"Oh, do I have to? I think I'd much rather prefer hearing you-"

"Over. I'm coming over. Through the phone.”

"Oh. Uh, very well then."

~~~

[gingerteaonthetardis]

hello i have a (very basic) fic prompt: established relationship hurt/comfort malcolm/rose. :))

genuinely diabolical of me to answer a prompt you sent almost a year ago—at one in the morning, on a random wednesday. but... better late than never? if you see this, which i hope you do... i'm so sorry it took so long. hopefully the 5k wordcount makes up for the wait.

content warnings for: medical emergencies, hospitals, canon-typical swearing (honestly, i think i kept things rather mild), and daddy issues

[read on AO3] [send me a prompt]

He comes home white as a sheet.

There has always been something faintly spectral about him. Two days without enough sleep and his bones tend to press up at the underside of his skin, turning his face into a craggy mess of shadow and light. He credits his milky, changeable complexion to a combination of his heritage and London's dismal weather.

Though—she's done what she can for him, in the months since they started seeing each other. They take walks along the Thames, sometimes. She stays over as many nights as she can and tries to make sure he gets a bit of actual rest.

They went to the seaside exactly once, for a conference, and while he worked almost the entire time, she did get him outside where the chill wind could buffet some colour into his cheeks. Eventually.

(She persuaded him to kiss her on the boardwalk, to ignore the possibility of the press spying on them, because “who would even recognise Malcolm Tucker when he's smiling?”)

But no matter how she tries, he is always pale and drawn and tense in a way that is not remotely healthy.

She knows she nags him about it, probably too much. Pushes. “This job is gonna kill you one day,” she told him matter-of-factly, one very late night in bed. Her hand was splayed on his bare chest, over his heart, as she spoke.

His fingers crept up to tangle with hers, and he let out a long breath, like a laugh too tired to embody itself. He hadn’t been home in over seventy-two hours.

“Already has,” he said. “You're looking at a ghost, darling.”

So she dragged the bedsheet up over his head and refused to let him out until he said “boo,” and he laughed a little and called her a child, and her fear dissipated so she could very nearly forget the darkness under his eyes, the tremor in his hands.

But when he comes home in the middle of the workday, looking like that—well, for the first time, she actually believes him.

She's looking at a ghost. A wraith. A shadow.

-

At first, she thinks things might not be as bad as they look.

“Steve fucking Fleming,” she sneers at the television, determined to be angry since Malcolm cannot be. He is beyond anger, having travelled to some more remote psychological peak. But she is merely mortal, flat-footed, here on the ground. Radiantly, righteously pissed. “Who does he think he is?”

He doesn't respond. His eyes are glued to the screen, where the ticker scrolls past spewing bullshit about his resignation. As if anyone on earth would believe that.

His body is a harp string, pulled so tight that it might snap at the smallest pluck. She reads him loud and clear, like he's wearing a big sign that says Do Not Touch. He'd been hounded by the press on the way in, probably bumped and jostled and while it boils her blood, she knows him. Knows he needs a minute alone.

At a loss for anything useful to do, she falls back on what she knows. The solution to any crisis, at least in the Tyler household.

Tea.

Water splashes into the kettle with probably an unnecessary degree of violence and noise-making. Malcolm likes his weak, bag out with lots of milk, so it'll hardly take a minute, she tells herself. Then she can go to him. Hug him, hard. Tell him the truth, which is that she loves him and fucking hates his job.

She taps the fingers of one hand on the countertop, her thumb ring clicking impatiently against the side of his mug with the other.

“I give it a week,” she calls out, eyes tense on the hissing kettle. “Maybe less, before they’re begging you to come back. You’ll see.”

Then: “Who's the bald one you hate so much? Julius? Well, there'll be a shitstorm anyway, with his report, and—and you know he'll come crawling on his hands and knees, asking you to clean it up. Do you…?”

Her voice gets lost in her throat for a moment, making her wonder if she should even ask this. If he'll even bother answering.

“Will you, when he asks?” Her hesitation is painfully obvious. “Will you go back?”

Nothing.

The only sound is the kettle, her thumb ring, the tinny voice of a reporter coming through the television speakers. And out the window, she thinks she can hear paparazzi—camera shutters clicking, animated voices in the street.

“Vultures,” she spits, like the word is poison.

She's interacted with the press since she was barely more than a baby, off and on, the relationship as rocky as the one between her parents. Pete Tyler, the mogul. The wunderkind. The absent. But the papers were always there, reporting on every jet ride to far off places. Every time he left them behind. Until the one time he didn’t come back.

The water boils, and she fixes Malcolm's tea, then hers. She wants so badly to run back into the living room and gather him all up in her arms, even though it makes no sense. He's not a wounded bird. He would hate the very thought of her pity. So she picks both mugs up carefully, tells herself this will help.

Until there is a large thump.

“Malcolm?” she says, feet frozen to the floor for a whole three seconds. “Malcolm.” Did he throw something? Certainly not. Drop something?

Instinct draws her from the kitchen, where the first thing she sees is the TV screen: on it, the Prime Minister, standing outside 10 Downing Street surrounded by dozens of microphones. His voice carries through the living room.

“...terribly sorry to see him go, but Malcolm Tucker has our full support in whatever he chooses to do next. We respect his decision to step away from politics, and are eager to begin this new—”

“Bollocks,” Rose spits, a fraction of a second before she notices the space where Malcolm should be standing is empty.

And he’s just lying there, face down.

On the floor.

Two mugs hit, a second after.

-

They won't let her ride in the fucking ambulance.

So she has to take his car. Which means she first has to find the spare keys—his must be in his coat pocket still, which he was wearing when they carted him off on a fucking stretcher—and by the time she does find them, the paps, who had only just begun clearing off when the ambulance showed up, are back in force. She can barely edge the sleek, black BMW out of the driveway without taking out some camera guy’s kneecaps. Honestly, she almost slams the gas anyway.

By then, the flashing lights of the EMS are long gone, so she has nothing to clear her way. It takes ages—a lifetime, a trillion lifetimes—to make it to the hospital, and the whole time she keeps thinking, What if he's dead? You're looking at a ghost, darling. What if he's dead? On and on and on.

Her head is a traffic jam all on its own, leaving her unconscionably distracted while she finds a parking space. But she musters up a little dignity for the walk into A&E.

And yes, of course, she can already see the zombie horde waiting outside the doors, eager to get their teeth into the fearsome, famous Malcolm Tucker, so recently fallen from grace. It’s one hell of a story—a surprise resignation gone so awry that it put a former political colossus in hospital. And while it isn't likely they'll know what she is to him, she doesn't want to risk making a bad situation worse.

She pulls up the hood of her sweatshirt and plunges through the gathered mass, making straight for the door.

But she must have used up all her luck finding a place to park.

“Is that—?”

“That's her!”

“Rose?” one of the more aggressive paps shouts. “Rose Tyler?” Her hands ball into fists, and she shoves them in her pockets.

“Are you visiting a patient? Rose!”

Instead of shouting back—I don't know, you fucking pigs!—she just forces her way forward. The sight of an irritated-looking nurse jamming his head out the door is a lifeline above all the bobbing heads and enormous camera rigs.

“Rose,” cries another zombie-vulture-waste-of-space, “is it true that Malcolm Tucker left the government to work for your father's company?”

“Unless all of you are going to admit yourselves into this hospital, clear off!” The nurse is the one shouting now. “You are interfering with the care and safety of our patients!”

That, of course, sets off another round of shouted questions about Malcolm's condition, about Pete Tyler’s condition—what a laugh—and Rose despairs of ever getting through until the nurse notices her—perhaps her pink hood, or her horror-struck eyes—in the midst of them.

His own gaze sharpens, and he pushes the door open wider.

“Clear a path, or I'm calling security,” he says, voice heavy with threat. “Back off.”

It's not terribly intimidating, but it's enough for the frontmost row of hacks to back down, leaving just enough room for her to be spat out in the entryway. She stumbles a little, and the nurse catches her.

“You're not one of them, are you?” he asks, hesitating for just barely a second—but then she swipes off her hood, and his uncertainty vanishes.

He nods, eyebrows lifting, then slams the glass doors shut behind them. It quiets the paparazzi to merely a dull roar.

“So, the rumours are true.”

She knows what he’s seeing right now; it's the same thing everyone sees: Pete Tyler's apparently estranged daughter, the long lost Vitex heiress who came back out of nowhere—read: the Powell Estate—a year ago, after nearly a decade out of the limelight.

And, allegedly, Malcolm Tucker's scandalously young paramour.

That's always been the worst of it: the way people look at her as if she's a toddler, not twenty-seven years old. Pampered little rich girl. As if she hadn't been just as surprised as anybody when her parents reconnected, remarried. Reintroducing her to a small but overwhelming world, one where he happened to exist.

Everything had changed, and then it changed again the moment she descended that giant staircase outside the reception hall, still dressed in her ugly, frilly, Jackie-selected bridesmaid's gown—and there he was. Smirking at her behind his hand, the bastard.

He changed everything.

She sets her shoulders, trying to look like more than she is, and stares down the nurse—his badge says Rory, with a little smiley sticker next to it.

He isn't smiling at all, sensing her intentions. “I’m sorry, but only family are allowed to—”

“I'm his wife,” she interrupts with a lie, bald-faced and glaringly desperate. She doubles down. “Rose Tyler. We're married. It was a… secret thing. Family only. ‘Cause of the press, yeah?” The way she says press is positively vicious. “And my parents, you know, they had this huge wedding and it just seemed impractical to have two in a year. Such a waste of money…”

She's overcomplicating—babbling, in fact, making her story less believable with every word. Surely the paramedics will have left a record of her prior statements, panicked pleading between sobs. But in spite of Rory's dubious look, he seems inclined to take pity on her. Her heart hammers as he considers for an eternal moment, blinking several times in what looks like an effort to clear his head.

“Please,” she says. Her voice breaks. “I've got to see him.”

In a tone of utter resignation, he tells her the room number.

-

She doesn’t need the room number, in the end. She just follows the shouting.

“—unless you want me to fucking shove that syringe up your cockhole and wiggle it around like an X-rated re-enactment of the Very Hungry Caterpillar, you'd best remove this fucking IV—”

So, he's awake.

A gaggle of nurses are lingering either in or around the doorway, watching the shitshow like it’s a particularly engrossing episode of Hospital, and Rose has to clear her throat to get through them. Her pink hoodie stands out like a beacon among all the scrubs.

“How is he?” she pauses just long enough to ask, voice low under the roiling stream of vitriol pouring from the room. “What's happened?”

One of them, a woman with a badge that says Hame—adorned with yet another smiley face sticker—looks at her sheepishly.

“Are you—?”

“His wife.” The lie comes more fluidly this time. So fluidly the nurse doesn't even blink in surprise.

“He woke up in the ambulance,” Hame offers, “and he's been… like this… ever since he arrived.”

Rose's lids momentarily flutter with the effort not to roll her eyes. But the relief comes fast on the heels of irritation. All the blood which had been pounding through her legs, prompting her to run, dissipates; she can only give a dizzy nod in return and stumble through the doorway.

“—you fucking deaf? I’m fine, I feel fine, as I've been telling all of you for the last half an hour! Look, I was test-driving my new Victorian fainting couch and fell a little to the left, that’s all, no big fucking deal. I'm absolutely fine!”

“Malcolm,” she says.

And he looks at her.

His face—God, his face. It’s waxy, pale as the moon, and his hair is sticking up like he's been running his hands through it, or like he's been in a pub fight. This impression is further supported by the blooming discolouration on his right cheekbone. It must have been from the fall. The fall she missed, because she was making fucking tea.

He doesn't look small on the gurney, doesn't look weak or unnaturally still or withered or any of those things she's heard people say about visiting their loved ones in hospital. But he looks like he's gone ten rounds with something much, much stronger than he is. The whole world, maybe, has beaten him.

Her chin wobbles.

“Oh, not you fucking too!” His eyes, marginally sunken, get wide all of the sudden. “I'm just fine, Rose—lot of fuss over nothing, all right? Just—no, darling, don't you do that, don't—”

But it's too late.

Tears break free of her waterline as she lurches toward the hospital bed. She barely has the wherewithal to mind the IV—still attached, which he’s thrilled about, no doubt—as she wraps herself around the nearest piece of him she can reach. Which happens to be his arm, warding her off.

She pulls the pale limb to her chest, feeling its warmth. Letting it saturate her. She hides her face in his bent knuckles and lets out a watery, choked noise that's struggling not to be a sob.

“Can you just—Rose—fucking give us a minute, all right? You can get on with the anal probe or whatever the hell you plan to do to me later, just all of you get out of—yes, thank you, thanks a fucking bundle. All of you, scram.” Malcolm's voice sounds like it's coming down a very long corridor, echoing wrongly in her skull. She can't feel her knees, which is a strange thing to notice, because she's not normally aware of them at all. “Rose? Rose, come on, darling, you're making a scene.”

He reels her in by bending his arm, which moves stiffly. She holds it tighter, breathing deep. Trying to swim back to some kind of surface. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

“S’all right. Hell of a day, isn't it?” he says, sounding more normal. Or maybe her ears are working right again. “Couldn't have come at a better moment. Seems I'm about to have quite a lot of time off.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m not the one blubbering, now am I?” counters Malcolm. “That's enough, all right, save it for the funeral.” He seems to recognise that's the wrong thing to say just a beat too late, when her shocked gaze finds his.

“That's not funny,” she says. “That's not even remotely funny.”

Some of the force leaves him, rounding his shoulders. “I know.”

She goes on, refusing to let go of his hand. She's speaking directly into his fist, and she doesn't care. “Damn you, Malcolm, I told you! I said, ‘This job is gonna kill you,’ and look where we are!”

“I'm not dead yet,” he insists. “And, if I might point out—it was losing the job that nearly killed me.”

That's it—her knees can't take it any more. They just sort of go out from under her, and she's lucky she's close enough to collapse into a seat beside the hospital bed.

“You scared me,” she manages to say. “I don't—I'm not even sure what happened, I just heard this thud, and then you were there on the floor!” He makes a soft shushing noise, which she ignores. “You have to let them look after you, Malcolm, you can't just—”

“All right,” he interrupts, vocally reluctant. But the hand against her chin finally opens, fingers searching out her face. “Fine. Fine, Rose, but I'm sure it's nothing.”

She gives a watery laugh. “Yeah, just your life. You've only got the one, you know.”

“I know,” he nods. But she can't be sure if he really believes her—if it even matters to him.

(You're looking at a ghost, darling.)

-

It's not nothing. Of course it's not.

It's a myocardial infarction—a bloody heart attack. Mild, according to the doctor, but nothing to joke about. Rose doesn't want to budge from Malcolm's side, and she’s heard people are supposed to take notes with this sort of stuff, so she gets her phone out and starts typing out anything she can make sense of, anything that sounds even tenuously important, anything she can spell. She tries to ask questions.

Malcolm keeps shooting glances at her while the doctor coolly, calmly explains that this should be a wakeup call.

“Cardiac events of this nature are often a warning sign that other, more concerning events are incoming, such as another heart attack or a stroke,” he says, “unless serious changes are made in regards to health and stress levels. Your heart is functioning normally—for now.”

His emphasis makes Rose's own heart thump painfully.

“But we'd like to keep you overnight for observation, and in the morning, we will discuss a health management plan.”

Malcolm seems inclined to buck against authority, as he nearly always does, and Rose doesn’t mean to, but she squeezes his fingers so tight she can feel the bones shift. And he nods instead.

“All right,” he says, eyes sliding towards her. They look pale, bleached by the fluorescence. “One night.”

She doesn’t want to make a scene again, so she runs to the ladies room. But when she gets there, she can’t cry anymore. She can only face her reflection in the mirror.

She's the one who looks like a ghost.

-

When Malcolm finally falls asleep that night—a feat which seems nearly impossible with nurses coming and going—Rose slips out into the hallway and dials a number she's been avoiding for hours. Maybe longer, if she's honest.

“Hullo?”

It's—it's too much.

She sniffs, and realises her airways are so tight, swollen by all the tears still left to shed.

“Pete?” she creaks out.

The shift is instant. “Rose? What’s wrong, love?” She can imagine him sitting up straight in bed, probably patting around trying to get her mother up.

“Don't wake Mum.”

“All right, what's happened?”

“It's Malcolm. He…”

“Oh, God. Rose, I'm—I got the call, but I didn't—I’m sorry, love, it just seemed…”

“Like bullshit,” she flatly fills in the blanks for him. Impossible. Like something that would never, ever happen, not to him. “I know. But it's not. He had a heart attack.” Voice low, her eyes scan the hallway, dimmed for the night shift; even now, she fears the click of the camera shutter, of being seen. Of compounding the problem. “I’m here with him, and he's… He's not taken it well.”

Pete snorts, and she would laugh, too, except that she can't.

“I can imagine. Is there anything you need? We can come down, but—”

“The press, yeah,” she sighs. “No, there's no need. Visiting hours are over anyway. I just wanted to ask…” The excess energy, the nerves build up like static until she's tapping her foot to try and let some of it out. “Look, I know I said I didn't want any money or favours or…”

“Anything, Rose. You know we’ll do anything.”

There's not a trace of blame in his voice, that's the worst part. Not even an ounce of bitterness.

He's always understood, ever since he came back into her life, that it might be too little, too late. That this—their non-relationship relationship—is not something to be solved by his money or his access. In fact, she’s sort of suspected he admires her decision to have nothing to do with Vitex, nothing to do with his public profile, regardless of how much it could benefit her. But…

Tears trail down her cheeks. It’s not for her, so it’s different.

“Two weeks at the lake cottage. Would that be—?”

He doesn’t even let her finish. “Of course.” She hears shuffling, rustling like he's gotten out of bed and started rooting around his nightstand. “I'll call Graham tomorrow, get it set up for you.”

“He can't do anything strenuous,” she adds, “and I don't want to leave him alone, so we'd have to order in for most things.”

“I'll take care of it,” Pete replies smoothly. “There’ll be fresh wood for the stove, too, if the temperature drops.”

Her voice comes out barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

“When do you want to go?”

“As soon as he's released.” There's a clutch in her chest, twin sensations of guilt and horror digging their hands in. She’s never planned more than a birthday present behind his back. “I’ll clear it with his doctor first, but I don't want to give him time to argue with me, and if we stay home—I mean, the paps'll be all over us. He won’t get a minute’s rest.”

If her father notices her misuse of the word “home,” he doesn't mention it.

“I'll handle travel arrangements,” is all he says. “D'you need someone to go and pack for you?”

“No, I can do it.” She sniffs, trying to gather herself. “Seriously, this is—I just want you to know…” But her voice dissolves.

“I know, love. I do.”

“I've got to go,” Rose manages, seconds or minutes later. The tears have slowed, and she can breathe again, and all she can think of is crawling back into that awful hospital bed beside Malcolm and falling asleep with his heart beating safely under her ear. Now that she’s got some sort of plan, she thinks she might have a shot at rest.

There’s just an instant of hesitation, then her dad says, “Rose? You know, Malcolm… he's been on his own a long time, love.”

That almost makes her scoff. As if she doesn’t know.

“Been making a ruin of his life, if you ask me, but he's always been self-sufficient. And if I’m honest, I don't think…” He trails off. She can sense that he’s searching for words, and presses her impatient lips together. She owes Pete that much, at least. “I don't think he knows how to let someone love him. Understand?”

Weakly, she answers. “Yeah.”

“So he might try to act like he doesn't need it, but he does. ‘Cause the way you love him—love, he'd be a fool to leave all that on the table.” There's urgency in his voice, an undercurrent of something she can’t identify. And then he says, “He's lucky to have you, Rose,” and she feels the words pressing into her heart, touching some aching place she's been pretending doesn't hurt. But it does hurt. “So lucky.”

It’s never stopped hurting.

“Never forget that.” The words come to her thick with tears, and she wonders if he’s been hurting, too. All this time. “All right?”

She squeezes her hand into a fist and wishes like she used to when she was just a kid. Wishes her father was here, with his arms around her.

This isn't that, but it's as close as they've been, maybe ever. As honest.

So she says, quietly, “All right, Dad.”

-

“Everythin’ okay?” Malcolm mumbles blearily. He’s blinking at her before she can even climb back into the hospital bed. And here she’d been all worried about waking him. But in second, his washed-out gaze is wide and alert—a shadow of his normal self—his hand lifting to make room for her beside him. “Thought you might've gone home.”

Home.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she shakes her head. “Don't be stupid.”

She wishes she could stop the renewed flow of tears, but she's too tired to turn them off—to do anything but curl up against him and let them soak his hospital gown.

“Not going anywhere,” she sniffs out.

Malcolm hums, but says nothing. Just strokes his hand up and down her arm. He's cooler than he should be, veins filled with foreign hospital fluids, so she nestles in, sharing her body heat. Their combined weight sinks them into the mattress, closer to each other. It's like a small pocket of shared gravity, belonging only to them.

“I called my dad,” she says, she doesn’t know how long after.

His hand pauses. “Oh, yeah?”

“You know I love you, right?” Talk about a non-sequitur.

There’s shifting against her, and she looks up, easing her weight off him in case he's uncomfortable. God knows he's got no chance of escaping, so at least she can not crowd him.

But he’s not trying to move. Just settling. “Rose,” he says, holding her gaze, “where's this coming from?”

She blinks.

“My heart, you berk.”

“I know that,” and he rolls his eyes, lids fluttering. “I mean, where is this leading to?”

“Well, I'm gonna ask you to do something I know you won't want to do, and before I ask, I just—I dunno, thought it would be important for you to know.” She almost pouts at his unchanging stare. “That I love you.” Nothing. “And that I'm asking because I love you.”

He answers too quickly. “No, I don’t think we should open things up to a third.” Quippy, light. The effort of it hurts her head.

“Jesus, Malcolm.”

“I know it works for a lot of people,” he blithely continues, ignoring her narrowing gaze, “but I’ve already sowed pretty much all the wild oats I want to sow.”

“Malcolm.”

“And we’re not getting a dog either.”

“I want you to take a break.” She meant to finesse it a bit, but no, she’s just blurting it out now and he’s just staring at her. Chin tucked, like they’re just curled up on the couch and she’s telling him she wants chips for dinner, again. “A holiday,” she presses on. “Two weeks. My dad’s got this place near Windermere, it’s called Rose Cottage—I know,” she adds, before he can even open his mouth to comment, “Rose Cottage, horrendous. He’s still getting the hang of apologies. But he said it’s ours if we need it, everything’s set up. It’s quiet, peaceful, but not so boring you’ll go mad locked up there, I think. Plenty to see in close walking distance. There’s a lovely garden and a library, and we can just take the train, and—”

She is rambling.

And he just watches her do it. Watches her dig this hole right in front of him. Possibly he’s trying to think his way out of the situation.

“I mean, if you don’t want me there,” to see you like this, god, please don’t say that, “if it would be better, we could hire a nurse and you can go by yourself. The important thing is you need to rest, but I didn’t think—I mean, it’s not just about you recuperating either. I guess I thought… we could…”

She shakes her head, wishing it would clear. Wishing she could say things in a more helpful way. But all she’s got is this endless stream of, Don’t go back, don’t go back there. Don’t go back to them.

“Can you take pity on me for, like, five seconds and say something, maybe?”

“All right,” he says. “C’mere, shift.”

He waits for her to resettle, her head in the curve of his shoulder, her arm poised carefully around his waist. She’s never been surprised by his capacity for gentleness, or his overt affection, though she’s sure it would shock the shit out of practically anyone else. Maybe not Pete. But to her, it always made sense. There’s the side of the moon you see, and then there’s what’s hidden beyond. Smudgy and impossible unless you look from a different angle.

Malcolm loves like that.

He lets her breathing regulate before he speaks again. “I don’t want to do that.”

Even laying down, her shoulders sag a little.

“I don’t want to turn off my phone, stay in some quaint little middle-of-nowhere called Rose fucking Cottage, doing nothing for two weeks while the world moves on. While my party makes a fucking laughingstock of itself—which,” he adds, “—I know they all will, more than likely already have. Fucking disaster waiting to happen.”

For a moment, there’s a flicker of heat in his voice. The energy that is essentially Malcolm, his constant belief that the world should be better than this, that it’s always letting him down with its many varied incompetencies. But it fades back into something slower.

Sadder, she thinks.

“I don’t want to end my career notorious, with a heart attack that nobody’s happy I survived. Almost nobody,” he corrects when she moves to argue. “I don’t want a holiday, Rose. How you can even call it that when we both know you’ll be playing nursemaid—shuffling my sorry arse around, ordering takeaway and doling out probably a whole rainbow of little colour-coded pills… Jesus. It’s miserable, and humiliating, and frankly, it’s hardly a holiday at all. But it’s one I particularly don’t want to take without the woman I love.”

She blinks again, her eyelids feeling so heavy, mind so slow. But her heart lurches in her chest like it’s lighter than air. “Really?”

“Yes, darling. So I guess you’d better come along, if you think you can stand it.” He must feel how relieved she is. How every bit of her begins to unspool.

“I can.”

His lips land soft against her head, breath gusting out over her rumpled hair, and his hand resumes its steady path up and down her arm. She thinks that’s the end of it. Until: “You know, the doctor said something funny earlier, when you were out of the room. Called you my wife. ‘I’m glad your wife is so serious about your care,’ he told me.”

Oh, god. Honestly, she’d forgotten, in the midst of everything else. The lie she’d come up with in the heat of the moment, in her desperation to see him. She should’ve known it would get back to him somehow. It’s either very good or very bad that she’s too tired to react with appropriate embarrassment.

“He seemed to think quite highly of you. All your notes and questions. And I thought, ‘Now that’s interesting.’ ‘Cause I didn’t want to correct him.”

She can’t help it. Her arm tightens, her whole body burrowing closer. Ribbons of warmth trail through her, centralising around her heart. “They weren’t going to let me see you,” she says. It’s all the explanation she feels she needs.

“I didn’t want you to see me either.”

“That’s just stupid. I always want to see you.”

His chest judders with a silent laugh, and then he sucks in a short, pained breath. But he doesn’t let her squirm away, just holds her tighter. “I know,” he says quietly. “I have come to discover that I’m a very stupid man.”

“Well, I’m bloody brilliant, and I have a plan to get you better and keep you around for a long time, so don’t—you shouldn’t even bother arguing with me,” she says, going for some measure of authority. She can’t take her eyes off the machines at his bedside. Numbers blurring in and out, back and forth. Thinking, You’re not a ghost. There, look—your heart’s beating. “And even if you do, I won’t listen.”

It’s mine to keep.

“I’ll try not to.” She hears the smile in his voice. Smiles herself. It feels like a good stretch, muscles that need to be tended to after an endless tense day.

“You fight everyone,” she says. “You don’t have to fight me.”

He answers in a whisper, close. “I know.” Nobody else would believe it.

But it’s close enough to a promise. The words wash over her head, more air than sound, and she holds them tight while the world goes fuzzy and soft at the edges. And eventually, Rose sleeps, exactly as she wanted to. With his heart beating steadily, safely beneath her head.

[ezamevolni]

Traces: Law and order

Back for more Jinkook shenanigans. I will always be back. 😇

And it somehow panned out because now's the perfect timing to talk about that side of Jungkook. Haha 🙂 I started this when Seven's teaser came out and now it's a whole two months later. Hello 3D.

Did a long (and rambling) post that spans across events in 2 and a half years. Like a highlight reel of some content that sit on the same arc. Like any other unconfirmed phenomena in the world, we can only look at what's presented and draw our own inferences.

Side note: The title of this post progressed from 'Who Confessed First' to 'Hyung Wait For Me' to the dried-up 🦑 I have now because recently I had felt like there's a need to highlight this aspect of Jinkook. The need had always been there actually.. but simply giving lectures and pep talks on why people should stop seeing Jinkook in that particular light only ends up with me becoming an internet rando screeching into the void. I'd rather Jinkook screech at everyone instead (if only they would). So I spend a good chunk of time trying to finding the lens that just showed what I saw, and that's as far as I'm going to go lol But along the lines of my original heading pertaining to the confessor.. Sure, there could've been no confession, no relationship, no underlying feelings whatsoever... but there could be ;)))

Please note that I will be using their Korean ages here as that's what they went by back then. Koreans are counted as a year old from the moment they are born, and everybody gets this additional year added to their ages at the beginning of the year, no matter when they're born during. SK had only recently (?) abolished this system.

⚠️ Smexy allusions ahead. (Appropriately, of course)

Every country has its own determined legal age and for South Korea, that's 20 years old. (I resist the strong urge here to insert my manifesto here that physical age ≠ mental age and that the lack of standardization where this line should be drawn is precisely why it is an unrelia- look at that just dug myself a shallow grave 🙂)

Fans all knew when Jeon Jungkook turned 20 because a whole shindig was thrown (by the members) about it - started in late 2015 and lasted all the way to the end of 2016.

So he was excited, the members were excited, and the fans were excited. And it's funny how the reason behind everyone's excitement was similar but not the same. Not the same.

These are events that transpired within the period between Danger (2014) and Fire (2016).

For in the years that BTS glowed up, there was an invisible line some were eagerly waiting to leap over, while others were blissfully or perhaps warily unaware(?) of those intentions. Before yall jump my throat and accuse me of shielding my bias, please calmly read on. (I think he bite off more than he could chew.)

For after the clock struck midnight on Dec 31 2015, the light turned green. And it'll become very clear very fast who was watching that second hand like a hawk, and who still perfunctorily giving head pats.

Anyway, hopefully from this account some can stop with the unnecessary berating of Jinkook's age difference as a ship because there was a very strong one-sided motivation to move things along.

In 2014 (not yet, smexy thoughts go to 🚓)

140612 Kkul FM

Jin: "Wait, how is everyone in our group an adult except Jungkook, that doesn't make sense"

Jk: "I-I-I will quickly become an adult too"

Jungkook was only 18 years old here. Still growing in height, had bunny teeth, full of energy and overall, still a kid.

And the point is that he was about 1.5 years away from becoming an 'adult' in SK.

The only real difference that bit of time made was that legally, Jk would be able to do some 'adult' things. For example, drinking, driving, clubbing, signing a legal document without a guardian signature.

But in terms of actual physical and mental growth, a period of 1.5 years does not guarantee nor indicate a measurable amount of change. (BTW Vmin at this time were still 18 years old internationally but already considered legal in SK. I know, it's trippy.)

Now when Jin made that comment "that doesn't make sense", it really stood out fer tow reasons.. 1. Per my logic it's as if to Jin, Jk already seemed like an adult in his eyes or maybe in comparison to the rest, he should be qualified to count as one. (I kinda agree, childish loud and extra, all of them)

2. Also, everyone was yelling commentary on Jk's growth - he's in high school, going through puberty, taller in height... but nobody else was fazed about Jk not being an adult. Members almost seemed to have the exact opposite POVs of Jin's. Ew bro is growing up vs Compared to you people he's not grown yet??

Right because somehow, there had always been a disconnect between how Jin viewed Jk and how other members viewed Jk.

Few other examples include~

Jin pointed to JK first then Jk followed suit. His face looked like a whole question: "Me?"

Btw, we have an excerpt of Jimin supporting Jin's choice but it's clear Rap Monster was still number one in 🐥's heart👆🏼:

But Jin was alone on this take here:

obsessive, timid, and the worst dresser..glad bts got theses roasts out of their system back then if not you'll be seeing trucks outside hybe if it happened now

And 'obsessive' seemed like a great descriptor for Jk because Jin seemed to have been on the receiving end of a lot of 'obsession'..:

140414 Sukira Kiss the Radio

Jin was the number one victim of Jk's sad boi serenades

"He keeps practicing but he keeps singing in someone's ear..." Suga said, concealing the identity of the affected.

"..my ears will just burst," Jin then bragged complained.

Overall, Jin was perceiving a whole other Jungkook from the rest of the members.

And 2015 rolled around. ( No 🔞 still 🚓)

For the below video.. I had a terrible time looking for it because logically, my brain said it should have happened some time near the end of 2015 and was probably released in early 2016. Because the video is of Jk, in the middle of a hectic warm-up session, asking the members to say a few words to him who is spending the last days of his teens. Ah youth, it flies away so fast-

Nope. When I finally found it I was both surprised and surprised. Filmed ? and released in April. It was barely second quarter... last days? You've got eight months left... JK??

150430 Jungkook who's in his 10s ask his hyungs (0:27 for Jin)

What Jin said to him: "Well, for 10s... firstly you can't drive. After you reach the 20s you can drive. Hyung can drive now, envious right? (JK: yes, I'm envious 😂) You've worked hard."

Now there's nothing very special about this.. Jin's answer was short and sweet, about driving.... and he really just "said a few words" to Jk like he was asked. Very casual. Quite cavalier. Regardlessly, his cool attitude and dry 'blessing' still elicited giggles from Jk.

So returning to my issue with the date of filming, Jk made a selfcam in the MIDDLE OF 2015 asking everyone to say a few words to him who was leaving his teen years. The timing was so incredibly random. Later on I figured.. that it's possibly the staff's idea for the selfcam. 'Last days of his 10s' would be on theme for their HYYH series and there was also the giant album logo on the bottom...

Either way, it doesn't matter who came up with the idea for this content. Because it served as our official entrance into the saga and promptly highlighted Jk's coming of age. A reallllllly long one that should've only been a day's celebration and a couple of after mentions (like for Vmin), but wasn't.

150611 Kkul FM

In June, BTS had moved into a new dorm, released HYYH Pt.1 and were finally tasting a bit of success. No longer squished into a single bedroom, they now had roommates 🦑🎊

So it appeared that most were happy with the new arrangements and Jin was definitely one of them😚as he voluntarily started sharing what activities he did with Suga:

Jin started off talking about the logistics of the activity regarding the beds

To which Jk's question leaped out by reflex:

"You sleep (together)?" Not a second of thought.

And his tone, teehee wow... and too, watch his hands even after Jin reassured him that sleeping was not involved.

Also, the group of satisfied roomies didn't seem to include Jk because:

Jk and Tae were the only two who innocently raised their hands. (btw I have reason to suspect Tae wanted to share a room with Sin too.)

I love how Officer Min was interrogating the suspect, "What is it he(you) likes so much then?"

It's pretty clear there's a specific room Jk was gunning for and how all his teasing hyungs knew which one and why.

Game consoles was a big clue, and the eldest hyung in the corner thinking, nodding and going "Ah" softly when he heard Jk say "It's game consoles"... I could write a short fic on how 2015 Jin had rising suspicions but didn't dare to go there, and was momentarily relieved when he heard the maknae give a convincing answer for his frequent visits to his bedroom. But I won't.

150702 Sukira Kiss the Radio

Jk's coming of age was also brought up on a radio show in July. The host Ryeowookie had asked,

"Getting my license" JK answered. Something Jin did mention before in that practice room interview, but it's such a normal answer we can't say he was influenced by Jin.

Then Ryeowook went on to ask Jk if he wanted to become an adult or stay in his 10s...

When Ryeowook asked if he still wanted to enjoy his teens Jk went oh no immediately, he wanted to become adult

..but (oh?).. he watched a movie recently (ok..) and there were a lot of driving scenes. (????)

? OK.

I can relate to Jk's terrible use of conjunctions when attempting to lie on the spot.

Jk used to be a greenhorn at lying (he's all grown now) and couldn't commit fully to the lie, so he'd take really long to answer and what came out would sound like nonsense.

In this situation, it actually seemed like an alright answer because Ryeowook had no idea just how eager Jk was. Sure, a movie with a lot of driving scenes could in theory make a person eager to be legal and start tokyo drifting. However, it won't be long before Jk reveals his true intentions to the world. 👇

Also truly, I don't think Mad Max would have inspired someone to want to start driving. If you check dates, this banger came out at just about this time.

151224 Simply K-Pop - Some Questions About BTS

It's really, really close to the end of 2015 now.. and the start of 2016 when Jk could be officially counted as an adult on Jan 1.

And I was a bit taken aback at that time when I first saw the video because there were no warning signs for what he did when he did.

Jimin was the one who read the fan question, "Isn't Jungkook turning 20 years old soon? Please express your feelings with your entire body."

Jungkook: it's my f*cking time to shine 😃😏🥴🚓🈲🔞

That expression!! arm movements,!? and swagger?!! Goodness gracious👵🏻 He nailed the -thuggy old perv entering a strip joint ready to tear it up-

Just to make it clear why he was excited about becoming an adult:

Innocent little ol' me was going "is that allowed on TV??"

And amidst all the laughing men, one stiff alpaca seemed a little uncomfortable with Jk's boldness:

(small smile, fidgeting, shaking pupils)

I mean. Who was that sleazeball that took over Jk's body?? This act was just a tad too transparent...

It's a howling declaration of what he thought of when he thinks 'adult'.

151223 KBS Gayo Daechuje X BTS Vlive

The year was really drawing to a close and on a live broadcast for KBS' year-end show, again, Jk decided to remind us of his questionable intentions after becoming legal.

The hot topic of the year was again cued:

He mentioned his desire for driving and also...

Jungkook: "I believe everybody already knows what"

No, we don't know SAY IT

If Jin had seemed cavalier in April, he definitely was paying attention to Jk's coming of age on the last day of 2015.

To think that this friend will soon become an adultㅠㅠ Our makdoongie will become an adult soon too. Please stay as a makdoongie to hyung for a long long time, you muscle man (cr. Sihyun @ bts_trans)

A side note: Jin posted this message 16 minutes after midnight on Dec 31.

Oh the times back then. I wasn't a Jinkooker but I was always weirdly extra fond of their posts together. And was always somehow expecting them to do these posts showing how close they were, because I knew they were, yet astonished when they did. Shipper me today is like, yeah, dumbass. You a shipper you just didn't know it yet.

151231 MBS Gayo Daechukje

Finally, they crossed over to 2016 on stage at the end of the year and the MC had cued Jungkook to say a few words after becoming an adult. I would think there's at least one or two other idols on stage who were turning twenty in 2016 but he was the only one asked. Like I said, the shindig had been thrown all year long and everyone knew.

And it's funny that it's Jin's zodiac year too, along with Ken and Sandeul's.

After getting off stage, Jk tweeted too about becoming legal

I’m twenty To think that I’m twenty To be honest, it doesn’t feel like it but.. I feel good anyways ARMYs wouldn’t like it right heheheuhahahe e hahe ARMY, I love you and I hope you treat us well this year as well (cr. Sihyun @ bts_trans)

"Armys wouldn't like it right"...... As a fan on the outside, no bb.. most were 😒creepily looking forward to it. But yeah, a few people might have preferred you stay small for longer.. one of them voiced that very sentiment the day before.

And then it finally arrived for real.

🌟2016🌟 (Actually nothing here really prompts smexy thoughts. I lied.)

Dumdum dunnnnnn.

If you thought they were lowkey and subtle this year, you're wrong. And I'm only referencing bits that are relevant to this arc. A Lot Was Going On All Year Round. anyways.

~January~

Hanako vol. 1101 Jin and Jungkook's interviews (cr. kimmyyang)

Q: Use a simple sentence to describe the member is a _______ man.

Jin about Jk: An old-looking maknae

Jk about Jin: A big brother from the church

Alright, I don't know about you but those statements just sounded mysterious and wrong (?).

Jungkook looking old? Jin from church? People are still calling Jk baby star candy today, Jk from 2016 DID NOT look old. Objectively speaking.

Jin, from the church? He's elegant and well-mannered sure but when you say someone looks like they're from church, it usually points to their conservatism.

And as far as my BTS lore goes, Jin's family is buddhist. (fact check me :))

So Jk could have let us in a little bit on their um.. progress. And the interview was likely done during end of 2015. I'll boldly presume someone drew a clear line that even if it be days remaining, it's still a matter of law and order. Wait it out buddy.

160124 2nd Muster

If you still recall that there's a plot, it looked like one person was facing difficulty in making progress even after the clock struck midnight.

Thanks to Jin secretly showing off publicly complaining, we learned about a tenacious youth's struggle:

to take over Jin hyung's bed.

Allow me to swoon for a moment 🤗 I'm deeply consoled by Jk's heart on his sleeves nature. Look at him, going from just learning about Sin's nighttime movie dates to proactively taking Jin's bed before he arrives home.

From Jin's complaint, It was clear that Jungkook was taking the initiative and Jin was more passive in seeking the other out after hours.

When questioned from all sides, Jk created a smoke screen:

The carpet...hm mentioning the carpet. And how many of you were like me, immediately giving him the benefit of the doubt that he only slept on the carpet, not the bed? :/

Note how he brought up the carpet but couldn't go through with the whole lie and never once said he 'slept' on the carpet. The carpet was, just there in the room. It's really not relevant at all.

And Jin's response cleverly made it seem like the carpet was indeed a real factor in Jk's nightly visits. I'm intrigued because he knew (everyone knew) Jk was lying, but he feigned ignorance and played along with Jk's terrible excuse...which leads one to think Jin isn't as passive as he tried to appear.

160612 Kkul FM

The topic of Jk being an adult came up again during this festa, reasonably so because it is the year that it finally happened. This time around, the topic was also part of the script.

There's nothing substantial from this conversation that contributes to the arc, but their responses were so candid and hilarious:

SG: "Jungkook was 15 years old when we met but now he's a full grown man."

RM: "That's gross"

JK: "My chin split"

RM: "Your chin split?"

JK: "It's split here."

J: "Euhheuheuhahaheuhaheuhaha"

Idk about chins splitting once the state recognizes you as an adult, but brownie points to Jk for thinking that's correlated.

Sometimes I think his dude logic is part of his cutie star charm 🧚🏼‍♂️

Bon Voyage season 1 ep. 1

Can't miss this episode where their first dinner in Bergen was all about Jungkook's adult ceremony party:

All the hyungs had it in mind and were going to throw a surprise party for Jk after cooking dinner. Everyone was pretty excited:

RM led the song, Jimin gave JK birthday slaps and Jhope was the one who reminded Namjin about getting supplies.

Traditionally, the person gets three gifts for their ceremony: flowers, perfume and a kiss. As a group of dudes on an impromptu trip/variety show in a foreign country, they couldn't afford the first two.. and Jk resisted getting the third. (Honestly I could cry a little about how cute they were about preparing the candles, food and cake for Jk. It was different vibes back then)

Isn't it cute how Jin suggested cheesecake because of Jk's love for cheese 🥰

p.s. I'm spreading rumors that Jin was recreating the adult ceremony cake for Jk's birthday last year:

160517 BTS Live

This live was a bit like a debriefing and commentary on the coming of age party they celebrated the day before.

All hyungs were teasing Jk about it, saying he's paying for the whole trip, the trip was to celebrate him, he's gonna shell the airplane tix..

And then Jin cut in while Jhope was very kindly telling Jk who bought the cake

The translators didn't sub it but Jin suggested a game to pick a member to kiss Jk

You can't take Jin seriously here 🤣 from head to toe, you could tell he was just teasing the maknae.

However. This question. Made Jk fall into a momentary daze.

He froze for about 3 seconds. Just based off this reaction I'd say they haven't kissed yet

And then gave his big 'I'm not gay hmph' lil protest ("A kiss from a guy...I would like a kiss from our fans") but that pregnant pause haha 😊 It's laden with panic. A big, straight boy would go directly into a 'no thanks bro' without a second thought.

2016 5.31-6.2 (?) BTS 3rd Birthday Party practice

Official party was over but the saga was not. It's probably because the members had started prepping for their Festa stages in late May pouring into early June, and the theme of Jk's adulthood hadn't exactly dissipated yet.

From the song choice to the style of execution, adult Jk spoke volumes:

Everyone who'd seen this practice video would agree upon noting the difference between Jk and Jm when they were dropping like it's hot.

Because Jimin exhibited what is called modesty and Jk showed lack thereof.

Both were smiling but one was embarrassed and the other was reveling in it.

That haughty side look and the casual walk off

We already know Jk was the one who picked the song and that the original was banned on music shows for its explicitness.

In the lyrics, the speaker was bluntly and figuratively saying to a person older than them - it was finally legal for them to 🌹🔞, the wait was over.

So there's debate over Jimin's participation in this dance number that Jk had chosen it with Jimin in mind, but think about it from this angle, 'target' audience has to be in the audience. Whoever he's thinking of, if he's thinking of someone at all, they've got to be watching from the seats.

Anyways, later on during the rehearsal, members all got to take turns watching each other perform.

And notably, Jin's comment asking "Was this originally supposed to be such a powerful performance" really revealed which member he was focused on during the show.

Additionally, the only time Jk showed a hint of modesty was when he was air thrusting and couldn't help breaking into a smile in the middle of the performance.

Kookie, you clearly thought of something while doing that motion.

Hip thrusting wasn't merely a dance move to him. And it's not a reach because he's precisely shown how aware he was of this aspect of life from [see above]

Osaka

After their festa, the celebration tapered off and there weren't any more direct mentions of how adult Jk was.

But of course, soon the banger Blood, Sweat and Tears dropped, boosted our numbers and drove everyone feral.

The creative team had seized the opportunity to switch up BTS' image from innocent, angsty youth in HYYH to the sensual, matured one in Wings. The team was able to move onto new pastures since Jungkook turned legal. This sudden change in concept and leap in their growth was very obvious in real-time.

And if the story seems rather skewed because Jin wasn't an active participant... it's cause Jk was the only one constantly reminding everyone he's almost legal, half a year more to go, few more days, LEGAL WOOOOOO, so legal, legal af, going to burn this fact into your mind.

As a Jin stan, I have to say his side of the story is a little bit more flat. There wasn't much progression in how he viewed Jk because as it appeared, Jk was already a manly man in his eyes since early 2014. Not in the adult sense, just personality-wise. Like mentioned before in some other post, Jin's a lot more consistent in the way he shows affection for Jk. If he was teasing and doting before 2016, he still was after.

For clues on how Jin's perception of Jk shifted, it may be better to look at how differently he began treating other members compared to Jk, pre and post-2016. Yes, our don't-touch-me Jinnie is only a saint that appeared after 2016.

And on a final note, I know I went on several mini rampages there on the isolated events so the saga may only seem remotely related based on Jk's coming of age....but you'll notice, it's the little things, their reactions, the slow progression and the hint of awareness... everything just tells us there's more happening beneath it all.

[skylermadness]

Evoked from Indigo Embers (Demon (Rat Snacks) TF/MC)

(Original Date of Upload: March 8, 2023)

Original Description:

A story written as a commission for ArticulatedArtisan. Admittedly I was not expecting my first commission to be this spontaneous but whatever. It happened and I'm glad it did. I do feel like the MC could've been done a bit better though, but the end result was still well received so I don't think I really mind! And overall I'm pretty proud of how I managed to write this out. Short pre-TF and post-TF, but a very meaty TF segment. Also I think I just like hot sexy demon TFs in general. This is definitely the most obscure character TF I've ever written though. Random character who shows up for one minute in a three minute short film? Yeah I can't see that catching up in the TF ranks. But then again, who knows... Rated Mature because of a single groin nullification segment.

   A shortcut back home was all this was meant to be. A quick detour through an alleyway so Arti wouldn't have to spend an unnecessary amount of time walking around the block, especially this late into the evening. That was what this was meant to be. Instead, Arti's attention was diverted halfway through their trek in the alley as they came across what could only be described as… strange, to say the least.

   Among the darkness of the alleyway, the bright purple glow of the weird object(?) was extremely noticeable. As a result it was rather badly hidden in a small deadend that was cast to the side between two buildings. A normal person would ignore it. Disregard the strange purple light and instead continue on their intended pathing. But Arti was a curious individual, and they wanted to find out what exactly the source of this peculiarity was.

   Their steps on the alley's concrete softly echoed between the brick walls of the dead end path. With the exception of the end of the path much of the place was still rather dark. Arti had been in here long enough to have adjusted to it however. The grungy smell of the place was persistent though. It almost made them consider stepping back and leaving the place. Those considerations were quickly dashed though as their eyes properly laid onto the mysterious source of the one light in this place.

   "What the hell…" they whispered to themselves, eyes wide. The source was a pentagram of all things. An odd and perfectly drawn summoning circle on the ground. Purple in coloration and intense in luminosity. The outlines of the shape were also moving, as if they were just slightly lit aflame.

   That's where everything became convoluted. Why was there some kind of satanic iconography drawn in the middle of an alleyway of all places? Was there some kind of cult or something they weren't aware of? …Were they accepting new members?

   They shook their head and blinked, wanting to refocus on the pentagram itself. Although they weren't quite sure what to even do with it really. They don't really have a stick to poke it with. Although…

   They removed a glove from one of their hands and knelt down close to it. They held a hand out just close enough to feel any warmth from the pentagram. Unsurprisingly it did seem to exude some kind of warmth. It wasn't as intensely fiery as one would expect from the dim looking flames, but it was something.

   …Now… what would happen if they stepped into it…

   It was a rather sudden jump from one idea to another, but they felt oddly compelled to do it. It wouldn't hurt, right? They decided to sacrifice their other glove and throw it onto the circle's arc closest to them just to reassure that thought. After a few seconds of the glove not setting on fire, Arti made the assumption that a whole human body would probably be fine. They took a few steps into the circle, then into the star, and soon directly into the middle of the pentagram. With the exception of a nice warmth being introduced to their feet, nothing really happened.

   "...what was I expecting?" They weren't really sure. Although they had a feeling that they did something they really shouldn't have supposed to.

   They then noticed a small stream of smoke emitting from below them, accompanied by the smell of said smoke. Looking down they found the glove they threw onto the pentagram was starting to burn, then it was almost instantly being consumed by purple fire. "Uhhh…" they vocalized, their brain having trouble processing what they had just witnessed.

   They weren't given much of a chance though. The fire that was emitting from the pentagram was intensifying, getting larger and surrounding them in a wall of indigo embers. Deciding they didn't want to be incinerated, Arti attempted to escape the pentagram's confines. And while they lifted one foot from the ground, their other one got rooted to it as a spiral of flames snaked up from the ground and went around the leg.

   They dug the other foot into the ground and looked down at their leg, noticing the flame crawling up it. It was not burning them, but it was still intense in heat. "What the fuck!?" 

   With the other leg now meeting the ground as well it wasn't long before a spiral of flame latched onto that one too. What was perhaps even more peculiar however was the feeling of something else moving up their leg. A strange object emerging from the flame like some kind of snake and steadily slithering its way up from their lower body and onto their torso. From the intense light of the pillar of fire they were in, Arti could make it out to be some weird strap of black leather with a silver metal buckle. This object continued to move up their body, the leather strap managing to stretch around their arms and loosely going across their back. The buckle positioned itself on their chest, then pierced the air with a click as it buckled itself.

   In that instant they could tell what this object was: a harness, albeit a loosely fitting one. One that would probably work more for someone larger than them. Despite all the concern they had in their mind though, they did want to admit the harness looked kind of nice. Their arms were still free, so Arti moved the left one up to try and fiddle with the harness a bit, but stopped once it properly entered their field of vision.

   The skin on their hand looked a bit darker. Lifting up their other hand, Arti also found the skin on it having darkened slightly as well. "Whuh…?"

   Their skin coloration only seemed to continue darkening. Pale coloration was deepening to that of a dark gray, and those grays only continued to form and spread across both hands. At the same time the size of both hands were stretching out to be larger with each finger getting thicker. As the mass of their fingers increased, the tips sharpened as flesh and nail were combined into massive claws on each individual one. And this would only progress as the deep gray tone expanded its territory across both now much larger hands.

   These changes had not stayed on just their hands though. The deep gray surged upwards and beneath their sleeves, the lower arms next in succession as they started to thicken. Both sleeves got tighter, the muscle mass in their forearms being forced to increase in size. Their once thin size now being packed with raw strength that spiraled across the region, and their arms getting filled with pure heat at this instant workout. It didn’t take very long for this increase in mass to strain the arms of their jacket to a point where they were beginning to tear. The now dull coloration of their forearms became visible. Although it seemed that once the color shifts got two-thirds up their arms it gained a wave-like patterning. And from beyond this pattern, a bright red entered their skin instead.

   The tightness of their sleeves progressed as things moved further upwards. Their upper arms filled with a new musculature as well, bulging and expanding in size significantly. More rips pierced the air, the perfectly red skin gaining more visibility as their biceps and triceps grew in conjunction with each other. Large and strong, filled with an untold raw power that they couldn’t comprehend. More and more tears continued to etch across their jacket sleeves, their shoulders swelling due to their rapidly developing deltoids. 

   “F-fuck!” Arti grunted out. To them, all of these changes were concurrent and quick. They could feel their clothing still persist in getting tighter as well, them knowing that what was happening is still surging across their entire body. Whatever heat that emitted from the fire was somehow drowned out from the heat within them. They felt sweltered, beads of sweat starting to form and trickle down their body.

   They clasp a clawed hand at their leg and try to pull it out from the grasp of the flaming tendrils holding it down, but even with this newfound strength it seems that their legs were rooted. Stuck to the ground, with whatever satanic magic this pentagram possessed being forcibly funneled into the young guy at a rapid pace. 

   Arti themselves still persisted though, attempting to pry their legs from the grasp of the sigil. But a pressure was starting to wrack their body, their clothing becoming even more stringent with each passing second. The zipper of their jacket started to steadily move downwards, their frame expanded sideways as their body was widening in size. Their undershirt was quickly gaining visibility as a result with the neck straining against Arti’s increasingly broadening size. At the same time, the bottoms of both articles of clothing were starting to ride up their belly, their height also increasing at the same time.

   As their body got larger the muscles in their torso were growing as well. Their chest started to swell, their once barely noticeable pectorals steadily getting thicker. Mass being constantly piled on, the two pecs being forced large and larger. Cleavage was etching into their undershirt, but between this and the increasing size of their body it was almost instantaneous that the undershirt split horizontally across the middle to reveal their much meatier pecs and glistening red skin. With this constant increase in growth it didn’t take very long for them to start sporting two massive slabs of raw meat on their chest, very warm and very firm.

   With all this increase in size it wasn’t long until their chest began to slot perfectly into the harness that snapped onto them just a minute prior. Much like everything else the harness only seemed to get tighter. The size of not just their body, but their entire form seemed to just be enlarging. Sleeves burst apart, their undershirt was practically getting ready to shred off their chest, the slider of their jacket had stuck itself halfway through and the zipper was about ready to split itself apart by force. Their pants and shoes were also steadily getting tighter as well. Their entire self was just enlarging, enlarging to a size that likely was not human. Arti practically growled as all of these feelings of internal pressure and mass shifts were getting to them. They just wanted to rip apart this ill-fitting clothing and be done with it.

   An aching surged at two points of the upper half of their back. Their deltoids and trapeziuses were already mostly reaching a musculature equivalent to that of the rest of their body. At the same time however, two bumps were emerging on their back. They were small at first, but as the coloration of them started to darken to the same dark gray as their hands they began to form into something much larger. The bumps pushed against the back of their jacket attempting to burst out of it, but as Arti’s form got larger their jacket effectively started to split down the midline. This split was wide enough to uncover the bumps, allowing both of them to fusillade outward and form into something coherent. New bones and flesh expanding and burgeoning, taking the shape of a pair of small demonic-looking wings.

   Concurrently the lower half of the zipper finally started to come undone as their abdomen was rippling. The region churned as the muscles in that area started to formulate and mature. Abdominal muscles were forming, rows pushing outward sequentially until a solid six-pack had formed in that area. They were large and noticeable, possessing deep crevices that divided them evenly. The upper rows had even etched themselves into their undershirt (which had at this point gone halfway up their lower torso). 

   Arti’s clothing could only hold on for so long though. Between the growth of their body, their new musculature, and the new appendages on their back, it had all become too much for their jacket and shirt. Everything finally tore apart against their size, clothing officially being ripped to shreds. Deep blue cotton sloughing off their skin to reveal the almost ruby red of their skin and their massive pectorals and firm abdominals. What remained of their jacket sleeves bursting apart and falling onto the ground, only to be burned by the pentagram’s flames on impact. The nylon of their jacket tearing apart, zipper slider busting off and the fluffy hoodie falling away unconnected to what was once a full article of clothing. All that would remain on their torso was the harness, perfectly hugging their chest and squeezing against their pectorals.

   “Damn!” they yelled out, their voice cracking as it sounded a hint deeper. A part of them were relieved at the disappearance of all that pressure, but also their clothing was just torn off and…

   …their pecs were… large…

   “I got… I got muscular…” they stated to themselves. Their grip on their legs faltered as thoughts of trying to escape seemed to dash. They didn’t know what they were becoming, but whatever it was was thick. Thick and strong.

   A hand finally removed itself from their legs, now being lifted upwards instead. It was slow, shaky, but after a few seconds they cupped their chest with it. Letting their sharp claws grasp the massive meaty slab of muscle. They couldn’t help but give it a light squeeze, feeling its soft firmness. Feeling its warmness. Staring down at the bright red gleam of their skin that seemed to almost shine beneath the pillar of flame that enveloped them.

   “Grruhh… what am I… doing?” they ask themselves, their voice continuing to crack. Albeit less-so now. It was getting noticeably deeper. Masculine, a hint of power entering it. Kind of sexy…

   The question still stood though. What were they doing? They were trying to escape this damn thing and now they’re groping themselves. It was absurd, it was counterintuitive. Where did all that fear go? Was it still there even? Arti couldn’t really answer any of these questions though. It was as if a single glimpse of their transforming body was just enough to quell those fears. And something about it felt… better than their normal body even.

   They then started to run a claw up the cleavage of their pecs, a light fog starting to enter their mind. “I do look pretty hot in a harness now…” they said with a nervous chuckle.

   As Arti’s trepidation subsided their changes only continued, progressing downwards. While their change in size was beginning to slow, their jeans were reaching a point of just barely holding on. With their now already wide waist getting slightly wider, the button holding their legwear together snapped off as the zipper pushed itself downwards. The region in general was also flushing with the same scarlet that had consumed much of their skin. 

   A wave of arousal washed across them, more drastic changes occurring in their groin. The area smoothed out and simplified, everything within that area sinking inwards. Soon nothing would be in that region, leaving it to just be as plain as the rest of the skin on their body.

   Concurrently, the seat of their pants got tighter as it filled out more. Their glute muscles were thickening and their rear was rounding out. Their rear only got larger and more protruding, and the size of it only persisted in growing until their pants couldn't contain it anymore. The denim split in the middle, and their underwear clung tightly to their now massive ass. A small bump then appeared where the base of their spine was located, then after a couple seconds burst out from the cotton of their undergarments. A long thin tail slithered out from the rip, an arrow point forming at its tip.

   The rest of the muscles in Arti's lower body were also gaining significant musculature. It was effectively a mirror to that of the changes within the rest of their body. Legs gaining substantial mass, thighs getting thicker with bulging larger quads and hamstrings. Due to the new scale of their body, their legwear was practically torn in an instant as the jean's seams ripped down the sides and revealed their already changed skin. The lower half of their pants tore apart next as their calves ballooned and pulled the denim apart effortlessly. As the color changes in their skin reached the lower half of their leg's crus, a similar wave pattern to that on their forearms started to form before the color changed back to dark gray.

   At this point Arti's scale changes came to an end, them being significantly taller than they used to be. As more and more of the sides of their jeans tore apart, the portion that went around their waist was ripped apart as well against their larger size. This resulted in their pants falling off their body, with their underwear tearing apart shortly after for the same reason.

   The toecap of their shoes had formed multiple bumps, five at first before those bumps started to move. Within the footwear, their toes were shifting and merging together. Five to four before squeezing into three. Much like with their hands each toe got sharper, becoming thick claws. All the while their feet were getting larger, heels digging into the back of the shoes while the sides of their feet pushed up against the footwear's sides. Eventually their shoes just exploded, cloth being flung into the air while their larger, clawed feet were now visible to the outside.

   The spirals of flame slowly started to slink away from their legs, but Arti had a mind that was a bit too muddled to notice. They were pretty much still playing around with their pectorals, both hands now cupping them as they squeezed them. Admiring their much sexier body. Although at this point everything was feeling confusing.

   "This feels good…!" they said with raw confidence. Their voice had settled to being fully deep and masculine, and that sense of power was coursing through it. It helped that their transformation was running upwards and going up to their neck to make it wider, almost trunk-like.

   But that aforementioned confidence wasn't running through their mind. Dazed, confused, they weren't fully sure what they were doing anymore. This indulgence felt common to them, which was something they didn't really experience before. Or at least that's what they think. Everything was conflicting in their mind. 

   Bright red soon started to etch onto their face. Pressure wracked their skull, the entire steadily structure shifting as they thought. Their rounded chin chiseled and became more squared. Their entire facial shape hardened as it got more rectangular. Their nose got sharper and more triangular, and their ears elongated and grew more pointed. Their eyebrows also got thicker, the hairs becoming a deep black as their shape slanted.

   As for the hairs on their scalp, those seemed to be steadily retracting into their head. Long and messy, getting shorter and shorter. And as they shortened, two bumps emerged from the sides of their head. Their hair only continued to pull back, and as it did so those bumps grew out longer and became a more concise form, that being a pair of horns. It didn't take long for the hair retraction left them completely bald, meanwhile the horn growth persisted a bit as they got long horizontally before crooking upwards for a bit and tapering to a fine point.

   A huff escaped their mouth, Arti grasping a horn in unfamiliarity. Those weren't theirs, were they? Then why did they feel so familiar…? These… had to be theirs… They shifted their legs closer together, turning their head slightly to look behind themselves. Some confusion occurred for a split second as their eyes laid on their wings, but it subsided almost instantly. They unhandled their horns and brought their hands down. This form was becoming more familiar. It was becoming theirs.

   These strong, massive muscles. This burgeoning power that was welling within their body. Their sexy, sexy body. They were one hot Demon~

   "Why the heck am I feeling so fucking confused?! Of course this is my body!!" they said with a smirk, giving their butt a little squeeze as well. Yeah, this was definitely them.

   The purple pillar of fire seemed to put itself out in almost an instant, the pentagram's purple flames dispelling from beneath their feet. As all the light died down the demon had found themselves in the middle of… an alley.

   They stopped admiring their form for a minute, slightly disappointed that they had to do so, in order to take a look around. There was no summoner, they had no recollection of some sort of transaction for their summoning. Last thing they could recall is enjoying themselves back in Hell.

   "What the hell!?" They exclaimed. If there was no summoner or transaction, why were they in some random alleyway with a pentagram at their feet?

   They growled in annoyance. "Great. Guess I have to start looking for my summoner…"

   Stepping off the pentagram, the Demon started walking to the end of the alleyway. They weren't sure how they were going to complete that goal, but they sure as fucking hell will…

[soranmbane]

Undertale Month Day 1

So I wanted to participate in Undertale Month, and I figured that the best way for me to do that would be to write some flash fiction based on the prompts (or at least, as many of the prompts as I can). Even if I definitely won't get any of them done on time, it should still be a fun exercise, and hopefully get my Undertale fanfic writing juices flowing again (because man do I need to get my big Undertale fic up and running again). Anyway, this one is based on day 1's prompt, "fallen down." Story under the cut.

I stepped forward into that tiny circle of sunlight, eyes turned toward the pit far above my head. After a few moments, my eyes were drawn downward, to a small dark, ruddy splotch on the hard dirt near my feet. Reflexively, my tongue probed the spot where my teeth had cut the inside of my mouth on impact, though it was long since healed. I closed my eyes momentarily, exhaled, and looked back up the light.

Somewhere up there was everything and everyone I’d ever known, and if what these monsters told me was true, it was very likely I’d never see any of it again.

“So there’s really no way out?” I asked distantly.

I heard soft feet shuffling across the ground as he walked up beside me, and I turned to see those sad puppy dog eyes staring at me. It was still a little surreal to look at him. By this point, I'd mostly come to accept the fact that these creatures were not figments of a desperate imagination, but still. Talking goats.

“I’m sorry, Chara,” he said, making a bold assumption as to what was going on in my head. “If there was some way to help you get home, we would, but…” He looked downward as he trailed off, wringing his fuzzy white hands together.

But the apology was unnecessary. The truth was, when I looked up at that light and thought of the life I’d recently lost, I felt… nothing. No grief, not even any particular relief to finally be away from it all. Just… nothing. But I suppose that’s why I'd asked to come back to this spot; to know for sure how I felt.

“It's fine,” I said, offering him a smile. “There are worse places my little hike could have landed me.”

“Heh… I guess you're right,” he said with a small smile. “Plus mom and dad will take care of you, and, well…” He shuffled his feet nervously. “I've actually never had a real friend before…”

"Seriously? You're a prince,” I said with a smirk. “Just pass a law that says everyone has to be your friend.”

He had to clap a hand to his snout to stifle his giggling. “No, that would be weird!”

“Hey, what kind of royal are you if you’re not abusing your power?”

“C'mon, stop.” He gave my arm a playful shove, still giggling.

Then we both went quiet for a while, with me staring up at the sunlight shining above my head, while he stood there, lost in thought. When he spoke up again, his voice had a sombre note to it.

“Though… I feel a little bad whining about not having friends, when you probably have plenty of friends up there that you're missing…”

A part of me wanted to burst out laughing. If only he knew…

“Actually…” I said, still looking up at the light. “I've never really had a friend either.” The tone of my voice was matter-of-fact, like this was just some unimportant piece of personal trivia.

“What?” He seemed genuinely shocked. “But you seem so cool!”

“Exactly,” I said, crossing my arms across my chest with a smug smirk. “I'm too cool. There was just no one good enough for me.”

He fought to stifle a snicker. “Well… am I good enough?” he asked with a big smile on his face.

“Hmm…” I put a hand to my chin and made a show of looking him up and down. “Eh.” I shrugged. “I guess you did save my life. The least I can do is offer you a probationary friendship, just to see if you can hack it.”

He snorted while struggling to hold back a laugh. “You're so weird…”

“Anyway, I'm done here.” I said, turning my back on the sunlight. “How about we go somewhere where I didn't almost die?”

“Oh, okay,” he said, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I know all sorts of cool places to show you.”

I gestured to the exit. “Lead the way then, Azzie. Uh, mind if I call you Azzie?”

He giggled as he grabbed my wrist and started to tug me along. “Sure you can! Now come on!”

So I followed him, away from that place where my short life had nearly ended and on to our first small adventures. And then we were best friends forever and nothing bad happened. Obviously.

[slimeranch7]

Hello! I found your blog through your post about the Genshin girls as monsters, and I really liked your blog and other posts!

But speaking of that post, it made me think about Eula! A wight Eula to be exact, so I hope I can share it with you! ^^

Being the highest class of undead, Eula had been living in the mansion at the outskirts of your hometown way before the founder of the village had even drawn their first breath. Eula was a monster, an undead creature of the night, but above all that she was a noble, a merciful at that, so she allowed the humans to move in and live on her territory. They thanked her, they praised her, but after a few decades. Nothing. No more gifts, visits or the occasional sacrifice she would turn down, they forgot about her completely.

Every day she would be sat near the window, seeing the young kids growing older and older without being able to leave her home to make herself known to them. She wouldn't lower herself to their level just for companionship. Until one day, someone had the courage- nay, the hubris to enter her home. It enfuriaded her, but she decided to let is passs. Letting the young human do as they desire as a way to show her superiority over her kind. She was generous with the people she allowed to live on her backyard.

To her, a lesson was given so the human would be grateful for being able to live another day without even having to face the lord of the land. But to you, you only got confirmation that the old mansion was indeed empty, and all those spooky tales that passed down from generation to generation were lies after. So you came back again, lounging on the antique couches. And again to keep your sweets hidden so no one could eat them before you could. And again to hide when you had to take care of the kids in the village while their parents went out to hunt. All of those times, nothing happened. Well, each time the air inside grew colder and colder to the point you could see your breath dancing in the air, but that's it.

Until one day, you brought some friends to take a look at your very own secret place. But it's on that day that Eula herself realized that she doesn't sharing all of her belongings. She grew to love the daily visits, everything coming closer and closer to hear her new-found friend exploring her surroundings. But the peace and warmth you brought would not be disturbed by some loudmouth delinquents, she would make sure of it.

She only gave and gave whatever humanity wanted to them, wasn't it about time she took someone in return?

---------------------

I hope you liked reading that. Also I hope it would also be OK to interact with you ^^; Oh! And welcome back to the hellsite :D can't wait to see you active again!

-Pie anon

Pie anon that is a horrifically beautiful concept, ty for this welcome back gift lmao

It's perfectly fine to interact just as long as u read the rules and abide by it. Then again i rly have no way of enforcing them so I'm just relying on my audience's integrity 😉

Content warnings: DEAD DOVE

You'd have no idea she's even there. She's in the walls, in the furniture, always prying, always watching and waiting patiently.

To you, it's free real estate. Everyone else is too afraid to approach, all the omens, the stories of a vengeful spirit residing in the barren estate, and despite the ungodly amount of cleaning you have to subject yourself to, the rooms grow familiar and even nice and quaint over time. It feels like a hard earned vacation home.

On the other hand, unbeknownst to her cute little visitor, Eula has eyes on your every move. That includes your... Unnecessary stowaway.

They're loud. Disruptive. Unkempt. Nothing like what you are, quiet and tidy and graceful, just the way she likes it. It's her house, her rules, and if she doesn't want them, she'll make it happen.

It took some convincing from their part, so it's your first time reluctantly revealing your secret little hideout, but all the years you've been hanging out here, you've never felt this sense of unease and dread.

The air feels colder than usual, the blankets you keep here are no longer keeping the chills at bay. Things are missing, books sometimes slide off the table. You swear you left the front door closed, why is it swinging wide open?

The halls- it's beginning to twist and turn in ways you can't comprehend. The kitchen should've been this way... It's not that you're lost, you cluelessly try to navigate with your friends laughing as they tail behind you.

Everywhere you turn, it leads right back to the front door, which seems to have stayed open no matter how many times you've shut it close. Maybe something's wrong with the hinges?

Maybe they should return another day, when you're in the right mind, when you've finally gotten these faulty doors fixed up.

But when everyone's stepped out, the door slams shut in your face before you can even make a move.

A hauntingly graceful voice of a woman seems to echo all around. She carries her tone with dignity, yet it's laced with a low, boiling anger.

"I've let you off the hook far too many times. But this. This is overstepping."

You're still faced against the door, disbelief and shock still stuck in your system. You can't seem to move, muscles unresponsive, despite doing everything in your power to desperately claw at the door.

A ghostly pale hand reaches around your waist, too close to your lower abdomen. A cold breath tickles you ear. "And for that, i will exact vengeance."

[mizusswordtip]

Down The Rabbit Hole ⚝ Killian Jones x Reader (17)

find the story on wattpad

summary: Alice's plan to overthrow the Queen of Hearts is thwarted by a dashing pirate with a hook. Years later, after the curse is broken, they reunite once again.

masterlist

"I don't know if I can do this. I'm not a very good liar." Aurora complains as we near the village.

"It's not really a lie, Aurora. Lancelot did die an honorable death and Cora did escape. All true." Snow reassures but Aurora looks unconvinced.

"As long as you be vague you'll be fine. There's no reason to cause unnecessary panic amongst-" I add on before Mulan interrupts, coming to an abrupt stop at the tree line.

"Wait." She holds up a hand and I come to stand beside her. The village is dead quiet and there's not a person in sight. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"The tower. We always have sentries guarding the entrance." Mulan whispers looking to the side at me, the concern evident in her gaze. I draw my sword and walk ahead.

"Be prepared for a fight and keep close." I order softly and we all run toward the village, weapons drawn. The sight in front of me is horrific, causing me to halt dead in my tracks. Bodies upon bodies strewn everywhere. There's not a survivor in sight. Bile threatens to come up at the sight.

"Oh my god." I hear Snow whisper in horror.

"This can't be. Our land, we were protected here, hidden. How did the Ogres find us?" Mulan asks, approaching the bodies to inspect further. I stand beside her and the blood in my veins freezes as realization comes over me.

"They didn't. This was Cora." I whisper, clenching my jaw.

"What?" She asks, her head whipping in my direction.

"Look here, their hearts have been ripped out. This is her magic, twisted and evil." I explain, pointing to the area where the man's heart should be.

"We have to stop her." Snow exclaims. Mulan looks defeated and I feel a stab of sympathy in my chest. I understand that look all too well.

"We're too late. She killed them. She killed them all." She says, almost to herself, unable to look away from the slaughter. I stand in front of her, grabbing her by her shoulders, forcing her to look at me.

"I know Mulan. But the best way to avenge them is to make sure they didn't die for nothing. That she won't go on to hurt more people." I implore passionately. She shakes her head but before she can speak, Emma calls out from behind me.

"Hey! Hey, Look!" She shouts, pointing to a pile of bodies. Aurora runs over and kneels.

"There's someone under there! He's alive." She says while attempting to move one of the bodies. With the help of Emma she succeeds. Mulan walks over when she sees what I see, a survivor. I'm about to join them but then I catch a glimpse of his face and freeze. My heart beats so face I almost can't breathe. Without thinking, I bring my hood up over my head, shrouding my face in darkness. His face is one that I could never forget. Hook. I clench my fists hard enough to draw blood on my palms.

"Please help me." He cries out and I fight the urge to scoff. He's really going to play the part of the victim...

"It's okay. You're safe now. We won't hurt you." Snow says with a kind, reassuring smile.

"Thank you. Thank you." His voice soft as he puts on the impressive act. I walk away, needing to clear my head.

After a couple of minutes of getting Hook sat down, Mulan and Emma walk over to join me."Have you seen him before?" I ask quietly. Emma grabs a cup, presumably for Hook.

"Yes, I've seen him around. He's a blacksmith, came to our camp a couple of months ago. Said he lost his hand in an Ogre attack." Mulan explains, watching him carefully as we walk. Eventually, she looks back over to me. "You think he's lying." It's not a question, but a realization.

"I know he is." I reply, gesturing with my hand for them to continue over to him without me. I might as well see what he has to say for himself. See if I can gauge what his game is from his lies. Emma places the cup in front of him and Mulan pours what little water we have left inside. He looks up at them with a thankful smile.

"I can't thank you enough for your kindness. Fortune, it seems, has seen fit to show me favor." He says with a little laugh of relief. Emma glances at me and I give her a small nod.

"An island full of corpses, you're the only one to escape. How exactly did that happen?" She asks, keeping the suspicion out of her tone for now.

"She attacked at night. Slaughtered everyone in one fell swoop. When she started ripping out people's hearts, I hid under the bodies of those who had already been killed. Pretended to be dead myself. Mercifully, the ruse worked." He tells the tale, making sure to take emotional pauses at the parts that are 'too hard' to talk about. Cora must be trying to get us to trust him. But why? Is it for information or to kill us?

"So much for fortune favoring the brave." Emma mutters sarcastically.

"It was all I could do to survive." He says with furrowed brows and what I'm sure is supposed to look like a remorseful expression. Emma leans closer to him and I can see a waver of fear in his eyes, hoping he'll be believed.

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. I'm pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me." She says quietly.

"I'm telling you the truth." He pleads.

"We should leave here in case Cora decides to come back." Snow interrupts the mini interrogation. Emma stands back up and looks over at me, I give her a small shake of my head and she nods. "We should start looking for another portal back. I only got about five minutes with my husband, let alone my grandson."

"You have a grandson?" He asks with an amused grin. Emma walks behind Hook casually.

"Long story." She immediately brushes him off.

"I know this land well. I can guide you-" He starts but before he can finish, Emma grabs his hair and yanking back. I draw my sword and point in flush with his neck, dropping the hood of my cloak with my other hand. His eyes widen comically but when he sees me, really sees me, he looks like he's seen a ghost.

"You're not guiding us anywhere until you tell them who you really are." I say calmly. He swallows hard, panic overtaking his gaze.

"What are you doing?" He cries out, looking around at the others in the group.

"Alice!" Snow chastises, thinking I've attacked a man for nothing. I don't falter.

"Tell. Them." I say lowly, pressing the tip of my blade further against the delicate skin of his neck.

"I don't know what you're talking about! Please, don't let her hurt me." He begs. The others in the group look to me.

"Tie him up."

We walk Hook to a clearing a tie him to a large oak tree. "I already told you, I'm just a blacksmith!" I roll my eyes, having already heard this a million times on the five minute trek here. I'm equally impressed with his resilience as I am infuriated. How can he think he can convince my own allies that I'm delusional?

"Who do you think they're going to believe, Me? Or you?" I ask with a humorless laugh. I bring my fingers to my mouth and let out a shrill whistle. "Maybe the Ogres will buy your story. While they rip you limb from limb." I don't spare him another glance as I turn my back and walk away. "Come on."

"You can't just leave me here like this." He begs. I hate that I feel somewhat bad but part of being a leader is making the hard decisions no one else will. Besides, I will not have him sabotage me again.

"What if he's telling the truth?" Aurora asks.

"He's not, I know him." I finally reveal. Their heads snap in my direction. But I just give them a look that says 'I'll explain later' which they seemingly accept. The Hooks voice calls out, stopping all of us dead in our tracks.

"You win this one, Alice!" I can hear the amusement in his voice and I smirk, turning to face him. "It seems you've bested me this time. I can count the amount of people who've done that on one hand."

"Hilarious." I say with a roll of my eyes, approaching him without breaking eye contact. I can't help but feel a little smug.

"Who is he?" Emma asks. Hook cuts in before I can answer.

"Killian Jones. But most people have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker." He then looks to me with a knowing smile.

"Hook." I finish for him. Killian. I don't know why I never thought to find out what Hook's real name is. Regardless, It doesn't matter, I plan on sticking to Hook anyways.

"Good to see you remember me." He says with a sarcastic smile. I ignore his glibness.

"Where is your hook?" I ask, already exasperated from his earlier antics and our past.

"It's in my satchel." He with an amused smile which I don't return.

"Wait, like Captain Hook?" Emma asks in disbelief.

"Ah, so you've heard of me." He says, turning his attention to Emma.

"How exactly do you know him?" She asks me. I open my mouth to answer but then off in the distance the Ogres roar. I can hear trees snapping.

"There's no time to explain." I say dismissively. I take a step closer to Hook. "You better hurry up, they're getting closer. So unless you wanna be dinner, you better tell them the truth or I will once we get to safety." I warn quietly. He drops his head to his chest with a resigned laugh before meeting my intense gaze.

"Cora wanted me to gain your trust so I could learn everything there is to know about your Storybrooke. She didn't want any surprises when she finally got over there." He explains. I look over my shoulder at the others who look just as unnerved by the news as I feel. What I don't see is Hook not taking his eyes off of me the entire time.

"She can't get there, we destroyed the wardrobe." I inform him. He simply smiles.

"Ah, but the enchantment remains. Cora gathered the ashes, she's gonna use them to open a portal." He informs and I smile a little smile, looking back to Emma.

"That's our way back." I say with a reassuring nod. The Ogres let out another roar, closer than before.

"Now if you'll kindly cut me loose..." He says, looking off into the distance where the Ogres are approaching quickly.

"Why should I? After what you did to me?" I whisper so quietly that I'm not even sure the others can hear me. To my surprise, for just a moment, he looks truly remorseful.

"He should pay for all the lives he took." Mulan chimes in from behind me.

"That was Cora, not me." He corrects vehemently and even more surprising, I believe him.

"Let's go." Emma says, walking away but I don't move an inch. Hook looks at me with pleading eyes.

"Why?" I ask once again.

"I didn't have a choice, you have to believe me. Cora would have killed me if she believed I wasn't loyal to her." His words make me angry for a moment, wanting to deny what he's saying. To call him a coward. But I know he's not exaggerating. Especially after I've already seen more of her cruelty today. I may never be able to trust him but forgiveness may be something he's worthy of.

"You said you can help us. How?" I ask, less hostile than before.

"The ashes will open a portal. But to find your land, she needs more. There's an enchanted compass. Cora seeks it. I'll help you obtain it before she does." He tells me with an encouraging nod."Sounds too good to be true." Snow's voice comments from behind me. I can't help but agree with her but it's the only option we have.

"There's only one way to find out." Hook says and then another roar from behind us. He clenches his hand. Emma pulls out a dagger and presses it to his neck and my eyes widen slightly.

"Tell me one thing, and I better believe whatever comes out of your mouth. Why would you betray Cora?" She says, her intense gaze burning a hole through his head. Instead of talking to her, he looks at me.

"I've seen what you're capable of. It's clear Cora sees you as a threat for a reason." He says with an amused smile, obviously referring to the Jabberwocky before his face softens just a little. "Besides, consider it my apology." My expression softens but I harden my face just as quickly. I can't let him get in my head. For all I know this could be a part of Cora's plan.

"Why do you want to go to Storybrooke anyways?" I ask, my brows furrow. His gaze becomes vengeful at my question.

"To exact revenge on the man who took my hand, Rumpelstiltskin." He seethes out. His words don't surprise me. I've only known Gold for less than a day and I can definitely see him cutting someones hand off. I step closer to him, our faces inches apart.

"If you betray me again, I will kill you and never think of you again."

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

The whole DNI banner thing in general feels very new and sad to me. Just so emblematic of the culture of trying to force everyone else to cater to the online experience you want, instead of tailoring your experience for yourself. It's one thing to expect people not to be hateful or mean in your notes, and another entirely to restrict the people you're willing to interact with to the ones you don't think are "degenerate".

Depending on how you define "shipping", I've always "shipped" Destiel and never "shipped" Wincest, but I've always enjoyed reading Wincest and Daddycest content. Specifically the darker stuff (my first big favorite spn fic was "Sins of the Innocent" by reapertownusa). I'm just not sure what, exactly, the folks who don't want to interact with "Wincesties" are afraid of. We're all just, like, regular people, and the world out there kinda thinks that *all* shippers are freaks, anyway.

As far as I can tell, and I realize that the situation will not be the same for everyone, there's this need to shun people who are deemed to be degenerates (as you said). Liking Wincest is definitely taken as a sign of real life moral failing.

Once again, I do want to stress that while I don't ship it, I have nothing against Destiel as a ship. When I first got into this fandom I read a lot of of everything and that's how I learned what worked for me and what didn't. That was in 2015 and I remember being more embarrassed about liking a ship at all than I was about being more drawn to the idea of Sam and Dean together than I was towards Dean and Castiel. So it took me a long time before I just embraced it. During that time I've seen the shift in the shipping wars, the imposed battle for morality that some seem to think that they are fighting. And I've seen it mirror the outside world's steady slide into authoritarianism.

These DNIs are not really important in the grand scheme of things, I'm a respectful person (no matter what kind of shit I may spew when I get frustrated here) and I wouldn't ever knowingly push my ship, or anything else, onto someone who made it clear they didn't want it. I even double check blogs that I reblog from (or whose gifs I add to my own posts) before adding even a wincest tag to a post, to do my best to avoid upsetting anyone. I've been yelled at too many times and generally prefer to avoid unnecessary conflict.

And that's just it, if these blogs listed that Wincest squicked them, I would do all of this to avoid upsetting them, and still be able to share this space with them. But I don't think it's just about them not being exposed to Wincest, that's part of it for sure, but it's also about them not wanting to share this space with me. They don't want me in their space at all because they have made a personal judgement against me based on the flavor of fiction that I enjoy being an idiot about on this dumpster fire of a website.

It's that I see so many posts that have nothing to do with Destiel being tagged with it which feels like another way of setting up a fence between them and those of us they think need to stay away from them. These DNIs feel like giant no trespassing signs, the really over the top ones that tell you exactly what kind of gun they'll shoot you with if you don't obey the sign. And I guess that I just expect more from tumblrinas because I assumed that we better understand what it feels like to be judged and excluded. But really, people are people, and sometimes people are scared, reactionary, assholes, even here.

[veeloopz]

Hiya. Hope you're doing well and having a nice January. Really hope this question isn't too annoying to reply to but lately I've been trying to create references for my OCs so that I can finally share my art with other people. Thing is, I'm completely struggling with creating reference sheets! When I start one, I end up just not knowing what I should add and I either get this feeling that there's not enough or that there is too much unnecessary drawings that are just there to fill space. Sure there's no real right or wrong with these but they never look appealing. I was wondering how that process of creating references is for you, what is it that you think about adding that is important in yours, especially when making one to share with other people. Things you think should be there, basically.

Thank you very much.

Very very long reply incoming, sorry!! I’d love to help you out with this <3

So what I always make sure to have for my references (especially my comic ones!) is a front/quarter view, side view, and back view!

For example:

Sabrinia here has really wild hair, and from different angles it doesn’t look the same. I made sure to include how her hair looks in the back, and I made it a little transparent to you can see what her outfit looks like behind. (Also obligatory BALD mention lol)

Now, the way I decide what and what not to add to my references is kinda on a whim. As for comic specifically, since I know how to draw these guys from muscle memory I tend to keep it simple.

But, for characters that have a more complicated design, I like to add little footnotes and images showing what I couldn’t show on my turnaround sheet. (I sometimes do this for my comic guys too!)

Another example, I just finished this yesterday actually haha! I redesigned her, and this is what I had to work with:

I sketched out her design and picked colors (I make sure to put them on the side so it’s easier to color pick and see values!)

Then after I liked what I had, I put that sketch on this reference canvas (based on IDW wonderful Sonic ones). I drew lines to matchup her main features/main guidelines, and sketched it out from there.

As I was drawing the side view I realized I needed to have two different back views since her design isn’t totally symmetrical!

I like to add silly expressions to fit the characters vibe in the top for fun! I haven’t done this with my comic ocs yet, just cause I’ve already drawn some expressions in the comic itself so I just go back and cross reference if I need to!

As for all the extra stuff at the bottom…

Looking at her turnarounds I thought the spikes on her wrist cuffs weren’t well seen so I made a quick drawing of those.

When sketching her shoes, I drew the open part with a weird shape and I wanted to include it since the gems covered them up!

Also made sure to have a good ref for her weapon somewhere too. Same with a harness for it!

Didn’t have any expressions of her mouth open, so I wanted to point out her weird teeth! And her eyes are shaped different, so I made sure to also point that out!

Overall, what helps me make references and figure out what and what not to put there is to think about what is important to the design itself. What id do is definitely be sure to have a front (or 3/4 view), side, and back view! If that’s too much just a front and back view are dandy!

For details, if there’s something in the design that sticks out, make sure to have that in the spotlight somewhere!

For fun here’s oldest (2019??) to newest references for Sabby, just to show how her ref has changed over the years!

I hope this helps!!! If you have any more questions please don’t hesitate to ask! I love to try and help and give advice when it comes to art! It’s really fun!

[ambiguouscheese]

Hi!! Could I please get an aesthetic matchup?

I'm not sure if you're familiar with these fandoms but if you are I'd like one for stranger things OR marauders from Harry potter. I totally understand if you're not familiar with them, in that case, I'll go with six of crows please!

Personality description - It takes me a while to feel comfortable around new people but once I do, I become really talkative and outgoing. I love helping out and I'm the therapist friend, people come to me to vent or for advice and comfort. I'm smart and ambitious; I love being the best at everything I do, but I'm deathly afraid of failure and disappointing the people I love. I'm quite the hopeless romantic and I love being in love! I adore big and small romantic gestures and I love domesticity sm!! I also daydream a lot and I can get lost in my own world for hours. I can be quite dramatic and stubborn and I tend to be withdrawn and distant at times. I get frustrated easily and I'm quietly competitive. My love languages are acts of service and quality time. I'm a ravenclaw, my mbti is infp and my enneagram is 4w3!

Hobbies/likes - I love reading, my favorite genres are poetry, Russian lit, and mysteries! I love learning about new things and knowing a little bit of everything. I adore adventures, witty and playful banter, joking around and having indepth discussions on anything and everything! I adore all forms of art and I have quite a few creative hobbies! I listen to a lot of modern/indie rock and I love watching films of all kinds.

Aesthetic - when it comes to clothing, I love a good blend of dark academia and downtown girl, I'm also a huge fan of the 90s! Otherwise, I'm really drawn to cottagecore or other softer aesthetics

I think a warm brown-y red would describe me well? Or a dark blue grey. The warm brown-red would be how people view me and the blue grey is how I view myself.

The music question is hard 😭. My favorite album of all time is melodrama by lorde, I'm really into the song Harvey by her's, I could listen to forever

Random things that describe me - red lips, a stack of books, messy notes, the ocean on a heavycast day, forget me nots

I'm not a fan of enemies to lovers, second chance lovers, right person - wrong time, basically anything that involves a lot of conflict and unnecessary drama

My preferred gender is male and I'd like an adult character please!

Thank you very much!! This is really exciting, I can't wait for the matchup! Please take all the time you need, I hope you have a lovely day ❤️

you have been matched with . . . regulus black !!

✧ being as perfectionistic and secretly afraid of failure as you are, regulus couldn't help but notice how smart and good at everything you were because of how you were, well, beating him at everything. at first, it started as friendly competition, a joke sort of rival, but the two of you grew closer as you began to start studying with each other- the whole competition thing was just a small and fun motivation to keep the two of you on track. when you and regulus would study, there'd often be a lot of playful banter between the two of you (anyone around the two of you would not be able to deny the chemistry you had).

✧ the more regulus started making an effort to be with you, the more he took notice of all your traits. he grew to admire your ambition (ambition fit for a slytherin, rather surprising you managed to be in ravenclaw instead he thinks), he grew to admire the way that you would always jump to help any friend in need without hesitation, he grew to admire you and your entire self. the two of you are more similar than meets the eye, and he feels a sort of connection to you because of this. your occasional study sessions turned into weekly to daily late night talks about anything- art, literature, witty joking, life's unsolved mysteries. you were a kindred spirit to him.

✧ despite how smart both of you are, i think you'd be very good friends pining in unawareness for a very long time while everyone but the two of you knows how in love you are. though, regulus sucked it up one day, confessed to you, and now you two somehow managed to finally pass the idiot stage and move on to the lovers stage! as a relationship, i think there'd be a lot of comforting from both sides as the two of you both have an innate fear of disappointment, you also would easily know how the other feels. when you were frustrated over something, he'd listen to you and help you through it, and when he was scared of things spiralling out of control, you'd be there for him.

✧ as for dates, i think the best forms of quality time the two of you would have are late night talks about anything and everything, as i mentioned before! however, i could definitely see both of you going to art museums or just museums in general and have fun discussing the things you see. the two of you remind me of running through the rain together, discussing philosophy, picnics as the sun begins to set, and spending the rest of your life with your best friend.

✧ your trope -> idiots to lovers, hurt/comfort, academic rivals/equals (not rivals but like competitive academics in the way where you both better each other from friendly competition!),

✧ start playlist -> marcel - her's | birds dont sing - tv girl | the louvre -lorde | hard feelings/loveless - lorde | golden - harry styles | harvey | her's

✧ your relationship moodboard ->

a/n: hi!! i used to dabble in the marauders hp fandom a few years back so i do apologize if this isn't accurate, i hope you enjoy <3