#diagrams to be added later

[big-box-of-kinda-silly-fop-ideas]

More headcanon au of mine

Link to post about Goldie

Link to biology post

Im still going through the og series so this au will change as i watch more episodes

Anyway this post will go through hybrids

The fairy baby ban only banned full fairies but not hybrids

Thanks to magic most of the humanoid magical species can reproduce with each other with no issues. When a channeller and a producer reproduce theyre kids has a higher chance of being channeller than a producer and a very small chance of expressing both systems. (I probably should’ve clarified that producers still have a functioning if semi vestigial respiratory system)

Anyway the children can either look like the species of one of the parents or a mix of both but the Fairy council only counts a fairy as a humanoid with a producer system (i.e fagiggly gland). So any hybrid with a producer system will be educated for fairy things and if they have a channelling system will be treated more like the other species they’re a hybrid with. Hybrids with a producer system were allowed simply because they dont destroy fairyworld, as more full fairy babies were born they just slowly becoming more and more powerful until they hit a peak with cosmo and peri and it became to much of a issue to monitor these powerful babies as the power levels of full fairy babies became more and more unpredictable in power.

Hybrids that express both systems are very rare, one in every thousand year while hybrid producer happen every 5-10 years. Most species dont exactly like co-mingling with each other so not many hybrid children are born. After Goldie was born there is a temporary full fairy baby ban as two once in a thousand years baby were just born and it takes a lot of resources to care for these babies. The hybrid ban was lifted when Peri turned 16 as he was considered competent with his magic to be left alone and Goldie’s fagiggly gland exploded and was no longer counted as a fairy. (Goldie kinda pissed at that and is working up to become a honorary fairy by becoming a doctor/professor for fairyworld)

Hybrids that expresses both systems, at birth will choose which system will provide the “base” magic while the other will make excess. This generally depends on how big the fagiggly gland is, the smaller the gland the more likely it’ll make the base. When the fagiggly gland is producing excess itll either funnel the excess into the magic sac or itll distribute throughout the body like a regular fairy would. (Clarification in channellers the respiratory system provides the base to the body while the magic sac holds any excess from the respiratory system). Depending on where the fagiggly stores its excess will determine if the hybrid is affected by backup, if excess goes to the sac they dont experience backup. For an anti fairy to form a hybrid generally needs a large fagiggly gland to create an imbalance in the universe to create equilibrium. Anti fairy hybrids are just regular anti fairies they dont have any hybrid traits internally but only in appearance.

Most magic species generally attend a multi species highschool regardless if they’re a channeller, producer or hybrid but Peri thanks to his celebrity status struggled with the attention, fakiness and general safety concerns (he got targeted by jealous kids and he’s dangerous to both himself and others) and switched to homeschooling. Irep just got bullied frequently and switched too.

The most common hybrids pairs are elves, gnomes and leprechauns. And i do not want to think about which parent give birth to…..

Anyway this is my way of explaining all the spellementary school students that look a like fairies and the other fairy kids we see. They’re simply hybrids.

[bitsbug]

I’m mostly taking inspiration from something else, but can I take some design notes from your Five Pebbles puppet-y iterator puppet for an OC idea I have? With credit, ofc

oh of course!! I love people getting inspired by my stuff hell yes

First of all I never draw the face emoting in any way (none of my puppet designs even have eyelids), and keep expression to the antennae and body posture. This is because I'm super biased towards inexpressive designs and faces and I like them a lot, so it's not strictly necessary.

Uhh. For Pebbles' in particular, his puppet's literally like a plushie, made of fabric and mostly filled with stuffing, aside from some mechanical components. The arms are jointless and completely flexible.

He's modeled after muppet-style puppets, just without the mouth, so those are good references to look at.

I imagine he does have the wires and cord, I'm usually just.. kinda lazy about drawing it. To avoid interfering with the true arms, the wires are probably more organized than in canon. That's a pinching hazard waiting to happen I swear.

[aramynx]

STUDY DATES

IZUKU MIDORIYA X READER

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

“How are your injuries holding up?” Izuku had texted you, the minute he was out of class; you had taken a pretty bad fall and knocked yourself unconscious for a couple of hours, meaning you missed your afternoon classes that day.

You responded later on, telling him you were okay, and requested his notes from the classes you had missed. Izuku was caring towards all of his classmates, he remembered to check up on everybody, and always noticed if something was wrong. You suspected it was because he was always very analytical and observant- that was something to admire about him.

He happily sent you photographs of his notebook pages from that afternoon, decorated with doodles and diagrams of everything relevant- multicoloured arrows adding in extra details that Mr Aizawa had presumably explained during class.

Although you weren’t as close to Izuku as some of your other classmates, you felt comfortable around him- he was always so friendly and approachable; truly heroic qualities, although it was usually you texting him first, asking for his help studying. Izuku’s strong desire to help others anyways led him to the seat across from you in the library, rambling on about the topic you were struggling to understand. He was always happy to go into more detail for you- and you were sure that teaching others helped him to learn too.

“So you see, this strategy was actually used by a lot of great hero teams; including the Wild Wild Pussycats not too long ago!” He rambled on- hero studies were his specialty, as you were well aware, and he was always incredibly helpful.

That was, until his constant rambling excitement got the two of you suspended from the school library… So, you moved your study sessions to his dorm room instead.

“Excuse the decor…” He said sheepishly, blushing into his hands as you looked around at his All Might themed room.

You honestly thought it was adorable just how much he loved All Might- he was a real fanboy alright. You told him you didn’t mind his decor, and sat down at his desk beside him, pulling out your textbook and placing it beside his.

Study sessions turned into study dates; you or Izuku would bring snacks or drinks up to his room in preparation, sometimes you’d even order dinner to eat and watch a movie together (often based on pro-heroes) before you started studying.

Even after your library suspension had been lifted, you and Izuku had continued your study sessions- now dates in his room, often carrying on late into the night- ending with you falling asleep, hunched over with your nose pressed into your textbook. Once Izuku had noticed your light snores after his rambling had subsided, he would stop his talking and try to be as quiet as possible.

“You must be tired, huh? You’ve been working really hard lately.” He would whisper to you, moving your hair away from your eyes gently before he wrapped you up in his All Might blanket.

“Let’s get you into bed so you can sleep properly.” In times like this, Izuku was grateful that he had gotten so much stronger, because it meant that he could easily carry you out of his room and into yours.

He’d pull back your sheets and tuck you in, but no matter how gently he put you down, you’d always stir at the sudden lack of warmth, mumbling his name quietly as you rubbed your eyes, attempting to look up at him in the dim moonlight as he was still leaning over you, spreading his All Might blanket out over the top of your covers to keep you warm.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He smiled as you reached up towards him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and pulled him down into you. Usually, he would fight off your grasp, telling you in a quiet panic that you needed to rest. Truthfully, Izuku could feel his cheeks burning at the thought of hugging you; it was already hard enough for him to compose himself during your study dates. The way you’d look at him while he went on and on about trivial facts about his favourite heroes, the way your eyes lit up when he mentioned your favourites, your determination to learn from him- not to mention he thought you were absolutely gorgeous.

More often than not, you’d wake up to the familiar smell of Izuku, wrapped up in his blanket from the night before with your school bag placed neatly at your bedside.

However that night, he had failed to resist your grasp. He gave in, stumbling over the edge of your bed and falling on top of you. Your eyes met his, half asleep in the dark room, but you could tell that his were widening by the second as his pupils shone with a white moonlit glimmer. Izuku looked down at you- how your skin looked in the gentle light, your eyes half lidded and your hair messy behind you.

“Oh crap! Sorry, I didn’t mean to squash you. Are you sure this is okay?” He asked, pushing himself up further on his hands and hovering over you, only for you to pull him back down on top of you.

Despite being a pretty small guy, Izuku was surprisingly heavy, most likely due to his muscles, yet he was still so soft- especially his cheeks that rested squashed against yours. As he laid somewhat tense on top of you, you felt yourself doze back into a slumber with your arms around him, Izuku soon giving in to the familiar scents of you and his favourite blanket and falling asleep on top of you.

The next morning, he awoke still in your bed, now to the side of you with an arm and leg wrapped around you- it was cold, seeing as he never got underneath the blanket with you. His first reflex as he began to wake up was to pull his sheets in tightly before he stretched out, forgetting that he was with you, he mistakenly pulled you closer to him, his face now buried in the back of your neck.

“Morning ‘zuku…” You had said to him sleepily, feeling his warm hand wrapped around your stomach.

“Good morning...” He mumbled, still not fully aware of his surroundings until you began to turn your head towards him.

That morning, he decided to work up the courage to string a question together for you, his eyes darting around the room as he struggled to face you, his freckled cheeks glowing a shade of red you had grown familiar with by now.

“So… Um. What do you want us to be exactly?”

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

“Morning ‘zuku…” You’d mumble quietly, pulling the blankets up over your shoulder, feeling him shuffle behind you.

“Good morning sweetie…” He responded sweetly, nuzzling his face into your neck and pressing a kiss into you with a smile.

Waking up to a warm arm wrapped around your waist was far from unusual now; Izuku’s curly green hair would tickle your ear when he buried his face into you every morning- a feeling you loved to wake up to. His warm breath would tickle your ear as he began to tell you what he was doing that day, his voice higher pitched than usual as he began to wake up.

“I love you…”

[i23kazu]

GENSHIN MEN & YOU USING THEM AS A BODY PILLOW .

characters. wriothesley scara x gn!reader genre. romantic fluff. an. this is so tiney im so sorry anon but this is all my brain can handle rn ueueuueue. i hope this is okay :"))))) . | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

wriothesley

wriothesley actually doesn't mind being your body pillow...

i mean. you're comfortable. he's comfortable

everybody wins!

but also sometimes you squeeze him really hard and he freezes up because how are you so STRONG. like what the hell

(secretly he thinks of you picking him up like that. ough)

wriothesley doesn't actually have the heart to tell you to move aside.

how can he, when you look like such an angel wrapped around his waist? bathroom and bladder control be damned.

it's like having a cat on your lap. rule number one: never move from your spot if you're the chosen one. congratulations. you're bound to the couch forever

when you wake up, though ... wriothesley has fallen asleep. now it's your turn to not move. you're the body pillow now. hehe.

scara

grumpy cat. gruuuuumpy cat

okay i feel like maybe i push the scara hates things agenda a lot. i don't actually think scara hates this... when he knows that it makes you happy, he's willing to sacrifice his back just for you

maybe at the most he acts as if he's reluctant. dont let it fool you though – he's warm to the touch and actually a relatively good cuddler.

please don't be fooled! he might warm up to the idea sooner or later

it really is a win though, please keep convincing him. he gets cuddles, you get cuddles, and he doesn't even have to ask for it! no more convincing himself that he's fine and doesn't need that

especially when you initiate it. just keep doing it – watch as he slowly inches closer towards you. maybe he even tries to put his arm on your waist, stroking it with his thumb. just maybe.

and maybe, you're the one who allows him to open up to physical affection.

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiths @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @m1shapanda @aimynx @smokipoki @adeptuscharm @diorlumx @vennnnn-diagram @ryuryuryuyurboat @yuminako @st0pthatsgay @aqualesha @sixtynintharchon @supernova25 @kunikuda-simp @starglitterz @rin-nyrasti-writes (send ask/comment to be added to taglist) plus birthday tag!! @catcze hope u like the wriothesley part, pls cuddle himmmm

reblogs w/ tags & comments help me lots !!! if you liked this and would like to support me, please consider dropping me a follow as well :-) they all go a long way!

[lu-lox]

also finally got around to making this, it is only half done tho

red lines are connections that have either been confirmed or there is absolutely no plausible deniability, orange lines are lines i have noooo idea (griffith — sephiroth) or am sure i'm just cray cray (anders — dimitri)

took me until now to realize they're both gothish girlies with stupid puffy fluff on their shoulders. at least dimitri's is fur.

[a-killer-obsession]

I hope no one already sent this one in when you asked for it, but 2 X

You have freed me from my horny, horny curse, I am forever in your debt

Fresh Ripe Peach

Prompt: Writer's Choice

Additional Tags: afab reader, she/her pronouns, incubus!killer, loss of virginity, monsterfucking, rough sex, biting, demon summoning, cum play, oral (receiving and giving), cumshot, fingering, bulging, deepthroating, praise kink, p in v sex, creampie, cockwarming, slave/master terms used

WC: 5k

Event Masterlist

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

It was frankly embarrassing how horny you were, and desperate times called for desperate measures, kneeling on the floor of your cabin, chalk in one hand, dodgy looking occult spell book in the other, tracing out the markings on the page as instructed. The book was probably all bullshit, and you were already mentally resigning yourself to another night of disappointing jerking off until your vibrator died, but it was at least worth a shot. Chalk replaced by a lighter, you put down the book momentarily to light the five candles that sat at each tip of the pentagram you'd drawn, adding to the ambient low light in your room given off by your bedside lamp.

You adjusted your provocative clothing, feeling a little ridiculous but hey, if it worked you were dressed to impress. Strappy leather harness forming an upside down pentagram on your chest, lacey black bra that lacked cups, framing your bare breasts. Matching panties with a triangular cutout over your bare-shaved mound, thigh garters adorned with small metal pentagram charms, the bands digging into your plush thighs and creating delicious indents. Your hair was fixed in a sleek high ponytail, eyes lined with heavy black liner, lips painted in dark, nearly black, smudge-proof purple lipstick. You hoped the spell would work, or this immaculate outfit would be quite a waste.

Satisfied your outfit was all as it should be, you picked the book up and began to chant. Did you understand the latin you were reading? Absolutely not a lick, but you hoped it translated to something along the lines of ‘excuse me demons, dinner is served, come get some pussy’. You finished reading the spell and let out a deflated sigh as nothing happened, seriously considering begging someone on the crew to fuck you, when suddenly the room went dark, the candles all blowing out at once and the bulb in your lamp failing. A few moments of pitch black darkness later and the lamp flickered back on, your heart racing as you heard heavy footsteps running up the hall outside your room. Oh shit, did it work?

The door flew open, a flurry of blond and blue flying in and immediately yelling, the door slamming shut and latching again, notably untouched. “A SUMMONING CIRCLE? REALLY [Y/N]? ARE YOU STUPID?” The bare foot of the first mate rubbed furiously at the chalk diagram on the floor, clearly fresh from his bed in only a pair of blue gingham pyjama pants and his mask, “get rid of this shit before some other asshole decides to answer, for Lucifer's sake.”

You were entirely speechless, suddenly remembering your physical state and crossing your arms over your chest to cover your bare tits. “KILLER! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!” you shouted.

“Oh now you don't want me in here,” he tsk'd, “you summoned me, here I am! Chicken out already, girlie?”

“Summoned you?” You replied, so very confused, looking at your discarded spell book. Was there even a spell for summoning a first mate? That seemed oddly specific, and not at all occult. Superior summoning spell? Blonde asshole spell? Huh? “I- I didn't-”

“You summoned a companion demon, did you not?” he loomed over you with his hands on his hips, every rarely seen curve and divot of his muscular chest on display.

“I summoned an incub-”

“Do NOT use that word,” he cut you off, physically pinching your lips together. “It's derogatory, we prefer companion demon”

“Okay?” you relented as he let your lips go and crossed his arms over his chest, “I summoned a companion demon,” you repeated sarcastically, “so why are- wait, what do you mean ‘we’?”

“How do you think I knew what you were doing in here? You called, I answered,” he replied nonchalantly, “you're fucking lucky it was me, stupid girl.”

“But you're not-”

“-a demon?” He laughed. He removed his striped helmet and squatted in front of you, letting you see his unmasked face up close and personal. You'd always been told he didn't like his smile, but you could see now that was a blantant lie. There was a very obvious reason the Massacre Soldier covered his face. His eyes were icy blue, his pupils thin slits like a snake, his sclera entirely black, as though dipped in ink. When he opened his mouth you could see sharp extended canines and his tongue was longer and more pointed than a human's. “Like I said,” he continued as he stood, placing his mask on your dresser, “you called, I answered”

“Why- what the fuck is a inc- sorry, companion demon, doing on a pirate ship?” You asked, pulling a blanket from your bed and wrapping it around yourself, Killer rolling his eyes at the bashful motion.

“It's a long story,” he sighed, “Kid's mother was my master, she bound me to Kid as she was dying to protect him till he reached adulthood, but I grew fond of the little guy and had him bind me himself”

“So, wait, if Kid is your master, why are you here?” You queried.

“This is my territory,” he huffed, “you sent an open invite to every available asshole on the Grandline. Thanks for that, by the way. You're fucking lucky I was close enough to get here first or you'd already have some disrespectful dickhead balls deep in you. Do you have no regard for your own safety? What the fuck came over you to summon a demon?”

“I was horny… “ you mumbled under your breath.

“And you couldn't just go ask someone for a quickie?” He scorned, “Nobody on this crew is good enough for you?”

“It's not that…” you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, “they're just not… um… my type?”

“Really, nobody on this extremely diverse crew is your type?” He raised a brow.

“They're not uh… monsters?” You replied hesitantly.

“I think you'll find given our reputation that there are plenty of monsters on board,” he replied, before the penny in his brain dropped, “unless- oh you're really fucked up, huh?” He said with a shit eating smirk, “So that's it, you summoned a demon cos you want your brains fucked out by some beast? Is that it? Dirty girl~” he purred.

You were bright red with blush, slowly sinking under the top edge of the blanket. “Can you just go away please…” you mumbled, muffled by the fabric.

“Actually, I can't,” he huffed, “you made a contract when you summoned me. I'm here till sunrise. What, the scary eyes and fangs not enough for your needs?” You couldn't even bring yourself to look at him, so unbelievably ashamed of yourself. “It's just as well this isn't my true form then,” he grinned toothily.

Your eyes widened as his skin began to shift hue, turning to an icy blue that matched his eyes, the colour darkening as it made swirling patterns on his arms, turning to a royal blue, then a deep, almost black, navy at the hands. His nails lengthened, forming sharp, dangerous looking claws. His ears elongated, turning to points. You let out an audible gasp as he dropped his pants and underwear, letting the fabric pool on the floor and revealing an absolutely monstrous cock that made your mouth water, a deep royal blue adorned with navy swirls, and a now freed tail flicked out to the side from his rear, the end capped with a sharp arrow tip as he let it slowly move. Two mostly straight, navy coloured horns sprouted from the top of his head, curving almost back into him, tipped in icy blue and lined with ridges. Most impressive of all though were the two grand bat wings that spread out from behind him, clawed at the top-most point, the structured areas navy while the membranes faded to royal blue, and the same icy blue as his skin at the centermost edges.

“Is this more to your liking, Master?” He stepped towards you, leaving his pants on the floor, entirely naked and proud in front of you. Even flaccid his cock was huge, directly at your eye level as you hid under your blankets, and you bit your lip as you shamelessly eyed him like a meal, scanning over his blue tinted body. He squatted in front of you, tilting your chin up with a hooked finger, his thumb pressed against your bottom lip, claw threatening to injure. “Don't even bother trying to lie to me, this is what I was made for. I can smell your arousal, I can hear your heart quicken”

“Fuck,” was all you managed to get out, letting the blanket fall to the floor around you, exposing yourself to him.

“There's a good girl,” he purred, “let me see that pretty body.”

You leaned back on the palms of your hands, letting your legs stretch out in front of you, forced to part slightly as they slid either side of him. He ran his eyes down your body, humming contently to himself, before his eyes ran back up and met yours. “This contract is an exchange,” he explained, crawling forward to loom over you, “I give you pleasure, and in exchange you allow me to feed off your sexual energy. It costs you nothing, you won't even notice it leaving you, save for being maybe a little tired tomorrow”

“Is this… what you usually do with Kid?” You stuttered as he placed a hand on your stomach, catching the waistband of your panties and playing with it as he used the cutout to hook his thumb through them.

“It is,” he smirked, “people don't summon demons like they used to, it's better to have a bound Master”

“Killer, how old are you?” You asked curiously, noting that the slits in his eyes were significantly more dilated now as he looked at your body.

“I resent that question,” he huffed.

“Oh come on, humour me,” he squinted at you in annoyance, “more than a hundred? More than five hundred?” He rolled his eyes. “More than a thousand?” He gave you a playful look that told you that you were close. “MORE THAN A THOUSAND?”

“Why, you wanna call me great-great-great-great-great grandaddy while I fuck you?” He smirked, unflinching as you smacked his chest in retaliation. “What do you want out of this anyway? I'm at your servitude, whatever you want, it's yours. No kink too fucked up.”

“I, uh… I don't know…” you mumbled, turning shy again.

“No? Nothing you particularly enjoy?” He asked. You looked at him shyly and he blinked in recognition. “I swear to Lucifer, [y/n] tell me you did not summon a demon to take your virginity!”

You gave him a forced apologetic smile and he groaned, “You are actually so fucking lucky that I answered your call, fucking hell. Actually, scratch that, maybe I'm the lucky one. Do you even know what a rarity you are to demons like me? You're a ripe peach, ready to sink teeth into. Fuck, your energy is going to be delicious.” You could see the way his pupils were pulsing and dilating as he looked at you, his sharp tongue running over his fangs, looking like he was ready to physically bite into you. You felt very much like prey pinned under a predator with Killer's large body looming over you, looking down at you with eyes nearly entirely black from lust, mere slivers of blue left in them, his tail flicking behind him like that of a cat enjoying playing with a mouse. “I'm going to have such fun with you, my peach”

You squeaked as Killer suddenly grabbed you and threw you on the bed unceremoniously, your body bouncing a little at the impact. You started to instinctively crawl backwards, away from the dangerous predator, but he grabbed your ankles and pulled you back towards him. “Ah, ah, where are you going, my peach? We have a deal. I'm gonna eat you right up,” he gave you a toothy grin before pulling your leg up and sinking his teeth into your plush thigh, right over a garter, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to make you yelp. He hooked the garter with his fangs as he drew back, pulling on it and letting it go to ping against your thigh, making you hiss. “Such a pretty outfit for me too,” he hummed, spreading a hand out over your mound, sharp claws pressing against your soft belly, before he suddenly made a fist, bunching the front of your panties in his hand and pulling hard, “it's too bad I have to ruin it,” he feigned a pout, before adding his other hand to the mix and tearing the panties from your body.

“Killer!” You shouted, trying to squish your legs shut, but he was far stronger than you and easily pried your thighs open, pinning them against your stomach.

“Come now, don't go getting shy on me now,” he purred, getting his first look at your bare pussy, “such a pretty, pink peach too, and so juicy,” he knelt down and flicked out his long, pointed tongue, swiping it over your cunt and collecting your slick on it as you whined, drawing it back into his mouth with a satisfied hum as he savoured the flavour, “so sweet too, I can't wait to devour you. You'll let me, won't you my peach?”

He looked at you expectantly, and you realised that despite his rough and threatening treatment thus far, he was asking for consent before going any further. Perhaps you were lucky it was him and not another, you got the sense that demons did not usually ask consent. You bit your lip and gave him a nod, your pussy aching for more after the one brief touch, and he gave you a toothy grin, his fangs glinting under the low light from your lamp. His face disappeared from your view again, unable to see him past your own legs, but fuck could you feel him. His tongue was sinfully skillful as it played with your clit, rolling and flicking it, running firm stripes over it, dipping down towards your entrance and teasing it with just the tip of his tongue as he gathered the honey that dripped from it. You moaned and writhed at every gesture, clawing at the blankets either side of you wishing you could pull on his hair or, fuck, maybe even his horns. Whether it be because he could read your mind, sense your need, or because he just wanted to look at you with that shit-eating grin, he let his hold on your legs loosen enough that you were able to let your knees fall outwards, revealing his face half covered by your pussy. His head now accessible, you were able to reach down and grab one of his horns, which he must have liked as he groaned against your cunt. Spurred on by your small spike of confidence, he let his tongue drag down to your entrance, looking up at you with those inky eyes and a sharp smile as he sunk his tongue inside you, enjoying the way your face contorted with pleasure as a deep moan fell from your lips.

He thrust his tongue in and out of you, curling its length occasionally to flick against your g-spot as he brought a hand to your mound, pressing against it while his thumb reached down to play with your clit. You pulled hard on his horn as your head lolled back, hips rolling in time with his shallow thrusts as he brought you to your peak, creamy ring forming around his tongue as he worked you through it.

“So sweet, my peach,” he purred as he kissed your thighs, wings stretching out behind him as he crawled up your body. “I ask again though, is there anything you want of me? Before I fuck the coherence out of you”

“Wanna- wanna taste you,” you mumbled, one hand draped over your face, the other still clutching his horn.

“So take it,” he purred. You stared at him through half-lidded eyes, before grabbing his other horn and pulling him down towards you, crashing your lips against his. He let you lead the kiss, flicking his tongue against yours, enjoying the feel of your curious muscle against his. Your hands left his horns to travel down his body, feeling and groping at his arms and pecks, rubbing your thumbs over his nipples and tracing your nails down his abdomen. You wrapped both hands around his thick cock, pumping it sloppily, your inexperienced determination making him smile against your mouth. He reached down and guided your pace, squeezing your hands to adjust your pressure and moving your hands in a way that indicated he preferred the focus on the base, letting your hands go once you got the hang of it. His hands wandered over your body, pinching and pulling at your nipples, one hand moving further to play with your cunt more, making lewd squelches that made you blush as he slipped two fingers inside you and matched his thrusts to the pace you were pumping him with. He swallowed your moans, your pure sexual energy making his whole body tingle delightfully as he consumed it, adding a third finger and working towards stretching you out enough to take his thick member.

You could feel his precum dripping down his shaft in generous streams, running over your fingers as you stroked him, lubricating your motions. You brought a hand to your mouth and he watched as you experimentally licked the precum from it. He brought his own fingers from your cunt to your mouth, and you opened your mouth for him, shivering at his toothy grin as you sucked your own arousal off his digits. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking hard on them, running your tongue around them and pressing it flat against the underside, and he swore under his breath.

“Such a pretty mouth, my peach, almost as pretty as that pussy,” he purred, “would you like to taste more? I'd love to see how those pretty pink lips look wrapped around my cock”

He pulled his fingers from your mouth with a pop and you pushed towards him, his wings spreading behind him as he let you push him flat against the bed to straddle him. You kissed him hard before running your kisses to his jaw, breezing past his goatee to suck and nip at his neck. He whined as you made a particularly harsh bite, the sound making electricity go straight to your cunt, so you did it again. Over and over you bit down, sucking his flesh into your mouth and leaving dark bruises in your wake, running your tongue flat to soothe over them before continuing, leaving a trail of bites and bruises like step stones from his neck to his cock, each whine and groan making your pussy drip more. You enthusiastically took his cock in your hand as you reached it, running your tongue up the underside and collecting the precum beaded at the end, salty and hot on your tongue as you swirled it over the head. He was watching you carefully as you licked him, his head falling flat to the bed as you finally took him in your mouth, a string of curses falling from his mouth as you took as much as you could fit off him and serviced the rest with your two hands tight around his base. His cock stretched your lips to the limits, corners stinging from it, and you gagged as his tip hit the back of your throat, so much of him still outside your mouth. With each dip of your head you worked to take him deeper, gagging less intensely each time as you adjusted to the intrusion, breathing through your nose and relaxing your throat till you were able to take most of him, having to remove your hands from his base and instead groping at his thighs. His tail wrapped around your throat gently, using it to feel the way his cock made your throat bulge, one of his hands grabbing your ponytail and twisting it around his wrist to hold it like a leash.

“Fuck, good girl [y/n],” Killer groaned, “look at you, taking me like a natural, you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth. Do you want my cum, sweet girl? Want me to cum down that tight throat of yours? Or maybe you want it on your face, paint you with my cum so you look like the sweet little monsterfucking slut you are, huh? Would you like that?”

You whined around him, vibrating his cock in your mouth before burying his cock right to the base, your nose against his blonde tuft of public hair as your eyes watered, eyeliner running down your face with it as your lipstick wore off and made a purple ring around his cock. “Ohhhhh fuck [y/n], just like that, just like that, fuck, gonna cum sweet girl, where do you want it baby?”

You pulled off his cock with a pop, making your choice clear. He held your ponytail tight, making you whine as he started furiously fisting himself with his other hand. “Show me your tongue sweetheart,” he groaned, and you lolled your tongue out for him, closing your eyes as you anticipated getting cum near them. Your hands kneaded his thighs as he threw back his head and groaned, ropes of cum splashing against your face and tongue, some of it overshooting and getting in your hair as he coated your face with dripping swathes of cum, making your pussy clench around nothing. Your pretty cupless bra and harness were entirely ruined by this seed, white puddles catching on the pieces as his cum dribbled down your neck and chest.

“Damn, look at you,” Killer purred as he loosened his hold on your hair and let his cock go, using his thumb to push more cum into your mouth, watching you swallow it as you sucked on his thumb and shivered at the dark look in his eyes. “Now you look like a needy little slut who would summon a demon, perfect little peach. C'mere”

He pulled you close and kissed you hard, and you shivered as he started running his long tongue across your skin, cleaning his cum off you, occasionally using his tongue to push more cum into your mouth which the two of you would then swap between your mouths and play with till you needed to swallow, Killer then returning to licking your face and repeating the cycle till his cum was entirely replaced with his saliva. His cock was still hard and you pulled yourself the rest of the way into his lap, grinding your cunt against his dick, making you both moan.

“Needy little slut,” he cooed, “you want my cock, my peach? Take it, it's yours.”

You ached with a desperate need to feel full, so you raised yourself on your knees eagerly, reaching down between your bodies to take him in your hand and align him with your entrance. He watched with pride as you sunk down on him, hand going to his shoulder once he was inside you enough, gripping him hard as he guided you with a hand on each side of your ass. The stretch stung but you were more than determined to get all of him inside you, and you let out a stuttered breath as you found yourself fully seated in his lap, entirely impaled on his thick cock. “Look at you!” He exclaimed proudly, “I didn't think you could do it, you take me so well, so tight and wet around me”

“Killl~” you whined, using his shoulders as anchor points to lift yourself before dropping back down, whining at the pull against your strained pussy. “Too- too big-” you whined.

“Nonsense, look at you, you took all of me first try,” he praised, “look at your lovely tummy bulging, what a pretty sight, my peach”

You looked down between your bodies and sure enough you could see the swelling of your abdomen where his cock was sheathed inside you, making you whine at how full you were. “You're doing so good,” he cooed, lifting you easily by your ass and lowering you again, making you moan, repeating the process over and over, each time lifting you further and faster, until you were bouncing on his cock and screaming his name, holding his horns for support and he brought his hips up at the same time, slamming into you each time he lowered your body. His eyes were rolling from the pungent sexual energy that was emanating from you, making his whole body shudder, the dense concentrated nature of your previously untapped energy making him moan and curse under his breath as he consumed it. There was a burst of energy that made his toes curl as you came hard, squirting on his cock and writhing against him, pulling so hard on his horns he wouldn't be surprised if you accidentally tore them clean off. You went entirely limp as your orgasm faded, still jolting occasionally from aftershocks as he continued at the same brutal pace, drunk on your sexual energy and craving more of it. No human food could ever compare to the pure satisfying flavour of a virgin's untouched energy, not even his favourite spaghetti dish, you were a rare delicacy he was thoroughly enjoying.

Unable to hold yourself up any longer, he let you fall to the bed, pulling out of you only for a moment to flip you to your front, pushing your thighs together and straddling them as he resheathed himself. He fucked you like a stag in rut, grunting with every hard thrust, wings flapping excitedly above you and tail shaking like a lion about to spray to mark his territory. He wanted to mark you, make you his possession, against his better thinking and his contract as your servant. Your energy was just so intoxicating that it was making him blind with lust, and he couldn't help but lean down and sink his teeth into your shoulder, holding you tight in his jaw as he felt your pussy clench around him again. You saw white and were sure you passed out for a moment from how hard you came, sparkles in your vision as everything went tight then slack, that last wave of energy and your pussy tight around his cock being all he needed to throw him over the edge. He groaned against your shoulder, biting down harder and drawing blood, his wings stretching out and shaking, tail going limp, cock throbbing as he unloaded inside you, his heavy load dripping from your overstuffed cunt as he stilled inside you.

His jaw finally released you, swiping his tongue over the tender mark in apology as he panted hard against your back, his wings falling slack and draping either side of you like curtains. In your haze you reached out and touched one, making him shiver as you ran soft fingers over the delicate membrane. “Don't pull out yet, please…” you whispered shyly. He kissed the centre of your back and wrapped his arms around you, rolling you to your side with him and draping his wing over both of you like a blanket. His tail wrapped around your thigh as pressed his legs against yours, his head coming to rest on the pillow behind you, his soft breath tickling the baby hairs on the small of your neck.

“Whatever you want, my peach,” he cooed, “I'm yours till sunrise”

“And… after sunrise?” You asked hesitantly.

“Enjoyed yourself, did we?” He chuffed, “promise me you won't summon anymore demons and I'll let you have me on your whim, when Kid doesn't want me. Perhaps you can have both of us, if it pleases you. But this has to be our secret, okay my peach? The demon stuff, not the fucking. The World Government does not take kindly to demons, hence why I don't reveal myself in battle, even if it would give me a significant advantage. Fairly sure the whole ship knows we fucked at this point though, given how loud you were, I wouldn't be surprised if you even woke Kid, screaming like a coyote in heat”

“Killlerrr,” you whined with a pout. He smacked your face playfully with his wing and you huffed indignantly.

“What, you summon a demon to fuck you and expect to stay dead silent the whole night?” He laughed, “sweetheart I've got a thousand years of experience making people cum, and I'm young for a demon. The sounds you made were absolutely delicious, music to my ears, you're lucky I'm even letting you rest right now. A sweet ripe peach like you, any other demon would still be fucking you, even if you passed out they wouldn't stop till sunrise. Don't think you're off the hook yet just because I allowed you some cuddles, I can't wait to get more of your delectable energy.” He punctuated his sentence with a quick thrust of his cock still inside you, making you squeal. You didn't understand how he could possibly still be hard but you could only assume it was a demon thing. “Are you well though, my peach? Didn't hurt you too much?”

“Mmm… just my shoulder,” you touched where he'd biten and winced, and he apologetically kissed the spot tenderly, “otherwise I feel good. Feels nice, havin’ you inside me”

“Ah, I got a little carried away with that bite,” he ran his tongue over it and you could feel the pain fade as it magically began to close, “my apologies, master. Perhaps I can make it up to you.”

His hips began rocking again, a devious grin on his face, making you moan unabashedly as he set off a new wave of merciless fucking, and you had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

[niteshade925]

April 20, Beijing, China, National Museum of China/中国国家博物馆 (Part 4 – Chinese Historical Fashion Exhibition continued):

Alrighty, Ming and Qing dynasty fashion, here we go! Sit tight because this is an extra long post that took me a long time to research

First is this marvel, a replica of the phoenix crown/fengguan/凤冠 of Empress Xiaoduanxian of Ming (明孝端显皇后). The real artifact is in this museum, but it's probably not exhibited much for conservation reasons.

Phoenix crowns are the formal headwear for empresses, which according to etiquette rules set at the beginning of Ming dynasty (1368 - 1644), must have 9 dragons and 4 phoenixes (btw the original Chinese term is fenghuang/凤凰, which is a different mythological creature from the phoenix, but "phoenix" is the commonly used translation now), but this crown has 9 dragons and 9 phoenixes, indicating that etiquette rules have loosened and shifted by late Ming.

The phoenixes on this crown are blue because they were actually made with the iridescent feathers of kingfishers in a process called diancui/���翠. All species of kingfishers are now legally protected animals in China, so when buying hanfu accessories, you may come across "imitation diancui"/仿点翠, these are usually either made with enamel or dyed chicken or goose feathers. Another thing to note is the appearance of the jewels on this crown. Ming-era people liked keeping the jewels in a "natural look", so these jewels had no facets.

Recreations of Ming-era hanfu. Left is the semi-formal outfit of aristocrat women in mid to late Ming dynasty. Right is the casual outfit of late Ming scholars and literati. The woman's cone-shaped hairstyle is called a diji/䯼髻, and the set of hairpins that goes on a diji is called toumian/头面. She's wearing a type of top called an ao/袄 and a skirt aka qun/裙, specifically a mamianqun/马面裙, or "horse face skirt". Note that the bottom hem of an ao is not tucked into the skirt. The man is wearing a square-ish hat called a fangjin/方巾 and should also be wearing a wangjin/网巾 underneath (can be understood as a hairnet). He's wearing a daopao/道袍 and a hechang/鹤氅 on the outside.

Also I did make a mistake while dividing up the pictures for these two posts, some of the following artifacts are from earlier dynasties. Ugh if only I had time to take pictures of all the placards.

A pair of mojie/摩竭 shaped gold earrings from Liao dynasty (916 - 1125). Note that the placard says it's "摩羯形" or "Capricorn-shaped", but this apparently is sort of a misnomer? Sort of, because this representation should be of the makara (मकर; translated as 摩竭 in Chinese), a sea creature from Hindu mythology, but at the same time it is the equivalent of Capricorn in Hindu astrology. However since the name "Capricorn" stuck, it's now commonly referred to as "摩羯". 摩竭 and 摩羯 have the exact same pronunciation though.

A pair of phoenix (fenghuang) shaped gold hairpins from Liao dynasty:

After a lot of pulling my hair out researching, I finally found what time period this gold belt buckle came from. It's from Eastern Han dynasty (25 - 220 AD). The gold filigree and beads form the pattern known as panchiwen/蟠螭纹, where pan/蟠 and chi/螭 are both types of loong dragon in Chinese mythology.

The gold decoration on a xiapei/霞帔 (the V-shaped wide band in the diagram on the right) from Liao dynasty. Xiapei originated in Song dynasty (960 - 1279) as part of the formal attire of consorts, but later developed into a part of the formal attire for women in general. Xiapei also looked different at different time periods in history, but from Song-era to Ming-era, its structure didn't change by much.

Finally back to Ming dynasty. This is a gold cap inlaid with gems and pearls. From the size of this cap and the included hairpins, we can deduce that this cap is meant to encase the bun on the top of the head (the hairpins that go through the cap would hold it in place).

Like the gold cap above, the next few are all from the same tomb of a Ming dynasty noble, and they are all themed similarly--they all depict scenes in a heavenly palace. Of these, the first three that has miniature architecture in gold are parts of the toumian worn on a diji hairstyle. This first one is a pair of yanbin/掩鬓 (lit. "covering temples"), so called because they are worn on the sides, close to the temples.

This next one has some confusion regarding the naming. According to an article by the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences Institute of Archaeology, the top artifact is a fenxin/分心 and the bottom artifact is a tiaoxin/���心, but according to 撷芳主人 (if you are a hanfu enthusiast you have probably heard of this person or seen their works, they are the one who drew the cute illustrations of Ming-era fashion), the top one may be a manguan/满冠, and the bottom one should be called fenxin/分心. Note that 撷芳主人's conclusion is mostly based on Ming-era records and novels. Regardless of the naming, the top one here should be worn on the base of the diji, and the bottom one should be worn at the front center of the diji.

This one also has some confusion in the naming, the Institute of Archaeology calls it a dingzan/顶簪, while 撷芳主人 calls it a tiaoxin/挑心. Again, regardless of the naming, this one is worn on the very top of the diji, so the hairstick portion goes straight down through the diji. If you look closely, you can even see people and animals in the details.

Left: a pair of gold phoenix (fenghuang) hairpins made in the 22nd year of the Yongle Emperor of Ming. Right: gold filigree bracelets inlaid with gemstones.

Ming-era portrait of a scholar official. Before cameras were introduced in late-Qing dynasty, portrait paintings were the most realistic depictions of what people looked like back then. Such portrait paintings mostly began in Song dynasty and continued through to Qing dynasty.

Illustrations of the different buzi/补子 (also known as "mandarin square") used by different ranks of officials in Ming dynasty. All ranks are organized from highest on the left to lowest on the right, top row is for civil officials, bottom row is for military officials, and bottom right is for nobility. All illustrations here come from the Ming-era illustrated encyclopedia Sancai Tuhui (《三才图会》). For those who are interested, a scan of Sancai Tuhui is available on Internet Archive for free (link goes to first chapter, most chapters are available).

Also from Sancai Tuhui Chapter 62 (all pictures here come from Ch. 62-64), illustrations of the twelve ornaments (called shierzhang/十二章) on a mianfu/冕服, which is the highest level of formal attire for an emperor in Ming dynasty. These twelve ornaments depict things including celestial bodies (note that sun contains the three-footed sun crow, and moon contains the moon rabbit), elements of nature, mythical creatures, and representations of life, and are supposed to represent the values and traits that an emperor should possess:

And wrapping up the section on Ming-era hanfu, here are the headwear of different classes of people in Ming dynasty, from commoners to the literati to important government officials.

Note the net-like hair accessory on the left. This is a wangjin/网巾 during Ming dynasty (illustration from Sancai Tuhui), and is worn by all men regardless of social class. However, wangjin is worn almost like an "undergarment", so it's almost always covered by something else. Which means all those historical cdramas set in Ming dynasty that have their characters wear only a wangjin in public are, in fact, inaccurate.

Some hats of commoners and scholars in Ming dynasty. Note the left one on the second row, that is the same hat worn by the Fox Scholar in the episode Goose Mountain of the animated series Yao Chinese Folktales (《中国奇谭》).

Some of the formal headwear of government officials in Ming dynasty. These are called liangguan/梁冠, lit. "beam crown", where the liang/"beam" refers to the metal arches that go over the top. The more liang there are on the hat, the higher the rank of the official.

And last but not least, Qing dynasty (1616 - 1911) fashion. Left is Qing-era men's outfit for horseback archery and hunting, called xingfu/行服. His hat is composed of two parts, the actual hat called dingdai/顶戴 (here it's specifically the winter version) and the back decoration made of horsehair and feathers that signifies status is called hualing/花翎. Back is the casual outfit of late-Qing Manchu noblewomen, with the characteristic hairstyle called dalachi/大拉翅, a vest called kanjian/坎肩, and a robe beneath called chenyi/衬衣. These are all considered part of qizhuang/旗装, or traditional Manchu clothing. On the right is the late-Qing casual outfit of upper class Han women, with an ao/袄 top and a langanqun/阑干裙 skirt (a type of mamianqun/马面裙), and a headband decorated with pearls called mo'e/抹额. Note that although the exact origin of the modern qipao/旗袍 is disputed, it definitely has elements from at least one of the following: the Manchu chenyi, the Han ao, and the late Qing and early Republic era men's changshan/长衫.

A little historical background on why this particular display is arranged in this way. In early Qing dynasty, the Manchu ruling class enforced the policy of 剃发易服 (lit. "shaving hair and changing clothing") specifically on Han men in order to force conformity to Manchu traditions in terms of hairstyle and clothing, but Han women were not included in this policy. So in early Qing, Han women still wore the same clothing as they did prior in late Ming, but over the time the fashion of Han women absorbed many elements of Manchu fashion. However, this wasn't a one-way influence. By late Qing, many elements of Han fashion were adopted by Manchu fashion as well, so this influence really went both ways. Today, Manchu people is one of the 56 officially recognized ethnicities in China (4th largest ethnicity by population), and the traditional fashion of Manchu people is a part of the diverse culture of modern China.

Below is a real example of a chenyi, chenyi were popular among Qing dynasty imperial consorts as informal dress:

The hairstyle of Manchu women (called qitou/旗头) at different times during Qing dynasty. The one at the far right was what early qitou looked like, while the one on the far left appeared in late-Qing. The two hairstyles on the left frequently appear in period dramas set in Qing dynasty.

A belt called jifudai/吉服带 with pouches and decorations. Jifudai is so named because it's supposed to be worn with the semi-formal jifu/吉服 outfit. This particular jifudai is yellow, a color reserved for the emperor.

Real examples of Qing-era Han women's outfit, with an ao on the left, and a langanqun on the right. Langanqun is a type of mamianqun, but the construction is different from Ming-era mamianqun, in that langanqun is made from numerous rectangular and trapezoidal pieces of fabric sewn together into two larger pieces, whereas Ming-era mamianqun are simply two large pleated pieces of fabric. The way these skirts are decorated are also somewhat different. Visually speaking, Qing-era langanqun have woven and/or embroidered patterns that are arranged vertically, creating a "paneled" look, whereas Ming-era mamianqun have woven and/or embroidered patterns that repeat and extend horizontally as to wrap around the entire skirt.

Aaaaand that's it for this exhibition! Phew. I highly recommend everyone go visit the free virtual exhibition (link here), partly because when I visited the National Museum of China, I was in a huge hurry (I only had one day to see everything), and so the task of taking pictures of the exhibition was split between me and a family member, but I'm not sure they understood how many pictures I wanted....so what's in my posts here are only a very small portion of the actual exhibition. The actual exhibition doesn't just have artifacts and replicas of artifacts, but also have paintings and real articles of clothing from Qing dynasty, which were all amazing to look at.

[sophistication-as]

"𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐓"

"𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙄 𝙖𝙢 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡, 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙖𝙙𝙮."

ꕥ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: william james moriarty / reader

ꕥ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: implied female reader, +18, smut, nsfw, oral (f + m), fingering (f!receiving), sex (p in v), edging, unprotected sex, mutual pining, romantic intimacy, emotional vulnerability, mention of crimes and society's problems.

ꕥ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: william james moriarty, the infamous lord of crime, is now your ally. but when he stands at your door late at night, you find yourself questioning if being just that is enough. there’s a tension between you, something more than simple partnership. as trust and desire intertwine, you can't help but wonder—what is it that draws you to him? is it mere fascination, or something far deeper?

ꕥ 𝐰𝐜: 4135!

ꕥ thank you @eliasorchard for your support

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤

The room was still, the only sounds being the faint scratching of your pen and the soft crackle of the candle burning low on your desk. Books lay scattered across the surface, open to pages filled with intricate diagrams and notes you’d carefully scrawled over the past few hours. The faint scent of wax and parchment lingered in the air, familiar and comforting.

The knock on the door broke the fragile silence. It wasn’t loud, just a gentle rapping, but it was enough to pull you from your focus. Your pen stopped mid-stroke, hovering over the page as your gaze shifted toward the sound. A rare disturbance at this hour.

You rose from your seat, tugging at the edges of your skirt to smooth the fabric. The floor creaked softly beneath your bare feet as you approached the door, hesitating for a moment with your hand on the handle. Taking a quiet breath, you turned it and pulled the door open.

"William?" you asked, tilting your head slightly. The faint flicker of candlelight casts shadows over his face, making his expression even harder to read. He stood there, as calm as ever, but something in his stance gave him away—something small, but enough to make your curiosity spike.

"Is everything all right?" you pressed, your voice softer this time. “It’s unusual to see you at this hour.”

"I do apologize," he said, his tone as polite as ever. The golden strands of his hair fell lightly over his scarlet eyes, catching the faint light in a way that made it hard to look away. "But I assure you, I am here on business, not merely for the pleasure of your company."

"First of all, it’s quite rude to leave a guest standing at the door, don’t you think?" you remarked, a quiet chuckle escaping your lips as you stepped aside to hold the door open. Your gaze flickered briefly over the sharp lines of his black cloak, a garment clearly chosen for its ability to conceal more than just his identity. Though your tone carried a playful edge, your posture remained poised, every movement calculated with the kind of grace that bordered on instinct.

You gestured toward the leather armchair by the fireplace, its surface gleaming in the soft, golden glow of the flickering flames. "Please, make yourself comfortable," you added smoothly, your words effortlessly mingling warmth with precision. "I’ll prepare some tea."

William chuckled, a spark of amusement flickering in his scarlet eyes. "Your consideration is truly remarkable," he said, the edge of a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Though, I must say, I’m rather surprised you’d welcome me after such an ungodly hour and finding you, of all places, in your own room."

With a smooth nod, he entered the room, his movements effortless, like he had all the time in the world. His gaze swept the space, lingering on the flickering fire that cast shadows across the walls and shelves. He lowered himself into the armchair with a languid grace, his fingers finding each other almost instinctively as he settled in. "Quite cozy in here," he remarked, his voice laced with dry humor.

Some minutes later, you proceeded to pour hot water into the teapot, which had been previously filled with tea leaves. You presented him with an exquisite fine china cup, worth thousands of pounds, in a serene manner.

William accepted the delicate porcelain cup with a small, appreciative smile, his fingers wrapping around the smooth china with careful precision. He brought the cup to his lips, inhaling the floral fragrance before taking a sip. "I must admit," he said, his voice low and thoughtful, "you truly have a talent for creating...environments." His eyes briefly scanned the room before returning to you. "I hadn’t imagined a study would require quite so much furniture." There was a playful note, but his tone remained gentle, his gaze sharp as he watched your reaction.

He was bold, that much was obvious, and you couldn’t hide the faint smile that tugged at your lips. He had that effect on you — no denying it. There was something about him that screamed genius, that rare kind of brilliance that only comes once in a lifetime. Or, as you liked to joke, a damn mastermind. It wasn’t easy to hide anything from him, though. His eyes were sharp, always watching, always noticing. You could try to mask your thoughts, but he seemed to see right through you, like an open book.

"I realized I was working into the late hours, so I thought, why not make things convenient?" You lifted your cup, savoring a sip of tea, before gesturing casually toward the king-sized bed nestled behind you. A subtle smile played on your lips as you added, "Besides, I think it adds a certain charm to the room, wouldn’t you agree?"

"I assure you, that charm pales in comparison to the owner's," he murmured smoothly, the comment slipping from his lips with such ease that it almost went unnoticed. Before you could muster a reply to his casual flirtation, he seamlessly shifted topics, his tone adopting a more serious edge. "Speaking of pressing matters, did you receive the documents regarding the labor exploitation and trafficking schemes between the French and British elites? Or perhaps any updates from your meeting with the Queen?"

"I wouldn’t say receive—more like acquired by stealing," you chuckled softly, shifting slightly in the armchair beside him, your body moving with a fluid grace as if to shake off the weight of the conversation. "But don’t worry, I’ll fetch them for you, all right?"

Rising to your feet, you crossed the room with purpose, the soft tap of your steps barely audible against the rich carpet. At the mahogany wood drawer, your fingers traced its edge before pressing a hidden button beneath it, revealing a concealed compartment.

William observed the process with a faint, almost amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His crimson gaze followed each movement you made, noting the precision and ease with which you executed even the simplest of tasks. It hadn’t escaped him how much more efficient his life had become since forging an alliance with you—an ally who, thus far, had never failed him.

Yet, it was him who messed things up, since your relationship was supposed to be strictly professional. But there he was, lingering in those moments you shared—debating, reading, or planning together. It was like he couldn’t help himself, enjoying it more than he probably should.

He didn’t even notice when she was standing right in front of him, handing over the documents he’d asked for. That expression of surprise lasted only a second, then he masked it, quietly diving into the information like it was the only thing that mattered.

"So, there really is a cartel between the English and French elites, keeping the textile industry under the control of those arrogant bastards." he muttered, his voice low with a tinge of disgust. His lips curled slightly, his tone almost mocking as he continued, "And as if that wasn’t enough, they’re linked to the deaths of workers and the suppression of popular movements."

William let out a dry chuckle, running a hand over his face, his fingers briefly lingering at his temples as if trying to rub away the weight of the revelation.

"Thankfully, you’ve prepared a plan, Liam. At least those monsters will see their power diminished," you said as you reached for the empty cups. With practiced ease, you placed them on a silver tray, the porcelain making a soft clink. Turning back to him, you folded your arms lightly, tilting your head with a hint of curiosity. "So, what’s next? What am I required to do now?"

"Don’t worry about work now. You’ve already done enough, risking your life for those documents," he said, offering you a reassuring glance. His voice was soft, almost gentle, though the edge of his usual sharpness lingered. "Enjoy your rest for a while."

"Are you going home now?" you inquired, watching him carefully. You figured he had accomplished what he came for and didn’t have any other reasons to stay. "Do you want me to call my coachman?"

"I was lying when I said I was only here for business," he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He shifted slightly, a faint trace of embarrassment coloring his expression. "But, are you willing to listen to what I have to say?"

Was he implying he felt attracted to you ?

You glanced at his eyes—scarlet, like a deep, burning flame—and then, almost involuntarily, your gaze shifted to his lips. There was something dangerous about the way he stood there, words hanging between you both like a heavy fog. The air felt charged, and you weren’t sure whether you were ready to step into it or pull back.

He raised from his seat with deliberate ease, his movements carrying a quiet confidence. He leaned down, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, his fingers brushing softly against your lips as if testing the waters. His voice dropped to a near-whisper, laced with something raw and unguarded. "Please, tell me, name... May I kiss you?"

"Do you really think I would reject you?" you murmured, a playful edge to your tone as you closed the gap between you. Your hands reached up, pulling him into a kiss that was anything but shy. His fingers found their way to your neck, the touch insistent as he deepened the moment, his warmth consuming you entirely.

Without breaking the kiss, he swept you into his arms with ease, carrying you as though you weighed nothing. The world tilted for a moment before you felt the soft sheets beneath you. He placed you down gently, his touch careful, as his scarlet eyes met yours, searching for permission to go further, silently asking for permission.

You answered without hesitation, your gaze and the way you drew him closer saying everything he needed to know.

He then used his lean, slightly calloused fingers to trace along your thigh, moving deliberately. Each touch was firm yet careful, stirring sensations that sent shivers through your body. You tensed under his hand, your breath hitching as his fingers circled the hem of your skirt, playing just at the edge.

The slowness wasn’t accidental—he enjoyed drawing out your reactions, taking his time as if savoring every second. You could feel the subtle pressure of his fingertips, rough but measured, igniting a mix of frustration and longing. A soft sigh escaped your lips, one you couldn’t suppress, and his low chuckle followed immediately after.

“Patience,” William murmured, his breath brushing your ear. His tone carried the faintest hint of mockery, making the flush on your cheeks deepen.

His fingers slid just beneath the edge of the fabric, and the warmth of his touch against bare skin made your pulse quicken. The teasing was unbearable, every nerve in your body screaming for more. The tension was maddening, and finally, you couldn’t hold back.

“Just take this off already,” you huffed, trying to sound commanding but failing to hide the tremble in your voice. Your fists clenched at your sides, as if the small motion could keep you grounded. “Stop toying with me, William.”

He paused, a smirk forming on his lips as he leaned back slightly. His crimson eyes traveled slowly across your form, a deliberate sweep that left you feeling bare under his gaze.

“Why would I stop?” he asked smoothly, his voice low and teasing. “I’m enjoying the view.”

Then, with infuriating calm, he moved his hands to his waist, undoing the button of his pants with a soft click.

"If you’re not going to do it, I’ll just handle it myself." You inverted your positions, placing all your weight on top of him – a silent reminder that you, too, had the strength to equal him.

That surprised him, though not in the way you might have expected—he visibly hardened beneath you. Glancing down, a smug grin spread across your lips, satisfaction glinting in your eyes as he tasted his own poison.

William's pupils dilated when you had the brilliant idea of starting to take off each piece of clothing from your body. He could no longer suppress his desire, not when he finally had your bare skin touching his. "I surrender," he murmured, your name lingering on his tongue. His voice was hoarse with longing, tinged with the faint embarrassment of admitting defeat in this intimate battle.

He gently placed a hand on your back, pulling you closer until his lips captured yours in a soft, deliberate kiss. The tenderness quickly gave way to passion as his lips explored yours with a fervent curiosity, eager to uncover every hidden detail. A low groan escaped your throat when his tongue slipped into your mouth, the intensity of his desire igniting something equally heated within you.

"It seems you're skilled in more than just academics, Mr. Moriarty," you teased, your voice slightly breathless as your lips parted. The unusual fervor in his kiss contrasted with the composed, calculated persona he so often wore, making your remark all the more fitting.

A mocking expression played across his face, silently taunting you, as if to say your situation was no better than his. To stoke the flames further, his fingers began to explore the delicate heat between your folds, teasingly tracing the slickness that had escaped the confines of your now-forgotten undergarments, abandoned somewhere on the floor.

"I can show you many other things I skilled as well, my lady."

Your eyes fluttered shut from the overwhelming stimulation, breaths uneven as your chest rose and fell rapidly. Instinctively, your legs attempted to close, but his firm hands pushed them apart, holding you in place. Without hesitation, his head dipped lower, drawing closer to your womanhood with purpose. "Liam, it's so good. I can't take it anymore," you gasped, your voice trembling and pitching higher with a mix of pleasure and desperation.

He looked up at your face from below, a soft, almost predatory smile tugging at his lips. "Darling, I know you can," he murmured, his voice dripping with desire.

The words sent a jolt through you, your body arching slightly in response. Before you could protest, his tongue returned to its relentless pace, circling your clitoris with maddening precision. Each flick and swirl sent waves of satisfaction that spread like wildfire through your body, leaving you gasping for air.

Your thighs trembled as his hands pressed into your skin with just enough force to ground you while his tongue pushed you higher. When he slid a single finger inside, the intrusion was almost too much, your walls instinctively clenching around him. But it was the curl of his finger — achingly precise, particularly for his first time — that sent shockwaves through your core.

A strangled moan escaped your lips as he found your sweet spot, a sensation so intense it was almost unbearable. Your head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut as the world outside this moment faded into oblivion. The faint rustle of sheets beneath you and the warmth of his breath against your most sensitive skin grounded you, while your thoughts spiraled—momentarily forgetting that you were ever rivals.

"William—please," you gasped, voice quivering. The desperation in your tone surprised even you, but it didn’t faze him. If anything, it spurred him on.

His free hand moved to grip your hip, his touch rough yet reassuring as if to anchor you amidst the storm he was conjuring. The rhythm of his movements was unrelenting, every stroke and flick driving you closer to the edge.

Your breaths grew uneven, each inhale catching in your throat as the tension within you coiled tighter. The only sounds in the room were your soft whimpers and the wet, sinful noises of his ministrations — you felt yourself nearing your release, unable to hold on any longer.

"Come for me, darling. Don't hold back," he urged, his baritone voice coaxing as you reached your peak. A broken moan escaped you as your fingers tangled in his golden hair, pulling slightly to steady yourself, while he eagerly savored every drop of your release.

You let out a soft chuckle, the calming sensation washing over you leaving your body pleasantly exhausted and your head spinning faintly. Beads of sweat clung to your skin as you tried to steady your breathing. William rose from his position, leaning in close. His lips brushed against your forehead in gentle, lingering kisses, a tender contrast to the intensity of moments before.

"I believe it's your turn now. After all, I’m not one to allow imbalance, especially in matters of pleasure," you teased, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you glanced at him with an air of confident mischief.

He couldn’t help but glance at you, his crimson eyes gleaming with a sadistic edge, that highlighted his mixture of intelligence and a shadowed past—one you had yet to unravel. "If you insist," he said, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine, "who am I to deny you this pleasure?"

With deliberate slowness, he spread his legs slightly, the fabric of his underwear tightening just enough to reveal the unmistakable length of his desire. Your breath hitched at the sight, heat rushing to your cheeks, but his gaze pinned you in place, unapologetic.

Placing his hands firmly on his thighs, he leaned back ever so slightly, the motion hinting a challenge. A wicked smirk danced across his lips as he taunted, "Come here—if you dare."

You weren't one to shy away from challenges, so pleasing the infamous Lord of Crime couldn't possibly be dangerous, could it? That question went unanswered as you pushed his underwear down with anticipation, sliding it off his feet before letting it fall to the ground. It revealed the most delicious cock you had ever seen – the tip swollen, a deep pink hue, and the girth, goodness, it could stretch you deliciously.

"I see why you're so popular in society, my my," you teased, your tongue flicking gently along his base. In response, he let out a low groan, his grip tightening on the bed sheets.

"Do you really think I would bed someone who doesn’t share my ideals?" His voice was low, barely a whisper, as you felt his body tense beneath your touch. His eyes closed, a faint hiss escaping him, not from pain, but from the pleasure your actions were bringing. "And do you honestly believe I have the time for endless physical relationships?" His lips curled into a slight, mocking smile, even as he fought to keep his composure. "You couldn't be more wrong."

"So, am I privileged?" Your eyebrow arched in anticipation, a playful challenge in your gaze. As you took the tip of him into your mouth, you circled it with your tongue, feeling the salty taste of his precum linger. You couldn't help but chuckle, the vibrations sending a thrill through him, awaiting his response.

"What do you think?" William murmured, his voice laced with a soft amusement. His hand moved to your head, a gesture both tender and possessive. Slowly, his fingers combed through your hair, savoring its texture as he massaged your scalp in a soothing rhythm. And then, your lips wrapped around him, moving up and down his length in a steady rhythm, your effort evident as you fought to suppress the urge to gag. The stretch and weight of him tested your limits, but you kept going, driven by the muffled groans of your name that escaped his lips.

"Shit, name, you're gonna make me cum," he murmured, his voice hoarse with restraint. But you didn’t relent. If anything, you pushed him further, your fingers trailing down to gently massage his balls, drawing out a low, guttural groan from deep in his chest. Determined, you took him fully into your mouth, the stretch overwhelming but intoxicating, your nose brushing against the soft tickle of his blond pubes as you moved.

And just as he seemed on the verge of release, you pulled away with a mischievous grin, leaving him with a devilish expression. "Little minx," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, "do you really think you're going to get away with that?"

"With what?"

Without hesitation, he slipped his hands behind your back, flipping you beneath him with a swift yet deliberate motion. His crimson eyes burned with unrestrained desire as he aligned himself against your entrance, teasing you with the head of his length, as he rubbed it against your slit. "Now take all of me," he commanded, his voice low and thick with hunger.

Following that, he slammed into you, the slick heat of your walls wrapping around him with an almost perfect fit, causing his length to twitch with raw pleasure. "You feel incredible, darling," he murmured, his voice dripping with longing. With a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, he pushed deeper, his tip grazing your cervix. "So wet and ready, all for me," he added, his words lingering in the charged air before he closed the distance, capturing your lips in an intimate kiss – his hands roaming into your body as he explored you.

While immersed in the kiss, your bodies shifted, and before you knew it, you were straddling his lap. Your hips moved in tandem with his, rocking back and forth, taking in the fullness of his massive length and girth with each motion. Soon, you buried your face in his neck, the aroma of his cologne enveloping you. It carried a sophisticated oud note, warm and smoky, with hints of spice and leather that lingered like a signature of his power. The heat of his skin against your cheek sent a subtle hum through your body, and you couldn’t resist brushing your lips softly along the pulse at his throat, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your touch.

You felt yourself nearing the edge, and it was clear he was too—his brows furrowed, his shoulders rigid with tension. His gaze burned into your breasts, the intensity sparking a shiver through you. His fingers didn’t falter, tracing deliberate, slow circles around your sensitive areolas, the coolness of his skin sending a contrast against your warmth.

Your hands clung to his back, nails tracing faint marks as your body tightened around his cock, your climax spilling around him in a slick, glistening ring. "I... I’m going to pull out now, name," he murmured, his voice strained and pitched higher from restraint. With a sharp exhale, he withdrew, and his release followed—hot, white streaks painting your belly in messy, heated patterns.

The room is still heavy with the warmth of the moment, while William moves with purpose, his hands gentle as they clean you up, the motions slow but steady.

"Jesus, I think we really need a rest now," you mutter, voice low. "Or we won't be able to do any work tomorrow."

He laughs quietly, the sound almost lost in the stillness of the room. His fingers are careful, wiping away with a handkerchief he found in a close wooden corner table any traces of him in your skin, and replied, "it would be perfect, since our bodies need to rest. Now, let me take care of you."

Seeing a nod, William moved with a quiet grace, slipping into his silk pajamas. The fabric clung to his frame just enough to reveal the sharpness of his form, the deep midnight blue catching the light as he adjusted the cuffs with ease.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, before he stepped closer, his hands gentle as he helped you into your own nightwear. Then, he carefully dressed you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he fastened the buttons.

You lay on your right side, facing the cool edge of the bed, while he settled on the left, a small gap between you that felt oddly familiar. The blanket, thick and heavy with a soft, worn texture, was pulled up to your chins as you both adjusted into place. You reached for the lamp on the corner table, which clicked off with a soft metallic sound, leaving the room bathed in silence and the intensity of each other's gaze.

"I think we overdo it a little too much."

"...."

"I agree."

"Maybe we should just accept it...no?"

"It would be a pleasure."

[whoreforjisung]

Pervy Neighbor Jisung Pt.2 ✨

Content/tags/warnings: smut / jisungxfem reader / perv!jisung / reader is a little bit of a perv too / masturbation(m,f) / “noona” / mentions of other members / drug use / panty stealing / cum eating / switch!jisung / switch!reader / mutual pining

Word Count: 4.2k

a/n: Since a lot of people seemed to enjoy my first one-shot, I decided to continue the story in multiple parts! Constructive criticism as well as requests are welcome! Next part will include the house-warming party 👀

Not proofread, all characters are only used for the purpose of face-claims and do not reflect real-life actions and behaviors of people involved

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It’s been almost a month since you moved in, and Jisung has, quite frankly, run out of material. As much as he adored that picture he snapped through your window of your delectable ass presenting itself to him, there were only so many scenarios he could logistically work with- his favorite being one of the first he conjured up, with you inviting him over during a yoga session on your balcony. He was especially fond of that one.

In fact, he had already run through them all several times, and as a man with a creative inclination, he needed new imaginary canvases to paint even more indecent imagery with. He really didn’t know how he ended up in this situation. Sure, he was always a man who thought more with the head between his legs than the one atop his shoulders, but he was never one to actively display such depraved behavior- that was, until you invaded his mind. You were akin to a captivating siren luring him out to the vast depths of the sea that was his lust for you, and he wasn’t quite sure that he wanted to resist your entrancing melody.

There were a few minor complications preventing him from reaching his goals, though. The first being how the hell he would successfully obtain fresh aids for his newfound private pastime. In order to give himself more inspiration to work with, he needed to get closer to you. Normally, he would not see this as an issue at all, as he was rather confident in his physical appearance and charisma. The second- and most debilitating issue, however, lies in your surely abhorrent first impression of him. A visceral chill creeps up his spine at the mere thought of what your current opinion of him must be.

After he fucked his frustrations into his fist every night to thoughts of you, he stared at his ceiling making mental diagrams of different approaches he could take for you to nudge him over to your good side. He may have doomed himself from the first day with his thoughtless and downright rude behavior, but he was determined to rectify the misunderstanding he had perpetuated.

Luckily for Jisung, his ever-reliable mate, Felix, had already taken the first steps for him- by adding you on various social media outlets. He had been mindlessly scrolling when you stood out in the crowd of faces in his suggested friends page. It may not seem like much, but the best possible starting point had practically fallen right into his lap. He now had access to your name, interests, dislikes, music taste, and friends list- conveniently right at his fingertips to educate himself with whenever he desired. Not to mention, one mouth-watering, jaw-dropping, boner-popping display of your gorgeously-proportioned body, clad in a slutty little powder blue string bikini- just for him. It was certainly claiming it’s spot at the top the spank bank for later. He’ll have to send Felix something as a token of his appreciation for that one.

Through his frequent investigations of your treasure trove of publicly accessible information, he learned that you are, in fact, one year older than him- that was going to do wonders for his little “noona” kink. His suspicions of you being an artist were correct, much to his delight, as he’s naturally attracted to creative minds. Your taste in music also aligns surprisingly well with his own. You have more tattoos than he originally thought- which he finds incredibly hot. In your bikini pic, he spotted a dazzling silver gem nestled above your belly button- also sexy. It made him wonder if you have more piercings in places hidden under the skimpy garment- he really hoped you did. One crucial piece of information he couldn’t deduce from his research, though, was your relationship status. If you were in a relationship, it couldn’t be a happy one. There was no indication of you having a partner on any of your platforms, so he decided it was unlikely.

Now that he learned as much as he possibly could about you without direct contact, he needed to find a way to repair your skewed perception of him. He could go with his original plan of just knocking on your door, introducing himself, and apologizing, but that seemed a tad bit more risky than he was comfortable with. Since you were apparently acquainted with Felix, maybe he could convince him to act as his wingman? No, he didn’t want to come across as desperate- even if he absolutely was. Maybe Miroh? The two of you were already friends on the game thanks to him assisting you with your S-Class Dungeon victory. He could help you through the slightly more daunting Levanter or Circus stages next. And then what? Just send “hey, by the way, I’m your new neighbor.”? You would wonder how he knew who you were, and instantly be creeped out- rightfully so. He’ll still help you through more dungeons anonymously though. The intense adrenaline rush he gets from it, along with the blood that rushes straight to his junk when you cutely beg him for help- is addictive.

Your bikini pic sufficed to tide Jisung over for another week and a half, shamelessly painting your image on his phone screen white at least once, sometimes twice, or even three times a day. During this time, he strolled the market he had discovered you frequented and gained some helpful intel- you were a bit closer to Felix than he originally thought, even stopping by the various stands he often helped out with to chat or drop off food for him. A few times, Jisung thought about coming up to him while you were there to introduce himself. Ultimately, he decided it would be best for you to naturally stumble upon them hanging out together. So, he cleverly plotted to join his friend with his market volunteering for the next month or so. The first week was a bust, since you seemed to be avoiding Felix with him in the picture now. Regardless, he didn’t let it discourage him, and attentively remained loyal to his plan.

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When you told Felix about how you didn’t host a house-warming party, as you didn’t really know anyone in the area yet, he offered to throw you one to introduce you to his friends. As he got to know you better, he knew you would fit right in with his friend group. When you agreed, he gave you descriptions of his seven closest friends. You were already briefly introduced to Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Seungmin, but he threw in a few more names you didn’t recognize. Among the unrecognizable names, you tried to pick out the one that could belong to your neighbor, the boy you had spotted curled up on the couch in Minho’s study. Based on his descriptions, it couldn’t have been Jeongin- the youngest of the group, or Jisung- the affectionately-dubbed “babygirl” in Felix’s words. That left you with Chris, his fellow Australian mate, and the eldest. However, his description didn’t match your neighbor either.

When you set out for the market a few days later to deliver Felix some extra sugar cookies you had baked that morning, you saw him again. He was engaged in a conversation with your friend as they appeared to be working one of the fresh fruits and vegetable stalls together. You weren’t close enough to make out what was being discussed between the two, but your attention was drawn to the brunette’s body language. You observed the two friends for a few minutes, as your neighbor cycled through a series of cutesy expressions, excited little jumps, and exaggerated hand movements directed toward Felix. You were dumbfounded by how he candidly resembled a completely different person to the one you had briefly encountered over a month ago. This guy seemed to have an energetic and charismatic personality- an immensely stark contrast to the insolent and crude introduction you were given. You decided to return home with the cookies still in hand, not quite ready to approach yet.

Later that night, you were still hung up on thoughts about your neighbor. You originally thought he really was just an asshole, but the glimpse of him you saw at Minho’s place, as well as the market, had you reconsidering. You wanted to find out more about him. If he did behave differently to you specifically, why was he so callous? You were sure his outburst was the first time you saw him, so it’s not like you did anything to personally upset him. Frustrated, you navigated towards Felix’s social media in the hopes of finding his profile to learn more about him.

To say the man had a lot of followers would be an understatement. He was clearly very popular, and you began to lose hope of finding your neighbor amongst them. You couldn’t spot him in any of the group selfies on Felix’s page either. An imaginary lightbulb illuminated itself in your head as you realized you could just text Felix, asking him to send you all of his friend’s profiles. It wouldn’t be weird, since you’d be meeting them all soon at your house-warming party anyway. While waiting for him to reply, you opened the jar perched on your nightstand, containing a handful of special gummies, popped one in your mouth, and walked to the nearby convenience store to replenish your snack supply.

On your way back home, your phone lit up with the notification of Felix’s reply as you started to feel the effects of the gummy take hold. Immediately after closing your door and kicking your shoes off, you reclined yourself on the sofa, your bag of snacks within arm’s reach, and opened your chat with Felix. Sure enough, he sent you links to seven profiles with each of their names attached. Chris was first, with his feed mostly consisting of himself on late-night walks around town, pictures of his dog, and gym selfies. You immediately noticed how fit he was, with a killer face to match, and began to wonder if all of Felix’s friends were as absurdly attractive as he was. The next profile, Minho’s, caught you off guard to say the least. There were barely any pictures of him, and the ones that were posted usually distorted his face with the most outlandish filters you could imagine. The rest of his feed was overflowing with pictures of his three adorable cats, as well as several unappetizing close-ups of what appeared to be food. You were definitely intrigued, and were looking forward to getting to know him better. The next link directed you to Changbin’s page. While you did briefly meet him in person already, you were too overwhelmed by the utter chaos unfolding in Minho’s apartment to really take in his physique. He was a total gym rat- his feed plastered with pictures showcasing his enormous muscles to prove it. What really surprised you, though, was the sheer amount of dance covers he posted featuring popular k-pop girl group songs. The man knew how to shake it, and you were pleasantly surprised by the way he didn’t lock himself into his masculine side, despite his appearance. Moving on to Hyunjin, you probably spent around an hour admiring the captivating artwork he posted. As an artist yourself, you were enamored by his abstract and romantic style. Equally as captivating, were his features. He was a fashion model, and clearly had the looks for it. You couldn’t spot a single flaw on his perfectly sculpted face.

When you returned to Felix’s links and opened the next one- Jisung’s, you immediately recognized the doe-eyed brunette in the profile picture as your neighbor. Felix had described him to you as the mood-maker of the group, with his hilarious personality and exaggeratedly cute behavior impossible to resist. You had thought Jisung was one of the least likely to be the person in question, so this discovery was very jarring. Even more so, however, was the duality he displayed with his selfies. The most recent upload featuring a cute pose- big, round eyes, puffy cheeks, and pouty lips. As you scrolled down to the next, you were met with a completely different vibe. His head was tilted back, as if he was looking down at you, with sultry siren eyes, his chain necklace dangling from perfect teeth, and the neckline of a loose-fitting white t-shirt exposing his gorgeously-tanned neck and collarbones. You scrolled back and forth between the two pictures, in absolute awe at the fact that they both displayed the same person.

As you continued scrolling, his occupation as a music producer and songwriter was revealed. He uploaded several aesthetic pictures with his own work serving as background music, and you had to admit- he definitely had talent. Each instrumental perfectly encapsulated the vibe of the picture it was paired with, and he definitely knew what he was doing from a production standpoint. The real shock came when you stumbled upon his singing and rapping videos, though. He really could do it all. He perfectly rode every beat with his flow, topping it off with impeccable enunciation. The most impressive (and admittedly attractive) aspect was his ability to effortlessly switch the tone of his voice, going from an insanely high register to a low, raspy one instantaneously. This skill clearly also carried over to his singing- his higher vocals incredibly stable, and his raspy, low tone shamefully had you feeling some type of way. You decided to blame that on the effects of the gummy.

You lingered on Jisung’s profile for longer than you would have liked to admit, especially the pictures displaying his surprisingly flirty and cocky persona. There was one picture in particular, that had your imagination running wild. His eyes were shrouded in black eyeliner, looking straight into the camera, with his lips slightly parted and his tongue protruding toward the corner of his mouth. His thumb nestled just below his bottom lip- complete with black nail polish. It gave off the vibe of him looking up at you from between your thighs, after mercilessly coaxing multiple orgasms out of you with his seemingly skilled tongue, and lazily wiping the remnants of your release off his chin.

To be honest, you’ve been attempting to ignore the persistent throbbing in your core since you first started exploring his feed, but that last picture completely abolished all resolve you were desperately clinging to. Your right hand had been absentmindedly tracing light circles up and down your thigh for the last ten minutes, slowly drawing increasingly closer to your aching heat. Your own hand became Jisung’s in your imagination when you scrolled to a photo of his, wrapped around the neck of an electric guitar. The caption read “Guitar isn’t the only thing my hands are skilled with, ladies… ;)” The little shit knew exactly what he was doing, which, was oddly attractive to you. Your hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts. With your middle finger nestled between your folds, you gasped at the contact.

Your heightened senses due to the gummy amplified the intensity of every touch, the pleasure increasing tenfold. To say you were soaked would be an understatement. The back of your hand was immediately coated with your arousal, as it sandwiched itself between your needy cunt and completely drenched panties. The lewd sounds caused by your wetness, along with the humiliation that washed over you as you realized you were still on the couch in your living room, only served to turn you on even more. As your middle finger breached your entrance, soon followed by your ring finger, you pictured Jisung’s pretty fingers slowly pumping you instead. Black fingernails becoming a clouded shade as your juices coat them, dripping over his silver rings. You wondered if you would be able to feel them as his fingers pushed in and out, or when they bumped up against your swollen clit as he curled his fingers upwards, relentlessly pounding your sweet spot. When you added his tongue into the picture- sloppily lapping anywhere his hand didn’t obstruct, occasionally dragging along your inner thighs and hungrily licking your arousal that had reached there, you let go. You couldn’t control the spasming of your legs, as well as the obscenely load moan that escaped past your lips, as you lost yourself in the most intense orgasm you have felt in ages. After a few minutes of regaining your composure, you washed up and crawled into bed. You were looking forward to getting to know Jisung better.

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The next week Jisung helped Felix at the market, you finally made your appearance. He had his back turned to the bustling foot traffic, tediously deboning a massive chunk of raw tuna when his ears (and dick) involuntarily perked up at the sound of your sweet voice. “Hey Felix! How’s it going today?” You cheerfully approached, prompting the brunette to wonder how his name would sound as it rolled off your lips. “Hey yourself! Its a little slow today, but should pick up around lunch. This is my friend Jisung I was telling you about!” The blond returned, gesturing towards him. Felix told you about him? He wondered what you had heard, and how it made you feel, but quickly shook his thoughts away before he could get lost in them. This was finally his chance to reintroduce himself, and he was not gonna fuck it up this time. He swiped his hands across the front of his apron as he turned towards you, offering what he hoped was a charming smile.

“I would give you a handshake, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want fish smell on your hands. Sorry we kinda got off on the wrong foot there, it’s great to meet you!” He mustered up his best approach as he shot you an apologetic look, nervously cradling the back of his neck with his right hand.

“Oh, no worries! Felix told me you were really nice, so I figured you were just having a bad day. It’s nice to meet you too!” you replied. It took everything in his power to not grab his friend’s stupidly-lovable face and plant a big, fat kiss on his freckle-covered cheek right then and there. The man was, quite literally, doing all of the hard work for him.

After exchanging your greetings, you moved onto the next stall on your list. Meanwhile, Jisung attempted to burn your approximate waist-to-hip ratio into his memory- for a more realistic point of view of him taking you from behind, of course. His mesmerized focus was abruptly interrupted by his friend landing a friendly smack to his ass, signaling for him to get back to work.

Later that night, he was working on a new song when his phone exploded with notifications from his group chat with his friends. Felix had sent a text notifying everyone about a house-warming party he was hosting for a friend. When his eyes swept across your name, he immediately felt himself tighten in his joggers. He had basically pavloved himself into suffering automatic erections at the slightest thought of you with the recent frequency of his jerking off. To say he was ecstatic would be an understatement as he skimmed through the rest of the messages. He was invited to your place. Of course, his friends would be there too, but actually seeing the inside of your living space, as well as being so physically close to you- would add a whole new level of realism to his sinful fantasies. His usual view of you was from the distance of his own apartment, obstructed by two windows when you weren’t on your balcony. Your appearance at the market today was the closest he’s gotten so far.

Maybe if he played his cards right, he could sneak off into your bathroom, find out what shampoo and body wash you used, and purchase the same. Adding the element of your scent to his late-night sessions could be fun. The more he thought about it, the more depravity overtook him. What if he didn’t stop there? What if he snuck into your bedroom? Found a pair of panties to shove in his pocket and later shove into his face as he climaxes, or found your toys you use to get yourself off when you should be using him.

Still seated in front of his computer, he slightly reclined the chair back as he pulled down his waistband and teased his leaking tip slowly, his mind brewing up his latest creation. He was at your party with his friends. You were distracted by replenishing snacks, Changbin and Seungmin were engaged in a heated debate while the others focused on playing a game on your TV. He took advantage of the distractions and made his move, heading towards your bathroom. He passed the door as he embarked on his real mission- to find your bedroom. After one unsuccessful attempt opening the door to reveal a storage closet, he finally found it.

Once he shut the door behind him, he allowed himself a few seconds to take in his surroundings. When his eyes locked onto the door to your closet slightly ajar, he crossed the room and opened it further. Your laundry basket sat on the floor, powder blue lace thong placed neatly on top. He picked up the garment, intending to relocate it to his pocket, but his hand moved faster than his brain, bringing it up to his face instead. Once he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent, there was no hope for him. He shifted to the edge of your bed, uncrumpling your panties and flattening them out neatly on your mattress. He quickly released his swollen cock, laying it on top of your thong as he used the pad of his thumb to apply light pressure. His hips slowly thrusted, grinding his greedy dick between the dainty lace and his calloused thumb, the contrast of textures driving him crazy. As he increased his pace, he wrapped the lace around his whole circumference and replaced the tip of his thumb with his entire hand, amplifying the pressure. The sight of his tan cock peeking through the blue lace, along with the filthiness of his actions, had him biting his bottom lip for dear life to contain his moans threatening to escape.

He did the same in real life. As his thighs started quivering, he threw his head back against the headrest of his seat. His efforts to bite back his noises failed, however, as he couldn’t contain the loud moan that forced its way through his clenched teeth when his hand grazed over a particularly sensitive spot. Feeling his orgasm approaching, he released his grip completely, twitching at the sudden loss of contact. He wasn’t going to cum yet, not when the highlight of his fantasy had yet to play out. He collected himself for a moment before engrossing himself in his scene again.

He began to panic as his hips started twitching. Soft, needy moans and incoherent mumbling rolling off of his drool-covered lips. He needed to cum, but had nothing to release into. He was so lost in his pleasure that he couldn’t stop as the sound of your door creaking open penetrated through his panting and the wet sounds of his spit and precum-coated cock. He locked eyes with your shocked expression as he blew his hot load all over your panties and bed.

“N-Noona.. I-“ you cut him off with a strong slap to his left cheek. His weak legs not able to support him as his knees buckled collapsed to the floor, the side of his face landing dangerously close to the wet spot he had created on your bed. You stood behind him, forcefully grabbing him by his hair and shoving his face directly into the mess.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you. If you’re going to be a filthy pervert, the least you can do is clean up after yourself.” You spat, further rubbing his face into his own cum. He stuck his tongue out, catching his release on it as your grip on his hair controlled him. When you heard his muffled moans you kneeled down, your face now level with his when you tugged his head upwards. “Are you seriously getting off on this you sick fuck?” You pushed him with his back now flush against the side of your bed. “Oh my god, you’re fucking hard again!” Another slap to his cheek, this time the left. You both looked down as the pain from your slap caused his length to jerk violently, a pathetic bead of precum seeping from the tip and rolling down his shaft. You caught it with your finger, bringing your digit to his mouth and shoving it in. He hungrily sucked it off, a deep moan bellowing from his chest. Withdrawing your hand from his mouth and reaching behind his head, you clutched onto the cum-soaked panties, tilted his head upwards, and shoved them in his mouth.

Jisung groaned as he twitched in his hand, shooting his release all over himself and his keyboard, dripping down between the keys. He had been putting off cleaning the damned thing for weeks, and sighed as he slumped further down in the chair. Thanks to you, he wouldn’t be able to procrastinate any longer.

[cpericardium]

This is the story of the time I interviewed at Ubisoft.

When I was a teenager, I became obsessed with the Bioshock series and got it into my head that I wanted to do game design for a living. I'd never seriously attempted it nor did I know exactly what it entailed, but how hard could it be? I gamed!! I had ideas!! I said this to my teacher during a what do you want to be when you grow up talk, and she said, "Oh! My sister works at Ubisoft Singapore. I'll get you an interview."

Emails were exchanged, and someone at the company arranged a "quick chat" with me a couple of weeks later. It was for a QA tester intern position, which I reasoned was sort of like game design. After all, in the Sims 3 it's one rung on the ladder to becoming a game developer. Also I didn't want to anger my teacher. She was quite volatile.

Round 1:

I'd never done a job interview before. I put on a nice blouse and pencil skirt and heels, nervously applied and reapplied makeup which I normally did not wear, and showed up at the office building an hour early. Then as I went up the elevator I realised they never said what room it was. I couldn't very well email to ask now. I'd look like an idiot!! Fuck!! So for an hour, I just skulked around outside various glass doors peering into offices hoping there would be some receptionist around to ask, but there was practically no one there. The email only said "let's have a quick chat at 2pm on x date".

I was about to slink home with my tail between my legs when the interviewer called at the scheduled time. It was a phone interview!!!!! He didn't say that!!!!! I found a dingy secluded stairwell. As if to taunt me, one of the first questions he asked was "have you ever been to the building?"

Me, through gritted teeth: yeah! actually I'm here right now, haha... to scope it out, you know... get a lay of the land..... it's really big... Lots of glass walls...

Him: oh that's nice.

I don't remember most of the questions, but I do know he asked me what my favourite games were. I said Undertale and Life is Strange (they had come out that year), but he'd never heard of them. Maybe I should've said Far Cry or something but what if he quizzed me on it?

Round 2:

I should not have made it to this round. I was coasting entirely on the goodwill of my teacher's sister, who was high up the chain. She interviewed me next. I think her only question was whether I would be okay working long gruelling hours with little support and no overtime.

Me, blissfully unaware of crunch culture being a massive human rights issue in the industry: bring it on!!

Her: what? 🤨

Then she ushered me into a room to take a pencil and paper test. While waiting earlier, I'd frantically googled and memorised a bunch of Ubisoft games, so I could answer the one asking me to list eight of them. I figured I could have gotten away with saying Assassin's Creed and adding a random number to the back though.

The biggest problem was on the other side of the paper: a diagram of a gaming controller asking me to label the buttons. Here's the thing. I'm a PC gamer. Always have been. At the time, my only experience with console gaming was playing Little Big Planet with my best friend when I was twelve, at her house. And I wasn't very good at it! I think I fundamentally lack the hand-eye coordination for console gaming, but that's just a guess because I can count on one hand the number of times I've ever used a controller. And I can count on one hand the number of controllers I have in that hand! It's zero! I knew the wiggly antennae were for movement and the buttons on the sides did esoteric things that people will yell at you to press during crucial moments, but that was it. I ended up labelling the buttons the shapes they were (circle button, triangle button, square button etc).

The interviewer came back into the room after about 15 minutes and said I now had an hour to play an unfinished level of Assassin's Creed, identify as many bugs as possible, and record them on a spreadsheet. And even though she set me up at a computer monitor, I still had to use a controller. Are you kidding me! This was the Victorian era Assassin's Creed. I had never played any AC games before, so I didn't know what were bugs and what were features. Was "can't jump" a bug? Was "invisible wall surrounding staircases"? What was the format and lingo you were supposed to use when recording bugs? I made no progress towards the quest at all (I did not understand it or who my character was), just wandered around and wrote down things I noticed and didn't like until time was up.

Anyway, that's the tale of how I didn't get a job I was woefully unprepared and underqualified for and in retrospect didn't want all that much. Maybe what I really wanted was to be... was Ayn Rand.

[danvillecheese]

the dwampyverse and all its timelines

welcome to the analysis i've been promising for like two years! this will be phineas and ferb centric simply due to the sheer amount of episodes compared to milo murphy's law and hamster and gretel. with the inclusion of hamster and gretel, i will admit this has gotten a little less easy to navigate, but i'm hoping with a bit of analysis and suspension of belief, it'll be okay. ready? lets go!

the best way i can describe this first part is by providing a visual of how i see it. and using a three-circle venn diagram makes perfect sense with all of the overlapping and individual parts.

so - pictured above is said venn diagram. each part is its own timeline. ones where each show is their own timeline, ones where pnf/mml overlap, mml/hng overlap, pnf/hng overlaps and the one right in the centre where they all overlap. this doesnt include timelines where "endings" are separate (read: quantum boogaloo, act your age, doof 101, owca files... any ending that isnt last day of summer. but i'll get to those ones later). make sense?

1. where only phineas and ferb exists.

this works best before 2015. this timeline is the one that has zero murphy crumbs on it. dan and swampy haven’t yet had the idea of doing a show about a kid with awful luck and time travelling shenanigans. this is the most nostalgic timeline, for phineas has reigned over the disney channel cartoons for eight years. the lumberzacks dont exist, hamster and gretel dont save danville each week. pnf is its own show. no other shows have an influence on it.

adding to this - if you ignore any of the alternate timeline episodes and stop at last day of summer, you get my personal favourite way of watching the show. this one is basically just ignoring owca files, doof 101, all of mml and most importantly - act your age. I love the idea of an open book ending for these characters, especially for ones we saw on our tvs for over eight years [when it aired]. the events that take place after last day of summer are simply giving an idea of what COULD happen to our beloved cast, and without them, they really make no impact on the original story. the events before the end of summer are in no way impacted by the other alternate ending episodes.

2. where both phineas and ferb and milo murphy’s law exists

this is the canon, everything-exists-all-at-the-same-time timeline, pre-hamster and gretel. every piece of context works together, and everything is all connected. everything is canon! everyone is friends with each other! the pnf effect works! doof moves in with the murphy's, and this timeline is basically if you watched pnf and mml chronologically, without any of the alt ending episodes (in case you forgot which ones: quantum boogaloo, act your age, doof 101 and the owca files). this is the one i think we're all familiar with - it also includes candace against the universe (mostly uh... broadly speaking, the lumberzacks are the only mml thing in there).

3. where only milo murphy’s law exists

a timeline where pnf and hng are nonexistent. this timeline would probably exclude anything past season one, really. the crossover would not work. maybe even in this timeline the pistachions take over everything and the human characters cease to exist. (eleanor shellstrop this is the bad place!.jpeg) this further pushes the point (that I haven’t made - I’ve been thinking it I just haven’t said it lmao) that you can’t have milo murphys law without phineas and ferb. the crossover plot proves it. both in the real world AND in mml.

4. where just hamster and gretel exists

this one is a little hard to explain, especially since hng has only just finished its first season. there are a few pnf references in this show but it stands on its own feet much more than mml did. i think the likelihood of hng existing in its own timeline works a lot better than mml - but the chance of there being a surprise crossover is moderately high. like i said, it's a little hard to analyse this since its that much more removed from its predecessors.

5. where milo murphy’s law and hamster and gretel exist

this is a very unlikely scenario, but there is a chance a timeline like this exists somewhere. it’s a bit difficult to analyse or even prove since there haven’t been any kind of references or even characters that pop up in hng from mml. I wouldn’t expect the opposite either, considering that mml ended in 2019 and hng didn’t exist until after that, so hng within mml is basically impossible without a third season.

these last two timelines make a lot less sense, especially since hng still has stories to tell and we havent seen mml characters there yet (well... unless you count doof. hes technically a mml character, right? as much as some of us dislike that fact? haha. ahahaha.)

6. where phineas and ferb and hamster and gretel exists

this one works. i think it’s basically how dtva thinks it works (basically completely ignoring mml’s entire existence lmao) but this is basically the canon timeline of hng currently. but we’ll wait and see if there’s a crossover.

7. where all of phineas and ferb, milo murphy’s law and hamster and gretel exist all at once

like I say, a surprise crossover could happen (but based off what happened with the pnf effect I can’t even imagine how messy this would get) so yes, they could exist all at once. and they probably do, just that hng is a lot further removed from its predecessors in terms of references and characters popping up out of nowhere (doof and his inators don’t seem to have much importance yet, but who knows how it’ll end). this timeline, basically, is for those who don’t really mind that everything’s in a collective universe, and it seems like the easiest one to comprehend if you aren’t pedantic about all of this.

but what about the episodes where timelines end?

you’re probably here thinking okay, so what? there’s different timelines. this isn’t news. what about the other individual episodes that are within the umbrella timeline? I like to think of them as individual timelines within the show, along with all the other ones mentioned above.

quantum boogaloo

timelines have been a thing pretty much since season 2 of phineas and ferb, notably in the episode quantum boogaloo where they go forward in time and see a potential future where stacy is the president of uruguay. this is an example of something ‘canonically’ happening after last day of summer, 20 years in the future. this episode has a couple of potential timelines - the one where everything is fine, and the one where doof is emperor and everyone is named joe. the first timeline has candace ending up with jeremy and having three kids, along with ferb at camp david and phineas at an awards ceremony in switzerland. however, this particular timeline doesnt match up equally with act your age, since their ages dont line up. in quantum boogaloo, pnf are aged 30 twenty years later, in aya, pnf are aged 18 ten years later. this means they could either be 8 or 10 in the original summer, depending on the timeline. the second one is pretty much null to me since they time travel back and both of the future timelines cancel out.

doof 101

so. this is an episode i havent seen for a while. however, this is one of the perfect examples since the theme for doof 101 says "and this all takes place in fall so don't let the timeline throw you" like hiiii thank you for acknowledging that this is a separate timeline! there's a short bit in the title that shows doof facing either prison time or teaching at the high school in court, and its something we don't see the events leading up to. sure, he's done crimes against humanity but there weren't ever any consequences during the show. who turned him in? why is he on trial? what happened between him being evil and becoming a high school science teacher? and why does this monobrow edward rooney ass guy have beef with him and charlene out of nowhere? timelines, dude. got me stressed out and its not even my show.

act your age

[through gritted teeth] this episode also shows another potential canonical ending for the cast. phineas ends up with isabella 10 years after last day of summer, showing that this particular timeline has the kids aged around 8 or 9 in the original summer. we all know my thoughts on this particular ending, notably posted here. this timeline is easy to ignore if you dislike it, like the majority of us.

what does line up with the original summer, however, is doof's b-plot in act your age. I'm not a huge hater of his arc in this episode, and honestly, it might be his most in-character timeline ending out of all of them. yes, you heard me, theres something i dont dislike about act your age. like i said in the post linked above, i dont find it hard to believe he would bowl with perry and carl and monogram every week. he would totally have a mid-life crisis that wasn't real, like this guy canonically can't even hate christmas. this is so in character for him! in terms of it being a different timeline though, the only proof i have is that it's one of many different timeline ending episodes.

last day of summer

this episode is kinda like a flagship for the timelines, and as mentioned above, my favourite ending. i don’t think I need to reiterate it, but it really just provides an open ending for the entire cast, and makes room for anything else to happen. I’m curious to see how it pans out in the reboot; if they keep the continuity and acknowledge that ldos happened, or if they just kinda skip over it if it’s true that the new seasons will happen in the summer after the original one. but don’t worry - if the reboot adds any kind of canon divergence (I’m literally counting on it) You Will Certainly Hear From Me About It. lol

the owca files

I'll admit i haven't watched owca files for a number of years but i still remember bits of it. its a very strange timeline to me. i understand that doof is legally an ocelot and can be an agent but it does feel like the beginning of that out-of-characterness he displays in mml. and i guess the owca files is canon there, right? the bit with monogram during the pnf effect?

this also includes the pine tree. it feels like a way of letting us know owca files is in a different timeline. the flynn-fletcher house gets blown up, they get new plates, and we have symbolism of the end of an era with a pine tree in their backyard.

milo murphy's law

this one in particular is mostly just the pnf/mml overlap but ensures that doof ends up as professor time. if you've seen mml i don't think i need to explain it - after last day of summer (and owca files if ur nasty) the events of mml occur chronologically as if its one continuous timeline.

wait! what about the other canon divergent episodes?

ones that aren’t necessarily an ending but are set smack bang in the middle of the show with no explanation? don’t worry. I got you.

phineas and ferb christmas vacation

this episode features doof being evil in the middle of winter. dan povenmire has said he relapsed, but this is a perfect example of different timelines. a lot of the “ending” episodes were written and aired well before last day of summer so the chance of them knowing how the show was going to end was likely very little, if not zero. so, let’s imagine that last day of summer doesn’t happen. none of that arc happens, it’s just doof being passively evil throughout the year and then this christmas event happens. i don’t think he ever stopped being evil in this timeline. the chance of him just getting less… violent with his schemes is probably the best way of thinking about it. hell, he got perry a present. yes, it was a vase, but would the s1 heinz have done that? probably not. he’s definitely less evil as the show progresses, and even an episode like this one that aired in season 2 shows how quickly they turned it around.

on the other hand - the boys make their santa clubhouse invention and candace stresses what to get jeremy as a gift. does she try and bust them? surprisingly, no. her main focus is jeremy, and when it all goes south she’s in on what the boys are doing when santas elves show up. she mentions “what’s different this year than last year?”, insinuating that the boys weren’t inventing anything before the summer that the show is set in, and that this episode is definitely set after that summer. the B plot is definitely more solid proof of the alternate timeline, with heinz “relapsing” although I struggle to believe that with all the canon divergency that happens within the show and in mml/hng the chances of it just being a relapse are very remote.

that’s the spirit!

this one is similar in that it diverges from our last day of summer ending. doof is still evil, and candace - wait, she doesn’t even try and bust them. she’s keen to trick or treat with the gang and then go to jeremy’s party. she doesn’t even try and bust them. (man, it’s almost like it’s another timeline or something.)

back to doof though - he might have relapsed like in the christmas vacation episode, but he’s not necessarily evil here either. sure, he declared war on grass for an unknown reason and turned himself into a were-cow, but it’s not established that he wants to take over the tri state area like usual. if anything, it’s the opposite. he runs from the masses like it’s a witch hunt.

the curse of candace

this episode is all fine until the end where candace turns to dust and phineas says "we're gonna need a dustpan and some glue." there isnt much else to say about this one, but it indicates another timeline where candace is glued back together afterwards. and she’s also a vampire.

happy new year!

this is set after the summer the show is set in, considering that jeremy and coltrane are at the party as candace and stacy's respective dates. doof is still evil as his plot is to become ruler of the tri-state area. candace makes one last attempt at busting her brothers. this is definitely another timeline, and also apparently one where gangnam style exists. pretty easy to understand - doof doesnt have his giving-up-evil arc and continues to be passively evil like always. this could also work chronologically with christmas vacation, where he tries his naughty-inator and then a week later comes up with the resolution-changer-inator. candace's arc is a little different, she could have stayed consistent and tried to bust the boys from summer onwards, only getting to new years and wanting to change her ways with a new years resolution.

for your ice only

evil doof is back again in the fourteen days of winter vacation that fall between christmas and new years'. for him, this could be an evil scheme that takes place at some point in between christmas vacation and new years, or it could be its own timeline altogether. candace also attempts to bust the boys again, as per usual.

what's interesting about this one though, is the fact they refer back to football x7 when talking about hockey z9. and you're probably thinking 'obviously? whats ur point' and yes. obviously they bring up the original episode when referencing the sport with the same name format. but this also implies its in the same timeline as the football x7 game, meaning there's at least two timelines that divert off my fair goalie - one that doesn't include hockey z9 and one that does (this episode). and this one (i'm circling back) includes evil doof. bam!

escape from phineas tower

what! this is a normal episode, right? if that was your reaction upon reading that subtitle, you'd be thinking the same as me, until you remember the ending where the tower extends its forcefield around the entire milky way galaxy. but here's where things get really interesting. what film, may i ask, has a plot where the ensemble cast has to fly to another planet to rescue two other ensemble cast members? thats right, candace against universe! this means that catu is set in a timeline that doesn't include the escape from phineas tower episode, since they're able to exit the milky way galaxy and enter the vroblok cluster. this would be impossible if it were in the same timeline as this episode, since they would have stopped at the dome and wouldn't have been able to get to feebla-oot.

she’s the mayor

honourable mention to this episode since it features time travel and timeline fuckery and I never see anybody talk about it!

"Back at the golf course, Roger is astounded at how fast the game is going as Dr. Doofenshmirtz points out that the slight chance that the Accelerate-inator could destroy the very fabric of space-time and possibly the entire universe is a small price to pay to get done with the game. Perry then breaks the Accelerate-inator using a golf club, causing time to flow backwards at the exact moment when Linda and Candace are about to bust Phineas and Ferb, also undoing all of the day's events back to the announcement in City Hall and causing an alien from another universe to appear.

At City Hall, Mayor Doofenshmirtz prepares to announce the winner of the Mayor-For-A-Day Essay Contest. The alien destroys the Accelerate-inator, causing the time-line to be altered once again as the new honorary mayor is announced: the old coot and telling everyone that any gold that they find is now his, causing Candace to lament, "I was robbed."" (from the pnf wiki)

what would’ve happened if doof's machine wasn’t destroyed and set the timeline back into place? the fabric of time and space would have been destroyed, and there is a very high chance there would have been a last-day-of-summer-esque situation where everything within the void would cease to exist. right from the start of the episode, it begins with a clock chiming, so from the beginning we are made aware that time will somehow have significance, which it does. after the timeline resets, we hear the clock chime again, which lets the viewer know we're now in a different timeline. there don't seem to be any repercussions of this timeline fuckery later in the show since it doesn't get mentioned again.

night of the living pharmacists

second honourable mention goes to this ending that @momphineasandferbmadeablog reminded me of (tysm bestie) where it "ends" with stacy turning off her tv as if the entire episode was a horror film the whole time. however, even before verifying, i had a feeling it was debunked and its just the ending of the grievance film. and i was right.

"Dan Povenmire made it clear that the entire episode was canon instead of a film Stacy was watching, and that the "The End" card on Stacy's TV was merely the "The End" title card of the Grievance movie she was watching." (from the pnf wiki)

there isnt a citation for it and none of his tweets showed up while i was looking for actual proof but i definitely remember him saying it somewhere, but please, absolutely feel free to think of it as a separate timeline! without dan saying it's a canon episode, there isn't actually any proof within the episode that it isn't its own timeline.

across the second dimension/tales from the resistance: back to the second dimension

and for our third and final honourable mention, this one is basically the existence of the second dimension. I haven't added it as its own since the concept is pretty obvious - its another dimension where a different timeline occurs. i mean, idk if i need to fully explain it, if youve seen the film and the s4 episode you know what happens. it's explicitly stated to be another dimension, however the specific mention of timelines is nonexistent. semantics, yes, but i do really feel like atsd is separate from all of it.

it's certainly a timeline that could happen - doof could lose his choo-choo and eventually take over the tri-state area and the events of the film would occur, but the fact that the main characters cross over and meet each other puts it into a different category for me. but by all means, feel free to think of it as yet another timeline!

I want to specifically mention: this list of episodes is not at all an exhaustive number of timelines. the way I see it, this is just the ones that are “labelled” (for lack of a better word) as their own timelines. there can be as many or as few timelines within the dwampyverse as you like. this analysis is not a rulebook, but rather answering the conundrum with one solution out of an infinite number of possibilities.

the dwampyverse and its "current year syndrome"

i think we can all agree that phineas and ferb is a relatively timeless show, in that you could watch it at any point in the past fifteen years and it wouldn't feel particularly out of place. that being said, the technology used in the show makes it feel aged or weirdly out of time. most notably, the switch between candace having a flip phone in the first three seasons and a touch-screen phone in everything post-season four. this is clearly influenced by the smartphone boom that occurred in the 2010s when iphones became mainstream, and thus impacted everyday life, including in tv and film.

so, when the animators jumped on this trend, phineas and ferb became a lot less timeless. candace owning something like a flip phone, something that didn't even exist for a long period of time in real life, felt less like something that was trying to keep up with the times than when she suddenly appeared on screen with a smartphone. not to mention the alexa joke in candace against the universe. now that was a jumpscare.

if you did want to carbon date the summer that the show is set in, like this post did for example, and if you're like me, you might headcanon phineas and ferb's summer taking place somewhere between 2009 and 2012. the other times where they've crossed over is set whenever it makes sense. the pnf effect? i think its pretty much canon that it takes place in 2017, what with all the pop culture references like pokemon go, dabbing, and uptown funk. definitely things you can date back to that mid 2010s era.

milo murphy's law also makes sure it stays current too, like specifically mentioning the year 2016 when the lumberzacks formed, milo's bag of toothbrushes labeled 2012-2014, and king pistachion doing a selfie with everyone which is like the most 2016 thing ever. (you guys remember the oscars selfie?) there's certainly some purpose behind dating some of the events within the show, since its entire B-plot is about time travel, but it doesn't feel like its really trying to be a current show. at least, not until they have references and allusions to pop culture things like ducky mo-go.

hamster and gretel has what is unfortunately the worst display of the three - there's a lot of social media references in the show. not necessarily memes, but just a lot of display of the characters using social media. the first one that comes to mind is the destructress, where her typical Thing is her doing a livestream or some kind of story update announcement with her phone, clearly showing that this is a 2020s cartoon, and it feels the need to be very current. hell, eight year old gretel has an iphone in this show, but i won't go down the track of why that fact alone is so weird to me since it'll derail this entire analysis.

granted there are a LOT of inconsistencies throughout these three shows but the current year syndrome, although sometimes unavoidable, proves the fact there are multiple timelines - and they can be traced back to candace's flip phone.

so, what do we do with this?

I personally love cherry-picking the parts of canon that exist, purely from a selfish point of view but also because this universe allows for it. there are a lot of different endings or alternate paths these characters can go down, and as exemplified by act your age, we can either ignore them or embrace them. sure, it’s unlikely but there are some people who like the aya ending and say it’s their own canon, and others who like the ending where doof becomes professor time. or there's others, like me, who absolutely adore last day of summer as their timeline end. the openness of it in such a positive light makes it feel like it’s not even the ending for these characters.

it also begs the question - does everything go back to the status quo at the end of every phineas and ferb episode? well... it can't, really. most character arcs within the show are tied to events that happen, like monty and vanessa getting together, or buford joining the backyard gang, or even doof's slow arc to being a good, if not morally grey character.

no, it’s not a big deal that there’s a lot of different timelines in the sense you have to constantly think about it as you watch it. but it does present us with the classic conundrum: which one is actually canon? and to this, i say, pick your own ending. if you like cherry picking as much as I do, indulge yourself. skip episodes you don't like. ignore parts of canon that don't actually have that much impact on the timeline. hey, its not like the show doesn't allow for it!

[5starluvr]

Link up

Paring:Yang Jeongin × Reader

Genre:fluff,angst(just a tiny bit)

Warnings:fighting

Spider Kids

Something sweet before It gets angsty again ~

"Jeongin, you'll be partnered with Y/n," Ms. Jung declared, her voice booming across the classroom.

Jeongin's heart lurched. Y/n, the brilliant girl who seemed to exist on a different academic plane altogether? He stole a glance, catching her surprised gaze before she quickly returned to her meticulously highlighted notes.

The initial awkwardness was palpable. Summoning his courage, Jeongin mumbled a hesitant hello. Y/n offered a shy smile in return, her usual focus on academics momentarily broken. They settled on bioluminescence, a topic Y/n suggested with a shy smile. As they delved into research, a hesitant camaraderie blossomed.

———

One afternoon, hunched over laptops at the library, Jeongin blurted out, "You know, Spiderman uses bioluminescent material in his suit to blend in with the shadows."

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I never thought about that!" A spark ignited, and for the next hour, they weren't just classmates, they were co-conspirators, weaving science and fiction into a captivating presentation.

Weeks leading to the science fair flew by in a flurry of activity. Their project evolved into a dazzling display of glowing concoctions bubbling away in beakers and informative posters that showcased bioluminescence in nature and its potential applications. But the real magic happened during their presentation. Jeongin, usually tongue-tied, spoke with newfound confidence, his enthusiasm infectious. Y/n, at his side, chimed in with insightful details, her voice brimming with a shared passion.

They didn't just win first place; they won the respect and admiration of their classmates. As they packed up their project later, a comfortable silence hung between them. "Hey," Jeongin stammered, "maybe we could hang out sometime, outside of school?"

Y/n's cheeks flushed a rosy pink. "I'd like that," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

The weight of her backpack seemed to lessen as Y/n spotted Jeongin by the school gates the following afternoon. A nervous thrill danced in her stomach, a new sensation when it came to him. This wasn't just about dissecting the science fair aftermath; it was about exploring a newfound connection.

They walked side-by-side, replaying the highlights of the day. The golden light of the setting sun painted the world in warm hues as they found a quiet corner in the park. Jeongin pulled out a notebook, causing Y/n's heart to do a little skip.

"I was thinking about our project," he began, a hint of shyness tinging his voice.

"Me too," she admitted, excitement bubbling within her. "There's so much more to explore. Perhaps other bioluminescent organisms?"

His eyes lit up, mirroring her enthusiasm. "That's a great idea! We could even try creating a prototype for… hmm, maybe a self-illuminating bike path?"

Hours melted away as they delved into a whirlwind of ideas. They sketched diagrams, debated possibilities, and bounced thoughts off each other like fireflies flitting through the gathering dusk. The science project, a forced partnership at first, had blossomed into something more – a shared passion for science that crackled with intellectual curiosity.

As the stars began to pepper the darkening sky, reality intruded. "We should probably head home," Y/n said with a reluctant sigh.

Jeongin nodded, a similar sentiment etched on his face. "But hey," he added, a playful glint in his eyes, "who says the brainstorming has to stop here?"

Y/n's heart did a little flip. "Right," she managed, a smile blooming on her face. "Your place or mine?"

"My place," he blurted out, then cleared his throat. "If that's alright with you."

The warmth in his voice sent shivers down her spine. "Perfect," she replied, a feeling far stronger than just liking blooming within her.

——

The crisp autumn air swirled fallen leaves around their ankles as Jeongin and Y/n walked home from their usual science hangout. Laughter bubbled between them as they debated about various things.

Suddenly, a guttural roar shattered the peaceful evening. A hulking figure, shrouded in shadow, emerged from a deserted alleyway. Venom, the symbiote-enhanced villain, loomed before them, his glistening black form radiating menace.

Y/n's breath hitched. Fear, icy and sharp, clawed at her throat. Jeongin's face paled, but his stance remained resolute. He knew he had to act fast.

"Y/n, stay behind me!" he commanded, his voice firm despite the tremor within.

Y/n scrambled back, her eyes wide with terror. In a single, practiced motion, Jeongin ripped off his sweatshirt, revealing the now-familiar red and blue suit clinging to his skin. A mask materialized over his face, obscuring his features.

"Venom," Spiderman's voice, distorted by the mask, rang out. "Leave her alone."

Venom chuckled, a grotesque sound that sent shivers down Y/n's spine. "Another spider to squish," he snarled, his razor-sharp teeth glinting in the streetlight.

A brutal fight ensued. Venom, fueled by a dark rage, unleashed a barrage of razor-sharp tendrils. Spiderman, nimble and agile, dodged each attack with practiced ease. He countered with precisely placed web shots, attempting to immobilize the monstrous villain.

Y/n watched in stunned silence as the boy she knew as Jeongin, the one who stammered over complex scientific theories and built glowing concoctions, battled a monstrous creature with superhuman speed and agility. A newfound respect, tinged with a sliver of fear, bloomed in her chest.

As the fight raged, Y/n noticed a shift in Venom's movements. The symbiote seemed to be struggling, its black form flickering erratically. It was then she remembered something from their recent bioluminescence research – certain frequencies of light could disrupt some bioluminescent organisms.

"Jeongin!" she yelled, a desperate plea escaping her lips. "Light! You need light!"

Spiderman, momentarily distracted, caught her frantic scream. He glanced at the traffic light above, an idea sparking in his mind. With a well-aimed web shot, he triggered a short circuit, showering the area in a chaotic flicker of red, yellow, and green.

The effect was instantaneous. Venom recoiled, the symbiote writhing in agitation. Disoriented and weakened, the villain stumbled back, a frustrated screech tearing from his throat. Seizing this opportunity, Spiderman launched a final web attack, successfully encasing Venom in a sticky cocoon.

The air crackled with an unsettling silence as the villain struggled, his black form pulsating against the white webbing. Y/n rushed to Jeongin's side, relief washing over her features.

Jeongin, panting and slightly bruised, turned to face her. The mask felt suffocating, the secret it held a heavy burden. Yet, seeing the awe and gratitude in Y/n's eyes, he knew he couldn't keep hiding.

"Y/n..." he began, his voice strained. But before he could confess his dual identity, a wave of dizziness washed over him. The exertion of the fight, coupled with the emotional strain, took its toll. He stumbled, his vision blurring.

Y/n caught him before he could fall. As he looked into her worried eyes, he knew the truth would come out anyway. With a shaky breath, he pulled off the mask, revealing his face etched with exhaustion but resolute.

Y/n stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise, then with a slow dawning realization. Recognition flickered in her gaze, followed by a hesitant smile. "Jeongin?" she breathed.

A wave of relief washed over him. He wasn't sure what he'd expected – fear, anger, even disgust. But instead, he saw acceptance, a spark of something more complex in her eyes.

"It's me," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

A beat of silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the distant wail of approaching sirens. Then, to his utter astonishment, Y/n burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the deserted street.

"Oh my gosh, Jeongin," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "You're Spiderman!"

Jeongin stared at her, surprised by her reaction. "You're not mad?"

Y/n shook her head, her eyes sparkling with a newfound respect. "Mad? No way! That was amazing! You saved me!"

Jeongin let out a shaky breath of relief. The relief that washed over Jeongin was so profound it almost knocked him off his feet. Here he was, exposed, vulnerable, and… met with laughter and admiration?

Y/n, still wiping tears from her eyes, reached out and squeezed his hand. "Seriously, Jeongin, that was incredible! The way you moved, the strategy with the lights – you're a genius, even without a lab coat!"

A nervous chuckle escaped his lips. "Thanks, Y/n. I… I just wanted to protect you."

Her smile softened. "I know," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "And you did. You're my hero, Jeongin. Spiderman and… just Jeongin."

He couldn't help but grin, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the exertion of the fight. The secret was out, a weight lifted from his shoulders. But more importantly, a deeper connection had formed between them, forged in the crucible of danger and a shared secret.

The wail of approaching sirens grew louder. Y/n glanced down the street, her smile fading slightly. "We should probably get out of here before the police arrive,baby."

Taglist:open : @juskz @blackhairandbangs @sxnset-angel @emossssss @hanjsquokka @feelikecinderella @starlostastronaut @kpopsstuffs @lixxpix @jinnie-ret @bangchans-angel @puppyminnnie @michelle4eve @skzswife @saiko-skz @quailbagutte @briqnne @ilychee08 @dollce-exe

[abibliophobiaa]

Beyond - s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Four: All By Myself

a/n: here’s chapter four of my purely self-indulgent fun, which shouldn’t be taken very seriously, if at all fic. haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader. 

warnings/tags: hugely unedited (6k words); mention of pet loss; mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

- 

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. Movies, your favorite songs, vacations, the “wedded bliss” away in the Maldives with your husband. 

Since then, time seems to move faster than you can keep track of. Days slip into weeks, and before long you’re starting clinical rotations and the endless piles of schoolwork you’re certain your professors enjoy assigning every week. 

The desk in your bedroom becomes a host for countless textbooks and notebooks, full to the brim with diagrams you copied, definitions, scribbled up notes. 

Mornings are spent there, afternoons too. It’s fine, and it works, because most days Steve’s gone anyway. The company is working on some new property development. Another hotel on some private island, millions of dollars worth of work, but something has gone awry and Steve’s needed at all hours of the day. 

At least that’s what he reassures you when you perk up at the kitchen island, trying to catch him before he leaves. When you huff out a sigh as he slips his sunglasses on and says to not wait up. 

You never do. 

By the time you’re done with your own rotations, your feet are aching and sleep—albeit often disrupted sleep these days, sleeping in an unfamiliar home still—is the only thing on your mind. That and another massage like the one you had back on your honeymoon, where every inch of your body had been tended to. 

In the time since returning from your honeymoon, you’ve also begun adding things here and there to the penthouse. Pops of color in the form of new couch cushions in a pastel blue, new curtains to cover the ample windows at night. In the halls and on various surfaces you’ve already put some of your new wedding photos up, giving the illusion of a happily married couple for anyone who may pay a visit. 

You’re scheduled for a get together with Steve’s cousin, Theobald Cletus, and his wife, Cami, next weekend. A thought that has you slightly panicked solely because it’s thanks to Steve’s cousin you’re married anyway. Deciding not to dawdle on thoughts of the future, you cast a glance at the oven light in the kitchen, glowing red neon stark against your white walls. Another Saturday by your lonesome, with Steve off to work until who knows when. 

With a huff, you walk over to throw your bowl of cereal into the sink, letting the water run for a moment before shutting it and ripping a paper towel to wipe your hands with. Knowing you’re to pick up your client’s dogs in thirty minutes, you set to work cleaning up the place for when Steve gets home. Not that it takes long, given Steve's words on your honeymoon proved true. 

He’s often not home for most hours of the day and therefore there’s hardly ever any mess, and the few nights you’ve spent time together since you married, it’s usually food ordered to the suite or dinners with his coworkers. Dinners where you sit at his side, nodding and smiling along as they talk about things you don’t really understand, fake fawning over a husband who you don’t understand most of the time. 

There were moments, small ones, that week spent in the Maldives where you thought maybe an attraction ran both ways. And now, his conversation isn’t frequent. You text here and there throughout the day. Questions as to if you’re okay, if your clinicals were running late, if you wanted him to grab you a coffee on his way home. Or on the nights when he stayed at the office until nighttime, you texted him to ask what he might want to eat, if he needed a coffee delivery, if he needed anything. But that’s the extent of it. 

It’s almost as if a wall has fallen down since you touched back down in the city. A wall that divides the two of you, stark as the hall that separates your bedrooms. Neither of you seems keen on pushing those barriers, the parameters of your relationship unspoken and yet written in the sands. 

Pushing the thoughts to the side, you toss the paper towel you use to wipe the counters down into the garbage and shoot Steve a quick message that you’ll be leaving for a bit to walk around the neighborhood. 

He responds quickly. Be safe. 

At least you know he cares enough to worry for your safety. The thought has your lip twitching upward, typing back a simple, Ball and chain, remember? You have three more years of me. 

He doesn’t respond. You don’t expect him to. It’s been more or less that way for a couple weeks now. Broken conversation, fleeting glances, lowered expectations. Wedded bliss is a dream—a dream you don’t allow yourself. Can’t afford to. 

Not now, not as you grab your crossbody bag and shove your phone into the pocket on your leggings, and take to the elevator. 

Your dog walking business, if you could call it that as you only had three clients so far, started on a whim. Over the span of a few weeks, and your constant walks through the main floor of your building on your way to meet Hopper, your husband’s personal driver, you bumped into Mrs. Lowell often. The older woman, likely in her sixties by your estimation, waved every morning as she walked her golden retriever, Mimsy, around the neighborhood. 

It just so happened that one morning you stumbled upon her in the main floor of your apartment building, cradling her ankle as workers scrambled to call the medical concierge on standby. As any good neighbor would, you brought her flowers when you heard she’d arrived home from the hospital. Long stems in varying pretty shades that brought tears to her eyes. She’d requested you come inside, Mimsy leaping up as you entered, clearly adoring endless affection. 

Talking turned into offering to walk her dog as she got better, and conversation about how you were recently married, still getting accustomed to your new life, and juggling school—but that you were looking to help if she needed it. Luckily, she offered to pay, and after a few days, asked if it would be okay to pass your number out to those who might also use a little assistance. 

It brought your grand total of dogs to be walked to  a measly three; however, people in this neighborhood, you found, were willing to pay generously for said services. With the three clients you’ve secured already, you were able to send your father nearly all of what you’d been earning at your restaurant previously. A few more clients, and you’d be able to cover a good portion of his mortgage, if only to help him while searching for a new job position. 

That morning, you were to walk Mimsy, Luca and Jacque. Mimsy, your chipper new golden retriever friend, and Luca and Jacque, two excitable Boston Terriers. The new morning routine gives you a new appreciation for your neighborhood. 

Even if Hopper trails by in his car on the sidewalk, in the event you need him. You never do, and you remind him as such, but he’s been there nevertheless. 

Hopper’s lovely. Over the course of the weeks since you’ve been back from your honeymoon, you’ve become fast friends with the man. From what you’ve learned, he’s been recently married as well to his wonderful wife, Joyce. He talks about her fondly, all bashful smiles hidden behind the mustache that spills over his top lip. 

However, as much as he talks about Joyce, he talks about his daughter, El, all the more. El, his teenager who he’d adopted a few years ago now. Spoke of her like she was a literal sunshine incarnate. He’d also mentioned his step sons, Will and Jonathan. Jonathan, who you remembered, had been your head photographer at your wedding and responsible for all the gorgeous shots now littered through your home that made Steve and you look like a couple deeply in love. Magic, he was literal magic. 

All that in mind, you’d suggested you all get together for dinner—even despite Hopper’s protests that “Mr. Harrington is always busy.” Knowing that, you’d still all managed to get together at your home for dinner one night, minus Jonathan. He apparently had gone on some trip to California with one of his good friends named Argyle, if you’d remembered correctly. But the rest of the Hopper-Byers family arrived for dinner and you watched, with a sinking feeling in your gut, as Steve charmed both of the teenagers. Wondered what it was about him that made people gravitate toward him, and if he even noticed he carried that around with him everywhere. 

You supposed it made sense, given the burgeoning attraction you held toward the man who spoke to children with a kindness that shocked you, and yet spared you fleeting glances at the door before he left each morning. 

Sighing, you stroll down the busy city streets, waving to neighbors in passing, thanking Hopper when he eventually leaves your side long enough to stop and get himself coffee. Or at least you assume it’s just for him, until he pulls out a second drink from his car when you take a moment to stop on a bench, numerous pairs of eyes peering up at you, expectant for a treat. 

“Oh, how did you know what I usually order?” You grasp the cup in your free hand, curling the rest of the leashes around your other forearm. 

“I didn’t,” he says gruffly, coming to settle down beside you on your bench in the middle of the park you wander into most mornings now. “Your husband sent me the order.”

“My husband,” you say, taking a slow sip. “He’s just…so thoughtful sometimes.”

The lie slips out easily, smiling when Jacque hops up onto the bench beside you, nudging your elbow with his snout. You hold out your bare palm, showing him there are no secret treats on your person, and exhale loudly. 

“He thought you might have a long day ahead of you. Think of it as a…gesture. I’m sure he feels bad about spending so much time away now that you two just got back.”

“Oh, I'm sure of it.”

“But he’s a good kid. A good man now. I’ve known him for a few years now, and he means well.”

You take another sip of your drink, nodding. “I know.” A deep exhale falls from your lips, left hand raising in the air. Both your rings sparkle in the early morning light, still heavy around the base of your knuckle. “I married him.”

“That you did.” Hopper chuckles, nodding to your new, furry friends around town. “I think it’s about time we get back home. These three look ready to call it in.” 

And he’s right. Hopper is always right. In a new home, so far from your own father, Hopper’s been nothing short of spectacular. A constant support, even on the days when your clinicals have drained you dry. Even when you want nothing more than to go home and curl up in your pajamas and eat ice cream out of a carton. There with a kind word, a gruff response, a joke. 

So it comes as a surprise to you when you’re walking out of your late evening class, and see your husband waiting on the curb with the car windows rolled down. 

Your friend Daniel, chatting idly beside you, pauses, taking in your husband’s expensive car, before shifting his gaze back to you. Amber, another friend from class, does a double take as well, before settling on the rings on your left hand. 

“Mrs. Harrington. Good j—” Your elbow nudges her ribs. Hard. “Ow!”

“Danny, Amber…this is my husband, Steve.” 

Steve waves. Or rather, unfurls the fingers on his left hand from around the steering wheel, head dipping slightly in introduction. “Sorry to be rude, but we actually have somewhere to be. It was nice meeting you both.”

They wave as you hike your bag up further over your shoulders, opening the door on the passenger side. Your cellphone clatters into his center console when you drop down, his body jerking from the sound, before he seemingly remembers you have an audience. 

It never occurs to you he might touch you, since he hasn’t in weeks, and you can’t really hide as you flinch when he kisses you. A small brush on the corner of your lips, but it jolts you all the same. His lips tug downward as you both wave and pull away from the parking lot, his fingers moving to lower the dial on the music playing from the car speakers. 

“Don’t think it sends a ‘we’re happily married’ message if you do that every time I kiss you,” he says numbly, left hand curling tighter around the steering wheel. 

“Wasn’t expecting it,” you say, shrugging. 

“I’m your husband. Husbands kiss their wives hello.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, training your gaze ahead. “Where’s Hopper?”

“Something came up and he couldn’t make it.” 

“And the ‘somewhere we have to be?’” you ask softly. 

“I’m meeting with someone over video chat tonight. Different time zones.”

“Work meeting.” At his nod, you lean further into your seat. “How was—”

“I’m picking you up the rest of the week.”

Nose wrinkling, you turn to look at him. “You realize today is my only day in class? I have clinicals at the animal hospital every other day.”

He dips his head, though you don’t think he really knows your schedule. “That’s fine. I’m still picking you up.”

“Okay…”

“Danny seemed nice.”

“If this is because you’re jealous, Steve, it’s really not an issue.” Raising your left hand in the air for emphasis, you give your fingers a little wiggle. “I’m married. To you. Till death do us part, or the end of three years in our case.”

The remainder of your trip is spent in silence. Some love song seeps from his Spotify playlist, a crooning voice you recognize, as it’s the same singer for your choice of first dance as a married couple. It’s only been weeks, and yet your wedding, now nearly two months old, feels like a long distant memory. Steve’s dark tuxedo, your flowing gown, endless dancing, twirling feet, lingering kisses. 

Eyes trailing up your husband’s forearm, you sigh, moving to unbuckle yourself when he pulls up and the valet accepts the car keys from him. His hand lingers against your lower back as you walk through the main entrance together, greeting workers as you pass, calls of “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Harrington” meeting your ears. 

That hand, the warmth of his palm drops when you enter the private elevator taking you up to your home, and you’re left with the quiet and the four walls of that silver chamber. Your eyes meet your distorted reflection, catch on the downturn of your lips. 

You want things to change. Need them to, especially if you’ll be married to this man for the next three years, but questions of how rattle around in your brain. Thoughts come up empty as the doors open and you’re home once more, Steve moving to enter the kitchen, and you drop down against the couch in the living room. 

“Maybe we could, I don’t know, watch a movie or something before your meeting?” you suggest airily, grasping the remote from your coffee table, head turned over your shoulder to watch as Steve grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. 

Steve pauses near the island, fingers moving to rub along the hair lining his jaw. He rolls his neck slowly, shoulders audibly cracking, smiling softly. “I’m actually about to head into the gym, and then I have that meeting. Do you mind ordering from that Italian place we got from the other night?”

“Do you want what you usually get?”

Chicken Marsala. He’s gotten it the past three times you ordered. You usually opt for the Penne Alla Vodka, the place you found near your new home fantastic for dinners. You’d know, because it’s often where his work friends eat as well, during those dinners where you’re Steve’s doting wife, arm around his, leaning in close, trying to stay afloat. 

“That would be great,” he says softly, moving out from behind the island. He enters the living area and comes up behind you, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze. You hear the gentle fumble of his pocket, and you know he’s handing you his credit card before you even have a moment to protest. “Here.”

“I’ve got it tonight,” you tell him, glancing up his forearm, locking your eyes with his hazel ones. “I’ve been…working a little here and there.”

“You know you don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to, there’s a difference.” 

You haven’t told him everything about your small business. Haven’t mentioned why most of your pay received from it disappears as quickly as you have it. Him paying for school is one thing; you’re not willing to tell him about your father’s situation, about the fact you’ve been supporting Caroline for a few years now, pushing yourself to work endless hours if only to scrape by so she doesn’t have to some day when she’s older. If there’s one thing you know about your new husband, it’s his desire to go above and beyond for those around him. Highly affluent, but you wouldn’t know it from the way he holds himself. Humble, kind, and caring. Doesn’t matter if your relationship is…barely existent, the truth is the truth that even you can’t deny. He’d offer to help your family and you can’t accept that. 

Hopper’s words ring true: at his core, in every fiber of his being, Steve Harrington is a good man. 

And as much as the strain on your relationship burdens you, life has looked up since you married. A reality that plagues your heart. Because, no, money didn’t make you happy. But having it, the suddenness of your new wealth—it has lightened the weight on your shoulders, given you a chance to breathe, to merely exist without worrying how you’ll manage to cover rent, student loans, Caroline’s necessities, your father’s struggles. 

“Just let me take care of it tonight?” Steve pleads, giving your shoulder another squeeze. “And…if I finish my meeting early, we can rent a movie.”

“Really?” 

He frowns. It’s a subtle downturn of his lips, and yet it’s there all the same. “I hate the way you just said that. I know I’ve been busy. It’s just—I’m just—”

“It’s fine,” you pat his hand gently, giving him a small smile. “Go. Get to your workout and your meeting. I’ll look for a potential movie…if you can make it.”

He nods and slips from the room, leaving you to pick up where you left off on a rewatch of Gilmore Girls. You’re a few episodes in, head propped up in your hand, elbow resting on the armrest of the couch when Steve slips into the living room. 

The sun has long set, the moon bright through the floor to ceiling windows of your home. You catch the freshly washed hair on his head, the thin white tee stretched over the broad expanse of his chest, and swallow at the gray sweats hanging low on his waist as he pads across the plush carpet. 

There’s little time to ogle your husband, as his phone pings and he tells you the doorman said the food arrived. Once Steve’s retrieved it, the two of you eat in comfortable silence, starting a movie you’d managed to find on one of his streaming services. Bellies full, he only manages to make it a half hour into the movie before he’s curling on his side on the couch opposite of yours and falling asleep. 

You can’t even be mad, because he tried. You’ll give him that. 

This time. 

-

You’re mad. And, quite frankly, upset at Steve Harrington. 

It’s pouring in the city. Endless rain droplets splattering across busy streets. Dark clouds flash with lightning up above, the rumble of thunder echoing soon thereafter. People move in and out of puddles on sidewalks, bodies bumping, shoulders brushing, buzzing like the traffic on gridlocked roads. 

Ironic, given the state of the day. 

Ironic, given your mood. 

Your heart aches. Every inch of your body is still reeling over your day of clinicals—over what you witnessed for the first time. Pain of loss first hand, up close and personal, shaking you to your very core. 

You’d been texting Steve. Short quips here and there throughout the day. More mindful than he has been in the past few weeks. Motivated by the silly jealousy he’d felt over Danny, you’re not sure, but if it prompted him to try harder you weren’t going to complain. 

But now he was late. And not even by a few minutes, but an hour. 

Steve. They’re not going to let me stay here much longer to keep dry. The practice closes soon. Am I just taking a train home?

No response. 

None. 

Unanswered like your last few messages. 

Steve?

Dearest Husband?

EARTH TO DINGUS.

Nothing. 

One of the veterinary technicians calls your name where you stand near the front door, her voice high and tight over the light music streaming from a speaker in the distance. Head turning, you tuck your phone into your pocket, walking back down the hall from whence you came, fingers tapping along the countertop. 

“We’re heading out soon,” Valerie says, putting away the last of her things in her pocketbook. “Are you sure you have a ride?” 

“Yeah.” But there’s no vibration of a text in your pocket. A fact that makes your stomach sink further in your belly. “My husband will be here any minute. I’m sure of it.”

Only he’s not. You watch as the veterinarians and technicians leave. As the lights flicker off in the building. As they all wave you goodbye as you sit outside on that bench, clothes plastered to your skin, rain chilling you to the bone. 

There’s no text. No explanation. Only the silence of a message unanswered. Frustrated, and increasingly tired, you thumb at the rings on your hand. Watch as the diamonds twirl around and around, as droplets of rain slash against your scrubs, your backpack, and likely your books as well. 

Then finally, a car pulls up on the sidewalk. Blacked out windows, dark vehicle, and an older man behind the wheel, rolling down the window and waving your way. 

Hopper. 

Not…Steve. 

“Sorry, Mrs. Harrington,” he says, and it’s only then you realize you must have outwardly expressed your disappointment. “Traffic was endless today.”

“I just…” Your voice trails off as you clamber into the passenger seat, eyes locked on the road ahead, drops of rain gliding down the windshield capturing your attention. Staving off the hurt bubbling in your chest. “Today wasn’t a good day. And you’re always a welcomed sight, but I—”

“You don’t have to explain, kid.”

Uncertainty wells, and disappointment grows. It’s hard to pinpoint why. There’s no presently romantic nature to your relationship, but you can’t help but to recall those moments before your wedding, when you’d been overcome with fear and anticipation of what you were about to do. Can’t help but remember his hands within your own, the gentle cadence of his voice, the way his fingers had dragged along the back of your palm. How he’d held your gaze as you walked down the aisle, and never once strayed until you were both ready. Now it’s the realization that he’d told you he’d be there. And, in a sense, you wanted him to be. Wanted to see him, if for nothing at all than to be present. A solid form in a day that has felt like being swept up in a storm and tossed out into unknown territory. Yet you’re left, sitting in a vehicle with a man who you love and adore, and the stone that sinks to the pit of your stomach over the fact that Steve had told you one thing, and done another. 

Said he’d be there and wasn’t. 

That part—that’s the part that hurts the most. 

-

Steve’s neck deep in another issue with work when you come barreling in, scrubs soaked, stethoscope swinging around your neck, eyes reddened and puffy. He’s about to say something from where he sits at the kitchen island when you open the refrigerator door and pull out a bottle of wine left to chill, tossing your things on the counter before pulling a glass out of the cabinet. 

He winces as you slam it down onto the counter, pouring yourself a glass of rosé. “Those are the nice glasses we got from our party!” he complains, watching as you down the first glass and pour a second. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing. Long day,” you mumble, flipping through mail. You pause in the middle of ripping an envelope open, eyes darting to his laptop, and then to his face. “Guess you’ve been busy.” 

“I’m always busy.”

“I know.” 

The way you say it. The coldness in your tone. He doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t like it. Hates the bite that’s there behind your words. Hates how you won’t even look at him at this moment. And it’s in that he knows something is wrong. 

“What’s wrong?” he tries again, shutting the laptop. 

Your head shakes slowly and he watches as you maneuver around him, making your way toward the hallway leading to your bedroom. A chair squeals along the tile as he follows you, shoulder thumping the corner in his hastiness, fingers curling around your shoulder just as your fingers touch the door handle of your bedroom and start to turn. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, Harrington.”

Harrington. 

It’s not said in your normal, teasing tone. No—there’s only hurt there. A wobbly attempt. 

“Something is wrong, and I can’t fix it if you don’t talk to me.”

“Steve…just stop.”

“No, you’re angry and I want to know why.”

“I told you, I had a long day.” Lie. Or not. Regardless, it’s not the full truth, and it grates on his nerves. “I just want to go to bed.”

He groans. “Then why won’t you look at me?” 

Your eyes flicker in the darkness. Sorrow settles across your features. Brows furrow in the middle of your forehead, lips downturn, shoulders slouch. A low exhale spills from your lips, fingers brushing along one of the many new photo frames lining the walls. He follows the line of your forearm and glances at the picture displayed there; he’s holding you close, arm around your waist, forehead against yours. Your dress trails behind you, bouquet behind your back, the bend of your spine elegant and striking. Beautiful. And happy. 

You don’t look happy right now, though. 

“Do you know what time my clinicals end?” 

The question catches him off guard. “Five thirty. Unless you text me that you’re running late.”

“What time is it now?” 

He looks down at his watch and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Seven thirty. Look, I’m sorry okay? I had a meeting that ran late so I sent Hopper. I don’t see the problem here.”

An empty laugh falls from you, the heel of your palm pressing to your forehead. “I have to study.” 

“We’re not done here.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“I think there is—”

“I have to study, Steve.”

“Fine,” he says, dipping his head. He turns to walk back down the hall, glancing over his shoulder when the creak of your bedroom door greets his ears. “Guess we’re already fighting like an old married couple. I didn’t sign up for this.”

“You’re an asshole, Steve Harrington.” 

Your bedroom door slams, and he flinches, because he knows your words are true. He regrets what he said as soon as you disappear from his sight, and the sound of you crying drowns out the hard beat of his racing heart. 

Guilt seeps into his veins as a half hour passes. Then another. And another. All of which is spent with him sitting in your kitchen contemplating what he can do to rectify the situation. Sighing, he calls his mother and asks for her suggestions. Her resounding laugh on the other end makes him feel like an even bigger idiot, but he’s left with the idea of a “grand gesture” apology. Something to make up for the fact he had, in fact, been an asshole. 

It’s been quite some time since he’s made a home cooked meal, though he knows you tend to shop a bit here and there as of late. Luckily, there are enough things around the kitchen to make your penne dish, and he sets to work. Turns on the radio as he gets everything together and starts. Hums along to Al Green when the song switches and one of his begins. 

Before long, the smell of sauce filters throughout the home, seemingly coaxing you from your hiding. He pauses when he hears you. Hears the soft sounds of your slippers hitting the tile, reddened eyes coming up to meet him where he’s cooking away at the stovetop. 

Whirling around, his fingers slide along the apron around his waist—your waist—muttering, “I’m sorry I’m using your apron. I just—”

“You cook?” 

He chuckles, nervously kneading the back of his neck with a palm. “I used to. Before…my dad. When I had a little more free time.”

“Oh.”

“I made your favorite,” he says, trying to not be too overly chipper. Seemingly to prove his point, he lifts the cover to the pot. You lean in closer, shoulder barely touching his. Shudder as he lifts a hand and brushes at the curve of your shoulder. “I’m sorry. I was an asshole and you’re right and I’m sorry. I’ve just been under a lot of pressure with the company and—”

“It’s fine,” you say softly, shrugging. “I know what our marriage is and isn’t.”

And he hates that too. The fact you only look at him with disdain at present, hoodie you must have pulled on too big on your frame, shoulders slouching, sadness in your eyes. Hates that he’s to blame for putting it there. Placing the cover back on the pot, he turns fully to you. Grasps your palm in his, tests the weight of it against his skin. Watches your face for any reaction. 

When you don’t flinch or pull away he says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think and I should have texted you. You’re still my friend and I’m sorry that I just assumed that would be okay.”

You nod slowly. Exhale shakily, brushing at your eyes. “I just…today was really hard. And I don’t know—I know it’s silly but…”

You wanted him there. He knows exactly what you’re trying to say, because he’s often felt it too. The awareness of your presence, even when he can’t spend time with you or offer you more than a fleeting look to keep you at a distance and protect his heart, is still a comfort he can’t quite place. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, looping an arm around your shoulders. Your face presses into his chest, one of your arms coming to curl around his waist. “I’m really sorry.”

“I watched a family say goodbye to their best friend today,” you mumble out against his skin, and the brokenness in your voice as you try to keep the tears at bay has him holding you tighter. “Fifteen years and all those memories. They held him as he crossed the rainbow bridge and I just—”

“Shhh.” His palm comes up to slide along the middle of your back as you start to cry into him. “And I was an asshole,” he adds, chest tightening in his sorrow over seeing you hurt this way. Over the top of your head, he wipes at his burning eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to do that today, and I’m sorry I pushed you. 

You pull back a little in his arms. Back of your hands wiping your tears away, you inhale deeply, then exhale the same. “I can’t live the next three years like this. Like two people who just…exist in the same space together but don’t interact.”

“I know,” he agrees. 

“Something needs to change.”

“I know.” You’re back against his chest, both arms now snug around his waist, keeping him close. “I’m open to any suggestions, because…I think at the very least we need to be friends.”

“You are my friend, Steve. I just wish you were more present.”

“I will be,” he promises, cradling the back of your head with a broad palm. 

“Okay…then I think we have weekly nights in. Like this, where one of us cooks,” you suggest against his shirt, voice muffled by fabric. 

“Done.”

“Phone and laptop need to be away completely on those days.”

“…Done.” He can do that. “And on other days?”

“If you can be off the phone at a certain time, maybe we could actually, I don’t know, spend some nights together? Even if it’s just watching Gilmore Girls or a movie with me.” 

He snorts, knowing you’ve been rewatching the show lately on the nights you’re not holed up studying. “I’ll tell the office after I pick up my wife from school I’m off for the evening. Anything else?”

“No.” You shake your head, slipping free from his grasp. “I think that’s a good start. And I think you groveling by making me my favorite dinner is another good start.”

He barks out a laugh at that and languishes in the smile that tips your lips upward, knowing he, to some degree, put it there. “I called my mom and everything.”

“Oh no! You were scared I was going to murder you in your sleep,” you chuckle, lifting the cover to the pot and taking a deep breath. 

“Can you blame me?” 

“Guess not,” you tease, hopping up onto the countertop. “Hey, Steve?” 

He steps closer to where you’re sitting, his thigh brushing against your bare kneecap. Your fingers reach for his left hand, dragging it to rest it against your lap, thumb running along his wedding ring. He’s not sure why, but the very act itself has him a little breathless, eyes trailing where your thumb brushes against the metal. Then higher, toward your face, the way your eyelashes gently kiss the tops of your cheeks as you glance down to where the two of you are connected. 

“I also think we need to…do things like this more.” Your palm squeezes around him for emphasis. “Define the parameters of touch, so it’s not so jarring when we’re out in the real world and trying to look like a real couple. Kind of like how it was in front of Amber and Danny the other day. If people are going to believe us, we can’t have more of those situations popping up.”

“Okay…” He takes another step closer. “What might that look like to you? I want whatever you feel comfortable with.”

“When we’re out in public in front of your coworkers, I wouldn’t mind if you…I don’t know? Hold me against you. Maybe a kiss on the forehead. A peck. I feel like those are good starts.” 

“I can do that,” he says, giving your hand another squeeze for reassurance. “In front of friends, like your classmates, what I did the other day was fine?”

“Yeah,” you say, eyes meeting his hazel ones. “What about when we’re home?”

“I think at the very least a hug when we’re both home,” he suggests. “Friends hug, don’t they?”

“They do.” You nod. 

He cards his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply. “Again, I’m really sorry. I know I’ve been…distant since we got home, and I understand that the next three years won’t work if I keep doing that. You don’t deserve that, and I never, ever intended to make you cry.”

You glance down at your intertwined hands, and Steve feels the breath in his lungs hitch, until you tip your head up again and murmur, “Can I cash in on another hug? For practice, naturally.”

He’s already slipping between the space you’ve made for him with your thighs, drawing you flush against him, cradling the back of your head. Hopes you can feel the breadth and depth of his words through touch. 

“For practice.”

He can feel you smile against his shoulder and suddenly his chest tightens with a feeling he has no name for. Just knows it sparks something warm, like sweet honey, in his blood. 

“But do it again and you might not see the morning.”

“I don’t doubt it.” 

There, in that kitchen, with dinner simmering and his arms around you, Steve exhales. Because he’s given a new start, a turning page on a hard day in your short marriage. A new start.

And he doesn’t know why, but something shifts. 

The mere thought terrifies him. 

-

-

[sabrinatvband]

Notes on Comic Art #2: To Hatch or Not to Hatch, also some coloring stuff

One of the most influential things I've ever read on the subject of comic art is a piece Jesse Hamm wrote on Alex Toth where he talks about flatpacking.

[I discovered while writing this that Jesse Hamm passed away in 2021. He was a brilliant educator, one of the best in the history of the comics medium, and will be sorely missed.]

In the piece Hamm basically discusses how over-rendering objects usually makes them function worse as comic art. Many other people have discussed how using thicker lines for objects closer to the "camera" is good practice, how colors can seperate shapes and create depth, etc.

The question is, where does cross hatching fit into all of this? Or rather, various methods of adding more detailed rendering to artwork? I'm trying to figure this stuff out as I'm doing layouts for my comic, because I want to know the answers before I start inking the final artwork.

I try/want to have an uncluttered, clean, easily readable art style. I occasionally add hatching to my drawings, because hatching is fun, but I often feel like I've slightly ruined my artwork when I'm finished.

I've decided to look at some of the art that I feel like my own work is trying the hardest to emulate, at least philosophically, to see how other artists "weigh in" on this debate. It's important to remember that inkers embellish artwork [hence the alternate title "embellisher"], and so I'm going to try and find inkers most representative of a given penciller's intentions when applicable.

As I was working on this piece, I read Hamm Tips vol 1.1, and I discovered this diagram, which seems to relate with what I'm going to discuss later:

I think it's accurate to say that my desired approach is Uninflected/Deliberate; I think most people going for a clean and cartoonish look fall into that quadrant. Some people might describe Toth's work as being "clean", and so I should clarify that I'm talking about clean in the spirit of "lines meet neatly".

Some of the artists I'll discuss have lines that fall somewhere between being Inflected and Uninflected, and I think a lot of this comes down to inker approach. I feel like, in spirit, all of these pencillers are Uninflected, but some of the inkers use brushes, which creates a sort of middle ground. Brushes add different weights to a line, whereas crow quill nibs and pens have a uniform width. [The technical term for unweighted inked lines is "dumb line"; I believe this was coined by David Mazzucchelli.]

Let's first look at Adam Warren's work in the Dirty Pair volume Fatal But Not Serious. I'm a huge fan of how this comic looks; the flat, cel animation-style colors are very clean and easy to read. It's a very pleasant look, and I'm surprised more comics don't do this.

There is some hatching here, but it's not "serious" hatching. Just a few lines on cheeks, hands, etc. 98% of the artwork is shapes delinated entirely by a clean line and color. The convention floor panel is able to have a ton of detail without really changing the visual "rules" of the comic. An artist who does things in a more highly rendered way may've, for instance, reduced the crowd to a series of heavily shadowed figures, or colored in a single expressionistic wash to paper over things, etc.

Warren's Magical Drama Queen Roxy used a very similar approach to Fatal But Not Serious:

Let's now look at Rick Mays. I'm not a huge fan of Rick Mays, I've only actual read a single issue of a comic by him, but as I was reading Gen 13 he immediately stood out as being the best artist on that series, aside from Adam Warren himself [speaking only about issues Warren wrote]. It feels very telling that Rick Mays later did the final art for a graphic novel Warren laid out called Livewires.

These are from Gen 13 vol 2 #70:

The biggest difference between this piece has nothing to do with Warren or Mays, and everything to do with the coloring approach. I don't think the coloring here is bad, but the gradient-y colors do create a vastly different visual effect than the cel look I highlighted earlier.

The inking approach feels quite similar between the two artists; while Mays's art takes one or two steps towards realism relative to the Fatal But Not Serious stuff, texture is largely used to the same degree [with the grass and tornado being understandable exceptions]. What's interesting is that this issue has three different credited inkers; Karl Story, Rick Mays, and Jason Martin. I'm assuming this happened for deadline reasons.

I feel like I'm maybe starting to sound a little repetitive, and so I feel like I should share an issue of Gen 13 that I disliked, and then we can move to things that aren't Adam Warren-adjacent. These are from #43 and #44, with pencils by Lee Bermejo and inks by John Nyberg:

I'm not a big fan of this. The borderline chiaroscuro inking makes everything look heavily referenced, labored, and weird, and the "acting" in the comic suffers because of the over-rendered faces. It's a real shame the artwork is like this, because this two-part story is actually quite solid and would be a minor classic with better artwork.

I notice that many newer comic artists [which is to say, people who began their careers during the 90s onwards] put a lot of heavy shadows on figures in a way that feels too slavishly devoted to a certain kind of realism. I say a "certain kind" because the high contrast look of black spots being put onto a figure make the shadows way darker than they'd actually look in real life, so it almost makes the figures look dirty.

Look at comic art from the olden days and figures are largely defined by outlines/color. If a figure in an old comic has a lot of shadow on them, it's for reasons that are obvious and motivated; noir-y venetian blinds stuff, a mysterious villain being obscured, someone being underlit, or having half their face obscured, etc. There's a clear reason shadows are being used in these cases, rather than it being done to add usually unnecessary detail.

Anyways, let's look at Amanda Conner's work. Image on the left is from a Vampirella story called Fantasy Feast, and the image on the right is from Power Girl #12. Texture is used, like on the walls of the bathroom, but sparingly.

Looking at Conner's work in this context makes me realize, I don't think I've ever seen Amanda Conner's stuff colored flat [at least after she fully matured as an artist]. I don't think the more three-dimensional rendering used in any of these panels is bad, but I'm not going to be doing that kind of coloring in my book, and so it's not quite as instructive to me.

That being said, I really love Conner's style. I've noticed that Marvel and DC are increasingly using artists with styles that are broadly similar to Conner's; I've included an example below. Maybe it's because the artist below is too lazy to draw a proper background, but their work feels so much more flavorless than Conner's in comparison. I think it's because the "acting" is not as impressive, and Conner brings a fun-factor that feels completely absent in the page below.

I realize "fun" isn't always the order of the day, but this page doesn't really reflect . . . anything. It's completely bland.

Here's Kirby, who couldn't be bland if he tried. The left image is from the Young Romance collection Fantagraphics put out, and the right is from OMAC. The former is from the 40s, latter is from the 70s. [By the way, the Young Romance image is photographed from my own collection; there's no warping visible because Fantagraphics knows how to design a book].

Looking at these pieces side-by-side really challenges a lot of my assumptions about Kirby's artwork, because in some ways his artwork changed less than I previously thought it did without direct comparisons. There are some things that are more abstract about the OMAC page, like the wiggly shadows. Someone unfamiliar with Kirby might assume these were drawn by two different people, but only because 30-odd years of growth seperate these two pages.

Kirby's style, in my mind, is highly geometric and defined more so by abstract shorthand squiggles than hatching or other forms of rendering, but there actually is a fair amount of hatching on the OMAC page.

However, that OMAC page I believe was inked by Mike Royer, or at least someone using a brush. I noticed that, by sheer coincidence, almost all of the Kirby art from my first post in this series was inked by D. Bruce Barry, who didn't use a brush and also followed Kirby's pencils perhaps more literally than any other inker he ever had. In those images, it's clear that most of the hatching in Kirby's work was added by his inkers.

When Kirby did ink himself [using a brush], his style was oddly clean. He did add in hatching, but it was never particularly dense.

Anyways, I want to close this by including some Jesse Hamm quotes from his instructional PDFs:

-Simplicity is great, but often you need extra texture to seel weirdness.

-Another sign of experience is texture. The pro-level artist has learned to give different textures to grass, hair, tree bark, bushes, etc. Meanwhile, the amateur uses the same one or two shading techniques on EVERYTHING, giving it all a samey feel.

-Open spaces of black or white may be "activated" with a bit of texture. A few pebbles/ripples/etc will spur the mind to fill what's missing.

-We talk often about spotting blacks, but spotting greys (i.e., details/texture) is also crucial to clear compositions.

The lesson in the bit of Hamm writing I most often revisited, the flatpacking post, was that too much texture and rendering can make a comic exhausting to read. But reading more of his work, it turns out he had a more nuanced, texture-inclusive view of things.

What's the lesson here? Discretion.

[rev-wrath]

All my stars

Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: You take Jason to see the stars.

Info: Fluff, angst at the end. No gendered pronouns are used for Reader, so feel free to imagine whatever you want. 1.4k words.

A gentle breeze makes its way across the property. Soon Jason will be pulled away for his nightly duties, but for now he lays here with you on a blanket on the lawn of Wayne Manor. Your head on his chest, his arm around you. Taking the time to say goodbye to the warm summer season with a picnic before it got too cold for them and classes ate up more time and energy than you’d like. For the day you had already said goodbye to the sun, left with the dark gray and blue mix you knew as the night sky here.

“We should go camping over spring break.” You say softly.

“We could go during a weekend.”

“We could,” You agree, “but I want more time out there.” Rolling over to your stomach, you have a look of softness that makes Jason’s breath stop for a second. “I want to show you the stars. You deserve to see them more than a weekend would give us.”

A warmth fills his own heart, and not for the first time, for a moment you are all Jason knows. You want to go out to the woods outside of the city to show Jason the stars. Something he hadn’t really thought of in a while. Something that didn’t exist here in the polluted city of Gotham. If he was honest, the thought of you just wanting to show Jason the stars because you know this makes him want to cry a little. “We can go camping over spring break. We should go.” There’s a million more words on his tongue but he’s not sure which ones to say, if any of them.

You smile and lean over, placing a kiss between his eyebrows, his eyes fluttering shut.

“I love you, Jason.”

“Love you too.” He says your name with your reverence, like you’re some kind of god. To him, you might be something like that, he thinks as your lips meet.

When Bruce is presented with the idea some months later, his eyebrows crease. “I’ll think about it.”

Jason refused to let up. You had made a joke that Bruce needed a powerpoint presentation or diagrams on large pads of paper to understand. Jason grinned.

Bruce got presented with a powerpoint. Alfred found the whole thing delightful and funny. Everyone knew Bruce did too, it could be seen in his eyes just a little. The butler added his own comment after Bruce spoke, making his allegiance clear.

“Perhaps, Master Bruce, you would also have some personal benefit from a little excursion in the forest. Take time away from your endeavors and from a distance you could keep an eye on the young master and lady while giving them privacy.”

That Bruce could agree to a little more, after a few weeks of Alfred and Jason, along with you once, bringing it up he gave in.

Once break rolls around Alfred sends all of you off with a soft, cheerful smile. Your hushed voices and laughter in the backseat bring a smile to Bruce’s face. Every so often Jason pokes his head into the front to talk directly to his dad. Though at one point he pulls out a book, The Outsiders, reading that. You spend most of that time with your head on his shoulder, a hand wrapped around his arm instead of his hand so that he could still flip pages and hold the book. Eventually you reach your destination. A small walk from the beaten path is a big enough clearing for you two and your activities.

Promising Bruce that you would yell if you needed anything and that yes, the two of you can put the tent up by yourselves and could make a fire. He checked everything one more time before allowing you to split from him. You’d meet back up for dinner together. For now you and Jason take up the task of putting up the tent.

Once you had successfully put up the slightly tilted tent you went to gather firewood, a task that mostly involved you and Jason running around chasing each other, your laughter ringing out in the forest and a quick little stick fight with two incredibly nice, sturdy sticks. Despite that you two quickly gathered decent sticks. By the time Bruce made his way back to your little area Jason already had a fire going. Dinner also meant that night would fall soon and the real reason you are out here could happen.

Long after s’mores and Bruce had left, the sun set, giving way to a gorgeous dark blue sky. You and Jason sit next to each other, tucked into each other’s side, as you watch that sky slowly fill with bright flecks of stars. A grin spreads across your face as you look up, a small gasp draws your attention to Jason. Beautiful, wonderful Jason with wide eyes full of wonder, mouth still stuck in that gasp. The stars are reflected within his eyes, it’s beautiful but your focus is still solely on Jason. There isn’t much you wouldn’t do for Jason to keep that look on his face, to keep feeling that feeling, to experience all the wonderful things he hadn’t yet known. He deserves to see the stars every night, to experience this every single day. You’d have to make every second here count, then find what else you could give to him that’d bring this wonder to him.

Jason ended up deciding to ditch the tent, pulling the sleeping bag out to lay it under the stars. “Thank you,” he whispers, holding you against him. “for taking me out here.”

“Thank you for coming. Maybe we can go up the mountain and look at the stars there.” The view from up there would be even better, something Jason deserved. You had no doubt they could handle such a hike to the nearby mountain and up it. How long you’d be up there is a different question though. Would you spend the night up there?

Jason’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. “The stars are beautiful, but they don’t compare to you.”

You smile and kiss him. “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome. Not bad at all.” Jason kisses you this time, murmuring poetry against your lips.

On the third night Jason grabs your hand, tugging you up. “Dance with me?”

“Of course.” You follow him, one hand in his, the other on his shoulder.

The forest provides its own music with the chirps and trills of the bugs, the rustle of the leaves, and if you really concentrate you could hear the nearby stream.

Jason starts humming as you sway together, pressed against one another. Softly, you join in. You don’t know how long you stayed there, wrapped up in each other as the forest sang. What you did know is that you didn’t want to be anywhere else. A part of you wanted to stay forever, but that wasn’t going to happen.

Under those stars you danced, laughed, and kissed Jason. They were your stage, your backdrop, creating so many sacred moments. Each and every night Jason was enraptured by them, and you by him. Eventually it had to come to an end, you had to go back to Gotham with its smog. You promised each other you would come and see the stars together again.

Death would shatter that promise weeks later as you screamed and cried when Bruce returned with Jason’s corpse, neither of you ever to see the stars again. You’re content to resign yourself to the smoggy gray skies of Gotham, with its artificial yellow and oranges, streaked with all other sorts of colors. The forest and its endless stars could be left with his memory and wonder, away from your glooming grief.

Yet, months later when Jason looks up at the sky with green eyes, he can’t help but to think that this sky is more worthy of your gaze, that you should be here looking out into this speckled canvas. Looking at the stars here Jason can’t help but think of you, who took him to see the stars because no one else had, because you wanted him to, because you thought he deserved it. Jason can’t help but to think even here you are still more beautiful than the stars. Jason can’t help but to think of you as he looks at the stars, after all to him you might as well have hung them.

[csolarstorm]

The Original Dragon of Unova and Wuxing

Have you heard of this Pokemon theory about the Original Dragon and the Forces of Nature? Let me catch you up on it so I can dive deeper into the symbolism of the Four (Five?) Heavenly Beasts and the Five Phases. I think there's a lot more to this theory than people give it credit for, especially after the Abyssal Ruins leak.

The Therian Forces of Nature are probably based on The Four Heavenly Beasts, creatures in Chinese mythology and Taoism that guard the cardinal directions of the earth and heavens. Thundrus is the Azure Dragon of the East, Tornadus is the Vermillion Bird of the South, Landorus is the White Tiger of the West and Enamorus is the Black Tortoise of the North. 

Each of the Therian Forms has a mysterious gem on their chest that matches the color of Heavenly Beast they are based on. That is, except for Enamorus, who has a green gem instead of a black one - but I think I can explain why. More on that in a bit.

The Therian Forms didn't always have these gems during the design process. I'm guessing the developers added them to strengthen their connection with the Heavenly Beasts.

Even though they're called the Four Heavenly Beasts, some variations include one more: the emperor Yellow Dragon of the Center.  And wouldn't you know it, Kyurem has a big Yellow gem of its own on its forehead. 

That much of the theory is well-explored.  But what I don't see people go into when talking about this theory is all of the symbolism - the charts upon charts of sets of "five things" associated with the Heavenly Beasts. It's actually pretty appropriate for Gen Five.

Note: I am definitely no expert in Chinese mythology or Taoism. This research was purely for Pokemon theory crafting! Please feel free to correct any inaccuracies or add details in the comments. Thanks!

The Heavenly Beasts are each associated with five "elements" that match their colors: Azure Wood, Vermillion Fire, Yellow Earth, White Metal, and Black Water.  This is Wuxing, the "Five Phases" in Taoism.  For this post I'll call them "elements" because it's in the context of Pokemon. But Wuxing is more about the interaction between each element than the elements themselves.

Diagram based on this Adobe Stock Image

(Whenever I mention an element, I'm going to name it with its color - for example "Yellow Earth" - just to make it easier to match with its corresponding Heavenly Beast.) 

The Five Phases interact in cycles - water nourishes wood, wood feeds fire, but also wood depletes water and fire burns wood.  Sound familiar?  The cycles are like flowing paths of type advantages and weaknesses...except the Pokemon type chart doesn't form a perfect star when you draw it.

If you grew up on Pokemon types, especially in the west, some of these elemental colors might seem unusual to you.  Why is it Azure Wood?  Or Black Water?  This is why I believe Enamorus ended up with a green gem rather than a black gem: Pokemon wanted the five colors to better match the franchise's color associations.

There is some variation in how different sources portray the colors of the Heavenly Beasts and their elements. In ancient times a lot of cultures didn't differentiate between green and blue, so the Azure Dragon and Wood can be represented with Green, Blue, or any color between.

So they could have given Thundrus the Green Gem - but Pokemon went with Blue for several reasons. Not only are there lots of cultural depictions of a bright blue Azure Dragon, but giving Thundrus a Green Gem might clash with its green-skinned rival Tornadus.

Then ten years later, here comes Enamorus. A Blue Gem would have been perfect for Enamorus, since Blue is occasionally associated with the Black Tortoise and Water. But, it was already taken. And Pokemon probably wanted to avoid using Black, because a "Black Gem" together with Landorus's White Gem might clash with Reshiram and Zekrom. So Enamorus ended up with the Green Gem instead.

Now you can interpret this in one of two ways.  Did they change the colors of the elements, or did they switch the elements so that now Enamorus has the Green "Wood" Gem in Pokemon since she's connected to fertility, while Thundrus has the Blue "Water" Gem since he's a generally rainy guy? 

But I digress. Let's get back to the main topic.

Source: wanghongliu on Wikipedia entry for "Yellow Dragon"

Each of the elements in Wuxing are associated with Yin or Yang. Azure Wood is the idea of natural energy - together with Vermillion Fire, both are Yang, energetic and lively. Black Water and White Metal are Yin.  (It's kind of ironic Black Water and White Metal are both Yin - but color coding in ancient symbolism is never perfect.)

Yellow Earth is both Yin and Yang, in a sense representing the whole Taijitu, and it corresponds with the Yellow Dragon of the Center. If the Original Dragon of Unova is based on the Yellow Dragon, it would be both Yin and Yang - both Zekrom and Reshiram!  This is probably why you see diagrams of the Four Heavenly Beasts with the Taijitu in the center. 

The Yellow Dragon is said to be the Yellow Emperor of China, who turned into a dragon after ascending to the heavens.  I think there is a similar metaphorical connection between the ancient King of Unova and his signature Pokemon, the Original Dragon.  In the Abyssal Ruins, King Harmonia is literally represented with the symbol of the Original Dragon, machine translated as "the creature known as God".

Source: Pokeleaks on Reddit via ImmaculateOne-Browne

What about the Yellow Dragon's cardinal direction, the "Center"? Unova is one of only two regions with a major landmark in the region's center.   In an early plan for the map, the "Imperial Palace" was in the center, likely the Elite Four building.  While this is a reference to the Japanese Imperial Palace, there have also been "Imperial Palaces" in China's history.  Either way, as royal palace, it's a perfect "Center" for the imperial Yellow Dragon.

Source for Beta Unova Map: CentroLeaks

In the canon however, the center of Unova's map is home to the Entralink, and the entrance to the Dream World.  This is also perfect, because the Forces of Nature are rumored to come from the Interdream Zone.  In fact, it's speculated that their Therian Forms are their original forms.

Remember I said that the Four Heavenly Beasts guard the cardinal directions of the heavens?  Well, the Dream World is an easy analogy for heaven, because it's a realm of rainbows and floating islands in the sky.  So it makes sense that Pokemon based on the Four Heavenly Beasts would come from an area connected to the Dream World. 

Another easy analogy for heaven is space.  Symbolically, this is probably why so many powerful space dragons, like the Original Dragon of Unova, keep crashing into the Pokemon World.

Hear me out though: considering the possibility that the Original Dragon is connected to the Forces of Nature...is it possible that the Original Dragon only looked like it came from space, and instead it actually crashed down from a portal to the Interdream Zone that opened in the sky?

Finally, my first real Gen V theory! After all of those Z-A theories, I wanted to get back to my roots - and what a fun rabbit hole to go down. The Heavenly Beasts and the Five Phases match with so many things - for example, the seasons, which are also major in the Unova games.  But that's as far as I'll go into the rabbit hole for now, because my real goal here, the reason I researched and wrote all of this… was to set up my eventual theory about N's Puzzle Cube. 

If you're interested in some Pokemon Z-A theories, check out my post Getting to the Roots of Zygarde! where I talk about the symbolism behind Zygarde's nature powers, and the role they might play in Z-A.

For a lot of us, it's been a hard time lately, so I hope this brought a little cheer to somebody. Take care of yourself and stay safe!

All images that are uncredited are either from Bulbapedia, or are my own work.