#he is a shy model and was depicted as such

[iliothermia]

[desultory-novice]

Do you think Galacta Knight's horns are real or part of his mask?

...Oh wow. This ask floored me, anon, because personally I've always believed they were a part of his mask and not real horns and yet, I have almost never found anyone who agreed, let alone would even entertain the possibility they were just decorative...!

It just always made the most sense to me...?

Like, that kind of thing is VERY standard for medieval helmets - animal, insect, and demonic motifs to be an intimidating figure on the battlefield, that is. Both realistic and exaggerated depictions.

(Also, the game IS developed in Japan by a Japanese studio and it would not be at all weird for them to draw inspiration from samurai helmets for his mask design.)

We KNOW Meta Knight, at least, is shy to show his true face, so why would another puff not do the same thing and try to look fiercer than his face suggests? Especially if his only inborn distinctive trait is having angel wings, a symbol of peace and benevolence?

(I also believe, aesthetically, that having the only physical difference between Galacta Knight and Meta Knight outside of their opposing colors being MK's devil wings and GK's angel wings - as opposed to devil wings v angel wings AND horns - makes them MUCH better parallels to each other? Adding real horns in just muddies it.)

Also, imo, in every render and model of him, the "horns" are too closely modeled into the helmet to have room to feasibly grow out from his head! Just saying, but that would be a ridiculously uncomfortable design to wear in RL, constantly rubbing and chaffing against his horns, preventing it from moving and "breathing" with his face while not providing any form of protection for them either!!

They're also made of the same golden color AND texture as the ornamentation of his shield. I know I'm going against fandom popular opinion here, but that also tells me they are ORNAMENTAL.

While ornamental horns just seem the most logical to me for species, character, historical, and design reasons, it's pretty obvious that aesthetically and interest-wise, non-ornamental horns have a complete stranglehold have won out in the fandom.

I have seen innumerable asks questioning + folks speculating via art and other mediums, "What horns do you think Kirby will develop when he grows up?" Most people go to great efforts to research, dream up, or uncover the appropriate "head attachments" for their puffs when designing Kirby OCs to "fit" their interpretation of Galacta + what a mature member of Kirby's species simply MUST look like.

Quite simply, Galacta having horns clearly stirs folks imaginations(1) more than a dark pink puff with angel wings who wants to represent themselves as a fierce demon on the battlefield.

...Even though Galacta Knight making a conscious choice to contrast their angelic visage with demon horns whenever they are in battle says a lot of fascinating things and makes them a more interesting and nuanced character to investigate, in my opinion.

--

(1) While I think it's more fascinating if he doesn't have them, I would be remiss to ignore the issue that, in a lineup, it provides Galacta Knight some much needed visual diversity from the others. It makes his gijinka and unmasked form instantly more recognizable than they would be otherwise.

Real horns have more appeal for the same reason many folks (and I am guilty of this) give Dark Meta Knight a scar on his eye under his mask, even though realistically, him taking that kind of injury is practically impossible. (That's what the mask is there FOR lol!)

[peachiejeongin]

Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice! | Han Jisung

Synopsis: 30 years ago, you agreed to marry some sort of demonic, yet incredibly handsome creature in order to save the spiritual family whom haunted your attic; when the former was banished back to the afterlife, you figured you would never see him again. little did you know, an unlikely yet realistic relationship between the two of you would spark as he became the key in a journey to save your daughter...

Pairing: Beetlejuice!Han X fem!reader (reader resembles Lydia Deetz from 'Beetlejuice')

Genre: Dark Comedy AU, Fluff Towards the End

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: MAJOR BEETLEJUICE 2 SPOILERS AHEAD (The plot is edited at some points), Swearing, Mentions of Death, some gore depictions, mentions of a poor mother-daughter dynamic at some points, coerced marriage (sort of?), I turned Beetlejuice into a loverboy, NOT proofread

Notice: Hello, my loves! I have recently watched 'Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!' and it gave me the inspiration for this fan fiction! Obviously, multiple aspects of the original plot have been changed to fit the description of this story, such as the year the original tale takes place changing by a few years, additional dialogue, and a complete revamp of the dynamic between "Beetlejuice" (Han) and "Lydia" (Y/N), which I do apologize for. I would also like to put forth this statement: I do NOT own the rights to 'Beetlejuice,' nor any of its characters! I only hold the copyright to the scenes I create! Without further ado, enjoy the story! :)

"I can't believe I'm doing this," you whisper with pure dread and anxiety coating your voice as you stood in the attic of your old home. The model of your town constructed by the married couple that had lived there prior seemed to tremble along with your hands. 'I have to. It's my only choice,' you mouthed to nobody in particular; truly, you were correct. If you had another option, you would resort to it rather than being in the stance you were currently.

However, your daughter's life was at stake, and this was the only way you knew how to save her.

You thought Astrid was going on a normal date; she had just met a boy not even a couple of blocks away from your old family home. His name was Jeongin, and he seemed like a typical neighborhood boy when you dropped your daughter off; he was sweet, shy, and homebody-ish. You had only just learned the truth because of your close friend; she came over to prep your family home for marketing following your father's death and unknowingly revealed the boy's true intentions.

The address in which you had dropped Astrid off, 125 Jefferson Street to be specific, had infamously become known as the "Murder House." The young son who had resided in the home two and a half decades prior had slaughtered his parents in cold blood and evaded police for hours on end in the treehouse constructed in his backyard. When the cops had finally caught up to him, he slipped in attempts to escape, falling on the hard ground several feet below and snapping his neck almost instantly. The young boy's name?

Jeongin. The same Jeongin in which your daughter was currently, "on a date," with.

He was, conclusively, a ghost, only being visible to you due to your spiritual mediation abilities. It all made sense now; why the street-goers and tricker-treaters had glanced at you and Astrid strangely when Astrid was dropped off, why Jeongin refused to let you come inside, and why he took a sudden keen interest in Astrid after only knowing her for three days.

Trouble was brewing.

Yet, Jeongin had failed to recollect that you had possessed your spiritual abilities for decades, which had initially allowed you to visualize the being you were attempting to summon. You remembered 1994's events all too well, from the moment you had discovered the ghostly couple in your attic, to meeting the demon that called himself, 'Beetlejuice,' although his real name was Han, who would proceed to give your family hell for the next several days, to the coercion he placed upon you to marry him if he helped you save the couple from an exorcism.

After the latter event had come to a halt after a situation involving a sandworm swallowing Han whole, you believed you were rid of the demonic soul; however, Han had been making himself more and more present in your life lately. You saw him everywhere, whether it was on the set of your reality ghost hunting show, outside of your house, even lurking around your father's gravesite. You did not want to summon him and tried to search the inner macamations of your mind for a way to help your daughter that did not involve him.

Yet, there was a part of you deep inside that knew Han would be the only reasonable solution to the problem at hand; hell, you could even go as far as to say the same part of you wanted Han to come back. Sure, he was batshit crazy, for lack of a better term, but you could not deny that he was the best looking demon you had ever laid your eyes upon. Perhaps it was that same part of you that felt bummed that the marriage between the two of you never truly consemated, and maybe it now thought that this could be the second chance for the both of you.

You pushed those thoughts aside, quickly refocusing on rescuing Astrid, the more important issue at stake. You took another deep breath, closing your eyes tightly before muttering three words that would once again change the course of your life.

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!"

On cue, the replica of the small down began to crack straight down the middle; buildings and model objects fell in the split, never to be seen again. The star of the show slowly rose from the ground, illuminated by shades of turquoise and lime-green lighting. He looked exactly the same as he did thirty years ago, with longer, shaggy green hair that framed his pale white skin; his eyes were encircled by pure blackness, and what looked like patches of moss were ever so present on the sides of his sharp jawline. He still wore the black and white pinstriped suit that was loose around his thin waist. He naturally looked abnormal, creepy even; of course he did, he was dead! Yet, you thought he still looked abnormally handsome, even after all of these years. Your eyes widened in awe as he threw up his hands in a jazz-like motion.

"The Juice is loose!" Han screamed in excitement. He vanished from sight, only to reappear behind you and put his hands on your shoulders, slightly startling you.

"Hi, Doll," he smiled, his pale squirrel cheeks ever so prominent. "How ya been? It's been a long time. You haven't called, so what's up with-" you cut off Han's ramble by shoving a book titled, 'Handbook for the Recently Deceased,' in his face; you had recently acquired it from the "Murder House" during your futile first attempt at saving Astrid.

"I need you to tell me what this means!" you frantically commanded as Han snatched the book from your hands. He pulled a small magnifying glass from seemingly out of nowhere as he analyzed the line you were inherently motioning to with your pointer finger.

"Let's take a look, shall we?" he inquired, leaning closer to the book in order to read the section. He skimmed over the line before widening his eyes and grimacing. "To make a long story short, your daughter is screwed." Your eyes widened as he spoke, mouth slightly agaping in sorrow. "Yeah, looks like she decided to trade lives with the boy. He gets to come back, while she's stuck on the other side permanently. One-way ticket on the Soul Train." Han ended the explanation by tugging his arm downwards, as if he were pulling on a train whistle. You shook your head at him in disbelief.

"Soul train?" you repeated in a murmur.

"That's right," Han instantly responded. "Last stop: The Great Beyond!" 'The Great Beyond,' he was referring to essentially translated to eternity, that being either Heaven or Hell. Han looked at you before continuing to ramble. "Y'know, she really should have been our daughter. I would have been a great father if you had taken me up on my offer and-" You sighed in frustration.

"Han, that doesn't matter right now!" you snapped. "What does matter is the fact that Astrid can't get on that train!" You lunged forward, grasping the front of Han's shirt in a desperate attempt to plead for his help. "You've gotta get me in there so I can get her out!" Han gripped onto your wrists, slowly lowering them as he spoke.

"Well, I can get you in, but it's going to take a quid pro quo." You rolled your eyes at his response.

"Of course there is," you groaned. "What do you want?"

"Well," he began by scratching the nape of his neck. "I've got this ex-wife, and she's kind of a whack-job. First of all, we are THROUGH," he emphasized as if you would outrage at the fact of him having an unmentioned spouse; you did not feel anger, though. After all, the two of you were not ever married nor officially even together, yet you did feel a bit confused at the fact of Han previously being committed. "She's kind of clingy, and if I could just keep her away from me somehow-"

"You want me to marry you, I presume?" you moved your hands in a 'get-on-with-it' motion as Han tilted his head to the right a bit whilst raising his eyebrows.

"I thought you would never ask!" A smile swiftly plastered onto his face as he shuffled his feet like a child. "Finally realizing how things were supposed to be, aye?" he teased, managing to reignite the same fire in your heart from thirty years ago.

"Whatever," you dismissed his apparent flirting, trying your best to conceal a prying smile. "How do I know you're going to keep your word? That you aren't using me for your own gain?"

"Sweetheart," Han dragged out the word, sounding sarcastically offended. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

"You aren't a person, you're a demon."

"Fair point," Han commented. "I swear on my dead mother's soul," he promised, moving his hands in a Catholic cross symbol. Suddenly, he burst into flames, which made you contemplate if it was a binding of his word or a sign that he was a flat out liar. Nevertheless, you agreed to his conditions, with part of it being out of concern for your daughter and the other part stemming from repressed feelings resurfacing.

"Okay, fine! I will marry you if you help save my daughter!" you felt a hint of fear, but also a sense of relief finally being able to solidify the marriage that failed to become so many years ago. Han smirked, unrolling a marriage contract that he had materialized, similar to how he had done the magnifying glass.

"I'm going to need that in writing." Han made a grab at your hand. "Give me that," he sing-song demanded as he pricked your pointer finger on an unusually sharp quill pen. You screeched in protest as he used the pen to forge your signature onto the contract, throwing it down as swiftly as he made it appear. He exhaled and cusped your cheeks, pouting adorably. "I am going to make you so happy!"

"Jesus!" you exclaimed, clutching onto your throbbing, injured finger. "What's the plan on getting in?" Han smirked, eyeing the wall behind you. You looked behind you, seeing where Han had now appeared drawing a chalk outline of an explosive on the grey brick wall; you still felt his hands caressing your cheeks, however, yet as soon as you turned back around, Han had vanished, his only form now being that of the one sketching the outline. You whipped your head back around and made your way over to Han's current position. You looked at him in everfound confusion, contrasting to dopey grin he had upon his face.

"Well, you can't exactly go in through the front door!" Han responded to your perplexation; he did not alot time for a response, instead lighting a spawned match and placing it near the chalked fuse. It lit instantaneously, as if it were a real explosive. As the spark neared the wall, you instinctively clutched to Han's forearm, eliciting a sly smirk from the taller. The wall detonated in a flash, allowing you to walk through to the other side.

Quite literally.

The first thing you were met with was a shroud of shrinkers gasping, eyeing you both with uncertainty.

"You never saw us," Han commanded the shrinkers, the demand sounding more like a factual statement. "¿Comprende?" You figured the reason for the command had something to do with the, "whackjob," ex-wife Han had mentioned. A short tap on Han's shoulder turned him around at the speed of light. "Bob!" He addressed the shrinker, who was notably disguised as Han himself. "You and the boys stand guard. Nobody gets through." Bob nodded as Han snapped his fingers, causing an entrance on the other side of the room to open up.

"Let's go, Honey," he growled to you as he grabbed your hand and led you to the opening. The pet name sent sparks through your body, but you persisted onwards instead of acknowledging it. Before you knew it, you were venturing down twisted hallways, nearly falling down illusive corridors, and making one too many wrong turns at times.

Yet, you never let go of Han's hand during the entire journey.

It was not long before the afterlife police, as you decided to refer to them, had discovered that a living being had illegally crossed into the afterlife, prompting an automated voice to blare, " Warning: 6-9-9 Violation," multiple times over. Furthermore, you had lost count on how many times you and Han had to maneuver your way into tight corridors or plainly defy the laws pf physics to conceal yourselves. That is exactly how you ended up, quite literally, on the ceiling. You only dropped down once the crowd of cops had made their rounds, calling, "All clear!"

"We're like Bonnie and Clyde, you and I," Han remarked as he dusted off his suit and retook hold of your hand. "Without the bullet holes, of course." You nodded your head in agitation, feeling a bit irritated at the circumstance; after all, you still wanted your daughter back.

"Do you even know where we're going?" you motioned to the hallway in front of you, allowing for Han to take the lead once more.

"You go right down this hallway, take three rights, through the ninth door, and right to the Soul Train!" Han once again made the whistle-pulling movement before letting go of your hand; the only thing was he was going in the opposite direction of what he had just described.

"And where are you going?!" you interrobanged, crossing your arms towards the demon.

"I have to go to the little boy's room first," he replied casually, making your face scrunch up in grotesque. He could detect your nervousness, so he clasped a hand onto your shoulder. "We'll get Astrid back, don't worry. I promise on Bob's soul." This time, Han did not catch on fire, allowing you to conclude that the earlier circumstance had indeed been a lie. Yet, the honesty he now possessed ignited a passionate fire within your heart; you sensed the care he felt for Astrid, and it was just as strong as the amount in which you possessed.

You nodded in response, moving your hand to hold the one currently placed on your shoulder. You heard footsteps coming down the hallway, so you quickly scurried off in opposite directions assuming that it was the cops.

Little did you know how wrong you were...

---

Neon lights illuminated the air as you cascaded down a flight of stairs. There were multiple souls near the train tracks, dancing a never-ending choreographing, acting as if they were alive once more. Yet, past all of those energetic souls, you spotted a glum, frightened girl being hoisted to the Soul Train against her better judgement.

"ASTRID!" you screamed out, your callings drowned by the lively music that was blasting. You watched against your will as your daughter was thrown into the train, instantly becoming swallowed into a crowd of party-goers now making their respective ventures onto the locomotive. You rushed down the steps as fast as your legs would let you and pushed through the crowd of dancers filling the train.

"Astrid!" you called once again, only this time she heard your desperate cries and made her way towards you. You gripped onto her hand firmly and pulled her off of the Soul Train just in time as the doors closed and the train made its departure for The Great Beyond. You engulfed Astrid in a tight bear hug, holding onto her for dear life; the sweet moment was short-lived, however, as the afterlife police began to surround the area, slowly enclosing on you and Astrid.

You looked around, hoping to find some sort of escape as Astrid trembled in your arms. You pointed to a door with a red neon sign above it reading, "Emergency Exit." You and Astrid made your way to the door, Astrid holding up the skirt of her Halloween costume so that it would not slow her down.

"By the way," she began breathlessly. "I saw dad!" Your face lit up in delight; the scenario revolving around your ex-husband's departure to the afterlife had been shrouded in mystery. Years ago, he had went on an expedition in the Amazon River; several days afterwards, they could not find his body. You had tried to reach out to him several times, but you were never able to, and you never knew the reason as to why. Hearing that Astrid had seen him put all of your worries to rest.

However, you barely had time to react to her statement as you pushed the door open. Instead of your feet making their next steps out of the afterlife, they began freefalling and landed in a pile of sand. You looked around at your surroundings, and you found yourself in a desert-esque wasteland. The only objects in sight besides sand granules were weirdly shaped rock carvings.

"Where are we?" Astrid worriedly asked as she looked frantically at the sight.

"I don't know!" you replied with just as much worry, if not more. Suddenly, Astrid tapped your shoulder and pointed towards a nearby planet.

"Look! That's Saturn! So we must be on one of its moons!" she shook her head in disbelief. "I swear, the afterlife is so random!" You were not able to formulate a response before the sand arounds you began to shift; a puff of tan dust appeared suddenly, and you and Astrid found yourselves faced with a black and white striped monstronsity arising from the depths of the wasteland. It had beady red eyes that were glaring hungrily at you both.

"Sandworm!" you instantly remembered the creature, both from your multiple paranormal books and from the events that transpired so long ago. You grabbed Astrid's hand and ran at the speed of light across the deserted wasteland. The sandworm was about to catch up to you both when you heard a familiar voice:

"Take my hand!" Mirroring the statement, a hand dropped down and swiftly pulled Astrid up onto a ledge. The sandworm had began to rear its second ugly head as the hand reached back down to grab you; the mystery being pulled you up onto the surface as well, shutting the door harshly behind you three before the sandworm had a chance to strike. It was here in which you finally came into contact with the face that belonged to the limb:

Astrid's father.

He looked much different than you remembered, naturally. His skin was a seafoam green shade, most likely resulting from the waterlogging of his body. He had sores all over his body, exposing parts of his muscle from the forehead down. Finally, the most humorous feature, he had tiny blue pirhannas nibling on every sector of his body.

The three of you spoke for a long time over respective cups of coffee. He had complimented Astrid's Halloween costume; she was dressed as Marie Curie after she had been poisoned by radiation. Furthermore, he commented how he was always watching over you guys, although neither of you were able to visualize him. He ended the conversation with a hug before the automated voice sounded another warning about the 6-9-9 violation.

"We've got to get back to Winter River," you stated as your body lurched up, ready to take action.

"We can't leave until Astrid gets her life back," your widower replied, standing up from his chair. "Follow me." The three of you sped for quite sometime until you had reached the ticket booth. Here, you saw Jeongin, smirking deviously in your direction with a voucher in hand, no doubt a passport to venture back into the living world.

"Don't stamp that passport!" Astrid's father yelled out in desperation, but the operator at the ticket window had already done the unthinkable.

"You're too late," Jeongin smugly commented as he waited for his passport to be returned. Jeongin was right; time had ran out.

Or so you thought.

"I think it was Doestoevsky who said," a moderate voice began as the "operator" slid Jeongin back his passport. Jeongin's sly grin slowly faded as he read the stamp marking:

Shit Out of Luck.

The operator lifted his head up to reveal a pale, squirrel like face with messy green hair entracing the sides.

"Later, fucker!" Han's hand gripped onto a lever beside him as Jeongin glanced up at him with worry. Before he could protest, Han's hand had yanked the lever down, opening up a trap-door into a fiery inferno. Jeongin fell down into eternal torture, never to cause harm to anyone again.

"You don't mess with the daughter of the love of my afterlife!" Han screamed into the entrance to Hell. You only caught a glimpse of his words, but they still fluttered your heart, nevertheless.

Before you knew it, Han was standing right beside you, Astrid, and Astrid's father.

"I've got it from here, big guy," Han winked at Astrid's father, causing him to mumble a quick, 'I love you,' to Astrid before speeding off.

"This way, follow me!" Han led the two of you back down the same twisting corridors you had traveled earlier in the venture until you reached a room with dark blue walls and a ladder in the dead center. "This is as far as I go for now," he commented, a look of regret replacing the one of smugness that was usually present

"Mom, is this-"

"Beetlejuice? The one and only, Honey!" Han interupted Astrid's inquiry, holding out a ghostly hand to shake. "But you can call me Han. Or dad if you'd prefer." You waved your hand across your neck in a, 'stop-talking,' motion, causing Han to clear his throat. "Well, carry on then!" He held steadily onto the ladder, helping Astrid climb up with you prepared to follow.

"I'll see you soon, Wifey," Han remarked as his hands snaked around your waist. You quickly embraced his hug, not caring how twisted it may have seemed. You held his words close to your heart as you let go, clutching onto the ladder as you exited the afterlife.

---

You climbed, and climbed, and climbed until your arms were sick of doing so. Eventually, you reached an opening which led to the Winter River Cemetary.

You were home at last.

Astrid turned around to face you, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Thank you for saving my life," her voice trembled as she expressed her gratitude. "I'm so sorry I never belived that you saw ghosts and...I don't know, I'm just sorry for all of it!"

There were only two situations you can say you ever felt your heart truly beat. The first was when you met Han for the first time; the second was this exact moment.

You and Astrid's relationship was subpar, at best. Ever since her father's passing, she had refused to interact with you, especially where the paranormal was concerned. Until tonight, Astrid thought the entire concept of spirits, witches, demons, and all things supernatural was a load of hullabaloo. She never wanted to claim you as her mother.

Until tonight that was, when you had earned her trust back.

You inched forward in preparation to give a response; however, your train of thought derailed when you heard someone calling your name repeatedly, insisting upon the fact that you were, 'late,' for something. You glanced over Astrid's shoulder and noticed that it was the town pastor calling your name. That is when it hit you:

"Oh my gosh, my wedding!" you yelled as you rushed towards the church building, Astrid trailing your feet close behind.

"Wait, mom, after everything that's happened tonight, you know you don't have to do this, right?" Astrid asked earnestly. Your mind flashed back to the events of tonight; the pet names Han had called you, how tightly he had held your hand, how he referred to you as, "the love of his afterlife." You knew by all means those were not the events Astrid was talking about by a long shot; however, they sunk the truth into her words.

"I know, but if I don't do it now, I'm never going to do it!"

"Are you really sure about this?" Astrid could sense the unsincerity in your tone. You let out an aggravated sigh.

You were not actually sure, that was the truth. I mean, who truly is sure about marrying a man they have been committed to for less than a year, let alone a man who proposed on the same day as your father's funeral?!

You answered, hesitance prominent in your voice, yet giving a response in attempts to convince both your daughter and yourself that this marriage was a good thing: "Hyun loves me, and that's got to be enough!"

Ah yes, Hyun. Short for Hyunjin. The tragic fiancé you had met at a widow's resort. He had told you his sob story of a tale, how his fiancé had perished in a skiing accident, and as you would have put it, the two of you just clicked.

You agreed to the marriage on his accord rather than your own, truly; you felt pressured by the crowd of people watching his proposal at your father's funeral and by his desperate pleas. You knew this was not what was in the tarot cards for you, yet you tried to claim that it was.

You had finally reached the entrance of the church when you ran into the aforementioned fellow. He lazily embraced you, your arms suddenly becoming doubtful to wrap around him in return.

"I thought you got cold feet," Hyunjin confessed as he removed his arms from around you.

"No, blame me," Astrid piped up. "She just saved me from my date from hell."

"Who are all of these people?" you failed to acknowledge either statement, instead taking notice of all the unfamilarity present within the crowd of attendees.

"Just a couple of influencers; nobody under five million followers, and I think we have a Netflix executive in there," Hyunjin smiled as he said this, but you could only groan in frustration.

You see, along with being your husband to be, Hyunjin was also your manager. He partnered alongside you for every media project you participated in, most specifically your new hit show, "Ghost House." Hyunjin loved the attention.

You did not. Hence, your disapproval of the wedding guests.

Your anxious thinking once again halted, this time as a result of Astrid snapping her fingers repeatedly.

"Are we doing this or what?" she asked impatiently.

"Right, yes, of course," Hyunjin agreed before eyeing you up and down. "Where is your dress?" You waved your hands slightly in dismissal.

"All that matters is that I am here now, so let's just skip straight to the vows," you did not make eye contact for a second as you spoke to him.

"Wait, where's Delia?" Astrid quieried about your step-mother. A flash of light and a rumble of thunder caused everyone to turn their attention to the front of the church pew.

"Yo!" a voice boomed across the audience, and you glanced forward to see the one and only. "She's right here," he responded to Astrid's question, pointed to the red-haired lady standing beside him.

One thing about Han: he was excellent at keeping his promises.

"She was helping me calm down before the wedding," Han continued. "I was feeling a little jittery." He chuckled arduously before pushing Delia aside.

"You!" Hyunjin thundered as he sped across the aisle. "You're that thing from my dream!" He was referring to an earlier occurance in which he had muttered the legendary three-word encantation and found himself in a dreamlike state encountering Han.

"Well, I'm really more nightmare material, but thanks!" You stifled a chuckle at Han's comeback.

"Whats up, Be-" Astrid attempted to call Han's real name; however, her voice was quickly stifled, accompanied by a tsking from Han.

"Part of the deal is you can never ever say my name, ever!" Han explained the reasoning behind the sudden silencing as Astrid rubbed her throat; Han held up the handbook for the dead from earlier.

"What deal?" Astrid asked in return.

"The deal she," Han pointed at you, "made to save you," he moved his pointer finger to Astrid. "That's why I said you can call me dad earlier."

"Y/n." Delia stated your name bluntly. "You agreed to marry him?!" Saying Delia was outraged was a complete understatement. She looked at you with horror present in your eyes, terrified as to how the next events would unfold. You began to stumble over your words.

"Well, uh. You see I did, but I was, um," you felt desperate prying at your words. Han looked at you with intrigued intent; both he and you knew the real reason why you had chosen to marry him, yet he also knew you were trying to find a way to hide your true intentions. The glares he was sending your way did not aid your cause; they were sultry, yet agitating, as if they were encouraging you to tell how you fell in love with a demon and that was why you were so quick to agree to a marriage in order to save your daughter.

"Y/n, what is really going on here?" Hyunjin interrogated, his annoyed gaze boring into yours. Your stare instead found Han's, your eyes pleading for his help.

"Wow!" Han exclaimed as he threw the handbook onto the altar. "Talk about awkward!" He had suddenly appeared behind Hyunjin, an arm slung around his shoulders and causing the crowd to gasp. "You haven't made much progress since our last session, so I'm going to go ahead and recommend some drug therapy." Han was once again referring to the "dream" Hyunjin had prior in the day. He pulled out a filled syringe labeled, 'truth serum,' and injected the liquid straight into Hyunjin's neck.

"Don't be afraid to share when you're ready!" he told Hyunjin with a cheeky grin on his face. Hyunjin's body betrayed him in this moment, shifting towards you with blown out eyes and quivering lips, as if he was trying to hold back from saying something. Han had appeared behind you now, the same smug arm snug around your shoulders.

"Let's see what your, "lover," truly thinks, shall we?" Han whispered against your neck. You and Astrid's expressions were contorted into confusion.

"I always thought your whole act was bullshit," Hyunjin suddenly confessed, causing your eyebrows to heighten and your lips to mouth, 'what?' "I never believed in ghosts, spirits, or any of it."

"What?" you inquired, extremely taken aback by his truthfull confession. "All this time? Why the hell did you want to get married then?"

"Money!" Hyunjin outbursted. "I knew I could make more money as your husband than as your manager!" He tried to cusp a hand over his mouth to keep the truth from overflowing but failed tremendously; meanwhile, your mouth was agape at the words he was spilling. "And I never had a dead fiancé. I just went to that survivor's retreat to try and pick up a girl," he winced at his last confession. You could feel nothing in your heart but anger and disgust; Han, on the other hand felt immense pleasure in seeing your realization of what an absolute scumbag your ex soon-to-be-wed was.

"How about a little physical therapy?" Han gently grasped your fist and lifted it up, taking the action straight out of your mind. Before a rational thought could cross your mind, you had knocked Hyunjin clean in the nose, the force of the impact catapulting him backwards. Han clapped forcefully and joyously at the incident, and you did something that shocked yourself; you smiled. For once in your life, you had stood up for yourself, and you took pride in that. In the midst of your self-glory, Han began to address the crowd.

"We'd like to thank you all for coming, but right now, we'd like a little privacy." He snapped his fingers, and the crowd subconsciously turned their phones around so the camera faced them. Their faces began to morph into grotesque shapes as they were pulled into their cellular cameras. In a flash, every unfamiliar face in the audience had vanished, leaving only you, Han, Astrid, Delia, Hyunjin, and the church's pastor. The latter of the six attempted to make his escape through the back entrance; however, his efforts were for nothing as Han was two steps in front of him, standing square in the middle of the doorframe.

"Where ya going, Padre?" Han asked rhetorically; he snapped his fingers once more, and the pastor appeared at the front of the altar, his Bible in hand. Han subsequently poofed on the left side in front of the pastor, reaching out a hand for you to join him on the right. An undead symphony began to play a surprisingly harmonious melody as the two of you linked arms. You looked up at him, slightly hesitant at the suddenness of the events at hand. The remaining few in the crowd began to sing along to the melody that was playing, notably doing so under hypnosis. Han took your hand in his and brought you closer to him, beginning to slow dance with you under the radiant light of the church's chandelier.

You would have been lying if you said there was not a part of you that did not like this experience. Sure, Han was a demon who had done questionable things and was downright psychotic at certain points. Yet, you could not stop thinking about what he had done and subsequently said earlier: "You don't mess with the daughter of the love of my afterlife!"

It made you realize: he truly cared about you. Unlike most demons, he had some semblance of a heart, even if he had a funny way of showing it. Not only this, but he cared about your daughter like she was his own, and that won your heart straight away.

The lights dimmed as you leaned into his embrace, beginning to slow-dance. He smiled as he looked down at you, wrapping a loose arm around your waist to hold you there and planting a small kiss on the top of your forehead.

"I knew you knew who you belonged with." Before you could respond, you were floating; you had found that ghosts tended to do that when they demonstrated affection. Although the experience was supernatural, you did not want it any other way. You stared deep into Han's eyes and he reciprocated. You contemplated leaning in for a kiss, knowing what that would mean for Han but the mere thought of it being more exhilerating than nerve-wracking.

That is why it was such a pain whenever the afterlife police crashed the wedding. They broke in through the windows, fell from the chandeliers, and some even came out of the spot where the symphony was playing. The music came to a halt, and the low lights came back up.

"Mr. Juice!" the lead of the afterlife police named Wolf Jackson boomed. "You have violated code 6-9-9!" Wolf did not get to finish, as Han took out a megaphone and shouted the word, 'Freeze,' causing the guards to do just that. You had hoped that was the last of the night's problems.

You found out that you were sorely mistaken.

The church doors flew open, and there stood a ghostly young woman; her skin was somehow paler than Han's. Her hair, eyes, nails, clothing, and shoes were all as black as ebony, and staples adorned what seemed to be a never-ending scar cascading down her body.

"BEETLEJUICE!" she thundered across the church pews, slowly making her way towards the demon. Han looked absolutely astounded in negativity.

"Sweetheart!" He grimaced as he spoke the pet name. "You look amazing!" From these four words alone, you came to the conclusion that this was Delores, Han's ex-wife that he had mentioned in passing. All of a sudden, Delores moved her hand in a swift motion, flinging you away from Han as she drew closer to him. He sputtered out multiple things about going through a lot of changes, how it was not her but him, and something about a mid-afterlife crisis.

"Your soul belongs to me, my love. For eternity," she did not take into account anything Han had said, only focused on sucking the remainder of his living soul out of him.

"You don't wanna spend your eternity with me!" Han retaliated nervously. "I'm not the one for you. You need a soulmate. Somebody who really sees you. For instance," he stepped out of the way, revealing an unfrozen Hyunjin. He snapped his fingers, changing the tuxedo top Hyunjin was wearing into a T-shirt stating, "I <3 Delores." This captivated her attention, more with confusion than arousal albeit.

You, on the other hand, were still splayed on the ground where Delores had played human ping pong with you. You glanced over to your right and saw Astrid drawing a symbol on the ground with Delia's lipstick. She knocked on it three times; you were not sure what it was until her knocks caused it to open like a trapdoor. It was a gateway to the same deserted area you and Astrid had been in earlier. Coming to a swift realization, the three of you moved out of the trapdoor's vicinity just in time to narrowly miss the large sandworm that erupted through the opening.

After an entanglement of Han leading the sandworm on where to go with a red cloth like a matador, the sandworm had swallowed both Delores and Hyunjin whole. Funnily enough, the pastor used this time to make his legitimate escape while Han was concerned with commanding the sandworm.

You sighed out of relief. 'This is the end of it,' you truly believed. Astrid and Deliah helped you up as you glanced at Han, mouthing a 'thank you' to him.

"No problem, my love," he replied, sadness slightly tinging his voice. "See you on the other side."

And as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.

---

"I want to thank all of you ghosties out there for your support over all of these years." Thunder clapped as you spoke solumly into the camera. "This is my last show. I have spent so much time talking to the dead. It's time I start living and make memories with the people I love, rather than be haunted by them later." The tape stopped rolling automatically, and you let out a sigh of relief. You stood up from your filming chair, which was truly just the recliner in your attic, and walked over to the replica of Winter River. It was still split in half from a certain visitor; however, you felt there was no need in repairing it as you sat on your knees, especially not with what you were about to do.

You had been thinking a lot lately. You knew what your heart longed to do, and it was time to put that motion into effect. As such, you closed your eyes, took in a deep breath, and muttered the same name three times.

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice."

Han did not make much of a scene as he appeared this time; he had been watching over you the last few days, and knew the intensity of a typical arrival would be too much.

"Well, well, well," he remarked slowly. You opened your eyes and saw the ghost directly in front of you, sitting in a similar position to your own. The sight of him made you smile with pure joy, and he could not help but return it. "I'm glad to see the second marriage has made you finally pick up the phone," he teased you and you let out a small giggle.

"I've been thinking," you muttered. "And as I think, my mind keeps wondering back to one particular moment when we were together last. You really pulled through for me and Astrid," you spoke kindly, truthfully, your heart picking up the pace with every word you spoke towards him. "I know you told the ex-wife that she needed a soulmate. Someone who understands her." You reached out to grab Han's cold, pale hand. "I know you weren't talking to me, but," you took a brief pause to contemplate your next words. "I think that's what you are to me."

Your words caused Han's mouth to go agape, his eyes wide in astonishment. "Are you saying..."

Instead of saying anything, you showed him. You cupped his snow-white chipmunk cheeks and brought his face to your own, capturing him in a daring kiss. It was full of passion, romanticism, and overall, love.

Everything you would expect a demon not to possess.

You only pulled away from the kiss when you heard the sound of Han's heart beating. You softly opened your eyes where an incredulous image awaited you:

Han's skin had darkened into a light, peachy color. The dark black rings around his eyes had vanquished, and the shaggy green hair he once possessed had now morphed into healthy brown locks. His eyes, for once, looked as if they contained life.

Because they did.

You knew kissing Han in addition to signing that marriage contract would bring him back to life; however, you had decided that was the life you wanted. Countless times, he had shown how he would pull through for you, how he would best his demon status and do anything you asked.

You were confident he was your purpose.

"Woah," Han glanced down at himself, astounded by the sight of himself alive once more. "You brought me back to life." He could not express his thoughts in mere words; therefore, he did so by engulfing you in the tightest hug known to mankind. Against his chest, you mumbled a sentence that made his beating heart pound:

"Han, you brought me back to life."

[happysharkintensifies]

Booktok makes me sick, not just because of all the shitty books. It's the prevalence, no, the celebration, of toxic masculinity. Every single booktok book features some variation on the same man. And without fail, against all sensible reason, these characters are portrayed as handsome and charismatic and desirable.

It makes me sick when these authors hold up these toxic, predatory traits and put them on a pedestal as some kind of Ideal Man.

It makes me sick when their aggressiveness and possessiveness is treated as romantic. It makes me sick when these shitty men forcibly grab women, invade their personal spaces, and render them helpless by 'purring' in their ears, every. single. fucking. time.

It makes me sick that these misogynistic, heteronormative, and hypermasculine social conventions keep appearing in so-called feminist literature.

Strip away the idealized elements and you have what is basically the rich, white, cishet, alpha-male archetype. He's tall, usually six feet, physically fit and muscular with obligatory six pack abs, and conventionally handsome, with a chiseled jawline. He's usually clean-shaven, and any hair he may have on his body is minimal. He maintains composure at all times and rarely shows anxiety or uncertainty. He exudes raw charisma and charm and navigates social spaces effortlessly.

His hobbies, if he has any, are stereotypically masculine. When it comes to sex, he's confident, skilled, exclusively dominant, and always knows what to do without communicating with his partner. The sex he enjoys is usually rough, animalistic and overpowering. He may have been with several women in the past, and he may be regarded as a sex god, both in-universe and out.

His toxic traits are rarely portrayed as negative. But when they are, they're usually held up as some edgy, anti-hero persona and the reader is inevitably manipulated into sympathizing with him. He'll be portrayed as a tortured, wounded animal, and his female love interest (and, by proxy, the reader) will decide on some variation of 'I can fix him'.

He is essentially the unrealistic standard the ideal Proper Man; the one that men are expected to emulate, and that women are expected to swoon over.

But what really irks me is the lost potential.

If there are men who don't fit into this mold, they are depicted as pathetic, ineffectual, or any number of negative traits.

The narrative quietly and passive-aggressively mocks them and portray them as boring and un-sexy.

After all, is this the kind of man who will bravely swoop in and sweep a helpless woman off her feet? Of course not. Such men are boys. Wimps. Cowards.

These books are supposed to be fantasy: a genre in which easily anything can be explored. If faeries, magic, and contrived mating bonds can exist, then why can't we also have male characters who exist outside the stereotypical, hypermasculine mold?

Why is it that we can have so many fantastical, impossible, and wondrous magical forces, creatures, and peoples, but we can't have men who aren't possessive, abusive, or controlling?

Why is it that male characters, have to be so innately dominant, abusive, and violent? Why do they have to be so fit and muscular and strong?

Even worse, why is it treated as something that is so natural, so inescapable, even in the realm of fiction?

Where are the men who aren't tall and fit? Where are the men who don't have sculpted abs or chiseled jawlines? Where are the men who aren't lean and muscular?

Why can’t we have men who are skinny or overweight? Why can't we have men who aren't handsome or attractive, but just average looking? Why can't we have men who are shorter or just average height?

Why can't we have men with non-stereotypical hobbies? Why can't we have men who love to read, or paint, or write, or sing, or dance, or build model kits?

Why can’t we have men who are timid and shy? Why can't we have men who feel anxiety, fear, and sadness? Why can't we have men who aren't afraid of crying openly?

Why can't we have men who aren't sex gods? Why can't we have men who aren't confident in bed? Who are anxious, or even scared, at the prospect of sex? Who are passive instead of dominant? Who want to experience intimacy and affection?

Why can’t we have men be kind and gentle and sweet for once?

I'll tell you why we can't. Because booktok says men like these are not 'man' enough. Booktok says men like these are the 'boring' option, and completely devoid of interesting quirks, traits or personality. Booktok says men like these are underserving of attention, and only fit to be background noise.

As far as booktok is concerned, men like these can't exist.

[adventuringblind]

Solace

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: angsty AF but happy end don't worry

Request: No, but they're open! I love seeing your ideas so please send them! I promise I don't bite... most the time ;)

Summary: you and Max get to grow together. Neither of your dads being the best parenting model. When Max sees what your dad has don’t to you, he knows something has to be done.

Warnings: Jos Verstappen, depictions of most forms of abuse, descriptions of injuries

Notes: written in second person. I’ve noticed a theme with my writing… we’re just going to ignore it and I will continue to heal my trauma this way :)

Masterlist

Everyone expected great things from you. Expectations you wanted so badly to meet. Yet you always felt like you were falling short.

Your father is a Redbull mechanic. A good one at that. He's incredibly smart and respected within the paddock. One of Max's top engineers.

Your mother had left during your childhood. This means you got to spend your time traveling everywhere with your father. Him even being your teacher until you started online school and graduated.

Christian offered you a job that involved being on the pitwall. One you took happily. It meant you didn't have to spend the race in the garage with your dad.

From the outside, you looked happy. But you weren't up to standard with what your father wanted. You weren't perfect.

Behind closed doors, things were much different. You were blamed for your mothers disappearance. Blamed for your fathers woes. Used as a physical and verbal punching bag to help him feel better.

All the while, you convinced yourself it was for his benefit. That you deserved this for not being what your father wanted. He provided for you all these years, why couldn't you do this for him.

When Max started at redbull, both of you were still young. Regardless, the friendship was meant to be. No matter how much wither of your fathers hated it.

It led to secret rendezvous and stolen moments of escape with each other. You understood him and he understood you.

Max failed to realize how you understood. His dad was open with his behaviors. Jos had yet to back down from a session of publicly shaming his child. Your dad didn't do anything close to that. So how on earth could you know exactly what he needed during those hard nights.

He'd asked Christian about it a few times. Why you were so shy and timid around adults. It was difficult to understand.

Christian had told him not to worry about it and to focus on his racing. He was watching out for you.

It was true. Christian had been your Guardian angel on multiple occasions. Even staying with his family over long breaks why home was too difficult. He made sure you were fed and had clothes that fit. Everything you lacked in your own house.

The one thing that stopped him from getting him away from you is that you never explicitly told him or showed any signs of it. He was working on assumptions and possible hints.

He'd tried to catch anything that would give him a leg up, but he'd yet to het anything.

Your relationship with Max grew over the years. The two of you melded. You knew how to tame the Mad Max that fought to escape, and he knew how to soothe your tears.

You found solice in each other. Stability in your friendship. A love you both were willing to fight for.

Which happened a lot.

Neither of you knew how to communicate properly. Resulting in hard arguments and yelling matches. One of you is always shutting down before any real reconciliation can happen.

Christian got to be a father to both of you in this way. Coaching you two on how to express your feelings healthily. He was routing for you two. Knowing both your fathers weren't the best, you and Max needed to learn and love with someone safe. He was glad to take you both under his wing.

Then you were able to flourish. You started smiling more. Your eyes lost the bags from underneath them.

Max started opening up more. Standing up to his father slowly became easier. His smile and silly attitude got to be more prominent.

You started showing affection to each other in public. Openly spending time with the other. Not caring what either of your fathers thought.

After all, you were both adults. Right?

You thought everything was going to be over when you moved in with Max. You were nervous about it, mainly because you were self-conscious about your body. Nevertheless, you knew it would be a good change.

~

It was a soft moment between you two. Your giggles as Max left chaft kisses all over your face made him smile.

He felt bad for looking. He knew you were struggling with insecurities, and he wanted to respect your privacy.

But as your shirt inches up your body, he catches sight of the dark marks along your hips and torso.

He immediately stopped everything. His breathe hitched in his throat.

You looked where his eyes had landed. The secret finally out. One part of you wanted to be relieved, but right now you were panicking. Your brain reeling with every possible outcome.

You did the first thing that came to mind. You apologized. You begged him not to tell anyone. Tried to convince him that it was your own fault. Your breath becoming more uneven with every word.

Max was taken off guard. He knew it had been bad, but he’d never seen it and you’d never shown him. His emotions were bubbling to the surface rapidly. But you didn’t need him to be angry with your father right now.

He removes his hands from your body to give you space. He didn’t want to scare you anymore then he already had. “Don’t apologize, none of that is your fault, okay.” It felt like he was trying to soothe a wild animal. “Can I hold you?”

You nodded your head yes. Eyes moving rapidly to every sound. Your senses hyper aware of everything happening.

He reached out for you slowly, making sure to stay within eye view. Something that helped him when he’d come to you. Slowly you made your way into his arms. Basking in the way he felt like safety.

“We don’t have to talk about it now, but when you’re ready I’m going to spend hours kissing all your bruises better.”

~

The next morning, Max took it slow. You both were needed at the track but he wasn’t in a rush. He wanted to give you time. You’d fallen asleep in his arms. Him soothing every tear that ran down your cheeks.

When you two arrived together, he made his way through the back entry with you in tow. Attempting to avoid cameras and your father. He needed to make sure you got somewhere safe first before he even attempted talking to his lead engineer.

He immediately went to Christian. His face when he saw you two approach made Max want to turn around.

“I can see on your face that you want to punch someone.” Christian sighs in exasperation.

Max looks between his team principal and you. Words now refusing to form in his mouth. How was he supposed to explain this? “Can Y/N stay with you while I run around doing things.”

Christian hesitates, confusion evident. “Only if you tell me what’s going on.” He could see you were in pain. You looked like you’d been crying.

Max leaned into whisper. Worried about cameras and the nearing possibility of your father spotting you two. “It’s worse then we thought.”

Christian rubbed his temples. Motioning for Max and you to follow him into his office. The door closing the a soft click behind them. Neither sat down, the anxiety too much for either of them.

Christian was trying to get a read off of you. You, however, had yet to even look at him. Your body language had reverted back to when you were small. When he let you pretend to work on the cars. It hurt him.

He was about to say something when a knock sounded at the door. A rough knock. A familiar knock. You flinched away from the door. Your survival instincts kicking in.

Christian motioned for you two to sit down. Max gently gripping your wrist to get you to follow him. You flicked unintentionally but he just looked at you knowingly. You needed to move and he was just trying to help.

You sit down across from Christian. Max’s leg was bouncing up and down so fast you thought he might put a hole in the floor.

“Come in.”

You don’t turn around when the door closes. You can hear his breathing. Aware of his every move without even seeing him. Fighting every urge to run away.

“Oh- I was looking for Y/N. We need to go over some data.” He picked up on your fear. You knew it as he walked directly behind you. His hand gripping your shoulder.

You flinched and turned away from his hand. The tension in the room was to thick for you to breath. Max was already out of his chair and ready to connect his fist with anything.

Christian put his hands in between the two men. Aware of the still open door and people peaking inside.

You were trying to cower away from the aggression. Away from the onlookers. Into the safety of Max.

“I think Y/N was busy going over some things with Max, but I’d be happy to look at it.” Christian gave his best attempt at a neutral smile.

Your father was growing angrier. It’s the first time he’d openly tried anything. The grip he had on your shoulder already bruising.

“Busy doing what? Trying to ruin her future even more?”

Max saw red. He was already angry, but now he’d crossed a line. He knew he shouldn’t have done it. However, the feeling of his fist connecting with the jaw of your fathers was to satisfying for him to care.

Your father reeled backwards. His hands clutching his face.

You jump from the chair. Finding refuge behind Max's body.

Max was ready to go for another swing. Before he could lunge, Christian grabbed his shoulder.

"Why don't you Teo cool off in Max's driver room. I'll come find you later."

Max didn't move. His chest heaving. The two men willing eachother to make a move.

You take Max's wrist. Gently trying to lead him through the door.

You, however, didn't get far. Your father knew something was wrong the second he saw you come into the garage. He’d been around Max long enough to know that he’s a protector. He knew that if you wanted, you could ruin his entire life.

So, he lunged for you. Grabbed hold of your hair and pulled. You were in his grip again before Max could even register what was happening.

“Max, go get security.”

“But-“

“Your going to be faster then me.”

Reluctant, Max sprints out of the garage. Making his way swiftly to the nearest security checkpoint. He was grateful it was only Thursday. The amount of fans in the paddock significantly less and he didn’t have to drive with his adrenaline already so high.

You were silently pleading that Christian is able to talk some sense into your father. His previously free hand now covering your mouth.

You’d been here before. Breath. Hold. Exhale. Repeat. The mantra you’re mind recited through your entire childhood.

You could see Christian saying words but couldn’t hear them. He was trying to get closer but the hold on you became stronger with each step he took.

Your mind goes blank for a moment. Your body present but your mind dissociated. You can see the interactions take place, but you don’t feel present, or even real.

He is shaking you now. Your body jostling. Then the floor. More footsteps.

Max.

He’s leaning over you. Checking to see if your okay. You can see the panic in his eyes. A soft blue that you will your mind to latch onto.

You can hear him now. He’s whispering to you. “Your safe now” falling like a prayer from his lips.

Max cradles you in his arms. Holding you close as the noises of your father struggling slowly get quieter.

Christian also appeared at eye level. Crouching down beside the two of you. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t see it.”

“I didn’t want to cause my trouble.”

“You never cause trouble.” A smile ghosts across Christian’s face for a moment. “Your dad will not be allowed back into the paddock. And you already know, but if you ever need a place you’re welcome at our home.”

~

Unfortunately, the events that transpired were within view of people and cameras. Christian deemed it a ‘family emergency’ and let you two go back to the hotel. Leaving the media Max needed to do for tomorrow and Checo to replace Max at the press conference.

Now you and Max lay facing each other on the bed. Neither has said very much. Only trying to process the events.

Then you remember something Max said last night. “Can you kiss it better please?”

Max smiled softly and inched himself closer to you. “Stop me if it becomes to much.” You nod at him.

He lifts up your Redbull polo uniform just above your waistline. Placing gently kisses to every place on your body that your father had marked in some way.

He pulled you into him after he finished. The two of you just staying their. Embracing the new possibility of peace you’d both wanted for so long.

[bruhstation]

You seem like a Train Professional so where would one begin in order to get into the funny little talking train show?

these are all my own opinions so take it like a grain of salt -- the common go-to would be the thomas and friends tv show. start off from season 1 then work all your way up to the top (not actually really. you can skip some later seasons like s17 if you want to). the model seasons are considered to be some of the greatest because 1) they set the foundation of the cast (besides the railway series books) 2) they contain some of the most iconic scenes from the show like gordon's ronan kirk crash, the flying kipper accident, james and the shoelaces, etc and 3) they're the originals so you know what their personalities and relationships to their peers were like and how their characterization was supposed to be like before the cgi era flip flopped them up

also check out the railway series books in the meantime! the funny talking train show was based on the book series created by reverend awdry for his sick son! the first book feature edward, henry, and gordon. thomas appears in the second book. fast forward decades later and britt alcroft created a tv show called thomas the tank engine. there are many eras of the show, from models, to model/cgi hybrid, to computer animations where the show gets passed around like a volleyball from studio to studio

here's a google spreadsheet that contains all the thomas and friends episodes in various languages. feel free to watch the show for yourself and decide which seasons you like the most

some more of my thoughts under the cut

I recommend you steer clear of the big world big adventures seasons and specials because it's probably the most controversial seasons in the fandom. replacing two of the core cast members, "pandering" to certain audiences, putting in lackluster representation for the sake of selling toys, SAID representation turns out to be racist depictions, all of it reflected the current state of mattel when handling thomas and friends. they also didn't contribute anything to the overall show, like by the time the bwba seasons were out, people dgaf and just focused on the older seasons. you can ignore bwba and you won't miss anything important about ttte. not that I'm stopping you! you have your own free will.

the thing about ttte that made many adults get into it (if not for train autism) is how ttte was a show grounded in reality. idk if that makes sense but basically despite being a show about mean talking trains for little kids, reverend awdry and britt alcroft handled the characters with care. they gave the engines so much charm by making them bicker with each other like the cranky old engines they are BUT they're not reduced to singular personality traits too. thomas is cheeky and kind of a meanie but he wants to prove himself useful. edward is old and acts as a mentor to thomas but he also wants to show that he still got it despite his old age. gordon went from being a pompous grand young express engine to a humble old engine being a mentor to the newer ones and so on! they also put a lot of historical references related to the engines' basis too and tie their backstories in (henry's a stolen faulty design hence his cynical, miserable personality at the early seasons of the show). there's even irl engines mentioned in both the books and show (flying scotsman and city of truro) and it's just neat!!! because awdry cares about history so much!!!! that he even made an "encyclopedia" about sodor, its railways, and its history

the books and the earlier seasons of ttte didn't shy away from themes of death and usefulness and all that (the story of godred, henry being a faulty engine and getting cask of amontillado'd for being uncooperative, all of gordon's siblings scrapped sans flying scotsman) because the thing about them being engines are important to them. it's their reison d'etre. they get scrapped if they cannot be of use anymore, because that's how things have always been. they get into accidents often because their ego got to them. dieselization is starting on the island of sodor and the diesels are asserting their dominance over the oldschool steam engines. the engines just exist there. they just happen to have faces and talk. idk. I think it's interesting how they view life a bit differently than humans. thank you for listening to my ramble

[offbeat-manga-ships]

i've been thinking half-baked thoughts about the longevity of romance "gimmicks" in today's romance manga plots.. mostly it started with a bit of a reflection on how stories like boku no kokoro no yabai yatsu and ijiranaide nagatoro-san have first seasons (of the anime) that i really like, but one common denominator is that the second season (or even just from the middle to the end of the first - which is like only 6-12 23min installments later) really tones down on the initial propulsive elements that drew people in... and people actually like it.

like, the thing on ijiranaide nagatoro-san is that a gyaru underclassman "bullies"/really teases the hell out of her spineless senpai. the first episode is her actually making him cry and wiping down his tears herself and it was great (better than an entire manga called 'i want to drink your tears'). for a while he actually stays underhandedly enabling her to do it while on the surface providing weak protests because that is the gimmick. this manga is selling the appeal of having a confident, loud, gyaru-styled, mischievous and downright devilish girl forcibly coming into a painfully shy person's life. and by putting him through the ringer they actually form a weird kind of connection because of course they are both having net positives from this scenario.

similarly, boku no kokoro no yabai yatsu depicted an extremely edgy and gloomy kid at war with himself because even though he has decided one day he should totally kill the girl that annoyingly just can't stay out of his field of vision, he can't stop himself from doing nice things for her instead. and the girl is just the right mix of airhead and subconsciously confident in her own people skills to dodge all of the walls he puts up saying nobody talk to me or get close to me to make a genuine connection with him that belongs only to them in the afterhours at the school library.

and yet, as i mentioned, as we go further into toned down territory, people have more and more praise for how amazingly they are "developing as characters", which is to say how much closer they are to being normal kids who can just shed their past problems and quirks and develop into normalcy in the name of love. because love means growing up which means being a normal member of society.

but speaking honestly for myself... i still can't think of a single iconic moment during their normalcy-core era where the characters are being their unique selves in the weird but compelling situations that were the premise of the story. and yet i still can't forget that initial crying scene or nagatoro's find the nipple game or when she straight up convinced senpai that she was a vampire ready to suck his blood. i can't forget ichikawa and yamada being library buddies and him helping her smuggle and have her sweets in a forbidden place. i can't forget all the times he swore to himself he didn't care and yet went out of his way to grab her a glass of water from a far away place, write down his family name on a grave decoration instead of hers and straight up yeet his bicycle into a river because he wants to help her without letting on that's what he's doing.

in season 2 it's like... idk. they talk on the phone i guess? and ichikawa cheers her on her modelling career or something. sure. as i said, normal kids doing normal love things. and don't get me wrong, i still like it. it's pleasurable storytelling when you like the characters. but it's like the author is trying to please every possible type of reader by giving them a different and compelling start and saying just kidding, i won't leave you guys hanging, here is them living their romance dreams right away please don't abandon my story for some of the thousand other titles that can give you that quick dopamine boost, i swear you don't have to wait anymore!

and of course these are not the only ones. i just posted a kawaii dake ja nai shikimori-san manga panel grieving the fact that the manga couldn't keep up that specific vibe of shikimori being more aggressive for a long time and just turned into a nice normal teenagers doing nice normal things series, which of course doesn't really have room for the freaky escapades of a boyfriend who is chronically into his girlfriend turning into a don juan. in maybe a smaller scale but keeping up with the pattern, horimiya started as a story of a queen bee type girl who was more relaxed outside of school meeting the gloomy long haired glasses-wearing unpopular kid from her class wearing alternative fashion, piercings and tattoos. when they get together of course. he stops wearing those things, cuts his hair and gets rid of his glasses and they become a nice matching normal couple.

and i mean, this is just off the top of my head. as you can see, what all these titles have in common is that they are very recent. if you think back to not even that much older romance, they are so much more consistent with their gimmicks. koizumi and ootani will keep being a couple of violent gremlins for a good long while. tsuruga ren will stay on the outskirts of kyoko's career for like 50 volumes or something. haruhi will keep crossdressing and rebutting tamaki's corny af moves. and i don't even have to watch/read that much ahead to know that ranma and akane will keep butting heads instead of "communicating already".

if something like kimi wa pet was made today however, in 10 or so chapters a lesser author would make takeshi or someone explain to sumire how weird and "disrespectful" it is to keep someone as a pet without "looking properly at them". they would start dating because he is a real man who can make a woman out of her and it would be 5 thinly written volumes focused on everyday moments instead of the 14 packed to the brim with plot & drama.

authors used to know how to make the absolute most out of a premise or a gimmick or a trope. because the goal is not to get to the normal romance part. it is not to hurry up and solve these problems so we can get to the good stuff. the journey is the point. there is charm to be seen in these abnormal situations and waiting makes the moments when they do get closer that much more impactful.

i don't really have anywhere to go with this except i guess hoping and praying we can get authors who see a weird or freaky gimmick and like it so so much that they know exactly what they want to write instead of going with today's hurried flow of romances who need "development" and "clear communication between characters" and are on the palm of the audience's hands and a a machine to serve their whims. please remember there is a reason why you are the artist and they are the audience.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hey! I work in a bookshop and quite frequently get asked by parents about Anna Huang or other ‘dark romance’ books which have become popular on tiktok. They often very clearly have no clue what they are and have been asked for them by the kid. I’m totally fine with that and each to their own but sometimes I get the question of whether they’re ‘appropriate’, today it was for a 14 year old. I never want to snitch because I’m sure I read the same when I was 14 but I also don’t know how to feel about lying. As someone who talks about sex ed, do you have any advice for talking to parents about books that depict sex explicitly (and with questions about ‘age appropriate-ness) and potentially what you normally recommend to and for teenagers that age, particularly in front of parents?

hey man, I'm gonna be so real with my take on this:

1.) parents don't need to know everything their kids are reading and 2.) if they're so worried about whether or not a book fits what they think is appropriate for their kids, there are... so many ways to do that. literally just google it, besties. read the synopsis. tiktok dark romances are not shy about what they're about.

and if they're right there in the store, odds are they can get their hands on a physical copy of bestseller Ana Huang's books and flip through to get a sense of what's going on. again, the romance genre is not subtle; catching points of concern will not be hard. your job as a bookseller is to get books in people's hands; the vetting process is up to them and that doesn't make you a liar, frankly.

a good canned response might be something like "a lot of teenagers like these books, and kids tend to be pretty good at knowing what kind of stories they're ready to read. if you're worried about it, maybe you can try reading some reviews of the book before you buy it or having a conversation with your kid about the content." no lies there, and kids really are stellar at just noping out of stories that aren't really landing on their wavelength. and on the flipside of that, kids are actually WAY MORE CAPABLE than many parents think of reading potentially upsetting stories and processing it just fine.

the last time I was teaching sex ed classes with my 4th-6th graders there was this darling boy on the older end of the group who LOVED reading romance novels, but on the day our class was talking about consent he told me very seriously that he thought the characters in his books were actually pretty bad at just talking to each other and how those kinds of relationship dynamics wouldn't be very good in real life. he was completely right! and totally aware that things he thought were interesting to read about weren't good role models! amazing!

for a 14 year old in particular, I think drawing hard boundaries around sex in books is frankly very silly. when I was in middle school the Hunger Games was being cheerfully recommended to every kid who walked into the library; if a 14 year old can read about a bunch of teens slaughtering each other in a state-sanctioned dystopian blood bath they can absolutely read about two people having dubiously written sex.

[merbear25]

Hey hi! Can you do romantic hcs with prussia, France and Belarus x reader who likes to draw them and does it all the time. Thanks! ^v^

Oh my goodness, what a cute idea for you to send in! I loved considering how they’d feel. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written for you.💜💜

CW: SFW, gn!reader, fluff, headcanons/scenarios

When you like drawing them (Prussia, France, Belarus)

Prussia

Of course, you would want to draw him! He had such dazzling features, so he’d be more than happy to strike a few poses for you.

He was far from shy and bashful so would be sure that you caught his good side (all of his sides were his good side).

It would go without saying that whatever you drew, whether or not it was of him, would be showered with compliments. He admired your artistic abilities. On the days you were overly critical of your art, he’d be there pointing out specific things he adored about each work of yours.

Even though he had a loud personality, the drawings you did of him when he wasn’t paying attention and simply doing mundane things got the strongest reaction out of him. This reaction was quiet in comparison to the others but was felt the most deeply.

He could understand why you’d want to draw him in a pose or doing something iconic, but seeing how much care you put into capturing his quieter moments made his heart skip a beat.

Such things were deemed as unimportant to him—not worth capturing, especially when the method was talent based. Why you thought the opposite was a mystery, and yet he was thankful for it.

France

You flattered him, honestly. He would ask if you had any specific ideas in mind so as to help pose if need be. Any props you needed him to hold to get the proportions just right would gladly be modeled with.

He did his best not to sneak peaks because he’d rather it be a surprise. Needless to say, he was nothing short of amazed with whatever the final version was—the artist was near and dear to him, meaning each work was cherished by him regardless what it was of.

There were plenty of moments he looked over at you, admiring the way you furrowed your brow in concentration. Some of the motions you made while thinking through the positions got him chuckling.

When you asked what was so funny, he waved it off by saying a random thought had crossed his mind.

There were no favorites of his. He enjoyed every style you drew in. Sure, he had a preference towards the softer and cuter depictions of himself and the other things you drew, but that never meant he saw the darker choices you made as less than extraordinary.

He enjoyed art and drew from time to time, so he’d offer to set time aside to do it together—forming a stronger bond was the overall goal.

Belarus

She wouldn’t enjoy it at first. Her insecurities would come through, ruining the precious bonding potential it held. The main reason for the cold shoulder it signaled was her not fully understanding why you wanted to.

You showed her some cute doodles you did of her, and that was what changed her mind. She came around, albeit slowly, but eventually learned to appreciate it for what it was—a sign of your adoration for her.

She’d want to sit next to you and watch the process unfold. However, she was horribly awkward about it. When you looked up at her coming over to you, she chickened out, blaming you for making her feel weird about it.

You didn’t think much of this behavior. It was just her way of attempting to reach out, so you ignored it and showed her the drawings once having finished.

The more open you were with showing your works, the more comfortable she got to the idea of you drawing her. Deep down, she enjoyed how you portrayed her—there was a beauty and delicacy in the strokes you made.

When she felt enough at ease, you had some stern-faced company looking over your shoulder as you drew. That was fine though. She was simply mesmerized by your technique and wished to observe it was all.

[smutracha]

Volume XI

rewind <3 fast forward

Mafia!SKZ Yandere!SKZ Afab!reader Poly!SKZ

tw: violence, blood, guns, knives, nicotine, drugging, alcohol, ptsd, sexual harrasment, mentions of self harm, depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, depictions of death and gore

smut warnings: anal, oral(f), sex toys, filming, pet play, degradation, praise, squirting, shower sex

Monday – Minho

Waking up with Minho was always so pleasant, he would softly wake you up with a gentle voice and a light hand rubbing your back until you looked into his eyes and he could kiss you. He never said good morning, he would just kiss you before he climbed out of bed and piggybacked you into the kitchen where he would sit you down at one of the barstools so you could watch him cook. He’d always make you something extra when you woke up with him.

Partially to show his affection without having to say anything at all. Partially because it meant that you could take your pills and be fully functioning by the time the rest of the boys joined the two of you. Today it was apple and cinnamon oats, something he noticed you particularly enjoyed.

As you finally started coming to your senses, Chan walked into the kitchen in nothing but gym shorts. Hi princess, hi Lino. What’s breakfast today?” “I got oats and veggie sausage and mushrooms and an egg.” “Ooh the oats look yum.”

Minho went to grab a bowl for Chan to have what was left. “Mm, she’ll need the energy.” “Oh yeah, good luck little princess, he’s a bit of a sadist. And a major ass man.”

After breakfast, Minho led you to the shower where he washed your body with gentle flicks at your nipples every so often but when he decided he couldn’t handle just looking anymore, his mouth followed. His lips sucking and biting and gently teasing you had you whining for more. “Ask properly, little kitty.” “Please give me more, need more.” “Master, that’s what you will call me.” “Master, please give me more.” “Good kitten.” He was on his knees before you in no time, hooking a leg over his shoulder so that your wet, puffy folds were right in front of his eyes. “So wet already kitty.” “All because of master.”

He slid his tongue gently over your slit, repeating the process again and again. Tongue starting lower, every time. And like that he sat there, lapping at your ass, while his fingers toyed gently at your clit. The feeling sending you to a newfound bliss. “Master, please.” ”Please what, kitty?” “Fingers please, master.” “Where? Where do you want your master’s fingers?” “In my…” you were too shy and ashamed of yourself to even say the word. “Where, kitty? Could it be here?” he says poking gently at the hole his tongue had been so focused on just before. “Say it, kitty. Say it for your owner.” “Please put your fingers in my ass, master.” it was a shy whisper. “Say it properly, dumb kitten.” “Please finger my ass, master.” “Good kitty.”

“Here you go.” He snickered, plunging a finger inside, the feeling making you cum immediately. It was a whole new world of pleasure. “Oh poor kitten. My dumb little anal whore kitty. Did you cum from just that? Perfect.”

He shut off the shower, quickly wrapping you in a fluffy towel before picking you up and taking you to his personal room. “On the bed, all fours.” You got into the position he wanted, facing the headboard. You couldn’t see as he rummaged behind you but soon enough he came over to sit next to you. He set down a plush cat tailed butt plug, some lube and a dildo. “This dildo is special, my pet. Wanna know why?” you nod with large eyes staring at the blue cock. It was long and curved and an average girth. It had you drooling already, “Drooling over your master’s cock already? Dumb whore, this dildo is special cause it’s modelled after me. We got these so that you could have us when we aren’t able to help you. But look how handy they are.”

He wandered back to where he was and came back holding a pair of cat ears and a collar with a bell. Black and pink. it was all so co-ordinated. He adorned you with the items as he settled his hand roughly on your throat, digging the leather of your baby pink collar into your neck. “You’re gonna suck on this cock while daddy gets you used to your new tail, kitten.”

He placed the fake cock on the headboard for you to suck and drool on. After settling in behind you he pumped some lube onto your sensitive hole. The sudden cold making you jerk forward in shock but the second you felt his fingers rubbing over it, you moaned around the beautiful dildo in your mouth. “Good girl. Just relax.”

But that’s as far as his sweetness went it seemed. Without any warning, he had two fingers pumping into your ass, stretching you open before he spat into it. A wave of cum spilling from your pussy. “Oh dumb kitty, you must love this. God you’re just so perfect, can’t wait to fuck you.” You were already cock drunk; his words hardly even registered. Immediately after his last word he added another finger, landing a harsh slap to your clit to wake you up, he laid out an instruction “From now on, you only cum when I allow you to cum.” You moaned out an agreement around his fake dick. He stretched and pumped and fucked your ass into oblivion with his fingers.

He pulled his fingers out after some time. You were so far gone that you hadn’t noticed the butt plug disappearing from beside you. The cold push of metal against your ass causing a shrill shriek to sound in your chest. But the sound was muffled, and he scoffed at how pathetic you were. He pulled your hair to bring you off of the dildo, “Wanna hear you.” the plug pushed halfway in as you moaned at the sensation. Then it was pulled back, he kept half-fucking you with the plug. He lowered his head and his lips wrapped around your clit, making you scream in pleasure. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer. “Master, master please. Need to cum, master. Master, wanna cum. M good kitty, cum.” You were a babbling, drool covered mess as he popped his lips off of your clit and yelled “Cum!” before shoving the plug fully inside of you. You squirted on his chest, colours dancing in your vision as you let the orgasm wash over you. “God kitty, might need to shower again. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He rushed off to get a cloth to wipe you down, before doing the same for himself. “Come on, let’s get you some cuddles. What do you need?” “Wanna watch Daria and want water and sweets.”

He'd dressed you in a tiny skirt that barely covered your plump ass, allowing the tail to be seen perfectly. As well as one of his comfy knit sweaters. “Oh my god, you’re so cute my little kitten.” You stopped by the kitchen on your way to the screening room. Turns out the boys had gathered there for lunch.

“Oh, oh my. That’s-“ “Hot” “Did anyone else just nut too?” “Ew” “Man you ruined it” “Yeah”

“Okay if you could stop being weird, maybe you could come join us for aftercare.” “How is it aftercare when my little Pixie’s ass is stuffed like that, she’s still new.” “New? Hah.” He scoffed leading you out of the room while the rest followed. “she came thrice, just from me playing with her ass. She’s just an anal kitty now.” You blushed as he fawned over you and how happy you were making him, if that wasn’t enough, the feeling of being so full and the plug moving with every step had you practically dripping.

“Gonna have to do something bout the mess she’s making.” Hyunjin adds while watching your slick thighs rub and jiggle with every step. “That reminds me, I gotta have my sheets cleaned.” You reached the room, and he led you to sit in his lap while he instructed I.N what to put on for you. Sitting in his lap only pushed the plug further into you, making a moan spill from you. The pleasure brought tears to your eyes. “Holy shit, that’s hot.” “We’re only halfway through the training kitten, you’re already so broken.” You mewled at his hands running up your sides as his lips found purchase on your neck. He broke away as the intro song started. 5 episodes later, he decided it was time to finish his training on you.

“Remember baby, cum when I say so.” You were on the bed once again, set in what he told you is called ‘humble’ position. You were to put your ass on display while your back arched as you rested with your arms stretched out before you. He tugged lightly at your tail. Sending a shiver through your body and making you mewl loudly while he started pulling the plug out. You felt the way your aching hole stayed open, he groaned at the sight. “God, baby. At this rate m gonna lose my mind. You’re really made for me, aren’t you. I need to have this ass.” “Master, m yours. All yours, please fuck me. Need master.” “Fuck kitty, you’re making this so hard. I’ll give you my cock soon enough. For now, you’ll have to take a copy.” He rounded you to stroke your cheek gently while his fingers pumped your puckering hole. “is that ok, kitten?” “Yes master.” “So good for your owner, here let me lube you up.” He went to look at your ass again. You felt his spit land on and mostly in your ass just as you heard the sound. Your hips bucked backwards at the degrading action. God he really had you a mess so soon. “And to think you were so innocent, so unbroken only a few hours ago. What happened, pixie?” You could only whimper in shame at his degradation, what was more is that you loved every second of it. “Did your owner do this, baby? Did I really turn you into a cock-dumb bitch?” “Yes, master.” “Well then, let’s give you more. Let’s really break you.” He suddenly shoved the dildo into you. The feeling was amazing. The way you felt every ridge, the subtle curve and the head of it brushing your wall with every thrust. You were gone, drooling and whining. Not a single thought in your head. He stopped for a second, the pause making you open your lust blown eyes, only to find his phone set in front of your face. “I wanna show the boys just how pretty you are, how good you are. And all this just for a plastic cock, whore.” He went back to viciously fucking you with his dildo. “Who owns you baby?” You could only whimper and whine in response. His thrusts only became more volet. “Answer me you cock-hungry slut.” You were screaming with the cruelty of his actions, the pleasure overwhelming every cell. “You own me, master!” You screamed out. “Cum for your owner. Cum for me kitty!” And like that you blacked out in bliss. White flashes bursting behind your eyelids as you squirted all over his arm.

“So good, baby. So good.” He gently rubbed your back, pulling you up into his arms as he picked you up. He grabbed his phone too before carrying you into the bathroom. He sat you on the bathmat. “Gonna run us a bath ok, angel?” He opened the faucet, while the tub filled he held you gently. “You did so good baby, so good.” Soft kisses peppered your face as you giggled in spite of the drowsy state you were in. He stripped himself of his clothes and you of your ears and collar.

As you both settled into the tub he laid you on his shoulder. “It’s ok baby, go to sleep.”

You were wakened as the sun settled over the horizon, to a gentle voice. Met with Minho’s soft smile, he told you it was time for supper. “Come, I’ll carry you.” And indeed, he did. The boys sat chatting amongst themselves as you entered the kitchen, being brought to a seat. Only your food was left at the table. Minho placed you on his lap so that he could feed you while the boys watched. Their soft smiles making you feel warm. “Why you all staring?” “Just heard some screams earlier. You have fun with Minho, little fairy?” Hyunjin asked you.

They all laughed at the blush you tried to hide in your hands. “You must be a bit tired huh, baby? Who you cuddling tonight?” “Want Seungie” “Me? Really? I must be the luckiest guy in the world.” “Minho just had her ass dude; I think that trumps cuddles.” “I haven’t had her ass till I’m actually fucking her full of my cum.” An unanticipated moan filled the room as you felt the wetness rush to your pussy. “Wow she really is cock-hungry for her master, huh?” Changbin chuckles at your state. “Oh my god, you showed them that?!” “I said I would little kitty. By the way, they lost their minds. I’ve never seen Felix so desperate before in my life.” “She doesn’t need to know, Minho.” “Look at you, but I couldn’t get a coherent word out of you while you lost yourself on my cock. All of that from one clip of your precious pixie taking it up her ass. My pretty Lixie.” “Hyune, you know that’s not fair; you really know how to use me.”

“Seungie, sleep?” You found yourself drifting off even as the boys teased and argued about their sexual habits and performance. “Come little pup. Let’s go.”

[mocolococoffeesimp]

Howdy! May I request Happy Chaos and anyone else you want having an artist as a lover? :3

Sure thing, anon! Decided to give spotlight to Kum for other one.

"Draw me like, one of your french girls." He smirked at you, as he laid on the couch, holding a rose between his teeth. Luckily, he was wearing pants. This would become, a common occurrence. Him posing for you, wanting to serve as your muse.

-He would always be willing to model for you, trying out new poses and outfits. You won't even have to try to get him to model for you. He will just, randomly pop to your room, wearing a outfit. (Which, could be suggestive, or most chill outfit.) He wants you to draw him, to make a large portrait of him.

-As, he likes his tattoo on his chest, he will ask you to design a tattoo for him. Possible, even a cute couples tattoo.

-You worked as a painter in the Haehyun court, and you just happened to know Kum's secret. So, during the days you paint portraits of Kum's disguise. Making official portraits, depicting the disguise in best possible light. Than, the evening comes. She steps out of her mech, tired and ready to start relaxing. Only for you to start drawing her.

-She likes it, whenever you draw her. You get to boost her ego about her looks, and you get to practice drawing her. Win-win situation.

-You have to be careful, whenever you're going thru your sketchbook in public, as someone might see the drawings of Kum. Couple times you almost busted her secret when you were showing your drawings. This made you slam the sketchbook shut, you trying to figure out a lie to tell. Kum saw this unfolding, making her burst out laughing in her disguise. She told the maid, you had drawn some "spicy" images for Haehyun. The maid took the answer, but you were a blushing mess. Later, she actually wanted you to draw that spicy images. (She was shy about actually posing for them.)

[lizzy-bonnet]

Austenian Dads

A recent post about mothers-in-law by @bethanydelleman had me thinking about the dads in Jane Austen. We get a lot of discourse about mothers and mother figures, who have big, important roles in the stores, but her depictions of fatherhood are interesting too. Here, in my opinion, are the dads and dad-like figures in her novels, ranked from best to worst.

(note: I've left out deceased and barely-there dads, but I will note that Mr. Dashwood's attempt to look out for his daughters, and the amount of grief occasioned by his death, indicate that he is a Top Dad.)

Mr. Musgrove - Notwithstanding "poor Richard", Mr. Musgrove has three reasonably well-adjusted adult children, seems to love his younger children, and goes to his daughter's bedside when she is injured. His children all make Sensible Matches, and he likes kids enough to permit the little Harvilles to be brought back to Uppercross to increase its noise. He folds my beloved Anne into his family and treats her affectionately whenever she is with them. By the standards of the day, he seems pretty solid. 8/10 Least Bad Dad.

Sir John Middleton - Like Mr. Musgrove, Sir John is a people person. His immediate and unreserved adoption of the Dashwoods in their hour of need tells us that he is an unambiguously good-hearted person, which usually leads to loving parenting. His kids are young so we don't see him interacting much with them, but his desire to give everyone a nice time bodes well. He doesn't notice when his teasing goes to far. 7/10 definitely tells the same dad joke over and over.

Mr. Bennet - As a reader I love him because he's pithy, but he's honestly not a great dad, and is not modeling a happy marriage for his daughters. He shows favouritism to Lizzy, lets Lydia run wild, is hurtful towards Mary and Kitty, and fails to save up any money to bribe worthless young men to marry his daughters. 5/10 for putting all his eggs in the "having a son" basket and then doing nothing when the handle on the basket breaks.

Lt. Price - Loud, embarrassing, shiftless. Ignores his daughters but seems to maybe do OK with his sons? 3.5/10, tops.

Sir Walter Elliot - This fucking guy, am I right? He's vain, he's self-obsessed, he's a spendthrift, and he's a dreadful parent. His eldest daughter is his favourite and he basically forgets Anne and Mary exist when they're not directly in front of him (and sometimes doesn't notice them even when they are). His favouritism has damaged Anne and Mary in different ways to Mr. Bennet's to his younger daughters, but the source is the same: he has one child who is like him and others that he doesn't click with, so he basically lets them shift for themselves. In the Elliot household I'm certain this means that sensitive Anne was left to grieve her mother without any comfort from her father. It's no wonder she was ready to marry the first loving man she saw. When he sees her looking well, he thinks it's down to her skin care regimen. 3/10 merely Gowland's.

Sir Thomas Bertram - Poor Fanny, her father figures are both the pits. Sir Thomas knows absolutely zero about what any of his kids are like and can't see how bad Aunt Norris's influence is on all of them. He swings wildly between neglectful and overbearing, and then tries to pressure Fanny into marrying Henry Crawford despite his attentions making her visibly miserable. He also knows perfectly well that Fanny is shy, and yet does not give her any warning that he's throwing a ball for her coming out, plus he sends her home to Portsmouth as a sort of weirdo punishment to make her see what she's missing by not marrying Henry. 2/10 points and he really only gets these for 1. offering to free Maria from her engagement and 2. getting a fire in Fanny's grate, even if he left it until WAY too late to do her much good.

General Tilney - the closest Austen gives us to a villainous parent. The General is dictatorial to his children, oppressive around the house and occasionally creepy towards Catherine. This is made apparent by the fact that the Abbey suddenly becomes much more fun when he goes off to London. He shows himself the ultimate Bad Dad by tossing his daughter's friend out of the house without explanation and hardly the resources to get herself home. 0/10 Gothic Tyrant Dad.

[tsukuyomiland]

Just thinking about her

I'm watching Around the world with Willy Fogg with my son since he has a project in school about travels and foreign countries. This is a Spanish cartoon from my childhood I remember dearly precisely because how aesthetically pleasant was looking at Romi (the equivalent to Aouda from the novel) and not only that, Romi is a good character, yes, she is shy, complacent and even a bit submissive, but she is hopeful, brave, kind and loyal. Maybe is not the perfect role model for a modern girl, but sometimes you only need to see someone who is, simply, nice.

Yeah this show is ancient and it's also depicting a novel with ancient values, so you have to overlook over it. It's enjoyable in any case.

And sorry, Princess Romi (a princess, of course!) is so cute so cute and has the most pleasing palette 🥹

[denimbex1986]

Christopher Nolan’s highly-anticipated movie “Oppenheimer,” set for release July 21, 2023, depicts J. Robert Oppenheimer and his role in the development of the atomic bomb. But while the Manhattan Project wouldn’t have been possible without the work of many accomplished female scientists, the only women seen in the movie’s trailer are either hanging laundry, crying or cheering the men on.The only women featured in the official trailer for Christopher Nolan’s ‘Oppenheimer’ are crying, hanging laundry or supporting the men.

As a physics professor who studies ways to support women in STEM – science, technology, engineering and math – fields and a film studies professor who worked as a screenwriter in Hollywood, we believe the trailer’s depiction of women reinforces stereotypes about who can succeed in science. It also represents a larger trend of women’s contributions in science going unrecognized in modern media.

Lise Meitner: A pioneering role model in physics

The Manhattan Project would not have been possible without the work of physicist Lise Meitner, who discovered nuclear fission. Meitner used Einstein’s E=MC² to calculate how much energy would be released by splitting uranium atoms, and it was that development that would prompt Einstein to sign a letter urging President Franklin Roosevelt to begin the United States’ atomic research program.

Einstein called Meitner the “Madame Curie of Germany” and was one of a pantheon of physicists, from Max Planck to Niels Bohr, who nominated Meitner for a Nobel Prize 48 times during her lifetime.

Meitner never won. Instead, the prize for fission went to Otto Hahn, her male lab partner of 30 years in Berlin. Hahn received the news of his nomination under house arrest in England, where he and other German scientists were being held to determine how far the Third Reich had advanced with its atomic program.

Of Jewish descent, Meitner had been forced to flee the Nazis in 1938 and refused to use this scientific discovery to develop a bomb. Rather, she spent the rest of her life working to promote nuclear disarmament and advocating for the responsible use of nuclear energy.

Meitner was not the only woman who made a significant contribution during this time. But the lack of physics role models like Meitner in popular media leads to real-life consequences. Meitner doesn’t appear as a character in the film, as she was not part of the Manhattan Project, but we hope the script alludes to her groundbreaking work.

A lack of representation

Only around 20% of the undergraduate majors and Ph.D. students in physics are women. The societal stereotypes and biases, expectation of brilliance, lack of role models and chilly culture of physics discourage many talented students from historically marginalized backgrounds, like women, from pursuing physics and related disciplines.

Societal stereotypes and biases influence students even before they enter the classroom. One common stereotype is the idea that genius and brilliance are important factors to succeed in physics. However, genius is often associated with boys, and girls from a young age tend to shy away from fields associated with innate brilliance.

Studies have found that by the age of 6, girls are less likely than boys to believe they are “really, really smart.” As these students get older, often the norms in science classes and curricula tend not to represent the interests and values of girls. All of these stereotypes and factors can influence women’s perception of their ability to do physics.

Research shows that at the end of a yearlong college physics course sequence, women with an “A” have the same physics self-efficacy as men with a “C”. A person’s physics self-efficacy is their belief about how good they are at solving physics problems – and one’s self-efficacy can shape their career trajectory.

Women drop out of college science and engineering majors with significantly higher grade-point averages than men who drop out. In some cases, women who drop out have the same GPA as men who complete those majors. Compared to men, women in physics courses feel significantly less recognized for their accomplishments. Recognition from others as a person who can excel in physics is the strongest predictor of a student’s physics identity, or whether they see themselves as someone who can excel in physics.

More frequent media recognition of female scientists, such as Meitner, could vicariously influence young women, who may see them as role models. This recognition alone can boost young women’s physics self-efficacy and identity.

When Meitner started her career at the beginning of the 20th century, male physicists made excuses about why women had no place in a lab – their long hair might catch fire on Bunsen burners, for instance. We like to believe we have made progress in the past century, but the underrepresentation of women in physics is still concerning.

Diversity as an asset to science

If diverse groups of scientists are involved in brainstorming challenging problems, not only can they devise better, future-oriented solutions, but those solutions will also benefit a wider range of people.

Individuals’ lived experiences affect their perspectives – for example, over two centuries ago, mathematician Ada Lovelace imagined applications far beyond what the original inventors of the computer intended. Similarly, women today are more likely to focus on applications of quantum computers that will benefit their communities. Additionally, physicists from Global South countries are more likely to develop improved stoves, solar cells, water purification systems or solar-powered lamps. The perspectives that diverse groups bring to science problems can lead to new innovations.

Our intention is not to disparage the “Oppenheimer” movie, but to point out that by not centering media attention on diverse voices – including those of women in physics like Meitner – filmmakers perpetuate the status quo and stereotypes about who belongs in physics. Additionally, young women continue to be deprived of exposure to role models who could inspire their academic and professional journeys'

[fancyrat0]

I drew a Nightwing in Animatedwings style for my little sister! I let her pick a tribe and a color palette while I drew the character and wrote the backstory!

***

Skydance, a solitary NightWing with a passion for painting, spent countless hours under the stars, capturing the beauty of the night sky with his brush. Born with soft, beautiful, green-tinted scales, Skydance accidently drew unwanted attention.

Despite his shy nature, Skydance's talent soon caught the attention of dragons beyond his own tribe. His intricate paintings, depicting scenes of the beauty of the world of night, earned him recognition as a gifted artist among dragons of all tribes.

However, behind his artistic façade, Skydance struggled with feelings of isolation and loneliness. Despite his growing fame, he found solace only in the silent company of the night sky and the brush in his talons. That is until he crossed paths with Jade, the radiant SandWing model with whom he shared a unique bond of green-tinted scales.

Jade and Skydance formed an unlikely friendship that transcended the boundaries of their respective tribes. With Jade's extroverted fevor and Skydance's quiet introverted nature, they complemented each other in ways neither could have imagined.

And, since he hatched under a full moon, he was able to read minds. He knew how honest Jade was, and how she truly felt about him.

And here's what Jade looks like!

[mysticmellowlove]

The Rock Face and the Saxifrage - First Blood

warnings; yan male, gn reader, yandere themes, death, female violence? (briefly)

word count; 1427

note; haha... not me returning to write this storyline again after all these months.

As the door to your dorm swung open you couldn't help but clench your hands as Bowen poked his head around your shoulder. You grit your teeth as the urge to swat him away grew within you. True to his word he had acted weird on the walk back to your apartment.

For a moment you wondered if he was trying to pull off some sort of Dr Jerkyl and Mr Hyde situation, with his vastly differing moods and all that. Now that he had gotten what he wanted he seemed to revert back to his more shy demeanour.

It was extremely annoying.

"Right, well, don't make yourself at home." You shoved past your door and went to take your shoes off and hang up your coat. Winter was coming in full force and it was chilly out, not yet as cold as you would want it to be though. Bowen seemed to draw his breath in as he stepped into the entranceway, his eyes darting around as if he hadn't seen the inside of student accommodation before.

Your eyes trailed him as he wandered around, a harsh look growing on your face. With a heavy sigh you left him to his own devices, which was probably a bad idea. Instead you went to gather everything you needed for the project. As you did so your mind whirled around, why were you being paired with forensic students? The two courses had nothing to do with each other and yet here you were.

Your eyes narrowed, surely not... it wouldn't have anything to do with Bowen right? You had barely heard about him around university and if he was someone as influential as a dean's son then his name would surely be plastered all over the place. Maybe you didn't know as much about university administration as you thought, not all information can be gotten from reality shows after all.

Now with an armful of pens and paper you walked back into the loungeroom to see that Bowen had already taken a seat on the couch. In front of him was his own portfolio with all his documents scattered on the coffee table. In fact, the sight of all his stuff made the room feel more lived in. No one going to uni could afford any furniture anyway and you could only decorate with so many energy drink cans before it became pitiful.

"Ready to start." His voice was chipper, too chipper for an afternoon of intense project planning. His gaze was settled intently on your body, his cheeks were tinted a darker red. You squinted at him before giving in to your fate. The memory of how he seemed to turn cocky as soon as you tried to get away from him had never left your mind.

Obviously he wasn't harmless, his letters and his overall demeanour said as much. The way his personality flipped like a switch was concerning, the way he seemed to take pleasure in you hurting him was concerning, and the fact that he was in your house was concerning.

"Right... anyway, what's this project about?" A mumble left your mouth as you settled onto the couch next to him, your thigh brushing against his due to the small amount of space available. His breath seemed to catch for a moment before he composed himself.

"There's a list of things we have to do actually but the first one is to make an aged up depiction of a missing child." Bowen pulled a piece of paper from the pile in front of him and handed it over. Your lips pursed, you hadn't been given these instructions...

Before you looked at them in more detail you flicked through your own notebook and pulled out the package you had gotten when class had started.

"Oh no." A hiss escaped your mouth as you read over the title. This was less of a project together and more of a collaboration, like a give-and-take sort of thing. You'd help Bowen out with his descriptions and critical analysis while getting more drawing experience but on the other hand you'd... have to use Bowen as a model for your own coursework.

"How is this fair!" An exasperated groan left you as the urge to slam the papers onto the coffee table and shove him out of your apartment arose in you. With a shy shrug Bowen seemed to pull you out of your stupor. As much as you'd like to make him shut up it most likely wasn't his fault that he got assigned to you.

Or at least that was what you'd tell yourself to make this whole thing easier for you to swallow.

"Fine, let's get this over with so you can go home." A grumble left you as Bowen went to open his mouth, most likely to quip back at you. With a glare he seemed to go silent, his eyes darting away and back to his papers.

The initial part of the project seemed to be going well, Bowen would read off of a mixture of conflicting reports and deduce what was correct and what was a red herring. At the same time you'd sketch out what he was describing while also trying to make sure it didn't look like a hodgepodge mess.

For a moment you found yourself drifting off into your own world where it was just you and the idea of creating something beautiful. Then reality would slam you in the face whenever Bowen would open his mouth again. While you two were busy he seemed to really settle in, his body relaxing and melding with the cheap pillows you had brought.

As an afterthought you found yourself looking at him more and more. He wasn't unattractive, in fact he seemed to be quite handsome in a weird way. He had somehow managed to capture everything you liked about your celebrity crushes. The hair, the clothes and he had even accessorised in a way that you liked.

It was uncanny and highly uncomfortable, especially when you remembered this was the man that carried around a book full of your photos. As soon as your brain decided to remember that fact you felt repulsed by his company.

"Is something wrong?" He asked out of nowhere, while his face looked concerned you could see that he didn't really care about what you were feeling. In fact he looked like he wanted to provoke you into doing something stupid.

"Not at all but I think we should call it a night. It's getting dark out." At the moment all you wanted to do was get him out of your space He had made you feel too many emotions in one afternoon. Trepidation, annoyance, intrigue, lust... and then disgust.

"We're nearly...." You stood up abruptly and let your form hover over him. He seemed to grow smaller, a sick glint in his eyes sparked as he looked up at you from his eyelashes.

"Out." Like a carefully trained dog he got up off the couch and gathered his things in a haphazard mess before walking over to the door. A rush of arousal flooded through you, watching him bend to your whim like that...

You shook your head and went to open the door in order to guide him out but a piercing scream shocked your senses. Your hand tightened on the handle of the door as the sound of clattering and screaming continued from the space above you. Horrifically it seemed to grow closer and closer as you braced yourself on the door, uncertain as to what was happening.

At your side Bowen seemed to grit his teeth, his whole body locked up in alarm. In the next instant the screaming died down and the sounds of footsteps grew quieter. Sweat trickled down your brow as you pressed your ear to the door. It was silent outside.

With a deep breath you opened the door a crack and then some more until you had revealed the hallway outside your dorm. As you did so some of the other doors opened. A middle-aged student, the two best friends who held parties, the couple across the hallway from you... all of them were peering outside.

In the middle of the hallway was a girl covered liberally in blood, her clothes torn and her face set in a grimace as her muscles drooped.

She was dead.