#i just hope they know- they can try to imitate my art but it will never have the same heart and soul put into it.

[snekdood]

sometimes i be feeling like ymir but w my art :/

[marvelobsessed134]

Life imitates art

A/n: whewww this is one of my favorite things I ever written

Pairings: Beefy!Art Professor!Natasha x Fem!Student!Reader

Warnings: age gap (not specified), Nat has a dick, smut, blowjob, degradation, painting a nude person, reader being that nude person, pervy Nat (?), student/teacher dynamics

Okay so you’ve been failing your art class in college. But it’s really not your fault you’ve just been so caught up with your other classes that you’ve been slacking off.

And of course your professor noticed. Natasha knew she had to talk to you after class because you were one of her top students and now you’ve fallen off the deep end.

So after the lecture and after everyone leaves, leaving their canvases up to dry, the redhead calls you to stay after class.

You walked towards her desk with a nervous feeling in your stomach. You know you’re gonna get some kind of lecture of your own.

“Yes Professor Romanoff?” You asked in a sweet tone hoping you won’t be getting into any trouble with her. Not that she’s a mean professor per se but when a student fails she makes them do an extra project to get their grades up. It’s almost like she loves to torture people!

“Miss Y/n you’ve been failing very miserably in my class. Any particular reason why?” She asked.

You gulped, “Well…you see professor I’ve just been so caught up in my other classes that I’ve kind of been slacking on this one but-“

“So is my class not important to you?”

“No! It’s very important to me I love art and I love painting but I have these two big tests coming up so I haven’t had the time to finish my projects and you know I don’t do half assed work when it comes to my art.”

The redhead smiled a little bit at that, “Yes, which I do admire and appreciate but I’d like you to put more effort into my class.”

You looked down at your feet shamefully, “Yes Professor Romanoff.” You sounded like a scolded child.

“Well,” she stood up and walked over to her empty easel and put a large blank canvas on it. She also put a chair right behind it.

Then she walked back over to you. “You know how to get your grade up in my class. But instead of you painting I want you to be my model. Can you do that?”

The thought of you being her model made your flush, “I guess.”

“Great. Now strip off your clothes.”

“W-what?”

“You heard me. I’ve personally always wanted to have a live nude model in my presence to paint so nows my chance.”

“Professor Romanoff…this is highly inappropriate im your student plus you’re like a decade older than-“

“Do you want those grades or not detka?” The nickname gave you a shiver down your spine.

“Yes I do but-“

“Then do as I say and take your clothes off.” You quickly complied, shakily pulling your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra. Your shoes, socks, jeans, and panties came off next.

“Go sit on that chair over there.” She pointed to the chair that sat in front of the easel. You took a deep breath and walked over to sit down. Your arms resting on the armrests and your legs clenched together.

As Natasha got set up behind the easel she said, “Don’t hide your pretty pussy from me baby.” Your eyes widened at her words but you complied. Desperate for the grades, you slowly spread your legs. Unfortunately you were embarrassingly wet.

It’s no surprise you have a crush on your professor. She’s beefy with a pretty face and exudes dominance. Her shirt sleeves are always rolled up to her elbows and her slacks fit her perfectly. Along with the occasional blazer she wears.

Unbeknownst to you she noticed how wet your little cunt was and smirked.

She began to paint you, taking in every breathtaking detail of you.

You felt so vulnerable in this position. Sitting naked in front of your fully clothed professor as she painted your naked form.

She didn’t even bother to try to hide the erection in her pants, because she knew you felt the same way about her. It was only a matter of time before she could finally taste you and have her way with you.

Once she had gotten most of the painting down-she can finish it later she will remember every inch of your body-she walked over to you.

You sat up straighter, not daring to close your legs. Natasha towered over you and looked down at your pretty perky nipples and your wet pussy.

“I think my model needs a reward for being such a good girl don’t you think?” She asked and you sucked in a breath.

She tilted your chin up with her index finger, “Yes or no babygirl.”

Oh you knew it was wrong so, so wrong. But you found yourself saying, “Yes.” It came out as a whisper you were surprised she even heard it.

The redhead smirked, “That’s what I thought.” She got down on her knees, her hands sliding up your bare legs before she licked a bold strip against your pussy. You moaned, throwing your head back at the little piece of friction you just got.

“If my student didn’t want to get naked for me then…why is she so soaking wet?” As she said this she ran her finger up your folds. You hissed in response.

“I know you’ve wanted me since the first day of class. Don’t worry, I want you too.” She kissed the inside of your thigh before licking your folds again, eating you out with such passion that you forgot where you were.

Her mouth attached itself to your clit and you gripped her hair tightly as she sent you closer and closer to the edge before you drenched her face with your release.

“Oh god!” You moaned breathlessly.

“You taste so good detka. Care to return the favor?” She asked with a cocky smile. You immediately got on your knees in front of her and unbuckled her pants, pulling them and her boxers down to free her large cock.

Your eyes widened at the size and you wrapped your hand around her shaft and began to jerk her off.

“I wanna see those pretty lips around my cock baby.” She commanded dryly.

You gulped before wrapping your lips around the tip and sinking down onto it, bobbing your head up and down and jerking off whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

Natasha gripped your hair as you sucked her off. “Such a slut for me huh. Who knew you’d be so eager to taste my dick.” Your pussy was dripping onto the floor both from your previous orgasm and your arousal at the mere action of sucking her cock.

“Shit baby I’m gonna cum.” Your professor moaned before shooting her load down your throat. “Ah fuck that’s it swallow it.”

You swallowed it all and pulled of her cock, opening your mouth to show her you did in fact take it.

She caressed your chin, “Such a good girl. Come over here.” She made her way to the chair you were once sitting on and sat down. Her cock still sticking up in the air. She unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it off revealing her abs. Your mouth watered at the sight and you quickly made your way over to her.

The older woman smirked, “Ride my cock baby.” It was a simple command that you were more than happy to obey.

You straddled her waist and sunk down on her thick cock, moaning at the stretch.

“God you’re so tight.” She hissed as she gripped your hips and started moving you up and down her length, treating you like her own personal toy.

You were a moaning mess, rolling your eyes at the back of your head as she continuously hit your g spot. “Oh fuck professor! Feels so good!”

“Yeah? Oh god who knew my student wanted to be slutted out so bad.” She also thrusted her hips up as she moved you. Your hands gripped her muscular shoulders.

The only sounds that could be heard in the room were the sounds of skin slapping, moans, and grunts.

“I’m gonna cum again fuuuuck.” You cried.

“Cum again for me sweetie.” You reached down to rub your clit as you were sent to a land of ecstasy.

You clenched around her cock and your vision went white for a second. You absolutely drenched her cock.

“Oh yeah drench my fucking cock. I’m gonna cum again.” She quickly pulled out of you and forced you on your knees. You watched as she jerked herself off till she came on your tits.

“Holy fuck. You’re unbelievable.” Natasha breathed and you giggled.

“Did I get the grade?”

“Oh yeah you got the grade. And if you keep this up then you’ll be passing every exam too.”

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Maybe, Baby?

Summary: You and Frankie aren't trying for a baby just yet, but when your weird symptoms start to throw your body for a loop, you start to wonder if you actually might be pregnant

Pairing: Husband!Frankie Morales x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), Unprotected p in v sex (wrap before u tap, silly gooses), creampie, praise kink, size kink (if u squint), unintentional breeding kink (lmaoooo, it's me, sorry not sorry), birth control/family planning, pregnancy (or maybe not? part 2 maybe? hehe) symptoms, Frankie and reader mention being closer to 30 than 16 (turns out when you're an adult, it's not a teen pregnancy anymore), reader has hair that can be played with, Frankie being the sweetest husband alive (all the gold stars for him), Frankie is so excited to be a dad that I just may pass away

A/N: I know y'all voted for me to finish chapter 20 but i lied (I'm so sorry), but I wrote this in a day and husband Frankie was really speaking to me on this one 😭 This one is brought to you by my raging baby fever and perhaps some real life inspiration WHOOPS, art imitating life on this one ig 💀 Poorly beta'd bc that's how I roll!!!

Ever since getting off birth control a few months ago, your body had felt… different. 

While you were glad you had made the change for yourself, you still found yourself shocked every month when a new sort of symptom decided to appear at some point in your cycle that you had never dealt with before- acne in new places, weird cramps, and crazy mood swings that showed up out of nowhere before your period were just a few of the things you were learning to manage as you figured out your body post birth control. 

Another symptom you hadn’t expected was that now, you were insatiably horny. 

All the time. 

While Frankie had been more supportive and caring in helping you deal with all of your not so pleasant symptoms than you could have hoped for, he was also more than happy to help you with your newly found positive one, too. 

The only problem was, after so many years of not having to worry about the consequences of your sex life on birth control, you and Frankie were finding it very hard to adjust to be more… careful. 

As you got hornier and hornier, the box of condoms that Frankie had bought after you stopped taking the pill had been seeing less and less use, and to be honest, hadn’t really seen the light of day from the back of his nightstand drawer in about a month an a half- and if you were being even more honest, on top of that, Frankie’s pull out game was almost nowhere to be found. 

You both knew that you wanted a family in the future- That was a part of your reason for getting off birth control to begin with. The two of you had agreed to hold off at least for a little longer to try and get your life more in order before bringing a baby into it, but with with your new lack of protection when it came to sex, and constant horniness around the clock, you both were beginning to have a feeling that that your agreed upon timeline for having a baby might be harder for you to maintain that you thought. 

Especially when you found yourself morphing into an unspeakably horny monster when you were ovulating. 

So little did you realize, that as you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom as the two of you were getting ready for bed and you caught a glimpse in the mirror of Frankie, stripping out of his shirt and jeans, leaving him only in his boxers as he searched around in your dresser for pajamas, that was the reason you nearly spit out your entire mouthful of toothpaste to try and get a mouthful of something else. 

You couldn’t help but ogle at your husband's broad body and freckled tan skin, muscles flexing as he shuffled through your drawers, pulling out an old, worn gray t-shirt and tugging it over his head, running his hand through his messy, curly hair before searching for his pajama bottoms.

At this point, you had honestly braced yourself on the edge of the bathroom counter to keep yourself from falling over at how mouth-watering he looked, already feeling the wetness beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear at the thought of wanting to rip his clothes off just as fast as he had put them on. 

Letting out a yawn, Frankie raised his hands above his head so a sliver of his soft belly peaked out between his waistband and shirt hem before making his way into the bathroom, sleepily padding along the tile floor until his body was behind yours, chest flushed against your back and arms wrapped around your waist. Even more prevalent, his bulge pressed against your ass, making the wet spot in your underwear grow damper by the second. 

“You ready for bed, querida?” Frankie cooed, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder and smiling at your reflections in the mirror. 

While you were absolutely ready to get into bed, sleeping was not going to be your activity of choice.  

“I think that maybe…” You paused, turning around to face Frankie, his body caging yours against the counter, palms splayed flat on either side of your hips, looking down at you with his sweet, brown eyes, “I think that maybe we should do something else before we go to sleep.” 

“Something else, huh?” Frankie smirked, raising his eyebrows at you as your hands began to run up and down his arms, slightly squeezing the muscles of his biceps as your fingers crept under the fabric of his shirt sleeves. “And what might that something else be, Hermosa?” 

“You know exactly what it is, Fransisco. You expect me to watch you just roam around shirtless in our bedroom and not get all hot and bothered? God, you’re so fucking hot.” You moaned, letting your hands run up his shoulders and around his neck, pulling him in for a long, electric kiss. 

“Damn, what’s gotten into you, babe?” Frankie chuckled, trying his best not to blush at your comment, sliding his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“I don’t- Fuck, I don’t know, I just know that if you don’t fuck me right this second, I think I’m gonna explode.” 

While your statement may have had a flair for the dramatic, it was just about as close to the God’s honest truth as you could get- You were so worked up, you felt practically feral, the ache in your core so strong that you really did feel like you were on the verge of implosion. 

Before you even gave Frankie time to respond, your lips were crashing into his with a ferocious intensity, your hands grabbing fistfulls of his t-shirt as you stumbled back towards your bedroom, bodies bumping and bouncing against the walls and door frames, mouths never parting as the back of Frankie’s knees finally hit the mattress, forcing him to fall backwards onto the bed. 

Crawling overtop of him, you were already straddled over his hips, grinding your bottom half on the bulge growing in his pajamas as your hands crept under the hem of his t-shirt, running along the tanned, soft skin of his chest, making him let out a low groan that rumbled in his throat. 

Frantically shuffling himself further onto the bed, Frankie’s hands dug into your hips and over your ass as your hands slid down from his chest to his waistband, fingers tugging at the elastic to shuffle his bottoms and boxers down his legs, quickly followed by your own, dropping to a crumpled pile on the floor. 

Feeling your fingers wrap around his cock, already painfully hard, you swirled the precum leaking from his tip with your thumb before dragging your hand up and down his length, leaving Frankie sitting up in surprise while he watched you begin to hover over him, dragging his dick through your folds. 

“Hermosa, are you sure you don’t need me to-” But before Frankie could finish the rest of his protest to make sure you were ready to take him, you were already sinking down onto him, whimpering at the sweet sting and stretch of his fullness, followed by the ragged moan escaping Frankie’s lips. 

“Oh fuck… Nuh uh, Frankie. I need to feel you, baby. Needed to feel you inside me.” You whined, taking Frankie cock inch by inch until he had bottomed out inside you, his tip kissing your cervix, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure. 

Normally with Frankie’s size, you would have needed to warm you up first, but with how wet and worked up you already were, you were able to take him with ease, desperate to feel him buried deep inside you. 

“Jesus fucking christ, queirda, you’re so fucking wet. Fuck, baby.” Frankie moaned, feeling you begin to slide up and down his length, coating him with your arousal with each swirl of your hips. 

Arching your back, you jutted your hips forward, bracing your hands on Frankie’s strong thighs, circling your bottom half against his, whimpering at his fullness and the hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your clit, selfishly already longing to chase your own high to ease the ache that had been burning in your core. 

“Fuck, Frankie, you feel so good. Feel so fucking full with you in me.” You whimpered, bouncing even harder and faster on Frankie’s cock, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping his and wetness dripping from your heat coating the walls of your bedroom. 

“Yeah? This what you wanted, pretty girl? Wanted me to stretch this pretty little pussy out and fill you up?” Frankie groaned, gritting his teeth as he began to jut his hips up into yours as you rode him, the added depth of his thrusts making you cry out in pleasure. 

And for as fucking good as it felt, the horny monster you had morphed into had you greedily craving more- to have Frankie stretch you open in a way that had you seeing stars, so much that you could still feel the next day, long after the two of you were finished. 

“I-I want more, p-please, baby. Fuck- Fuck me harder, Fransisco.” You cried, your sweet voice whimpering his full name turning him almost as feral as you were, letting out a low growl as he grabbed you by your hips, flipping you so that your back hit the mattress and he was caging his broad body over yours. 

Practically ripping the t-shirt still covering your upper half off your body, Frankie dove face first between your breasts, groping one while hungrily sucking at the other, flicking your pebbled nipple with his tongue, his free hand reaching down to line his cock back up with your entrance, sliding back in to your aching core with ease. 

Frankie let himself sink all the way back in, filling you to the brim before hooking his arms around your knees, pressing your legs against your stomach, smirking to himself at the ragged moan you let out as the new angle opened you up even further. 

“You want me to fuck you harder, Hermosa?” Frankie mewled, slowly dragging his length out of your heat, looking down to see your shiny slick soaking his cock before looking back at you and the wrecked expression plastered across your face, frantically nodding in desperation. “Tell me how badly you want it, sweet girl.” 

“Fuck, I need you so bad, Fransisco, please.” You begged, damn near close to tears with how deeply you needed to feel Frankie ease the emptiness inside you. “Please, baby, I- oh fuck-”  

Before you could even finish the rest of your plea, your breath was already hitched in the back of your throat as Frankie began to pound into you at a relentless pace, tightening his grip around your thighs while he pressed them closer to your chest, grunting with each rut of his hips into yours. 

“This what you want, querida? Meirda- so fucking wet and tight, baby girl. You feel so fucking good, holy fuck.” 

It didn’t take long for the all too familiar tingle at the base of your spine to start spreading through your body like a wildfire as Frankie continued to slam into your g-spot, making you chant his name like a prayer, your brain at a loss for any other words than “Fuck, Fransisco.” 

And as if you already weren’t close enough, when Frankie reached down to thumb at your clit, rubbing in relentless circles against your sensitive nub, you knew you were a fucking goner. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. Cum for me, baby. Want that- oh fuck- want that prefect pussy to fucking soak me.” Frankie groaned, feverishly pounding into you, desperate to feel you come undone for him giving him long enough to fight off his own high that was rapidly building in the pit of his stomach. 

A few more thrusts were all it took to have the coil snapping in your belly, crying out Frankie’s name as you came, orgasm ripping through your body with a blinding intensity, eyes scrunching shut and jaw hanging open while pleasure and euphoria flowed through every ounce of you. 

Still blissed out and wrecked out of your mind, your eyes shot open as Frankie’s mouth crashed into yours, swallowing your whimpers and moans in a messy dance of tongues and teeth. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum. Jesus fuck-  fuck, I’m close too, baby. W-where do you want me, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, barley holding on long enough for you to answer, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as his hips began to stutter, gritting his teeth and furrowing his brow with every ounce of self control he had left. 

Still barley coherent enough to form a sentence, your brain blurted out the only thing you could think of, and the only thing that you really wanted in the moment. 

“Inside, Fransisco. Fuck, cum inside me, baby.” 

That alone was almost enough to send Frankie over the edge, letting out a long, low groan, sloppily rutting into you as his brain went blank alongside yours, starting to babble incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- you want me to fill you up, queirda? Fuck, I’ll fucking fill you up so good you’ll be dripping out of me for days. Oh fuck, shit baby, fuck, oh I’m gonnaahhhhhh-“ 

Just like that, Frankie took one last thrust, spilling deep inside you, coating your walls with his spend as his body slumped into yours, the pair of your chests rising and falling in sync as you both came back down to earth. 

“Jesus Christ… Holy fuck, Frankie.” You giggled quietly to yourself, blissfully filled with post orgasm ecstasy as your husband carefully pulled himself out before rolling over next to you on the bed, pulling you close against his chest. 

“Fuck me, Hermosa, holy shit.” Frankie chuckled, pressing a soft kiss into your forehead, tracing small circles on your back as he held you, heat radiating off of each other's sweat-ridden bodies. “God, I love you. We should probably get you cleaned up. You wanna shower?” He asked, smirking as your face lit up at his nearly rhetorical question. 

“Only if you’re up for round 2, Morales.”   

“My eyes are up here, Fransisco.” 

“Hmmm? What did you say?” 

“Exactly my point. Can you stop looking with your man eyes and look with your normal, helpful people eyes to help me decide on a dress for Benny and Victoria’s wedding?” You sighed, laughing to yourself as you raised an eyebrow at Frankie, his gaze still fixed on your chest. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be helpful.” Frankie huffed, overdramatically rolling his eyes at you, playfully throwing his hands up in defense as he leaned back against the dressing room door, looking you up and down in one of the cute floral dresses you had picked to try on for your friends’ upcoming wedding. “It’s just that… Nevermind.” 

“It’s just that what, Frank?” You asked tilting your head in confusion at your husband as his eyes traveled back to your breasts, furled look in his brow like he was really staring there to prove a point. 

“It’s just that- Baby, I don’t know if it’s just the dress or what, but your boobs look huge. Like, they always look good, believe me, but like… Whew.” Frankie whistled, practically shaking his head in disbelief at how good you looked. 

“Really?” You asked, turning around to face the mirror in the dressing room, gently cupping your breasts, grimacing as you held them in your hands. “Yeah, I guess they do… Honestly, I was gonna complain about how sore they’ve been all day. I wonder if maybe my period is just coming early?” 

“Maybe? You did ride me pretty hard the last couple nights and put on a good show, so maybe they hurt from all that bouncing and-” 

“Frankie! We are in public!” You playfully scolded, giving him a flimsy slap to the chest to cut off the rest of his thought, the two of you quietly giggling to yourselves and trying to “Shhhh” each other from drawing too much attention to your dressing room stall. “The dress, you goofball, yes or no? Sooner we pick, the sooner we can go get food, because your wife is starving.” 

“I vote yes on the dress. You look beautiful in it, querida.” Frankie smiled, stepping behind you to press a kiss on the side of your head. 

“You just like it because it makes my boobs look huge.” 

“What? Can you blame me for wanting to stare at my gorgeous wife’s boobs all night?” 

“God, you are ridiculous, Fransisco. Fine, boob dress wins. Now let’s get out of here and go get some food before you get stuck in a titty trance and I die of hunger.” 

While the rest of your Saturday was spent enjoying the delicious Mexican food that you had picked up on the way home and a much needed night in on the couch with Frankie, there was a tiny part of your brain that couldn’t seem to shake his comment from earlier about how big your boobs looked. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t agree with him, because truth be told, they felt huge, too. They had been sore since you had woken up this morning, and while you had chalked it up to what you and Frankie had been up to the past few nights, or bad PMS symptoms, there was still just something about you that felt off. 

Later that night, during your movie marathon, you had paused whatever new action movie Frankie had been begging to watch since it had popped up on Netflix a few days ago for a popcorn refill. 

While Frankie meandered around the kitchen waiting for the next bag of popcorn to finish popping, you stayed curled up with your blanket in your corner of the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, until a sharp twinge began to cramp in your lower stomach. The feeling took you by surprise, digging your fingers into your side to try and ease the dull and achy sensation as your face scrunched in confusion, wondering why in the world you had what felt like period cramps in your belly. 

“Hey, you okay, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, returning with popcorn in hand, his face painted with concern to see the pained look scrunched between your brow as you curled deeper into the couch. 

“Oh, y-yeah, I’m fine. I just um, I just had a weird cramp I guess. Probably just ate all that popcorn too fast.” You replied, trying to convince yourself just as much as you were trying to convince Frankie that you were overthinking whatever mystery symptoms had just flashed through your lower half. 

“Here, lemme just set this popcorn down and then I can rub your back while we finish the movie, okay?” Frankie smiled softly, setting down the bowl on the coffee table before crawling back under the sea of blankets on the couch with you, laying your head against his thigh like a pillow while his hand traced up and down along the small of your back. 

“Thanks, Frankie.” You whispered quietly, taking a few deep breaths as the familiar warmth of your husband’s palm worked up and down the worn fabric of his shirt that you had put on earlier. 

“Of course, baby. If you need anything else, just let me know, okay? Just promise me you’ll take it easy on the popcorn if you have any more there, Killer.” 

The two of you laughed quietly as Frankie leaned down to press a soft kiss into your messy hair laid across his lap before picking up the remote to let the rest of the movie play as your eyelids began to get heavier and heavier as you slowly drifted off to sleep. 

“What’s inside this box?” 

“Open it up and find out! It’s a surprise for you!” 

“Okay? Huh, why is it just a pregnancy test in there?” 

“It’s yours! Congratulations! You’re having a baby!” 

“Ahhhhh!” You shrieked, panting as you woke from a cold sweat, shooting up from the couch. “What the fuck…” You whispered to yourself, coming to and realizing that you were now awake and had only been dreaming moments before this. Running your hands over your face, you blinked a few times to be greeted by the dim light of the TV still flickering in the background, Frankie sprawled out and snoring by your side where the two of you must have fallen asleep on the couch during the movie. 

“What a weird fucking dream…” You sighed to yourself, shaking your head as you quietly pushed yourself off the couch to stumble to the bathroom, pulling your phone out of your sweatpants pocket to check what ungodly hour of the night it had to be since the two of you had crashed on the couch. 

2:07 A.M. 

You let out a low grumble, pushing your sweatpants down to your ankles as you sat down to pee, blinking your eyes open wider to look through the notifications piled on top of each other on your lockscreen. Mindlessly swiping through a few junk emails and text messages from group chats, one notification in particular caught your eye, rousing you from your half awake state. 

“Feeling down? As you begin your Luteal Phase of your cycle, it’s normal to be less cheerful compared to last week when you were Ovulating! Click to track your cycle symptoms for today!” 

Oh shit.  

You could feel your heart beginning to race as you opened up the app, scrolling to the calendar tracker for the month. Swiping through the days, it didn’t take you long to realize that despite all of your weird symptoms you had been chalking up to PMS, you were almost two weeks away from starting your period. Frantically scrolling backwards, you began to try and rack your brain of all of the times in the past week that you had sex with Frankie while you would have been ovulating, and out of that number, how many times he hadn’t finished inside you, let alone even attempt to pull out. 

And that number was a big, fat zero. 

That’s when it hit you like a fucking freight train- You weren’t PMS-ing.

More than likely, you were pregnant. 

“Holy fuck…” You whispered to yourself, your voice trembling and heart pounding as you buried your face in your trembling hands, your mind flooding with a million different thoughts all at once. 

How could you not remember that you were ovulating? Would Frankie be upset? The two of you weren’t even trying for kids right now. Would you be a good Mom? What were you even going to need to do to prepare? Your house was starting to get small for just you and Frankie, let alone a baby. How were you going to find a new place to live in 9 months? And get a new car? How were you- 

“Baby, you good in there?” Frankie groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he stumbled into the bathroom, letting out a yawn as he opened the door, bright light flooding into the hallway and revealing the sobbing mess you had become, still pants down, hunched over the toilet. 

“Woah, hey, hey, hey. Baby, baby, what’s going on? Talk to me, Hermosa. Are you okay? What happened?” You could feel Frankie’s demeanor immediately switch as soon as he saw you in the bathroom, instantly dropping to his knees by your side, his hands gently grabbing your face to shift your gaze towards him, carefully swiping his thumb to dry the tears that had been streaming down your cheeks. 

“Frankie, I- I- Fuck.” You stuttered, gulping hard as you tried to catch your breath, fighting back your nervous sobs as you locked eyes with Frankie, wondering how in the world you were ever about to brace him for the news you were about to tell him. 

“Hermosa, what is it? Please, tell me baby, what’s wrong?” Frankie pleaded, softly squeezing your face in reassurance as he waited for your response. 

You took a few more deep breaths, composing yourself enough to at least try to get a coherent thought out, swallowing hard as the words left your mouth. 

“Frankie, I-, Frankie, I think- I think I’m pregnant.” 

Frankie’s eyes went wide, his jaw practically hanging open as he tried to process what you had just told him, wondering if he hadn’t heard you right in his groggy state. 

“W-what?” 

“I think I might be pregnant, Frankie.” 

Before you could even bear the thought of looking at his face again, filled with fear that it would be a look of shock and disappointment, you buried your face in your hands again, fighting with everything in you not to cry and keep your composure. 

Frankie sat quietly for a moment, his hand covering up the gaping hole his jaw had made as it nearly hit the floor, shaking his head in disbelief before wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulling your hands to look at him. 

“R-really? You- fuck- You really think you’re pregnant?” 

As your eyes met his, you couldn’t believe the look on your husbands face- Not only was Frankie practically grinning from ear to ear, the sweet brown of his puppy dog eyes were welling with happy tears of their own, waiting on your every word as if he still didn’t believe what he was hearing. Silently, you began to slowly nod your head, biting down on your tongue, your heart feeling like it was about to shoot out of your chest. 

“You’re...y-you’re not upset?” You stammered, sitting up a little taller at Frankie’s reaction. 

“Upset? Hermosa, why in the world would I ever be upset?” Frankie laughed quietly, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as his other hand cupped your jaw. “Querida… There’s nothing more I want on this earth than to have a family. And-fuck- The fact that it gets to be with you? That you might give me a family? How could I ever be upset about that? 

“Well it’s not like we were really trying for a baby, Frank. We said another year or two. With the house and money -” 

“Hey. We’ll figure it all out, okay? I promise, we’ll be more than okay.” Frankie smiled, his goofy grin still stretched wide between his cheeks, finally easing some of your worry. 

“I don’t even feel like I’m old enough to have a kid. I feel like I need to call up MTV to tell them I’ll be on the next season of 16 and Pregnant.” The two of you snorted, shaking your heads in awestruck disbelief that a stupid joke about a reality TV show could soon become your reality. 

“Well considering we’re married, have a house, and most importantly, are much closer to 30 than we are 16, I think they may have a hard time pitching the show “Married Couple Has a Baby”.” Frankie teased, giving you a playful nudge as the two of you laughed, giving you a few seconds to catch your breath before trying to dig into details. “Did- Did you take a test? How long have you known?”

“No, I don’t know for sure yet, Frank. It’s… It’s just a feeling, I guess. But the huge, sore boobs, weird, period-like cramps and the fact that we really haven’t been the most careful are all pretty good clues.” 

“Well, I mean, I don’t know, we’ve tried to be care-” 

Before Frankie could even finish the rest of his thought, you were already giving him the sassiest look you could muster in your overwhelmed and sleepy state, making the two of you laugh again he let out a sigh of defeat. 

“Okay, yeah, we really haven’t been that careful at all. Sweetie, listen, I- I know it’s not what we had planned, but… I mean, if you are pregnant…” Frankie paused, smiling at your stomach as he gently place a hand over your belly, tears welling in his chocolate brown eyes, “Baby, I would be so excited. Nervous as hell, but so fucking excited.” 

“Me too.” You sniffed, looking down at Frankie’s palm splayed across your stomach, heart swelling at the thought of Frankie being dad, thinking of how sweet and caring and perfect he’d be as you grew your little family together. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled Frankie in close, letting out a shaky sigh, whispering your words through happy tears. 

“I love you so much, Frankie.” 

“I love you so much too, Hermosa. More than anything.” 

For the sake of Frankie’s shoulder, you pulled away to wipe your tears to keep from soaking your husband’s shirt, quietly laughing to yourself at the fact that this whole time you had been talking to Frankie, you had still been pantsless, hunched over the toilet. 

“It probably would have been way more romantic to tell you all of this not at 2:30 in the morning, pantsless and hunched over the toilet like a little gremlin.” You snorted, Frankie following suit as he shook his head, running his hand through the sleepy curls of your hair. 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way, mi amor. C’mon, let’s get you up to bed.” 

As the two of you sleepily trotted your way upstairs, curling together under the warmth of your comforter with Frankie’s chest pressed against your back, you couldn’t help but smile as his arm draped over your stomach, hand resting on your belly while his thumb traced soft circles on your skin, imagining what it would be like if a few months from now if you really were getting ready to add another member to your family. 

The next morning, as the sunrise began to spill through your curtains, casting bright orange and pink shadows on your bedroom walls, you couldn’t help but stir as the familiar scent and warmth of Frankie’s body was missing from his side of the bed.

 As you sat up in the sea of blankets and comforters, softly rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you saw Frankie’s frame quietly sneaking through the bedroom door, fresh mug of coffee and bag of breakfast in hand with a stupid smile plastered across his face as he was greeted with your barely awake grin. 

“Good morning, beautiful.” Frankie cooed, setting down the coffee and breakfast down on your nightstand as he sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, pressing a tender kiss into the sleep-ridden ends of your hair before wrapping his arms around you in a long embrace. 

“Good morning, handsome.” You yawned, stretching your arms over your head, letting out a little grunt and laying your head on Frankie’s shoulder. “What’s all this for?” You asked, gesturing towards the coffee and oversized McDonald’s bag, assuming it was the reason for Frankie’s absence when you woke up. 

“I- I don’t know, I uh- I was just really excited when I got up this morning. It was early, and I didn’t wanna wake you up, so I made a trip to CVS to buy some pregnancy tests for you and figured I’d pick up breakfast on the way home.” Frankie smiled sheepishly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, brushing past his untamed morning curls. “I know- I know you can’t really take the tests yet- I spent a lot of time reading the boxes in the store and wasn’t really sure what the best one was to take, so I got like, 4 different ones for when it's time.” 

“God, you’re so sweet. You’re the best, you know that? It’s about to be a long week of waiting before I can take one of those. Do you- fuck, Frankie, do you think it could really be positive?” You asked, tears beginning to well in your eyes again as you smiled up at your husband, already beaming back at you, picturing the two pink lines showing up on all of the tests he had bought for you. 

“Maybe, if we’re lucky.” He smirked, gently cupping your face, swiping his thumb across your face. “But if it’s not, then maybe… Maybe we start trying for a positive one on purpose.” 

“R-really?” You grinned, biting down on your lip in excitement. 

“Really, really.” Frankie replied, bringing his lips to yours in a long, slow kiss, soaking in the sweet taste of you on his tongue. “And maybe…” 

“Maybe, what, Fransisco?” You giggled, bringing your mouth back to his in a sweet and sloppy kiss. 

“Maybe…. We start trying right now, ya know, just to be sure. Wouldn’t want all those pregnancy tests to go to waste.”

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @amyispxnk @samgirl4life @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, captivity, possessive behavior, non - consensual touching, hinted past stalking, hinted non - con, i keep making fairy tale references kfjhks My ko - fi <3

You actually feel calm now, almost at peace - although you can never be truly peaceful in the forest, you guess this is as close as it can get. You flip through the pages of the book, scanning the fireplace with the corner of your eye. It needs more wood, but it still keeps the cottage nice and warm. You tug at your big fluffy sweater - and think about just how domestic, how cozy this scene would be if you couldn't hear his footsteps creeping up behind you. You clear your throat and clutch the book closer to your stomach, trying to ignore him - hoping he'll go away if you pay him no mind. And just like the last few times, he sticks around like mud.

"Are you reading those fairytales again?" Raven calls out mockingly, the click of his tongue teasing your ear. He grasps your shoulders lightly, trying to take a peek at your book from behind the chair. You try to close it, but his hands quickly find your wrists, holding them in place. Now hyper - aware of his chest pressing against your back, you give in and let him look as his body heat spreads to your neck. "Such a pretty illustration, isn't it?" He hums to himself, a fox - like grin ruining his delicate features. When you don't respond, he just keeps going. "The knight kills the monster and rescues the princess." He reads the caption under the drawing, playing curious. "They live happily ever after." He flips the page. "The end." He mouths, averting his gaze.

You clench your fists and try to count to ten before you say something you will regret. You don't know why or how, but just one look at his face is enough to set you off nowadays. And anger is a losing battle - anger has you laying across his knees with your panties in your mouth, muffling your pained cries he likes to pretend are moans as he paints your butt red. So you shut up and bide your time.

"How sweet." The man chuckles with malice, quickly turning towards you just like a snake would curl around an unsuspecting little mouse. "I guess life really imitates art. Just like you and me." He observes with a self-satisfied smirk, reaching to light his cigarette. You hate when he smokes inside the house - the nicotine fume sticks to the walls for hours and you start choking and coughing, but he shows little concern for your heath; not that it's a huge surpirse to you.

"What do you mean?" You raise one eyebrow, hoping to at least take your mind off the nasty, overwhelming smell. If he sees your unease, he doesn't mention it, choosing to inhale even deeper, with his full chest. "You're the pretty damsel in distress." Raven explains calmly, charcoal eyes sinking into your vision like claws. It makes you feel naked, vulnerable - dissected to your very molecule. "And I am your knight." He lets his sharp teeth reflect in the dim light. "I saved you from those pesky insects who kept sulling you." You cringe at the way his tongue piercing drags against his canines. Track - track. "Aren't you glad I removed those obstactles for ya?" He gives you a crooked, sarcastic smile. "I think your hero deserves a little reward for all the trouble he went through just for you."

You blink away the tears as you are forced to remember it all in one breath. The police sirens - the investigation. The blood on your family's threshold. The used condoms hanging on your door for all neighbours to see, and the thousand messages calling you ugly names for months on end.

"You're no hero." You mumble under your breath, digging your nails deep into your palms - desperate to keep your tongue behind your teeth. But he hears you - he always does, and he just nods in agreement, coming close. Coming to take you.

Raven stands before you, hovering over you with one hand on the ashtray and the other tilting your chin up so you'd have no choice but to look at him and him alone. "Perhaps you're right." He admits, taking a puff off his long cigarette and blowing it in your face right after - simply in love with the way your eyes narrow in frustrated defiance as you wave away the thick smoke. "Perhaps I am not the hero, but the monster. The dragon." He laughs to himself, stubbing out the burning fag. You don't know what it is that he finds so funny, but you wish you knew so you could laugh along instead of crying.

He cages you in against the sofa, causing you to press even harder against the soft backrest. The message is clear - you'd let the house consume you before you let him as much as kiss you.

"It fits the story nicely, don't you think?" The man remarks, playing with a strand of your hair gleefuly just like a child would. You assume he derives some sick pleasure from touching you so casually - from caressing you, petting you, holding you. It's not even sexual, but it always shakes you to your core, and maybe for him that's the best part - where you can't go anywhere, but in his arms.

"Huh?" You break from your thoughts, growing confused. "Your analogy." He explains while still all over you. "It makes sense. I fought for you, and I won you fair and square." His eyes light up with the ferocity of a hunter. "I wanted you so I took you like the greedy bastard I am. I have no regrets - and if that makes me a villain, then so be it. I will burn the world down if it means you'd be all mine." His fist wraps around your loose locks, almost gentle, but not quite. There is something unnatural in his smile - you can't help, but imagine blood dripping from his chin. "But there is something your magic tales get wrong." Raven whispers diabolically, snapping his fingers. Everything goes dark - and his coat slips down on the floor.

"W-what?" You ask, shaking like a leaf - both afraid and deadly curious. You try to sharpen your senses, but you remain blind to his shadow - and the way it moves right between your legs, positioning them around his hips. You feel his manhood prod at your pubic bone, and you heart sinks to your stomach. "The ending." Your captor mutters, pushing you on your back, and you curse the electronic chair when it goes all the way down with little fight. "The moment when the cards are on the table..." He all but tears off the first button of your shirt. "And the princess is all alone with the monster. Face to face - with nowhere to go."

His tongue is hot on your neck - you try to push him off, but he pins down your wrists with feral force, growling like a wild beast. "And this time no one is coming to save her."

[sgiandubh]

What do you think of the theme “we’re all adults here” starz is using

Dear Theme Anon,

That is a beautiful question and I think this is your lucky day: with a tropical night ahead (35C/ 95F - nope, that is not a bra size 😱🤣), we simply live at night, like Superman. So, while I am slowly cooking my famed (but tedious) Circassian chicken recipe for tomorrow night's semiformal dinner, it is with great pleasure that I am answering it.

Please excuse the length. I know what I am able to do when I really like a question and yours got me immediately interested. Thank you for that.

Funnily enough, I was just having a very enriching conversation this afternoon, with a very, very good friend, who is way more intelligent than I, so she has no desire to write any blogs on Tumblr. On the very same topic you raised, Anon. With her permission, I am going to sum up the gist of it (et merci encore à toi 😘😘).

Let's look at that pic again:

The Craigh Na Dun Fateful Dance of Love and Death is one of the most moving pivotal moments of the entire series. Tens of thousands of women have shamelessly cried all around the world, while watching this (haven't you? I know I have and did it with no grace whatsoever, but pinky promise: don't tell anyone else, please). And then watched and rewatched and rewatched to oblivion, with or without that Kleenex box and that Ben and Jerry icecream at the ready.

You know, it's exactly like Shakespeare writes in Romeo and Juliet's Prologue ( I hope I still remember it...): ' A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life'. Love and Death blended together is one of the most powerful narrative tropes that ever existed. So much so, that a guy named Denis de Rougemont even famously noticed that in French, a single letter separates l'Amour (Love) and la Mort (Death), with seminal implications for our Western World mentality, ever since the Middle Ages. For some mysterious reason, we seem to always be caught completely unguarded when exposed to such ultimate injustice.

Tragic magic. This is exactly what also made OL a cult series, irrespective of its (many) unjustified lengths, its (many) moments of uneven acting and its (many, way too many) bullshit pills thrown at an increasingly jaded and bitterly divided fandom. Life imitating Art was just an unexpected blessing and a curse, that much we shippers know, and I am not planning to dwell on it.

But how long can you continue to sell this product almost exclusively to women, all around the world, especially when you are faced with the prospect of a dragging/delayed merger & acquisition (never a good sign) and an increasingly dwindling number of subscribers (never a good sign, either)? I'd think not for too long, really, even if OL still is one of ***'s biggest success stories ever. How long can you pretend to sell a high-end content to 'premium women viewers', when you know very well that you chose to discard that famed 'female gaze', which turned the series' first season into an instant media phenomenon?

Riddle me that: how to sell this product for a profit and expand that fan base while, at the same time, trying not to lose your loyal hardcore viewership?

This is ***'s first answer - I bet this will be followed by some more things, but let's see what it might mean.

On that poster, the focus is still on The Mythical Couple. Selling that good old famed, surreal chemistry - remind those old fans of that moment they felt all those feels (awww....). At the same time, try and create a need out of thin air - 'you need more'. More of what? Sex? Violence? Sexual Violence? Intrigue? Politics? Political intrigue? Ethics? Dilemmas? Ethical dilemmas? All of the above? None of the above? Stupid poster won't tell, but hey: buy me and I'll speak. Buy. Subscribe. We'll think of a way to keep you hooked - at least for the next season and a half. After all, Season Eight is a study in freestyle. After all, we conveniently leaked the info that 'Erself wrote the finale's script (why risk GoT's epic #shitshow?), so all is fine and dandy.

On par with our Mythical Couple, we have that sword. Oversized. Symmetrically featured. Action, with an intelligent twist - that is a finely wrought blade, after all. Uh-oh: that spells a new, more inclusive target. Male audience. 25 to 75, to be more exact , because the only promise the poster makes is a sobering one: 'more than fairy tales'- color me surprised.

After all, 'we're all adults, here'. Key operating words: 'all' (more inclusivity) and 'adults' (not like in X-rated, but more like in 'serious shite').

Well, then. That would require narrative chutzpah and bold choices. That would require a faster paced script, less of those never-ending side stories and borderline neurodiverse focus on irrelevant details (I am still not done with that Fiery Cross and not even ashamed of it, at this point in time) that do plague The Books. And throw rotten tomatoes at me if you wish (I don't care), that would require the end of that horribly robotic directing - we all know what the hell that means.

Will they be able to keep that high-maintenance standard? One thing I am sure of: when you treat your fandom like shite and drag along endless spells of Droughtlander without as little as a bone thrown in for diversion for months in a row, you'd better hone that blade, darlings and go for a kill. Bring it on. Bring that addictive spice back, stat.

It is my humble understanding *** wishes to create an OL universe. Wanna bet the farm that somewhere in their cartons they do entertain the possibility of (at least) a second season of BOMB? S and C cameos could be a breeze to arrange, after all ( we consider this in theory - I happen to think it could be more complicated than that). The story could be duplicated to oblivion - is it way too outlandish to imagine a season devoted to Mandy and Jem's story through several timelines?

[jinnie-ret]

Heyyyyy could you do a hyunjin x twin sister reader where hyunjin plans a suprise for her (which is introducing her the members cause why not and he thought that she doesn't really listen to kpop much because he knew she would focus more on studies then that) but he finds out by seeing you try to sing one of there songs. Sorry if this is too long lol and if it makes zero sense

2hwang

stray kids x reader (platonic)

genre: fluff

content warnings: none

word count: 1k

summary: hyunjin's twin sister finally meets skz, and much to his surprise, she's a big fan.

I hope you enjoy! I might have gone a little off topic from what you requested but it still has all those ideas! :)

If enjoyed please like, reblog or comment! And if you want to be added to the taglist then let me know!

MAIN MASTERLIST

"Keep up!" Hyunjin teased his twin sister Y/N as they raced up the stairs in the apartment block.

"What, is, wrong, with, you?" Y/N huffed as she trailed behind, only a few steps of course but that didn't mean she'd give up.

"There is nothing wrong with wanting my sister to see where I live!" Hyunjin raises a brow whilst stood hunched over, catching his breath as the palms of his hands rested on his knees.

"Not with that, you idiot! I swear there wasn't a sign saying the lift was broken..." Y/N trailed off.

"Oh that's because there wasn't," Hyunjin shrugged like it was nothing.

"Today will be the day you die, Hwang Hyunjin," Y/N dramatically stormed up to him, yet all possible intimidation was lost when she tripped over the last step.

"Woah! Hahaha," Hyunjin helped her balance herself as he caught her by the arms, and then immediately recoiled. "Ew you're so sweaty. And plus you can't kill me before I see your reaction, Hwang Y/N," he smirked, unlocking the door and opening it.

"See my reaction to what? Your art? I already know you're a hopeless romantic, what else could there be to- oh..." Y/N rambled back before standing still in her tracks at the sight of all the members of Stray Kids sat around on the sofas.

"Surprise!" Hyunjin imitated Lee Know's iconic moment, just without the party blower this time.

"H-hi..." Y/N quietly said, and automatically it was assumed by her twin brother that it was because she didn't know who they were.

In fact, it was the complete opposite.

The boys greeted Y/N with polite bows and greetings, before they all sat down and got comfortable.

"You remind me of someone..." Changbin thought, stroking his chin as if he had the wise beard of a wizard.

"It's probably Hyunjin," Seungmin rolled his eyes, jokingly crying out in pain when Changbin shoved him away.

"Yah you pabo! Of course he doesn't mean that!" Han exclaims.

"Seungmin is just teasing, Hannie," Chan facepalmed, whilst Lee Know, Felix, Jeongin and the twins merely observed from the other sofa.

"Are they always like this?" Y/N whispered to herself, yet Jeongin heard.

"Yes they are, noona... can I call you that?" Jeongin shyly asked.

Y/N's eyes widened.

"What's the matter?" Felix asked curiously.

"Oh nothing haha... but um, yes," she awkwardly answered.

"Hmm you two are very similar," Lee Know observed keenly.

"Ew don't compare me to her!" Hyunjin scrunched his nose and side eyed Y/N.

"There it is haha, the same flustered antics," Lee Know clapped his hands.

"Oh I totally see it," Felix nodded along.

"I don't get flustered!" Hyunjin folded his arms and huffed.

"You just did," Y/N shoved Hyunjin, smirking much like he did to her earlier.

"Yah!" Hyunjin pounced.

"Children! Don't fight!" Chan shouted above all the ruckus that had unfolded in simply ten minutes since the Hwang twins entered the apartment.

"Yes dad," they both rolled their eyes in sync and folded their arms.

"Woah, creepy," Jeongin shuddered, causing Y/N to fondly smile.

"Ah! I got it!" Changbin suddenly clapped his hands.

"Indulge me," Y/N smiled lightly as she sat back down.

"You look like Yeji!" Changbin smirked proudly.

"Oh from ITZY?!" Y/N beamed, excited at the comparison.

"How do you know ITZY?" Hyunjin gasped, shocked at his sister's sudden knowledge, assuming that she swerved away from KPOP all because of one time she stated she wasn't really listening to it anymore.

Which by the way lasted for like 2 hours, Y/N just couldn't find a song she wanted to listen to in that moment and ever since, Hyunjin thought that still applied to this day.

There's a reason he's in Paboracha.

"I love KPOP! Duh!" Y/N facepalmed, looking at Hyunjin with an incredulous look after.

"Hyunjinnie, did you lie to us?" Lee Know also turned to the younger twin, a glare taking over his features. Of course, he didn't really mean it.

"You said you didn't listen to it anymore!" Hyunjin defended himself, holding his hands up.

"Why else do you think that I was so awkward when I came here, Jinnie?" Y/N shyly admitted.

"Oh... Oh!!!" Hyunjin suddenly got excited.

"Oh no..." Y/N sighed.

"Why oh no?" Han laughed at the expression on Y/N's face, one he had often seen painted on Hyunjin's too but because of something he did.

"He's up to something," Seungmin chuckled lightly at Hyunjin's excited expression.

"Y/Nnieeeee, sing our song!" Hyunjin proposed the idea that had gotten him so excited.

"No way! That's so embarassing," Y/N turned away from her brother and hid her face.

"We won't judge you noona," Jeongin tried to reassure her, making her heart burst.

"Ah Jeongin you're too cute!" she let her inner fangirl out and squealed.

"Oh no, she really is like hyung," Jeongin's eyes comically widened as he referred to Hyunjin's obsession with him.

"Come on, Y/N, Hyunjin has told us you like writing, the talent must run in your family, just a little bit of singing?" Chan did his best to convince her and it worked.

"Ok, fine, fine," Y/N scratched the back of her neck wondering what.to sing before she couldn't help but fall into a fit of giggles.

"Come on, don't leave us in suspense!" Felix exclaimed, unable to hide his growing smile from her infectious giggles, ones that mirrored Hyunjin's but more high pitched and slightly quieter.

"Hoodie hoodie negan shim toga ji boogie boogie iepon kogo dance groovy groovy," Y/N perfectly imitated Hyunjin's viral part that had made it into many memes. This of course caused everyone to burst out into laughter.

"Wow she really is a true fan!" Lee Know applauded her approvingly.

"She's better than Jinnie," Changbin smirked.

"It's true," Y/N nodded, ignoring Hyunjin's shrieks in protest.

"Remember who was here first!" Hyunjin shouted emotionally, like he was part of some sort of kdrama. And ever since then, with Y/N being able to join in on their teasing, it was like she knew them from the start.

taglist: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @backintomykpopphaseagain @sakufilms @hanjiquokkaaa @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z

[aticklishpercivalwriter]

What Are you Hiding There, My Bee~? (fic)

Link to Full Art (credits go to @lyrieeeee): Sethos/Scaramouche

Summary: During a picnic, Scaramouche discovers that Sethos has a back window and takes full advantage of it :P

A/N: This is the first fic of a series of SethoScara fics I have planned out. A total of three (maybe more) including this one. Though, you can consider My Honey ♡ My Bee as part one establishing their relationship. Inspiration for this fic comes from this artwork along with this submission from @vaporized-dimsum. I hope you all enjoy reading this one! It was very fun for me to write it! Though the title of this fic was hard to create :( Also, proud to say I typed 51% of this while I was on vacation on my iPod Touch 2nd Generation ;) One last thing, be sure to complete the poll at the end to have a say where Scara should be tickled. It is time for Sethos to get revenge~

Word Count: 2561

Also on AO3!

—

Sethos and Scaramouche were having a picnic. Scara initially refused but eventually gave in because of Sethos’ persistence. So here he was, running his fingers through his lover’s hair and feeling the soft strands.

“Having fun over there, honey~” Sethos teased.

Are you having fun with my hat, annoying bee?” Scara huffed.

“Aw, still sulky about having a picnic with me?”

“You are so annoying.”

Wanderer refused to admit that he was actually enjoying this mundane activity of a picnic.

“Lighten up. Here,” the leader of the Temple of Silence set down Scara’s hat and turned around, handing him one of the cooked dishes he packed. “You haven’t eaten yet. Try my signature dish. I know you’ll like it.”

“And what makes you think I’ll like your cooking?” he asked, dropping Sethos’ hair in annoyed disappointment. Why do I like his hair so much?

“Because I only make the best of the best for my boyfriend!~”

“Tch,” he felt his face start to heat up and grabbed the food from Sethos’ hands to hide his incoming blush.

“Stop saying words like that,” he mumbled, taking a bite from his boyfriend’s cooking.

Oh shit. It’s good.

The former god’s eyes widened in disbelief at the explosion of tastes hitting him as he took another bite.

“So, you like it?”

“It’s really-” he was about to compliment him, but he saw the smug look in his eyes.

“Actually, it’s really terrible.”

“Now, now love~” Sethos singsonged. “I know you’re lying. I saw the look in your eyes~”

“You saw nothing.”

“What about that bite you just took?”

“That was for your pride, so it won’t take a hit.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Wan,” Sethos laughed and leaned on him.

“Hmph,” he grumbled.

Sethos dropped his teasing and went to grab and admire his lover's hat instead. Laying on his belly, his long locks covering his entire back.

“What’s your deal with my hat anyway?” Scara asked, ignoring the craving to just comb his fingers through his bee’s hair.

“It’s so cool! The patterns, ornaments, and accessories are so detailed!”

“If you want it, you can take it.”

“Really?!”

Sethos giddily grinned, putting his lover’s hat on with a cheeky smirk as he faced him.

“You want to use my hat as an umbrella?” Sethos imitated him.

“That’s not how-”

“The fucking audacity to make that request.”

Sethos burst out laughing and fell forward into Scara's lap.

“That’s not how I sound like,” Scara glared at him.

“Noho, that is hohow you sound lihike.”

Sethos continued to laugh, making Scara’s hat fall off and parting his long locks. Scara’s eyes widened when he saw a sliver of skin shine in the sunlight.

“I didn’t know you had a back window,” he reached out in awe. “Why do you even-”

“HYAHAHA!”

He jolted in his lover’s lap, letting out a bright shrill of laughter, distinct from his laughing right before.

“That was…uh…” Sethos’ eyes darted up towards his lover who had a hint of mischief running through his eyes.

“What are you hiding there, my bee~?”

“Eek! I-I gotta head out now. Haha! N-Need to run some errands so bye!”

Sethos made a run for it, activating his Electro powers. Wanderer just watched him, slowly getting up and picking up his hat. A shit-eating grin grew on his face. It hasn’t even been a week since he tickled Sethos, but he has been craving to hear his delicious laughter and just get his hands on him.

“Get back here, little bee~”

Sethos felt shivers travel down his spine as he heard those words and ran even faster. He saw Wanderer’s shadow in front of him and went into panic mode.

“I’m getting closer, love~,” he heard from above.

“N-No you’re nohohot!” he squeaked out, reversing his direction to throw his pursuer off.

But he knows he’s winning a losing battle. The sounds of Wanderer’s clothing becoming louder with each passing second.

Scara was having the time of his life making Sethos let out little squeaks and giggles trying to run away from him. He also had a great view of his physique and his muscular arms. The way the sweat made his skin glisten and- What am I thinking!? He shook his head and eyed his prize, the back window. His lover’s hair swayed back and forth, his back window coming in and out of view as if teasing Scara.

“Dumb little bee,” he huffed to himself.

By now, he was right on top of Sethos and smirked devilishly.

“Coming down~”

Sethos didn’t have time to react as he was tackled down to the ground from above.

“Oof! Hon- Whoa-whoa-whoaah!”

Sethos lost his footing and Wanderer managed to shield his head in his arms right before they started tumbling down the hill. Thankfully it was a grassy hill as they rolled and rolled until they reached the bottom.

“Ugh,” Sethos groaned, face down in the grass as he turned his face to the side once he felt Scara get off him. “At least it wasn’t saAHAHAHA-!”

Sethos let out a shriek as he felt a finger scratch the patch of skin exposed on his back.

“MoCHIHIhi!” He tried raising himself but immediately felt his lover straddle him and a sudden squeeze on his sides. “EYAHAHAHA!”

His hands gave out and his body shook with laughter as Wanderer scribbled his fingers over his back.

“Ihihi dihihidn’t eheheven dohoho ahahanythihihing! Why ahaham ihihi gehehetihing tihihickled?”

“Oh, you did do something, little bee,” he said, grazing his fingers against his clothed shoulder blades. Eheheheek!

Wanderer couldn’t help but chuckle at Sethos’ reactions. He’s cute when he laughs and giggles like this.

“Whahat dihihid ihihi- WAHAHAIT!” Sethos yelped when he felt Scara lift up his clothing, exposing his back to the warm breeze. “Hohonehehey! Dohohon’t dohoho ihihit! Plehehease!

“Do what?”

“Tihihihickle mehehe! Whahat elSEHEHE- NOHOHOHAHAHA!”

“I thought you would never ask~”

His devious lover smirked as he now properly tickled his back. His fingers scribbled over the ticklish real estate.

“WAHAHA! T-ThAHAt’s NOHOHOT waHAHAt I MEAhaHANT!”

“You said, ‘Tickle me,’ didn’t you? What else am I supposed to do, not tickle you? You asked for it, little bee~” Scara smirked, planting kisses on the ticklish skin as his fingers trailed down his spine.

Sethos shook his head in ticklish mirth, grass falling out of his hair as he tried to reach behind him to fend off Scara’s fingers but to no avail.

“Youhu arEHEHE usIHIHing myhy wohohords aga- AHAHAHA! ahahagainst MEHEHE, MOCHIHIHI!”

He scoffed, “Since you care so much about words, try to spell what I’m writing then.”

He slid his fingers meticulously across his lover’s back, focusing on his shoulder blades.

“AHAHAHA!” Sethos screeched. “IHIHI’M NOHOHOT REHEHEHADY!”

“Wrong answer~” Scara grinned, squeezing his side.

“NAHAHA! OkaHAHAY! OkAHay! Uhh, ehehe! ‘L’ Ahaha! ‘O-’ GAHAHA! NOHOHO!” Sethos let out a loud laugh when Scara traced the third letter on his spine.

“You want to give up?”

“NEHEHEVER! ‘VehEHEHE!’”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you~”

“‘VEHEHE!’ ’V!’ aHAHand ‘EHEHE!’ ‘E!’ MOCHIHIHI!”

“And it spells?”

“LOHOHOHOVE!”

“Wha-”

“LOVE! LOHOHOVE! LOVEHEHE!”

Scara’s hands stilled in surprise, not expecting him to answer correctly.

“Yeah,” he said, continuing his onslaught of scribbles. Hehehey! Ihihihi answerehehed correhehectly! “How about this one?” he asked, ignoring his lover’s protests.

He increased the pressure of his writing and instead of letters, he started drawing a few shapes.

“WHAhahat arehehe thOHOSE!? ThOHose areHEhen’t WOHOHORDS! AHAHAHA!”

“Well, use letters to create a word to name them. Shouldn’t be too hard since you are a master spelling bee, aren’t you~?” Scara knows he is being cruel, but he can’t help but want to take victory in this game.

Sethos had tears of mirth threatening to fall but that wasn’t going to make him back down from the challenge. He tried to focus, focusing on his lover’s fingers. How they know their way to make him laugh and draw out the reactions they want.

“NOHOHOHOT THAHAHAT FOHOCUS!” he pounded his fists into the ground as a guffaw of laughter left his lips.

His lover just raised an eyebrow in amusement, fluttering the feather on his vision in place of his fingers and enjoying the way his back repeatedly arched up and down.

Ticklish shocks ran through Sethos’ body, but he wasn’t ready to give up. He focused once again, visualizing the shapes that Scara was tracing on his back. A circle, ahahaha! He’s merciless! Nehehe, a heart. And…a zig-zag? Heheahaha! Darn, my ticklish back!

“Ahaha! A ciRIHIcleHE! CIRCLEHE! HEART! AHAHAHAND! ZIHIHIG-ZAHAHAG! ZIG-ZAHAG!”

Scara was yet again surprised, more so than last time.

Shit, he is really good at this. Tch, I’ll just need to trick him then. Use his ability to my advantage.

“Dihihid Ihihi wihihin?” Sethos giggled, a hint of smugness laced in his voice.

“You are a cocky, little bee,” Scara dug into the back of his ribs in punishment.

“HAHAHAHA! WAHAHAHA! I’M SOHOHOHRRY! I’M SORREHEHEY! I’M SAHAHAHARRY! NAHAHAHA!”

Scara roughly tickled him for a couple more minutes before letting up.

“Nohoho mohohore, plehehease!”

“Serves you right.”

Scara placed his hands on his lover’s back once more, making him yelp in surprise.

“Mohohore?” he whined.

“Mhm,” Scara hummed. “You guess this right, you win.”

Scara traced Sethos’ back more lightly this time, almost like a caress. Sethos happily giggled, his head resting on his arm as he turned to the side with a carefree smile on his face.

“Thihihis ihihis prehehetty nihihice, ehehe.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Scara said, tracing down his spine.

He twitched in Scara’s hold in surprise. “AHAHahaHA! OhHOHo rigHIhigHT!”

Scara snorted and started tracing the letters again.

“’Tehehe’ ‘Ihi’ uhuhum ‘C’ ‘KehHEHE’ ‘L-Ehehe’ ahahAHA! ‘M’ ‘Ehe!’”

“And what does that spell?” A smug expression crossed Scara’s face as he continued his soft tracing.

“Ahahahaehehe! ‘Tihihickle Mehe!’”

“Come again, little bee~” Scara teased, stopping his tracing.

“Tickle Me!”

A beat passed before Sethos’ eyes widened like saucers in realization and he turned to look at him.

“Honey. You are so eHEHEVIHIHIL! NAHAHAHA!”

He shoved his face back into his arm as Scara ruthlessly scribbled his fingers on his skin.

“I honestly can’t believe you fell for it twice, my ticklish bee~”

“YOUHUHUHU WEHEHEHERE DIHIHISTRAHACTING MEHEHE! I-I COHOHOULDN’T THI- AHAHAHAHA! THINK!”

“Doesn’t change the fact you still said it,” he stuck out his tongue at him even though he couldn’t see him.

“MOCHIHIHI!” he shrieked when he felt him target the spot where his back window would be if his clothing were not lifted up. “YOUHUHU PLAHAHAYED DIHIHIRTY!”

“How could I have played dirty? You correctly said the two words I was drawing, and you won.”

“WEHEHELL, HAHAHAHA! Y-YOUHUHU STIHIHILL PLAHAHAYED DIHIHIRTY! THIHIHIS IHIHIS YOUR EXCUSEHE TOHOHO TIHIHICKLE MEHEHEHE! YOUHU JUHUST COUHULDN’T ACCEHEPT THE FAHACT I WAS BEHEATING YOUHU AT YOUR OHOWN GAHAME! AHAM IHIHI RIGHIT?”

The tickling suddenly stopped and Sethos gulped in some much-needed air. He took the time to catch his breath and regain his energy. A few minutes passed of him just panting and the wind brushing the blades of grass around them. It was then that Sethos realized that Wanderer, who was still on top of him, wasn’t saying anything.

“Lov-Ow!”

Scara suddenly shifted forward and nipped at his ear.

“What was-”

“You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?” Scara directly whispered into his ear making him shudder. His voice was much deeper and threatening, making Sethos gulp in nervousness.

"You want to see how I really play dirty?”

Sethos could hear the smirk in his voice, and he felt butterflies in his stomach. Whether they were from excitement or fear or even both, he didn’t know. He tried to speak but no words came out.

“Where is all that bravado now, my bee?”

Scara grabbed Sethos’ chin and turned his head towards him. Sethos saw the look in his lover’s eyes and audibly gulped, heart pounding in his chest. Scara's violet eyes shined with hunger and that smirk turned into a devilish grin when he saw his reaction.

“I have one word for you,” he leaned even closer to him, making him squirm in his hold. “Raspberries.”

Before Sethos could even process what he said, he immediately succumbed to laughter with Scara blowing raspberry after raspberry on his back.

“BWAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHA! HOHOHON- AHAHAHAHA! PLE- HAHAHAHA!” Sethos couldn’t even finish his words as Wanderer mercilessly wrecked him with raspberries.

“Pfft!” His spine.

“NAHAHAHAHA!”

“PfFFTt!” His shoulder blades.

“GAHAHAHAHA!”

“PFFFFTTT!” His back window.

“BWAHAHAHAHA!”

And to make matters worse for him, he started drilling his fingers into his sides and armpits along with scribbles on the back of his ribs.

“EYAHAHAHAHA!”

Sethos was in hysterics as he pounded the ground with his fists and kicked his legs out.

“SCA- AHAHAHAHAHA! SCAHAHAHA- HAHAHAHA! SCAHAHAHARAHAHAHA!”

“That is my name, ticklish bee.”

“STAHAHAHAHAHAP! I-I’M GONNA DIEHEHEHE! AHAHAHAHAHA!

“Apologize.”

“I-I CAHAHAHAN’T- GAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Guess you chose death.”

“NOHOHOHO! WAI- AHAHA! WAHAHAHAIT! OKAHAHAHAY! I-I’M SOHOHOHORRY FOHOHOR SAHAHAYING THOHOHOSE THIHIHINGS TOHOHOHO YOUHUHU!”

“Hmm.”

“WHAHAHAHAT EHEHEHELSE DO YOUHUHU WAHAHAHANT MEHEHEHE TOHOHOHO- BWAHAHAHA! NOHOHOT THEHEHERE! STAHAHAHAP!”

“Beg.”

“WAHAHAHAHAT?”

“Plead for it, nicely.”

“AHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO WAHAHAHAY! snort D-DOHOHOHOHON’T- GAHAHAHAHAHA! snort”

“I’m waiting~”

“N-NEHEHEHEVER! Y-YOU- snort NAHAHAHA W-WOHOHON'T GEHEHET IHIHIT OHOUT OHOF MEHEHE!"

"Oh, you're going to wish you never said those words. Laugh before me, my ticklish bee~"

Scara mustered all the breath he could take before letting out the biggest and loudest raspberry he could right on poor Sethos' back window and repeating it over and over all while spidering his fingers all over the rest of his back. The last of Sethos' defense came tumbling down soon after.

"GAHAHAHAHA! snort NONONOHOHOHO! FINE! snort FHIHIHINE! WAHAHAHANDEHEHE! STAHAHAHAP! PLEHEHEHEASE! snort SCAHAHAHAHARA! MYHYHY BELOHOHOVED HOHOHONEHEY! I’M BEHEHEHEGGING YOUHUHU! snort BWAHAHAHAHA! IHIHIT’S TOHOHOHOO MUHUHUHCH! snort PLEHEHEASE! HAHAHAVE MEHEHEHERCY! MEHEHERCEHEHEHEY!”

Oh my archons, he is so adorable.

Scara smiled endearingly at him, at last giving him mercy. He trailed little kisses and raspberries from his back to his neck and eventually turned him over onto his back and went in for a slow, sensual kiss which Sethos immediately melted into.

“Mmm~ Scaraah~ mmph~”

“Mm~ Sethohh~ Hahh~”

They made out for a few minutes, combing their fingers through each other’s hair and exploring each other’s mouths before pulling away. Breathless, they stared at one another taking in each other’s flushed face before Sethos started giggling.

“Your tickling was ruthless!” Sethos managed to say in between giggles.

“But you liked it~”

Sethos looked away blushing but didn’t deny it.

Wanderer chuckled, lifting himself up and picking Sethos up bridal style.

“Let’s finish our picnic.”

“Oh, when did you become such a romantic?~ Ack! Sohohorry!”

“If you don’t shut up, I won’t do this again.”

He was blushing and looking straight ahead as he went up the hill. Sethos glanced at him before closing his eyes in exhaustion with an understanding smile on his face.

“I love you, honey.”

A smile tugged at Scara’s lips.

“I love you too, bee.”

Sethos fell asleep in his arms soon after and curled in towards his chest. He shook his head fondly.

“Let’s go home instead.”

He silently called upon the Aranara to pack up their things and that he’d pick them up later. After thanking them, he set off towards their home and he looked back down at Sethos’ sleeping form. He smiled lovingly at him and planted a kiss on his temple.

“Sleep well, my lovely, ticklish bee.”

—

Google Form Link!

[rou-luxe]

ikevil - tips on how to draw william rex

next: harrison ->

what better way to start this than with our beautiful lord rex? I hope I make sense with this guide oml

introduction: you know how you want to draw your favorite characters, but don't know where to start? you know, those characters with ridiculously difficult designs?

this is for ikevil. hope this helps

(there is no tracing whatsoever in this. this was all done by hand. analyzing anothers' artstyle is NOT a form of art stealing. people naturally learn from observing others. imitation is the highest form of flattery. this is not meant to disrespect natsume lemon in any way.) disclaimer, I am not a professional artist. these are not set in stone. these are just tips.

section 1 - observation

finding important traits

my writing sucks. let me sum it up for you

thin, angular features. thin nose, sharp eyebrows, elf sharp ears

his face is quite long. the chin is not completely sharp, it is more blunt.

william has an earring on his left ear.

large forehead to plant a kiss on

his smile is :>

his eyebrows are in a ] shape (I don't know how to describe it)

section 2 - study

imitating the original sprite

this is the part that gets tricky.

it helps me learn better because it translates the reference into something I can understand. it's also so I don't forget anything (so many accessories...)

I crudely slapped the colors from the original onto my imitation to save time 😭😭

let's break down his design.

hair

monstrosity. aesthetically pleasing to look at. but drawing it? hell. I have color-coded it into pieces here:

magenta: back hair. very spiky and a bit long. it's a bit poofy on top (at least on the main sprite)

red: extends outwards. try to have the part dangling down cover the end of the hairline.

yellow: think of it like a little extension from the green section. just dangling down a bit.

green: make it dramatic

blue: similar to red, but smaller and on the other side. tucked behind green.

2. eyes

his eyes are in a parallelogram shape. the slant is similar for both ends.

outer corners extend upwards.

they're not opened very wide.

almost everything is sharp. very little curves.

his pupils are a bit larger than slits.

the inner corners are lowered significantly.

3. clothing

I only did a bust but still

underneath that outer collar is the same dress shirt you see in the sprite below. don't forget about it.

the cravat (???) is crinkled by the outer chain

I was obviously too lazy but remember to draw the pattern of the outer collar

all these accents have a rope-like texture

the chain mainly consists of triangles, but they rotate... I could not be bothered to go through that pain

accessories in the third image

section 3 - personal application

applying all these tips to my own artstyle

this was arguably the most painful part of the process. I got artstyle envy because of the study, so I had to hide the study 😭😭

I hope I portrayed him accurately

got a lazy with the clothes... but I make up for it in coloring. eugh trust the process

final comparison

I still like the study better but my artstyle is fine too 🤧

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

taglist!!

@bakersgrief @floydsteeth @tako-cafe @rubia8 @xxoomiii

@sh0jun @noxinara @g0dwat3r @sapphire-323 @lycemagee

@citrusmornings @drachonia 

please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!! or if you'd just like to be tagged for this series

[ratrrriot]

Do you have any sonic ocs? (Or ocs in general, haha) (totally not asking so I can make fanart, nahhhh….)

The fact that you are considering drawing my OCS when you haven't even seen them yet is very flattering,thank you!!

these are from when i was in highschool lol

This is Spark, They are a Tetraplegic Chao Cream found and brought to Tails,who successfully managed to build a fully functional mechanical body for them to play with. This robot body is connected to their brain and can even fly.

Spark lives at Tail's workshop and they’re clearly very fond of Cream -who regularly visits them to play- and Tails.

Originally,Tails was going to design Spark’s robot body based on his own (for trademark reasons) but since Cream was Spark's “owner” (for lack of a better term referring to someone who takes care of a chao) ,she wanted to participate in the designing part and gave him a few crayon drawings of rabbits, which were so cute that Tails simply had to include them in the final design. This is why they look like a Fox/Rabbit hybrid. (it also makes sense since Spark sees them both as some sort of older siblings)

ofc Spark isn't always inside their robot body,Tails takes them in and out everyday.

Aaand these are some apprentices I designed for the Babylon Rogues! Tundra,Velvet and Ember. They love snowboarding and are developing their skills at Extreme Gear Racing. They kinda need some redesigning...

These three are orphans. They used to live at an orphanage situated in a small town near Snow Valley. Unsatisfied with their lives there (and that nobody seemed to be interested in adopting them) they ran away around the age of 12 to try and start new lifes on their own,resorting to thievery and trickery to get by. Life was hard and unfair for three kids growing up in the snowy streets,but thanks to Velvet's determination,Ember's charisma and Tundra's intelligence they managed to survive. After a year of wandering,they stole 3 snowboards and started practicing the sport ,with the hopes that one day they would become famous professionals who didn't need to resort to stealing. However,by they age of 16, they hadn't just developed great skill and love for what they now consider "the art of thievery" - and a liking for equipment and luxuries most can't afford- but they also had lost all interest on the "safer" version of snowboarding and became addicted to the speed and the danger of racing.

They set on a journey to find their childhood idols: The babylon Rogues, a group of legendary thieves that they heard tales about back at the orphanage's storytime and who's Extreme Gear skills were what originally inspired them to try snowboarding. They traveled far and wide searching for them and once they managed to find Wave,Jet and Storm,they begged them to teach them their ways . After annoying them enough (and practically not letting them alone lol) the trio of professionals finally agreed to train them.

VELVET THE NORTHERN CARDINAL:

Energic,Peppy,Sassy,Optimistic,laid-back and confident. A speed junkie and a little bit of a clown. The fastest of the trio. Jet is his Idol and he'll do anything to impress him. Tries to annoy Sonic to imitate his teacher,but he actually thinks he is the coolest guy around after Jet. He has a big heart and doesn't seem to hate Sonic -or anyone -at all,but he does enjoy some friendly banter at the moment of competing. Jet likes him a lot and is kinda proud of him but he tries not to show it ,as he doesn't want the kid (or himself) to get attached or to think he'll actually pass to him his "Master of the wind" title someday.

The gem-shaped-computer on his neck was a gift he received from Wave after she updated her own and didn't know what to do with her old one. According to her,she handed it down to him cause "it matched his feathers". Now,feeling honored by one of his idols,he wears it with pride.

EMBER THE COCKATIEL:

Cheeky, Rebellious, Brave, Impulsive and Loyal. Doing tricks in the air like its nothing is her specialty. Cares a lot about her looks and is an expert at the art of deception. She is also can be a little bit of meanie. She and Wave share a sister-like kind of relationship. Since they both have strong personalities, they fight a lot and she tends to disobey her,espeally when it comes to the times she tries to teach her about mechanics and "the boring part" of Extreme Gear personalization. However, they always make up and end up gossiping at the end of the day.

TUNDRA THE CRESTED PENGUIN :

Silent, cold, shy, serious, a bit competitive and incredibly smart. Expert at strategizing and finding shortcuts while racing. Has high expectations of himself and doesn't handle failure very well. Being the oldest by a year,he is very protective of his adoptive siblings. Unlike Wave and Jet,Storm didn't have to be convinced to take him under his wing cause he liked the kid since the moment he showed up. tho he is trying to teach him to live a little and be a bit more impulsive at the moment of racing.

[ticklishshenanigansau]

Happy Tickletober! This year, Mod Secret has been working hard to write a comprehensive story using our list of prompts and we used a wheel to randomly assign the three of us which prompts to draw accompanying chapter art. We hope you enjoy! =3

LaughterLand - Chapter 1: Hypnosis

(story by Mod Secret, art by Mod Yosh)

"Tra la la, beware the man who speaks in hands," the River Person quietly muttered to the two skeletons from beneath their robes.

"The man who speaks in hands?" the taller skeleton began to fret. "Why is there a need to be wary? Does he not use his hands for just purposes?"

Sans sighed heavily, facing his brother with his head still cradled in his right hand leaning off the side of the riverboat.

"Bro, they’re talking about our Dad … and unfortunately there's no way to ‘beware’ of him, ‘cuz that's where we're going." He rolled his eyes before gazing back into the water.

"Oh!" Papyrus laughed. "There's no need for us to ‘beware’ of him anyways, friend." He enthusiastically tapped the River Person's shoulder with his gloved hand, making the boat driver slightly jump. "He merely wants to see us for the further pursuit of scientific discovery!"

"More like he wants to use his only family as semi-living guinea pigs." Sans couldn't help but scoff. He was getting rather tired of his practically estranged father only calling upon him and his younger brother for this kind of thing.

"Aw, cheer up Sans," Papyrus sat down next to him on the river boat, optimistic smile still beaming. "I'm sure it's not going to be as bad as the last time when he—"

"Practically switched my insides with a Snowdrake?" Sans abruptly cut him off. "Or the time he made you think you were a fish-monster who could actually breathe water? Or the time he tried to spray down our bones with a ‘heat resistance gel’? I'm just saying it's a good thing we booked it BEFORE he got out the flame thrower!"

"Alright, alright. I understand." Papyrus gently held up his hands to calm his brother down. "So his ideas of ‘quality-time’ are a little … unconventional … at best?" Papyrus's tone of voice made Sans start to question whether he was trying to convince him or himself. Papyrus shook his head decisively. "But at least he still wants to see us, and we do excellent work in helping him to better Monster-Kind."

Sans sighed deeply, pinching the space above his nasal cavity. "Pap, the only reason G wants to see us, is because he practically blew up half of his lab assistants, and the other half were smart enough to bail before he did the same to them … or worse. And it's not like we can say no, because he'll pull the whole ‘After everything I've done for you’ crap." He did his best imitation of his creator. "‘After feeding you, clothing you, and giving you the gift of life itself’." Papyrus couldn't help but snicker at Sans' nearly perfect recreation of Gaster's tone and movements.

"Call me crazy Pap, but somehow I always feel way worse coming out of the old man's place than I do going in. So this isn't exactly how I wanna spend a perfectly good Saturday when there's a bottle of ketchup back home with my name on it."

Papyrus shrugged, still trying to remain in good spirits. "You never know Sans, this time could be fun."

Sans rolled his eyes yet again, head shaking dismissively. "Yeah … we'll see."

"Welcome to Hotland," the River Person quietly spoke up after pulling their strange-looking riverboat up to the shallow port. Papyrus excitedly hopped off, and Sans begrudgingly lumbered onto the sand before flipping the River Person a coin.

"Thanks," Sans muttered, although his inside voice finished off with, "...for nothing."

"Come again sometime. Tra la la." The River Person's boat grew cat legs and scampered off down the river in the direction of Waterfall, leaving Sans truly wishing that he had stayed on the boat.

The skeletons made their way down the route they were all too familiar with, down the path towards the huge metal laboratory in the distance. Sans couldn't help but air out his collar, sweat already starting to trickle down his neck.

"It's like this place just keeps getting hotter," he sighed.

"Well it is Hotland, Brother," Papyrus replied, his grin never faltering. "Why do you wear such a heavy sweater anyways?"

"I … just feel more protected," Sans answered honestly, though saying it out loud made him feel a bit more self-conscious.

"Protected?" Papyrus repeated, seemingly surprised by the answer. "But you have me for protection, Brother! I can protect you far more than that smelly old thing!"

Sans chuckled, Papyrus's confidence really was endearing. "I appreciate it, Bro," Sans replied. "But when it comes to HIM, I feel like I can use all the protection I can get.”

They arrived at the front door, somehow Sans was never able to get used to just how much bigger it was than the two of them, as always, it made him feel so much smaller.

Well, if the door was going to make him feel this insignificant, he wasn't going to treat it with a proper knock. He raised his fist and as gently as he could, and tapped on the door with his knuckles. Papyrus was standing right there, and even he didn't hear a thing.

"Oh well, nobody's home." Sans shrugged with a half-grin making an attempt to walk away. "Can't say we didn't try, right?"

"Sans!" Papyrus responded, hands on his hips and with a tone of annoyance.

It didn't matter anyways, the brothers heard the loud creaking noise of the gigantic door beginning to open. Sans gritted his teeth. "That never works," he grumbled to himself.

They turned to see the aged skeleton standing in the doorway, his stern orange and blue eyes looking them up and down.

"Greetings, boys," Gaster spoke in his usual low tone.

"Hey, G." Sans shoved his hands into his pockets, his voice also low and unamused, not even giving him the courtesy of a glance.

"Greetings, fatherly figure!" Papyrus, on the other hand, bounced with delight and friendliness, aggressively grabbing Gaster's hand to shake it. "How nice of you to invite us into your home once again!"

No matter how many times Gaster invited them over, Papyrus always managed to surprise him with his upbeat attitude and willingness to come back. As Papyrus released his hand after giving it a thorough shake, he and Sans made their way through the door and into the lab. Papyrus's greeting leaving the scientist quite dumbfounded for what to say next.

"Right … er … come on then … uh … son—uh! Sons, I mean?" he stammered.

"Alright, let's just get this over with." Sans’s cold tone almost immediately snapped Gaster back into his usual demeanor.

"Right!" Gaster shut the door and led the brothers downstairs to the True Lab. The place where all of the tools and past experiments were kept.

Papyrus excitedly hopped into Gaster's office chair to take it for a quick spin-around, while Sans wasted no time making his way to the coffee maker. Somehow he could already tell that this was going to be a long day.

"P-2, please do try to calm down." Gaster abruptly stopped Papyrus from spinning around in the chair, allowing the dizzy skeleton to stumble away. "I'm going to need steady attitudes for this line of testing."

"We talked about this, G," Sans replied, pouring a fresh cup of hot coffee into the styrofoam mug. "We both have names, remember?"

"Right, of course," Gaster acknowledged, turning his large blackboard towards the two of them.

"Oh, and S-1—er! I mean … Sans," he corrected himself. "No coffee for today please, this test must require zero stimulants of any kind."

"Oh great." Sans bitterly placed the untouched cup next to the  coffee pot. "So what's involved for this one? The effects of sleep-deprivation?"

"Quite the opposite actually," Gaster replied, facing the scribblings on his blackboard. "For this test, I'll be putting you both into a deep trance."

"Say … what now?" Sans blinked, surely his scientific father didn't mean what he thought he meant.

Gaster moved to show off his notes and scribbled doodles on the subject of hypnosis on the blackboard. As usual, the blending of all of his ideas and hypotheses together on one cramped space made for some confusing visuals.

"I wish to know the true strength of the power of suggestion upon the monster's mind," Gaster explained. "How far can suggestion go, and just how deep a trance can one be put in before the impossible becomes reality?"

"Hypnosis … really?" Sans replied, both expression and tone deadpanned. "I give up a coffee break just so you can play with the metaphysical? This is weird even for you old man."

"Oh come now, Sans!" Papyrus approached his brother, still wearing a grin. "I think it'll be fun! Just think of the possibilities the two of our brains can come up with!" he suddenly gasped, eyes full of childlike wonder. "We could become convinced that we're flying! Or can shoot laserbeams out of our eyesockets! Or —"

"Bro!" Sans cut him off, not wanting Papyrus to get too excited as he figured whatever Gaster had in mind for them wasn't going to be nearly as adventurous as he had hoped. "You're wasting your time anyways, G. I can't be hypnotized," he said adamantly.

Gaster knew that this was going to be a tough sell, Sans wasn't one to be convinced to be put in vulnerable situations easily. But thankfully, Gaster did have the perfect idea for just how to convince him.

"Think of it this way … Sans," he paused momentarily to remember his name. "This will be the only time where the only thing that's required of you is to lay back and do nothing but sleep."

That did it. Gaster knew there was no way that Sans would miss an opportunity to be lazy. With a loud groan, Sans followed Gaster and his brother into the operating room. Gaster laid Sans and Papyrus next to each other on two large metal tables. Above them hung a large, oversized pendulum that began swinging back and forth once Gaster hit a button on the wall. The pendulum made a gentle ‘whoosh’ sound as it passed back and forth above them.

"What, are we in a giant grandfather clock?" Sans joked, albeit still in a sarcastic tone.

"This will give you something to focus on while I slip you both into a trance."

"Oooooh!" Papyrus's gaze followed the pendulum, seemingly enchanted by it. "Isn't it exciting, Sans?" He beamed. "We're about to unravel the deep mysteries of the metaphysical mindset!"

"Right…," Sans mumbled. "Let's just hope Dear Old Dad doesn't unravel our minds."

Gaster pulled out an old-fashioned handheld tape recorder and began an audio log.

"Subjects S-1 and P-2 are ready for testing," he recorded quietly. Both are resting comfortably on the operating tables, mere inches apart from one another. The pendulum has begun swinging, and I will now proceed with the restraints." Although it was difficult to catch all of what the old skeleton was muttering, Sans could have sworn that he had caught that last word.

"Whoa whoa whoa … ‘restraints’? You didn't say anything about…," Sans trailed off as he watched Gaster approach him without acknowledging what it was he had just said.

Gaster reached under the table to pull out what looked like two oversized belts. One that would cross along his upper torso, right where his elbow bent, and the other down lower across his knees. Sans despised whenever Gaster brought out these restraints, and did his best to avoid them at all cost. Gaster fastened his eldest son to the table before Sans even had a chance to protest.

"Hey!" Sans began before being strapped to the table and unable to break free. "G, I thought you were just hypnotizing us, what the hell is this for?"

"This is purely for your own safety, Sans," Gaster replied as he pulled out the straps for Papyrus. The younger skeleton never put up much of a fight, so Gaster was able to properly take his time in securing him. "Should your body obey the suggestions to move, or should anything go wrong during the experiment, you'll be safely secured to the table where you won't be able to fall off or injure yourself.

"Right … ‘safety’ … sure," Sans grumbled, not entirely convinced.

"Yes! Very thoughtful of you, sir!" Papyrus chimed in, although Sans could tell that being tied up wasn't exactly Papyrus's favorite thing to do either.

Gaster sat himself down behind a metal podium that contained buttons of different shapes and sizes, all of which had been used on the brothers before with different results. Gaster, once again, pulled out his tape recorder.

"Subjects have been restrained, now proceeding with the 'Nerve-Processing Scan'." Gaster leaned into a small microphone attached to the podium that amplified his low voice so that Sans and Papyrus could hear him clearly. "Boys, you're going to see a small flash of light, just tell me how it makes you feel."

Before either of them had a chance to question, there was a sudden brightness that filled the room nearly blinding the two of them. It disappeared as quickly as it came, but all at once, the brothers felt an overwhelming tingling sensation consuming their bones.

"What?! W-What the—?!" Sans began to grin in spite of himself. The tingles especially affected his cheeks and moved rapidly down his ribs. He felt an overwhelming urge to laugh, but he held it back as best as he could, not wanting Gaster to hear anything. But even with all his efforts, a small snicker still escaped his teeth.

Papyrus, however, wasn't as resilient. Within moments, the younger skeleton began giggling. Light snickers at first, but as the tingles spread downwards he began kicking his legs — as best he could through the restraints — and squirmed on the table.

"Nyeh-hee-hee-hee-hee!! It-It tihihickles!" Papyrus scrunched up his neck in an effort to distract from the sensations.

"Hmm, good," Gaster replied through the microphone before returning back to collecting his thoughts into the tape recorder. "Let the record show that S-1 and P-2 have still retained their sense of 'sensitivity' since the last experiment."

As the tingles began to wear off, Sans looked over at Gaster worriedly. He couldn't hear what the old man was mumbling into that old-fashioned box, but he knew that light show had to be for something.

"Pap, I've got a bad feeling about this," he whispered to Papyrus, who was still trying to shake the tingles off of his toes as he seemed not to hear him.

Gaster leaned back into the microphone, his soft and low voice lightly reverberating off of the walls.

"Alright boys, I want you both to take a deep breath and relax. Please focus your eyes on the pendulum and do not remove your gaze from it."

The brothers obeyed, Sans still muttering under his breath. "You're wasting your time old man, this is beyond pointless."

Gaster continued, "I'm going to start counting backwards from ten. And with every passing number I want you to notice a deep and pleasant drowsiness start to come over you."

"Deep and pleasant drowsiness, huh?" Sans silently scoffed. "You don't need to strap me to a table to get that outta me."

"Slowly building up from your feet…," Gaster continued. "Up through your legs and over your hips … over your spines and ribcages … spreading a deep drowsiness through your arms … up over your shoulders … across your faces … feeling your eyelids start to get heavier and heavier."

"From the way you're droning on you won't need this crap to put me to sleep," Sans quietly complained.

Although, despite the absurdity of it all, a part of him couldn't help but want to feel that 'pleasant drowsiness' that Gaster kept going on about. Despite his current situation, a nap with that kind of intensity did feel like it would be a welcomed change of pace. It had been a while since he had a peaceful rest without the constant interruption of nightmares.

"Ten.… Nine.… Eight…," Gaster slowly began. "Feeling your bodies start to drift off into sleepiness...."

Sans didn't want to believe it, and part of him surely thought that it was nothing but a trick of the mind, but he did start to feel it. A sensation, almost similar to that of a warm numbness, starting to take hold of his feet and slowly climbing up his legs and towards his waist. It was … strangely pleasant.

"Seven.… Six.… Five…," Gaster went on, his voice overtaking the room. "Slowly drifting off into a pleasant drowsiness, slipping deeper and deeper into sleep."

"This is … so … so … stupid…." But the more Sans tried to convince himself, the more he was starting to lose track of his words and drift off, doing exactly as Gaster was commanding him to do.

"Four.… Three.... Two…. You feel it start to take over your body, slipping deeper and deeper into relaxation," Gaster continued. "One…. Now your eyelids feel so unbelievably heavy, it's nearly impossible to keep them open now."

And it was. Sans couldn't keep from blinking, but every time he opened his eyes, it was harder and harder to keep them open. What was happening? He knew that if there was anywhere that he didn't feel 100% safe, it was here in his father's laboratory. And yet, it was like his body was trying too hard to convince his brain that this was the place to let it all go and sleep.

The pendulum wasn't helping much either. With every light little ‘whooshing’ sound that it made while going back and forth, it was almost forcing Sans to keep blinking, making it harder and harder for him to open his eyes back up. For a split second he glanced back over at Papyrus, but the younger skeleton was already long gone, Sans could tell by the drool starting to collect in the corner of his open mouth.

"And...."

*SNAP!*

"Sleep!"

Sans’s eyes shut all on their own. Within a singular moment … within a singular snap … he had completely surrendered full control of his body and his mind. His thoughts floated on warm fuzzy clouds of nothingness, and the deep numbness that had begun at his soles had now consumed his entire body. It was like he could feel nothing and everything all at once. But the most bizarre thing about it was that there wasn't a single drop of anxiousness, not one lingering fear, not one seed of doubt or concern. Everything was just open and free. Sans wasn't entirely sure what plane of existence he had landed on, but it was oddly relaxing.

"Take a deep breath in…." As Gaster continued, he heard the deep inhale and exhale come willingly from his sons as he spoke.

"And…."

*SNAP!*

"Sleep!"

Upon hearing the command, the brothers felt themselves drifting more and more into a trance-like sleep. The world around them began to fade away piece by piece as their minds floated through space.

"As you hear the word…," Gaster snapped very sharply into the microphone again, "Sleep … everytime you hear the word…," he snapped again, "Sleep. You feel yourselves drifting deeper and deeper into unconsciousness. Feeling 100% more relaxed and comfortable … sleep." He snapped. "Feeling nothing but the deepest relaxation imaginable. Totally still and silent … only able to hear and understand the words that I am speaking … and … sleep"

Snapping a final time, Gaster could tell that Sans and Papyrus had now fallen into a deep trance, only able to hear him, and totally susceptible to everything.

"Alright, let's begin," he spoke softly into the microphone. "I'm going to begin counting to ten, and as the numbers start to increase, you're going to start becoming fully aware of your bodies. Aware of your nerve endings … so hyper aware and fixated on all that you can feel that you won't be able to focus on anything else."

Gaster counted upwards, using his words to point out the sensitivity of their toes, their knees, their legs, hips, ribcages, underarms, necks, and everywhere in between. He was able to barely catch the brothers start to lightly twitch in their trance. The experiment was working.

"And now that you are fully alert and aware of your nerve endings and the capabilities they hold, I want to ask you a question … can you start to feel the soft caress of a little white feather gliding across your soles?"

Sans and Papyrus stiffened, it was so subtle that anyone who wasn't paying attention to them would have missed it entirely. But Gaster noticed immediately, and had no intention of letting it alone.

"Do you feel it start to dance back and forth? Gliding up towards your toes and back down to your heels?"

Sans’s toes began to curl, his face twitched like he was trying to hold back a grin. Papyrus's left foot gave a small but sudden jerk, his breathing starting to hitch and shudder.

"Does it bother you?" Gaster baited. "Is it … ticklish?"

Sans gasped sharply while Papyrus let out a little whine through his teeth. That was it, Gaster was getting through to them with the pure power of suggestion. He went on.

"Perhaps you now feel it stopping at the bottom of your toes…."

Papyrus let out a brief sigh, but Sans still seemed to be holding his breath. Gaster smiled, this was going way better than he had expected.

"No … I don't think it's stopping, it seems to be brushing and bristling along the inside of your toes."

"Nyeh-hee-hee-hee-hee!"

Papyrus finally started to lightly giggle. Sans gritted his teeth hard, his body movements turning to brief little twitches that seemed to get sharper and more panicked. Like he was trying so desperately hard to hold back. Gaster smiled, he knew it was only a matter of time before he got through to his eldest son.

"And now you can feel the feather start to slowly weave in between your toes … starting in between the spaces of your big and second toe, and oh-so-easily slipping and gliding down the rest of your toes as well."

"Eeeeeeeeeeheeheeheehee!!" Papyrus let out a shrill squeal of giggles, his toes curling in and out trying — and failing — to protect himself from the invisible feather.

"Hrrkkkk!!"

Sans's teeth pressed together so hard that it almost looked painful. Opening only to take in sharp gasps of air and try his best to steady his panicked breathing. His toes rapidly wiggled and curled inward, but no matter how hard he tried, it was more than obvious to Gaster that he was feeling the effects.

Gaster couldn't help but grin, he knew for certain that there was an undeniable way for him to finally get Sans to laugh.

"Breathing in … as best as you can through the laughter…," he continued. "You feel the feather moving faster and faster … effortlessly gliding in between your toes. And as you feel the sensation growing stronger … you find yourself falling 100 times more deeper into trance, and feeling yourself growing 100 times more sensitive everytime…."

"Grrrnnnnnnkkkkk...!" Sans groaned loudly, struggling harder than ever to resist Gaster's suggestion.

"I say…."

"Hnnnh...!!"

"The word…."

"Unnnghhh!!"

"...tickle."

Before Gaster had even finished pronouncing the word, the dam finally broke. Sans started laughing and convulsing his feet even harder. Just as Gaster had suggested, the sensitivity of his feet had more than doubled, and the imaginary feather's power had consumed him.

Gaster let out a small chuckle, satisfied with his progress … yet still wanting to see just how far he could push it.

"Feeling so deeply relaxed … and so very … very … ticklish."

"GAAH!! Hahahahahaha!!" Sans erupted in deep laughter, struggling harder than ever against the binds on his legs.

Papyrus wasn't far behind him, squealing and jerking his body around as if that would somehow distract him from the agonizing sensation on his toes.

"Feel the feather starting to glide up from the tops of your toes, all the way up towards your knees….” Gaster grinned through his words.

Gasping in panic, the brothers tried to kick and scrunch up their knees, almost unaware of the restraints holding them back and causing them even more panic.

"And as the feather swirls about your knees…," Gaster went on. "You start to feel 100% more … ticklish."

"AAH! Hahahaha! N-N-Nahahaha!! Hahaha!!"

Sans's head began to rock back and forth. He strained even harder trying to contain his laughter, seeming to struggle to get out the word "No."

Papyrus, on the other hand, seemed nearly paralyzed upon hearing the dreaded ‘T’ word. Gaster could see his legs sticking straight out as his body shook with near-silent giggling.

"Tell me…," Gaster mused. "Is this all feeling particularly … ticklish?" He dragged out the word, sounding out every letter and syllable. Making sure his test subjects heard him clearly.

Papyrus threw his head back, while Sans let out a small shriek. Both of them wracked with laughter and convulsions. While in the trance, they seemed to be completely unaware as to why their bodies weren't moving to protect themselves. Why they couldn't control or completely stop this unusual tickle attack.

Gaster observed his subjects laughing almost to tears, both fascinated and amused. He wasn't entirely sure what came over him, but something about watching the two of them being tickled just by words alone brought out a playful side to him. He grinned as he approached the microphone again.

"You now feel the feather fluttering up towards your rib cage…," he teased. "Getting all of the spaces in between, and feeling oh so very, very ticklish."

Both brothers let out two hysterical shrieks. Sans desperately pulled on the restraints holding down his arms. Panic filled his every movement as he succumbed to his frenzied laughter.

Papyrus's movements were not as dramatic — for a change. As he seemed to have given up on trying to force his body to move and just accepted the sensations, offering only spazzing twitches and jerks. His body rocked back and forth as he embraced the laughter, though it was difficult for Gaster to tell if he was actually starting to enjoy it or not.

Gaster found that he rather enjoyed the sound of his sons' laughter filling his laboratory. Usually his experiments were met with screams or protests from his boys. This noise brought out a subtle, yet joyful demeanor within him, despite the fact that he was drawing it out of them by force. Feeling cheeky, he decided to try just one more thing.

"Tickle, tickle, tickle…," he briefly teased.

Sans's head fell backwards as a silent squeal escaped his teeth, leaving Papyrus to fill the room with insane screams of laughter. Papyrus bucked and jerked, this time making a real effort to pull at his restraints. Gaster figured that this kind of increased sensitivity had finally been too much for him.

By the time Sans finally found the strength to inhale again, his sharp breathing had caused a loud snort to fall out of his nasal cavity. Gaster put a hand to his mouth in shock, he wasn't even aware that Sans was the type of monster who snorted. It was honestly adorable.

But after a few moments, both brothers really started gasping for air, Sans let out even more snorts as his inhales were getting faster. With a sigh, Gaster at last accepted that it was time to end the experiment. He raised his pinched fingers high into the air.

"And…," he paused, taking in the sound of his sons' laughter one more time.

"Stop."

He snapped his fingers, Sans and Papyrus's bodies at last began to relax and settle down. Both of them continued to take in deep inhalations until their breath was finally caught and they laid still on the metal tables breathing normally.

"Good," Gaster said to himself before approaching the microphone again. "Take one more deep breath…," he instructed, and the brothers obeyed. Once again Gaster raised his pinched fingers upwards, preparing to wake them from their trance.

"Now when I snap my fingers, you will wake and return to consciousness … fully awake … and fully aware of what you have just been through…."

Gaster snapped, preparing immediately to catch flack from Sans … but it was quiet. Sans and Papyrus's eyes remained closed. Gaster looked over at them with a confused expression. Perhaps they had not heard him?

"Awake!" he called, snapping his fingers again, but still there was no response.

He held his fingers to the microphone and snapped his fingers again. The sound echoed along the walls of the lab, there was no way anybody who was in the room could have missed it, and yet the brothers did not stir from their trance.

Gaster worriedly approached his test subjects. Putting a palm to both of their nasal cavities, he determined that the both of them were still breathing. He tried snapping his fingers exceptionally close to their ear canals, no response. He shook both of the metal tables, jerking their bodies from side to side, no response. Finally he unlocked the two of them from their upper restraints. Sitting them both up one by one he proceeded to shake them around and call their names. Even calling them by their test subject names just to gauge an angry response from Sans … nothing.

"Oh no…," Gaster breathed out. "Oh, what have I done?" He hurriedly ran to his medical tools on a separate table, speaking out loud as to try and make sense of what had just happened.

"I must have let them slip too deep into trance for too long," he reasoned. "I must find a way to wake them before this gets too out of hand."

Gaster knew that just about anything he said or did to his sons in this condition could leave their mental state quite vulnerable. He knew he had to be careful, but also knew that he just had to find a way to wake them up, and soon!

***

"Pap...?" Sans's eyes blinked several times, he rubbed his sockets wearily. "Papyrus?" he called again. His voice seemed to echo off into a far distance. He was in some sort of strange space where nothing seemed to exist … nothing but white.

Once his eyes adjusted to the strange lighting, he looked around, hopeful to find something or someone that was familiar.

"Papyrus!" he called out, once again hearing the faint echo of his own voice. "Papyrus! Can you hear me?" Nothing but white … white sky, white ground, white space. This world was strange, he just knew he needed to find answers, just as fast as he needed to find his brother.

"S-Sans?"

Sans's soul jumped in his ribcage. He looked around frantically until he spotted Papyrus stumbling towards him from a few yards away.

"Bro!"

Sans sighed with relief, meeting his brother halfway. Papyrus quickly embraced his older brother by picking him up and hugging him tightly. Normally, Sans wasn't a big fan of being picked up, but he was grateful to have some form of normalcy return to him.

"Sans … uhm … where are we?" Papyrus asked after putting him down. "What is this place?"

"I … have no idea." Sans once again resumed looking around, his gaze met with nothing but white. "I don't even remember how we got here … do you?"

Papyrus shook his head.

"I … think I remember Gaster … and...." Papyrus thought hard. "Something about a … feather … maybe?"

"Crazy old man and his experiments," Sans groaned. "Did he send us to another dimension again?"

"Oh, nonsense brother!" Papyrus insisted. "After the mess that happened last time, I don't think he'd chance that again."

"Okay, so then where are we?" Sans put his hands in his pockets, grateful at least to have his brother here, but still feeling wary.

A small breeze started to flow into the space, making the brothers freeze from the sudden movement change. But what really began to set their fears in motion was when that breeze suddenly brought in the sound of high pitched giggling.

The brothers gasped, moving closer towards each other. The giggling was gone just as fast as it came, leaving the two of them feeling anxious.

"S-Sans?" Papyrus nervously broke the silence. "Did you hear that?"

"I … think so?" Sans wasn't quite sure what to think. When it came to taking part in Gaster's experiments, he knew that anything could happen.

The breeze suddenly brought in even more giggling, making the two skeletons jump.

"Sans … was that you making that sound?" Papyrus asked hopefully,

"Bro, do I sound like my voice can go that high?"

True, these giggles didn't sound like they came from any monster the two of them had encountered. These voices were high and squeaky, they were the sound of young children's giggling. The brothers jumped with surprise as the giggling became words.

"Oooh! Lookit what we have here!"

"Two skeletons! They sure do look strange!"

It was a young boy and a young girl's voice. Sans and Papyrus fearfully looked around, but again, there was nothing but white.

"Who's there?" Sans boldly called. "Who are you?"

"I bet they're really fun to play with!" answered the young boy.

"Are they going to be our new friends?" the young girl asked enthusiastically.

"One way to find out!" the boy replied.

"Friends?" Sans asked suspiciously.

"They sound friendly enough, I think." Papyrus whispered back to his brother.

But then the girl replied with a statement that sent a shiver down their spines....

"Hmm … I wonder if they're ticklish."

[serpenndragon]

cw for horror-esque design art!

Just some concept art of Bad but it's intentionally spooky this time so :P

+ some fountain pen doodles so It isnt just a text thumbnail O-o

ignore that he doesnt have his scars or uhm. hair

We need more BadBoyHalo being a scary monster so I am here to deliver 🫡 If you havent seen my other art this is his "true" form and what he's worried about the other members seeing, even though a few already know (like quackity, wilbur, niki, tubbo, ect) and the other's probbaly wouldnt judge him or see him differently other than being a bit surprised.

This is turning into a bit of a species info dump but that's what tumblr is for I guess so !

Some things to know- This strange looking ten foot tall monsterish form is what regular Wither demons normally look like! Ofc they're not always pissed like how I drew here but the unsettlingness can still stick around when theyre not trying to be threatening just because of their large teeth, claws, and well being large LOL Bad, coming from the nether originally got the gist firsthand how the overworld viewed WIther Demons and most people were scared of him, so as a safety measure and for his own anxiety he learned transfiguration magic over the coarse of a few years to create himself a smaller, less thretening form. At first it was hard and painful to maintain his smaller form (which is about 5'6, gets rid of most of his teeth, smaller horns/tail/wings that can't fly and less defined leg joints) but after a while of using it frequently along with getting better with his magic he's able to maintain it prettymuch constantly! Though he does have to revert back for at least 30 minutes a day to avoid health issues and longterm transfiguration detriments. (I had a breif idea that during purgatory he would be forced into his true form to defend himself and/or because he kept his smaller one up in front of everyone for too long) Anyyyways Dapper and most of the other babies know about his real form! He lets them ide on his back sometimes and teaches them how to fly/roar and other silly things. hmm another fun fact, Bad has the demon equivelent of a dad bod, if you notice he shed the spikes on his upper back and neck (which parent demons do so their babies can ride on their backs safely), and gained the barbs on his lower neck (which he can rattle to better communicate and imitate the call of a baby demon, it doenst serve much of a purpose with the baby dragons seeing as they aren't wither demons but they've grown fond of the sound when Bad would make it on accident, and can mimic it <3) AKA with the addition of the dragon babies his body went into dad mode like it had when JR was born, he can't really control it but doesnt really mind and it does kinda help him with them anyways. In addition to the physical changes, he's also beome incredibly protective over them Despite them not being his bloodborn children (this is common for wither demons, since their species is scarce they evolved to get these paternal instincts and hormones when they take a paternal role which was meant for ophaned baby demons but works with other species too, Bad's just like oh okay I have a handful of baby dragons my body thinks is its own now woah okay

Went off on a tangent there LMAO i could talk about him all day anyways hope you like my ideas :D

[marlynnofmany]

Small Noises

The air was warm, the breeze smelled of spicy alien flowers, the sun was a comforting Earthlike brightness, and something kept making a popping noise that was slowly driving me mad.

I tried to figure it out. The hoversled that Mur and I sat waiting on was inert and parked. There was no cargo on it because the client was late (thus the waiting). Our ship lay behind us on a relatively quiet landing pad, with crewmates bustling around inside and a variety of locals going about their own business at some distance.

The door to our ship was closed. Maybe it was something from another ship? I turned my head back and forth, trying to pinpoint the direction.

Mur noticed, glancing up from where he was idly braiding his tentacles like a particularly arts-and-crafts-inclined dark blue squid. “Something wrong?” He sounded like he was hoping I’d say yes, because it would mean something to do.

“I’m trying to tell where that sound is coming from,” I told him, cupping a hand to one ear. Of course it stopped when I was actively trying to find it.

“What sound?” Mur asked.

“The little popping noise,” I said. “It happens every few seconds. I thought maybe it’s that ship over there, but I don’t know.”

“This noise?” Mur separated his tentacles and lay one against the deck of the hoversled, popping it upward with a suction-cup smack.

“It was you??” I spread my hands in exasperation. “I was trying to see which ship engine was making the weird cooldown noises, or maybe somebody on this spaceport chews bubblegum!”

“Nope,” he said cheerfully, popping a different tentacle even louder this time.

Shaking my head, I pulled my lips in and made a popping sound with my mouth. I’d meant it to be a frivolous imitation, but Mur gave me a sharp look.

“You do know that’s a swear word, right?”

“Ha! No, I didn’t.” I grinned. “Good to know.”

Still visibly bored, Mur lined up two tentacles against each other and separated them in a cascade of sound like undersea popcorn. “Bet you can’t do that.”

“You’re right,” I said. “But I can do this.” I breathed on my palms and squished them together in a respectable imitation of squeaky flatulence. Third-grade me would have been proud.

“That’s not a swear,” Mur said.

“Probably for the best,” I told him. “Humans have been known to make that sound accidentally, and I can just imagine the diplomatic kerfuffles that it could lead to.”

Mur twirled a tentacle in assent. “Like we need more of those.”

I thought of another one. “Hey, I know you can’t do this.” I pressed one long fingernail against another, letting it snap back with a tiny click. “This only works when I need to trim my nails.” I snapped away in a flurry of clicks.

“Well, yeah,” Mur said. “You’ve got more hard parts to hit against each other than I do.”

“True.”

“Good thing there are no Mesmers here to put us to shame,” he said. “With all their clicky bits.”

I nodded, picturing the mantislike species that came in wild colors with egos to match. “Yeah, they’d definitely win the clicky-tappy competition. You know, I bet they’d make amazing tapdancers. I should ask Zhee if that’s already a thing.”

“Or you could ask these guys,” Mur said, standing abruptly.

I looked up to see an irritated-looking procession of Mesmers towing their own hoversled in our directions, loaded with shipping crates. There were many taps, clicks, and hissing grumbles.

I did not ask the late clients about tapdancing. Mur and I simply accepted the delivery with patience and grace, making sure everything was accounted for and all payments were squared away, promising that we would do everything in our power to get the crates to their destination in the agreed-upon time frame or better.

The clients agreed in a huff, leaving with a flair of red and bronze limbs, still muttering. Some of it was barely-veiled insults that they clearly didn’t care if we overheard.

I didn’t say anything as they clicked away. Neither did Mur.

But I did swear in his language once they were out of earshot.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

[annawayne]

I see that you're Ukrainian and I saw two arts with Ukrainian culture. Is there some meanings behind it, references? Could you please tell more? I love seeing artist drawing their culture. It's amazing

OH, anon! You have no idea how it made me happy to know you're curious about my country. And yes, there's a lot to tell, so thank you so much for asking!

I'll try to keep it as short as possible and not turn it into the lecture, so here we go!

So, I have two arts, featuring Ukrainian culture

So, all the jewelry here is traditional Ukrainian jewelry, and not just random. Important note: all Ukrainian culture is about the beauty of layers, in clothes, jewelry, literature, in art.

For example, this one from the left art is called dukach - a medallion, which is supplemented with additional jewelry elements, such as ribbons, bows etc. Annie wears a lion medallion, of course, as a reference to her surname.

Another element, under the dukach, the necklace with the half moons, is called zgrada. The base consists of crosses in two or three rows strung on a string or a dart, in the spaces between them there are tubes or spirals made of brass or copper. Well, the truth is that zgrada can be not only with crosses but also with other elements. Here are half moons that are a reference to another Ukrainian piece of jewelry, lunnitsa. It's a talisman ornament in the form of a crescent with the tips down. Lunnitsa was called to ensure the continuation of the family, it was endowed with the properties of a family talisman, capable of harmonizing the relationship of spouses. It was also believed that the talisman promotes restful sleep, drives away nightmares, and protects the owner from nighttime evil spirits.

Finally, the red necklace that we call namysto. The more layers of necklaces a woman had, the wealthier she was considered. Here Annie wears 10 (!) strings of the namysto, and it's not just a "cheap" gem, it's corals!

Now, about earrings!

Both Armin and Annie wear earrings, and it's the usual shape of the Ukrainian traditional earrings, but we have a small interesting detail here with Armin.

Actually, in both arts Armin is a Cossack - the Ukrainian warrior, who decided against all odds to fight for the independence of Ukraine. All of them were struggling in slavery (not really the "usual" form of slavery but more military like) and under other countries' protectorate, but if we put it VERY simply, they were fed up and started fighting for Ukraine and the freedom of their homeland. That's why they are usually called "people of a free spirit".

And Armin wears earrings in both of his ears and in Cossack culture - it's also the symbol of his status. So, if the Cossask wears it on his left ear - indicates that the Cossack was the only son of his mother; on the right — signals that the man is the last representative of his family; both have a sign that the Cossack is the only child of his parents. So, yeah! Only child Armin!

About the embroidery!

Each region of Ukraine has various embroidery techniques, starting from the color of the threads used and to the ornaments/motifs the shirt is adorned. Both Armin and Annie wear floral and geometry ornaments that are widely used in the central-north part of Ukraine such as the Poltava and Chernihiv regions. But also you can find similar ornaments in Kharkiv, Donetsk, Luhansk, Zaporizhzhia, but all of them differ in colors and shapes.

Now, Annie's flower crown or wreath that we call vinok.

Usually, vinok is worn by girls and unmarried women, sometimes, even after marriage, women wear it, accompanied by a head shawl or kerchief. Flowers here aren't also random, but each of them symbolizes something: malva and peony - beauty, hope, the long lives and symbol of home, of Homeland; centaurea - simple and quiet life.

And ending it all, just want to add that the left art with the ornaments in the background - it's an imitation of one of the traditional Ukrainian ornaments that is widely used for the decoration of walls, plates, cups etc; and for the second one - Ukraine has a lot of sunflower fields, so that's landscape is very dear for me.

Thank you once again for asking, and I hope it was interesting!

[wachtelspinat]

Big fan of your Junkrat and RoadHog art, and your style in general. I wanna ask how you got your art style to be like how it is? (I'm working hard to be a character designer and can't help but gush over pretty art like yours)

hey ! thanks a lot, really appreciate it. that's a tough question because i've been drawing since i'm 12 (and am now 34) and even earlier and it's hard to break it down to specifics. i think the style i'm currently showing also just really manifested over the last 4 or 5 years. but everything beforehand helped to forge that style. in the end it's a combination out of everything i like in art (over the top cartoony expressions, strong expressions in general, a certain flow with the lineart, kind of a visceral feeling for bodies?? etc) and it grew over the years, after gushing over other artists' art that have similar traits, sometimes really enforcing these things by sitting down and trying to imitate them.

i know this is always a little unsatisfactory as an answer, but always remember, a style absolutely takes time, it takes impressions (surround yourself with INPUT, doesn't have to be art, can be music, films, photographs, people etc), it usually develops on itself (style finds YOU, not the other way around, UNLESS you enforce it, and i never tried it that way because i am lazy, but i think this video sums it up pretty good https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SLfH9yOGs3o) and it grows with inspiration. it's also absolutely normal to vary in style all the time, so yeah. hope this helped a bit?? i'm really bad with these topics since i've only shortly tried to pursue art and design as a career and the rest is my hobby... and i've just been drawing for the most of it. just until recently i started doing studies, so you see, i never really worked on a style, at least not deliberatly.

[3ris-d1st0rtionnn]

Statement of Eris [̴̡̡̯͇͕̻̝̱̘̐͗̓́̽̈́̈́͐͛̂̍̓̔̌̊͠R̸͙͎̼͈͑̌̽͒̽̓̅̀͘E̴͔̭̬̍̅́̃̎̏͋̂̇́̕̚D̴̡̫̤̰̝̲͍̪̖̥̥͙̭̭̰̱̜͖͍̹̟̬̋̑͛̆̀̄̚͜͜A̵̛͕͚͉͈͖̤̳̫̔̀̿̾͆͛͋̊̈́̄̿̀̒́͗͆̀̍̏́̊̐̑͝͠C̶̡̨̢̢̡̡̥͔̣̺̤̙̖͕̭̬̻̥͈̻̪̮̞̞̝̯͙̘̰̮̀̃͐̔͗͜ͅŢ̴̢̟̪̦̟̳̫̹̳͈͉̤͍̰̫̯͙̊̾̅̎̑̚E̷̡̢̛̞̼̜̞̪͓͕͉̰̘̞͉̤̺̮̭̯͛́̾͛̃̋̅̅̓͋̈́͆̆̑́̌̆̈͋͊̿͛̿̃̽̎̚͠͠ͅḐ̸̛̞͕̗̠̜̰̗̣̘͖̱̜̗͔̩͈͙̙̣̫̪̝̤͇͉̰̙̹̠̉ͅͅͅ]̶̛̻̟̥̘͇̬̫̹̠̤͕͔̏̓̕, regarding their university’s art school.

It was… I want to say a year ago. Maybe two, but my perception of time feels so strange now. It feels like I’m recalling some strange dream, but I know that what I saw was real. I know I lived this… experience.

To preface, I’m an art student at a local university. My university’s Arts building is definitely one of the older ones on campus and seems to have been renovated over time, leading to a very confusing layout. With all the additions and extra studios being repurposed and built over time, the place is pretty easy to get lost in if you don’t know it well. I like to say I know the place like the back of my hand from spending most of my classes there, I know I should, but… then I found the staircase. The door.

It was on my class list, the first day of my third year. “Advanced Visual Arts, Room 401”. I had no recollection of signing up for this class at all, and Room 401… shouldn’t exist. Rooms in the Arts building are numbered based on floors, with the 100s being on the 1st floor, 200s being on the 2nd… There is no 4th floor in this building. Nobody I asked had any idea where it could be; most looked at me like I was insane and some speculated that the room number was a typo, but I’d be damned if I missed my first class of the semester.

And so… I went looking for Room 401.

Looking back, I should have known something was horrifically wrong. The building seemed quieter the further I moved from the front studios, as if no classes were in session. I could hear the occasional distant voice echoing through the halls, but I never once saw another student or professor. I knew all these hallways, but the layout seemed different, like one of those dreams where a familiar location is… almost shuffled around. I eventually found myself on the 3rd floor access staircase - where else would I go if I was looking for this nonexistent 4th floor? - and it… It kept going. The staircase just kept spiraling up past the 3rd floor, into a space that I knew was never there. And at the top… A door. A standard wooden door, covered in stray paint splatters and labeled Room 401 with a rusted metal plate.

I don’t remember opening the door. I don’t remember stepping past that damn threshold. It was like I blacked out, like there’s a gap in my memories I can’t fill in. All I remember is the dread. The terror. The sense that something was wrong.

The door led into… I want to say it looked like part of the Arts building, but it didn’t. It was like an imitation, some kind of sick mockery. The walls were painted in sickly primary colors, so vivid they hurt my eyes to look at. The fluorescent lights overhead had a nauseating yellow cast to them. Hallways and doors branched out at odd angles that just didn’t look right, more like something out of a poor drawing.

I didn’t try to go back the way I came. Part of me knew the door wouldn’t open, and the thought made me feel sick with dread.

I’m not sure how long I’d been walking before the halls opened up into… what I can only describe as some kind of classroom, or maybe a gallery space. The walls were covered in these strange paintings; none of them were framed, just warped paper pinned to the walls, and I couldn’t make out any images. It wasn’t that they were abstract though, I knew I was supposed to be seeing something in them, but I just couldn’t decipher any of the images. A worn pedestal was placed in the center of the room, displaying a mannequin head. It appeared to be made of plaster, crudely painted to resemble… my face.

That, of all things, was my breaking point. I turned to leave, hoping to run back the way I came, but… the door to the room had vanished. It was just another wall, perfectly solid as if a door had never been there. I remember screaming, trying to claw away the papers and paintings in hope that another door was hidden beneath them, but I just… never got anywhere. There had to be hundreds of layers of the damn things, either that or… the room didn’t want me to go. And throughout my screaming, my feverish attempts to find a way out of this room… I felt a presence, like reality beginning to unravel around a set point… and that point was right behind me.

When I finally turned around to face it, when I saw what had been watching me struggle… it was like my screams couldn’t get out anymore. Trust me, I wanted to scream, but I… I couldn’t.

The thing, it… looked like me, but in the loosest, most awful sense. It was like seeing myself reflected in a funhouse mirror; it had my face, my hair, even the handmade jacket I was wearing, but… wrong. Distorted.

Its limbs were too long and disproportionate, almost appearing to bisect the pedestal it was sitting on as if its body didn’t know how to interact properly with anything physical. Its long, claw-like fingers twitched periodically, bent out of place as if they were broken. I couldn’t even focus on the buttons and patches on its jacket… Not when they changed appearance and position every time I looked at them. It just… smiled at me with this awful, knowing look in its painfully colorful eyes, like it knew something I didn’t.

And then… it laughed.

Its mouth opened, tearing right past the boundaries of its face to expose countless rows of teeth. The paintings all over the walls began to shift, incomprehensible images melting off the pages and bleeding together at a pace I couldn’t understand. It was like there was a message for me in there, one that I’d never be able to comprehend. And its voice… Its voice was like nails on a chalkboard, like the remnants of a lost radio signal, like glass shattering against my brain. I could hear it inside my head, burrowing and clawing at my psyche like a parasite while I dropped to my knees and screamed and screamed and-

…and my eyes snapped open.

I was… back on the 3rd floor staircase, surrounded by concerned students. Apparently somebody had heard me screaming and found me collapsed on the floor, nearly unconscious, but… I don’t remember that.

The stairs ended at the 3rd floor. Of course they did. They always have.

I understand if you don’t believe me, I really do… I’m not even sure if I believe myself, but… I can’t stop thinking about what happened. I keep seeing that door in my dreams, that same echoing voice and… no. No, it’s just my anxiety.

That’s it. Anxiety. It’s not real.

Statement ends.

[sgiandubh]

So in other words, you agree, Sam and Cait are not very good actors as exemplified by the scene being them and not Beauchamp and Fraser. On that, agreed. She might be a C actor, he's definitely a D

Dear Beauchamp and Fraser Anon,

I suspect you might be a returning one, by the way, hoping to catch me unprepared with a very cheap sophism. Check this concept on Wikipedia if you wish, but I will give you my definition: manipulated or derailed logic, i.e. formally sustainable, but in reality just a fallacy; or, if you prefer, a bunch of crap, just for the sake of it. Also, it would be wise not to try these cheap tricks on someone trained to work with words and doing so every single day: you might find no satisfaction, ultimately.

Fun fact: I don't agree with any single word you just wrote. Sam and Cait are very good and gifted actors. Both of them. They did wonders with a very inconsistent script and under barbaric public pressure. What dragged you in here, Anon? Mrs. Gabaldon's florid, even luxuriant prose? What kept you in here, Anon? Blood and sperm and rape galore? I should wish you were honest, at least for once in your life, and let your answer be 'not really'.

What I meant by that phrase was something very simple: the actors' life experience deeply informing and sublimating their performance. If you think real and creative lives are strictly separate affairs in any intellectual endeavor, then you are probably completely unfamiliar with anything remotely related to writing, singing, playing (an instrument), acting, composing or painting. All these are akin to magic and all of the above are a summoning of sorts: ask any 'content creator', you will probably get a very similar answer. In Cait and Sam's case, their real life story nurtures and elevates their acting, despite people like you.

I am not an actor myself, but a long time ago it was acting that liberated me and taught me to not be afraid of anything. I did not make a living out of it, but I will always have the tools making me able to access that very special energy, any time I should need it. So, I can only offer you an educated opinion of These Two:

C is a very, very good actress. She is classy, sophisticated and knows instinctively how to occupy a stage or a set. She worked and progressed a LOT since Season 1, when it took me a good while to warm up to her. Add to this what I think is arresting beauty. Not really a C-level, in my book.

S is a wonderfully gifted actor who, unlike C, does not have any idea of this potential and, to be honest, gives the impression to even not care about it. He singlehandedly dominated some of the most difficult moments of the series (that unwatchable Wentworth episode comes to mind). His mastery of the Stanislavski and Lecoq methods and techniques is excellent. He is likeable, personable and has an innate emotional intelligence, helping him navigate and compensate the weaknesses of (yes, I insist!) an often insufficient script. I have already written about it, with arguments, when I found some very interesting parallels between The Fiery Cross episode and Laurence Olivier's performance in Shakespeare's Henry V. I will say it again: this guy has been grossly miscast, spare for JAMMF.

Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the whole preparation and rehearsal process when producing a movie or a series or a theatre show. These people don't just learn their lines by heart and turn up for readings and rehearsals. They also read and watch a lot of things that could help them build better, more credible characters. But what makes the sometimes very subtle difference between a decent performance and a stellar one is the amount of themselves they allow inside their acting. And in this respect, I think Sam and Cait have been very lucky, in what is a very clear case of Art (instinctively) imitating Life.

I doubt this answered your question and to be honest, I don't care.