#so finally seeing “if an ability triggers” was such a relief

[dreamlogic]

2024 year of charlie gets a fucking break (hopefully. maybe. tbd.)

[star-girl69]

Guilty Pleasure

Caroline (KK) Harvey x Fem!Reader

—-

synopsis: after weeks full of stress and homework, all you want to do is have a nice evening with your girlfriend. but it’s hard to let yourself do that when she’s working herself to death to prepare for hockey championships.

a/n: wow i’m a genius… based off of this ask!! i hope you all enjoy!! STREAM TOUGH BY LANA AND QUAVO‼️‼️‼️

a few notes:

shoutout to my wonderful sister wife @lovinpelova read her kk fic it’s amazing ILY AND OUR WIFE 🫶

and rip to laila’s ability to go live 💔💔

Guilty Pleasure - Chappell Roan

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, i don’t know anything about college please spare me, college scares me, i’m scared, anyways, texting if that triggers y’all, the tiniest bit of angst, y/n is kinda like insecure and all self deprecating LOL, umm a little bit of kissing, hurt/comfort!!!!!!!! kinda!!!!, swearing, ending sucks so bad, this sucks, whatever, i think that’s all let me know if i missed anything!!

—-

“Y/N,” your roommate groans into the stillness of your room. Besides for the natural humming of the building, it’s midnight, a school night, and the dorms are mostly silent. “Y/N, please. Turn off the lights and go to bed. You can’t keep studying, babe.”

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, standing up from your desk and flicking the light switch on the wall. You hear your roommate, Jackie, let out a sigh of relief.

Immediately, you sit back down, flipping the desk lamp on.

“Ugh, no, babe. That’s not what I meant- you need to sleep.”

“I have to study.”

Jackie had it so easy- you’ve never seen her study for any test, ever, yet she always comes back with 90’s on whatever assignment it is. Not you. No, you work your ass off and get an 80- if you’re lucky.

“You’ve been studying all weekend,” she groans. “You can’t do anything about it now, trust me. Whatever happens, happens. All you can do now is sleep.”

You’re silent, trying to cram just a few more vocab words into your head.

“Y/N, please!”

A pillow hits your head.

“Bitch!” You yell, glaring at her. Maybe you did really think she would be smiling at you, but she’s not. She’s looking at you with real concern in her eyes.

“Babe. I can see the dark circles under your eyes from here.”

And if you’re honest, the words on the pages are starting to blur, you can’t process anything- you know she’s right. You’re not helping yourself at this point, but you’re too scared to just give up and go to bed. What if you stay up for one more minute and it completely saves your ass tomorrow?

“Maybe you should call KK?” Jackie says, tentatively, but you’re not even looking at her anymore. “I won’t even complain that you’re whispering.”

“She’s probably asleep,” you mutter. “She texted me today, they had a really hard practice.”

“Yeah, but she’ll answer if you call. We both know she will.”

“No, I’m not bothering her. I’ll go to bed, okay?”

You meet Jackie’s eyes, and she looks you up and down.

“Okay.”

But she doesn’t settle, not when you’ve flicked the light off. You can see her when your eyes adjust, she doesn’t lay down until she sees you in bed, covers pulled up to your chin.

It’s only when you finally firmly squeeze your eyes shut that you hear the rustling of her settling into bed.

“Goodnight,” she murmurs, concern in her voice.

“Goodnight,” you say back.

She’s right. She’s completely right about everything.

She’s close with KK and the rest of the team you’ve come to known like family just like you. KK would answer you. She always has notifications turned on for you and you for her.

And there’s nothing else you can do about this test tomorrow, you’re confident you’ll at least pass it, but since you’re not doing any sports like almost everyone else at this school, you feel like you should at least have better grades. But you just… don’t.

As you wrap your arms around yourself in the darkness, hoping Jackie’s eyes are closed and she can’t see you, all you can do is think about Caroline.

—-

hockey queen: r u still coming over??

you: yes ofc do u hate me and want me to die????

hockey queen: no ily ❤️

you: ilyt i’m getting food tn btw

hockey queen: ok babe wtvr u want 😍

After days of turning down every invitation to go out, after forcing yourself to stay home and feeling Jackie’s disapproving eyes on you every time you stayed up late- your last class of the week had finished.

It was Friday afternoon, the sky starting to turn a pretty grey that let you know rain was coming. This entire week had felt like a battle in the long war that was college, and you desperately needed a night in with a movie and some takeout to replenish yourself for the next week-long battle.

And you needed that night to be with Caroline. Desperately. Even though you knew she was working herself just as hard, with your workload and her busy hockey schedule these Friday nights were sacred, and weekly.

No one ever skipped a Friday night.

Even when you were under the weather with the most horrible headache you’ve ever been plagued with, Caroline still came over and rubbed you temples, talked to you to distract you in a soft voice and let you drool on her when you finally did fall asleep.

Even when Caroline was so exhausted from a hard practice, and all she had the strength to do was brush her teeth and change into sweats, you let her pass out on top of you and stayed put the rest of the night, rubbing her back, just to make sure she got her rest.

With championships coming up, you’re sure tonight will be another night in which KK is barely functioning, but as long as she’s just there, tangible, you’ll be fine.

That’s what you tell yourself, even as you walk across campus, letting your mind guiltily wander to you just finally stopping for one second, slowing down and confiding in her how fucking exhausted you were.

The rational part of you knew she would understand. But the insecure, childish part of you that was scared you’ll be seen as too needy, too much, overpowered everything else.

You needed whatever bit of Caroline she would give you.

You sighed, kicking a stick on the concrete path away at a particularly vivid fantasy of you absolutely sobbing in her arms. And it’s not like you haven’t cried in front of her before- what scared you about this guilty fantasy was how good it felt, even in this daydream, to let her in.

She works so hard. You can’t dump yourself onto her either.

—-

jacked 💪: do i have the dorm to myself tn??

you: yes 🤗

jacked 💪: inviting sexy boy from econ over

you: use protection ily

jacked 💪: BITCH ilyt

KK and Laila had the cutest apartment that wasn’t too far away, with a really pretty view out onto a street with lots of lights that almost made it feel like new york city.

Unfortunately, the rest of the apartment really did feel like the apartment of two college girls. There was perpetually dishes in the sink, the weirdest posters and inside jokes plastered onto the walls- you didn’t even try to understand them.

Laila likes to joke that she knows when it’s time to clean based on how bad your reaction is when you walk in. She decides they can go a few more days without cleaning. You roll your eyes, eating your takeout at the counter while you wait for your girlfriend to get out of the shower.

When she finally does emerge from her room, her slightly curly hair in its prettiest slightly wet form, dressed in comfy clothes- something immediately squeezes inside of your chest.

Maybe it’s your heart. Or maybe it’s a physical manifesting of nerves and guilt in that’s made its home in your chest. Whatever.

You can see the tiredness on her face when she walks over to where you sit, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your cheek.

You ignore Lalia’s exaggerated gag.

“Come with me,” KK murmurs into your ear, and you don’t need to be told twice, stuffing your keys into your pocket and following her.

“Don’t be too loud!” Laila shouts after you, looking into the fridge to find a snack- you all know that fridge is in desperate need of a restock and a deep clean- “There are other people in this apartment, okay?”

“Shut up!” KK responds, holding onto your arm tightly and shutting the door behind you.

—-

After putting on some random movie from Netflix in the background, you were all too happy to throw yourself onto KK’s comfy bed, smiling when she let out an exaggerated groan, collapsing face down next to you.

“Aw, hard practice?” You fake cooed, and she nodded into her pillows. You played with a damp curl, twisting it between your fingers.

“So many bag skates,” she moaned. “I lost count. I swear I almost died. I saw the gates of Heaven.”

“Poor baby.”

“Yes,” she muttered in agreement, grabbing your hand playing with her hair and pressing it up against her face so she could trap you between her face and the pillow. “Everything hurts.”

The only light came from the flickering movie, and you could barely even hear it as you stared at her face. You press a kiss to her cheek and she smiles, and you sit up even as your own exhausted body screams at you.

She frowns when you take your hand away from her face, but doesn’t seem as bothered anymore when you straddle her legs and softly start to massage her shoulders.

“I love you,” she whispers, eyes falling shut. “Oh, my God, you could become a masseuse.”

You laugh, relishing in how intimate this moment feels, holding onto the feeling in your chest that erupted when she said “I love you” it’s not possible to feel guilt in this moment, shrouded in a haze that might be because of your droopy eyes but you tell yourself it’s because you love this girl so much.

“I haven’t seen you all week,” Caroline says after a second.

“I know,” you say after a long moment. Thinking of those long nights when you wanted to be selfish so bad. When you wanted her all to yourself. “Sorry. I’ve had, like, a lot of homework lately and stuff.”

“But the worst is over now?”

You heart squeezes at the hopeful edge to her tone.

It’s hard to find times when your schedules match. It hurts you, you know it hurts her, and sometimes these Fridays are the only thing that can keep you sane. You might actually end up in a mental hospital.

“Oh, um… I dunno. Hopefully, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says, biting back a yawn. “I jus’ miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you say, so quietly it’s almost like a confession. “Okay, I’m sorry, I’m about to fall asleep,” you groan, slipping off of her and back onto the bed.

Laying on your side so you’re facing her, you watch as she opens her eyes and smiles at you in that sweet, slightly goofy way you fell in love with.

She reaches out and softly touches your under eyes, where you know there’s noticeable dark circles. She frowns, ever-so-slightly, and the unspoken question is thick in the air.

“Jackie keeps getting all pissed off at me,” you say, breaking the silence, making sure she doesn’t ask that question: “have you been sleeping?” You’re fine. You’re fine. “She thinks I’m studying too much but no matter how many times I tell her I’m studying a pretty normal amount- she won’t let it go.”

“Are you studying a normal amount?”

There’s a slight teasing smile on her face, so you roll your eyes.

“Yes. I stay up a little late, like, once and it’s like it’s the end of the world.”

It’s not just once, and it’s not just a little late, but KK is so tired, you can see it on her face.

She laughs. “Jackie jus’ loves you,” she says after a yawn.

“Too much, maybe.”

She puts her arm around you, tugging you closer to her. “You deserve all the love in the world, baby.”

You smile like a cheesy schoolgirl. “Okay,” you say, pressing a short kiss to her lips. “Go to bed, please. You can barely keep your eyes open and it’s actually kinda scary.”

“Come here,” she groans, pulling you even closer until you’re pressed up right against her.

And before you can even think about what you’re doing, you let out a sigh and press your face into her neck. This might be your favorite place- where you can feel her heartbeat and the way her arm is wrapped around you.

Your chest squeezes when everything fades out for a second, tiredness you didn’t feel until you were in her arms suddenly coming out in the form of a yawn.

“Damn, you’re tired,” she whispers, and you can hear the smile in her voice. You try to mumble “so are you” but it comes out as an incoherent mumble that she chuckles at.

Just as you faintly realize that comforting sensation is her hand in your hair, scratching your head, guilt consumes you. She’s been working so hard at practice- and here she is comforting you? You’re not going to national championships like her. You’re not doing anything important- you’re just tired from getting mediocre grades.

Sluggish, you moan and try to move out of her comfort, something inside of you screaming that you don’t deserve it, but she only mistakes it as you shifting in your sleep and softly shushes you.

And just as you push off sleep enough to try and get out, her breathing evens out. So, you fall asleep press tightly into her arms, feeling so guilty you think it might actually destroy you.

—-

hockey queen: hi baby practice finished early can i come over?

…

hockey queen: are u studying

hockey queen: babe pls i’m bored

hockey queen: ok i’m coming over deal w it

You set your pen down, staring at the scribbles in the margins of your assignment- the actual questions still blank. You sigh, feeling pressure behind your eyes that you try not to let spill.

“Fuck,” you whisper, putting your head into your hands and allowing yourself one guilty moment to wallow in self-pity before you finish this fucking assignment.

It’s still early, but you know you should have done this simple one page of work before tackling the endless pages of review for another test you have tomorrow- now you’re so tired you can barely see, and your hand is cramping.

You softly scrunch your dominant hand into a fist before spreading it out flat, almost wincing at how sore it is. Is it even possible for your hand to be this sore? Covered in smudged ink, you debate going to the bathroom and washing your hands. Maybe you need to walk around, then you can get this one page done.

But all you can think about is that stupid test tomorrow, and maybe you should stay up late again, screw Jackie’s concern, study more-

The first tear that drops onto your paper shocks you a bit. And you feel so stupid for crying in the first place that you start crying more.

Pressing your face into your hands, you’re too tired to try and stop the tears, just letting them fall. Your mind races with thoughts of that stupid test, this stupid assignment- and some rational part of you knows that this is unhealthy- but it’s college, and it kinda feels like everything you do is a precursor for your adult life.

If you can’t juggle tests and homework- how are you going to juggle bills and work? Simple housework?

Someone knocks on the door.

You freeze for a moment, feeling your makeup run streaky down your face, eyes still full of tears and mascara messy-

“Y/N?”

Oh, fuck. Fuck. You know that voice, you know KK’s voice, you can hear her perfectly through the door.

And you’re just stupidly, completely frozen.

Maybe because part of you wants to just run into her arms.

And before you can make up some lie or do anything to get her to go away, she just opens the door, and you quickly turn away.

“Oh. Y/N,” she says, obviously very confused. “I figured you weren’t in here. Did you see my texts?”

“Uh,” you start, and you know immediately that she can hear the sadness in your voice. “No, sorry. I’ve been studying.”

“What happened?” She asks, and you would laugh at the way she looks around the room, almost as if someone is going to jump out. “You’re crying.”

“No,” you fake laugh, standing up. “Give me a second, there’s something in my eye-”

She grabs your wrist.

“Please don’t lie to me.”

The sincerity and love in her voice makes you cry more.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine. I’m just a little overwhelmed with school, I’ve had some late nights, it’s stupid that I’m crying over this. Seriously, babe, thank you- but it’s not that big of a deal.”

She’s got this kinda heartbroken look on her face, and you love her so much- you feel even more guilty for making her feel like this, for being the cause of the frown on her face, and you just want to go back in time and stop all of this from happening.

“…It is a big deal if it’s making you cry.”

You can’t say anything.

She wipes a few tears from your face. “You look exhausted, baby. I didn’t want to say anything because I know you’ve had a lot going on with school, but I know you, I know you’re tired and I think maybe-”

“I’ve had a few late nights, okay?” You finally meet her eyes, trying to convince her that you’re okay, because you feel so stupid and vulnerable and you can’t stand it when she has that concerned look in her eyes for you. “Like, not even that late. 2 A.M. isn’t even that bad. I mean, it’s not like it pays off, because my grades are still shit- but, whatever. It’s fine. I’m fine, okay? I’m sorry, I’m just not thinking straight, and- it’s fine. It’s fine.”

“You’re not fuckin’ fine, Y/N. Stop saying that, why are you pushing me away? You can tell me anything, I love you.”

She’s dropped her bag by now, her entire attention focused on you, one arm wrapped around your waist as if you might run away from her and the other softly brushing away the tears that continue to fall.

“I try so hard,” you say after a second. “I study so much. And I… I just can’t get good grades. And I just… I feel so guilty all the time, because I just want to spend time with you and I love you so much but you work so hard and I just don’t want to be another thing for you to deal with.”

And once it’s finally out, not curled up in your chest like a second heart leeching on the very essence of your being, the tears dry up.

Caroline softly smiles.

“What?” You ask, sniffling a bit, one step away from crying again.

“It’s just- how could you ever think that you would be something for me to “deal” with?”

“I dunno,” you say, slightly pouty as she helps you sit down next to her.

“You’re my favorite person in the entire world. I love you more than anything- even hockey, which is saying a lot. You’re never something for me to deal with, and I don’t do anything but smile anytime someone says your name, or you text me, or I get to see you- I’m sorry that it really sucks right now, with my schedule, and that you were feeling like this and I had no idea- but I really fucking love you.”

You smile softly. “You’re sweet,” you murmur, legs intertwining with hers. “I fucking love you too.”

She places her hand on the side of her face and kisses your nose.

“Don’t ever feel guilty for wanting to spend time with me. I’m never too tired for you. Besides, do you know what I think about during practice?”

“What’s right in front of you face?” You quip.

“Well, that, but also you. And, also, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about with your grades. Don’t you have like an 89 in each class?”

“It’s not a 90,” you groan.

“Still better than me, I’m like all 85’s. And, you’re literally the only reason I’m passing that one class that I hate who’s name I don’t speak.”

You smile, angling yourself to face her, finding that you can’t think of anything poetic to say to tell her how much she means to you, so you just kiss her. Long and slow, trying to pour as much appreciation and emotion into it as possible.

“Okay, game plan, I help you finish whatever work you have, then have you eaten? I’ll get us food. Then, you’re going to go to sleep early, okay?”

“It’s a plan,” you say, standing up and crossing the room to that one piece of paper, tear stain dried on it.

Her face spurs adorably just at the sight of the homework from her least favorite class. “Oh, you’re gonna love me. Don’t worry, I got the answers from the really smart girl I sit next to.” She takes out her own sheet of homework from her bag on the floor, smoothing out the wrinkles on her thigh before proudly handing it to you.

“Hm, I do love you. Just a bit.”

“I’m pretending I didn’t hear that.”

And later that night, with your homework finally done, takeout boxes in the trash bin, and your head on Caroline’s chest- heartbeat in your ears, her lips on the top of you head- it feels impossible to feel guilty about loving her.

—-

Jackie walks in late, groaning to herself about the stupid kid in her study group who asks the most common sense questions- she quickly shuts up when she realizes you’re asleep in your bed.

“Thank God,” she breaths, grateful that she didn’t find you hunched over at the desk again.

She squints into the darkness, quickly realizing there’s two figures on her bed, and the other one is very familiar-

“What did I say?” Jackie mutters to herself. “Insufferably in love with each other.”

Then, she quickly snaps a picture before getting ready for bed herself.

—-

[tsuwabuki]

what if kobeni had a contract with famine?

1. she's the first one to mention starving in the infinity devil trap.

2. you could hide some foreshadowing under innocuous comments that anyone could make. it's not odd for a poor 20 year old girl to take comfort and enjoyment in tasty food. mentioning the hobby right after 'my devil is a secret' could be nothing, but....

3. someone on reddit mentioned a possible 'final girl' devil with kobeni which I love but I felt the kitchen knife mention would match better with famine. after all, we see falling devil act as a chef preparing a meal for famine. could expand that to kobeni.

4. after famine reveals her name at the aquarium, a kobeni bro makes his debut. also if the infinity devil was used by famine here, was it also used by famine the first time we see it?

5. what we know of famines motivations and context as a horseman translates well to a theory on kobenis abilities. they seem quite powerful when activated so you would need a powerful demon.

5a. ok so my theory. when kobeni is starved of enough good things (family, luck, companionship, safety, bravery, etc), to the point she is fully starved from her humanity, she becomes hyper competent.

you see her fail to reach this state in the hotel due to her clinging to humanity (feels bad about wanting denji dead, for stabbing aki, etc). I think she succeeds in reaching hypercompetence during the rhythm game bit due to being terrified and isolated, it just so happens that the hypercompetence went into playing the rhythm game.

the only other moment where kobenis devil contract ability(ies?) come into play is after her partner gets killed protecting her and she finds out her whole team has been wiped out.

5b. ok so how does this hyper competence after 'starvation' relate to famine as a devil? well the horsemen act as as symbols and metaphors for humanity/life to triumph over.

we see that supported by both conquest and famine taking the role of nurturing humans to become stronger. you could even make that claim for all devils but this isn't about that.

starving is supposed to trigger humanity's instinct to survive by Doing Whatever It Takes. this fits nicely to how I think kobenis contract functions and why she would accept a nerf on her life like that (and how it plays into mental health, childhood abuse, and how someone could choose permanent(?) self destruction at such a young point of their life).

the fact that we see her devil contract trigger (rhythm game) after she's already left public safety means she's stuck with that contract probably the rest of her life. she wanted to go to college but her neglectful parents forced her to pick between sex work and the equivalent of demon fodder.

and because we don't know anything about her contract, we don't know how much she gave up to have this power 😭 being starved of good luck sounds like a really bad longterm debuff even if you theoretically get really good luck at your most terrified moments.

i lost my train of thought here but I'll add one more tangential thing. fujimoto is showing multiple examples of what childhood abuse and/or lack of a stable life can do to someone and how those systems help, hurt, and trap them. kobeni is an example of something more grounded despite her being comedic relief and I love that contrast with her.

she was forced to join the military due to family pressure and economic situation, could not handle the mental strain and quit with a potential life long disability that could get worse over time. she gets a job at a fast food restaurant and has spent her life so far hopping from one toxic 'family' to another.

anyways. throwing kobeni famine contract into the theory pile

[mrs-snape5984]

“I was held in chains but now I’m free…”

“Hey, little train! Wait for me! I once was blind but now I see. Have you left a seat for me? Is that such a stretch of the imagination?” (“O Children” by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds)

I feel obligated to set up a trigger warning on this post, since I’m mentioning thoughts of suicidal ideation in my text. If you’re feeling uncomfortable with this topic, please feel free to ignore the following four paragraphs and skip right to my praise for the incredibly talented artist of this comic strip.

As already mentioned in some of my latest posts, I’ve commissioned some of my favourite artists here on tumblr for a special project of mine: My afterlife project.

I’m suffering from multiple autoimmune disorders, which probably have paved the way for this bitch of a disease, ME/CFS (myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome), two years ago. Sure, my life already wasn’t the easiest before, but since then, it came to a standstill. More and more, I lost my abilities, my social life, my place in the society…and surely even my participation in my own family. My days are mostly spent in bed all day and night, surrounded only by darkness and solitude.

Patients with severe ME/CFS might die earlier than expected, due to multiple organ failure and - yes, I have to admit, that this reason is, indeed, undeniably relatable (and alluring) to me - suicide. With each passing day, that I’m doomed to “live” with these confines of my personal hell… imprisoned within myself without any chance to escape… death appears to be a welcoming friend, who’s only awaiting to pull me into a tight embrace. For me, it’s like it’s written in the following poem (“Joy in Death”) of Emily Dickinson…it will be good news and maybe even a relief…not just for me.

I know, I can’t leave, yet… and that I have to stay as long as endurable - at least for my children’s sake - but… yeah, BUT… but, damn, I’m tired. My personal limits are set… my lines are drawn… my responsibilities are cleared and both of my closest friends are informed about my pathetic little wishes (please, play that goddamn song for me!). I’m prepared. But for now, I have to stay…. to fight a little longer… to be a mom, even though my kids only see me for a few minutes each day… a mere shadow of the mother, they used to know. It’s a fucking shame!

For this particular part of my afterlife project, I’ve commissioned my sweet friend @sleepybradipo, who will always be my first choice to draw my vision of the young Severus in his own uniquely tender art style, which I’m so weak for.

In my imagination, I will be able to choose, how my eternal life will look like. Finally, I’ll be with Severus! We’ll meet at the age of 11 years and eventually spend the rest of our lives side by side...growing old together. Severus and Jukes will finally get the life, they’ve always deserved to have. I’ve started to show sections of this existence by Severus’ side in some of my other posts, which belong to this project. It may sound strange and pathetic (obviously), but this is all, that I'm wishing for. I want to come home to him.

For this artwork, I asked @sleepybradipo to make the process of “renewing” visible…almost like some kind of resurrection! Jules is stripping off her old, exhausted self, only to be 11 years old again…happily running towards the 11 years old Severus, who’s waiting for her.

Ivano, at first, I felt guilty for my request for this commission. I’m constantly afraid of becoming a burden to others with my ridiculously morbid thoughts and ideas. But you, my dear friend, made me feel seen with your kindness and compassion. Your understanding of my fantasy and the way, you’ve realised it in this mesmerising piece of art, are absolutely breathtaking! I don’t know, how I could possibly show enough gratitude to express, what your art is doing to my black little heart. It’s like a bandage…a soothing balm… a comforting embrace. Thank you for everything, Ivano.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

PS: I have to apologise for my repetive use of terms in my writing this time. The lack of coherence might be caused by my current “crashing” condition and a weird cocktail of different medications. I’ll try better next time, but it was important for me, to show this heart-wrenching composition of art as soon as possible. Your work needs to be seen, Ivano!

[shadow4-1]

Heart Eyes (Love At First Sight AU/Imagine - Reader x Price) - Captain John Price Edition

We've all had that feeling when we see someone attractive. Of course it depends on the person. Some drool, others get shy or hot in the face. Our pupils dilate, but not enough to notice unless you're unnaturally observant. What if you could see it? What if it was obvious a person like-liked you on first glance?

(Trigger Warnings: SFW, Slight Body Horror, Mild Discomfort)

John had seen more things in his life than most people ever would.

He'd seen war, death, famine, but also hope and kindness. He'd seen love too. He'd seen how it sparked into existence, how it could fizzle out or burn into something more. He'd never actually experienced it for himself, never figured he would to be honest. He was getting older. Most people found their lifetime match in their twenties. He'd seen it happen too many times to count. He'd seen too many recruits or sergeants passing in halls, locking eyes, and never being the same after. Love could do terrible, wicked things to a person, twist them into knots with obsession. Or, if they were lucky, make them better for it. Love was not in the cards for Captain Price, he decided. And of course, just when he was deciding to get comfortable with his fate, love decided to kick him squarely in the chest.

He hadn't felt this weak in years. He doubled over, coughing, his heart beating so hard he felt as if it were going to burst. He went from standing to kneeling, to laying face down on the dingy linoleum floor. He could hear shouts, shoes squeaking, worried murmurs. It was as if his body was slowly giving out, all of his strength being used to keep his poor heart beating. He tried to right himself, tried to get his arms underneath him but it was no use. He wheezed, trying so desperately to suck in a well needed breath. He was having issues seeing as well. Everything was hazy and too far away save for the minute grout lines in the flooring. He spied a pair of white, beaten up tennis shoes in the corner of his eye. His voice wouldn't work, his ears were ringing. Was this it? Was this the way John Price was meant to go out? A goddamn heart attack in the middle of a veteran's hospital?

A couple male orderlies managed to hoist him up into a wheelchair. He felt like a drowning fish, sucking in air that burned all the way down. A doctor began yelling, nearly unintelligible, something about his heart rate. What a fuckin' genius, he could've told them that if he had the ability. His heart hurt, it burned, he clapped a weak hand over it. Why? What happened for him to feel this way all of a sudden? He'd only come to the hospital to visit a recovering team member. He'd been waiting for so long and then a nurse came out to greet him. She was going to take him to the room-

He looked up, finding her standing off to the side, watching the chaos slowly unfolding around her. She clutched onto her clipboard for dear life, tears welling in her eyes. She then glanced down at him. Her eyes met his. 

It was an immediate relief. 

He could suddenly breath again, his tight lungs expanded and he gasped. He grabbed onto the edge of the wheelchair, pushing, struggling against the orderly who was trying to read his pulse. The pressure surrounding his heart suddenly ceased, making his head spin with white stars in his vision. They danced around her face. He felt as if he'd been socked square in the jaw. He hadn't felt this kind of knock out since his first fight as a teenager. 

A light flashed across his eyes and he jerked back, putting his arms up defensively, his nerves finally coming back online. The doctor flinched back with a soft grumble. He made a comment about how John would be perfectly fine. He had apparently just suffered from a heart eye attack, something that no healthy person had ever died from. A heart eye attack? Heart eye? He looked around for a shiny surface. The only one he could find within reaching distance was the aluminum bar of the wheelchair. He forced his still blurry gaze down into it, spreading his upper and lower eyelids apart with shaky fingers. Sure enough, despite his instability, he noticed his pupils had shifted in size and shape. He huffed in discomfort. He'd witnessed the change in other people's eyes, but never expected to see it on himself. He watched in stunned silence as the heart shape of his pupil slowly melted back into its normal, circular shape. He blinked, once, then twice, his vision had retreated back to a perfect 20/20. He swallowed the excess saliva in his mouth and let out a shuddery sigh.

A heart eye attack? Him? But that would mean-who? The last person he'd looked at had been the nurse with a-

Slowly, he turned his head back in the direction of the woman. He let his gaze slowly ascend up from her dingy white shoes, across her scrub bottoms and up towards her belly. He steadied himself, then finally looked up at her face again. She was still watching him with a mix of emotions. His vision went blurry around the edges and yet focused in the center. It was as if his eyes had turned into one of his favorite scopes, blocking out everything else but the warm body of his target. He noticed every little thing about her in vivid detail, down to the individual flutter of her eyelashes. It was as if time had slowed, she'd become his world. And by God, she was gorgeous. He let himself get lost in the beauty that was her face…until reality blocked his view.

A black wall separated him from his new love. It took everything in his willpower to not stand up and swing on the person standing in front of him. A firm hand placed itself on his shoulder. His tunnel vision faded (as well as what he assumed to be the heart shape of his pupils) and he was greeted to the sight of his lieutenant. Simon didn't need to say a word, his grip was enough of a warning. John needed to choose his next actions very carefully or risk ruining whatever future might be in store for him. 

"M' alright." He breathed out, patting Simon's hand. "M' alright."

The doctor asked to check his vitals since he'd started to calm down. He let the doctor finish before shakily standing up from the wheelchair. John had never been one to walk around with his head down, but in this instance he found he had to. Looking at anyone's face felt too wrong, he quietly thanked whatever God out there for Simon's propensity to wear masks.

Despite the scene he'd just made, apparently all was well. The doctor asked the nurse to escort them to the hospital room as she had attempted to before. He refused to look at the nurse's face as she awkwardly greeted both him and Simon again, then led them down a long hallway filled with numbered doors. Door 1367, John MacTavish.

"You go on in." John huffed to Simon, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll b' in n' a minute."

Simon looked at him with his usual, emotionless expression. John could make out the disbelief in the gaze despite it. He gave his lieutenant a sharp nod, letting him know he was being serious. Simon entered the hospital room, closing the door behind him with a click.

John sucked in a breath, quietly hoping the nurse wouldn't be standing there. It would hurt more and yet so much less if she'd wise up and run off. Much to his chagrin, she was still there. 

"Look…m' sorry, for what happened back there." He cleared his throat. "I'll admit, 've never had this happen to me before."

"Never?" She asked incredulously. Despite his best efforts John had to look at her face again. Once more, he was lost in her eyes, the set of her cheekbones, her sweet, sweet lips. Even the slightest imperfections of her skin were stunningly unique, like the formation of clouds in the sky.

  "Never."

[cainsau]

Hi if you take requests could I send one in for being part of the boys Kimiko looking after R like a sibling figure and R is reckless and worries her and the rest of the boys.

A Taste of Death || The Boys Imagine

(Platonic) Kimiko Miyashiro x GN!Reader

Summary: The mission is to kidnap a Vought scientist from a lab, hoping to get information out of him, but what you get is a taste of death instead. Maybe you shouldn't have taken that Temp V for this.

Warning: non-graphic suicide

Author's Note: Hi! Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy this one :]

Masterlist

The first time you took Temp V, it wasn't very obvious what your power is. Unlike Hughie who teleports, or Butcher and his laser eyes, your new ability is something that isn't really visible nor useful in combat.

Your power is a lot like Mesmer, the not-so-famous Supe who can read memories through touch. But, not only can you read others' memories, you can also feel and experience them, which you don't really know is good or bad... until today.

The team separated into different groups. You and Kimiko are tasked to kidnap a scientist from the lab or at least get some important information out of him. Unfortunately, the scientist manages to get a hold of your gun, then points it to himself.

He pulls the trigger, but the gun jams, leaving a few seconds for you to sprint towards him. Seeing you approaching, he panics, trying a few times to fix the jammed gun, and as you finally reach him, your power activates, letting you see his memories. However, it doesn't last for even 5 seconds as the gun unjams and releases a bullet that goes straight through his head.

The sensation of getting shot transfers almost perfectly into your mind, except there's no pain.

The scientist falls to the ground with a thud, and you freeze in place, with your whole body shaking.

Did you just experience... death?

Kimiko comes up from behind you. She ignores the dead scientist, and immediately turns to you. It's not your first time seeing someone getting killed, so when she realizes you're not moving, she knows there's something wrong, then very worriedly signs, 'Are you alright?!'

You're too shocked to say anything. There's a weird feeling all over your body, as if someone just drowned you in ice water. You're also getting goosebumps all over.

She shakes you by the shoulders, like trying to wake you up from this weird trance you're in. When you finally look at her, your voice shake as you speak, "I feel like... i just died?"

'What do you mean?'

"I took Temp V, and-"

She knows about you taking Temp V and the power it gives you, but she's not aware that you're using it right at this moment.

You continue, "I was still in his mind when he..."

Her previously sour expression turns into something more sympathetic. As a Supe with regenerative abilities, she's died and come back to life several times by now, it's almost like she got used to it. You, on the other hand, are just a normal person. She realizes how horrifying that experience must be for you, even though you didn't actually die.

'Did you get hurt?'

"No, no, i'm okay."

She lets out a sigh, a mixture of disapproval and relief, then aggressively signs, 'Don't you dare do something like that again.'

"Sorry."

The team notices your abnormal behavior for the rest of the day, and when they learn about what happened, they definitely won't let you take more Temp V in the future.

[ddostoyevskyy]

❝𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐖 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍❞

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐈: Law of Irrationality, 𝐈!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒... a bit emotional, ig

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄... hi. I've been inactive for a while, lmao. I miss being a writer sooo much, and things have been not really going too well for me as a writer, but I hope I get back to the track again. Short but quite emotional since I feel emotional these past few days:) Also, thank you for 800 followers! 🤍

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒... 1.6k words.

SERIES MASTERLIST

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄, 𝐈, 𝐈𝐈, 𝐈𝐈𝐈, 𝐈𝐕, 𝐕, 𝐕𝐈, 𝐕𝐈𝐈

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams; no mortal ever dared to dream before.

Ranpo stared at the newspaper in his hands with a subtle pout as he reads; carefully, every detail, words and sentences, those punctuation marks and even the firmness and refine remarks and humor — it was all familiar. He could hear your firm voice, mixed with a quite intimidating tone yet smooth pace; not too hurried and not too slow. He could even imagine the way your eyes blinks and how your lips moves; the way you can't quite handle an eye contact too long so you would roam your eyes around the room as you speaks.

He knew you all too well; he's a witness of your struggles, a victim of your ability and reason of your beliefs.

So, why do you feel so different right now?

His stare is definitely making you feel anxious as though he's reading every bit of you even how your shoulders rise and relaxes as you breathe. He knew you despise being stared at, but he can't help it. You feel different as though the seasons changes. The sparks in your eyes were definitely on another level now too. The youth were no longer in your face, even the fear that often flashes your eyes — although the fidget of your fingers were still there, a habit that definitely stays, you feel so difficult to read.

Ranpo knew you. After all these years, it was still you. Your presence is enough to irk him in a way and your silence felt heavy on his shoulder — just like before.

This feels suffocating.

"You seem irritated," You voiced out, catching his drifting attention to reality as his eyes flickers into yours. "What's on your mind?"

"You're a mind reader, why ask?" His voice were laced with a hint of annoyance and you swear you heard a 'hmph' when he raised the newspaper on his hands on his face that's out of your vision so you wouldn't see the pout forming on his lips.

"I don't use my ability that much anymore, it's giving me too much medications," You reply with a sigh. Ranpo lowered the newspaper away from his face as his eyes peak through and it bores in your figure. "Besides, aren't I called here for a consultation? My time is precious at these time of the day."

Ranpo frowned, rolling his eyes and dropping the newspaper on his table. He leaned on his seat before stretching his arms over his head with a satisfied hum and you watched him in silence.

"Fine! Let's now move on, then." He finally agrees and you sigh in relief. Being seated with nothing to do at all is not for you, atleast not anymore. You were used to strolled around the city or stuck in your office chair with your coffee for the nth time.

"Kenjiiiiiii, did you find another case on the streets?" Ranpo called out for the yellow haired boy and you glance over with a raised eyebrow. On the streets? Why is he making it sounds like a child play? Although, their occupation and purpose in the city had a huge difference to yours — this is not your playground to play despite fighting over the same rights. You knew how things works at the Agency, and your ability is definitely not applicable in any way if shit happens.

You don't wanna hold the gun, simply when you can't pull the trigger.

"Yes, Ranpo-san. I'll give you the details." Kenji answers with a bright smile. The boy definitely looks like the youngest member of the Agency and he has this really positive aura and outgoing personality.

"Come on, now, Atsushi. You go there with Ranpo-san. It would be your first intel too!"

Hearing their endless conversation, you stood up to ease the tension wavering in your heart. You were not a fan of interacting when your mind’s somewhere along the lines. Both heart and mind should connect — and you’ve been like that not until recently. Meeting Fukuzawa Yukichu — the one who raised and protected you and on your side no matter what, and Ranpo Edogawa — that man — the boy you grew up with; both of them made a huge complicated waves in your system that only them can waver and fix.

You already tortured yourself enough to forget everything from the past. But as you stumble upon the president’s office; the Agency members seems to be unbothered by the fact that you’re roaming around the office and they’ve only met you until today — your heart tightens in your chest.

Parenting 101, 2006 edition.

The book were neatly placed on the right side of the table, as if it was supposed to be there.

You can’t do this.

Your eyes roamed over the office, the shades of colors were all so familiar to you, the pleasing aesthetic made your heart calm, but there’s a clog on your throat.

You can’t do this —

“(Name).” A hand came down to your shoulder, warm and comforting and you finally snapped back to reality, eyes wavering and mouth gaping as you let out a breath you never knew you’re holding. His deep voice were surprisingly familiar to your ears.

I‘m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so, sorry — I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean everything I did —

“I apologize if I stepped inside without permission.” You muttered, turning around, completely brushing off the warm hand as you face the President with formalities in your stoic face despite having your mind in turmoil. His grey eyes seems to be reading you like an open book and you hate how you let yourself be read — you let yourself be vulnerable again under the gaze of this man.

The man you called dad once.

“You don’t need to apologize.” (you were just a child). The lump in your throat tightens and your eyes watered as you stared at him and his lips softly parted when he stared at you.

You look exactly like that; back then, a few years ago, when you were lost in the world with blindfold over your eyes — and his arms loosens on his side as he gently raised them up, inviting you in his embrace and your tears finally welled up; you remembered exactly how you cry on his embrace back then, like a child you are, asking and seeking for a comfort of a man you called dad in the midsts of your tears.

And, right now, a few years after, you were back on his arms as he welcomes you again with the same warmth; he’s always been warm, you were just not too used to it. Your lips quiver in a quiet sob as he gently pats your back, basking you in silence you wanted — just like before — just like you always thought of home.

Amidst between; between the warmth — the cold come peering in between as though the storm never ended in your mind. It was a comforting silence of home until it became a quiet storm yet you opted to stay on his embrace; even though you saw what the future beholds — atleast right now, you could hold him a little longer.

This ability is a curse. Despite its right to find itself in the comfort of truth and prevails things downhill, you never use your ability right, after all.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved 2024 © ddostoyevskyy. Do not repost without permission or plagiarized.

[v3nusxsky]

Hello!! Saw your need of request and I have one!!

A Larissa X outcast reader where r is hired to the academy but they don’t have their ability written in their like resume(?) and Larissa is always curious as to what it is. One night they start getting to know each other over drinks when Larissa lets slip that she’s a shifter and r finally admits theyre one too but were scared because they’ve never met another one. Maybe share a kiss? Up to you

Not so dirty secret 18+

*Authors note~ Ah fluff I love me some fluff I hope you enjoy, it's so nice to be caught up and I love your ideas so much so thank you guys for your support. This was meant to be just fluff and somehow my brain turned it into some smut at the end. I take full responsibility for my mind running away with myself here*

Trigger warnings~ smut magic p 🫡 mommy kink smuttttttt

Prompt~ see ask^^^

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

You weren't ashamed of your ability, no it wasn't that, it was the reactions you normally received that made you hold that piece of information very close to your chest. When you got told the job at Nevermore was yours, you couldn't quite believe your luck. And you hadn't had to revel your ability, the headmistress seeming to respect the fact you didn't want to share the information with strangers, truly you were glad you didn't get forced into telling her. Maybe that's what drew you to seek out her friendship.

Everyone on the staff was lovely, and the students all unquestionably unique and amazing in every way possible. You'd settled remarkably well, yet no one knew what you were. Plenty had asked, but none had pushed you when seeing how uncomfortable you became at the question. Your friendship with the headmistress was blossoming nicely, you often found yourself in her office with a glass of wine as you laughed at one of her anecdotes. You even shared some of your own, telling her of your childhood pet and how being an only child resulted in you having an imaginary friend. All found memories avoiding the mention of your shifting abilities.

You found yourself falling for the woman, I mean anyone would, she was a literal angel on earth, you couldn't fathom any reason why anyone would hurt someone so dang precious. You couldn't help but be scared, what if she didn't return your feelings? What if she ran when she found out you could shift? You didn't share your ability with her and Larissa didn't share hers with you so you both remained in the dark. But your feelings were getting stronger everyday you spent at the school so soon enough you decided it was time to bite the bullet.

You headed to her office that evening, hands trembling slightly at the thought of what you were going to do. So much so you forgot to shift back, you see sometimes you liked to shift your lower half, it made you feel comfortable and confident, you still loved your female anatomy but if you had the chance to have both wouldn't you? You entered and made your way to your usual seat as Larissa got the wine and added a few more logs to the fire. Mentally you were going over what to say, how to bring the conversation up and trying to convince yourself not to back out.

Thankfully, Larissa seemed oblivious to your nervousness as you both sat drinking your wine in a comfortable mix of silence and chatter. That was when you got brave, "Isa?" You mumbled effectively catching her attention, "can I tell you something?" She nodded while swallowing the wine, "of course darling what is it?" You took a shaky breath, "I'm a shifter" you whispered avoiding her eye contact not wanting to see disgust or disappointment lingering there. If you had looked all you would've seen is shock and relief. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you it's just people don't take to kindly to people like me."

"Oh my darling I'm very aware of that fact" she whispered shuffling close to you and giving a side ways hug, that's when she noticed. The touch had caused your extension of your body to grow and stand proudly to attention. Deciding to play coy with you, she murmured, "I'm a shape shifter too, I've not met anyone of our kind before but it makes sense with how stunning you are", the compliment making you blush. Then she did something you weren't expecting, she moved to straddle your lap.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me darling" she all but purred at you keeping your gaze with her own. "Mhm no?" You couldn't think, you had an extremely attractive woman in your lap and a raging problem between your legs. Larissa just responded by rolling her hips downwards to feel you against her core. Despite the clothing acting as barriers it felt sinfully delicious and all you could do was let out a gasp, "fuck Isa" you whimpered causing the older women to snatch your lips into a kiss. The kiss was sweet and slow but soon enough desire mixed with the very fancy red wine took over. Larissa began to actively roll her hips downward in a clear indication of what she wanted while your lips made quick work of marking up her neck. Nipping at her pulse point you decided to thrust your hips upward in an attempt to surprise the older women. Successful. She let out a needy whine before coming to mewl in your ear, "take mommy to bed darling. I want you to fuck me, hell I'll fuck myself on your cock just baby please mommy wants to cum."

You did just that replaying her words as you both made quick work of each others clothing. Who would've knew you'd have a mommy kink? And who would've thought your little secret wasn't so much of a dirty secret as you thought. You gave Larissa everything she wanted. You made her cum again  and again wrapped tightly around your cock, her walls milking you for every drop of cum you had. But you weren't done, you wanted to watch her bounce herself on you. So you quickly flipped yourself to lay beneath her hands on her hips as she hoovered over you. "I I can't no more please darling" she whined but you ignored it and helped her skink herself down on your dick, stilling as she let a cry of pleasure tumble from her lips. "Mommy make me cum" you demanded and couldn't help but laugh at her pathetic attempt to move on her own, "aw such a good slut you need help mommy shall I help you?" You teased as she nodded and begged for anything and everything. Did she want you to stop or carry on? She wasn't quite sure but the way your fingernails dug into her bare skin as you bounced her on your dick was truly something else. You both tumbled over the edge together as you filled her up with cum. Like a good girl she took everything and you reminded her of that before shifting back to your usual anatomy. Her first sight of your dripping cunt as you moved to clean her up. Once she was all cleaned up you made sure to offer her some water and a snack before gathering her in your arms and telling her how perfect she was. How much of a good girl she is for you, how proud you were of her. And only when she was on the brink of sleep did you murmur "I love you my darling Isa."

Word count~ 1307

[chiskz]

RED LIGHTS MV - BEHIND THE SCENES

𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: few weeks before red lights mv release

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ~1.5k

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: one neck, one hand and a lot of red eyeshadows... what could go wrong?

trigger warnings: fake choking mark, fake suffocation

co-creator: @g4m3girl ♡

recommended to read before reading that: chichi's past , red lights mv, red lights mv - vlive reaction

《 ♡ 》

"One more." Hyunjin murmured. Chichi stood against the wall and posed for him as he took pictures of her with her phone. "Okay, perfect."

Chichi exhaled loudly and stretched with relief.

"What I wouldn't give to get those extensions off already." She ran one hand gently through her long blonde hair while the other hand took back her phone from her friend’s hand.

She looked at the photos briefly and handed the phone over to the manager for safekeeping.

"You look really fine." Bang Chan, who had his makeup done at the dressing table, interjected. Hyunjin nodded, but embarrassed Ichi just waved her hand.

"Long hair is not for me." She laughed slightly annoyed. But they couldn’t know…

The filming of the MV for Red Lights has just entered its final stages, with only Chichi's rope scene, Chan's solo scene, and the mirror scene left. Initially, the plan was for Chichi to see Hyunjin behind her back when looking in the mirror, but if she turned around, she wouldn't see him. But apparently the head makeup artist came up with a much better idea that the rest of the staff liked. However, Chichi and Hyunjin didn't know about it yet, it was supposed to be introduced to them after Chichi's scene.

Chichi stood in front of the cameras in the designated place, the assistants corrected her dress and hair, and lower lip makeup. Then a member of staff approached her with ropes, the other ends of which were tied out of frame. Ichi wanted to bite her lower lip from stress, but she remembered the hard work put into her makeup. Hyunjin, standing with the rest of the staff behind the cameras, noticed her stressed out. He could easily tell when she was uncomfortable, her whole body stiffened, and she stopped talking. He looked at the ropes quickly and remembered as quickly how they had tied them for him. Without thinking much, he walked over to them and touched the worker's shoulder, then held out his hands to him. The man didn't understand what was going on at first, but when Hyunjin turned his gaze more eloquently to the ropes he was holding, he understood. He handed them to Hyunjin's hand and walked off the set. Chichi didn't ask any questions - her body instantly relaxed and she even smiled.

"You know how to do it?" She asked with a laugh, but immediately extended her hands towards him.

Hyunjin returned the smile, starting to tie her hands in concentration.

"We both need to just trust my abilities."

"I trust you in everything." Chichi said almost immediately.

She turned her eyes slightly embarrassed, and Hyunjin only smiled wider, lowering his head.

•••

"Good job!"

Those were the words Chichi wanted to hear the most. The assistants untied her quickly and she bowed to the staff as she left the set, picking up a small battery operated fan on the way and turning it on. She returned to the makeup room where Hyunjin and the head makeup artist were already waiting for her. Bang Chan wasn't there anymore, he probably went to shoot his solo scene. Hyunjin pressed his lips into a thin line at the sight of her, as if holding back a laugh. She didn't understand what he meant until the make-up artist spoke up.

"So the idea for the final scene goes like this." The woman began to walk around the room, gesticulating excitedly. "Chichi, you go to the mirror after waking up. AND! You brush your hair back." She extended her hand towards Chichi and brushed back her hair. “And then… you notice that the sleep choking was real. Or was it not? It's hard to tell because you're crazy there!" She laughed briefly, but Chichi was too focused on what she was saying to return it. "But how do you notice it? Right here…” She tapped her index finger on the side of her neck. “…you will notice a red choke mark.”

Chichi glanced at Hyunjin immediately, then back at the makeup artist. She didn't know what to answer to that. She was afraid that pretending something like that might bring back bad memories, but at the same time she felt strong enough to try.

"Okay, let's do that."

“Wonderful, Hyunjin reacted similarly!”

And here Chichi blinked several times in surprise. Her mouth opened wider, but she didn't speak until few second.

"Did you tell Hyunjin? What for?"

"What for?" The make-up artist seemed as surprised as she was. "After all, this mark must be realistic, we will use his hand."

Chichi sat down. She just sat down. Of all the things in the world, she hadn't expected this. After all, the choke mark and "use of his hand"... It wasn't hard to connect the dots.

"You're a make-up artist, can't you replicate a handprint?"

The woman clucked dissatisfied.

"I could, but it won't be as perfect as using a real hand!"

She took advantage of the moment that Chichi sat down by herself and quickly fastened her hair with a clamp to expose her neck. She began to gently apply foundation and powder on it, then reached for a palette of red shadows. Chichi glanced at her, then at Hyunjin. Even though her thoughts were racing through her head, she strangely didn't feel nervous, on the contrary - she was very calm, knowing that it was him. The makeup artist took Hyunjin's wrist, tugging his long sleeve up slightly. Sticking out her tongue slightly to the side, as she always did with great concentration, she began to apply shadows to his open palm, changing the colors on the brush quickly, as if she already had a vision of the mark in her mind - and she probably did.

"Okay, done." She smiled and showed Hyunjin's hand to Chichi. He just nodded his fingers, which made Ichi smile amused. "Hyunjin, squeeze your hand gently around her neck, let's see if it will do." She said to him while tilting Chichi's head gently back.

And finally, when the eyes of the two met, they felt a wave of embarrassment wash over them. Hyunjin began to hesitate, and Chichi involuntarily lowered her head back. The make-up artist leaned her head back and placed Hyunjin's hand on her neck herself. Chichi did not dare to open her eyes, but paradoxically felt much safer and calmer when she felt his hand. She pressed her lips into a thin line, forgetting about her lip makeup. She felt Hyunjin's fingers tighten around her neck, but it was a very gentle pressure. They stayed in this position for a while until the man withdrew his hand. Chichi opened her eyes and looked straight at the make-up artist. To her surprise, she was… dissatisfied. She tilted Chichi's head to the side to get a better look at her neck. Now she was even more dissatisfied.

"It came out too weak, even if we sharpen the filters on the video, it will not be well visible." She stated and brought Hyunjin's hand to her again. She began to correct the shadows and, using a brush, began to apply a heavy red lipstick.

"Too weak? I can't really choke her." Hyunjin murmured.

"You just need to grip it a little harder and move your hand a little from side to side to get the products to smudge properly." She replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

When the woman finished, it was time for a second attempt, but as before the first, they both hesitated. Hyunjin placed his hand slowly and carefully on Chichi's neck in the same place as before, but he didn't do anything. Chichi was looking at him because she didn't close her eyes this time. She was looking at him with big, almost puppy eyes full of trust, as if they were doing something really dangerous. Hyunjin, however, still didn't move his hand.

"Well, do it finally!"

All three in the room turned their eyes towards the door, from which they heard Bang Chan's familiar laugh. The man must have finished his scene by now and watched them for some time with a similar battery-operated fan in his hand.

Hyunjin looked back at Chichi. Before she could say anything to him, she felt a strong, but not painful, pressure of his hand. That alone made her tilt her head even further and part her previously pressed lips and let out a soft sigh as she looked at him from under her perfectly black lashes. Hyunjin's gaze changed too, shyness disappeared and focus appeared. In other circumstances, Chichi would surely say that he looks beautiful... Screw it, in these circumstances she also thinks so.

Hyunjin finally slowly pulled his hand away and took a wet handkerchief to wipe the shadows off. The make-up artist watched the mark delighted, but Chichi did not have the courage to look at it in the mirror. Maybe even better, then on the set she will really be surprised when she sees it for the first time.

Bang Chan was laughing playfully in the background, but Hyunjin went outside to get some air. Chichi followed him only with her eyes when he did so, clasping her hands on knees. Is this the beginning of quiet days? Did she… enjoyed it somehow?

《 ♡ 》

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (9/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~3.6k

I'm not quite sure how to tag a trigger warning for this, so just a note that in this chapter, Rhys uses his daemati ability to force someone to vomit.

Some dialogue and the riddle are taken directly from ACOTAR book one.

Read on AO3 or you can find the ninth chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - the altar is my hips | ch 2. - an arrowhead leading us home | ch. 3 - by the way, i just may like some explanations | ch. 4 - can't not think of all the cost | ch. 5 - honey i rose up from the dead | ch. 6 - this mad, mad love makes you come running | ch. 7 - therein lies the issue, friends don't try to trick you | ch. 8 - it's not his price to pay | ch. 9 - is it chill that you're in my head?

There was a note of anxiety mixed in with everything else that leaked through Rhys's shields this time. My own heart hammering seemingly in time with his and my stomach churning, I paced the cell and counted my steps in a vain attempt to occupy myself. I nearly ripped apart the pallet of hay just to have something to do with my hands. Wisely, the guards hadn't left me anything sharp, but I longed for a rock or something I could use to scrape artwork onto the wall and settle my mind.

Eventually, Rhys's side of the bond quieted, and I suspected he'd fallen asleep. It seemed cruel to wake him if Amarantha had wrung him out so thoroughly. I left him alone.

When the dungeon was this silent, I felt the echo of the stag's magic inside me more strongly. It hadn't faded the slightest bit since Calanmai. The few times I managed to stop worrying about Rhys, my thoughts drifted back to the new immortality I'd been left with. If I ever got out from Under the Mountain, I'd watch my family get old and die while I stayed looking exactly the same. The few decades I had left with them seemed impossibly long to me now, but in a few centuries, it would feel like the blink of an eye. Wrapping my mind around it was nearly enough to give me a headache.

When Nuala and Cerridwen appeared an hour later, I nearly wept with relief that I was finally getting a change of scenery. I might have gone mad otherwise.

Completely silent again, they brought me to the same bathing chamber and repeated the process of stripping me down and painting me, this time extending the paint all the way down to my fingertips. The twins couldn't possibly know it, but the paint would obscure the tattoo if the glamour failed. And again, I let them work.

But this time, the bundle of fabric they held out for me could barely be called a dress for completely new reasons. And I really, really wished Rhys had warned me better.

Thin panels of gauzy white fabric barely covered my breasts. They flowed into a single panel at the front and back of my legs, secured by a gold belt that didn't give me much confidence I'd stay covered if I moved the wrong way.

Nuala brushed makeup over my face as Cerridwen did my hair, coiling it around a gold diadem she placed on my head. I took deep breaths and tried to curb my rising panic as they worked. By the time they finished, I was nearly unrecognizable. Rhys had mentioned potentially dressing me up during our first conversation in my cell, so this didn't come as a complete surprise—it was not knowing the full details of what was happening that was eating at me.

"You look horrible in white."

The twins faded into the shadows as I turned to see Rhys leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets and his face twisted in disgust. He was so still and silent that I suspected he'd been watching me for a while.

I expected to see hunger as his eyes swept down my body and he took in all the exposed skin, but there was nothing but revulsion. I didn't mind; it was better than being leered at. And then I realized I'd only ever seen him slide his hands into his pockets when he was making a show of something.

I saw through the act—Rhys was nervous.

I just raised my brows, resisting the urge to cross my arms and attempt to cover myself. He'd seen all of it before anyway. "Should I take that to mean you weren't the one who picked this out?" I said, my voice sharp.

"I was. You looking horrible and making a mockery of your so-called virginity was the point." I bit back a retort that I could have figured that much out for myself and just waited for him to explain. He didn't seem the least bit frantic, which could only mean we weren't in a rush. He continued, "We're exploiting the loophole that you never had to be sober when you heard the riddle."

That explained the instruction not to drink anything that he didn't hand to me personally—I understood where he was going with this. "But you're not actually giving me anything stronger than water?" Somehow, the words came out calm and not like the desperate plea for reassurance they were.

"Precisely," Rhys said, and I let his apparent confidence steady me. It might have been an act, but it was a good one. "The evening's entertainment will be humiliating the drunk human. Amarantha will taunt you, saying it's such a shame you can't handle faerie wine because the riddle was so simple. I couldn't see another way she'd give you something easy."

The revealing dress made it obvious enough what sort of humiliation was in store for me. I'd force myself through it if it meant another shot at the riddle—I could guess what it had cost Rhys to change Amarantha's mind so quickly, and I wouldn't let that go to waste.

There was just one problem. "Rhys, I— I've never actually been drunk before," I said, cheeks burning.

His eyes went wide with shock, and he swore under his breath. Perhaps I'd said the one thing that could shred his cool demeanor to ribbons. "How old are you, Feyre?"

"Nineteen." I still didn't quite know him well enough to read all the emotions that crossed his face in quick succession, but now really wasn't the time to discuss this in detail. We had work to do. "But that doesn't matter, I'll be able to pretend. I just might need a bit of help."

He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly gathering himself before looking at me again. "I won't let you fail."

I considered that for a moment, wondering if it was just reassurance or there was something else he was getting at. "If the performance isn't convincing will you…step in?" It was vague, but I wasn't sure how exactly to ask.

"Step in?"

"Take over with your daemati abilities. Unless…the Night Court won't let you do that to me?"

Rhys stilled. Voice soft, he said, "You would trust me enough to do that?"

"Yes. Without hesitation." I thought it was obvious—if I didn't trust him, I wouldn't have been nearly so composed after being forced with no explanation into a dress that left me so bare and exposed.

His throat bobbed. He reached for me, then glanced at the paint on my body and dropped his hand, as if thinking better of smearing it. "I thought you might hate me for planning this without asking. I wanted to explain, but she was….demanding last night. I managed to steer the conversation back to the riddle, and I took the opportunity while it was there."

If he'd done the opposite—given up a potential advantage to spare my feelings—I might actually have hated him. Flinching away from hard choices would damn us all.

"I can handle anything as long as you're on my side."

"You shouldn't have to."

I felt myself tense up—that was a dangerous line of thinking, and one I was too familiar with. For a moment, it was as if I was back in the cabin, slinging a quiver over my shoulder even though I shouldn't have to be the one to feed my family. My hands seemed to curl into fists of their own accord.

We would not fall into that particular trap today.

"You didn't answer my question. Will you be able to take over if I need you to?"

Something in my voice made Rhys stand a little straighter, and I caught the briefest flash of the soldier he'd been centuries ago, before becoming High Lord. I'd never seen it before, but it seemed to be exactly what we needed from him to get through this.

"I will. Daemati abilities aren't connected to the Night Court."

It was exactly the answer I'd been hoping for, and a bit more of my nervousness faded. I even managed a smile. "Then let's solve a riddle and get home tonight."

I watched the smirk bloom on his face as he ceased to be the male I knew and became the Lord of Nightmares. The mask was firmly on as he purred, "The festivities await. Allow me the honor of escorting you."

I followed Rhys through the halls, walking close behind him but not touching. With him near, the mating bond seemed to uncoil again. Despite being about to enter a lion's den wearing nothing but scraps of too-sheer fabric, I hardly felt any fear.

It didn't keep me from shivering in the cold, though.

My feet were half-frozen from the stone floor, but I gritted my teeth and waited for them to go numb. It was better this way—no one would think I could possibly be a threat if I couldn't run. I just kept my hands at my sides and attempted to look as unbothered as I could. As we passed through the doors, I opened a crack in my shields for Rhys.

The same music from when I'd first arrived Under the Mountain was playing in the throne room again. It was as crowded as I'd ever seen it, though everyone gave Rhys—and by extension, me—a wide berth.

There was something satisfying about being the only one in Rhys's orbit, in a strange, instinctual way. It was probably just due to the mating bond, but I liked being the only one close enough to touch him in a crowded room. At the very least, it made all the gawking easier to ignore.

I followed him to the dais where Amarantha sat, Tamlin at her side as always. I half-listened as Rhys bowed and wished her a good evening, just watched Tamlin for a reaction again. He continued staring straight ahead as if he'd been turned to stone. Coward.

I schooled my features to look faintly bored as Amarantha took in the sight of me. She broke into a cold grin. "Rhysand, you must get your eye for fashion from your lowborn whore of a mother," she said.

I didn't fully understand the insult to his mother, but Rhys just inclined his head and said, "I'm flattered you think so." Polished as ever, he sounded as if it didn't bother him in the slightest. But I felt the truth of his rage through the bond.

"Feyre dear, turn around so we can appreciate the view from the back as well," Amarantha said, making a show of holding her hand out so the ring with Jurian's eye pointed at me. I bit back a retort about how kind it was of her to ensure that everyone here had an unobstructed view.

I stepped out from behind Rhys and did as she asked. He took advantage of the brief pause in the conversation to slip into my mind and answer the question he must have heard. She was an extraordinary seamstress.

When it became clear she wasn't getting much of a reaction from anyone, Amarantha dismissed us with a flick of her hand and an irritated, "Enjoy my party."

Rhys walked over to a table laden with food and drink, and I followed at his heels like a dog. The faeries that had been standing around it cleared out quickly. He reached for a bottle, seemingly at random, and filled a goblet.

"Wine?" he said, offering it to me. In my head, he added, It's safe. I shook my head anyway, trusting he understood I was just doing it for show. He pressed the goblet closer to me. When he spoke again, Rhys dropped his voice low in that way that had heat pooling in my lower abdomen, even though it was very much not the time for that. "Try it. I think you'll like it."

I gave him one wary look before snatching the goblet from him and chugging it. The liquid inside tasted of nothing but water. As I swallowed every last drop, I tried to ignore the chuckles of the faeries who were watching us. When I lowered the goblet, I wiped at my lips with the back of my hand. The smear of liquid from the goblet was dark red.

But my head was still perfectly clear.

I forced out a giggle that sounded nothing like me at all. It must have been convincing because there was a flicker of Rhys's approval down the bond as he poured another glass. But instead of passing it to me, he placed his free hand on my lower back.

I let him herd me towards a chair and perch me in his lap. It was a relief to finally get my feet off the cold floor, and more than anything I wanted to press every inch of skin to him I could, even if it was just to leech some warmth. I kept my back straight, shrinking from his touch, but it was so damned difficult not to give into the urge to do the opposite.

As much as I appreciate hearing those thoughts from you, please refrain from shouting them at me when we both need to concentrate.

Even in my head, his voice sounded a bit strained. I was seated too close to his knee to feel if he was hard or not, and before I could dwell too much on that particular line of thought, he was pressing the goblet to my lips again. I let him pour water down my throat until I'd drained all of it.

When he lowered the goblet, I took in the stares and the giggles from the partygoers. Amarantha was leaning over and whispering something to Tamlin, whose blank expression hadn't changed. I didn't want Tamlin to want me, but it enraged me to see no signs of remorse for starting the chain of events that led me being a plaything in his worst enemy's lap.

I held onto that anger as Rhys wrapped a possessive arm around my waist, let it help me look indignant instead of comfortable. I went stiff, and he chuckled in a way that sounded so utterly unlike him that I shivered.

But the discomfort I felt from his side of the bond was the farthest thing from amused.

Feyre. Amarantha wants to make you dance while you hear the riddle. Will you be able to? The music will pick up soon.

Rhys didn't need to specify what kind of dancing it was. I didn't hesitate to say, Yes.

His mind wrapped around mine again, just as it had when he'd forced me to lick his shoes. The apology didn't come in words, just another wave of feeling down the bond, wrapped up in his own sense of self-hatred for not preventing this and territorial anger at everyone leering at me.

I didn't blame him in the slightest.

The strange, otherworldly music got louder, and that was my cue. Rhys said something smug that was more for the benefit of the crowd than me, but I was so focused on keeping up appearances that I barely heard it.

I stood up, trying to look unsteady on my feet. Another spark of approval down the bond told me it was working. The increased stares made me flush deeper, which could only help make this convincing.

I turned to face Rhys as he spread his legs wide and leaned back in the chair. He tucked a hand behind his head, and the lazy smile on his face might have been the most obnoxious thing I'd ever seen in my life.

I pretended to stumble, reaching out and grabbing the top of the chair to steady myself in a way that pushed my breasts towards his face like an embarrassing accident. Rhys laughed, and others followed.

My focus narrowed to just his violet eyes, and everything else fell away. I canted my hips towards his and started to move, letting myself believe we were the only two people in the world. The mask on his face didn't slip, but I saw the truth of him under it.

His mind curled more tightly around mine. I didn't have words for what passed through the bond in that moment, but I could sense the way his entire being was poised to catch me if I fell. I might be the one dancing, but we were in this together.

Feyre, you look too coordinated. Move less in time with the music before they suspect something.

I adjusted as he said, and another flicker of relief down the bond let me know it was enough. The music was already off-kilter, distinctly faerie in a way that set me on edge. I wasn't sure how much longer I'd have to keep this up.

Do they expect me to vomit, Rhys?

Possibly.

Then use your abilities to make me. It will be suspicious if I don't.

Thank the Mother, Rhys didn't hesitate. His talons plunged deeper into me, taking complete control. I couldn't move of my own volition—breathing, blinking, and even the beating of my heart only happened exactly as he willed it.

I was an observer in my own body as he moved my legs in shaking steps around to the side of the chair. There was no nausea as invisible hands bent me over, just the burn of bile Rhys forced up from my stomach. I threw up on the floor.

Amarantha was saying something, but it was a struggle to focus on her words and not the sour taste left in my mouth. But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, the taste disappeared—also Rhys's doing. A few more wobbly footsteps, and I was standing between his legs again, facing the crowd.

She's getting ready to give you the riddle. I'll keep hold of your body so you can focus on what she's saying. Is that alright?

Yes. Thank you.

My ass jerked backwards towards his groin as I writhed again, clearly on display. A few faeries here and there looked faintly sick, but most seemed amused. Amarantha smiled right at me and said, "Don't let it be said I don't hold up my end of a bargain, Feyre. Here's the riddle I promised you." Her grin went wider than I'd ever seen it as she added, "It's a shame faerie wine is too strong for you to remember it tomorrow."

I cleared my mind, focusing and memorizing every word as she spoke, even as Rhys made my hips move in slow, inelegant circles.

There are those who seek me a lifetime but never we meet,

And those I kiss but who trample me beneath ungrateful feet.

At times I seem to favor the clever and the fair,

But I bless all those who are brave enough to dare.

By large, my ministrations are soft-handed and sweet,

But scorned, I become a difficult beast to defeat.

For though each of my strikes lands a powerful blow,

When I kill, I do it slow…

As she sat back and laughed, I'd never felt more useless. Rhys had said this was supposed to be simple, yet I couldn't think of anything that resembled what she'd described, not in the slightest. Mother above, if this was supposed to be easy, I shuddered to think what else she'd had in mind.

Rhys's hands were on my waist again as he pulled me back onto his lap. I let his touch ground me. His talons pulled out of my mind gently, returning the control back to me without it being so sudden I'd react involuntarily and give the ruse away.

Despite having no idea what the answer could be, I let myself bask in the victory for a moment. Just having the riddle in my head meant that Rhys and I had won, and we'd done it right under Amarantha's nose.

Perhaps Amren had been right when she said my mate and I should be unstoppable together.

This time, the brush of Rhys's mind against mine felt like a friendly cat rubbing affectionately against my legs. I took that to mean he'd heard my thoughts and agreed. Now it was just a matter of enduring the rest of the party. All things considered, it didn't seem like too much of an ordeal if it meant I could stay this close to Rhys for a few more hours.

I turned the riddle over in my head as Amarantha went back to taunting Tamlin instead of me. Rhys continued to smirk and poured a few more glasses of "wine" down my throat. I did my best to look like I was struggling not to fall over.

I'd truly thought the worst was over until the throne room doors slammed open. The crowd murmured as the Attor dragged in a sobbing faerie and dropped him right in front of the dais. The faerie didn't even get up off the ground.

"I caught the summer lordling attempting to escape through the caves to the Spring Court lands," the Attor said. It sounded positively gleeful, its tail twitching with excitement like a dog's. "What would you like done with him, my queen?"

Amarantha's eyes snapped to Rhys as she commanded, "Find out why, so I can decide."

I'd been a fool to think the night was anywhere close to over.

[aishangotome]

Main Story Chapter 17-20 (NIGHT ENDING): The Third Bang (第三声巨响) | Light and Night 光與夜之戀

Chapter 17-19

♡———♡

You: I never wanted to abandon you!

Osborn sneered, then raised his hand and flung me to an empty space nearby.

He still held the gun in his other hand, the barrel slightly adjusted to point back at the people kneeling on the ground.

You: No!

Bang – a gunshot rang out. The water pipe on the wall burst, not hitting anyone, but the people on the ground screamed in terror.

Osborn seemed to find pleasure in this, tilting his head slightly to appreciate the scene.

You: Osborn, stop! They are not all people who deserve to die!

"Osborn" looked at me coldly, his expression filled with increasing sadness.

Osborn (Boy): You can pity them, but why can't you pity me?

Osborn (Boy): What will it take for you to pity me?

The accusations were gone, replaced only with pleading. The light in his eyes gradually dimmed, and finally, he looked at the gun in his hand.

He raised his hand and pressed the barrel against his temple.

What was he doing?!

Amidst the cold sound of the gun being cocked, the person opposite me smiled again. This time, I sensed a strange relief in his smile.

The water on the floor rose higher and higher. He stood in the water, as if waiting for it to drown him.

Osborn (Boy): If I die, will you feel any pain?

I wanted to nod, but I didn't dare, afraid that if he got a positive answer, he would pull the trigger without hesitation.

I could only look at him helplessly, trying to find a trace of clarity in those mismatched eyes.

You: Osborn, look at me, listen to me.

You: I broke my promise back then. I was too scared. Those three days felt like a dream, but I never wanted to abandon you!

You: I always knew I would come back for you. I would help you get better. Just give me a little time, okay?

Osborn shook his head in pain, as if he could hardly concentrate. The hand holding the gun didn't even tremble slightly.

Osborn (Boy): I don't need saving anymore. All I want now is to be destroyed along with them.

Osborn (Boy): Actually, I should have done this long ago.

He seemed to have finally found the answer in his heart. No matter what I said or did, he wouldn't change his mind.

We were only a few steps apart, yet it felt like we were miles away. The distance between me and that sleeping soul was truly vast!

I remembered Zhou Weicheng's words. When it came to the worst-case scenario, he could only rely on himself to pull through. Where was he now? I tried to suppress the trembling in my voice.

I needed to speak to Osborn, the Osborn I knew so well.

You: Osborn, I know you can still hear my voice.

You: This ear is yours, the eardrum is yours, the brain is yours, and the heart is yours too. You can't not hear me!

You: Ever since I left him and went with you, I abandoned him too.

You: I understand how you feel. Even if I say I don't regret it, it's hard not to. You're wondering what would have happened if you hadn't abandoned him back then.

You: Me too. Seeing you in pain, I regret it so much, but we can't go back in time.

You: Osborn, you have to wake up. You have to wake up, so we can face this together and move forward together.

My voice trembled. Would this work? Could this possibly work? All I wanted to say was, don't leave me behind –

Just then, Osborn's eyes flickered. He slowly raised his other hand, veins bulging, and grabbed the hand holding the gun.

He was waking up! I almost cried out, but then a gunshot rang out.

My words caught in my throat, I lost the ability to breathe. But Osborn remained in the same position, his hand unmoved, no blood flowing. The sound – it came from behind!

A sense of danger made me want to turn my head for a split second, and in that moment of distraction, the spot where Osborn had been standing was empty.

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17-20 (LIGHT END) | Return to Masterlist

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[dasturdlydangerousduck]

A Proposed Darkwing Duck Celebrity Voice Cast

Part 2: The Muddlefoots

As we continue on our voice cast, we now head over to Darkwing Duck's more than annoying neighbors (at least in Drake's eyes) the Muddlefoots!! They might not play a terribly huge role in the story, and might be used as comic reliefs, but with some stellar performances, I think they can more than faithfully capture the original family that we love to see Drake hate!

Colleen O'Shaughnessey as Honker Muddlefoot

Starting with the most recognizable and important member of the Muddlefoot family, Honker! Honker is a young, shy, and bright young duck with a knack for helping out others when they are needed. Now a kid actor like Jacob Trembley could have been an ideal casting especially if we're gonna age up Gosalyn, but I don't really think he has the sort of nasally voice that we can achieve for Honker. So that's why I believe Coleen O'Shaughnessy (Sonic 2, Naruto, Danny Phantom) would be a pretty good choice. Even though she's more of a voice actor and not a huge A-List celebrity like other actors in Hollywood, she has the voice that can definitely capture the innocence and like-ability of Honker that you can't really replicate with a huge child star at least to my knowledge.

Just her Tails voice alone screams Honker energy.

Seth Rogan as Herb Muddlefoot

The next member of the Muddlefoots who we will tackle next is the patriarch of the household, Herb! He's a jolly yet slow-witted dad with a good heart, but ultimately a more than irritating trigger for Drake Mallard. Now this casting was quite inevitable, as if Darkwing Duck is going to be remade by Seth Rogan's team, then chances are, he's going to play a character in the film. I do think however that Herb would be the best choice for Rogan (Monsters Vs. Aliens, Sausage Party, Neighbors). He may be a little deeper than Cummings take on the character, but he honestly checks out in a lot of the areas that define Herb as a character. Now we can only imagine Herb laughing in Rogan's iconic laugh. That alone would definitely drive Drake mad.

This would be the closest Seth can get to Herb but he's got the goofy and annoying side to him.

Leslie Mann as Binkie Muddlefoot

Continuing on with the matriarch of the family, Binkie!! Just like Herb, she's a jolly, and infectiously sweet mother, that fulfills the stereotypical mother we usually see in sitcoms. Her voice is also a lot more higher pitched as a result and it would be very difficult to replicate what Susan Tolsky provided for her in the past. We need an actress that can try her best to sound as close to the original as possible, and I think that Leslie Mann (Funny People, Rio, This is 40) would be the best pick. I was almost going to cast Jennifer Tilly, but her voice was a little too sulky for the sweet sounding Binkie, and Leslie has that natural speaking voice that his pure and sweet. It's not a perfect match to Binkie's voice, but it's more than fine for what we need for the character in my opinion.

Just her natural speaking voice should be enough to portray Binkie.

Brady Noon as Tank Muddlefoot

And finally rounding out the Muddlefoot family, we have the stand out member of the family who acts as the unlikeable bully, Tank. He acts as the tough and brash kid and makes everyone's life around him miserable, whether it be with Gosalyn, Honker, or even the clearly adult Drake Mallard. We need an actor that can channel the most coldest bully voice ever, preferably an actor that is close to a teen. Thankfully we have an actor who I think can do just that, and we don't have to look that far considering he's been in a production with Rogan before. Brady Noon (Good Boys, The Mighty Ducks Show, TMNT Mutant Mayhem) has got the right voice we need for a bully like Tank, and with his deeper voice as Raphael in the new TMNT movie, we can definetely age him up in the best way!

Even if he's not a bully in this scene, the way he speaks just feels right for Tank. 

It's not even out yet, but Brady's deeper voice can definetely fit Tank.

That concludes part 2!! The next part will tackle the members of Darkwing Duck's freelance agency S.H.U.S.H!! We'll look at J. Gander Hoover, Vladimir Gryzlikoff, Sara Bellum, and even Femme Appeal from the comics!!

Part 1 here!

[gctchell]

@damnedrainbows asked: 🤔🤔🤔 (and a sex canon for lucifer for his wifey)

FOR  EVERY   🤔  I’LL  POST  A  HEADCANON  ABOUT  OUR  MUSES.  ADD  A  +  FOR  A  SEXCANON. // 𝖆𝖈𝖈𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌

1) Listen, they have the ability to shapeshift. Lucifer's more masterful and has a much bigger variety of what he can become, but Lilith's selection is nothing to sneeze at, either. Combine this with the fact that they trigger silly moods in one another so easily and you got a goofy couple who both enjoy transforming into animals and running off on their own Creechure Adventures lmao. They can disappear for hours because they get so caught up in it, and if Charlie can't contact either of them, she can safely assume they're just off on one of their little Milo & Otis excursions.

Sweet Rings, have they been through some adventures. This ability in HELL of all places? Oh yeah, they've been in situations that get the heart racing and adrenaline pumping. Sometimes it's a nice day where they're literally re-enacting the damn Untitled Goose Game, sometimes it's a chaotic day where they are starring in their own Don Bluth feature film. Honestly, it's a great way for the Queen & King to keep connected to their domain. They see a lot of things when they're this tiny.

After Lilith came back home, it was Lucifer who got this ball rolling again after he shyly offered up the idea to his wife. Lilith was sick and she needed to get re-acquainted with the energies of Hell for her health, and what better way then skittering around together in creature form? They could not go as wild and far as they used to, but they still did it and they had fun, and it helped her a lot. Finally when she was better, they fell right back into this little hobby of theirs full-fledged.

It's good medicine for Lucifer, too. It gets him out and about, it's good for his head and helps ease the depression, and Lilith likes to keep that in check.

2) As the Hotel Parents(tm), they like to gather everyone together on Friday for a movie night every week. They insist upon it! They know it's a good bonding activity and that it's simply nice for everyone to coexist in the area for an hour or two in peace (for the most part).

On Tuesday, they take suggestions for movies and add it into a bingo cage to draw on Wednesday morning during breakfast. It's a fun little routine for the two of them, though they've had to deal with the process getting pranked or entirely thrown off course a time or two for someone who wanted to rig the results. Charlie loves the whole routine top to bottom - she is her parents kid.

3) Light sensitivity and overstimulation to it is something that Lilith is all hands-on-deck for taking care of, or at least providing relief for; the Queen of the Night hushes light sources - let them be electrical, magical, or flame-oriented, she extends her magic to snuff it out. If there is an instance where this is not ideal, or not possible, she creates dark barriers to shroud Lucifer for relief. They're cool and encapsulating, and he can walk anywhere with them. On the outside, it almost looks like a huge black egg with legs going for a walk.

It's not tangible, he can reach outside of it if he likes. It feels like pushing through a light stream of cold water.

🔞

Lilith is masterful in home crafts, and one of these skills branches into toiletries. They still shop for their favored brands, but she's made their own soap, lotions, shampoos, and conditioners for years to run alongside it. She had a lot of fun figuring out how to create bath bombs and went wild with it, and naturally, it did not take long for her to steep into the sensual side.

Lilih & Lucifer have their own private stock of these special bath bombs; there are combinations that heighten sensitivity, and then there are the really fun ones that they use quite often - the aphrodisiac bath bombs (encouraged to drop while in the bath for a better experience).

Pop them into the warm or hot water and they get to work; they fizz and spin with their lovely colors of red and magenta, black and white, all while gradually releasing more and more of the effect - it gets stronger the longer it goes on. Combine this with the steam, the heat, and the vapors of the water, and these two are going crazy with lust during bath time. They can get carried away. They might have broken a tub or four because of this lmao.

[triedpklove]

Screenshots of the boy? I'd love to see how bad CF screwed the pooch.

So one of the main things in regards to how Roy has been written since day 1 is how he has always valued his work over himself and others -- ESPECIALLY its impact on the world. This has been fact since Calamity Trigger as shown in his side story, The Diary:

"Why do they not understand, why doesn't [Kokonoe, who is referred to as 'that woman' throughout] understand? As I've already said, this is a discovery that was lurking in the blind spot of our research. When it's the genius talking, and because a lot was said that today I feel it deeply. I definitely feel it. Firstly, only taking a light glance at it, then rejecting it as if some kind of dirt had touched it. Have you seriously stopped to think about it? It's possible. So why deny that possibility exists? If you have an answer within you then prove it to me. Something has to be done about that strange person. I've always felt that that woman is a strange one. Even if due to the deparment's spike in ability she may be a genius but that is different. In spite of being called a god that woman is useless. That woman is useless."

"Today I composed my thoughts once more. Today I had a little doubt about the design of the patterns so I omitted several vital parts in the previous entries. Right now humanity is flowing like blood, I'll explain now. It's become like this. Firstly about anti-seithr, it's the same phenomenon as the phenomenon of the Ars Magus phenomenon. To compensate for this ___ definitely the dangerous Azure which no one has noticed I'd do it once, eventually I want to skillfully, skillfully, do it. I'll have to discreetly do _______ thing ____ and that ______ was unexpected. Different from Ars Magus. Different from those Library vermin's Ars Magus. The huge Azure and azure's ______ bursts open, and the relief that forms quickly grows big, definitely rarely big so you cannot not notice it. Drawing near is dangerous, so first I have to extract that from the rear. It's directly close to the spine.If I rush there I'll die, that's for certain. After I extract the Azure ______ I'd really like to do that. I'll certainly have finally reached. I explained it with all my heart and soul, but no one is listening? to me it seems. So then I should just gently delete everyone. Gentlygentlygently_______"

Day 35 and 51 respectively.

The fact that he's so desperate to prove himself to others, ESPECIALLY KOKONOE, is the whole reason he injected himself with seithr in the first place. He wanted to prove to Kokonoe his work was worth something, even if that meant causing harm in the process.

As much as I dislike what Collisions did to Roy's backstory (as I find the idea of him being physically infected by seithr and melting into Arakune rather than him just simply. falling into the boundary and becoming Arakune more compelling and more terrifying) it did give us more insight on his character and his intentions past the little we knew from his diary and the occasional flashback we see as we play through Litchi's POV as well as her POV in Borderline and Kokonoe's POVs in That Which is Inherited.

Continued under the cut so my mega autism doesn't clog up people's dashes.

(lol, foreshadowing)

(All screenshots above are from Collisions.)

...I think that's more than enough to prove Roy's true mission and what he envisioned his work to become. And with both ways he was written, he both becomes victim to his own hubris -- whether it be him injecting himself with seithr or infusing himself with seithr via smelting. He has thrown all ethics out the window for his own research and has ruined relationships as he did so. (Although his relationship with Litchi is better detailed in Borderline.)

And then we get to Centralfiction.

Before you read this, you may think to yourself, "Oh, CF is simply a different scenario brought about by the Embryo! It makes sense that the writing would be different!" And yeah, you may be write, but in no way does it excuse it from ruining the character arcs we just saw build up throughout the past 3 games. It's pure salt in the wound and considering Centralfiction is the most fresh in a lot of BB story fans' minds it's frustrating to see a character/characters who have already been mistreated by interesting writing choices have their entire arcs ruined by some stupid AU plotline.

Honestly, I could go on forever about my opinion on this scene in it's entirety (and I have, here are some fun links) but all I really have to send is this picture:

For good measure, let's read that bottom line again:

Does that not... entirely go against literally everything I have just established previously? In this context, he's essentially telling Litchi to kill Arakune as he's okay with staying in the Boundary because the self satisfaction of studying the Boundary from the inside is more important to him than others seeing the fruits of his labor. Which entirely goes against his entire character that he has built up from Calamity Trigger until now. If you would like to watch the full scene, here is a link.

Roy is a very well written character, especially when in conjunction to Arakune, Litchi, and Kokonoe/Tager. I could very much go on more about how Centralfiction and it's decisions also destroyed the dynamic/friendship between Kokonoe but that would be another mile long post. So, I will instead share these two win quotes from Kokonoe -- one from Chronophantasma, and one from Centralfiction respectively:

"You've been infused with an Artificial Causality Weapon? Roy…"

vs.

"Kokonoe here. I've captured Lotte Carmine. Get him to my lab. Stat."

She doesn't even call him Roy.

Maybe I'll do another post detailing his relationship with Kokonoe but for now I have Japanese homework due in 30 minutes I need to get done. Hopefully this is a sufficient explanation on my opinions regarding Roy's writing in Centralfiction and how they dropped the ball on it horribly.

[soft-bellied-tannies]

The Heavy Weight of Healing

Read here or on AO3!

⚠️

Friends! This story contains very candid descriptions of weight and food-related issues with an implied history of disordered eating. The concept is based on the healing and body positivity experienced by a character gaining weight rather than kink-related discussion in my typical writing.

If you find those topics triggering or difficult to read, please be safe and skip over this story!

If you feel safe enough to read this, I hope the love and support displayed can extend to you even in a small, positive way! <3

⚠️

From the moment Jimin started discussing retirement, he was concerned with the impending boredom. He had a fantastic life with a loving husband, an endless bank account, and the satisfaction of reaching his life goal, but he was not used to simply taking things easy or slow.

With the completion of his current season, Jimin will have fulfilled the role as the principal dancer for one of the top ballet companies in Korea after a ten-year career with them - joining their ranks halfway through his college career on an invite from his mentor. 

Jimin was honored to hold the role for the past four seasons, but his body had also taken a huge hit over the past two decades.

At twenty-five, he was one of the younger dancers to hold the title and he knew that people were shocked to hear of his “early” retirement at the age of thirty, but he also acknowledged that any more pressure on his joints would be the end of his hips and knees. 

Considering himself lucky, Jimin had made it through his four years as principal with no major injury - just the expected aches and pains.

Jimin knew that his husband struggled at times to see him drag his sore body into an ice bath with the hope for relief, particularly intense during his period of aggravating muscle strains.  

Jungkook was vocal about the imposed diet that Jimin had followed so closely for the entirety of their relationship. He would legitimately celebrate when he could stray his husband off the rigid path enough to enjoy a filling anniversary dinner or share a rich dessert. 

Always striving to emphasize his desire for Jimin to be happy and healthy, something his career did not always allow, Jungkook begrudgingly watched his petite husband limp back in after going days straight on his tired legs.

With open arms, he would gladly wrap him up into his warm embrace or massage away whatever soreness he could in an attempt to ease Jimin’s aching muscles. 

While some doubted the couple’s ability to maintain a healthy relationship, their marriage had been nothing but dedicated and strong.

As an executive of his family’s publishing company, one could assume that Jungkook was never available, physically or emotionally, for Jimin who also held a rigorous schedule, but they prioritized each other and their commitment.

Jungkook had been admittedly enthused to hear Jimin bring up the topic of retiring from dancing. He knew his husband’s deep love for his art and knew that the transition would be incredibly difficult, but Jungkook could not stop the feeling of relief and anticipation to see Jimin finally relax his tormented body. 

The first week had gone exactly as everyone predicted - Jimin was itching to dance or at least do something before lunch on the very first day. He would openly admit to enjoying a later lie-in, sleeping past six in the morning for the first time he could remember in years.

The rest of the day, however, crawled by at a snail’s pace while he tried to focus on anything he could around their large penthouse. 

Two weeks in and their home was sparkling clean, top to bottom. Considering their two fantastic housekeepers ran a tight ship, it was never dirty to begin with, but Jimin kept himself busy by deep-cleaning anything he could get his hands on.

Jungkook had teased him about it at first, but he also was concerned that Jimin may spend his days cleaning and rearranging their home instead of actually enjoying his newfound free time. 

Jiyoo, one of their house staff, had actually been the one to find him new places to direct his energy. She suggested various crafting activities that could appease his detail-oriented personality, eventually landing on cross-stitching and embroidery.

Jimin genuinely found immense joy in creating small projects to which he could dedicate his full focus. 

Alongside his new crafting abilities, Jimin found a resurgence in his forgotten love of reading and playing the piano. It took a little refreshing of his skills to get back to playing actual songs, but it was a nice challenge to reteach himself the music - often selecting pieces from famous ballets that he cherished. 

The sedentary nature of his new hobbies had not gotten past Jimin, actually finding appreciation in the ability to sit for hours at a time to invest his personal interest into something other than dance that had consumed his entire life up until this point. 

With acknowledging that point, it only made sense for Jimin’s lean frame to soften a bit. He had been slim, overly so if Jungkook had any say in it, a form of pure muscle with an unhealthily low amount of body fat.

Jimin was well aware of the toxicity in the ballet world and he had long ago realized his own issues with food over his lengthy career. 

Constant weigh-ins and public picking apart of his body had been his norm for as long as he could remember, so much so that his husband was concerned that the lack of food-based guidelines on his life may cause even further problems for him.

However, with great appreciation, Jimin found his new freedom to be enjoyable and welcomed it with open arms. 

As he learned new things about himself in the early months of his new lifestyle, Jimin realized he was what Jiyoo called a grazer. He enjoyed free access to their kitchen at all times and let go of his hesitation to grab a snack just weeks in.

Jungkook was pleased when he returned home from work to see Jimin preparing dinner that had more to it than bland fish or chicken, rice, and vegetables. 

Six months in, Jimin found himself in front of their full-length mirror while getting ready for the day. He had decided to try a yoga class in an effort to maintain his flexibility in a low-impact way on his joints, finding that he often missed the feeling of stretching his muscles rather than the dancing itself at times.

Dropping his robe to pull on his leggings and cropped sweatshirt, Jimin finally took a moment to notice the change in his midsection.

Much to his surprise, the reflection in the mirror was incredibly pleasing to see. The immediate change standing out was the fact that, for the first time in his entire life, Jimin could no longer see the bottom of his rib cage. 

His defined abs had relaxed into the flat plane of his stomach, still with barely any give, but there was certainly softness there that was once lithe, corded muscle.

The sight made him smile, thinking back to all those moments when he had gotten intimate with his husband and wished he wasn’t made of only sharp edges and harsh lines. 

After his yoga class, which he thoroughly enjoyed, Jimin decided to stop for a boba tea - something he had not done since he was in high school. He genuinely had forgotten how much he loved it, already deciding to ask Taehyung to go with him sometime soon.

The urge to get it again only increased when Jungkook praised him that evening for indulging in something for himself, fulfilling an internal desire he had been unaware of having. 

Two months later, Jimin placed himself in a similar position in front of the mirror as he prepared for a date with Jungkook. He poked at his still mostly flat stomach, finding that there was a soft give to his skin that he never had before.

Nothing much beyond a few plush centimeters just below his belly button, barely enough to even pinch between his fingers, but more than he had ever had before. 

Jimin had, of course, noticed the slight changes in how his clothes fit him. He was thoroughly enjoying how nice his ass looked in his jeans and leggings, growing wider with a bit of added weight.

His body was clearly still incredibly strong after years of constant conditioning, but it all came with a small layer of padding on top now. He could only describe it as smooth, getting softer as time went on. 

A little teary-eyed and still standing in front of the mirror was how Jungkook found him when he returned home from the office. He was a bit earlier than normal as he intended to take Jimin out for dinner, but he was surprised at the scene he found - instantly starting to panic that his husband was about to have a breakdown. 

Jungkook wasn’t blind, but rather observational and appreciative, of his husband’s slight weight gain. If he had to guess, it was probably around ten pounds so far, but it was more evident on Jimin given his once-rigorously kept body.

He had grown concerned that Jimin was hiding his struggling thoughts or worries about his changing figure, however, he soon learned that it was an unnecessary regard. 

“You’re crying, yeobo…” Jungkook whispered quietly into Jimin’s shoulder as he wrapped his arms around Jimin’s bare waist, his voice dripping with anxiety. His husband hadn’t even realized his arrival home and was slightly startled by the intrusion. 

Jimin melted back into Jungkook’s arms, taking in his husband’s love and warmth as he prepared to console the worry. He leaned his head back and placed a tender kiss on Jungkook’s jawline while placing his hands on top of his husband’s where they rested on his midsection. 

“Don’t worry, my love. They are happy tears,” Jimin said softly with a hint of laughter in his voice directed at himself. 

Jungkook’s expression morphed into surprise, instinctively tightening his grip on Jimin. “I…not that I would ever be upset about your happiness, but can you tell me why?” 

Jimin smiled, endeared by his sweet husband. He brought one of Jungkook’s hands up to his lips, tenderly pressing his lips to the back of it.

“Honestly, I was just caught off guard by how I feel like I finally have freedom over my body. Dancing was always my own little world, but doing it professionally meant that everything around it was managed by someone else. The fact that I can be happy about eating what I want and not terrified about my next weigh-in is…it’s amazing. I think I am realizing how much I missed living without thinking of constant consequences.” 

“Fuck, Jimin, I’m so proud of you,” Jungkook said, incredibly emotional by the deep confession from his husband. He had been terrified that Jimin’s retirement would devolve into a rocky mental health spiral - the abrupt lifestyle change being too intense to handle.

However, here was his husband, standing in their bedroom with tears of joy in his eyes over eating what he wanted and gaining a few pounds. 

“Thank you, baby,” Jimin whispered, his voice shaking with a bit of emotion as he turned in Jungkook’s arms to face him. He knew that Jungkook was being absolutely genuine, truly proud of Jimin for simply indulging in things he enjoyed after a decade of limiting everything about himself. 

While the current situation was rooted in the trivial topic of weight, Jimin and Jungkook both were aware it went profoundly beyond. Jimin had never been shallow or vain, just focused on his goal of being a principal dancer which unfortunately demanded that treatment of his body and mind.

Without that burden of expectation hanging over him, each ‘off-plan’ meal he ate and each pound he gained actually felt lighter rather than heavier. 

It all stemmed from a place of control that ‘the almighty dance powers’, as Jimin called them, was held over him from near childhood.

He decided that ballet was his passion in middle school, and getting into an arts high school and college program for dance only heightened the pressure until his position with the ballet company solidified their restraint on him. 

“I know this is going to sound dramatic, but this whole retirement thing is kind of liberating,” Jimin said with his face tucked securely into Jungkook’s shoulder.

He knew his husband would never judge or mock the statement having been by Jimin’s side for over a decade with a front-row seat to the stresses and trials he had experienced. 

Jungkook tilted his head down, placing a kiss on Jimin’s temple while rocking them side-to-side. He was utterly relieved and overjoyed to hear his husband’s thoughts on the experience so far.

“It’s not dramatic; that feeling is completely valid. I can’t explain how great it feels to see you so relaxed, Min. You worked so hard for your dream and you accomplished it. You deserve to feel this way, you earned it.” 

Jimin sniffled quietly, allowing Jungkook to hold him for a little while. He had been acknowledging the small changes all along, but talking it out with his husband and admitting his true feelings felt cathartic.

Knowing that he always had Jungkook’s love and support was also hitting him more intensely than it normally would in such a vulnerable state. He was entering such a deeply appreciative headspace that Jimin felt as if he had tapped into new emotions that he was feeling for the first time. 

“I love you,” Jimin said tenderly, knowing that his husband would understand everything lying beneath the simple words. 

Jungkook encouraged Jimin to look up, holding his face with one hand, and pulling him in for a delicate kiss. He rested his forehead against his husband’s after parting to hold their intimate moment a little longer.

“I love you so much.” 

Jimin fell back into his embrace, relishing in the quiet warmth shared between them. Eventually, he let out a little huff of a laugh and pulled away from his warm hiding spot.

“Talk about a welcome home,” he joked. 

In between his own laughing, Jungkook kissed Jimin again - much lighter than the previous one. Considering the emotional conversation they just shared, Jungkook felt it was right to ask, “Still up for date night?”

“Yeah, of course, let me get dressed,” Jimin replied with a smile and a parting kiss on his husband’s cheek. 

Jungkook watched him pick out his outfit, thoroughly enjoying how nicely Jimin’s pants highlighted his new curves.

Obviously, he had always found his husband to be beautiful, but Jungkook had to admit that the way Jimin was filling out was mesmerizing - feeling more physically attracted to him than ever before. 

Their date night had been one of the couple’s favorite nights in a long time. They went to a restaurant they loved in Gangnam where Jimin finally order something other than salmon with a side salad, even having a second and third glass of wine and stealing a few bites of Jungkook’s to try.

Then on Jimin’s suggestion, they stopped for ice cream on the way home where they had a second round of dessert that lasted well into the morning. 

The happiness only continued to build over the passing months. Jimin was fully enjoying his new hobbies, often getting new sheet music from Yoongi to try and giving his little cross-stitching projects as gifts to their family and friends.

He started going to one pilates class on Wednesday mornings and doing yoga either at his fitness place or at home a few times a week - some days just taking a nice walk through the park nearby. 

Jimin took over the grocery shopping from their house staff, claiming that it was silly for them to do it when he had all this free time. He explored new types of food that had always been off-limits and no longer hesitated to buy something he was craving.

Teaching himself more and more recipes, Jimin became the cook of the house and prepared delicious dinners nearly every night. 

One year after his retirement, Jimin felt like an entirely new person. A person who could be proud of what he accomplished while also having mourned what he now knew was lost or ignored during that time. He felt refreshed, full of life, and even more in love with his husband than ever.

At thirty, Jimin was more youthful and carefree than he had been since elementary school and enjoying every moment of it. 

Jungkook could not explain the gratification of Jimin’s progress and the pure admiration he continued to hold for his husband.

Wonderfully surprised as time went on with Jimin’s positive changes, Jungkook still was blown away by how absolutely gorgeous he was.

It was likely a combination of many things that evoked the increasing attraction to his husband - a new radiant glow, a bright yet content demeanor, and a softening figure became a triple threat to Jungkook’s heart. 

Jimin recently finished his last round of physical therapy, a measure he had taken to ensure a smooth transition out of dancing. He knew it was not healthy to suddenly come to a full stop which is why yoga and pilates had been helping him as well, explaining to people who asked that it was like a prolonged cooldown to train his muscles away from their once rigid state. 

During dinner that evening, Jimin happily told Jungkook about his last session - making sure to share his therapy team’s praises for his weight gain as they had always been in firm disagreement with his ballet masters and choreographers who limited him at all times.

Jimin could not recall a time that he ever topped 135 in his ten years at the company, which was even small for the male standard in the ballet world. 

Jimin’s long-time dance partner in the company had been an incredibly petite woman, resulting in his management team insisting that he size down as much as he possibly could to create a good match for her.

Looking back, he knew that they were obsessive over everyone’s size and that other companies had much better terms for their dancers, but Jimin held a successful career and could put the rest behind him now. 

Weighing in at 157 during his visit that morning meant that Jimin was the heaviest he had ever been and happier in tandem.

Jungkook made sure to cherish every single part of his body that night, only furthering Jimin’s pleasure with his body. He never imagined feeling quite this content, especially in retirement, but Jimin was grateful for how it all came to be. 

Another few months after that night, Jungkook came home from work and found himself enamored with Jimin - realizing that he actually may have a thing for softer bodies or maybe just Jimin’s softer body.

Walking into the living room, he saw his husband sitting on the couch while focused on his current cross-stitching project for Jungkook’s mother with headphones on meaning he had not heard the other enter the room. 

Jimin was tucked up in the corner of their couch wearing black sweatpants and an old gray t-shirt from the dance company. His knees were slightly bent and he was a little hunched over which gave Jungkook a perfect side view of his husband - one that Jungkook never thought he would see. 

Highlighted by the fabric of his form-fitted shirt, Jimin’s stomach formed distinct rolls with a plush bottom layer further emphasized by his waistband.

Where his toned abs once showed, Jungkook found that Jimin was sporting what he would call a soft tummy on the verge of becoming a belly if another ten pounds or so were added on and he loved it. 

Trying to move in without scaring him, Jungkook sat beside Jimin and gently ran his hand up his husband’s thigh. Jimin turned with a bright eye smile and pulled his headphones down around his neck.

“Hey baby, you’re home early.” 

Jungkook returned the smile and leaned in for a chaste welcome-home peck. “Yeah, my last meeting of the day was canceled so I decided to call it a day, maybe take someone special out for dinner if he’s interested.”

Jimin’s brows lifted, endeared by his husband’s undying romantic side. “I think that someone would be quite interested.”

“Just the answer I was hoping for,” Jungkook whispered while leaning back in for a more prolonged kiss.

His hand snuck up from Jimin’s leg across his soft middle until he could reach around Jimin’s back, noting the pleasant give of his husband’s skin. 

Putting his small crafting hoop aside and pulling his headphones fully off, Jimin lifted himself up to straddle Jungkook’s lap and wrapped his arms around his husband’s neck.

“I must say, Mr. Jeon, I’m feeling more like a well and truly spoiled housewife as the days go by.” 

“That means I am doing my job well, Mr. Park,” Jungkook replied, tenderly running his hands along Jimin’s sides appreciating his husband’s body. 

“Oh, and what job is that?” Jimin asked with a teasing lilt to his voice while tucking a strand of hair behind Jungkook’s ear. 

Jungkook loved up at him adoringly, deciding to give an honest answer instead of continuing the antic going between them.

“Making sure that you always stay as happy and healthy as you are now and that you know I fall more and more in love with you every day.” 

Jimin’s smile softened as he leaned in for a reverent kiss, feeling a bit emotional from the honest confession and trying to push through every bit of love to his husband that he possibly could.

“You’ve done that since the day you asked me to be yours, my love.” 

Initiating a kiss once again, Jungkook finally slipped his hands under the hem of Jimin’s shirt and caressed his husband’s velvet-soft skin. His lips trailed away from Jimin’s mouth across his jaw and down his neck while continuing the tender massage of his midsection.

Making a sudden decision, Jungkook moved his hands below Jimin’s plush backside and stood from the couch - feeling pleased by his husband’s much more solid weight than a year prior. 

Jimin gasped in surprise, instinctively wrapping his arms and legs around his husband, and allowed himself to be carried back to their bedroom.

The fact that he knew, as of that morning, his current weight was 163 made him feel the stirrings of his strength kink - discovered very soon after meeting Jungkook. 

Once across the threshold of their bedroom, everything seemed to be a whirlwind. It seemed like just seconds had passed before Jimin was on his back in the middle of their bed, shirt removed and Jungkook’s hands on his waist. He knew that his husband loved the changes to his body, making it known verbally and physically over the past year.

However, something about the way that Jungkook was candidly worshipping him overwhelmed Jimin - releasing all of his control to his husband. 

Jungkook felt the shift in Jimin and savored the sensation of being his husband’s source of ardent pleasure. He continued his trail of open-mouthed kisses down Jimin’s body, making a few stops along the way in his favorite spots. He adored his husband’s pants and moans as he continued to work him up. 

Feeling a hand in his hair, Jungkook let himself be pulled back up to Jimin’s eye level where his husband was clearly awaiting a kiss.

They got lost in the heated exchange for a few minutes before Jungkook pulled away, hovering above Jimin on his elbows and simply staring down at him with a mixture of love and lust. 

“I think we should pass on going out and I should keep you in this bed all night,” Jungkook finally said, enjoying the delicate touch of Jimin’s fingers along his back. 

Jimin laughed while nodding. “Yeah, that sounds alright to me.” 

Jungkook leaned over the side of the bed suddenly in search of his phone that was left in one of his pants pockets. He grabbed it up off the floor and switched their position so he was seated back against the pillows with Jimin on his lap.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Wait, what?” Jimin laughed again, more in confusion this time with the sudden switch in his husband’s focus.

With an eye roll and a chaste peck, Jungkook looked up at Jimin with his brow raised. “You think I’m going to let you go back to skipping meals? Not on my watch, baby.” 

It was Jimin’s turn to roll his eyes while he patted his soft stomach with one hand. “Trust me, Ggukie, I think I’ll be alright.” 

“Trust me , Min. I meant what I said earlier about taking care of you. I’m going to order delivery, we are going to have a little fun before it arrives, have a nice little dinner in bed, and then we can continue. Sounds like a good plan to me,” Jungkook replied in complete seriousness. 

Jimin’s answer came in the form of a grateful kiss, cupping Jungkook’s face and running his thumbs across his cheeks lovingly. “Well, in that case, I want bibimbap and mandu.”

“Your wish is my command, baby,” Jungkook declared as he immediately went into his delivery app to find their favorite mandu place while Jimin giggled at his response.

With a few more quick clicks, adding what he wanted and paying for the order, Jungkook immediately tossed his phone onto the nightstand and brought his hands to Jimin’s hips. “Now, where were we?” 

Jimin couldn’t help but laugh again at the question paired with the fact that Jungkook had flipped them back over, his husband now hovering over him once again. “I believe this is where you mentioned we would have a little fun if I recall correctly.” 

Jungkook smiled and brought his leg between Jimin’s. “Mmm, beauty and brains, how did I get so lucky?” 

“I ask myself that all the time,” Jimin responded in a faint whisper, a soft smile on his face. He brushed his lips against his husband’s, letting his words settle into the quiet moment before he added, “Can I tell you something, Gguk?” 

“Of course, baby, anything,” Jungkook answered right away, sensing the more serious direction of his husband’s words.

Jimin let out a little content sigh and said, “The way you love me, the way you make me feel loved and cherished is what got me through for so long. Looking back, I realize that I don’t think I loved myself much back then. I loved dancing and I loved that I was achieving my goals, but I didn’t love myself."

Jungkook pulled his husband closer as Jimin let out a little emotional hiccup, trying to cover the impending tears, but he remained silent knowing that Jimin had more to say.

"I never felt that I looked good enough and I was constantly anxious about being perfect for them. Now, I have become so happy with myself and who I am, and how I look that I think I am able to love you even more than I did then. Sometimes, it just hits me - like right now - that I just love everything about you.”

Jungkook let himself lay down beside Jimin, pulling him close and tucking his face into his husband’s neck. He sniffled slightly, overcome with emotion, and Jimin even felt a little tear run across his shoulder.

Between the absolute proclamation of love and the admission of what he had suspected Jimin felt at the company, Jungkook couldn’t find enough words to tell him everything he wanted to say. 

Finally, he sniffled and pulled away to say, “Remember like a year ago when I came home and you were crying in front of the mirror and I said I was proud of you?” 

Jimin smiled and gave him a little nod. “Yeah, I do.” 

“I was proud then, but now, I’m so fucking proud of you. I know I’ve been saying it a lot lately and I know that you sometimes think it’s just me being romantic or cute, but I genuinely mean it when I say that I keep falling more and more in love with you, Jimin. Since you left the company, you have changed in the best kind of way,” Jungkook explained, one hand resting on Jimin’s cheek while he looked at him intensely trying to make sure his husband took in every word. 

Another passionate kiss was what Jungkook received in return, both laying in a reverent silence with the threat of tears still plaguing their eyes.

The last hour since Jungkook had gotten home was a rollercoaster of emotions that needed a bit of time to be processed. A few more gentle pecks were exchanged while they just lay tangled together.

Jungkook continued his tender caress of Jimin's body, giving his husband's plush middle the most attention.  

After nearly five minutes had passed, Jimin finally broke the silence making both of them burst into laughter before their dinner arrived. 

“Who knew all I needed to do was gain thirty pounds and have way more sex with my husband to feel this good?”

[omoghouls]

I’m glad you liked my König asks enough to use them for nefarious purposes! I’m kinda in the closet about my omo situation, so it’s nice to be able to talk about it so freely here. It’s kinda embarrassing, I hesitate to even ask my rp partner of 6 years for any jarate action at times but ah well, what can ya do? It’s not my fault people think it’s weird that I want a guy to pee in me… Speaking of, here’s another scenario for you.

I can totally see Mr. K drinking his sorrows away at a pub, losing count of just how many mugs he’s had. The life of a soldier is not an easy one, and despite his crimes against humanity he still has it in him to feel remorse on late nights like these. It’s hard for a man like him to get tipsy due to his size, so when he finally works up a buzz decent enough he pays the already staggering bill and decides to head home.

Surprisingly, the beer isn’t what affects his ability to drive.

Not only is he a sad and horny drunk, but he’s a pissy one too.

His pants are straining against his erection, and he prays his boxers will survive the drive. He’s not thinking clearly, so while he’s stopped at a light he frees himself just to avoid the restriction. The chill of the air makes his dick twitch, his bladder squeezing on instinct. Even he knows he can’t take a hand off the wheel to touch himself, but god does he want to.

The drive home is hell, so when you hear his car and step outside excitedly to greet him he isn’t exactly in the mood for the usual fluffy formalities. As soon as he’s able, he closes the door behind him and drunkenly mounts you over the couch, forgetting his needs in favor of his wants. Although, forgetting his needs didn’t get rid of them by any means, it just meant that his body was going to do it for him.

Not long after he slips into you, the squishy wetness of your insides triggers a response in him, and soon enough you were flooded with a flow of warm, yellow urine that lasted way longer than it should have. You’d think that would discourage him, but no, it only made him get rougher with you. Even as it ran down your legs and branched off of your calves he kept moving, determined to empty his bladder into his lover.

And that poor couch… Oh, that poor couch…

No matter how you scrubbed and scrubbed, the scent still lingered weeks later.

YAAAAA OMG your piss is safe herd anon😎 maybe having a place where you can post your ideas can help you feel less embarrassed!♡♡♡♡♡

And ZTSXFFX7FGX7GC 👀👀👀👀👀💖💖💖💖 OMFG those momentary reliefs that come from drinking always have its bodily consequences!

Idly touching himself through his jeans to find his keys before he gets into the car was enough for his body to sport an erection. The thoughts wrap around his mind while he drives home, the lights from the passing streetlights shining on his straining member. He's honestly not sure which will burst first, himself or his bladder-

But, finally home, his mind solely settles on just one thing; you. He initially hadn't meant to pee inside, but the idea of this special type of marking, so primal, so dirty just has König dive right over the deep end.

The couch - well, let's just say some waterproof blankets/coverings were purchased juust in case this plays out again 😎😎😎