#throwback drawing?m

[official-voxtek]

Art by @lucifer-imaginaryfriend

Just a throwback from an old blog! This was when Lucifer was the pregnant one (with OG Virgil) and he was craving electricity so Vox was providing him with some — and it felt good 🤣

[bullet-prooflove]

In For Five: Tyler Owens x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hunterthecharmer @heylookwhoitis @shakespeareanwannabe

Companion piece to:

The Mechanic - Tyler faces a problem when Boone brings his mechanic ex girlfriend back into the fold.

Rigs -Tyler reflects on history with you

Ford Mustang - Tyler extends an olive branch.

Engine Parts - Tyler and you try to clear the air.

Your first job with the Wranglers is to get Tyler’s truck back to your garage in Lawton. When you step out of your tow truck and lay eyes on it, you know it’s going to be a bigger job than you initially reckoned because the poor thing is barely holding itself together in the aftermath of it’s adventures in a tornado.

“You can fix it right?” Tyler asks as you stand before the vehicle with your arms crossed over your chest.

“It looks like it needs an exorcism.” You tell him with a sigh before attaching the chain to the truck. “Let’s hope it holds together long enough for me to get it home.”

Arnett is almost three hours away from Lawton and Tyler decides to ride shotgun, leaving the other Wranglers with the RV as they help locals rebuild the community where tornado hit.

“It’s where the money from all the merch goes.” He tells you as you hurtle down the 60, your eyes on the road, Luke Combs on the radio. “We try to help out as best we can.”

He was the same back then too, you recall, throwing himself into the thick of it, pitching in any way he could.

It’s an hour into the trip that you realise he’s fallen asleep, the lyrics to Fast Car are still playing but Tyler’s voice isn’t accompanying them. You look over to see him tucked up against the door of your tow truck, head resting on the window, arms crossed over his chest. He looks so boyish in that moment, so care free and you remember what Boone had said when he’d taken you aside after Tyler had climbed inside your truck.

“He hasn’t been sleeping since the big one.” He confides in you. “He says he’s fine but what happened in that movie theatre scared the shit out of all of us especially when we almost lost Lily.”

Tyler hasn’t talked much about the tornado other than a brief outline of Kate’s work, it isn’t until that moment you realise just how close it had been for all of them. It explains the smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes these days.

It’s when you pull into the garage that you try to wake him. You try saying his name but he doesn’t stir so instead you reach across to touch him, your hand lightly squeezing his shoulder. He jerks awake, his body tensing, his eyes wide and fearful and you know that he was back there again, trapped in that movie theatre along with everyone else, waiting to die.

“Hey, it’s alright.” You say softly, your hand coming to cup the side of his face, your thumb tracing over the dusting of stubble across his cheek. “It’s just me.”

His hand clasps your palm to his face, his heart thudding in his chest as he closes his eyes and his breathing stuttered.

“In for five.” You whisper and he draws in a deep breath. “Hold for five and then out for five.”

It’s a throwback to three years ago, when you used to wake up with your pulse racing in the middle of the night. He’d be right there with you, his forehead resting on yours as he soothed away your tears.

“Do it with me.” He’d say as he looked into your eyes, drowning out everything else but the sensation of his chest pressing moving in time with yours. “In for five.”

His breathing starts to even out, his shoulders relaxing. His lips brush over the underside of your wrist, his heated breath ghosting over your skin as his eyes meet yours. It takes you back to the last time the two of you were together in a motel room in Kansas, him undressing you by the light of the street lamp outside, his lips chasing over every inch of you before he took you apart.

“We’re home.” You whisper and Tyler sighs because home is where ever you are, it’s just taken him this long to realise it.

Love Tyler? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[shieldofiron]

For @stmarchmm day 6- Omega/Omega

Pour Some Sugar On Me

Omegaverse Harringrove rated M for Mature.

Also on Ao3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63626620

Robin calls it having too many tabs open.

Steve’s brain just feels too full, overstuffed with to do's and haven’t done's, and need to call mom's, and am I attracted to-

Anyway.

Normally he goes for a game of pick up or a hard Pilates class.

“Come on,” Steve runs his hands though his bangs, trying to put on his charm.

“Sorry, Sugar. Heather’s class is full. But the omegas only pole dancing has some space today,” Carol snaps her gum and holds out the flier for it.

“Omegas only,” Steve knows he sounds kind of whiny, but he can’t help it. The omegas only classed never go as hard as they could, and he really needs to empty his brain out.

“It’s the only thing that’s open, unless you wanna do the 80s throwback Jazzercise for seniors. Your favorite instructor is there-“

She cuts off with a laugh when Steve snatches the pole dancing flier out of her hand.

That was hardly his fault. He’s just been… struggling through some things.

Some things that come into sharp relief when he walks into the pole dancing room and sees a bunch of other omegas stretching.

Steve stands stock still at the door staring.

There’s this guy in the center of the room wearing nothing more than pair of red shorts, with a ton of tattoos, spilling out across his back. Most people say omegas shouldn’t get them, that it ruins their natural appeal.

Steve swallows, his throat suddenly dry. It’s doing nothing to dim the guy’s natural appeal. He lifts his head from a stretch and practically glows. Dirty blonde curls spill down his shoulders, and his green blue eyes sparkle in the fluorescent lights overhead. Weren’t fluorescent lights supposed to make everyone look bad?

“Nice one, Chrissy,” The golden god calls out to another girl who’s slowly flipping upside down on a pole, her tiny ponytail dancing in the air.

Steve turns back to the guy slowly. Well, at least he didn’t need to work out to clear his head. Every thought had been replaced with this guy.

“You in the right place, Pretty Boy?” It takes Steve a second to realize he’s talking to Steve for real, and not just in his fantasies.

“I… uh… pole dancing? Omegas, I…” Steve stammers, holding out the flier like a jerk.

The guy just smiles slowly. "Oh yeah. You're in the right place. Billy. Nice to meet you."

"Steve." Steve nods and then awkwardly tries to find a free pole as far away from the guy as possible, which is hard, because this isn't a big room.

He settles next to a blonde, bitchy looking omega with a silver cross on.

"You should take off your shoes," The blonde mutters, pulling out a pair of sky high heels with intimidating looking ankle straps and pushes them in Steve's direction. Then he pulls out a second pair from his bag that makes the ones Steve has look like church shoes.

He's definitely too much of a beginner for that, but he straps them on for fun, testing. He can at least stand, though he's shaky.

"T-thanks," Steve says. He stretches out, trying to ignore the way Billy's eyes sweep his way.

His ignoring Billy plan is immediately shot to shit when the class begins and Billy claps to draw everyone's eye, and switches on some obnoxious 80s hair metal.

Great. He's the instructor.

It becomes immediately apparent that this is not a beginner's class. Billy has to give him several breaks, or help him into easier moves while Chrissy and Jason, the guy next to Steve, are pulling moves Steve has only seen in late night alphamax movies.

By the time they break, Steve's head is almost empty and he's sweating bullets. His arms ache. His own scent is blooming all around him, like honey and corn and bee balm flowers, and it pushes the scent of the other omegas away at least a little.

He lies on the floor next to his pole. It's a great floor. Cool and soothing, just what his overheated skin needs.

"Good job, there," Billy says, squirting water in his mouth and waggling a slit eyebrow at Steve. Someone smells like salt water and California Lilac, and it's making Steve's head foggy, filling it with images also from late night alphamax movies. Two omegas grinding together, grinding against a pole, pouting for the camera.

"Me?" Steve asks, wobbling a little on his heels as he tries to stand.

"Who else?" Billy helps him, steadying Steve by his elbow, and, the flowers that spill over one shoulder wave in the wind. Steve's stomach flutters with it, and his already overheated cheeks start to burn.

He must see Steve staring because he flexes his bicep a little, winking. "My sister."

"What?" Steve says, blinking. God he needs water. He needs to get a grip.

Billy points to the old school heart on his shoulder that reads Maxine in a banner. "For my sister. Not my alpha. Just if you were wondering."

All the tabs go empty, apart from one that gets neatly filed away. Steve for sure likes other omegas. He watches Billy lick a pole and decides he definitely, definitely likes other omegas.

[sallysavestheday]

Throwback Today

Thanks for the tag, @thescrapwitch and @queerofthedagger. Here's a little something from my Tuor/Voronwe/(Idril) Slashy Valentine this year. I love these guys.

Voronwë is perched on the scaffolding, whistling like a plover as he wields his mallet and plane. His shirtless back is of a tint with the wood: tawny from the sun and burnished with the light glaze of his sweat. The great sheaf of his hair is twisted up onto the top of his head and pinned there with bird bones he has found in the dunes – curved and sleek and shining. Tuor watches the music of his lover working and cannot find it in his heart to be grim, although his dreams were once again full of dark waves and thundering, hammering rain. Many such bleak nights have passed into peaceful mornings under Voronwë’s calm gaze and the soothing touch of his long, cool hands. Tuor knows himself to be fortunate, in many, many ways.     But the rasp of Ulmo’s unquiet still scrapes in his heart, so he makes his way up the cross-bars of the scaffolding to settle next to Voronwë, in the circle of the mariner’s eternal poise. Those dark eyes slide to meet his, and the fine brows lift. Voronwë transfers the nails he’s been holding between his lips to his palm, and leans to greet Tuor with a swift, bright brush of a kiss. He tastes like iron, like salt, like all of Tuor’s fearful imaginings rendered harmless in one soft mouth. Tuor shudders, gratefully, and sighs. Voronwë frowns. “Dreams, again?” And at Tuor’s wordless acknowledgement he downs tools and turns to draw him into his arms. He is elf-light - only half of Tuor's bulk - but there is an easy strength to his embrace that never fails to calm and center and warm. Tuor presses his mouth against Voronwë’s shining throat to feel the certainty of him under his lips – to taste the steady beat of his hopeful heart. “You’ve drowned, before,” he whispers into that silken, salty hollow, and feels Voronwë laugh, running his fingers through the wild havoc of Tuor’s hair and stroking softly along the grain of his beard.

Read the rest of Hear Me in the Song of the Waves (M: 2,000 words) on AO3.

@melestasflight @lferion @polutrope @cycas @hhimring feel free to share an oldie but goodie...

[wintaerbaer]

things we don't say: part 5.5 (interlude) (kth) (m)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 2.1k

chapter warnings: maya and jk are fighting again :( , and also SMUT in the form of: lots of kissing, light/brief breastplay, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), missionary, creampie, a throwback to part 2, they’re so vanilla but it suits them

a/n: a huge thank you to @btsborahaee for beta-ing on extremely short notice! you’re the best! and an extra thank you, too, to everyone who has shown this series love. it truly means the world <3

listening rec: pieces by andrew belle

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

The night is beginning to wind down, thick summer air turning cool and the noise from inside the venue softening with every passing moment. It’s peaceful—the kind of pleasant exhaustion that marks the end of a big day. Jungkook stretches out at the patio table, resting his hands behind his head. As much as he enjoys a party—loves the pounding of music and the press of bodies—he has to admit that this is pretty nice too, the ease that comes with good company and a more intimate setting.

It also helps that Maya and Mingyu have rejoined the group, settling his imagination, which had been running rampant while they were gone.

“Tae and Y/N haven’t come back this way, have they?” Jimin wonders, peering around as if he thinks that saying your names will cause you to appear.

“I haven’t seen them since dinner,” Maya says.

Joshua shifts in his seat, tilting his head out of curiosity. “What’s their deal anyway?”

It’s like a collective sigh passes through half the table. A heavy breath that’s half amusement, half exasperation. “You noticed?” Jimin asks with a smirk.

Wonwoo coughs out a laugh—a loud bark that draws all eyes to him.

He clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“He’s in love with her,” Maya says, ever-direct. “Has been for as long as I’ve known them. Probably longer. But he’s too afraid to make a move.”

Mingyu sighs in understanding at her side. “Ahh, been there.”

“You have?”

He turns his head and regards her warily, like he didn’t quite mean to say that and he’s just remembered that he’s in the presence of a relative stranger. “Uh, yeah. With one of my friends in high school.”

“What happened?”

He hesitates, picking through his words carefully. “I spent freshman year of college gathering up the courage to tell her how I felt once we were both home for summer break.” A shrug flows down his back. “She rejected me.”

“Aw, Mingyu, I’m sorry,” Maya coos, and the enamored look on her face makes Jungkook nauseous.

“It’s fine. I moved on,” Mingyu says (A shame, Jungkook thinks). “But I can understand your friend’s predicament. Maybe it will work out for him though.”

A rush of boldness floods Jungkook’s veins, and he leans forward, looking deliberately at Maya. “It could definitely work out for him,” he insists, “because Y/N has been hurt in the past, and Tae understands that. He wants her to know that things could be different, but she just needs to let him in. That’s the problem.”

Maya’s eyes flash, clearly catching the double entendre of what he’s saying. “The problem,” she spits, “is that people have a pattern. And Tae’s pattern is that he’s far too scared to take a risk. Abandonment issues run deep, but some people don’t understand and respect that.”

“I und—“

“Tae has his reasons,” Jimin jumps in, defending his friend. “He just needs time.”

Maya snorts, and Jungkook can tell he’s hit a nerve as she continues her rant, the rest of the group quietly looking on in a mix of unease or confusion. “Time? Give me a break. He’s had almost twenty years worth of time.” She crosses her arms as she rolls her eyes to the heavens, scoffing a laugh of defeat. “Honestly? If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that people don’t change. People who sleep around will continue to sleep around.” She pierces Jungkook with a look he feels in the marrow of his bones. “And guys like Tae will always have a reason to be afraid.”

Her head shakes, and Jungkook thinks she might be holding back tears.

“At this rate, we’ll all be dead before he makes a move.”

Taehyung’s mouth is relentless.

From the moment you lean forward, his lips chase yours—desperately seeking—and barely even give you the time and space to breathe. Like he no longer sees use for oxygen.

If someone had asked you a week ago what you thought kissing Taehyung would be like, you would've said careful and calculated, just like he usually is during the day-to-day. But instead, you're getting all fire and a hunger you didn't know he was capable of—urgency in the rough pace of his mouth and the frantic ministrations of his hands digging into the nape of your neck, angling you towards him.

For what it's worth, you meet him beat for beat, nipping at his lower lip, sliding your tongue against his, and tangling your fingers into the thick mane of his hair. A groan emanates from someone's throat—you're not even sure whose—and suddenly, he's gripping you around the waist to drag you across his lap with a growl until you're straddling his hips, crowding him against the headboard as he clutches you to him tightly.

You press closer, closer, closer, crushing your lips together for a bruising kiss and savoring the feel of his arms banded across your back, and the only thing you can think is that you can’t believe you didn’t do this sooner. He’s heaven incarnate, the taste of him ambrosia and nectar, and you can’t get enough.

It’s not enough.

You finally pull away for air, and his lips, still seeking skin, trace a path across your jawline and down the column of your neck as your fingers find their way to the buttons on his shirt. You’re frenzied, fumbling as you undo them one-by-one and let out a gasp of relief as the fabric falls open and allows you access to the warm skin underneath. You greedily run your hands over his chest and stomach, desperate for more, more, more, and he responds in kind, slipping his own palms under the cotton of your pajamas as he continues to nibble at your neck and groaning when he finds you bra-less.

Warm palms cup your breasts, thumbs brushing lightly over perked nipples, and you move to push his shirt down his shoulders, immediately leaning in to bite and suck at the protrusion of his collarbone.

His head falls back against the headboard, and for the first time since you kissed him, he rasps out, “Y/N, my God.”

It sets your blood on fire, the guttural, fucked-out sound of his voice. But you miss the feel of his lips. “Don’t stop,” you murmur, stripping yourself of your own top and diving forward to kiss him again.

He moans once more, the vibrations dancing along your tongue, and the thought repeats that you should’ve been kissing this man every damn day. Should’ve been embracing him at every chance like your life depended on it.

From here on out, you think it just might.

You trail your hands down his torso, and he bucks his hips underneath you, drawing your attention to the hardness pressed against your pelvis.

“Tae,” you gasp, breaking away, and he takes the opportunity to arch his back and pull a nipple into his mouth. “Taehyung.”

But he’s not listening, purely focused on the mounds of your breasts, and so you take it upon yourself to torque your body, flipping the two of you until you’re on your back, and his weight is digging you into the mattress.

The change in position causes a temporary slow in movement, affording you new skin to explore as you roam the expanse of his back, Taehyung’s fingers reverently tracing the lines of your ribcage. It’s not long, however, before your motions ramp back up as you work to shimmy off your pants and clumsily free him of his own.

Finally bare to him, you slow down for real this time as his own touches become tentative, the warm air of the hotel room on his skin seeming to sober him up a fraction. He pauses with a hand on your hip, his other arm braced at the side of your head, not seeming to know what to do next.

Bold and eager—yet sure of your next move—you wrap your fingers around the smooth length of him, relishing the sharp intake of breath you feel at your ear.

“Need you,” you whisper. “Need you, Tae.”

He hesitates only a second longer before his fingers are dipping down between your legs, the two of you sighing in sync at the feeling. You line him up, raising your head to brush a gentle kiss to his mouth, trying to transmit confidence as you fold your legs around his waist.

A stoppage in time as he bumps his nose against yours. Flutters soft breath across your cheeks.

And then he pushes in.

Your lungs cease to function, every cell in your body focused on that single point of connection. You're whole. Full. Complete. Amazed at the ease with which you fit together—two puzzle pieces finding their match. And Taehyung is certainly not unaffected himself as he pulls back to look at you, emotion swimming in his gaze.

“Y/N,” he whispers. His forehead drops to yours, his lips still ghosting your skin. And it could be a trick of the light, a haze brought on by the hormones currently coursing through your body, but his eyes look wet. “My angel.”

He kisses you then, slow and deep, taking his time as you both adjust to the feeling of him inside of you. You've never felt this comfortable with anyone before, never trusted someone so fully to see you at your most intimate and vulnerable. And he may have called you an angel, but with him above you like this—hovering, ethereal, and burning against you—you think it might actually be him who's heaven-sent. Your beautiful, beautiful man.

His hand charts a course up your body, guiding your arm upwards until it's resting by your head and he can lace your fingers together with a sigh. One more press of his mouth to yours, a gentle nip at your ear, and then he pulls his hips back—only to gradually ease back in centimeter by centimeter.

The process repeats, the pace slow but not lazy, deliberate intent behind every controlled thrust of his hips. It drives you crazy—the unhurried drag of him, the way he's allowing both of you to savor every nerve and inch of flesh until nothing is taken for granted. Your free hand maps his back, legs wrapping around him even more tightly, and he hitches your thigh to his waist so he can push deeper.

Stars circle through your vision, every sense overwhelmed by him: the press of his hips, the scattered kisses across your neck, the symphony of your mewls and his moans.

It's perfect—he's perfect—and before you even realize it, you're riding the edge of your high, entire body tensing in anticipation.

He notices, dropping his hand low again to rub at your clit and turning the stars you're seeing into constellations.

“Let go. I've got you, baby,” he murmurs. “I've got you.”

It's the low timbre of his voice that ultimately does it, and you fall apart, trembling so forcefully that he releases your hand to wrap his arms around your torso, locking the two of you together. He rides it out with you until he tips over the edge himself, spilling inside with a rumble in his chest like thunder.

One, two, three breaths in.

And it’s over.

Everything stills, the two of you a heaping pile of sweaty skin and heaving chests. And while your head is mostly empty, wiped clean by the experience you just shared with him—perhaps, now, the most important thing you've ever shared with him—a single fact of your new reality persists.

You want him. You need him.

You love him.

He pulls out with a groan and rolls off you, tugging you into his side. You know you should head to the bathroom, should clean up, but the emotional and physical exhaustion and the lure of his skin has you cuddling at his chest.

As your eyelids droop, the promise of sleep looming, he mumbles something, the words blending together in a tangle. You lift your head, heart jolting at the sight of his blissed out face.

“What?”

But he's already fallen asleep, tiny puffs of air slipping through his lips.

You think about nudging him back awake, think about asking him what he just said, where this leaves you, what you’re feeling yourself. But you decide against it, the expression on his face too peaceful to disturb.

It’s been seventeen years leading to this moment, right?

What’s one more day?

a/n: they finally got there :) but there's still a lot of story left! pls consider liking, reblogging, leaving a comment, or sending an ask in the meantime!

[uaseu]

Throwback to my drawing part 2 ( 12 y/o me) I used to draw by looking at other people's pictures

Posting the oldiest first but I m dying to get to new ones😭😭

[kaesficrecarchive]

do you maybe know some taekook fics which include fluff ????

I wasn't sure if you meant exclusively fluffy fics or if a little angst was allowed so:

Exclusively fluff:

Stuffed Drumsticks and Cotton Candy Kisses by orphan_account (1/1 | 6,528 | M)

Taehyung is really good at precision-based games and Jeongguk is really good at strength-based games. Together, they amass a terrifying number of prizes before being kicked out of the carnival.

(meet cute)

Something Blue by starsign (1/1 | 11,077 | E)

When Jeongguk met Taehyung, he wasn't expecting to fall in love. But when his feelings blossomed into something new, he knew he had to do something special to confess. or wedding planner Jeongguk and florist Taehyung say "I love you" with flowers

(strangers to friends/fwb to lovers)

unexpectedly you by serenitaes (1/1 | 15,162 | NR)

“Oh my god,” Jeongguk mutters, spinning on his heel because he can’t look Taehyung in the eye right now otherwise he will combust. “What are you doing?” Taehyung giggles, tugging on his arm. “Turn back around, I wanna see your face.” “No,” Jeongguk gets out. “I’m good here.” “Jeongguk.” “What?” he mutters, still with his back to Taehyung. “Jeongguk.” Jeongguk huffs, slowly turning back around. He’s met with Taehyung’s wide-set grin, sparkly eyes and handsome as hell face that gets his neck warming further because Taehyung really is insanely handsome. “Did I make you blush?”

(single dads au)

the happiest place on earth by taecheeks (1/1 | 15,250 | E)

“Oh god, Kook. Don’t tell me you’re going to propose in front of the Cinderella Castle. That’s like, extra cheesy. The most cheese, even for you.” “No?” Jungkook laughs. Does it sound as nervous to Taehyung as it does to himself? “No, that’s corny. Definitely not.”

(established relationship, marriage proposal)

Hey Baby, Is Your Latin Name ‘Pterophyllum?’ Because You Look Like an Angel(fish) to Me. by laykive (littleheichou) (1/1 | 27,150 | T)

Part of the 100 Writing Prompts Challenge - No.7 "Fish". Taehyung's professor tells him that he can't do a fourth art project on fish, for some strange reason. AKA: Taehyung draws a boy that he happens to sit in front of in the library and falls in love with each individual line.

(college/uni au)

taekook take care of each other <3 by autumnstae (6/6 | 28,244 | G/T)

A series collecting fics of taehyung and jungkook taking care of each other, set in a multitude of universes.

to always follow the sun by thruspring (1/1 | 36,019 | E)

In which Jeongguk upgrades from being his boss' frazzled and overworked assistant to prospective future step-parent practically overnight.

(boss/employee relationship, single dad au)

Fluff + angst:

Cinnamon Crisp by teatimetaemint (1/1 | 21,482 | M)

Jungkook needs his daily dose of cuddles and Taehyung likes to wear Jungkook's clothes. They don't care that alphas and omegas aren't supposed to be best friends.

(omegaverse)

how to take a fall by orphan_account (2/2 | 27,939 | G)

"I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly." or, Taehyung and Jeongguk form a bond by chatting and exchanging semi-anonymous messages on Twitter, blissfully unaware that they are actually business competitors.

(identity porn, online romance)

Outlines by meganni (5/5 | 119,975 | M)

Simply put, Taehyung needs a boyfriend for his brother’s wedding – Jeongguk volunteers. (Featuring lots of phone calls, a healthy amount of practice, and unnecessary throwbacks and references).

(fake dating au)

[patheticbatman]

Last day for my Win A Commission contest! It’ll end at 11:59pm EST on May 12th. If you guess the book story, you’ll win a drawing :)

The book cover usually depicts these two sisters, Addie and Meryl, as white, but a friend of mine used to headcanon that they were her sister and herself. So I’m drawing her vision!

But as this scene is not very identifiable, I’ve included some hints. You can check out the first and second day’s hints as well.

1. Addie, the younger girl, has to save her sister from the plague wrecking her land. However, she is the ‘cowardly’ sister of the two, so she never suspected she’d be the one saving the other.

2. Addie falls in love with Rhys, a sorcerer, which is a slightly different species in this world.

3. I’ll give you the author and most of the title. Gail Carson Levine’s The Two Princesses of [blank]

Also, unrelated, I originally planned four pictures total for this story - 1 title and 3 in-story. But then I lost the phot I took of the last picture, and I didn’t think I had the physical copy anymore (I draw on paper first), so I ended up drawing this one. But guess what I found! I’m including a picture of the old one below. I think I’ll include them all in the final story :).

Here you can see how the older sister (Meryl) is more white passing than her sister (Addie) who is very much not. My friend M and her older sister had a very similar dynamic.

And to be honest, people don’t recognize my brother as my relative unless we’re both standing next to my mom, our shared parent. And when his dad, my stepdad since I was four and whom I love, is with us, they try to color code separate us. Which is frustrating, to say the least.

Interracial families have been a thing forever!!! Throwback kids have also been a thing forever!!! Families aren’t all one ethnicity or the same expression of an race!!!

So raise one up for families that don’t get recognized as families. I’ve been trying to put this into words for days and across several posts lol.

Additionally, I wanted to include a multitude of hairstyles for Addie, the sister with 4c hair. From an Afro with a headband to twists to braids. And also, sleep bonnets. They’re important for hair health and management, and are stigmatized/hidden in a lot of media. I hope that changes soon - God knows how many times I haven’t had the time or desire to mess with my hair when I wake up, so I just throw a bandana on to keep it private.

Everyone should be able to do that! No one type of person should have to be more ‘presentable’ at more/all times to be accepted. Especially when it affects one’s hair health!

[scottsummersevents]

For the Sexy Days of Summers Event happening right now we've invited Scott Summers (Cyclops) fans to take part in spreading more love for him out there on the internet by creating fanfiction, fanart, fan works, etc. to celebrate our favorite X-Men leader and the possibility of what if. For the duration of this challenge so far we've received some really incredible submissions with super rare pairings that are new to us. For the month of September we'd like to share some of those and also share some various fandom creations along the way in terms of content. Some might be an old favorite pairing while others might be something in terms of shipping you've never considered before.

Today's spotlight pairing is a throwback to the original X-Men exploring Scott and Warren's relationship and the possibilities that surround it!

Below under the cut you can take a look at some works for this pairing and see what it has in store for you!

Also if you have a favorite Scott pairing and a fanfic that you've written or that you love, then feel free to drop us a note and let us know so we can showcase it in the future!

Stay tuned for more duo spotlights coming soon!

If this is what we've got, then what we've got is gold by StormXPadme (Rated E) In which Warren invites Scott to a luxury trip on a family yacht for spring break. They find ways to kill the time.

drinking it in. by bibereangelum (Rated E) Warren looks at him through the mirror adjacent to the crappy hotel bed. Yellowed sheets spill off of one side, shoved haphazardly out of the way by his careless hand a mere half hour ago. Jean picked a good spot. Secluded enough so they wouldn’t draw attention yet crappy enough to irritate Warren and Bobby endlessly. Tomorrow morning, they’d fly back to Westchester and pretend none of this ever happened.

His eyes, purple to Scott, blue (so he’s been told.) Aren’t focused on his face. Warren’s gaze lowers, fixated on Scott’s bare chest. They’re both barechested. It’s too hot to even think about wearing a shirt, nevertheless staying in uniform. Scott wishes he thought far enough ahead to have slipped one on before Warren dumped him onto the bed for ‘nurse duty’. Jean could have stuck him with Hank, or Bobby, or left him by himself.

But he’s with Warren

Vertical Garden and Angels by GammaGaze What happens when a certain red-eyed mutant stands underneath a mistletoe?

Love, War and Refreshments by GammaGaze Scott's living on the Island of Krakoa and is always one step ahead of his opponents. But what happens when the war that will take place intertwines with the love he just found with Warren? Will his initial estimations save him or be his greatest downfall?

X-Drabbles by GammaGaze A series of one-shots between Scott and Warren.

Scott's X-Force by GammaGaze A series of drabbles between Scott and Warren's time at X-Force showing love and friendship.

Summer Sickness by Hirose (Rated G) After what feels like an unending torrent of work, missions, and complaints from the professor about how his work ethic is slipping (god forbid), Scott is reasonably overwhelmed. He’s tired, underfed, running on too few hours of sleep, and a small gust of wind would be more than able to push him over.

Happy Holidays by AngelGirl4212 (Rated M) Scott and Warren are left alone in the school for the Christmas holidays.

Pivot by diamondgore (Rated T) Eye Contact is a dangerous thing.

A Toast to Innocence, a Toast to Time by Duck_Life (Rated G) Jean has a talk with Warren Worthington III, Nate Grey's "Angel of Life."

going home for the holidays by mothicalcreatures (Rated G) Scott, Warren, and Pietro discuss their plans for winter break.

And for more head over to AO3 and check out their Scott/Warren section!!!

[etes-secrecy-post]

No #OnThisDay throwback post, only exclusive for super secret blog(s).

Me 🇵🇭: You and Radar (from Astroblast 🚀🥤) had a lot in common when it comes to primates. And yes, I did make a drawing of Radar during CNY's Year of the Monkey celebration. 😊🐒🏮 Here's hoping, I'll draw Marco and Radar celebrating their CNY, in the coming years. 🙂

Me 🇵🇭: (Meanwhile) Heck yeah! They're READY to SMASH, alright?! 😁👊💥🎮 Whether they're brawl each other or saving the fictional world from a certain evil sinister! (Even though, our fam haven't owned any Nintendo games/console, yet. 😅)

[metalchairz]

ships to draw: erisol and/or erikat ? :)

Had to go with the throwback boys. They were basically my only m/m ship that I was passionate about.

[metaphysicpareidolic]

OPINION TIME because i need to know i'm not the only one who feels this way:

i'm gonna be perfectly honest and many of you might hate me for this but. i. did not like good omens season 2. so if you don't want to read, i'll just write my essay under the break dlsjfdh

OKAY.

i mean i understand why people like it, the two (mostly) male-presenting characters that everyone has been smashing together like barbie dolls for decades finally get a canon kiss, great. yeah, as a trans gay guy, i can't deny that i love seeing any kind of queer representation, especially from such a popular show, from such an influential author. but this? did not. feel good to watch. and it's not just because of the soul-destroying cliffhanger ending.

i lived and breathed good omens when the show first came out, it was one of the most intense hyperfixations of my life, i was completely obsessed with it and i recommended it to everyone i knew, both the show and the book. it's the entire reason i got tumblr in the first place and the first fandom i actually participated in. quite a good portion of my waking thoughts were consumed by the ineffable husbands and all the other characters. i was a young teenager at the time and this story shaped my view of the world for over a year, and i will always love it. but even then, i hoped to god (ha) that they wouldn't make a second season. but inevitably, they did.

i went into the first episode hoping i was wrong, and i finished it just feeling disappointed. i kept watching and got through the whole thing, hoping it would get better as the season went on, but it just got worse and worse. granted, i did enjoy the little historical throwbacks (i think the entire second season should have just been aziraphale and crowley through the centuries with michael and david improvising the whole thing like that one post) but the actual plot was bland, the characters had lost all their depth, and on top of that the budget was obviously cut by a lot so the rich visuals that were so captivating in the first season were gone, as well. that and issues with sound, which probably were more noticeable cause i was wearing headphones, but this is one of the most popular and profitable shows on a leading streaming service owned by one of the biggest fucking companies in the world. shouldn't they be putting money into it?

i'm not upset that beelzebub was recast. i'm upset that their entire character and personality was forgotten in favour of a romantic side plot, which exists, why? again?? to somehow emphasize a point already made by the other rushed romantic side plot?? that has barely anything to do with the actual story other than being accidentally dragged into it by aziraphale, whose entire character development from the first season has been entirely pushed aside because we need a third season, because we want more money! hehe they are kissing, gay people kissing ooh look, give us your money and attention so you can see them kiss consensually this time! i could continue but i will spare you the entirety of my spiel because i could write. PAGES. about how much this season hurt my soul not because Oh No They Broke Up but because i believed in this world and i believed in these characters and i don't like seeing them like this, wrung out and milked for cash and fanservice. everything that made the first season good is dampened by the knowledge that i now have to consider this fucking thing canon, that this is what the story turns into.

neil gaiman i love you but for the love of god get off of tumblr. he just wrote a fucking fanfiction of his and terry pratchett's work because he knew he would get money from it. and we are eating it up, because we love the story, we love the characters, and we love the author and we always want more. if you want more, draw fanart. write fanfiction. create your own version of a story. please, don't give your money to a company just because it's Officially Legit Canon when you could create a much better, more compelling, and more satisfying ending for yourself, for free. i lied earlier, i don't understand the appeal of this season. i don't understand why people like it. it feels fake. it feels wrong. it feels like an entirely different universe than the first season, and the book, and that wouldn't necessarily even be a bad thing if it was at least done with some level of concern for quality and consistency.

i know not everyone wants to be critical of their favourite show and would prefer to just enjoy it for what it is. i understand that, at least. i don't want to ruin anyone's fun. if you enjoyed this season, good. i'm glad you did and i love seeing all the fanart and fanfictions happening everywhere. i just really wanted to talk about this and maybe spark a little discussion if anyone's interested. anyways if you read all of this, thank you.

tl;dr: i hate capitalism, i hate streaming services