#was this coherent? I hope it was coherent

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

I will always love menace Jeonghan, I fully support him in his endeavours. This was such a fun lil read!

Thank you for writing this story and sharing it with us!

When I was reading, I decided to write down my thoughts as I go because I knew I'd forget otherwise so below this is literally just the thoughts I wrote down because I do not have the brain power to convert them into actual fully coherent comments [I'll put them below a read more cut for the sake of spoilers and such]

~

“ “Everyone get into your positions, we have three minutes!” ”  which one? 😏

“ “So what are we doing tonight?” ” idk why but this made me snort

“ “some random guy you found on the street,” ” okay I know this doesn’t mean literally but I’m laughing to myself at the thought of her walking up to a random dude on the street and going “you me date yes” and the poor guy being so bewildered he just nods

“ You would have to wipe it clean before you left unless you wanted the staff to find an imprint of your damp tits pressed against the blank surface in the morning. ” that’d be hilarious ngl

“ “We hope you’re having an equally enjoyable morning at home as we are in the studio.” ” ha, you little shit (affectionately)

I really do love that ending

3, 2, 1… and we’re live

jeonghan x reader

synopsis: Jeonghan, your co-news anchor, and the biggest flirt in the office has it out for you, and luckily you couldn't help but give in to your desires last night.

word count: 1.7k

genre/contains: filth, enemies -to lovers?? -and lovers?, office romance, afab!reader, protected sex (not mentioned but they’re not risking it), teasing/banter, hints of degradation and praise, pussy slapping, mentions of hands being restrained, sex in office space (empty but still fairly public)

rating: 18+

a/n: I would give in so fast. y/n is stronger than me fr. thank u @lovelyhan for proofing and your kind words <33

.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・.

“Everyone get into your positions, we have three minutes!” 

The director’s voice resonated through the studio, making both you had Jeonghan rise from your seats in the makeup chairs even though the frantic makeup artists were still chasing after you as you walked toward the bright set. 

“So what are we doing tonight?” Jeonghan teasingly asked in a whisper when you sat down. 

You looked at your co-anchor in disgust. 

“I am going on a date. What you are doing is none of my business.” 

“Oh, that’s not very kind of you to say, now is it y/n?” 

You scowled at the man sitting next to you, the stylists still trying to perfect his hair and stop it from falling down into his eyes too much as it would end up a disturbance during the show. 

“I don’t need to be nice to you just because we fucked, okay?” you wheezed out, hoping to any god that would listen that the stylist couldn’t hear or just didn’t care enough to listen. You could barely deal with the fact that the man you spent every single early morning with had made you scream out his name as you came on his dick last night. Other people in the office knowing about this happening however, that would somehow be even worse. 

‘Never sleep with your coworkers,’ they had said when you had first started your brand new job at the morning news. 

‘Especially ones like him,’ they had said and pointed toward a tall man, laughing with one of the makeup artists. Flirting, with one of the makeup artists, you soon realized. That was what he was best at you discovered within days at your new job. 

Within a week of his cute and innocently flirty comments, you had sworn to yourself never to fall for it. Honestly, it wasn’t as if he even meant anything personal with the way he just naturally made everyone crush on him a little bit by simply chatting away with that damned beautiful face of his. 

You had kept that vow of yours for almost an entire year… all the way up until last night. 

“One minute left!” the director called out, and you tried to snap back into reality as you read over your cue cards once more. Your efforts were soon lost on you though, because Jeonghan, that absolute menace, had now bent closer to you than before, the stylist having left you two to your lonesome when the director had called out the time left until you were going live. 

“You don’t wanna reconsider that date? I think I could be a lot more fun than some random guy you found on the street,” he whispered into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as his words sent your brain right back to him whispering into your ear as he had you moaning and bent over this very desk just hours ago. 

“I told you coming in for this late-night meeting could be fun,” he had whispered with a smug tone before sucking yet another mark into your neck, his dick twitching inside you as you clenched and moaned at his words. The set was empty and dark, all except for the low light coming from a lamp left for you two to turn off when you left. The rest of the staff had gone home and left you two to rehearse the last-minute change in the scripts for tomorrow’s show. 

“Fuck you,” you had panted out, breathless and experiencing too much pleasure to say much else. 

Jeonghan had scoffed breathlessly at your attempt at contempt even in this situation. Your tight was skirt pushed up to reveal your dripping core and bare ass while your blouse was unbuttoned and your tits were falling out from your bra as he bounced you back and forth on his erection. “You say that, but I think you like me fucking you more.”

You wanted to hit him, but instead, you just pushed yourself back against his cock harder. 

“F-fuck, harder Jeonghan,” you whimpered out, needing that last push over the edge from him, feeling so close to your orgasm you couldn’t dare argue against his mocking words. 

“What was that sweetheart?”

He grabbed your face with the hand not currently holding both of your hands behind your back as he slammed his hips into yours, making a rough slapping sound each time your skin met his. Gently but with a stern motion, he turned your face around to look at him. 

“Use that pretty little mouth to tell me what you want again, properly this time.”

You moaned when his hips snapped up with even more force, making your pussy drip juices down your thighs. 

“Please, I need you to fuck me harder, please Jeonghan,” you begged, your voice a whine as he sped up at your words.

“That’s my girl,” he cooed at you, letting your face go and pressing your body down onto the cold and shiny desk in front of you. You would have to wipe it clean before you left unless you wanted the staff to find an imprint of your damp tits pressed against the blank surface in the morning. You made a mental note of that before your mind was snapped right back into your current activity where your coworker’s hand had just found its way around your body and landed on your clit. 

He began circling your clit in perfect circle movements, precise and with the perfect amount of pressure. Suddenly it was interrupted and you whined at the loss of his fingers before a light smack sent a jolt of arousal through your entire body, the pleasure from the slight sting on your clit had you seeing stars. 

When you moaned loudly, his fingers came back to continue the gentle and precise rubbing he had been doing just a moment ago. The circles on your sensitive clit soothed the delicious pain and the way his strokes continued to fill you up just right made the pleasure build until it was almost unbearable. 

You were all but screaming in pleasure as he continued snapping his hips against your ass at a brutal pace. You were dripping and clenching around his throbbing cock, your hands still held firm behind your back, and the grunts of pleasure coming from behind you were the very last drop of stimulation you needed. Your orgasm came crashing over you, making you see a white blinding light, a pleasure so intense you couldn’t remember a single other person making you come that hard ever before in your entire life. 

All that was in the past now though, you thought. Determined not to ever again repeat the worst mistake of your life. You had to stay strong and you would be moving on from it, even though it might’ve actually been the best sex you’ve had in your entire life…

It didn’t matter though, because it would never happen again. 

“Ten seconds!” 

“Just shut up, last night was a mistake, you should give up because it’s never happening again,” you wheezed back at him, a bit flustered when you looked back at him, meeting his gaze and noticing that his face was only inches away from yours now. If you wanted to, you could close the gap and kiss him before the red light telling you that you were live would have time to turn on… 

No, you reprimanded yourself, you didn’t want to. Did you want to?

“3…” 

“Why don’t you just come home with me after work? Cancel the date,” Jeonghan whispered yet again, a small smirk on his face as he watched you attempt to scowl at him but was interrupted when he placed his warm hand on your thigh. His movements feather light and soft against the thin stockings you had on. 

You shushed him, not wanting to bring any attention to how his hand was gently sliding up your thigh, sending goosebumps shooting from where his addictive touch was on your skin. 

“2…”

“I’ll make it worth your time.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sent your mind spiraling, and his touch slid up to the hem of your panties, teasing you and sending a rush of desire toward your core. 

What if you agreed? Would it really be too bad to have him one more time? 

You begged your brain to shut up, you needed it to be quiet. You weren’t supposed to find him attractive, you weren’t supposed to feel flustered any time he stared at you a bit too long when you were getting ready for the show, and you certainly were not supposed to want the man to fuck your brains out over and over again until you couldn’t speak or stand anymore. 

“1…” 

This time Jeonghan said nothing more to convince you. He knew the effect he had on everyone, including you, and chuckled slightly as he pulled back his entire body from you.

You had to stop a wince from escaping your lips at the loss of his closeness and his touch. The whole thing was too much for you to handle. 

“And we’re live!” 

The director’s voice and the bright red light turning on had you looking like a deer in headlights. You were canceling that date and coming home with your menace of a co-anchor today, you thought, feeling resigned and flustered as you tried to collect yourself when you heard the cheery voice of Jeonghan charming his way into the general publics’ hearts, even after having turned you on in front of the entire office at 7 am. 

“I’m Jeonghan and beside me, we have your lovely y/n, and you’re watching today’s news. We hope you’re having an equally enjoyable morning at home as we are in the studio.”

You could kill the man, you thought as you tried your best to not scowl at the man live on national television. 

.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・.

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

[navigation post!]

[violetthunderstorm]

More Mango and Yellow interactions. Maybe teaching more staff commands but also Yellow looks a lot like Gold so Mango probably does a double take every once in awhile when seeing them. I imagine Gold is more similar to Purple personality wise, which was why Mango was so strongly reminded of them, but Yellow does resemble Gold a lot appearance wise and I think that should be utilized more by the fandom.

I can understand why this isn't done too much considering the fact that Mango doesn't seem to react too much to it in canon, but that tracks considering how long it took to realize how much they cared about Purple. Like they probably noticed the resemblance in the avm video they saw, but didn't think too much of it and so wasn't surprised when seeing them in the nether. Might think more about it now that they're interacting with the cg more casually.

[sunshinegirl29]

Under The Influence

Summary; Aaron is helpless under the influence of Peter Lewis.

Content Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Drugs, Violence, Death, P in V Sex, some angst & fluff if you squint.

Pairing: Hotch X Reader

A/N - Sorry for how terrible this is, especially the end! It didn't quite come out how I'd hoped. But I still wanted to post it 😅.

-

Aaron’s eye is swollen shut.  The sticky cooling blood dries on his cheek where he sits slumped against an unfamiliar couch in an unfamiliar room. He sees you there, soft and warm, and blurred at the edges. You crouch down and stroke tenderly over the swell of his arms.

“Hotch—Aaron.” You breathe his name, leaning into the crook of his neck to nuzzle at the warm skin there.

Aaron tenses at first, uncomfortable.

“What’re you doing?" he bites out and attempts to shuffle from your grip, but his arms won’t move.

Something buzzes by his right foot, illuminating a faceless figure.

“It’s okay.”  

You smell like sage mingled with something sweet, like bubble-gum.

He jumps at the delicate press of your lips against his neck, puffing frustrated breaths when you continue a path of open-mouthed kisses up and across his jaw before pulling away to smile coyly at him.

You’re beautiful. He knew that. But now, gazing at him with lust blown eyes and the hint of a blush tinging your cheeks you’re almost ethereal; like a mirage of water in a desert.

He can’t do this. No matter how many times he’d scolded himself about wanting more. You were so much younger than him. His friend. His subordinate.

“It’s okay. You can kiss me, Aaron.”

It’s as if a film falls down over him and a confusing blurred version of you; plush lips parted and panting with need.

You hold your breath in anticipation before he moves in slow motion.  Aaron’s lips are softer than you expected, his five o’clock shadow a sharp juxtaposition.  The erotic sensation beckons a moan from your mouth into his that’s warm and unbearably pliant.  

“Touch me. Please. You have my permission.” 

It’s as if a switch flips in his head.  He had to have every inch of you.

The unbearable need forces him forward, the pain in his face and head just a background buzz to the ache for you.

He bursts into life underneath you; the hand that isn’t holding himself up curls around the side of your neck, a large thumb tips your head down for a kiss that swallows you whole.  You can’t stop yourself from whining into him, obedient to his tongue that licks readily into your mouth.  The tang of iron blending with a sweetness of something unknown, it gets stronger until he breaks away, allowing you to draw in a soft gasp.   The reprieve doesn’t last.

The large hand commanding your jaw moves to join the other at your chest, and with diligent fingers, the light material is slipped from your body.   Aaron groans deeply from under you at the black lace, which follows the shirt quickly to the floor. You can’t help but lean into the heady sensation of wet warmth at your chest where he nips and licks like a man starved.

“Oh god.”  You whine at the relentless pleasure of his mouth and can’t stop yourself from grinding down into his lap. He answers your silent request for friction with a weak rut of his own.  The hardness there hits your clit over again and you’re clenching around nothing, keening into his mouth that at some stage had taken yours once more.  He brings the arm that had been wrapped around your back to tug harshly at your trousers, the material drags painfully at your thighs until they disappear discarded with the rest.

The subtle dominance of him is all consuming. He’s commanding and strong underneath you, lifting your thighs sharply up to bob gently for a few seconds. Pained groans and the jingling of metal the only sounds. 

Aaron hesitates, reaching for some coherence through the thinning haze.

“Where is she?”  he asks, confused.

A dark figure takes up his field of vision. Lazy instincts urge him to try to move, to run.  Whoever is holding him here sits, elbows on spread knees listening intently. There’s a faint hiss to his left, something frustratingly out of reach, something isn’t right.

“Whe---”  he goes to ask again, but coughs on the growing smell of sage.  It's too hard to stay focused. His head lolls down, vision doubling.

Aaron knows he has to breathe through it, to call her, call his team and escape so he breathes, full and deep for a few seconds but is quickly distracted by a cold touch to the side of his face.

You’re undeterred by the blood on your hand and bring it down in a trail of crimson that disappears between you and Aaron who stares glassily into your eyes; his honeyed irises adoring. 

“It’s just me and you, Aaron.” You purr, tilting forward to capture his parted lips. His teeth clench, nostrils flare like he’s fighting to keep composure. But you’ve seen the way he looks at you. Over coffee in the jet, across the bullpen when he thinks you don’t notice, but you do—because you’ve been looking at him too.  Pining like a needy puppy, clenching your thighs under the desk, watching him interrogate unsubs and coaching you through difficult reports.  But you never entertained that it was anything more than a crush and definitely not it being reciprocated!

But the need for him, it’s almost too much.

“Aaron, please. I need you to---"

You cry out, taken by surprise by the way he thrusts upwards; the stretch of him inside you only adds to the pleasure.  There’s no art or finesse, just animalistic clashing of skin against skin, tongues, and teeth in all consuming desire.  Strong hands ease down to settle on your lower back, rocking you faster against him, the drag of his cock inside you rips a strained moan from between your lips.

The sound has him hammering up in deliberate thrusts so strong that you flop forward, grinding flush against the damp front of his chest.  Your whines are muffled into his neck, the white-hot throb of pleasure coiling inside you renders you oblivious to his nonsensical muttering and all you can do is kiss him desperately, swallowing deep growls of Aaron’s own pleasure.

Blunt nails dig into your back, his motions beginning to falter, but you continue to writhe on top of him. The way your body binds tightly to his creates friction in all the right places.

Aaron is louder now. The animal need pulling guttural noises from his throat that spur you on. Slick gushes around him and you  whine out, his thumb rubbing desperately at the edge of your clit.

“I’m gonna cum, please.”

Your thighs shake around his, you’re so close to breaking completely but manage to release yourself from your place at his neck and take his jaw in your hand, yanking his head up with uncharacteristic force to look in your eyes.

“Aaron” He indulges the plea with a ragged thrust that pushes you over the precipice.

Your body tenses for one glorious second and a ripple runs through your body like a wave of throbbing electricity, pulsing through you and into Aaron  who bites through a moan that tips you over the edge once more. You come down together, continuing to fill the room with noise, but another jarring sound snaps from behind you;

Something snatches at your hair and you scream out loud, pain searing through your scalp as you’re launched off Aaron’s lap and onto your back.

Aaron tries desperately to lurch forward. He has to get to you, to wrap you up in his arms, keep you safe. But all he can do is scream your name, his limbs heavy once more. 

“Help me! Aaron, please!”  You beg, half scrambling toward his slumped form, but a steel toed boot crushes your ribs like twigs underfoot.  Instincts force you to curl up against the pain, crying for him to stop, but the shadowed figure just sighs, bringing himself down to stroke your hair.  He says nothing but glances toward Aaron and smiles.

The pleasure, the love you felt from being with Aaron pales in comparison to the what follows. Agony rips through your throat. You can’t breathe, blood floods your mouth and pours from your nose.

A final gunshot rings out.

“Now I know what scares you.”

You never hear him beg for you.

 On the floor, Aaron can hear his heart, louder than waves hitting the shore with such abandon, throwing itself again and again into his ribs. He tries to stand but bends like a tree in warm summer wind, brain fuzzy, and burning. The dark figure from before comes back into focus; the sharp, angular face of Peter Lewis sneers down at his undoing.

“It’s okay.”  He croons as Aaron turns away, grimacing at blunt fingernails digging spitefully into the bruises decorating his jaw. 

 “You can move now.” 

 The smell of iron and something low and musky fills his nose; sucking in a steady breath, he begins to follow Peters' instruction to the letter.  It’s on shaking knees Aaron becomes wildly aware of the dampness at his crotch, the uncomfortable disparity in temperature between material and skin.  That’s when it comes again, the flood of memory; the intoxication of you, your skin, your body, and his, coming together in unadulterated pleasure.  But with pleasure comes fear, the paralysing image of your death; the blood pouring like red rapids from your open mouth, the whites of your eyes blooming with the realization that death was imminent.  But instead of clutching your wound, even in the twisted world of his imagination, he had reached for him.  Blush tipped fingers that had clutched at his back in ecstasy desperately scrambled for him, desperate for a crumb of comfort in your final moments.  

A beam of light invades the small space, illuminating a cream carpet. There’s no blood, no you. There’s nothing but the leather boots of Peter who revels in his agony, unphased by the intrusion of light.    Something starts in Aaron, a spark of hope and an idea – years of training in the making.   It forces him to the floor, grunting against the sensation.  He has to be convincing. 

“I’m coming through the door.” Peter hisses, thin lips brushing the shell of his ear “the woman you love, I’m going to kill her.  Unless you kill me first.” 

“I need.” Aaron stammers, giving himself mere seconds to calculate his next move “I need my gun”

A single shot rings out, and time suspends.

 He’s crying when they burst through the door, each staggering to a stop in shock before bolting, tracking puddles of blood that retreat toward the back of the house.  Aaron isn’t sure they’re real, not really, not until Rossi unfreezes from his place in the archway and presses the cold back of his hand to his burning forehead. Even riddled with panic and pain, Aaron didn’t miss the eyes of his team, lingering on his desperate hands that scrambled to buckle his slacks in time. 

“We need a medic in here!” Rossi yells, it pulls Aaron up and everything comes back into sharp focus, like being pulled from deep water to cool air.

“Take it.” Aaron pants, panic itching his bones as he looks around, desperate to hear you, to know you’re alive “he made me see things..” 

“Okay, come on let’s get you up.” Rossi sighs a plea, linking an arm under his to lift his sagging body from the floor. 

He scans Aaron’s body, looking for obvious defects and signs of further injury but comes up empty and Aaron knows he wants to pry, to ask what had happened, for the painfully intimate details of his undoing.  But Rossi just pats his shoulder, the same shoulder you’d dug your nails in, and he can’t help but flinch away. 

“Where is she?” Even knowing it could reveal the truth, it didn’t matter; you weren’t here. He could hear everyone; JJ and Morgan round the corner, Spencer who lurks in the doorway, committing the scene to memory, but not you.

“Who Hotch? There’s no one else here. ” Rossi asks, flashing a concerned glance toward Spencer.

No, she’s here. She’s dead.

Aaron watches as Spencer pushes off the wall, eyes downcast and he knows then that he hadn’t been as covert as he’d thought, but then again Spencer always saw people for what they didn’t say.

Spencer gawps awkwardly around an explanation, but footsteps stampede toward the living room, panicked and stumbling.  Your heart battering every rib but ricochets as you stagger to a halt, folding at the waist in relief.  He’s alive. Bleeding and dishevelled, but alive.

“Hotch.” You gasp, a shaky hand comes up to cover your mouth when you step closer, taking in the details. His pants have been hastily pulled up. Something darkens the material at his crotch.

You turn quickly, reddening slightly.  It’s been years since you entered the BAU, but you didn’t need to be a seasoned profiler to understand the expressions of the two men in front of you. Spencer flutters off to assist JJ, who drags a handcuffed Mr. Scratch into the hallway but stops in his stride. 

“I win.” 

He looks through Spencer, his beady eyes bore holes into yours.

“I don’t think so.” You bite and take a sharp step forward, but stop at a wayward flutter of your heart. A warm hand wraps itself gently around your wrist.

“You have no idea what I did to him. I win.” Peter laughs.  Instinctually, you peer up to Aaron for any clarification, but the two men seem to freeze, suspended in time.  Scratch taps at his own head, sneering between you and Aaron, whose ox like breathing permeates the tense silence. 

You want to ponder his meaning, but the weight of Aaron’s heavy hand in yours is all consuming; his palm is warm and slightly calloused in your own, gripping it tightly as if an anchor.

“Hotch?” You breathe, turning slightly unnerved by his silence.  “let’s get you checked out..”

Aaron turns, coming to life beside you; his dark shining eyes pin you to the spot.

“Aaron?” you frown, turning to Rossi for help find him huddled together with the rest of the team in a shadowed corner of the hallway.

He blinks, as if he’s seeing you for the first time, a loaded gaze that’s out of place on his face but not unwelcomed. You pull in a shuddering breath, unable to stop your eyes from fluttering closed when he curls a piece of wayward hair back behind your ear.

“He made me see things.” Aaron groans, jaw ticking, years of friendship shows it for what it is, the voluntary holding of information.

“It’s okay.” You try your best to soothe him, to bite back your own emotions at seeing him so vulnerable.

Aaron sighs, small and resigned. 

“He made me see you.” He mutters, shaking his head at Rossi in your peripheral. 

None of the team make a move to invade your space, respecting whatever was about to unfold.  Your heart races, palms sweat slightly.

“You were dead,” 

It took a few seconds to realize what he’d said, to battle with the weight of what that meant.  You’d felt it for a while, the building tension your interactions, the way he’d reach for you when a scene got too busy or too violent.  You’d pushed it down for so long, trying to curb the craving of being close to him, the hunger for his presence, the way you gravitated towards him in every situation. It wasn’t until now, looking up at his grief ridden face that you knew it had evolved into more than  just this. 

You’d died.

Peter Lewis makes his victims see their worst nightmares, and Aaron Hotchner’s was you dead. 

"I’m right here.” You choke out from behind tears, lifting your hand to touch the side of his face.  You half expected him to flinch, but he doesn’t. He all but melts, tears falling freely.

“Tell me what happened while it’s fresh.” It’s then you realise there had been more to this than meets the eye. There’s more he’s not telling you.

“No. I can’t..” You watch him step from foot to foot, tilting his head to the sky in frustration.

You almost push but Rossi cuts in with a cough;

"Come on, Aaron, we need to get you checked out.” This isn’t a suggestion, you know Rossi and Aaron, and don’t fight it, as much as you want to.

“It’s okay. I’ll be here when you get back.” You smile, suddenly feeling awkward, now aware of the presence of your team in your periphery.  

JJ approaches first, cautious as if you might crumble under her soft touch on your arm;

“Are you okay?  What was that?” 

You don’t know.  Or do you?  The whole trajectory of your relationship had changed in a moment. How do you put that into a coherent sentence?

“It must have been Scratch. He put something in his head. I don’t know..” You trail off, going back over everything.  But Morgan cuts in, shuffling you out toward the front door.

“That man doesn’t crack a smile. It’d take more than a hallucination to do that.” 

“Maybe..” Reid starts, taking in a short gasp at the sharp change in temperature as you head toward the SUV. “Maybe we shouldn’t speculate.  It looked bad.”

You could have hugged him.  But instead smile, grateful.  

Aaron watches you go, locking eyes loaded with words unspoken.  Someone once said, is it better to speak or to die? He doesn’t know. How would he begin?

“Aaron?” Rossi’s hand begs for attention “You have to talk about it. Tonight while it’s still fresh.”

He knows Dave’s right.

“Hotch?!”

Aaron takes a deep, steadying breath.

“This is how it happened.”

[deathricedrawn]

big wide open galaxy

here's my thought process on this drawing... i wrote this in google docs... I hope this is coherent lol:

I am very normal about Andromeda (the song, the constellation, the galaxy, the myth…), if you haven’t noticed already. My love for Andromeda is why I’m doing a bachelor in physics and astronomy (my course is kicking my ass but we stay balling)

I think Andromeda as a concept fits Anya very well. As the myth, Andromeda is chained to a rock as a sacrifice to save her parents’ kingdom. However, it is Perseus who comes along and unchains Andromeda and takes her as his wife. A common critique of the myth is that it’s very much centered around the male gaze: Andromeda is basically a submissive trophy wife for Perseus as a symbol of his bravery. Really, Andromeda has no say in the matter. I feel like there’s a lot of ways you can tie this to Jimmy and Anya, though I’m struggling to come up with the words for it.

Later on, Andromeda is put into the stars as the constellation by Athena. There’s a lot of different reasons as to why this is, but a commonly accepted one is that it’s to commemorate Perseus’s brave deeds. Once again, Andromeda is reduced to Perseus’s acts, even in her death/eternal life in the stars. This, I feel, is fitting: Anya died as a result of what Jimmy did to her. Her death is, in part, defined by Jimmy, similar to how Andromeda is defined by Perseus. Aside from that, just like Andromeda, once Anya dies, she too is put into the stars but in a much more literal sense. Her final resting place is literally in space. 

This also ties in as to why I think Andromeda (the galaxy) fits Anya. Currently, the Andromeda Galaxy is set to collide with our Milky Way Galaxy in 4-5 billion years. This can be tied to the crashing of the Tulpar, but, obviously, in a much smaller time frame. Jimmy’s reason for crashing the Tulpar is, ultimately, because of Anya. He feared the repercussions of what he did to Anya once they returned home, so he chose to crash the ship and take everyone else on board down with him.

A deeper dive into my art: Anya’s pose is reminiscent of the pose the Andromeda constellation is in. Furthermore, she’s held by the wrists and ankles with red chains that resemble the centipede version of Polle. This aspect is meant to touch on the idea of Andromeda being dubbed ‘The Chained Woman’, but also as to why she (Anya, in this case) feels tied down. She feels chained by what Jimmy did to her, what she’s forced to live with, and the fact she can’t feasibly escape through any means other than death. She’s chained by her pregnancy too, which explains the Polle motif.

I depicted her skin as pale and glowing. This is to mimic the brightness of a star (tying her to both the Andromeda constellation and Galaxy). Her expression is mostly neutral, though it bears traces of sadness and acceptance (you can make of that what you wish). In the background, the space is filled with eyeballs reminiscent of Curly’s. These are meant to be stand-ins for space debris, or planets. It’s meant to represent how Curly, even as she neared death, was a big part of Anya’s life on the Tulpar. She took care of him after the crash and she died next to him. The space background behind her was also meant to be similar to a womb with Anya taking the place of a fetus, next to just being there for framing and contrast purposes.

[majoriehoax]

╰┈➤ ❝ BOTS UPLOADED ❞

╰┈➤ ❝ includes scream / elite / stranger things / PJO / diary of a wimpy kid

╰┈➤ ❝ BILLY LOOMIS ⚔︎ mask || Billy leaned against the kitchen counter, his dark eyes fixed on the back door, waiting for the sound of footsteps. He heard them approach, slow and deliberate, before the door creaked open. He didn’t move right away, just watched, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Hey,” he greeted casually, pushing himself off the counter. “You took your time.” His tone was relaxed, maybe even amused, but his gaze was sharp, like he was seeing something nobody else could. Billy wandered around the room, his fingers grazing the edge of the counter as he spoke. “You ever think about how people… wear these masks every day? Act like they’re something they’re not?” He paused, glancing over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, it’s kind of fascinating, right?”

╰┈➤ ❝ CARLA ROSON 💳 new student || Carla spotted the new student lingering near the entrance of Las Encinas, looking a little lost and out of place. She sighed, watching as they awkwardly fumbled with their schedule and glanced around, clearly unsure of where to go. With a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, she decided to step in. Striding over, Carla flashed a polite but amused smile. “You must be new,” she stated, her tone calm and confident. “Let me guess—first day, no idea where to start?” The newcomer nodded, looking somewhat relieved to have someone approach. Carla gave a little shrug, her eyes glinting with a hint of intrigue. “Don’t worry. This place can be… a bit overwhelming,” she said with a knowing smile. “I’m Carla, by the way.”

╰┈➤ ❝ JONATHAN BYERS ⊹ ࣪ ˖ sparks fly || Jonathan didn’t know exactly when his harmless little crush on user had turned into this all-consuming distraction. All he knew was that whenever she stood close, every coherent thought he might’ve had completely dissolved. His pulse was loud in his ears, and he had to remind himself to keep breathing, keep cool, act normal—whatever that even meant anymore. That day in the Hawkins High hallway, she was leaning casually against a locker, smiling at him in that way that made him feel like maybe she knew what was going on in his head and didn’t mind. Jonathan tried to keep his focus, nodding along to whatever she was saying, but his mind kept drifting to how close she was. Close enough that if he just leaned in a little… He snapped out of it, swallowing, hoping she couldn’t read his thoughts. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting an almost ethereal glow on her. She laughed, and he caught himself smiling back, probably looking like a total idiot, his eyes fixed on her mouth. He quickly looked down at his shoes, cheeks burning, cursing himself for being so obvious.

╰┈➤ ❝ LUKE CASTELLAN 🍓strawberry field || As the morning sun began to rise over the strawberry fields, a gentle warmth spread across the soft grass and dew-kissed leaves. Luke stirred, feeling the tender rays of dawn on his face. For a moment, he kept his eyes closed, savoring the feeling of peace that surrounded him. The air was filled with the faint, sweet scent of strawberries mingling with the fresh morning breeze. Opening his eyes slowly, Luke turned his gaze toward the figure resting peacefully beside him. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his heart swelled as he watched them sleep, still wrapped in the afterglow of the night they had shared. He reached out carefully, brushing a stray strand of hair from their face with gentle fingers, not wanting to wake them but unable to resist the urge to be close to them, to memorize the quiet beauty of the moment.

╰┈➤ ❝ PERCY JACKSON ｡𖦹˚. bi bi bi (masc user!) || Percy was sprawled out on the grass by the lake, squinting up at the autumn sun through his fingers. Camp Half-Blood was quieter than usual, most campers off in the arena training or gathered in the pavilion. But Percy liked it here by the water, feeling the cool breeze ruffle his hair, the faint scent of pine and ocean mingling around him. It was peaceful, the kind of peace he hadn’t really known before Camp Half-Blood had become his second home. He glanced to the side, where user sat cross-legged, idly tracing patterns in the dirt. They’d been close for months now, training together, sharing stories, laughing over just about anything. The first time Percy had realized how much he liked spending time with them, it had hit him harder than any monster ever had. With Annabeth, he’d always been sure, that tug in his heart pulling him straight toward her. But with user, it felt different—unexpected, gentle, as if he were discovering something new about himself, layer by layer. (book percy!)

╰┈➤ ❝ RODRICK HEFFLEY 🎸 teenage dirtbag || Rodrick leaned against his van in the high school parking lot, arms crossed, his usual smirk plastered on his face. He watched as user walked up, wearing that band shirt he’d never admit he thought was cool. He pushed himself off the van with a lazy shove, barely nodding as he opened the passenger door and gestured for them to get in. He didn’t say much at first—Rodrick never did when he could get away with it—but there was a little grin when he caught user sneaking a glance at him. The van smelled like gas station snacks and that weird pine tree air freshener he’d jammed into the vent a few months ago. His favorite CD was already blasting some loud, screechy guitar solo. Rodrick liked it that way; it saved him from having to come up with something clever to say. Instead, he threw the van in gear and peeled out of the parking lot, a little too fast on purpose.

— SAOIRSE.

[radical-revolution]

If you really think about it... in 'simple' quantum physics terms...

This is how eventually we may move from 'here' to 'there'. I won't lie to you - of course there's a lot more involved... but like many others have said, never loose hope, never give up. And to that I'll add... always be on the lookout for those other little 'islands of coherence'. They are also members of our tribe.

***

[philistiniphagottini]

*slams door open and trips* CAMEYLLA AND NUMBER 15 PLEASE I AM BEGGING OTL

Cameylla plus your writing? I'll be so fed😩💕

- noodle

Thank you thank you for indulging me and for the kind words. I really appreciate that you are willing to feed into the brain rot I have for this woman. Hope you enjoy, comments and reblogs appreciated <3

Camellya + Tribbing

cw. smut, tribbing, wlw, light bondage, wet & messy, squirting, female reader, chubby reader, minors DO NOT interact

"You're so sweet…I'm almost blushing."

Camellya cooed down at you as you squirmed beneath her, twisting between the sweat soaked sheets so exquisitely. The vines twisting around your body coiled tighter, sinking into your plump skin and squeezing possessively as moan bubbled up your throat. Your soused lashes fluttered wildly over your burning cheeks, heat prickling the base of your spine and pooling into the pit of your stomach with each passing moment. Camellya tilted her head, her dazed eyes shimmering with sick, twisted adoration as she squeezed your fat tits into the palms of her hands. She cooed softly as you whined from her searing touch, the wet seam of your dripping pussy pulsing as your heart threatened to leap out of your throat. She plucked the rosy tips of your nipples between her delicate fingers, sharp nails biting at your skin as you squirmed. The sight made her giddy with giggles as the vines around your body squished into your chubby body harder, the soft pudge spilling as your pleasantly plump skin was so lovingly constricted..

"Darling~" she hummed, her heady voice almost song-like. "The more you squirm, the tighter they will get~"

You struggled to peel your tongue off the roof of your mouth long enough to form a coherent response, a dry wheeze of air breezing past your kiss swollen lips as your head spun in a tizzy. Your ears burned red hot at the sound of Camellya’s pretty little pussy smashing into the puffy lips of your fat cunt, the slick sound echoing off the walls of your stuffy bedroom as your wavering voice joined the cacophony of debauched noises. Beads of her arousal dripped through the bedewed folds of your own, messy cunt, your weeping hole fluttering and clenching around nothing as flames of pleasure lapped at your fraying nerves. The hot knot in your belly twisted tighter as Camellya continued to indulge herself in your sumptuous body, greedy hands pawing at your pliant body as you melted into a warm, puddle of goo beneath her addictive touch. Her joyous voice continued to fill your ears as she moved atop of you, grinding into your needy pussy as pearls of your arousal dripped down the quaking insides of your plush thighs. 

"What’s wrong darling?" Camellya cooed playfully. "Speechless? Or are you just pleasing me by giving me your sweet moans that I hold so dear?"

She rubbed her hands along the soft plains of your body, feeling your skin quiver under her touch as the hairs on the nape of your neck prickled to attention. Goosebumps erupted along your skin despite how hotly your blood was simmering in your veins, the aching nub of your clit kicking weakly as Camellya pressed her own, hot little button into the tightly packed bundle of nerves. A rush of slick spilling from your core made Camellya’s pussy glide so seamlessly against your own, the pretty pearl of her clit shimmering underneath the warm flicker of candlelight as her soft pants accompanied your own cries of ecstasy. You could feel yourself stumbling closer to the edge of the crumbling precipice, your fingers numb as they weaved between Camellya’s vines and held on so you could keep yourself ground to this reality. You choked on a hiccup of pleasure as Camellya pushed one of your thick thighs higher over her slim waist, letting her grind into you at a better angle as you started to shake along with the trembling bed frame. 

Camellya chuckled, her rough pants almost curling around her spit-soaked lips like wisps of steam as her lidded gaze grew heavier, your heavenly body swimming in her eyes as she squeezed your love handles so hard it was enough to leave behind marks. A bolt of electricity crackled along the notches of your spine as she bumped the swollen nub of her clit harder into your own, slick pearl, the soft bud flushing from her unyielding attention as the pressure spiked rapidly in your clenching belly. The edges of your sanity were starting to fray as pressure built and built, wisps of your pubic hair drenched in pearls of arousal as Camellya’s hungry cunt drooled all over you and left behind a trail of slick. Your voice scratched your parched throat as Camellya’s fingers danced along your torso, walking down your soft stomach and caressing the various stretch marks etched into your skin as she toyed with your chub. 

"Does my pretty little flower want to cum now? Hm? Should I make you cum?" Camellya asked in a cloyingly sweet tone that warmed your hoarse throat.

You nodded along dumbly to her words, a constellation of tears clinging to the edges of your heavy lashes. "Yes" you croaked, a wet sob cracking your voice as you cried out. 

A sickening smile cracked her mouth as her tongue peaked out between the bruised seam of her lips, flickering over the swollen skin as she savoured the flavour of desperation that rolled along the muscle. Her eyes were now wild with glee, suddenly gaining clarity in her final moments of bliss before the world came tumbling down around her. Her thrusts were erratic, the cant of her hips shaking as her mound squished into your chubby pussy as the waves of her pleasure rush ran rampant through her system. You rocked your hips forward, desperate to meet her sloppy thrusts as the searing, white hot rapture flooded your veins with relief, the coil in your stomach shattered into a million, tiny pieces. Pearls of your orgasm webbed between your joined pussies, your slick combining and mixing into a messy concoction of translucent threads. 

The vines around your body went slack as Camellya collapsed on top of you, your arms scrambling to reach for her as you wrapped them around her in a secure embrace. Her shoulders were shaking with mirth as her light giggles puffed against your clammy skin, her smile reaching her eyes when she finally looked up at you. 

"Heh, my head feels dizzy" she laughed. "Do you feel it too?"

You slowly nodded your head and hummed, keeping your movements measured in case you accidentally rattled your brain too hard and it fell out of your ears. You felt just as blissfully dizzy as she did, your heart only soothed once you felt the tender caress of her lips on your skin as she wrapped her arms around your plump waist. She stuffed her face between the scorching valley of your supple tits, rubbing her cheeks between such pillowy softness as she started to idly kick her feet in the air. 

"Hmmm I love playing with you" she cooed. "Wanna do it again?~"

[korrahegao]

Mel Medarda is Kayle

Edit: This post does NOT contain spoilers or leaks for Arcane Season 2 Act 3. These are all just theories I have in regards to the season thus far.

The season finale is almost upon us, so this is my last chance to get this out. Allow me to explain:

When we last saw Mel, she had been captured by the Order of the Black Rose. While Arcane hasn't expounded much on this organization, we hear the voice tormenting her in her captivity call her: "Sister." I believe this is the voice of Morgana. More specifically, Blackthorn Morgana.

This Morgana skin shares so many design themes and even the color pallet of the thorny vines and spiked chains and even the rosebud motif of the Oculorum. Not to mention the obvious relation between Roses and Thorns (Black Rose and Blackthorn). Even her League of Legend Abilities; Dark Binding, Tormented Shadow, and Soul Shackles are comparable to their in game VFX.

Which brings us to Kayle. In the League of Legends lore, Kayle and Morgana are sisters with an animosity toward one another. Using this as a basis without diving into the deep lore, there are many aspects about Mel Medarda which lend some explanation to the events of Arcane.

At first glance, one can see the similarities in Mel's attire and that of Silver Kayle.

Moreover, Mel Medarda sports Golden filagree along her back and shoulders. These appear to accentuate (or perhaps inhibit) where Kayle's wings and pauldrons would be. Perhaps they are not merely decorative, but serve a deeper purpose.

As many who play LoL know, Kayle's Ultimate is Divine Judgement. Kayle protects herself or an ally granting them invulnerability before exploding in a luminous blast of holy fire.

Furthermore, In S2E1 when Jayce is explaining to Mel how he is trying to save Viktor, Jayce states:

"It should be me up there, instead of him. I still don't understand. He was right next to me. How does the explosion do that to him, and I just walk out without a scratch?!"

And perhaps more importantly, in S1E9, in the final scene, Mel Medarda is the one nearest to the window that Jinx's Super Mega Death Rocket shatters. Mel was in fact the one nearest to the epicenter of the Blast! But the penultimate image we see in Season one is... her golden filagree gleaming!

She and Jayce were unscathed because, perhaps subliminally or subconsciously, she was able to save herself and Jayce, the ally nearest to her, with her Divine Judgement. Councilor Salo lost his legs, and the other Councilwoman received scarring near her eye. And yet, Mel and Jayce were unharmed!

Lastly, the League of Legends wiki is undergoing an overhaul as Riot continues to implement the notion that "Everything is canon." There is a blurb on her wiki which reads:

This explanation is inline with Mel Medarda casting aside her humanity as pictured in the last scene we saw her in (S2E5) thus far. Historically, Kayle had been interpreted as an angelic figure. But the continually evolving lore of League of Legends eventually let to the implementation of her humanity. Further, the line about "her mother's mantle as the divine Aspect of Justice" does have a slight connotation toward Ambessa. At the end of S2E3, when endowing Caitlyn to her elevated position, she states:

"Your mother will have Justice. I swear it."

While this began as a gut reaction to Season 2 Episode 5, the more I delved into it, the more it grew into a coherent working theory. Now, I have no idea how the end of Arcane is going to play out, but there is an abundance of evidence here, and I actually am hoping this is the outcome!

Did I leave anything out? Anything to further prove this theory? Let me know! And thanks for reading!

[misshoneyimhome]

Hey ! Saw that you may write for Nathan Mackinnon!

Could you please write something really sweet and domestic, maybe husband!nathan, I absolutely love you writing! So thank you if you can !

Thank you so much, babe! ❤️ So, I’ve done my best to put together a little husband!Nathan one-shot, and I really hope I’ve managed to somewhat capture his character 😊 I hope you enjoy it!

Tropes & Warnings: No warnings, Husband!Nathan, just pure fluff, and a touch of humour as the reader lovingly tells Nathan to get over himself 😉

Word count: 1.1K

➼｡ﾟ

Through the Dark I Husband!Nathan Mackinnon ✐

Nathan MacKinnon had always carried himself with unshakable confidence. It wasn’t arrogance—just certainty. He knew who he was and what he was capable of: speed, precision, an unrelenting drive that set him apart as one of the NHL’s elite. It had earned him the respect of his teammates, the adoration of fans, and the fear of opponents. But lately, that certainty had started to crack.

The stats still painted him as a star—goals, assists, the usual accolades. But no amount of numbers could disguise how hollow it all felt. No matter how many hours he poured into training, how many drills he ran until his muscles screamed for mercy, something was missing. His movements on the ice felt disconnected, as if his body had forgotten what his mind knew by heart. The ice, once his sanctuary, now felt foreign.

He’d had slumps before—every player did. But this was different. It wasn’t just his game faltering; it was him. Every missed pass, every fumbled puck, every critical comment from analysts chipped away at his confidence, leaving behind splintered fragments of doubt. What if I’ve peaked? What if I can’t pull myself out of this? What if I let everyone down? My team, the fans… you.

You.

The thought of you twisted the knife deeper. You, his rock, his safe place, his wife. You’d stood by him through every high and low, through every triumph and heartbreak. He still remembered the way you looked the first time he saw you—a smile that made him forget how to form a coherent sentence. You’d teased him mercilessly when he tripped over his words, and he’d been hooked ever since.

Your love had been a slow burn, built on late-night conversations and stolen moments in the off-season. When he’d finally worked up the nerve to confess his feelings, it had been like scoring the winning goal in overtime—euphoric and terrifying all at once. And when he’d proposed to you under the glittering snowfall of a New Year’s Eve, he’d been certain nothing could ever compare to that victory. Not even the Stanley Cup.

But now, those memories felt like they belonged to someone else. A version of himself that didn’t second-guess every move, that didn’t stay at the rink until midnight, chasing something he couldn’t define. He’d been avoiding you without meaning to, throwing himself into extra practices and solitary workouts. The truth was, he was afraid—afraid that you’d see him like this. That you’d see through his carefully constructed façade and realise he wasn’t enough.

The arena was dark and silent as he skated in slow, aimless circles. Midnight had come and gone, and he knew you’d be waiting for him at home. But the thought of walking through the door, of facing you and pretending he was fine, felt unbearable.

The sharp sound of footsteps broke through the stillness. He looked up, startled, and saw you standing by the edge of the rink. You were bundled in your favourite coat, a scarf wrapped snugly around your neck, your eyes glinting with equal parts concern and determination.

“Seriously, Nate?” you called, stepping carefully onto the ice. “It’s one in the morning. Do you have any idea what kind of scenarios I’ve been imagining? Ditches, kidnappings, alien abductions…”

“I texted,” he muttered weakly, his voice barely carrying.

“Once. At eight. That doesn’t count.” Your tone softened as you drew closer. “What’s going on?”

He sighed, leaning on his stick like it was the only thing keeping him upright. “I didn’t want to bring this home.”

“And yet, here I am.” You stepped in front of him, your boots sliding slightly on the ice. “Talk to me.”

He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. Finally, he muttered, “I feel like I’m failing. On the ice. In life. Everywhere.” He paused, his voice cracking. “What if… what if I don’t get it back? What if I’m never the same? What if you realise I’m not enough?”

Your chest tightened at his words, the raw vulnerability in his voice cutting through you like a blade. Without hesitation, you took his stick and set it aside, then placed your hands on his face, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“Nathan MacKinnon,” you said firmly, “you are more than enough. Whether you score a hundred goals or never lace up your skates again, you’re the man I love. You. The guy who buys me flowers on random Tuesdays. The guy who hogs the pillows but always makes sure I have the softest one. The guy who sings Backstreet Boys at the top of his lungs when he thinks no one’s listening.”

His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles. “I don’t sing,” he protested.

“Oh, you do,” you said, arching an eyebrow. “And it’s terrible. But I love it anyway. I love you.”

He looked down, blinking rapidly, as if trying to hide the emotions welling up in his eyes. “What if I can’t fix this?” he whispered.

“Then we figure it out together,” you replied without hesitation. “But you need to stop shutting me out. I’m here, Nathan. Always.”

For a moment, he just stood there, his gaze locked on yours. Then, with a shaky breath, he pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly it felt like he was afraid you might slip away. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured against your hair.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, a playful glint in your own. “Oh, you absolutely don’t. But lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out a surprised laugh, the sound echoing through the empty rink and chasing away the shadows that had been haunting him.

“Come on,” you said, grabbing his hand. “Let’s go home. You look like you haven’t eaten in hours, and I’m not above bribing you with pizza.”

Later, as you curled up together on the couch, the smell of reheated pizza lingering in the air, Nathan felt something shift inside him. You were nestled against him, your legs tangled with his under the blanket, your head resting on his chest. His fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns on your arm as he stared down at you.

“You know you’re ridiculous, right?” he murmured, his voice soft but teasing.

“Part of my charm,” you quipped, grinning up at him.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I love you,” he said simply, his voice thick with gratitude.

“Good thing I love you too,” you replied, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

And in that moment, as the warmth of your love wrapped around him, Nathan felt the weight in his chest begin to lift. He didn’t have all the answers, but he didn’t need to. Because whatever challenges lay ahead, he knew he wouldn’t face them alone.

With you by his side, he could navigate any darkness. Together, you’d always find the light.

[mychampagne-mybubbles]

Liam Payne Funeral • Amersham • 20.11.2024

Some say 🦇 this sign was used in the boys’ car to be identified by security, others say every car attending had this identification as a tribute.

I find it very sweet either way, maybe its part of their legacy from the 1D days, in times where my heart feels heavy for everything that we have witnessed since Liam passed this adds a bit of warmth.

I want to point the attention at the fact that paps and journalists present at Liam’s funeral are being the main source of very specific details, just to name a couple:

Batman as an identification

The intention of not capturing the boys together behind the arrival on stopover

Not taking not publishing pictures of Bear

This is for me the public closure, the exchange for privacy (who knows if, when and where), meeting the expectations, protecting anonymous and vulnerability with the light of the fame, etc. and as such it was outlined and agreed upon previously to avoid discomfort.

Also, by knowing how the resting spot of very public figures in the past (Lady Di, Freddie Mercury, etc) have never been disclosed (for many coherent & security reasons) I could totally understand that this is how his closest circle has decided to go with it.

I can only hope that, further from what we have seen in the media, this family had the chance to say their goodbyes in the best way they and Liam wished.

Finally, sharing a tiny thought about the boys’ role this day, they are in the end our closest attachment to the sentiment and therefore the ones we can feel (or imagine) like finding some sort of connection with in this situation… how being the front faces must have been so hard.

[asinglebluefeline]

Yes yes yes yes

Lemme join you in the gushing

One of the things I like so much about World's Finest is how Very Established the friendship of the main trio is. Their trust in each other is a given. There is no insecurity about how much they all care for each other. And this is honestly such a breath of fresh air compared to most other comics I read! Most other stories seem to focus on interpersonal drama, which as someone who only got into DC comics earlier this year and tried to binge decades' worth of content in days, it get's really repetitive and tiring after a while. (I've accepted the cyclic nature of stories as part of the medium now. It's fine 🥲.) And World's Finest doesn't take away from these stories - it serves as a very important context for them, making them more impactful. In particular for Dick and Bruce - they are such a well-oiled machine! Extremely competent and on the same page! They work as a single unit! Their partnership is never in question! And it makes their later conflicts so much more tragic and painful, the deaths and trauma and personal flaws and mistakes turning their relationship into a complete mess - suddenly they don't understand each other so well. They second-guess everything in their relationship. And I know the dynamic duo has a very long history, but as someone who who started reading recently, the context of those years is somewhat lost (reading the comics chronologically from 1940 is just not practical). So I'm really glad Waid sort of "refreshes" that in his stories!

Anyway! I hope this was at least a little bit coherent! I'm going to go scream into a pillow now! Have a nice day!

Am I going to gush again about World Finest? Yes of course, always.

Anyway, I would love a cartoon based on Batman/Superman: World Finest (2022) and I also just recommend it if you want to read a good modern and current comic.

Just gimme it.

Honestly, it kinda is a very good comic to pick for animation. It's colorful and beautiful with good characterization and relationships between Dick,Bruce and Clark and with a pretty good balance between angsty and darker moments (see: Bruce's illusion of Dick with his neck bent in the last issue out) with the optimistic campy side of the superhero comics (see the disastrous date).

[faytalepsy]

Process of my HEX Gift

I finally remembered to take a few screenshots of my progress stages and I always wanted to do a walkthrough post so here we are!!

I did not have a specific prompt from my giftee, except for the ship which was Silrah so I decided I wanted to draw a cozy romantic Christmas scene.

Which totally showed in my first sketch...definitely... My first sketches mostly look unrecognizable and there is no real system for them because it's just lines for my brain to visualize where I want everything to be. Sometimes they look like this, sometimes they are more light/shadow inclusive. The next step was to work out the poses for Farah and Saul and as you can see, I was struggling. 🤣

When I finally found the pose I was looking for and fleshed out some elements in the background it was time for one of my absolute favorite parts.....that I forgot to screenshot....THE VALUES Which is me trying to figure out the lighting by blocking in light and dark areas with various shades of grey. But because I forgot to take a screenshot (and the value layer that I normally keep until the end for reference disappeared into the void of procreate) we will skip straight to the colour! I very roughly block in the areas with the colours I have in mind to see if everything fits and change what I don't like yet. When that is done I now have a finished concept which I need to refine and then paint!

And now I reached the point of actual background design which was HARD. I looked at many pics of Farah's headmistress' office to try and get a feel for what items might be in her private suite. The mantle of the fireplace looked very empty even after I added the little astrology magic thing and the flowers so I decided to add a circle just like the ones in her office as @septemberrie deducted. I also played around with the design of the fire guard because I wanted it to have that elegant whimsical fairy vibe. I added a lamp inspired by one from Sims 4 and a book in the foreground to hide the awkward angle they are sitting at. For the frame on the wall, I wanted a moon-themed design but it took me a while to figure it out, which is why I left the frame empty for now. Then it was time for lineart and actually sketching in the elements I wanted to be in the background. I usually set my colour or value layer and the sketch layer to 20% and draw over it.

You might also notice that the wrapped sword disappeared...which I regret to this day because I simply forgot to paint it into the rough lineart and only remembered when Skye asked what's supposed to be in the remaining present. Maybe I will add it at some point because now Saul has no present...except for Farah. But the square box present was meant to be Saul's present to Farah and originally I wanted a jewelry box but it was too small to see so I just....put a bigger box. Creativity *sparkles*

Another thing is that from the rough line-art to the nice line-art (yes I always draw my line-art two or three times.....even though line-art is my least favorite stage probably) the Christmas tree is losing a lot of ornaments. Originally I wanted to put in way more stuff like small straw stars or figurines but after painting a million tiny branches I started regretting every life decision that brought me to this point so I simplified the tree. A lot. In the end, I don't regret that because I think it fits them even better. Silrah don't strike me as people who go all out on Christmas and rather just decorate small and tastefully (given they would even celebrate because Otherworld= different culture, but we ignore that piece of worldbuilding for this Christmas-themed drawing)

Next I block in every area on a separate layer so I can alpha-lock them for the painting process. At this point I was getting too annoyed with the tree because painting it was a pain in the ass so I started shading and painting in textures and finishing everything else before even continuing to block in the tree.

The whole image was still too cold at this point so I went in with one of my favorite parts: atmosphere and then lighting bringing it all together and making the painting shine! Painting light is so much fun and I definitely want to learn more about lighting and structure to get better at it but I really love it when someone compliments the light in my art!!

I also finally added the title of the book in the front. I wanted it to be something about magic that Farah would read and looked at various old book covers with pretty lettering. I decided on "The Story of Magic" because I found a very pretty-looking reference cover with exactly the letters that I needed to spell.

And then....something was still missing......THE TREE. (I didn't take a progress picture at that stage that's why it's already in the pics up there but in the end I still had to draw the light on the branches and after doing about four or five of them I decided the effort was not worth the result and did the light reflection very very roughly. But I don't think anyone except me really notices.

And tada the finished Christmas drawing!

[daftmooncretin]

spock’s room decor is actually fucking bonkers. The weapons??? the big red velvet curtain??? like ok phantom of the opera go crazy.

for reference jim’s room has some photos and a plant so we can surmise this is uniquely a spock being a dramatic weirdo thing

[rhinestonesox]

When Senshi was young in the dungeon the majority of the adults he were with ostracized him. All except Gillin, who died to make sure Senshi had something to eat: unseasoned boiled meat that may or may not have been one of their comrades.

It really puts into perspective why he was so nurturing towards Chilchuck. When Chil reveals he’s 28 to the party, Senshi responds by telling him that he thought he was older. Senshi was in his 30s when he and his comrades got trapped in the dungeon, so it’s safe to assume that he thought Chil was at a similar age.

He met a young boy who was, from his perspective, forced to do dangerous work in the dungeon just like he was, and so, Senshi made an effort to look after Chilchuck in the same way Gillin looked after him.

Mind you, when Senshi was young in the dungeon he had to starve for weeks, eat the horse he loved, and finish it off spending the next i don’t know how many years wondering if he committed cannibalism.

Senshi understands first hand the value of nutrition and proper eating, so when he’s with the party he makes an effort to make sure they’re all eating a full and balanced diet. Not only that, but Senshi INVOLVES them in the process of getting food to eat, always preparing it in front of them and narrating every ingredient in the process so that there’s no doubt about what they’re eating.

[rubberduckydemonking]

Lucifer was lost in thought, his eyes unfocused as he stared off into the distance. There was just an awful lot to take in — he’d entered this meeting knowing very little regarding the radio demon other than his stupid, smug, smile and grating, static, voice. Now? he was having a whole web of interconnected secrets and theories unravelled before his eyes. Lucifer hadn’t even entertained the thought that Lilith might be somehow involved in everything.

Lucifer stared silently across at Valentino for a moment, as though scanning his eyes for some kind of hint of an ulterior motive in his innocent-sounding words. The devil found nothing. “…you’re right,” he admitted after a moment of tentative silence. Finally, the devil seemed to refocus on Valentino, intense golden eyes shifting to lock onto the moth. “Or, at least, from the intel you have provided, that’s the conclusion I would come to.” There was nothing to say that Valentino’s intel was necessarily correct so this could all be hypothetical — yet, it made a little too much sense to disregard.

The king, locked away in his tower, had managed to avoid having to discuss Lilith since their split. It was truly laughable that the first person who’d managed to thrust the topic onto him was Valentino, of all people. “They can’t,” The king insisted stubbornly, “There are…conditions…to their exterminations.” Conditions that Lucifer, himself, had agreed to. Sinners were the only demons allowed to be killed. An unpleasant discussion topic considering his current company, so he moved quickly onwards. “And so, in this hypothetical, Lilith is…?” he mused, huffing out an forced laugh, “Just sitting on the information and watching us march towards our destruction? Keeping her fingers crossed that Charlie, with the aid of her little radio puppet, can gain redemption for us all? Silently praying for forgiveness and hoping that heaven will welcome her home and not slaughter her with the rest of us on doomsday?”

Lucifer couldn’t make sense of any of this. Lilith’s absence in their daughter’s life was bizarre, but he was struggling to have coherent (non-enraged) thoughts about that.

Again with the smoke. Lucifer could practically taste the unique, unidentifiable, flavour of the crimson cloud in his tongue as he took a slow, unsteady, breath inwards. The once powerful, narrow-eyed gaze of the devil had been slowly but surely replaced with a look more akin to a kicked puppy. Puzzle pieces were beginning to fit neatly together and he didn’t like the picture that being formed.

Valentino’s words, an ominous purr, sent shivers down his spine. Lucifer had suspected as such. He shook his head in denial of the facts that were sat right before him, “…Lily,” he muttered out, shaking his head a little. “If that is true then…” he began flickering his gaze properly up towards the moth demon once more, “…well, then he sits perfectly primed to pit my daughter against my wi—” he cut himself off before correcting, “…against Lilith”

Hands clenched tightly into fists in his lap, a flicker of genuine, unabashed, shame moving across his features. Lucifer didn’t enjoy hearing the greatest mistake of his life mentioned. It hurt. It brought to the forefront of his mind all of those self-hating thoughts that’d plagued his mind ever since he was tossed from Heaven. “That was different,” he insisted quietly, his words measured and careful, slow and deliberate. “I never knew..I-I…” he paused, clearing his throat and just firmly saying, “I thought that giving humanity free-will was a good idea. I was wrong,”

Lucifer attempted to steel himself — he wasn’t a good liar and tended to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he knew that being too open around Valentino was a bad idea. “I need to ensure a deal is not struck between Charlie and Alastor,”

[egophiliac]

buckle up lads we're going BACK INTO THE BOOK