#GO COMMISSION THEM ITS AMAZING WORK AND THEY NEED TO MAKE RENT

[tinseltina]

YAAAAALLL LOOK AT THIS COMMISSION I GOT!

@pluckyshroom MADE IT AND IT IS AMAZING AND THEY ARE RUNNING AN EMERGENCY EXPRESSION COMMISSION SALE RIGHT NOW FOR $15 YOU CAN HAVE ONE OF THESE ($30 for the torso included) the commission form is down below

https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSe6LBbAYG0cS6em2lsa_VkixcF5jAMgjKZGO6niMv_s0l9YuQ/viewform

my boy lazlo looks so friggin so im gonna cry. i have to change my profile pic to fit his current design. 😊😊😊 oh he's so beautiful! i love him so much

he's my half-elf cleric dnd oc and is a lil sh-t team dad.

[eirian]

HONESTLY..ive been thinking a lil.

so i started down my path to becoming a professional character designer in 2013, when i designed my very first character who was MEANT to be a character design exercise. i cant exactly remember what prompted me wanting to go into character design--it could have just been that i was passionate about designing characters to the point of where i had looked up if that was a job or not--but it had become such a passion of mine that i would go on to study and practice character design for like 10 years afterward.

in 2018 i started to take this career path more seriously by enrolling in stephen silver's schoolism class, the fundamentals of character design. this was significant for me because stephen was at the time a very recent idol of mine and i admired his abilities--plus this would count as my first "formal" character design learning experience. i didnt feel very good after taking the class; it was critiqued, and i kind of got ripped into lol. but after i recovered, i didnt give up and just worked harder, eventually taking his second class a couple years later. that time i did pretty well and i came out feeling like i was finally ready to apply to jobs in the industry!

unfortunately, erm...the job hunting was not only Not a success, but it only served to kind of kill my passion for character design. every time i applied i was rejected and every critique i asked for gave me something new i had to do differently. one critique in particular hurt me a lot and killed my passion for art overall (obviously not completely, i have the art autism so i could never fully fall out of love for it lol). it got to the point where last year (2023) i made the decision to give up on character design as a career and just do commissions full time.

dont get me wrong, i am very happy doing commissions as my full time job!!! i love drawing people's blorbos :]...but also, its a very inconsistent income, and theres been a couple months where i couldnt make rent without help, and that doesnt feel good at all.

so ive been thinking. i dont rly wanna go back to the industry--it still feels bad to me and right now it seems as though the industry is not in a great environmental situation anyway, so i dont wanna even attempt to try getting a job there again. however........i was honestly reconsidering if i had actually lost the passion for character design because it just genuinely wasnt my true passion, or if i had only lost it because the industry killed it. and i think the conclusion i came to was that yeah it was the industry's fault that made me fall out of love with it because it made me feel like i was doing everything wrong and nobody would like my design style.

so now my thought is like...maybe i dont HAVE to work in the industry to be a professional character designer? sure itd be AMAZING for my work to be on like. cartoon network or something. but i dont think i Have to work at a studio to be happy in that career path?? like..idk. maybe i can be a freelancer or something. if an industry opportunity shows itself i dont think i'll decline, but i wont actively seek them out anymore.

its just that i feel like ive put too much work and time and money and effort and passion into character design yknow? i dont feel right anymore just letting the industry kill that passion. i wanna reignite it and use the knowledge and skills ive gained over the 10 years ive been working at it to make a good living for myself. yeah itd be great to get guild pay lol, but if i can just...figure out how to do freelance character design work, then i think it can be just as good and fulfilling

sorry for the long post i just needed to air some thoughts out as usual <33 i guess this does show that character design still is my passion LOL i talked so fucking much about it after all. if u have any thoughts to share feel free i guess

[badlucksav]

I'm fashionably late (as always) but today is Fanfic Writers Appreciation Day, so I need to gush about some very incredible, talented people, some of whom I'm very lucky to consider friends. This is probably going to be very lengthy, so if you don't want to see me scream about how amazing these lovely people are, I suggest you keep scrolling.

I've been in fandom for just over 2 years, and I've met some incredible people along the way. Here's what I love about them:

@neurologicaldamage as one of my oldest fandom friends, I have long enjoyed screaming excitedly at each other over new ideas or plot developments in existing fics. It was a thrilling ride waiting for each update of "These Scars of Ours". Your angst is the most exquisite type of pain I will gladly subject myself to over and over again.

@authorjoydragon JOY! My beloved multishipper. You are one of, if not the, biggest reason I have blossomed into the fully fledged multishipping trash that I am today. Your fics are like the sweetest, fluffiest piece of cake I can enjoy. I can't even remember the first fic I ever read from you. I definitely remember "Accidental Rendezvous" though, and I am forever honored you commissioned me for it! @orangepanic you took someone who wasn't even that into the LoK fandom and gave her a whole new OTP while she was on hiatus from Zutara. You are the captain of Irosami, and I am humbled to have become your first mate on this wonderful little ship. I have adored everything that I've read from you so far, but I am deeply enjoying "Hotman" and "Starvation Paradise", as well as your new gift for me, "There Was Only One Bed".

@homeagainrose Not only are you a talented writer, you are also an endless well of knowledge that has become invaluable to me (and many others, I'm sure). "Summer At the Swimming Dragon" is everything, and my excitement is palpable every time you update it. But of course, everything you write is superb (also a big fan of "Hello Sailor").

@asajjvxntress You were one of the first Zutara writers I stumbled across. It was "I've Got A Dark Alley" if memory serves, and definitely contributed to my love of modern AUs. I fell in love with "New Girl" and then watched the show, which is now one of my favorites and it's all because of you! Your output feeds our ship so well, and we are honored to have you.

@myargalargan O Captain, Our Captain of the lovely Sukka ship. Your writing is so darling. Sukka is so wholesome, but somehow it feels even more like that when you write them. You take a side pairing and make them a main pairing. "Our Little Remedy" was much anticipated, and I must thank you for introducing all of us to...you know *wink wink*.

@krastbannert My dude, the way you write is so...hauntingly captivating. Even on your happiest fics, there's always this slight air of melancholy that I just adore. The way you get into a character's head is so amazing, too. It feels like you've cracked them wide open and studied them to understand them as well as you do. "Brave Soldier Girl" captured my attention with just one chapter. @heavensenthearty you give 100% to everything you do with your writing. You have such a poetic way with words. It doesn't feel like first person works often with fanfic, but you always make it work perfectly. @its-sooz-again Where do I begin? The pairings, the topics, the characters you explore are sometimes things I never would have thought of, but when I read you writing (or look at your art) I think, wow, this just makes sense. I've always loved Jet, but you've given him such a profound sense of humanity for me that has deepened my love for our favorite traumatized orphan of war. "The Break in the Bend" lives rent free in my head.

@lone-star-ranger you write some of the best fluff! The way you seamlessly weave canon into AUs, AtLA with LoK, Azula with Star Wars, is incredible. You've gifted me so many wonderful fics and have truly become my first mate on the S.S. Yuten, for which I am always deeply indebted to you. "Perks of Matchmaking" is short and sweet, and I'm forever honored that my gift for you inspired a fic that you gifted to me. I've rambled on long enough, and thank you if you've made it this far. Here are some honorable mentions who deserve all of the praise, but I'll be here all night if I try: @siambre, @marijayne-writing, @barelyaware, @mycomfortblanket, @boomerangguy, @thatoneguy56fanfic, and so many others! Thank you for all that you do.

[wormeats]

sadposting

idek why im sad its been a lot of RSD vibes today just little things making me hate myself intensely and feeling like i can't do shit bc there's a lot i need to do and i just don't and fall behind and get more stressed and hate myself more

my fiancé is also really amazing and i love living w them and they always make me feel better but i need to be okay on my own too and to be able to get things done, just being comforted when im stressed and going to distract myself with something doesnt fix the things i am Stressed About idk

mayb i should go back to therapy but also i rlly wanna save money to move bc fuck florida holy shit and literally everywhere has more affordable rent than my area it is fucked but moving is expensive and im worried abt a lot idk

i also wish i drew more ive been hating my art bc i never draw so i never get better and i just see other people's amazing shit and how much other people have grown and i feel stuck and like even if i get better ill never be as good and never be someone who does cool commissions or that someone would want my art as a pfp or background and idk a lot of people have an art style with more personality and vibes but mine just looks stupid and idk how to make it more specific and stylized in any way i just hate my art rn and myself but i should work on positive thinking and supporting myself instead of tearing myself down but i suck at that too

[jincherie]

sunshine riptide | ot7

—  COMMISSION  —

⊙  — pairing: ot7 x reader ⊙  — genre: hybrid au, fluff, comfort, found family, ac inspired ⊙  — wc: 13.8k+ ⊙  — warnings: oc has an almost/light anxiety attack towards the end. there is no explicitly mentioned trigger and it isn’t dwelled on for long, but better to let u guys know! ⊙  — notes: here it is! it’s soft, and warm, and I hope that it can be something to cheer up a little bit those who aren’t having such a good day. i love u all,  and I hope you like this piece :) to the commissioner, thank you for allowing me to write this and I truly hope it helps you feel even just a little bit better! <3

Moving to this island whose inhabitants are mostly hybrids was a bit of an impulse decision, something you did with empty pockets barely a cent to your name. Thanks to the kindness of the island’s ‘mayor’ you have a place to stay, the last spare room in a sharehouse with seven hybrids, and for three months he will pay your rent in exchange for you to work in his shop until you are back on your feet. It’s a sweet deal, but when you begin to get along better than expected with your housemates and the deadline for your departure looms ever closer, you’re not sure you’re going to be able to make yourself leave when the time comes. 

— posted; 06.09.2020 | masterlist

“So in exchange for three months paid stay on the island while you get back on your feet, you will work part-time at the Rabbits Den three days a week, and man the desk in the Resident Services Building on Sundays. Is that okay to you?”

You nod eagerly, the ordeal seeming too good to be true and something you’re afraid will be retracted if you don’t act with haste. Mr Bang returns your motion with a little less fervour, the same kind look never leaving his face.

“Perfect, it’s settled then! We’re glad to have you with us, y/n.”

Something lifts from your chest in that moment, as though you’d been walking beneath the cover of a lead blanket and it has finally slipped from your shoulders. You feel a little breathless, and you know the grin that slips onto your face is stupidly wide. Embarrassingly, you feel salty pricks at the corner of your eyes.

“Thank you so much,” you say, and you mean it. It hadn’t exactly been a well thought out plan, moving here with nothing to your name but your most basic possessions, but you’d just needed to escape and start anew and this… this had been the first opportunity you’d seen. The best opportunity you’d seen. “Really, thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome, young lady.” Mr Bang’s expression grows even softer, if possible. “This is a place people come to find refuge, and happiness. You’re welcome here.”

You clear your throat, turning your head to the side and pretending that you need to cough so he doesn’t see the tear that slips out. You have a feeling he knows, though, as you turn back and find him smiling at you, floppy rabbit ears framing his round face. He reaches out, patting you on the shoulder.

“Now, lets find you a room for the night. I’ll send word to the house I have in mind and make sure they have it nice and tidy before your arrival tomorrow. Sound good?”

It hits you only now how tired you are, more emotionally exhausted than anything, and nod while allowing him to lead you down the hall. That does sound good, actually. That sounds amazing.

O – O – O

You’d arrived on this island in the early hours of the morning yesterday, the late-night ferry the only one that runs to this island on the outskirts of the archipelago. It’s likely due to the fact that the captain is a nocturnal hybrid, and hence prefers to run his business under the cover of night. You hadn’t been able to sleep on the trip over, so when Mr Bang had shown you to the room he was happy to lend you for the night, despite it being barely ten o’clock in the morning you’d passed out the second your head hit the pillow. It was more of a nap than anything, but you suspect that the events of the past few months all caught up to you at once because you woke only for dinner and then fell asleep once more. Mr Bang offered no judgement, and simply left a note instructing you where the bathroom is and where you could find towels so that you could freshen up once you awoke. He also left you a coffee bun in a container, since you’d missed the afternoon tea he held the day before.

You hadn’t even been on this island a day and already the kindness of one of the residents was almost bringing you to tears.

Due to the fact that you’d slept far too early, you end up waking up at an ungodly hour the next day, the day you are meant to be moving in to the sharehouse that Mr Bang told you about. Laying in the bed, nestled in the warmth of the covers and watching as the suns rays slowly begin to stain the ceiling and the curtains in rich marigold, you do your best to get yourself together. You can breathe easy now, any anxiety you’d felt previous now nothing more than an echo in your chest. You feel refreshed, and not just from the ridiculous amount of sleep you’ve had in the past twenty-four hours. There are of course some nerves pertaining to meeting your new housemates, but it’s manageable. You have faith that everything will turn out well. It’s a good feeling.

Mr Bang is kind enough to offer you breakfast, and likely would have pushed you to stay for lunch had you not shown up down the stairs with your baggage already in tow. So begrudgingly, he allows you to head on your way, informing you that your new housemates knew of your arrival and had endeavoured to tidy up as much as possible. You thought it was a little funny he was telling you that—just how messy is the house usually?—but he simply shook his head with a smile that told you the answer would come soon enough.

The island isn’t big, but it most definitely isn’t small. The sun is warm and the air cool with a tinge of salt and sea trailing along the breeze, and the path you walk along that skirts the beach is peppered with sand and the odd shell. It makes you happier than anticipated, because just being out here makes you feel so free. Mr Bang told you that the house where you will be staying is on the other side of the island, past the little cluster of shops and small businesses and perched at the edge of the sand, backing onto a river that flows into the ocean and skirted on one side by a small cliff.

“It’s their own little alcove,” Mr Bang had snorted, a mixture of fondness and amusement evident on his features. “They get up to more trouble than I can keep track of over there, but they’re good boys.”

Ah, that’s right. You’d almost forgotten; your new housemates are a bunch of boys. You hope that Mr Bang is right about their character and you won’t be living in discomfort for the next three months.

The path wound and curved a bit, following the edge of the island, and before long you were walking through a section of light forestry. You suspected the house would be on the other side, and were in the midst of thinking just what it would look like when a small squeak! catches your attention and you halt, almost dropping your bag.

It’s silent, save for the way the breeze caresses the leaves around you. You peer around, eyes unable to spot anything in the foliage. Did you imagine it? It’s a little early in your stay to be going crazy. Hesitantly, you adjust your grip on your bag and resume your trek.

Squeak! S-squeeeak!

No, you definitely heard that. You freeze, having gotten a better sense of where the sound is coming from now and turning towards a large tree smothered in vines of varying thickness and clinginess. For a moment, you don’t see anything, eyes squinting hard—it’s like one of those I spy books you used to rave about as a kid— and just when you think you might be looking in the wrong place, you catch movement.

There, in a cluster of the vines dangling from one of the tree’s thicker limbs, is a tiny creature, all tangled up and squeaking in distress.

“Oh my goodness,” you drop your bag, immediately moving closer.  “Poor thing—hold on just a second, bub. I’ll get you out. Promise not to bite me?”

The creature offers a squeak and logically you know it isn’t answering your request, but you pretend it is anyway. Carefully stepping over plants and twigs, thanking past you for wearing more practical boots, you reach where the creature is stuck, dangling just below eye level.

The vines it has managed to get all tangled up in aren’t particularly thick, but there are a lot of them, and it has managed to get a few of its limbs stuck in place. Carefully, you snap a few of the more central ones and ease the tiny thing out, getting a better view of it the more you pull from its body. It’s squeaking all the while, though with much less distress and more of an energy that simply feels chatty. It makes you smile.

“There you go,” you murmur, cradling the tiny baby in your palms and cooing, trying to calm the heartbeat and hurried breaths you can feel racing against your skin. You stroke along its back as lightly as you can manage. “Oh, you’re a little sugar glider! You’re so pretty, such a cutie. Look at your markings, wow… so pretty.”

Almost as though it can understand your praise and is basking in it, it flicks its bushy tail and rolls in your palm, like a cat rubbing against something with its cheek except this little glider is doing it with its whole body. It’s awfully friendly, you note. Perhaps much of the wildlife here is more peacefully accustomed to human and hybrid activity.

“Okay, you’re free now. I’ll stop ogling at you and let you go,” you say, holding your hands up to a part of the tree that isn’t covered in vines lest there be a repeat of the earlier situation. The sugar glider merely blinks, eyes still on you, and doesn’t move. Brows drawn in confusion, you move your hands closer to the tree, “Well, aren’t you going to—oh!”

Faster than you can react, the little thing darts from your hands, leaping to your bicep and scurrying up with tiny claws in your shirt to your shoulder. Once at its apparent destination, it rushes to the crook of your neck and makes itself at home, nestling against you and securing itself with its tail partway around the back of your neck and its little paws clutching your shirt edge. You giggle, still in shock and trying not to jostle it off as you fight the ticklish sensation.

“Okay. I guess you can come with me. I’m not sure if you can stay the whole while, but I’m sure it will be okay while I walk.”

So off you go, bending and retrieving your bag carefully so you don’t dislodge your tiny new companion. You’ve seen a bit of sugar gliders, but the way this one is acting is quite peculiar. If it sticks around until you arrive at the house, you’d love to snap a quick picture because it really is so pretty, so cute.

The trip is faster than anticipated, now there is something else to occupy your thoughts. Before you know it you’re out of the forestry and approaching a large, modern three storey building that is probably just a few yards short of a mansion, nestled between the ocean, the river, and a short cliff-face just barely higher than the roof. This is the place for sure.

The little glider seems to perk up, the closer you get, something that surprises you since it was so quiet you thought it was asleep. With a soft noise, it grabs onto your hair with tiny paws and scurries to the top of your head, likely making a mess of it in the process but it’s so cute you can’t bring yourself to mind. At least it will be an interesting first impression.

As you approach the front door, you think you see movement in one of the windows on the ground floor. You almost dismiss it as you reach the eve, until you catch the hurried patter of feet against hardwood from beyond the door.

You barely manage to blink before the door is flying open, a man with raven curls and two fluffy russet ears peeking between the locks presenting you with the biggest grin you have ever seen on anyone’s face. It’s boyish and cute, a direct contrast to the mature, sculpted features of his face.

“Hello!” he says, and you catch sight of a long, fluffy russet tail whipping behind him and betraying his excitement—not that he was doing much to hide it. “You must be the new roomie! It’s nice to meet you! We’ve been waiting all morning, and one of us actually went to pick you up but… I’m not sure where he is.”

You’re a little overwhelmed but easily recover when he simply keeps looking at you so happily, returning the man’s bright smile. There’s rustling in your hair at the back of your head but you ignore it, adjusting your grasp on your bag. “Ah, thank you. I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you…?”

The man pulls back, a sheepish look on his face that accompanies a light flush in his cheeks. “Oh, right. I’m Taehyung. Sorry. My hyungs tell me I tend to get a bit ahead of myself sometimes.”

You keep the smile on your face. “That’s okay, we got there in the end. It’s nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

Taehyung brightens, tail curling happily behind him. He opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted from a voice to the side.

“Are you going to make our poor new housemate wait outside all day, Tae?”

The light blush colouring Taehyung’s cheeks deepens, a sheepish laugh escaping. “No. I was just about to invite her in!”

He steps back and reveals the person behind him who had spoken, a tall man with dimples and silvery hair that did little to conceal the large, rounded grey ears atop his head. He seems a little awkward in his stance, like he has more body than he knows what to do with, but still extends an arm in greeting with a kind smile. “y/n, is it? Welcome, please come in. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here with us, however brief. We’re happy to have you.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry! If you cry now you can never show your face here again. You clear your throat, returning his smile as you step inside and out of the sun, the difference in temperature against your skin immediate. “Thank you, I really appreciate your generosity in letting me stay here.”

“Nonsense,” Taehyung snorts, “Namjoon-hyung has been saying for months we should find someone to fill the spare room, and now you show up on our doorstep! It’s perfect.”

The taller, who Taehyung had referenced as Namjoon, seems a little bashful, his cheeks heating. Does everyone in this house blush so easily? You hope it’s not contagious.

There is movement in your hair again, the glider apparently needing to breathe, and you have your mouth open ready to explain when Namjoon beats you to it.

“Oh, I see you’ve met Jimin already!”

What?

The glider leaps from your head and onto Taehyung’s outstretched arm, climbing to his head before leaping from that too and gliding through the air, all the way around the corner. There is a small clutter, the sound of a light swearword entering the air, and then the ever-familiar patter of feet against hardwood. Another boy rounds the corner, ashy-blond hair tousled and parted by two small grey ears, bushy tail curling behind him.

He skids to a stop in front of you, dipping in a brief bow before rising and shooting you a bright smile. “Hello! Thank you for helping me! I’m Jimin, welcome home!”

It takes all of your willpower to keep the happy tears at bay as you tilt your head back and laugh, already feeling lighter than you ever remember feeling before.

O – O – O

Your next introductions to the hybrids you will be sharing your home with for the next three months go much smoother and without as many surprises as the last ones. Jimin, who seems to have warmed up to you quickly, was more than happy to take you on a tour of the house and to go through introductions while he was at it. He happily told you who was what hybrid as well, without you asking. You figured that he realised your underperforming human nose wouldn’t be able to tell, so he took the initiative and you’re thankful for it, because you were curious.

The oldest resident of the house is Seokjin, a red-panda hybrid who goes on a spree of stress-baking every time exam season rolls around. Most of the hybrids study online, as you learnt from Jimin’s excited chattering. The second you met Jin, as he preferred to be called, you were stunned at how handsome he was. Of course, any awe that rooted you to the spot quickly dissipated as he said a joke so painfully funny it left you with whiplash between the urge to roll your eyes and guffaw. You like him, though. He’s nice.

You quickly discover that all the inhabitants of this house are, though. Yoongi is the second oldest and a squirrel glider hybrid—something Jimin said he found funny since he was closest to Jimin, a sugar glider, and Hoseok, the third oldest and a sunny squirrel hybrid. He giggled as he told you, and you couldn’t hide your own smile even as Yoongi’s ear had flicked and he’d shot the two of you a suspicious look. The little fun fact Jimin had told you about Yoongi had taken you by surprise; he remotely operates the island’s radio, many of the tunes ones he has created himself. Often, if there is a festival, he will volunteer his time to work the music jobs there, too. Apparently Namjoon also pitches in, and Hoseok when he has free time outside of the classes he teaches on the other side of the island.

Hoseok is a dancer, Jimin had gushed, and while he teaches at the school part time, he also volunteers time outside of that to hold dance classes for the kids. Jimin told you that he joins occasionally, but less often lately since his workload for university has increased. He did tell you, though, that the youngest of the house had all but taken his place, his youthful heart at home mucking around with kids and helping them learn.

Jungkook is his name, and Jimin informed you with a very fond and very amused look that he is rather shy, so you might not see him for a few days. Apparently it had been uttered just loud enough for the hybrid in question to catch it though, because there was a tumbling sound from the floor above and a series of stomping footsteps. A head of long, wavy inky hair had popped over the railing, grey ears pinned back as a baby-faced boy delivered a glare to the blonde to your side.

“Hyung! That’s not true! I’m not too shy to even introduce myself!” he had defended himself avidly, red-faced and huffy. When his eyes turned to you, mouth open to follow through on his words, he abruptly shrank and all that escaped was a squeak. It took him a moment to conjure speech once more, and this time he was noticeably less bold. “I’m—I’m Jungkook! It’s nice to meet you! I have to go now! Goodbye!”

And then he was gone, and so concluded your final introduction to the residents you had yet to meet. You thought you had a good feeling when you first arrived, but now that you’ve met everyone and everything feels that bit more real, you find yourself thinking…

It’s a really good feeling.

O – O – O

“It’s not what it looks like!”

You raise a brow, book in hand as you stand at the edge of the sand bank where green bleeds into gold. Against your heels is cool grass, and your toes are dipped in the gentle warmth of the sand. Namjoon sits in front of you, beneath a tree protruding from the dune, with a bundle of leaves in his hand and a guilty look in his face.

“Isn’t eucalyptus toxic to humans and hybrids?”

“I’m not eating it!” Namjoon waves his hands in a frantic bid to assure you, eyes wide, and almost drops the leaves in question. His large, grey ears flick in his distress. “I was just… I know I can’t eat it but it smells so good… I was just sniffing it. It calms me.”

You let out a light laugh, walking closer and plopping down on the sand beside him, beneath the generous shade the tree offers. The sea breeze is kind and cools your skin where it smarts from the sun, tickling your neck and manipulating your hair into a tumbleweed. Namjoon snorts, helping you get it back in order.

“No judgement,” you say, crossing your legs and placing your book in your lap for the meantime. “Just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t have to take you to a hospital, because I do not know where to find one on this island.”

Namjoon grins, rosy cheeks complimenting his skin the way it glows gold in the sun’s glare. “You’d drag little ol’ me all the way to the hospital if you knew where it was?”

“Well, yeah,” you laugh, sifting sand through your fingers as you relish the sound of waves crashing barely a yard away. It’s so peaceful, you feel so at peace. “Since none of you seem to know what a car is.”

“We had a car,” Namjoon admits, face flushing violently as he averts his gaze, turning his head. “There was just, um, an unfortunate incident… that may have involved a tree, or two…”

You decide not to probe further, lest your current good impression of Namjoon come under threat. A beat of silence passes, before Namjoon shuffles, placing the bundle of leaves back on the grass. He angles his body a little more towards you, sniffing subtly.

“So… how is your stay so far? Is everything going okay?”

You can’t hide the expression of surprise that makes its way to your face as you turn to him, blinking. You don’t know what you were expecting, but for some reason it hadn’t been that. It’s awfully nice of him.

You’ve been on the island almost a week now. The interactions you’ve had with your housemates so far, though not too bountiful, have all been pleasant, and you genuinely have nothing to complain about. You haven’t seen much of Jungkook, Hoseok, or Yoongi—but that mostly comes down to incompatible work hours and commitments. Mr Bang’s nephews run the Rabbit’s Den, the local convenience store that occasionally hosts a few exotic goods, and they have been nothing short of helpful, polite, and friendly while you worked there. You have worked a single shift at the Resident Services Building too, and it was pretty chill. A few residents came in, happily introduced themselves to you, and then you helped them with whatever had warranted their visit. All in all, your stay has been amazing so far.

“It’s been good,” you say, and it feels so nice to have the words escaping your mouth be true to the warmth in your chest. “Everyone here is super nice. It does feel a bit odd though, sometimes I feel like I’m the only human here.”

“Oh, yeah. You are,” Namjoon huffs an amused laugh. “You’re the first human Mr Bang has allowed on this island.”

Your surprise is evident, and it makes him smile when he turns his head to give you a sly look. “He must have had a good feeling about you. Rabbit hybrids tend to rely a lot on their gut feelings and intuition.”

“Oh,” you say, cheeks warming. Well, you’re glad he had decided to let you in. You say as much to Namjoon, and he smiles brightly at you.

“We’re glad he decided to let you in, too.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, a little embarrassed from the unexpectedness of it—was he really telling the truth? You’d hardly spent any time with some of your other housemates…

A calm silence begins to settle between you, and you take the time to open your book and resume where you left off. You get so carried away reading that when you finally look up some time later, the sight to your side almost makes you gasp.

Namjoon had, at some point, fallen asleep in a little patch of sunlight that manage to pierce through the foliage—in the place of the large, long-limbed man you had been talking to is now a considerably smaller fluffy koala, sitting upright and snoozing lightly. You suspect this isn’t the most ideal position for him to be sleeping in, though, because every few moments he will sway on the spot, almost tipping but not quite going far enough to have an abrupt meeting with the sand.

You coo, unable to help it, but the sound quickly grows alarmed when he leans too far—before you can think your arms shoot out to hold him up, but it seems there is something true to what is said about koalas being clingy because the second he feels something touch him, koala Namjoon clings.

You squeak, a fully-grown koala now wrapped around your forearm. Slowly, you bring it closer to you (feeling your bicep burn all the while because damn is he heavier than he looks!), planning to use your other hand to ease him off, but it seems that the second you’re close enough he can sense your warmth and he wants in. You sit, exasperated and amused, with a koala now latched to your midriff, arm forgotten. Both your hands are now free, but at what cost?

You figure that he’ll probably let go when he wakes up, or he might fall back into the sand in his sleep, but until then you resign yourself to unexpected but definitely not unwelcome koala cuddles. You just hope he won’t be too embarrassed when he wakes up; you can already see him stuttering and going red in your mind’s eye. It brings a chuckle to your lips, and with a smile on your face you return to your book once more, a little more content than before.

O – O – O

 It’s been a while since you’ve had to deal with the dreams.

Usually, once they start you can wake yourself up, or you can manage to turn them around if they’re one you’ve had before. But some nights, when the dreams come, you’re helpless but to see them play out. Sometimes they’re not that bad, but even the milder ones leave you with a nauseous ball of anxiety beneath your lungs and a feeling of discomfort that digs claws deep in your bones.

About three weeks into your stay, you wake up after one such dream, a cursory glance to your phone and the painful glare of its screen revealing it to be the early hours of the morning. For a moment you simply lay, blinking, with your gaze rooted on the ceiling. You had strung up some fairy lights around your dresser, and on the plaster above you the soft colourful rainbow of their hue meshes and blends with the cool pools of moonlight slipping through your curtains.

Absently, and with a sense of resignation that you feel in your bones, you strip the cover back and climb out of bed, deciding you may as well grab some water since you’re likely not going to be able to fall asleep very easily anytime soon.

As you make your way through the levels to the ground floor where the kitchen resides, you’re careful to be as quiet as possible—you’re not sure how successful your effort is but you do know that quite a few of your housemates have been inundated with coursework lately and you don’t want to disturb any of the valuable rest they need so badly. Jimin had looked so wiped out yesterday that you’d literally had to pull him away from the dishes and send him to bed. He complained on the way, but as soon as his head hit his pillow he was out, leaving you in a mixture of awe and concern. He explained as soon as he woke the next morning that he had been up all night completing an assignment, and it made you realise just how exhausted a lot of your roommates seem lately. You hope this period passes soon for them; you may not have been here long but you have grown to care for them and you don’t like seeing them so unwell.

You’re just pondering this when you reach the ground floor and venture into the kitchen, thoughts and feet coming to an abrupt stop as you take in the sight that greets you there.

Seokjin is standing by the bench, hands moving slowly as he puts something together just out of your view. A quick survey of the rest of the countertop tells you that he’s making lunches, and while ordinarily this would touch your heart (as it does every time you see how each of the hybrids in this house cares for each other), this time you’re overcome with a strong wave of concern.

Delicately put, Seokjin looks dead on his feet.

Every few moments his head bobs down, chin almost hitting his chest before he jerks awake just long enough to lift his head, before the cycle repeats once more. He looks so exhausted you’re impressed he managed to make as many lunches as he did. Though, from the looks of it he’s only about halfway through.

“Hey, Seokjin… are you okay?”

The hybrid jumps, the startle you gave him probably rendering him more awake than he has been in a few hours.

“Wh—what are you doing awake?” he sputters, having to lean against the bench so that he doesn’t fall over. “It’s almost midnight!”

You can’t help the look you give him, a mixture between amusement and concern. “Um… it’s a little past midnight actually… probably closer to two… are you alright?”

Seokjin blinks at you for a second while your words sink in, before he sags with a light groan, bringing a hand up to scrub at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleepiness. His bushy, striped tail sways behind him before curling around his thigh. “I’m just… kind of wiped out. I was up finishing a part of a really big assessment piece and it took longer than I thought… I was going to go to bed but then I remembered that I hadn’t prepared the boys’ lunches, and I always do that, so I came down here and…”

He makes a great, sweeping gesture over the mess on the bench, a result of his patchy attention. A huff of laughter escapes him. “Yeah.”

“I’m glad you finished your piece, but… do you really have to make their lunches? I think you should probably get some sleep…”

You were a little worried he might take your words the wrong way, but you can tell from the serene expression on his face that he doesn’t. “I always do it. If I don’t, then they might worry about me, and I don’t want them to worry about me when they should spend that energy worrying about themselves. Plus, I don’t know if I’d be able to sleep if I knew they weren’t done.”

You return his amused smile, taking a step closer and willing yourself to speak the idea that had come to mind.

“Well, considering I found you almost sleeping on the spot when I came down, I think you should probably call it a night and get some rest. I’d be happy to finish up and make sure the lunches are done, if you’d like?”

You can see the resistance immediately, the tall man opening his mouth to refuse—but he halts, and for a moment slips into his own thoughts. Sensing that he just needs a little push, you continue, “If you tell me what you usually make, I should be able to finish the rest of them without too much trouble.”

He blinks, and in that moment you see the rest of his exhaustion flood to the surface. He sniffles, unable to fight the yawn that rises. “… Okay. If that’s really alright with you…?”

You laugh, reaching to bump Seokjin’s side. “Of course it is. I don’t mind at all, especially if it means you’ll go to sleep in your bed and not on the kitchen floor. Now, what do you normally make…?”

Letting out a soft laugh, Seokjin does his best to stay awake long enough to instruct you on what he makes and how he makes it for the remaining members of the household. You can’t help but notice throughout his explanation that he doesn’t seem to make lunch for himself despite making it for everyone else, and as he finally plods off to bed and passes out, you make the decision that you’re going to make some lunch for him too. It takes you a brief google search on the diet of red pandas and their hybrid counterparts, as well and recalling what you know of Seokjin’s taste in food, but it doesn’t take you too long to decide on what to make. You work through the lunches one by one, grateful for the distraction, and complete the task fully when Seokjin’s sits primly next to the rest. You pile them all into the fridge, washing your hands again before grabbing the water you originally came down for, and then you’re making the trip back upstairs to your own bed, a soft smile on your face and a warm satisfaction curling around your lungs. You fall asleep easier than expected for a night where you had one of those dreams, but there most definitely aren’t any complaints to be found as you drift off with a faint smile on your lips.

--

The next day, it’s only a little before midday when Seokjin finally rises from his slumber and makes his way downstairs. Blearily, he reaches the kitchen and heads straight to the fridge, attempting to think through his sleep-addled brain what he should make for lunch. Those thoughts are interrupted as he catches sight of a box he hasn’t seen outside of the little tupperware cupboard by the stove in ages sitting on the middle shelf, a little paper tag with ‘for Seokjin’ scribbled onto it perched on top.

He pulls it out and places it on the bench, staring in confusion. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to kick his limbs into gear and open it, but from that point on the realisation comes quickly with the memory of last night.

You’d gone and made lunch for him, too. And from the looks of it, you’d paid great attention to what to include.

His stomach rumbles violently as he takes in the sight of berries and the bamboo shoots he usually stores in the fridge that you must have taken the time to boil and season. There is a sandwich in there as well but he doesn’t need to check whether he will like it because he can already smell the salmon.

He doesn’t know what to think, or really what to say. He knows he’s just lucky you’ve already gone to work at the Rabbit’s Den because otherwise you would probably be here and risk seeing his eyes tear up a little.

A side effect from being sleepy and stressed is the dramatics, he knows, but still… he can’t help but notice the warm feeling that lingers in his stomach when he thinks of how nice you are to do such a thing.

O—O—O

“You’re gonna love it when we get there, y/n! It’s so pretty, and there’s so much fruit… I’m going to feast.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh, thoroughly enjoying the company of your two housemates and the combination of cool breeze and warm sunlight the air offers as they kiss your skin. It’s earlier in the morning than you tend to wake up, but you’ve been invited out on an exclusive adventure and you aren’t in any position to say no. For the past few weeks you’ve noticed that on a Saturday and Sunday morning, Taehyung tends to disappear. You don’t know where, and each time you saw him again you forgot to ask, but finally the opportunity had arisen for you to sate your curiosity. Happily, the lemur hybrid had informed you that there is a small section of the island towards the north that is absolutely packed with trees, bushes and otherwise, all peppered with ripe fruit. Some days he goes to tend to them, but on the weekends he confessed to you that he normally goes to harvest the literal fruits of his labour.

“Just don’t eat all of the tamarind again, Jiminie, or I will have to kill you myself.”

Jimin lets out a loud laugh, stumbling in his gait for a moment from the force of it. “Yessir! Understood, sir!”

Taehyung’s lips quirk into a smile, and he returns his gaze to the front to continue marching ahead and leading the two of you to his secret spot. You adjust your hold on the woven bag over your shoulder, brushing away some of the more unruly strands of hair that have made their way across your face by riding on the breeze.

“Thanks again for inviting me, Tae,” you say, unable to hide the skip in your step as you plod along after them, smiling brightly. “I’ve been wanting to explore more—it feels wrong that I’ve been here for a month and barely seen everything there is to see.”

Taehyung spins to flash you a beaming grin over his shoulder, ears flicking and tail curling happily. “Of course, it’s no problem! I did wonder if you’d like to come some time, so I’m glad you mentioned it the other day.”

Jimin gasps, the sound somewhere between playful and affronted. “You asked her yourself to come?! I had to beg for weeks! Weeks!”

“I told you, the fruit weren’t done when you first asked!” Taehyung whines, reaching back and pausing in his steps just long enough to whack Jimin on the shoulder. “You just didn’t listen!”

“I’m baby,” Jimin says, whether in affirmation or explanation you’re not sure. It manages to tear a laugh from Taehyung either way, and you’re no different.

You’re not left stewing in anticipation for long; before you know it you’re broaching the place that Taehyung and Jimin speak so highly of. Rounding a corner, you come across a large grove that ends beyond what your eyes can see—some trees curl and wind, others stand straight and proud with their roots covered modestly with smaller shrubbery. Vines cling and string around some trunks, but the one thing all of the flora in front of you has in common is that they’re all ripe with fruit, ready to be picked.

“Oh wow,” you remark, barely aware you’ve even said anything. A deep laugh sounds from beside you and you turn to see Taehyung grinning brightly, tail curling happily behind him and his little ears flicking with glee.

“Pretty, right? Some of these were already growing here when I found it, like the apples, but the rest of it I planted over time. I’m proud of how it’s turned out.”

“You should be!” you exclaim, pointing to the fruit displayed in the very image of temptation before you all. “Dude, they look delicious.”

“They are!” Jimin chimes in, flitting past you and snagging his finger in your sleeve as he goes to drag you along. “Come on, there’s a mulberry tree up the back and it has the juiciest berries. We have to pick them now before all the birds and fruit bats get them.”

Laughing, you allow the sugar glider hybrid to lead you into the grove of greenery, the man ducking and weaving around branches with ease as his feet follow a path well-worn into the dirt and grass. The splotches of sunlight that filter through the foliage are pleasant where they warm your skin, breeze ensuring you don’t get too hot beneath the kiss of a star. In the shadows of the trees, it is actually much cooler than you expected, but you can’t help but feel that the temperature, the air, the sights—everything feels perfect.

The mulberry tree, fondly called Ol’ Bessy as Jimin had eagerly informed you, is a large, looming monster of a tree with a plethora of winding trunks and subordinate thin branches that dangle and sway in the breeze in the image of a weeping willow. When you comment on the sheer size of it, Taehyung simply shrugs and tells you with a smile that it’s been here a long time, before anyone was on the island.

The three of you don't have much desire to waste any more time standing and dawdling, and so you begin your activity for the day, woven bags and baskets prepared and at the ready. You inspect the mulberries that are hanging lowest, spying the occasional green one but becoming easily appeased when you find bunches of ripe ones, plump and fit to burst as they weigh the thinner branches down.

Gathering them is harder than anticipated, because you hadn't accounted for the fact they they're, well, berries. It takes a few attempts and more than a few instances of stained hands before you figure out the best way to pluck them from the tree without bursting them. Taehyung saw the first one you popped and the way it went all up your arm, and hasn't stopped laughing since.

The three of you bounce between fruits and trees, filling your containers with whichever you prefer. After a while though you all seem to have the same idea to congregate at the mulberry tree. Admittedly, you hadn't been able to stop yourself from munching on some of the fruits as you picked them, but as you look at them and see berry stains around their mouths and apple leaves in their hair, you feel a little less guilty about it. Taehyung places his basket down, leaning it securely against the base of the tree trunk, before dusting his hands with a sharp clap and then resting them on his hips.

"Right," he says, eyes alight. "There's just one more tree to visit. I think you're gonna love it."

You tilt your head, wondering just what other kind of fruit he has up his sleeve when already you've picked so many. Surely he's constrained even a little bit by the climate? Or does he have magically green thumbs? Jimin giggles at your confused expression.

"How good are you at climbing trees?"

The question gives you pause. "Uh... decent? I suppose?"

"Great!" Taehyung exclaims, picking his basket back up and closing the lid to help secure it on his back. "Let's go!"

Once more you're lead in between and through the trees and shrubs, following the gleeful lemur hybrid and his grinning companion back to the middle of the grove. Before long you're stumbling to a halt, having reached the location and wondering how on earth you managed to miss this tree before.

It's bigger than Ol' Bessy by a decent margin, but confusion filters through you when you can't seem to spot any fruit hanging from its branches. You turn to Taehyung, about to question him, but he simply grins and darts over to the massive trunk (really, you don't think two of you could hug it from either side and have your fingers touch, it's so big). It's only after he begins scaling it with alarming ease that you take note of the grooves and footholds curled into the trunk, making it a naturally perfect tree for climbing. Jimin darts up after his friend, apparently also well-versed in the art of climbing this tree, and breaks you from your awed reverie with a shout over his shoulder.

"Come on, y/n! Or Tae is gonna take the good spot!"

Unsure what he means and unsure if you're willing to find out via Taehyung following through on that, you scramble to follow after them and do your best to climb.

It's easier than anticipated, actually, and dare you say it... relaxing. Though you're going higher and higher with each branch you clear, and see less of the ground and more of the canopy with each step, you can't say you're all that scared, or worried. If anything, it's as though a moment of peace has been captured in a bubble, and now settles like cool mist on a spring morning at the bottom of your chest.

In sharp contrast to the cool breeze that brushes your face as you emerge from the thickest part of the foliage, the sun is quick to kiss warmth back into your cheeks. For a moment, you have to pause in your climb, because the view around you is simply so beautiful you're at an absolute loss for words.

From here, the highest point in the grove, you can see a vast majority of the island, a sweeping panorama of lush greens and soft sands that blend into the crystalline waters of the ocean, sunlight turning the surface to a sea of diamonds. Along the stretch of beach, in the distance, you can just barely glimpse the sharehouse, and on the other side of the island the little market square where all the stores and restaurants are appears as smudges and blobs of dark colours.

"It's so beautiful, right?"

You're so immersed in your observation that for a second you almost don't even register that someone is talking to you. Mouth open in awe, you simply turn your expression to Taehyung; the lemur laughs, almost tumbling back from the force of it, and you're shocked back into the moment with worry until you see what stopped him from falling.

Here, at the very top of the tallest tree in Taehyung's secret grove, he has built a small little fixture, a deck with enough space for four people to squeeze onto it at most. It hugs the trunk of the tree and is braced on the few thick branches that split from the tree beneath it. A lot of it is untouched, natural wood, but the bottom is made of processed planks and some of the short balcony ledge has been painted with acrylics, little scenes spanning the length of the strips. You didn't know Taehyung painted, but figure you'll bring it up at another time when you aren't precariously clinging to the top of a massive tree.

Taking the hand that both men offer you, you haul yourself carefully up and onto the deck, marvelling as you get an even clearer view of the island from your new position.

"It really is," you answer him, somewhat belatedly. When the two of them settle down, tree swaying much like you imagine a ship would on the vast expanse of the ocean, you follow suit, with your back pressed securely to the trunk.

Jimin is already flinging open his container, smacking it onto the wood in front of him, and Taehyung laughs once more, the sound so freeing and light that it makes that little bubble of peace in your abdomen expand ever so slightly.

"And now, we feast!" The lemur says, eagerly opening his own basket and setting it in front of him, besides Jimin's. They're both set to overflow from the amount of fresh, ripe fruit piled in.

They shamelessly and unabashedly dig in, eliciting a laugh from you as you move your own bag before you to do the same. It's nice, the perfect lunch in more ways than one; the small amount of foliage above you offers just enough shade that you want for nothing more in the moment besides maybe a pillow or two, everything else accounted for in excess.

You're not sure how long you spend there, but you do know that the sun has made a decent amount of headway in its journey across the sky by the time the three of you are done stuffing your stomachs full, laying across the deck and squinting until the clouds swimming leisurely across the sky begin to resemble something you can put a name to. It's fun, and light, and for what is alarmingly far from the first time, you find yourself so thankful for the choices you made and the path that led you here, to be staying on this beautiful island with these lovely boys.

By time you finish and the three of you are heading back, you’ve eaten through half of the fruit and the boys are so full and sleepy from the big day that they’ve shifted into their animal forms and are now clinging to you, Taehyung with his long limbs around your neck and Jimin with his tiny paws clinging to the hair at the top of your head. You suspect he’s made himself another little nest up there, but can’t find it in yourself to be upset with him for it especially when the soft sounds and chitters he makes to communicate with Taehyung are so damn cute.

The trip back is shorter than you recall, and before you know it you’re approaching the sharehouse once more, it’s looming sides graced with the warm gleam of afternoon sun. Jimin and Taehyung are asleep as you reach the front door, and you’re saved from having to move all the bags and baskets in your hold to open the door when it opens for you. Hoseok is standing there, a startled look gracing his features that quickly blends into one of fondness as he sees his friends, something that makes your cheeks warm ever so slightly.

“Good day?” he asks, stepping back to let you in. You nod, unable to help the wide grin touching your lips.

“Yeah, it was.”

O – O – O

‘…They should be setting up a tower soon, so hopefully it won’t be long before I can call you again. But until then, I look forward to every letter you send, bubbles.

Write back soon! I miss you.

Love, Dad’

You sniffle, trying not to let out the tears that are so close to slipping from your eyes. You’re not all that upset, you love receiving letters from your father, but it’s just… a little bittersweet. You’d moved here to escape your family, following a certain incident that you’re not keen to revisit, and your father had always been and will always be supportive of you— but it’s hard, when he’s halfway across the globe on one expedition or another.

It was only in the past ten years that your father managed to snag the job of his dreams and follow the passion he’s harboured since he was a child, graduating from his career as an accountant through attention garnered from numerous big research papers to become a well-respected biologist. From the second he accepted the offer, he’d started down a path that led him spending a majority of his life outside of the home and always on the move, hopping from one destination to another.

Whenever he could, he’d take you with him, but he wasn’t always able to. This expedition, which has landed him in the Antarctic, is an example of that. While he can’t be with you physically, he writes often and calls every chance he gets—and though it saddens you sometimes when it highlights the dismal state of the rest of your family, more than anything you’re happy for him and overjoyed that after years of slaving in an office, he finally gets to do what he wants.

You inhale, closing your eyes and trying to let the breath escape in a long, level manner. It’s night, not when you normally go about reading letters from your father but this letter had come late and you’d almost completely forgotten on your way to bed. Taking the opportunity to get some fresh air, you’d taken the letter and made yourself comfortable on the balcony, using the ample moonlight as a makeshift reading lamp.

Placing the letter carefully on the table, mindful not to place it in anything dirty or unsavoury, you settle back in your chair and tilt your gaze to the skies, allowing your eyes to become unfocused and simply stare. It's a pretty sight, as you expected-- the stars are much more outgoing here, with no haze or pollution masking their display like in the city on the mainland.

You let out a breath, but even to your ears it sounds more like a sigh. You miss your dad, and you know he misses you too but despite the fact you know it's selfish of you, you kind of wish he had been here with you when you made the decision to move. Of course, you've told him all about it, and he's supported you wholly in every choice you've made, but it's not the same. You don't blame him, and you love him dearly, but still... you're allowed to be sad, just a little. Just for tonight.

Well, that had been your plan-- apparently the universe has other ideas that don't include sulking in the moonlight on your balcony. A scuffling sound disturbs your reverie from the side of your balcony, and you look over in time to see a decent blob of shadow scaling up the side of the balcony next to yours and flinging onto the railing. Once there, it halts, and your eyes adjust just in time to meet those of the creature-- the raccoon, you realise quickly. It tilts its head up, sniffling the air once, before pinning you with an unreadable look. For a moment the two of you sit in silence, locked in place by the other's gaze, before the raccoon lets out a soft noise and then it's little claws are clacking against the hollow metal railing, and it disappears beyond the wall.

Whose room is that... Jungkook's? You muse to yourself for a moment before you remember what kind of hybrid Jungkook is, and in the next second there is the sound of a door sliding shut and Jungkook's bright-eyed face pops around the side of the wall.

"Uh... are you okay?"

You blink, brain taking a moment to catch up and then decipher how he could have possibly known you were even a little bit upset. You recall suddenly that animals can pick up cues, like chemoreceptors, and tilt your head at him with a small smile.

"Yeah... no... I'm alright." You angle yourself more towards him in your chair, cheering internally when you see him stop hiding behind the wall and come to lean against the railing. "Was that you? Where were you off to, this time of night?"

Jungkook looks like he wishes to address the first thing you said, but your follow-up has thrown him a bit for a loop. You can't be sure your eyes aren't deceiving you, but you could almost swear he's blushing.

"Oh, yeah... sorry." He reaches a hand up to rub the back of his neck, hair mussed and eyes averted. "I know my animal form isn't that nice... sorry if you thought it was gross."

"What?!"

At the sheer suddenness and volume of your almost-shriek, Jungkook jumps about a foot in the air. His wide eyes swing back to you, chest heaving as he rests his hand in the centre of it. You clear your throat, shrinking a bit in embarrassment.

"Sorry," you wince, before going to elaborate on your earlier squawk. "But please don't ever apologise for something like that! I don't know who told you that your animal form is gross, but they can't be all that bright... it was cute."

He looks more like a deer in headlights than the animal he's spliced with right now, eyes wide and staring right at you. You can't help but laugh and tease him, just a little. "Cutest raccoon I ever did see, anyway."

He suddenly comes back to earth, slamming his face into his hands and letting out a long groan. It's from embarrassment, you can tell from the flashes of reddened skin that peek through his fingers. You don't say anything for a moment, letting him return to the conversation on his own terms. Jungkook might be one of the housemates you've interacted with least, but you've heard plenty from the rest of the hybrids in the house.

More often than not, it's about how shy he is and how cute it is when he gets embarrassed. You'd simply nodded and laughed at the time, but now you realise there truly is merit to everything they said.

It takes a few moments of Jungkook muttering into his hands before he pulls his face away, averting his eyes and mumbling softly, "... Thanks. That's really nice of you to say."

"You're welcome," you shrug, smiling when he risks a glance your way to gauge your reaction. Upon seeing nothing that will make him turn tail and flee back into the safety of his room, he eases up, returning his body to it's previous angle towards you.

"So... why were you upset?"

Surprisingly, his question doesn't bother you as you thought it might. You hum, watching as his gaze follows yours to the table, where the letter and the envelope it came in, addressed to you, lay discarded.

"Letter from my dad," you offer in explanation, watching his eyes light in realisation. "Nothing bad, I just miss him so it's... bittersweet."

Jungkook hums, nodding and resting his chin in his hand as he leans forward. "I understand. It's like that with my parents. I know they love me, and I love them, but they're pretty far away and I just... miss them. They're always working."

You're a little surprised that he can relate, although you suppose you really shouldn't be. You don't know very much about Jungkook at all, so it's not fair of you to assume anything about him, even in relation to your own experiences.

"Yeah," you sigh, looking to the sky for a moment as you try and organise your thoughts. "I'm happy he is where he is, doing what he's doing, but I think it's okay to be sad, just for tonight."

Jungkook hums, but doesn't say anything further. It surprises you when he speaks next, the two of you having fallen into a lull.

"Well, you could keep being sad for the night if you want, or... would you maybe wanna see the film I've been working on?"

Your head whips to face him faster than the speed of light, startling him into another jump on the spot.

"Really?" you ask, hurried as though the offer will be rescinded at any moment. "You mean it? I can see it?"

"Yes...?" Jungkook answers, somewhat bewildered. You launch from your chair immediately, rubbing your hands together-- you've heard really good things from the others about his talents in photography and editing, so you've been trying to figure out a way to slip it into conversation for weeks. You've wanted to see them for yourself so badly.

"I'm coming over," you announce, gathering the letter and envelope and already beginning to move towards your room. "I hope your room is clean, Jungkook, or else I'm gonna tease you!"

You'd just meant it as a joke, but the scrambling and hurried footsteps you hear after you say it make you think he took you seriously.

Well, you dad would probably want you to spend the night happy, anyway. You can save being sad for another night.

O -- O -- O

Your time at the house has gone by much faster than you anticipated, and while initially you'd thought that you wouldn't be able to wait to get out, now you find yourself feeling quite the opposite.

You kind of don't want to leave.

At this point, about two months into your stay, you've settled into such a comfortable, stable routine that you struggle to imagine going through the motions in any other way. Often after your early shifts you'll return to the house and catch someone lounging in the sun, and you will no doubt be roped into a short, sweet afternoon nap. On the weekends is group breakfast, and you make sure that you go to bed as early as possible the nights before so that you don't miss it. Taehyung drags you with him of a weekend to fetch fruit and Jimin drags you around the town in general. Some evenings, you find yourself accompanying Namjoon on a walk along the beach, both of you feeling more at peace than ever before when you're standing with feet buried in the sand, watching dusk bleed into twilight and the colours around you stain violet and periwrinkle in the absence of the sun's kiss.

Jungkook knocks on your door at late hours, grinning and eagerly summoning you to his room to watch his latest creation. Seokjin no longer resists your help every other night to make lunches, and has started including you in the schedule as well.

Yoongi and Hoseok are among the busier residents of the house, but you've still spent bits of time with each of them, probably moreso with Hoseok. It's not that you avoid Yoongi or anything like that, it's just that he happens to be the most busy and more often than not is holed up in his room. You don't always see him throughout the week, but he always attends house breakfast on weekends and you're thankful that you get to see him then.

Today, you're spending a little more time with Hoseok. Your shift ended early and you couldn't have thanked your lucky stars any harder, because today the squirrel hybrid had invited you to his dance class. Usually Jungkook or Jimin went with him, both of them enjoying dance as much as their older housemate, but they had both been unavailable today. You'd seen the way Hoseok's face had fallen when they'd told him, and had immediately asked about the class-- you didn't even talk for more than a few minutes before Hoseok was happily inviting you to attend.

It made you a little more pleased than you're going to admit.

You're on your way there now, actually, a skip in your step and a swing in your gait. You've got the tote bag you hold your work things in, and you can hear the rustling of the nuts you'd shoved in there last minute earlier in the day. You'd noticed that Hoseok had forgotten them, so you'd grabbed them to give to him when you saw him. Hopefully he hasn't stuffed himself too full of other foods in the meantime, though from what you've heard apparently he's such a workaholic that he probably hasn't even had lunch yet despite the fact it's currently three in the afternoon.

A majority of Hoseok's classes take place at the school where he teaches, in a room at the end of the drama block that often doubles as a dance classroom when the school gets the funding for it. When you arrive, the door is slightly ajar and upbeat pop is leaking through the gap, Hoseok's sunny voice piercing through the music like a pendulum.

"--and one, two, three, one, two, three-- that's it! That's fantastic! Really good job, guys!"

A smile is already on your face as you push the door open enough to let yourself in, gaze immediately falling upon a group of grinning children that are looking up at Hoseok like they're a tiny field of sunflowers facing their namesake. Hoseok stands before them in a borderline comical pose that only primary school teachers can really pull off, hands on his hips and a proud, beaming smile on his face. You can’t help but blink because for a moment it really was as blinding as looking directly at the sun. He spots you before you can recover fully, and greets you with a wave.

“Ah, perfect! Everyone, this is Miss y/n! She’s going to be sitting in today—I told her how good you all were and she couldn’t wait to see for herself. Let’s all say hello!”

A chorus of greetings is immediately thrown at you, the attention of the little sunflowers now completely on you. Some gasp and run over, grinning brightly at the novelty of a new character, and others watch from afar but seem pleased nonetheless by your presence and alleged eagerness to see them perform.

Before they can launch into conversation with you like you can so clearly see they want to, the ears of some kids ramrod straight and alert and others’ tails flicking in excitement, Hoseok calls them back to where he stands and to your surprise they obey immediately.

“Alright, let’s let Miss y/n get settled down and we can show her what we’ve been practicing, hm? Sound good?”

There is a chorus of ‘yes!’ that pulls a laugh from you as you make your way to the side of the room with the best view and plop down, cross-legged. Eagerly and very self-consciously, now that they have an audience, the small army of children runs to take their place in the formation, and Hoseok pulls his phone from his pocket to pause the song currently playing and pull up the one that matches their routine.

The opening notes filter into the air and Hoseok nods, foot tapping to the beat, before he counts them in and off they go.

Put simply, you’re so incredibly impressed. These kids can dance! You don’t have a doubt that they can dance better than you, not that you ever claimed to have much talent in that department. By the time they finish running through their little routine, you’re clapping and cheering loudly, relishing in the laughter that you’re exaggerated reaction elicits. Hoseok, too, is smiling as he sees how you interact with his students, wandering over after he takes them through it a few more times before giving them a small break.

"So, what do you think?" he asks as he approaches your side of the room, slightly out of breath from doing the routine with them the last few times. "They're so good, aren't they? They've only been working on this for a few weeks and already they have it almost perfectly down-pat. I'm so proud of them."

He slides down the wall next to you, reaching for the bag he'd dropped there presumably before class began; across the room all the students are reaching into their class backpacks for their afternoon snack, and it seems Hoseok has the same idea. You don't even remember the nuts in your bag until he rifles through his for a few minutes, brows furrowed when he comes up empty. His bushy tail flicks dejectedly, ears twitching back on his head, and he pouts.

"Damn, I think I forgot my lunch this morning," he says, and it's enough to jog your memory. You jump in place from the startle of it.

"Oh, I saw that! Here," you quickly reach into your own bag and pull out the nuts and dried fruits, passing it over to him. "I brought it for you, since I figured you'd probably want it at some point."

The way Hoseok's eyes light up when they see the little plastic bag in your hand is almost enough to make you laugh and/or coo out loud. By the skin of your teeth you barely manage to hold that reaction back, but you do smile as he cheers with a short, happy scream and eagerly takes it from your grip.

"My nuts!" Hoseok wastes no time ripping the bag open and grabbing a handful, setting about munching immediately. "You have saved my life today, Miss y/n. I was soooo hungry."

"Didn't get lunch?" you guess, already knowing the answer and having it confirmed when Hoseok nods, completely unfazed by the fact he'd skipped a meal or two.

"I was helping one of the students," he explains, munching happily. His bushy tails curls in content behind him, a sight that makes something happy and warm settle in your chest. "I don't mind missing lunch if it means they get the help they need. I do feel it afterwards, though. Sometimes when I get home I feel so hungry I could eat the whole cupboard out."

A laugh tears from you at his words, the image even funnier because he didn't specify whether he would be doing it in his human form or his animal form. The image of a squirrel wreaking havoc in the house pantry is funnier than you care to admit, but Hoseok just seems happy to have elicited a laugh no matter the magnitude.

It's just a small thing, spending the afternoon with Hoseok and his students, but you find afterwards that it was almost... healing. On the way home, walking besides Hoseok and discussing which dried fruit were the superior dried fruit (he's wrong, and you'll take that opinion with you to the grave), you can't help but feel so light and happy. Like everything is in place, in motion and flowing smoothly. A river without debris and jagged rocks; life right now feels like that moment in nature when water runs over smooth pebbles in a creek, tumbling and pouring but doing so without chaos, and without mess or fallout. Just one continuous, fluid motion.

It feels nice.

You don't even realise until you're laying in bed that night that for a while now, that's how you've been referring to this place.

As home.

O -- O -- O

Aside from the occasional uncomfortable dream, these past few months have been remarkably incident-free, where it concerns the unfortunate topic of your extended family. You'd changed a lot of things when you'd made the decision to move to this island; your phone number, your email addresses and all your passwords, your social media... all of it had been combed through and either switched out or slimmed down. This place is an escape, a place of refuge for you, and that's how you want it to stay.

Unfortunately, the universe isn't always on your side.

It's a rainy afternoon when you receive the call, and you're so fixated on watching the way the rain falls in thin sheets over the ocean that at first from the first floor patio, that you miss it. They don't call again, but a message sets your phone off a minute or so later, and that catches your attention.

Of course, the second you read it and see who it's from, it does more than just catch your attention.

You're not someone prone to many episodes, and you've become adept at self-soothing. But as your eyes begin to stare unfocused at the message and you feel your chest constrict, diaphragm pushing against your lungs, you realise distantly that this is more than you just being momentarily overwhelmed.

You get a bit lost in the moment, lost in the sensation of light-headedness that suddenly washes over you, so much so that when a voice sounds distantly, muffled as though you're listening to someone speak to you from the depths of a pool, you barely even register it at first.

"Hey, y/n, have you seen--"

Still, your eyes are stuck on the message; you don't even notice the way your fingers had begun to tremble while holding the phone until a hand brushes your arm, a figure in front of you blocking the light from beyond the porch.

"y/n, hey, are you.... look at me. y/n, look at me."

Oh, that's a voice, and you do as it says without even a single thought flitting through your head. Looking up, you're barely even as surprised as you should be to see Yoongi standing there, a look of concern spread across his features, brows drawn together as he regards you. You feel a warm touch against your hand, phone tugged from your grip to be replaced with his own. Both your hands are now in his hold and he uses it to ground you, even if just for a moment.

"Can you do me a favour?" Yoongi says, and his voice is so soft and soothing that you find yourself listening as attentively as you can right now. "I need you to breathe with me. I'm gonna count ten breaths, okay? Let's do the first one-- in..."

He inhales deeply, his whole chest moving from the magnitude of it, and you feel as though you're floating in your own head in the moment as you follow suit. Slowly, patiently, he takes you through each breath one at a time, making sure you inhale as big as he does and exhale as long as he does. By the time you reach ten, the light-headed feeling has faded and the constriction in your chest has eased, ever so slightly. As soon as you finish your tenth breath you sag slightly, letting out a gush of air.

"Sorry," you say, slipping one of your hands from his grip to cover your face. "Sorry, I just--"

To your complete and utter surprise, Yoongi's hand lets your other one go and in the next moment you feel arms slipping around your shoulders, bringing you close to his chest and letting your face rest on his shoulder. You see his fluffy tail from where your face is squished, catching glimpses over his shoulder of the way it curls calmly.

Once the moment of shock passes, you're unable to help yourself but to return the embrace, surprised by how much you needed this without even knowing so.

"It's okay, don't apologise," Yoongi says, voice still soft and calm. You sag against him, and your eyes burn not from the message that triggered your almost anxiety-attack, but from the sheer kindness you feel emanating from this man. "Happens to the best of us. Are you feeling a little better?"

You nod, because oddly enough you are, and he slowly releases his hold on you, easing back with an assessing look. Another apology rests on the tip of your tongue but you bite it back, knowing he would refuse it if it ever entered the air.

“I am. Thanks,” you say, eyes looking for your phone as you realise suddenly that it is no longer in your hand where you’d left it. Yoongi holds it up, handing it back easily; his gaze passes over the screen as he does so, and the look he gives you is one of empathy and knowing.

“Shitty family?” he inquires, and you nod, choosing not to look at your phone and to slip it straight into your pocket instead. You go to sit against the wall, facing the edge of the patio, and he joins you.

“I get it,” he says, lifting a hand to fluff up his grey-tinted hair before shifting his gaze out to the rain and its reunion with the ocean. “’Part from my parents, the rest of my… relatives… they’re, uh… they’re not so nice. Didn’t treat me all that well, or even my parents for that matter. So… I get it. You don’t have to elaborate if you don’t wanna, but I get it.”

You don’t really know what to say to that; not that you’re speechless, per se, but moreso that there is simply so much going through your head at once that you can’t seem to settle on anything to voice.

“Thank you,” you say again, sniffling as subtly as you can as you focus on evening your breaths and calming your heart. You feel something on your hand and look over to see Yoongi has placed his palm over your own, his face soft and comforting.

“It’s no problem.”

A different kind of ache, the sort that is tinged around the edges with bittersweet warmth, begins to make itself known amongst the turmoil in your abdomen, and in this moment you can’t quite decipher whether it’s a good feeling or a bad one. What you do know, though, is that you’ve never been more thankful to have had the fortune of meeting these boys and having them make room in their hearts for you, even just a little, than you are right now.

O – O – O

You can’t believe that all the time you’ve spent here has gone so fast, and that currently there is no more than a week before your three month deadline is up and your contracted stay at this house is to come to an end.

If you’re being honest with yourself… you don’t want to go.

When you’d first come to this house, you’d expected that you would have a nice time, but also that you would be eager to move out by the end of the three month period. You had no way of knowing how well you’d fall into routine here, how attached you would become not only to the residents but to the home, the place and the feeling it offers and the way it allows you to feel happier than you have in years.

You know that you have to leave, they’d only agreed to house you for the three months after all, and you also know that they seem to have realised your time here is coming to an end as well. You’ve caught them talking amongst themselves a few times, not quite whispering but definitely conversing about something that halts as soon as they catch wind of you anywhere nearby. You get the sense that they’re unsure how to approach the topic, and you understand since it’s a bit tough for you yourself. You decide to bite the bullet and do it for them, though.

You ask them to meet you in the living area, a week before you leave, to talk. You wanted to just… officially thank them, you suppose. They’ve done a lot for you, in the time you’ve been here, whether they realise it or not. They’ve helped you settle, they’ve shown you that there really is more to life outside the misery your relatives tended to create, and they’ve ensured every second you’ve been with them that you have felt welcomed, and included.

Truthfully, it means more to you than you know how to put into words.

Which is why it’s especially difficult for you to accept that you have to leave.

The expressions on their faces as they gather are a mixture between curious and somewhat apprehensive, with Namjoon, Jungkook and Hoseok bordering on nervous. You wonder why before realising they might not know why you called them here.

“Hey, thanks for gathering,” you say, attempting to keep it light and ensure the smile stays on your face. Of course, they all return is as they take seats across the room, some on the couch and others on the coffee table or the floor. Taehyung’s head tilts, tail curling lightly behind him.

“Um, I just wanted to say something to you—to all of you, while I could. I didn’t think I’d be able to catch everyone in the one room any time but on the weekend,” you muse, smile widening at the round of light laughter your joke elicits. You shift, taking a breath and grounding yourself through the motion of meeting their gazes, one by one.

“I wanted to say thank you,” you begin, voice softer than intended but not so soft that you’re worried their senses won’t pick it up. “Because when I moved here it was to get away, and start anew, and you guys… really gave me that. You’ve made these three months the best and happiest months I’ve had in a long time. I’m so thankful that you let me in, and welcomed me into your home and even into your lives. I don’t think I can word this the way I want to but… really. Thank you, so much. I know I have to leave in a week, but—”

“Oh!”

You halt mid-spiel, wide eyes moving to Taehyung as he suddenly sits up, holding his hands out. “So that’s what you wanted to talk to us about—we actually wanted to talk to you about something, too.”

Freezing, you simply blink, mind coming up blank as to what they could possibly want to talk to you about. Namjoon clears his throat when no one else follows up after Taehyung, averting his eyes before he gathers himself and meeting your confused look. “Well, you probably noticed we’ve been talking amongst ourselves a lot lately—I mean, I know you’ve noticed because you’ve walked in on us a few times, and we’re not very good at being subtle, but—”

“We want to know if you’d like to stay here—permanently.” Taehyung cuts his friend off before he can finish, apparently no longer able to hold the question at bay. There is an expression of pure, unguarded sincerity on his face, excitement lighting in his eyes. “We all talked it out and found that we want you to stay—all of us.”

“You fit,” Yoongi says suddenly, voice still soft but loud enough for you to catch easily. He offers you a gentle smile when you look his way. “We know that if you left, the house wouldn’t be the same after… it would be missing something. You haven’t been here long, but you’re kind of already part of our family so… please don’t go, if you don’t want to.”

Some of the others are pinning Yoongi with a surprised look that you suspect is not directed at what he said, but rather the fact that he said it. You’re too busy biting your lip and trying not to cry like a baby to notice all that much.

“Is that really okay?” you ask, déjà vu washing over you as you think to yourself that again, this sounds too good to be true. “Do you guys really want me to stay?”

Immediately, there is a mixture of nods and loud ‘Yes!’s and ‘Of course!’. You really can’t hold it back, you find, because the sudden flood of warmth and affection washing over your insides is more than you know how to handle. You sniff, unable to reach the tears fast enough to prevent their fall down your face.

“Will you stay?” Yoongi asks, head tilted. Regrettably, his tenderness makes more tears fall.

“Yeah,” you manage, wiping your face furiously, “Yeah, I will. Thank you.”

And that’s all the confirmation you need before your new family is tackling you one by one, replacing your sobs with laughter and making sure you know that from now on, you don’t have to cry alone, you don’t have to be sad alone. They’re here for you.

And it feels so, so nice.

a/n: thank you so much for reading! please let me know what you think and how it made u feel, and let me know u enjoyed it by liking and reblogging! feel free to even just send me an ask screaming! thank u! i love u !

[mintchocohip]

sub!bts as househusbands

╺ requested | the ot7 as househusbands!

╺ note | sub!bts x domme!reader. see each member for any notes!

TAEHYUNG ➜

note | roleplay

Visiting friends, putting on his errand boy hat, or wandering town with a camera, an empty stomach, and a pocketful of cash occupy chunks of Taehyung’s weekdays. He isn’t allowed to open his sub journal until three hours past noon—that’s the hour when he misses you the most. At the sanctioned time Taehyung opens the journal to today’s date and picks out a handwritten note delicately tucked into the pages. Today, he’s Maestra’s best student—recording himself practicing the new song you chose on his violin. “'I’ll do anything for Maestra. I would be her Cinderella,’” you’re finally home, and you’re sitting next to Taehyung on the couch reading aloud the journal entry he scribbled after sending you the recording, “'cleaning on hands and knees.’” Taehyung’s sheepishness at hearing you voice his fantasies is cured by a fluff of his hair and a fond kiss on his rosy ear. As you wash dishes with Taehyung later this evening you’ll contemplate tomorrow. Choosing these secret tasks is your prerogative. Still. Your husband always has amazing ideas. 

YOONGI ➜

notes | naked apron kink, mentions of pegging

Yoongi is the ideal house husband. He’s vigilant, hardworking, and resourceful. A need for time and space alone is never questioned. When your sleepy-eyed husband emerges from the solitude of his home studio, though, Yoongi needs tangible proof he’s making you happy. “An apron?” Yoongi glances down at the white sheath. He wandered into the kitchen to find you home from work with a shopping bag on your elbow. You’re holding the apron’s straps against his shoulders to judge the fit. “Cooking naked. Flying oil. Makes me nervous... I thought my little chef could use an apron.” Yoongi blinks. He knows he’s blushing. Usually, he doesn’t pull on clothes before waking up early to cook you breakfast and pack your lunch for work. Cooking for you is basic, respectful routine. It would be easier to toss on a baggy shirt than tie an apron. This gift mostly appears to benefit the person who strolls into the kitchen most mornings acting like you’re already hopped up on two espressos and daydreaming about giving him the strap tonight while you wake yourself up knowing full well the effect your naughty backhugs and whispered “good morning, baby”s have on his attempts to focus on stirring veggies in the frying pan, of course; but, Yoongi has a feeling he might enjoy it more than you do.

JUNGKOOK ➜

notes | mdlb, little!jk

Jungkook waited for the right moment expectantly. He sensed it in your aura. He felt it in the way you looked at him, listened to him, and held him in the weeks before. Something changed. It was a comfortable, gentle change. Jungkook cried when he proposed. He cried at the wedding. He cried when you said it would be better to stop renting dungeon space and instead find an apartment with a suitable extra room. Marriage was about romance, symbolism, and becoming yours. Jungkook knew his lifestyle of playing games and going to the gym all day wouldn’t change. You’re two self-sufficient people who fix up chores as they appear. Most days, Jungkook feels that vocally supporting your ambitions and treating the apartment like a laundrette are the most important things he can do. When you text him to say you’re coming home early and wondering if he could take out all of his littlespace things and set up the playroom before you’re through the door—shocks run up Jungkook’s spine. He gloats like your friend when he steals your snacks, and he thinks like a roommate when he asks if he can dedicate more closet space to his growing shoe collection. Right now, you need your partner. That special knowledge relaxes Jungkook with peaceful—dry-eyed—certainty.  

HOSEOK ➜

note | mommy kink

You didn’t know housework channels existed until Hoseok started one. The ‘mommy’ in his social media handle is cutesy but sincere. In the past Hoseok has always felt tingly and whole when you gave him a sarcastic “sorry, mom” after he scolded you for putting drain cleaner in the wrong cupboard or failing to tap down a coaster for a glass of water. Now, it’s what a legion of fans call the faceless, apron-clad man posting soothing clips of himself cleaning through every room of this gorgeous sunny apartment and, occasionally, grooming the puppies. You’ve never really looked at any of it. Hoseok appreciates that you have him so wholly you don’t need to. “Soft,” you mutter while laying in bed with him at night. You’re playing with his hair to make him smile. Hoseok knows a certain bedside drawer is off-limits from his urge to tidy and rearrange. When you roll over to open it he curls up inside. At some point this house gained two mommies. Only one Mommy is dignified with a capital M in texts through fluxes of dirty talk and reminders to buy new air filters. Only one of them decides when and how Hoseok gets off. Your husband enjoys organizing his days. For your sake, he’s even happier to surrender his nights. 

JIMIN ➜

note | lifestyle d/s

Watered plants, vacuumed cat hair, spotless surfaces, empty recycling, lines in praise of Mistress. Jimin sends you photos of today’s completed chores at the scheduled times and gets cute emojis in return. If he lived alone Jimin might spend all day playing with the foster cats and downing wine at brunch. As it is, he carefully considers a new color scheme for the bathroom. He needs this space to be pretty for you. Shopping with a wide open budget usually distracts Jimin into sending you pictures of a giant teddy bear and asking if you would be angry to find it in the living room when you come home. Although he flutters from amusement to amusement, Jimin is always home, relaxed, and wearing the clothes you like when he needs to be. Hanging up your backpack and taking off your shoes, following you into the bedroom, and kneeling at the edge of the bed to massage your legs and eat your cunt is ritualistic. Jimin makes amazing coffee. You lounge in bed, sip the mug he brings, and tell him what to order for dinner. Discipline earns its rewards. The reason you bicker with smiles on your faces about Jimin’s definition of “spotless surfaces” is absolute comfort. You know what you want from each other, and you want the same things.  

NAMJOON ➜

Lounging in the garden is a fine way to spend a weekend afternoon. Cool shade inside the wisteria tunnel is dappling Namjoon with light and shadow. You lean over the picnic tatami and clink lemonade cans with the man who created this masterpiece. He smiles shyly when he realizes you’re staring. You’re giving him that look. Once upon a time, discovering that you don’t care too much about your surroundings excited Namjoon. It’s a form of power he never thought he would have in a marriage. Perusing local furniture galleries and commissioning artists to furnish a home that suits his aesthetic sparked Namjoon’s creativity. Tempering compost, monitoring seedlings in the garden, and flecking walkways with wildflowers and willows brims him with encompassing adoration for life. Beauty is created in the wake of his passionate work. “Unbutton your shirt halfway.” You're taking a sip of lemonade, leaning back, and watching Namjoon follow your instruction. Buttons open somewhat shakily. He rests his hands and waits to hear your next idle thought on what he should do for you. The outlines of these moments cross your mind slowly and meander to your imagination. You don’t have the patience for gardening. You do have the patience to capture some of Namjoon’s beauty for yourself.  

SEOKJIN ➜

note | blindfolds

Your coworkers have met him at parties. Seokjin is a friendly, handsome man with savoir faire. A creative list of salacious reasons a man like that would drop his career forms behind your back. Seokjin scoffs when you relay gossip to him. He’s especially fond of the idea he’s a criminal witness skirting discovery. Trying the hobbies he never had time for, taking his little cousins to the aquarium, fishing weekends, signing up for classes at the local university, streaming liveplays out of his gaming room or cooking tutorials out of the fancy kitchen you funded—Seokjin savors it all with fresh-faced enthusiasm. Some days he just takes out the trash, folds laundry, edges himself, gets bored, catnaps, and checks his phone to see if you can call because he’s lonely today and nothing he could do compares to hearing his wife tell him what’s on her mind. There is an unwieldy desire inside Seokjin, despite it all. He needs to demonstrate the ways he cherishes, protects, and provides for you. Sometimes, it’s being the person you need to tell about your day. It’s being the person who cooks your comfort foods, provides warm hugs, queues your shows, and takes you on dates. Most often, it’s your kiss on his forehead as you adjust the blindfold and praise him sweetly. “You’re the reason,” you remind him with another kiss, “that I’m always smiling when I think about home.”

[rebelcourtesan]

Supporting Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss

I’ve seen a lot of people demanding when the next episodes of Hazbin Hotel is going to start.  Sad to say it’s going to be a while.  Hazbin Hotel has been picked up by A24 over the summer which is a HUGE accomplishment!  This is the first big step towards more episodes, but animation, especially with the skill we’ve see in the pilot is going to take time.

Which leads me to my first point.

1. Do not harass creators or VAs.  

Please, don’t litter their DMs or Twitter accounts with demands of when the next episode is coming.  Especially, the VAs who have no part in production other than providing voices to characters.  VAs are important actors, but the heavy lifting is done by the animators themselves.

Also, since Hazbin has been picked up, Vivziepop has to keep mum with details about the show.  We won’t be getting anymore crumbs about Hazbin Hotel itself for a while so please, don’t think her silence is her lack of interest.  Hazbin is her baby!  In order to protect the show, she may have signed contracts with A24 of not sharing information until the show is released.  Which is a GOOD SIGN!!!!  

Also, follow Viziepop, Hazbin Hotel, and Helluva Boss on Twitter for the latest of any announcements or releases!  Why ask when an episode is going to be released when they’re going to announce it on Twitter in the first place?  Trust me, as soon as Vivziepop is certain of a release date, she’ll tell everyone via Twitter.   

2. Rewatch anything and everything from SpindleHorse.  

Another method of support is to give views and likes to Vivziepop’s shorts, Hazbin Pilot, and Helluva Boss episodes.  Even if its playing in the background while you do chores or work on a project, the number of views help show people are still watching and enjoying the animation.  The views are in the millions which is a great sign to potential networks that HH/HB already have a large fanbase waiting to subscribe and buy merchandise.  

3. Purchase the Merchandise

All profits from the merch sales goes into paying animators and everyone involved with Helluva Boss eps, comics, and etc.  More animators and artists, means Vivziepop has more people working on episodes which will speed things up.  If we want more stuff, then we have to buy more stuff to support the show.  I’ve bought two sketchbooks and a pair of socks to help support Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss.  Thankfully, this doesn’t seem to be a problem as they often have items announced as sold out shortly after sales.  

4. Vivziepop has a Patreon

If the merch is too expensive or not selling anything you’re interested in, subscribe to Viziepop’s Patreon.  The money goes directly into production of shorts, animation, and other cool stuff.  For 5 bucks a month you get sneak peeks at upcoming projects.  We were even allowed to see the first half of the Alastor comic before it went live a few days later!  If five bucks is too much, there’s a 1 dollar tier.  Everything counts towards supporting the series.

5. Support Fan Creators

Between episodes of Helluva Boss and until Hazbin Hotel is released, fan creators are what keeps the fandom afloat.  There are AMAZING artists creating art and comics across Twitter and Instagram.  And there are quite a few popular fanfiction on AO3.  Follow them, complement their art, and best of all, pay for commissions!  With money!  Exposure doesn’t pay bills or rent.  With things as they are with Covid-19, there are lots of artists in need of money to help make ends meet or provide for their families.  If you can’t afford their art, support them on patreon or Ko-Fi.  Also, do NOT STEAL ART OR REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION!!!  And even if it’s commissioned art, ALWAYS, ALWAYS give credit!  

6. NO TOXICITY OR SHIPPING WARS

This is a big one for me.  Being toxic, shipping wars, or ship shaming has chased people off from fandoms.  I’ve seen it happen in Voltron Legendary Defender, She-Ra, and now I’m seeing it in Hazbin Hotel.  I’ve seen VAs for Voltron being harassed and receive death threats from supposed fans and towards the end of She-ra there was some backlash towards the creator over Entrapdak pairing.  

As much as I love Hazbin Hotel, bottom line is these are FICTIONAL characters.  It is not worth making someone feel bad, threaten, or insulted over which character kissing another character.  And using a petition to push a ship onto a creator is very poor taste.

Let me be clear, Viviziepop already has a story planned for these characters.  She likely already has the first season of Hazbin Hotel written up and only she (and possibly a handful of people), already know who is going to end up with whom based on how she wants the story to go.  Just trust her and let her tell her story.  Even if Angel Dust doesn’t end up with Husk or Alastor, or Charlie stays with Vaggie instead of hooking up with Alastor, or they all fall for characters we haven’t met yet, you can STILL SHIP WHO YOU WANT!!!!  

People are still shipping Katara and Zuko from Avatar and that show ended a long time ago.  Even in Voltron, people still ship Lance/Keith and Shiro/Allura.  It doesn’t matter if your ship isn’t canon!  You can still ship it!!!!

We all love the show!  Agree to disagree and just be fans together for Hazbin Hotel and support the creators!            

[peachyteabuck]

clear the clouds (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: after weeks of bucky feels down, natasha knows exactly who to call to make him feel better

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

words: 2,030

trigger warnings: sickening fluff, also - please don’t take kitten rearing advice from fanfiction

notes: this is a birthday present for the effervescent @m00nlightdelights​, who asked for bucky barnes interacting with kittens. happy birthday babe! 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Natasha was the one who called you – asking something many dream for but very few get to experience. It’s hard to transport that many tiny, wriggling animals across town and very few are willing to pay the exorbitant, arbitrary amount of money you had made some intern put on the website after the twentieth call asking about the particular service.

People, apparently, really want to rent a bunch of kittens for several different types of events – finals weeks at universities and rich high schools, bat and bar mitzvahs, once even a wedding. Why those event coordinators can’t rent service animals is beyond you, and why they always expect you to do these things for free is also a mystery.

No matter why those people wanted your kittens, you closed the service except for incredibly rare cases.

One of those incredibly rare cases, per the usual path of your life, involved Natasha Romanoff.

You owed her a favor from a few years back, when she made sure an ex-boyfriend of yours…well, for legal purposes you can’t talk about it, but Natasha made sure he never bothered you or your friends ever again.

Natasha’s got enough tact not to bring the year-long ordeal up – just said she wanted to “cash in” on your side of the bargain. You sighed into the office landline when she told you she was calling for her favor, the exhale so deep it was still audible despite the barking and scratching and the menagerie of other noises.

It takes you a second to collect yourself, to shove the memories back into that little box your therapist had you build and then tuck into the back of your brain.

Despite not being able to see her face, you can tell she’s frowning and has furrowed her brow. “You good?”

You nodded, then remembered how phones work. “Yeah,” you let out a small sigh. “Yeah, I’m fine. You want the kittens at Avengers Towers this weekend for a few hours to help that friend of yours-“

“Bucky,” Natasha interrupts you. “His name is Bucky. And you should go out with him.”

Despite still knowing how phone works, you roll your eyes. “Didn’t you just say he spent the last week bedridden because of depression. It doesn’t exactly sound like he’s in the right state of mind for a relationship.”

Your friend scoffs into the phone, shutting what you think is a thick book for dramatic audial effect. “And you spend fifteen hours a day at your shelter because it gives you an excuse not to see people. I don’t need you to marry him, I’m saying maybe a coffee date would be good for you.”

There’s a pause where you search for a sarcastic response, but Natasha beats you to it.

“Actually, no,” she says, voice dripping with a lovable dryness you can’t help but admire. “It will be good for both of you.”

Another pause while you recalculate your sarcastic response cortex. After a deeply silent thirty seconds, you give up.

“Fine,” you acquiesce. “But you and Wanda are helping me and you’re buying me lunch for that day and you’re helping me during adoption day at the museum next month.”

Somehow, you can hear Natasha’s wide and triumphant smile. “You got it, kid.”

And with that, you hang up before falling back in your office chair. You swear, that woman could convince you to do anything.

Fucking spies, you think before putting the event in the shelter’s e-calendar.

The day arrives both too quickly and not quickly enough – your brain caught between something akin to “existential dread” and “oh my God my friend is trying to set me up with her friend and what if it doesn’t work but what if it does” the entire week before the planned event. During the night before you down quadruple your normal dose of melatonin to fall asleep after spending three entire hours trying on all your clothes to plan the right outfit (in the end, you chose an unusually nice pair of leggings and a plan sweater along with boots cute enough to fool a man into thinking they’re fancy while still protecting your feet from the end-stage winter air outside.

(Also, the leggings and sweater are the easiest things to lint roll kitten fur off of you for, say, a date at an upscale coffee shop you normally wouldn’t even think of going to, but that’s nobody’s business and you totally one hundred percent did not think about that when trying the outfit on.)

You meet Natasha and Wanda at the shelter the next morning, you getting there before them to gather the necessary supplies from the back. Despite them promising to help you load your car with kittens and kitten-adjacent items, you still didn’t want either of them messing with the precious organization system you’d spent years perfecting (and years training interns and vet techs how to abide by it).

Luckily, with your precautions and time management – and despite Wanda’s need to kiss every kitten (yes, every kitten) as they were loaded into crates – you arrive at the infamous Stark Tower right on time.

Set up of the whole thing doesn’t take long, Natasha successfully leading the way through the maze of which is the expansive building. You pass a few people you recognize from Natasha’s stories and the news, and a few others who you don’t but still smile as they pass (whether they were just being nice or smiling at the kittens in the crates you were holding, you refused to decide).

It takes a few elevator rides, but eventually you get to the desires floor and room – Wanda knocking on the door after setting her Ikea bag of playpen supplies on the carpeted floor.

A response is nearly immediate. “Go away!” a gruff voice calls, muffled by the thick walls.

Natasha and Wanda both roll their eyes. “Shut up and open the door!” the former replies.

There’s no verbal response, but you do hear shuffling before the door opens to reveal a figure more brick house than man. His hair is messy, sweatshirt a size too large and solid black but with jeans that fit perfectly. His boots – much thicker and blacker than yours – are dirty.

“What do you want?” he grumbles.

Natasha remains unphased by the man’s demeanor. “We have kittens. Now move out of my way so we can set all this shit up and you can pet some cute animals.”

Bucky gives her a look and rolls his eyes, but steps asides and holds the door open for the three of you nonetheless.

Twenty minutes later, Bucky found in the middle of the four-foot wide pen, bewildered. He’s done a lot of things in his life, many of which would be impossible for (nearly) anyone else to accomplish. He speaks thirty languages (plus Morse code and ten variations of sign language), he’s hunted bears with his bare hands, he’s survived Russian winters and summers in the Amazon rainforest.

Yet, somehow, the thing that stunts him beyond reproach is a small play pen filled with about forty tiny, six-week old kittens that are all their own form of chaotic. Bucky doesn’t know where to look, let alone how to grab the ones that catch his eye. He’s terrified of crushing them like bug caught under a hardcover book, of breaking their tiny ribs or tiny legs or tiny necks.

He watched you intensely when you and Natasha and Wanda pulled them out of their crates, watching how you held them and which one allowed you to give them kisses and which one chased after the strands in Natasha’s ponytail. He noticed which ones curled up in small spheres in the corners of the pen, which ones immediately bopped about, which ones immediately sought out the bottle of formula you’d prepared and which ones nibbled at the liquidy wet food that had been scooped into a neon blue bowl.

Each tiny animal was different, and it amazed him.

There was this one cat, a fluffy little white one with one ear and splotches of buttery yellow seems the boldest, eyeing Bucky as if the man was this small cat’s Everest. The floral collar (one of those break-away ones, you had told him, meant to keep the kittens from getting hurt but allowing the rescuers to identify them by name and rescue identification number) has a small nameplate – a gold one – with “Squirt” etched into the metal.

“Squirt,” Bucky repeats under his breath. “Nice to meet you, little guy.”

The cat gives him a small, pterodactyl-like scream in response, as if the small animal is too young to speak in any other tone but “loud.”

“HELLO LARGE CAT,” he imagines the cat saying. “HELLO, I AM A SMALLER CAT. DO YOU WISH TO BE CLIMBED?”

Bucky smiles at the imagined conversation, allowing the brave creature to dig its tiny claws into the leg of his jeans just above his socked feet (he took off his boots when he arrived in the room, as per your request), the start to his magnificent journey.

“I do not mind being climbed,” the man answers out loud. For once, he doesn’t take in the entire room’s emotions and reactions before he says something – he just talks, even if that freedom from paranoia is only allowing him to speak to someone (or thing) that can’t talk back.

Squirt gets to Bucky’s knee before screeching once more, just as tenacious as when he was on the floor. “THIS IS MUCH HARDER THAN I EXPECTED,” is all Squirt says.

Bucky laughs, ignoring the several other kittens who are trying to claw up Bucky’s metal arm – each unsuccessful but determined to continue to try. “I’m a lot bigger than you realized, huh?”

Squirt takes a few more wobbly steps, tail high in the air, before looking to Bucky for guidance as the tiny creature stands on his thigh. “I WOULD LIKE SOME HELP, PLEASE,” Bucky interprets from the screeches.

He laughs, not moving. Another kitten, this time an equally tiny short-haired black cat named “Foosball” attempts to follow in Squirt’s literal and metaphorical footsteps, but gives up when she gets to Bucky’s knees. This, too, makes him let out a chuckle. “Don’t worry, kid. You’re doing just fine.”

You watch Bucky’s interactions with the kittens intensely – telling yourself you just need to make sure he doesn’t hurt them accidentally. In truth, he was handling them the best you’d seen anyone outside your shelter in a long time – gentle, firm, attentive. His pseudo-conversations warm your heart, and the only thing that breaks your concentration is one of the larger kittens walking up to the barrier of the pen to scream at you from inside her prison that she was hungry. Natasha and Wanda had long left, citing some bureaucratic problem that was probably bullshit but, regardless of accuracy, left you and Bucky alone.

“What does she want?” the man asks, body still frozen as Squirt climbs his chest.

“Butterfly wants to eat,” you reply while you grab one of the syringes with formula.

“Why can’t she eat from the bowl of food?” he asks. It’s not accusatory, just curious. It’s sweet, extremely so, and makes you realize that Natasha was right – this is good for him.

“At six weeks, most kittens are weened from their mothers or,” you pick Butterfly up and hold her against you as she suckles at the plastic nozzle. “In this case, syringes. But sometimes it just takes a little longer.”

Bucky hmms, turning his attention back to the kittens before he speaks again. “Do you want to get coffee?”

You swallow, looking at him look at Squirt. “Like…with you?”

Bucky nods as he sits up, the brave kitten now on his shoulder and several others vying for his attention. “I, uh,” he swallows. “Yeah. Coffee. With me. Like a, uh, a date. With me. Where we get coffee.”

You giggle a little, both at his flustered speech and at Butterfly’s post-feeding tiredness. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Cool,” is all Bucky replies, the both of you now focused back on the kittens.

Dammit, you think. Natasha was right again.

[alyasgf]

Just the Two Of Us?

Part 1 || Part 2 || Masterlist

Part 3 of Everything’s Gonna Be Okay

Summary- Adrien is excited for his date with Marinette, but unbeknownst to him, it’ll go differently than either of them planned.

Word Count- 1570

AO3

Begin

Adrien was practically floating by the time he got to his room.

“Plagg! She asked me out! Marinette asked me out!”

Plagg zipped out of Adrien’s pocket and watched his holder fondly as he threw himself onto his bed.

“I’ve been telling you since the beginning to go for pigtails. Good to know you’re finally listening.” He said before catching a large wedge of cheese that Adrien threw at him in his mouth.

“I told you to stop leaving cheese by my pillows!” He scolded the black kwami. Plagg laughed in response so this time Adrien threw a pillow instead, which he dodged effortlessly.

“Did your girlfriend ever tell you what you’re doing? Or better yet, when?”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” He blushed. “But no, she didn’t. She could hardly ask me out, I’m guessing it must’ve slipped her mind. I’ll have to call her.” Adrien mused.

While Plagg disappeared to relax for the night, Adrien texted Nino to ask for Marinette’s phone number.

After a little of teasing on Nino’s part, he got it, and immediately called.

“Hello?” Marinette’s voice came through the phone and he swooned a little.

“So when’s our date?” Adrien asked, not bothering with introductions.

“Adrien! I- how’d you get my number?” Her voice raised an octave after she realized who it was, and even though Adrien preferred the confident teasing Marinette, he had to admit bashful Marinette was absolutely adorable.

“Nino gave it to me when I realized you didn’t tell me anything about when I’d be seeing you.”

“You couldn’t have asked Nino? Not that I mind you calling! I think you’re amazing! I mean it’s amazing!”

Adrien swore he heard her throw her face into a pillow and chuckled.

“Thank you Marinette, I think you’re amazing too.” He teased. A squeak sounded from the other end of the phone.

“It’s tomorrow at 2.” She stuttered out, and Adrien could just envision the adorable flush on her face.

“Sounds good. I can’t wait to see you. Sweet dreams Marinette.”

“You too.” She said, dazed and dreamlike.

Adrien hung up the phone. He wanted to stay on longer, but he figured why talk on the phone when he could just go see her.

That night when Chat Noir swung by Marinette was off in a distant world, constantly spacing out with a lovesick expression Adrien was all too familiar with.

———————————

The next day Adrien was late by nearly half an hour. He warned Marinette of this as soon as he saw the traffic. So, he was surprised to find that the only one there was Marinette.

As he walked up he could hear Marinette angrily whispering into her phone. As he got closer he could just barely make out what she was saying.

“... was your plan all along! Did you even plan on coming?” She whined into the phone. “I can’t be alone I told you this..... Well that’s the problem, I don’t believe in me! You’d better get over here I-“

“Marinette?” He called, interrupting what seemed to be a heated conversation. “Is everything okay?”

She spun around, dropping her phone to her side. “Adrien! You’re here. On our date! That I invited you to!” She said in a strangled tone.

“Yes?” Adrien could never really understand her, but he loved her anyway. “Where’s Alya and Nino?”

Marinette lifted her phone and placed it on speaker.

“Yeah where are you guys?” She said passive aggressively, as though she already knew the answer.

“Well Adrien,” Alya voice came in, cheery as ever. “It seems there was a slight scheduling problem. See Nino invited me to have lunch with him and he family last month and I completely forgot it was today! So it looks like it’ll just be you and Marinette.”

As she finished this Marinette lifted the receiver to her ear and said, “Sure will be!” Aggressively before pressing the red button.

“So just the two of us? Could be fun.” Adrien strode over to Marinette’s side and winked.

For a second, he saw her Ladybug side kick in as she rolled her eyes, witty comeback at the top of her tongue before she realized it was Adrien and not Chat Noir. Immediately a blush took its place upon her face.

“What’s the plan for today?” He asked as Marinette began to walk down the sidewalk with him in tow.

“Well, the ice rink is just around the corner and no date is complete without André’s.” Then she caught herself. “If that’s okay with you of course!” She added quickly.

“I think it’d be pretty cool.” Adrien said, side eyeing her to see if she’d catch it. There was a beat of silence before he received a light punch on his shoulder.

“That was horrible!” She laughed. “I didn’t know you were the pun type.”

“Everyone should be.” He replied simply. It seemed jokes were the way to calm her nerves. He made a mental note of this before continuing.

“Are you doing better?” He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to bring up her mental wellness, but he genuinely wanted to know how his bug was doing.

She sighed. “I’ve been trying to know my limits. Saying no to commissions is hard, but juggling them with my other responsibilities is really what pushed me over the breaking point. So yeah, much better now.”

She stopped in front of the rink.

“We’re here!” She announced, hands on her hips as though finding it were a huge accomplishment.

Adrien laughed before taking her hand and pulling her inside.

They rented their skates and sat down before putting them on.

“Remember the last time we were here?” She asked, pulling on her skate.

“Yeah, all fun until Frozer was akumatized.” Adrien replied. He wanted to steer the conversation away from Kagami, away from Luka. This day belonged to them, and them alone.

“Yeah crazy day.” Marinette replied carefully ending that conversation.

Adrien could tell she was treading lightly, as she often did when akuma attacks were mentioned. He now knew it was so she wouldn’t accidentally let anything slip. Funnily enough she avoided the topics fully to minimize any lies. That was something Adrien could relate to.

As he finished lacing his skates, he stood up and reached a hand out to Marinette, who took it with a blush.

The skating was a little clumsy at first, but as they got used to each other they began to sync up. It reminded Adrien that they were partners, whether she knew it or not.

Marinette seems to be more comfortable with him, which he loved. Still, teasing her was just too much fun.

“Wow Marinette your eyes look gorgeous in this lighting.” He said, earning a blush from the girl.

He smirked, and she caught it.

“Hey! You’re doing this on purpose!” She accused, still blushing profusely, but now sporting a false expression of anger.

“Guess you could say I’m on thin ice.” He quipped.

She rolled her eyes before adding, “Very thin ice Agreste.” Before speeding up slightly, but Adrien could see her trying to hide a smile.

———————————

They skated for a couple of hours before Adrien suggested they go for that ice cream.

They both blushed as they received their ice cream from André, blackberry and peppermint.

They walked towards a bench overlooking the Seine and sat beside each other to share.

They sat in comfortable silence before Marinette broke the spell.

“Adrien,” Marinette’s voice was laced with worry and Adrien tensed, unsure of what was to come. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Adrien’s eyes widened, but he nodded for her to continue as he took another bite of the blackberry ice cream.

“Before this goes anywhere you have to know, there’s some things that I won’t be able to fully tell you, some truths you can’t know. I promise I’d never lie to you unless it was absolutely necessary. That’s the reason me and Luka didn’t work out, and I understand if you can’t accept that.” Her voice cracked as she said the last sentence. She looked down toward the sidewalk tears welling up in her eyes.

Adrien couldn’t bare to see her look so down, he’d seen it before and it broke his heart every time. He put the ice cream down beside him and took her head in his hands.

In her eyes he saw a brief flash of shock before he leaned in.

He caught her lips between his, and she let out a small gasp before relaxing into his touch. She tasted like their ice cream with a hint of something uniquely Marinette.

He pulled away and held her in his arms.

“So it’s ok?” She asked, tone still laced with doubt.

“Only if you can accept the same from me.” He whispered into her shoulder. He felt her relax in his arms.

“Okay.” She whispered back.

Despite the slight chill in the air, she was warm in his arms. Her weight against him was comforting and everything felt perfect.

End Notes- I figured I couldn’t put them in a relationship based on post season 3 without resolving a few of the problems in episode 1 and 2 of season 4 so there’s that! Just letting you guys know I have two exams next week so slight chance there won’t be an update😅

[bliss-e-learning]

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[solesurvivorpaigeargot]

why do you do sketchy saturday? not like its a bad thing just seems like you could do better offering dollar commissions or something

I do Sketchy Saturday because it makes people happy. 

Because minors without credit cards can participate and see their OC, possibly for the very first time, outside of the game’s engine. 

Because people who are broke as hell and would guilt themselves out of something cheap, even as cheap as a dollar commission, can have something that brings them joy without a price tag or associated shame of paying for something ‘frivolous.’ 

Because it improves my practice. 

Because it connects me to other creators. 

Because it validates other creators who aren’t making a lot of money, but do make others in their sphere happy with their work. 

Because it makes this tiny corner of the internet a better place to exist. 

Also, I operate from a place of privilege. Unlike a lot of others I’ve met on Tumblr, I’m not balancing on the edge of not being able to eat or possibly not making rent. I’m not suuuuper secure, but I am getting by, and I have a lot more assistance and safety nets than most. There are a lot of commission artists who provide amazing work at great prices, some of which I’ve been lucky enough to meet through the Sketchy Saturday event [ @artyhylian , lookin’ at you] who need that money a lot more than I do. I think of myself less as someone who is part of the commission game and more as a cheerleader. I’m here to do my little sketchies, cheer folks on, and foster a greater sense of acceptance and comradery within the community. 

If peeps wanna send me a tip because I did something that made them happy, I have a Ko-fi for that exact purpose. That’s about as far as I go XD

[zarcake-writes]

Love of Three - Part 2

Ok, soo this was supposed to be out a loooong time ago. But life happened and this got pushed back. Thank you to the wonderful @fatedeniedhope for commissioning me and for being so understanding. 

Part 1

The invitation arrived two days ago and caused quite a stir. The deliverer was not a person but a rather stubborn crow. Or raven. You’re not entirely sure what the difference between the birds is. 

When someone tried to take the invite, to see who it was addressed too, the bird began to caw and fly around in circles, just out of reach. Only when you appeared did the bird calm down. It landed and hopped towards you, letting out a low crooning noise and presenting the envelope to you. Your name was written on the front in elegant cursive. 

The envelope contained an invite from Shiver to return to the King’s palace.

Which is how you found yourself in a familiar carriage entering the Pumpkin King’s realm for the second time. Anticipation, excitement, and fear bubble under your skin. Shiver made it seem like you would be visiting the palace again, but you never expected it so soon. It hasn't even been a full week since the party. Was it just going to be you alone with Shiver? No, it couldn’t be that. There must be other people there. Right? 

As the carriage rattles on, you wonder if you should have declined the invite. Sure, you’ve been a few powerful fae’s plaything and pet, but those didn’t last long. But they were not as powerful as Shiver or even the King himself. Could going there be a trick? A trap? That way they could take advantage of you? Hurt you? Eat you? Or was this just an invite to a small social gathering? 

You’re about the tell the driver to turn around when it comes to a stop. The door is opened, and Shiver is standing on the outside, wearing the same outfit as last time.

He bows and holds his clawed hand out for you to take. You take it and step down. 

Shiver says your name. “It is so good to see you again.” 

“You as well, Shiver.”

“Come, let’s go inside.”

Shiver escorts you into the palace. Through the massive front doors, then down a side hallway before the main hall, and into a small room.

The room is small and cute, yet the only people in the room are Shiver and yourself. There’s a table full of a variety of foods and drinks. The floating pumpkins from the party are here as well, but none of them have lit candles. A window takes up the majority of the far wall, giving you a wonderful view of the surrounding area and realm. 

“Wow, this is beautiful,” you said.

“I’m glad you think so. I wanted to make sure you liked it. However, I do not know what food you enjoy, so I asked for a variety of things to be made for you.” 

“Shiver, you didn’t have too.”

He holds up his hand and shakes his head. “Yes, I did. Now, would you like to take a seat?”

You smile and nod. Shiver pulls the seat out for you and proceeds to serve you. It throws you off because no one has ever treated you like this. Does he feel bad about what happened to you at the party? Did King tell him to do this? There’s no way a fae would ever think of treating you, a human, this way. 

When you’ve eaten all you could, you turn to Shiver. He sits up and tilts his head expectantly. 

“You do not eat?” you asked. 

“I do, but this meal is for you.”

“What if I wanted to share with you?”

“I will need to apologize then because I will be unable too. My mask, you see.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why do you wear it?”

Shiver shrugs. “It’s because I am so handsome that women just fall at my feet, begging for my love.”

You scoff.

“It’s true!” Shiver looks around, as if to make sure the two of you are alone, then leans in close to you to whisper, “King is jealous, so he makes me wear it.”

You laugh at that. “You’re silly.”

Shiver shrugs, but you hear him let out an amused noise. 

You look down at the plate then back up at him. “Shiver, why was I summoned?”

“Oh, because I wanted to see you again. I apologize, was it too soon to ask you here? King mentioned I should wait a few days longer, something about it showing restraint. But I stopped listening to him soon after. And I wanted to see you. Was I wrong?” 

“No. But why do you want to see me again? Is this because of what happened at the party?”

“Partly, but I think you’re an interesting woman. I want to know more about you.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” He stands and holds a hand out for you to take. In the light of the room, his claws glint. “Will you let me learn?”

It takes you a moment to reply. Shiver is massive and intimidating. With the claws, mask, and those strange vials strapped to his chest, he looks like a spirit that would haunt a winter wonderland. But he doesn’t make you uncomfortable, you don’t fear him. It’s a shock when you realize you trust him.

Swallowing thickly, and hoping this isn’t a mistake, you take his hand and whisper, “Yes.” 

“Wonderful! Come, I have something else to show you.”

Shiver escorts you out of the room, his coat billowing out behind him. His excitement is palpable and leaves you giddy. For a moment, you feel like a child again. Running through the house with a friend who is eager to show you their new toy.

Shiver brings you both to a stop in front of two tall, dark red doors. There are bronze vines and leaves embedded in the door. The flowers are made out of clear crystal that emits a soft, clear glow. It’s beautiful, you think.

“The door is nice,” Shiver begins, “But it’s not what I want to show you.”

“What else could more amazing than this? I’ve never seen crystals like that before.”

“The King got them from a friend. Her island is one of the only places these crystals form.”

“They’re beautiful.”

Shiver takes both your hands in his and turns you towards him. He’s so tall, with such massive shoulders and a broad chest, that you barely reach his shoulders. In the light from the crystals, his mask shines, and his blue coat looks brighter. 

His head tilts and he let out a soft sigh. “They’re not as beautiful as you, my sweet flower.”

You smile and look down, doing your best to ignore your burning face. “I bet you say that to all the people you bring here.”

“No.” Shiver grasps your chin between his fingers and angles your head up. “I’ve never brought anyone here. And your beauty compares to no one else. Human, fae, demon, or any other creature, you outdo them all.” 

The flutter in your stomach and the pounding in your chest makes you feel silly. Part of you thinks he’s lying and that he’s probably said this to every person he’s met. Yet the sincerity in his voice makes you think otherwise. But do you dare hope? Do you dare think he means what he’s saying?

You clear your throat and take a step back, ignoring the way your insides feel. “So, what’s more, amazing than this door?”

“What’s behind it. Close your eyes, my flower.”

You scoff. “You and your doors.”

Shiver laughs while you cover your eyes. The doors creak open and he guides you inside by the shoulders. You don't hear the doors shut behind you.

Shiver continues to guide you forward and finally pulls you to a stop. He stands close behind you, his body is cool and solid. His presence is comfort you have never known before. 

“Ok,” he said, right beside your ear, “Open your eyes.”

You do slowly, unsure of what you’ll see. But like the night of the party, the sight takes your breath away. 

You and Shiver stand in the middle of a library. It’s massive, with several levels and thousands of bookshelves that hold thousands of books. There are comfy chairs and couches scattered all over the ground floor. Several long tables, meant for research or numerous people. A grand staircase leads to the second floor. Beside the staircase is an antique-looking elevator.

Along the walls are many windows. Some are open while others are shut. The entire library is bathed in natural light. The floating pumpkins and the massive chandelier are unlit, but you assume when it's dark these are the only sources of light for the library. 

“Oh wow, this is beautiful!”

“Isn’t it? I prefer the garden, but I suppose this is fine as well.”

You scoff. “Fine? Shiver this place is amazing. I’ve never seen such a library.”

Ravens were flying here and there. Some have scrolls or books clutched in their claws, clearly returning or removing books. A few of the birds were working together to lift a massive book or to find something on the shelves. 

“Those birds, what are they doing?”

Shiver follows your gaze. “Ah, the King’s ravens. They spend much of their time here in the library, but they also deliver messages for him. A raven delivered the invite to you, yes?”

“Yeah, caused a commotion at the house.” A few ravens fly out of the library through one of the many opened windows, books in their claws. “Where are they going with the books?”

“The King doesn’t use the library often, so he rents his books. He has some special works hidden here that people want to read or study. So, someone will send in a request and the birds will deliver. They also pick up books when someone is ready to return it.”

“What if someone is late?”

“The birds simply take it back and they need to pay a late fee. Not many are late.”

“And if someone refuses to return the books?”

Shiver laughs. “The ravens always get the books back.”

Something about that makes your hair stand on end, but you nod and look back at the birds. One lands on the tiled floor in front of you and looks up at you. Its head is tilted to the side like it’s waiting for something from you. There’s an intelligent look in the bird’s eye that reminds you these are not normal birds. 

“Shiver?”

“He wants to know if you need help finding anything.”

“Am I allowed to see the books?”

“Of course. It’s why I brought you here. What would you like to read? Something historical? Educational? A book on geography? Or perhaps,” Shiver takes a step towards you and leans down so he can whisper in your ear, “Something romantic? With a touch of erotica?”

His voice is so low and raspy, and the hands-on your waist urge you to fall against him. And you want to, gods how you want to just give in, and allow Shiver to touch you. You can imagine it, his claws trailing up your dress, cutting the delicate cloth to ribbons, and revealing your soft skin hiding beneath. You want him to pull you apart and make you into something new. But you resist and pull away, your face burning.

“C-can the bird make some suggestions?” you asked with a shaking voice. 

The bird caws in reply and flies off. Shiver takes your arm and escorts you towards a nearby table. He says nothing about what he whispered in your ear, only pulls out a chair for you. He takes a seat beside you; his clawed hands rest on the dark wood. You don’t comment on what he did or whispered, just focus on calming your pounding heart and the massive library around you.

The raven makes nearly a dozen trips back to you, each time a book is carefully held in his claws. All the books vary in size and content. Some are detailed histories on entire fae families and the different courts. A few are focused on human dynasties; the rise and fall of great empires you have never heard of. But most of the books are simple stories, whether they are based on truth or simple fabrications, you don’t know. You don’t even recognize the authors.

You spend the next hour sifting through a massive book on constellations you have never seen or heard of, like the griffin and the Serpent Queen. Even the stories that surround the supposed formation of these stars are unfamiliar to you. A queen sacrificing herself for her people, then being immortalized in the stars by her lover? Tragically beautiful but so foreign.

Beside you, Shiver flips pages in another book. His chin rests on his hand, and his face is tilted down, focused entirely on the book. He was so still you thought he was asleep for a moment, but then he turns the page. 

The raven lands beside you on the table and watches you. His head is tilted to the side and he lets out a low crooning noise. 

“He wants to know if you have any questions?” Shiver said.

Shiver is sitting up straighter, the opened book still in front of him. His gaze, though, is on you.

“Well, I do actually. Are there more books in here about this Serpent Queen?”

The raven caws and bobs his head then turns to Shiver and lets out a croak. 

“He said there is a huge section on her. Do you have anything specific in mind?” Shiver explained.

“No. Could I… I go with him to that section? And explore the books myself?”

Shiver laughs and nods. “Of course! Follow the bird. I’ll be right behind you.”

The raven takes off and guides you through the many bookcases. The first floor of the library is so massive that you worry you’ll get lost among all the books. Yet the bird doesn’t get too far ahead. Sometimes he’ll circle back for you or land and wait for you to catch up before flying away. 

You keep expecting to reach the end of the library, a solid back wall, or a wall of bookshelves. But there is no end. Just bookshelves and bookshelves. And that’s only the first floor of the library, you haven’t even seen any of the other floors. 

The raven leads you to an eight-foot-tall bookshelf that stands among dozens of other bookshelves. How the bird knew this was the spot, you don’t know, but you don’t question the bird. It’s perched on a shelf and caws, clearly pleased with itself.

“This is the shelf?” you asked the bird.

The raven bobs his head and caws. 

“This entire shelf?”

The raven repeats the action.

“And I can look at all the book on this entire shelf?”

The raven caws then fluffs his feathers and settles on the shelf. As if he knows you’ll be here for a long while.

You begin browsing the shelf, grabbing any book that interests you. All the books are about the mysterious Serpent Queen, some talk about her life and the people she ruled. A few of the stories go into her lineage. So many theories on who her parents might have been, and how many children she may or may not have had. Others talk about her love life and the many lovers she potentially had. What interests you, though, is the lover that supposedly placed her among the stars. 

As you browse the books, searching for the book to answer your questions, you hear someone clear their throat behind you. You turn, expecting to see Shiver, but drop the book you’re holding when you realize it isn’t Shiver.

Standing behind you, as intimidating and terrifying as you expected him to be, is the Pumpkin King.

He’s tall, like Shiver, but instead of wearing blue, he’s dressed all in black. His long black coat is frayed at the ends, and his pants are tight against his thighs. His chest is covered in buckles and straps, but they do nothing to hide how broad his upper body is.

However, most shocking of all is his face. He isn’t wearing a mask and a hood like Shiver. There’s just a flame where his head would be, but there is the faintest outline of a face hidden within the flame. For some reason, you expected a pumpkin head or some kind of mask.

You quickly curtsy to the King, praying you didn’t insult him by dropping his book and staring at him like a fool.

“Your Majesty, I apologize. I didn’t see you there,” you said, still not looking at him.

“There is no need to apologize. Please, you are my guest, stand.”

You do so slowly and look up at him. He steps towards you, then bends over and retrieves the book you dropped. 

He studies the front cover for a moment. “The Serpent Queen. One of the most famous of all queens. Why the interest in her?”

“I-I was reading a book on constellations and she was mentioned.”

He nods then hands you the book. “Are you looking for anything in particular about her?”

“Well, I wanted to know if there was anything about her being turned into a constellation. But,” you glance up at the bookshelf, “I was struggling with finding the book.”

The King looks up at the sleeping raven. “And he was no help?”

“I didn’t ask him for help. He’s sleeping.” 

King grunts. “Sleeping on the job. But, no worries, I am here, so I shall help you.”

“R-really?”

“Of course. You are a guest in my home. Let’s find what you’re looking for, yes?”

True to his word, King helps you find the books. He keeps a respectable distance between the two of you, but he’s never too far, always an arm’s length away from you. Yet, when he hands you a book, his fingers graze yours. It’s never for longer than a second, and even though he wears gloves, there an electric feeling in his touch. 

He makes no comment when your fingers touch. You think the feeling might just have been in your head, and the initial touch was an accident. But the King does not adjust his hands, so every book he passes to you, his fingers bump yours. 

King doesn’t speak much. He grabs the books, hands them to you, and tells you what each book is about.

“Have you read all the books in the library?” you asked.

“Most of them, yes.”

“Do you have a favorite book? Or genre?”

King stops for a moment, then turns towards you. “I do.”

“What is it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Maybe,” he begins slowly, “I’ll show you one day.”

That confuses you. Why one day? But before you can ask him, you hear loud footsteps behind you.

“There you are,” Shiver said, as he comes around the corner of a bookshelf. He doesn’t seem all that surprised to see King with you. “Your Majesty, how are you this wonderful day?”

“Shiver,” King simply said.

“King is treating you, well, yes?” Shiver asked you.

King’s flame glows brighter as if he’s offended at Shiver’s suggestion, but King makes no verbal comment on it.

“Yes,” you said quickly. “He’s been helping me find some books.”

Shiver stands close beside you. “Ah, of course, he would. King knows every book in this library.”

“I will take my leave,” King turns to you. “It was a pleasure to meet you, my dear. You are always welcomed in my library.”

“Oh, thank you, Your Majesty.”

King nods. He turns on his heel and disappears among the bookshelves. 

“Did I upset him?” you asked.

“No, my flower, you didn’t. King is just… a prickly person.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have brought me here.”

Shiver looks down at you, then takes your hand in his. The claws are still so very gentle against your skin.

“Do not take it personally, my flower. If King didn’t want you here, the ravens would not have been helping you. And he would never have shown himself to you, or even help you find the books you were looking for.”

You nod and let Shiver guide you back towards the table near the library entrance. The three books King found for you are pressed close to your chest.

Shiver pulls out your chair and takes a seat beside you.

“So,” he begins, “How was it meeting King?”

“Kind of scary at first. But he was helpful.”

“What was scary about him?”

“Well, the stories about him make him seem like he was a monster. He wasn’t though, at least not to me. Only very quiet and helpful.”

Shiver nods and leans in closer to you. “Did he mention what his favorite books are?”

“No, but I did ask. He only said maybe he’ll show me one day.”

Shiver lets out a low laugh and nods his head. “I thought he would say that.”

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s not my place to say. That’s the King’s secret to share with you. But I do think it’s funny you asked him.”

You smack Shiver’s arm. “Don’t make fun of me. Or him.”

“I apologize.”

Two hours go by, and it’s time for you to go home. Shiver, like before, escorts you to the front of King’s palace. There’s a carriage waiting for you again, with the mysterious hooded driver.

Like before, Shiver helps you up into the carriage and takes a seat beside you. You rest your head on his shoulder and breathe him in. 

“I’m glad you spent the day here,” Shiver said. His voice is just above a whisper like he's worried about breaking the calm in the carriage.

“I am too. Thank you, for showing me the library.”

Shiver laughs. “You’re welcome. I hope King didn’t scare you away.”

“No, no, he didn’t. I’m glad I got to meet him. It is his home, after all.”

When the carriage arrives at your home, Shiver helps you out. And just like the first time, he walks you up to the front door. 

“Thank you, for having me over,” you said.

“Thank you, for coming and accepting the invitation. I’m glad we got to spend time together.”

You look up at Shiver and smile. His head tilts to the side, and you know he’s smiling back down at you. For a moment, you want to kiss him. Even though he’s wearing a mask, and you’ve never seen his face, you don’t care. You want to kiss him, to give into whatever has been brewing between the two of you.

But you don’t. You give him one more smile and step away from him.

“Until next time, Shiver.”

“That next time will be sooner than I think you expect.”

“What do you mean?”

Shiver laughs. “Well, for one, King really took a shine to you. Expect another invite from him.”

“I barely spoke to him.”

Shiver shrugs. “So? He likes you.”

“Did he? Or is he still trying to apologize for what happened at his last party?”

“That’s part of the reason, but he also likes you.”

You give Shiver a look. “Really?”

“Yes. Here,” Shiver reaches into his coat and pulls out a book, “this is how much he likes you.” 

Shiver hands you the hard-covered book. It’s beautiful. The cover is a deep wine red and covered in a gold filigree design. There is no title on the front, but when you open the book, the title is printed on the cover page: A Love Like Roses.

“What is this?” you asked Shiver.

“One of the King’s favorite books. He thought a love story might be more entertaining than a historical volume or some science book.”

“I… Can you thank him for me?”

“Of course.” Shiver takes your free hand and presses it against his mask as if he was giving you a kiss. “Until next time, my beautiful flower.”

“Goodbye, Shiver.”

He nods and walks towards the carriage. Shiver looks back when he reaches the carriage. He waves and then climbs into the carriage. You watch it roll away. Only when the carriage is gone do you enter the house, the book pressed against your chest. 

[descendantofthesparrow]

Commission work - Harry Hook x Reader - part 2 - the date

commission from @musicarose

=

Harry burst into Carlos’ room, pointing at dude “I NEED TO BORROW DUDE!” he yelled, panting heavily. Carlos slowly looked up from his laptop, blinking confused at Harry.

“why?” he asked, closing the device and standing up from his bed. “oh wait!” Carlos laughed “its Friday isn’t it?” he picked up dude from his bed on the bed and grabbed his leash.

“Luckily for you, I haven’t taken him for a walk today so hes still full-on energy!” he set dude on the ground and handed the leash to harry “but just so you know, there is a rent a pet place right outside of the grounds where you can rent a dog to walk them?”

Harry nodded “aye, but I know dude and duke get along so I don’t wanna risk anythin’ with another dog” Carlos smiled.

“that’s smart, alright, have fun on your date!” Harry gave a shy smile and nodded, heading out of Carlos’ room with dude.

Carlos started at the now-closed door in surprise “huh….he didn’t even deny it….(y/n) is going to be good for him”

=

You ran around your room, rushing to find an outfit. “duke, I have to meet Harry in half an hour and I've no idea what to wear!!”

Duke rolled his eyes and padded over to your closet, nosing it open and gently grabbing a white, blue, and pink sundress, he gave a soft ‘boof’

You spun around, a bright smile breaking on your face “oh duke that’s perfect!” you ran over and fished it out of the closet “and my boots would go perfect with it! Oh and my denim jacket!!”

Duke bounded around you, excitedly barking with your high energy.

“oh duke” you cooed, kneeling next to him and cuddling his head “what would I do without you~”

=

Harry took a deep breath, looking down at his clean red jacket and looking for any imperfections “harry trust me, you look good, she won't be able to look away”

He looked down, raising his brow at dude, who just grinned up at him “uh,” he muttered “thanks dude” the mutt nodded.

“no problem, now get in there, and then order me a puppachino!”

Harry laughed and shook his head, entering the café, glad he had chosen a place that allowed dogs.

A loud bark came from an obviously large dog and harry looked over, seeing duke standing at attention and looking at them, his tail going crazy.

Harry's world slowed down as you looked up, from the shoes to the top of your head, you looked beautiful.

“harry you made it” you cheered, the world returned to normal speed, harry swallowed, and walked over to you sitting across from you.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” he chuckled, dude slipped under his seat and laid down.

You shrugged “well I don’t know, maybe you and Uma had to do something last second?” Harry snorted and shook his head.

“no, If tha’ happened I would have texted yeh, and even then I would rather be her’e” a blush rose on your face, and you looked down at your lap.

Harry looked at the sketchbook in front of you, jaw-dropping a little. “woah yeh drew tha’?”

You nodded, picking up your sketchbook and handing it to harry.

It was a fashion sketch, depicting uma in a teal dress with gold trimming and designs and a seashell waist tie.

“wow, that’s really good! Where did yeh learn ta draw?” harry set the book down in front of you and leaned on his hands.

“my mother, Anita, used to work for Cruella as one of her main designers, and she still works as her own freelance designer to this day, and I just shared her passion for art I guess”

“well lass” harry chuckled, reaching out and taking your hand, rubbing his thumb on the top of your hand. “yer amazing, i’m sure if yeh showed up uma tha’ dress she would love it”

You giggled “well I was thinking of showing Evie ya know? She's her own designer and seamstress, and I just…that’s so inspiring and gosh I would love to get there someday an-sorry im rambling” you stopped, biting your lip and looking down at Duke who placed his paw on your thigh and whined.

You patted his head and smiled “no, no keep talking! I wanna hear about everything!” your head jolted up, blinking surprised at harry.

“r-really?..usually everyone yells at me to stop talking when I get excited” you sadly mumbled, Harry's face hardened and he narrowed his eyes.

“well they can ‘eff off, they don’ know what they’re talkin’ about, I could listen to yeh talk all day” harry realized what he said a moment later, a crimson blush building on his cheeks.

You giggled, covering your mouth “r-really? You can?” harry groaned in embarrassment and covered his face, but nodded.

--

Two hours later, you left the café, hand in hand, heading to the dog park to let dude and duke run around.

You two simply talked the entire time,

~so this is love~

You looked over to the side, there was a street singer, singing a love ballad. You smiled, humming along with them

~so this is love mmm~

Harry started to swing your hands between you, making you laugh and swing right with him.

~ So this is what makes life divine

I'm all aglow, mmm

And now I know (and now I know)

The key to all heaven is mine~

The music faded to the background as you made it to the park. You unleashed duke and dude, smiling as duke bolted off and began to play with a german shepherd and a border collie.

You and Harry sat on a nearby beach, your head on his shoulder as your hands were intertwined on his leg. “this has been wonderful harry” you sighed happily, “thank you for asking, it been a while since I've had such a nice time outside my dorm” you laughed.

“well thank yeh for acceptin’” Harry chuckled, “I probably would have been bored with the crew if it wasn’t fer yeh”

You snorted, content as you watched duke barrel over himself and drift, looking around confused as they landed.

You checked your phone, pouting as you noticed curfew was approaching. “its almost curfew, we should head back”

“aye” harry nodded, standing and holding out his hand for you to take, you grasped it and stood alongside him “I don’t what yeh to get in trouble.”

You smiled and nodded “thanks, DUKE~” the staffy perked up, bolting back to you, dude scuttling right after him.

=

As harry escorted you back to your room, you fished out your keys,  one single thought going through your mind.

“so this is where I leave yeh lass” harry gave you that flirtatious smile “until we meet again” you laughed and nodded, biting your lip before quickly leaning up and pressing a kiss to Harry's cheek.

“thank you harry, let's do this again yeah?” you backed into your dorm, duke rubbing against Harry's leg and trotting in.

Harry just stared at you, a blush rising on his cheeks “uh-uh ye-yeah! Right, next week?” he stuttered, a shy smile on his face.

You nodded and backed fully into your dorm.

“right next week, see ya!” you closed the door and leaned against it, knowing you had the biggest goofiest grin on your face.

Duke snorted, his pet was a romantic one, that’s for sure.

=

As harry arrived back at his dorm, he tried to keep the dorky smile off his face. But to no avail.

He leaped up in the air and punched it, spinning as he did so.

“hell yeah!!”

---end of part 2--

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[tangerinegod]

Hello! I am sorry to bother you but I am a senior getting ready for college this year. I am in the US and I wanted to major in the same thing you did, do you have any possible tips for me? I still haven't even looked for colleges that would be best for animation majors so I figured if you were up to giving out any tips/saying any basic ideas if you wanted to/if you had the time to then maybe I'll have a better idea! I apologise for if I sound weird! I'm tried to word it correctly but I can't 😿

hi!! i’m totally down to share my experiences! someone else also had some questions so i’m going to put them all together in this post haha, hopefully this helps! it’ll get pretty long so apologies ahead of time but art school is a lot to think about so i wanna be as helpful as i can around it, its a lot of time and money. I’m gonna put it all under a read more cus it is really really long!

i wanna start off with the fact that I had the privilege of attending school in a financially stable environment, my parents were/are really supportive so w merit scholarship i only came out with around 20-30k in debt and i also had housing support my entire time in school. they were ok with me focusing on academics so i didn’t hold a retail job unless i was out of school like summer/winter break. Ofc though i regularly take commissions/do merch/cons to try and pay for all bills that arent rent cus i did want to be financially independent where it was possible. I also did try and work during the semester but everytime i did my body would deff start to breakdown from the fact that i didnt wanna compromise schoolwork with jobs.. so just read ahead know this experience is from a student who was able to attend focusing only on school work for most of the time!

the biggest thing is knowing art school is not required to become a professional in either freelancing or industry! there are a huuuge amount of online tools and classes these days that provide the exact same education and for cheaper too. i think it depends on what experience you prefer/can handle/want but it’s definitely possible to make art/animation art your living without higher education. the thing that college will for sure give you though is the ability to meet deadlines, work even when you dont want to, and connections with peers+teachers. i think the connections part is invaluable because you’re basically coming out with a network of people you already know and who know you! 

also its good to know if you want to attend/can handle art school! it’s a lot of time and energy and students get burned out really fast. the best piece of advice i got before going was ‘if you draw every single day, even if its for only like 5-10 minutes or a doodle for a whole year you should be fine’ consistency is super key because you’re attending school to draw, and you’ll have to create work for stuff you aren’t excited for at some point or another. burnout is extremely real and the only reason i didn’t experience it was probably because i got super into drawing naruto fanart again inbetween sophomore and junior year! it helped give me something to draw seperated from school which is the only thing i was drawing for since i had entered rip. a heads up id also consider myself a workaholic so i fit in ok with the ‘art school’ environment but it is suuper unhealthy. if you are fantastic at managing your schedule then it’s definitely possible to take care of yourself! freshman year i got 8 hours a sleep a night and only pulled all nighters for some second semester finals at the end. sophomore year + up though i ended up prioritizing hw over sleep and like for sure, definitely shortened my life span. there’s another q down below where i’ll go more into detail but ya, be careful w ur work balance!

another tip especially for animation is knowing for a fact what type of animation you’re looking to go into, and what the school is offering. I didn’t think i’d get into art school at the time so i only applied to two places + decided if i didnt get into either id attend community to get credits out of the way while building portfolio. honestly? i did not do a lot of research LOL but like i did end up having the chance to tour and stuff! just know that each school will have a very different curriculum. The main differences are schools that prioritize 3D (cg animation, cg modeling, ect) and 2D/traditional (hand drawn, ‘oldschool’, digital or traditional based) this is a huge difference so make sure you do research for it! in most cases a 2D/traditional program will also offer 3D since it’s at the forefront of the industry animation wise rn. My school taught 2D but like hand drawn on physical paper 2D, frame by frame. while it was a good experience it’s super outdated because digital tools make it way faster + easier! i’d recommend looking for a program that is digital 2D over traditional 2D. 

if after your senior year covid is still affecting campuses in the US to keep them shut down i’d recommend attending a community college to get credits and then transferring into school. one of the negatives is paying money for gened classes when ur not there for them; if you can get them out of the way sooner and cheaper there is absolutely no negative + you could graduate earlier or use the extra time for better work or to work a job! 

these are all the general tips i think i’d give on like a broad basis of attending or not to think about? let me know if u have more q’s! someone asked q’s im answering below that go more into personal experiences + work culture so heres those:

- how many hours a week do u spend studying, in class, otherwise making art? like how much of ur life does it consume?

I was basically working on art.... 24/7! since i wasnt working a job at the same time i crammed as many credits as possible into my schedule so on avg i did 18 credit semesters (around 6 classes) art classes go for 6 hours and non art go for 3, so i’d spent around 30-35 hours in class a week! hw wise it varied on the class but combined it would be around 35-50 hours a week... im guessing? on average studio classes would have 8-10 hours of hw, maybe 5 for a light week, and gened classes 5 hours w them all combined. or this was probably how things were before junior year? junior+senior year i had thesis + everything else ontop.. i’d spend around 30-40 hours on thesis a week with other classes ontop of that bc my film was super long cus im a dummy! 

- is it hard going to art school n realising that altho u were probably quite talented… so is everyone else? Like. all of a sudden. ur not special and everyone seems as good as u, you know? More generally, how do u deal with comparison?

kinda?? i think instead of the idea of like you vs others it feels more of like a competition at first to be the best. this varies hugely on school culture though; my animation year was really friendly with each other and get along extremely well, so my answer to this is v different than some others who attended different schools. i think that the idea of ‘comparison’ only lasts a portion of the first year because at some point you realize that it’s not a who’s better as much as its a ‘these are my coworkers’ type thing? like healthy competition 100% because we’re all working to improve but i think most of us learned pretty early on that viewing each other as peers going into the same workforce helped a lot. also at some point everyone develops their own style/starts to develop their artistic preferences so there isn’t a way to compare whos 'better’ anymore? i dont think there ever is tbh because style is appealing based off of an individuals preferences. If anything realizing everyone else is also amazing makes you wanna work harder ig? or thats how i felt! it’s inspiring to be surrounded by so many people who create such amazing work. 

- is there a lot of workaholic culture? all nighter culture?

100000% there can be a workaholic and all nighter culture. i know people who avoided it and thats honestly fantastic because i fall super easily into that pit. sometimes i’ll pull all nighters on a personal project just because i really want to finish it... i am definitely considered a workaholic all the way through and its not healthy rip... i’d estimate at the worst i was pulling 2-3 all nighters a week and only 4-5 hours of sleep on the nights i didn’t? that was only for one year tho, after that i was like yeah ok this is really bad for my health in the long run LOL so i tried to cut it down to one all nighter a week and around 5-6 hours of sleep the rest of the week! by senior year my decision to cram in full semesters paid off and i was able to consistently get around 7 hours of sleep a night + no all nighters minus finals since my schedule was lighter despite thesis 😭 while there is that culture i don’t think people view it as like a badge of honor or something to be proud of anymore which is good, we mostly view it as a flaw of the art school system and something that needs to be fixed!!

- are you glad u did it? how did u know it was what u wanted?

i am glad i did it! i’m definitely in a limbo right now of if it was worth both my time, money, and my parents money rip but i think with what i got out of it i definitely wouldn’t be as far skill wise or knowledge wise when it comes to the art industry. i would say it was only worth it for be because i had so much support going in though so i was able to focus so much on improving. if i had only been able to put in part of the effort and not make full use of the resources provided i would honestly have a different answer.. 

i knew it was what i wanted when i realized i really couldn’t see myself pursuing a different profession happily! despite all the bumps and stuff im fully in love with drawing still and feel honored that it’s a field that can provide a living. my second profession choice was to go into culinary school? and third option i think going was into music cus i was also a band kid hehe.  

- how do u cope with ur hobby becoming ur job? how do u deal with art going from something u do for fun to something u do on command constantly?

i think seperating work art from personal art is important! in my case im doubling naruto into being personal work so i have something to fall back onto that isn’t work related. its been a hyperfixation for 12+ years? so drawing it at this point is just like personal art imo. some people have hobbies outside of art and only draw for their job! i think after attending classes for so long the idea of hobby turning into job feels extremely natural? also i enjoy doing it so thats a huge plus! 

sorry this is SO long but i hope i answered your guys’ questions! if you have more just lmk!

[bigskydreaming]

Thank you again and still for all the help and support! I really truly can not imagine making it through the past couple days without it, considering I spent most of it awake and in the bathroom puking from the constant migraines that come with your head not being happy about its bones not being in the right place. Stress aggravates them, or at least my awareness of them, and because of how little work there is currently and how expensive being broke and disabled in LA is, let’s just say, there’s been stress, lol.

I’m feeling a bit better today, or at least I’m making myself pretend that and act like that since I’ve got another appointment at that clinic where I get my juicy and tasty IV bags of nutrients pumped into me since I barely even CAN eat, physically, which combined with the lack of sleep and the nausea, like, also not a great combination.

So, I mean it when I say your donations and support have absolutely been invaluable, everything from a couple dollars to an anonymous message, like, its all amazing and appreciated and invaluable. Yeah. I already said that, whoops, anyway, BUT I DIGRESS.

That’s about all of an update I have there, lol, so in other news, I should be around more today since like I said, I’m feeling a bit better and have possibly plateau-ed on this latest pain level. (My super-annoying superpower....ever since I was a kid I’ve been able to adapt to increases in pain like a pro. As in, being able to manage/function despite it. Course, I still feel it, but give me a day or two to adjust to a new norm in how much my body hates me currently, and then I can power through).

So, like I said, I should be around more today, and I’ll probably be random as hell. Like I’ve mentioned before, my blog is where I spew literally everything from inane thoughts to fandom feels, since its like.....my only social outlet these past couple years and the only way I get to interact with people who aren’t doctors. Expect no pattern in topics until I find whatever sticks and keeps me focused on it enough to serve as a distraction from, y’know, the broke body and broke bank account.

SO! Absolutely feel free to hit me up about anything and everything. ESPECIALLY if you’ve made a donation or sent me something. Like, I know some people who have sent money don’t even follow me or know me at all and are just generous spirits who saw my post somewhere, but for any of you who have sent any kind of support just cuz you like, like me and my rambles, lol, totally feel free to drop into my messages even on anon and say what kind of posts or content from me you really engage with and would love to see more of. I can’t make any promises or guarantees, unfortunately, given I didn’t expect or plan on crashing so hard these last couple days, bleh, and just....literally, like, writing more of the kind of stuff or posts people who have helped me stay alive is pretty much the only way I have of kinda giving at least something back, so I mean, I am happy to pounce on anything in that direction. 

Again, just can’t make any guarantees given how unpredictable my life is and depending on how many people send requests or prompts or messages, etc, but I don’t delete anything of that nature and I usually get back around to stuff EVENTUALLY. For instance, I’m REALLY hoping to finish up two one-shots today, one that’s focused on Duke, Dick and Cass from that prompt you sent me a couple weeks ago, @zee-gee, and the other uh.....that umm, TW/X-Men fusion you commissioned way longer ago than my pride will allow me to admit in public @camelotpark, lol. And like, those posts you see me making to @russianspacegeckosexparty about the changelings project I talk about a lot, like.....Adam basically just sends me random thoughts and prompts about it all the time, and its like a running thread that’s easy for me to pick back up and sink into whenever I see a new one in my inbox and I’ve got enough spoons at the moment to dig in.

Also have a couple other things I want to respond to today while I have the energy and a destined-to-be-longer-than-it-needs-to-be meta about Dick’s positioning in narratives with various other characters and WHY I think it so usually works out that way, and I’m aiming to keep that more like....musing-esque than rant-errific, but uh, let’s see how that actually goes, lmfao.

Anyway, that’s what I have in mind for today, aside from my going to get my IV buffet at ten and emailing and calling people from listings about rooms to rent, but tbh, I might just end up being even more random and sporadic than usual, if I can’t focus on any of those long enough to stay sufficiently distracted today. (Like, my other annoying superpower as long-time followers have heard before, is my ridiculously fast metabolism. I know, “oh no, I’m so skinny, poor me,” but like....its never been about weight gain or loss for me, its about how fast my body processes various medications, meaning pretty much every painkiller I’ve ever tried is largely useless to me, or at most wears off in a couple hours.....whereas my ADHD meds actually provide me MORE relief from the pain than any of them. Basically, they let me actually focus on something OTHER than pain and not get interrupted/distracted by the occasional pain spike that likes to remind me its there and wants my attention......so I mean, I still feel everything that comes with my head being physically out of whack, but for the hours vyvanse is working for me, coupled with some heavy duty pain meds, I can like.....just sorta....not care about it for awhile. Like, it hasn’t gone away but its more shoved to the back of my mind at least. And all of that, I’m happy to stuff in a closet whenever I can, lol).

And that’s enough rambles for this post, I think. LOLOLOL, as if I have a quota. But yeah. Just wanted to express how much your support has meant and continues to mean, and like.....I’m still here and alive and crossing fingers that I’ll hear about an actual surgery date soon, but in the meanwhile like......I’m kinda stuck in a perpetual Limbo, one that’s largely confined to whatever is in hobbling distance from my bed of the day, and as much as donations help me physically, in remaining able to at least stay that way, just, any and all interactions on here help by keeping me engaged with the world on at least some level, and make it so I have stuff to think or talk about beyond my own situation and how I’m not a super huge fan of that.

(Okay, I shouldn’t say any and ALL interactions are appreciated, since I have my fun little runs of anon hate in my inbox, but I mean, all of the above is why they’re not really a big deal to me and never have been. Its like, dude, my own body has been trying to take me out for the past three years, and you think a few insults from an anonymous stranger are gonna do the trick? LOLOL, please. Tbh, the only real negative effect anon hate has on me is that it makes me a bit more snappish and quick to assume the worst than I’d like, when people @ me in a way that I misread as aggressive or in bad faith. I’m aware that my day-to-day temperment is a lot more irritable and open to fights than I usually like to be, as self-control is kinda a big deal to me, and my situation and stress and other shit kinda keep me constantly operating at a level best described as itchy, and none of that is an excuse for any times I read an interaction wrong and go for the throat. I just mean like.....I’m a very blunt and straight-forward person, and I do appreciate when people take a similar approach to me as it really helps keep those misreads to a minimum. Any time someone wants to engage with me in some way, I promise I am SO much easier to talk to if you just....put it out there, whatever it is. Its the games people play online (and in real life) that just frustrate the hell out of me and...yeah. Again, I’m not saying any of that as an excuse or a request for a free pass any time I fuck up an interaction or cross a line, I’m just saying, if anyone’s held back on interacting with me because they think I might snap at them or mistake it for them trying to start a fight, like......just be direct with me. Honestly, thats just....always gonna be more productive when it comes to me.)

But yeah. So that’s the current state of me and all that jazz. Again, I so appreciate everything everyone’s done to support me, not just these past couple days but over the course of these past three years as well. I notice and remember all of it, and its why even though I rant and complain and am critical about so much in society and fandoms and all that.....I really truly am a believer in the idea that there’s more good in people and the world than bad, and the bad just tends to be louder is all. It was especially loud for me the last couple days, the volume got way jacked up, but the goodwill from you guys has been more than enough to drown it out and give me some reprieve.

Alright, shutting up now. All done. The end.

[mystery-deer]

Commission (70′s Holt/Kevin)

  Raymond watched through half-lidded eyes as Kevin neatly pecked at his typewriter, mouth in a thin line of concentration, eyebrows furrowed. He was gorgeous, even more so due to his complete silence while typing.

 In his precinct he had to deal with so many people mouthing the words, mumbling along or just plain reciting whatever they were writing out loud. It was maddening in a way that was difficult to notice until you were somewhere silent. Such as your boyfriend’s apartment.

He was renting somewhere quiet but pulsing, where the sidewalk rumbled under their feet and you could see the silhouettes of people dancing from the windows. Raymond enjoyed his visits but couldn’t imagine living there. His own apartment was much quieter. “That’s because you live in a building largely inhabited by senior citizens.” Kevin had protested when Raymond brought it up, staring out the window and sipping coffee. He didn’t know how he did it but Kevin always made any coffee Raymond bought him taste good. 

“At least my building doesn’t reek of narcotics.” He’d countered. “It’s not a narcotic.” Kevin had replied, lifting Raymond’s head by the chin and kissing him. Smoke slowly billowed out from his lips as he smiled softly.

“It’s for medicinal purposes.” Raymond felt himself begin to get hard but resolutely hummed and went back to shadow watching. “Nonetheless, my point still stands.” The conversation had ended there as Kevin went back to his previously interrupted work and Raymond kept himself busy by reviewing cases, perusing Kevin’s literature collection (It sent a shock of warmth to his heart to see him incorporate his recommendations), and going on a brisk walk.

“Hey, you’re the professor’s man aren’tcha!” A woman called from her too-small balcony. Raymond squinted. She was topless and seemed in the process of necking with a male friend who looked annoyed by the interruption. He rocked on his heels, feeling around in his pockets for change. Kevin had asked him to buy bread from the store. He wanted to get him something to surprise him though he didn’t know how much there would be to impress Kevin Cozner at a corner store.

“I’m nobody’s man.” He settled on, turning away from the woman and continuing to walk. She laughed and began to half-sing half-moan “Right on, right on, right on…” And the rhythm stuck with him as he walked through the puddle ridden streets, listening to his shoes squeak as he opened the door to the store. 

He bought white bread and in a dusty corner saw a shelf of porcelain figurines. Some were far too...vibrant. Most were. All were, except for a small brown thrasher bird figurine that had been cruelly kept out of sight by a mug bizarrely shaped like a hamburger.

“Hey buddy.” The shopkeeper, who had been unsubtly following him around with shifty, anxious eyes piped up. “You buying something?” “Yes.” He said, making a split second decision to buy the little bird. “That’s why I’m in your store.”

_________

“Oh, Raymond it’s beautiful.” Kevin breathed, examining the bird on all sides. Raymond couldn’t help the proud grin that snaked its way across his face as he began toasting bread for dinner. “I believe it can be used to store coins as well but I trust you wouldn’t dream of tarnishing it like that.” “Your trust is not unfounded.”

“Good.” He paused. “A woman yelled at me from her balcony just now - well, fifteen minutes ago.” “Oh?” Kevin said, a protective glint in his eye.

“She asked if I was, and I quote. ‘The professor’s man’ end quote.” Recognition spread across Kevin’s face and he nodded. “Ah. Sandra. She’s a reporter at the New Yorker you know, we’re quite friendly.”

“I see. I didn’t know whether or not to confirm or deny so I gave a non-answer.” Kevin was quiet as he placed the bird delicately on one of the shelves in his kitchen. It was slightly crooked as they had tried to assemble it themselves and kept putting off fixing it. “Because of me?” He asked quietly. “Hm?” “Because I’m...I know I’ve been a bit more private about us than you’re used to-”

“Oh!” He interrupted, understanding now. “No, it’s- I didn’t want to put a target on either of our backs.”

He walked over to Kevin and kissed his cheek. “Contrary to what you might think I haven’t made a habit of telling strangers my sexuality or who I’m dating.” He looked Kevin up and down. “No matter how much I might like to.”

He’d meant it flirtatiously but Kevin grimaced, taking it as a jab. “Kevin-” 

“I’m going- I want to tell people, I do. It’s just...difficult.” He knew it was. He knew Kevin had grown up far away from city smog and laced cigarettes and free love girls who shouted shirtless from balconies. Kevin had told him in snippets. Over breakfast, over the phone. Mumbling through stories in the dark as their bodies intertwined, He’d grown up in the suburbs.

He’d grown up in country clubs and private schools, yearbook photos where all the girls’ hair was long and combed to shining and all the boys sneered instead of smiled for the camera. Kevin looked lost in those photos. His eyes were dull and his lips were pressed together, holding something back.

He’d grown up with “Be a man!” and Sissysissysissy trailing him wherever he went. He’d grown up with girlfriends and lush green grass and fair weather friends that told him it was okay, they knew he wasn’t gay, those assholes were just trying to get a rise out of you.

He knew perfectly well how difficult it was. How telling his parents he was gay might be the last thing he’d ever say to them.

He wanted in that moment to rush out the door holding Kevin’s hand, wanted to catch a cab or take the subway to his mother’s house and introduce them. Wanted his boyfriend to hear what Raymond heard all the time during the monthly phone calls with his mother,  “I love you. You’re always welcome here.”

Instead he kissed him.

Kevin made a startled noise, back against the countertop as Raymond blocked him in with arms on either side of him. They separated slightly, just enough to talk but not enough to need to open their eyes fully. Raymond watched a slightly blurry Kevin breathe and watch him back. “I believe a change of topic would be perti-” “Fuck me.”  Well, what kind of a monster would be he to deny him? Kevin’s bedroom was organized impeccably but simply too small to keep from feeling overcrowded. Bookshelf half blocking one window and framed newspaper articles or playbills lining the walls.

As they got into bed Raymond heard a crash and looked up, startled to find Kevin’s typewriter on the floor. “It’s fine.” His boyfriend insisted, pulling at Raymond’s shirt. “I’ll get a new one.”

“Why not a computer, Richard Rich Jr?” He teased, pulling Kevin into his lap and running a hand up his back which arched as he went along. Kevin rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance but Raymond knew he was amused. Could see it in the way his mouth twitched and feel it in the warmth that washed over him when their eyes met again. 

He leaned down for a kiss and Raymond obliged, letting Kevin run his fingers through his hair. “You need a haircut.” He observed. His hand had vanished up the palm in Raymond’s hair. The man in question shrugged.

“I never have time, when I get out of the work my barber’s closed.” He could see his boyfriend bite back a comment about working less, see him switch and soften. It was amazing. He’d never been able to read a partner like he was able to read Kevin. The man was fascinating.

“I’ll cut it for you.” He finally said and then, realizing he might sound bossy added,  “If you’d like.”

Raymond nodded, grinning in that cocksure way of his that made Kevin’s heart leap into his throat. He observed him, slowly allowing himself to smile back. No one made him smile like Ray. “I’d like that very much~” He purred, hand sliding lower and squeezing Kevin’s ass. Kevin arched an eyebrow and ohh that was...not fair.

“Rather presumptuous of you.” Kevin commented in a tone that would surely send chills down any potential future student’s spine. Though not for the same reason it sent one down Raymond’s.

“Well I only assumed based on past experiences.” He countered, watching the man in his lap unbutton and slip off his own shirt and immediately make quick work of Raymond’s. “Oh?”

“You’ve very adamantly voiced your approval in the past.” He elaborated, smile returning. Smooth now, confident and flirtatious as he pulled Kevin down, bending him by the hair until he could kiss his chest. It was warm and he could feel his heart beating. Fast, excited. “I know you’re not as delicate as you look, Professor.” At that Kevin unexpectedly broke Raymond’s grip on and shot up faster than the other man could register. It was only his police training that stopped him from screaming. And only his extreme trust in Kevin that stopped him from blocking or countering, instead easily willing himself to be still as he soon found himself pinned to the bed, wrists held down by his boyfriend’s hands.

“No.” Kevin agreed, peering down at him. His eyes were a piercing blue and stole his breath away as he felt his face heat up. He shifted his legs, heart pounding in his chest. “I’m not.” They kissed again and as they did Kevin unbuttoned Raymond’s bell bottoms.

 After a moment they separated and Kevin wore a devilish smile as he moved back, taking Raymond’s cock in his hand and beginning to stroke. Raymond huffed but didn’t moan as Kevin continued, hand warming. The sounds that filled the room became louder and louder and they were both torn between thinking them erotic or embarrassing.

Kevin evidently decided the latter, getting off of his boyfriend and rummaging in a bedside drawer with his clean hand. He ripped the wrapper with his teeth and after inspecting the condom thoroughly to make sure it was unbroken, applied it.

Raymond watched with bleary awe, blood obviously not rushing to his brain at the moment. He thought to himself that Kevin looked handsome, quick, sure of himself. Hot as hell. Kevin noticed him staring and returned his heated gaze with a smile before laying down and tucking a bit of hair behind his ears as he wrapped his lips around his boyfriend’s cock. The room grew warmer and warmer as different sounds began to fill the air. Raymond’s labored, shaky breathing. Kevin’s light moans. Wet noise and the occasional almost-cough or harsh exhale as he took too much at once. It was heavenly. rightonrightonrighton... He would later say about the experience, “It was in a way bizarre. That your brillant mouth was wrapped around me.”  And Kevin would reply that his mind was often occupied with thoughts of Raymond, why shouldn’t his mouth be? And they’d laugh softly. rightonrightonrighton…. But in the moment he could think of nothing coherent. Only half sentences and Kevin Kevin Kevin Kevin-

And then not even that.

Kevin deftly removed and disposed of the condom and went immediately into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Raymond knew he should get up. Shower. Clean. They’d need to change the sheets, surely. 

But he found himself falling half asleep instead as he listened to the sounds of Kevin opening cabinets and running water. It was...domestic. It felt right, like home. When Kevin returned Raymond greeted him with a tired “What, no post-coital cuddling?” and a smile.

Kevin looked at the bedsheets eagerly and then at his boyfriend’s nearly sleeping form. “Leave it until the morning.” The man in bed suggested, gesturing for Kevin to join him. He sighed but climbed in. “Yes, forgive me. I have a habit of brushing my teeth after I put anything in my mouth.” He shrugged, leaning down and replacing his typewriter on the nightstand. “My brother’s in medical school so that might have to do with it.” Raymond opened one eye, surprise clear on his face. “You brother?” “Oh. Yes, my younger brother. Martin.” Kevin fidgeted with the bed sheet, peering down at it as if it were telling him something entrancing. “He will like you.” He said resolutely, turning off the lamp. Raymond laid in the dark, feeling a sort of happy restlessness that he couldn’t describe in detail. Kevin had a brother. Kevin had told him about his brother and he would meet him one day. This was a far cry from; “Do your parents know?” “Please specify?” “About me.” “We...aren’t close.” “We’re dating!” “My parents and I aren’t close.” He knew nothing about them. Martin was studying to become a dentist. Martin would like him. Will like him.

It was hope, he realized. Hope for a future with this brilliant, wonderful, clever man that he loved. A future where they had a family, where they didn’t have to hide, where they could be exactly who they were and be loved unconditionally. As they loved each other.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, light flooded the room once again as Kevin sighed and began removing the sheets. 

“I’m sorry, but I really do have to change these sheets.” He said, almost to himself. And Raymond only smiled fondly in response as he moved to help him.

(I got explicit permission from the person who commissioned me to post this!)