#their legs are basically overlapping???

[littlespoonevan]

would like to say a personal thank you to 911 for confirming buck gets clingy with eddie when he's drunk. like, we knew that. we've been writing it for years but god does it feel good to have a visual representation now

[sysig]

Self-Made Man (Patreon)

[icewindandboringhorror]

mentally ill people who for whatever reason end up wearing the same exact clothing so many days in a row that it begins to disintegrate and will still not stop wearing it until it’s literally just scraps of fabric VS. those weird shitty rich people who ‘’can’t be seen in the same outfit twice’’ human dichotomy 

[steveseddie]

of movie nights and holding hands

rating: t | cw: none apply | word count: 1,841

tags: eddie munson lives, eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington, holding hands, getting together, first kiss

for the @steddielovemonth prompt “love is asking ‘do you want a blanket?’” by @thefreakandthehair

a/n: i liked this prompt so much that i wrote two fics for it! enjoy!

click here to read on ao3

***

Eddie tries hard to focus on the movie.

It shouldn’t be that hard since Top Gun is supposed to be a good movie. Tonight was the first time since movie nights at the Harrington residence became a thing that an argument didn’t break out amongst the group when they had to choose what to watch. Everyone just agreed. And even if the movie didn’t turn out to be good, Eddie would never waste the opportunity to ogle Tom Cruise for an hour and fifty minutes.

Except he is because, for the last thirty-two minutes, Eddie’s focus has been solely on Steve.

This isn’t the first time they sit next to each other during movie nights. More and more lately, they tend to gravitate toward the other whenever they hang out, and Eddie loves this as much as he hates it.

He loves being close to Steve, being able to whisper to him or touch him, or lean against him. But he hates how it makes him feel. How it makes his palms sweat or goosebumps appear on his skin. He hates it because he can’t let Steve know. Steve might’ve been cool about Eddie being gay and he’s cool with Eddie being touchy and loud and basically too much, but Eddie doesn’t think he’ll be cool with him having a huge hopeless crush on him.

(He probably would, though, because Steve is a good guy, the best guy Eddie knows, and he would let Eddie down easy and make sure nothing changes between them, but Eddie would still feel rejected and they might still end up drifting apart because he can’t handle that.

And Eddie would rather go against another army of Demobats than lose Steve.)

So Eddie tries hard to pay attention to the movie and be normal about the fact that Steve is basically sitting on top of him tonight.

They didn’t start the night like that. At first, it was just Steve, Eddie, and Robin on the couch with plenty of space to sit comfortably. But then Max and Lucas got into an argument- a childish quarrel really- that will probably be forgotten by the end of the night, but still she demanded that they open a spot for her on the couch since she didn’t want to sit with Lucas and the others on the floor anymore. To do that, Steve had to move closer to Eddie, pushing him against the arm of the couch and trapping him between it and his body. Max sits cross-legged next to him which leaves Steve with little to no room for his legs, so one of his thighs overlaps with Eddie’s, same with their arms. And of course, Eddie, who always dresses in multiple layers, decided to only wear a shirt and his battle vest tonight, meaning that his bare arm is touching Steve’s and every time he so much as wiggles trying to get comfortable, a shudder runs through Eddie’s spine.

He thinks Steve is too focused on the movie to notice, but halfway through it, he feels Steve shift closer (and how does he keep getting even closer?) and whisper right into Eddie’s, making the hairs on his neck stand up. “Do you want a blanket, Eds?”

“What?” Eddie asks. It comes out as a squeak. So much for acting normal.

“You keep shivering. Are you cold? Do you want a blanket?”

The thing is Eddie isn’t cold. Eddie feels warm all over actually, but he can’t tell Steve that the reason why he keeps shuddering or why he’s getting goosebumps is him.

So he says, “Uh, yeah. I could use a blanket.”

He expects Steve to get up so he can get it or to tell Eddie where to find one. Instead, he lifts the blanket that he placed across his lap when the movie started and drapes it across Eddie’s body too, shifting even closer to him.

“Better?” Steve asks with a sweet smile. Bless his clueless heart.

Eddie wants to scream “No, it’s not!” but instead, he just gives him a shaky smile that he hopes looks genuine and nods. Then he shoves his hands under the blanket so he can anxiously play with his rings without Steve noticing, feeling restless and jumpy at having Steve so close. After a moment, he sees Steve do the same out of the corner of his eye. Maybe his hands are cold.

Steve stays still after that, and Eddie can somewhat focus on the movie.

That is until he feels Steve’s pinkie finger brush against his under the blanket.

When it does, Eddie yelps, his leg jerking and kicking Lucas who sits on the floor right in front of him. He feels Steve withdraw his hand like he got burned.

“Dude!” Lucas protests.

“Sorry, Sinclair, uh. Muscle spasm,” Eddie mutters. The other kids give him weird looks but thankfully they go back to the movie.

Whispering so he doesn’t bother the others, Steve says, “Uh, sorry. It was- uh, it was an accident.”

“All good, Steve-o.”

Steve gives him a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and Eddie gets the feeling that he’s lying, but then it would mean that his hand touching Eddie’s wasn’t an accident, but a deliberate move.

But why?

Glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, he notices that Steve looks nervous. He’s biting his bottom lip and there’s a divot between his eyebrows, his cheeks are also tinted bright pink.

So Eddie thinks, fuck it! and moves his hand under the blanket, hooking his pinkie finger with Steve’s.

Steve’s reaction is definitely more subdued than Eddie’s was, but Eddie still hears him gasp. He glances at Eddie, big doe eyes wide and a little hopeful, and Eddie feels like throwing up because holy shit, Steve Harrington was, in fact, deliberately trying to touch his hands and now their pinkies are linked. If it weren’t for the fact that the blanket offers them the cover that they need to do this, Eddie would toss it away. He feels like could burst into flames any minute.

Soon, it’s not just their pinkies touching. Soon, the tip of Steve’s remaining fingers find Eddie’s. He waits for a second, probably to see if Eddie is gonna jump again, but when he doesn’t, Steve tangles their fingers together and gives Eddie’s hand a little squeeze. And Eddie wants to scream, he wants to melt into the couch, he wants to kiss Steve, the kids and Robin be damned.

He doesn’t. He stays still except for his thumb which starts rhythmically stroking over Steve’s knuckles. Eddie hears his breath catch and sees his blush spreading up to his ears. At least he’s not the only one affected by this.

Neither of them is paying attention to the movie at this point, too focused on playing with each other’s hands and biting down on their dopey smiles.

Eddie doesn’t want it to end. He doesn’t want this bubble that they created under this blanket to burst. He’s afraid Steve won’t want to hold Eddie’s hand ever again if it does.

But eventually, the movie does end. The end credits start to roll and the kids spring to their feet, stretching and talking excitedly about the movie. Eddie hopes they don’t ask him anything about it, he couldn’t tell them the names of three characters if he tried.

“Did you like it?” Steve asks quietly.

“The- movie?”

Steve’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “I think we both know you didn’t pay attention to the movie, Eds.”

Eddie feels the blood that rushes to his cheeks at being called out. “Well, I was distracted,” he murmurs, thumb flicking over Steve’s knuckle one more time just to see Steve’s eyes widen a little and his lips part.

“Yeah? By what?” He asks, his voice sounding a little strained to Eddie’s ears.

“A pretty boy holding my hand.”

Steve whines low in his throat. Eddie is glad that the kids are being loud and that they’re focused on each other instead of them.

He continues, “Which I liked. A lot. And uh- I would like to do it again.”

“Me too,” Steve says with a shy smile. God, Eddie wants to kiss him stupid.

“Eddie!”

He jumps when Max calls his name. He and Steve both let go of each other’s hand at the same time, but keep them under the blanket.

“What?”

Max’s eyes roll to the back of her head. “The movie is over? We have to leave now if we want to make it home before curfew.”

“Oh. Sure thing, Mad Max.”

She narrows her eyes at him and Eddie tries to look innocent, not like he spent the last eighty minutes holding another boy’s hand. He’s not so sure that he nails it.

Together, they quickly gather the blankets and the pillows and stuff them into the hallway closet. With Nancy skipping tonight’s movie night and Robin still having no license, it’s up to Eddie to drop everyone off, and unless they leave right now, they’re gonna be late like Max said.

That doesn’t stop Eddie from running back to the house after everyone already piled up inside the van, claiming that he forgot something.

After he knocks on the door, Steve opens it with a confused frown that melts into a smile when he sees Eddie.

“Did you forget something, Munson?”

“I did actually,” Eddie says and for the second time that night, he thinks fuck it! and surges forward, pushing his lips against Steve’s in a quick kiss.

Steve yelps, but Eddie feels the softest press of lips from him before he backs away.

Before Eddie can spiral because oh, god he just kissed Steve, Steve is grabbing him by the lapels of his vest and pulling him toward him. They both stumble back into the house a couple of steps, just enough so they’re hidden from view and Steve can kiss Eddie for longer and a little more forcefully this time.

“Do you want to come over tomorrow?” Steve asks when they pull apart.

“To watch a movie?” He asks. Steve licks his lips and Eddie’s eyes track the movement. “Or not watch a movie?”

Steve smirks. “The second one.”

Eddie nods enthusiastically. “It’s a date,” he says with a grin that Steve mirrors.

They jump when the horn of his van blares, probably waking up a few of Steve’s neighbors.

Eddie makes a face. “Gotta go or the brats are gonna be late.”

“Drive safe,” Steve says, giving the vest a little tug.

“Always do, Stevie,” he says, giving him a two-fingered salute. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow, Eds,” Steve says with a dopey smile. Eddie starts walking backwards.

And if he trips on the steps because he’s too busy watching Steve and almost falls on his ass, then at least it’s just Steve who sees it.

And at least, he does it with a sweet smile painted on his puffy pink lips that Eddie just kissed.

[wolfhoundwitch]

Grounding and Centering

If you haven't already, visit my visualisation lessons for the background info needed for this lesson.

Being able to ground and centre your energy is very useful in meditation and spell work. Using basic visualisation techniques, you can change and manipulate the energy you are putting out, raise your vibration, or bring yourself back to reality after spellwork. Let's go over the specifics and how to do them, but the TLDR is that grounding is connecting to the energy of the universe around you, and centering is aligning this energy with your intention.

Grounding

Grounding can be done before or after spellwork, and it depends on what feels right for you. The idea is to draw neutral energy from the earth and the universe, as the energy within ourselves can often be unstable because of our emotions or other external influences. It can also be used to send excess energy back into the earth, preventing feeling wired or unable to sleep after spellwork. Here are some easy ways to practice grounding.

Visualise tree roots spreading down from your legs, connecting you to the earth, and branches spreading up from your arms into the sky connecting you to the universe. Consider the energy of the universe being drawn into you through these roots and branches.

Consider your energy as running water, perhaps from a tap or a river. To prevent excess energy, visualise this tap being turned off, or the flow of the river being stopped.

When I practice divination or dreamwork, I sometimes visualise my third eye opening before and then closing again after to prevent using this energy constantly.

Eat something or take a shower after spellwork to quickly ground yourself.

You can try standing barefoot in the dirt or even rain as a quick and more literal way to ground.

Centering

Centering involves drawing energy inward before spellwork, allowing us to align this energy with our intention and the mentality needed to carry out magick. It prevents passing thoughts, feelings and distractions from making our energy and spellwork less effective. Where you feel your energy centering is different for everyone - it might be behind your third eye, in your heart, your stomach, or in the palms of your hands. Wherever it may be, the point is to draw this scattered energy inward. Here are some methods.

Visualise your energy fragmented around you, as shattered glass, water droplets, or whatever feels right. Consider drawing this energy towards your centre, as though you are a magnet pulling these fragmented pieces back into a whole.

As you are drawing your energy in, meditate on your intention and the end goal of your spellwork. Or why you are centering your energy - is it to have better control over the existing energy in your body, or to set an intention for the neutral energy drawn in through grounding? The aim is to have a concentration of energy with a specific intention.

Centering can be used for changing your vibration specifically for different kinds of spellwork - where a protection spell would require a different type of energy to that of cursing.

Note: Some people will use these terms interchangeably or to mean one overarching thing, and others will specify whether they mean centering or grounding as I have done here. The two practices are very similar and can overlap, so don't worry about getting them confused. The important thing is to do what feels right for your practice and whatever helps you.

As always, thanks for reading! If you have any questions or suggestions for future lessons, feel free to message or send an ask. Visit my tags for previous lessons!

[lackadaisycats]

I tried to answer this succinctly, but it turned into an essay. (Sorry.)

The Princess and the Frog was not accurate, strictly speaking, but dinging it for that would be like criticizing the Lion King for not being a realistic wildlife documentary. Accuracy wasn't really the point. Given the fantastical elements and fictional nations like “Maldonia”, I suppose we're meant to understand this as a bit removed from the real New Orleans. It's more a a jazz-flavored fairy tale than a historical fiction.

But for discussion's sake....

Is it fashion-accurate to its 1926 timeframe? Ehhh, sort of. It pays homage to 20s fashion trends with cloche hats, furs and feathery headpieces, but without fully committing to it. The waistline on almost all of Tiana's clothing is too high for the 20s, and the the shapes of her fancier costumes take a lot of liberties, or deviate wildly from the style of the period.

In the 20s, dresses (including workaday stuff) tended to have a straight up-and-down shape to it - kind of a low-waisted rectangle that de-emphasized curves instead of highlighting them. There are valid reasons to play fast and loose with that, though (something I’m definitely guilty of as well). One of those reasons is communication. 

For instance, speculatively, the filmmakers wrote Tiana as a hard-working waitress and wanted her to look the part, so they made the choice to clothe her in something familiar - that gingham dress of mid-century shape that we broadly associate with diner waitresses. Actual waitress uniforms of the 20s had a fair bit of overlap with maid uniforms at the time too, and I can see why they wouldn't want to risk the confusion. It's more important to communicate clearly with the larger audience than to appease a small faction of fashion nerds who'd notice or care about the precision.

I don't think it's a case of the designers failing to do their research - I'm sure they had piles of references, and maybe even consultants - but they also had to have priorities.

With her hat and coat on, she looks a lot more 1920s-shaped.

Pretty consistently, the indication of the characteristic 1920s drop waist is there, but the approach otherwise ignores the 20s silhouette. The clothes hug the body too much. This may be about appealing to a 2000s audience, visually speaking, but also could be an animation thing. Maybe both. For practical reasons, clothes in 2d animation are usually more a sort of second skin than something that wears or behaves like realistic fabric.

These are not in the 1920s ballpark at all. Tiana's blue gown looks like your basic Disney brand invention. Strapless things would have been extremely unusual and the overall shape is far out of step. Excusable, I guess, because it's a costume in context. Charlotte looks like she’s heading for a mimosa brunch in a modern maxi dress.

Charlotte's princess dress did seem to be calling back to the ultra-wide pannier side hoops of the 18th century - something that made a reappearance for part of the 20s, albeit in much milder form called robe de style. I'm not sure if the filmmakers were alluding to that at all, really, but either way, her dress is hilarious.

They only went about halfway with the cloche hats. The 1920s cloche really encapsulated the cranium, almost entirely covered bobbed hair, and obscured much of the face from certain angles, so it's easy to see why they've been somewhat reined in for the film. Still, it ends up looking more 1930s, where the hats started to recede away from the face, evolving in the direction of the pillbox.

Similarly, Tiana's hair is not very reminiscent of the bobbed, close-to-the-cranium style of the period, but I think that could legitimately be written off as characterization. She's not at all the type of person who'd fuss about going à la mode. Not everyone bobbed and finger-waved their hair.

The clothes Prince Naveen is introduced in are very 1920s collegiate in spirit - the wide-leg oxford bags, the sleeveless pullover sweater, the flat cap, and high, stiff collar. The ukulele and banjolele were pretty trendy instruments at the time too.

Definitely some Josephine Baker vibes here. Also, the look of this whole fantasy sequence was reportedly inspired by the works of Aaron Douglas, a luminary painter of the Harlem Renaissance known for his depictions of the lives of African-Americans. (The mural is in Topeka, Kansas.)

They pretty much nailed the Art Deco. It's gorgeous. Looks somewhat inspired by the interiors of some of the Ralph Walker-designed NYC architecture, plus some French Quarter balcony flair for the final manifestation of Tiana's Place. Her dress here does resemble some gauzy mid-1920s looks, too.

------------------------------------------------

Culturally speaking...

New Orleans is an unusual place. Because some of the colonial Spanish and French laws and conventions that New Orleans evolved under persisted even after its inception into the United States; because it was such a heterogeneous hub of indigenous and immigrant peoples; and because it had a considerable population of free people of color (mostly Creole), it did not function quite like the rest of the South leading up to the Civil War, nor for a while after. Its particular coalescence of cultures made it its own unique sort of culture within the country, within the region, within the state of Louisiana even. By the early 20th century, though, regardless of the not-very-binary nature of New Orleans, Jim Crow laws were enforcing a literal black-and-white distinction, and not an evenhanded one, by far. In that aspect, the city had begun to resemble the rest of the South.

The film nods at the wealth disparity, but goes on to paint a pretty rosy picture of race and class relations at the time. Still it's not unbelievable that some people were exceptions to the rules. You could probably find a few compartments of old New Orleans society that resisted segregation or certain prejudicial norms, preferring to do things their own way. That aside, the film wasn't trying to confront these topics. Not every piece of media should have to. Sometimes breaking away from miserable period piece stereotypes is refreshing. I'm not sure it could have handled that meaningfully given the running time, narrow story focus, and intended audience, anyhow. (But you could perhaps also make a case that family films habitually underestimate younger audiences in this way.)

------------------------------------------------

Raymond the firefly I guess is the film's Cajun representation. There's not much to say about it, except perhaps to note that Evangeline is a reference to the heroine of a Longfellow poem of the same name. The poem is an epic romance set during the expulsion of the Acadians from the eastern provinces of Canada and the northernmost reaches of the American colonies (now Maine) by the British in the mid-1700s. Many exiled Acadians gradually migrated south to francophone-friendly Louisiana, settling into the prairies and bayous, where 'Acadian' truncated into the pronunciation 'Cajun'. Evangeline - who is only finally reunited with her love when he’s on his deathbed - has become an emblem of the heartbreak, separation and faithful hope of that cultural history, and there are parishes, statues and other landmarks named after the her throughout Louisiana.

------------------------------------------------

Voodoo does have a very historical presence in New Orleans, having arrived both directly from West Africa and by way of the Haitian diaspora (where it would more properly be called Vodou). While I don't think Disney's treatment of it was especially sensitive or serious, it also wasn't the grotesquely off-base sort of thing that media of the past has been known to do. It was largely whittled down to a magical plot component, but it wasn't so fully repurposed that it didn't resemble Voodoo at all either - and that's mostly owing to the characters, because it does appear the writers pulled from history there.

It’s apparently widely held that Dr. Facilier is a Baron Samedi caricature - and likely that's true, in part - but I have the impression he's also influenced by Doctor John. Not the 20th century funk musician, but the antebellum “Voodoo King” of New Orleans. Doctor John (also called Bayou John, Jean La Ficelle, and other aliases) claimed to be a Senegalese prince. He became well known as a potion man and romance-focused prognosticator to people from all corners of society. Though highly celebrated and financially successful at his peak, he seems ultimately remembered as an exploitative villain.

To my recollection, the film sort of gingerly avoids referring to Facilier as a Voodoo practitioner directly (I think he's more generically called a witch doctor in the script?) but it does seem to imply his 'friends on the other side' are a consortium of loa. It's mostly abbreviated into nebulously evil-seeming special FX, glazing over any specificity or dimensionality, but it does also loop back around as a vehicle of moral justice. Loa are all very individualistic and multi-faceted, but they do have reciprocal rules for asking favors of them.

There's also the benevolent counterpart in Mama Odie's character. Her wearing ritual whites has a definite basis in Voodoo/Vodou practice, and her depiction as a fairy godmother-like figure isn't entirely out of step with how a mambo may have been perceived...in a very general sense. They were/are ceremonial leaders and community bastions who people would seek out for help, advice and spiritual guidance. More than just emanating matronly good vibes, though, some have wielded considerable political and economic power.

(Just my opinions here. I've done a lot of reading on the subject for research but I'm no authority with any special insider understanding of Voodoo, and I really shouldn't be relied upon as an arbiter of who has or hasn't done it justice in fiction.)

------------------------------------------------

In summary--

Culturally, I think the film is respectably informed but paints a superficially genteel picture. The set pieces are gorgeous, but the story mostly delivers a sort of veneer of New Orleanishness. And as for fashion, well, it’s the 1920s run through a Disney filter. It’s very pretty, but it’s only as proximally accurate as seemed practical.

I don’t know that any of that really matters so much as whether or not it achieved what it intended, though. As a charming yarn and as a tribute to New Orleans and the Jazz age, I think it’s mostly successful. It’s also really beautifully animated!

[remotewatch]

handprints, footprints all on my glass

Jack Schlossberg x reader | 1.6k wc

minors dni please and thanks, this is hag business

summary: it’s a short ride from the afterparty to the airport, theoretically

cw: shameless smut, she comes first 💪, dry humping, dom reader sorta, pathetic simp Jack enjoyers make some noise!!!, oral (f receiving), fingering, we’re degrading him a bit whoops, accidental vabbing (?????) girl idk, reader wears the pants not the panties, they’re in one of those Mercedes vans, wear your seatbelts everywhere but here

The jet lag was undoubtedly winning. As luck would have it, the busiest weeks of the year for you and Jack overlapped nearly entirely. It had been nonstop flights, engagements, meetings, press releases, dinner parties, galas, openings of buildings for charities for either dogs or orphans, orphaned dogs maybe, for so long you’d entirely lost track and were ever thankful that most of your speaking assignments were behind you. This last afterparty had fried you both; you didn’t have a single networking conversation left in you. Collapsed opposite you in the jump seat, Jack looked just as spent as you felt.

Of course, he still looked too good. It was fucking sweltering in that venue, and he had loosened his evergreen evening tie and slightly unbuttoned his dress shirt the very second you were shielded by the limo tint. Faint wisps of chest hair peered out from the opening, a fresh tan making his teeth look even whiter. Gun to your head, he’d had his pants taken in too much at the hips, but you’d never say anything that would threaten such a view.

There wasn’t time for that; you were in the home stretch of this hell month and had a packed 16 hour day tomorrow. One last email once over, and you could abandon your work iPad and pass out for the flight back to New York.

“Have you been like that all night?” he asks tentatively.

“Like what?” There’s no immediate response, so you look up from checking tomorrow’s agenda to see Jack shamelessly staring up your cocktail dress at your lack of underwear. The spell breaks when you recross your legs and playfully kick his shin.

“Eyes up here. So what if I was?”

Jack blinks dumbly at you and clears his throat. His eyebrows draw together out of confusion.

“But I saw you get dressed this morning. Where’s that pair I just bought you?”

“They’re wrapped in your pocket square. Did you forget to switch it out for a dry one before lunch?” you ask, holding back a shit-eating grin.

It’s hard to deny the rush you get watching Jack go pale and fish the handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his discarded suit jacket, still sticky from cleaning you up a few hours ago. Sure enough, there’s a crumpled La Perla thong cradled in the middle. You interrupt his stuttering protests when you kick your pumps off and slide a foot up his leg.

“Oh please, like you don’t love walking around smelling like me.”

“I do,” his ears are turning red. “but I hugged like twenty people today!”

“Page six has been trying to pin down that musky “cologne” you use for ages. I think you’re safe.” You briefly wonder if you’re leaking onto the leather seats, but that train of thought is halted by Jack’s hand reaching to remove his tie.

“Keep it on.”

He snaps to attention at the direct order.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I like my handle.”

“Do you come with an off switch?”

Break lights flash on in the surrounding lanes. Just your luck; it’s complete gridlock in the few miles between here and the airpark. Maybe there was a little time.

Your foot slides higher, and Jack hisses through his teeth at the contact.

“Why don’t you try and find it?”

There’s barely a millisecond of hesitation before he falls onto you, licking stripes of sweat off your skin from your cleavage to your cheekbones. As always, he’s loud in the way that only a guy who never gets told to shut the fuck up can be: every breath shudders its way out, and he’s basically whimpering into your mouth by the time he gets there, louder when his right hand finds you, in fact, dripping all over the seat. You doubt you’ll ever get used to how thick his fingers are, or the vulgar noises they make when he’s showing off his grip strength knocking on your g spot.

He’d rolled his shirt sleeves up for the afterparty, but his watch was still squarely in the splash zone, and for the briefest of moments you wonder if it’s as waterproof as the cheaper ones he wears surfing. The thought is quickly pushed aside as Jack works you until you’re jolting off the seat trying to get his fingers deeper.

One good yank on his hair gets him off your neck, and he’s so dazed and fucked out already that you almost cum right there.

“Someone looks hungry,” you tease.

“Fuck, please let me-“ He’s cut off by the van suddenly lurching forward and throwing you both off balance, leaving only your vice grip on his tie keeping him in place. There’s a filthy squelch when he pulls his fingers out to suck them clean as he sinks down to his knees. It’s so warm that your dress is sticking to your thighs, and he rapidly loses patience trying to slide it up to your waist.

“This is a rental!” you squeal when the fabric rips, spraying sequins all over the floor. Jack doesn’t even flinch and wraps his lips snugly around your clit.

“Whatever, I’ll buy it,” he mumbles without breaking contact. You find yourself sliding down the sweat slick leather to grind against his face, and he has the nerve to lean back to watch your hips buck desperately.

“I love when you chase it,” he grins. Without missing a beat, you lock your legs around his head and shut him up against you.

“Don’t fucking tease me. I’m not the one humping the floor like a dog.” The mumbly, docile “sorry” that vibrates through you is the hottest thing he’s said all day. And he really is, if his overly enthusiastic slurping indicates anything. Those rapid, precise little strokes of his tongue always froth you up like he’s got a mouthful of soap. By the time you get tired of spelling your name on his nose and shove him to the floor to straddle his face, he’s completely lathered in you.

He lets out a little bleat of surprise when you roughly grab his hair and start manhandling him as if he’s a wet wipe, though he really should expect it by now. Normally, you’d be distractingly aware of the very real possibility the driver can hear the way you’re snarling his name, but time is not on your side right now. The last break lights recede, leaving the compartment only lit by dim blue under-seat bulbs. Your movements grow more frenzied; you’re totally disregarding Jack’s lung capacity and not even aiming for his mouth anymore, just using his whole face like it’s all he’s made for. Right as you begin to worry you have nothing left in the tank due to the lunch commute, a muffled, drawn-out “please” from beneath you sends you tumbling right over the edge. Your orgasm hits you more like a tranquilizer than anything else as the last dregs of your energy drench his face.

As soon as he feels your contractions lessen, he’s tossing you off to sit on his thighs and fumbling with his belt buckle. The van makes a hard right turn onto the final road to the airpark, and Jack lets out a frustrated groan knowing the clock is ticking. Still, he knows not to get in your way when you shove his hands away and slide right back on top of his dick, so hard you can feel the heat radiating through the fabric. You know you’re fucking up his dress pants grinding on him like this, but if nothing else, the linen will dry fast.

“I’m sleeping on the plane whether you finish or not, so make it work.” He doesn’t have enough time to be pissed at you, and he knows it. The sight of him so desperately rutting up against you is nearly enough to get you there all over again. All the tendons in his neck stand out as he presses his lips together trying to focus. His legs splay frantically in an attempt to ground himself, one jet black Oxford wedging under the jump seat and the other pressed flat against the far window. Jack’s head tips back and his eyes screw up in concentration, but you can’t have that, no matter how tasty his Adam’s apple looks. You loop his tie around your hand one more time and yank him back to earth,

“Uh-uh. Look at me when I’m making you cum.” That’ll do it. His expression softens then freezes as his eyes unfocus and his mouth falls open. He sounds downright melodic when he cums, just one long note that gets bounced up and down the scale before trailing off to a whine, and you relish every little twitch of him spilling into his pants, so far from you but certainly close enough.

The van rolls to a stop, and suddenly it’s a fumbling nightmare of you both trying to fish your shoes out from under the seats and smooth each others hair. You snatch Jack’s blazer to cover the rip in your dress, shove the iPad and pocket square-thong mess into your work bag, and throw the door open with what you hope is a believable amount of nobody-get-between-me-and-my-lie-flat-seat urgency.

Wobbly legs insist you grab his hand to step out of the van, and, of course, there’s a fucking pap pressed to the tarmac fence. Jack’s reflexes don’t stand a chance at turning him away in time after what you’ve put him through. When the flash catches his face, you can only look horrified as it perfectly captures the shine you’ve left on him.

Gossipy headlines and vague, tasteful PR statement drafts are already zipping through your head. Add it to the agenda: 16.5 hour day incoming.

[em1e]

ᶻz feat. wakasa + kazutora+ rindou !!

tokyo revengers && first meetings

☓ kazu's 2 times longer than the other don't look at me. tw for a hostile ex on rindou's !!

ᶻz・wakasa imaushi

⠀ ⬤ meeting you is chaotic.

“oh my god shin, your nose!” 

you’re quick into action, despite shinichiro and wakasa basically barging through your front door while the former cradles a probably broken nose. you grab some paper towels as quickly as you can while wakasa helps his friend to your couch, barely taking in your home despite him never stepping foot into it. 

 you’re talking fast, questions overlapping on your tongue before either boy can answer them, “what happened? why’d you come here?” 

shinichiro groans when you press the napkins against his face far hastier than you should, taking them from your own hands and leaning his head against the back of your couch. obviously in too much pain to answer, you look to the stranger who he’s come in with. 

he shrugs, popping the lollipop he was sucking on out of his mouth and nodding to shinichiro, “needed to get off the street, ‘nd he said he knew someone.” 

you kick at shinichiro’s foot half heartedly, frowning, “don’t bring your stupid gang violence around my house, you know i don’t like that stuff.” 

a muffled apology leaves his lips, and you sigh before moving to grab ice for the two of them. bringing back bags of peas and dropping one onto shinichiro’s stomach (he groans dramatically at the contact), then pass the other to his friend. he raises an eyebrow at you, and you nod to his bruising knuckles. 

it’s then he takes them in himself, clicking his tongue, then grabbing the bag from you with a small thanks. you eye him for a second, before plopping down on the couch beside shinichiro. 

“‘m (y/n), by the way.” you offer a small smile, “i babysit emma and mikey sometimes when shin is out doing nefarious things.” 

“wakasa,” he hums out, sitting across from you, “i make sure shinichiro doesn’t die doing his nefarious things.” 

you giggle, and shinichiro groans, “please don’t flirt with me sitting right here. i don’t think i can take much more damage- physically or mentally.” 

“not my fault you brought your pretty friend here after you got socked in the face.” 

“you think ’m pretty?” wakasa grins, eyes half-lidded and completely ignoring his friend's request. 

“very.” you hum, leaving shinichiro to groan louder. you elbow at his side, and he dramatically topples over so he’s laying on the couch instead, “sorry shin, we’re talking.” 

one glance to wakasa and he’s licking his teeth, then sending you a smile, “that we are.” 

ᶻz・kazutora hanemiya 

⠀ ⬤ meeting you is awkward.

“no, kazutora, put the cat food on the right side of the store - you know what, nevermind, i’ll do it.” chifuyu sighs heavily, placing the bags of dog food he’d just opened hastily on the shelf and pushing the box kazutora set beside him away with a huff. 

“huh? but these are the same brands, don’t you want to keep them together?” 

chifuyu closes his eyes, taking a second to breathe and remember he needs to have some semblance of patience - kazu’s only been out for a few weeks, he’s still adjusting to normal life. he sighs again and nods, “in theory, yes, but we’re keeping the cat stuff and dog stuff separate, remember?“ 

a small ‘oh’ leaves kazutora’s mouth, and chifuyu stands with a huff, stretching his legs then picking up the box. the bell to the door rings and both pairs of eyes find themselves wandering towards the front. chifuyu nods his head in the direction, “d’ya think you can take care of them?” 

kazutora hums out a reply, waving a hand behind him as chifuyu says something something register. he knows his friend is growing increasingly agitated with having to baby him, and he doesn’t want to be any more of a burden than necessary. 

he meets you at the register, and your eyes wander around the store before finally settling on the man behind the counter, offering him a smile. 

“hi! um, i recently found a kitten on the street and i was wondering if you could help me get whatever i need to take care of it?” 

kazutora only stares, head tilting slightly as your fingers dance across the counter. the silence goes on for longer than you’d expect, and you stand on your toes and puff out cheeks when he doesn’t immediately reply. you clear your throat. 

“is um . . . is there something i need to do first?” 

you look across the counter to see if maybe there’s a sign in sheet for suggestions or something, but you find nothing. 

“we have cat food and litter.” he says when you meet his gaze again, still giving you the same look he did when you walked in. 

“great!” you smile, looking around the store, “can you show me?” 

he straightens, looking down the sea of aisles for chifuyu since he’d be much better help than him. hell, he’s still learning the difference in medications for dogs and cats and other miscellaneous animals - it would be unfair to lead you astray with a bad suggestion. 

he sees no one else in the immediate vicinity, which means chifuyu has left him alone at the front of the store. 

“um, yeah. yeah, i can” 

right side of the store, he reminds himself. that’s where the stuff for cats is. he leads you in that direction, stopping in front of the aisles when he finds the bags he was previously shoving in the dogs section. 

you lean forward, taking in each option and tap your chin with a hum, then look at him with a tilted head. 

“any recommendations?” 

you have to notice he has no idea what he’s doing by now, right? still, face unwavering, he picks up the bag they feed the cats they have up for adoption, “we use this for the cats here. i’m not really sure about the differences in other brands and stuff.” 

you take the bag gently from his hold, then grab a similar one from the same brand that’s labeled specifically for kittens and compare the two. 

“i think i’ll get this one since she’s still pretty small.” you hold up the latter and place the former back where he picked it up from, “how about litter?”

he takes you to the aisle behind the one you were previously in, gesturing awkwardly to the many different types. before you can ask if he has any suggestions, he points to one, “this is the one we use here.” 

you smile. he read your mind. 

with a small huff, you're grabbing that same brand and almost drop the container when you take it off the shelf - it’s much heavier than you thought. though kazutora has his own faults, he isn’t an asshole who’d just leave you to struggle. he gingerly grabs it from you, and you beam at him with a smile, “thanks.” 

he only offers a curt nod, and follows you as you shop for smaller miscellaneous things - toys, treats, and a litter box all fill your hands along with the food you grabbed previously and kazutora offers no complaints when you finally make your way back to the counter. 

“thanks.” you hum out again when he rounds the corner to get behind the register. he pauses for a second, staring at the computer and all its buttons and he’s genuinely lost for a second, trying to remember how chifuyu taught him to use it. 

lucky for him, the man himself comes out from the back, a box in his hands and easily reading the furrow of his friends brows. 

“all you have to do is ask for help,” he sighs with a click of his tongue, setting the box beside the items you’re buying. he taps a few things, explaining to kazutora again just how to do it and starts scanning the items for you, “he give you too much trouble? he’s still training-” 

“he was perfectly helpful.” you smile, “i would’ve been lost otherwise.” 

ᶻz・rindou haitani

⠀ ⬤ meeting you is violent. 

“leave me alone-” you’re shoving past your ex with a huff, almost gasping when instead of letting you pass, he pushes you against the wall of the dingy club you’re in and grins at your clear aggravation. 

“we’re not done talking,” he sighs out, “i didn’t come all the way to roppongi to get brushed to the side.” his arms are caging you in, and you want to scream to get anyone’s attention. you’re unsure if it’d even work - everyone around you seems to already be too drunk to worry about what’s going on outside their bubble, and you sure if anyone does notice, they don’t care. 

“why come at all. are you stalking me now? i told you i don’t want anything to do with you-”

he stops you with a growl, eyes narrowing, “ah ah, we’re here to talk. don’t wanna make me upset, do ya?” you flinch away from him when he reaches up to cup your cheek, and someone clicking their teeth behind him makes him pause and look over his shoulder. “what, can’t you see we’re talki-” 

he doesn’t get to finish his sentence. not when the man behind him rears his fist back and punches. 

you pull your arms to yourself, gasping as he collapses to the floor with your eyes wide. one hit, and he’s out cold. you look up frantically to the offender, your savior, but he’s already pushing his way through the gaping crowd, leaving you to stumble behind him as he leaves the club. 

“w-wait a sec!” you call out after him, and he pauses his retreat but doesn’t turn to face you. it gives you time to catch up to him, and when you’re standing in front of him, he’s scowling. despite this, he’s still pretty. you feel your face warm, and his brows raise as if he’s waiting for you to say something. 

you did scream for him, after all. 

“u-um, thanks,” you manage out after a moments pause, bowing your head, “thank you.” you say again more clearly. when you finally look back up at him he’s eyeing you in a way that has you wrapping your arms around yourself.

he clicks his teeth again, walking past you without a word, and you find yourself following behind like a lost puppy. he pauses again when you’re only a few steps behind him, looking over his shoulder, “if you’re gonna follow me, you might as well walk with me and talk.” 

he says it like a statement, but you take it as a command. you walk for a few blocks in silence before you break it to mumble out your name. 

he grins at the sound of it leaving your lips, “rindou haitani.” and it dawns on you then it was his club you were just in. apologies follow. for your ex, for not destabilizing the situation, for ruining the mood in his club, but he’s shaking his head with a hum. 

“s’okay. you just gave me an excuse to leave, and i’m glad your pretty self followed.” 

[restlessmaknae]

it's your moment, baby // jung wooyoung

wooyoung + enemies to lovers + "if i do this, do you promise to stop harassing me?" "absolutely not. what kinda sick request is that?"

➳ Characters: dance major!Wooyoung x dance major!female reader/you

➳ Genre: enemies to lovers, college au, arts college au

➳ Words: 3.6k

➳ Warning: mentions of a sprained ankle

➳ A/N: This story was requested by the lovely @stories-inbetween-the-stars for my request event. I hope you enjoy it! ❤️

Also, this story is dedicated to @lily-blue. Happy birthday, Kinga! I thought this story would be up to your liking *-*

Title taken from Dua Lipa's 'Houdini'

➳ Masterlist for the request event

➳ ATEEZ taglist: @dat-town, @tranquilpetrichor, @americanokisses, @kuleo26, @stories-inbetween-the-stars, @wccycc, @littlestartonightsposts, @koishua, @squiishymeow, @s00buwu

You knew that arts college would be difficult because of the general competitive nature of arts, but you would have never expected it to be this difficult because of one extremely annoying guy - Jung Wooyoung.

It didn’t help either that your college friend groups overlapped, and your dorm roommate - Yiren - dated San who was one of Wooyoung’s friends, meaning that you had to see this annoying guy with his annoying shiteating grin at pretty much every social gathering. On the other hand, avoiding the said events just because he was there would have made him think that he had the upper hand in your dynamics, and you didn’t want to give him that pleasure. His ego was already over the top, you didn’t need to pump it up further.

Basically everyone in the dance department knew that you and Wooyoung had some bad blood that had originated back to the orientation week when he had deemed your freestyle hip-hop dance lacking, and you had bit back that he hadn’t done it any better, so he should have shut his mouth. That had happened right in front of the whole dance department and some other new students who were passing by, so news had gotten out pretty quickly.

Egos trampled upon, you had both not forgotten about your little quarrel, so every time you had met afterwards, you had ended up bickering. Once, the teacher had even sent you out of a practice room to talk it out between yourselves instead of disturbing the whole class, that’s just how much you despised each other.

So when Wooyoung came up to you during your second year close to your midterms, asking if you wanted to be his dance partner during the year-end gala, you laughed straight into his face. However, the boy seemed uncharacteristically serious, lips pressed into a thin line as he watched you laugh to your heart’s content.

“Wait… Are you serious?” You quirked an eyebrow, finding his solemnity quite surprising and honestly… pretty pathetic.

Wooyoung let out a sigh, an annoyed one, as if he was doing you a favour by asking you the question.

“I’ve heard your dance partner for the gala sprained his ankle, and mine has to leave early for her study abroad semester, so it would also benefit you,” he stated the obvious which made you snort. Huh, so the news travelled fast enough this time, too.

What could you do though? You hated to admit that he was right, but he was right. Yunho had managed to fall down the stairs with his impossibly long legs, and he had sprained his left ankle. The doctor had said that it would take around four weeks to heal properly, but the gala was six weeks away, and you were suddenly left without a partner. So if you wanted to attend the gala, you needed a partner as soon as possible, and since everyone seemed to be taken already, or doing a solo performance, he was your best chance if you didn’t want to come up with a new choreography.

“If I do this, do you promise to stop harassing me?” You raised an eyebrow challengingly, and for a moment, just for the slightest of a moment, you thought that he could finally give you a break and answer like a normal person would instead of being the pain in the ass that he usually was.

Yet, he didn’t.

“Absolutely not. What kinda sick request is that?” He snickered as if it had been the joke of the century. Now, it was your turn to appear nonchalant, watching as he pulled himself together after his laughing session. “Besides, you have no choice but to choose me. I’m doing you a favour.”

“Huh, as if,” you retorted coldly, unable to admit that you needed him. Just as much as he needed you though. No one was doing a favour this way, right? “We are doing my choreography though,” you added with a shrug of your shoulders, hoping to turn this whole situation against him. After all, he was the one who posed the question, right? That meant that he was more desperate than you.

“Why would we do it though? I have our choreography, too. I bet it’s way better than yours.”

“Oh, please,” you bit out, letting out a huff in disbelief. Afterwards, you gazed at each other in silence, staring at the other with lips tight as if speaking up would mean that you lost, or that you gave in. Nonetheless, you couldn’t give him the satisfaction to give in, you wanted this to be fair. So you proposed:

“Fine, let’s have a vote on it. You get your friends and I get mine, we’ll show them our choreographies and we’ll see which choreography they vote for. I guess you also have a practice video or something like that to show off.”

Wooyoung seemed to be deep in thought after your suggestion - which was a very rare instance in his case -, then cleared his throat.

“Fine,” he breathed out, and you wanted to tease him about speaking up louder because you couldn’t hear him, but he was faster and proposed changing contacts and setting a date and location for the choreography vote. You agreed that it would be best if it was held as soon as possible given the six weeks until the gala, but you needed to contact your friends first. So you left it at that, but promised to get back to the other as soon as you could.

The game was on.

The rules were simple: you could have the same amount of friends and acquaintances present for the voting as the other, so even though Wooyoung said that he could get 12 people to come, you ended up with only 8 who could come on your side, so 8 it was on his, too. Since they could see who was in the video, they knew which choreography was yours and which one was Wooyoung’s, so it wasn’t like a blind voting. However, they had to be as unbiased as possible, and choose the one that they thought would fit you two better.

It ended up being your choreography for Dua Lipa’s Houdini against Wooyoung’s for Charlie Puth and Selena Gomez’s We don’t talk anymore, but everyone agreed that yours would be better, merely because it was more sensual. You didn’t really imagine Wooyoung being the one you would dance that kind of choreography with, you were so focused on winning the vote, but something’s gotta give, right?

On the other hand, when the first dance practice rolled by, you felt like a headache was creeping onto you pretty fast. However, you tried to be as patient as possible, after all, you could see that Wooyoung was hurt by the fact that his choreography wasn’t the chosen one. You tried to ignore most of his comments and focus on teaching him the steps instead of the tangible tension between you two, but it was pretty difficult when he wasn’t making it any easier.

“Please, Wooyoung, just try to act like you feel what the song is about,” you blurted out with your hands on your hips when he turned his face towards the mirror on his left instead of your own face when you two were supposed to be gazing at each other when the lines ‘tell me all the ways you need me’ were played.

“Oh, as if you are making it easy,” the boy snickered, finally looking at you.

“Weren’t you the one who told me at the orientation week that I was lacking because I didn’t know how to act out my emotions?”

“So you remember,” he commented after a few seconds of silence, a tug at his lips evident. You couldn’t really pinpoint whether it was surprise or bewilderment or a mixture of both, but you couldn’t understand him. After all, that’s what your beef had been about. Of course, you couldn’t forget about it, otherwise, you wouldn’t hold a grudge.

“All too well, thanks for asking,” you retorted with a roll of your eyes, having enough of his pettiness. He could make up excuses all he wanted, but you wouldn’t let him get away with it - you could always come up with solutions to his excuses. “I’m not saying you have to feel those feelings towards me. Imagine your girlfriend or crush or whoever you want to,” you added on a second note, throwing your hands up in the air.

There was a moment when something flashed across Wooyoung's eyes, and even though you couldn’t tell what it was, in the next moment, his lips curled into a teasing smirk, and he broke the silence with one of the most annoying questions he had ever posed to you.

“Was that an indirect way of asking me if I have a girlfriend?” He quirked an eyebrow in a seductive way, and you fake gagged to make him think otherwise. He just had to be the most impossible person on Earth, and he had the nerve to act on it. What a nuisance.

“You are insufferable.”

“That’s new because most girls call me sexy or charming or handsome or…”

“Oh, gosh, shut up, and concentrate on dancing! We won’t get anywhere at this rate,” you reprimanded him, but you didn’t expect him to comply.

To be honest, you could try all you wanted, but Wooyoung was just as stubborn as you were, so if he wanted, he could be very hot-headed and act on his emotions rather than weighing out a situation based on pure facts. Maybe that’s why it was even more difficult to be truly mad at him. Instead, you felt frustrated, and you had a feeling that he was feeling the same way.

As expected, Wooyoung just had to continue smirking at you and wiggling his eyebrows, teasing you further about being interested in his love life. He pulled himself together only when you reminded him of the time and of the fact that if he wanted it to be over as soon as possible, he should focus on the choreography, not your conversation.

Afterwards, the atmosphere became a bit lighter, and you hated to admit it, but Wooyoung was a quick learner, and when he wasn’t being a pain in the ass, he managed to follow you well. You hoped that he could keep it up for both of your sake.

Six weeks was a pretty short time when you needed to teach someone a full choreography on top of your own classes, assignments, dance practices, and oh, did you mention that someone was Jung Wooyoung? Yeah, that made things a bit more complicated.

Wooyoung had his own set of duties, so you could squeeze in some time to practise only when it was convenient for both of you, and while it wasn’t a problem with Yunho before because you had the whole semester to prepare for the gala, with Wooyoung, it was only 6 weeks, so you had to squeeze in more practices. Nonetheless, that created more conflict in the beginning because it always seemed like one of you couldn’t make it, but after a while, you got used to practising together late at night or before your first class in the morning. That seemed to be the only way to make it work.

Plus, after a while, Wooyoung wasn’t that insufferable anymore. He had his moments, of course, but he was a talented dancer, and once he got over the fact that he was supposed to be in love with you to do the moves as accurately as possible, the whole choreography seemed a lot better. He was completely different from Yunho because Yunho was a very captivating dancer but a total sweetheart off-stage whereas Wooyoung was powerful on-stage and off-stage as well, but off-stage, he was more on the jokester side and he had a whole lot more confidence than your previous dance partner had.

Which is why it was even more baffling when he directly asked you if it was how you imagined the choreography when you finished teaching him the steps and you could get started on rehearsing the whole dance.

“I mean, it’s different dancing with you than with Yunho, but I think it turned out well,” you answered truthfully because it was difficult to compare the two of them. You also modified some parts because Wooyoung had some sensible suggestions, and you didn’t even manage to finish learning the whole choreography with Yunho by the time he had managed to sprain his ankle, thus you couldn’t even compare the two routines as a whole.

“Different good or different bad?” He quirked an eyebrow as he reached for a bottle of water, a smile hiding in the corner of his lips. He didn’t seem to be joking this time, merely curious, so you gave him what he wanted to hear:

“Different good.”

“That’s good,” he bobbed his head as his own conclusion and took a few sips from the water. His skin was dotted with drops of sweat, his jet-black locks were sticking to his temple and his forehead, but he didn’t care, he merely ran a hand through his hair like always. You hated to admit it, but he looked good. To be precise, you had always known that he looked good, but that just made him even more cocky in your eyes because he looked good and he knew it.

You didn’t ask what he meant by it, but you kept thinking about it during the remaining dance practice. You were so deep in thought that you miscalculated your steps at one point, and you would have definitely lost your balance after spinning out from his arms if he hadn’t caught you. He pulled you closer to him to keep you from falling down, but it meant that you were squeezed against his chest, your body closer to his than ever before.

It was different this time, too. It wasn’t a part of the choreography, it wasn’t a calculated closeness. It was just… how it turned out, and you were flustered because of this fact even more so. If you had been prepared for such an outcome, you would have been able to keep your emotions in check, but your heart was beating so rapidly, heat rising to your cheeks, and you didn’t like this feeling one bit.

This was new, this was odd, this was something you shouldn’t have felt towards someone you hated.

“Enjoying this?” Wooyoung inquired with a lopsided smirk when you didn’t speak up and didn’t back away from him. If it had been you a few weeks ago, you would have definitely batted his hands away or freed yourself from his grip the moment he had caught you, but these options hadn’t even crossed your mind this time.

That, though, you couldn’t tell him, or you would never hear the end of it.

“In your dreams,” you voiced out with a flippant eye-roll as you pushed yourself away from him. He seemed far too content for someone who had not given your behaviour much thought, no wonder you were ready for his call-out. What you had instead was very surprising though:

“Well, I enjoyed it very much,” he winked before prompting you to continue the practice if you finally found your footing, and you didn’t object. You needed something to concentrate on instead of the emotions he made you feel.

The gala came around sooner than expected.

With all the performances you had to showcase for your classes and the theoretical assignments you had to hand in with the end of the term approaching, you felt like you couldn’t catch your breath. Add all of those confusing feelings you had towards Wooyoung to the mixture, and you had a pretty exhausting time dealing with everything. The said boy didn’t make it any easier either because he was borderline flirting, but with someone like him, you could never tell whether he was serious or not - that included both his professional aspirations and his flirtatious remarks. You tried hard not to think too much into his behaviour, you really tried, but it was impossible to ignore the fire in his eyes or the heat of his body when he was holding you in his embrace as part of your choreography.

It didn’t help either that when you settled on your outfits for the performance, he chose black boots, black leather pants and a loose shirt that he didn’t button up properly, but you had a feeling that it was on purpose. He even said so himself that it was when you met backstage before your performance, and agreed on going through your routine once more.

“Why not? It’s comfortable this way,” he shrugged his shoulders as if it was something natural, and you shook your head, feeling very attacked by the exposed skin on his chest that was out in full display. “Don’t tell me you feel flustered because of it,” he tilted his head while he was trying to read your expression, and there it was, that damn teasing smirk playing along the edges of his lips.

“Of course not.”

“Good to know that you won’t be too distracted then,” he replied almost instantly, that smirk getting wider and wider. You kept your chin up high even when he took a step closer to you. You weren’t a fool to back away. You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. You couldn’t.

“I’m a professional.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” he responded challengingly, and took another step closer to you. You kept your gaze steady, not letting your eyelashes bat faster than before, and kept the eye-contact.

A few seconds later, someone came in to let you know that you were up next in about 5 minutes, so you stopped gazing at each other, and followed the student to halt just beside the stage. Yunho was very eager to come by to see your performance (he was okay with walking now, but wouldn’t need to dance as a practical assignment until the next term) and a few of your uni friends who could make it, so you had some people to look out for in the audience.

“Nervous?” Wooyoung inquired, genuine curiosity shining in his chocolate-brown orbs this time, and you looked at him, shaking your head.

“Not really. You?”

“Me? Nervous? Oh please,” he huffed, theatrically placing a hand over his heart as if he was hurt by your question. You let out a lighthearted laugh, and punched him in the shoulder, all in good fun. He smiled back at you, and suddenly, you felt your throat close up. You felt comfortable beside him, you really did, and it was rather new, rather… unexpected.

When they called for you to go on stage, Wooyoung reached out to squeeze your hands once before letting go of you again. You got in position without giving it a second thought, but while you were dancing, you couldn’t help but wonder: was he really acting being in love with you, or did he actually resonate with the message of the song? You didn’t feel like you were acting, it came naturally, almost like speaking your native language, and dancing with him felt like having a conversation with him. He held you strong and steady when he needed to, but he was gentle when the movement required. He smirked at you at certain lines while he gazed at you intently at others. It was all a part of the choreography, but still, with him, it felt real.

The performance came to an end in no time, and you could barely catch your breath when you were ushered down from the stage. You went back to your assigned waiting area as instructed, and even though Wooyoung seemed just as out of breath as you, he started laughing. You raised an eyebrow in question, puzzled by his sudden reaction.

“It’s just that… I would have never thought that we would make such good dance partners… and I…” He sucked in a deep breath before continuing. “I remember San telling me that if I thought about it, I would realise that you and I aren’t that different. I guess he was right,” he admitted through ragged breaths, looking up at you to see your reaction.

You weren’t that far from each other, but you took a step closer to him while you were pondering over your response. When he didn’t back away, you took another step closer to him just like he had done so before your performance.

“Really? In terms of what?

“Well, he said a lot of things,” Wooyoung answered semi-seriously before closing the gap between you two and placing a hand on your back to pull you even closer to him, a smile tugging at his lips. “But I like the fire in your eyes the most, and I think we feel the same way.”

You hated to admit it - just like basically everything when it came to him -, but he was right. You liked the fire in his eyes, but you liked it even more so because that fire seemed to be burning beside you, burning for you.

No questions were asked before both of you leaned in for a kiss, and no questions were asked afterwards either. You really did make great dance partners, and maybe even better ones off the stage.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think.

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for ATEEZ or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

[adobe-outdesign]

Have we gotten a houndoom line review yet?

I love how GameFreak's response to Pokemon's Satanic Panic problem was to make a hellhound the next Gen. And not just a hellhound, but a really good hellhound! I like that they went a more subtle route with Houndour than the Cerberus option by basically taking a Doberman and adding hellish motifs to it—black with fire-orange accents and white bones all over its body. Also nice are the shackles, which are likely a nod to how Cerberus is sometimes said to be chained.

Houndoom is even better, and does everything an evo needs to by expanding greatly on the original. Now a full-grown Doberman instead of a puppy, Houndoom has gained a pair of ribcage horns on its head, moved the skull to its chest, added an extra layer of shackles, and added a classic pointed devil tail. These all build upon the base design and themes wonderfully, and both stages are very distinct.

My only (very minor) nitpicks with Houndoom are that the skull on its chest could've been more skull-shaped as it looks more like an alien head, and the head is a weird shape. I hear a lot of complaints that it has no ears, but it has no ears because it has horns and there was no room for both on the original teeny tiny sprite. However, the Diglett-shaped head isn't quite anatomically accurate, making it look a little strange once you separate the horns from it.

(Also, side note: judging by the sprite above the chest skull and ribs were supposed to be a collar, which is a really neat idea that I kind of wish they kept. No big deal either way though, it still looks good regardless.)

I hear a lot of people say they wish [X] mega was an evolution, and like 90% of the time I disagree with them. Megas are generally handled differently than actual evos—evos often make drastic changes to the body shape and progress the Pokemon's theme in a notable way, while megas typically stick close to the original design and just add Stuff(TM). There is some overlap, of course, but generally speaking a good mega won't necessarily work as an evo and vice versa.

All of that is to say that mega Houndoom is one of the only megas where it could (and should) have been an evo. Every theme is expanded upon, the body shape has advanced pretty drastically, and there are about as many changes between it and Houndoom as there are between Houndoom and Houndour. It doesn't technically matter one way or the other, but megas are a rarely-appearing gimmick whereas evos are permanent, and this is a great design that should be used more often.

Anyway, this design is pretty perfect. It has a more muscular body than Houndoom with greatly improved head anatomy and longer legs (especially evident when you see all three lined up next to each other). The bone elements go from the small skull on Houndoom's chest to a giant wrap-around skull with tusks, as well as bigger horns and more ribcage bones. The shackles on its legs have also been broken, which is a great detail, and it's added a pitchfork motif in both the tail shape and the face markings.

My only minor nitpicks with this design are that the red claws feel a little distracting; keeping them orange might've balanced the colors better. Also, the orange on the chest should've gone under the bottom of the skull, as it creates a bit of a tension point as-is. Otherwise, this is pretty perfect all around.

Overall, a great line. There's a clear theme, each stage progresses in a logical and obvious way, and the designs are well-balanced. 10/10 would go to Hell again

[amymbona]

So I kinda had this au idea for sex therapist!Patrick but who specialises in treating people who find it hard to cum. But he's got this warm/confident/empathetic vibe, like what he loves most about his job is helping the men and women who come to him for guidance; who trust him to touch and tease their bodies, to just look at them and know what it takes to make them finally feel good. I dunno, I can just see Patrick putting his sex god powers towards helping and healing ❤️

THE GASP I JUST GASPED

Poor you :((( You're so ashamed of yourself, thinking all of the mistakes come from your side, that your body is just broken in some way, that you're the reason why none of your sexual partners were satisfied. And it breaks your heart honestly, 'cause you're afraid you won't be able to find a long term partner just because of this simple reason. You're aware sex is important in a relationship, and that it wouldn't be only your partners who remain unsatisfied - usually under the impression that you're not turned on enough by them to actually cum - but mainly yourself, unable to cum despite your raging arousal. And the worst thing is, you still don't know whether the mistake is really in you, or if you've just only been fucked by shitty men.

It takes a lot of courage for you to make an appointment at the Zweig clinic, as you're incredibly creeped out by the idea of opening yourself like that to some stranger. He sounds friendly on the phone, offering you a bunch of dates to choose from and just tells you not to worry, come in some comfy clothes, have a good breakfast in the morning, and that he will help you.

When you actually first step in, you're surprised to find a pretty domestic looking place. There's no waiting room, only a small corridor with one chair. It seems that doctor Zweig either has very little clients, or just manages to split them into so many appointments that they never overlap. You sit on the chair, one leg nervously bouncing as you wait for the door to open, really nervous what he will be like.

Doctor Zweig doesn't let you wait for long, his curly head peeking out of the door - "Welcome, it's so nice to meet you!" - and simply from the sight of his handsome face, you feel like you could cum. He's by far the most gorgeous man you have ever set your eye on, and suddenly you're almost sure why he is so successful.

He invites you in, insisting you call him Patrick and asks your name, then offers you a place to sit. "Would you like anything? A glass of water? Tea, coffee?" You leave the comfy looking sofa for him and plop down in a vintage looking arm chair as he goes to fetch you a glass of water. Soon, he returns with a smile and leisurely sits down, shooting one more smile in your direction.

You do the basic introduction when you tell him your name and age and then obviously the reason why you came. Patrick doesn't ask for your personal details at first, instead opting to tell you something about himself too. You learn he is nearing his thirties and has a fair share of sexual experience, that his biggest hobby is tennis and some other facts he considers important for you two to warm up.

For the whole time, you're struggling to keep your eyes off of him, drinking in the sight of his face. He's genuinely so handsome, like a god damn model, like he should be on the cover of some magazine. His eyes are so rich, shining at you like two expensive diamonds, and yet incredibly warm, compliment by a casual smile on his face. The curls on top of his head bounce lightly as he nods in response to your slurred words, patiently waiting for you to fully explain yourself. He allows you all the time you need, stating you're his only customer for today and so there's no need to rush. Your comfort, he says, is his priority.

Then, the personal questions begins. How many sexual partners have you had, all the positions you ever had sex in, which one usually makes you cum and do you ever come? Have you ever squirted? Does penetration work? So many questions that have you a blushing, sweating mess, almost making you want to cry. But Patrick is so sweet and kind, saying that it's completely natural, that nobody is judging you and you can talk to him as if he's just an old friend. This time, nothing serious happens and you two only make another appointment for next week, allowing you all the time in the world. When you're leaving, he asks whether you're feeling, in any way, aroused, stating it's important to know the effect he himself has on you. He gives you a homework as well, to come up with all the things that turn you on.

The next time you come in, you're wearing a pretty floral dress, as you're more afraid of him seeing you than really touching you. This way, if you two proceed to anything like that, it could all be hidden. Again, Patrick greets you with the usual smile, making your heart warm up, and invites you in. He sits you on the sofa, positioning himself next to you, and listens as you list all the things that excited you the most.

"I'm gonna touch you a bit, okay?" Patrick proposes and you nod, knowing that's the whole purpose of this predicament, so you can't really refuse.

He goes really slowly on you, so slowly and cautiously, that is actually leaves you surprised. First, his hand finds yours and he intertwines your fingers, inspecting the rings on your fingers and then the bracelets on your wrists. He kisses you on the cheek and throws one arm around you shoulders, easing you into his chest. He's so warm and smells good, it makes your head spin.

Then, Patrick finally kisses you on the lips, just lightly smooching the cherry taste of your lip stick, tasting you. He lets you kiss him back, allowing you to set the pace and intensity, engaging in your first make out session. His palm finds a place on your knee, just where your dress ends, but he doesn't dare slide under the fabric yet. Instead, his fingers lightly rub your knee and squeeze it.

When you begin responding more hungrily, your nose bumping into his messily, he pulls away. In front of him sits a cute, blushing girl, her pupils blown wide as she's unable to believe she's been kissed like that. Seriously, nobody has ever kissed you better than Patrick just did. And it's only the first kiss you two have shared. If he's supposed to fix your body in the most intimate ways, you can't even imagine what it would feel like when he proceeds further.

"I want you to set a pace. And a boundary. Okay? Don't just kiss me because you feel like you have to," he tells you, still massaging your knee gently, while he runs the fingers of his free hand through your hair. "Think of it as a real sexual experience, because it is. As if I was your boyfriend, doing all this with you."

You nod again, suddenly feeling shy of your actions. The sudden need you have for him. "Can I kiss you again?"

He lets you. He lets you kiss him and crawl onto his lap, to run your hands over his shoulder and tangle in the curls on the back of his neck. He allows you to touch him just as you please, discovering his body in your own way. When you hands keep roaming over his chest for too long, Patrick gently directs them to the top button of his shirt. "If you want to."

You take your time, slowly undoing the buttons on Patrick's shirt one by one, allowing for your palms to feel his skin. He's ripped muscles tight even when he sits so relaxed under you - probably the result of frequent tennis playing - and not so hairy either. All in all, he's warm and nice to touch.

Patrick notices the little falter of your breath as you stare at his body, and the gentle raise of your own chest, each and every breath passing through your mouth. The lipstick is a bit smeared from the messy intensity of your kisses and so he reaches up to wipe away the bit that remains on your chin, his touch gentle.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N," he whispers with full honesty, unable to tear his eyes off of your face. It's natural for Patrick to develop a bit of a relationship with his clients, his magic wouldn't work otherwise, but with you - such a pretty girl on his lap - he genuinely means it.

"Patrick," you sigh, lips parting as his finger slides over them.

"I want to make you feel good," he states in determination, his eyes glowing as he looks at you. "Will you let me?"

You let him. With his help, you sit with your back facing him, between his spread legs. Before your back could come to rest against his chest he stops you, and slowly slips down the straps of your dress. Shivers run down your spine at the gentle touch of his fingertips, feeling the softness of your skin. You have such a beautiful body, and he has only seen so little so far.

The top of your dress pools around your hips as he pulls you into his chest and his hands settle on your waist. There you rest, settled into the warmth of Patrick's body, eyes wide as you stare ahead, wondering if he can see your breasts over your shoulder. And you'd be really nervous if he could.

"I'm gonna touch," his whisper reaches your ear, the slow movements giving you time to reject his advances. But you don't.

Patrick's palms cup your breasts delicately, earning a small sigh from your pink lips, your own gaze slipping to see how good they fit in his hands. Almost as if he was made to holds them. He feels the weight in his hands before lightly squeezing, one more sound from your lips following. There, as you rest, Patrick begins gently kneading your breasts, squeezing the muscles and letting you get adjusted to the unusual intrusion.

The moment Patrick senses the ease in your posture, your shoulders slouching just barely and your head falling on his shoulder, he decides to proceed. Both of his thumbs roll over nipples, the touch so light but thoroughly felt. It makes you shudder and moan, the high pitched sound filling the room of his office.

No man has ever paid a generous amount of attention to your breasts, finding them just pretty to stare at in your low cut tops, but never enough to fondle or fully touch them. A kiss here and a violent tug on your nipple there, but that was all.

"Do you like it?" Patrick asks, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

"Yes," you nod.

"Woman's nipples are as sensitive as her clitoris, at most times, but many people fail to notice that," Patrick continues talking while still teasing your nipples delicately, earning a small sigh from your pink lips. This is, honestly, better that any soft of a dirty talk. Simply being told how exactly your body works while it's being touched at the most sensitive spots. That's thousand times better. "It's crucial that they are stimulated too, as it adds to the sexual experience and makes the whole act much more enjoyable."

"I-" you attempt to speak, but all that leaves your mouth are small gasps and moans. "I haven't really... No one ever pays attention."

But Patrick is. All his focus is glued to your sensitive, pink, pretty nipples and how the feel under his fingers. By all your reactions, he's well aware that it's making you feel good, better than just good. "That's okay, sweetheart, I am. Do you know a woman can orgasm purely as a result of nipple stimulation?"

Of course you don't know that. With all the attention your breasts have ever received, you barely know how they work. "N-no."

"I want you to know. To make you feel it. Will you let me?" he's determined. He wants to make you cum, not by fucking or fingering you. But simply by playing with your beautiful breasts and whispering sweet words into your ear, have you lay and pant against his chest, too shy to actually face him. He wants you exactly the way you are, that's how your first proper orgasm should be.

"Please."

That word is like a switch turned on for Patrick, stopping him from holding back. His lips mouth your neck, trace the path down your throat while his hand keep kneading your breasts, listening to your delicate moans that follow each time he deliberately brushes his fingers over your nipples. You're a perfect little patent, but you're also much more than that. A wonderful young woman with shattered sex appeal who's begging to be put back together, to be given the lacking confidence and shown how much fun sex can really be. You're all he needs for his work and he's all you need for your life.

Perhaps a part two? :3

[waywardstation]

Hola! Hope it's ok to ask for any drawing advice.

I'm very rusty in my drawing skills and I really want to draw pokemon, is there any tip(s) you could give on how to draw pokemon?

Thanks in advance

Hello hello! I appreciate you wanting to ask me! Thank you so much!! :)

Yes, I can do my best to give you some tips that help me!

This tip works best if you want to stick closer to Pokémon’s style and designs rather than wanting to do your own interpretation — that can be fun to do too, though!

So for this, I picked purugly as an example!

So when I am drawing something, to me, IT COMES DOWN TO CONSTRUCTION WITH SHAPES!

When I find I have a hard time drawing pokemon (or anything else!), I can take its official art, and break it down into shapes.

Then, you can take those shapes and move them around into another pose! (I used different colors to help differentiate overlapping parts, certainly not required)

Then you can use these shapes to help figure out the Pokémon’s body over the pose, and make changes as needed! (See the left back leg, and the front paws)

And there you go! A pokemon drawn from the shapes!

It can also help a lot to trace right over the official art to get a feel for drawing the pokemon, too! You can also use it as an opportunity to see if you’d like to draw anything differently than the linework already set down below you (as you can see, the ears stray from the linework slightly, it’s just a style choice I decided to make!)

I hope this helps! If not, I’m always down to give more tips! But basically, tracing the pokemon to get used to its design, and breaking it down into shapes so you can use those shapes to set up poses you want, are what I recommend! Cause man there are some crazy pokemon designs out there haha.

Breaking down designs with shapes and tracing is something I do all the time, it’s a method that helps me a ton! Hopefully it helps you too! :)

[draconesmundi]

Dracones Mundi infographics to explain some of the dragon design features in my project :3

Image IDs in alt text or below the cut:

A labelled diagram depicting a dragon’s head. Labels are: ear slit. Wattle on horn that looks like an ‘ear’. Dorsal finlets made of thick skin. Overlapping osteoderms like Vancleavea (accompanied by Vancleavea fossil photo). Overall appearance inspired by pseuedosuchians, including extant crocodiles (accompanied by skeletal mount of Prestosuchus and a photo of a baby Nile crocodile). Smoother scales on belly for sliding though mud into bodies of water. ‘Beard’ or jaw wattle of thick skin. Rear venom fang, full of cytotoxic venom. The dragon can ‘spit’ like a spitting cobra, and the cytotoxins are similar to those found in puff adder venom. Lots of different snakes inspire dragon venom (accompanied by diagram of snake skull).

A dragon family tree accompanied by a paragraph of text. Text reads: There is a lot of morphological diversity in Dracones Mundi – dragons all evolved from a type of pseudosuchian, and had a basic ‘four legs and a long tail' body plan. Many families have atrophied their hind limbs, many have small legs and more serpentine shape. Dragon wings are not limbs, but patagium spread between osteoderm spokes, so there is a diversity in wing size and function (display, thermoregulation, camouflage) beyond gliding (only the flying serpent family really use them for gliding…). Flight is achieved by magic.

The dragons on the family tree are: turtle dragons, such as the cucafera. Firedrakes, azhdar and long are in one family. ‘Beast dragons’ such as the tatzelwyrm. ‘Feathered serpents’ such as coameh. Wyverns and cockatrices. Flying serpents or ‘amphitheres’. Wyrms and serpents. Sea serpents and lake monsters.

[calicough]

hi! :) can i submit a request? how about something like a jealous!hazel vibe where reader and hazel are friends w benefits (or so the reader thinks. they never talked about labels or defined the relationship) !! so when hazel finds a hickey on reader that isn’t from her, she’s like…..oh…???…thought we were a thing….…?? with a happy ending.. please and thank you💗

what are we? – hazel callahan

— a question that both of you never discussed.

fluff? my poor attempt at comedy. jealous hazel. sulky hazel. suggestive content!

it started when she got beaten up so bad during training against sylvie who was out for blood that day probably because of her stepdad. with you as the club's self-appointed first aid responder, you stood inbetween her legs as she sat on the bathroom sink, cleaning the cuts on her face and hands. she wasn't sure if it was because she had a concussion from her head hitting the floors a moment prior, but the way your face was so close to hers was driving her insane that her mouth involuntarily cut you off mid sentence talking about something that she couldn't quite remember because god... your lips were so soft. one thing led to another, hazel left that bathroom with another bruise by her collarbone.

the both of you decided to continue this little escapade and agreed to never talk about it publicly. because of this, hazel had something to look forward to besides the fight club. she liked the thrill of being your secret and her as yours. you were basically hers and she was yours. which is why she tripped down the stairs when she saw you walk by the hallway with a hideous red splotch on your neck. she could hear people gasping and laughing at her fall (with pj's booming laughter overpowering everything) while all she could think about was who the fuck decided to fuck you without her permission.

you, on the other hand, was sure that the people around you were assuming the worst of the burn on your neck. last sunday morning, your half asleep self decided to try straightening your hair with a curling iron because you just wanted to. it was so dangerously close to your skin that it made contact, leaving a nasty red mark that was fading but still visible the next morning. you actually had forgotten all about it until isabel asked you, "who did that?" while pointing at your neck.

hazel basically avoided you in every class that you shared together, really agitated at the thought of someone giving you that mark. instead of sitting with you and the rest of the fight club, she sat at the front to avoid seeing your neck which kind of failed as she would "sneakily" peek at you. what's up with her? you thought to yourself as it looked like she was side-eyeing you. when lunch came around, she kept her distance from you and ignored everything that you said. she was still taking quick glances at your hickey, pretending to find something when your eyes would catch hers.

throughout the entirety of the club, hazel did not look into your eyes except for when you would catch her side-eyeing you (which greatly annoyed you because as far as you're concerned, you didn't do anything wrong that day). after bidding goodbye to everyone, hazel quickly ran out the gym doors and to her car, sighing in relief when her body made contact with the seat. as soon as she turned on the ignition, you entered her unlocked car. hazel, of course, screamed when she heard the door slammed shut. "what the fuck?!" she looked at you incredulously. now it was your turn to look at her that way.

"what the fuck?!" you scoffed, mocking her tone. "i think i should be the one saying that to you—"

"you just entered my fucking car without knocking!" hazel exclaimed, her voice overlapping with yours as she gestured towards the door. she should've locked it first.

"— because you kept avoiding me this whole day."

"i was not!" she defended. from the outside, unbeknownst to the both of you, pj was livetweeting your screaming match to her followers (aka the fight club) on her vent account. hazel should really tint her windows.

"you were being a bitch," your hands flew up in the air out of frustration as hazel gasped at your accusation. "did i do something wrong? did something happen? why are you letting it out on me?!"

hazel scrunched her nose and crossed her arms, sinking lower to her seat. "it's because of that damn hickey on your neck..." she whined and pouted as she looked away from you. "who gave you that hickey? why didn't you ask me first? why didn't they ask me first? this is so unfair."

confused at her reply, you let out a loud "huh?! this is not a hickey!"

"then what is it then?" she looked at you with her eyebrows furrowed.

"it was from a curling iron, i accidentally burned myself while trying to style my hair yesterday," you said. "and if it's a hickey, what's it to you? i mean... it's not like we're together."

hazel's eyebrows softened at what you said, her eyes now resembling a puppy's. "we're not?" she thought both of you had a connection. "i thought... i thought we had something."

you sighed and faced your body towards her. "we certainly do have something. it's just that... we never really talked about... whatever's going on between us," you explained to her as she looked down on her lap. "i just assumed that we were a situationship or a friends with benefits type of thing, which is my fault for not bringing it up."

"that was on me too." hazel's blue eyes peered through her lashes as she turned to you. "i shouldn't have assumed anything," she whispered. you gave her a small smile and held her hand, making her heart pound so fast she's sure that it'll explode out of her chest.

"so... what are—"

"do you wanna be girlfriend-girlfriend?" she hesitantly and quickly blurted out to get that thought out of her head. but it seemed like you didn't quite catch that.

"hm?" you tilted your head to the side. you're so cute that hazel wants to kiss you so badly.

"i said," she pursed her lips and swallowed before speaking slowly. "do you want to be girlfriend-girlfriend?" her hands are sweating. she hopes that you won't feel the sweat.

you gave her a quick kiss on the lips with her lips chasing for more. "what do you think?" you giggled as your lips softly reconnected. hazel smiled into the kiss, happy that both of you won't be each other's secrets anymore. the kiss was broken when both of your phones wouldn't stop going off. turns out pj took a photo of your kiss and included it in her livetweet.

aahhh! thank you for requesting! i'm sorry if this isn't what you had in mind >< but i hope you still liked it!

[manic-marzal]

hot take but i think the novelty of ancient breeds and their line breaking genes has worn out a little and i don’t think it makes up for them not being to wear apparel at all or breed with normal dragons

imo aethers, dusthides, gaolers, sandsurges, and veilspun aren’t wacky enough to be ancient breeds. we’ve got bug with horns, smooth boi fat tail, big shaggy moose tundra, not quite ridgebacks, and bug (?) with hair. they all fit the head neck torso arms legs wings tail layout modern breeds do, it’s literally just the line breaking genes that are the issue and the customization from apparel feels better than what the terts offer anyway imho

abberations, auraboas, banescales, and undertides i understand a little more, but…

abberations literally just have two heads and two tails. you can make head and tail apparel just go on both. some people might not want that but there’s a lot of things on the site some people don’t want already so that’s kinda a moot point

auraboas, okay. they don’t have legs or anything analogous to legs. i get why they don’t wanna have a dressable dragon with no legs. i’ll accept that

banescales don’t have arms, but i feel like that’s more manageable since the wings are in the place the arms should be. i think it’s workable putting arm apparel on wings though

undertides i can understand the most. they don’t have arms or legs and the best they have in their place is tiny fins. i can live with them not being dressable

“but the terts are so cool! it would take too long to draw all the apparel for all the breeds! you’re breaking the rules!”

i don’t think the line breaking ancient genes are cool enough to justify it. i’d rather wait longer for them to draw all the apparel stuff than get something kinda mid quicker. people make fake clothing accents for ancients all the time so it’s definitely doable. hell just get creative with how the clothes lay around the line breaking terts. put the terts on a different layer so they can overlap when needed. idk

don’t get me wrong, i’m really appreciative of the art team and everyone else on staff, i just don’t think this is working as well as intended or paying off enough to justify continuing. make the terts crazier (if you can even do that within the square they’re stuck in) or just make them modern breeds <:/

edit: i don’t expect them to change existing ancients if they change anything at all. that would be an enormous backlog and frankly unreasonable. i just think going forward they should be more lenient on what is a modern breed that deserves time put into drawing apparel for them and what should be dug deeper into to make truly weird and crazy enough to justify not being able to customize them with the thousands of different apparel pieces on site when that’s like half the game

also if they’re gonna add parallel genes anyway why can’t you breed them with other ancients or moderns. if it’d result in a gene the other breed doesn’t have just make it default to basic or something

second edit: just make the weird terts some kind of apparel. no it wouldn't have the same color range as genes but looking at clothing stuff like roundhorns and antlers and feathered wings and claws and whatever else, they could make 90% of the weird tacked on line breaking terts into apparel pieces with a good variety of colors and it'd be more or less the same thing

[raintailed]

rain rain rain rain how do you draw iterators and slugcats btw like all your gyus are so shaped its so fun to look at theyre just little guys...

i'm gonna start with slugcats! my old guide from 2023 is here.

Note: "slugcat" refers to multiple species (slugcats are in a species complex). It can be hard to differentiate slugcat species, since some are very similar and hybridization between them is common where their ranges overlap. The species that Monk and Survivor are members of is called the "common slugcat."

Slugcats are weird sorta-feline creatures that walk bipedally and have little hands. Their average height is 3'3" or about 1 meter tall.

Their basic body shape is a round head on top of a trapezoidal body. Their legs are digitigrade, they have human-like arms (that are often skinny lol), and their tails are thick and tapering. Slugcats also have retractable arms ig??? I have no idea how that would work

In terms of head shape, it's similar to a cat's, but with a somewhat taller forehead (bigger brain! more room for being Smart!). Slugcats usually have short muzzles, big eyes, and long ears.

Note: slugcat arms usually rest in front of the body (think meerkats) rather than to the sides like a human.

Uhhh I like giving slugcats dewlaps (rabbit dewlaps are a good reference)!

And for fat slugcats, fat is usually stored in the tail (and dewlap) first. So naturally my gourmand has a big tail and a big dewlap :]

And!! I like to think that some slugcats have fur, and some don't. Hairless slugcats are slimy; furred slugcats have oily, waterproof coats. Some shorthaired slugcats have smooth fur like otters and seals do.

TEEFS!!! Except technically, slugcats don't have teeth. Rather, they have sharp, jagged beaks (think cephalopods). Their beaks continually grow and they are self-sharpening. Because their beaks are really sharp, slugcat bites are always serious injuries.

The length of their "fangs" varies by species. Some carnivorous species have long fangs, for example.

And! They have bristly tongues like cats (and kinda like the radula of a gastropod).

For their paws, slugcats have 3-fingered hands and feet. Their claws vary; some individuals have blunt claws, some have sharp claws, others have retractable claws, etc.

The inner toe of a slugcat's foot is opposable, making it easy for them to grab onto poles with their feet. (Compare to scavengers, who mostly use their arms to climb.)

SLUPPIES!!!!!! (don't worry about the fluffy one, they're just eepy)

Slugpups have different proportions than adults! Including having a bigger head, chubbier body, etc. Fluffy slugpups can also be a bit scraggly like longhaired kittens are.

My slugcats are basically egg-laying marsupials. They lay eggs, store them in their pouch, and then the eggs hatch into itty bitty babies. The babies stay in the pouch, feeding on milk until they're big enough to venture outside.

When pups are too big for the pouch, they ride on their parent's head or back. They also begin the process of weaning around this time, since by then they've started growing a sharp beak (i guess before that, their beak is dull and too small to self-sharpen?).

Note: some slugcat species are unisex and others are trioecious (having male, female, and hermaphrodite individuals).

For expressions, ears are important!!

Neutral: ears relaxed. The relaxed position varies by individual; some slugcats have their ears rest slightly tilted back, for example.

Alert/interested: ears perked up.

Angry: ears pinned back. Very angry slugcats have their ears positioned so they're almost in line with the top of the head.

Afraid: ears pinned down (sometimes slightly to the sides, too).

Sad: ears droop to the sides.

Slugcats mostly use their tails for balance, but they're used for some emotes too.

Upwards-curled tail is an excited or enthusiastic hello! Kinda like how some cats raise their tail when they see their human.

When upset, annoyed, or grumpy, slugcats may thump their tail against the ground (kinda like how rabbits stomp).

Some slugcats wag their tails when playing or excited. This isn't a universal thing, though.

Slugcats with fur may puff up their tail when startled or scared. They may also puff their tail when excited or playing, too.