the coloring in this scene is awful don't look at me like that

So earlier today I got rather pissed off when some rude anon who has probably never made a GIF in their lives decided to attack my friend (and one of the best GIFmakers I know) for no reason telling them not to talk about GIFmaking like it’s a big deal since it’s just taking clips from existing video. I was hoping to forget about this, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how many non-GIFmakers really do think that’s all GIFmaking is (including myself before I started making GIFs to some extent). Luckily, most people aren’t that rude about it and know not to insult content creators over a topic they actually don’t know much about…but I still feel the need to discuss some of the often lengthy effort that goes into making medium to high quality GIFs.

As a disclaimer, I’m NOT trying to be elitist and I honestly don’t consider myself one of the top tier GIFmakers. I also don’t think that GIFmakers HAVE to put in a lot of effort to alter GIFs from the original video frames if they don’t want to. It’s just a hobby where we try to capture/highlight cool moments using a severely limited and dying file format lol…so it’s really up to the individual how much they wanna put into it. However, the truth of the matter is that many GIF and graphics makers that contribute greatly to numerous fandoms DO put in a significant amount of effort to make their GIFs look different from and better than the original video.


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Drowning (COC Day 4)

Day 4: Rainy Day

I love the rain. I hope you enjoy my sixth year fic, which takes place during the events in Winter Break described in Fangirl. @carryon-countdown

My other COC fics can be found here: 1 2 3

Word Count: 1364


Going on a moat on a rainy day was a bad idea even under the best of circumstances. If that moat was filled with merwolves though, and being punted by Baz, then you were really under dire circumstances. Simon wobbled onto the boat and glared at Baz, who’d gracefully loaded himself on in front of Simon. It really wasn’t fair how perfect he was. The rain was falling so rapidly that it stung a little on his face as it came down.

“If you tell me what you’re looking for,” Baz said, irritably, “Then we might be able to get out before the storm really hits.”

Simon looked away and didn’t answer. He wasn’t about to trust Baz with something like finding the fifth hair. He was already so close to finding all the hares, if Baz hadn’t already caught on to what he was doing then he didn’t want to cause it prematurely. He always found out what Simon was up to, it was only ever a matter of time before he’d get in his way.

“It’s nothing,” Simon said.

Baz rolled his eyes.

“Suit yourself, get soaked for all I care.”

Simon realized, not for the first time since they’d walked to the punts, that he should probably be grateful for what Baz was doing. It wasn’t like he normally would help Simon, especially not on Christmas Eve.

“Thanks though,” Simon said, quietly, “For this.”

Baz frowned at him.

“Just hurry up and get whatever you need to do done,” he muttered.

Simon sighed and gave up on conversation.

The boat wobbled slightly as a gust of wind pushed against it. Simon tripped and nearly fell over into the water.

“Careful!” Baz barked.

Simon righted himself.

“I-I yeah, I’m sorry.”

He had to be careful in the boat given that he didn’t know how to swim. 

Holding onto the side of the punt with his slick hands, he studied the wall against the moat. It had colorful mosaics, battles, legends, and historical scenes scattered across it. The blinding rain made it difficult for Simon to see clearly, so he had to lean a little closer to try and make the images out. He saw something about a half creature, man and dragon, and a forest on fire. None of it made very much sense, so he leaned closer.


He’d leaned too far.

He smacked into the cold water like it was a semi-solid wall, the shock causing him to open his mouth and swallow a mouthful of brackish, dirty water. He choked on it, writhing in the blurry depths of the moat and sinking further. His mind was telling him not to panic, that all he had to do was kick up, but his heart was pounding fast and he couldn’t get control of his legs.

Suddenly, as a dark shape shifted somewhere in front of Simon, he remembered that there were merwolves in the moat. They were liable to kill anyone who tried to swim in the moat; a few students had been killed during an ill thought out night of truth or dare once.

He yelled uselessly under the water. 

Simon wanted to summon his sword, or use a spell, but he couldn’t think as the icy water pressed against his eardrums and burned his eyes. He was terrified, and there was nothing he could do to stop whatever was about it happen. It looked like Baz would get his wish, Simon Snow dead, and it wouldn’t even be his fault.

Something splashed into the water next to Simon. For a moment, he thought it was another one of the merwolves, and kicked desperately to get away. But then hands were encircling his wrists, and he realized it was a person, that it was Baz. 

One of the murky shadows around them jetted forward and Simon watched in awe as Baz, yelling something Simon couldn’t understand in the water, shot his wand in the direction of the merwolf. Light shot out of it, and Simon heard an awful gurgling noise come out of the creature. Some of the approaching merwolves paused in their pursuit as the braver one of the pack died. 

Baz was pushing Simon, moving him towards what Simon was hoping was the boat. After a minute or so, Simon’s knee connected painfully with wood and he knew they had reached it. Desperately, Simon pushed himself up and over the boat’s edge, with Baz following suit. After a minute or so of grunting and balancing themselves, they managed to flop into the punt.

Baz had saved Simon’s life, and had risked his own to do it. Simon wasn’t sure what was happening, his universe felt as if it had been flipped upside down. 

It was raining harder now and Simon felt that, at this point, he owed Baz something huge.

“I’m looking for the six white hares,” Simon gasped out.

Baz turned to cough and his grey eyes locked furiously with Simon’s.

“Quite frankly,” Baz said, “I don’t give a fuck about what you were looking for.”


He’d almost watched Snow die. 

As Baz worked to get the punt back to the dock, his shoulders burning, he couldn’t get the image of Snow falling overboard out of his mind. He’d tried to get to him on time but even his vampire enhancements hadn’t been enough. What good was there in being immortally cursed if you couldn’t use it to save the guy you loved? 

Snow was sitting in the middle of the boat, as instructed, with all of his limbs inside. He looked vaguely irritated and more than a little ashamed. Baz wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. He knew Snow would want to know why Baz saved him, as if Baz was just some monster that would watch someone drown without a care in the world. But he wasn’t sure what to say to him. 

They got to the dock and Baz stormed off the boat.

“Baz wait!”

Baz kept going.

“Look I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to put you at risk!”

The rain was a torrent now, making the grass muddy and unstable.


He whipped around, narrowing his eyes at Snow.

“You never mean to put anyone at risk, do you Snow? Except for yourself. You don’t care much about that.”

Snow shook his head.

“I don't…why do you even care? It’s not like you’ve ever minded before what happens to me.”

Baz wasn’t prepared to be having this conversation but the image of Snow going overboard had been too much, it was forcing the words out of him before he could catch them in time.

“You’re an idiot Snow,” Baz said, practically shouting, “You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Snow threw his arms open wide, gesturing all around them.

“So tell me! What else are we going to do on this bloody awful Christmas Eve?”

Baz couldn’t look away from Snow. His hair was plastered to his forehead and looked brown while it was wet. His blue eyes were squinting against the rain and his cheeks were flushed from the cold. The desire to tell him everything came over him like a wave, all the rain collecting into one unstoppable crashing of his feelings. 

“I care,” Baz said.

Snow was studying his face.

“I care…Simon.”

And then he stepped forward and kissed him.

For a moment Snow didn’t react, didn’t even move. Baz felt it like a crack against his heart and he wondered how he was going to live past that moment. But then Snow’s hands came up into his hair, and he was kissing him back. Against the freezing rain, Snow’s mouth was the warmest thing Baz had ever felt. 

Their tongues crashed against one another helplessly, and Baz felt thunder in his chest and lightning in his stomach. He could taste the rain on Snow’s mouth and marveled at it, that he could do this with him. 

Snow broke away from the kiss, gasping.

“I care too,” he said.

Baz nodded, heart throbbing.

Snow slid his wet fingers into Baz’s hand and together, they made their way back to their room in the rain.

anonymous asked:

Hi~ so I've just been dying over your sets as of late and was wondering if you could ever make a tutorial that focused on the layers themselves and how it is to isolate a certain color by still making it vibrant but also not having it affect the parts that you don't want to be colored? I'm just having a real hard time trying to figure it out and it's overwhelming me to say the least. Thank you in advance :) 💕

hey pal !! of course i can!!! firstly, thank you so much for being so kind about my gifs, it really means a lot :). i use photoshop cc and we’ll be going from this

to this

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I know that SuperCorp is very unlikely to happen because Sanvers is already a thing, but between us… that’s bullshit.

Tv shows should always aim to reach out for the audience, capturing their interest - on a side trying to represent them and on the other trying to surprising them. We’re getting a hint of representation of the LGBT community (and I’m not saying LGBTQA+, because that part of the community is practically nonexistent according to the media) right now, which is definitely not enough, and what we get is rarely a quality product (for the most part, we’re used to make jokes, which isn’t representation, but more likely cheap comedy). We frequently get little screen-time, poor character development (he’s gay, what else is there to say?) and yes, we often get to DIE too (for the benefit of famous “shock value”… which doesn’t shock anybody, really, since it happens almost all the time). What we don’t get is main roles, good backstories, characters who are not only defined by their sexual orientation and… well, to live, to grow and get to be happy on screen (what an absurd concept, am I right?).

Supergirl has done an incredible job by representing Alex Danvers’ coming out story: it showed its audience how a strong, brave woman like Alex can still be very fragile and struggle with this kind of realization; how she fears to accept herself, to be fully herself and out with the people she cares the most about, and more importantly how things can actually go well. This is damn important, ‘cause it helps a lot of people to think that “Hey, maybe my family won’t take it this badly” or “Maybe my friends will accept me” and “Maybe things will change for the better!”, ‘cause guess what? IT CAN HAPPEN AND IT HAPPENS! But this is not very interesting to show, apparently, ‘cause most of the time it’s all freaking dramatic and it ends in tragedy.

The new generations are already lucky, ‘cause now there is something like this (Supergirl) on Tv, but it’s not enough still, ‘cause they’re portraying a tiny fragment of their audience, of the people around the world, and if you think “But it’s a lot already”, I’m gonna tell you that the straights have every single damn shade from every single damn angle for their representation on screen, while we are barely there and almost never the main character or anything close to that. Yes, there are movies in which we are protagonists, but let’s be real, they’re almost always centered on our sexual orientation, the discovery and the consequences, which is helpful and good to see, but it’s not everything there’s to see and to know. Plus, they really abuse of the dramatic factor of it in order to “send a message”, but that’s a message wasted on the straights, and if they think you’re an abomination already, surely a movie won’t change their minds. Instead, it will just fuel fear in us, which - there’s no really need to say it - it’s bad (we unfortunately have reality for that).

I remember my probably very first approach to the whole “girls liking girls” thing thanks to the media.
I was a kid and I was watching this movie on the Tv. I remember only pieces of it, ‘cause I don’t think I was paying much attention until a certain point. What I still recall, though, stuck in my head for a reason.
There were two girls, one white and the other brown, that grew closer to each other (I seriously don’t remember anything about whatever was the rest of the story). I recall this very specific scene that had me and my sister (who was also watching) like: “Oh, they are helping each other undressing ‘cause they’re friends”. When they started making out we were like “Oh… Okay, so they’re not just friends, apparently”, and that was it. I don’t think we knew about all the hatred towards people of same sex being in love with each other, to us it was just like “Okay, this is a thing that exists: acknowledged”. They seemed to be fine, so there was no issue… right? WRONG!
The white girl’s brother saw them, got angry as shit, took a gun and started shooting at them. They got into a car, trying to get away from him, but he got into another and started chasing them. It was raining, they were scared as shit, he looked insane, I felt the anguish growing inside of me: it was awful (again, I was a kid at the time).
The car slipped, then fell down a bridge into a river/lake and it quickly sank. After a while, only the white girl emerged from the water. The other drowned.
Last scene that I remember was a time jump where the white girl was a now a white granny, and she was probably remembering this terrible thing that happened to her once.

No fucking wonder if growing up I didn’t want to be gay and I pushed down my feelings and thoughts, since this is the kind of message to which I was subjected. And now? Now there are some things that portray the whole “being gay” as normal (as it always should be) and not in a dramatic, catastrophic way, but it’s also true that we get shows like The 1OO, Person of Interest, Orange Is The New Black, Pretty Little Liars, The Walking Dead and many, many, many others where the lesbian freaking dies, where there is no happy ending for us.

It’s simply not okay.

But to finally address the very main reason why I started this post - that no one will read ‘cause it’s too long, and people have time only for thoughts as long as a tweet - is the importance to acknowledge the presence of MORE THAN ONE GAY CHARACTER in a story. In a story AND in a family. Yes, as crazy as it sounds, we are more than two and we indeed can have LGBTQA+ wonderful siblings. Madness, right? Except that it’s not, it’s our reality, which is way more colorful, interesting and beautiful than the arid one-sided representation we witness on daily basis (I’m talking about heteronormative).

So, what really drives me nuts, it’s not the fact that people seem to be scared shitless to insert us in anything (although we’re everywhere), but how little crafty they are. We have proven to be a real force of nature over the whole LGBT Fans Deserve Better initiative, which raised by far $166,547 for the Trevor Project, and we did that after being smacked down once again by showrunners. Can you imagine what we could do if people were fair to us, for a change? We’re loyal, passionate, absurdly creative and talented (have you ever seen our fanArts, read our fanfictions? They’re often better than the original stuff and we don’t get paid a coin for making them), and yet we hardly get anything.

Tv shows should listen to their audience and get smart, because it’s not a pink UFO the thing we’re asking for, it’s not something that won’t fit their story, but simply more good representation. Supergirl scored with Sanvers, but there’s still so much potential that is sadly going to waste, and if they opened their eyes they would see it.

Do you want a great, original idea? Be fair and listen.

If Izaya had a crush on Shun (4)
  • Shun: Izaya-kun! Are you alright?!
  • Izaya: I’m fine…did that beast hit you, Shun-chan?
  • Shun: I didn’t get hit, Izaya-kun you’re the one who’s hurt! Ah, wait – don’t move!
  • Izaya: It’s fine, it’s fine…this is nothing. See? I can still move.
  • Izaya: *shrugs his shoulders, holding back a wince*
  • Shun: Izaya-kun is strong, but you’re still injured. Hey, don’t worry me like that. Stay still, I’m going to heal you.
  • Izaya: There’s no need for that –
  • Shun: Stay still, Izaya-kun.
  • Izaya: …Yes.
  • -------
  • Hajime: (…Was he holding Shun’s hand?)
  • Hajime: Shizuo, why did you throw that vending machine?
  • Hajime: I have nothing against that, but you could have hurt Shun. And then I would have hurt you.
  • Shizuo: HUH?! …I didn’t hit the girl, I think.
  • Hajime: Girl? …What is that guy doing? Shun!
  • Shizuo: Huh? Hey! It’s dangerous to go near the flea, Hajime!
  • -------
  • Shun: *removes his hands from Izaya, the light fading*
  • Shun: Do you feel better, Izaya-kun?
  • Izaya: Thanks to you, Shun-chan.
  • Izaya: *smiles and takes hold of Shun’s hands*
  • Shun: I-Izaya-kun…?
  • Izaya: Thanks. You really do have a magic touch, hm Shun-chan?
  • Shun: *blushing*
  • Shun: E-Eh…
  • Izaya: If it leads to Shun-chan healing me like this, then I wouldn’t mind getting hit by a vending machine again –
  • Izaya: *ducks to dodge the stop sign*
  • Izaya: Again, I didn’t mean that literally. This time it’s a stop sign huh, Shizu-chan?
  • -------
  • Hajime: Shun!
  • Shun: H-Hajime!?
  • Izaya: *evades Hajime’s punch*
  • Hajime: You…stay away from Shun.
  • Shun: Hajime!
  • Shizuo: What the hell have you been up to, fucking flea?!
  • Izaya: Well, well. Not only is there one beast, now there are two. Can’t a man get a peaceful date with an angel around here?
  • Shizuo: …You fucking flea…not appearing in Ikebukuro for a week AND NOW I FIND YOU BEING ALL LOVEY-DOVEY WITH SOME GIRL – YOU WANT TO DIE, AHHHHHHHHH?!
  • Izaya: Shun-chan is a guy. And even if Shun-chan was a girl, it’s none of your business if I’m lovey-dovey with my girlfriend. What, are you jealous or something, Shizu-chan? Did you think I was with a girl and you were jealous because no woman would go near a monster like you?
  • Shun: Izaya-kun!
  • Shun: *runs to Izaya*
  • Hajime: What are you doing, Shun? Get away from him.
  • Shun: Why, Hajime? Izaya-kun is my friend. What do you have against him? He’s a fan of –
  • Hajime: He’s a bad guy.
  • Shun: …Izaya-kun has been nothing but kind to me.
  • Hajime: …Shun.
  • Shun: Hajime. I don’t know why you don’t like him, but I don’t believe Izaya-kun is a bad guy. …You’re not acting like yourself, Hajime.
  • Hajime:
  • Izaya: The angel has spoken. So if you two could leave us alone on our date –
  • -------
  • Hajime (182cm): You’re short.
  • Izaya (175cm): …Excuse me?
  • Shun (182cm): Eh, I like Izaya-kun’s shortness! I think it’s cute ~
  • Shizuo (185cm): …A taller flea…?
  • -------
  • Hajime: I said you're short.
  • Izaya: I'll have you know I'm above the average height for a Japanese man -
  • Hajime: You're too short for Shun. Shun needs someone who can look at him from the same level.
  • Izaya: I wasn't aware you needed to be tall enough to date someone you like. Also, at least I'm not a prickly porcupine.
  • Haijme: …Prickly porcupine?
  • Izaya: That's right. You're like a porcupine with that spiky hair and those glaring eyes. Is this what girls are into nowadays? I can't see why.
  • Hajime: Shun is the leader of an idol group as well, the rival to mine.
  • Izaya: Oh of course Shun-chan is an exception. Shun-chan is perfect. He's my angel after all.
  • Shizuo: …Perfect? Angel...?
  • Shun: *squealing like a fangirl and not sounding like an angel*
  • Shun: Kyaa porcupine - PORCUPINE HAJIME! HAJIME AS A PRICKLY PORCUPINE IS ADORABLE~!!! Imagine, chibi porcupine Ha~ji~me!
  • Izaya: ...
  • Hajime: *smirks smugly at Izaya*
  • Shun: - I love you Izaya-kun, that's such a wonderful idea!
  • Hajime: ...
  • Izaya: *smirks smugly at Hajime*
  • Shun: I want to see Hajime dress up as a porcupine with his cool glare and his tsun-tsun-tsundere!~Ha~ji~me~
  • Hajime: If it's what you want, Shun.
  • Shun: Eh? Really? Hajime must be in a good mood! Then -
  • Shizuo: You piss me off.
  • Shun: …Eh?
  • Hajime: Shizuo?
  • Izaya: And here we have the second unpredictable man. What's your problem, Shizu-chan? Shun-chan didn't even look at you.
  • Shizuo: Ahhhhhhh?!
  • Hajime: *turns to Izaya*
  • Hajime: I'm not a porcupine. I'm a wolf. Officially. Right, Shun?
  • Shun: *snuggling chibi wolf Hajime to his face happily*
  • Shun: Yes~wolf Hajime~chibi wolf Hajime is my life! But~chibi porcupine Hajime is cute too~
  • Izaya: Looks like you're still a porcupine.
  • Hajime: I'm his life.
  • Izaya: …You realize he's just fanboying, right?
  • -------
  • Shun: Kyaaa chibi wolf Hajime really is adorable!
  • Shizuo: *vein throbbing*
  • Shun: He's too cute his ears are so soft HIS TAIL IS SO FLUFFY KYAAAA I'm so blessed!~
  • Shizuo: *fist clenching*
  • Shizuo: *teeth grinding*
  • Shizuo: …OI, IZAYA!
  • Izaya: *looking annoyed from his conversation with Hajime*
  • Izaya: What?
  • Shizuo: *jabs a finger at Shun, eyebrow twitching*
  • Shizuo: This guy is kyaa-kyaaing like a girl and saying annoying things, he's fucking noisy - ARGHHH I WANT TO HIT HIM HE'S A GUY RIGHT?!
  • Izaya: Huh? What does it matter to you whether Shun-chan is a guy or girl?
  • Shizuo: Hah? If he's a guy then I can shut him up, but if she's a girl, then I'll hold back because I won't hit a woman.
  • Izaya: Oh really? Too bad for you, Shun-chan's a girl.
  • Shun: Eh? Me, a girl?
  • Izaya: Hah? You're the one pissing me off, Shizu-chan. Don't you dare lay a hand on Shun-chan.
  • -------
  • Shun: *watching the scene with amusement in his eyes*
  • Shun: Fufufu. You're funny, bartender-san.
  • Shizuo: AHHH?!
  • Shun: *giggling and smiling mischievously at Shizuo*
  • Shun: Ehehe. If I'm a girl, then you won't hit me? What a gentleman you are.
  • Shun: *smiles playfully and speaks in a feminine voice*
  • Shun: Then, please think of me as a girl because I don't want to be hit~
  • Shizuo: ...You're trying to piss me off AREN'T YOU..?!
  • Shun: Not at all~I just don't want to be hit. Am I too pretty to be a guy for you? If that's the case, please don't hit this pretty face, alright? I'm a young master after all, and there are few in number who can hit me.
  • -------
  • Izaya and Hajime: *share a reluctant glance*
  • Izaya: *readying his knife*
  • Hajime: *clenching his fist*
  • Izaya: …Shizu-chan.
  • Hajime: Shizuo.
  • Shun: That's right. Please don't hit me, alright bartender-san~?
  • Shizuo: *glaring at Shun's pretty face*
  • Shizuo: ...Tch!
  • Shizuo: *stomps away from Shun and slams his fist into the wall*
  • Shun: *looks at the destroyed wall with awe*
  • Shun: Wow~bartender-san, you're really strong!
  • Shizuo: AHHHH?! YOU WANT TO BE HIT?!
  • Shun: *pouts with a playful light in his eyes*
  • Shun: Ehhhh but I'm pretty like a girl so you won't hit me right? Ehehe~
  • -------
  • Izaya: *frowning*
  • Izaya: Stop yelling at Shun-chan. What did he ever to do you?
  • Hajime: For once I agree with him.
  • Shun: That's right, it isn't polite to yell at a stranger, bartender-san.
  • Shizuo: ...Tch!
  • -------
  • Izaya: (This guy really pisses me off)
  • Hajime: (This guy took Shun away from me)
  • -------
  • Hajime: *Glaring at Izaya*
  • Izaya: *Glaring at Shizuo*
  • Shizuo: *Glaring at Shun*
  • Shun: *doesn’t know how to glare*
  • -------
  • Everyone:
  • Shun: …Hey? Since Izaya-kun’s friend and Hajime are here ~Hajime~do you all want to go for lunch together~?
  • Hajime, Shizuo, Izaya: NO.
KS 35 Thoughts

I’m coming here fresh off of Lezhin because I finally gave in and bought some fuckings coins, I just couldn’t wait to see the free full release on another site after realizing there was an explicit scene in the finale. 


First of all, Seungbae is far too impulsive as a police officer. We all know that. He gets riled up too quickly and acts before thinking which is his biggest flaw and why he’s constantly sabotaging his own success. We all knew that Seungbae was shaken from the events of the past few chapters. He tried so hard to uncover the truth but in the end (of this season, at least) he wasn’t careful enough with his course of action and it led to his ass getting fired and his resources being cut.

I will say, though, that I’ve never necessarily rooted for Seungbae and have questioned his actions at times. I’m so glad Koogi added another layer to his character by making him have a violent episode once in his past. It truly changes his previously “lawful good” image, which I found to be tiresome.
Perhaps he is more “chaotic good”? Or something more sinister… We’ll see!

I question his motivation for this case still. Is he passionately pursuing Sangwoo in order to repent for his sins/compensate for his past actions or his he sincerely a believer in justice? Either way, it’s too early to say. I’m excited to see some expansion on that next season. Even though I’m not rooting for Seungbae I still quite enjoy his role in this story.

I’m happy that Sangwoo and Bum are free! ~


Good GOD reading this made me so uncomfortable, my body was physically cringing while watching Bum cry out in pain as Sangwoo continued to thrust aggressively into him. All the while getting more and more aroused by Bum’s suffering. My heart broke for Bum again. Killing Stalking has never made me feel deep discomfort and Sangwoo has never intimidated me as a character but THE BITCH REALLY FUCKED ME UP THIS CHAPTER, WOW!
I had been hoping to see an explicit SangBum scene for some time now, but I didn’t really want it like this. However, I suppose I shouldn’t be too shocked since this does align with Sangwoo’s usual course of action. I will admit that I had gotten my hopes up from recent chapters (During Sangwoo’s ruse in front of the police, regarding him and Bum’s relationship.) I still do believe there was a sliver of sincerity in his act.

But I digress,
Sangwoo’s actions shouldn’t be too shocking since the bitch is the KING of SELF-CONTRADICTION. In the famous Dildo Scene some chapters back, he claimed to 1) Need protection before sex + 2) Not be a rapist.


It was very uncomfortable to read, as I said before. Leaves a bad taste in my mouth, ewgh. But I do think this chapter says some things about Sangwoo’s character. Because if he was 100% offended and angered by Bum’s actions/possible betrayal I don’t believe his first reaction would be to fuck him, lol.

I think if he was really, truly enraged he would’ve taken Bum straight to the basement for some oldschool torture. That’s why I see another contradiction in his actions. Why have sex with him now? Why raw him when you said you wouldn’t before? Why force yourself on him when you said you were against rape/non-consensual sex?

You could just write it off as him being mentally unstable.
And while that is true, I believe it’s also because Bum makes Sangwoo feel extremes. So in reaction to Bum, Sangwoo can only react with incredible sweetness (i.e. Ch. 27) or with leg-shattering, neck-hanging, throat-slicing violence (You know which chapters I’m talking about.)

So there really is no way to predict his next actions.

Another thing that interested me was when Bum began saying “I like you… I like you! I like you!! Sangwoo, Sangwoo…” and Sangwoo seemed irritated. (That angry cumface though, HA!) He didn’t want to hear it. Why? Did it remind you too much of Mom? Are Bum’s words bringing up feelings you either want to reject or once had?
Why do you crave Bum’s affection and love while simultaneously rejecting it?

This all circles back to Sangwoo’s mysterious past with his Mother…

Also can someone let me know if Bum was repeating “I like you!” because he genuinely wanted to express his feelings despite the pain (uncomfortably aroused) OR if he was just saying those words in hopes that it would make Sangwoo stop?

Because from Bum’s expression it’s hard for me to tell. He looks exhausted and in pain regardless but the reason behind his words is what I’m most curious about. I still can’t decide how I want to interpret it. And depending on how I interpret his intentions would greatly affect how I view this scene as a whole. Because it is disgusting, disturbing, and makes me feel extremely conflicted.
(I think that’s the feeling Koogi wanted to invoke, though.)

Overall, I do think Koogi was going for shock value in the climax of this chapter because not MUCH was covered plot-wise. It was fast-paced and seemingly short. Which is fine with me personally, I don’t mind the buildup. The art was wonderful this chapter and you can really tell when Koogi takes her time to line and color things a certain way. From artist to artist I really admire her work!

This season’s ending left me with a hundred more questions and an unshakable feeling of dread. Killing Stalking is as unpredictable as ever, I cannot wait to see the expansion on the topics I’ve touched on. Also how will this long-awaited sexual experience affect SangBum’s usual dynamic? Is this the catalyst to something good happening or something awful?

WE’LL WAIT AND SEE… Thank you for a gripping Season 2, Koogi!
(Slide into my Messages to chat about Killing Stalking, I’m always down!)

anonymous asked:

Harry the Heir is such an arrogant douche! But some people say that since he apologized to Alayne at the feast, he's not that bad and their romance is definitely a possibility. Some even go as far as to say that Sansa will fall in love with him and this story gives them Mr Darcy/Elizabeth vibes. What is your opinion on their possible relationship? BTW I don't think Darcy had bastards all over Derbyshire)))

Elizabeth is not tasked with seducing Darcy nor ever intended him to be a love interest.  Darcy was genuinely regretful at learning how his attitudes and behaviors affected other people and set to changing himself.  Not to win Elizabeth over either, but to be a better person and to try to correct his mistakes.  Harry… no.  He’s in his heir position by sheer dumb luck and he acts like Robert Arryn is already dead in the ground.  I don’t think Darcy would be able to identify with who Harry actually is at all.  

Harry apologized because Anya Waynwood made him as she also insisted that he dance with Alayne.  She stands to collect a fat dowry from this.  She’s not forcing Harry to accept the betrothal per se, but she is making him be “nice” and interact with Alayne.  At least enough times so Alayne can presumably seduce him as I’m sure Littlefinger assured her would happen.  It’s such a grudgingly given apology that almost seems like it pains him to sink so low to apologize to a bastard.  I don’t see how it can be read as genuine.  And he only does it after she refuses to dance with him, which I’m sure he was expecting her to just light up and be grateful for his asking.  Not even a please forgive me.

And there he stood, Harry the Heir himself; tall, handsome, scowling. “Lady Alayne. May I partner you in this dance?”

She considered for a moment. “No. I don’t think so.”

Color rose to his cheeks. “I was unforgiveably rude to you in the yard. You must forgive me." 

Still she’s had enough experience with difficult people to know that sometimes a harsh exterior can hide a suffering soul beneath the surface.  She wants to know the real Harry and look at him with a critical eye.  So she is willing to dig a little deeper, mildly tolerating his rudeness to ask him directly about his bastards.  It seems as though he accepts his natural children well enough, even though he was callous in his treatment of Cissy after her birth.  For a moment, things look like they might be “different with Saffron.”  Sansa could certainly understand if Harry was in love with her and he was being pressured to marry another which would explain his rudeness.  Yet, he’s awful quick to agree to send Saffron away for the mere suggestion of some “spice” with Alayne.  Not that different with Saffron, is it?  

I think it’s clear that Harry’s head is easily turned and what she can expect from him as a husband.  He is not the worst guy ever.  He’s shallow, arrogant, and seems to follow his dick around.  Sansa has seen too much real cruelty to be easily shaken by his behavior. Of all his faults, at least he’s not a liar.  He’s pretty bluntly honest, in fact.  The nicest thing she can come up with to say about Harry is that he has nice teeth and dimples; however, as far as Sansa knows this marriage might be her only chance to go home, which is the only thing she’s ever really wanted.  This scene, I think, goes to show how far Sansa has come in her evaluation of a love interest way more than it points to an actual love interest.  This is not 11/12 year old Sansa that would have shrunk down, cried and blushed, and blamed herself for a handsome knight not liking her.  Nor is she tongue-tied. easily rankled, or naively misunderstanding innuendo (heck she’s making innuendo now!) This is older Sansa learning how to deftly handle and flirt with someone who is overly harsh and bluntly honest to the point of being offensive.  Sound familiar?  ;)

I would say Harry represents a fairly typical type of husband that many wives accept as normal.  The question is can Sansa, who has always dreamed of a mutual love in her marriage, abandon that dream to settle for Harry so she can maybe one day go home and finally be safe?  I don’t think she’ll have to end up making that choice after all, because shit is setup to go down fast and hard in the Vale probably by her second chapter.

George is using a lot of misdirection in the Vale arc and I believe Harry is a red herring.  While we’re all looking toward the Young Falcon and all those untouched, shining knights of the Vale (ahem, knights of summer) to be the answer to our prayers, we’re forgetting all the other hidden players ready to twist the plot.  

  • Lyn Corbray who is LF’s friend pretending to be his foe but who really is a foe.  What if he found out who Alayne is?  He desperately could use the ransom and it would be a nice little F.U. to LF at the same time.
  • Ser Shadrich and his team who’ve know who Alayne really is and have been living under LF’s nose for months waiting to strike.
  • Myranda Royce who also knows who Alayne really is.  We don’t know yet how she’s going to affect things.
  • Lothor Brune who has a crush on Mya Stone might be set to switch sides if Sansa plays match-maker.
  • The Mountain Clans who have been armed with steel by Tyrion.  They got a hard on to take the Vale back and are still occasionally brought up as a threat that has never been dealt with.
  • Yohn Royce is back in Runestone with his forces biding his time for his opportunity to bring LF down. He also has ships, a port, and his own grain stores.
  • Possibly a catastrophic avalanche from the Giant’s Lance with the Gates of the Moon right in it’s path.

Just focusing on Harry, remember he “earned” his knighthood in a tourney that was rigged for him to win so Yohn could exert influence over the heir against LF.  You think this tourney isn’t rigged for Harry to win by Littlefinger for the same reasons? I think we’re being told this is not the horse we or Sansa should bet on.  We also have the competitor that Alayne will actually give her favor to that just might shake up that tourney outcome judging by tourneys past.  Harry bears some similarities to Ser Hugh of the Vale that was killed by a giant’s lance in the hands of the Mountain at the last tourney Sansa attended. 

  • They both are arrogant, newly made knights.  
  • They both sport the Arryn colors and symbols though they aren’t Arryns.  
  • Both seem to be knighted before they were truly ready, for reasons that have nothing to do with their abilities.  Hugh, squire to Jon Arryn, was knighted by Robert I for Jon’s memory.  Harry for political jockeying.
  • They are hidden forces in play that they are woefully ill-prepared for and they are charging headlong into.  This doesn’t look good.

I don’t think Harry is long for this world.  And his potential demise fits into the greater themes of Littlefinger’s legacy as Lord Protector in the Vale.  Corruption, bribery, and excess that the majority of lords have been seduced by does not make me feel confident about those knights and grain stores being put to good use.  It’s all lies and Arbor gold built on a foundation of rot.  I see massive waste and snuffed out potential as a very George-esque consequence for this decadent folly on the cusp of winter.  The tourney feast and games feel very Masque of the Red Death with the world falling apart outside and these nobles sequestering themselves in a decadent, glittering daydream.  The Red Death still gets in and pwns everyone. Yeah… :/  I think Sansa’s Vale arc will resolve in an epic, tragic smash by any number of George’s planted wild cards.          

Sherlolly Beetlejuice AU

Yes, yes, I’m a day late and a dollar short for the Sherlolly Halloween extravaganza, but this specific scene has been plaguing me all day and so I’ve decided to get it onto the computer and out of my head.

“Moriarty!” John called out, desperate to return the ghost he and Mary had summoned back to the land of the dead.

“Moriarty!” he shouted again, only to see the madman spin and face him; with a gesture, a metal plate slammed into John’s mouth, bolting his lips shut.

Molly, Sherlock and the others stood frozen at the spectacle before them.

“Moriarty!” Mary called out, quick to take up her husband’s attempts at banishment. “Moriarty!” she cried again. “Mor–”

Before she could speak the fateful third repetition of his name, he snapped his fingers…

….and the ghost of Mary Watson vanished.

“Now,” Moriarty said, gleefully rubbing his hands together, “where were we? Oh yes, a wedding!”

With another stnap of his fingers Molly suddenly skidded at inhuman speed across the room, arms flailing, terrified cries escaping her lips until she found herself at Moriarty’s side. No longer wearing her sensible khatkis, colorful blouse or cherry-bedecked cardigan, she was now dressed in a tight black dress with a plunging neckline and restrictingly tight, ankle-length skirt.

Sherlock was able to take but a single step forward before he found himself trapped by one of Janine’s hideous attempts at sculpture. “Molly!” he cried out, struggling futiliely within his bronze bonds. If looks could kill - and if Moriarty weren’t already dead - his glare would have melted the ghost into a puddle.

Mycroft had turned and began tiptoeing toward the door, mobile in hand as he attempted to call for help, only to find himself suddenly immobilized in the middle of a spotlight. As he gazed into the crazed ghost’s eyes, he felt his expensive three-piece suit rpped from his body, leaving him not clothed in only his underthings as expected - but instead wearing instead a garish clown costume, including bulbous red nose and oversized shoes. He screamed and dropped the mobile as his most unsettling nightmare seemed to be coming true, bolting in a blind panic out of Musgrave and into the night.

Meanwhile Moriarty had snapped his fingers again, and the living room was transformed into an even more horrifying monstrosity than Janine’s attempts at avante-garde cutting edge decor: the fireplace became a gateway to hell and Culverton Smith appeared in a puff of smoke, holding an enormous tome in his gnarled, claw-like hands. “Do you, James Moriarty, take this mortal woman, Molly Hooper, to be your wife?”

He tilted his head to one side as if considering the question, then grinned maniacally and said, “I do!”

When Molly, still reeling from the evening’s frantic and horrifying events, struggled to pull away and shook her head, Moriarty slapped a hand over her mouth; she felt a heavy weight settle on each ankle and looked down to see manacles now bolted her to the floor.. “She does,” he said tersely. “Right, pumpkin?” He placed his head next to hers, “I sure do, sweetcakes,” he said, speaking in Molly’s voice. “Gosh I love that man of mine!”

Smith giggled and flipped a page in his book. “You may place the ring on her finger.”

Moriarty patted his suit pockets and muttered to himself. “The ring, the ring, where did I put that…oh yes!” He pulled a withered, mummified finger from his breast pocket; Molly blanched and pulled away. “She didn’t mean anything to me, I swear,” Moriarty said as he tugged the gold ring free of the hideous appendage. He grabbed Molly’s hand and made to shove the ring onto her finger after dropping the gruesome body part onto the floor.

Just as he began to slip it onto her finger, Sherlock began laughing. With a scowl, Moriarty turned to face his former - and still mortal - enemy. “What?” he demanded. “What’s so funny now?”

Still chortling, Sherlock said, “You made a mistake, Moriarty. And it will cost you everything.”

“And what mistake might that be?”

“You sent the wrong Watson to the Other Side,” Sherlock replied, nodding at something just over Moriarty’s shoulder.

The ghost turned just in time for John Watson to land a truly spectacular blow to his chin. It sent him spinning away from Molly…

…and right into the jaws of the Sandworm the newly-manifested Mary Watson was riding.

His screams rang through the hosue long after he and the Sandworm had both vanished forever.

Within seconds, Molly’s bonds had been destroyed, John’s metal muzzle had vanished, Culverton Smith had returned to wherever he’d been summoned from, and the statues imprisoning Sherlock had loosened its inanimate grip. He rushed to Molly’s side, grasping her arms and staring into her eyes. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I, I think so,” she said. She blinked a few times, looking dazed but no longer terrified. “Is he gone for good?”

“Yes,” Mary reassured her. Then she smirked at her husband, who was still gaping at her in a combination of awe and consternation. “Terrifying skill set, remember?” she said, giving him a nudge with her white lace clad elbow.’

“Remind me never to get on your bad side again,” he finally said before pulling her into his arms and snogging her senseless.

“That,” Sherlock said as he nodded at the oblivious undead couple, “seems like a very good idea, woudn’t you say, Molly?”

“But what about your fake fiancee?” Molly asked sweetly. “Won’t Janine be upset to find you kissing another woman?”

“Since she’s the one who got us all into this mess in the first place,” Sherlock grumbled, “she can bloody well live with the consequences.” He gazed deeply into Molly’s eyes. “I am sorry, Molly Hooper. Please forgive me - and before you ask me to say it first, I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, finally melting into his arms as they shared the most passionate kiss either had ever experienced.

Submitted by the insanely talented, YD.

Beca knew she shouldn’t have agreed to do this. She had adamantly refused to even spare a glance at the towering ride- maybe if she didn’t look at it, Chloe wouldn’t notice either, despite the looming presence the creaky thing had. Despite her protests against being dragged to the fair, the otherwise unenjoyable experience had some redeeming factors. They had come with all of the Bellas, but most of them had split into pairs, each double going off to whatever part of the park they’d wanted to visit. And of course, she’d chosen to stick with Chloe. Even though the redhead had dragged her to every game booth, she couldn’t deny how much she’d enjoyed seeing her face alight after each win, no matter the prize. However, Beca was beginning to feel the inevitable weight of a long day spent in the sun- the heaviness of each step, and general laziness that manifested themselves after such rigorous activity. Tired as she was, she had allowed her gaze to fix itself onto the Ferris Wheel for a short moment. As it turns out, that was all it took. Chloe slapped a hand to her forehead, a small gasp slipping out of her mouth. “Oh my god! I can’t believe I almost forgot-” She sputtered, beginning to tug on Beca’s hand. “I- dude, what-” The brunette said, a small crease forming between her eyebrows. “The Ferris Wheel! We have to go on it.” She explained exasperatedly, as if it was common knowledge. Beca swallowed thickly and began to shake her head. “I-” “C'mon!” Chloe said, pulling Beca along with her, despite the obvious sounds of protest that issued from the small girl. It seemed to be especially cruel that there was nearly no line, and the two were quickly waved on after the redhead had flashed him their wristbands. Beca resigned as she was towed into a carriage. She glared at the assistant who had come to close the door of the compartment, and the teenage boy seemed to wither at the exchange. His hands fumbled as he checked the lock. She watched him slink away towards the next one before noticing what was wrong. “Chlo- there’s no seatbelts!” She exclaimed suddenly. She looked around wildly for any sort of strap, finding only the smooth plastic of the seat. She was about to call the operator back over before a hand clasped itself around her arm. “Beca,” Chloe said gently, raising an eyebrow. “It’s fine. Most of them don’t-” “What?” Beca hissed. Her free hand continued to slide around the seat in search for some purchase, something to hold onto- and then the ride started. Beca inhaled sharply as it began moving much quicker than she’d anticipated. A warm evening breeze passed through the carriage, whipping her hair around her head. Chloe watched her for a moment, before sparing a glance towards the ground. Their compartment was nearly at the top. She could see the brightly colored tops of the various tents and- A gorgeous sunset illuminating every inch of the fairgrounds, casting long shadows and painting the spectacle with warm light. Chloe turned towards Beca with widened eyes as they reached the peak, only to find the brunette had her own tightly closed. She was about to speak, when she felt the ride come to a sudden halt. Beca seemed to have felt it as well, and despite her scrunched expression she seemed to understand what was happening. She sucked in a shaking breath, exhaling it with a string of curses. Chloe laughed despite the small girl’s clear discomfort. “I will murder you, Beale. This isn’t funny-” She was cut off as the redhead suddenly moved over to her side of the compartment, the carriage shaking precariously as she settled. Beca only managed a small squeak as she felt Chloe sit beside her. “Beca- look-” Chloe said, attempting to pry the brunette’s tense arms from her body. “No- I don’t want to- I don’t-” Beca released a small gasp as Chloe let go. “want to.” She finished feebly. She turned slowly, marveling at the scene below her, before eventually facing Chloe- who wore a look of smug satisfaction. Beca’s increadulous expression sobered into one of uncertainty as the initial awe dissipated. She casted a half-hearted glare at the leader, though it’s effect was lost as she moved closer to the redhead. She closed her eyes once more. Chloe shook her head as she felt the brunette stiffen beside her. “I suppose it was meant to be.“ Beca opened one eye warily. "What?” Chloe grinned, her eyebrows quirking in a sort of dance. "Because I wheely like you.“ The deejay let out a long groan.

anonymous asked:

Please do the Harry Potter adulthood thing, we want to hear your thoughts on it.

Okay so here’s the thing: most of the Harry Potter stuff I see on my dash is either

a) James Potter is an asshole and a bully/abuser (optional: as is Sirius)
b) Severus Snape is an asshole and an abuser/bully

To be clear, I am not disputing those claims. I’m just observing that they are primarily the thing that I see related to Harry Potter on my dashboard, aside from fairly-constant reblogs of, like, three different “North America Wixen Schools“ that nearly always start with insulting JK Rowling honestly y’all should’ve realized there was probably a reason she didn’t want to talk more about stuff from HP and also, where was this outrage from the assumption that all of Africa could fit in one school and etc…?

But Anyway.

Other statements I tend to see on my dash include:

1) Remus Lupin was a shit father and I lost all faith in him

2) Dumbledore is a terrible irredeemable person (optional: and never cared about anyone [thereby comparing him with Voldemort, who is supposedly incapable of caring for anyone but himself])

3) Holy Fuck The Dursleys (either defending them or being extremely pissed at them.)


Again. I’m not arguing these are true or false statements.

I’m just noticing… they’re all people we thought we knew. Ron sometimes gets this treatment as well, specifically about him being fickle and abandoning Harry on multiple occasions when he was in need. (See: The early Triwizard Tournament, the forest in Deathly Hallows, You’re Snogging My Sister, etc.)

And I think that… maybe there was also a theme in the books that, if I’m remembering right, JK Rowling stated–specifically in regards to Dumbledore–but that can be applied much more broadly to the rest of the cast.

I’m talking about, growing up and realizing people are more complex than we give them credit for.

Because all our expectations of the characters–which were set in stone about as promptly as they appeared, most of them in the very first book of the series–were completely and abruptly, even brutally flipped, by the time we reached Deathly Hallows.

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Day 8 - RivaMika Week 4 - Alegria

RivaMika Week 4: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8

Beginning a new year while filled with either elation or sorrow - or both.

AN: A balcony scene in Paris ahhhh~

- - -

With his hands embracing a mug of steaming tea, Levi gazed upon the distant, gleaming lights of the Eiffel Tower and the urban-scape.

Paris, the city of love.

He leaned against the cool rail of his balcony.  The hotel he was staying at provided a nice view of the city.  He thought to make the most of his expensive hotel room by watching the upcoming fireworks in an hour.  

“Lovely night, isn’t it?”

His head turned, facing the balcony adjacent to his, and settled on a frame of a young woman.  The yellow light from her room giving an almost incandescent glow to half of her figure and the other half a bluish shadow from the moonshine and metropolitan lights.  

She wore a short, steel-colored silk robe and a white slip underneath.  Her lips, painted dark red, and her hair curled and sparsely disheveled.  She held a thick book within her fingers and thumb, and the feeble scent of coffee permeated his senses.  

There was a humming of a breeze weaving through from between the buildings.  “As lovely as it is, the night air is quite chilly.”  He expressed concern as he eyed her current attire.  

“I am resilient than most,” she responded, tugging her robe closer to her body and providing a quiet smile.  “May I ask why you are spending New Year’s Eve with no companion, sir?”

He saw no harm engaging into a conversation.  “My trip here is merely for work.  That is all.”

“Ah, and your profession?”

“A professor of foreign language, French, actually.  I am returning to Berlin tomorrow.”

“I am returning there as well,” she spoke gingerly with an air of wistfulness.  “It would be nice to go home.”

He cleared his throat, regarding the young and rather mysterious woman.  “And you?”  Her perfect eyebrows arched in the slightest.  “You do not have a significant other to spend the Eve with?”

He saw her lips twitch, refraining a smile, and he nearly slapped himself; his question sounded very pry and suggestive, to which she might interpret the wrong way.

But she simply laughed, it was soft and warmed him more than his tea, “No, I do not.”

“Well, that doesn’t make sense to me,” he voiced, shifting his body language to show her his attention.  “That a young woman such as yourself is alone in Paris of all places.”

“I am a student.”  She blushed a very light shade.  He did not know whether it was from the cool, night air or from his inquiry.  “Or I was, I recently graduated from the designer lyceum.  Now that I have completed my studies I can return home.”

As another breeze, a colder one, coasted by, he watched her visibly shiver as she clutched the silken material.  “Perhaps, I am not as resilient as I thought,” she humored with a shaky laugh, biting her rouge lips to which he found enticing.  

“You should head inside,” he told her, although his mind was claiming otherwise.  “It would be an awful start of the year if you fall ill.”

Though her next words were nothing short of a surprise.

“Would… would you like to come over?” she murmured, fisting her robe tighter as she looked at the city.

“Ah,” he breathed, a little befuddled at her invitation.  He wanted nothing more than to say yes, but his morals were stronger than his mind.  “It seems highly inappro-”

“I have tea,” she blurted, trying not to sound desperate.  “I assume you have used your last packet since the hotel ridiculously only gives each room two… And I do not like the idea of spending the new year alone, for both of us.”

He could not deny her request and perhaps he, too, did not want to start the new year by himself.  “I accept your invitation, Miss…?”

“Mikasa, just Mikasa,” she smiled, stretching her pale arm over the balcony.  “And what may I call you?”

“Levi,” he grinned, grasping her hand gently.  “Just Levi.”

Gentle reminder that in Tilt/Shift, since Ahsoka is the only one on Mortis with two lightsabers – and Qui-Gon doesn’t have his – she has to share.

And it’s really feelsy because AH lineage stuff. Lightsaber sharing. GETTING TO KNOW ONE ANOTHER.

Also, I wanted to kinda visually show myself the height difference between these two. I was honestly worried for a bit that it was exaggerated, but then I realized…it’s not. It’s not at all.

(Which makes this scene in the fic 10000x more better.)

Sorry for the shit coloring by the way, I just. Didn’t really care. I wanted to get the doodle out while it was still fresh in my mind

At least Ahsoka looks nice. Not…really sure….what happened to Qui-Gon there. But meh. Close enough.

I’ll likely make a cleaner version of this sometime, but until then! Here you are.

anonymous asked:

Dipper being so annoyed with Bill, he starts to carry a spray can filled with holy water around and sprays it at Bill every time he gets too annoying or clingy.

yes good perfect

Burning Pine Trees

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anonymous asked:

I don't know if you take requests but if you wouldn't mind could you possibly write an non Au where emma and killian attend some regal town event and are in awe of how amazing the other looks in formal wear?

Thanks nonnie,  sorry it took a while.  Why look anywhere else for inspiration then the captain’s of our ship themselves.  Emma’s dress (from Jen’s instagram:)

 and I don’t think we all need a reminder of how well Colin pulls off a suit.  Lol,  just kidding.  We always do…

A gala.

Because apparently that’s what they do in the Enchanted Forest when a ‘lost Princess’ returns. 

Emma sighed and looked over her shoulder at the full length dress her mother had helped her to pick out . She’d put her foot down on the subject of wearing anything… poofy, because she fully intended to not trip over herself tonight. And black and red were most definitely out because… well she’d had quite enough of red and black in recent days …

Belle had offered Rumple’s ballroom for the occasion (because of course he had a ballroom), but Gold could hardly complain after everything they’d had to do to bring him back.

“Emma, honey, are you ok?” Snow asked gently.

Emma nodded distractedly.

“I know it’s been… it’s been a lot but… we just want you to enjoy yourself tonight.” Emma threw her hair into a ponytail and Snow toyed with the end from behind her. “Would you mind if I… could I do something with your hair?”

“Is there something wrong with it?” Emma asked, eyebrows raised.

“No, honey. I’m sorry. I just always wanted… I know it’s not really your first ball anymore but I…”

“I’d like that,” Emma broke in.

Snow grinned brightly and pulled out the ponytail, brushing through her daughter’s hair with light fingers.

Emma closed her eyes as her mother expertly tied her hair into what felt like some sort of braid with a practiced quickness. When Emma opened her eyes again her earlier refusal of a tiara had become irrelevant. A crown of braids circled her head and was tucked neatly in at the end with bobby pins. The shock must have shown on her face because Snow’s smile dropped.

“Too much?”

“No it's… it’s beautiful I’m just not used to… Thanks, mom.”

As always Snow beamed at the title, stepping back from the chair to let Emma rise. Emma hurried to grab her purse and her mother smiled, “We have plenty of time Emma, no rush.”

“I thought it started at 7?”

“Not for Royalty,” Snow grinned, “we get to make an entrance.”

Emma’s stomach dropped slightly but she nodded, waiting anxiously as her mother moved unhurriedly to tidy up the room. Dave was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs when they descended. He kissed his wife gently when she reached him. “You look beautiful, Snow.” He turned sparkling eyes to Emma leaning conspiratorially towards her. “Blink twice if you’re under duress?” he muttered under his breath as he kissed her forehead. Snow’s elbow found his ribs and he laughed, “Kidding, mostly.”

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danosaurawrr-deactivated2016041  asked:

Okay I don't have a idea for this at all, but if you do a wingfic for whouffaldi that would be all I want in life and more

(I think a winged!Twelve story has to start as a “Deep Breath” rework!)

Clara was shaken, but not out of control. She could handle this. The Doctor had awakened, fine, great. He’d somehow arrived at the scene before they had. He was still wildly dangerous, though, still not in his right mind. He was in his nightshirt even in the cold air, standing on the parapet of the bridge, insulting them all for not understanding the problem in front of them. He jabbed a finger in the direction of a man he found suspicious.

“He seems remarkably unmoved by the available spectacle,” Lady Vastra said.

Clara turned, a question on her lips, and snapped her mouth shut. The Doctor was standing on the parapet as before, yes, but he’d changed. He’d changed. Huge gray wings spread out from his back. He pointed in the direction of the fleeing figure, and said, “aha!”

He spread his wings – his wings, his steel-gray wings – and leapt from the parapet. He fell, swooped, flapped, and was in flight. Clara watched him, hand to her mouth, until he vanished in the murk.

“Oh my,” said Lady Vastra. “That’s new.”

It was days later, in the TARDIS, after all was done, and they were on their way back to her home. He was dressed properly now, in a dark blue coat with a red lining. He closed his eyes, tensed his shoulders, and then there was that rustle and that breath of air on her face, and there they were again: wings, magnificent, the same gray as his hair. Fifteen feet. His eyes were closed and his hands spread out at his sides, palms up. The wings spread out, beat once, and folded against his back. He opened his eyes again.

“This regeneration was a bit of a wild one,” he said, and he flashed a smile at her.

“How,” Clara said. “How.”

“I’m bigger on the inside.”


“I know. It’s rare, but things like this sometimes happen. The energy flowing when they answered your plea– the battle in progress. I can’t say.”

He shrugged, but Clara thought she saw something else on his face. Fear, or shame, or something she didn’t like seeing there. It was a strange face to her, but she’d seen all of the faces that came before this one, and she never liked seeing shame on any of them.

“Can I– can I touch them?”

That was the right thing to ask, because he smiled again and this time it was a lovely smile, heartfelt. He turned and spread them again for her. Clara came close to him and laid a hand very gently between his shoulder blades. Such a thin man he was in this regeneration, narrow shoulders, thin back. He was quivering with tension under her hands. She could see the feathers trembling.

She laid a hand on a wing. Feathers, sleek feathers, soft and yet with bone underneath. Such a rich color, so much more complex than mere gray now that she was looking at it. There was iridescence in them, a shimmer under the lights.

“So beautiful,” she said, and he shivered. “And you can fly.”

“I went to a planet of winged people and learned properly. Took a week. I still have the bruises.”

“And you didn’t take me?”

“I wasn’t– wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Why would you think that?”

“You were angry. You wanted him back, not me. Because I look different now. I am different now.”

“You’re him.”

“And I’m not him.”

“I’ve met you before.”

“But not like this.”

Clara sighed. It was true. He’d never been human, but he’d always looked human until now. “Not like this.”

His wings folded up and he hunched over himself. “I’ll understand if you leave.”

“Leave?” She’d been thinking about it. She had to admit it. He’d frightened her in that restaurant. But he’d also intrigued her and now– now that she saw the challenge, now that she saw his fear, there was no chance she would leave him. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m staying.”

He turned, and she saw that he was as uncertain and desperate as she’d ever seen him. “Even though I’m like this?”

“Doctor–” She stepped close to him again and laid a hand on his chest. “You have two hearts. You’re not the same species as me. You think I’m going to let wings get in the way?”

A wan smile from him, and he touched her hand where it rested on his chest. A brief touch, as if he were afraid of her.

She said, “Besides, I like them.”

That smile again, the heart-stopping one that Clara knew she’d spend years chasing if she had to. “Seriously?”


She hopped up on her tiptoes and pulled him down into a hug. He protested, then his arms closed around her awkwardly. To her awe and delight, the wings followed. She was in the embrace of the wings of an angel. Her angel. Her Doctor, with the new face, and the attack eyebrows, and the graceful hands. And the wings.