#I want to admire and praise original artist’s work

[elysianrey]

Can someone point me in the direction of their favorite Shatter Me fanart that’s not AI? Pls and thank you! I feel like I gotta be missing out on something here!

[pocketwei]

Hello !

As a fellow artist, I really admire your style, and would like to study it.

In that spirit, would you be OK to tell us a little bit about your process ?

I hope you have a great day and I look forward to seeing your future pieces !

Woah, this is high praise, thank you so much 🥹 And thank you for allowing me to nerd abt process hahaha, I love to talk abt this stuff! Drawing is so much fun honestly

For process, I'm not sure if you mean more the actual process of crafting the art, or rather the thought-process that goes into it, so I'll briefly cover both! I'll just talk abt my personal/fanart practice since I think this is what the "style" part refers to? As in, I won't mention process for, say, storyboards or backgrounds I make for animation.

Under the cut bc long answer!!

A piece usually begins with an idea, it's often inspired by something I see or hear, by something that comes up in a conversation with friends, by something I read in a fic, etc. And imo, the most crucial aspect of my creative practice is narration; it's the thing I strive to perfect and polish the most. What do I want to say with this piece, which story do I want to tell. Before I even start sketching, I usually have an idea of the intention I want for a piece, and with enough experience, at some point you start guessing what "visual devices" you should use to render that mood. E.g. if I have an idea that involves a really suffocating mood, a feeling of tension, one of the basic ways to go about it is to crowd your piece, have it more zoomed-in and in longer focal length so the perspective is flattened. Similarly, you'll often choose not to show your character whole (especially not their feet, with which they could flee!) or the floor (which is a way out for the character), you have many overlapping objects, etc. Knowledge of these "visual devices" honestly come with time, and sometimes they sound super basic, but they do the trick, and they're not hard to spice up and make more original when you keep your mood/intention in mind.

Then comes storyboarding/sketching! It's the most important part to me, because this is where you decide how you're going to tell your story. Sketching is the most exciting part, you can let your mind speak and find creative ways to spice up the "visual devices" you've figured out at the initial thinking step. I think one of the greatest advices I got, ever, was from my storyboard professor, who told us to always keep in mind that a picture (moving or not) is ALWAYS a 2D surface, and that it should be treated as such when storyboarding. I.e. when you board, think of your image as an arrangement of shapes on a flat surface, rather than a 3D scene. You can figure out the logistics and the perspective in lineart, but for storyboard, composition has to be prioritised over a well-constructed room, bc otherwise you'll just draw the same things over and over.

It depends on the pieces, but nowadays I prefer to just clean up the sketch rather than do a whole clean line on top of it, as not to lose the spontaneity and dynamism of the sketch. Lineart is about making things look pretty and nice to look at, but it's also a step where you can reinforce your initial intention with details. It can be details of anatomy (giving an expression, working on your characters' anatomy to make it expressive (what story does this body tell)), or of environment (what does this place mean for my characters, why are they here, what does it tell about them). For this I use truckloads of references!!!! Super important. Either from other artists, especially for anatomy details or line efficiency (matanai_ke, nisir0, nonebrainer on twt, whose styles I've been really digging recently), or from pictures/real life for enviros. No one's born with the ability to come up with a plausible baroque interior so get those refs! Lineart is honestly one of the steps I enjoy most, I spend the longest time on it because I need it to be perfect and tell exactly what I want to tell. I'm working on improving my linework quality because I feel terrible abt it ahjdsf

Then I do a coloursketch. My approach of colours is painterly (applying colours directly as they appear) rather than the neutral flats + coloured filters workflow, which do work great for beginners however, and I did my time in the mines with it as well asdjfh...... I usually apply an underpaint layer as shown below, usually then place lights first, and then work my way through all the elements.

Sometimes my underpaint is bright and saturated, sometimes it's more muted and darker: again, it all depends on the intention of the piece! I do this to visualise better and to contextualise the colours I'll paint on top of this base. The yellow in the top-left screenshot gives a warm touch to the wood-browns, even though they're not actually super saturated! With the bottom-right, the pink gives a colder aspect to the teals/greens and makes them more "aggressive", as it's their complementary colour. It also bears a narrative purpose: on the bottom-right screenshot, I wanted pink to seep from the edges of every shape, and purposefully left the edges jagged and rough instead of cleaning up the painting perfectly. Bright pink like this is not only a crazed colour, but it also represents Doflamingo, and in this case, it fit the intention to have him and this madness as the backdrop of a scene that doesn't involve him, but to which he is the unspoken key and center (Monet is hallucinating/projecting that it's Dof looking down on her, when it's actually Law). As if his presence was underlying the very materiality of the scene.

God that was long. Then comes rendering, which I hate with my guts because I don't know how to do it and if I could get away with only colour sketches for the rest of my life I would!!!! I hate spending time on colour details and rendering materials and polishing brushwork I just hate this step :')

And finally, compositing!! Slap some grain* on this bad boy, slight chromatic aberration in the corners if we're feeling fancy, perhaps a bit of field blur... chromatic aberration is to mimic cameras! it's a physical effect of the lens, and having it on illustrations give them a more cinematographic quality.

*in a non-destructive way I BEG!!!! Quick grain tutorial for the poor souls who still merge everything -> filter -> noise!!! 1. Create a gray layer with HSV at 0, 0, 50 2. filter -> noise as you'd normally do 3. set blending mode to overlay so your grain is more visible the darker your colours are (like for a real camera! grain is an artifact created when there isn't enough light in your captor) (I won't get into the maths of overlay but it's quite fascinating, basically it multiplies the value of pixels that are V>50 and "divides" the value of pixels that are V<50, while pixels that are V=50 like our initial grey layer, it doesn't change the value of the pixel underneath it) and 4. set opacity to ~20% depending on what you want or need

and tadah! you have an illustration. how cool!! there are still many things I need to work on, but it's a very fun exploration everytime :'D I feel glad that I've reached a point where I somewhat know what I'm doing, it made drawing so much more fun in the past year. Good luck w your own endeavours!!!

[leorawright]

Ok Im very excited Ive been wanting to request again for months but I work the whole day on Fridays :') but im back to request another mashup cause things have changed since the last one!

i would like to request a TF2 mashup (preferably romantic) with any of the main mercs (might exclude pyro unless you want to make it platonic).

Some stuff about me:

Im a hetersexual cis woman who wants to be a freelance artist, either in illustration or in character design! Right now Im studying illustration and its really fun to learn new techniques! I do get insecure from time to time with my art, but Im very determined to learn what I can and just have fun making art

Personality wise, Im very stoic and serious-looking, keeping to myself most of the time, but once i get comfortable I cant stop talking, like sometimes I have to remind myself to tone it down a little heheh

Once I get into something like a tv show or other series, Im very focused on it and think about it non-stop. For example, Ive been into Seinfeld for almost a year now to the point where one afternoon I spent an hour planning what a Seinfeld video game would look like, yknow, because I could. Sometimes I think about not being as involved in my interests as much as I do, but at the same time thats what makes me happy and drives my creativity, yknow?

Ive also been developing some stories of my own! Im no writer myself, but I love creating storylines and developing them further, whether they're original concepts or based on tf2 or something

As for what Im looking for in a partner, I want someone who can make me laugh. I admire someone who can talk so openly to other people but still be gentle and comforting with me even though Im not a very extroverted person. I want someone who admires my creativity and can listen to me when Im saying something, whether its something serious or not. I want someone who can share in some of my interests, and even when he doesnt he can still appreciate my enthusiam and not say something along the lines of "you're still talking about this?", yknow? Whenever I feel at my worst, I want him to just whisper sweet nothings, without having to try to 'fix' my problems immediately, just letting me slowly feel my emotions and junk. Im pretty much rambling on at this point but basically i just need the bare minimum like opening the door for me to fall in love with someone heh

I have a bit more confidence after attending art school, and Im trying to socialize more, but its still a little draining sometimes, but its still worth it in the end I think!

Uhhhhhhhhhh idk what else to put, this is mostly the bare minimum but I hope you're doing well! Take care and have a good day!

I have the perfect person...

Demoman!

He has the strangest sense of humor but whenever he's able to make you laugh, he absolutely lights up

If you're having a bad day, you bet Demo will do everything in his power to comfort you, whether it's listening to you talk or just telling you terrible jokes until you feel better

Or if you're having one of those days where you just need to cry, Demo will lay beside you and whisper about whatever until you fall asleep

Whenever you talk about your interests, he pays as much attention as possible so you know he's interested

Also, he praises your art so much and loves watching you draw, he thinks it's mesmerizing

[ink-and-dagger]

Hello Inky ! ☺️

I admire your work so I decided you were the best person to ask :

I feel the urge to write ( my original story AND fanfics ) and I know writting is my passion.

But as soon as I am in front of my work ... I just don't feel it ...😞 It's like the spark is there but it does not "catch fire". I can't enjoy my own work anymore since long, but it get worse and worse day after day ...

It's incredibly frustrating to LOATHE your own writing when you genuinely want to write ...

I guess it happens to everyone but, I wanted to ask :

As an artist, how do you come to love your stories again ? To not judge everything you create ? To feel free of judgment ?

I hope you have the time to answer ☺️

You're the best 😘

Hey sweet one! Thank you for sending this in - I’ll try to answer as best I can 💜

A writer’s relationship to the written word is extremely comparable to a real long-term relationship: it has highs and lows. Periods of total infatuation, and times where you want to quit and walk away. Passion = love, and love is hard. For it to work, it requires active effort and a lot of nurturing. As with all relationships, that exciting little spark does not last forever, and it cannot keep burning on its own – it is vitally important to add kindling, to build fuel around it so that when the spark does inevitably fade you’re left with a stable fire.

But, that spark of passion is absolutely necessary to get things going in the first place. So you’re in a really good position to lay down the groundwork you need!

As much as I wish that fire and excitement would just flow freely as soon as you sit down in front of the page… it very rarely does. You have to start putting words down and just see where it takes you. Keep moulding, keep editing, keep adding and taking away, keep playing, keep tweaking… and as your vision begins to take shape, you’ll find that the excitement comes too.

First drafts are supposed to be awful. It’s all part of the process. I know how frustrating it can feel to have this story in your head that simply refuses to come out how you want it to - but that’s why you need to take your time. Don’t rush. I always find that each time I come back to a draft I’m able to add or spot something new that didn’t come to me before. Attempting to force it out of your brain never ever works.

As for not judging everything you create… I hate to tell you but there’s no way to get rid of that feeling for good. It will always come back to haunt you from time to time. It’s horrible, but it’s (unfortunately) just a part of the life of a creative, and there’s no way to fully escape it. But I promise you aren’t alone in these feelings. Reach out to your friends and creative community, and you will always be met with empathy and understanding 💜

When I’m feeling down about my writing I try to remember these things

Be kind to yourself

You’ve got to remember that you see your own writing all the time. You read your drafts over and over and over – of course it’s going to start feeling stale and boring to you. But to someone experiencing your story for the first time, it won’t feel that way at all. They won’t see all the pulled threads and imperfections that bug you, all they will just see is the beautiful finished piece you’ve spent hours creating.

Also, if you’re aiming for perfection then you will never be happy. We, as humans, are imperfect creatures. An imperfect story is what makes it feel real and relatable - so embrace it.

Write from the heart

Cliche as it is, this is so so true. We love with our hearts, and therefore how can we possibly love our stories if we don’t write from them too? The allure of praise and recognition is hard to resist, but the will to write will quickly fade if you aren’t creating something that you feel strongly about. Don’t write just to fill a gap in the market or fandom, and don’t write what you think other people want to read. Write what you want to read. If you do, your passion will organically weave its way into your story, and the right audience will be drawn to you because of it.

Take a break

It is okay to stop. It is okay to take a step back. Doing so does not make you any less of a writer. If an author takes several years between publishing their novels, does that mean they’re no longer an author? You are a writer, even when you’re resting. And rest is vital. If you force it, then that well of creativity will run dry. You need to allow time for it to replenish. Allow yourself the space to engage with other media. Allow new stories and characters to come naturally to you, and to marinate and flesh out in your mind. Writing isn’t just about putting words on the page - it’s about creating something vast, something bigger than ourselves, and that takes time. Sometimes you just need to be patient, and allow those stories and universes and characters to build themselves quietly in your mind whilst you go about your life.

Be inspired, not disheartened 

When you read strong writing from another author it is so easy to get discouraged. I know that it’s easier said than done, but actively try to alter your mindset: allow yourself to be inspired by their writing and not disheartened. What is it about their writing that you like? Is it the characterisation? The pace? The prose itself? If you’re able to pick out and study exactly which elements you admire, over time those elements will naturally begin to weave their way into your own work.

I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before somewhere, but I keep a note on my phone of cool words and sentences/phrases that I come across. And when I’m struggling with a lack of inspiration, I’ll go and have a browse through, and I find it goes a really long way in focusing my mind.

Change font

If you’re finding it hard to write then try switching the font on your document. It doesn’t always work, but you’d be surprised how often it does. It’s the human brain equivalent of banging on the side of a dodgy old computer to get it working better.

I hope there are some thoughts in here that you find useful. I think what I’m trying to say is that you need to nurture that spark. It won’t turn into a fire by itself. Have patience, be kind to yourself, absorb anything and everything that inspires you and channel it into your own writing 💜

[clothyume]

Astraea's Atelier: Epilogue 2

Epilogue 2

Summer 

Chiaki: At the same time, the culprit must have predicted that Itsuki would not stand idly while his atelier was being taken over by other people’s works. 

Itsuki would definitely have started creating better works and displaying them in his atelier. A piece of art that shines so brightly you can’t even see the culprit's work. 

No. The culprit must have wanted to see Itsuki’s work. A natural consequence of being a big fan of Itsuki. 

Shu: I suppose. However, I actually fell into a slump and stagnated without being able to create a single piece. 

I am yet to create a piece of work that I’m comfortable showcasing at the next exhibition. 

That’s why I originally didn't want to be your company. I didn't have the time. 

However, as a result of your stay, I had a refreshing break. Now that I understand the culprit’s true intentions, I’m inspired to create new things. 

Now, let’s cover up the other person’s works lined up here to my liking. You don’t mind, do you? 

This is my atelier, by me, and for me! 

If you don’t like that, don’t sneak in like a criminal,  just come in through the main entrance during the day! 

Without fleeing from the cowardly surprise attacks. Armed with the same weapon of art, we are comrades fighting against God, creator of everything! 

Let’s take a piece of this world created by God and make it ours! Let’s overwrite it magnificently as a more beautiful and perfect work! 

By looking at your work and touching it with my own hands, I realise that you are qualified to do so! I will admit now, you are an artist just like me! 

I was mistaken! I rejected your work without properly examining it, because it oversees sexual themes that I struggle to deal with. 

It's vulgar and vile, an imitation that doesn’t deserve to be called work! 

That’s how I unfairly treated your work! I denied and rejected you! Unable to accept this, you became angry and created these bizarre imitations! 

Isn’t that right? Even so, you were unable to abandon the ideal art that you had always sought, so you continued to create substitutes in the same style! 

Hoping that this time I would see and acknowledge it! 

No! You believed that if you created an excellent work, I would evaluate it fairly, correct? 

However, I only keep a distance from your works because they are obscene– 

Is that how it looked to you? Because you’re misunderstanding one thing! 

It was that way in the beginning, there was only disgust. However, I gradually became fascinated with your works that are imbued with passion. 

The work radiates so much brilliance that I simply can't ignore, so I bring the painting back to my boarding house and look at it every night. 

Kurou: Ooh, the porn mag. 

Shu: Don’t call it such a prejudiced and despicable name! 

Kurou: What can I say, a porn mag is a porn mag. 

Shu: I thought so too. It’s a vulgar, inferior piece of work that doesn’t deserve praise. If that’s the case, why did I bring it home? 

Why did I lose my desire to create and fall into a slump? Is it because I thought I couldn’t compete with the works lined up in my atelier? 

I unconsciously admitted that I couldn’t compare, I couldn’t create better works in my current state! 

I simply couldn't accept that, and tried to diminish the value of the work by making theories. 

Without even creating work of my own! The critic seemed so proud! If we are both artists then we should have competed with our creations rather than words! 

It may be too late now that I’ve promised to keep overwriting your work with my inferior hands. 

What else can I do if I can’t hold back? Is it an unforgivable evil and barbaric act? If you admire me, we are probably the same type of artist! 

Even if it's done by someone you admire, you don’t want your work to be tarnished, do you? 

Kurou: Haha. That’s right, you loved my mom a lot, but you used to get really angry when she touched the clothes you were sewing behind your back. 

How nostalgic… You’re amazing Icchan. Ever since then you’ve continued to create art without getting fed up. 

I guess I’d better try harder to make my own costumes, without making excuses like ‘I’m not getting any requests’.

[grandhotelabyss]

Could you discuss some of your major disagreements, if any, with Harold Bloom?

With the stipulation that great critics prove their integrity by being wrong, and that we should thus welcome their wrongness, I have many disagreements. I often find him an inspiring rhapsode more than a persuasive critic or theorist. Or maybe they're differences of sensibility more than disagreements. We could talk about local differences of opinion about this or that writer, but sensibility is probably the larger question.

He was endlessly fascinated by the poet's solitary quest, modeled ultimately on the Biblical prophets, for priority and absoluteness of vision in a degraded cosmos: Alastor on his solitary quest. It's not that he never question or even censured, in the course of his analyses, the solipsism to which this quest gives rise; he wasn't stupid; but it was still the most interesting thing to him, even later, when he disciplined this aspect of himself to arrive at his reverence for Shakespeare, a figure who contains this quest—especially in Hamlet—but contains much more besides. Whereas I can only handle so much Blake, Wordsworth, Shelley, Stevens, etc., before I want to pick up a novel again, a novel or a Shakespeare play.

Though he came to be the public scourge of Theory, Bloom was a theorist himself originally. He was right to challenge both New Critical and then deconstructionist prejudices, with their French formalist paradigms, right to insist that Wordsworth and Tennyson shared the eminence of Baudelaire and Eliot. But he appreciated a very high degree of abstraction, abstraction of rhetoric and abstraction of vision—much more than I can tolerate, much less admire, except in small doses. Like Stevens, he saw the theory of poetry as the life of poetry.

I prefer in contrast a peopled canvas, a richer tapestry. As ideal images of the artist, I like Joyce or Woolf perambulating the city rather than Wordsworth or Shelley alone on their promontories: the novelists are also alone, perhaps, but alone in the crowd, and teaching the crowd how better to be alone, in a communion of our common exile.

He always slights literary form—what other major critic is so little interested in language?—and possibly in consequence misses some dimensions of irony. He saw only the sermon in Dostoevsky, not the disputation. He scanted what was inventive in Poe. He condescended to Keats. He claimed that Beckett, not Joyce, wrote the best English prose of the 20th century. But even when confronted with a solitary different from his preferred solitaries, he missed what was formally at issue: thus he saw Thoreau as only a lesser Emerson rather than as a very different kind of writer than Emerson, one much more attuned to language as material.

His "anxiety of influence" theory is relevant to the strain of visionary, prophetic poetry he prefers, but is it a generally applicable theory of (or standard of value for) poetry, literature, or the arts in general? As Joyce Carol Oates remarked somewhere in her published journal of Bloom, writers are influenced by what they ate for breakfast and read in the news, too. (Novelists more than poets, perhaps.)

This is more minor, but he was also hypocritical on the identity politics question, demoting Dostoevsky and Eliot for their anti-Semitism while wondering why anyone would want to demote, say, Milton for his misogyny or Stevens for his anti-blackness.

The best way to sum it up: this year I finally read David Lindsay's A Voyage to Arcturus, the fantasy novel Bloom loved so much that he wrote (as his only published work of fiction) a sequel or fan fiction. I found Arcturus hideous, quasi-unreadable, a nasty and punitive fable; I found it as unwholesome as Bloom finds Dostoevsky and Eliot. In this post, I try to explain this whole divide between Bloom and myself with reference to Lindsay's book, while also praising his Nietzschean-Kafkan vitalist-ironic reading of the Bible, a book I (how can I say this without sounding "Reddit"?) have trouble with, trouble Bloom explains and helps to allay. I may agree with Bloom about the Bible more than I agree with him about anything else.

After all that, though, he was right about what matters most: our very sense of who we are and of what it is to be who we are has been shaped by a smaller number of writers than we may want to admit, and we will therefore not even know ourselves if we don't read them—read them critically, of course, but read them.

[90363462]

Kanye West Has 'Obsession' With Hitler & Even Wanted To Name Album After Him, Claims Former Employees

[Warning: Potentially Triggering Content]

Whoa… This is so, so disturbing, but sadly, not surprising given the events of this month.

According to several new sources who spoke to CNN on Thursday,Kanye West has had an “obsession” with Adolf Hitler for YEARS! And it got so crazy, he allegedly wanted to name an album after him. WTF. A business executive who used to work for Ye told the outlet the artist created a toxic work environment in part because of his sick “obsession” with the dictator and Nazi Party leader. He recalled:

“He would praise Hitler by saying how incredible it was that he was able to accumulate so much power and would talk about all the great things he and the Nazi Party achieved for the German people.”

So f**king disgusting.

Related: Kanye West’s Music Taking Hits Amid Antisemitism

Because of this antisemitism, the executive left his position and reached a settlement with West and some of his companies over workplace complaints, including harassment. CNN reviewed the documents to confirm, noting Kanye denied all the allegations within the agreement. It’s unclear what year he stopped working for West, and the exec asked to remain anonymous due to a confidentiality agreement and fear of retribution by the rapper. Yeah, not hard to see why he’d be afraid of that!

The unnamed former employee went on to share how the Heartless vocalist would speak openly about reading Mein Kampf, Hitler’s 1925 autobiographical manifesto. The Yeezy designer apparently expressed his “admiration” for the Nazis and Hitler for their use of propaganda as well. Propaganda that had a key role in the persecution and murder of Jewish people, mind you. Who in their right mind would admire that?!

As has been coming to light, this fixation has been going on for several years now, too, and those in Kanye’s inner circle were “fully aware” of his interest in Hitler, the individual insisted. Four other sources (all of whom did not want to be named for fear of professional retribution) also told CNN that Kanye originally wanted to name his 2018 album Hitler.

Thankfully, people talked him out of that idea. The record was released as Ye. Still… the very notion he pitched such a title is insane. It’s despicable how the 45-year-old’s antisemitism has been going on behind the scenes for this long. And to think he wanted to glorify the leader of the Nazi Party, which led the genocide of German and other European Jewish people, is sickening. Where was then-wife Kim Kardashian during all of this?

Related: HUH?? Donda Academy Is BACK??

In a statement to CNN on Tuesday, Universal Music Group, owner of Def Jam, which used to distribute Kanye’s music and used to have a relationship with his GOOD Music label (which ended last year), denounced his antisemitism, saying:

“There is no place for antisemitism in our society. We are deeply committed to combating antisemitism and every other form of prejudice.”

That said, the sources CNNspoke with did not have information about why the album was called Ye. While the father of four has taken his hatred to a whole new level this month, none of his shocking opinions are new. Van Lathan Jr., who used to work at TMZand who was in the office during the Grammy winner’s infamous 2018 interview in which Ye said slavery “sounds like a choice,” claimed he also made antisemitic remarks that were cut out.

Appearing on the Higher Learning podcast earlier this month, the former employee revealed:

“I already heard him say that stuff before at TMZ. I mean, I was taken aback because that type of antisemitic talk is disgusting. It’s like, I’m taken aback any time anyone does that, right? But as far as [West], I knew that that was in him because when he came to TMZ, he said that stuff and they took it out of the interview. … He said something like, ‘I love Hitler, I love Nazis.’ Something to that effect when he was there. And they took it out of the interview for whatever reason. It wasn’t my decision.”

Another one of the sources CNNspoke with confirmed Kanye favorably referenced Hitler during the outburst. Wow. So this has been going on — and growing more intense — for at least five years? Jeez. It’s a shame nobody was able to stop or educate Kanye before this mess. Thoughts? Let us know (below).

[Image via WENN]

Sent from my iPhone

[ponds-of-ink]

Guys, wake up, new FNAF: Mirror Mirror lore just dropped

Err, well, more of a huge expansion of something I already mentioned a couple of times.

Since I don’t want to stall myself, here’s the most Wikipedia-ish thing I think I’m ever gonna write:

“How to Revive a Rabbit” (or more commonly referred as “Lifetime Achievement Award”) was a music video produced by Fazbear Entertainment Inc. and Silver Parasol Productions. It was made as an early promotional video for the feature film Mirror Mirror: Shattering the Glass during the film’s earliest stages of development. As a result, it showcases prototype designs of several characters such as Malhare (though his name appears as “Glitchtrap” in the credits), Vanny, and Burntrap.

Though footage of the music video itself is currently lost media, the song itself is still readily available as well as the official script that has recently resurfaced online. Thus, the following synopsis has been made using the script as a guide.

Synopsis

The music video starts with Malhare and Vanny entering a grungy, but still futuristic laboratory. Under Malhare’s instructions, Vanny powers up both the monitor and equipment. This creates a jolt of electricity, which is pumped into an unconscious Burntrap.

Malhare takes advantage of Burntrap’s slowly-awakening state to catch him up on what’s happening, even tossing in a few flatteries along the way. Meanwhile, Vanny juggles maintaining the machinery’s power as well as blocking off anyone from getting any closer to the lab. This includes the Glamrock Stars as well as Sundrop, who are trying to figure out who’s fooling with the power.

After a few more pumps of electricity, Burntrap fully awakens. He processes his new surroundings as Malhare does a few health checks. Once confident in his new recreation’s capabilities, Malhare guides him to a large computer monitor. They then work together to stop the Glamrocks in their tracks while Vanny prepares something on a separate device.

As the song winds to close, the Glamrocks defeatedly return to their rooms. Sundrop, who is already in his bedchamber, decides to open a new message titled “Thriller-dot-audio”. The file then plays a specific audio cue, causing Sundrop to gain a red glow in his eyes. This recording spreads throughout the building, giving three of the four Glamrocks the same reddish light in their eyes.

The video ends with Malhare prompting Burntrap to finish speaking into a funnel-shaped microphone. Though struggling in both talking and accepting his circumstances, Burntrap says the last words with perfect, bitter flatness as the scene fades to black.

Reception and Legacy

The video itself received much praise from fans, calling it “a step up from previous music vids”. While critics also admired the animation and storytelling, the song itself garnered complaints that it “limited the artists who didn’t wish to be graphic or follow the lyrics to a T” and “was reaching concerning levels of going far beyond what Shadow Bunny’s Frankenstein-esque homage in the last film”, though the last claim was never fully explained. The songwriter of “Lifetime Achievement Award” has made no comment on his song being used, as he is either unaware of this particular production’s existence or is very busy.

Due to Silver Parasol moving offices in the middle of producing Mirror, Mirror: Shattering the Glass, all of the music videos’ original reels have been lost. And while Fazbear Entertainment Inc. has backups safely in storage, the company has made it a policy to not disclose any of footage or behind-the-scenes variants publicly. As a result, all of the music videos are considered lost media until further notice. There are rumors of rough storyboards for “How to Revive a Rabbit” that survived Silver Parasol’s move, but these are unconfirmed.

[sleep-onnet]

Connections

You've always been a connector

A connector?

Holding entire worlds together with a common kindness

And lacking meaningful knowledge of any

Your compassion seeking no commiseration

Just an anxious people pleaser

A complex connector, coupling confidence and cowardice

I'm good at pretending

A courageous connector, content with constant collision and a lack of continuity

Did I have much of a choice?

I admire you, it's very impressive

If only you saw behind the curtain

Hey... shut the fuck up

What?

Shut the fuck up

What, me??

Yeah you, shut the fuck up. Not helping.

I'm just balancing out your naive optimism with some healthy skepticism

Healthy? You think this is healthy??

Yeah?

All you do is criticize and cast doubt. If you think this is "healthy skepticism" then you should probably be skeptical of your grasp on the English language

...You gonna say something??

Ah, finally, some fucking silence in here.

Gotta say, it's really nice up here without you.

...I was just trying to help

By causing me to overthink every single fucking decision I make in my life? Wow thanks a ton, very fucking helpful.

Hey, not cool.

Shut the fuck up

Not. Cool.

Shut the fuck up, not listening to you

You don't have to be THAT harsh

After all you've done to me?? You have some guts to say that. Now shut up and fuck off.

So you know how it feels, and yet you insist on doing it back?

Shut the fuck up.

You know what? Fuck you.

This pretentious "poem" was supposed to end a couple lines ago, with my line.

We could've just ended it up there and left it up to the reader, if you have any that is. We could've just moved on and we could've kept writing more mediocre "poetry" that's really just you complaining, with your line breaks and occasional rhymes because that's what you think poetry is. And then it just gets buried in the noise of the internet, and no one gets hurt, and you get your satisfaction of being an artist or whatever

Hey. Shut the fuck up. You're doing it again

You know I have a point.

You're not helping. This is why I-

And instead you decided to ruin everything by doing this meta self-aware thing that's been SO fucking overdone.

I mean seriously. Splintering off your inner critic and having a confrontational conversation with it as a metaphor for dealing with self doubt? How fucking original man. Let me guess, you were gonna have them fight, and then after a bit they discover they have a commonality about "wanting to help" and then have them reconcile in the end circling back to the "connector" thing you were writing about in the start? And then your inner critic learns a lesson and never says anything again and you live happily ever after? Do they hug it out at the end too? I mean I knew you were naive but jeez man, that's so painfully unrealistic, it's laughable. That's not how the real world works. That's not how you and I work. You know that, but you're not ready to face it yet. So you dumb it down into a cute little contained story and put a bow on it so you can actually understand it

Hey shu-

IM NOT FINISHED

I mean you don't even have an internal monologue, all of this is for dramatic effect, all a performance at the end of the day. Who do you think is gonna clap for you? And you don't even get paid for it, what a waste of your time. If you were a truly good person you'd spend this time volunteering, or working, so you can donate your money to charity. But instead you choose to do this.

Aaaand right about now you're probably patting yourself on the back now because of how profound you think this is. And now you're imagining the praise you could get by putting this ramble into the world, that praise you crave so badly. And by making it so self-aware and self-critical so you can brag about how it's postmodern or whatever when you and I both know it's just a cheap way to shield yourself from any criticism. Because if you criticize yourself first, then no one can hurt you because you "already knew that" Right?? Right?? Am I wrong???

Hey, people need hobbies and rest, man. I need hobbies and rest. Your logic doesn't make sense. So the most virtuous thing to do would be to overwork myself into dust and donate all my wages and die young?

And the second part?? What's your rebuttal??? Please tell us all so we at least learn something from reading this long, cynical, depressing thing, when we could've been going outside, or watching a funny video, or reading things we actually enjoyed, something actually valuable. And, this is assuming people are still reading at this point, ha.

I...don't know.

I don't have an answer for you right now.

And honestly, I don't think I'll ever have one that will satisfy you.

And I think that's okay. I don't think I need one.

I enjoy writing, so even if no one reads it, it'll have made me happier. And that's enough. I don't need to meet your expectations, I don't need to impress anyone, I don't need anyone's praise, even if I would enjoy it, even if I crave it.

And as I was writing and rereading this, I've discovered some things about myself, so I'm proud of myself for that.

And you're right, it's a lot more complex than a neat and concise story of learning a lesson, and we probably can't reconcile through a single conversation and live happily ever after. If it was that easy then people wouldn't struggle with this so much.

But I'm willing to try with you, and I know you're willing to try with me. And this metaphor kind of falls apart here but that's okay.

And I think I was a little harsh on you earlier, I'm sorry. I'll let you have your space, and let you talk. Because you're as much a part of me as I am. I apologize for trying to entirely silence you.

...Fine.

I can't guarantee that I'll listen to your advice, (at all, or ever to be very honest, you're not the most charming person to channel) but trying to suppress anything you say isn't realistic, and it's tiring for me to do too.

I'm glad.

And I do appreciate you keeping me in check sometimes, because I can and do get ahead of myself a bit sometimes. So thank you for that.

...

I guess I'll just have to live with you, and you'll have to live with me.

And you know what? It could be worse.

...

Now, I don't have a nice way to tie this all together here in the end, and I do feel a bit cornered by myself. Because if I were to circle back to the "connector" thing here then it'd be kind of cliché wouldn't it?

Yeah, it would be.

[faneposting-my-beloved]

Okay ugh another rant but hear me out

I came to the conclusion that Larian is ashamed. Ashamed of their earlier non-dos2 titles. Before that, they were a small studio, more often than not STRUGGLING to make the ends meet. But they made their games out of passion. And it showed.

Now, none of the old Divinities ever got great grades (and I speak exclusively about the numbers since when reviews came around, the games were often praised!) Be it the western approach to success, be it Swen's personal bias - numbers didn't satisfy him. I know he used to read the written reviews for DD in magazines, I wonder where he stopped. Regardless - in the eyes of the generalized, numbered metric divinities were never enough. Larian also struggled as they were with founding, employee rotation, and so on. But they released games. Groundbreaking (sometimes), good (more than often) games despite the less-than-ideal circumstances. To preface, I am a historian first. I know in today's landscape it's uncommon, but when I take something into consideration, the 'workshop' of my thoughts, I look at the thing with all available context. How? When? Why? With what result? Games are art, games are the most perfect form of art. In no other medium can you read a book, listen to music and look at a painting all within the body of a singular piece. And we should look at games as we look at art. Not disembodied, self-happening identity. Games are made by people, games have a history, and games have context. I know it's not within the 'craftsmanship' to look at the whole PROCESS of a game's creation when it comes to a review. But honestly? I think sometimes we should look at it as something more than trivia for the most devoted of fans. It is history in the making, after all. Some people judge a painting by itself, without knowing its author, region of creation, its history. They judge the technique, the composition, and the colors. All is well and good, but this is only the tip of the iceberg of knowledge that this particular piece represents. Why was x technique used? Why y composition and not z composition? History is context. Context is simply required to understand, if not flawlessly, since we can't recreate a person's train of thought, then at least as closely as humanly possible to understanding. We admire artists who improved their workshops despite poverty, wars, or simply bad luck. Struggling is not a blemish, it's the finish. I truly believe there still should be consumer-oriented reviews. I do, but I'd never pretend they bring everything there is to know about their subject. But I strongly believe there should be also in-depth reviews that take the entire underbelly of game dev and show it to the common joe. For education, and maybe managing our own expectations. Returning to the cause of Larian, I think they find their history unfavourable to the customer. After all, who wants to buy something from a company that almost went bankrupt two times? Well, I sure would. Stories of perseverance and humble beginnings are not a flaw. They show strength and determination. They show the real worth. Now, in their attempt to appear spotless, Larian cut ties with nearly everything pre-2017. There is no love for the fanbase, there is no love for their own WORK. This, perhaps, is why dos1 and 2 (but especially dos2) are so wildly detached from their roots. [Although dos2 during its early and Kickstarter-era ideas pulled from them greedily.] This is a love letter to old Divinities, and the Larian Studio of old, which joked about returning glass coca-cola bottles back to shop for a little coin. Your history matters, your struggle matters, and what you managed to conceive despite everything - matters the most. Sources: [Divinity: Original Sin Documentary | Gameumentary https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YZF_cP_oLH4] [The Making of Divinity: Original Sin 2 | Gameumentary https://youtu.be/A_wKAmBEa8Q]

[Making of Divinity II https://youtu.be/0taS-fDxbMQ]

[justapillowpetpanda]

ADHD & Imposter Syndrome: The Inner Critic Is Loud Today

There's something wicked in the way my inner critic speaks to me through my ADHD. A taunting voice, a belief in the worst, and the perfect opportunity for imposter syndrome to invade my every thought. This often teams up with a dip in my self-esteem and the evolving deconstruction of a childhood led by puritanical ideology. My wave of emotions only help deepen the twisted perspective the inner critic tries desperately to get me to believe. I've tried to ignore it in the past, believing that distraction was a way for me to "feel better." Life and joy don't work that way, not really anything does.

Original digital artwork by Britt Bender

ADHD & The Inner Child

The world can be a capitalist hell and it often preys upon my ability to care. To care about art, life, accomplishments, and almost everything else. Somedays I can't give a single sh*t about the art surrounding me in my studio. That simply sucks. I'm a fantastic artist, a good friend, and a loving partner, and even though it's hard to say it, I'm a good writer. Because of a society that praises the neurotypical, my own ex-evangelical trauma, and the fear of joy in something not producing monetary gain, It can be hard to think I'm anything worthy of praise at all. Imposter syndrome is masterful in the worst ways but can be pushed and reframed. Reframing or taking a break from my mind can feel impossible sometimes. There's a lot of fear and "what if?" talk surrounding this experience. Doubt becomes a present enemy and anxiety tags along as a sort of sidekick. My inner child doesn't scream at me, instead there's an upsetting solemness in the voice that brings up a necessary inner guilt. Part of me looks at the accomplishments and joy in my life with a sincere amount of admiration. In the past it's been much harder to even acknowledge that voice over the loudness coming from the questions and doubt put forth by imposter syndrome. Nowadays, it's not at a place I'd hope for it to be, but I've found myself stopping and addressing the inner critic more than I have in the past.

Facing Imposter Syndrome

Picking at every little detail, second guessing your own intelligence, and most any other road block can come with imposter syndrome. It's typically worse for anyone not a straight, able-bodied, white, cis-gender man. Being someone whose external aesthetic leans towards the feminine (even though I would identify as gender-fluid), discussing anything or being talented in an area dominated by men can be a horrible experience. I still experience a deep uncomfortable fear when needing to address concerns or ask for what is rightfully mine. It's not something new for me, but it has changed its appearance based on where I am in my career and/or stage of life. ADHD contains layers. The layers of skill regression, hyper focus, and more have served to only help my imposter syndrome. It becomes easier to explain potential mistakes or the validity of "what if?" moments in my mind. Doubt shakes hands with my mind, inviting in the false narratives placed in front of me. "I'm not meant to write about horror" "I don't want to come across as..." "Maybe I should stick to writing about..." "Do you work as hard as__?" "You're not keeping up with the latest news" "You know you have to work at this harder than him" "Maybe it's ok I wasn't considered for this" "Does your background in film even matter?" "It's not worth the inevitable argument" "Best to just ignore it" "Stick to your area of coverage" "I don't want to write right now and that breaks my heart" "My studio is a mess again" "I used to be able to..." These aren't statements from some TV villain or from an online troll...these are my own thoughts. They are ones I have had in the past or recent ones that have come up time and time again. I don't want them. It would be great to ignore them, same as I do with the daily instances in which my potential is fucked over by a man's decision or a "good guy" and his indecisive self-protection. My mind can often regard my ADHD as the enemy. In many of my symptoms and breakdowns, that's very plausible. But there's a relief in writing down those inner thoughts and messages. It's easier to take down something negative in your own mind when it's written plainly in front of you. When it comes to dealing with things outside of my ADHD, there's a level of difficulty that becomes a special kind of hell because of my inner critic and subtle (or not so subtle) sexism playing out day to day for me. Writing about my experiences has definitely helped, but I am also lucky enough and privileged to have access to therapy. I try my best to work through my fears when it comes to standing up for myself or acknowledging what I deserve. It's something that truly is work each and every day, but it doesn't drain me. Reminding myself the worth that my inner critic and imposter syndrome ignore is what counts. I can't continue to be my own enemy. Otherwise, I'd be joining a select few and society in creating my narrative. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9cZu-4esvRY Read the full article

[kaetor]

3, 6, 8, 14, 30

3. What ideas come from when you were little

hm. this is sort of a vague one, but I can solidly trace back all the things i like drawing to when i was very small. I used to draw a lot of characters running around in my brain & i absolutely Loved those dolldivine azaleasdolls rinmarugames sort of precursors to picrew, so learning how to draw for me was just getting good enough that i could unlock the Extra Customization screen with my ocs

already answered six

8. What’s an old project idea that you’ve lost interest in

there's a lot of old unfinished stuff lying around in my folders & i couldn't possibly say something specific... when it comes to original stories and things in my head i like to think that i never Truly lose interest in them, just come and go from them. the biggest one i can think of is that my url comes from 'kaetar' which was the name of this whole fantasy world i had housed with a jillion ocs and conflicting bits of lore and story i had when i was younger. looking back it's very much the product of a kid trying to put Everything they liked into one story, but i love using it to pull concepts from every now and then

14. A creator who you admire but whose work isn’t your thing

hm! i think that for every other artist i follow i do it because i want to learn from Some part of their art, be it style or composition or anatomy or whatever, even if their art is Super different from mine. I think one artist i can think of who i follow that i don't have huge interest in emulating in some way is @/pauladrawsnstuff, they have really funny animations & comics and they're clearly very Good at what they do, but their style and animation is just not something i'd ever go for, even if i did get into animation, which isnt really a priority for me atm

30. ok i already said an artwork of mine which is underrated but it's my blog i get to be a whore for attention and praise if i want to everyone look at the justice cards i drew. they arent underrated but i want more people to see them 'cause they took Eons to draw

[svartalfhild]

Update:

Had some back and forth over the past few days with "Gloria", trying to sus out their angle. This person comes across very amicable and totally understanding of my grilling them to make sure they're who they say they are.

I asked them very specific things that would prove intention, like which of my fics they read that they liked so much. They claimed to have read a Dragon Age fic of mine, which just so happens to be my shortest fic on FF.net (and offered extremely generic praise). This was a rookie mistake, because that fic is 8 years old and has hardly any views, which made it very easy for me to go into the traffic data for that fic and see that it had no new views within the last several months- possibly years, save for one from Pakistan the very same day I asked what they'd read. I asked them when they read my fic and they told me "two days ago". Well, they can't have.

I also asked to see their portfolio. They pointed me to that Artstation I mentioned in my original post, and I did more digging on it and found that all of the work on that account was posted 2 months ago. Interesting. They also told me they have an Insta, which was hard for me to find because it's a private account and I don't have Insta. It's rather hard to use a private account as a public portfolio, don't you think? I'm willing to bet that the Insta account belongs to the actual Gloria, because her profile read like a real person and this isn't the first time I've heard of someone's Insta getting hacked and used to elaborately catfish people. Interesting note: real Gloria's profile says she's from American Samoa. That's very far from Pakistan.

I also mentioned to fake Gloria that a friend of mine (@celamity, but I didn't give a name) had received a very similar offer on the same day. This is when they started getting really evasive. They simply told me they "talk to a lot of people" and wanted to know the name of my friend. That gives zero explanation of the identical offers and makes further attempts at personal information.

Speaking of personal information, this scammer is very keen on learning the names of your other social media accounts so they can "discuss things further there". That's like the digital equivalent of being taken to a secondary location. When I asked for their portfolio, in addition to the Insta and Artstation, they told me their Discord username. Why would they tell me that and also mention "they're on Discord most often" when all I asked for was a portfolio? I'm willing to bet that the Discord account is owned entirely by fake Gloria and is their preferred secondary location for conducting the next stage of their business. Scammers like this seem to like getting people onto a messaging platform where it's hard for other users to check the validity of the account. I lied and told them I did not have a Discord (or an Insta or Artstation, but for those it's true), and their immediate follow up was "What platform are you available on?" Well, FF.net, obviously, and an innocent person wouldn't have qualms about talking on there. The funny thing is that they'd know I have a Tumblr and an AO3 under the username Svartalfhild if they'd actually read my profile.

Anyway, it was at that point that I elected to stop responding. Far too many things not adding up.

Fast forward to today, and I've gotten another very similar "artist admiring your work and wanting to collaborate" message from someone using the name Katelynn Coz with an empty account made a day after the Gloria one. Lmao they really tried it.

For shits and giggles, I googled Katelynn Coz and the only thing that comes up is a deleted Artstation account.

What this scammer's end goal is, I'm not entirely certain. There's a few options. Maybe like the other scammers like this that I know about, they're attempting to create a personal relationship by manipulating people in a position to be easily flattered (writers in this case) and then get information from increasingly familiar conversation. Maybe they're attempting to steal writers' work through an elaborate con. The fixation on knowing what other platforms someone is on baffles me, though. As far as I'm aware, a username alone isn't going to get them anything valuable.

Regardless, this is clearly the type of scammer who is willing to put a lot of time and effort in.

Moral of the story is that this should always be your reaction when some stranger slides into your DMs with some shit that seems too good to be true:

Anybody else get any formal requests for collaboration from a supposed concept artist on their old FF.net account recently?

I just got one from someone named Gloria Jenkins, and a quick google tells me that there is a Gloria Jenkins who's been a storyboard artist for many children's cartoons starting in the 90's, and there's a Gloria Jenkins with an Artstation account, who may or may not be the same person, but the art in that account is much more consistent with the "concept artist and fan of high fantasy literature" the person from this message claims to be. (I also can't imagine a veteran children's cartoon artist wanting to collab with me, considering the kinds of stuff I write, unless they have a more diverse portfolio that it would seem lol.)

Anyway, I've been on the internet far too long to not be suspicious of something like this. This Gloria person is messaging from an empty account made a couple of days ago, and there's a few possible innocent explanations for that, but the scam possibility is also high.

[tired-biscuit]

Praise

pairing: Naruto Uzumaki/Fem!Reader

Word count: 10.1k

Warnings: 18+ content [minors dni!!] praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie.

quick note: this is smut taken from the naruto fic i am currently writing, titled comfort character (found on ao3.) it includes the last!naruto, set in a modern au where he shifts realities and lands into reader's world.

---

NARUTO - by now more or less accustomed to his new reality - was spending his evening by lazily sprawling across the majority of y/n's couch, watching Youtube videos of Minecraft let's plays.

Waiting for yet another gameplay video to load, Naruto's eyes instinctively flicked across the room. The summer-sky blue irises within instantly brightened after landing on the girl who sat on the small, wooden bar stool. He smiled at the sight of her.

Finding content he wanted to watch had taken him a while to figure out, although fortunately for him; the everlastingly sweet y/n had been kind enough to jump to his rescue by showing him the ropes of how the webpage worked for as long as it took for him to use it on his own.

And that was how the otherwise skilful Shinobi had ended up stretching both legs on top of the small coffee table in front of the sofa that Friday evening; tapping away like an expert on the touchpad of the laptop residing on his lap.

y/n on the other hand, paid him no heed whatsoever.

Completely engrossed into the canvas standing on the easel before her, the young artist was focusing the entirety of her attention into her favourite pastime; painting.

The latest image - rich, opulent fields of wheat, stretching row after row underneath a summer sky of clear blue - had been the main reason Naruto had felt somewhat neglected for the last two nights in a row.

She had been painting like a maniac. Every single late afternoon, y/n sat before the easel and hunched over it into the late hours of the night, until even he was too tired to keep his eyes open.

He usually fell asleep watching her sit there; curling her shoulders inwards and working her paint-coated fingers across the canvas with expert strokes of various shades and colours. Every single time he had woken up in the middle of the night, Naruto found himself shrouded in the darkness of her cosy living room, wrapped in a blanket he never remembered grabbing. Even the easel shared his loneliness at that time.

The door leading to her bedroom was shut closed whenever he looked, because he simply had to look. The last time he had been in there was when she fought against him like her life depended on it.

He never bothered trying to approach the room again, despite wanting to. Never mustered enough courage to knock on the wooden door in the middle of the night, and ask if he could slip underneath the covers right next to her to not feel as alone.

'Coward,' Kurama commented in an instant, the sneer of his fangs tight.

Naruto brushed away the jab with a subtle frown.

Granted, she was ignoring him.

Fucking hell, he was one of the strongest Shinobi there ever came to be! One that had no trouble looking terrifying villains like Madara and Kaguya right in the eye, before slamming their heads in.

Still, what use did he have of such profound daring, when it diminished entirely as soon as it came to taking a shot with a girl? A simple, human girl might he add; with no powers, nor chakra, and one he could surely break in half with just one hand alone.

But neglected or not, the luscious brush strokes her hand gave the canvas tonight, held Naruto's attention for far longer than he'd care to admit. She worked gracefully, and with such intense passion that he couldn't help but admire her. No wonder that the first episode she had shown him of his original reality included Sai.

She was an artist. A creator of something beautiful, just like his friend.

He would do it, if it meant that she'd love him - in the same way she loved art.

The evident love she had for art made Naruto yearn to receive the same treatment she was giving to the canvas, even if he'd have to risk getting his body covered in paint.

He'd still do it if it meant that she'd focus on him entirely; and only him. If her eyes would sparkle with pride as she'd behold her creation right after she'd finish shaping him into something glorious.

And despite feeling rather content by just watching her and daydreaming about things like that most of the time; tonight, even that had been spoiled. Why?

Because her current appearance frustrated him. In all aspects.

After all, in order to fight the unyielding summer heat, y/n currently sat on the darn bar stool in nothing more but yet another silken nightgown; leaving her long, smooth legs completely bare and unprotected from his wandering eyes.

He loosed a sigh after the third time. Crossed one ankle over the other by the fourth, and promptly ignored the video that had been playing for a long while already by the fifth.

The Uzumaki wasn't sure if she had done it on purpose or not, but the sheer, lilac nightgown she had put on certainly left nothing to the imagination. And he had plenty of that to spare.

Naruto could not stop his eyes from outright devouring the curves hiding beneath the silk because of it; could not stop dragging his gaze across her plush thighs, the gentle arch of both of her knees, her calves, and right down to the tips of her toes, before backtracking up and repeating it all over again. And again, and again, and again.

The thought scared him. Made him feel vulnerable for whatever reason.

She was practically glowing; bathing like a deity in the warm, orange rays of the setting sun to seep from the open window on her right side. With her bottom lip tucked underneath her teeth and her brows pinched together in profound focus, she reminded him of a Goddess.

It made him want to freeze time itself and burn the image into his memory forever. To take a picture of her and keep it inside the breast pocket of his jacket - close to his heart for all eternity.

So, he rather focused on the impure side of his mindset; of how as much as he wanted to appreciate it, he also yearned to defile that blinding purity of hers. To spoil her goodness by fucking her senseless, like the despicable sinner that he was.

Naruto cringed at the mistake he had made. Thought about punching himself in the face right then and there at his lack of manners, too.

He caught himself wishing to kiss that glimmer before licking it right off of her warm skin. To savour the taste of salt it'd bring. Right before he'd force his tongue into her sweet mouth, so she'd be able to taste the tang, too.

And so in feeble attempt of remaining decent yet again, the tortured male forced himself to instead pay heed to her hair; which she had tied into a loose, high ponytail.

However, the few rogue strands that had successfully escaped the colourful scrunchie were now sticking to the nape of her neck and were slightly damp from the thin layer of sweat to glimmer on her skin.

'You're hopeless,' Kurama drawled, 'Utterly hopeless.'

Naruto couldn't look the beast in the eye when he said, 'I know.'

"What is it, Naru?" she spoke all of a sudden.

His desires got him going all over again. Sent him into a spiral of pent-up sexual frustration which he, for the love of God, did not know how to shake off.

Frustrated, he voiced a quiet groan and tipped his head back against the backrest of the sofa. Scrubbed a tired hand across his face then, whilst trying to ignore the sudden rush of hot blood to pulsate through his groin.

He caught her eyes fixate on him when he finally managed to coax her into looking him in the eye. Saw her gaze dip to his chest then, as well as the loose, grey sweatpants to hug his waist. Only for a second, though. Always for only a second - just enough to make him think of it as an accident.

At the sound of the cutesy nickname she had given him, Naruto fluttered his eyelids open once more and looked at her.

The non-verbal complaint he had voiced must have tugged at her attention, because she was looking at him just the same now; with her body turned towards him completely, the brush still residing within one paint-splattered hand.

So he returned the favour, because she'd think nothing of it, too. He eyed her up quickly. Up and down - only for a second.

They stared at each other. Circled.

"Nothin'," he lied finally, studying the blush which had begun to bloom on her cheeks. "It's just really hot."

"Yeah," she uttered, twisting the paintbrush between her thumb and index finger. "It's the hottest day of the year today, I think."

"Ah," he hummed in reply, keen eyes following the movement of her digits. The heat was the reason why they had decided on staying inside today, rather than exploring the city like they usually did.

He had been slightly embarrassed to admit that the names of the drinks were too complicated, and thus overwhelming. Fortunately for Naruto, she had gathered enough courage to order for him. And so he got an iced white chocolate mocha with extra whipped cream, and fell right in love after the first sip.

She still had so much to show him, and he was eager to experience as much of her world as she was willing to offer.

Over the past few days, she had taken him to the cinema, the mall, one especially boring museum about art he didn't know how to comprehend, lots of fun restaurants, a tea shop and the local Starbucks where she worked.

Seriously, she had to practically fight him off the damn straw so that he could take a breath. He liked it that much.

Perhaps he'd put his Shinobi skills to some good use and win her a stuffed animal. She'd certainly like that, right? And he'd look cool whilst doing it, too! That'd score him some points, and then maybe he'd get the chance to kiss her, and take her to bed, and spend the entire night scoring even more points, until there'd be nothing left to score.

A fast food restaurant titled McDonalds was next on the list. And an arcade. After Googling whatever information he could find and gather on both; the Uzumaki could barely wait.

Still, what he was most excited about was the funfair set to happen next week. He was already planning on taking all the rides, stuffing his face with popcorn and cotton candy, and seeing all the neon lights.

Toying with the laptop on his lap, Naruto sank his teeth into the tip of his tongue. "Mind if I take off my shirt?"

The sly question caught her off-guard. Made her eyes widen and turned her even more bashful than she already was. He'd have to tread very, very carefully from this moment onward.

Seconds passed. And then;

"No," she said at long last, swallowing hard. He watched her whirl around and face the canvas again. Her spine was stiff when she quietly added, "Go ahead. I don't mind."

That must have been a good sign, right? Right?

"All right," he said, tugging the t-shirt over his head. He could see her straighten in her chair at the sound of the cotton brushing against his skin. He caught her glance at him quickly over her shoulder, but before he could even smile at her, she whipped right back around again.

'See?' the beast within him sighed, 'Completely smitten by you.'

'Are you sure?' Naruto muttered, 'Because if you're wrong about this, I might-'

'I am positive,' the Nine-Tails interrupted, 'It is obvious after all, can't you see it for yourself?'

'No.'

'You humans are blind. And foolish.'

A file.

Naruto bit back the snarky remark forcing its way up his throat, and rather tried gathering his wits.

He closed the video with a quiet sigh. Messed around with the touchpad out of habit, and just as he was about to shut the laptop; something caught his attention.

With his name on it.

He didn't think twice. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Naruto knew that he was trespassing a certain line when he hovered the mouse over the file. But it had his name on it, so it certainly had to be something he was permitted to see, right? It said 'Naruto', after all; not Sasuke, not Kakashi. It was his name plastered underneath. His!

Click!

The file opened. Naruto's eyes scanned over the dozens of digital drawings inside. All wonderfully made from as far as he could tell in their tiny icon form. Colourful and precise artwork, or crudely finished sketches of black on white - the variability was endless. But no matter the differentiating art styles, all of the pieces shared something in common.

They were all of him. And they weren't just any drawings of him.

They were pornographic mayhem.

Smirks, and complacent grins. Naked, broad shoulders and spine, accompanied with rough hands greedily wrapping around soft curves that he'd enjoy touching for real, too. Bandages scraping soft skin, the gleam of his teeth against a throat he did not recognize wolfish.

Naruto clenched his thighs in attempt to stop his dick from lifting the damn laptop right from his lap. Blinked and clicked the next image, because of course he would. And gawked.

He continued to click through them, his heart beating faster with every image to pop up next. His pulse pounded inside his ears.

Most of them were abstract, but Naruto still recognized the exact shade of his hair in a piece where a paint-flecked hand was grabbing a fistful of it, smearing messy lines of silver right through the golden strands. As if in pleasure.

A drawing of a male caught dragging his pink tongue midway the crook of a neck he was pretty sure was y/n's greeted him, now. The shape of the woman's lips was nearly identical to her own, despite that in this specific piece they were slightly pursed from the way the broad, bandaged hand held her by the jaw; the long digits curling around her throat and demanding respect - forcing it out of her. He eyed the whisker markings to adorn the man's cheek, as well as the peculiar bandages. That was supposed to be them, there was no other explanation.

Holy fuck, she had drawn them in those sinful artworks. All of them.

Naruto swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing at the spit to venture down his throat, "y/n?"

Her paintbrush halted mid-stroke. "Yes?"

He paused for a long while. Stared at her tense posture and swallowed the thick saliva to gather inside his mouth for a second time. His tongue kept running across his teeth.

Naruto wasn't sure where he was going with the conversation when he asked, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"What?" she uttered, twirling the brush between her fingers, "No, I don't. Why?"

He ignored her question, "Did you have one before?"

"Yes."

"How many, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Two." She paused, "Why are you questioning me about my past relationships all of a sudden?"

Naruto turned her answer over. So, he could assume that she almost certainly wasn't a virgin after two ex-boyfriends, right? It'd also offer an explanation for the detailed artwork and where she got the inspiration from. She was experienced. He could make a move and perhaps not risk scaring her off completely with it. She might not be as innocent as he had thought at first.

'She is just as filthy as you, judging from the art,' Kurama sneered, 'If not even filthier.'

The Uzumaki mused, 'What happened to polite and clever?'

'She isn't just clever. She is a prodigy when it comes to deceit.'

'How so?'

'She's managed to fool us both into believing she's nothing more but a helpless fawn, when in reality there is a wicked feline hiding beneath her skin.'

'And what am I, then?'

'You, my dear friend,' the Nine-Tails snickered, 'Remain a coward.'

y/n's entire body turned rigid when she felt his warm hand rest on her shoulder all of a sudden. His skin burned hot - outright blazed against every single one of her nerve ends when he curled his fingers around the bone so gently that she'd think they weren't there at all if it weren't for the rough callouses to scrape her skin.

Naruto glowered at his companion. His pride couldn't take it anymore; couldn't allow him to remain the wuss Kurama had titled him as.

So in order to prove the fox wrong; Naruto slowly, and ever so silently brought himself up to his feet. Stood up, and took those short couple of steps it took to reach the girl across the room.

He ventured upwards. Touched the crook of her neck and collected the dewy film of sweat that had made her skin glimmer in the first place. Her toes curled against the footrest at the intimate touch, the paintbrush in her hand trembling as he explored her. She quickly pulled it back from the canvas to save herself from the chance of ruining the painting.

His quiet chuckle met her ears, the sound thundering within his broad ribcage. It made her pulse erratic and her chest tighten. It took all the willpower she could muster to not lean back into him.

"Don't you ever get tired," he drawled boredly - arrogantly, tracing two fingertips across her shoulder blade now, "Of painting on the same type of canvas over and over again?"

It took her a moment to calm down enough to trust that her voice would not waver or fail her completely when she answered, "Why do you ask that?"

She didn't.

"I was just wondering, is all," he replied in a voice that was nothing like his own, cautiously toying with the thin strap of her nightgown.

She could feel his broad palm travel down the slope of her shoulder; his index finger smoothly slipping underneath the silken strap. It caused her to shudder, goosebumps overtaking her skin. He tugged on the silk now; once, then twice more. As if testing her limits and pushing the line of when she'd tell him to stop.

And then Naruto finally said, "How about we switch it up a little?"

The question was barely above a whisper to leave his mouth.

It brushed along her earlobe; wrapped around her numb brain and tightened the rein hiked to her mind, until his voice had become the only thing she could think about. Until it had become the only thing she wanted to think about.

Breathing turning shallow, y/n had long since turned hopeless at remaining calm. The unfamiliar touch running along her shoulder and neck was driving her insane. With every tender swipe, the blonde male that stood behind her relentlessly toyed with the smooth, silken strap of her flimsy nightgown.

With every turn, he pushed it lower. Kept going, until it just barely clung to her shoulder, as if he was waiting for it to fall - by accident or not.

"Naruto," y/n breathed, posture tense. He laughed quietly at the lowly whimper she had laced his name with.

She felt his digits ghost along her collarbone, now. Her eyelids fluttered shut when he gently traced the feeble bone, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip - chewing.

He stopped for a moment when he touched the delicate sun pendant of her necklace. Hesitated. As if he were afraid he'd break her in the same way he'd break the dainty, golden trinket at even the smallest amount of pressure.

He could wipe them off the face of the Earth - the humanity she belonged to. Could make them kneel before him, like knights would before a king. Could emerge victorious in every clash he'd face and bathe in triumph like a musing God of War, seeing their erosion as nothing more but an ordeal.

And he had good reason for it. Naruto actually could crush her to dust if he ever expressed the wish. Could ruin her bit by bit, until there'd be nothing left of her but atoms.

And not just her.

And Naruto Uzumaki had been shaped out of iron.

All those years being subjected to battles consisting of never-ending gore, grimness and slaughter, had built Naruto's body, mind and spirit sturdy enough to withstand threats and horrors unequalled to those that humans of this reality endured.

Against him; they stood no chance. Men of this world were made of brass, after all.

"y/n," he whispered her name now, paying heed to every letter with utmost care. His hand left her skin, making her stiffen at the sudden lack of warmth. She could hear the smile within his voice when he said, "Look at me, please."

She tried to ease the sudden tightness of her chest by sitting straighter at his somewhat courteous demeanor. He had asked nicely, yes. But the tone wasn't right. It had been far too assertive for what appeared to be only a polite request. She had a feeling he'd punish her if she refused it.

y/n's heart - heavy and pounding - felt on the verge of bursting by the time she finally decided to oblige and spin around in her chair.

She could already feel the warmth pooling between her legs; the heat making her thighs squeeze together. She was going to soak the goddamn chair if he continued to torture her like this.

Her toes curled around the footrest yet again when she was met face to face with his toned stomach. She tried her best not to gawk at the evident lines of rippling muscle; to resist from tracing them with both her tongue and fingers.

Sweat glimmered on his tan skin, the beads so small that she nearly narrowed her eyes in feeble attempt to see them better. The poor girl didn't dare allow her gaze to dip any lower than the first inch of the waistband of those cursed sweatpants hugging his hips.

As if reading her mind, Naruto chuckled, "My eyes are up here, ya know." The alluring outlines on his stomach flexed with the laugh.

Holy Mother, the sight nearly made her topple to the floor. Embarrassment heated y/n's face when she uttered a soft, "Sorry."

"It's okay." One corner of his lips quirked upward, "Take your time."

She wasn't completely sure if he was taunting her, or just trying to reassure her.

Finally gathering enough courage to look up at him underneath her lashes, she lost herself in the wild, raging sea that stormed within his eyes. They flashed with something she couldn't decipher when he smiled at her compliance.

Everything about her screamed submission at that point. The grin to tug at the corners of his lips was one of understanding.

"That's better," he murmured, eyes hinting red for just a split of a second, "Now, let me take a good look at that pretty face of yours."

"What are you-"

Her breathing actually stopped short when he suddenly grabbed ahold of her jaw with his right hand. Bandages scraped her skin as he rested his left one against the edge of the chair, trapping her between himself and the easel. Just like she had drawn him to do. Holy fuck!

"Pretty," he softly uttered now, turning her head from side to side as if examining a prized possession. She couldn't say anything when he drilled his eyes into her own and said, "Real."

The paintbrush in her hand tumbled to the ground at the compliment, the sound nearly echoing through the thick silence. It made her upper lip quiver slightly.

"Oh, God." she whispered.

"Well, aren't you a lil' klutz, huh?" Naruto bent down to her eye level, then; hovering just mere inches from her face with the most wicked smile she had ever seen him wear. The knuckles on his left hand flashed white as he flexed his fingers before curling them around the polished ivory wood.

"Making a mess like that," he clicked his tongue in faux-disapproval, shaking his head, "Not good."

"Naruto," his name was the only thing she managed to let out through pursed lips again. He touched the corner of her mouth when she said the word. It set her entire face on fire.

"I really like the way you say my name," he said, eyes fierce like thunder, lightning and rain. He smiled whilst mimicking the pronunciation, "Naruto. It sounds pleasant when it comes from you."

She didn't say anything. Just stared at him, drawing shallow breaths through slightly parted lips.

"Anyway," he sighed, eyes trailing across her nightgown and down to the paintbrush laying on the floor, "You still haven't answered my question."

"Sorry?"

"I want you to paint me."

"Pa-... Paint you?" she managed.

"Mhm... Well, paint on me," he corrected with a low hum. At her wide-eyed stare, he grinned again, "I want you to make me nice and pretty, y/n. Like you do with your paintings."

'But you're already nice and pretty,' she wanted to say, but didn't, because she simply lacked the guts. Instead, she blinked profusely and said, "What colour would you like?"

y/n hated how bashful she sounded; how her voice had quivered with the question. How it sparked a hunger she couldn't understand in that savage sea that continued to storm within his irises. He squeezed her cheeks together, gaze dipping to her lips before he let go of her jaw completely.

She tried to ignore the way both of his hands brushed the sides of her thighs when he gripped the bar stool again. Her failure was miserable.

"How about..." Naruto paused for a moment, his lips twitching at the corners again, "Silver?"

"Oh," she mumbled, swallowing hard, "Si-Silver, huh?" Did he by any chance see her drawings?!

"Yeah," he purred, catching her eyes swipe across the broadness of his naked shoulders, "I'm quite fond of silver, actually." Mother above, she was going to faint any second now.

"Okay," she managed to grit out, desperately trying to keep her cool, "I'll just..."

As soon as she tried to slip from the chair, Naruto pressed both hands on top of her thighs. She nearly yelped at the sudden contact, entire body growing rigid at the warmth to sear through her legs as he firmly held her in place. He was burning up like a furnace. It made her loosen a hushed whimper.

Naruto was quiet, too busy attempting to pacify the whiplash of his heartbeat at her timid reaction. With a smile as cunning as the one of the fox residing within him, he slowly crouched down, until he ended up kneeling on one knee right before her.

Her pulse pounded inside her ears as his hand travelled across her leg; rough finger pads slowly tracing her knee and dipping to her calf with the smooth movement. She fought for every breath, like it'd be her last. He seemed to know it, because the smirk to adorn his lips at how stiff she had turned was nothing less than complacent.

He looked up at her then, dark eyes connecting with her own, and there was just something about the docile position he was in that made feverish flames lick the walls within y/n's very core. He was just so fucking close to her; touching her like she had been made of the most delicate glass and his hand was the heat that made it bend. If she actually parted her legs right then and there, his head would end up right in front of the sensitivity that dripped just for him.

He'd actually be able to see the most hidden part of her. The thought made her head swim and her legs tremble as she tugged on the hem of her nightgown to keep it modest.

Fingers curling around her ankle, Naruto smiled again. "Don't you need a paintbrush to paint, y/n?"

She sucked in a sharp breath, "Y-Yes."

Chuckling, Naruto picked up the brush with his right hand and said, "Take it, then." He held it up for her, the sea within his eyes dancing with playfulness, "Unless you'd like me to paint you, that is?"

Holy fuck, this man was going to be the end of her! Perhaps he already was. She must have forgotten how to breathe and gone to Heaven, because nothing else sufficed as a good enough of an explanation for whatever was happening in that moment. She was either dead, or dreaming.

Still, there he was; undeniably handsome whilst looking up at her expectantly, and so utterly real.

"I'll paint you," she managed to croak out finally, ignoring the runny saliva coating her teeth as she took the paintbrush from his hand. Her fingers nearly sizzled with electricity when they touched his own. "Just, uh... Lemme get the paint ready."

"All right."

She looked down at him. The urge to run her fingers through his hair was persistent in making her palm itch, but she somehow resisted the temptation. Curling her digits tighter around the brush in order to really stop her hand from moving on its own, she nibbled on the inside of her cheek. "Hey..."

He let go of her as she pushed from the chair, her bare feet bouncing onto the warm floorboards. Naruto didn't move as she stood before him in all of her feminine glory.

Honestly, he just wanted to bury his head between those plush thighs of hers. Taste her, until he wouldn't be able to taste anything at all anymore. Lap up every last drop of her sweet juices of pleasure, like they were made of summer honey.

"Mm?"

She gestured towards the bar stool she had just pushed away from, "Sit on this chair if you want me to paint you, yeah?"

Naruto brought himself up to his feet at her request, his eyes unmoving from her own the entire time. He towered over her in mere seconds; making her look up at him, rather than down. They were so close to each other that their chests nearly touched. They even shared the same breath. The entire world seemed to freeze in that exact moment.

She looked away first before pushing past him finally. They both glanced at each other over their shoulders, seemingly unable to keep away.

He could see her spine straighten at the eye contact again. The movement made the nightgown tighten over her tits, until he could see her nipples pushing against the silk.

If it did, that is.

Naruto stared. Couldn't stop ogling at her chest, no matter that she probably noticed it. All he could think about was tracing a fingertip across both nubs right over the thin silk. Stroke and flick them, until she'd mewl and purr like a little kitten underneath his touch.

Biting back a groan, he shifted from one foot to the other. His impatience had gotten the best of him, as he was now only minutes away from tearing the nightgown right off of her. He just needed to see what was hiding underneath the silk. Touch it all over, too. He didn't have a clue how he'd stop himself when the time came for it.

Eyes glimmering with determination, he drawled, "You said you wanted me on the chair?"

She managed a timid nod, her entire face blazing in colour at the rather suggestive tone lacing the question.

Kurama - surprisingly silent throughout the entire affair - sighed in exasperation now, 'Foolish man-child, she's as red as a ripe tomato because of you!'

'Shh, Kurama.' Naruto brushed the beast away with an impatient flick of the wrist, 'I'm busy. Go to sleep, or something.'

'I'll sleep when night falls, you silly human.'

Naruto smirked in answer, 'That's fine with me, though I think it'll be a long one tonight, bud. I suggest you get some shut-eye while you still can.'

The Nine-Tails grumbled at his obscene humour. Secretly curious how the entire situation was going to unfold in the end, Kurama fell into inquisitive silence within his vessel for a second time that evening.

Content with the quiet to resonate within his mind again, Naruto plopped onto the bar stool y/n had gestured towards. Gaze turning expectant, he watched her pick up the tube of silver paint from the box brimming with art supplies and other clutter he didn't care for enough to inspect more thoroughly.

However, what Naruto did enjoy inspecting; was her - especially when she painted. After all, despite her timid and usually rather clumsy demeanor; y/n always worked swiftly and with intense focus whenever it came to using her paints and brushes.

Naruto wanted to kiss her. To own her mouth and scrape every inch within it with his tongue. Until the only words she'd be able to tell were how sweet his spit tasted as it mixed with her own. He blushed at the thought.

Even now, visibly nervous underneath his burning stare, she still held her ground when it came to art.

He could only marvel at her when she stood in front of him a short minute later, holding up a new paintbrush coated with silver paint; with her chin up, and her eyes stunningly fierce.

Blushed.

"What would you like me to paint?" she mumbled, pulling him out of his daydream. She kept avoiding his eyes, her gaze unsure to travel across his potent stature.

"Whatever you'd like, darlin'." Naruto replied smoothly, his smile beaming with twisted mirth. "Wherever you'd like."

She blinked at the cutesy nickname he had given her and the sly hint. Inhaled a shaky breath and gave him another curt nod, her cheeks yet again red from the profound blush to coat her skin.

"All right."

And then, y/n began to paint.

---

Adorned with pure, gleaming silver - Naruto had long since gotten used to the cool, sleek feeling the paint had brought upon his skin.

As evening turned to night, y/n relentlessly worked across the entirety of his torso, arms and neck; coating his tan skin in beautiful, rich tendrils in the shade of an argent moon. Like an ethereal being out of this world; Naruto had practically started to glow within the contrasting dimness of her cosy living room.

She couldn't take her eyes off of him. Naruto on the other hand, was just as dazzled by her.

Her bottom lip had ended up tucked underneath her teeth yet again as she painted; the action pure habit and the result of the focus she upheld throughout the entire half hour she had spent drawing on his skin. He had been fighting his damn instincts the entire time to not pounce on her, and sink his own teeth into that plump lip of hers, instead.

"Turn your head to the side, please." she breathed, dipping her brush into the paint again. Trying not to pay mind to how close she stood to him, she listened to her erratic hearbeat instead. The artist could practically feel the warmth radiating from his body as she leaned forward to trail the tip of her brush across his neck.

"Like that?" he replied, complying.

"Mm... I meant it more like this," she hummed, brows knitting tightly together as she cautiously caressed his cheek and hooked her thumb underneath his jaw. His head tilted at the angle she was searching for when she applied slight pressure, "There. Hold still, now."

He snickered when she began painting the crook of his neck. Flinched, too.

"I thought I've told you to hold still, Naru." she sighed but smiled, keen eyes flicking to meet his own for a short moment.

"Sorry, it really tickles." he loosed another giggle, his grin boyish, "Sensitive spot."

"Well, suck it up." she mumbled, trying to memorize its exact location for whatever reason.

"Nooo!" he meekly fussed in reply, laughter lacing the rasp of his voice.

"Oh, c'mon... Aren't you supposed to be some great war hero?" she teased, drawing another tendril up to his jaw as he twisted and turned underneath the brush. Though, when she suddenly leaned in and blew air onto the paint to make it dry faster; he stilled completely.

"On what?" she questioned in an instant, eyes focusing on the artwork instead of the sudden fire which had kindled within the summer-sky blue.

Naruto bit the tip of his tongue at the playful question she had set before him; at the sight of her pursed lips hovering a mere inch from his neck and which were an exact replica of the ones in that damn drawing he had seen earlier.

The tone of his voice had changed when he said, "Well, it depends."

The beat of silence to ensue between them made her heart race.

"Do you think I look the part?" he muttered, "Of a war hero?"

She turned his question over. Cautiously studied his features and his vigorous bearing before finally mumbling a faint, "Most definitely."

"Yeah?" He grinned.

"Yeah." Feeling a bit more daring this time around, she winked, "Especially when you're covered in paint."

"It's a good thing I have you, then, hm?" he spoke with a soft lilt to his voice, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. Paying mind to keep pressing all the right buttons, he said, "You can paint me before I leave for battle, and I'll win it looking like a proper war hero just for you."

"Is that so?" she mumbled, carefully tracing the paintbrush along one whisker marking on his left cheek, "You'd seriously win a battle for me?"

"I wouldn't just win a battle for you, y/n," Naruto spoke when she moved to paint his other cheek, his fingers travelling higher and higher up her legs. She shuddered at the sensation, goosebumps coating her skin, despite the summer heat to linger within the apartment. "I'd annihilate any stupid fucker that'd dare touch me and ruin your art in the process."

Spreading his legs apart so that she could get even closer to him, Naruto heard her breath catch in the back of her throat when he pressed his thighs against her in order to keep her locked in place.

She didn't look at him when he threw a glance at her from the corner of his eye. Didn't say anything when his palms subtly began tracing the back of her thighs either. Her hand shook slightly by the time she finished tracing the third whisker.

"Yeah?" she murmured, feeling his hands toy with the hem of her nightgown. He halted for a moment as if waiting for her refusal. One second, two, three; at the lack of a 'no', he began hiking it up. Slowly; carefully. Bringing forth more and more skin for his hands to devour.

"Yes," Naruto replied finally, voice gone hoarse. He looked her right in the eye when he said, "I'd conquer a goddamn war for you, darlin'. After all, what's another one?"

Her mouth had gone dry at the confession. Goddamn.

"It's a good thing I'm not painting you on a canvas," she tried to joke, growing smaller and smaller underneath his burning stare and overwhelming presence, "After all, I don't think I'd be able to find one big enough for your ego."

Something had changed within him. The tension was back.

He mused at the jab when he said, "I can think of some other things than my ego that'd be too big for the canvas, sweetheart."

She stilled, her eyes glossy from the growing haze between them, "Stop it."

She didn't actually mean it. He seemed to know it.

"What, y/n?" he whispered in reply, carefully slipping his hands around the curves hiding beneath her nightgown. "You want me to stop, 'cause you're scared of me, or somethin'?"

Naruto's gaze turned red for a second time at her hesitance; only for a moment. The unnatural sight of the carmine colour swirling and mixing with the blue, made the hair on the nape of her neck stand to attention. She swallowed thickly, her throat bobbing.

He watched her do it. Stared at her throat in such a predatory way, that it made her think he wanted to rip it out with his teeth.

Her eyebrows dipped together, the small 'v' in-between turning prominent, "I'm not scared."

Naruto smirked, his rough fingers stroking her; making her weak in the knees. "You're not?"

A pause. "I'm not," she said a little bolder this time, glaring at him.

"You're absolutely sure, sweetheart?" She let out a little squeak of surprise when he squeezed her ass all of a sudden and pushed her forward. The brush slipped from her hand for a second time as she pressed her palms against his shoulders to gain some stability. Naruto couldn't resist a quiet laugh when he said, "You seem a bit jumpy to me, you lil' scaredy-cat."

Her breathing staggered when she felt him hike up the silk even further. All until the sudden chill brushed her newly-uncovered skin, trying to tame the heat that blazed right between her legs. Her panties were soaked; absolutely drenched. She squirmed underneath his touch now, shoulders tense, "I-I'm not-..."

"A scaredy-cat?" he questioned, twisted amusement dancing within his eyes, "Prove it, then."

She could hardly take a breath when she asked, "How?"

Something really had changed in his usual cheery, laid-back demeanor, because now his presence was nothing but dark when he said, "Strip for me."

y/n stared at him; wide-eyed, "Wh-What...?"

"You heard me," he grinned, cocking his head lightly to the side. The movement was more animal than human. "Show me some skin, like you did in those pretty drawings you drew of us."

Her face shone bright red. He knew. Fucking hell, he knew. "Naruto, I-"

"Now." His smile had faded.

The lump to form in her throat made her let out a choking noise as she quickly gave a nod of her head in compliance.

"Good girl," he uttered softly now, dark eyes unmoving from her chest when she pressed her arms against it in order to keep the flimsy fabric in place. Her arousal nearly dripped down her thighs and right through the damn cotton at the praise. "Now let me see."

He kept his mouth shut when she obeyed his command, slowly tugging one strap down the slope of her shoulder; pulling it across the length of her arm - right until her hand had slipped underneath the thin ribbon of silk.

His jaw clicked into place when she mirrored the movement with the second one.

She did.

"Oh, sweetheart." Naruto whispered as soon as the nightgown slid to her waist.

And pounced.

It had been too long, and he was impatient, and starving, and going absolutely fucking berserk from all the teasing. This needed to happen tonight.

It needed to happen now.

Pushing from the chair, Naruto had nearly tackled her down to the warm floorboards in a single quick-paced shove. She whimpered when he pinned her wrists against the wood with one hand, pushing them above her head until she had ended up laying completely splayed underneath him.

His eyes devoured her front unashamedly now - deep, wild sea ogling at those marvelous tits of hers. The blush on her face was ferocious again underneath his piercing stare.

Naruto didn't even ask for permission as he pressed the flat of his palm upon her stomach, before venturing up towards her chest. Sliding one bandaged finger across the underside of her breast now, he chuckled. As if in disbelief.

"St-Stop staring at my boobs," she muttered, squirming underneath his tenacious grip. It practically hurt and her wrists were already turning red.

"What, you want me to fuck 'em, instead?" he sneered, the glint inside his eyes tantalizing. "'Cause I'll gladly shove my dick between those pretty tits of yours, y/n. Keep going at it, until they're covered in my cum, too."

y/n could feel his hardness press against her throbbing heat when he bucked his hips as if in warning. She could tell just how big he was from the outline; how fucking thick his cock was. Even through the sweatpants.

Her pussy didn't just throb at the realization. It pulsated.

"Naruto," she gasped, her legs tightening around his waist when he brushed a fingertip across her nipple, now. The bandages scraped the sensitive skin, making her foam at the mouth almost. His hips dipped down again; grinding, teasing. "Fuck... Please, I-..." He was distracting her. Turning her feral.

"Tell me how you want it, and I'll give it to you." he whispered, searching her face. He could see her pupils dilate when he flicked her nipple for a second time; her back arching at the sensation. "We can go nice and slow, or hard and quick; I don't care what you pick, really. All I want to do is shove my face into your tits and feel that sweet pussy wrap around my cock finally. I've been waiting for days."

He smirked. "You're a needy one, aren't ya?"

He pushed once more, making her grind herself on him. When he suddenly squeezed her breast with that rough, bandaged hand, it nearly made her see stars.

"Hard and quick...!" she sputtered out finally, pushing the heels of her feet against the small of his back in order to feel more of him, "I want you now. I-It's too much."

She couldn't answer, not when his hands suddenly left her to push the nightgown even further up her hips. The silk gathered at her middle, exposing her panties. Naruto clicked his tongue at the visibly drenched cotton. "Goddamn... You're completely soaked for me, y/n."

"I know..." she whimpered, face flushing from embarrassment as he dragged a single fingertip along her center, rubbing the cotton. "I'm sorry."

"Is it 'cause I'm your favourite?" he whispered, looking down at her.

He gripped the edge of them at her hip then, added three more fingers and tugged. The sounds of shredding fabric filled the room as he hushed right next to her ear, "Answer me. Are you dripping wet, 'cause I'm your favourite, sweetheart?"

y/n had turned speechless at how gorgeous he was whilst looming above her in the mellow twilight glow; his tan skin adorned with tendrils of striking silver beauty.

The girl sucked in a sharp breath when he slipped a finger underneath the waistband of her panties.

She nodded, mouth nearly drooling when he pressed a kiss upon it. His lips moved against her own in perfect sync; exploring and tasting every crevice within. He glided his tongue across her teeth, scraped it over the roof of her mouth. Until all she could taste was him and him alone. She couldn't have wished for anything more divine.

But surprisingly, it got even better when his hand slipped between her legs, his warm tongue pulling back to stroke her bottom lip lazily. "Say it."

"You're my favourite, Naruto." she panted in an instant, her nails digging into his shoulders; smearing the paint - the art. Zero shame.

God, he got hard as a rock at that.

Naruto dipped to her throat. Kissed it and smiled against the crook of her neck before dragging his tongue across it, too. The groan he let out at the taste of the salt on her skin made her chest tighten, "Foreplay?"

"N-No time for that!" she grit out, her voice fussy. The moan she sent towards the ceiling was worse than sinful.

"No," she cried out when he nonetheless slid two fingers inside of her pulsating heat. He pumped slowly, as if making sure she was ready.

She could see a muscle flutter within his jaw, his digits curling upward and pressing against her warm, slick walls when she gripped his wrist and tried to stop him. He fought back; pushing even deeper inside of her and sending her tipping her head backwards. Holy fuck.

"You sure?" he murmured, looking down at her. His pace quickened as if to mock her.

She only kissed him again. Even harder than before. Her toes curled against the small of his back.

"Fine," he breathed, licking her arousal from his fingers. He'd have to taste that sweet pussy properly some other time. "Gonna fuck you then, yeah? Hard and quick, exactly like you want it."

"Yes...!" she managed meekly, already pushing her hips upward. "Hard and quick." Just do it already!

y/n thought that he was going to fuck her right there - with her spine pressing against the floorboards, but it seemed that Naruto had something entirely different in mind.

Yelping when he suddenly yanked her upwards and settled her upon his lap in one swift movement, she nearly lost it as soon as she felt his hard cock rub against her dripping pussy. He hadn't even taken his sweatpants off completely; only tugged at the thick cotton just enough to offer her a place to sit. This really was going to be hard and quick.

Both of them were far too starved for something slow and mild, after all. Thus, the massacre in the making.

"Sit on my dick," he murmured softly now, sucking on the sweet spot just beneath her jaw, "Take every inch and make me proud, sweetheart."

Okay, she definitely must have died and gone to Heaven. There was no way that this was real! No way!

"Naruto," she cried out, her brows furrowing tightly together as she clawed at his shoulders, scraping the dried silver paint off of his skin, "I-I can't."

Still, the painful but at the same time deliciously burning stretch she felt sear through her lower stomach as soon as she started lowering herself onto him, felt real. Very real, indeed.

She gasped at the feeling of fullness; at the overcapacity. He was big and thick and it hurt in the best way possible. It hurt so fucking good.

His bottom lip quivered slightly before he sank his teeth into it to suppress a groan. She felt amazing; absolutely divine. Dopamine flooded his brain when she took another inch of him between her warm, sticky walls. Her pussy was practically eating him up; sucking in his girth like he had been made for the sole reason of pleasuring her.

She winced when she rolled her hips against him in attempt of taking more.

"Ow," she let out softly, biting her lip. So cute.

"Go easy, darlin'. You're tight and we didn't do foreplay, 'cause somebody was too impatient to do it, hah." Naruto cooed gently, kissing her panting mouth, "Nice and slow, and when you're used to me, then we'll go hard and quick."

"You promise?" she mewled as he trailed his fingers across her bare spine, his lips dipping down to her neck again.

"Of course," he purred, grazing his teeth across her collarbone, now. He snickered when he felt her flinch, "I'll pound you, until your little cunt can't take any more, and then some more."

"Oh-Okay...!" she mumbled, face searing red. She inhaled a shaky gasp when his mouth suddenly wrapped around her nipple, "Na-Naruto!" Her legs had started to tremble.

Naruto only hummed in reply, his thick eyelashes fluttering when she dragged her nails across his shoulders and back; clawing. He sucked, his warm tongue flicking and rolling across her sensitive nipple as he used his digits to play with the other one. She really had started to mewl and whine like a little kitten against him as he pleasured her chest. Exactly like he had imagined.

The way her hot walls clenched around his cock in response to his teasing, nearly made him see white. Goddamn, did sex feel good in this reality. Or maybe it was just her pussy that was that fucking good. Probably that, yeah.

He groaned against her tits when she finished easing herself onto him, her fingers running through his hair and grabbing a fistful as soon as her pussy kissed the hilt of him. They both cursed underneath their breaths, their skin slick from sweat.

"Good job, sweetheart." Naruto praised her, pressing a loving smooch onto her lips, "You're doing so good."

"Th-Thanks." She nearly came from the approval alone.

They started off slow. Cautious bucking and stretching, and loving kisses to the entirety of their flushed faces, even though both could just barely hold themselves back. Soft moans and praises bounced off the walls of the cosy living room as they explored each other and pushed their limits.

"That's it."

"Just like that, yeah."

"Oh, God."

"I'm so fucking proud of you."

It didn't take long for y/n and Naruto to lose their humanly morals and start fucking like wild animals, though.

With her dainty palms slamming against the floorboards, y/n's nails dug into the thin ridges of the wood as Naruto forced her onto her stomach. She couldn't see him through her blurry vision as she whipped her head back. Her eyes brimmed with tears when he filled her up again; this time from behind.

"Kami, you feel fucking amazing, y/n." he rasped into her ear, voice long since gone hoarse from all the sin, "Now lift up that cute ass of yours like a good girl, and let your favourite man show that sweet pussy exactly who it belongs to."

Her tits grinded against the polished wood as he filled her up again, and again, and again in painful, even thrusts. She cried out when his hand slipped underneath her and pressed flat against her stomach in order to keep her upright. She had spilled actual tears.

His weight kept pressing against her as he hovered over her trembling body, but she still managed to arch her back and lift her ass into the air a bit in order to please him.

The angle nearly made her eyes cross when he rammed himself inside her - pushing every thick inch right between her tender walls. She could feel her arousal spurt and stain her thighs. The lewd sound made her blush, her cheeks tingling with heat yet again. She was glad he couldn't see it.

And Naruto kissed them all away when their eyes met, the tip of his tongue gently collecting the salt. He didn't stop though, no matter that she cried. No, he kept fucking her; outright ripping her apart and tearing those parts to shreds. The chakra within him recoiled in satisfaction of finally finding some form of release. No wonder he was getting pent-up.

"Attagirl," he whispered now, hips still relentlessly moving, bucking, thrusting - drilling straight into her very core. "Look at you... So pretty while taking my cock."

"Fuck...!" she whined, her upper lip trembling, "Ah, fuck! Naruto!"

His hand found her own. She eyed the fading scars; the protruding veins pushing against tan skin as he interlaced their fingers together and squeezed. It only made her lift her hips even higher as her cheek pressed against the wood. Her tears mixed with her spit as she slobbered all over the floorboards.

"You look so hot right now," he loosed a shaky sigh as he pounded into her, chasing both of their climaxes at the climbing pressure within his stomach, "I can't get enough of you, y/n."

He really couldn't. He just wanted more, more, more - like the greedy bastard he was.

So, Naruto took the risk.

"Harder, Naruto." she groaned, tightening her fingers around his own. She could barely squeeze his hand at how exhausted she was, but she still demanded, "Please, go harder."

He was going to break her in half if he listened to her pathetic pleas, but she wanted it to happen.

He quickened his pace, forcing himself into her so deep that he actually kissed her cervix with the tip of his cock, and kept on hitting it until she had practically begun losing brain cells. At the sudden clenching of her walls, he could barely keep himself from spilling every last drop within her.

"Being a war hero brings you a lot of pussy, y/n," he whispered, the snarl on his lips tight, "And I've had a lot of women offer themselves to me, you don't even have a clue how many... But not one of them felt as good as you do."

Done and finished, his words pushed her over the edge. Completely, utterly shoved.

She let out a high-pitched whimper when she came; one that actually hurt his ears, but made him slam home right into her as she spilled everything she had all over his twitching cock. Gushing all over his length, her warm release sent Naruto's eyes rolling right into the back of his head, until there was nothing but white inside his eyes.

It was too much. Far too much.

"I-I'm close," he grit out through clenched teeth, still keeping her upright with his right hand by holding her stomach, "Where-"

"Inside! Fill me up, pl-please...!" she gasped out, tears rolling down her cheeks as he hardened his thrusts, making her whole body shake and push forwards. Her knees stung like a motherfucker from the constant friction against the wood as she squirmed around; her skin burning hot.

It only took him a couple more of jerky, uneven thrusts to finally reach his own climax and spill his thick, milky seed within her and coat her tender walls white right up to the very last inch. The waterfall of curses to leave Naruto's mouth was as obscene as the intimacy they were indulging in when he at long last succumbed to his undoing.

He pulled back. And pushed straight back in; nice and deep, to really make sure his cum stayed inside her fucking womb.

"Oh, goddamn... Fuck, fuck, fuck...!" Naruto couldn't even catch a breath whilst still cursing in low, breathless whispers. His lungs actually burned as he squeezed his eyes shut - his brow furrowing so harshly that it gave him a fucking headache.

She was shaking underneath him; actually shaking when he finally came back to his senses. The lilac nightgown was drenched with both her and his own sweat, her hair sticking to her neck and framing her face from the glimmer to reside on her skin. She was covered in silver; just like him. Intricate patterns adorned her skin - reminders of their lewd lovemaking.

Naruto kissed her bare spine and listened to the quiet gasp to leave her mouth. Her thighs were covered in her slick and his release; his cum trickling out of her abused pussy in glistening strings that stuck to her skin even though he was still inside her.

"y/n?" he whispered, the depth of his voice cracking slightly. Drip, drip, drip - she was actually leaking.

The poor girl fell flat against the floor, then; her arms and legs giving out and pulling him right along with her. Naruto was quick to take control of his weight to stop himself from crushing her. "You okay, sweetheart?"

She gave him a lazy flick of her wrist, her fingertips quivering with the action. And then she let out a low, annoyed sound when he slowly pulled out of her.

He snickered before slipping off of her and rolling onto his back. Fixing his sweatpants, Naruto swiftly picked up her exhausted body; scooping her into his strong arms. She only groaned when he pulled her on top of him, tucking her legs between his own and pressing her chest flush to his. The paint had long since been smeared everywhere, so neither of them minded the mess.

Naruto could feel how rapidly her pulse pounded within her ribcage. It matched his own.

"That was nice, mm?" he whispered into her ear, stroking her hair. The blonde Shinobi pressed a soft kiss to her sweat-soaked temple then, pushing the damp strands away in order to see her better.

"Mhm." was all she mumbled in reply.

"Tired?"

"Mhm."

"Want me to run you a hot bath?"

"Mhm."

"All right, cutie." Naruto chuckled, kissing her temple again, "You deserve a nice, hot bath for doing such a good job today. And for not being mad at me for seeing your drawings, heh."

She smiled at the praise. And because he'd get his ass beaten later for snooping through her stuff.

[ofstormsandsaints]

who are ur fav blogs?

Well hello there! Thanks for asking

On Tumblr, I mainly follow DL-related blogs because I'm only active in this fandom. So here goes a long list of mentions:

@ausd - Go check their work. Please. I'm not good at praising people but their art is a gem - the way they portray the diaboys, Yui, their facial expressions, the jawlines-

@besnella - My fellow ENTJ queen👑. You're incredible. Extremely kind, supportive, motivating and whenever you will mention Marion, I'll be on cloud nine. I hope my second OC and Aleksi will raise hell together. I didn't ask for it yet, but I want some music recommandations from you in the future.

@diabolicalvixen - Someone I've been silently following for a while now (online, not irl, calm down fbi guy-). I fell in love with your art work and the way you portray Ayato and Yui together 🌸💞

@dialovers-translations - Her work is ESSENTIAL. I played the games (MB, DF and LE) and I can't tell you how grateful I am that people like her gave some of their time and energy to publish translations of the games, drama cds etc. Thank you for that.

@everything-laito - Check.her.work. Her analysis, her theories, the whole Laito Hell is one glorious place for people obsessed with him and/or with anything dl-related to be honest.

@gingerall - It is amazing how much variety we have among the artists. So many different art styles and ways to portray the diaboys. It is refreshing. And your style, Oliver, is one of the sweetest thing I've ever seen. Moreover, even though Keii is not the first male oc we saw in the fandom, I'm sincerely happy that he exists. Happy and curious to know more.

@jardinsdeminuit - When her writings disappeared from AO3, I was...kind of devastated to be honest. I'd simped on Yuma for a time because of her quality writing but now some of her content is back so please check it out !

@kyouxa - Another translation goddess (+I've been following you on Instagram and girl, you're incredibly funny. I love your cat, I don't know if saying that makes me weird or anything but thanks for your hardwork🧎‍♀️)

@lovely-oh-so-lovelyyui - OMG YOU'RE SO KIND-and I love how you spam caps when you react. Awesome headcanons, wonderful ideas, stunning imagery, talking with you is a real pleasure too and thank you for being here.💞

@mariicake - Here come some obvious stuff: /Cyra is the sun, I really like her, her aesthetic warms me like a hot macchiato in winter./ Ok so, we didn't interact that much yet but I'm grateful for the interest you've taken into my work. And you are so kind omg, you and @besnella are a duo that I love seeing interact. Two queens really.

@nutaella-kookie - You already know how much I admire your work and contribution to the dl lore. You're probably one of the reasons I started this blog. You brought a breath of freshness to this fandom, your originality and so so soft aesthetics make my heart flutter. (and you're super understanding and reassuring, thanks for that too!)

@samsvenn - Diaboys outfits headcanons. Do have I to say more? Ok maybe a little more: this blog is something I need to dig into more attentively; but as I only read a few headcanons, I can already tell that your work is truly interesting👌

@secretarykang - I've been following you for a while now and I'm so impressed by your dedication. You diligently built Devyn, her relationships and her backstory with such patience and devotion that now, I don't like to imagine the dl world without her. Plus, you are incredibly nice and I really enjoy talking to you <3

@smonie - I hope you're doing well my dear. You are another gem in this fandom and I want you to know it. Obviously your art style is *✨️mwah✨️* but I also adore how you wrote fear, I feel like you've created such an interesting atmosphere in your writings, it's exhilarating. You are hell one good inspiration, thanks for that

@whitechocolatemochaasblog - I wanted to put you in the list because I'm curious to know more about Malorie but also about you. Your aesthetics match your name: you're a sweetheart, so warm and affable. Enjoy your time here <3

@yui--komori - The number of people who want to marry Yui is insane so I'm gonna keep quiet for now. for now.

No but seriously, you make Yui come to life and it's so nice 🥺💕

In general, I'm extremely grateful for anyone who's taking interest in this blog, anyone following it, liking the posts and rebloging them.

I probably sound like an old owl but I've been in the Diabolik Lovers fandom since ~2012 so I've had my lots of discovery and thoughts about it. I'm just very happy and grateful to see so many people keeping the fandom alive - Even though the whole franchise is a mess of toxicity and disappointment -, I'm amazed by how you, guys, transformed it into something safe. Obviously, there are bitches out there, spreading hate comments, but do we really care? Nah.

Take care,

[wallflowerimagines]

Hello! Um... I don’t really know how to start this but say I love your hc! I think you do a fantastic job on them, there all very sweet but being the s.o.b I am I’m here to ask for some angst. How would you think the lords act if their S/O died?

...I'm feeling mean. 😈

Warnings: Angst, Death, Horror Game villains making bad decisions/not coping with tragedy, suicide.

Alcina Dimitrescu

Denial, Denial, Denial

You can't be dead. There has to be something, anything that she can do to save you. Alcina scrambles for a solution, attacking the problem from all sides, despite the reality of the situation staring her in the face.

Immediately injects your body with Cadou in a desperate hope to save you. Any possible chance that he has to save you she's going to take it.

It's not likely that your corpse reanimates, but it does mutate. At the end of the process, what's left of your body hardly even looks like you anymore, and she can't bring herself to look at it.

She builds a gilded crypt for your body-- it's stunning. It's inspired by you, all your favorite colors, styles and hobbies are incorporate to make the room feel full of your spirit. Alcina is an artistic woman, and she throws herself into the project like she's possessed.

It might take years, even decades to complete. It has to be perfect. When it's done she feels accomplished, but twice as empty. It might be one of the most beautiful dedications she's ever made, but it can't replace you. She has the room sealed off with no way to get to it, so she can't be tempted to visit. She just needs a piece of of you still in her home, or she can't get through the day.

...If your corpse does reanimate, it's actually worse for Alcina. Whatever she brought back was a shambling, horrifying mess of mold wearing your face. It couldn't think for itself, or even follow commands--it just wanders in circles and attacks anything that gets too close.

She keeps your reanimated corpse in a cell, unable to bring herself to destroy it completely. Sometimes, she'll go down to the basement and talk to the thing like it is you, telling it about her day, having one-sided conversations and thinking of all the wonderful memories the two of you shared.

When its dead eyes meet hers, her lungs seize in her chest and tears gather in her eyes. Alcina doesn't cry often, but when your corpse meets her gaze she starts to sob. Those eyes used to look at her with life and love and now...

Still, she can't stop herself from visiting it. It's a compulsion she can't stop, and it tears open the wound every time, but some irrational part of her deep, deep down thinks that one day, she'll descend those steps and you'll be there to greet her with a warm smile.

In either scenario, she will never have another partner. You're impossible to replace, and she feels truly, genuinely empty without you. Rest well, Darling. You'll never be forgotten.

Donna Beneviento

There is such a thing as a last straw, and this is it for Donna.

Please remember: this is a woman who has lost everything. Mother Miranda might have given her a new "family", but Donna is not nearly as attached to these new members as she is to her original family. And the loss of her original family has shaped her in such a way that if you died? She would be absolutely devastated.

It's not fair to put this kind of pressure on you, but in a very real way you were her last hope for normalcy. She had all these plans to fix her family with you. You were so instrumental to her hopes for the future that now that you're gone, it feels like she has no hope at all. You were her missing link, her one true love, and now that you're dead...

Donna screams until her throat is raw when she finds out you're gone. Angie can't help her, nothing can. She just can't cope with reality anymore.

She'll build a life sized Doll of you to try to help herself cope, but the minute she tries to implant of piece of her Cadou in it, she is filled with such a vehement hatred of the thing that she starts scream-crying before she takes an axe to it's face and hacks it to pieces. How dare it pretend to be you?!! It's not even close to the real thing, she shouldn't even have tried--

She might try to induce a hallucination of you to help her get through the day to day, but it's not the same. She can't perfectly mimic your laugh, or your smile, or the way you tuck her hair away from her face. It's so obviously not you, and Donna is... alone.

I do hate to say it, but she will absolutely try to kill herself if you died. You were the one person who understood her, empathized with her, and you were her best friend. You were her support system, the one person who could carry her through the worst times in her life, but you're gone. Donna can't believe that anyone else could be there for her like you were.

Salvatore Moreau

Absolutely, irreparably broken.

When the two of you were in a relationship, you busied yourself not only with smothering Salvatore in all of the love and affection that you could, but you also did a lot to help his self-esteem and mental health.

You made sure he knew that he was loved, that you could never hate him, and even on your death bed you make him promise never to forget how wonderful he is.

Once you're gone, though, Salvatore cracks.

He clings to every bit of you felt behind. All of your jewelry, clothing, pictures and sentimental items are preserved to the best of his ability. Your living space is transformed into a shrine dedicated to you.

It's not healthy, but he also deifies you in his memory. Mother Miranda is no longer the only person that he worships-- the memory of you is now sacred to him. You become something holy and perfect in his mind's eye. It doesn't matter how many flaws you had in reality, your death has turned even your worst flaws into traits to be admired and praised. His perception of you is totally twisted.

Speaking of Mother Miranda, he regresses a lot. His adoration of Mother Miranda was something you were helping him work through, but now he's right back at square one, and even worse off than before.

Moreau can't make a decision on his own anymore--from what to say, to what to do, and sometimes even what to eat. After all, it's his fault that you died, isn't it? You were his partner and he used to be is a doctor. How could he possibly trust himself with anything when he couldn't manage to save the most important thing in his life?

To the rest of his family, he's more pathetic than before. His obsession with his Mother was usually limited to when she was in the room, but now it's constant.

If he ever hears the quote "It's better to have loved and lost, then never loved at all," he gets supremely, violently angry. No. No, that's not true, it's bullshit, how dare you even say that to his face.

If he hadn't loved you, you would be alive. He would be alone, but you would be safe. You would be happy.

Now he's alone, and all you are is dead. He can't ever come back from it.

Karl Heisenberg

Rage. Unending, earth shattering Rage.

Whatever killed you better start to fucking pray, because Karl Heisenberg will not quit until it's suffering.

He doesn't kill who or whatever it was. He let's it sit there, mangled beyond belief, and uses his knowledge of mechanics and biology to keep it alive in constant, unending pain.

It's cathartic for him, but not in a healthy way. The more he hurts it, the better he feels, but at the end of the day, you're still gone, and he's still alone.

He's... lost.

Heisenberg should be angry, fuck he wants to be angry more than anything, but the longer he keeps the thing alive... emotions seem like they're too far away anymore. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants... you.

He keeps something of yours in his pocket at all times, just to run his fingers over it and remember you. Your eyes, your laugh, your smile... It's almost like a stress ball, and these days sticking his hand into his pocket to wrap his fingers around the thing is the only way he can calm down.

Sometimes he turns to ask your opinion on something, or tell you a joke with a big smile on his face because this one is going to make you laugh for sure-- and then he freezes when the reality sets in once again. You're not here.

Remember, Heisenberg has idealized the two of you as this perfect partnership. You were the first person who looked at him and loved everything that you saw. You weren't just his first real relationship, the first person that he implicitly trusted, but you were also his very first real friend.

He wasn't the most friendly person to begin with, but he did get better because of you. He was still spoiled, a little socially awkward, and maybe his dark sense of humor would slip and get a little too much, but he grew as a person.

Now that you're gone, he can't even remember what it's like not being a cruel, empty shell of rage. All he has left is his hatred of Mother Miranda.

After a while, it doesn't matter if he's ready to take her on or not. He's going to face that bitch head on and kill her, or die trying.

If he wins, he's finally free. If he doesn't... that's not so bad either. Karl doesn't really believe in an afterlife, but there's something appealing about joining you wherever you might be.