#I was committed to how it looked from the moment I started the line art unfortunately lol

[kindfrog]

insatiable

inspired by the song Abbey by Mitski

I am hungry / I have been hungry / I was born hungry / What do I need?

as well as various scenes from the manga; in particular this one:

I really love Laios and the winged lions weird dynamic. I think they’re really interesting parallels. Hooray for cannibalism metaphors and religious undertones :D

anyway I also wanted to add some close ups as well as a version of the main drawing without the other bits covering it (apologies if tumblr has made the picture quality trash) -

[kichiyosh1]

"I made it with you in mind"

wanderer x reader

to think he'd end up finding joy in such a childish activity

✧: he ends up being mean at the beginning but he apologizes in his own special way, slight hurt/comfort but nothing major

(I'm back ig? idk :3)

He couldn't believe the absurdity to which you and the young archon were subjecting him to.

The sins committed by the former harbinger are things he won't refute or deny. Indeed such actions musn't go unpunished, but perhaps he's underestimated the extent of the dendro archon's mercy.

Mind explaining what all of this is supposed to be?" he knows, with just a single glance, he grasped what was about to unfold, he just couldn't believe it. There displayed before his very eyes, a colorful assortment of beads lay scattered across a wooden table.

"You've dabbled in arts and crafts before, haven't you? You could say I proposed the idea to Lord kusanali as a way to keep that evil little brain of yours occupied"

'What evil is there to be done in bracelet crafting of all things, huh?' he deadpanned while simultaneously picking up a bead, examining how it reflects the light that's passing through the crystalline windows.

He let out a scoff.

"Have you forgotten who I am? A being of celestial creation, lessened to do recreational activities such as these? how amusing." Pathetic was the word he was looking for. Seriously, do you really expect him to just sit down quietly and start passing beads on a string without complaint to how this is a hit on his pride? It'd be more fitting if you locked him up for all of eternity, but this, this was just mockery.

It was the warmth of your hand that snapped him out of his thoughts. Eyes widened before squinting, but he dared not move, curious to what it was you were doing. You had started to fasten a piece of string to his wrist, gentle with your touch, measuring it so that it'd fit securely, but not too tight to be uncomfortable.

"Who gave you permission to lay your hands on me?" The warmth of your touch was strangely starting to get to him. He swatted your hand away, any more of that and he wouldn't know how to react.

Both of you were now glaring at each other. "Is it that hard for you to accept someone's act of kindness? I'm just trying to help." You could've sworn there was a slight change in his eyes when you said that, but was quickly replaced by an irritated smirk on his face. "I don't recall ever asking for your help, go give it to someone who actually needs it." He waved you off before plopping himself down on one of the stools before suddenly picking out random beads and charms like he wasn't against the idea a moment ago.

With furrowed brows and your mouth left slightly agape by his rude behavior, your face settled on a frown. You were used to the wanderer's arrogance and unpleasant attitude towards people, but there are times where even you are left puzzled. You went out of your way to make sure the activities kusanali planned out wouldn't overwhelm him, she'd ask you if you were doing this out of pity for him. You firmly shook your head.

You simply cared for him, that's all there was to it, but it didn't seem like he reciprocated the motion. The last he's heard from you was a sigh, before the sound of your footsteps slowly leaving faded.

You haven't visited him since. I mean how could you? if he was going to act like a brat while you spent your time there then might as well steer clear out of his way. No, you weren't being petty, and even if you were, you most certainly had every right to be. You nodded to yourself, justifying your actions as wanderer just being an asshat and you being the more mature one in this situation.

It wasn't easy. There were times where you would cross paths when he was on break from his duties (and bracelet crafting), or times where he himself is actively seeking you out, and before he could even call out your name, you're already making a bee line towards the exit.

You sat yourself down, exhausted from all this running around. Another successful day of not coming into contact with the wanderer.

"Doesn't he have other businesses to attend to?" If he had time to be going around looking for you then surely he was slacking off, right?

"As far as I'm concerned, you are my business." Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"So how long do you plan on avoiding me?" he was standing behind you, face leaning down above your head as you met his gaze from your position on the bench.

You put on an air of annoyance before flicking his forehead, causing him to hiss and reel back from your attack as he rubbed the spot. "Hey! you deprive me of your company for days and now you dare assault my face? you-" you were already walking away, with the esteemed wanderer quickly following closely behind you.

"Hey", he reached for your hand, but you batted it away. It was definitely worth it to see the offended look on his face, but there was a small pang in your heart when you saw how his face faltered. "Who gave you permission to lay your hands on me? don't go acting all buddy buddy with me now." you crossed your arms, throwing back what he had said to you a few days ago.

"ah, you're upset with me about last time." You kept a stern look on your face, expecting for more, but if he failed to deliver then you'd have no trouble turning away from him again.

His mouth kept opening and closing similar to that of a goldfish, but no words came out. He looks conflicted. It took him a whole minute to sort out his thoughts, and with a deep sigh he spoke.

"The way I reacted, it was uncalled for. Like you said, you were only trying to help and I should have, I, it's just the way you held my hand, it made me feel weird." his gaze turned downcast feeling a little embarrassed by getting riled up by something so minor as physical contact.

you don't know that of course, you'd just assume he was really really ticklish in some areas

Would you mind closing your eyes for a moment? I promise It'll only take a second", the soft spoken tone he's taken on is foreign to you, but not unwelcome. You were hesitant but complied. And if he does anything funny you'll make sure to write a full on report about it to kusanali.

You could only feel how he softly held your hand, how he delicately glided his dainty finger in order to tie what you assumed was a,

a bracelet?

You opened your eyes and that's when he leaned in, his soft breath near your ear "It was supposed to be a surprise gift, but an apology gift works too." your face felt warm, and your hand did too (to which he was still holding). Was this the weird feeling he was talking about.

A moment after, you examined the accessory on your wrist.

and my was it beautiful.

The main colors of the bracelet were your favorite colors, accompanied by beautiful white pearl beads and crystal flowers and cute charms. Truly something you wouldn't expect the wanderer himself to make.

You released a small laugh, happiness spreading throughout your system. "Did you really make this?" You were starting to look too happy for his liking, but of course you always looked more beautiful with a smile on your face. He scoffed in order to hide the ever creeping happiness that was also starting to spread across his face.

"Is it that hard to believe? I had you in mind when I made it after all, so if you're going to complain about its design then the person used as reference is at fault." You were just about to complain to him about him complaining that you'd not dare complain about it when he added on.

"again, I'm sorry for disregarding your help. Whether I needed it or not, I wanted to make the bracelet solely on my own so that it'd be more meaningful of a gift to give to you." This time he held your gaze, determined and truthful about what he said.

It seems you had judged him wrong, well not entirely. True he had a unique character, but that's just what made him, him. You held his hand, and the colors from earlier are returning to both of your faces. You held it there before pointing to his wrist, "It's only right I make you one as well, right? that way we'll be matching." You then intertwined your fingers. He was gonna combust.

EXTRA:

"I didn't think wanderer would be that into bracelet making" Kusanali peaked from the corner of the room. He was deeply concentrating on what he was doing and she did not want to disturb. "A little peek into that mind of his wouldn't hurt". After using her skill, a flurry of thoughts from wanderer flood her mind.

'Is this too much? or maybe too little? is [y/n] a minimalist or a maximalist?'

'This reminds me of you, this one too, and this one.'

'This charm is cute, like you. Wait no you're most definitely more cuter'

'this bracelet should be honored to be worn by you'

'maybe i'll make you a necklace next'

'I hope you'll like it'

[raven-ovs]

On This Night Of Ritual | Papa IV x f!Reader

Summary: On Lust, and Love, and all the sweet emotions in between. Copia and his partner choose to spend their night in a special way, expressing their devotion to Satan and to each other through the pleasures of the flesh.

Content: ~6.5 words, 18+ MDNI, established relationship, religious imagery, ritual sex, body workship, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, soft, they're in love love

Ao3 link - Full art

🥀

You shiver in anticipation, pulling the robe tighter over your chest, your eyes flitting around the bedroom. Your shared bedroom, you remind yourself, little bits of your own style scattered around, mingling with his, a quiet reminder of how your lives have intertwined since he asked you to move in with him.

The fabric feels soft against your bare skin, reassuring. He gifted it to you for this occasion specifically.

You glance down at your bare legs framed by the rich blue silk, a sigh escaping your lips.

Faint sounds of him getting ready reach your ears from the en-suite bathroom. A thud followed by a muttered curse makes you smile. He must be just as nervous as you, even though you've both agreed to this. You've talked about it so many times, fantasised about it, dipped your toes into it without fully committing.

But now... You're ready. Or at least, you want to be.

The bathroom door creaking open snaps you out of your thought, and you look up to find a very flustered Copia making his way to you.

He looks stunning, to say the least.

Divine.

He's wearing a silk robe as well, matching yours. His is in a deeper blue, though, and has golden embroideries all around its lapels and cuffs. It fits him.

A familiar warmth settles low in your belly at the sight of him, all your anxieties starting to melt, replaced by a much more intense eagerness.

You can spot a few lines of his tattoo, barely hidden by the robe tied loosely around his waist. His facepaint is pristine as always.

"Hey," you smile tentatively, searching his eyes. The white one almost seems to glow in the faint candle light of the room, and its magnetic pull only gets stronger as he steps closer. It's mesmerising.

"Amore," he whispers back as greeting, the mattress dipping when he sits down on the edge of the bed.

"Everything's ready." You gesture vaguely around you, a shiver of anticipation running down your spine as he looks around as well.

The crimson red sheets underneath you, the candles burning on every free surface of the room, the little bowl of red paint waiting on your nightstand.

He nods in approval, and you see that flicker of excitement in his gaze that always makes you swoon, until he jolts up, genuinely scaring the shit out of you.

"Copia, che cazzo!" you exclaim, only getting a dismissive "sorry" in return before he's padding off to the other side of the room, mumbling to himself.

"Shit, how could I forget? Eh... Just gotta... Where the hell did I put it?"

You raise an eyebrow in his direction, but don't comment further. Silly rat man.

How you love him.

A pleased little "ha!" follows, and before you know it, soft notes are filling the room, coming from his record player.

Oh... Right.

He's back at your side in an instant, and his grin tells you that he's waiting for a reaction from you. And that this is meaningful to him.

You listen carefully to what sounds like religious music at first, the sort of solemn hymns that you used to hear echoing in Catholic churches, a long, long time ago.

You're confused, until you begin to make out the words of this first song. They're definitely not Catholic.

It sounds like a Ghost song, but not quite... It's softer, more intimate in way, despite still having a grandiose feeling to it. A bit of an oxymoron, just like the man in front of you.

"Unreleased," he chimes in, filling the gaps in your thought process.

"Hm?"

"I... wrote this. Some time ago. Never released it." he explains, a vulnerable note to his voice that you don't fail to notice.

"Oh." You take another moment to listen in silence, feeling goosebumps raise on your skin as his rich voice reaches your ears from the recording. *Oh.*

"Copia... It's beautiful. Why didn't you release it?"

A shrug, dismissive. You nod, realising that it'll be a story for another time.

You both have a plan now, and you want to get through with it.

The music is just an unexpected, yet perfectly fitting addition.

“So…”

“So.” He gives you one of his lovely smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his cheeks, you assume, turning pink under his facepaint. You melt on the spot.

You've come up with it together, this… ritual you're about to do, if one might even call it that. It's a mix of you two, really. Your beliefs, your journeys, your shared faith. A manifestation of your devotion, for each other, and for your Lord, Satan.

You return his smile, and adjust your posture, sitting cross legged in front of him, a silent confirmation that you're ready, that you want this.

He mirrors you, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix it and then folding his hands in his lap. The gray strands at his temples stand out in this light, and you love it.

So… There you are. First step. Soul gazing.

You scoot a little closer, trying to get comfortable before your eyes meet his. You sigh. Focus.

This part is all about building connection, stating your intentions, tapping into the right mindset.

“Our Father who art in Hell…” You hear him whisper, his low voice taking on that edge he has when delivering a sermon during Mass, but more muted, just for the two of you. You glance down when his inverted cross catches the light, shimmering in the middle of his sternum, then your eyes return to his as soon as he starts speaking again. “Guide us through this journey. Let the worship of our bodies be a token of our devotion to You. Watch us sin, and rejoice.” A pause, a breath escaping his painted lips. “Nema."

“Nema.” you repeat, your voice small compared to his, but no less firm.

You already feel the hypnotic nature of this exercise, your breathing slowing down the longer you look into his eyes, trying to sync to his. The mismatched green and white of his irises draws you in, and you can see every emotion playing out on his face, just as he can do with yours, you think.

His soul… Can you really see a person's soul, through their eyes? What does it even mean, soul? As a child, you were taught that your soul would be damned and cast to Hell if you sinned, but you don't believe in any of that anymore. It's not you, and it's definitely not him.

What you can see in his eyes is an energy, burning bright. It's the same energy you see when he's singing to his fans, when he's eating his favorite dish, when he’s petting his rats, when he's making love to you. Now that energy is focused, though, and it's all on you.

It makes your breath hitch, but you immediately school it back into the slow rhythm you two have built. In… Out… Again. Again.

His pupils are dilated, be it from the darkness or from arousal, you cannot tell. Most likely both.

You're not sure how many minutes pass like this, but it doesn't matter. Not when his hands reach forward, nimble fingers gently tugging your robe open. You do the same to him.

Step two.

You break eye contact to take in his revealed torso, the brown and gray dusting of hair on his chest that turns into a darker trail from his belly button down. So beautiful. Yours.

His gaze almost burns your skin in its intensity, and you imagine him already painting symbols on your body, his fingertips tinged red, making you shiver and sigh with every brush. Not yet.

“Still good?” You hear him ask, his voice barely above a whisper, an hopeful light in his eyes.

“Yes, yes, of course.” You smile.

The music has already faded in the background of your mind by now, but you're still grateful for its presence, for the way it fills your silences between one breath and the next. With measured movements, you each bring your right hand to the other's chest, over the heart, and then cover that hand with your own left one. A deep breath, and then you’re gazing into each other's eyes again.

There's a part of you that wonders at the single minded focus he shows in this moment. He's usually easily distracted, his thoughts scattered between his endless tasks and nerdy interests, fluttering from here to there like a moth at a lights fest. But not now.

The more you breathe, the clearer you can hear his heart thrumming under your fingertips, your pinky finger barely grazing his nipple. If he feels it, he doesn't let you see his reaction. When he's thoroughly fucked you, and lets you rest with your head on his chest, that's when you feel his heartbeat the strongest. That, or when he gets really anxious, and comes to you for reassurance. When he looks at you with eyes wide, a little lost, and you place your hands on his chest, guiding him to breathe until the darkness dissipates enough to keep going.

Now it feels just as strong, a steady, reassuring rhythm that proves to you that he's actually there, in front of you. The man of your dreams. Not a figment of your imagination, but real, solid, human.

You wish you could read his thoughts right now. Is he thinking about you the way you’re thinking about him? You almost want to ask him, whisper a “penny for your thoughts” just to see one of those smiles that light up the whole room, but no… No, this is about something else. This is about laying yourselves bare for the other to see, and to love. Words are not needed for that.

You breathe in his love for you, and breathe out your love for him. An exchange. Again and again. Time passes, but again… It doesn't matter.

For the next step, you need to be bare. Literally.

You're not sure who reaches out first, who switches position first, but your next breath is taken on your knees, his hands on your shoulders, sliding the robe off of you. You let it fall somewhere behind you, and watch him kneel as well, his own robe open, splayed out from his back down to his feet like a wedding veil.

He almost looks too good to take it off, but you know it's part of the process. Both of you naked. Vulnerable.

“Sei bellissimo,” you find yourself whispering as your hands find his sides, sliding up his torso and towards his arms to start guiding the robe off. The blush you earn in response is enough to make your heart stutter, the red so vivid that it's visible even under the layers of white paint.

Copia averts his gaze, but you know he's silently preening at your words. Always a sucker for praise.

He shimmies out of the embroidered sleeves, and then the robe falls behind him just like yours did, discarded. It almost feels like unwrapping a gift.

“I can feel Him,” he mumbles, making you look at his face again.

“Who?”

“Satan. Watching us…”

“Oh.” You blink, finding that notion a bit foreign, but not unpleasant. You can't deny the buzz in the air around you, the almost palpable promise of what's coming. Your Papa knows what he's talking about, that much you're sure of.

“Is He pleased?”

He lets out a quiet huff of laughter, his shoulders raising a bit. Cute. “Think so. But… He, eh… He's waiting for the next bit.”

That makes you chuckle, and you find it reassuring that now, now that should be the most ritualistic phase, you’re acting more casual, connecting in the way that you're used to, that's familiar to you.

“Right, yeah.” As if on cue, you turn around to grab the little bowl you had left on your nightstand, bringing it between you two and placing it on the covers. Strategically red, yes, but alluring too. Red paint on red sheets. That will look good.

You discussed which symbols to draw and on whom. You remember his words distinctly. The way his rich voice explained to you the meanings and differences between each one, the fervour of his belief as he spoke to you of his life’s work. That had ended in a very intense, unforgettable night of sex. But tonight will be different, in a way.

“Should I, uh… Should I start?” you ask tentatively, seeking his approval.

He nods, laying his hands back against the mattress, leaving his whole front open to your view and to your touch. You know he'd trust you with his life.

Trying to rein in your trembling, you dip your fingers into the bowl, shivering at the feeling of the cold, burgundy liquid. Not blood, of course, but it does look like it. You take in a shaky breath, and let it out, and then your clean hand is cradling his jaw, tilting his head up as you lean closer.

As precisely as possible, you draw a small, inverted pentagram on his forehead. The first symbol of your faith. The stark contrast between the red and his black and white face paint is striking. Gorgeous.

Next, you draw an inverted cross on his left arm. The design matches that of your own makeup, a gothic feel to it that reminds you of the tapestries and stained glass artworks you always admire around the Ministry. He simply kneels there, watching you, embracing the solemnity of this moment.

One last symbol for him. The Sigil of Lucifer.

You take your time drawing it, your index finger sliding along the curves of his stomach. His abs tense as you pass over them, and you have to bite your lip at the noise he makes when you draw the little swirls at the bottom, framing his happy trail. Framing his cock.

You've tried not to focus on it, but it's near impossible now, knowing that you’ll be touching him soon. He's been hard since the moment you started all this, but now… Oh, by now he's leaking, his head flushed a deep red, the vein on the underside evident as his cock twitches against his belly, almost smearing the paint you've just placed there. You barely stifle a giggle.

“Don't be so smug about it,” he grumbles, his brow furrowing as he glances down at himself. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth for a few moments, his lipstick fading in that spot, but as soon as you're done painting he lifts his head again, an air of confidence about him that makes your cunt throb. “Your turn.” he declares, reaching down to grab the bowl and slide it closer to himself.

You brace yourself, but nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of his fingers dipped in red tracing lines around your nipple, drawing a pentagram of his own. You clench your thighs together, and you know he notices, but he doesn't say anything. Only smirks.

“Turn around, tesoro,” he instructs in that seductive voice of his, a voice that could bring a nation to its knees if he only ever asked. He doesn't need to, though. He has you on your knees for him, almost every night.

You do as told, and present your back to him. Your ass, actually, as you shift to place your hands on the mattress, on all fours. He actually groans at the sight, the little bastard.

You huff in reply, your head hanging low between your shoulders to hide your blush. “Don't get distracted…”

“Never, piccola.” You can practically hear his shit-eating grin in his voice, but you press your lips together, silencing yourself from further remarks. Not the time for banter, as much as you love it.

Without another word, his fingers meet your skin again. He starts at your hip bone and makes his way along your ass, drawing another pentagram. This time, though, he adds more strokes, tracing lines with practiced ease to form the Sigil of Baphomet.

He hums once done, sounding pleased with himself. You turn around again, careful not to sit on your heels any longer, not wanting to mess up the paint before it has dried. A small penance for the ineffable amount of pleasure that you're going to experience soon.

“Last one.” He reminds you with a smile, his expression softer now, more caring. You wonder what came over him. “You're being so good, baby.”

That really makes you blush, hard. You're not sure who likes praise more in your relationship.

“Ah… Grazie.” you mutter, your gaze falling to the bowl in front of you, unable to sustain his stare.

He laughs fondly and shakes his head before dipping his fingers in the paint one last time. You did his belly, so it's only fair that he should do yours too. Satan's Cross. Right in the middle of your stomach. All goes well until he draws the infinite under your belly button, his finger scorching like fire on your already over sensitised skin. You moan, unable to stop it. He winces, his hand trembling as he pulls away.

“Amore… If you keep making sounds like that, this will be over much sooner than we want.”

You sigh, giving him an apologetic smile. You're both more worked up than you've probably ever been, and you can't help but wonder how exactly you're going to last as long as you're meant to, edging each other to ecstasy. Satan will guide you in that, you hope silently.

You take a moment to appreciate how perfect he looks with all those symbols painted on his skin. A fallen angel, worthy to stand beside Lucifer himself.

You wipe your fingers on the sheets below you, and watch him do the same. The paint is sex friendly, sure, but you don't want to stain his whole body with it. Neither does he.

“I want you, Copia… I want you so bad.” You search his eyes, finding that same desire reflected in them.

“I'm all yours.”

That's all it takes for you to move forward, still on your knees, and cup his face in both hands. Is this what they mean when they talk about holding the world in your hands? The thought makes you grin.

“What?”

“Uh? Nothing.”

“What?”

You can't deny him when he's looking at you like that.

“I love you,” you whisper simply, hoping it can somehow convey the depth of your feelings. You're not sure, but if his smile is any indicator, at least part of that sentiment reached him.

You brush your thumbs over his temples and at the corners of his eyes as he whispers an “I love you” in return. You must have heard those words coming from his lips thousands of times, but they still make your heart flutter like the very first.

“May I kiss you?” As if you even need to ask. He hums, pretending to think about it, that mischievous twinkle crossing his gaze as he leans closer, your lips now mere inches apart.

Copia looks up at you through his lashes, in a way that looks almost coquettish, and you're unsure whether to slap him or kiss him stupid.

“Ti prego…” he murmurs, his breath fanning your lips.

Fuck, this man.

Before you can stop yourself, you've closed the distance between you, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. You don't know if it was the synced breathing, the symbols, or just staring into each other's eyes for so long, but this kiss feels so powerful, so meaningful that it makes you swoon, and you have to grab his face tighter, ground yourself. He moans in response, feeling that same intensity.

Heat pools in your core as you feel his tongue swiping along your lower lip, asking for entrance. His arms snake around your waist to pull you closer, and could almost swear you heard a muffled “please” against your lips. You’re powerless.

The kiss turns messy the moment you part your lips and let him in, your tongues pressing against each other, lips fusing together as if you can't get close enough fast enough. You swallow each other's moans, licking and nipping until you're both panting.

You pull back just enough to breathe, your gaze falling to his kiss-swollen lips. Fuck.

“Amore…” he starts, but goes silent again when you wipe the spit off his bottom lip with your thumb, your fingers grasping his chin.

It shouldn't be like this. You should go slow, keep that energy going. But dammit, it's hard.

“Sorry, sorry… I know.” Your hands leave his face, and you breathe harshly. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Like before. Kinda.

“I can't get enough of you.” you admit, your fingers trailing down his chest, following the contours of his tattoo. Focus. Focus.

You always knew there was something about you, a craving that you never seemed to satisfy. You deemed it wrong for so long that it almost felt like second nature to chastise yourself. He's taught you to indulge, though. He has embraced that part of you, and that flame has grown, threatening to consume you both. What a way to die, that would be.

Still, he looks hopeful now, and his eyes are burning, yes, but so soft. So soft that it makes you think you would do anything to make him proud. Suddenly you feel calmer, and reverence replaces hunger. After all, works of art should be admired quietly, carefully, taking your time. And he's the ultimate masterpiece.

“That's it, sì…” He nods down at your hands on his torso, and soon reaches out to touch you as well. Slow. Gentle. Light as if touching the most delicate porcelain. It's almost funny, when you know that he can fuck you hard enough to make you cry. And that you can do the same to him.

Your hands wander, fingertips still stained red, even though the paint has dried by now. You do nothing to suppress the sighs and gasps that his touch elicits, knowing it emboldens him, lets him know it's okay to make noise. Knees parted, you both lean closer, breathing each other in as fingers graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He mirrors you, you mirror him. Like a dance. A slow… Slow dance.

You let your nails scrape lightly at the juncture of his pelvis, and he groans, a deep, needy sound. You love it.

He spreads his legs some more, encouraging you, and you take in on his offer. Of course you do. You reach his taint, your touch so light that it's almost ticklish, and you can hear the thought forming in his head even before looking at his face. He's grinning like an idiot.

“You're impossible.” You shake your head, unable to suppress a smirk of your own, and then press harder on the spot, your thumb massaging his skin until-

“Oh! Fuck…” His eyes widen, the noise coming out of his mouth sounding positively sinful.

You won't be going into a full prostate massage, but you know what it does to him. Indulge, no? That's the whole point.

You keep rubbing there until he goes a little cross-eyed, and you have to stop then, worried that he'll come right then and there. You can't have that.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to regain his bearings. “Cazzo, amore… You can't just do… That.” He pouts, and it's the most adorable look he's given you all night, with his lips still puffy from your kiss and his lipstick smeared into a dark gray around the edges.

You giggle, but retreat your hand, resorting to stroking the top of his thigh in soothing motions. Copia huffs, running a hand through his hair to brush some unruly strands out of his forehead.

“Better?” you ask with a small, self-satisfied smile which earns you a glare from him.

His hands find your waist again, and he pulls you closer, one of your knees going between his. He leans back with one hand on the bed, exposing himself to your gaze in an almost challenging manner, his eyes roving over your body, almost as if trying to commit it all to memory. Then, his hand reaches between your legs for the first time tonight, and you're done for. You're drenched. So drenched that it actually draws a gasp from him as he dips his fingers between your folds. Satan below, how are you meant to last?

His thumb finds your clit as his eyes meet yours again, your lips parting in anticipation. “What a sight you make, piccolina…”

“Copia…” You close your eyes, trying to maintain at least a semblance of control even as he starts rubbing tiny circles around your clit, his moves practiced and precise.

He's grown confident with it. Not that he wasn't great to begin with, but oh, now he knows just how to play your body, how to make you gasp, and moan, and whimper, and scream until your throat feels raw.

You try to focus on your breath, as you're meant to, and let your hand slither back towards his crotch. It needs to be mutual.

You cradle his balls in your palm, feeling them hot and heavy in your hold, ready to burst. His lips part in a silent moan, so close to you that he could kiss you if only he leaned forward a little bit. He doesn't. So instead, you slide your fingers up and wrap them around his cock.

“Ahh-” His eyes widen, and he does brush his lips against yours then, his tongue barely peeking out. He slides a finger inside you, another step in your dance.

A stroke, all the way up to his tip, and his finger pushes further in. Your thumb swipes over his slit, slicking him up with his own precum, and his finger curls inside you, the pad of it pressing against your front wall just right. You're staring at each other through half-lidded eyes, and it doesn't feel like you're fighting anymore. You’re both breaking in front of each other, bit by bit, unashamed.

“Copia…”

“Mmmm…” He leans in properly, and your mouth finds his. It's wet, and just as messy as before, with him licking past your lips, and you sucking on his tongue. That makes him growl. The sort of noise that you sometimes beg him to make. Deep, and feral, and so fucking hot.

You clench around his finger, desperate for more, and he seems to sense your need, sliding a second one inside you with almost no effort at all. Your left arm rests on his shoulder, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull back to look into his eyes again. They're almost pitch black now. Two pools of pure Lust, surrounded by thin crowns of green and white.

You stroke him faster, the slide made easier by his own arousal. “Cazzo, ahh…”

“I'm… I need you. Fuck, I need you. Please…”

Your words snap him out of his pleasure fueled haze, and he blinks at you before glancing down between your bodies. So connected and yet so distant. It's not enough. His fingers pull out of you with a sloppy sound, making you whine at the sudden emptiness.

“Shhh… I know.” He reaches down to grasp your hand, stilling it with your palm against his tip. Your fingers intertwine with his, and for a few precious moments, you move together, your thumb rubbing along his frenulum as he guides your palm back and forth, your slick on his fingers mingling with his own. He whimpers, actually whimpers, resting his forehead against yours. And then he's pulling your hands away, to your disappointment.

“Amore, please…” You watch him pull away, and rearrange himself so that he's sitting with his legs in front of himself instead of kneeling.

“Come here, piccola.”

You scramble towards him, eager, and straddle his firm, perfect thighs. “Like this?” you ask. He shakes his head.

Last step.

He reaches for your hips, squeezing affectionately, and guides you up. “Oh…” You know what he wants. What you both want. Yes. Oh, yes.

You reach down, grasping his cock and lining it up with your entrance. The way he twitches against you is almost enough to make you come.

“Breathe, yeah?” he reminds you, even though he's pretty far gone himself.

“Yeah, yeah.”

He waits for eye contact, for your nod of consent, and then slowly, slowly pulls you down, breaching you.

“Ah- Fuck… Fuck…” It's agonising, almost, how good it feels.

You have no idea how much time has passed since you started, but it feels like hours. Hours in a constant state of arousal, each sense heightened, bringing you higher, until every touch feels like pure bliss. Pure, damned bliss.

“A-amore… Mmmm.” He holds your hips in a death grip, and you can almost feel the bruises forming, knowing you’ll smile at your reflection tomorrow when they'll remind you of the night you had, of the pleasure you shared.

He bottoms out, your ass meeting his thighs, and you've never felt so full. Physically, yes. But not only that. You're in tune with him, your chests rising and falling in sync, even as your breaths grow laboured. You can't look away from his eyes, not for an instant. You're one.

No more words are needed then. There's just him, and you, an “us” that feels more genuine than it ever has.

You breathe, and breathe, feeling the pleasure building despite you both staying still. A thought strikes you then, that Satan actually is watching, and that he's letting that energy build more and more. How could it feel so good otherwise?

You shift forward, angling your hips so that his tip can press against that perfect spot inside you, your arms circling his neck. His hands unclench from your hips, and he hugs you. Properly hugs you. His arms around your back, his chin resting on your shoulder. You close your eyes, sighing. You can practically feel his heartbeat inside you.

It's intimate, more than you think you can bear. But it's with him. Him, whom you've loved for years. Him, whom you've admired for even longer, silently, from afar. Him, who’s yours. Your Papa. Your Copia.

It's intimate, and raw, and a little scary. And perfect.

You stay like that for as long as your bodies allow, your walls clenching around him in a vain attempt to get some friction. You hug, and breathe, your nose buried in the crook of his neck. And then, you start moving. A slow roll of your hips, a timid rock up of his. You gasp in unison, stars sparkling under your closed eyelids.

It wouldn't be so bad, dying like this, so wrapped up in each other. And if you did things right, you will die soon. A wonderful little death, or a few, maybe.

The rocking of his hips soon grows more purposeful, and you feel him pressing deeper, where he belongs. You moan against his neck, your lips parting to mouth at his earlobe.

“Ohh… Oh, please…” He squeezes you tighter against himself, snapping his hips up until you feel like you're going to pass out from the pleasure.

“S-shit. Slow down. Oh, Satan… Slow down.” you pant into his ear, not wanting this to end yet.

Not yet. You're greedy like that.

He groans in frustration, but eventually stops moving, just in time. You pull your head back to look into his eyes, finding him with his brows furrowed in concentration, his lips pursed. It reminds you of when he's trying to poke the straw into one of his juice boxes. You giggle.

“I love you… So damn much, you know?” you whisper, your voice rough from all the moaning, and shaking with the effort of still holding back.

“And I love you. Ti amo.” he whispers back, just as wrecked at you.

“Ti amo.”

And with that you're moving again.

It builds much faster this time. It's exhilarating, and it goes straight to your head. You're both overstimulated, your bodies quivering. And yet… More. More, more. Satan, please, more.

You don't want to stop. And that fire spreading in your core tells you that you can't stop. Not now.

“Amore- I can't… So close…” He seems to voice your own thoughts, and you nod desperately, struggling to keep looking at him with your eyes rolling back at his every thrust.

You brace your hands on his shoulders, and ride him as you've done countless times before, but with more purpose now, more focus, and with hours, fuck, hours of buildup. You start out slow, lifting yourself up almost all the way, and sinking back down, your thighs burning.

He's holding on for dear life, and you can see it clearly. His chest is heaving, his eyes unfocused, his lips parted, a flush spreading from his ears and cheeks all the way down to his chest. Debauched. And yours. You're sure you're not doing much better.

He grabs your hips again, and makes you speed up, the litany of moans escaping his lips telling you that he's past reason. Like a destructive tsunami, it can't be stopped.

You cling to each other, and it builds, and builds, and builds. And oh, the edging worked, because the more you move, the surer you are that you’re going to touch Heaven, only to fall down past the crust of the earth after, down right into the pits of Hell. You'd be welcome there.

His moans and yours mingle in a symphony of your own, and an outsider could almost think that they're in time with the music still playing in the background. That you're part of that music now.

You climb higher and higher, and wonder for an instant if that is how the people of Babel felt, as they got closer and closer to God. But you're not looking for God. You have your own piece of divinity right in front of your eyes. The love of your life.

“Ahh- Ah!” your love cries out, and you feel him tense beneath you, rocking his hips as far up as they'll go, burying himself fully inside you as his eyes roll back into his head, and his orgasm hits him. You feel his cock kicking inside you, his familiar warmth flooding your core, and you hold him tighter, hoping to prolong his high.

You're right on the edge yourself, and he's still twitching in you when he reaches his hand between you two to rub your clit. Just a few strokes, and you're joining him.

You press your mouth against his still open one, muffling your scream, and clamp down around him, your walls, your whole body really, pulsating with ecstasy. It's all consuming.

He gasps sharply when your climax seems to trigger another one from him. Unlikely, but even if it is just one, it lasts an ungodly amount of time. Thank Satan.

You keep grinding down on him until every last ounce of pleasure has been pulled from your body, and you're left drained, completely. You don't really know how many orgasms those were. Maybe one, maybe five. Who cares, when you're practically about to pass out on top of him.

Copia pants against your shoulder, sounding pretty close to hyperventilating. But then it dies down, the euphoria, leaving just buzzing static in your minds, your ears ringing, your hearts still racing.

“That was-”

“I think-”

Your voices clash, and you end up laughing, his cute little chuckle in your ear making your heart do a somersault.

“You first, amore,” you prompt, pulling back a bit to meet his gaze. He's a whole damn mess, but you know you look the same.

“Eh, just… That was… One of the most intense experiences I've ever had.” he mutters, sounding back to his usual self, not the agent of Satan on earth, just Copia.

“Yeah. It was… A lot.”

“Mmm.”

You smile at him, but then that smile splits into a full on-grin when you watch him making a face and shifting his legs under you. You know what that means, yet you ask anyway. “What?”

“‘M sticky…”

It's true, you can feel his seed dripping down your inner thighs as he goes soft inside you, but it doesn't bother you, it never does.

You roll your eyes, but still gently lift yourself off of him, wincing when he slips fully out. You miss him already. He flops down on his back over the mattress, and you join him, draping yourself against his side, your arm around his waist and your head resting on his shoulder.

Sometimes he likes it too, staying inside you, letting the feeling linger. Sometimes that turns him on again, and he fucks his seed deeper into you, until you’re both completely exhausted. Other times, he just wants this, and you love it just as much.

“Shower?” you offer.

“Hmm, in a bit.”

“Alright.” You tilt your head up to place a kiss on the underside of his jaw. It always makes him shiver. “I think He liked it.”

“Huh?”

“Satan, He liked it. I could feel it, I think, near the end…”

That makes him peek down at you, a hint of a sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “He likes you.” he tells you in that rumbly, sultry voice that never fails to make you weak.

“Well…” You avert your gaze, blushing, and fix it onto the inverted cross resting over his chest, your fingers coming up to toy with it. A reminder of the power that this man holds. Your man.

He hums, clearly not pleased that you looked away from him, and you feel his hand cupping your cheek, covering half of your face, really.

“Your Papa still demands your attention, topina.” He pulls you up to him, guiding your face towards his so that he can kiss you, nice and slow, almost languid, the way he kisses you when his mind is still floating in post-orgasmic bliss.

“Want me to wash your back, Papa?” you whisper against his lips, and he smirks, making your stomach flutter. Maybe the night is not quite over yet.

“If you'll indulge me…”

“I always do.”

The moment after, he’s dragging you to the bathroom, his eyes sparkling with teenage-like excitement. As if you didn't just go through a whole damn sex ritual.

But you do indulge him. You always do.

You'll just have to remember to put off all the candles before collapsing back into bed, loved like only he can love you.

[thevillainswhore]

Hello, my lovelies! Welcome to my masterlist! I’m so happy to have you here. I hope you enjoy your time and I encourage any questions or requests. Happy reading, love Mollie 🤍

Fic Key:

☁️ fluff, 🔥 smut, 💔 angst, 🖤 dark

Please take care to read all warnings on my fics — they have been labelled for a reason. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

Bucky Barnes

Oneshots:

Loverboy ☁️

Bucky, a lovesick, pining super soldier, vows to keep his feelings for you a secret — no matter how obvious his crush may seem. Those plans are ruined between a meddling Sam, an embarrassing fall, and a visit to the medbay with you. (4.3k)

Revenge Sweeter Than Honey 🔥

When Bucky’s professor unfairly grades his college assignment, ruining his perfect GPA, he finds a way to get revenge — And doesn’t his sweet little wife look delicious? (9.2k)

A Forbidden Invitation 🔥

You think a one night stand from the summer, the best fuck of your life, is a done deal — a single, heated encounter that now lives vividly in your memories. But you learn that your actions have consequences when you befriend a new student, starting in the new term, and she invites you over to meet her Dad. (11.5k)

You Look Good On Camera, Baby 🔥

Bucky’s not letting you leave the photobooth, not until he’s had his way with you. (2.8k)

The Ties That Bind Us 🔥

Even though Bucky is your ex-husband, you still have to see him often because of your shared son. But the heated tension, the spark that is still very much alive after your divorce, finally reaches its peak when you come home from your date. (5.7k words)

Read Between The Lines ☁️

There shouldn’t have been anything unusual about your routine visit to the local bookstore. Your life was simple and mundane, even if you were a daydreamer at heart. But you were pleasantly surprised when this time you met a handsome stranger between the shelves. (6.6k words)

Spoiled And Stuffed 🔥

Bucky surprises you with a gift on your birthday. (2.6k words)

Tension 🔥

You’re devastated when your usual massage therapist becomes unavailable at the last minute, but an unexpected trainee is more than happy to handle you. (4.2k words)

Perverse Desires 🔥

Assigned an undercover mission, you’re partnered up with the bane of your existence, Bucky, to pay a visit to a sex club. What could go wrong? (4k words)

Anywhere Away With You ☁️🔥💔

Old ghosts from your past threaten to disturb the peace you’ve made with your new life. Will temptation steer you away? (11k words)

Series:

New Tricks ☁️🔥

An alternate universe starring two college students; Bucky, the star football player and Buttercup, his best friend’s little sister. Follow their main journey together as they learn their mutual pining isn’t one sided after all through an array of firsts. (30k)

Can’t Take My Eyes Off You 🖤🔥

Bucky, the IT and technology expert of your office, has been secretly obsessed since the moment he set his sights on sensitive, naive, little you. But, your only fault is your repetitive ability to get your heartbroken by fuck boys. So, naturally, he has to do whatever it takes to make you see he’s perfect for you… Right?

Drabbles:

Lumberjack!Bucky prompt ☁️

Steve Kemp

Oneshots:

A Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing 🖤

It was an art - one that took many years and many sacrifices to perfect, and Steve had managed to become a master at it. There was just one thing he would not fully commit to sacrificing, at least not the important parts that kept life essence flowing: you. (2.6k words)

[greenhappyseed]

MHA 409 Review — The Extra and the Pebble

Ch 409 is a really interesting continuation of the action in 405-406, prior to the AFO backstory in 407-408. These few panels of Yoichi and AFO in the OFA-AFO mind palace (406 on the right; 409 on the left) tell us a LOT about AFO and how he’s been affected by Katsuki.

I’m not even sure what’s left of AFO. Is he fully baby-fied now? Is he down on the ground like Toya and Himiko? Throughout the chapter, it looked like AFO was gaining a pupil in his right eye, which is the one Katsuki doesn’t have at the moment. Is this just clever art mirroring or hinting at AFO’s next move????

Unlike 407-408, this chapter focuses on Katsuki. I don’t think it tells us something we didn’t already know — Katsuki was born to a couple with a happy, functional marriage who loved and wanted him. He has a strong and versatile quirk. He’s powerful, smart, and strategic. And yet, at the start of the story all those advantages combined made him more of a brat than a hero. But it’s different now. The final page really shows how Katsuki has connected it all. See how the lines of his explosion frame the rest of the page? How the left line points directly to his dialogue about not being alone? And below Katsuki are all the influences that have supported him — All Might, his parents, and Yoichi/OFA (via Izuku).

Katsuki is going all out at the end, breaking his right arm (again) but able to pull off one last huge blast due to the brace All Might gave him (like Izuku using Melissa’s gauntlets in Two Heroes). If his gambit of dropping sweat beads in AFO’s mouth didn’t pay off, he would have delivered the blast sooner, but luckily his ploy worked.

FWIW, Katsuki dropped the beads in AFO’s mouth right when AFO was shouting about Kudou and Katsuki said his name was Kacchan, because Kacchan is a clever kid.

Katsuki is also acknowledging directly that he could not have soloed AFO. Even though he’s awesome, there’s a limit to what he (or ANY one person, including All Might) could do alone. Seeing as Yoichi’s message to Izuku has always been, “You are not alone,” it further emphasizes how Katsuki has grown to adopt the spirit of OFA. The kid who thought needing help was a sign of weakness, and who thought Izuku holding out a hand was mocking him, now understands the importance of accepting that hand. Standing on the shoulders of giants helps one see further. :)

Moreover, Katsuki is now motivated by helping Izuku and getting out of Izuku’s way. Izuku isnt the pebble in Katsuki’s path — Katsuki is the one in the way of Izuku. Back when 362 dropped, I wrote about how Katsuki’s death was very Buddhist in that he had to lose all his physical attachments (including his body and quirk) to achieve a spiritual awakening. It seems like that worked, and now Katsuki is genuinely, truly appreciating all the gifts he has, as well as his role as a piece of something bigger. He’s no longer demanding that others get out of his way, but rather thinking about when HE has to move for someone else. The kid who pathologically couldn’t walk behind someone else is now able to get out of his own way AND clear the path for others.

This fits the pattern we’ve seen numerous times in the final arc with a hero accepting a villain’s taunt in order to defeat them. Of course Katsuki takes a different tactic than, say, Shoto (“A half-baked dummy, that’s me”). Katsuki yells he’s the final boss, he’s not a filler character, etc. But the point is the same. Katsuki is accepting he has one quirk; he’s NOT physically bound to the OFA-AFO quirk; he IS a pebble compared to AFO. His role IS to support Izuku….and it takes absolutely nothing away from him whatsoever. Katsuki has his stupid awesome quirk, his intelligence, his strength, his commitment, and people who care about him. He can play his part to the best of his ability and deliver a big win for the heroes.

[haoboutyou]

taking it slow | xu minghao

angst | 1.1k words | warnings: y/n gets a panic attack

an: and if i told you this was based off a dream i had a whole year ago?

These past few months had been an absolute mess for you. Missed deadlines, cracked phone, broken bag straps; you thought the world had already thrown its all at you. Clearly, you didn’t take into account your soulmate throwing himself at you too.

Ever since the day you bumped into Minghao at the train station– ever since the moment the offending red string materialised on your pinkies– it was like he was following you everywhere. The cafe? He was in line behind you. The grocery store? Minghao’s in the baking aisle, checking out a new brand of flour. In every encounter, he would try to approach you. The florist you work at? He was buying flowers for his mom (your heart melted a little at this- he was buying them just because). And in every encounter, you would try to run away.

Which was why you’re frustrated as to how he’s managed to corner you here: in an art gallery, in the middle of an exhibition. You were caged against the wall by Minghao as you were walking, hidden right behind a pair of potted plants.

(You find out later that he worked there. And that it was his exhibition that you were walking through. Of course, he works at the art gallery, you think.)

“Y/n, look at me.” Minghao’s hands grasped you by your shoulders. Head tilted, he tried to make eye contact, but your lowered head wasn’t doing much for him. He sighed. “Y/n, stop running away. You know you’ll have to face me sooner or later. Come on.”

You couldn’t. Looking at him meant you were accepting the fate that was destined for both of you. Soulmates?! The very thought of the universe forcing two strangers together for the rest of their lives made you feel queasy. Your commitment issues or lack thereof were quaking in their boots.

“Y/n,” his voice was softer this time. Gently, Minghao’s fingers cupped your chin in the warm embrace of his hand, his thumb caressing the soft curve beneath. With a tender touch, he lifted your chin, guiding your gaze upward. Your eyes met, yours already brimming with tears threatening to roll down anytime. It was a gesture so intimate and reassuring, as if he held not just your chin but also a delicate moment suspended in time.

He sighed as his thumb delicately swiped across your cheek. His touch, so warm and comforting that you had to fight the urge to lean into his palm. “Y/n,” he started once more.

“You’re important to me. I need you to know that.”

“You don’t even know me, Xu Minghao.”

“I know you like vanilla lattes. I know you prefer cats over dogs, and how you like lily of the valleys because they’re your birth flower.” The deadpan look on your face despite the dried streaks of tears elicited a small laugh from him. “I’ll take all the time in the world to get to know you. Please, Y/n. Can’t you see the red string on our hands?”

As if doused by cold water, you tore yourself away from his touch. Your eyes drifted down to where Minghao was referring to. Yes, that stupid red string was still connected to your hands. It had never disappeared, ever since you had first met Minghao all those months ago.

Of course, everyone has a soulmate; it wasn’t rare for people to meet their destined partner at all. However, that didn’t mean that all relationships the red string had helped to bind were happy ones. You’ve seen your fair share of people perpetually had their trust in their red strings of fate torn apart and broken. You didn’t want to put your all in a ‘destined’ relationship only for it to fall apart and ruin your life, just like all of theirs.

Anxiety gripped you like a relentless tide, each wave threatening to pull you under. Your breaths quickened, shallow and erratic, and your chest tightened with an overwhelming sense of dread. The world around you blurred as a suffocating sense of panic took hold.

“Hey, hey…” you didn’t notice when Minghao approached you again, but this time you let yourself melt in the comfort of his arms. His protective grip around you tightened as you felt yourself let go, slumping into his chest as sobs shook through your whole body. He continued holding you firmly, palms rubbing slow circles on your back as he whispered words of comfort in your ears.

Your fists clenched up against his chest, tears staining his carefully pressed shirt. Not that it mattered to him- comforting you was his top priority now. Minghao, ever loving, patted your hair, gentle whispers of “I’m right here,” and “it’s going to be okay,” every once in a while. It took you a while, but eventually, your sobs subsided into little hiccups and pants. Minghao looks down at you, using his sleeves to wipe away any more tears on your face. He couldn’t help himself; he chuckled a little upon seeing your pout. Even during a mental breakdown, you’re still the most precious thing in his eyes.

“S-sorry… I didn’t mean to…” Your hands betrayed your inner turmoil, fingers restlessly intertwining and then pulling away as if unable to find solace in each other's company. Minghao took it upon himself to separate them by intertwining his slender fingers with yours. “It’s okay. You’re fine. I’m right here.”

His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of your hand, a silent language of comfort and connection. Each gentle brush carried a whisper of comfort that was beyond words. The world outside vanished in that little instant, and the simple, tender gesture spoke volumes about the unspoken bond you clearly shared.

Minghao cleared his throat, catching your attention once again. “I’m aware… that you don’t like the whole idea of soulmates. I’m still interested in you, and I’d love to get to know you more. As friends! We don’t have to date if you don’t want to.

“I’m glad the red string brought you to me. I don’t think I’ll be able to live with myself if I let you go.” He chuckled, a pained expression despite the loving smile on his face. “What I’m trying to say is: I’ll take responsibility for everything. Please, Y/n. Trust me. Give me a chance. Don’t just push me away like this.”

Your silence was deafening to him. Still, Minghao waited patiently for you, rubbing slow circles on the back of your hands. You couldn’t phantom how someone could have so much love for a person they barely knew, yet Xu Minghao exceeded your expectations over and over again. You sighed, finally giving in to his puppy-dog eyes.

“Okay,” you breathed. “Friends first.”

He heaved a sigh of relief, heart already swelling with affection for you. He nodded.

“Friends first.”

[animeomegas]

What if the alpha in MHA isn't a hero or famous person in general? And they met their omega when they already are an adult. How would the omega show their alpha to the paparazzi? OR MAYBE they try to hide their private life?

Oooh, interesting!

Keeps his alpha as far away from the paparazzi as possible. Never mentions anything in interviews, only picks dates at home or places you won't be disturbed, either no or heavily edited social media

Bakugou, for sure. The world knows he has an alpha that he's committed to, and they probably know what the alpha looks like, but that's it. It's his business, no one else's.

Shinsou. He's an underground hero, so he doesn't mess with paparazzi at all. For his and his alpha's safety, they both keep a very low profile.

Aizawa for much the same reasons as above.

Toshinori (post-retirement) loves to keep his relationship and family as lowkey as possible. He doesn't want any media outlet to know he's even mated. It's too risky for their safety, but also, he thrives being Toshinori, not All Might, in his own home and he doesn't want those lines to start blending.

Tamaki clams up when the public start prying into his personal life.

Finds a happy medium. Likes to brag about and post photos of their alpha sometimes, but still enjoys the privacy that comes come keeping strict boundaries.

Midoriya falls into this category, for sure. As number one, keeping his alpha a secret would be near impossible, so instead he tries to maintain healthy boundaries. He enjoys gushing over his partner in interview and getting fan art with his alpha in it, so he likes this balance.

Mic. I know it might seem like he should go in the 'no privacy' category, but I actually think that Mic is really good at saying a lot, but also not saying anything at all. Like he gushes about his partner all the time on the radio, but when you go to the partner section of his wiki, it's surprisingly empty, because he keeps a lot of information to his chest. It helps that he doesn't get recognised much when he's out of costume too.

I think Iida falls here too. His whole family are famous heroes and I think his PR team at the very least would play on that a lot with an active (but well curated) social media about Iida's life. Fancy events, birthdays, family gatherings, things like that, so his alpha would definitely pop up. He like to keep interviews on his heroics though.

Never stops talking about their alpha for even a moment. Constant pictures, videos, social media all the time, interviewers kind of end up hating their alpha because they can't get the hero in question to tal about anything else.

Denki, of course, is anyone surprised? His relationship is only one step away from being a YouTube couple lmaoo. He gushes and talks about his alpha, he gets caught with hickeys, he posts lovey dovey photos of lazy mornings and fancy dinners. The world is very invested in the 'couple goals'.

Kirishima slips into this category because he thanks his alpha for their support in every interview and lavishes them with praise about how supportive and amazing they are. He's also the kind of person to give out relationship advice to his fans lol. It's not as non-stop as Denki, but everyone knows about his alpha.

Mirio would 100% have the 'golden couple' image attached to him. Him and his partner are couple goals, but in a different way to Denki. Denki and his alpha are relatable, but Mirio's relationship is perfect (to outsiders.) I'm talking charity appearances together, pictures of their elaborate proposal and wedding, wholesome pet pictures, the whole works.

[laurark]

2023 Wrap Up

A strange year that was both long and short. The main lesson to learn from 2023 is the same lesson I have been learning every year since I was 6 years old: Things happen if you try!

 I spent a lot of time this year hitting my head against a wall, or rather healing from an RSI that caused making art to become really fraught. I could bear the wrist pain in order to do my favorite thing (drawing!!!) but then the pain stuck around after I had clocked out for the day and was making dinner. It would go like this: I want to make pasta sauce using canned tomatoes, but using a can opener is so painful now that maybe I should just do something else. The onions and garlic are already cooking in the pan though, what can I pivot that to? I felt like the biggest dunce in the world. I worked my way into being cursed, I deserved it.

I have this craving to just commit to a big art project, like a graphic novel, and keep my head down working on it. Having all my time devoted to work feels a bit like doing penance, like earning my bread. But I look at the world and I know I cannot draw my way out of this. I can’t write my way out of this. I can’t post my way out of this. I am unprepared for what I need to do to earn a better tomorrow. But I am prepared to learn.

I changed up my desk ergonomics and my wrist healed. Thank you to the huge desk easel that I stole from my parents’ house. It’s ugly, heavy, stained, and I keep banging my elbows on its sharp corners. It sucks but it saved my life. Do not resist making your workspace uglier if it might help you! 

Making The Influence and participating in the ShortBox Comics Fair was a huge work highlight this year. I’m so grateful I can make a work with dark themes and have it be understood and appreciated. The encouraging response to The Influence did a lot to kill the bad faith reviewer in my mind. Things are possible if you try!

I started painting again and I really love it. I’m trying to just follow the image-making. Painting is play to me and I want it to remain so. I feel myself itch to turn it into some kind of profitable thing, to make it palatable, but I’m trying to resist so it remains a place of experimentation. 

I also wrote a short novel. It’s awful. I just re-read it and it’s so bad, but reading it makes me happy. It needs serious reworking to be a proper novel, but I did technically cross the finish line and write the whole story. It was very refreshing and informative to branch out like this, even if I don’t think this particular example is fit for human consumption. Earlier in my life I was so stubborn about ONLY working in comics but now I’d like to pursue whatever path I can to have a creative career. If you try!

I had a great time tabling at Short Run this year. Two different people came to my table and told me they came to the show specifically to see my table. One person said Bug Boys was responsible for facilitating “many special moments” with them and their niece. I don’t want to forget about moments like this. It means a lot to me. 

It occurs to me as I type out this year’s accomplishments, they’re mostly things I did at home alone. I haven’t rejoined the world after COVID in a meaningful way, the way I hoped I would during lockdown. It comes naturally to me to make up excuses to stay home, keep my head down, watch how things play out before joining in. That attitude does me a disservice. It isolates me. When other people are only in the screen, they become hypothetical. It’s not right to live this way, but it’s comfortable to me. It feels “safe” after COVID, even though it’s not safe. I know I need to change this. 

It feels sick and strange to be blogging in my safe little apartment during a time of bloodshed. To flip through my planner and think of my future while others starve is obscene. My entire life was obscene in this fashion. It’s my responsibility to sit with this feeling and do something with it.

Here’s to a better 2024. We can do it, we can try. 

In love and solidarity, 

Laura K.

[yeliuxi]

Fic Writer Q&A

Tagged by @dragongirlg-fics :") Thank you ahh

How many wips do you have currently?

I think 5. Though all having various degrees of actually aiming to finish and post haha

For Qi Ye - The longer Ming Hua fic. Ming Hua's impressions of Jing Beiyuan and his bullshit throughout the years

Also for Qi Ye - My main fic. The genderbend modern organized crime AU that I have been working on for years now with femme-but-also-kind-of-becoming-butch-at-the-end Jing Beiyuan + butch Wuxi. But I ended up drawing a lot of it to procrastinate the writing... so now I have a lot of art (including first attempts to draw NSFW art), and not even a complete outline

& another for Qi Ye - Just straight porn featuring Jing Beiyuan domming Wuxi. Also topping like Jing Beiyuan initially wanted to do in the novel. But that's a separate sex scene. That's all

For MDZS - modern AU inspired by my RBB prompt. Lan Wangji has feelings for Wei Wuxian & when helping him out Lan Xichen accidentally ends up dealing with his own problems

For Locked Tomb - Palamedes/Camilla gender thesis fic. Where they fuck (? Masturbate? What happens when you share a body) and cope in unhealthy ways and Pyrrah is there going "wow yeah that's fucked up. Do you feel fucked up about this" and having an uno-reverse moment about her in Gideon 1's body

Still in brainstorming phase but The Double femslash where jealous Situ Jiuyue indeed "knocks up" Xue Fangfei. They blow off steam and the fake pregnancy drug is administered in sexy way lolol. The two lines of ":0 Whose baby is it" "Jiuyue's" live rent free in my head

More of the Q&A below

Which one are you finding the hardest to finish?

#2... It keeps growing... I thought I would end with an AU equivalent of Jing Beiyuan faking her death but then I started writing post-fake death... and now it's 90% ex-criminal-but-still-committing-a-continuous-crime Jing Beiyuan relearning how to be a normal person and Wuxi fitting herself back into a normal life 🤦🏻‍♀️Also did I mention the procrastination with my drawings?

What does it usually look like when inspiration strikes for you?

Unfortunately I think when I am most inspired it prevents me from writing haha. I get all excited and then stare off imagining the scenes... and do not write them. But there is a moderate amount of inspiration where I go onto 4thewords co-op writing battles and write out 10k in a day. I had several of these days in July and then have not since...

Do you curate playlists for each fic or is your process different?

No... I feel too much pressure to have songs that "relate" to the fic and I don't like doing that because it's time consuming and burns my energy that could be spent writing lol. Also I don't usually do any creative things with music because it's distracting to me

Do you go balls to the wall and write as you go or are you more organized?

I am a pantser mostly (tragic result of often having more vibes than plot thought out haha) but for certain long fics I will put together a detailed outline

Tagging: @difeisheng @geneticcatalyst @minnarr and whoever else wants to :D Yes this includes anyone reading this. Even if we aren't mutuals haven't talked etc. Just say I tagged you because I did and I am nosy and want to read it

[i-eat-deodorant]

Weird question for you 👉👈 do you have any drawings of the lamb or narinder like, naked? NOT in a horny way I SWEAR, I love your style and I just wanna see how you draw their legs lmao, I can't figure it out myself and other artists I can find are like, too human.

(nakey animals ahead)

Okay, so to preface this I'm a hobbyist artist who commits anatomical atrocities for shits & giggles, and this is by no means a professional/accurate way to draw animals, humans, or any combination of the two. This started as me struggling to explain how I draw instead of just sticking to the most brutally honest explanation of "I just wing it", but having to draw out different parts of anatomy and how proportional they are to each other was hugely helpful to help me re-evaluate how I draw animals. So thank you.

I'll be mostly using Lamb and Narinder for reference, because the brainrot is strong and they're what I draw the most.

A lot of my style comes from the fact that I'm primarily an animal artist, not a human one. In fact, COTL's the first fandom that I've drawn anthro characters in, and it was a trial trying to adapt what I know to upright animals.

Best way to get a better grip on anatomy is to sketch from references. Nothing that can really replace practice. It's helpful to look at skeleton and muscle diagrams and get a good idea of where body parts are in relation to each other. Then, search up actual references and try to overlay the shapes and bones onto them. When I'm not sure if something of mine is proportioned correctly, I just measure something with my fingers and compare.

Some specific things to note: generally, the hind legs of quadrupeds have a larger metatarsal area (the large flat portion of your foot) compared to humans--that's why people say cats tip-toe. Humans have theirs relatively short; how long you make that area largely determines how Creature the design looks. I know some people who draw purely human legs, some who draw human legs then add the extra foot length on top, all of that's fine. Personally, I will shorten the leg length above the knee to compensate. In quadrupeds, the knee will draw up very close to the torso area, as you can see in the jackal doodle.

Another note: when standing, it's important give the impression that there's a center of balance. When standing straight, a straight line drawn from the hip to the foot of a leg should be relatively perpendicular to the ground.

(Of course this all goes out the window the moment anything other than standing straight is involved but w/e.)

A lot of the fundamentals carry over between my quadruped and anthro art: the general shapes, the proportions, etc. One thing I noticed while sketching Lamb is that sheep have a femur that's almost entirely against their torso, and their legs are mostly just the tarsal parts (sorry if I'm butchering the anatomy).

For the arms/forelimbs, I mainly just use human anatomy with a repurposed number of fingers. It's easier, plus I can't exactly have a sheep with sheep limbs carry an axe around. I mean it's doable, just kinda awkward.

After getting the basics down, I move to more complex poses. One thing I struggle massively with is anything involving knees--kneels were something that eluded me for months. There are things that humans do that look very awkward when you factor in other animals' anatomies. I'm not super good with action poses so I can't really say how I've overcome that limitation, because I haven't :'D.

When I'm doing more simplistic poses, I just result resort to drawing a slightly bent line and calling it a day. You don't see much outside clothing anyways.

Last thing I found interesting: because of the weight distribution, the positioning of the arms in relation to the torso is different in bipeds and quadrupeds. Drawing anatomy with arms that kinda come forward and legs spread apart give designs a more animalistic vibe to me.

[biscuitblinkeu]

Cards and the Sony Handcam [3]

Park Chaeyoung x Fem!reader

Word count: 4111

A/n: The slow build up is killing me, and it’s probably killing you readers more since I didn’t even give y’all a summary… Why does the word count get bigger every chapter 🗿

Chapter not proofread yet

……………………………………………………………………

“You really like coffee, don’t you,” you muse, having watched Roseanne the moment she got her drink inhale the aroma like it was a lifeline; your lips quirked into a fond smile.

In fact, she had made a beeline towards the café table closest to the entrance where she sat and promptly fell into the cushioned chair with a heavy sigh, as though all the energy was draining from her body in that instant. She gave you her exact order as you offered to get it for her, and stayed slumped there while you got the drinks.

She takes a sip of her coffee, sighing contentedly. “Yes, but I like it even more when I actually need it.”

“Tiring day?”

She nods, “And it’s not even over yet. I might need an iced coffee to-go.”

“Or, you could take a nap. I don’t think that much coffee is healthy.” 

Roseanne gives you a look, as to say, ‘caffeine is what every college student functions on.’ She sighs, “I wish I could be able to, naps don’t exist for me.” 

“You can’t sleep?” You ask, and Roseanne confirms with a nod. “Have you tried melatonin? That usually helps me.”

“Yes I have, it doesn’t work.”

“You're an insomniac?”

“Afraid so,” she says. You talk a little more. And despite being insomniac, she still gets that iced coffee. (And as she’s walking out of the café with it, she thinks everyone makes poor choices every once in a while. In hindsight, she shouldn’t be drinking another cup.)

You and Roseanne went your separate ways for now, as you would see eachother again in a few hours when you were moving in. Lisa had committed to the task of helping you move your things from your current room to Roseanne’s, along with the help of some of the Dance majors. 

“I’ll be out of your hair in less than an hour, so stop the whining, please.” You say, irritated. Your roommate has been nagging in your ear about all the garbage bags with your clothes, shoes, and other things all in front of the door. Krystal huffs in response, rolling her eyes and smacking her gum as she plugs her AirPod back into her ears. You wish it stayed in her ear and she would stop taking the thing out just to bitch about something else.

It's not long before a pattern of knocks sound at your door; a familiar series of taps and you open your door to Lisa, Hyunjin, and Yeji. 

“Hey!” Lisa greets, hugging you briefly before sliding past you as she whispers, “Ready to get out of this hellhole?” You make a dramatic roll of your eyes before looking at the man and woman in front of you, smiling mischievously. “How are my favorite twins?” Simultaneously, they groan and start a rant about how they only look similar and have the same last name but aren’t related in any way.

You laugh, letting them in and they make quick work of taking the bags and items you had lined by the doorway and putting them into a cart provided by the University. All your stuff is in the cart in fourty or so minutes, and you’re given a half-assed goodbye from Krystal as the door shuts behind you with a click.

“Thank you all for helping,” you say, trailing behind the Hwangs who push the cart, Lisa at your side.

“It’s no problem,” the Hwangs voiced at the same time. 

“Why do you keep copying me?” Yeji, whined. 

“I’m not!” Hyunjin shouted, irritated that they’re not really fighting the stereotype of twins. You and Lisa laughed, watching them babble on.

Lisa nudged you in the side, “Roseanne’s dorm is near the English Arts building, and it’s on one of the higher floors so we have to take the elevator.” Lisa tells you as you turn another hallway.

“That’s pretty convenient for her then, being next to the building most of her classes are all in. I usually have to take a short subway trip or walk across campus.”

“I know right? But if you think about it, after you move in, you won’t have to go out of your way for transportation since the Arts buildings are close together.” You hum.

After wheeling the cart through multiple hallways, walking across parking lots, and through a few doors you were in Roseanne’s residence hall. Like Lisa informed, you did have to take an elevator to the higher floors. When you got out on the fourth floor, you all walked along the numerous doors till you reached the end of the hallway.

It was one door, with no others adjacent to it, confirming that Roseanne had one of the bigger dorms. The bigger dorms were available for the top students who got in with their academics or accomplishments, the university even held raffles for the nicer dorms whenever a spot opened to the general population of students. (In short, if you were smart you had a higher chance of getting a bigger dorm.)

You and the two Hwangs jumped when Lisa started knocking very aggressively on Roseanne’s door. It was a succession of sharp blows, slaps, and thunks. The door was thrown open a few moments later by an agitated Roseanne. A few hairs were out of place and she looked very humorless, staring at Lisa with narrowed eyes and a tight smile. 

“You totally ran all the way here,” Lisa stated, pointing a finger at Roseanne as a sly smile painted her lips. The blonde huffed, eyes drifting to the cart behind Lisa, to you, and then back to Lisa lazily. 

“Yes, I ran. But do you have to do that every time?” She grumbled. Lisa grinned widely, nodding her head. She turned around and gestured to you. “Ready to have a new roomie?” 

Roseanne smiled before nodding her head in the direction of the room and said, “I am. Come on then.”

Upon walking in, you observed, if anything, that your university definitely had a large portion of its budget go into the dorms. Roseanne’s dorm was very nice, almost the size of a small apartment or studio. And that’s not to say your previous dorm wasn’t nice, because it was, but right off the bat there were significant differences between yours and Roseanne’s.

Her dorm was like a suite, it was very clean and minimal. She had enough space for a small living room, and across from that there was a small kitchen, which she had extra appliances and things. There was a hallway, with a room on each side and at the beginning of it, a bathroom. 

Roseanne led you to what would be your bedroom. “Here it is, there’s a closet over there, and then you can decide if you want to move that dresser or not…” she informed. “Let me know if you need any help, but I’ll be in my room doing assignments.” 

“Thanks, Roseanne.” You tell her as she disappears into her room and you enter your own room, taking in its appearance. It was smaller than your shared dorm room with Krystal obviously; it had a bed (no sheets or anything), the dresser Roseanne spoke about before she left, and a closet. it was perfect, though, because you had your own space.

(Little did you know that that “own space” of yours would be almost nonexistent in the untold future.)

It was a team effort taking your stuff out the cart, out the bags and into its respective spot. You decided to use the dresser still in the room as you had a lot of clothes. You helped with the lightweight things and planned to help with your heavy items like your I-Mac and clothing bags, but got shooed away. Now you’ve just been observing. (Observing the rippling arm muscles and hard earned bodies of the dancers, that is.)

“Are you okay?” Lisa approaches with a laugh, eyeing you. She’s detected your perverse notions, you thought, that’s the reason she came over here. You pull your bottom lip from where it was caught between your teeth and look away from the dancers, smiling at Lisa innocently. “Just fine, but I can’t get over how attractive they are, like, it should be a sin.”

Lisa gasps, “Am I included? You know I’m the hottest, right?”

(I’m the hottest, okay?)

“Yes, you too,” you roll your eyes playfully, poking her in the rib. Half an hour later, they finished up and you were walking them out the door. You smiled at them. “Thank you guys so much, I appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

“Of course.”

“See you soon,” Lisa said last, walking with the twins down the hallway. You closed the door with a sigh. What to do now?

…

Roseanne has left you to your devices for a few hours, and you’ve been somewhat quiet, so she flinches when she hears a knock on her door.

On the other hand, you, having reached the point of borderline boredom, caved in and decided to bother your new roommate. You had shuffled down the hallway to her open door and stood in her door frame, dressed similar to earlier except now wearing a baggy tee. “Hey, wanna watch a movie?”

Roseanne looks at the mess of papers in front of her, then back to you. “Sure, I could use a break.” 

It’s funny that you fell asleep during the movie despite being the one that asked to watch it. Roseanne can’t even watch it though because your snores are snatching her attention from the movie every few seconds.

She bites the inside of her cheek, deciding to lightly tap on your shoulder. “(Y/n), hey, you’re snoring and I can’t hear the movie.” 

You turn your head slightly, eyes still closed. “Then turn it up…” you murmur, pulling the cover over your shoulder.

“So you can yell at me for waking you because of the volume?”

You huff, dragging yourself upwards and throwing her an unamused look. “You woke me up anyway, so I don’t think that matters.”

Roseanne hums to herself, looking to the clock on the wall before turning her gaze to you again. “You look tired, why don’t we call it a night? You can take a shower.”

“Yeah, sure, that’d be great.” You agreed tiredly, hoping that when you’re under the shower water you don’t fall asleep. You take a quick shower, change, and brush your teeth before waking down the hallway to your room. Roseanne’s door was open so you yelled goodnight before shutting your own. Once in your room, you plop onto your bed face first, burying your nose deep in the pillow. Sleep comes quickly.

…

beep! beep! beep!

beep! beep! beep!

Roseanne’s eyes snap open in alarm at the screeching sound. Her body stilled, and she waited maybe seven seconds before she allowed herself to calm down. She remembered now; she had a roommate; someone living with her, and just in the room a little ways down and across the hallway. 

beep! beep! beep!

She assumed that horrid noise was just your alarm going off— really loudly, at seven in the morning on a Sunday. Roseanne tossed around to lay on her stomach, pressing her pillow to her head. She screwed her eyes shut, planning to fall asleep again, knowing you’re probably awake now to turn it off.

“…”

beep! beep! beep!

Any second now, she tells herself, you’re going to turn it off.

beep! beep! beep!

“Are you serious…” Roseanne murmurs, sliding out of bed groggily. The beep!..beep!..beep! was harsh on her ears, as was the sunlight seeping through her half-open curtains. She runs a hand through her tangled hair, knowing if she were to come across a mirror it’d resemble a lion’s mane. Bedhead wasn’t kind to her, she liked to toss and turn in her sleep.

Roseanne shivered as she stepped into the hallway, the draft of the air conditioner creeping across her skin. She padded to your door, her pajama pants which were pooling at her feet slid against the carpet with each step. She knocked thrice, and when you didn’t answer she knocked twice before coming in, and just as she thought, you were still asleep, oblivious to your alarm going off and still dead to the world.

You weren’t even all the way on your bed, she noticed, you had one leg hanging over the side with one fuzzy sock on the foot outside of the covers, the other leg bent, and your arms sprawled out in different directions. 

She has to feel around your bed for your phone, and the task was harder than she’d like to admit. You would roll over and toss and turn, shifting your phone’s position multiple times or burying it underneath your back or covers. 

How can someone sleep like this? 

Finally, Roseanne managed to find the damn phone and turned off the annoying alarm. You mumbled something incoherently  before turning over in your bed. She put your cover back on you before leaving the room, deciding to “fake sleep” for a few more hours since she didn’t want to face the responsibilities of the day yet.

Unsurprisingly, you woke up half an hour later, completely aware you didn’t wake up with your timer. You yawned, stretching pleasurably before leaving the bedroom. It was quiet as a mouse, the only sounds coming from outside the dorm and the air conditioning. You tiptoed to the bathroom, failing miserably at washing your face and brushing your teeth quietly. 

You hung out in the living room after eating a few pieces of toast and fruit because you can’t cook. If you really think about it, you’ve been surviving off of simple meals, microwave food, takeout, and Lisa’s cooking. (That’s embarrassing.)

Roseanne enters the kitchen three hours later, toothbrush in mouth as she pulls out a carton of orange juice. She entered so silently you were startled when you finally noticed that she was awake. “Jesus!”

“Good morning?…” She says with confusion, voice muffled by her toothbrush.

“Good afternoon,” you say back. It was twelve-something past morning. She slept till the early afternoon. 

Later in the day, after lounging around the dorm with Roseanne you were called by Lisa, who said her, Jennie, and Jisoo were coming over. 

Due to this, you and Roseanne had to go grocery shopping for snacks and other things low in her fridge. You got the essentials: milk, bottled water, bread, cheeses, more fruits, etc. (You would both pay for the total by splitting it as it was more convenient.) Then it was time to conquer the snack aisle, and bicker you did; over Oreo flavors. 

“The original is the best kind, it’s a staple, it’s what everyone gets. Therefore—” 

“Therefore you should try new flavors. Look,” she pulled a few boxes off the shelves, “they have some new flavors, there’s swedish fish, mint, s’mores, rice crispy, red velvet, birthday cake. What about mint?”

You physically recoil and Roseanne gives you a weird look. “Out of all the flavors you just listed, you picked that one?”

“What’s wrong with this one?” With a frown she holds up the Mint Oreo box, genuinely confused.

“What’s wrong with it is that—”

“Ladies,” a man interrupts. The smile on his face looked so incredibly strained, almost like a stretched rubber band. It’s then you realize he’s been standing behind the two of you to get a Oreo box himself since you’ve taken up this section of the aisle. He wrings his hands together, eyeing the number of Oreo boxes you both hold, and through his teeth he says, “Why don’t you just get both?” 

“Oh.” Roseanne said dumly, heat creeping up her neck. She turns to you, “Well, let’s get both then.” You agree wordlessly, feeling mortified as well. 

After that experience, shopping for snacks was smooth sailing and you were out of the store in record time. You went back to your dorm and put everything in its respective places and Roseanne took care of the snack platters. 

And as she took care of the snacks— putting them in organized bowls and arrangements, you watched her with difficulty. She was color coding the candies; lining up the Oreos in rows; making sure no kernels fell in the bowl. When she shifted the charcuterie board’s position for the nth time, you flopped back onto the couch and let out a whine. “Roseanne, that’s the 6th time you’ve arranged it! I swear it looks fine.”

She gives you a withering look, not quite believing you, and her hands fidget at her sides for a moment more before she gives up, plopping into a chair. She only gets like this when she needs something to do. Never does she not have something to occupy her, and when she does it’s so incredibly difficult to relax.

You affirm that the board looks fine once more before unpausing the tv, though a shiver induced by the AC passes through you and you instinctively reach for the cover laying folded across the couch next to you. 

“That’s not a blanket,” Roseanne speaks up, making you pause and pull your hand back and look her way. “It’s not?” you question, staring at the soft checkered pattern.

“I mean, it is. But it’s not supposed to be used.”

You blink. “What’s the point of the blanket being on the couch if it can’t be used?”

“It’s for decoration, of course.”

You throw your arms back, amused but slightly exasperated. You’re cold!

“I’m joking,” she says. (She’s not. Its only real purpose was to sit there and look nice.) “You can use it.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

An obnoxious pattern of knocks sound at the door and you flinch. You’ve come to know that it was Lisa becuase of what you heard earlier. Roseanne gets up to answer the door.

You hear the voices of Lisa and Jennie along with a new voice and sit up, smiling as they walk in. “Hey guys,” you greet and they return. You tilt your head at the brunette. “Jisoo, I presume?”

“Yeah, it’s nice to finally meet you, (Y/n).” You just about say the same before falling into conversation with them.

“You won’t believe what we saw in the hallways on the way here— some guy was running around butt naked in desperate need of something to cover up. I bet he got locked out by some friends or something.” Lisa says, plopping down next to you. 

You grimace. “I would be mortified. I wouldn’t show my face ever again.” Roseanne scrunches her nose up, agreeing with you. “Well, now that we’re all here let’s eat snacks and play some games. And by games I mean Poker and whatever else I have.”

You’re all seated around the glass coffee table in front of the couches, snack bowls at one end of the table up for grabs anytime and cards laid in front of you. You’ve dragged a beanbag chair into the room and occupied it. Lisa and Rosé sit adjacent to you on opposite sides of each other and Jennie and Jisoo sit with their legs criss-crossed on the other end.

Uno turns out to be a disaster. Everyone was making up their own rules and confusing the reverse and skip cards. Charades was the funniest thing you’ve ever witnessed. And Poker, it turns out, was fun. 

It turns out to be much easier to understand than you anticipated. Three cards are face up on the table, followed by another and the following, as explained by Roseanne. Jisoo and Lisa chime in with some pertinent facts and other oddball observations. A stack of plastic chips is placed in front of you when you demonstrate that you have a reasonable grasp and pledge to ask for assistance if necessary. They all promise you that betting is far more enjoyable. Lisa appears delighted that she won't run out of chips first. Lisa is quickly running out of chips and Jisoo and Roseanne have exhausted all of their chips, you all turn to look at the large stack in front of Jennie.

"Shark! She's a shark!" Lisa gripes, folding her arms and throwing her cards down on the table as she loses another hand.

"I haven't played before!" Jennie protests. "It's not exactly hard!"

"How are you winning then?" You whine, being in the same position as Jennie as a newbie. She’s a much better poker-newbie than you.

"How the hell do you do that?" Lisa asks exasperated.

"Math," Jennie says simply.

"Math?" Jisoo wonders aloud and Jennie turns to her.

"Yes, math. It's all a matter of probability. Isn't that how you do it?"

Your jaw has fallen to the floor, much like Lisa’s and Roseanne’s.

Jisoo looks at her with drawn brows. "Poker...and math?"

“Hah— you voluntarily do math outside of anything school related? I’m not surprised, smartass,” you say exasperated. Jennie is a law student after all, she was probably the smartest person in the room. Jennie laughs at your comment, quieting down when she feels a brush against her knee.

“That’s actually amazing to me Jen,” Jisoo says, smiling at the cat-eyed woman. “I really admire that about you, you know.” 

“It’s really nothing,” she replies, grinning sheepishly. At their prolonged eye contact, Jennie blushes, and just knowing the rosey color was blooming on her cheeks, she looked down, letting her hair fall like a curtain over her face. That grin of hers transformed into a wide and gummy smile.

“Another game?” Roseanne says, eying Jennie with mischief. Jennie looks up and meets her eyes and the mortified expression she made was comical to Roseanne. She wasn’t subtle at all, that was something Jennie knew— something everyone knew…except Jisoo.

 …

“Bye guys! This was fun, let’s do it again sometime.” You say sending off everyone.

After everyone leaves, you and Roseanne have the unanimous decision to clean up. It was a comfortable silence, you and her shuffling about with the low hum of her speaker’s music. You took the liberty of packing up the poker chips and cards into its box and clearing the table of any dishes. Roseanne was in the kitchen wiping down the counters and throwing away empty soda liters and takeout containers. 

After you fixed up the pillows and dragged the beanbag chairs back into the closet you met Roseanne in the kitchen. 

“Need some help?” You asked, eyeing the amount of dishes sitting in the bubbly water. You make a mental note to buy paper plates and cups.

“That would be nice. I could wash and rinse them and you could dry? Or vice-versa.”

“I’m cool with drying,” you say, moving around her to the other side. You leave out the part that you’re terrified of soggy food underneath your fingernails. It doesn’t look like she has any gloves either. You both begin the tasks then, and after she washed you dried the dishes she handed to you. Occasionally, your arms and elbows brushed together. 

You finished drying while Roseanne hopped in the shower. You were startled awake, having fallen asleep on the couch, by a tap on your shoulder. Your roommate gave you an apologetic smile. “You can get in now.”

You nod, dragging yourself up. This was why you weren’t a night owl. The drowsiness you felt at night was a crazy difference from how you were at the crack of dawn.

You get out of the shower, towel hanging around your neck, and Roseanne slides past you. “Goodnight,” you say, stifling a yawn as you stumble to your room. You lean on the doorframe as you wait for Roseanne to finish brushing her teeth. She comes out and heads to her own room, pausing in the doorway much like you. “Good night, (Y/n).” 

Your doors shut with a click and you plop down ungracefully on your bed, lazily kicking your sweats off. You're out like a light in five minutes. On the other side of the hallway, Roseanne is at her desk, where she pulls out her ragged camcorder. Sleep doesn’t come easily to her and when it does it isn’t the peaceful kind, hence why she stays up as long as she can. That is because she is afraid of her dreams.

She sets the camcorder on the surface in front of her and simply stares at it: the gray, nineteen-eighties camera her stepdad gave her for her twelfth birthday that still works till this day. It was the camera that saved her once, and in the end it will be what kills her.

Would you like to continue?

[anamelessfool]

Ribbons & Ties (AO3 Link) Chapter 6!

M/M, GEN (Ch 5 Here) (Start here on Tumblr!) 2500ish words

Terzo x Omega, Terzo & Family, Terzo & His Ghouls, Cardinal Marian is in there for like ten minutes

Tags: Domestic Fluff, Commitment, Rom Com Energy, There's a Wedding, Secondo is Papa Emeritus, Gift Giving, The ghoul names are all messed up sorry it is for plot purposes, I can't have Fluff without some Angst sorry

The Final Chapter!!!

For reasons beyond Terzo's understanding, he wants to give Omega a present for the ghoul's "birthday". It proves to be a lot more complicated than Terzo realizes.

Art by @kabukiaku used with permission

Omega tossed his head in excitement, considering how to proceed. He pulled the ribbon apart, carefully winding it back into a neat bundle. He held the small package like a priceless relic, teasing open the tape to best preserve the beautiful paper. Terzo sat there, shifting uneasily. It would be less of an agony if Omega had just ripped the package open,

Chapter 6 Below the Cut! (We like Reblogs, Comments and Kudos omnomnom)

6

Terzo woke a bit after dawn, lifting his head off of Omega's bare chest. He lingered there, privately appreciating his ghoul’s body. Omega like all ghouls did not sleep, but the total blackness in the eyes of the mask meant that his Self had walked away from his vehicle for a few hours to wander elsewhere. Terzo luxuriated his mouth across Omega's pectorals and at last the eyes returned and Omega brought his hand around to softly pet his lover.

GOOD MORNING. YOU'RE UP EARLY.

Satisfied, Terzo hopped out of bed and threw on his sleep shorts that he collected from the floor.

“If you want to go hiking, you have to get up early,” Terzo explained. It was the twenty-first. He had planned this outing for days but he did everything in his power to pretend it was a spur of the moment decision. “Also, if we leave now we would be halfway up the mountain before anyone realizes we were not at work today, amore.”

ASK FOR FORGIVENESS. Omega's broad shoulders shook with mirth. EXCELLENT IDEA. NO PROBLEMS THERE.

Terzo waved Omega’s concern away with a business-like swish of his hand as he peered into his closet. “Cardinal Marian will come up with something. She'll have to.”

She wouldn't be happy, but whenever Terzo was in need of an impromptu vacation he could negotiate with offering her keys to the ministry car for a week or more. They both appreciated the value of skipping work for self-indulgent reasons, as long as the other agreed to the price.

Terzo packed a drawstring bag with what he thought he needed: a water bottle, a sweatshirt, the first gift wrapped nicely up with paper and ribbon. As he collected his items he stole secret glances at Omega as the ghoul sat up and stretched his body. Light and shadow caressed him in the same places Terzo loved to touch—the soft rise of his bicep, the sharp hollow of his throat, the crumpled lines that defined his abdomen. Terzo blinked, looking away. If Omega had noticed him staring the ghoul would mock him with some posing and flexing and they would not get anything done.

“No shoes either, if you want.” Music to the ghoul’s ears, if he had them. “Would not be safe to hike in those dress shoes, anyway.”

The ghoul wiggled the clawed toes on his blackened feet, deeply pleased. They were the only sign of his inhuman origin and to Omega they were prisoners tormented by humanity's worst invention. He had a drawer nearby of clothing Terzo had collected for him beyond the standard ghoul uniform and he stepped into some shorts and a tee shirt. I'M READY.

While the ghoul dressed Terzo took the opportunity to slip the precious stone he collected into his own pocket. It felt heavier against his side than it truly was, and that familiar feeling of a daydream coming on passed across his mind. They were both at the top of the mountain, at the lookout with a cloudless sky behind him. Terzo on his knee, pulling out the silly little token from his pocket.

On my knee? Terzo frowned, shaking himself back to sense.

***

The trailhead started at the cemetery on top of the hill, and continued onward into the protected forests and mountains. The morning mists were clearing as the sun warmed the land. Omega was thoroughly enjoying himself and would pause often to investigate a perfect mushroom, or the tiniest toad hidden amongst the leaves. Terzo had fallen behind and Omega waited for him to catch up while enjoying the most satisfyingly springy moss between his clawed toes.

The ascent was subtle, undetected but after a half hour Terzo felt his heart work in his chest, and his breath start to go. He stopped for a few moments, closing his eyes. He had been distracted for so long by his duties as Papa Elect that he was admittedly out of shape. But today's exertion seemed to let his anxious thoughts fall away. When his breath was settled, he continued. “We call this Mount Belial, although I'm sure it has another name.”

Omega waited for him patiently further up the trail. SHALL I CARRY YOU?

“No, I like the walk.” They picked their way up the steep trail, and Terzo smiled at a memory. “When I was at my very best Primo and I could carry a whole campsite up here on our backs. And we did.”

Omega put a supportive hand across Terzo’s back, slowing his pace. THOSE WERE GOOD TIMES, THEN.

“Primo first got me out here, when I was a kid,” Terzo explained as he picked his way up the trail. “Gave me something to do. Some place to go.”

DO YOU MISS HIM?

Terzo sighed, looking up at the ghoul. It took him a minute or two to collect his thoughts, but he made the effort. “I do,” he admitted. His smile soured. “Secondo and I were…better…when he was around.”

WHEN YOU'RE PAPA IT WILL BE EVEN BETTER.

“Yes, maybe,” said Terzo, but the dark thoughts descended again. “I will be Papa and Secondo will…” Secondo had so far fared better at Primo channeling energy to feed the Void. He was a cautious, calculating magician, a scientist with a will of iron. He had found ways to endure the curse and continue the necessary work. But he was a proud man, and it was getting harder for him to hide the effects. His wedding was the last time Terzo had seen him without a cane. He was collapsing more after performances, although he refused to admit his advancing weakness. Omega had shared that information from the other ghouls, and Terzo kept it close. The ghouls were preparing themselves to return home. Secondo very soon would have to retire, or die.

And then Terzo would be next.

“On second thought a break would be nice.”

Omega had found a fallen tree and sat down, testing it. He patted the space beside him. Terzo came forward, pulling the package from his bag and presenting it with overly theatrical pomp. He bowed, putting on a silly smirk but his stomach was in his throat.

“Happy Birthday, my ghoul.” Terzo lifted up on his toes and gave Omega a peck on the metal cheek. He settled in beside him on the fallen tree.

Omega tossed his head in excitement, considering how to proceed. He pulled the ribbon apart, carefully winding it back into a neat bundle. He held the small package like a priceless relic, teasing open the tape to best preserve the beautiful paper. Terzo sat there, shifting uneasily. It would be less of an agony if Omega had just ripped the package open, but at last the box was free and Omega looked down at the black and violet patterns of the woven strap inside.

AH, A GUITAR STRAP. Omega brushed his knee up against Terzo’s leg in a tender gesture of gratitude. IT'S MY FAVORITE COLORS. He brought the strap up to his mask. PERFECT. He closed his eyes in a pleased smile.

“Shall we keep going?” Terzo asked. His heart was hammering in his chest. “A bit farther up is a lookout.” He felt the stone in his pocket. There. He decided he'd give him the real gift up there. For some reason something within him needed him to have a proper setting to present it, as simple as it was.

After another two minutes of Omega gently folding up the paper like it was the Magna Carta, they were back on the trail.

After a while the trees thinned, and beyond them was no longer the leafy hillside but patches of blue sky. The lookout. Terzo wiped his face and took a swig of water. The new shafts of sunlight through the trees illuminated the sculpted face of Omega as he tentatively walked forward onto the rocky outcropping. The ghoul crouched, looking down at the drop, then brought his hands out, stretching them to the sky.

Terzo laughed, walked to the edge of the cliff and sat down, legs dangling. “Come try this with me, Omega.”

Omega blinked behind his mask. WHAT IF WE FALL?

“You? I could build your body back a hundred times if I wanted to, and you’re worried about falling?”

Omega dropped his shoulders. FINE, WHAT IF YOU FALL?

Terzo smirked. “Then I fall. Come on. Try it.”

Omega gingerly settled down beside him, gripping the rock with his fingers.THE BREEZE BETWEEN THE TOES IS INTERESTING.

“Haha, definitely makes you feel alive.” The air caressed them as they watched the shadows of clouds across the sea of restless leaves below. To the far left was the top of the Ministry tower peeking out, a lighthouse in the green. Terzo’s worries were gone, buried by trees. At least for a little while. He put his hand on Omega’s thigh and they were silent.

After a time, Terzo realized his moment had come. He swallowed down butterflies that he was surprised existed. “I have something else, actually.”

Omega froze in disbelief. TWO? I HAVE TWO GIFTS ON MY BIRTHDAY?

“I’d give you a hundred if I could,” Terzo chuckled. “Would be easier to pick one hundred instead of just two.” Terzo shimmied back off the ledge and got to his feet, brushing himself off.

Terzo decided he would not get on a knee, although the fantasy had not relented for the entire adventure. Almost in defiance of his mysterious inner wishes, Terzo pulled the stone from his pocket and cooly handed it to Omega.

“For you, amore.”

The stone was so small in Omega's palm. Terzo thought of the lengths it took to get it. So small but so enveloped by the ghoul’s hand. Omega brought his other finger down to gently touch it.

“They call it a hag stone,” explained Terzo. “I found it on a beach when I was a kid. Apparently if you look through it you can see ghosts and other strange things. But, alas, I have never seen anything different.”

IT’S PERFECT. I LOVE IT. Omega brought the stone to his eye and scanned the landscape, stopping when he reached Terzo. He started at the human’s toes, slowly eying him up and down. HEH. I’M SEEING SOMETHING STRANGE.

Terzo grinned. “Well, happy birthday once again, mi amore.”

Omega looked out over the valley, the stone still fixed across his eye. Terzo watched his shoulders relax. Then the ghoul slowly lowered the stone and stared out unaided, lost in a deep thought. Terzo saw the wisps of the long eyelashes of his gentle eyes fan softly as they continued to consider the space before them, as if Omega were recording it to memory.

Terzo’s face fell, his nerves returning. He suddenly realized that the ghoul was also waiting for the ideal time to express what was in his heart. He took an instinctual step back, but Omega came forward, arms outstretched.

YOU EXPLAINED THAT A BIRTHDAY IS THE FIRST DAY OF LIFE. The ghoul wrapped his arm around Terzo’s waist, drawing him closer. He brought his metal forehead to meet with Terzo’s own, looking into his eyes. ELEVEN DAYS AFTER YOU SUMMONED ME, THE 21ST. THAT IS THE FIRST DAY WE KISSED. THAT IS THE FIRST DAY I FELT ALIVE. AND SO, IT IS MY BIRTHDAY.

Terzo felt the ghoul wrap his big arms around him and they shared a tender sigh. This softness, this feeling of solid overwhelming security was what Terzo had been hungry for all his life. Burying himself deep underground as a child, or over anonymous bodies when he was grown— nothing felt as secure to him as when he held Omega in this moment. The fog of his mind cleared, and Omega's beating heart, his expanding lungs in his chest against Terzo’s ear was all that remained.

“I want to commit to you until we don't have forever,” said Terzo. “I don't think…I don't think I can come up with anything closer to how I feel than that.”

COME HERE. Omega pulled the crumpled bits of the wrapped package from his pocket. GIVE ME YOUR HAND. He fished out the ribbon and took Terzo by the hand, tracing his palm with his fingers. At last the ghoul slipped his own hand into Terzo’s, enclosing the stone between them and knitting the fingers together.

It was an awkward exercise but as soon as Terzo realized what the ghoul was attempting he choked down tears and helped. Carefully, reverently they wrapped the ribbon around their wrists, over the clasped hands. Their thumbs held the ends.

“Fuck you for outdoing me,” Terzo sobbed, laughing and wiping his eyes.

MAYBE LATER. Omega huffed a breathy, voiceless chuckle. LET'S COMMIT TO THE NOW.

The two of them stood on the rocky lookout, a soft breeze stirring across their backs. A pair of hawks wheeled in tandem across an updraft over the valley. Terzo could not ask for a better setting for this moment. He sniffed, but tears continued to silently fall. “Should we…should we say a few words?” he whispered.

Omega blinked slowly, searching the landscape. His overwhelming aura of love poured out of him in tremendous unseen but deeply felt waves, almost as if he was crying too. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY. His fingers gently brushed against Terzo’s.

Terzo’s mouth opened, silently experimenting with how to voice what they shared. He found it at last, and looked up at Omega, into the ghoul’s clear blue eyes. “Per…per sempre,” he said.

Omega nodded his great metal head. YES. FOREVER.

And you make me Talk....And you make me Feel... And you make me show what I'm trying to Conceal! If I trust in you, would you let me down? Would you laugh at me if I said I care for you? Could you feel the same way too? I wanna know the name of the game...

My AO3 | Tumblr Fic List | My Terzo/Omega Fics

Please comment and reblog! Also feel free to send me crying emojis and I will send you crying emojis. Thanks and have a lovely Solstice season!<3

[i-m-a-leaf-on-the-wind]

hello! i am here to kindly ask you for some recommendations of the dirtiest or kinkiest milex fanfics ever, please 😊

Oh Hello 😏 Some smutty fics : - Born to Blow Your Mind - SilverStuff50 [Alex has been annoyingly nice over the last three weeks, and Miles has to force the situation in order to carry out his carefully constructed plan. Or, Miles forces Alex to be naughty just so he can punish him. Smut ensues.]

-Been Away too Long to be Afraid - Stereobone (@stereobone) 📍restricted access!!! [Miles goes to visit Alex in Los Angeles to get his mind off his recent breakup. It works far better than expected.]

-Moonage Daydream - ReconciledViolence (@reconciledviolence729) [As a last-minute Halloween party leaves Alex scrambling for a costume, a trip to a mom-and-pop costume shop provides for some very unique opportunities for dress up. Miles finds himself at the mercy of Alex’s mercurial whims as he tries on outfit after outfit. But will Alex ever find that perfectly clever costume? And will Miles manage to keep himself from falling completely to bits? Or: Alex is skilled at the art of tormenting Miles, and Miles loves it. Also: Will they ever even make it to the party?]

-Knee Deep - Justsomehobbit [“All aboard the Kane train...” His eyes drooped in a way that a sober mans wouldn’t, and hair tickled his upper brow where it had yet to mat against his glistening forehead. The deep rumble of bass reverberated up his legs and into his chest where it fought the tempo of his heart beat, slow thumps pulsing in his ears. “All aboard...the Kane train.”]

-How Deep - Syntheticpalindromes 📍restricted access!!! [The drive to pick Alex up from LAX is decidedly fast. Miles is aware he’s probably going far too fast down the highway, but he can’t help it. It’s the middle of the night, the best time for a renowned rock star to arrive at LAX to avoid too many photos, and there’s no one on the roads much. His hands twist on the steering wheel as he parks and power walks to the arrivals lounge, insides buzzing and warm. Very much embarrassing if he were to voice it but, it’s hard going without Alex for more than a few weeks. And the space between November and the New Year when neither of them really see each other, is practically hell.]

-(In C for Two Virgins) - Syntheticpalindromes 📍restricted access!!! [He drifted into the kitchen after that, now a little afraid to look at Miles as he passed the living room. How did one go about shagging their best mate for the first time without there being some sort of small talk or awkwardness beforehand? Well, he assumed it was alright for people that weren’t him, but his brain stuttered and hiccuped on the best of days, let alone when trying to work out how to approach the situation of sleeping with a man he’d probably been in love with for years.]

-Telephone Line - GasDancer (@gasdancer) [After a tumultuous year between them, Alex travels back to LA while Miles is touring across Europe. One night, after a few drinks, Alex decides to make a bold move.]

-Why Won't You Wear Your New Trench Coat? - GasDancer (@gasdancer) [''His dread is not comforted the least bit when Alex barrels through the door, barely making eye contact and not even muttering a "hello". This is it, Miles thinks as he closes the door, terror seizing him up like a fist. He's come to end it once and for all. There was no recovery, not really, and the past week was just a blip on a very dark radar. It's only as he starts coming to terms with his fate, eyes raking Alex's body up and down to commit him to memory, that he realises Alex's calves are bare under the thick, black trench coat.'']

-Bring Your Love Baby, I Could Bring My Shame - GasDancer (@gasdancer) [This here, though, Miles' commanding gaze, and Alex's nearly full surrender to it, is reserved for very specific moments, when they're electrified and pumped from a gig, and they've gone past the point of sobriety. Alex is not sober.]

-Joie de Vivre & The Boy with the Thorn in His Side - GasDancer (@gasdancer) Two parts from the Young Volcanoes serie

-Save It for the Morning After - England_is_Mine (@england-is-mine) [Miles returns after weeks on the road, leaving a sleepy and aroused Alex waiting for him.]

-Blame It On the Summertime - Elorianna (@elorianna) [Alex and Miles are touring with their second album during what feels like an endless summer. The release of the record has brought them to a new place in their relationship, and Alex is keen to enjoy every moment of their time together for all that it’s worth…]

-Little Mister Sweet Dreams - IDontGiveA [To him, Miles was what dreams consisted of.]

-Color Me In - / [And the very moment when Alex admitted that he loved Miles back.]

-Vertigo - / [“We don’t have to, you know. I was just telling you me fantasies, Al. You can forget about it.” Miles cut him off and went back to loudly chewing those chocolate flakes. Alex probably shouldn’t find it adorable, but he did. That might have just proved he was equally weird. He admitted suddenly. “I can’t.” Miles frowned at him and Alex continued. “I keep…thinking about what you said.”]

-Boy's Behavior - / [By the end of that, Alex was definitely tired.]

-What Goes Around, Comes Around - Horrormoviesshoes (@horrormoviesshoes) [The story behind The Last Shadow Puppet's Coachella backstage photo.]

-Cupcakes On a Rainy Day - Sickpuppyinexile [Miles is busy with cupcakes but Alex has something else in mind]

-Soft Sighs - Tightredpants (@tightredpants) [An intimate moment.]

-Stop Making the Eyes at Me - Alexturne (@alexturne) [He turned to look at Alex, took off his sunglasses and tucked them into the quite unbuttoned neck of his shirt. His eyes roamed over Alex rather shamelessly, slowly looking him up and down as an appreciative smirk formed on his lips, and Alex suddenly felt hot all over. Or: Alex gets stuck inside an elevator with a hot stranger and a bottle of whiskey and they need to find a way to pass the time.]

-You're so Pretty and I'm so Shy - Alexturne (@alexturne) [“Fine, if you’re so shy then why don’t you write him a note? Like in the films, write your number on a slip of paper, give it to him or slip it into his pocket or summat.” “That might work!” “I was kidding Alex!”]

[suehtamsatierf]

Everything About My Process For The Comic Book Style

I want to open up this article with a funny comment I received in one of my tweets that goes briefly over my process for the last Amy Rose drawing I did.

It made me chuckle! Maybe I am a fool for sharing my secrets... unless it was my intention all along! After all, there aren't really any secrets as most things I do are done by several other artists as well.

Also, even if it WAS a secret, why the hell would I keep it all for myself? I mean, maybe by keeping it I could be the only exclusive artist capable of doing this kind of artwork... Naah! It's just a matter of time and a little bit of effort for other artists to figure out my ways, and like I just said: it's not really much of a secret as several other artists draw in similar styles already.

I actually see a lot of benefits in sharing my approach to drawings because this will help several artists to improve their skills or branch out in style. The world needs more artists, as well as the industry (animation, comics, games, etc.). It also helps to perpetuate whatever we have learned to future generations of artists. Could you imagine if the original Disney animators didn't transfer their knowledge to younger animators, or if we lost everything documented by the great art masters?

Now, of course, I am not comparing myself to any of these legendary artists. I am lightyears away from the skill level they were and I am not by any means a legendary artist myself. However, I did learn several things in my artistic journey that seems to draw attention from several folks out there, and if whatever I have to share is helpful in any way, I will gladly and proudly do it.

Now, let's get started!

The early steps

You see, as an artist, I need a few steps before getting to something I like. Not all artists are like that, some can draw awesome characters straight up without any supporting structural sketch underneath. These guys probably drew a whole lot already in their lives, I don't have that much experience yet. It could also be that I'm just way too picky with my drawings, but I digress.

Usually, I start with loose, non-committed ugly sketches. A lot of the time they come out when I am just doodling or sketching for fun, without any intention of turning it into a final image at the moment. In fact, I have a folder on my computer with lots and lots of sketches that never really went anywhere from there. I actually find a lot of them pretty ugly.

The image above is a page where I did some sketches. I did try to tell a story in some of these drawings by giving the characters a little bit of an attitude, but most of them didn't really go anywhere. There was no commitment here, it was a playground to explore and have fun without worrying too much about if it's looking great or not. After all, I never had the goal of sharing this with the world in the first place,these were for me! That's important.

When I see a sketch has potential and can be something fun to work on, I just develop on top of it. Some of these sketches have potential! Hence I took Amy over there and developed it further to a final image, and there are another couple of sketches there that could look very nice if more time is spent on improving them.

This is another sketch I did of Blaze when I was drawing her. I ended up not picking this one because some later sketches I did felt more interesting at the time. Unfortunately, I lost most of the roughs I did for this one, I did around 5-7 different poses before deciding on one, and the chosen one was heavily modified in the process as well.

Notice how loose and rough it is. It's pretty messy! At this point, I am not heavily concerned about anything other than the gesture and the pose. The lines are messy, the forms are not that well defined, the character proportions are off... that's okay! Really! These are things we can fix later.

I find it a lot easier when I pay attention to one thing at a time instead of trying to figure everything out at once. First, let's get that pose right in a way that doesn't take too long to draw and that can be easily modified. After that, we worry about structure, anatomy (if present), accurate perspective, shapes, lines, contrast, you get the idea.

This is the stage for playing! It's the stage where you get to mess up big time and do things over again because no commitment has been made yet.

Here I was getting closer to the pose I ended up committing with. I accidentally cropped the document and lost a good part of the sketches around, but you can see how I was still making changes to the pose trying to make it work. Initially, she was doing a very unrealistic and awkward twist with her body that just was not believable. If your drawing is not believable, then it falls apart.

This sketch is a little tighter than the other ones I did such as the previous to this in this article, and that's because I was mostly reiterating a very similar pose over and over again. I already had some foundation that was originally very loose, but as I made changes, it got a bit more defined.

Being tighter in this stage also helped me to better visualize what was going on with the character. Sometimes a gesture looks pretty good, but when you start developing it into something that makes more sense anatomically and spatially, you start seeing some breaking points that need to be addressed.

I made the twist less extreme and it started to look good! Once I am happy with the sketch, then I commit and start refining it bit by bit.

Here are some examples of how loose I usually like to be at this point:

Before Cleaning Up...

I usually like to have as many decisions made as possible before moving on to clean-up, because it's harder to make big changes once you're already doing clean, precise lines. The clean-up stage is where you focus your energy on making the drawing look pretty! However, before that, you gotta make sure things are working fine. It's important not to rush!

That's why I do multiple sketch passes before the final polished lines. Since the very early sketches are very messy, some smaller details are hard to see.

For Shadow, for example, I did 3 passes. The first one was exclusively for figuring out the pose because as you can see, it looks absolutely horrible. The hands are atrocious, the head barely looks like the character, the shoe is a box and there's one foot missing. I accomplished its objective though, which was getting a dynamic gesture that works as a foundation to all the other elements that go on top.

The second pass was where I started to define some elements better. I couldn't understand what was going on with his face and hands in the first pass, for example, so now is the time to get those things sorted out. That means I focused more on structure, defining the primary and secondary shapes more accurately. The primary big shapes were kind of figured out in the first pass already, except that it was too rough. The secondary only started making sense on the second pass.

The third pass was to clean up the shapes of the previous sketch a bit (lines are still rough) and to figure out the smaller details, that despite being smaller they are still too big to be dealt with in the clean up where my sole focus is to make the lines look nice.

What happens a lot is that even after going through all these passes, there are still some minor issues here and there that require adjustments when I'm already in the clean-up stage. On Shadow, it was his back leg that I had to lower a little bit to make the silhouette clear and his foot that simply wasn't there until the last minute. In other cases, I have to completely redo an arm or a foot, for example. That's when I go back to sketch just that part out and then clean it up again on top. That means there's usually some back and forth happening.

Here is another example of the multiple passes I make before cleaning up:

Cleaning Up

When I get to the clean-up stage, pretty much everything has been figured out on the sketch already. The focus here is to make the lines look pretty and to convey certain things such as overlapping, texture, Ambient Occlusion and a little bit of shading.

Having some of the shading done in pitch-black lines is a creative decision I made mostly because it's fun and feels nice to draw this way. I started drawing in this style with Rouge the Bat when I thought about rendering her in a painterly style but it would take too long and I had tons of other things to do.

However, the black shadows I make are mostly ambient occlusion and cast shadows. Unless it's a dark noir scene, making every single shadow black would not look very pleasing. In my opinion, it would be way too heavy and a lot of information would be lost.

When looking at my art, a lot of people think I do the black shading and the lines at the same time in the same layer, but that's not the case. I usually do the lines first and then on a separate layer I make the shadows using the exact same brush. That way it's easier to try things out and erase them whenever I don't like the result. It also allows me to focus on one thing at a time!

What I see people really like about my drawings is how I shade metallic objects. That is a topic for a whole article of its own, but in a nutshell, when making reflective materials, I usually don't think of light and shadows, but of what objects could possibly be surrounding this metal and how they are reflected on its surface. It doesn't have to be an accurate reflection as long as it looks believable. There are a lot of things I learned about reflective materials that I'd like to share in the future, but this is not the article for that.

I am currently writing another article all about line art and how to improve it, which goes in-depth on what I am usually thinking about when drawing. That being said, I will not go too much into the intricate details here, but I can say some things very briefly.

Line thickness matters a lot, and I usually use it to show important shapes and depth. I use thicker lines to say that an object is in front of another one with thinner lines. I also use thicker lines for the outline of big, primary shapes and also to describe volume. Making a thicker line on the side of an object that's in the shadows helps to convey a sense of tridimensionality, especially when it's a shadow made out of contact (which we call Ambient Occlusion).

Simplicity is key! Lines should be simple and not too bumpy. They should also flow and be confident! To achieve that, I usually draw with either my elbow or shoulder using fast movements. I sometimes use my wrist as a pivot point for a curved line, but avoid doing that as this can be harmful. There are 3 kinds of lines that I alternate when drawing.

Colours and Shading

Colours are tricky because their use is very abstract, which means there's no wrong way of using colours. Instead, some ways work and ways that don't work. There are, of course, guides that you can follow that helps you achieve better colour palettes, but since they're not rules, they can be broken as long as it works.

There are actually no irrefutable rules in drawing, every concept can be broken as long as it looks right. If it doesn't, it just looks like a mistake meaning that you failed. Using the excuse of "it's my style" is a very cheap way of saying "I don't know the fundamentals and I don't care but I still want to be appreciated".

The way I approach colours specifically for this style is by starting with the flat, local colours. On their own, they can look a little boring, although I usually do my best to make them interesting regardless of shading. That's why sometimes it's easy for me to be doubtful on whether the colours are looking good or not. I usually push it until the end though as I am almost always pleasantly surprised.

I think a reason I think the flat colours can look boring is that they need to be somewhat neutral, and by that I mean they are the halftone of the shading. That being said, I never go for full saturation or pure whites and blacks, because that limits the shading process and can make the image look a bit overwhelming.

Here's what I did with Amy, for example:

Now, of course, I didn't do a mathematical operation to figure out the best percentage of saturation for each of those colours in relationship to each other. I did it by feeling and by trial and error. Look at how horrible it would look if all the flats were 100% saturated:

I don't know about you, but this hurt my eyes! Vibrant colours are not necessarily associated with high levels of saturation, but mostly with the relationship of the colours used in a palette.

The colours around the 70% saturated red in the original Amy make this same red feel more vibrant. The 8% saturated white has an important role in making the reds and pinks pop up even more without hurting anybody's eyes.

In other words, never make a colour fully saturated, pure black or pure white in the flats.

For Shading, I often use the C movement in the color picker. I know, you have no idea what I'm talking about. It's basically this:

The reason I stress this out is that beginner artists usually pick shadow colours by simply lowering the brightness of that same colour, keeping the hue and the saturation the same. This doesn't happen. As light and the environment affects an object, its colours shift. Colour and light are directly related, meaning that everything surrounding an object will affect its colour in some way. I will be writing another article talking about this.

I usually draw the shape of the shadows on the character with the colour I picked for it and fill the inside with the same colour. Shape design is something that I like to pay close attention to, even in shading. I then make a layer on top of the shadows and use a slightly brighter tone that's more blue-ish to do the bounced and ambient lights. The reason I usually make it bluer is that I am usually thinking of the sky.

You see, the sky is actually a big light source that illuminates everything with a soft diffuse light. However, since the blue colour of the sky is actually the sunlight being reflected on the atmosphere gases such as Oxygen, it works as a much weaker light source than the sun. That's why you see lots of blue-ish shadows outdoors on a sunny day, and that's why I make bounced and ambient lights with a tint of blue.

Closing Thoughts

That's all I got for now. Much of what I covered here can be described a lot more in-depth in a dedicated blog post, hence I didn't do into too much detail about several of the concepts I mentioned. I am already writing some posts that cover some of this stuff more thoroughly, it's just that I take my time doing it as I want to make it as clear as possible without boring the hell out of the readers.

The goal of this post is to describe in more detail my process and some of the things I am thinking about when drawing. I hope this is helpful to anybody who is reading, and if it is feel free to let me know!

If there's anything you're interested to know from me, let me know as well and I can write about it here.

Cheers!

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[jemmo]

i remember doing this for the bad buddy rooftop kiss back in the day and now i need to do it for last twilight bc the combination of p’aof’s direction and jimmy’s performance has launched this scene into the stratosphere just based on the way mohk’s micro facial expressions tell this incredible complete story and give away how he’s feeling and how those feelings mix and change from one second to another and it is just mastery of this art at the finest level

from the moment day asks if there’s anyone out there that doesn’t pity him, you see mohk take this small breath and he is just looking at day for so long, like his insides are screaming me, right here, im that person, and it’s like the extent to which he is desperate to communicate that to day takes him back, it’s that overwhelming. but when we cut back to him again, he seems that slight bit more confident and sure of himself and you sense it more in the way he says day’s name with no doubt or fear. him saying day’s name is trying to get that attention, an attempt at communicating that meaning, that he’s here, like he’s about to say it before the moment kind of takes over and he finds himself acting on it instead of just saying the words, bc the moment demands the surety and conviction only an action can convey. so he starts to move forward, and even in this approach he starts with confidence, almost determination, with the smallest hint of sadness that mixes together to give this sense of him saying I’m mustering all my courage to do this and admit this to you bc I can’t handle the way my heart is breaking bc of the belief you have that all expressions of kindness and love towards you are born of pity. but then he swallows and blinks and in an instant, for the smallest final moment of that close up he softens, and he enters this moment where he is just mesmerized and taken by the moment and he’s inching closer and his eyes keep darting to day’s lips and you can feel that he’s body is moving on its own, bc then there is that gorgeous moments where he shakes and a shiver goes up his spine and he snaps out of it, the reality of the moment falls upon him, like oh my god, i was just going to kiss day. then in a millisecond that determination returns and he says yes i am going to kiss day. and I adore that moment more than i can put into words, that they make the distinction that this kiss isn’t just a hazy, caught up in the moment thing, it’s also mohk gathering up his courage and committing to doing this, its something he is actively choosing to do, he is conscious of it all. he’s had to draw this line and stand with his toes up against it keeping the correct distance from day bc of his duty, but now he is stepping over and he knows it, and all that comes with that. and then he does it, he leans in, and he stutters, the smallest to and fro like in the last moment he’s trying to see what wins out, the need to hold back or the need to give in, before he commits and it is done.

and then when day steps back and asks if mohk is pitying him too, god this moment is gonna stay in my head for a long time. it is two smirks, one that is tight with glassy eyes that betrays how his heart breaks that day would think that, and then he does the tiniest shake of his head that says no, no it’s not, how do i make you understand that it is not, and then he sighs with his whole body as he realises this is what I can do, decides this is what i need to do, this is what I want to do, and then we get that second goddamn smirk that in an instant manages to bring this lightness and joy to whole moment bc at the end of the day mohk is about to kiss the living daylights out of this man in front of him and there is no way he is not gonna be both smug and overjoyed by that, and there is this loveable smugness to that smirk bc mohk knows he is about to go in and shift day’s world on its axis and he’s doing it all bc he needs to know people can do things not bc they pity him, but bc they want to, and in that moment, it’s not a soft, gentle kiss that’s gonna make day realise that, but a kiss that sweeps him off his feet, a kiss that consumes him, bc plain and simple, you don’t kiss like that out of pity. and it has to be something deep and longing and carnal so that day will believe this is from somewhere deep inside mohk, both passionate and heartfelt, and it bursts into this sensory overload where mohk takes him and moves him so that their mouths meet, and that arm around his shoulders consumes him into this world that is just undisputed passion and want mixed with heartfelt romanticism and the tectonic plates shift, the cracks of the earth change and the planet rumbles and we are left on this cliffhanger clamoring to know what is going through day’s head, bc his world just shifted, what now??

and all that just through the microexpressions on mohk’s face. and not to forget day, i think it works perfectly that he is not expressive, or only expressive in the tiniest ways bc the whole point of this kiss was to take day, who was so stuck in his sadness and dejection, and turn his world on its head. and the beauty of this show for all the eps so far is that mohk is so expressive in his face while day can’t see any of that, cant see any of the nervousness or determination or love, he only knows it’s happening when it’s happening, and i wrote before about how the show can only progress once mohk has the bravery to put what his face expresses into words, but now he’s gone that step forward and put it into actions, actions that’s intent cannot be disputed. he’s made himself vulnerable and put himself on an equal level to day who is vulnerable bc of his condition, and left all the power in his hands to decide where this goes.

[foxs0x]

Ask game!

🥦 Can you share an old piece of work next to a newer piece and say what you've learned?

I just love seeing how people’s styles develop over time.

Ok I had this question from a couple of people so I’ve held onto this until I drew something new!

I have a comparison from 2015 to now, plus one from 2019 to show how much my style has actually changed over the years!

2015

2015 I bought some comic markers but I couldn’t get the hang of them. It was around this time I was phasing out of only drawing manga and trying to find my own style. I remember being quite proud of this. I’ve since put a lot of focus on drawing portraits and now I’m working on anatomy.

2018

In 2018 I was learning to shade and add texture but I stuck to black and white. I was really inspired by Greek mythology and heavy metal album covers. It was also the same year I got an iPad and started trying to learn digital art.

2024

I’m still learning and growing every day. I’m trying to learn colouring and shading 😂

I struggle with bodies and anatomy and I struggle with clothes and costuming, but I’ll get there!

I’ve learned to loosen up my sketches. I have a habit of obsessing over minute details that only slows me down. Now, I SCRIBBLE! Then I build something out of that. Below is something I’m trying to to work on. I literally just grabbed a pen and sketched. I usually skip the pencilling because I find it freeing to just commit lines to paper and work from there without having the power to erase it.

Under that is Astarion, which is an example of how I’m trying to learn to use colour palettes and drawing costumes. My BIGGEST challenge at the moment is trying to keep a movement or flow in my drawings because they usually look pretty stiff.