#and even still i feel like i'm no longer allowed to make my own art

[skwivr]

-

[hoshifighting]

Ways to Have a Man in the Palm of Your Hand.

— Synopsis: In the flow of uncertainty that defined your situationship with Mingyu, you decide to take action, making Mingyu start chasing after you like a loyal puppy. — WC: 3.9k — WARNINGS: Smut, unprotected sex, overstimulation, degradation, begging on knees, oral (f. receiving), fingering– he watches reader fingering herself, handjob, dick riding, penetrative sex, humiliating, manipulation and etc.

Your life connected with Mingyu's since you both first met through your groups of friends, and a situationship had emerged between you two. It was just sex, with no strings attached and no promises made.

Yet, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, it became challenging to keep your heart safe from the unpredictable tides of emotion.

Mingyu had a way of making you feel special. He'd surprise you with homemade dinners, he was attentive, considerate, and made sure to put your self-esteem on the highest with his skillful photography.

The tall and good-looking guy wasn't just amazing during sex; he was an enigma that both fascinated and frustrated you. Mingyu could vanish for days, leaving you on blue. But just as you were about to write him off, he'd resurface, as if nothing had happened. It was a maddening cycle, and yet, you found yourself caught in its web.

Mingyu: Hey! Been swamped asf with work lately. Let's grab coffee or something stronger soon? Let me know when you're free!

You couldn't help but scoff as you read Mingyu's message. His casual tone and nonchalant invitation stirred a mix of irritation and amusement within you. Swiftly typing a response, you questioned his unpredictable appearances.

You: Are you planning on always popping up out of nowhere like this?

Mingyu: I always come back, don't I? So, when are we catching up darling?

Despite the inner conflict and your ego's warning signals, there was an undeniable allure to Mingyu's charm. His words, laced with playfulness, had a magnetic effect that bypassed rational thoughts. With a sigh, you found yourself succumbing to the familiar pull.

The room was filled with the echoes of skin slapping as you both lay on Mingyu's bed, your eyes locked as you two moaned out loud, the crescendo of pleasure punctuated by the rhythmic thud of the bed against the wall.

Mingyu lays beside you, the heat of the moment still lingering between your bodies. You rose from the tangled sheets, picking up your scattered clothes. Mingyu's gaze remained fixed on you, an intensity that betrayed a deeper connection than the situationship allowed. 

"I really like spending time with you Y/N" 

"Me too Gyu." 

[...]

Seungkwan leaned in "Okay, spill. What's the latest drama with Mingyu?"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Honestly, I can't figure him out. It's like a cycle. We talk every day for a month, hang out, fuck, and then poof! He disappears for a week or more. I don't get it."

Seungkwan chuckled knowingly. "You know, maybe you should try something. Do the same to him, but take it up a notch. Make him miss you even more."

You furrowed your eyebrows, slightly taken aback. "Seungkwan, I'm not into playing games or being spiteful. It's not my style."

He waved his hand dismissively. "No, no, hear me out. It's not about being spiteful. It's about making him realize what he's missing. Mingyu knows you'll always be there, right? So, he takes it for granted. Maybe he needs a taste of his own medicine."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. "And how exactly do I do that?"

Your mouth hung open as Seungkwan delivered his comprehensive lesson in the art of emotional tactics. The confidence in his advice left you both amazed and slightly apprehensive. Unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you finally asked the burning question.

"How on earth do you know all of this, Seungkwan?" you inquired, eyes wide with disbelief.

Seungkwan leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, my dear friend, when you've been in the game as long as I have and witnessed enough romantic dramas unfold, you start picking up on patterns. It's like a survival guide for the heart."

You raised an eyebrow, still processing the information. "Survival guide, huh? And all this contempt, playing hard to get, and hurting egos – that's your secret weapon?"

Seungkwan chuckled, "Not a secret weapon, sometimes, a little strategic move can make all the difference. Trust me, I've seen it all."

With Seungkwan's advice resonating in your mind like a strategic playbook, you approached the next phase of your relationship with Mingyu, with a newfound determination. It felt like diving into a complex homework assignment, each step carefully calculated to shift the dynamics in your favor.

As you decided to implement the first step, a newfound sense of liberation washed over you. You stopped responding to Mingyu's messages immediately and resisted the urge to initiate contact. It felt strange at first, but there was a sense of power in reclaiming your time and not being at his beck and call. Mingyu's messages awaited your attention. 

The challenge of making Mingyu realize he could lose you sparked a newfound determination. Your calendar filled up with plans that didn't involve Mingyu. Mingyu, accustomed to your constant availability, seemed to sense the change, though he couldn't quite pinpoint it. He might have been the object of desire for many hoes, but your indifference challenged his accustomed narrative. 

After all, a man is not more important than your personal goals, right?

All while allowing Mingyu to observe your life unfolding without him. The realization that you were not waiting by the phone for him sparked a large curiosity.

Throughout the process, a mix of emotions surfaced. Doubt, at times, whispered in the back of your mind – was this the right approach? Seungkwan's advice, unconventional as it was, had brought a shift in Mingyu's behavior. Now, you wondered how Mingyu would respond to the transformed version of you – a person who refused to be taken for granted.

Mingyu's relentless messages flooded your phone. The janitor, a silent witness to the unfolding drama, discreetly shared the news of Mingyu's visits to your condominium entrance. Three times he had appeared, seeking a glimpse of you, only to be met with the absence of your presence, the deliberate distance, and the air of indifference were beginning to provoke a reaction from him.

You were determined to see this journey through, to understand whether Mingyu's renewed interest was genuine or a fleeting reaction to the perceived loss of control.

The persistent pings of Mingyu's messages had become a constant background noise in your life, infiltrating your workdays and even interrupting the serene moments of your brunches.

"Free today, Ms. Busy?"

"Pls respond to me. :(("

"Why are you acting like this?"

"Wtf…"

"Omggg, when are you going to answer me properly?"

"I'll invade your house."

"Y/N-ieeee, pleaseee!"

"I really want to see you right now."

"You make me so confused :("

The encounter at the pedestrian crossing unfolded in a scene of unexpected tension. Mingyu, spotting you in the midst of your Sunday morning run with Seungkwan, seized the opportunity to bridge the gap that had grown between you. As you halted, waiting for the light to change, Mingyu approached, a mixture of eagerness and confusion etched across his face.

"Hey there! Fancy meeting you here," Mingyu greeted, attempting to strike up a conversation.

Seungkwan, standing beside you, looked on with a side-eyed glance, a smirk playing on his lips as he sipped casually from his water bottle. As the pedestrian light shifted to green, you seized the moment to extricate yourself from the short encounter. "Sorry, Mingyu, I really need to finish my morning walk. Catch you later," you excused yourself, leaving Mingyu standing there, perplexed and surrounded by the bustling activity of the street.

He couldn't shake off the confusion – Why weren't you responding as before? Why weren't you as available as you used to be? Did you at least still like him? It dawned on Mingyu that the game had changed, and he wasn't sure if he understood the rules anymore. The pursuit, once fueled by the expectation of your constant availability, now seemed to slip through his fingers like grains of sand. The reality of being just one among the many who sought your attention was a bitter pill to swallow.

[...]

The doorbell's unexpected chime disrupted the tranquility of your self-care routine, with moisturized skin and a mind ready for a cozy movie night, you approached the door, curiosity dancing in your eyes.

As you swung the door open, the sulky face of Mingyu greeted you. A momentary pause hung in the air, your eyes meeting his in silent expectation. Before you could utter a word, Mingyu stepped inside, dropping to his knees and hugging your legs as if seeking solace.

Surprised by his sudden display of vulnerability, you widen your eyes, caught off guard by the intensity of his reaction. The door lingered ajar, and you managed to close it, arms crossed, a mixture of confusion and caution etched on your face.

Mingyu, still hugging your legs, looked up at you with pleading eyes, his voice laden with remorse. "What did I do, Y/N? Why are you treating me like this? I'm sorry."

"Hm?"

He looked up at you, his eyes brimming with a mix of confusion and regret. "I just… I don' understand. I miss you," he admitted, his voice trailing off.

Your initial surprise transformed into a mix of emotions – disbelief, a hint of empathy, and the need to assert your newfound boundaries. Crossed arms and a measured gaze met Mingyu's desperate expression. The sudden intrusion into your personal space prompted a silent assessment of the situation.

"What did you expect, Mingyu?" you countered, your voice steady but laced with the weight of unspoken questions. "You disappear, then reappear, and now you're kneeling in my living room. What's going on?"

"I messed up, okay? I thought I could keep things casual, but I didn't expect to feel like this. I miss the way things used to be between us." he confessed, his voice carrying a raw honesty.

"You ask me to come to your house, and then after you get what you wanted, you let me go. Do I look like a food delivery or something?" you confronted Mingyu, your words cutting through the charged silence that hung in the room.

Mingyu's eyes widened at your accusation, shock and a hint of hurt registering on his face. "No, no, no, Y/N, it wasn't like that."

You raised an eyebrow, a mix of skepticism and frustration evident in your expression. "It feels like you only want me around when it's convenient for you."

Mingyu, still on his knees, looked up at you, his eyes pleading for understanding. "It's not like that. I just... I didn't want to push you. I thought you preferred it this way."

You sighed, the weight of the unresolved tension palpable. "Mingyu, I can't read your mind. If you want me to stay, you have to say it. Communication goes both ways."

"Y/N, I'm truly sorry. I'll do whatever you want. I didn't see you as just a fleeting thing, and I want to be present."

Mingyu's earnest apology hung in the air, a plea for understanding and a promise to change. As he laid his face on your bare thighs, expressing his sincere regret, you cut through the moment with a tsk sound, a dismissive gesture that left him wide-eyed and caught off guard.

"Poor boy, begging on his knees for attention. What a shame," you remarked, a hint of teasing in your voice as you observed his reaction.

Mingyu, his hands now gripping each side of your thighs, sat back on his feet, his expression a mix of surprise and a subtle flush coloring his cheeks. He hadn't anticipated this response, your playful teasing catching him off guard.

"You didn't see me as a fleeting thing?" you continued, your tone mockingly contemplative. "Well, Mingyu, this is quite a sight – you, on your knees, practically begging for my attention. I'd never do something like this."

His widened eyes met yours, uncertainty and a trace of embarrassment flickering in them. Mingyu's bit his lip, cheeks flushing deeper.

"I'll do whatever you want, Y/N. Just tell me," Mingyu replied, his hands still holding your thighs.

You let out a soft chuckle, running a hand through his hair as you continued your teasing. "Oh, Mingyu-ah, the mighty one on his knees. Maybe you'll learn to appreciate what you have when it's not handed to you on a silver platter. Now, let's see if you can keep up with your promises."

As you spoke, Mingyu's cheeks continued to flush, a complex dance of emotions playing out on his face.  "How can you forgive me?" 

Mingyu's question hung in the air, a genuine plea for forgiveness. You paused, considering the weight of his words, before adopting a more serious tone.

"Get up," you instructed him, your voice carrying a command that seemed to catch him off guard.

Mingyu, without hesitation, rose to his feet from his submissive position. His eyes fixed on you. An arched eyebrow and a smirk played on your face, savoring the moment of dominance as you instructed him to follow you.

The atmosphere grew charged with anticipation as Mingyu attentively trailed behind you, his eyes inevitably drawn to your body covered only by a shirt. The click of your bedroom door signaled a shift in the dynamics, and when you turned to face him, his eagerness manifested in an attempted kiss.

Your finger halted his advance, a calculated pause preceding your question, "Do you think you deserve to kiss me?"

Mingyu, his eyes reflecting a mix of longing and remorse, shook his head no. Your smirk deepened as you delivered a verdict that left him whimpering.

"Then you won't kiss me today."

A whimper escaped Mingyu's lips, a sound that echoed the frustration and desire that simmered beneath the surface. The unexpected turn of events had left him yearning for a connection, yet you, in your assertive control, denied him that solace.

As the tension hung in the air, Mingyu's eyes glistened with unshed tears. The dynamics between you had taken a surprising turn, a power play that left both of you navigating the intricate threads of desire, forgiveness, and the consequences of a maybe – ex-complicated situationship.

With a commanding tone, you instructed Mingyu to kneel once again, a subtle smirk playing on your lips. He obeyed, sinking down to his knees with a mix of anticipation and eagerness. The air in the room crackled with a palpable tension as you laid down the terms.

"If you act like a good boy, maybe I'll forgive you," you declared, your voice carrying a hint of authority.

Mingyu nodded earnestly, a silent pledge to abide by your terms. As you proceeded to remove your shirt, next your pantie, allowing it to fall to the floor, the atmosphere became charged with a new layer of intensity. 

"How much do you want this pussy Mingyu?" you inquired, the question hanging in the air as you observed Mingyu's reaction. His shoulders slumped, a subtle expression of desire and longing evident on his face.

"A lot," he moaned, the words escaping his lips with a mixture of need and surrender. Your legs spread open, an invitation too tempting, as he feels his mouth waters at the view. 

"Open your mouth," you commanded Mingyu, your voice carrying an air of authority. He complied without hesitation, anticipation flickering in his eyes.

As he held his mouth open, you slid two fingers inside, the intimate contact a subtle exploration of boundaries and desire. Mingyu's tongue teased your fingers, a provocative dance that elicited a hiss from you.

"No teasing," you admonished, a note of warning in your voice. With a swift motion, you delivered a little slap to his chin as you withdrew your fingers from his mouth. The air crackled with a newfound tension, a moment that blurred the lines between control and submission.

Mingyu furrowed his eyebrows, as he watched your fingers slowly disappearing inside of your cunt, your fingers and your slick gushes out of you, and all he can do is watch. He sits patiently on his feet, watching your fingers leaving and entering your pussy in a too provocative rhythm. His bottom lip quivering to the desire of eating you out.

"Please Y/N…"

"What?''

"Please, let me eat you out, it looks so good…"

To tease him even more, you fastened your fingers, moaning while your cunt sounded like Mingyu's favorite song, wet, luscious, mouthwatering, appetizing, tempting. He cries out, his hands together on his lap. "Please, I beg you, I missed you so bad." 

The room was charged with a blend of anticipation and surrender as you stopped, taking a moment to look at Mingyu's mournful face. The desire in his eyes was palpable, and the silent plea for what he had begged for lingered in the air.

With a subtle nod, you allowed him to fulfill his request. Mingyu, starved and eager, approached the task with a concentration that hinted at a deep desire to please you. As he held you with a gentle yet fervent touch, mouthing your pussy, licking you clean, his focus on your pleasure was unwavering. The way he clung to you conveyed a fear of losing you, made you mewl as he sucked your clit, you held onto the sheets, a silent anchor in the sea of sensations. Mingyu's devotion and the way he concentrated on your pleasure only intensified the building release within you. Like a wave, you're cumming all over his mouth and chin, he hums in response flickering your clit with his tongue.

"Enough." You breathe out, closing your legs. "Strip, and lay for me." 

Mingyu rose from the floor, a determined look on his face, seemingly oblivious to any discomfort his knees might be feeling. The sounds of his clothing being discarded echoed in the room, punctuated by the soft thud as he settled onto the bed. The mattress shifted as he moved closer, his warm touch caressing your arm.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, his voice a low murmur, a hint of curiosity and desire lingering in the air.

"Don't touch me," you instructed Mingyu, your tone carrying a note of command as you climbed onto his lap. Leaving him momentarily frozen, his hands hovering in the air, uncertain of where to go.

The close proximity of his cock intensified the wetness between your thighs. Mingyu, eager and responsive, looked at you with a mix of desire and restraint, his hands now cautiously placed together on his chest.

The atmosphere crackled with a blend of dominance and submission as you straddled Mingyu, humping your wet pussy against his cock, your movements deliberate and provocative. His moans in response to your degrading words only heightened the intensity of the moment.

"Oh my god, look at you," you cooed, your voice a mix of mockery and desire. "I just stopped paying attention to you, and you came fucking begging me to talk with you. You're humiliating, Mingyu."

His moans, a symphony of pleasure and submission, filled the room. Mingyu's response to your degrading words conveyed a complex dance of desire and self-awareness. The acknowledgment that he deserved the degradation.

The room filled with a momentary hush as you sank your hips, Mingyu's length now fully inside. He shut his eyes, a silent surrender to the sensations that enveloped him. 

The unspoken admission hung in the air—though you wouldn't openly admit it, there was a trace of longing, a subtle acknowledgment that, despite the complexities, you had missed him a little. The air became charged with a mix of desire and restraint as your hips rode him, his length fully fulfilling the connection between you.

His angry tip brushed against that special spot, sending a surge of pleasure through both of you, cause now, you were so tight around him. "I'm going to cum, f-fuck"

"You better not." 

The charged atmosphere intensified as you edged Mingyu, denying him release, while simultaneously relishing in the control you held over his pleasure. He gasped for air, his eyes clenched shut, a desperate attempt to hold back as your dominating presence and the sensations of your movements threatened to overwhelm him.

Your hips moved with a purposeful intensity, driving him to the edge, and his body contorted in a desperate attempt to maintain control. The struggle was evident in the way his breath hitched and his eyes rolled back, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure that surged through him.

"I-I can't hold it anymore," he stuttered, his voice strained with the effort of restraint.

"If you cum, I will-"

The moment of release was inevitable. Mingyu's hot cum filled you, triggering your own orgasm, he cried out your name, making your wall clench harder around him.

As Mingyu managed a string of apologies, you allowed him to slide out of you, leaving his lap coated with both of your arousal, your legs damp with his seed. 

The scoff echoed in the room, a mix of amusement and assertion. However, your actions spoke a different language. As you tighten your legs around the sides of Mingyu's legs, restraining his movement, your hands take control, pumping his cock fast. The focus on his red tip elicited a loud cry from Mingyu, his back lifting off the mattress in response to the overstimulation.

The wet sounds filled the bedroom as the intensity of your touch drove him to the edge. Mingyu's hands gripped the pillow beneath his head, a desperate attempt to anchor himself in the whirlwind of sensations that consumed him.

As Mingyu's body trembled under the heightened sensations, he felt a knot tightening in his abdomen, a sensation he hadn't anticipated. The overwhelming intensity built up to a point where he couldn't contain it anymore. A primal scream tore from his lips, his body convulsing in the throes of another orgasm.

His cum pooled on his abdomen, a physical manifestation of the powerful release that coursed through him. You observed his trembling body, struck by the raw intensity of his response. Mingyu's reaction seemed to surpass any previous experiences, his vulnerability and ecstasy on display in a way you hadn't witnessed before.

"Sorry, I came without your permission…"

"Enough with the sorry's, Mingyu," you said with a soft smile. "Let's just take a bath."

As the warm water cascaded around you, cleansing away the external worries, you both found solace in the simplicity of the moment. Emerging from the bath, you lay on the bed alone, the silence speaking volumes. Mingyu, holding his shirt, stood in contemplation. His gaze met yours, and he released a breath he seemed to have been holding.

The room felt charged with unspoken emotions when Mingyu finally gathered the courage to ask, "Can we sleep together tonight? Can I stay here with you?"

His eyes held a lot of shyness, and for a moment, you felt a genuine change in the air. You bit your lip, a subtle smile playing on your lips. In response, you patted the bed twice, a silent invitation for him to join you.

Mingyu threw his shirt away with a smile, a blend of shyness and excitement. He settled on the bed, maintaining a cautious distance, uncertain about what the night held. Your gaze met his, and you turned to face him. His eyes sparkled, and with a newfound boldness, he closed the gap and hugged you tightly.

"Don't be away from me again," he whispered, his voice tinged with vulnerability. And for the first time in those weeks, you let yourself savor the sweet taste of his pink soft lips, making him melt in response.

You smiled, your palms sliding gently along his back. The walls that once stood between you seemed to crumble as Mingyu embraced you, his actions speaking louder than any words. In that moment, it felt like a page turned, and a new chapter began.

Well, Seungkwan, you knew a lot. The five ways to have a man in the palm of your hand indeed. 

[pomrania]

Smaugust: "glow"

For Smaugust I am drawing cats as dragons. If you want me to draw your cat as a dragon, reblog this post with a photo of your cat, as well as the cat's name included in the body of the post. Read below the cut for full details; it's the same as in previous years.

This particular post is accepting requests so long as it's still 22 August 2024 somewhere in the world. If it's no longer that date, check my blog to see if there's a current post.

One request per person per day, and only one cat per request. It is acceptable, and even encouraged, to make a request for every day of Smaugust.

Cats will be dragonified in accordance with the theme for the day, given in the post's title. I'm using the prompts from @pencilcat's list, although not necessarily in the given order.

Non-cats are allowed so long as you provide reasons why the animal in question is actually totally a cat.

Check the date given at the top of the post, to see if requests are open for it. Unless it's literally impossible, I'll be drawing and then posting every valid request I've received; however, sometimes that gets done once requests are closed for a post. So just because I reblog this post and add art to it, that doesn't necessarily mean it's okay to make your own request (doesn't necessarily mean that it's not okay, either).

One thing that's changed from last year: there won't be a post for every day in August. I'll be deciding each day whether I feel up to making a new post (and thus taking requests) at the moment, or if I need to work on the requests I still have, or take a rest. Since I can't guarantee that requests will be open for any given day, if you know ahead of time that you're not going to be available on certain days but you'd still like to see your cat drawn as a dragon, get in touch with me ahead of time, because I'd hate for anyone to have to miss out.

The deadline for requests on a particular post is "when it's no longer that day anywhere in the world". This is because I hate fiddling with time zones. If you're in the Americas, this means anywhere from a couple to a bunch of hours past midnight, depending on where you live; in Europe, it's longer than that; for the rest of the world, listen I don't actually know where the international date line is (if that's what it's called) and I don't care enough to look it up. In practice, the deadline is "whenever I get online the next day", unless I'm sufficiently annoyed or particular that I'll actually check the date stamps.

I'd prefer for you to only give me one picture per request that you want drawn as a dragon, because then I don't have to choose. However, it's perfectly okay to include extra photos if you just want to show off your cat; I'd just ask that if there's more than two of them, that you put them under a cut so they won't take up too much room on anyone's dash.

[creaman]

Hi there! I apologize for taking up your time, I am just so curious: When you tackle a comic, what does the process behind it look like?

Asking because I found myself scrolling through your blog once again and couldn't help but marvel at all the beautiful effects you use, at how flawlessly the structure guides the viewer's eye across each page, how the graphic weight seems to always be in just the right places…, and wonder how you learned doing this. Everything you put out looks incredibly professional and I aspire to reach your level of skill 😌❤️

Thank you Finz!! You're no bother at all, I'm an open book. This is such high praise for a guy that really doesn't have a set process, I feel like a hack. Ha. Rest assured my style is still developing. Besides the referencing of the linework and composition of official comic books, (practicing by redrawing panels for fun), explaining the process makes me feel like a serial killer but I will do my best.

(WIP Riddler panel, scrapped Scarecrow composition)

My comics usually stem from a single panel or concept — I like to focus on/emphasise particular panels of my pages, the heavy hitters, the main piece that catches your eye. I know I'm not a profoundly technically proficient artist so I prefer visually interesting elements and formatting, i.e. drawing characters outside their frames, negative space, notation, perspectives etc.

(Kung Fu Panda 4 sketch god I hate Kung Fu Panda 4)

I like to establish 'main focus' panels, the bits of the comic that really, well. make people want to chew on it. This is where the technical effort is concentrated, really, and the rest of the comic is generally build around these concepts.

('Restaurant Balthazar' focus panels)

Textures and effects are done on individual panels first, then the entire page as a whole to even out the unity. Generally, blocking in shadows, hatching for visual interest + middle tones, then textures/half-tones, then highlights.

(Script excerpt WIP)

I'm not a writer per se, but having a vague 'script' in your pages helps with pacing and direction. Comics are a versatile story-telling medium. I only really do scripts for comics longer than 2 pages. An optional but recommended strat is to send your script to a friend for a second opinion.

(Script excerpt — 'Restaurant Balthazar', annotated by @vincepti0n I don't know why he drew a face in the middle)

With the script crudely slapped together, I rough out the thumbnails and composition with the text, prioritising coherence and clean integration of previously mentioned 'main focus' panels.

Settling on a composition sucks the hardest. Drawing is fun, thinking makes brain hurty. Variety is good! Close-ups, wide shots, visual metaphors. Every panel is its own artwork.

The text bubbles are usually added in post, yes, but I'm just one guy and I don't have a writer to call me a good boy for doing things correctly. Bite me.

(Early 'Restaurant Balthazar' drafts)

In addition, keeping the text graphics in mind help create a sounder composition wherein even if the panels don't read cleanly left to right + top to bottom, the text can stagger and create the same reading order effect.

Panels and concepts are constantly tweaked, and my comic process is still highly experimental. A lot of industry standard comics aren't illustrated to their full potential due to deadlines and such — I strive for visual epiphany by treating each panel as its own artwork, and every page as a a bit of a mural.

(Old art hurts the soul)

Constantly experimenting allows you the insight of looking at your current art in comparison to your older works. In more recent works, I've been blocking in more shadows wiht lineart with thinner lines and more line weight, and learned to integrate the subject characters with less plain, abstract backgrounds.

TLDR: I have no idea

[ashestoroses018]

A Missed Opportunity

Astarion never comes to confess to you before Moonlight Tower.

Being the BAMF you are, you confront him with the dreaded "what are we" conversation.

Short, sweet, to the point. Idiots in love confessing to each other.

Astarion watches you from his tent. He does it constantly, and you are well-aware of it. Sometimes, you purposefully catch his eye, your own gleaming with intent. He never backs down, yet he never acts on your significant looks, either. Tonight, you decide, enough is enough. You're nearly to Baldur's Gate, now, after two months of traveling with your erstwhile companions - your band of misfits, if you will. Hells, you're supposed to arrive in Rivington in two days' time.  Enough is enough. If you are just prey or just a plaything, you deserve to know, at least so you can make an educated decision for yourself. You should be allowed to decide if you're willing to be a...a plaything forever or not. You're not completely certain you're against it, considering the depth of your feelings for the man, but you still deserve to have a choice in the matter. He owes you that much, at least. 

Heaving a great breath - one you didn't even realize you'd been holding - you stand up from your seat at the campfire and do your best to stride confidently to Astarion's tent. His eyes widen a fraction; if you weren't so familiar with his facial expressions, you likely would have missed it. 

"Astarion," you say, "we need to talk. Now."

"Why, whatever about, darling? Have you changed your mind about our little deal? I would hate to lose such a scrumptious snack, but I understand if I must."

You shake your head in the negative. "No, Astarion. We need to talk about, well, us."

He puts his wine glass down and rakes a hand - quite elegantly, mind you - through his artfully disheveled hair. "Must we?"

"Yes," you say, firmly steeling what little resolve you have.

"Fine." He huffs, grabbing you by the hand and leading you quickly and quietly to a nearby grove. The need for privacy seems to be at an all-time high, you think idly. 

"What do you want to know, Tav?"

"Everything. We've slept together once, over a month ago, after the party, and I've been your dinner every night for even longer. Am I just a plaything to you? A toy?"

He lets out an anguished groan. "No. You're not."

You blink. You blink again. A third time, you blink. You'd not been expecting that. 

Noticing your obvious confusion, he rakes a much less graceful hand through his hair, which is now in a much less artful disarray, you note. He's obviously disgruntled, or, perhaps...frustrated? With you? With himself? All of the above?

"You haven't ever been 'just' a plaything. At first." He sighs once again, "you were a...means to an end. It was supposed to be simple. I seduce you, use you for protection, maybe food... But damn it all, you had to go and be...nice!...in a way I've never experienced before. Nobody has ever  given me a choice before, at least, not since Cazador turned me. But you, Tav, you give me choices all the time! To feed on you or not, to pick campsites, to hunt various animals for everyone's dinner, including my own...To not bite that strange Drow woman." He visibly shivers at the mention of the Blood Alchemist.

Through all of this, you just stare at him in a dumb, stunned silence. 

"Do you get what I'm saying, Tav? I don't really know WHAT you are, but you're so much more than a plaything or a means to an end. You deserve something...real. I want us to be something real."

Breaking out of your stupor, you sidle closer. "May I kiss you?"

Astarion gives you an affronted look of pure indignation. "I pour my heart and soul out to you, and you think you need to ask to kiss me?"

You merely nod. "You always have a choice, Astarion. Always."

With a quiet growl, he surges toward you with inhuman speed and pulls you into a ferocious, bruising, breathless kiss.

A moment later, when you break for air, you smirk. "Nice of you to profess your undying love for me, Astarion!"

The squeak of pure indignation is worth the scowl he throws your way for the next few minutes. It goes away, however, when you whisper in his ear that you feel the same.

[scuttlingcrab]

Raphael reacting to being given a surprise little peck on the cheek. Just a brief and sweet little thing and the kisser is already gone before he can really do anything.

I made it so Tav kissed Raphael on the lips instead, brief and sweet as you suggested; but still shocking to the Devil, hehe. Tav always seems to get Raphael's knickers in a twist.

Summary: Raphael is fuming after Tav shows absolutely zero decorum, kissing him in the middle of an important meeting between prospective clients. How will the Devil manage? 

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

Only a Kiss

(Image via certifieddilfenjoyer)

The Devil gingerly sipped his wine, no longer cringing at its watered down consistency. Each taste allowed him to make a careful observation of the reception, a mere glance was all he needed to sense whether the evening was going in his favour. And it most certainly was, despite it feeling like he was stuck in an infinite loop of monotony.

Raphael stood in the dining hall of a soon-to-be forgotten Duchess. A group of Faerûn’s most politically influential women surrounded him, cramming into the room like fish in a barrel. These parties were all nonsense to Raphael, another trite characteristic of his role as the resident Devil. 

The establishment was stuffy, not due to the growing crowd, but from the obvious lack of taste. Paintings decorated every inch of the walls, statues filled every corner, and none of the art seemed to co-exist. Each piece was random, gaudy, and only attempted to achieve one thing to any unlucky guest who was smart enough to see through the facade. 

Wealth! Status! Luxury! A tawdry display and an overt cry for help. 

Raphael pursed his lips. Was he the only one there who had even a sliver of self-respect? Who understood the complexities of art?

But of course he was. 

The evening was growing late and these mortals were on the verge of tipping over, their goblets overflowing with the very wine that coursed through their veins. Raphael was stuck entertaining them until they signed his contract.

It didn't matter. He would consume their souls and move on; just a little longer and this next batch of cattle would be herded into their pens for slaughter.

Raphael opened his mouth as he prepared to continue the dragging exchange, but he was taken by a sudden gush of air. Within seconds, his mouth was locked with a stranger's in a delicate kiss.

He blinked, a pair of striking blue eyes within inches of his own. Soft hands cradled his face. Cloves and roses. That smell. Those eyes. The sheer display of indecency. Tav. 

The fleeting act stunned the Devil. Before he could speak, move, or incincinerate; Tav winked, quickly disappearing into the crowd. 

“Lord Raphael! I didn’t realise…” One guest began. 

The herd of women grew excited, sharing hushed whispers with each other. A few of them began giggling. 

“Far from it, I’m afraid.” Raphael cleared his throat, adjusting his collar.  

“Well, that kiss told me everything I needed to know.” Another woman continued. She raised her brows high, a suggestive glint growing brighter in her eyes. “Your reputation precedes you, my Lord. Perhaps we can look at adding something similar to our agreement?”

He was going to destroy Tav, remove them from existence once and for all.

A thousand deadly thoughts ran through his mind at once, causing him to go into overdrive. The things he could do to them. Would do to them. He would make them beg for forgiveness, in every way imaginable, before he would even consider giving them the freedom of death.

“Of course I'm always open to discussing terms with prospective clients… but I am unfortunately unavailable.” Raphael responded. 

The women groaned in disappointment, a few of them, the richest ones, dismissed Raphael almost instantly. As they began to break away from the group, he could feel the threads of his perfect plan unravelling. Chaos closed in, circling him, suffocating him.  

“No need to fret, my dears. I have something for you that I don’t offer to just anyone, guaranteed to exceed all expectations. You will find them a far more pleasant experience, I’m sure.” 

This not only stopped the women from disbanding, but actually seemed to excite them. 

“Oh my Lord, forever a tease. Do tell us more!” One of them shouted. 

Raphael’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the empty chalice. He could feel his internal temperature bubbling as it rose. The chalice began to bend from the heat, slowly drooping like a dying flower.

He bit the side of his tongue, bowing respectfully. 

“I operate under the shadow of discretion. If you will allow me, you’ll soon be able to have a little taste, and discover first hand what awaits you upon signature.”

As the women huddled closer to Raphael, devouring every word from his lips, he searched the room for the culprit. That vile, unhonorable creature. He spotted them at the far end of the room, chatting with an unfamiliar face. 

He continued to glare at Tav, hoping his scathing gaze would pierce through their chest. The longer he stared at them, the more he hoped they’d feel his eyes on them; daring them to glance in his direction.  

When there was no response, Raphael set the tip of Tav’s outfit on fire with a flick of his wrist. He watched in pleasure as the flames slowly grew, nearly reaching their knees before they reacted to the warmth.

Tav jumped back, quickly killing the flames with a spell. Their cheeks grew redder as they tried to laugh off the embarrassment. Tav rubbed the back of their neck, looking around the room until their eyes caught Raphael’s. 

The Devil tilted his head in acknowledgment, a smile filled with scorn and amusement overtaking his lips. 

Try something like that again, little mouse, his expression hoped to convey; and he’ll be sure to leave them with permanent scars next time. 

Raphael soon discarded Tav from his mind, he wouldn’t waste anymore time thinking about that creature. He gathered the rest of his energy for the upcoming engagement at hand, the final one of the evening.

“Madams,” he began, turning back to the women. “This soirée has grown rather dull. Perhaps it’s time we move things somewhere more secluded as we close our deal? I think my House of Hope would suffice, no? Besides, there is someone who is dying to make your acquaintance.”

[hotluncheddie]

t4t chubby autistic steddie GO

i have been thinking about this (nsfw from twitter!!) art lately so i am here with u <3

even tho i get nervous to write trans characters, idk why, i just don't wanna mess it up i think

but im doing my best!! bc autistic and gender exploration are very lovely wonderful cozy subjects so i'm gonna focus on that

this is such a string of ideas but - 4 u <3 :3c

Stevie leaves with Eddie and Robin, taking their trust fund and leaving their parents to it - too the rest of their lives - without her. Like the Harringtons always hoped, really.

Stevie doesn't need them, the money is useful but they offer nothing more to her.

She's able to buy an apartment. In Chicago. With her loves. They learn how to live. How to live together. How to be at peace.

There's big bright widows in the main space, with light and air and the sunset. The two bedrooms are cozy and warm and it's a place for them all to grow.

'There's chips here.' Eddie says. They have a matching day off and she's trying to practice what it is to do nothing, to truly rest. Eddie helps, by being there, keeping her still with his hands and his love.

But Stevie tenses up, she was snacking, has been snacking, trying to learn her hunger signals better - what they feel like to her. It was always a rule not to east in her room, not to eat between meals. But she was hungry, she had a snack.

'I'm not judging, I'm saying so we remember to take it out next time one of us goes to the kitchen.' Eddie says, coming back from changing the tape, kissing her. Kissing her and kissing her.

Stevie relaxes.

'You've gained a little weight.' Robin says, laying on Stevies thighs on the couch, crocheting while Stevie watches sports and rubs her knuckles agains her teeth, twirling a strand of Robins hair in her fingers.

She looks down at her best friend. Robin looks back at her.

Robin smiles.

'It's good. You look more like you than you ever have before.'

Stevie smiles back. Tries not to cry.

Stevie letting herself change, relax. Unlearn those eating habits that helped her feel in control. Instead allowing herself to enjoy, and eat the things she wants to, the things she likes.

Eats pasta every night for a month and doesn’t feel bad about it. Doesn’t force herself to eat kale because she hates it, spinach is good enough. She is good enough.

Eddie gets little chubbier, in this new life. After recovering from nearly dying. Explains to Stevie in his long lilting way that he likes it, feels more protected, like his skin isn’t so fragile now.

He’s never liked his body but now he truly knows how short life is, and, maybe he can learn to like this new one. In this new place, in the love that surrounds him.

Plus, the bats destroyed his chest. So without that in the way, no longer lurking and potentially ruining his day. He realises he can shed that background fixation he always seemed to have with thinness. The idea that it would make him look more masculine or more androgynous. Curves were for girls and Eddie was not. That.

But now, now, who fucking cares. He’s alive. He needs to eat.

Steve feels a finger trailing over her hip, dipping into the band of her underwear, skimming over her crack and the the ridges of stretch marks that lead up to her waist.

'So so pretty' Eddie whispers, and it's filled with so much awe, so much grace, so much reverence and love.

Stevie shivers, feeling endless and grounded and like her body is here and hers and everything she ever dreamed of because it exists now.

She puts her hand under her loose shirt, cupping her belly. Skin still sleep warm and the energy of her palm seems to cover her whole body in warmth, in light and softness. Tinging and bright. Still being traced lightly by the love of her life. But being loves by her own hands, now, too.

She exists. And finally, everything is beautiful.

[squishy-lombax]

I got bit by the Scooby-Doo bug and really wanted to make my own AU, which I'm calling "Groovy Scooby." I grew up watching Scooby-Doo and it's always been a big part of my life. Seeing other people make their own redesigns and AUs really got my gears turning. This took forever to make and I still need to work on the dogs and the Mystery Machine. I decided to go ahead and post the human characters at least, though.

Here's some fun facts from my AU:

Shaggy * Hates his hair cut due to a past traumatic experience. At this point, only Daphne is allowed to help tame his mop of hair. * Was diagnosed with diabetes as a child. He manages it well with a pump and service dog. *Into recreational drugs like marijuana to help ease his issues with anxiety. Overall a big advocate for mental health and hidden disabilities. *Believes gender is more of a construct and doesn't think clothing should be gatekept. Isn't shy to wear women's clothes. * Doesn't have a good relationship with his parents due to them sending him to boot-camp in order to "fix" him his gay tendencies years ago. * Knows how to operate most guns and even own ones the rest of the gang doesn't know about. However, he hopes never to use it because he's ironically anti-gun.

Daphne * Bimbo with a brain. Enjoys acting dumb for the attention but is very aware she looks good and knows how to use it to her advantage. * Makes money with her side-hustle of vlogging their van-life and making videos about true-crime. * Enjoys childish things like plushies and games, being a firm believer in the "cringe culture is dead" mentality. One of her favorite things to do is bring up Just Dance on Youtube and force the rest of the gang to dance with her. * Has been taking jiu jitsu since she was little but tends to forget it if panicked. Overall, very much enjoys fitness including jogging, yoga, and yeti tumbler collecting. * Generally goes with the flow, letting the gang make most decisions related to plans and activities. However, if she really wants something, she always gets her way. * Loves horror/thriller/slasher media, with her favorite being the classic Scream. Poor Shaggy cannot be in the same room when she's watching horror movies.

Velma * Loves to paint and draw. Overall a big arts and crafts hoe. * Refuses to shave. Will never apologize to insecure men. * The only one in the gang who graduated collage, which is in social sciences and history. Everyone else is a drop-out. * She is farsighted but usually wears her glasses all the time because she genuinely thinks she looks cute in them (she is correct) * Grew up as a token "tomboy" and now that she is an adult, she's really embarrassed by her inability to wear heels or apply makeup. However, Daphne is more then willing to help her out without making her feel dumb about it. * A terrible liar but great at asking inappropriate questions. Generally socially awkward.

Fred * Grew up in a conservative Christian household but after befriending the gang and having his world-view expanded, he no longer identifies with the religion. * Only one in the gang who genuinely loves sports. The gang tries to share his interests by going to games with him, but they don't share his enthusiasm. * His autistic superpower is knowing how to repair basically anything that's broken. However, cars is his specialty. * He's the token straight-ally character in a LGBTQ piece of media, but goddamn he's on thin-ice. * The most emotionally sensitive in the gang and not afraid to cry in public. However, the things he cries about could be something as simple as a very adorable cat photo he saw online. * He's emotionally very dependent on the gang and reverts into an NPC if separated from them. He feels very thankful he doesn't have to mask around his friends.

[echantedtoon]

Demon Yuichiro Tokito

Decided to draw me own version of Demon Yuichiro from my Double Demon Siblings Au. In which the entirety of the Kny cannon stays the same, other than the addition of Yuichiro's transformation into a Demon. I used refs from both Muichiro's and Nezuko's official art for the poses. Unfortunately I'm not very good at drawing hands. :/

Name: Yuichiro Tokito

Race: Demon, Formerly Human, and Human again by the help of Tamayo.

Age: 14 same as his twin

Gender: Male

Body: Same Height and weight as Muichiro, can become more muscular and slightly taller when fully demon

Personality: Yuichiro's personality as a demon surprisingly is not too different from his personality as a human. However since his transformation into a demon he's become quieter than before and seems to be thinking about things often as if confused, curious, or trying to remember something. He's also prone to acting aggressively if threatened, scared, angry, or he feels his twin is in immediate danger. However unlike Nezuko he actively avoids others' touch even if he sees them as non threats, and is fairly antisocial by nature, but if you say his name or speak to him he will at least look to acknowledge the presence of whoever is talking to him. Very protective of Muichiro and is always at least within his general area. Is often seen as moody or grumpy by nature, but if you're not someone he sees threatening/rude to him/Mui he'll at least tolerate you. If you're someone he actively likes, then he'll be nicer, less grumpy, and may actually do some friendly gestures towards them.

BIO:

Nothing about their backstory gets changed up to the point the demon stumbles into their home. Yuichiro was used to treating Amane with distain and treating Muichiro as he does in cannon. The events of that night are forever foggy to Muichiro until he regains them later but the visions of his brother would never fade-

Yuichiro bloodied and lying facedown on the floor. The house a complete mess. Blood smeared everywhere. And in the middle of it all was a man smiling as wickedly as sin. Lifting Yuichiro by the neck and bringing the boy closer to his maw. To devour. Eat. Digest. A scream exited from Muichiro's throat. Enough to wake the dead as the demon reached for him- 

Vision red as blood. Vengeance and justice by hands of the innocent.

When Muichiro came to hours later still early enough in the morning to be dark to the demon's body impaled and smashed gurgling on it's own blood. Numb, tired, and mind mostly a blank as he just follows on autopilot back to the bloody home. Opening the door and finding his brother standing up body covered in blood and feasting on leftover raw deer meat they had stored away. However as he saw his brother Yuichiro snapped. Turning on him and launching at his weary brother. For he was no longer a human.

Yuichiro had joined the ranks of demons.

Muichiro wasn't sure himself what had happened. One moment Yuichiro was clawing and biting at his arms, and the next he's hissing and growling brother was pinned underneath him clawing to get away with Muichiro holding him down from above. And then it happens. Muichiro cries. His tears falling into the open eyes of his brothers stinging him and making him blink back up to Muichiro. His crying face and eye penetrating his eyes and as they say, eyes are windows to the soul. And all at once things seem to calm down. Yuichiro stops doing anything. Only lying there quietly and staring at his tired brother who is just crying, and crying and crying. His tears constantly falling into Yuichiro's own wide open eyes and all over his face. It might've only been ten minutes. It might've been an hour. But sometime he passed out and woken up to Yuichiro just sitting there and staring at him. Giving a couple sounds and poking his forehead over and over with an annoyed look on his face. It was daytime and for some reason all the windows and doors were closed and blocked off not allowing any light in.  Muichiro is confused but didn't forget the events of last night. In fact if it was for the fact that their home was literally torn to shreds and blood stains were everywhere, it would've only been written off as a bad dream. 

Yuichiro was not himself..And yet still acted like himself to an extent. He was still treating him with a scowl on his face and the annoyed jabs he'd usually give. Only he didn't act.. human. After Muichiro woke up he scuttled off to the darkest corner of the house where he curled up under a table as if that would shield himself further from.. something. There's not really much time to take anything in before the door is opened harshly and a complete stranger is invading their home. Muichiro freezes and Yuichiro hisses at the addition of more light suddenly being allowed in. The stranger hums as eyes look around the torn home surveying the damage and then taking in Muichiro sitting there bloodied and wide eyed.

The sudden look of horror on Lady Amane's face is only heightened as Yuichiro hisses and lunges at the woman-

I don't know what they're called but Yuichiro's demon crest are those yellow leaves he's always seen with. The same ones in the artwork linked below-

BLOOD DEMON ARTS AND ABILITIES: His abilities as a demon are similar to Nezuko's as he sleeps to regenerate and regain strength, can manipulate his blood a certain way, and has a similar fighting style using his claws and body to lash out and kick. However his blood doesn't provide flames. Instead his blood has an acid burning effect only lethal to others that hold demonic blood infused by wisteria, as a result allowing Yuichiro to be immune to wisteria poisoning. No one knows why this is but Shinobu has theorized that it might be due to the twin's old lumberjacking lifestyle and Yuichiro being around so much trees (possibly including wisteria trees) that his body had built a strange immunity to it. No one knows if this is true but Muichiro is somewhat glad his brother won't die by poisoning. So while people like Muichiro and Tanjiro wouldn't be affected, Genya in his demon form and full bloodied demons such as Nezuko or Kokushibo will be.

Yuichiro can use his fighting style and acidity techniques in many ways. Kicking and slashing his way in a similar form to Nezuko only more aggressively and a bit more recklessly in the beginning. His blood naturally extends a wisteria scent warding aware most smaller demons and allowing Yuichiro to camouflage himself from other demons and sometimes slayers by blending into flowers or Wisteria trees. Yui's deadliest and most efficient attack, Thanks to the mutation in his blood, Yui can turn his blood into a deadly poison that she can then infuse into his nails by clawing hid body to cover his hands in blood. This poison is full of Wysteria and can be smelt in the air, and can be delivered in poisonous jabs at other demons.

He can also use his blood as acid, throwing droplets at a demon (usually the face) to eat away at their skin and blinding them to give himself an opening. However this is the extent of his use and he cannot heal people the same way Nezuko can.

Also on a very important note, while Yuichiro isn't affected by wisteria he absolutely CAN NOT walk in the sun. Sunlight CAN and WILL still burn/kill him like any other demon. This because while Nezuko never tasted human blood, Yuichiro has. Multiple times Muichiro has donated some of his own blood to his brother along with Tanjiro after finding out the Twin's secret and taking pity on someone in the same situation.

Yuichiro also has more of a habit of biting. His fangs are longer and slightly curved inwards like a snake's so when he bites down, they hook in tearing away more flesh and causing more damage to the enemy.

OTHER DEMON FEATURES: On top of gaining his demon crest in the shape of those golden leaves, Yuichiro also sprouts two extra eyes which allows him to survey his environment more and combat threats better. His left arm is also a greyish-tan color from regenerating it as a demon. This color goes away once he's fully human again. He wears the clothing he wore when he first turned, refusing to part with it for some unknown reason. Muichiro repurposed it into a shirt for Yui when he grew older, and bought him a pair of pants and boots made out of the same anti-demon fabric his own Demon Slayer uniform is made from to help keep his brother safe.

[skoff-the-artist]

I just saw a tweet

The op said that it scares them, when an artist with a "unique style"© starts to draw closer and closer to realism, because they loved the original style and don't like the gradual change to more realistic proportions.

I feel that I somewhat relate to a person they are describing? I draw much more realistically compared to two years ago, for example... Is this bad? I had thought about it even before I saw the tweet, so it felt kinda like a nail in the coffin for me, you know.

I love studying anatomy, realistic human body, different faces and ways to depict them. I think my current style allows me to display the most of my knowledge, and I like drawing fictional characters in a way that makes them more real. Like you can touch them, feel the texture, the plasticity, the form... Breathe the air they breathe.

Yet... I can't help but feel like people don't like it as much as something more simple.

Don't get me wrong, I mostly rely on my own thoughts and feelings when making an artwork, and negative opinions people may have about my art largely unconcern me.

But.

I've changed for the past years on this website. My personality changed, even. My style along with it. It evolved, I think! But sometimes I feel like I let people down with this change. Like they wait for something more.. stylised, fun, comic-like, like before, while I strive for something I'm not as good at yet. And it's like "sigh she tried to do it again did she". If I was to draw something stylised now, it certainly would be drawn faster and look better than before, but I find myself refining the proportions, trying to match the features, adding shadows and details... Once I start, it's hard to stop.

It's strange to think that I exist for people all around the globe as an internet artist. Of course people who follow me for a year or longer have an opinion about my art style. For some reason I think that it's negative. I appeared on Tumblr with a certain style, people liked it, but now it's not the same, you know? Maybe I'm projecting or exaggerating, but the feeling is still there. The pressure to be liked, to produce something both expected and good. To be consistent in a stagnating way just to keep being recognisable and supported.

Sometimes I look at some of my old artworks and miss the way I used to draw, despite me having more experience and knowledge now.

But when I look at my artworks all together, in a complex, the development of my semi-realistic art style feels natural, despite some experiments here and there. Like it was always meant to be this way, like I'm on the right path!

Sort of.

I think.

Do I really let you people down? Does the change scare you?

Just my thoughts on the matter, no conclusion. If you have something to say, please do! I don't want to be alone thinking about it. And have a charming little fairy I drew recently, as a treat.

[verdantlights]

YOUR TILL ART IS FRIKIN AMAZING!? HOW DID YOU GET THE POSING SO ON POINT, THE ANGLE OF THE FACE, THE TEEEEETH

Amazing

I'm also here to ramble about something arguably meta oops

What if Mizi's hair is a connection for Ivan and Till? This isn't just Ivantill narrative, but rather, her role in their lives!

We see several arts of Till holding the strand of Mizi's long hair, and the new Vivinos instagram image has Ivan brush a similar strand of hair over his lips/nose.

But in one of the alnst Friday arts, we see Ivan practicing/copying Till's guitar notes in the air while Mizi is sleeping on him. Her hair notably is splayed out, but Ivan isn't touching it.

Before I make the connections, let's also look at WHEN Mizi's hair gets shorter.

That happens in All-In, during the infiltration mission into Alnst, right before Round 6.

Now! With all the pieces set, here's the theory:

Mizi's hair signifies life itself. In round 1, her hair was tinted blue at the tips, almost eerily similar to Luka's fingers. In round 1, Sua sacrificed herself for Mizi.

Her hair remains tinted blue at the edges in Round 5, when she comes dangerously close to death herself, since she's at the whims of Luka there.

To note: Her hair had no blue tips during her time in Anakt Garden, from what I've noticed.

Till is notable holding onto Mizi's hair, like his red string of fate and yet hope too. It's his will to live. He grasps onto it the way he had idolized Mizi in part, yet he would never do that if she's next to him (see the flashback in FINAL).

How is Ivan involved in all this? I feel that Mizi's hair shows us memories of both Ivan and Till (I hope this will make sense, trying to explain the connection my art brain already did is hard).

Since Mizi's hair was cut in All-In, the link has been broken. Till will now no longer have anything left to hold onto, because the hair is no longer connected to Mizi. We see his resignation in Round 6.

And just the way Ivan was like a best friend to Mizi, and the way he was always more than willing to tease Till and her through his own ways (see the "What does this mean" comic with the whispering in ears and all), the connection to Ivan that connected the three is also broken. Ivan was more of a stand-byer and protector even to Mizi, never too close and never too far, hence the "Mizi sleeps on him while he copies Tills guitar practice".

In round 6, Ivan sacrifices himself for Till. Till is left pulling at strands, literally, because the hair he held onto is connected to nothing.

In round 7, Mizi and Till try to reunite, but the connection was already broken. Till was still pulling at strands, and when he reached the end of them... There was nothing.

Till looses round 7, and Mizi is left to watch.

Both her friends, maybe everyone she knew, was doomed, metaphorically, because she has moved onto a different life.

The short hair is, in the narrative of All-In, meant to represent change, moving forward from the past. This is why it's significant that she had her hair cut off, the hair that held memories of Sua... And her friends. By removing her grief, even if briefly, Mizi as a character has moved on from her past.

This is also meant to represent why you shouldn't dwell on the past. Again, this isn't intentional on Mizi's part, and she's allowed to move on, but now, her past will destroy her.

It's a very interesting deconstruction of grief, and I know a story that represents this just as impactfully! But yes, Vivimeng's work is a deconstruction as it is for the idol industry, and one moment even for AI (only briefly in FINAL, I could go into that if anyone's interested 😭), so I thought these parallels were more than coincidence 😅

now sorry this took me so long to respond to, it was a bit daunting seeing a whole analysis in my inbox, but rereading it just now reminded me that... sua was braiding mizis hair in the new comic. tills comic with Io.

its as if they all clung to mizi and that yeah, her hair was a representation of life itself. its a really interesting view on grief and how its applied in alien stage.

also thank you, and im glad you liked my till usseewa so much!! it was heavily referenced from the original, but i changed a lot and redid the background so that it wouldnt look weird. i just think a song about going against an oppressive controlling system is very tillcore... yaknow?? hehehehe

[kiruamon]

Spring through the Seasons AU - From winter back to spring

Next part of the AU. Pretty much Y/N having found a new companion in Moon. And them doing some backtracking through Moon's and Y/N's own home territory. (Like the times before: Sketches are found in between the text. Just saying in case that some of you are only here for the art and not the story which is also completely fine.)

_

The night was over. And with it, the raging of the snowstorm. Once again, the landscape lay untouched before your eyes as you step out of the cave into the bright light of the morning sun allowing your eyes to adjust to the brilliant white of the snow. Behind you, the snow crunches under Moon's boots as he walks to your side. Your gaze remains fixed straight ahead, roaming over the landscape. "Have you thought about what you want to do now?" you hear him ask with his calm voice. You realize that he wants to know whether he should lead you to the border in the north despite his warning or not. Of course you would like to get to your destination as quickly as possible, but… what's it worth putting yourself in pointless danger when there could be another way? "I… will take your advice to heart and go back to my home. After that, I'll try to travel further east. Maybe I'll find a way there," you answer him with a wry smile. Despite the minor setback, you haven't given up yet. You notice how the three wolves step out of the cave. They shake themselves under the rays of the sun as if to drive the last remnants of drowsiness from their bones. Then they pass the two of you, casting only a quick glance back at you before running off into the vastness of the plain and through the freshly fallen snow. You look after them with a smile, hoping to see them again one day.

Moon remains silent. And you simply allow yourself to lose yourself for a while in this moment. The mixture of cold air and warm sunbeams on your skin feels vitalizing. It's as if your senses are hyper-aware of everything, like the sound of the piled-up snow collapsing and falling to the ground from the heavy, low-hanging branches. Even standing here side by side with someone you feel connected to in a way you can't quite put into words yet. But for how much longer? What will become of Moon when you take your way home? "I will accompany you," he suddenly says, as if he has managed to read your thoughts. You look up and blink at him in surprise. "You… are coming with me?" "Someone has to make sure nothing happens to you." There is a reserved lightheartedness in his voice as he utters these words. "I-I can definitely take care of myself," you say, puffing out your cheeks a little, but honestly you're more than happy to hear his words and your vines bob up and down in a treacherously cheerful manner as you try not to grin too much. Moon seems to notice the little motion that betrays the tone of your voice, as the corners of his mouth twitch slightly upwards. "I'd still be more at ease if I knew you wouldn't freeze into an ice pillar while you try to get back home on your own." You giggle a little at his jest, which he says half-joking and half-serious. "Thanks Moon," you appreciate his offer. Very much actually. Somehow you had even hoped that you wouldn't have to say goodbye to each other so soon. To find Moon and be able to talk to him had made you realize how lonely your previous life had been, even though you had never thought of it that way before. "Do you know which way we have to go? Honestly, after that… Snowstorm? That's what you called it, right?" He nods with amusement at you. Okay. Good. Snowstorm. "Well, I'm afraid I don't really have a clue where we are after yesterday."

He laughs softly. "I know where we are. And also the direction we need to go," his voice sounds kind-hearted as he says this. The feeling of being able to rely on someone is reassuring and makes you feel more optimistic about your upcoming journey.

_

"Ooooh!" You pause as you notice the icicles sparkling in the sunlight on the branch of a tree. They glisten almost like the clear water of the lake when the rays of the midday sun dance across the small ripples. "They look even prettier in the sunlight." "Is this really your first time seeing something like this?" "Mhm. There's nothing like this where I come from. No snow and no ice either." Maybe that's why you find it so hard to get tired of looking at all these things. Moon certainly doesn't seem to mind. He patiently answers all your questions as you walk through his kingdom together. You were surprised to learn that ice was just another form of water. That it froze due to the cold in these lands and sometimes melted on days when the sun shone a little warmer than usual. Thaw, which could make the snow become more soggy. But at the moment it was more powdery, like the fine dust of flowers. It was simply gorgeous. And being able to look at these things together with Moon instead of doing so alone only made the whole experience more exciting. "When we reach the border and my home, there's so much I have to show you!" you say with a smile as you turn your gaze away from the icicles to look at him. You can't wait. Will he like your home? Will you be able to surprise him as much as he did with all his amazing knowledge of this icy land? It… would just be nice to make him smile more. Not to mention how much you would like to repay him for his help. He tilts his head a little and the hint of a smile steals its way into his uniquely colored eyes. His gaze rests gently and in an almost warm way on you as he replies: "I'm looking forward to it."

The world is changing. The masses of snow become more shallow. The further you walk, the less your steps sink into the snow. The more green blades of grass emerge from underneath it until they cover the whole ground in front of you. You have reached the border to your homeland. "We're here," you shout cheerfully, stepping with glee out of the cold masses of snow and onto the meadow in front of you. You turn and look at Moon, who has paused. He looks at the unfamiliar landscape before him as if he were frozen into ice.

A new world opened up before him. Completely different from the icy wilds of his realm. The cold beauty that snow and ice brought with them was familiar to him. The sparkle of ice in the sunlight. The glistening frost that clung to rocks or the bark of trees. Fir trees whose branches bent under the weight of the snow.

But this… This ocean of green blades of grass covering the ground is unlike anything he had ever seen before. The mild spring breeze makes the grass bob up and down playfully as if it was fondly ruffling the fur of an animal. Colorful flowers whose names he didn't know brought even more color to the blossoming landscape with their vibrant petals. The bushes and trees are no longer bare, frozen constructs and instead unfurl delicate sprouts and leaves that sway in the wind. Even the wind is different here. He can feel it blowing mildly and gentle under his hood and against his face. For a while, he simply stays still as he takes in the sight of your homeland and tries to understand what he is feeling.

The way Moon stands there with his eyes wide open, looking at the landscape in front of him, brings a small smile to your face. Yes, you felt the same way when you reached the border of your realms for the first time. But… unlike you, Moon is not alone at this foreign place. Just as he was there for you in his realm, you will now be there for him. To be his guide. "Moon? Are you coming?" "…" "Yes… Yes, I'm coming." Your voice grounds him. Gives him something familiar to hold on to in a world that is so completely different from what he has known so far. With his back to his own realm and this strange landscape in front of him, he slowly understands how you must have felt when you stood in this place and decided to move on. He takes a deep breath as he slowly lifts his boots and places them on the green-covered ground. Yes, he will follow you. He wants to join you on this journey. The feeling being accompanied by a silent wish that your shared time will last a little longer. It stays hidden deep in his heart as he dares not to express it out loud to you. Because… last night he wasn't completely honest with you.

It wasn't that he had lied to you. The cliff, the unstable weather near the border of the realm you want to visit, it was all very real. The fact that he didn't know where the passage lay that the animals used was also true. But… the passage was not the only way that would have taken you to your destination. It would have been impossible for you alone, but with his help you could have reached your destination quickly and fairly easy. And yet he had decided against telling you about it. Because… as incomprehensible as it was to him, he didn't wanted to say goodbye to you just yet.

He just wanted to spend a little more time with you. To be by your side and learn what the world looked like through your eyes. A little detour would certainly not hurt anyone. And even if the path was blocked at one of the other borders, he would make sure to bring you safely to your destination in his own way.

_ Side by side, you have left the border between your two territories behind you. All signs of snow and frost are gone. The trees and plants flourish in the gentle rays of sunlight. Bathing in its warm embrace. The further you travel along, the more the landscape starts to blossom. Young shrubs with green branches and the first delicate leaves nestle in the shade of the trees, which do not yet have their full crowns of leaves.

Instead, some of them bear buds that are on the verge of opening. "Moon! Look! The blossoms over there look almost like snow, don't they?" You grab his hand without thinking about it. You can feel his cold fingertips on your warm skin, but you don't let go and instead lead him with eager and excited steps to a large tree in the middle of the meadow. Apart from a few closed buds, its branches are covered over and over in delicate white blossoms. The wind rustles gently through the branches of the old cherry tree. And scattered petals fall from it to the ground like the snowflakes you saw in Moon's realm. "It looks so nice, doesn't it?" You turn to him with a broad smile and see him gazing upwards with a mixture of fascination and wonder.

He wasn't sure what took his breath away more. Whether it was the warmth of your touch that made his heart beat so fast or the sight of the white flowers floating to the ground like snowflakes. Both seemed to make his heart go faster in his chest. The way you stand in front of him. Beaming with joy and surrounded by the falling blossoms… He can't name the feeling it evokes in him. All he knows is that he doesn't dislike it. That it makes him want to see this endearing little smile of yours even more often.

"Yes, it's really… beautiful," you hear Moon say as his multi-colored eyes rest on you with an almost tender expression. You even think you can hear a little laugh lurking in his voice. He probably thinks you're a bit childish because you're so easily excited. But you don't mind. After all, you finally have the chance to share all these great things with someone. So how could you not feel so happy? Therefore, you don't even try to keep the smile off your face. Gently, you let go of Moon's hand and hold your hands out in front of you, both palms facing up. "Come on, let's see which of us catches one faster," you suggest in a playful mood. This time you're quite sure you heard a small chuckle coming from Moon. "A challenge… Well, in that case I can hardly refuse."

_ "So, what do you think? Did you like what you've seen so far?" It did. More than you probably would realize. Your eyes may still be resting on the flowers swaying in the wind around you. But Moon's eyes, on the other hand, are completely on you. Attracted by the joyful sparkle in them that always appears as soon as you see something you love with all your heart. "This land is truly unlike anything I've ever seen. Unique and full of wonders … just like the one who inhabits it… ", Moon's words are so quiet towards the end that you can't really make out the last part of it. But you are still overjoyed to hear that the place you call your home has become so dear to him as well.

-

Bonus that isn't part of the main story (or at least this won't happen until after meeting Sun and Eclipse):

As careful as always when he touches you, Moon takes your hands in his. Cold and warmth meet each other in that moment and send a tingling sensation through both of your skin. His fingertips are cool, while yours are warm. And yet you can see the warmth in his eyes as soon as his gaze rests on you. Just like now. "Moon? What are-" "Let's dance." Dance? Your cheeks suddenly feel like they're burning with heat, and it continues to spread to the tips of your ears like a wildfire. Some of the little buds on your vines begin to blossom as they move closer to Moon, as if he were the sun they crave for its soothing warmth. He laughs softly. Your reaction only seems to delight him more. "There's no need to be so nervous, little Snowflake." You should be feeling cold to be so close to him, but somehow Moon manages it that you only feel warmer and warmer. "Do you trust me?" he asks in a hushed voice. You already know the answer to this question. "Yes. I trust you." With all your heart. You know you're in good hands with him. "Then let us have some fun," he says with such a tender smile. A smile so gentle that it makes your heart flutter so excitedly in your chest as if it were a little fledgling taking its first flight. Your fingers clasp around Moon's a little more and you allow him to lead you. Your first dance together may be awkward, the steps clumsy and wobbly, but neither of you cares. Not as long as you have each other. Another cherished memory that you will keep in your heart forever.

TBC

[jariten]

MAY-JUNE 2024 ROUNDUP!

No intro as I've got nothing to say aside from, well everything I want to say about these titles so lets get to it

Baby Blue Heaven by Nao Tsutsumitani is the story of Shouko who had to take the place of her late mother in the household, meaning she is day in and day out doing thankless jobs for thankless people. Like her shut-in father who takes her presence for granted, and her runaway sister who suddenly reappears highly pregnant. At the brink of her sanity Shouko must make a decision between the comfort of her family members who refuse to take care of themselves, and freedom and agency for herself. While a short read that imo could've worked and been even more engaging long form (and it's messaging could've been even harsher!) I found its conclusion to be very effective. Not to mention I also find it very satisfying to experience works like this that allow women to reject the familial structures that they involuntarily have to participate in.

Ball and Chain is Minami Qta's most recent work and currently serialized on the website Shuro. Ball and Chain follows two different people. One is a middle aged housewife contemplating divorce from her husband who acts like she doesn't even exist. But how can she pursue divorce when she is unable to work to support herself after a bout of severe illness? The second is Kei, a gender nonconforming woman engaged to a man who becomes even less and less supportive as their wedding approaches. Feeling more conflict with who she is, as opposed to how she's perceived Kei questions her sexuality as well as gender identity. While I'm still only on the first volume I am so looking forward to reading the rest of this story. Kei's storyline I am especially looking forward to as Minami Qta are tapping into their own gender journey as a nonbinary person which they've been very open about on social media. Not to mention it made me really want to go back and explore their whole manga catalogue, yet another project I can't wait to get to! (soon?🥲)

I also finally got to read the works of Fumiko Okada. One of the very young breakout stars of Osamu Tezuka's manga magazine COM, and is several of my favorite manga artists' favorite manga artist. ODESSEY 1966-2005 compiles most her works from the COM era as well as some of her doujinshi work from the late 1960's. The way she played with not just style but also form and technique is to this day still no other comic read from anywhere really. I don't know how else to describe it other than the stories are unquestionably dreamlike but with a tangible form to them. While her legacy from COM is talked about by some like that of legends today, the rest of her career is rather sad. She unfortunately retired from manga very early, had a brief comeback in the late 1970's on the encouragement of Moto Hagio and her editor, but soon after put away her pen again. She attempted one more comeback in the 1990's but was this time actively discouraged from returning to manga when she was told by Keiko Takemiya that she no longer understood the industry. She then passed away in 2005 only 55 years old. Some of her one-shots I know have been scanlated here and there but I hope a collection like this become licensed in english in the near future esp as this collection excluded her comeback works.

Last I just want to highlight Kefuzo Kataku wo: Kasuga no Tsubone by Riyoko Ikeda. A fictionalized account of the life of Lady Kasuga no Tsubone who was a key figure in the Tokugawa Shogunate when she became the wetnurse of Iemitsu. I really liked how it had the time to tell a story that highlighted the tensions of a country moving from a period of constant war and conflict to a peaceful one and how the internal politics had to be navigated to keep this new government from immediately collapsing on itself. And I loved seeing that Ikeda can totally pull off a Japanese historical setting as well. The art is lush and detailed, we aren't spared on the grisly details either and went down way easier than other works made explicitly on commission as "learn history/litterature from manga" that I've read. (though in most of those cases the fault lies in me not having the basic education on Japanese history that high schoolers in Japan have gone through.)

[pomrania]

Smaugust: "chonk"

For Smaugust I am drawing cats as dragons. If you want me to draw your cat as a dragon, reblog this post with a photo of your cat, as well as the cat's name included in the body of the post. Read below the cut for full details; it's the same as in previous years.

This particular post is accepting requests so long as it's still 9 August 2024 somewhere in the world. If it's no longer that date, check my blog to see if there's a current post.

One request per person per day, and only one cat per request. It is acceptable, and even encouraged, to make a request for every day of Smaugust.

Cats will be dragonified in accordance with the theme for the day, given in the post's title. I'm using the prompts from @pencilcat's list, although not necessarily in the given order.

Non-cats are allowed so long as you provide reasons why the animal in question is actually totally a cat.

Check the date given at the top of the post, to see if requests are open for it. Unless it's literally impossible, I'll be drawing and then posting every valid request I've received; however, sometimes that gets done once requests are closed for a post. So just because I reblog this post and add art to it, that doesn't necessarily mean it's okay to make your own request (doesn't necessarily mean that it's not okay, either).

One thing that's changed from last year: there won't be a post for every day in August. I'll be deciding each day whether I feel up to making a new post (and thus taking requests) at the moment, or if I need to work on the requests I still have, or take a rest. Since I can't guarantee that requests will be open for any given day, if you know ahead of time that you're not going to be available on certain days but you'd still like to see your cat drawn as a dragon, get in touch with me ahead of time, because I'd hate for anyone to have to miss out.

The deadline for requests on a particular post is "when it's no longer that day anywhere in the world". This is because I hate fiddling with time zones. If you're in the Americas, this means anywhere from a couple to a bunch of hours past midnight, depending on where you live; in Europe, it's longer than that; for the rest of the world, listen I don't actually know where the international date line is (if that's what it's called) and I don't care enough to look it up. In practice, the deadline is "whenever I get online the next day", unless I'm sufficiently annoyed or particular that I'll actually check the date stamps.

I'd prefer for you to only give me one picture per request that you want drawn as a dragon, because then I don't have to choose. However, it's perfectly okay to include extra photos if you just want to show off your cat; I'd just ask that if there's more than two of them, that you put them under a cut so they won't take up too much room on anyone's dash.

[bunnidarling]

Gorgeous art of my beautiful slutty son by @theartloca who was an absolute joy to work with and I'm already planning my next project with her!

Excerpt from "The Bath":

Averyll didn’t feel the need to hide away in the forest any longer, starting to feel more at ease with his steadily growing party. Still, he would excuse himself each evening to “Perform his nightly ablutions.” He liked that word: ablutions. It sounded fancy. Like they were staying in a fine countryside manor and not camping near an abandoned village overrun with goblins. He generally used this time to bathe and enjoy a bit of solitude away from the eyes and ears of camp. 

Their fights that afternoon had been particularly brutal, and while all wounds were mostly healed, blood and gore still clung to his skin and hair.  He followed a well-worn path from camp to the river’s edge, setting his towel and fresh clothes next to his backpack on the shore, boots and gloves soon to follow. He let his battle-soiled jerkin and pants fall in a heap before wading waist-deep into the cold, rushing river. He cursed under his breath as he ducked down, staying under as long as he could while he scrubbed his fingertips through his scalp. 

A few moments later he popped up with a gasp, shaking his hair back from his face, eyes sharp for his effects on the riverbank. He wasn’t prepared to see Astarion casually reclining on that rock.

“Gods, Astarion!” he cried, breathless with the shock of surprise. 

Astarion crossed one leg over the other, clasping his hands together on his knee as he looked on, not the least bit fazed. His typical smirk turned into a grin and he chuckled, “You know I thought we’d be a little closer when you started making those kinds of exclamations.” 

Averyll felt heat spread out over his cheeks and chest, traveling further south still, his momentary embarrassment quickly transmuted into pure arousal. Gods damn you, Astarion. Two could play this game. He took the opportunity for all it was worth, standing to his full height allowing the tops of his hips to crest the water. He raised both arms up, shaking his head back as both hands raked through his auburn hair, soaked to a dark russet. He knew he made an attractive picture with rivulets of water sluicing down the smooth planes of his lithe but well toned body. 

Righting his head, eyes slowly slid open to light on his observer, lids at a sultry half mass. His voice took on a smoky tone as he spoke lowly, hands coming down to rest at his sides beneath the water, testing the surface tension. “Do you think of that often, Astarion?” 

The elf raised a silvery brow and pursed his lips and he cast his gaze heavenward as if carefully considering his next words. As if he didn’t already know his script before he walked onto this stage tonight. “Would you like that?” He responded, his own voice dropping into a low, velvety timbre that Averyll could feel pulse in his prick. 

I would love that.

“I might.” He offered noncommittally trying in earnest to mask his desire as he sunk back down into the water letting it slowly swallow him up to his neck, his companion robbed of their view. 

As if taking a cue, Astarion rose, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. He looked down his nose, making sure their gaze locked for a full two heartbeats. 

“Mmmm… Good to know.” He rumbled, strolling off into the forest without so much as a backward glance. 

Get the whole story here:

[liminsendhelp]

The extremity of cruelty

Hannibal is a very clever man. But still a man, much to his regret.

A tale of an orderly beating up a therapist.

First posted on 6 January 2023 with the caption: "The first completed work of mine. It has been lying untouched for a very long time. 2021.09.22"

Hannibal, no fool, was always ready to snap out of his seat, grow a new wall, and slip into the next socially acceptable role. Collected, liberated by years of revealing his essence, confident in the unforeseen, knowing everything ahead of time. But who is ready for that? Being reborn hurt like hell. And there was little to make out in the seething horde of traumatising feelings. Two seconds, moments. Two discernible counts of their's ascent, palpable in the blinding air, embedded in memory.

One. Horns sprawled and stabbed their bodies, smoldering in seconds, moments of one growing into the other, wings tearing their backs, forgotten, moulded to the falling contour. Dust, covering them in an tight cocoon, ingrained, dividing their sin equally on each shoulder.

Two. The cold water burning his breath, the pervasive stupor, the fear of losing the only creature dear to him. All preparedness, forethought, experience, could not keep the fleeting thoughts of Will's death from agony. Without time to catch his breath he dived, counting down the seconds to brain death without oxygen. Three minutes from hitting the water, five, ten. Someone was calling his name, and in the turbulent water, voices distorted multiple times. From the bottom, big bright eyes stared up at him, fragile hands reaching out, not to pick him up, but to push him out.

Hannibal sits on the shore and does not exist. A wreck instead of a man. The shore is empty.

There are no people on it and it is empty.

A scrap of mind torn from the body, that's what it has become. The water seems like ink, and Hannibal thinks that if it were bloody, the light of the moon would take away its colour.

His eyes are dry and his body is cold. There is no warmth in him, the life has held its breath, holding barely. He breathes deeply, allows himself to think. Hannibal has been called mad too many times in his life, but to see this new address is not allowed to anyone. There is only the outgrown hopes, the feelings, the quiet rustling of slick wings, black and tarred. Everything that hasn't left him, hasn't been confused. Even if Will is dead a shell, to carry a part of him to the grave would be an honour. Hannibal senses his capacity for emotion, for interpretation, for imagination. He sees so clearly, let him look nowhere. Hannibal rises only when he hears the crunch of twigs. A deep breath to get used to the fullness of the sensation of space, a long inhale with his nose to sniff. Someone is here, close by, in the blood. Not Will. Hannibal moves quickly, moving further into the woods. Picks up a weighty rock and silently approaches the source of the smell. The woman wheezes, crunching again, no longer from branches, but from her neck snapping. Two seconds, slowing Hannibal down. Two seconds of frame-by-frame footage. Chiyo is dead and he's next. Curls. Light curls sticking to his forehead, frowning eyebrows, gun. Will takes the Walther from Chiyo's weakened fingers, stands up, aims it at Hannibal's head precisely.

"I'm out of here." "Good." Sips Hannibal, releasing the stone to the ground. "You've clearly made your intention clear to me. "You must realise that this bond will eat me up if I stay. Even faster than you will. Will." So ungodly he smiles, curves his lips to the side, sounds even. Making jokes, killing moment by moment. His creation, alive and stabbing. "In three years, I was able to reconstruct a picture of what happened in Florence. I could feel your desire to kill her, the possessiveness hidden behind layers of anger and longing." "Your pain in my hands was art, again not my own." Hannibal nods understandingly. "And I chose to close that need." His voice is flat, but Will is clearly laughing. He lowers the gun. Hannibal hums, running his tongue over his split lip before he speaks: "By fulfilling my purpose." "No. By granting the impossible." They stare at each other, unable to revel in their last encounter. Hannibal walks towards him, and Will stays where he is. A hand rests on his cheek, and he is allowed to do so. Hannibal reaches for Will's free palm, brings it to his mouth. Kisses the inside. Covers his eyes, takes it in, realises he won't let go. The crunch of twigs behind him, the chill at the back of his neck. Hannibal opens his eyes, and sees remorse. Will gives Chiyo. And accepts it. Hannibal, not being a fool, was prepared for anything. But Will always knew how to surprise.

Shot.

…

Matthew runs. He hasn't stopped lately. He reaches out to Mr Graham, pacing the cell during their meetings, bemoaning the failure. The horror, the flaw, the shame. He's failed, lost, failed to be better, and won't be anything. He can't be useful, and it kills. He cannot be forgiven in any way. But Mr Graham forgives and walks away. And there's no colour left.

He doesn't count how much time has passed. It doesn't seem like much, but it's not just another agent who comes to his interrogation cell. The world comes back to life when Matthew notices him, focusing sharply on the man. Air enters with alternating success. Will sits, relaxedly flipping through the case files. Will, with a tragic crease on his forehead, clear eyes and magnificent coils of hair. "Breathe, Mr Brown," he laughs, lowering his head

Matthew explodes in his body, dying at the direct look, the slight smile at the corner of Will's lips. He runs to him. And Will responds in kind.

"I came to apologise, you know." Will declares in one of their meetings. Laughing off the previous conversation, Matthew looks up, slightly surprised at the change in mood. "The first time we met here," Will continues. "I thought I'd see anger. Hoped to feel resentment, for using you. Or at worst, I expected to see a fan." "But you saw me." "Yes. Saw you. I see you, Matthew." They stare at each other, studying each other over and over, grasping for what gives them the opportunity. "Do hawks work in pairs, Mr Graham?" overly pathetic Matthew gives out. "Oh, my God." Will snorts. "You're insufferable." They laugh together. They're side by side.

After Hannibal, before Hannibal, discussing the case, tactics for dealing with him. Jack is under no illusions about what's going on. He needs a working agent, and Matthew gives him that. The discussion is kept from Dr Chilton by the force of Jack's menacing stare. The interrogation room cameras are switched off, but Will still brings the jamming device in Hannibal's case files or in a cup of coffee.

The light in Will's eyes burns brighter at the mention of prisoner Brown. Matthew is uncompromisingly flirtatious, spewing only the truth and living only stories of childhood fears and desires.

"Oh, and, Mr Graham, that shirt suits you. And that smile too." Will habitually snorts and throws a mocking glance as he leaves the interview room. Matthew knows he'll be back soon.

They talk, talk, talk. Over and over they run off to each other.

And then he disappears.

What happened? Yes, of course.

Hannibal.

Fucker. Beast, monster. The mistake. Something Matthew will never forgive himself for.

The knife in his stomach, Abigail's death, reliving it. Matthew absorbs every rumour. He waits. And Hannibal finds himself in the same hospital as him. So close, so accessible.

Thoughts of vengeance are tied to his existence for an unbearably long time. Once he complains of head-splitting pain. Once he almost gets the key from the orderly, but he leans over to Matthew, whispers with a smile that Mr Graham has been brought back into the investigation. The key remains on his belt, plans disintegrate, weak under the weight of happiness.

Three years have passed quickly.

"Good afternoon, Mr Brown."

They are back in the interrogation room. Matthew's handcuffs are removed and he changes into an orderly's uniform. A siren announces an escape attempt, electricity fails throughout the floors. The staff tends to the fugitives' cells, the remaining employees keeping watch over Lecter. Red lights illuminate the corridors, flashing, and Matthew tries not to let the back of his saviour out of his sight. Will is here again. Smart, collected, waiting out the moment. Easily faking an escape, in disguise for the real thing, bribing the orderlies, cracking another pillar of opinion formed about himself. They run and run. To the first car in the car park, to the second at the petrol station, to the motorboat.

In the morning Will wakes to the smells of coffee and scrambled eggs from the kitchen, comes downstairs kissing his wife. In the morning Matthew wakes up free.

No contacts other than handovers in a set place, no names in short correspondence on stolen mobiles. They have a plan. Hinted at, pieced together into a perfect puzzle. Will falls off a cliff and Matthew runs again. Pulls him out, forces him to cough his lungs out of the rough water.

"Hannibal." Will whispers as they weave through the woods towards a new stage, a new escape and life. "Take care of him."

Matthew nods. Runs to the shore, leaning Will against a large tree. There's no one in the water, no one nearby either, and the possibility that nature has taken Hannibal cheerfully envelops Matthew.

Footprints. On the shore, tracks leading to the woods. Fuck. He dismounts, trotting quietly closer to the place where he left his only possession. The gun rests confidently in his hand.

Fear releases as he sees his Will, wounded but strong. Avenged, leading the idiot who thinks he's God by the nose again. Waiting for the signal. One undeath, and Hannibal lets his guard down. Will nods quietly, flashing his eyes in the careless moonbeam. Will gives him redemption.

The rustle of wings behind him, the crunch of a branch.

Shot.