#asoeiki

[sleepdepravity]

Weird!!! Don’t know what that’s about. Sorry

[kcscribbler]

WIP Wednesday

From the soon to be wrapped last story arc of this little AU of mine.

“Right. Do you believe me now?” Loki asks with all the self-centered impatience of the spoilt youngest, gesturing around the frozen tableau. “Could the brother you know do this?” “I’ve no idea his actual potential in this realm,” Thor replies readily. “But it does seem to be a most formidable power you wield. And not one you learnt from anyone on Asgard. This is deep magic indeed.” Loki gestures dramatically between them, as if to say I told you so. Mobius rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “You can’t go around warping time just to show off. It’s gonna backfire on us at some point.” “I suppose you had a more bureaucratic solution that would demonstrate both the power of the TVA and proof that we are trustworthy with that power?” Mobius steps over to the nearby table. “Actually, yeah,” he says dryly as he picks up Mjolnir, waggles it briefly at the two stunned Asgardians, and then drops it again with a loud whanggg.

Tags below cut!

No-pressure tagging @elodiah @lokimobius @in-my-loki-feels @loki-is-my-kink-awakening @andthekitchensinkao3

@impulsemuppet @thosegayoldmen @mythical-magik @izumiyagami14 @asoeiki

@mirilyawrites @silentxsymphony @fauxvvounds @insert-witty-user-name-here @doomed-spectacles and open tag!

[loki-is-my-kink-awakening]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Lokius. Loki and Mobius finally kiss and Loki is ecstatic.

They were kissing. Finally, they were kissing. After dancing around each other while the sacred timeline fell apart, Mobius' lips were at long last brushing against his right where they belonged.

Loki pushed Mobius back against the wall, chuckling as reports scattered onto the ground at their feet. Paper didn't matter. Nothing mattered except this.

Mobius pulled at his waist and Loki followed, pressing against him, trapping him in place. He could feel Mobius smiling, his lips curved up and they slid across his own.

Tags below the cut

Tagged by @elodiah @kcscribbler and @impulsemuppet 💕💕💕

@insert-witty-user-name-here @mirilyawrites @chaos-monkeyy

Passing onto fellow writers and artists if you wanna do Scribble Sunday

@cha-melodius @starport-seven-five @dewdropreader @lgwilt @dreamycloud

@lokimobius @thosegayoldmen @mystic-voyager @in-my-loki-feels @stillwanderingflame

@kusakichan15 @boredintjqueen @silentxsymphony @rins-love-wins @doomed-spectacles

@devilbearingtrouble @fauxvvounds @andthekitchensinkao3 @loki-tree-of-life @sparrow-the-tired-lesbian

@starrose17 @blackbirdofasgard @illiasha @primewritessmut @ceeceetv

@voulezvulcan @lettingtimepass @typewriterwolf @fibvlaa @lumintsu

@raynecreates @wolfpup026 @asoeiki @natendo-art @josketches

[van-arts]

Werewoof Wawa 🐺

Inspired by @asoeiki 's idea! :D

[anizinesinc]

🌻 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐏 🌻

With the chilly season finally upon us, it is time to reveal our cast of wonderful contributors who helped bring this project to life! 💛

Be sure to support each of them as you await for our release. See you later this month!

🌻 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒 🌻

@/ShKrimps (twt) | @aeriamamaduck | @asoeiki | @/rt_k1OO (twt) | @ceelisiowo | @cherryterryartblog | @creatorae | @/cryptiddotjpeg (IG) | @dzasta15 | @/Ritzshou (twt) | @danotiel | @deepobeepo | @desansen | @/DriedAcrylic (IG) |

@resxume | @/emerizard (twt) | @/2Emisnt (twt) | @/seacasters (twt) | @/hazukitanuki (twt) | @hyriaven | @/ipadkidthea (IG) | @rekteddd | @roastedbeefed | @kagilasgilas | @kayspnart | @keip | @/seytanitogepi (twt) | @kittenexmachina | @/kylieekaat (twt)

@/wafer_lemon (twt) | @/pakutheta (twt) | @liz-aster | @anartical | @/love_goblinn (twt) | @/LunahrasDraws (twt) | @samberrymochi | @/graviitydraws (IG) | @/pencilcase_prince (IG) | @mewy101 | @/midnightlobo (bsky) | @mintivee (IG) | @/moonjelly._.fool (IG) |

@/MrBobtani (twt) | @muckingup | @mugencosmonautart | @mambybambi | @mushratting | @pigifon | @psykoe100 | @/renanjaminp (twt) | @/etc_artwork (IG) | @ryolightswan | @melonsharks | @/Sh0rtSt0ryL0ng (twt) | @/SleepySquirrel_ (twt) | @/_Spaghetti4U (twt) | @/SpriteTheKnight (twt) | @/taache__ (IG) | @teaserweaser | @/teamageart (IG) | @/TianaJRG (twt) | @/tobytrashytrash (twt) | @/trashie_can (twt) | @/Cing_Kucing (twt) | @vexfulfun | @mangysuh | @/y_van_ (twt) |

🌻 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒 🌻

@/ShKrimps (twt) | @cherryterryartblog | @happinessdeceit | @/cryptiddotjpeg (IG) | @/2Emisnt (twt) | @kikayyam | @liz-aster | @marimo-art | @/pencilcase_prince (IG) | @/mintivee (IG) | @psykoe100 | @rosered962 | @/Triky_Art (twt) |

🌻 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 🌻

@uselessundertalefacts | @cawthelesbian | @hananono | @/abovo_adastra (twt) | @thousand-winters | @/T1meslayerFics (twt) | @mangatxt |

[mangatxt]

Last Line Game

rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like).

thanks for tagging, @creativenicocorner :D

from my sage advice 7 wip:

“That’s perfectly normal, y’know.” “I know. Your column about it… It was a bit rough. All those exclamation points. It’s like you were yelling at me—” “Hey.” “I think that’s how I knew it was you right away. When I have questions about things in society, I always hear the answers in your voice.” “Because I’m the foremost authority.” “Because you talk a lot,” Serizawa says thoughtfully, and Reigen’s about to be offended again until he adds, “But also because I like listening.”

Tagging @hananono @seriweewaa @kreauxlighe @crownorclover @acekindaneat @asoeiki and anyone else who wants to <3

[tinkertoysdamn]

Tag Games, Baby! from @homoeroticfisticuffs

- rules: answer and tag nine people you want to get to know better and catch up with.

favorite color: Blue or red, I look good in both.

last song: I Will Dare by the Replacements. I was listening to a certain soundtrack in the car....

currently reading: Ugh, I'm not reading anything not work related at the moment but I did recently finish a murder mystery from the 1940s called something like Tainted by Death. A missing snood was instrumental to solving the case. I like my noir books written by ladies, what can I say.

currently watching: We started re-watching LA!OP last night, but we just finished Hit Monkey which is terrific.

currently craving: gonna be eating lunch soon, this curried chicken salad better be good.

coffee or tea: I love tea. Tea is my friend. When it gets cold I will consume more.

hobby to try: to try? Whatever I do it should be gentle on my hands, I'm terrible to them. But I've started doing some gardening stuff and I'm attempting to propagate some ice plants. I need them to take over as ground cover in my front yard. Kill the weeds. Kill the weeds.

current au: huh, I'm not really writing an AU this exact second. But I do want to do a short coda to the arranged marriage AU where they rescue Mantis. (and to explain why Peter doesn't mention her the whole story)

tagging (ugh, I might be short and none of you need to do this if you don't have time): @asoeiki @azuresquirrel @fend13th @ai-kue

[moonraccoon-exe]

I'm SORRY COONIE BUT YOUR GUARDIAN DAEMON SKYROCKETED AS MY SUPER FAVOURITE FIC I STILL HAVEN'T GOTTEN MY REVENGE ON YOU FOR MAKING SUCH A DELICIOUS SINFUL FIC THAT MADE ME RE-READ THOSE PARTS OVER AND OVER AGAIN YOU WON'T GET AWAY WITH THIS YOU HEAR MEEEEEEEEEEE

LKJAFDDLKAGDJGALKGJADLKGJDAGKLADGJALDKGJALKGADJGA

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

EIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKKKKKKKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

LKASJDLFKGJADLKGJADLKGADJGLKADGJKSDJAKJFDG

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

JUST YESTERDAY I WAS THINKING ABOUT THE GUARDIAN DEMON FIC, I DON’T KNOW WHY, AND THEN YOU DROP THIS IN LAKSJDKA THANK YOU SO MUCH I REALLY LOVED WRITING THAT AND I’M SO SO SO SO SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HAPPY THAT YOU LIKED IT!!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

YOU THREATENING ME WITH REVENGE IS HONESTLY THE BEST THING OF MY LIFE, I’M CURIOUS BUT ALSO AKLSJDKAGJ NO NEED TO TAKE REVENGE BECAUSE YOU KNOW I’M SENSITIVE AND I’M GOING TO E X PL O DE BECAUSE I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL, DO YOU WANT ME TO D I E?!?!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

THANK U FOR REPLYING TO THAT POST AND THANK U FOR THE KIND WORDS AND KLAJSGK THANK U CORQI GIVES ME LIFE I CRY

[yuu-be-good]

Thanks for the Ko-fis Eiki!!! Have some cute corqi :D 

@asoeiki

[aliatori]

CONGRATS ON 400 FOLLOWERS!! I HOPE IT REACHES TO 500 SOON YOOOOOOO!!!!! If I'm not too late, could I request for Cor x Ignis "meaning"? I know a friend who loves the pairing and it'd be a pleasant surprise x3~~

Hello my dear—sorry for the delay. I hope you (and your friend) enjoy some Cor/Ignis below.

“Again.”

Ignis grimaces as he struggles to catch his breath.  Cor’s had him doing the same drill for what must be close to two hours, though without his phone nearby, he has no way of confirming the time.  Darkness is not only Eos’ constant companion, it’s Ignis’s, and he’s spent the better part of a year learning how to fight again.

How to not be a liability.

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Ignis.”  The nuance in Cor’s voice has been made far more apparent now that Ignis can’t be distracted by the steely blue of his gaze, the memory of which has stayed crystal clear.

This particular nuance makes Ignis’s heart pound against his ribs, a different kind of demanding rhythm that has nothing to do with physical exertion. “Of course, Captain.” It’s hard to feel dignified whilst drenched in sweat and dressed in threadbare clothing suitable for training, but Ignis summons what resilience he can and calls a lance to hand, his connection with Noct’s magic one of the only things still in tact.

No one in possession of all their faculties would describe Cor as a soft man, but Ignis has learned the value of his other traits in the course of a year: in discipline, in consistency, in competence, in unshakable self assurance. Perhaps Ignis has learned the value a little too well. He’s come to rely on these sessions with Cor in ways that have far more to deal with his own personal desires rather than his interest in being combat ready.

But above all, Cor has never pitied Ignis, and pity is the one thing Ignis has had enough of to last the rest of his life.

There’s no more time for introspection once Cor barks out the order to begin.  There’s only the feel of steel in his hands, the swing of his arm, the thump of the lance sticking to the target, and the process repeating again.  Not only is this an exercise in accuracy without sight, it’s an exercise in stamina, in improving his other capabilities to make up for the lack of sight. When Gladio had first suggested training with Cor, Ignis had balked at the idea, but he’s long since come to see the benefits, both in his combat ability and in…

Well, his mood.

He doesn’t miss a single throw. 10 targets, 20 hits, all accompanied by the thud of success. Hopefully they’re in the correct areas for maximum damage, but at this point, Ignis is quite pleased with the improvement from when they began this venture.

“Better,” Cor declares, and Ignis can’t stop his heart from leaping into his throat at the praise.

“Thank you,” Ignis says, breathless again, adjusting his visor out of nervous habit. “I believe I’ll be ready to take the field again soon.” He pauses. “With your approval.”

Cor snorts, a noise Ignis has learned counts as a laugh for The Immortal. “If only everyone were as eager to take on daemonic hordes as you. I’d have a lot more soldiers to work with.” Heavy, booted footsteps indicate Cor’s approach.

“It’s important to me. I…” Ignis falters, unsure of how much he should confide in Cor. Perhaps it’s because he’s exhausted, perhaps it’s because he greatly admires the man now standing beside him, perhaps it’s because he’s lonely, but whatever the reason, Ignis lets the words flow freely. “I’ve always been motivated by purpose. With Noctis gone… joining the fight would give meaning to my days once more.”

There’s a pause, a shift, and suddenly Ignis can feel the heat radiating from Cor’s body, can smell the earthy spice of his sweat. “Why do you assume battle is the path to meaning?”

Ignis raises an eyebrow. “You’ll forgive me if I take that question with a grain of salt, given that it comes from one of Lucis’ most lauded soldiers.”

When Cor chuckles, Ignis feels the air leave his lungs in a rush, which makes it even harder to breathe when Cor takes hold of his bicep. “When you’ve been embroiled in as much death and chaos as I have, you learn to find meaning in unlikely places.” After a heartbeat, Cor’s face is so close that Ignis can feel his breath ghosting against his lips.

Pulled in by Cor’s gravitas, Ignis reaches one tentative hand up, running his fingertips in slow motion along the sharp line of his jaw, tracing out his features in bold sweeps. Cor doesn’t pull back and instead simply waits, as though waiting for Ignis to reach some forgone conclusion.  As Ignis reaches Cor’s lips, he hesitates for the briefest instant before continuing his path, delineating the thin line.

“Don’t hesitate.” Cor speaks the words against Ignis’ fingertips, as confident as ever, though there’s a low husk to his tone that sends a shiver through Ignis.

Ignis slides his hand to the back of Cor’s neck and pulls him closer. As soon as their lips meet, Cor takes charge, licking into Ignis’ mouth like he belongs there, tasting of mint and giving one ragged exhale through his nose.

Perhaps he does belong there, Ignis thinks, and then he stops thinking altogether.

[chocobostrinket]

49 for the micro story ask? = w= Loqi ~~~

Thanks for sending something!! :D :D :D

~If there was one thing that Loqi missed, it was the stars. 

He sat on the edge of a roof,feet dangling over the side as he looked up at the sky. A pointless venturethese days. There was nothing but the darkness now, an abyss made of ink andsmoke. Occasionally, like clouds, the darkness would thin, and you could get aglimpse of the sun. But the stars. The stars were too far away and too dim tobe seen when night fell. He was surprised by how strongly he did miss them. Buthe supposed it made sense. 

A soft sigh left him, and heclosed his eyes, trying to picture what constellation would be above him now.He reached through his memories and brought what he knew to the front of hismind. Ixion should be above him, here in Lestallum. Ramuhs guide he sent tothose who sought justice. Or was it to defend? He couldn’t rightly recall, buthe was certain that would be the dominant constellation at this time. 

If he was at home, it would bethe three lost messengers above him instead; Ifrits chosen who fell when hedid. Loqi had always thought that was such a sad story. Their loyalty beingrewarded with ruin. One he recalled was struck down by Leviathan, who’sconstellation was to the north of the three. Another struck down by Ixion, inRamuhs stead. He could never remember the third. But he knew he hadn’t likedtheir fate the most. 

He didn’t realize how far he’dlet himself slip into his thoughts until he heard movement beside him. Had hebeen on edge, he’d probably have been startled. Instead, his face was passiveas he opened his eyes and turned to look at who it was. Though he couldprobably guess. And if he had guessed, he would have been right. 

Next to him now sat Cor, whooffered him a wave in leu of a greeting. Loqi nodded back, and then returned tolooking at the sky. Though, there was no point. Habit he assumed though, tolook for familiar stars. Cor glanced upwards, as if trying to see what he wasstaring at, and then returned his gaze to Loqi.

“In Insomnia, did they teachyou how to find your way home with the stars?” He asked, genuinely curious,turning away from the sky to return Cor’s stare.

Cor shrugged, “It was optional,even back when I first joined. Maps and landmarks were mostly used tonavigate.” 

It wasn’t an answer, but Loqididn’t press. Instead he said, “Back in Niflheim they did, a requirement formost of the noble houses who’d been in power then.”

He looked down at the city as he spoke, brightly lit to ward offdemons, and saw the occasional hunter or kingsglaive scurrying around on thestreets.

“It used to be a point of pride, I think. To be able to say thatwe could find our way home with only the stars.” Loqi shrugged then, “I thoughtit to be an outdated practice, but I find myself glad that I learned.” 

Cor had been watching theground, his eyes occasionally catching on someone he knew, and said, “Hard tofind your way when they’re obscured.” 

A phrase double in meaning. Itamused Loqi enough that a smile pulled on the corner of his mouth. He had beenadrift lately and was well aware of it. As a former general, he hadn’t givenmuch thought to life outside of that. And as the years passed in the dark, hefound himself more and more confused about what he wanted to do. As a hunter,he had short-term goals to reach for, but when he wasn’t on missions he didn’treally have anything. His life was a blank space now, and if light returned,his time spent as a hunter wouldn’t be needed anymore. It made him uneasy. 

It was easier to think aboutthe stars instead. It was why he came up here, to get away from those thoughts.Cor knew well what he was thinking, having once been just as lost. Adistraction would be best for now, a temporary fix. When the light returned,he’d help him figure things out. If Loqi wanted, that was.

“So, what stars would be in thesky right now?” Cor asked, looking up into the dark. 

A small smile graced Loqi’smouth in full then, and he turned to look back into the sky. He beganexplaining the stars places, and how sometimes meaning could be found in thepatterns. 

“Or so they say,” he’d justify,and then recall some of the stories that went with the sky. As he spoke, hetraced the patterns he remembered. He also pointed out the western light, aconsistent star that you could always see. And right as he pointed at it, justby chance, the scourge cloud grew thin enough the he and Cor both caught afaint glimpse of it. 

That surprised him so much,that his arm drifted slowly back down to his side. It had only been a moment,so quick he could have imagined it. But he’d seen it, he was sure. Next to him,Cor had also seen it, and if he were a more emotional man, he’d have probablysmiled. Instead, he reached over and put a hand on Loqi’s shoulder, squeezingonce, and then got up from his spot. Perhaps it was a sign he’d find a path totravel. Eventually. 

“I should probably go backinside. Things to do and all.” He said before heading off.

“Alright.” He replied andclosed his eyes again as he heard Cor’s footsteps recede into the distance.

[kcscribbler]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks to @elodiah for the tag, as usual. :) A silly plot bunny from deep in the vaults, which I might finish someday soon for my "adopting a pet" Lokius bingo space, once my bang fics are nearly finished. We shall see.

Takes place vaguely in the post-rescue portion of the Storyteller verse.

Mobius caves in the end, because of course he does. The damn flerken’s not the only thing with big blue eyes he can’t say no to. He then has to spend a week drafting Provisional Small Pets Protocols (which Octavia has code-named pspsps) for the Void Hub, because what one God of Mischief does in moderation, the average newly-free-willed agent does in carefree excess, and with much encouragement from the aforementioned God of Mischief. Mobius is also seriously considering changing the dress code from brown to white, because the furball for some reason has decided to leave long white hair all over every. Single. Pair. Of pants. He owns. Both pet and owner are lucky they’re cute.

Tags under the cut!

@lokimobius @in-my-loki-feels @loki-is-my-kink-awakening @silentxsymphony @scifikimmi

@asoeiki @impulsemuppet @izumiyagami14 @andthekitchensinkao3 @thosegayoldmen

@mythical-magik @boredintjqueen @doomed-spectacles @devilbearingtrouble @mirilyawrites

and open tagging anyone else who wants to join with a recent excerpt or WIP! Whatcha workin' on?

[loki-is-my-kink-awakening]

WIP Wednesday

Lokius. Follow up to Loki and Mobius kissing for the first time in the archives.

It took them ages to get to the elevator, and Mobius was surprised they didn’t bump into the disapproving archivist (as much as he had tried to charm her into a smile with his wit, it had never worked). That was definitely a good thing, because who knows if she would allow him back down if she had.

Pressing the call button, Mobius looked over at Loki bouncing on their feet and trying to keep their hands by their sides. They kept breaking into a wide smile, their eyes bright and shining. Mobius wanted to kiss them so bad, but this damned elevator was taking so long. He pressed the button again, knowing it made no difference but doing it all the same.

Eventually, it opened and they both rushed to get inside, grabbing onto one another and crashing into the wall. Mobius heard himself giggle and he would be mortified, but Loki’s lips were on his again and that thought melted away.

He hummed into the kiss, walking backwards along the wall and pulling Loki with him. Their hands were everywhere—in his hair, on his shoulders, around his waist. Each touch felt like he was on fire, and he wanted to burn with it.

The ding of the elevator pulled them apart. Mobius rushed to the other corner, eyes downcast. He gave a weak cough and tapped his shoe on the wall, then looked up to see an office worker—one of the report carriers—look between him and Loki with her eyebrows raised. Behind her, the door closed and then the machinery whirred again and she turned around away from the two of them.

Loki was biting their lip, clearly wanting to say something, almost bursting out of their skin with the laugh they were holding in. It erupted out of them not five seconds after the doors opened and the office worker stepped out, glancing briefly at each of them. Mobius rubbed at his face. This was going to be the talk of the TVA.

But as Loki stalked across the space and stood in front of him, eyes filled with longing and want, Mobius cupped their face and pulled them back into a deep kiss.

Somehow, they managed to leave when the elevator reached their floor.

Tags below the cut

Tagged by the lovely @elodiah and @lokimobius 💕💕

Passing onto my fellow creatives @cha-melodius @starport-seven-five @dewdropreader @lgwilt @dreamycloud

@insert-witty-user-name-here @mirilyawrites @chaos-monkeyy

@kcscribbler @thosegayoldmen @mystic-voyager @impulsemuppet @peppermintkamz

@in-my-loki-feels @stillwanderingflame @kusakichan15 @boredintjqueen @silentxsymphony

@rins-love-wins @doomed-spectacles @devilbearingtrouble @fauxvvounds @andthekitchensinkao3

@loki-tree-of-life @sparrow-the-tired-lesbian @starrose17 @blackbirdofasgard @illiasha

@primewritessmut @ceeceetv @voulezvulcan @lettingtimepass @typewriterwolf

@fibvlaa @lumintsu @raynecreates @wolfpup026 @mobius-m-mobius

@asoeiki @natendo-art

[wftc141]

Art by @asoeiki

Devil-Dog

[worldbuildguild]

I’m embarrassed to say that I am struggling at the proportion of the smaller guy in this hugging scene >_<! For some context, the smaller left guy is 165cm, the taller right guy is 191cm. I’m so sorry for the trouble if you can help!

Gosh, this is so cute! I needn’t say more than that I am a sucker for romantic drawings. And, don’t you worry. Size differences, especially when in these sorts of poses + not displaying full bodies are sometimes a nightmare to figure out. You really weren’t that far off. 

(Mod Seraph here- I’m proofreading for Mod Wackart and I’d just like to say that your pose and idea is SUPER cute!!)  There’s a slight cheat to referencing height difference between your characters. It’s a website that compares and illustrates height differences. You plot in the height of your character ( granted, it’s in in inches, so us metric people will have to make do ). Then, it churns out a picture for you displaying the general size difference based on the average human proportions. It is really clever and can be found here ( mrinitialman.com) Here’s a comparison of your boys, for an example. v

From this, I could determine that the smallest guy’s torso height would correspond to the space between the lower abdomen and beneath the pecs of the larger one. Then, I went and manually drew that out myself. 

I also angled his leg a little bit more. Take that for whatever it is, coming from someone who adores and delves into these sorts of things maybe a little too much. But when you express affection as intense as this, you want to mingle your body as much with the other person as possible, closing gaps between you and the subject of your affection, and trying to sort of wrap yourself around them.  What I like to do is to map out where my characters are interacting physically. Then, I pull back and take a good look, to see if the emotional intensity conveys sufficiently. 

It’s a really minor thing, but you have enough of a grip on so many basic concepts that this could easily be your next step. 

- Mod Wackart ( ko-fi )

[ninemoons42-lestallumhaven]

(Original prompt from this AU seed by @moonraccoon-exe and reblog-tags by @asoeiki // musical inspiration is Bryson Andres covering “Secrets” by One Republic HERE)

Quick Fic Pick 36: till all my sleeves are stained red

The wind tastes and feels different, here: and no sooner does he have the thought than he has to swallow, hard, because he’s suddenly remembering the scents of sylleblossoms, of dog-roses, of larkspur and lavender, and -- those flowers grow in so many places but they’ve always been the wildflowers and the tamed and cultivated garden-blooms of his childhood, their bright colors the background to the days and the long moon-kissed nights, the clear skies that allowed him to see so far. 

The flowers that clung to the mountain-tops, that carpeted the valleys, and he’d had his share of glorious sun-warmed days, climbing those steep slopes and throwing his voice and the notes of his violin to the skies, to the distant snows on the horizon, to the flowers that danced in the cool breezes and now he won’t be smelling those mountain-scents thick and heavy in the back of his throat, not for a while, not when he’s cast here and adrift, and the breezes here smell of sea-salt and different flowers. Of aconite and petunia and moonflowers. Different gardens. Different winds.

He grits his teeth. He forces himself to breathe. He is here, in a different place, and it is a different day, a different time. He is starting, here. He is starting over with his life. No one knows Ignis Scientia, on these clogged roads, on these stone-dust sidewalks, and that’s the whole point. That’s the very reason he’s here.

Rush of voices and warmth behind him: the swinging doors of a coffee shop. Familiar idioms, familiar accents, on the other side of those lace curtains, those sturdy grass-green cups and saucers. He’s grateful to have found his friends, his fellow exiles, people who understand what it means to have sky and rock and soaring slopes overhead, and he’ll play for them, too, for Ravus and Lunafreya and the people crowding into their coffee shop.

But this is his first day on these streets of Insomnia and -- he has to play for himself. He needs to play for himself: to fix in his mind who he is in the here and now, and who he was on the day he left Altissia for good. He needs to play and remember; he needs to face this new city, this new sky, this new him, with the salt already catching on his boots and his collars and the battered case that contains his violin.

Crimson-stained wood, and the smell of the rosin that lingers on his skin, and the graceful length of the bow: and he plucks out a quick sprightly run of notes. In the air of this place the timbre is far brighter, far louder, and that’s an unexpected blessing, an unexpected encouragement, and maybe he smiles, as he senses a tall and interested presence behind him and he catches a glimpse of hopeful white, hopeful blue, hopeful purple. 

He looks over his shoulder and they smile, and Luna throws him a thumbs-up, where she’s standing outside the coffee shop and Ravus is cradling a large steel mug in his hand: they’re his audience no matter what he does today, whether he does well or does poorly. 

So he takes a deep breath. Violin pinned between his chin and his shoulder, and fingers on the strings, shaping the chords, shaping the harmonies -- he pulls the bow across, smoothly, and the notes fly away from him, flow away from him, as he begins to play --

The words of the folk song unspool in his mind and there are faces peering at him. Two boys in school uniforms, holding hands: raven hair and blond, gelled spikes falling and tossed on the salt-breeze, and they’re actually singing softly -- he can hear their voices over the melody he’s playing, and he smiles and flourishes the bow for them and keeps playing. 

Teeth and ears and tails stopping just across the street: two huskies on the leash, flanking the tall woman in heels, who produces a phone from her purse and raises it in his direction. He hopes he doesn’t look odd, if she’s taking photos or video of him -- he’s inspired, instead, to tinker with the melody and he throws in a skirling waltzing interpolation, playful, and the schoolboys laugh and nod their heads -- 

Money, flash of coins, flash of bills, falling into his violin case -- he launches into a new tune. His own composition, sweet mournful tuneful air, and he hears something like surprise from behind him -- sees the boys’ faces go blank with interest -- and there’s movement, approaching, slowing and coming to a stop.

Gray sweatshirt, gray sweatpants, and the breeze that catches at the backwards-facing sports cap, that lifts it clear off and spins it away, revealing shock and surprise and brown eyes, and Ignis has never been the focus of such keen expressions, such rapt attention -- this boy who has just stopped and is still actually jogging in place, who is frowning to follow him and his music, that he plays and plays and so he loops around again to the beginning of the piece, repeats in a different key -- half a step higher, half a step darker -- 

Ignis blanks Luna and Ravus and the boys and the dogs and the woman and the jogger out, in favor of playing all the way through to the actual end of the piece, the notes released like a flock of surprised birds, and he catches his breath because he’s never played this part in public before -- the complicated arpeggios and crescendoes of the finale, crashing onto him in its abrupt glory, and he ends with the final pull of the bow across the strings, ends with all the notes smashed together, and he flings his arm up and away and he’s pointing at this different sky, with the different wind and the salt and the flower-scents swirling around him.

And the eyes of the boy who’d been running, fastened on him where he’s finally come to a stop, too, feet planted on the sidewalk, mouth hanging open and eyes wide, wide, wide.

Ignis smiles at him.