#first of all idk the background still looked off even if i changed the colors like five times

[wombywoo]

Ok! I've finally decided to put together a (somewhat) comprehensive tutorial on my latest art~

Please enjoy this little step-by-step 💁‍♀️

First things first--references!

Now I'm not saying you have to go overboard, but I always find that this is a crucial starting point in any art piece I intend on making. Especially if you're a detail freak like me and want to make it as realistic as possible 🙃

As such, your web browser should look like this at any given point:

Since this is a historical piece, it means hours upon hours of meaningless research just to see what color the socks are, but...again. that isn't, strictly, necessary 😅

Once I've compiled all my lovely ref pics, I usually dump them into a big-ass collage ⬇️

(I will end up not using half of these, alas :'D)

Another reference search for background material, and getting to showcase our models of choice for this occasion~

When picking a reference for an actor or model, the main thing I keep in mind (besides prettiness 🤭) is lighting and orientation. Because I already kinda know what pose I'm gonna go with for this piece, I can look for specific angles that might fit the criteria. I should mention that I am a reference hound, and my current COD actor ref folder looks like this:

Also keep in mind, if you're using a ref that you need to flip, make sure you adjust accordingly. This especially applies to clothing, as certain things like pants zippers and belt buckles can be quite specific ☝️

Now that we've spent countless hours googling, it's time to start with a rough sketch:

It doesn't have to be pretty, folks, just a basic guideline of where you want the figures to be.

The next step is to define it more, and I know this looks like that 'how to draw an owl' meme, but I promise--getting from the loose sketch above to below is not that difficult.

Things to keep in mind are--don't go too in-depth with the details, because things are still subject to change at this point. In terms of making a suitable anatomically-correct sketch, I would suggest lots of studying. This doesn't even have to be things like figure drawing, I genuinely look at people around me for inspiration all the time. Familiarize yourself with the human form, and things like weight, proportions, posing will seem a little more feasible.

It's also important at this stage to consider your composition. Remember to flip the canvas frequently to make sure you're not leaning to one side too often. I'm sure something can be said for the spiral fibonacci stuff, which I don't really try to do on purpose, but I think keeping things like symmetry and balance in mind is a good start ✌️

Next step is just blocking in the figures. Standard. No fuss 👍

Now onto the background!

It's frankly hilarious how many people thought I was *hand-drawing* these maps and stuff 😂😂 I cannot even begin to comprehend how insanely difficult that would be. So yeah, we're just taking the lazy copy and paste way out 🤙

I almost always prepare my backgrounds first, and this is mostly to get a general color scheme off the bat. For collage work, it's really just a matter of trial and error, sticking this here, slapping this there, etc. I like to futz around with different overlay options until I've found a nice arrangement. Advice for this is just--go nuts 🤷‍♀️

Next, I add a few color adjustments. I tend to make at least 2 colors pop in an art piece, and low and behold, they usually tend to be red and blue ❤️💙There's something about warm/cool vibes, idk man..

Now we move on to coloring the figures. This is just a basic block and fill, not really defining any of the details yet.

Next, we add some cursory values. Sloppy airbrush works fine, it'll look better soon I promise 🙏

And now--rendering!

I know a lot of beginner artists are intimidated by rendering, and I can totally understand why. It's just one of those things you have to commit to 💪

I've decided to show a brief process of rendering our dear Johnny's face here:

Starting off, I usually rely on the trusty airbrush just to get some color values going. Note--I've kept my sketch layer on top, but feel free to turn it on and off as you work, so as to not be too bound to the sketch. For now, it's just a guideline.

This next stage may look like a huge jump, but it's really just adding more to the foundation. I try to think of it like putting on make-up in a way~ Adding contours, accentuating highlights. This is also where I start adding in more saturation, especially around areas such as ears, nose and lips. Still a bit fuzzy at this point, but that's why we keep adding to it 💪

A boy has appeared! See--now I've removed most of the line layer, and it holds up on its own. I'll admit that in order to achieve this realistic style, you'll need lots and lots of practice and skill, which shouldn't be discouraging! Just motivate yourself with the prospect of getting to look at pretty men for countless hours 🙆‍♀️

I'll probably do a more in-depth explanation about rendering at some point, but let's keep this rolling~

Moving forward is just a process of adding to the figures bit by bit. I do lean towards filling in each section from top to bottom, but you can feel free to pop around to certain parts that appeal to you more. I almost always do the faces first though, because if they end up sucking, I feel less guilty about scrapping it 😂 But no--I think he's pretty enough to proceed 😚

They're coming together now 🙆‍♀️ Another helpful tip--make sure you reuse color. By that, I mean--try to incorporate various colors throughout your piece, using the eyedropper tool to keep a consistent palette. I try to put in bits of red and blue where I can

Here they are fully rendered! Notice I've made a few subtle changes from the sketch, like adjusting the belt buckles because I made a mistake 😬 Hence why you shouldn't put too much stock in your initial sketch~

The next step is more of a stylistic choice, but I usually go over everything with an outline, typically in a bright color like green. Occasionally, I can just use my initial line layer, but for this, I've made a brand new, cleaner line 👍

And the final step is adjusting the color and adding some text:

Tada!! It's done!

All in all, this took me the better part of a week, but I have a lot of free time, so yeah ✌️

I hope you appreciated that little walkthrough~ I know people have been asking me how I do my art, but the truth is--I usually have no clue how to explain myself 😅 So have this half-assed tutorial~

As a bonus, here is a cute (cursed) image of Johnny without his mustache:

A baby, a literal infant child !!! who put this wee bairn on the front lines ??! 😭

Anyway! peace out ✌️

[doodler16]

I don't think the skin tones in hazbin hotel are that bad

It's becuz they are all nit human so qhy should they have normal skin colour?Also I don't actually mind Sir Pent's actual skin colour.But then again even if they wanna make Adam look like beetlejuice they should've gave him some melanin considering he's made out of clay [or fron dirt by the first ep idk] like heaven should be a place in the hellaverse where all angels are humans with some traits of abnormal yet still human

The skin tones in Hazbin Hotel for me are pretty hit or miss (but mainly miss). Because when you watch the show and you see Alastor for example: do you see a creole man? Or do you see a white man who was changed at the last moment to be a person of color?

You would think their skin tones, the way someone died, and the year would be a huge factor in how they look in Hell. Or what about Carmilla Carmine? The way you know she is Spanish is her background theme music, her voice actor speaking a few lines of Spanish, and her accent. Her design doesn’t scream Spanish/hispanic woman. Does that mean anyone who is purplish grey tone related is automatically Hispanic or Spanish?

What about Velvette? Would anyone tell she is black if she didn’t change up her hair every episode she was in or didn’t have an afro? Majority of hell has the same or similar skin tones. So you kind of have to listen to the voice actor’s accent or background music to figure out what race or ethnicity they are.

Can anyone even tell if Niffty of all people is supposed be at least Japanese or Asian related without looking at the wiki? Look at her skin, she is white as Charlie. Does that mean Lucifer and Charlie are also Japanese or asian? The 3 also have the same pink marks on their cheeks.

What about Valentino? Would anyone know if he was Hispanic by his design alone? Least be honest, we only know he is Hispanic because he has a few lines of Spanish, his accent, and background music. Adam is basically based off Alex Brightman.

[disposal-blueeee]

update

wip:3

im goinf crazy

[cradle-of-darkness]

hey!! I have lots of stuff I made for cfco (this thing!) that I really want to share and also just keep in one spot, so here's kind of a cfco """artbook""". LOTS of rambling about my ocs up ahead!!! you have been warned!!!!

old code foretold co-op art under cut ↓

first up is this little thumbnail of a mock up poster/book cover! this was made while cfco lived only in my imagination, before I actually started to seriously consider making it into something tangible. little did I know that I would eventually repurpose this design into the title art 😈

I realized this design wouldn't work vertically if i was gonna make cfco in google slides so I switched some stuff around and boom!!!! more detailed sketch!!!!!

here's a placeholder background I slapped together and used while testing out how I wanted things to look (textbox design, font, color palette, sprites). if you look closely at the background of jay and raziel's infocards you can see I used this for those since I didn't have the actual backgrounds drawn at that point. there were actually some earlier textbox designs with a little icon that was supposed to show the face of whichever character was speaking to make it more clear, but ended up cutting that since i thought it'd be unnecessary extra work for me

here's a thumbnail for what was supposed to be the final slide! I kinda wished I finished this but honestly I kinda forgot about it 😭 plus there wouldn't be a lot of room for the text in this design. I also think it's a little misleading because it implies evelyn is still In The Walls when she is not. she is elsewhere now. hopefully in therapy

some of the first iterations of jay my stupid clown son who I love oh so dearly. oh god where do I even start with him. well for starters these sketches are from OCTOBER!!!!! of LAST YEAR!!!!!! WILD!!!!!!!! anyway as you can see he's pretty different here. I can't talk about his design without saying that from the very beginning he was designed to be a foil to sylvie and I tried to get that across in just about anywhere I could. at first I just thought the idea of an "anti-sylvie" would be cool, but then that idea quickly evolved into a completely separate character.

I picked his epithet, "sunshine", to contrast "drowsy". I didn't wanna go for the exact opposite word to drowsy like "awake" or "energetic", but it got me thinking about night/day parallels and I figured I could do something with that, which made me land on "sunshine"

jay is a clown who dropped out of school and doesn't want to be taken seriously because he's exhausted from the restrictions his family put on him! meanwhile sylvie is a psychologist who graduated early and wants to be taken seriously because he craves respect and validation (possibly out of a lack of respect from his family). parallels!!! I could honestly go on and on about everything in jay's personality that foils sylvie's but I'll just stick to his design because idk if anyone else wants to hear all that 😭

so yeah uh back to his design. his mask used to cover his eyes! I changed it to cover his mouth since sylvie's glasses cover only his eyes, I thought it'd be more fitting if jay's mask covered whatever sylvie's glasses don't cover

he also had a star motif! I felt like this didn't line up with him being sun themed so I scrapped it

lots of jays!!! they're all squished together on one image because tumblr image limit

because his color palette is based off of an inverted version of sylvie's, I already knew I wanted his main colors to be blue, red/pink, black, and brown/bronze. I messed around with this palette a lot before I got it to look ok. there's some earlier versions of his design where he's more pink than red

his design here differs a little from what I ended up sticking with!!!

- the cuffs of his sleeves and his gloves got their colors switched around

- the clown nose on his mask became an actual separate piece instead of just a flat red spot

- the ruffles on his undershirt. gone

- slightly simplified bangs

- no more blue streaks in hair!!! I actually kinda wish I kept these :(

he was actually supposed to be much more outwardly malicious. like one of these characters who does whatever sounds the most fun at the moment regardless of the consequences or their morals. I thought it'd be cool if instead of the usual little shine I give characters on the side of their eyes, jay had a triangle shape towards the top of his eye that looked like a shine, but then when he gets serious and narrows his eyes, it's no longer visible and it makes his eyes look like there's no light in them

I gave him a subtle X motif because I thought it was like the opposite of a swirl. a swirl curls in on itself while an X sticks out sharply in different directions

near the top of the image is an idea for jay's "phoenix design". his powers aren't shown a lot in cfco, but I like to think that after he's defeated in a fight, he can revive himself for a short period of time... like how a phoenix is reborn 😱😱😱😱 anyway this design was supposed to be what he might look like after reviving. it needs some work but I like his hat

the bottom of this image is sketches for his sprites!!!!

and speaking of his sprites...... here's some quick sketches I made for some of his poses!!!!! I wanted his sprites to mirror the poses of some of sylvie's portraits, but with a contrasting emotion. when sylvie's angry he stands up straight and holds his arm out in an accusatory pose. when jay is happy he jolts up and reaches out his arm in delight. when sylvie is proud of himself he leans forward and gestures towards himself. when jay is nervous he jerks to one side and brings his hand to his collar out of uncertainty. can you tell how much I wanted jay to parallel sylvie

by the way while I'm on the topic I think it's worth mentioning: jay and sylvie are...... kinda maybe sorta oc x canon......... (LOUD BOOING SFX) I wrote them as friends and that's how they'll stay but I really love them together and I like imagining, in a scenario where they're both in better places mentally, they're in a qpr. ok. so what. sue me.

moving on from jay, here's one of raziel's first designs all the way from december of last year!!!! this was around when I started to roughly construct the plot of cfco in my brain. i really like how he looks here but I had to leave behind some elements of this design to prevent it from feeling too cluttered and to make them easier to redraw multiple times for their sprites. the design of their sleeves was actually based on a jacket I saw around this time that I thought looked cool

and finally here's evelyn! the first image is one of my first drawings of her along with an idea for what she would've looked like in the past. then the second is a sketch of her portrait compared to the final one. there's actually a lot I want to say about her and by extension cfco as a whole

in my head, cfco was a lot different. it just existed as little collections of scenes I would imagine that I thought I could string together and form a cohesive story out of. these little scenes started to evolve and become more complex, which made me realize I would not be able to make them into anything in that state.

cfco was going to have a much deeper plot centered around evelyn discovering a secret about how epithets function. this secret would have been a lot for one person to handle and being burdened with this knowledge would have caused her a great deal of stress, so she made a nearly impossible game which would reveal this secret to whoever wins it so that someone else can share this burden. I realized while writing the draft of cfco that at my current writing ability, I wouldn't be able to pull a story like this off, and also that whatever I made this secret would probably end up being not possible in the world of ee as more lore gets revealed, so I switched some stuff around and now it's not about that anymore, but I think a consequence of that was now the plot feels a little rushed and unpolished 😭 oh well

the mark on her chest was also originally a scar from something related to this version of the story. I wanted to keep that part of her design even though it's not a scar in the current version of her character, so it's a birthmark now

I thought the themes of "forbidden knowledge" accompanied by vague religious imagery were cool for the original idea and I had integrated these themes into the characters and story so much by that point that it'd be a waste to turn it back around so I figured I should just keep them in even if it makes less sense

raziel is very angel themed! the straps on the back of their jacket are supposed to look like angel wings. the circles all over their outfit is supposed to give the feeling of halos, or the many eyes of a seraphim. evelyn has a pomegranate shaped necklace and her hair is supposed to be shaped like a pomegranate. her surname even used to be plague-odd, pun on "play god" (which I ended up changing to a similar sounding name). raziel and evelyn also have angel numbers associated with them. raziel's is 111 (intuition) and it's present in his birthday, while evelyn's is 444 (protection) and is present in her age and birthday

that's about it!!! if you read this far thank you so much 🙏 even though it's not very good, I'm glad I made cfco after spending so long being scared to write something and share it online. not to be that guy who wants people to ask him about his ocs but if u wanna know anything else about these guys 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 u can ask 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I love talking about them (especially jay. if you couldn't already tell he's the favorite child)

by the way here's all of jay and raziel's sprites. the links should hopefully work????

jay

raziel

[emo-batboy]

Fan pages on Twitter with Bruce are making me think of one thing. Kpop Twitter. Do u think they would be making fancams of him too? Photocards? Posters? Buying 10 copies of vogue just for different cover with him?

*takes off glasses* now I cannot reveal the secrets of my Twitter au BUT you came to the right person :DD

NOW CONSIDER

BRUCE WAYNE AS A FORMER MODEL (idk if this has been done before with Battinson? Let me know so I can read it)

So maybe Bruce did some covers for a business magazine in his late teens or early 20’s and it went really well!!

a few luxury brands asked if this fresh-faced Bruce Wayne would consider being an ambassador. Maybe a brand of watches, suits, sunglasses, something business-like or old money

He agrees to work with some suit company cuz his dad loves the brand and he likes them too now

This earns him his first ever taste of A-List Celeb Status. He is on the cover of magazines, not just business and fashion: Gossip magazines. Tabloids. People recognize him and want his autograph. Paparazzi follow him to lunch dates with friends.

They want to know his favorite color, cereal brand, ice cream flavor, and not because they want to be billionaires like him (poor little nepo baby) but because they love him so much they want to know every little detail of his life.

He is given the title of heartthrob over and over again (and I mean look at him, ofc he is)

He despises it with every cell in his body.

BUT he keeps working for this one luxury tailor brand until his contract ends. Maybe two or three years?

He has a good relationship with them, still. Wears their suits mostly, recommends it to friends if they need a new one. But he’s decided it’s not for him anymore.

Now. Every year, during New York Fashion Week, Bruce is invited to walk in their show. (This brand gives all of their ambassadors the opportunity.) Sometimes, he says yes. Sometimes, he doesn’t.

He refuses for a few years (during his vengeance era) until Bruce Wayne changes and decides to make more appearances. NY Fashion Week comes around, and Bruce returns for one (1) show.

Oh lordie the stans

They arrive in droves

EVERYBODY AND THEIR MOTHER SEES THE CLIP OF BRUCE WAYNE WALKING AT THE FASHION SHOW!!

He tears up that fucking runway! He’s a seasoned veteran of course he does

THE BRAND BEGS BRUCE TO COME BACK

And ya know what?

He says yes

Cuz he wants to be personable, likable, approachable, a role model (no pun intended)

His bitterness is slowly dissipating, and he’s grown stronger after the stress of his early 20’s and the hatred of his late 20’s. He’s an Adult TM who can handle it.

This is when he learns about the new emergence of stan culture :)

The edits are EVERYWHERE

Some are from his new collections and looks

Others are made up of early 2010’s Bruce Wayne

Imagine like those sparkly ones with cute music in the background and it’s just Bruce smiling

(And then there’s the thirst trap ones, you know those one)

Pretty boy billionaire Bruce Wayne and his army of fans could declare a nation. They’re your cousin, your friend, your teacher, your goddamn accountant.

Old posters from Tiger Beat 2009 go up on eBay for thousands of dollars

And those old “vintage” fashion magazines where he’s on the cover, those could cost you rent

Bruce walks some new shows and agrees to pose for some magazines (fashion AND business, among others)

Vogue offers him the cover, which he accepts

They run out of stock.

(How is that even possible?)

Fancams of him walking down the street and attending press conferences crop up? That’s what surprises him the most.

He is still very camera shy but the more he gets to know the regular fansites, he feels more comfortable waving and talking to them. (And hopefully they don’t suspect a thing. PLEASE don’t suspect a thing.)

There are a lot of events where they’re not allowed in but if it’s a public event, they will be there

(There are some creepy ones tho, and Alfred handles them accordingly) (with a call to the police) (and occasionally a hose)

It’s fun tho, allows Brucie Wayne, Billionaire Nepo Baby Extraordinaire, to become separate from his nightly persona

This is how Bruce becomes very familiar with Stan Twitter

But he still refuses to make an account for his own sanity

It’s for the best

[akumuusu]

Link Click Bridon Arc theories and notices

Episode 1 Bridon Arc/Yingdu Chapter Spoilers

Cheng Xiaoshi’s death

Vein is using a revolver

A photo of Lu Guang, Qiao Ling, and Cheng Xiaoshi falls off a shelf when Lu Guang hits into the wall. There are cracks in both Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi’s parts of the photograph, but not Lu Guangs.

Cheng Xiaoshi passes Lu Guang a ball, this has symbolized their trust throughout the series.

We are shown both Xiao Li and Qiao Ling dead

~ Xiao Li was lying against a wall, sitting on the floor

~ Qiao Ling was lying in a pool of her own blood, from the way the blood was pooling the wound seemed to be on the left side of her chest or abdomen.

When Cheng Xiaoshi dies, Lu Guang gains his powers. Their eye’s fade and glow the same way that Qiao Ling and Li Tianxi’s do in episode 12 of season 2

It takes Lu Guang an hour to leave the room Cheng Xiaoshi died in, from 23:11 to 00:05

When Lu Guang finally leaves the room, he has a new wound on the left side of his abdomen, most likely to be from a suicide attempt.

The photo Lu Guang took is inside the Sonnets collection previously mentioned, slightly inwards from the back of the book.

~ The photo was taken at 17:32, or 5:32 in analog time.

~ it was a photo of 6 birds, seemingly white doves, of which represent, in English, loyalty, this symbol is the most notable of them all for evident reasons.

Police sirens play in the background right as Lu Guang dives.

Throughout the episode, Vein’s eyes are never visible, not even in the opening.

Immediate dive

Lu Guang has tears in his eyes when he sees Cheng Xiaoshi alive for the first time.

When Cheng Xiaoshi goes to find a nurse, Lu Guang grabs his arm before he can leave, saying I’m okay twice, second time looking at the ground and sounding miserable.

White butterfly becomes blue in an animation where Lu Guang holds it in his hands, before blowing it out of his hands as it becomes multiple, before it goes back to reality and the white butterfly flies off

~ the animation looks as if it were drawn in pencil or crayon, but the colors are dark and dull, making it feel ominous.

~blue butterflies symbolises a change in luck or a wish granter in English.

Flashback to Vein, where he says “This is the punishment for changing the past” as he holds his gun out.

We find out that the 12 hour time limit isn’t a power limit, but a rule Lu Guang imposes himself.

~ Lu Guang says that he doesn’t know what will happen, but he hypothesizes that the diver’s soul may be stranded in a timeline where they do not belong, which could cause you to lose yourself forever, in other words go insane.

~ Despite thinking this, Lu Guang still does it.

Lu Guang says this: “Whatever the consequence, those who break the law, shall pay the price for what they’ve done eventually.”

~ as he says the last line, he steps on a bug, likely symbolizing the death that comes with breaking the rules.

Convention

Not really important but the cosplay Cheng Xiaoshi tried to wear is the heroine, idk I found it funny.

RanXi chronicles relation to Lu Guang

~ “When crisis came, the heroine Rong Xi accidentally awoke to her ancestral lamp. It’s said that the lamp would give special powers to people who awoke it.” Similarly, Lu Guang gained Cheng Xiaoshi’s powers when crisis arose (Vein). Him gaining this power wasn't intentional either, as it came alongside Cheng Xiaoshi’s death.

~ ”Rong Xi gained the power to turn back time.” this one’s pretty self explanatory

~ “so she returned to the past over and over, enduring the despair and anguish to save her family and friends who had already died in the endless circle.” this is exactly what Lu Guang is being shown to do, going back over and over in order to save Cheng Xiaoshi, Qiao Ling and (seemingly) General Xiao.

Cheng Xiaoshi says that he wishes to have time travel abilities.

~he states that if he could go back in time, he could maybe save his family. He also says that if Qiao Ling and Lu Guang were to get kidnapped, he could quote ‘swoop in just before the crisis hits’ and save them.

Lu Guang says that the past cannot be changed. He says this with certainty, he believes his efforts are fruitless and yet he still will try.

We see Lu Guangs journal from the OP, it shows all information of everything he does throughout the entirety of the timeline, with exact date and time, and important information or events circled.

While trying to find Shen Miaomiao, Lu Guang uses his original power, meaning that powers can be used during dives.

~ Lu Guang likely enters new photos to reset the timeline while inside a photo already, explaining why he hadn’t aged in episode 24/Can’t live without a good brother.

Next to RanXi chronicles in what seems to be a bookstore or library, we see a magazine with Xia Fei on it in Shen Miaomiao’s flashbacks

Cheng Xiaoshi says that if divination was real, that he, Lu Guang and Qiao Ling could use it as a side gig in the photo shop. As it would be nice to help others find things precious to them. After saying this, Cheng Xiaoshi goes grayscale and glitched briefly before cutting to Lu Guang looking shocked and saying he needs to leave. When Lu Guang attempts to leave, Cheng Xiaoshi grabs onto him and pulls him into the photo studio.

Scammer mini arc

Lu Guang refuses to let anyone see him use his powers, meaning the eye changes are at least seen on the person using the power.

Lu Guang is reading a magazine with Xia Fei on the cover

~ its volume 103, whether that has significance or not, I don’t know.

“Once someone breaks the law, there’s no room for sympathy.” Lu Guang says this about Cheng Xiaoshi defying the rules, this also implies that Lu Guang feels no sympathy for himself over what's happening.

Lu Guang yelled out when Cheng Xiaoshi was about to be hit by a baseball bat, he gave up on his own rules by doing this as it

When running away, Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes are yellow and Lu Guang’s are blue

~ I saw a theory that this happens if they are holding hands, whether that’s the case or not I am unsure.

Lu Guang tells Cheng Xiaoshi that the past is in the past and that he shouldn’t dwell on it, if found it ironic.

~ One of my personal favourite parts of Lu Guang’s character is how much of a hypocrite he is. I always love that in a character and find that is works really well and makes a lot of sense for him.

Lu Guangs sight power can only be used for the 12 hours continuing hours after the photo has been taken, this was implied by the 12 hour rule but it's outright said here, which is good to have confirmation.

Aftermath

Cheng Xiaoshi says he used to know two people with similar eyes to Lu Guang, but they disappeared.

~ This could be referring to either his power eyes or his regular eyes, though I’m leaning towards his normal ones.

Lu Guang says that he will use his powers to help Cheng Xiaoshi at the photo studio.

~ He likely wants to avoid Cheng Xiaoshi gaining powers, as that's what has killed him in the previous timeline.

Lu Guang is shown to hug in on himself anytime he is anxious or sad, not extremely important but it may be informative later on.

Cheng Xiaoshi accidentally dives into a photo of what seems to be Bridon. A higher pitched voice calls out his name (of which sounds like Qiao Ling)

Directly after the previous scene, it cuts to Liu Xiao reading the same sonnets collection that Lu Guang owns, he snaps the book closed within milliseconds, but its opened long enough to see which one’s he is on, which is sonnets 18-19.

~ Sonnet 18, from what I could infer, seemed to be about love and immortality, specifically from one specific analysis by Lehigh University ‘the stability of love and its power to immortalize someone’

~ Sonnet 19 seems to be about time, and the sins of it going forward. In a way, Sonnet also seems to be about immortality, or at least the immortality of love.

~ A common thread throughout all used Shakespearean sonnet’s is that they are all about love. Though, this likely doesn’t mean much as most of the Sonnets are about love.

In the sonnet book Liu Xiao is holding, on the second page in the bottom right corner, the one with the 19th sonnet, there is a one way scribble that seems to be made with pencil. There are whited out letters that look untouched by pencil entirely, it says ‘BAHATE’ in all capitals.

~ when translated, the word bahate means ‘to flow off gradually’. I am unsure if that's what it actually means in this context or not, but it’s the best thing I currently have.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s father’s name is Cheng Wei Min

~ Whether this is important or not, I’m unsure

Right before the episode ends, Liu Xiao is shown on a phone call with an unknown caller ID. He says “Finally found it? Good. I’ll take it from here.” he hands up and then says “Finally, The games can begin.” and it cuts to black.

I was supposed to post this this morning but I forgot, and I haven’t watched ep.2 so I apologize if any information is outdated

[phanhlee]

(I finally done all the commissions so now I have time for this. Hope you enjoy :>>)

Tag: Claude Frollo x male!oc (Helzon Sullivan)

-------------------------------------------

Part 2

In this time when Helzon served as Claude's personal servant, he was treated like a literal king. Claude usually doesn't command him to do anything much, beside maybe sitting near so that Claude can look at him.

Helzon can cook very well, since he has been making foods by himself in his whole life. He is definitely able to do any housework Claude could possibly give, cooking, cleaning, washing clothes or stuffs. However, those works are pushed to the other servants while Helzon mainly is commanded to clean Claude's bedroom.

Sometimes, Claude would wear him a collar (that one of a dog) and walks him around the city to show that Helzon belongs to him. He pretty likes dressing his favorite servant up too, spending hours picking clothes that suit Helzon the most (anything would look good on him) even when he won't wear time twice. It's just nutrition for Claude's eyes.

Helzon is an obedient one anyway. He wouldn't question Claude's orders, despite how ridiculous they are. Example like when Claude requests to join his bathtub, Helzon only gives one excuse "This is not a big bathtub" then let him in anyway. Or like when Claude sneaks into his bedroom because his own room is cold, Helzon hugs him to sleep.

That also created a bad habit for Claude Frollo. He knows he would get what he wants just by speaking softly, so he just...uses it. Once, he asks Helzon for a kiss, and he gets one. All the the shame or sense of guilt have left Claude Frollo that day when he sneaked up in a man's house, so now he has nothing to fear anymore.

However, Helzon is a hard one. To him, a kiss is just a mere physical contact, it could make him feel nothing. That irritated Claude sometimes, but does he care ? He just keeps doing, because he feels good doing so.

(This is sketch color and I'm suck at background)

Everything changes at that one night. It starts a few days before, when Helzon starts acting weird. He remains unfocused, and sometimes overreacted (To someone like him, it means he actually be surprised, or afraid or anything).

He asks for four days off duty. Claude refuses, but that doesn't last long when Helzon decides to use his charm. With some little begging and puppy eyes, he gives in.

The first day, Claude can still handle it. Helzon keeps himself in his room all day, not eating, not opening the door, as if he is sick or something.

The second day, Claude starts to get impatient. He starts to yell and bangs Helzon's door, calling if he is alright. It's just because he's worried (just maybe, it could be that he misses his possession). However, Helzon keeps saying he is fine.

The third day, Claude can't take it anymore. At night, he comes to Helzon's room and calls for him like usual, but this time Helzon doesn't answer (Why don't think that he's just sleeping? Idk either). Claude makes the decision... The door was locked, so he breaks it...

It was dark inside, and the atmosphere is unusually cold, and there is something weird moving in that room. And that is when, Claude finds himself beneath an enormous creature.

His skin was pure black, and his hair is longer, with silver color. The creature appears with four eyes, scales, fangs, and unusual heat. Most important, the creature has a long, giant snake tail... One like in legend said.

However, Claude can't never mistake those silver eyes with anyone else. This is Helzon's true form, his real body. He was in heat that moment, such animistic heat that he hardly control himself like usual, especially with such a prey beneath him.

But something beyond Helzon's expectations happen... Claude... Did not... Fear him. After hundred years of abandonment, of hatred, fear, Helzon never once hope he would find someone who look at his monstrous form with such endearing eyes.

That is the moment, Helzon fall for him.

(It's unnecessary to tell what he did to Claude that night. Know what they say about snake ? That they have two-)

After that, Helzon turns completely sweet to him. The calmness remains in him, but now there is sweetness in his every actions. He would touch and kiss Claude first, saying sweet nothing to him while keeping that face straight.

They sleep in the same bed more often, and Helzon would spend time massaging Claude's body, or reading books with him. They become much more affectionate, without tension, since Helzon can handle it pretty well in those kinds of situations.

Things are getting better...

(just a scenario in Cai)

--------------------------------------

That's part 2. Sweet dream before storm. There will be more :>>>

[missveryvery]

Have you watched episode 1 of tgcf season two yet? 👀

Are you kidding. It's literally the only thing that's keeping me alive. Now my life is "hold out until Wednesday, buddy, we can do this."

I'm not sure but I think they fixed up the animation from the preview we got before (like a million years ago) of the scene where they're all assembling because I remember thinking "oh no they lost their budget" and now the scene looks like "here are a hundred gods we made look incredible just for the background"

(Still salty about Mu Qing's hair getting nerfed, make it bigger you cowards)

The part where Pei Ming is about to kick Pei Xiu came off as cartoony in the book but they made it really intense here! I guess because they're trying to hide his clown nose for as long as possible.

I feel very gratified that I was correct that the person we saw for a split second in the preview FROM BEHIND was in fact sqx and my brain worms have again served me well.

I think if I was watching this and had no idea what the story was, I'd think sqx was another love interest because holy shit. The way they shot Shi Qingxuan after transformation where her hair falls and her eyes are locked on him is from Xie Lian's POV, right? Three people have "hair that falls prettily" scenes in this and it's Hua Cheng, Xie Lian, and Shi Qingxuan.

Gif set by @murcielaguitos

They're really going "she's BEAUTIFUL" and you can get the impression that even Xie Lian thinks so. I love the way Shi Qingxuan is looking at him here and her cute smile ; ; like "see? :)"

This is the first time I realized how massive her boobs are. They're INSANE. I really like how Shi Qingxuan's other form is so different! I like to think the trans color scheme is on purpose but idk if they care about flag stuff in China? I don't want to like, push that on them.

In the book, there are a couple people Xie Lian remarks as being attractive, I think Shi Qingxuan is the only lady?

Also the shot earlier of Shi Qingxuan glancing at Xie Lian's chest like ":) I could put some ginormous bazoons there for you, friend"

(Lmao, He Xuan is so fucking stupid 😭 what kind of idiot...?!?? This could have been yours, you absolute clown.)

I was surprised they kept Lan Chang!!! Like wow you're gonna do that part, huh?!

The presentation of the mission's circumstanses also gave me a theory about why Shi Qingxuan was sent with Xie Lian on this specific mission...!

I saw someone talking about how lonely the opening of Xie Lian waking up seemed. But then he gets such a cute friend...! That's so similar to him! It's so nice to see him happy. I like to think that if Hua Cheng didn't exist and all that other background shit wasn't happening, Xie Lian's third go around might have been nice, Shi Qingxuan could have gotten him settled in, reconciled with the clown boys, etc.

The way he looks at Lang Qianqiu ;0;!! he's like "My baby ;0;"

Also losing my mind over this rando. I need to see what the uniforms for each god looks like or I'll die. Why was this dude so well designed and animated ;0;! I love him?!? So exasperated with his dumbass god ;0;

[correctproseka]

So @queer-prosekai told me to do my own top 10 list of the sets + my favorite card of each, so here's some rules i set for myself

1- i have to REALLY like the full set, not just really like a card but a little less to the others (cough Saki in no seek no find, for one example. Though other sets have also triggered this rule)

2- i also am judging by card only, not the story, however. I am not completely good at this because a lot of the cards that are already good get to be way better because of the event behind it.

3- only counting the trained cards, not untrained, it would be a very different list.

ANYWAYS. LIST STARTS NOW:

10: LIGHT UP THE FIRE

Oh my poor child are you okay??? Going past how much i like this event. Which would get me here writing for hours mind you. I also just really like the set. The dark colors and the fact that in all 3 cards you can barely see color- its black and then each has their own color showing up, An has red, Toya has blue and Rin has white. It just gives a fucking impact on you looking at them. Would not change a thing, really.

9: WISHING TO THE BLUE SKY FOR YOUR HAPPINESS

Anyone else remembers qhen this set just totally broke us? Oh my god. I do. Shizuku in a suit. An in this pretty ass dress. I just cjsjcjsmcjsncjdj. It was mainly those two that really hit for me, specially An. But when it hit it hit hard man

8: SMILE OF A DREAMER

It was the first lim set, so it was really simple compared to what we get now. But simple doesn't mean bad. I really love the colors and idk man i have a soft spot for it i cant defend everything my brain is a dvd logo bouncing around😭

7: HEAR ME HOPEFUL SHOW

Angel Minori is one of the prettiest sets ever, it just isnt higher because personally i like some others more, doesn't mean this shit isnt fucking gorgeous. The lightning, the setting. I love this mmj card with everyone in it bc this is such a beautiful place???? Just. Licks this set like an ice cream then cries bc i ate the pretty ass set.

6: Someday, from the depths of despair

Lowkey i did not expect this one to be this high before i made this list. But it is just gorgeous setting, gorgeous lightning. It just makes my brain go brrrr looking at it.

5- What lies behind lies ahead

The hermit set has people in a chokehold for years, and for good reason. The hairstyles are pretty, the au ideas one can get out of it are yummy. AND THE CARD THEMSELVES ARE SO CKSJFKDK. All of them having this golden thing around as if hermit was a story told to us by images. It just could be a poster. Its certainly pretty enough to.

4: Our escape for survival

Sorry for the amount of niigo here. It will happen again. Niigo never misses. Anyways i just love this set sm. The lightning, muffled colors and backgrounds just hit so fucking hard. The rain shared on the 3 cards from the set is so symbolical and so is the clock and the engines on Mafuyu's and Luka's card. It tells us a story before we even read the event and that is beautiful.

3: Close game offline

I had to skip this set and i am still sad about it. Man the the the cmsucksjcjx aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa viddygame and neon.

2- Unnamed Harmony

I like silly, your honor. I also like water. Saki's card has both /hj. No but really i just really like the outfits and colors and just everything in this set it would be a CRIME to not have this here as a Saki stan. Just look at it!!!!

1: Draw your bow in this white world

.. so, who's surprised? I can barely even find a favorite card in this set. From Kaitos . Kaito. (Does he need more?), Shizuku's gracefulness and beautifulness and Mafuyu just pretty and badass breaking the "screen"/mirror/window with an arrow. Its just soooooo ancjamvjsjchsjxncnsicjsv chomps.

HONORABLE MENTION:

Knock the future, which light up the fire took it off on a technicality (i like 3/3 cards on light up the fire and 2/3 on knock the future bc Honami is very meh compared to the others to me)

Anyways if anyone else wants to do this as a challenge id love it. And @probably-not-niigo i challenge u to do the same

[doberbutts]

Okay well I watched the first episode of Blood Origin and honestly my thoughts are:

I just don't understand why people are so resistant to changes/new plotlines/some lore breaking of *recent* franchises but gobble it up when it's older. People telling an untold portion of a common tale is well established in storytelling culture. The first example that springs to mind is Lancelot, who straight up does not exist in original Authorian legend and was a FRENCH invention when the myth spread. Nowadays, most casual enjoyers of King Author stuff don't bat an eye to Lancelot's presence. Lancelot, who comes to mind, because Sapkowski writes said Lancelot to be in love with Ciri, and we're totally cool with *that* but not with changes to Sapkowski's work.

It's really telling that there's such a bigoted negative reaction to this because honestly? The black people so far have been BLACK black, darker than me, darker than even my black family sometimes. I'm enjoying seeing melanin in fantasy don't mind me. And the hair on the sisters is excellent, I'm liking the costuming, and I *really* like Eile.

The accents are kind of all over the place. Both as individual characters but also as the actors themselves. Sometimes Fjall goes from generic American accent to some form of fake Irish to ????european???? and back and it's distracting and weird. HOWEVER I do like the Irish and Welsh accents in high born kingdoms, because too often those accents are for commoners and poverty only, and this sort of turns the trope on its head.

I'm not sure how much I like the pan-Asian vibe I'm getting from some of the props and architecture. Some things look vaguely Chinese while others solidly Arabic while others a weird fusion of Indian and Korean and it's just odd to me. At first I thought it was because of clan structures but then I saw that it's just sort of everywhere. I have 0% Asian in me so I'm not really a good authority to speak on it but it's a weird vibe, a little Orientalist to my eyes. I'll freely admit that I like the aesthetic since I was raised pretty pan-African but I recognize that most continentally grouped cultures don't love that and it's mainly the black diaspora that's embraced it because we don't really have much of a choice.

I STILL feel that doing away with this short-season "but the episodes are an hour long!" nonsense would help pacing so much. Literally every time I thought the episode was going to come to an end, it's been roughly at the 20-25 min mark, which a standard TV episode would have been ANYWAY. So there's not really much point to having this be 4 hour-long episodes when it could be done better as 12-15 20 minute episodes... which would be the eqivilant of a short season while 24-32 is a more "standard" season (instead of 8 hour-long episodes). It gives you more time to flesh the characters and plotlines out while also allowing you the chance to trim some of the long-and-boring content people get tired of watching.

I really do feel bitter that the witcher tags continue to be people making racist and misogynistic memes instead of a fandom happily discussing a pretty strong first episode that introduced a billion fantasy characters of color. It really sucks that black people in fantasy is received so poorly when my inner 10 year old is happy to see people who look more like me having fun with the genre. I long for the day when I can exist in a fandom space and happily discuss my favorite black characters without having to justify their existence every 2 seconds.

Oof that CGI is pretty rough though. Which surprises me because the S2 CGI was not this rough so idk what happened here. That monster in the first episode is, uh, bad. And the background in the weird magicky place is also pretty, uh, bad.

I don't understand why the first witcher being an elf would piss Geralt off except maybe because that means Jaskier knows more about witchers than Geralt does? All of Geralt's iterations- the books, the games, the show, the comics- are pretty chill with elves as long as they're pretty chill with him. He only pursues certain elves and elf-blooded mixed race people when they pose a direct threat to him or his loved ones. Same as humans. So I don't really get that line at all unless, as said, it was more a "wow Geralt's gunna be pissed that I know this story and he doesn't"

[mins-fins]

THORNS.

synopsis: the thing about being head over heels in love with your best friend, and knowing that best friend doesn't love you back, is how ironic the suffering you face is.

pairing: kim taerae x m!reader

genre: angst angst angst, hanahaki au, unrequited love, university au

word count: 2.7k

warnings: the hanahaki disease, blood, vomiting, suicidal ideation, reader is very self conscious, simply sad no happy ending

notes: this is for @luvjiun's event!! i love angst and i love taerae and he loves taerae so now we have this concoction.. idk either, love you all though :)

do you ever look at yourself and think of how pathetic you seem?

he can't even fathom how he got himself into such a situation, i mean— he's heard the phrase "love can be deadly" before, and he definitely laughed at it a few times. if he were to look at his past self, he'd smack him across the face.

even in a situation like this, the first thing he thinks to do is laugh. laugh at his situation, laugh as a way to just give himself some sort of pity. his back hits the bathroom door, and he slides down onto the floor, and he pokes his tongue through his cheek.

roses, those are his favorite flower.

he sighs, a sick smile coming to his face. sitting on the bathroom floor at 9:23 pm, being miserable because of something so stupid is just such a.. disappointing thing to think about to him, he leans his head back, scratching his hand.

"your such a drag y/n. i mean— what kind of guy leaves a party because he has to throw up? no wonder your friends hate your guts".

"especially taerae, he's so tired of you, you know?"

y/n groans, trying to shake off the voice in his head, as soon as he moves his head in the slightest bit, he begins uncontrollably coughing, trying to get something that was caught in his throat out of it.

then, after a minute of feeling like he was going throw up his guts, a rose petal falls onto the floor, and he grimaces. he licks his bottom lip and stands up, walking towards the mirror in an honestly slow motion.

as he stares at his reflection, his wet hair, the clear eye bags, the lack of color on his face, he resists the urge to punch the mirror. pathetic. the word rings through his ears, and he can practically hear the sound of taerae's laugh mocking him in the background.

he's like this because of kim taerae.

y/n sighs, shaking his head as he turns on the water, beginning to wash his face, hoping to hide everything that had just occurred a few minutes ago. when he looks back up at his reflection, not much has changed.

your really here suffering because of a boy? look at how pathetic you've become..

y/n resists the urge to bite off his tongue, or grab a knife and gouge out his eyes. he ignores the growing voice in his head, how as it continues talking, it sounds more like taerae, he finally opens the door after what seems like forever, and simply rushes to clean up his mess.

he tries his best to ignore the voice, the voice that sounds so much like taerae.

"let's face it, y/n, you were never good enough to have me".

he resists to snap the broom in half, as well as his neck.

"do you ever think about how gross alcohol at college parties are?"

"you actually drink that shit?" y/n inquires, and taerae snickers at those words, downing more water to try and wash out the remaining taste of alcohol in his throat. "jesus, calm down, i'm not sure water helps with hangovers".

taerae's face squeezes in uncomfortableness, and he shuts his eyes before opening them again, a deep breath exhaling from his lips. "i still feel it, ew it burns".

"well that's what you get for deciding to drink".

"shut up you sound like hanbin".

y/n barely manages to dodge taerae's hand coming to smack him in the shoulder, and he giggles at the way taerae's face scrunches. he always found the way taerae got mad cute, but that's mostly because he's known him so long he's basically memorized his expressions.

taerae groans, leaning a little towards the left, resting his body on y/n's. "why'd you leave early?"

y/n blinks. "huh?" he heard taerae loud and clear, he just didn't know if he'd be able to answer such a question without bursting into tears. taerae shifts, moving a little to the right, away from y/n.

"why'd you leave the party early? i spent twenty minutes looking for you until jeonghyeon told me you went back to the dorms".

y/n feels his throat go dry, and that unbearable itch immediately comes back. grow up, y/n, he asked you a simple question.

you know he'll never love you, why can't you just deal with it?

y/n shuts his eyes, trying so hard to ignore the voice, the itchiness in his throat, and the way his stomach tightens in uncomfortableness when he glances up and notices a bouquet of roses on the kitchen counter.

he tries so hard to ignore it.

"i was feeling nauseous, flashing lights and a bunch of college students out in general is not good for me".

the lie slips past his lips so comfortably that it feels planned, almost staged, like it was set in stone hours ago and y/n has been waiting to say it since he got out of the bed this morning.

"you should've texted me" taerae replies, slowly being able to get up and stand on his feet, but he quickly wraps one arm around y/n's waist. "it's so boring being somewhere without you".

"is that you or the leftover alcohol saying that?"

taerae elbows him in the waist, actually making sure he got him this time. y/n shrieks in pain and taerae jumps in contentment, happy he was able to catch his best friend in a moment of weakness. he winks at y/n before letting go of him and walking towards the counter. "asshole".

y/n snickers once again, but he pauses when he sees that taerae is walking towards the bouquet of roses, and he hums of his examines them. his stomach again tightens in uncomfortableness, and he begins feeling nauseous.

it's like the flowers are staring into his soul, taunting him about the one thing taerae doesn't know, taunting him because he wasn't the one that gave taerae those roses, taunting him because he'd never be the one taerae had eyes on.

his eyes fall to the card on the bouquet, and they narrow as he zeroes in on the name written with permanent marker. from: jaehoon <;3!

"whose that?" he immediately asks, and he also immediately regrets asking that. his tone was such a judgmental one he probably would've punched himself if he was taerae. he quickly swallows up any other words that dare come out of his mouth, and simply stands there waiting for an answer.

"hm?" taerae looks up again, continuing to play with the beautiful roses. "oh, jaehoon? he's one of matthew's friends, we've been talking for a few weeks now, he's very sweet".

y/n catches the way taerae's eyes light up, the way he especially fiddles with the flowers, the way he says his name with so much fondness laced in his tone, the way he bites his lip to stop himself from rambling on and on about jaehoon.

because he's done exactly that.

and he's done it because of taerae.

he tries to not snap his own neck in half, or just sprint out of the room and jump off the roof, anything to just.. not have to have this conversation about another boy with the boy he likes so much.

so instead, he cracks his knuckles.

"that is nice" he hopes the disgust in his voice isn't obvious, the sheer hatred for this random boy named jaehoon he's never met before is rising. "so when can i meet this jaehoon person?"

"uh.." taerae pauses, continuing to fiddle with the roses gifted to him by jaehoon, stupid fucking jaehoon, y/n doesn't even know what kind of parent names their child that. "maybe next week, were supposed to be going on a date on friday".

y/n's eye twitches, he balls his hand into a fist and gives the fakest of fake smiles, he would really love to just a jam a fork into his throat right now, maybe simply faint and die.

your such an idiot, y/n. in what world would taerae ever love you?

"god fuck off" he mutters, and taerae looks up, blinking in confusion.

"did you say something?"

y/n immediately looks back up. "i said— um, that's great, rae, i'm happy for you".

taerae's gaze softens, and he finally stops touching the roses to walk towards y/n and pulls him into a hug, surprising the very much not happy boy. "woah, what's this for?"

"i don't know, just felt like hugging you".

but as taerae squeezes him, tightening the hold his arms have around y/n, it only breaks the boys heart more.

he could never have kim taerae.

"would you look at that? another mess".

"can you fuck off?"

"cursing isn't gonna make me go away sweetheart".

y/n takes in a deep breath, if he could punch this person, he would, except they're not actually a person, it's his inner conscious, chipping away at the little self esteem he even has left. he rolls his eyes and doesn't turn to look at him, because he'd just be staring at a reflection of himself.

"i don't like when your here".

"what? i'm just telling you the truth" he states, a smirk coming to his face as he watches y/n rush to grab his jacket and quickly leave the house. "such a coward, l/n, always running away".

y/n shoved his hands into his pockets, walking quickly down the hallway, just wanting to get out of building, ignoring the way the voice grew loud, and how the more it spoke, the more it sounded like taerae.

"seriously y/n, why are you so butt hurt over some feelings? it's so selfish of you to be mad at taerae for finding someone better".

y/n speeds up his walking, as if he's trying to get away from the voice, even though he's nothing but a voice in his head, obviously. as he exits the building, he checks behind him like an idiot, as if the voice in his head is gonna pop up and actually become real.

"do you really think walking fast is gonna make a difference? i'm in your head, dumbass, what would taerae think? he'd probably laugh at your pathetic display wouldn't he? you know he would, it just goes to show, you don't deserve him".

"shut up shut up shut up shut up.." he mutters, putting his head down. he doesn't want to look up, he's afraid all these random pedestrians will just look at him and scoff, grimace, roll their eyes and call him crazy in their head.

he can hear the laugh sounding at the back of his head, it sounds so much like taerae's that he's sure when he opens his eyes taerae will be right behind him, making fun of his display.

"gosh, y/n. look at just how weak you've really become, maybe it's better off for taerae that he stays away from you, i wouldn't want to be near someone so pathetic".

y/n wants to scream and shout, and cry, or maybe just take out that pocket knife of his and causally slit his throat.

anything to make the pain go away, anything to make him go away.

and as he looks up, just for a mere moment, he doesn't notice how his vision begins to blur.

by the time he can even realize it, nothing is even visible anymore, and his body goes limp, hitting the hard ground with no stopping whatsoever.

"what!? so were just gonna refuse to help him?"

"he said he doesn't want the surgery, we can't force him into it if he doesn't want it".

"but doctor! are you just saying we should let him die? he's twenty one years old, he— he still has so much more life to live! we have to try—"

"we can't do the surgery; if he doesn't want us to, we have to respect his decision".

"but he's going to die eventually! we can't just—"

y/n puts his headphones on, tuning out the noise of the doctor and nurse arguing outside. he is well aware of what they're arguing about, and he knows what he has, but he decided already, he doesn't want the surgery.

he knows that at some point though, because he can't just decide to die, that's not how it works. this thing, these flowers blooming in his lungs are slowly restricting his airways, the removal surgery is the only way he can actually live.

y/n wishes he could fight it, he feels so weak, pathetic, like he doesn't even deserve to live anymore, because why can't he just, deal with it? he feels so weak, and everything is so painful.

he's lost in his thoughts until there's a knock on the door, when he looks up, he's met with a pair of eyes that hold sympathy, worry, and he easily recognizes the pair of eyes staring at him from the door.

"come in".

taerae softly smiles, stepping in as he closes the door behind him. he looks to the window in the room, quickly closing the blinds, knowing y/n doesn't really like the light. "hi love" he whispers, as if scared of talking loudly, he pulls a chair from beside the door and sits in front of y/n's bed.

"hi" y/n replies, taerae unexpectedly reaches for his hands and intertwines them with his. "i didn't mean to worry you, i know this is all a bit much and i'm sorry for this—"

"y/n" taerae cuts into his sentence, tightening the grip he has on his hands. "i don't want to hear this, your health is important to me, i don't care if i was in the middle of final exams, i would drop anything if i knew you were hurt".

y/n pauses, he doesn't necessarily know how to respond to such words, but they somehow warm his heart, especially with how hopeless he felt before this exact moment. "i— i didn't mean to upset you".

taerae sighs, keeping their hands together. "i'm not upset, n/n, i just don't want you to think of yourself as an inconvenience, i care for you".

yeah but you don't love me.

the words weigh heavy on y/n's tongue, he wants to say them so bad and just tell taerae, tell taerae that the only reason he's suffering here is because taerae won't return his feelings, because taerae has jaehoon, because taerae needs jaehoon, not him, never him.

taerae loves jaehoon, he'll never love y/n.

how great, how amazing, how spectacular that these are the circumstances he has to be in.

as y/n zones out, taerae pauses, then suddenly moves forward to pull y/n into a hug. y/n yelps in surprise, and taerae wraps his arms around him, burying his face into his best friends neck.

"taerae.." he mutters, his voice feels weak, like he can't speak louder. "is everything okay?"

"don't ever do that again" taerae mumbles, y/n can hear the sheer pain in his voice, and it just makes him feel even more selfish. "i'm not ready to lose you, your important to me and i can't bear the thought of you even here in the hospital".

y/n listens to taerae's words, so close to his ears because taerae is quite literally pressing into him. he opens his mouth but no words come out, and his heart breaks because he just can't have kim taerae, even with how much he wants him.

"kim taerae will just never be yours, l/n y/n, do yourself a favor and just get the surgery, it'll make your life easier, end all of your suffering".

for once in his life, y/n would listen to the voice in his head, and he presses his head onto taerae's shoulder, feeling comforted by the embrace, even with all the pain he felt.

he would get the surgery.

for the sake of himself.

and for the sake of taerae.

he faintly begins sobbing in taerae's arms.

he just can't have kim taerae.

[thehoodedsweater]

Since I’ve ranted about my OC Edward a lot here, I feel like I should explain how he would be if he was in the RGB cartoon!

I’m gonna yap so heads up lmao

First fact- Since Egon was made a blonde in the toon, I switched Edward to a brunette (even though he’s blonde in the main universe). Hair color switching is fun, and it also keeps his color palate from being too overwhelming! (This helps with Elizabeth too, since they’re siblings who are meant to look very much alike. Perhaps in one “Episode concept” they would attempt to switch identities and see who has the harder job.) Second- He has a tooth gap now. Just cause. I felt like it would be cute. It adds uniqueness for his expressions too. He also blushes a lot easier, for the sake of it being a toon.

Third- Since the toon seems to exaggerate/change their personalities a little, I made it so Edward’s anxiousness (and crushing on Egon if we’re gonna step into shipping territory) are heightened up to eleven. In the movie universe he’s a little anxious, sure (in the first movie he’s slightly anxious but relatively cheery and willing to help [think kind of like Louis, but not exactly], in the second movie he’s a lot more cynical and anxious due to going to law school and having to deal with the Ghostbusters again after five years [and the amount of trouble they get into]) but the toon would take it up a notch for the sake of comedy and plot. Fourth-He probably gets along with Peter just a little bit more? Due to the toon toning down Peter’s cynicism it makes for a different bond, other than the movie universe where Edward’s constantly at his throat for something stupid (for example, calling him “Eddie” and “Ed.”) In the toon world Edward would still be annoyed with him, but their bond is probably a lot closer than the movie universe. (Especially considering how long it would take for Edward and Peter to get along in it. They do care a lot, it just hides behind a TON of insults and banter. And unfortunately I’d imagine them leaving on pretty bad terms due to Edward leaving to the middle of nowhere [Summerville] without an explantation or leaving a note.)

Fifth-His cat, Kevin, would most likely be a reoccurring background character! Like Slimer, he probably runs around the firehouse and does his own stuff, he probably gets along with Slimer and that pisses Peter off.

Sixth-He would totally take the role of being a Ghostbuster at least once, like how Janine and Louis did. It was most likely because one was out sick/hurt and it causes a lot of chaos for Edward and his anxiety, as he volunteered without thinking to impress Egon. The “episode” idea I had was that Peter somehow got hurt and that resulted in him being unable to fight the ghosts, so Edward takes his place for the day. There’s a B plot of Peter having to do Edward’s “boring secretary work” with Janine, and by the end Edward gets his own Ghostbusters nametag (and maybe a kiss but idk) and the reassurance he did good. Just a wholesome little ending.

WOWWW THATS A LOT OF YAPPING (and I haven’t even STARTED on explaining what his role would be in the Extreme Ghostbusters cartoon..)

Uhm

hope you guys liked it? I know some of you seem to like my ocs and their story so I’m so glad to share it all with you! Thanks for all the support :))

and if you wanna hear more let me know!!

[frowningfox]

For the artist ask: 3, 13, 19

3. your favorite piece(s)?

THIS ONE. It's my all time favorite and a redraw of an older all time favorite. Looking at him and his small crooked toothy smile just makes me so happy I instantly smile. I'm pretty happy with the technical skills I pulled off with it too but the character and the emotion is really what makes this a happy piece for me.

And these two pieces! I am growing quite fond of my linework lately and I really feel that with both the Line version and the Color version I really brought out the different aspects and emotions I wanted to with each version. And I pushed myself and for the color version tried working with colors in the background/lighting that I don't often use.

13. talk about a wip you like!

REALLY OLD EXAMPLE. I have LONG since finished this piece but I loved the WIP more than the finished version so I kept it. I think I've even deleted the finished piece off my social medias, but I just love the in between stage so much that I am still holding onto it years later. uuuuh I could probably talk more about it but I'm gonna add a more recent WIP that is actually unfinished and talk a bit about it.

And yes. I still draw rough muscle diagrams as my first sketch layer.

Now this one I sketched out on my birthday, it's just a little stickynote sketch, so a thumbnail sketch, but I really really want to finish it I just havent had TIME. I have big plans for it, it's a companion piece to another drawing, the flip side of the monster, and I want to re-compose that one to more closely match this one, and THEN, stickers and prints of course but I want... I have two crappy side tables with square wooden plank tops. I want to figure out how to stencil the two pieces' line art onto them and woodburn them onto them... maybe paint idk. I've not painted in forever.

19. where do you find inspiration?

While first off as you can probably tell from the first WIP, muscle diagrams and greco-roman statues.

But in many places, mostly in traditional 3d forms of art or have an element of 3d in their process. My biggest inspirations are statuary and carousels, and for 2d, woodblock print art from old fairy tale books!

I also take quite a bit of inspiration from various religions' artwork. Painted/carved Reliefs, stained glass, etc.

Lots of artwork that's meant to capture a moment and freeze it under a layer of heavy iconography and symbolism. A lot of times when I draw my characters, it's on purpose not exactly how they look, but using in-lore stylizations to convey certain things and to keep their appearance somewhat the same despite some of the important things on their person constantly changing over the course of their story (for example the small braids on Asim/Yunuen typically being portrayed as pinned up in two loops with a set amount of beads and rings. it's an iconographic choice denoting their connection to the House of Fate, as well as maintaining that they cherish the tradition of the braid despite not having one anymore after having it forceably cut off/just recently starting one and only having one or two beads on it)

That big aside aside, I also find so much inspiration from so many artists I stumble across on tumblr! Usually just tiny little things, like how they draw certain hair types, or how they do certain cloth folds.

And uh. Like two years ago I binge watched HunterxHunter and it permanently changed how I approach drawing lips and hands.

[yujeong]

The outfits of Pete - Some Observations

You know, as I was reading @blackwatervial's post about "The Pete Show" ep 3 which is this one here, my focus stayed on her comment about Pete's party clothes and them being mostly black and white. So, I decided to check them all again + every other instance he wears civilian clothes, to notice them and come to my own conclusions. So, we start with the first instance which is his first time at Hum Bar, ep 3:

The difference of the colors + the pattern pop off the screen, making the black and white - along with the dark blue jeans - super evident. Tbh I see this as his exterior being in complete contrast to his interior (his nuanced mentality VS his life which is in absolutes).

The second instance is in ep 5, again when the gang goes to Hum Bar:

Pls excuse my shitty screenshots, I wanted to capture the totality of the outfit as much as possible. Here it's also very black and white, with the white popping way more than the black, even though he's mostly wearing black pieces of clothing (his T-shirt underneath + his dark blue jeans + his shoes, which are the same converse as the first outfit). I love this because during this scene Vegas arrives on his bike, wearing only black clothes so they contrast each other. What I find interesting in this outfit though are the words/phrases on the white shirt he's wearing on top - or at least the ones I managed to read: - Embrace the ocean waves, and - Reclaim the Sea

Something something, accept what cannot be changed? The inevitability of your life conditions? Idk, I'll leave this to the smart people in the fandom to figure out. Another instance in civilian clothes is my beloved condom scene in ep 6:

Here we don't see the full outfit but we can understand that he's wearing a jean blue shirt and a white T-shirt beneath, again playing with the black and white aesthetic, which is emphasized due to the minimum lightning of the scene. What I found very interesting is that the jean shirt has a painting on its back, which unfortunately I don't know the origins of. It may be a famous painting or just sth random but I love how you can distinguish a door and a window there. It's on his back too, incredible symbolism and all that, you get the gist. Next up, ep 7 in which we have 2 outfits. The first one was during Don's mission:

Here we see some color variation in the form of beige(?) but still, it's black and white. I like how it's mostly light colors/white here, since he's on a mission and is supposed to be as discreet as possible to not alarm Don's men - though that failed immediately because he's the only one they check because he seemed new lol. The second outfit is at the party, after the successful Don mission:

The second picture is here because he looks amazing, LOOK AT HIS BEAUTY I CAN'T- So, yeah, anyway, the black is back. And I find the choice interesting because it's the first (almost) all black outfit he has worn in the entire show so far, besides his uniform. Maybe it's his subconscious way of blending into the dark background, bodyguard mode activated? Who knows? It sure is interesting to think about though. Now, in regards to this outfit, one thing that a beautiful Tumblr post mentioned is the T-shirt he wears underneath:

It says "Youth" and he wears it at the end of the show too, which is insane to me. More on that, later. So, here we go, ep 9 temple scene:

God, I love this scene for so many reasons. The pattern of dark - light is still present, though this time it's dark blue instead of black, while Vegas wears black clothes with some white popping out from his fabulous witch shirt. I really like the contrast of the colors between them and how you can kind of get the vibes of the scene just from their outfits alone. NOW, here we go. Ep 13, Hum Bar scene:

Black and white pattern again, my beloved. I need to mention sth which might be only me and my blindness to things BUT I feel it's possible: This is the only outfit so far in which the colors kind of blend and aren't separate; specifically, the black bleeds into the white, it isn't distinct from it like his previous outfits. Hmm, wonder what this could mean for his character post Vegas. Curious. Last but definitely not least, ep 14, hospital scene:

FUCK, I love this outfit so much. It's such a beautiful combination and I can't get enough of Pete's beauty. The most striking thing to me is that, even though this contrast of dark and light he always wore outside of work still exists here, it seems so well blended together in contrast to before. The colors compliment each other and the end result is so pleasant to the eyes. It's like the clothes are trying to explain that Pete is finally at peace with himself and where he is, he is being his true self. And wearing the "Youth" T-shirt here with all the symbolism the word provides, a T-shirt he wore in the only situation he confronted Vegas flirting Porsche dead on as a bodyguard of Kinn. Ugh, I could spend hours thinking about it. Yeah, so, those are all the outfits. I didn't add the ones he was wearing at night as pyjamas or at the safehouse because I wanted to focus on the civilian side of things, what he wore outside of his role as a bodyguard (and at the safehouse it's not like he was wearing anything haha). Hope someone smarter than me manages to analyze his clothes one day. It's super interesting to think about.

[the-shy-wolf]

Alright everyone. I am setting clear boundaries for myself and my art. This is the best I can communicate when it comes to my personal comfort levels so please read carefully. Before I go into things, this isn't aimed at anyone in particular because these are things that have always bothered me. These rules will be applied to all of my sm accounts. I'm trying to figure out how to apply these rules to Twitter too.

I never previously established these rules in text, but I think they are very important for everyone to know. If this seems pretentious, it's really not. It's me communicating what I am comfortable with as an artist and as a person. I need boundaries for my own sanity and peace of mind. If you can't respect this, then sorry, I'm not sure I am comfortable interacting with you.

Here are some do's and don'ts:

Do: Ask If I'm taking requests. I might not be taking requests at the time, but may be flexible. I may draw it for you! So please ask first. Never assume.

Do: If I ask you 'would you like me to draw something for you?' Please don't be afraid to accept my offer. If I am offering to draw you something, I am wanting to be friends. I am trying to share my Happy Meal fries with you. You are not obligated to accept but please do not be scared to accept. If you're worried about paying me back somehow or owing me- you do not owe me a thing. This is a gift from me to you. You are not even obligated to be my friend! I'm just appreciative of you as a friend and in no way expect anything in return. If you are not comfortable receiving gift art from me, please express that. I won't ask questions and will respect your boundaries. If I am asking you if I can draw you something-and do not just gift you the art, I may not know what your preferences are and need feedback or suggestions on what you like/prefer. I want to draw something that makes you happy! I don't like to assume because assuming can make people upset or uncomfortable. I rather establish a clear directive.

Do: PM me if you think a piece of artwork is potentially problematic or offends you. I am still fairly new to the internet and other things. I am still learning what makes people upset. I am also autistic and miss important social cues, so if you are upset or implying something I drew/said/ displayed a behavior that was offensive, be very direct about it and message me.

Do: Remind me if I take a request by you! I am a very forgetful person and may not always remember what I was working on..

Do: Be patient with me. Please. I've been through a lot and am going through some mental and physical changes. Despite my occasional sassy demeanor I am actually very sensitive at the moment. Idk how long this sensitivy will last, just please keep this in mind. For those who don't know, or don't go into thr vent channel, I am dealing with irl stuff regarding family members and health issues. I try not to disclose all of this info 24/7 because it's a lot of emotional baggage for people to take on and I try to be considerate of that.

Do: Give constructive criticism. Examples of constructive criticism:

"I think this would look better with these colors".

"I think the anatomy looks off".

"You could try this drawing technique".

"I think you should add a cool background."

Not examples of constructive criticism:

"It would've been better if you drew these characters..."

"I would prefer it if these characters were involved."

"You should give this character this type of body part instead."

"I don't get it."

I don't consider the following examples constructive criticism. This sounds more like you're directing/telling me what I should draw. Although this may not have been someone's intention, it's something that I've noticed people unconsciously do. I am my own person and will draw what I want. If you would like for me to draw you something or if you have an idea before I have already decided what I am going to draw, you may say: "I have a request" or "I would like to commission you." I know I've offered many times to draw things for people. If I offer it once, but you don't know what you want at the time- that offer is always on the table. I also don't always have an explanation for my art and shouldn't have to explain everything. Art is something that comes from our heart and soul and sometimes is unexplainable.

Some more don'ts:

Don't: Try to guide/direct me what to draw, especially if I already have an idea for a drawing. I may be planning on creating a new oc/or I am creating something for myself. Unless I am drawing a request or working on a commission for you please let me draw for myself. My art is used as an emotional outlet/coping mechanism. If I am planning on drawing something or in the process of drawing something, I may be dealing with some emotional stuff and am trying to cope in my own way through my art.

Don't: Push me to open commissions or requests. Asking if I am open for commissions/requests is different than bullying me for an open spot.

Don't: Make disrespectful comments towards me. It is okay if I've known you for a while and can tell if you are joking, but if we barely talk, or barely have any serious interactions, please do not make disrespectful/degrading jokes towards me. I find it disrespectful and it makes me uncomfortable. It's okay to joke with me, but please get to know me first and my comfort levels.

Don't: Be offended or upset if I don't reply to DM's right away. I am a very anxious person so it may take me a minute to respond. I also have dyslexia so I have to proofread my texts many times before sending.

Don't: Assume I know your preferences or what you like. I am not a mind reader, I would much rather you tell me than have me guess. This includes if I am offering to draw you something! It's cool to ask me to draw stuff you know I'd like, but I want to draw what YOU like. The best way for that to happen is if you tell me what you want/prefer. If you're nervous asking publicly just DM. I don't bite, and even though there is some stuff I won't draw I am willing to work with you and bend things where we can meet in the middle. Again, just please say the words "I have a request."

Don't: Assume everything I draw is vent art.

These rules. These do's and don'ts- I am asking very politely that they are respected. I love drawing/creating stuff, and I am thankful to have everyone's love and support. I truly feel like I don't deserve it, and these rules are not me intending to be hateful/disrespectful. This is me trying to preserve/keep friendships and relationships healthy and free of any miscommunications. I WANT to be there for everyone, I WANT to be friends, I WANT to draw for you, and I think the best way to do that is if I am open and honest. These are things that have been bothering me for a while and I feel it is necessary that my comfort levels/boundaries should be established. I honestly regret not establishing these sooner, I feel like many people have come and gone due to miscommunications and unestablished boundaries being crossed. I don't want that and don't want to happen. Regardless what people believe I do care about everyone in my life. I'm sorry if I don't show it enough. I am trying my best.

I would like to add, I don't need to explain these preferences/boundaries. These are my lines and what I myself am comfortable with. My only request is that you please respect them.

Thank you everyone <3

[jackrrabbit]

Runaways /// Dabi x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You were like an older sister to Dabi back when the two of you were teen runaways together; now that he’s found you as an adult, it’s not going to be so easy to get rid of him.

A/N: I could write a term paper on all of Dabi’s pathologies in this fic...I forgot how much I love writing smutty angst. Good shit 👌

I was planning on making this a ficlet so it’s kinda structured like that even though it ended up a full-length piece. Also, Dabi says some bullshit about sex work that I absolutely do not agree with or condone so please keep that in mind.

➠ see also: [homeowners association]

Tags/warnings: Dabi victimizes you, noncon/dubcon, light yandere, threats, cheating, NTR kinda?, mentions of past sex work, degradation, rough sex (breath play, impact play, crying), mild violence, very brief mentions of past child abuse in the Todoroki household, sad stuff/angst idk lol, *Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood plays in the background*

Dabi would know you anywhere.

You’re different now, which makes sense. It’s been years. Your old uniform of raggedy denim and hand-me-down leather has been replaced with a prim linen dress, designer label at the collar. You used to dye your hair religiously (it was neon pink when he saw you last) but now it’s styled back to your natural shade, a color he only saw back then when your roots grew out. You smell good, expensive. It does take him a second to recognize you without smudged pencil eyeliner drawn under your eyes like in the old days, but once he catches your gaze the realization is immediate.

It’s you. You. You.

You recognize him too, but your reaction is different—shock, then panic; you tug the arm of the man at your side, urging him to walk faster so you can pass Dabi on the sidewalk. The rejection stings for a second, but he isn’t too surprised. You did abandon him, after all.

Dabi doesn’t let it bother him. You’re not going to get away that easy. He pulls you into conversation, grinning when you reluctantly introduce him to your companion (who is, apparently, your husband) as an old friend from school. You didn’t go to school—Dabi knows that, and you know that, but your husband doesn’t. Which means your husband isn’t aware of your sordid past as a runaway.

This is going to be fun.

Once he knows you’re in town, he doesn’t have much trouble finding you. Your husband is a very wealthy man, well-known in this city now that he’s moved here. So this is what you’ve been up to all these years? Shacking up with some ugly motherfucker who’s at least 20 years your senior because he can afford to dress you up in pretty things and take you on overseas vacations? Dabi has to admit, he wouldn’t have thought it of you. Back when he knew you, you were so sincere, such an idealist, even in your darkest nights.

Then again…you always were willing to get your hands dirty in exchange for a warm meal and a place to sleep. Maybe you haven’t changed as much as you think.

Dabi comes to your house in the middle of the day when your husband’s at work and you’re stuck at home because that’s what you are now, a housewife. From a cocksucking whore to a pretty housewife with a dirty little secret. He’s getting hard just thinking about it as he watches your internal debate on whether to let him in or not. Eventually guilt wins out and you usher him inside, hoping the neighbors didn’t see a known villain lurking on your doorstep.

You make Dabi coffee (and aww, you remember exactly how he likes it). He gets you to talking, and you don’t seen surprised to learn about his current line of work; when he presses you, you admit that you’ve been following him in the news. Your life, in comparison, has been wholly uninteresting: you met a man, he proposed, and you married him. Very little has happened to you since. After a long silence you timidly apologize to Dabi for leaving him behind when you two were teenagers, and he tells you he understands.

He doesn’t forgive you.

Overall, things are good, he tells you. But you know, sometimes he misses the old days. Being on the run with you, stealing food from gas stations, breaking into fancy summer homes and pretending the two of you lived there. Stitching up each other’s cuts, because one of you had always gotten in a fight in the past few days. Sometimes he still has dreams about the smell of the balm you used on his fresh burns…and your cool hands, smoothing gently across the tender skin on his face, but he doesn’t say that.

You look down into your monogrammed coffee mug and tell him you know what he means.

When you turn your head like that, Dabi can see the tiny dots running up the side of your ear where your old piercings have scarred over from lack of use. Do you remember when he gave them to you? You did his first, running a needle through the lonely flame of your lighter (he offered to use his quirk, but it was still hard for him to control then so you declined) and then threading the metal through his ear. You promised it would only hurt for a second, and you were right, so he let you do the others.

Then you offered to let him do yours. Just one on each ear—you already had an impressive collection of piercings, but you wanted to let him return the favor, so he did. You were older and more experienced and had lived on the streets for longer, so when he held the needle in his hand and heard your voice saying you trusted him, it was the first time he ever thought of you as fragile, something delicate, something that he was capable of harming.

He chose twin helix piercings for you, cresting the shell of each ear, silver band rings to match his. When they were done you pulled him to a mirror and asked him what he thought. It hadn’t been long since he got the worst burns on his face (the ones under his eyes, wrapping around his chin and down his neck) and he was still getting used to the knowledge that the ugly, wrinkled scars were never going to heal. “I look like…” he started.

A monster. A freak. A victim.

“A badass,” you said. “You look fucking cool. Any asshole who wants to pick a fight with you will take one look and know you’ve been through worse shit than whatever they can dish out, and that’s something to be proud of.”

Now that Dabi thinks about it, he probably wanted you even then.

…But the longer he reminisces, the more nostalgia’s going to distract him. He came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to have coffee with you and talk about the good old days. What he’s about to take from you—what he’s about to make you give—is long overdue.

You’ve still got a little fight in you. Dabi likes that. But you’ve gone soft, filling out and losing muscle in places where you used to be lean and hard from the constant running and fighting of your old lifestyle. Besides, even if you were as strong as you’d been back then, he’d still be stronger than you—he’s a man now, and it’s incredible how small and weak you seem now that he can look at you as a man.

Were your punches always this light? No way…and your wrists couldn’t have always been this delicate. It’s really no trouble at all for him to wrestle you down to the couch and pin you there so he can tear off your stupid little housewife dress and tug your panties down past your ankles.

Once he’s got you fully naked, though, you pretty much give up trying to fight him off. It’s sad, really—like you’re remembering the past, remembering all the times you let other men hold you and fuck you just so you could have enough money to take yourself and Dabi to McDonalds for a few days. And now look, you’re plenty well-fed, but Dabi’s the one holding you down against your will. Funny how things change like that.

He does appreciate your submission, since it gives him the chance to get a decent look at you. The years have been kind—you look so much healthier than you used to. No more visible ribcage stretching out your skin; no more unhealthy pallor from going outside only at night. Your hands are as soft and manicured as if you’ve never done a day’s work in your life, a far cry from the bitten nails and bloody knuckles of your youth. It’s good to see you like this, and he lingers for a second, drinking in the sight of you and committing you to memory.

Dabi’s pictured this moment for years. He used to think he’d savor it, be sweet with you, slow and gentle to show you what you were missing with the trashy guys you used to hang out with. But now, hey—he’s the trashy one, he’s the one who wants to hurt you and own you and ruin you. May as well act like it.

Your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?

You’re unbelievably tight for a former whore. Dabi can barely hold out when he first pushes into you, licking the tears off your cheeks when apparently it hurts too much for you to keep up a brave face. It takes real effort to fuck himself all the way into you, pushing past the tense squeeze of your muscles while you…well, you’re not exactly wet, but he’ll get you there. As soon as his hips are grinding up against yours, he’s hitching your legs up on his shoulders and pounding you into your stuffy antique couch so deeply that he thinks it might splinter into pieces underneath the two of you.

God, you’re so, so, tight. Dabi feels like a virgin with his cock buried inside you, biting his lip so he doesn’t cum in thirty seconds and thrusting into you with a rhythm that comes from nothing less than pure animal instinct. And you’re getting into it too. Can you tell that your pleading and begging him to get off you is turning into moaning? Can you feel your hips bucking weakly back against his, reverting to the position of the submissive bitch your body remembers even if your mind has tried to forget?

It’s perfect, right and good and perfect, everything Dabi’s been waiting for since he first knew what it was to want someone—no, not just someone. You. It’s always been you. A person never forgets their first love, right? It’s perfect, except—except you won’t look at him, you keep looking off to the side and sniffling, and that’s not going to cut it. So he slows down and wrenches your head back to center and makes you kiss him, sliding his tongue over yours and trying to see if he can feel the place where you used to have a piercing there, too. It’s kind of thrilling, actually—wondering whenever his face dips into yours if you’re going to bite him, if he’ll come back from you with blood in his mouth.

He’s only got to thumb over your clit a couple times before you’re clamping down on him, your body begging to be used and abused. Your husband hasn’t been treating you right, though Dabi doubts the old bastard can even get it up without a blue pill. Sure, you look like a sweet little doll, so darling and delicate and breakable, but Dabi knows you better than that. You’re strong, you can take it. He knows you want it rough, so that’s how he’ll give it to you—and hey, hey, he can feel your cunt quivering around him—you’re cumming, aren’t you? So you like it. You like it.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long before, but when you cum and tighten and squeal so high he thinks you could lose your voice, the tension in his abdomen rises up and he digs his fingers into your hips and—shit, you’re saying something, what are you saying? You’re pleading, begging him not to cum inside—but, ohhhhhh fuck he can’t help it, he can’t, he can’t, he’s cumming all the way deep into your tight little snatch, cockhead jutting up at your cervix, fucking his semen all the way through you until your slit is smeared white from top to bottom.

Stop crying. Dabi’s sick of hearing you cry.

You’re still pretty nimble, even though your current exercise regimen probably doesn’t extend beyond periodic jogs around your neighborhood and weekly pilates with all the other bored trophy wives. He’s kind of surprised when as soon as he lifts himself off of you, you have the strength to roll off the couch and scramble around on the floor for your clothing.

You don’t say anything, which he wasn’t expecting. You don’t scream at him, demand that he leave, or ask him how he could do this to you after everything the two of you went through together. You probably still think of yourself as an older sister when it comes to him.

When you’d first met the scarred kid trying and failing to live off the streets, you knew he wasn’t cut out for this. He’d known pain before, plenty of pain (icy-blue fire roasting the skin off his face—spiral fracture from callused hands twisting his arm behind his back—cold, aching muscles after what he thinks is the fifth hour spent locked in a closet), but he’d never known hunger. Hunger was a different kind of beast, one that would chew the kid up and spit him out and leave him broken if you didn’t take him under your wing, so you did.

It wasn’t like you had much of anything to spare, but you made it work. For a few years. He didn’t talk at first, but he took what you gave him, so you gave him what you could: food, if you had it; a place to sleep at night; the knowledge you’d gathered in your own years as a runaway on how he was supposed to survive in a world that didn’t care whether he lived or rotted away in a gutter. You cared.

Until you didn’t.

‘Going to be traveling alone for a while. Don’t wait for me. I’m sorry,’ your note had read. You left it in his backpack along with $43 in cash—not much, but he knew it was more than you could afford. It was all you had.

And now you have all of this! Don’t you feel lucky? You have the rich husband who barely looks at you, the big house with so many empty unused rooms it makes him sick, more food than you could possibly eat in one lifetime. All of that, and you also have Dabi’s semen leaking out of your cunt. It’s a real rags-to-riches story, he thinks.

Dabi picks a cigarette out of his jacket and you stop fixing up the buttons on your dress to ask him not to light it inside. How will you explain the smell to your husband? Every move you make, every syllable that comes out of your mouth, is weighed down by despair. You look like you’ve been beaten.

He lights the cigarette anyway.

///

Before he had you the first time, Dabi thought once would be enough. Pretty naive, huh?

He makes it his mission to fuck you in every room of your husband’s gluttonously enormous mansion (what with your history Dabi has a hard time thinking of the house as yours, and considering the way you tiptoe around and seem like you’re afraid to move so much as a vase, he suspects you feel the same). There’s a lot of rooms.

When he shows up at your door again you don’t even bother to hear him out, instead just trying to shut it on him, but he forces his way in. You wouldn’t want to make him mad, would you? Not when he’s got such a filthy secret hanging over your head? Will your husband keep paying for your designer shopping trips when he knows you’re a street rat who used to steal everything she wore? Will he still kiss you goodnight when Dabi tells him you used to wrap those pretty lips around strangers’ cocks for money?

If you want Dabi to keep quiet, you’re going to have to convince him the best way you know how. A cockwhore is a cockwhore. That’s not the kind of stain you get to wipe away with time and distance and expensive clothing.

In the kitchen: standing up, your back to his front and your hands barely holding you up on the counter, so hard and rough and deep that the dishes are rattling in the pantry. One of your teacups falls out of the glass china cabinet and shatters into a million fragments in a four foot radius over the tiled floor. Neither of you notice until after. Blunt red lines press themselves into the tops of your thighs where he’s shoving your body into the edge of the counter and there are bruises on your tits from how hard he’s groping you.

In the dining room: sitting on the edge of the table, one of your legs hiked up beside you and the other on a chair while Dabi kneels on the ground in front of you, his head between your thighs and his tongue flicking over your pussy. You start off thinking that you’re going to have to sanitize the entire mahogany surface before you can eat off it again and then he licks his lips and sucks on your throbbing clit and you don’t really think about anything else after that.

In your husband’s study: doggy-style on the floor in front of the fireplace, facedown, his body folded over yours, pressing you so deep into the tacky lion-skin rug that you can taste it. He sighs in your ear—actually, you’re not sure if it’s a sigh or a growl—and his hand comes up to cover yours. You feel the metal stitches and the rough burned skin scraping on your own and it reminds you that it’s him. It’s Dabi.

(A few days after his 13th birthday, the Dabi you used to know told you that he was going to dye his hair—he wanted to be unrecognizable, and you understood, so you found some old scissors and stole hair dye from the pharmacy and you spent three long hours chopping his hair into rough spikes and painting it black. When you washed the dye out of his hair in the sink, your hands were stained inky black too. When he saw, he looked worried and weaved his fingers in with yours and asked if the dye would hurt your skin if it stayed on too long.

And you looked back at this kid—small for his age then, burned by his own quirk, trying so hard to look older and tougher than any 13-year-old should have to be, and you thought to yourself, I would die for you.)

Now you hear Dabi growling out your name and squeezing your hand as he reaches his climax and you think, I would kill you if I could.

///

Dabi saves the master bedroom for last.

Your husband is hosting a party at your house. Dabi knows because you begged him not to come today, looking up at him with those doe-like eyes, offering things you never would have offered if it weren’t important to you that he stay away on this particular evening. But he still comes to crash it. He arrives just minutes before your husband does, and you have barely enough time to tuck him away on the dark bedroom balcony and pull the curtains closed before your husband is opening the door and greeting you.

Dabi settles himself into one of the tasteful Adirondack chairs on the balcony and listens to your voice, or at least what he can hear of it through the sliding glass door. You’re sweeter with your husband than you are with Dabi, and he should’ve known you’d be, but it still makes him hate your husband more than he already did.

On the other hand, there’s something strained and high and nervous in the way you’re speaking. Probably because your husband is standing about twenty feet away from the man you’re cheating on him with.

It takes a while for the two of you to dress for the party, but finally Dabi hears you tell your husband that you’d like to take a little longer to get ready and bid him goodbye. “Love you,” you say to the old man as he leaves the room, so casually Dabi might not have heard it if he wasn’t listening.

Then you’re opening the door and ushering him inside and telling him anxiously that he has to get out before anyone sees him. But, oh, you look nice like this, dolled up in your evening gown and makeup and diamonds, trying to pull him to the door even though you must know by now that he’s not going to leave it there. Instead of following, he backs you up onto the bed and peels down the straps of your dress and slides his hands up under the skirt, and all the while he can’t stop thinking about what you said to your husband.

You used to say that to Dabi.

The first time it was an accident—you’d mentioned it off-hand during a night when it was snowing and his unnaturally high body temperature was the only thing keeping the two of you alive. “God, I love you,” you’d said, draping your arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close to share his heat.

It had stunned him and you could probably tell. Maybe the next few times were just you taking pity on a kid who had never been told so casually and so simply that he was loved. But eventually you meant it, the little love you’s before you went to sleep or when one of you went off to do something alone for a few days—a familial love borne of mutual reliance. For the years Dabi was a runaway with you, you were the only person he could trust, and he knows the feeling was mutual.

Now he wants you to tell him you love him again.

It would be hot, wouldn’t it? You telling Dabi you love him while he forces you into a mating press on the bed you share with your husband. Isn’t that hot? You’re never going to be able to sleep on these sheets again without remembering his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, his cock filling you in ways you haven’t been filled since you were 19.

How are you gonna lay next to your husband in this sad cold bed? ‘Cause that old fuck isn’t touching you, Dabi knows that much—if he was, he’d’ve noticed by now that you’re always covered in bite marks and hickeys that he didn’t give you. How are you gonna sleep at night knowing what a nasty slut you are, telling another man you love him?

So say it. Say you love him.

Oh, you’re going to be like that, aren’t you? What did he tell you about being a fucking brat when he’s talking to you? See if you’re still so defiant when he’s got his hand stroking the length of that pretty throat and then sealing down on it, squeezing gently on the veins running up the sides of your neck, not too hard, but enough that you’re probably getting a little dizzy while he continues to fuck into you. Does it hurt? Your face is turning pink. Uh-uh-uh, don’t try to pull his hand off, or he’ll show you just how good he is with his quirk these days.

You’re trying to choke out the words but you can’t quite make them make sense. There’s something endearing about the way your whimpers vibrate through the skin of Dabi’s palm, how he can hear you as well as feeling you. Oh—could you say his name too? He knows you’re feeling all fucked-out and wet and sloppy, every moan rising and falling in time with his cock stretching your pussy open, but can’t you give it a little more effort? He’s sure you can get his name out if you really try.

And if you’re not going to cooperate, Dabi may as well just dig the heel of his knuckle into your windpipe, because you really do tighten up so deliciously when you cough and sputter like that. Fuck, if you keep doing that, he’s going to cum, gonna cum right here in your syrupy pussy and spill it all over your marriage bed—but no, he wants to hear you say it first, so when you’re gagging and turning red and your eyes are watering he finally stops choking you, loosening his grip just enough that his hand is resting on your neck in a lover’s touch. It takes you a second and your voice is so hoarse he can barely hear it, but then you’re speaking and something jumps in his chest—

“I…I love—love y-you, Touya!” you sob. “I love you! I—love you, Touya—Touya—Touya—!”

And ah fuck it’s almost exactly right, your voice saying you love him, saying his real name, a name he hasn’t heard for years because you’re the only one who really knows it anymore—but you’re crying, real heavy sobs while you gulp in frantic lungfuls of oxygen. Your ribcage is heaving underneath him and—god, fuck—your guts are clenching, sucking down on every inch of his cock, every vein—

—oh shit fuck fuck he’s cumming, and he presses his face into your neck, into your hair, kissing you and thinking I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you—

—please stay, forever.

///

When he’s done, he goes for another round just to make sure you’re going to have cum dripping down your thighs when you go back to the party. No panties, unless you want him to walk through the grand foyer with all the other guests on his way out.

You don’t look at him as you fix your dress and your hair and wipe at your smeared makeup. With your eyeliner rubbed down to the bottom of your eyes, Dabi’s reminded a little of how you used to look—and the reminder is doubled when you slide your legs across the side of the bed and limp over to your vanity, walking hesitantly, your hips rocking from side to side. Damn, did he fuck you that hard?

Reminds him of the old days, you shuffling back to the hideout with that same awkward pain in your gait, purple marks around your neck, and a dim smile decorating your face—for his sake. Oh, and cash in your pockets. You’d tell him that the two of you were going out to eat that night and refuse to let him look at the injuries. God, it made him angry, it still makes him angry just thinking about it—angry at the men who bought you for treating you like that, angry at you for letting them. Angry at himself for not being old enough or strong enough or rich enough to stop them.

Anger, yes…and other things too. There had been a sick, insidious part of him that wanted to be in their position. He’d hated himself for it back then, until you left and the desire to punish you for abandoning him got twisted up with the desire to own you and keep you his. Maybe if he let himself think about it, he’d still hate himself for what he’s doing to you.

By now, you’re too good at covering up the bruises. A sweep of foundation and powder passes over each hickey he left on your throat and it’s like he never touched you. You have to push him off the bed so you can strip the sheets and replace them. When you’re done, you tell him to wait a few minutes after you leave to sneak out the back and he makes another half-joke about joining the party and introducing himself to your old man—

—and you shove him up against the wall with all the strength left in you, wrap your hand around his neck, and dig your fingernails under the line of piercings in his cheek. If he even looks at your husband, if he even thinks about it, you’ll rip his goddamn face open, you tell him in a low snarl.

It’s an empty threat (you and he both know who would win in a physical altercation) but there’s real hatred behind it. Dabi hasn’t seen that kind of fire in your eyes since he found out you became a trophy wife. It makes him want to have you again so he does, pulling your arms away from his face, standing and holding you up against the door to your bedroom, forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him to keep from falling.

He’s lubed up by his own cum, and the wet squelching of your pussy just reminds him what a mess you’re going to be when you return to high society tonight. Maybe your husband will be able to smell it on you—the cum, the sex, the other man who’s been keeping his darling wife warm while he’s at work.

Well, probably not. If that stupid fucking cuckold hasn’t figured it out by now, there’s not much of a chance he’ll get it on his own. As Dabi sinks into your tight, gummy cunt again, he decides that he might just have to help the process along. A man deserves to know if his wife is being unfaithful, right?

///

Your husband’s office phone number is written on a post-it note that’s tacked to the desk of his study. It takes Dabi 40 minutes and $30 to buy a burner cell phone, leave a message on the man’s voicemail, and toss the burner in the kitchen trash at your house while you’re in the shower.

The message is short and straightforward. Dabi introduces himself as ‘the man who’s sleeping with your wife’, describes the floor plan of your husband’s house and what position he fucked you in for each room, and finally finishes it off with the evidence—the precise size and location of every hickey he’s left on your body that will still be visible by the time your husband returns from work.

Dabi almost wishes your husband had picked up the call—he’d’ve had a good time explaining in pornographic detail the way your tits look under those too-formal dresses, the way you moan when you cum in his mouth, the way you told him you loved him while he choked you out—with your husband in the house, no less. But this is fine too.

Besides, it’ll be so fucking funny if someone else at your husband’s company hears the message before he does.

///

Whore. Your husband called you a whore.

You’ve been called a whore a lot, actually. More than most people. You should be used to it by now. But it’s different when your husband says it. Your husband, the man who rescued you from a life of poverty and starvation, the man who has given you everything you own, the man who slid a ring onto your finger under a wedding arch and promised to love you in good times and in bad. The man you’ve almost convinced yourself you love back.

He called you a whore and slapped you when you tried to explain yourself and shoved you out the door and locked it. You can still hear his voice telling you the only place he wants to see your face again is in a casket.

So that’s why when Dabi comes to collect you, you’re hugging your knees to your chest on your front porch in your shiny lace-edged slip nightdress, hair in a mess around your head and your lip bleeding onto your chin. Your feet are so cold—your husband didn’t even give you time to put shoes on before he threw you out.

The night is cool and dark but the porch light buzzes on for half a minute when Dabi climbs up the steps to come crouch next to you on the doorstep. You try not to look at him, but he tilts your face toward his, electric-blue eyes skimming over the red mark and blue-black discoloration blossoming across your cheekbone; the blood drying on your split lip.

Dabi asks calmly if your husband hit you, and you nod.

Good, he tells you, and his body lights up blue in a roiling cloud of flames. He’s been waiting for an excuse to kill that old fuck.

The fire is like lightning, bright and ghostly in the darkness. The crackling of the flame eats away at the heavy silence of the night and you crawl back from the dry heat of it, sure you can feel your eyebrows singeing from being near. Dabi looks different backed by the inferno—bigger, crueler. Frightening. He reaches at the door but you shout at him to stop.

Why? Don’t you think he should suffer, after what he did to you?

But your fists clench by your sides and you set your teeth and you tell Dabi that if he’s going to kill your husband, he may as well set himself on fire too, because it’s his fault in the first place. And he’s done a lot worse to you than one slap.

Dabi waits a moment, searching your alarmed expression for something, but whatever he’s hoping for you don’t give him and the flames go out. The air smells like smoke and his hands are hot—not burning, but uncomfortably hot—when he kneels in front of you and rubs a thumb over your bruised cheek.

“(Y/N)—” Dabi starts, and then he can’t find a way to finish. So he just gathers you up in his arms and carries you bridal-style down into the lawn and to the driveway, where he’s got a car waiting to take you guys back to his place. You don’t resist, which surprises him again. He thought you’d push away at him, scream, get angry—he thought he’d have to convince you. Or force you, like he usually does. But you just let him deposit you in the seat next to the driver’s.

Before he gets in, he asks you if you need anything from your house. He can go get it for you. See if any balding motherfucker in his forties can stop him. But you just shake your head.

“There’s nothing,” you say blankly. “I have nothing. I…have nothing.”

Just like back then.

“Not nothing,” Dabi tells you, turning forward to the road so you can’t see the look on his face. “You have me.”

///

In the end, he does understand. He understood it the second he held that goodbye note in his hands and knew you were lost to him.

You were 17 when you met him and 19 when you left—hardly older than a child yourself. You barely had enough to provide for your own needs, much less a teenage boy’s. By the time you left, Dabi was more than capable of surviving on his own and already falling into ugly crowds, gangs and syndicates who saw money in his quirk, people you’d sacrificed a lot to keep him away from. He no longer needed you, and it was time for you two to go your separate ways. Dabi understands that.

But now you need him. Just like you needed him when you were fucking strangers for food money; like you needed him when you ran away; like you needed him when you got trapped in this mundane, sparkling-clean life, a life that was never going to fit you. Only this time—this time, Dabi’s old enough for you. He’s not a kid anymore, he’s a man. He’s got an apartment and a good job (well, kind of) and he’s got money. He can provide for you the way you’ve always needed him to.

Dabi’s going to take care of you, and you’re never, ever going to leave.