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colleendoran · 10 months ago

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Great Big Good Omens Graphic Novel Update

AKA A Visit From Bildad the Shuhite.

The past year or so has been one long visit from this guy, whereupon he smiteth my goats and burneth my crops, woe unto the woeful cartoonist.

Gaze upon the horror of Bildad the Shuhite.

You kind of have to be a Good Omens fan to get this joke, but trust me, it's hilarious.

Anyway, as a long time Good Omens novel fan, you may imagine how thrilled I was to get picked to adapt the graphic novel.

Go me!

This is quite a task, I have to say, especially since I was originally going to just draw (and color) it, but I ended up writing the adaptation as well. Tricky to fit a 400 page novel into a 160-ish page graphic novel, especially when so much of the humor is dependent on the language, and not necessarily on the visuals.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Anyway, I started out the gate like a herd of turtles, because right away I got COVID which knocked me on my butt.

And COVID brain fog? That's a thing. I already struggle with brain fog due to autoimmune disease, and COVID made it worse.

Not complainin' just sayin'.

This set a few of the assignments on my plate back, which pushed starting Good Omens back.

But hey, big fat lead time! No worries!

Then my computer crawled toward the grave.

My trusty MAC Pro Tower was nearly 15 years old when its sturdy heart ground to a near-halt with daily crashes. I finally got around to doing some diagnostics; some of its little brain actions were at 5% functionality. I had no reliable backups.

There are so many issues with getting a new computer when you haven't had a new computer or peripherals in nearly fifteen years and all of your software, including your Photoshop program is fifteen years old.

At the time, I was still on rural internet...which means dial-up speed.

Whatever you have for internet in the city, roll that clock back to about 2001.

That's what I had. I not only had to replace almost all of my hardware but I had to load and update all programs at dial-up speed.

Welcome to my gigabyte hell.

The entire process of replacing the equipment and programs took weeks and then I had to relearn all the software.

All of this was super expensive in terms of money and time cost.

But I was not daunted! Nosirree!

I still had a huge lead time! I can do anything! I have an iron will!

And boy, howdy, I was going to need it.

At about the same time, a big fatcat quadrillionaire client who had hired me years ago to develop a big, major transmedia project for which I was paid almost entirely in stock, went bankrupt leaving everyone holding the bag, and taking a huge chunk of my future retirement fund with it.

I wrote a very snarky almost hilarious Patreon post about it, but am not entirely in a position to speak freely because I don't want to get sued. Even though I had to go to court over it, (and I had to do that over Zoom at dial-up speed,) I'm pretty sure I'll never get anything out of this drama, and neither will anyone else involved, except millionaire dude and his buddies who all walked away with huge multi-million dollar bonuses weeks before they declared bankruptcy, all the while claiming they would not declare bankruptcy.

Even the accountant got $250,000 a month to shut down the business, while creators got nothing.

That in itself was enough drama for the year, but we were only at February by that point, and with all those months left, 2023 had a lot more to throw at me.

Fresh from my return from my Society of Illustrators show, and a lovely time at MOCCA, it was time to face practical medical issues, health updates, screening, and the like. I did my adult duty and then went back to work hoping for no news, but still had a weird feeling there would be news.

I know everyone says that, but I mean it. I had a bad feeling.

Then there was news.

I was called back for tests and more tests. This took weeks. The ubiquitous biopsy looked, even to me staring at the screen in real time, like bad news.

It also hurt like a mofo after the anesthesia wore off. I wasn't expecting that.

Then I got the official bad news.

Cancer which runs in my family finally got me. Frankly, I was surprised I didn't get it sooner.

Stage 0, and treatment would likely be fast and complication-free. Face the peril, get it over with, and get back to work.

I requested surgery months in the future so I could finish Good Omens first, but my doc convinced me the risk of waiting was too great. Get it done now.

"You're really healthy," my doc said. Despite an auto-immune issue which plagues me, I am way healthier than the average schmoe of late middle age. She informed me I would not even need any chemo or radiation if I took care of this now.

So I canceled my appearance at San Diego Comic Con. I did not inform the Good Omens team of my issues right away, thinking this would not interfere with my work schedule, but I did contact my agent to inform her of the issue. I also contacted a lawyer to rewrite my will and make sure the team had access to my digital files in case there were complications.

Then I got back to work, and hoped for the best.

Eff this guy.

Before I could even plant my carcass on the surgery table, I got a massive case of ocular shingles.

I didn't even know there was such a thing.

There I was, minding my own business. I go to bed one night with a scratchy eye, and by 4 PM the next day, I was in the emergency room being told if I didn't get immediate specialist treatment, I was in big trouble.

I got transferred to another hospital and got all the scary details, with the extra horrid news that I could not possibly have cancer surgery until I was free of shingles, and if I did not follow a rather brutal treatment procedure - which meant super-painful eye drops every half hour, twenty-four hours a day and daily hospital treatment - I could lose the eye entirely, or be blinded, or best case scenario, get permanent eye damage.

What was even funnier (yeah, hilarity) is the drops are so toxic if you don't use the medication just right, you can go blind anyway.

Hi Ho.

Ulcer is on the right. That big green blob.

I had just finished telling my cancer surgeon I did not even really care about getting cancer, was happy it was just stage zero, had no issues with scarring, wanted no reconstruction, all I cared about was my work.

Just cut it out and get me back to work.

And now I wondered if I was going to lose my ability to work anyway.

Shingles often accompanies cancer because of the stress on the immune system, and yeah, it's not pretty. This is me looking like all heck after I started to get better.

The first couple of weeks were pretty demoralizing as I expected a straight trajectory to wellness. But it was up and down all the way.

Some days I could not see out of either eye at all. The swelling was so bad that I had to reach around to my good eye to prop the lid open. Light sensitivity made seeing out of either eye almost impossible. Outdoors, even with sunglasses, I had to be led around by the hand.

I had an amazing doctor. I meticulously followed his instructions, and I think he was surprised I did. The treatment is really difficult, and if you don't do it just right no matter how painful it gets, you will be sorry.

To my amazement, after about a month, my doctor informed me I had no vision loss in the eye at all. "This never happens," he said.

I'd spent a couple of weeks there trying to learn to draw in the near-dark with one eye, and in the end, I got all my sight back.

I could no longer wear contact lenses (I don't really wear them anyway, unless I'm going to the movies,) would need hard core sun protection for awhile, and the neuralgia and sun sensitivity were likely to linger. But I could get back to work.

I have never been more grateful in my life.

Neuralgia sucks, by the way, I'm still dealing with it months later.

Anyway, I decided to finally go ahead and tell the Good Omens team what was going on, especially since this was all happening around the time the Kickstarter was gearing up.

Now that I was sure I'd passed the eye peril, and my surgery for Stage 0 was going to be no big deal, I figured all was a go. I was still pretty uncomfortable and weak, and my ideal deadline was blown, but with the book not coming out for more than a year, all would be OK. I quit a bunch of jobs I had lined up to start after Good Omens, since the project was going to run far longer than I'd planned.

Everybody on the team was super-nice, and I was pretty optimistic at this time. But work was going pretty slow during, as you may imagine.

But again...lots of lead time still left, go me.

Then I finally got my surgery.

Which was not as happy an experience as I had been hoping for.

My family said the doc came out of the operating room looking like she'd been pulled backwards through a pipe, She informed them the tumor which looked tiny on the scan was "...huge and her insides are a mess."

Which was super not fun news.

Eff this guy.

The tumor was hiding behind some dense tissue and cysts. After more tests, it was determined I'd need another surgery and was going to have to get further treatments after all.

The biopsy had been really painful, but the discomfort was gone after about a week, so no biggee. The second surgery was, weirdly, not as painful as the biopsy, but the fatigue was big time.

By then, the Good Omens Kickstarter had about run its course, and the record-breaker was both gratifying and a source of immense social pressure.

I'd already turned most of my social media over to an assistant, and I'm glad I did.

But the next surgery was what really kicked me on my keister.

All in all, they took out an area the size of a baseball. It was hard to move and wiped me out for weeks and weeks. I could not take care of myself. I'd begun losing hair by this time anyway, and finally just lopped it off since it was too heavy for me to care for myself. The cut hides the bald spots pretty well.

After about a month, I got the go-ahead to travel to my show at the San Diego Comic Con Museum (which is running until the first week of April, BTW). I was very happy I had enough energy to do it. But as soon as I got back, I had to return to treatment.

Since I live way out in the country, going into the city to various hospitals and pharmacies was a real challenge. I made more than 100 trips last year, and a drive to the compounding pharmacy which produced the specialist eye medicine I could not get anywhere else was six hours alone.

Naturally, I wasn't getting anything done during this time.

But at least my main hospital is super swank.

The oncology treatment went smoothly, until it didn't. The feels don't hit you until the end. By then I was flattened.

So flattened that I was too weak to control myself, fell over, and smashed my face into some equipment.

Nearly tore off my damn nostril.

Eff this guy.

Anyway, it was a bad year.

Here's what went right.

I have a good health insurance policy. The final tally on my health care costs ended up being about $150,000. I paid about 18% of that, including insurance. I had a high deductible and some experimental medicine insurance didn't cover. I had savings, enough to cover the months I wasn't working, and my Patreon is also very supportive. So you didn't see me running a Gofundme or anything.

Thanks to everyone who ever bought one of my books.

No, none of that money was Good Omens Kickstarter money. I won't get most of my pay on that for months, which is just as well because it kept my taxes lower last year when I needed a break.

So, yay.

My nose is nearly healed. I opted out of plastic surgery, and it just sealed up by itself. I'll never be ready for my closeup, but who the hell cares.

I got to ring the bell.

I had a very, VERY hard time getting back to work, especially with regard to focus and concentration. My work hours dropped by over 2/3. I was so fractured and weak, time kept slipping away while I sat in the studio like a zombie. Most of the last six months were a wash.

I assumed focus issues were due (in part) to stress, so sought counseling. This seemed like a good idea at first, but when the counselor asked me to detail my issues with anxiety, I spent two weeks doing just that and getting way more anxious, which was not helpful.

After that I went EFF THIS NOISE, I want practical tools, not touchy feelies (no judgment on people who need touchy-feelies, I need a pragmatic solution and I need it now,) so tried using the body doubling focus group technique for concentration and deep work.

Within two weeks, I returned to normal work hours.

I got rural broadband, jumping me from dial up speed to 1 GB per second.

It's a miracle.

Massive doses of Vitamin D3 and K2. Yay.

The new computer works great.

The Kickstarter did so well, we got to expand the graphic novel to 200 pages. Double yay.

I'm running late, but everyone on the Good Omens team is super supportive. I don't know if I am going to make the book late or not, but if I do, well, it surely wasn't on purpose, and it won't be super late anyway. I still have months of lead time left.

I used to be something of a social media addict, but now I hardly ever even look at it, haven't been directly on some sites in over a year, and no longer miss it. It used to seem important and now doesn't.

More time for real life.

While I think the last year aged me about twenty years, I actually like me better with short hair. I'm keeping it.

OK. Rough year.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Back to work on The Book.

And only a day left to vote for Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, and Sandman in the Comicscene Awards. Thanks.

#good omens graphic novel #good omens #terry pratchett #neil gaiman #dunmanifestin

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lavabug · 1 month ago

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Weapon of Choice 💚💛❤️

I am vibrating with excitement for the next Life Series... New team-ups, new plots, new betrayals and I literally can't wait!

We took these photos back in March and I finally got the files to have a play with editing! I really enjoy having fun in Photoshop but Emi really carried these with the raw's <3

( mj~ @/starkeystudios / eefo~ @/icklecosplay / Pearl~ @/astral_locke & grian/photography~ @/tealeath )

#hermitcraft cosplay #mcyt cosplay #gtws cosplay #ethoslab #hermitcraft etho #life series cosplay #life series #cosplay #mumbo jumbo #gtwscar #secret life

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whore-ibly-hot · 3 months ago

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'Photo Shoot'

Yan!Photography Student x GN!reader x Yan!Art instructor (Joseph and Mr. Burton)

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: All characters are legal age, multiple yanderes, dub-con touching, perverted thoughts, voyeurism, student/teacher dynamics, nude photography, no real mention of specific genitals

AN: I'm so eepy right now... Also, if you like this fic, use the tags on my masterlist to find all the other Yan!Boarding School writings.

The smoke coming from the corner of the room ceases when Mr. Burton snuffs a cigarette butt out on an... ashtray? From where you're sat, you can see him putting it out on what looks more like a student pottery bowl. That strikes you as odd, but he can be very critical of others art so you can't be suprised. Cracking his knuckles and leaning back a little, he turns to you and the extremely quiet classmate beside you, Joseph.

"Alright, lets get this show on the road, yeah? Joseph, you're our camera man, I'll have you leading this thing, running the camera's and I'll give some creative direction. Student and the master, I can finally teach some actual fucking art." Mr. Burton mumbles, as Joseph quickly begins setting up the camera on a tri-pod. You feel odd about him to say the least, despite you being the 'muse', as Mr. Burrton calls you, Joseph's barely made eye contact with you. You agreed right off the bat when Mr. Burton asked you to help one of his favorite students with some anatomy shoots, you like Mr. Burton, he's funny, honest, and that's refreshing, given you worry some people at this academy have ulterior motives. Still, you had some concerns as you fiddle with the thin top you wore at Mr. Burton's request. "Mr. Burton?" you ask, and he looks up from where he's mumbling about something with Joseph. He motions for the young man to keep working as he strolls over.

"I'm nervous." You admit, hand rubbing at your elbow as an attempt to self-soothe. "I don't usually get, nude, on camera, and i-it's not that I don't trust you, sir, but-" He puts his hand up to cut you off, gently rubbing your shoulder. "Woah, woah. I get it, I get it." He assures you, tone comforting. "You're my student, and you've got great, great potential. I've been on the art scene, kid, I see the burnout path some people go down, I see the ways people exploit and get exploited. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. If you get uncomfortable, I'll pull you out. And trust me, being in the nude for art starts to feel perfectly normal after a while, okay?" He pauses, then sighs. "Okay, it's comfortable except for being cold as hell." He laughs.

You chuckle in return, but there's still a bit of worry. He can tell, and leans in. "What is it that worries you, exactly? If it's insecurity, trust me, the real artists are those marketing execs who can photoshop a skinny model and make change up the whole idea of beau-"

"It's not that sir, I promise. I'm just worried about other people seeing, you know? I'm worried about it getting spread around, or people getting bad ideas about me." You admit, face a little pale. Mr. Burton's brows furrow, and he slaps his hand down on his jeans. "Joseph, come here!" He yells.

Joseph jumps, hands shaking as he almost knocks over his tripod. "But- uh, the cameras-" He squeaks out, and Mr. Burton shakes his head. "You're one of the best photographers I've ever met, Joseph, I know damn well that cameras been set up for well over ten minutes already. Come here, don't be shy, don't be weird. You're freaking out the subject." At the idea him staying away is freaking you out just as much as him coming up to you, Joseph walks over. "H-hi." he greets, holding out his hand. You shake it, and it is particularly sweaty.

"Joseph is a great photographer, my best student and possibly one of the best I've ever seen. I assure you, he's a good kid. He's dedicated to his craft, this isn't a complex scheme for him to fence some nudes of you to the highest bidder." The young man's eyes widen exponentially as Mr. Burton makes his assertion, and instinctually puts his hands up in surrender. "No, no! I would never, ever. Do I- do I come off as that kind of creep, if I do I'm sorry."

"No, it's not that at all, I just struggle with, well, some issues like that." Joseph visibly frowns, and Mr. Burtons hand tenses from it's spot on the table.

"You are pretty creepy, Joseph." Mr. Burton admits, making the boy flush as the teacher playfully pushes his head. "This'll be good, good art pushes outside of comfort zones, yeah? Let's get all set up." He claps his hands together as he goes to stand behinf the camera with Joseph. You strip, and sit awkwardly before the camera in front of a messy brick wall with various stains and prints on it from Mr. Burton's studio. Mr. Burtons licks his lips subconsciously as he looks over your meek form, the clears his throat. "Okay, first position, mermaid pose. Lets get those legs to the side."

The shoot continues on for a while, until Mr. Burton suggests a more 'raw' shoot. That's how you find yourself posing, hands over your chest area and thighs ever so slightly parted while Mr. Burton sits behind you, also nude. You worried about it being inappropriate, mostly for his sake. "Couldn't this... I mean, I'm willing to do it if you think it'll be good art, but won't you get in trouble if people find out?" You ask, turning over your shoulder a bit. He scoffs again, and shakes his head. "No self-respecting person with credentials like mine would teach these silver spoon brats art, I'm all they've got." He assures you, going to move an arm around your waist from behind.

"What composition do you want, sir?" Joseph asks, face red as he uses every ounce of will-power to try and suppress an erection at the sight of you and the older man. He'll worry about the new and conflicting feelings later. He's got enough photos to die happy, but the fact you seem so willing fills him with a delusional sense of your interest in him.

"It's your shoot, Joseph. Take over directing." Mr. Burton calls back, and Joseph doesn't seem sure. "I don't know, sir, you have more of a vision than me, and-" Mr. Burton groans, rolling his head back like a kid throwing a tantrum. "Jesus christ, kid. How many times do I have to hammer in that you're a good artist? You can direct your own shoots-" He notices the violently red flush of Josephs cheeks, and chuckles. "Or is this more an issue of being to embarrassed, because I told you-" He waves his free arm around. "We are pushing the envelope, making something raw, pushing ourselves out of comfort zones. To be a great artist, you have to not be afraid to tell your NUDE SUBJECT, to spread their legs and bare it all." Joseph is completely silent, stun-locked by his gruff teachers comments. He begins examining the shot in the view-finder after taking a few shaky breathes.

"Alright, Sir... of course." He swallows, and his shaky hands adjust the lens. "I want to-to try and delineate from what other people think nude shoots are, away from like... porn and stuff. Raw, but intimate, I think." Mr. Burton nods for him to continue, and seeing the interest in your eyes at his creative direction, Joseph gets a little more confident. "If you're okay with it-" He addresses you now. "I'd like Mr. Burton to be able to touch you, nothing too invasive, just a kiss on the neck or the shoulder, maybe letting him hold your thigh?" Joseph keeps his tone soft and asking, sure to imply you can say no.

"That's alright, I trust him." You mumble, looking at the gruff art instructor and seeing to your surprise a soft look on his face. "I'm honored, little muse." He teases, and the nickname makes you flush. "Oh, and you too, Joseph, we've not talked much, um, but you seem really dedicated, I'm sure I'm in good hands."

Shit. Well, so much for keeping his dick down, but at least he doesn't think you can see from the way the lighting is set up. He nods, and you shiver, feeling a cold pair of lips and a thin stubble scratch at the surface of your shoulder. "Are they cold?" Mr. Burton chuckles, placing a few more small kisses as you hear the camera shutter snap. "I'm sorry, I can't control the thermostat in here, all this money and they can't afford to make sure I don't freeze my dick off doing my job." He's always so grumpy, even when he's trying to be sweet. You close your eyes and try to relax into the feeling. It escalates occasionally, hands on your thighs as he kneads gently at your flesh, occasionally making a complaint about something or picking at Joseph, who keeps making an odd series of grunts, but you assume he's just breathing heavy from being so focused.

It culminates in you being positioned over him, as if playing the playful or dominate role in some sort of erotic moment. Mr. Burtons hands rest on your ass, his firm yet not fully erect cock a little too close to your hole. You're chest to chest with him, and while he's relishing in the feeling, Joseph makes a hand motion, and he knows its time to pull away, at least for this ession. He's smart, knows not to rush it, and he knows this is more than enough material for the vouyeristic camerman.

"I think we got some good shots, i-it's getting late. I'll go grab something from the vending machine while you too warm up." Joseph scarmbles away, camera bag held oddly across his crotch area. Mr. Burton smiles as you slide off from him, flushed as the weight of your previous position hits you. "You were great, a real professional." He urges, scooting forward to sit beside you.

"Thank you, sir. I was trying not to get too flushed or anything, I hope I didn't sweat too much." You admit, and he shakes his head to assure you. "Nah, you did fine, but if I could make a suggestion?" You look up. "No real intimate scene like that doesn't have a couple kissing. On your neck and shoulders was fine, but lets face it, people do more than neck each other when they're getting it on like that." He glances at the door, making sure Joseph is still doing whatever it is he's doing out there. He didn't discuss this part with the young artist, but let's face it, learning to be one step ahead, to protect your work and your muse, is something he's gonna have to learn anyways. "Will you let me show you?" he asks, voice low as he leans closer to your face.

You glance at the camera. "It's not running, though shouldn't we wait for joseph to take the photo?" You ask, a little more unsure about the artistic integrity of the action. He shakes his head as he lets his stubble scratch your cheek. "This'll be practice, yeah? For next time..."

"Next time?"

"Next time." He mumbles, lips feverishly sealing against your as he hunces over your form, cold bodies pressing together and leaving goosebumps which trail down your form as the session closes out.

#yandere #yandere oc #tw.yandere #yandere fanfiction #tw.dark content #x reader #yandere boy #yandere x reader #yandere boarding school x reader #yandere boarding school #yandere teacher #oc Mr. burton #oc joseph

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upsidedownsmore · 7 months ago

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(edited to fix page 3, oops!)

Hello! Here's a Hollowframe zine I made for my 2D design class final last week!

We basically got to make an 8-paged zine + poster designed for a double-sided 11x17" sheet of paper about anything we wanted, so I elected to just reuse stuff I already drew for my ongoing Hollowframe project since I was already buried under other assignments (though I still ended up putting way too much effort into it lol, I even remade the full group arrangement!)

The idea was to split the timeline of the Hollowframe project into four rough "phases", take a warframe from each, and then condense a bunch of info about the design I drew for them into a page each.

Hollowframe tag!

Google drive link with high quality pdfs, pngs, and more for printing and whatever! :) (and send me pics if you actually print it!!)

Pics of the irl folded zine and more under the cut!

And here's an unfolded view of all of the pages:

Feel free to try printing and folding it yourself! (here is a random zine folding tutorial I found: https://zineopolis.blogspot.com/p/h.html) (meant for 11x17" paper but idk maybe you can make a really small one lol)

I used Photoshop for the page backgrounds, Illustrator to arrange the pages themselves, and Krita to rearrange the full group image.

Pretty happy with how it turned out! I'm honestly mostly glad I finally got an excuse to remake that full group arrangement cause man that dull bluish gray background was not doing it for me anymore lol (though now it's 11x17" rather than 16:9 ratio so maybe not as good for desktop backgrounds but idk if that matters that much? idk i might adjust it back to a 16:9 ratio if people really want me to)

Anyways that's it for now bye bye :)

#warframe #warframe fanart #art #my art #UpsideDownSmore's art #hollowframe #krita #photoshop #illustrator #hollow knight #hollow knight fanart #wf tag #zine #art zine #i kinda dig the format and almost want to continue it somehow but i'm losing access to illustrator in a few days #so probably not lol #gonna be busy with other projects anyways now that the semester is over #like hollowframe dante :)

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jeanbie · 10 months ago

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IF I LAY HERE (WOULD YOU LIE WITH ME?) ★ masterlist.

pairing: eren x reader

genre: best friends-to-lovers-au, actor au, fluff mostly | warnings: fem!reader | wc: 2.6k

note: hey. i still love u guys and i am still pining over aot. will never stop probably. anyway, this was an older fic i wrote but i'm handing it down to eren! title is taken/inspired from chasing cars by snow patrol (my fav song)

⏤ Eren has had enough - it's been four months since he's last seen you, and he's not going to let his fame status keep him from seeing you any longer. He just hopes that you feel the same way when you see him again.

Eren was taking a pretty big risk, he knew that.

It was risky taking any step out of his apartment at any moment; he’d think he was safe until he made it to the end of the road, earphones snug in his ears, and the flash of a camera behind the bushes in the corner of his eye blinds him back to his front door in a twisted shame.

Granted, he’d expected it to be worse now that he'd booked a plane ticket and made a rather hasty, in-the-moment journey to the airport and on a plane with no layover. Usually when Eren takes a journey overseas, there’s at least one or two fans hiding in the corner of the suites waiting for him, or someone on the plane who’d recognise his face.

For this, he’d suck it up and take a photo. It was better to have good PR and be a little bit pissed off that he’d been discovered, than to have bad PR and to be known as the actor from Attack on Titan who didn’t give a damn about the people who essentially made him and his friends famous.

But Eren thought the risk was worth it this time. The plane touched down in a different country, and from there, it was an hour long train journey to a station he didn’t know anything about to meet a friend of yours he’d only seen in Instagram pictures.

You were at university now, a face he saw on a screen rather than a face he quite literally saw every day months before. It had been four months since Eren had seen his best friend, and fuck anybody who was going to make him wait a second longer before seeing you again.

You were his greatest risk, but it was worth it. You were worth it.

“Fuck, it’s insane to actually be meeting you right now.”

Frank is a good guy, ginger with circle glasses resting on the end of his roundish nose. He led Eren out of the train station, offering to pull his suitcase for him. “I mean, I’m a huge fan.” Followed by a sigh and a quiet, “Who isn’t…?”

Eren smiled at him, squinting in the sun as it hit his eyes in the direction of Frank’s face. “Thanks. I hear a lot about you, too.”

Frank grinned, whipping his head towards Eren. “All sexy and scandalous things, I hope. You know, none of us believed Y/N when she said she knew you. We thought the pictures were Photoshopped, you know how she is.” They both paused by the side of the road waiting to cross, “Shit, she’s gonna freak out when she sees you.”

That was three minutes ago, but Eren's still playing that sentence on a loop in his head. She's gonna freak out when she sees you.

He walks alongside Frank down one of the streets, past a redundant furniture store that quirks his brows. He’s missed it here, and how unbelievably, shockingly awful it all looks when you’re not looking at picturesque photos of it online.

“I thought you’d know that Y/N’s my best friend,” Eren says thoughtfully. He pauses as Frank does as a car zooms past when they’re about to cross. “I mean, people know. The photos got leaked, all of them.”

“Hey, give me a break,” Frank says dramatically. “I only really became a super fan three months ago. I'm more into Levi, you know how it goes. And yeah, I figured it out eventually. Finally, I understood why so many people at this uni wanted photographs with her and to be her best friend…”

Eren frowns. “Is it bad? She doesn’t tell me this stuff on the phone. I mean, they go crazy online when she posts pictures and we interact, but I didn’t…”

Frank shakes his head and grins at Eren as the words die out in his mouth.

“Nah, don’t panic. It’s not that bad. If anything, she might get a kick out of the fame. Trust, there’s always gonna be the girls who hate her because she’s friends with you and that’s like, what, threatening to their fantasy? But she loves you a lot, and a friendship like yours…it’s kinda like family, you know?”

Eren feels his stomach flip, butterflies going haywire. These butterflies are bitter and relentlessly fast, his heart racing that extra bit quicker. He likes the sound of family. He doesn’t like the way Frank implies it, because if Eren is ever going to consider you as family, it won’t be as his sister.

You’ve never been his sister, even when you became part of his family growing up on special occasions, or even just on a daily basis when you came to visit. There were times his family called you their own, but you were never his sister. It was different than that; you both knew it but never dared acknowledge it.

Frank makes small talk until they make it to the student accomodation you currently live at, and because Frank knows basically everybody, a student comes to the gate to let them both in. They’re nice and tall, wearing an Aston Villa shirt that Eren remembers looks a lot like your dad’s back in the day. Might be the same kind, might be a vintage.

He smiles at him, because maybe this guy knows Eren, but then the guy just turns back into the common room and doesn’t come out again. Frank doesn’t live here - he lives in a flat of his own around the corner, but Frank might as well be a resident here. He lets himself in towards the lift and shoots a text to one of your flatmates.

“Apparently she’s in the shower,” Frank says casually. He locks his phone, taps his foot as the lift rises, “Let’s hope she doesn’t stride out completely stark naked as you’re in there.”

He almost blushes, “Ha, yeah.”

He declines to mention the times you two have showered together, the time you went skinny dipping together when you were seventeen. Those were things that might end up getting misunderstood, and those are his memories he’d like to keep a secret. He says nothing, nothing but a thank you when he enters your flat with Frank and takes a different turn to the left whereas Frank goes right, towards the kitchen.

Your room is at the very end, your name on the door in stickers from a set you got from the market, and from inside, he hears the music in the bathroom. The door opens silently and closes with the same volume, and Eren manages to wheel his suitcase to the end of the bed and plonks himself down.

As expected from pixels on the screen, your room looks better in person - white walls and a bed set that’s white and covered with little peonies. Above your desk, Eren recognises all your photos together, new polaroids of you and the friends you’ve made at university who Eren always felt kind of threatened by. He smiles to himself, and rests his head against the wall your bed is attached to. From here, he can see the bathroom door in the mirror on the opposite wall, but he knows you’ll only see his feet when you come out.

Speaking of which; the song playing in the bathroom ends suddenly and the shower water has stopped running. Eren hears the toilet flush and his heart starts to race.

Four months of falling asleep on Facetime and texting when there was no time left in the day, and now, here he is, on your bed, waiting for you to step out and… And, then what?

Maybe you wouldn't even want him here. Maybe you were happier now that Eren was travelling the world with his other friends and film crew while you were still here, in a new city with new friends and a new life. Maybe the memory of Eren was burdensome to you. Worse - maybe he was something you felt you had to remember but didn’t really want to.

Eren's always been scared of the rejection he might receive from you. He might be a dream for fans across the world, but there’s a split second where Eren feels like he might not be good enough for you. He’s the world to other people. But you deserve the whole galaxy, and he’s afraid that’s something that he might not ever be able to give you, even with all the money and the fame.

The bathroom door opens and in two seconds, the light is shut off and he hears you sigh.

“Jesus, Frank, you gotta stop letting yourself in here without telling me,” your voice says. “Good thing I’m semi-decent. Usually I’m not.”

“No fun,” Eren teases, and silence follows. There’s a pause, and Eren cocks his head, his left cheek on his shoulder, waiting for you to click and appear in front of him.

Suddenly, he hears small but quick thuds across the carpet and Eren feels his chest tighten with a nostalgic feeling when you come into view with wide eyes, damp hair and nothing but a bra and those stupid black worn leggings you refuse to throw out.

The grin that reaches Eren's eyes now aches as he laughs at you, at the way you gape at his presence. It takes a moment, a moment of what feels like could be the rejection that Eren absolutely fears, but then you smile so wide that Eren feels it in his stomach.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim loudly, bringing a hand to your mouth as you hurry towards the bed. It dips beneath your knees and Eren rises up to a more comfortable position. “What the fuck!”

He laughs out loud, and when Eren wastes zero time in bringing you into his arms, hugging you tightly.

“Careful, my hair’s all wet,” you squeak.

“Don’t care.”

He really doesn’t. There’s probably going to be a damp spot on his clothes after, but that’s okay. You groan loudly with happiness as you hug him in return as tightly as he is hugging you, your weight on his lap and your arms around his neck.

Eren smiles so wide, sighing with content into your neck. Here, he smells the marshmallow body wash on your skin, the fragrance of your hair that kind of reminds him of Cabbage Patch babies.

“You smell good,” he mutters. You laugh quietly, squirming when his nose sniffs across your neck like one would kiss. “I don’t.”

“You do, you always smell good,” you reply. One sniff, he laughs, “See!”

“Mmm,” he plays along, “the sweet smell of planes and trains and jet lag.”

That makes you laugh, and at the mention of jet lag, Eren realises he could probably fall asleep like this given the chance. He has missed this, missed you, so fucking much. The emotions are overwhelming.

Eren kisses behind your earlobe, and then just underneath your jaw. That’s new. Eren was always a cheek-kiss kind of best friend, but never this.

You’re not complaining. Your head drops to one side, almost giving him more access to the space free, and he occupies it. Those fucking butterflies; Eren feels sick with nerves as he kisses you, under your chin and across your neck, on that spot on your collarbone you found out tickled after Seven Minutes in Heaven in Year 8.

Maybe your fingernails in his hair are a way of you telling him to stop - it’s something he can think about tonight if he can’t fall asleep, something he doesn’t care to think about when he kisses on your actual jawline, to your cheek and the corner of your mouth, your cupid’s bow.

He moves away with a blush that matches your own, but maybe you can’t see his in the colour of your fairy lights. He plays with the dazed confusion on your face as he moves the hair from across your face to around your ears, smiling and raising his eyebrows.

“Your hair is so fucking wet,” he sniggers boyishly.

“I told you,” you shrug. You shrink, relaxed, “Fuck, why are you here? I mean, I’m literally so happy, but… Are you gonna get in trouble for this?”

“I dunno,” he admits. “Maybe, probably. I mean…the guys know I’m here. Jean drove me to the airport with Armin.”

“That’s not what I mean, though.”

Eren sighs loudly. “Yeah, I know. Frank told me all about the girls.”

“Little fucker. Is he here? I’ll punch him for mentioning it to you. It’s honestly fine. It's only a few. Most are really nice!”

“You’re my best friend for life, it’s important to me that you’re not uncomfortable by--”

“I’m not,” you assure him, hands trapped in his hair. You frown and try to change the subject, “Damn, this got long. Didn’t look long over the phone.”

“I've been growing it out,” Eren replies. “Heard you fancied Keanu Reeves, couldn’t handle the competition.”

“Ha!” you retort. “Simp.”

“For you,” frowns Eren dramatically.

Conversation fizzles comfortably, to the point where you both forget that Eren's underneath you and your legs are wrapped like a koala around his middle.

The fact that this is normality for you both is ignored. You’ve done worse things together. Eren even knows that the bra you’re wearing now is one he bought for you, half as a joke, half not. That could be why Eren feels the way that he does, why the confusion wraps around his body and traps him.

Eren knows that the butterflies in his stomach don’t just appear because you’re his best friend he hasn’t seen in a while. He knows what they mean when they flutter when your name pops up when you’re calling him, when an interviewer tries to catch him out by bringing you up in another interview that you don’t need to be mentioned in.

Eren knows that coming here was worth the confusion, and the nerves, and the fact that this will be a headline when it gets out. EREN YEAGER GOES TO VISIT HIS BEST FRIEND…BUT ARE THEY MORE? Or worse, NETIZENS HAVE PROOF THAT A.O.T EREN IS DATING HIS BEST FRIEND Y/N…

He doesn’t want to hurt you. That’s why he feels scared. For you to be scandalised by an article online that caught him out in his feelings, he knew it wasn’t fair. Eren might be too afraid to say he’s in love, and too afraid to find out if you feel it too, if all those years of confused relations and flirtations meant anything, but he’d risk those feelings and the headlines if it meant being able to spend one more day with you.

Eren's got a week and a half with you. Something’s gotta give within this week. He doesn’t want to go back to filming with more regrets than he came here with, and so for now, he’ll just have to swallow those butterflies back down when they pour out of his mouth.

Right now, he can’t afford to be caught out. It has to be said on his own terms, when the timing is perfect. It has to be perfect, because it’s what you deserve. It has to be perfect, because if it isn’t, then Eren doesn’t think it will be worth it.

Losing you to a headline and a butterfly is out of the question. You hop off him and shrug on a jumper from out of your wardrobe. If you noticed his unease, then you didn’t mention it. He almost wants to cry, wants the confusion to go away for the night so he can enjoy being here.

Fuck.

For now, he thinks as he follows you with an arm around your shoulders out of your bedroom and towards the kitchen to meet the others, he’ll just have to fake it 'til he makes it. Just like always. Put on a face, put on a show, until it all feels worth the spillage. He can’t let the butterflies escape yet.

It has to be perfect, and until then, he’ll just have to be patient, even if it breaks his heart more by pretending.

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feelmyskinonyourskin · 8 months ago

Text

Worship You

Pairing: Frank Castle x AFAB Reader

Main Masterlist

GIF Source: Papa-Evershed @papa-evershed

Summary: You’re feeling a little nervous and insecure about your postpartum body, Frank just wants to show you how much he loves you.

Warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio). Mentions of pregnancy, birth, and postpartum AFAB body. New mom insecurities and fears. Lactation kink, oral (F receiving), fingering, protected P in V, use of lube. Pet names (baby, sweetheart, mama)

WC: 2600

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

Four and a half months, that’s how long it had been since you’d given birth to the precious angel that was your daughter. It was the best day of your life and changed so many things so quickly.

Particularly, your body. You were so proud of it; growing and carrying a life for 9 months, enduring 14 hours of labor and delivery, producing daily nutrition to feed this tiny human you loved so dearly. You lamented all the times in your youth when you would pick and pull at your skin, over analyzing the ways your body could “improve” and wishing to abide more by the over photoshopped standards you saw in magazines. How foolish you were.

Now you loved your body. She was a warrior. A Goddess.

But still, even with your new found appreciation for her, it was difficult some days to not feel like a stranger in your own skin. You knew pregnancy and birth would bring about irreversible changes to your body. But nothing could have prepared you for the emotional wave of grief and confusion that came with all the new feelings and quirks that come with life after pregnancy.

Which was probably why you had been avoiding having sex.

Sure sex had been uncomfortable towards the end of your pregnancy, you and Frank inventing the most insane positions just to find a comfortable way to do it. Your body had already changed so much then, but even more so now. Would he still love you like he used to? Would the things you used to enjoy still feel good? Would there be any pain?

You’d been cleared at your 8 week postpartum appointment to move forward with all sexual activity, but still had put it off.

Frank, of course, never pushed the issue. In fact he never brought it up at all, too tired and busy doting on your daughter and making sure your recovery went smoothly. Daily, you got to witness the strength and determination he showed to welcome this second chance despite the demons of his past. He was the epitome of a perfect father and partner, which only turned you on and made you love him even more.

“Ithinkweshouldhavesextonight” you finally blurted out one morning, need for intimate connection and relief outweighing the anxiety.

Frank had just gotten your daughter down for a nap and was at the kitchen sink washing out your pumping equipment.

He turned around so casually to face you and leaned against the counter, as if you had just asked him what the weather was. God, did he have to look so sexy when he was just existing?

He looked you up and down and with an eyebrow corked replied softly “Yeah? That somethin’ you’re ready for?”

You were still reeling from the shock of actually saying it out loud and stuttered out “I… I think so.”

Frank nodded calmly.

“Okay.”

And then he was back to his task without another word.

He didn’t bring it up for the rest of the day, going through the evening routine of dinner, diaper changes, and bathtime with your daughter as he normally would.

Meanwhile, your nerves were on edge, half with anxiety, half with anticipation.

The last feeding of the night was done and your daughter drifted to sleep in your arms as you rocked her. You gingerly set her down in her bassinet, careful not to wake her and have to start the whole routine again.

It was typical to find Frank leaning in the door frame of the nursery, happily observing the site of his family. So you weren’t surprised when you turned around and found him standing there with a grin plastered across his face.

“Hey beautiful.”

“Hey big guy.”

“You still feeling up to…” he asked

“Yeah,” You nodded. “C’mon let's go to the bedroom.”

You reached for his hand, but he pulled it away.

“I got somethin’ for you first.”

The bathtub was to the brim with bubbles. Based on the aroma in the air, you could tell it was the good kind you liked to buy at cute little boutiques in Brooklyn and not the Johnson and Johnson brand you used for your daughter’s baths.

Frank pressed his chest to your back and placed a gentle kiss to your crown.

“Gotta get you relaxed first.”

Docile fingers danced under the hem of the shirt you wore; a dingy, grey henley that once belonged to him, as he slowly began to undress you.

You silently cursed at yourself for not putting on something sexier earlier. Not that any of your old lingerie fit you, but anything more put together than this would have been better.

“Where’s that brain of yours goin’ now?”

Goddamnit how could he read you so well?

“Just wishing I put a little more effort in to seducing you.”

“Eh, you know you don’t need nothin’ fancy to do that.”

The kisses he peppered to your now exposed shoulder sent a shiver up your spine as he continued.

“My woman’s so goddamn pretty, it’s been torture keeping my hands to myself.”

Frank’s plan worked wonders as you found yourself emerging from a half-hour in the scented warm water feeling relaxed and floaty.

He was waiting for you in the bedroom, wearing nothing but clean grey sweatpants that rode low to tease and tantalize you. Good to know he still remembered just what you liked.

He eyed you up and down as you walked towards him, closing the gap between you and pulling you flush to him.

A gentle hand ran down your cheek as you lovingly gazed into each other's eyes.

“Okay, here’s how this is gonna go,” he said “I’m gonna go nice and slow,”

You let out a huff, which caused Frank’s eyebrows shoot up.

“And you’re not gonna whine about it.”

“Fine.” you conceded

“If at any point, anything hurts or makes you uncomfortable, even a little, you tell me and we stop. You got that?”

You nodded your head gently, leaning into the hand he still had resting where your jaw and neck meet.

“Atta girl.”

His lips were soft when they met yours, gentle but not hesitant. He took care to guide you backwards and sit you down on the bed gingerly.

It always fascinated you how hands that inflicted so much violence and death could show you such tenderness and love, could provide so much pleasure. Even moreso now seeing how docile he was with your newborn.

The tie of your robe undid easily and the soft fabric fell off your shoulders and pooled in your lap, exposing you to him.

His eyes were full of reverence as he once again stared at you, admiring with a boyish grin before he dove in and covered your skin in the sweetest of kisses. Each meeting of his lips to your shoulders, your neck, your chest was the rising sun of spring, reigniting your body from hibernation.

His nimble fingers gently grabbed at your breast as he continued tracing his lips across you, giving it a small squeeze before twirling your nipple under his thumb.

It was just enough stimulation to release a few small drips of milk, followed by a tiny stream.

You pushed at his shoulder to get him off and attempted to stop the liquid with a bit of your robe.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I thought about pumping before we got started, but I was hoping maybe she had enough before bed that it’d be alright.”

“It’s okay baby.” Frank practically whispered, swiping at the opaque fluid with his thumb.

“They sore?” he asked

“A little.”

“Can I help?”

You practically felt a flood rush between your legs at his request and nodded eagerly.

Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees before you. His breath was hot against your skin as he licked all the way up from your ribcage to your nipple, gathering the warm nectar on his tongue.

He hummed in satisfaction as he took your nipple fully into his mouth. The divine mix of building pleasure and sweet relief filled your body as he began to suckle, soft pouty lips encompassing your breast.

Big hands wrapped around your lower back, pressing indents into your skin with his calloused fingers as he held you close to him, his eyes now squeezed shut as he continued to nurse.

You threw your head back, groaning at the borderline overwhelm of feelings that ripped through your body.

Frank laid you down slowly, upper lips dragging along your skin as he released your breast and began to kiss down, allowing a spurt of milk to fly into the air.

As he moved down, your hands instinctively flew to cover the loose skin of your stomach, still laden with lighter stripes from where your daughter stretched your flesh as she grew in utero.

His thick fingers grabbed at your wrists to stop you.

“No.” he commanded and instinctually you groaned in rebuttal, trying to free your hands from his grip.

“Ain’t no hiding from me baby. C’mon.”

The low roughness of his voice always made you want to obey whatever he requested. You looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Look, I know you’re still gettin used to all of it, but you’re still my woman and I love you. Shit, you’re even more my woman now that you’ve had my kid. You think I ain’t gonna worship every bit of you? This beautiful body that gave me my daughter, that gave me a second chance I don’t deserve. You think I ain’t gonna love every inch of you just as much as before?”

You couldn’t help but grin at his praise and nodded, leaving your hands at your side and permitting him to continue his work.

Done with taking his time, but still a certain gingerness to his movements, he finally kissed his way to between your legs. You were practically squirming with need as he teased his hot breath against your core.

The sweet relief when he finally ran his tongue through your folds had you practically jumping off the mattress with how calico-like your back arched. You were sensitive, having had no stimulation there in months. You hadn’t even dared to touch yourself in any way that wasn’t medically related, afraid to even test the waters.

Once he was satisfied with the amount he slicked up your petals with his tongue, he went back to being slow and careful, experimenting with your limits by tickling your entrance with the tip of his finger.

Another nod from you and he pushed in just to the first knuckle, then the second. All you could do was whimper with the pleasure of finally feeling him again, bucking your hips to encourage him to go further.

He massaged your walls a little before adding a second finger and you were in heaven.

It was so familiar the way he worked you over with his fingers and mouth. More and more of your fears dissipated with every movement, the luminous pleasure building inside took them over.

Your orgasm crashed into you unexpectedly, taking not much at all to get you there. It made you feel normal and human and real again.

Tenderly, he kissed at your thighs as you worked to steady your breathing.

“How you feeling, sweetheart?”

Another nod. Usually it was Frank who was mostly silent and you doing all the talking. But not tonight.

“That good, huh?”

A giggle escaped you.

“Talk to me pretty girl, what you need now?”

“You Frank, wanna feel you inside me.”

“Okay. How? Gotta do whatever’s gonna be most comfortable for you.”

“I think I should be on top. Have the most control that way.”

“You got it.”

Frank rummaged around the nightstand and pulled out a condom and the bottle of lube. He shed his sweatpants and made his way back to you.

Spreading your legs, he applied a generous amount of lube, using his fingers to push it inside you a little. Satisfied with that preparation, he layed down beside you and put the condom on. You tossed your robe to the floor and crawled to him, maneuvering to hover over his length.

He held you in place with one strong hand and ran the back of his finger down your cheek with the other.

“Remember baby, anything hurts, we stop.”

You nodded, then reached down to guide him to your entrance.

It was a delicious stretch as you slowly sank down, relaxing away the last of your fears about pain. It felt good. It felt different. But it felt good.

The sigh of relief once he was fully seated inside you echoed around the room. You sat there for a moment, enjoying the pleasure. It felt like coming home after being away for too long.

You gave a rock of your hips, steady and easy, feeling the drag of his cock against your velvet walls.

Again. And again.

Until you found a comfortable rhythm and lost yourself to the pleasure.

Meanwhile, Frank’s hands continued to explore, reveling in the feel of your skin under his touch after missing it for so long. Observing the way pleasure twisted and contorted on your face as you rode him, he couldn’t take his gaze off of you.

Temptation won him over, he raised his hand to paw at your other breast. Just a few pinches to your tender nipple and the leak began.

Rising to his elbows, he once again took your breast in his mouth. The warmth of his soft lips latching and sucking sent a wave of goosebumps across your skin as you continued to thrust against him.

Carding your fingers through his cropped hair, you held his head to you, encouraging him to continue.

His fingers found the other breast, squeezing so the stream of milk began once more, flowing down the curve of your tit.

“Frank, I’m so close.” you said, punctuated by the slap of skin.

He moved to bury his face between your boobs and kissed your breast bone, husking out “That’s it baby, let me feel you. Atta girl”

Every dial in your body was cranked up to maximum capacity and it wasn’t long before you erupted, white hot pleasure coursing from head to toe as you rhythmically clenched around him.

You grabbed at his shoulders in an attempt to not fall over and he shushed at the whimpers you released with every spasm of your walls.

Frank wasn’t far behind, cradling your face as he pulled you to press your forehead to his.

A grunt escaped him as he thrusted up into you a final time. His gaze bore into yours as he released, attempting to say a million words he couldn’t form right now.

Cautiously, he tipped sideways and laid you down beside him on the bed, pulling you to lay on his glistening chest.

“You feeling good?”

“Yeah, Frank that was perfect.”

“Good baby, I’m glad we…”

But his words were cut off, the siren cry coming from down the hall stopped both of you in your tracks.

You moved to get up but Frank pushed at your shoulder.

“Shh shh shh I got her mama. You stay put.”

You closed your eyes as you listened to him coo her back to sleep from down the hall, content to live in this little bubble of joy forever.

For you @itwasthereaminuteago

#frank x reader #frank castle

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