#i hate it the colours are awful the anatomy is awful

[mercisnm]

Something from march 2022 (?) for @ehay for fandomtrumpshate. The request was... pretty much anything I'd like to draw, as long as it had Tissaia (mind you that narrows down the search for a subject by 0% because all I draw is Tissaia), but then we somehow settled for "Tissaia in her ss2 nightgown, tending to Yennefer".

[astrum99]

I can’t stop thinking about angel anatomy.

How are they made? What are they made of? If we break them down limb by limb, flesh by flesh, molecule by molecule, would we find the same structures that echoes our DNA? The same stable, constraining carbon? The same heavy metals? The same blood that flows with life, with death? Are they made of the same stardust that echoed in me?

Do they have a brain? A large raw organ, fragile and limited, capable of complex imaginary hallucinatory mathematics with scheduled periods of unconsciousness to make up for the capacity? A liver and two kidneys? To distill the holy light from the contaminates of the polluting environments akin to a dialysis machine cycling the liquids within the veins? A spine that holds strong? Riddled with the same 33 bones and ridges and intervertebral disks and fluids and sensitive nerves and has a habit of bending over for tedious work? A stomach that stirs and shifts constantly? To hold food? Souls? Light? To churn and froth at the consumption of concepts? An appendix? This small unless thing that rests and nestles between the layers of warm, worm-like intestines? How many teeth do you have? How many fingers? How many knees? What is the shape of your nails? What is the colour of your esophagus? How deep are the socket of your eyes?

How fast does your heart beat?

Is it faster? Slower? Do you even have a heart?

Do you feel in the same way that I feel? The pressure of processed wood against my feet, the nagging buzzing of LED light above my head, the smell of faint smoke from a cooking disaster weeks ago. The sound of people laughing unruly in the distance, putting on a show in the TV program that no one watches. The dampness of the towel against my face. The pain of a needle sliding into soft flesh that gives way willingly to metal. The bruises blooming slowly, aching like love. The chirping of songbirds, the shape of cumulus clouds, the haziness of a morning fog that really stayed for far too long. The way that my mother worked around the hard peels of an orange with the sharpest knife in the kitchen, just to present the sweetest parts to me. The tenderness of a shoulder touching mine before stealing my blankets (again) with a giggle that indicated no remorse. The sluggish sunlight that sneaks through the shades just to press a kiss on my forearm. The sorrow and passion of the symphony on the last show on the last tour, followed by cheers and drunken (revered) confessions during the post-performance celebration at 3am in a random bar of a random city. The foot print of an animal in the first winter snow of the year, like a human pressing their hand print on to the cave walls, chanting I am here I am here I am here, chanting remember me remember me remember me.

Do you bear the shame of sacred inabilities as we humans do? Unable to see beyond the visible spectrum of light? Unable to distinguish the difference between wet and dry, only to assume based on temperature and texture? Unable to know if someone else was speaking of the truth? Unable to see inside someone’s mind? Unable to thread words in a way that completely gives you away like you intended to? Unable to turn back into a child and speak of love so easily? Unable to run forever and ever? Unable to peak into the veil beyond space and time and death? Unable to tell your pet that you’re sorry for making them take the awful medicine and please don’t hate me please don’t hate me please don’t hate me? Unable to be remembered and recognized, at least not wholly, at least not without mistakes?

Do you ever feel the strangeness of existence? Why you? Why now? Why here? That sometimes it feels like the world is five degrees to the left and you are just out of sync enough to keep going. That sometimes you are so overwhelmed with the the giant coincidence that is the world so you weep uncontrollably at the wonder of it all. That you feel like suffocation as you dig into the earth with your bloody fingers because a bird hit your window and died and you didn’t know and you kneeled by it for an hour before realizing it wasn’t breathing.

It died so long ago. It won’t get up again. The first time you held a bird was its cold hard corpse. So small between your palms, so fragile. It’s feathers iridescent. You have never seen one so up close. It was the prettiest and the deadest thing you’ve ever touched. It feels like the world. It feels like a prayer. Do you understand?

Do you regret like me? Love like me? Despair like me? Do you dream like me? Pray like me? Cry like me?

How close are you?

Let me touch you.

Please, I have to know.

[milflewis]

dantteri + christmas gifts

ah. ok. so. it got sad? sorry 😔😔 i started writing and then the pacific rim fic took over my brain so here you go. some dantteri in this au

“Here.”

Valtteri looks up from his mashed potatoes and beans. Daniel is standing in front of him in the most obnoxious Christmas jumper that Valtteri had ever seen. It’s giant, pushed up at his elbows, gaping at the neck, fire truck red and neon green and it has lights. It vaguely resembles a reindeer. The present he’s holding is badly wrapped too. There’s a strip of sellotape that looks like it’s wrapped completely around and around the middle with no stopping.

“I didn’t get you anything.” It’s been years since Valtteri had last felt nervous and off balance around Daniel, not since at least, basic training, but the feeling is familiar and sour on his skin. He can feel the back of his neck heating.

“Ah,” Daniel grins, shoulders loosening. Valtteri unclenches his fingers from around his fork. This he can do — Daniel making fun of him is just as familiar as how anxious he shouldn’t still be able to make him. “Guess I’m just a better person than you are, Valtteri.”

Valtteri hates how Daniel says his name — the ‘Val’ short and dragging out the ‘-tteri’ like it’s a song.

“I’m better sure that people who are better than someone don’t have to say that they are.”

Daniel shrugs, giving the present a little shake. It doesn’t rattle or make any kind of sound. Valtteri takes it. “Not everyone can be perfect, mate. I’m just a man, you know? Only human.”

“Right. Thank you,” Valtteri says, putting the present down next to his plate, picking back up his fork. He eats a mouthful of lukewarm beany potatoes, raising his eyebrows at Daniel, a silent is that it?

Daniel stares back at him, smile slipping slightly. He opens his mouth and closes it, narrowing his eyes. The tension is back in his shoulders when he walks away, hands in his pockets, the line of his back just barely curved.

Valtteri rolls his eyes, mouth dry. He’s too tired these days, too busy, to indulge Daniel’s irritating need to take the piss out of everything. He can fuck off with his joke present or whatever — Valtteri isn’t going to play into it.

—

It takes Valtteri four years to open the present. He had forgotten about it, tucked away in one of his drawers, lost amongst Lewis’s shit with Nico and the never ending Kaiju attacks and training.

Daniel has been dead three years when Valtteri finds the present again, looking for his spare spare phone charger. It still had the unending strip of sellotape, the corners torn and curling. It’s squishy in his hands, the wrapping crinkling.

He laughs when he opens it, head falling into his hands, the wool soft against his cheek. It’s the first time he cries since Lewis has left.

Sebastian finds him like that, hours later, when Valtteri doesn’t turn up for dinner. He doesn’t say anything, only drags him out of his chair and into the medical ward, ignoring the wetness on his cheeks. Kimi raises his eyebrows at the sight of them when they take over his office couch, Sebastian shoving a tray of food into Valtteri’s lap. He doesn’t even lecture them which tells Valtteri more about what a state he looks than anything else. Kimi isn’t one to break out the sympathy for anyone who isn’t dead or under six years old, and even then, it’s a close call.

Sebastian very deliberately does not ask, in the same way that he very deliberately does not talk about Daniel, and they eat in silence, and it’s not nice, but it’s not awful either.

—

He ignores George beside him. He’s bouncing on his toes, chattering, sleeves buttoned close to his wrists, ink just barely peeking over the back of his hands. The tattoos on his arms are different than Daniel’s were, less colourful, more lined blueprints of anatomy than paintings. Valtteri hunches more into his raincoat, hand clenching around his umbrella.

Lewis looks tired when he steps off the helicopter, bruises under his eyes even darker than they were when Valtteri saw him three days ago. He’s wearing the same coat, heavy and solid and grey. It fits him along the shoulders, cuffed at the wrists, too long at the waist. There is a faint patch on his back where SCHUMACHER used to be printed on.

Someone trips coming out behind Lewis, tall, weird facial hair, big eyes. He’s holding his arms close to his chest like Lewis is. He looks very French, even in the pissing rain. Pierre Gasly, Valtteri thinks, picturing the background check that he had ran two years ago when Lewis mentioned, in that soft bewildered way that he does when he doesn’t quite know what to do with someone but refuses to admit it, that this kid started following him around and doesn’t seem to be stopping.

Valtteri wonders if the kid even knows what he has done, what he has done for Valtteri in saving Lewis from himself. If he even knows the depth of the debt that Valtteri owes him.

Valtteri bites his cheek when Lewis spots him, eyes lighting up, something in his face loosening. He presses in close when Valtteri throws an arm around his shoulder. The collar of Lewis’s coat is soaked through.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d actually come,” Valtteri says and it’s a lie and they both know it. Lewis was never going to do anything else when Valtteri asked him to come back. You are terrible for my ego, Valtteri thinks and the thought is so fond he could choke on it.

Lewis grins, bumping his hip against Valtteri’s. “Well, you know. Mark told me I wouldn’t be able to do it and fuck me, but I couldn’t let him be right.”

Valtteri laughs, lifting the umbrella to cover the two of them. Lewis flutters wet eyelashes at him in thanks and Valtteri rolls his eyes, nearly missing the look on Lewis’s face when he spots Valtteri’s hands.

I helped him knit them, Lewis will tell him, hours later, when they’re alone in the kitchens together, ice cream cold on their knees, the blue light of the fridge hollowing out Lewis’s cheeks. He was so nervous. He. He wanted. He.

Stop, Valtteri will say, eyes open only because he’s afraid if he closes them then Lewis will disappear again. And Lewis will stop. And they won’t talk about it until years later when the Kaiju attacks are more manageable and Lewis is teaching more often than he is fighting and Valtteri can bring himself to complain about how the gloves unravel at the ends and the fingers are all different lengths without feeling like he’s going to throw up.

But for now, Lewis just looks at them for a beat, swallowing hard, and then, his coat meows and he winces. “So,” he starts, already doing his wounded eyes and smile soft at the corners that gets him away with nearly everything. It’s all Sebastian. “You know how I was telling you that I started minding these two cats.”

“Yes,” Valtteri says, trying not to laugh. George is not as successful, bursting out in laughter as Gasly’s coat meows in unison.

[pomeramu]

CW!! sona x canon, suggestive??? i suppose???

I am very normal about him.

ok google how the hell do you colour digital drawings

I MIGHT DELETE THIS LATER BECAUSE I HATE IT SO MUCH I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ANATOMY AND IT LOOKS AWFUL UGH dies

[fainthedcherry]

3 hrs spent total for sketching - and skipping my pizza time for this xD

I'm VERY happy to say, that I had a lot of fun trying to come up with some alt-designs!!!

I got the idea to draw these doodles from a blog I really like, from @shoechoe !! (sorry if you hate tags, just wanted to credit back to you and also reblog the source of inspo!!!)

I've never drawn Doppio NOR Diavolo ever before, plus I mainly draw anthros in my free time, so I put some extra effort into these in trying to make these look appealing despite my obvious time-crunch LOL!

Since unfortunately I have to go to work in order to feed myself LOL, that means I couldn't of spend the rest of my midnight on this, so this looks REALLY rough and ofc some anatomy-mistakes were ignored, but yeah! For 3 hrs, I'm p OK w/ the results!!! :o;

RAMBLE SECTION ABT ART/DESIGN PROCESS BELOW;

Hope any fans out there enjoy my weird ideas I had design-wise. xD

Diavolo was giving very oldhead punk - maybe even the gatekeepy types KLFGSDLKGDS, but I also thought about "OOH he'd probably LOVE glam-punk. Somewhere around his era too w/ 80s-90s dude probably musta LOVED David Bowie!!" So I've drawn one with glam-punk influences, the other just freely off the top of my head, on what I consider something more punk-ish xD

Oh, also I sliiightly dulled the colours,, just sliightly. If the colours look off in some way, blame my program, that prevents me from getting migraines due to bluelight. I have a filter, that sets my screen to a certain % of orange, so if colours look colder than they're supposed to...It was bc of that. xD It's 3AM here in Germany, as I write this!! :>

That was my main thought-process,,, then last second I thought "omg I also need to throw Doppio in here bc I love him too who WOULDN'T" - soO here we have emo-Doppio!! or...Emoppio I guess. xD You think his band-kid energy would've been SO off the charts, that Abbacchio could've gotten to him first instead of the other way around? ;T /hj

Honestly tho...I think bandkid Doppio and Risotto could've gotten along better than what we got. xD I can dream I guess. ���

(JIC that joke about Korn is very specific, I know that Korn is more nu-metal and stuff pls don't behead me fellow Korn fans for a joke, Diavolo fans pls don't behead me for making a joke about KC's genera intelligence to know what music-genres are, my acoustic arse wants to make sure, to clarify it in case someone might think I wrote that down in a serious manner, I am just a court-jester throwinf tomatoes at the king basically CKSKDJ)

IMA KEEP THIS SHORT BC I GOTTA SLEEP OBV. LATE SHIFT WILL ABSOLUTELY BODY ME IN TERMS OF CONTRACTS I GOTTA WORK ON LATELY.

I'll do my best to try and catch every Dia and Doppi tag sdfjksklg, I am notoriously AWFUL at tagging my posts no matter on what platform xD

I hope I'm fine to use a fanart tag tbh I'm kinda scared bc I never draw fanart as most of my friends know,, ovo;: I am SO new to drawing fanart man. xD

I hope to Abbacchio-post some day too,, I thought of a funny comic but it's gonna take a GOOD while to draw ofc ><

i can never get over diavolo being canonically punk

[with-each-sunset]

a minor demon possessed my body and refused to let me study any longer unless i drew this

[jungkxook]

—demon-etized. (m)

⟶ pairing: namjoon x reader

⟶ analytics: youtuber!namjoon / ghost-hunters au / smut

⟶ words: 6,260

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ warnings: idiot ghost hunter bts, ghosts making namjoon horny ig?, slight exhibitionism, fondling, fingering, standing sex, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ description: in this episode of unsolved, namjoon and the boys risk their lives by spending overnight in an abandoned and supposedly haunted asylum in the hopes of finding some ghouls — but the boys are pretty certain the real reason for the spooky moaning isn’t allowed to go on youtube. ***warning: very scary!!!***

⟶ pinned comment: this is part of the not clickbait series!

“Well, this has been fun. Let’s go home now.”

You were starting to think this was a very stupid idea ━ but stupid would be an understatement. The looming asylum standing before you with nothing but the darkened midnight sky in the foreground acts as a foreboding omen that you’ve seen one too many times in pretty much any horror movie. The creepy abandoned estate offering itself up as a seemingly perfect and totally innocent means of adventure for a group of friends only to end in murder or a demon possession should have been enough to scare you all away. Fortunately, you’re not the only somewhat sane person (and you say that very loosely because you did, after all, agree to come with the boys), because you’re both startled yet thoroughly relieved to hear the worried statement coming from a very tense-looking Jimin.

It really was a stupid idea. Spending overnight (which, really, just translates to a few hours and a clickbait-y title for the video) in a supposedly haunted and derelict asylum from the early 1900s offered all sorts of problems that weren’t just supernatural. Squatters, creepy cult members, and risking getting whatever sorts of diseases are riddling the walls of the ancient dwelling were starting to get to you. But it was Namjoon’s idea to come here for his next video upload especially when considering the fact that for the entire month of October he and his group of YouTuber friends host a fan favourite ghost-hunting series titled Unsolved ━ and, whatever Namjoon usually suggests, the boys usually tag along with, no matter how daring or how stupid it may be.

��We literally just got here,” Hoseok retorts as he hops out of one of the two cars you and your friends had shared on the way here. It was a three hour drive from the city with the estate being much larger than you expected it to be, four main buildings sprawling out amongst empty fields. At least the stories of its creepy atmosphere are all the same. Was it the cool autumn breeze sending chills down your spine or something else entirely? The moment you stepped foot out of the car and gazed upon the asylum, it was almost as if you could feel something watching you. But that was definitely just you imagining things. “Don’t be a pussy, Jimin. What’s the worst a ghost is gonna do to you? Rattle some chains? Ooooh, spooky.”

“Okay, first of all,” Jimin rounds on the older boy almost immediately, “vaginas are the strongest muscles in female anatomy, so I’m not being a pussy. Let’s get it right, okay? I’m being a little bitch, and I embrace it. Second of all, if a ghost does rattle some chains near me, I will definitely be booking it back to the car and leaving all of you stranded here.”

From beside you, Yoongi snorts amusedly. He’s the resident non-believer amongst your group of friends so you always wonder why he even bothers to come to these things. He says it’s to help filming, but you think he’s banking on maybe one day seeing a ghost even despite all that charade of hostility. Even now, he’s already filming for the vlog, getting shots of the building but also mostly just Jimin and Hoseok’s banter in the background. “If a ghost does anything tonight, I’ll be genuinely surprised.”

“Something is going to happen tonight. I can feel it,” Jungkook says confidently. He’d been huddled over the opened side door of one of the cars with Namjoon and Jin, sifting through their high-tech equipment that you’re certain they just bought off of Amazon or something. “This place is one of the most haunted places near us. Have you even heard the stories? Apparently there are two most popular ghost sightings. One is some girl━”

“Is she hot?” Taehyung asks.

“She’s dead,” Jungkook deadpans. “Also, pretty sure she was eleven when she died from tuberculosis. Anyway, she’s more of a benevolent ghost. They say you can hear her laughing sometimes. There’s a lot of activity in one of the kids’ rooms. And the other sighting is less friendly. They just call it a shadow man because it’s hard to see its face, but you can always see an outline of a person walking by in one of their treatment buildings. There’s even been physical attacks, with one person saying they got scratched by an invisible force.”

Jimin visibly winces. “Sounds very much like a demon than a ghost to me.”

“Sick!” Hoseok exclaims. You’re worried to find that the group’s morale (aside from yours and Jimin’s) isn’t any less vivacious than when Jungkook started his story. “This is gonna be awesome.”

But you can’t help but to roll your eyes, your feigned boredom really just a weak attempt at hiding your own fright. “Oh, shut up. That’s such bullshit.”

“Is it?” Jungkook quirks a brow, challenging you.  

“Well, whatever happens, we’re gonna catch it.” This confident statement comes from Namjoon. After he hands out the pieces of tech to the rest of his friends, he glances upward at the asylum with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Come on. Let’s find us some ghosties.”

As the group begins to follow Namjoon towards the nearest building, Taehyung can be heard wolfishly quipping aloud, “Time to rock and roll, ghoul boys! And, er, girl.”

“Don’t call us that,” Yoongi grumbles.

It’s comforting to hear the rest of the group erupt into fits of entertained laughter, but any banter is quick to subside as you walk up to the building. You’re relieved when Jimin decides to hang back with you and doesn’t seem to protest when you start to cling to his arm as you’re all ushered through the main entrance of the building and into utter darkness only broken apart by the dim glow of your flashlights. If you weren’t already so frightened, maybe some of it would be comical, like the way the front doors creak open so very slowly in suspense.

Under Jimin’s breath, you can hear him mumbling in chagrin, “We should have gotten holy water.”

As your eyes adjust to the darkness within, you’re able to make out that the inside is just as horrifying as it was on the outside. Dust and debris hang heavy in the air and on the ground, and almost every inch of any surface within the building is covered in graffiti works of art. 

“Oh, fuck that,” Jin scoffs. “We only just stepped foot into here and this place is already giving me goosebumps.”

“Aw, sweet, bro! Check this out!” Hoseok says abruptly, startling almost all of you. He’s standing a bit further off down one hall, beckoning the rest of the group to follow. As you approach him, you can make out what sort of graffiti marking on the ground has suddenly grabbed his attention. “Who wants to lay on the pentagram with me?”

“No one,” You retort.

“I will!” Jungkook says at once, much to your dismay.

Yoongi lets out an audible strained sigh. “If any of you fucks get possessed and kill me, I’m never gonna forgive any of you. Just letting you know ahead of time.”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do?” Hoseok asks. “Come back and haunt us?”

“No, I’ll be dead. Ghosts aren’t real,” Yoongi says. “But I will still be very angry.”

“Noted.”

Before Jungkook or Hoseok can haggle Yoongi into filming them laying on the pentagram drawing and potentially offering their souls up to whatever demon lays waiting beneath it for their souls, the group is moving on. You explore the first bottom half of the building together in a tense silence before making your way up the dilapidated stairs to one of the treatment rooms that Jungkook makes certain to point out is where the infamous shadow figure is often seen. Taehyung decides to suggest, “Should we try the spirit box?”

You almost groan aloud. You fucking hate that thing, for obvious reasons. 

Whether or not you believe in it, the loud gurgling noise is always unsettling and you’re already on edge. Still, you sit back with Jimin as the rest of the boys nod in agreement and fiddle with the piece of tech until it’s been turned on. You’re immediately met with a cacophony of crackling radio static so deafening that your instinctual reaction is to cover your ears. You refrain miraculously, but you still cower in one corner with Jimin as the boys listen intently to the noise.

“Is anyone here?” Namjoon calls out to no one in particular. “If you are, can you give us a sign? Move a chair or say something or push Yoongi━”

“What the━?” Yoongi gawks. “Why me?”

“‘Cause you said you don’t believe in them.”

Yoongi clamps his mouth shut, and nods in a way that admits Namjoon has a point. At that moment, there’s a pique in the static, a jumble of inaudible words that almost sounds humanlike.

“What was that?” Hoseok asks. “Sounded like… It almost sounded like it said ‘leave.’”

“Leave?” Jimin squeaks. “Think we should take that as a sign, guys.”

“Nah, I definitely heard Steve, not leave,” Yoongi says.

Jungkook frowns. “Who the hell is Steve?”

“Maybe that’s his name,” Yoongi suggests nonchalantly. “Be nice.”

After a handful of minutes of even more strained silence, the boys are only able to discern certain words that you’re positive don’t have anything to do with the asylum or ghosts. At long last, they shut the machine off and the room is once more plunged into a formidable silence so dense that you almost miss the spirit box. But almost as soon as the piece of tech has been silenced, does Jimin cry out in pure anguish. “What the fuck was that?”

The boys instantly round on their startled friend who is now cowering behind you. The colour has all but drained from his face, eyes wide in a frenzied panic.

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon asks.

Jimin looks hysterical as he shoves a pointed finger in the direction of the wall opposite the room in the corridor. “I swear on my life I just saw something move out of the corner of my eye over there. Like a-a person o-or something. Looked like a shadow. I don’t know! I thought it was one of you guys━”

“Stop it, Jimin.” Your voice treads on apprehension as you look over at the alarmed boy. “You’re scaring me.”

“Yeah, ease up, Jimin,” Namjoon says, though he seems more entertained than anything. “I’d prefer if you didn’t throw my girlfriend headfirst towards a demon or ghost or whatever it is you saw.”

“Joon.” His name rolls off your tongue in a scolding moan as you rub wearily at your eyes. His words do little to help console you, and you’re certain it fairs even worse for poor Jimin.

“I’m sorry. I just━” Jimin pulls you tighter in front of him. “I swear I saw something. Holy shit.”

Jungkook’s the first one outside the room, his own camera in his hands as he goes to investigate. As the rest of the boys file outside in the corridor, you drag Jimin along with you, favouring not to be alone in any part of the building. You can hardly see anything, let alone a shadow. 

Jungkook turns back around at long last, a devious grin on his face as he finds Jimin’s wandering crazed stare. “Maybe it was the shadow man. Told you he exists.”

“I don’t care what it was. My heart almost fell out of my ass,” Jimin gasps. He clutches at his chest over his heart, for added emphasis. “Let’s get out of here.”

You aren’t quite sure if the boys believe him, but you do notice how quick they are to move on from the room and corridor. A palpable tension hangs heavy in the air that makes you realize perhaps the boys are starting to lose their cool under pressure. 

As you reconvene below on the main floor of the building, Namjoon pipes up. “Let’s split up. See if we can find anything on our own.”

“Okay, Scooby Doo,” Jin snorts. “You do know that this is how every horror movie begins, right? There’s power in numbers.”

“Yeah. Which is what we’ll all be saying when this video reaches trending on YouTube with a million views,” Namjoon says, matter-of-fact. “Which we can only do if we get some interesting content. So, let’s split up into pairs of two. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

“We could just fake it,” Jimin suggests desperately. “Like every big YouTuber does. The magic of editing, guys.” But no one seems to be listening anymore as the group begins to splinter off. Yoongi and Jungkook decide to venture back upstairs in pursuit of the elusive and supposed shadow man, while Hoseok and Taehyung wander outside. Lost and dumbfounded, Jimin gawks around at his retreating friends, calling out in one last effort, “Anyone? …No? Okay, cool.”

He nearly lets out a yelp when Jin clasps a hand on the boy’s shoulder in a reassuring manner. “You’ll be okay, Jimin. C’mon, let’s go.”

Finally alone with Namjoon, he offers up his outstretched hand to you. You take it at once, gripping his palm a little tighter than necessary as he pulls you towards him. 

“You doing okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” You lie, even though you know he can see right through it. 

You’re content to find that he at least keeps your hand in his even as he tugs you along with him to explore the rest of the asylum. You decide to leave the building you’re both in and wander to another one where you stumble upon Hoseok and Taehyung on the main floor briefly. Then, making your way upstairs, you find nothing out of the ordinary but empty rooms that you suspect were once upon a time sleeping quarters for the patients. It’s less frightening than the other buildings, though still a little unnerving the longer you stay to explore. You climb the stairs until you’re on the third landing and inspect almost every room to find nothing. 

At some point, you let out a wavering sigh. Namjoon is busy waving around an EMF reader in a room. It’s empty aside from a dusty cot and a broken wardrobe, amongst a few other oddities covered in a thick layer of cobwebs and dirt. You could have sworn you’ve heard footsteps in almost every room you’ve entered that wasn’t either yours or Namjoons, and the strange sensation that you’re being followed hasn’t been able to shake from you. “Joon? Can we go back now? I’m starting to get a little spooked.”

Namjoon comes to a halt at once, turning around to face you. He gives your palm a comforting squeeze. “Hey, you’re okay. There’s nothing to be scared of. I don’t mean to sound like Yoongi but I highly doubt we have to worry about any ghosts.”

“Well, what do you think Jimin saw?”

“Who knows?” Namjoon shrugs. “It was probably just his imagination. Your mind plays tricks on you in the dark, doesn’t it? Here, let’s talk about something else to distract you.”

“Like?”

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as Namjoon considers another thought. You don’t even realize the smug smirk unfurling on his face until it’s too late. “Well… I had an idea earlier. Just a passing thought, really, but I bet it’d be fun anyway.”

“What was it?”

“We could probably have a quickie in one of these rooms and the boys would never know any different.”

You nearly choke at this, sputtering for air as you reach out to flick Namjoon’s shoulder. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No,” You admit sheepishly. He places his hands on your hips then, pulling you delicately towards him in a manner that makes it hard to focus now. “But I don’t know how I feel about ghosts watching us. Also, the couple that has sex in any horror movie usually ends up dying first.”

Namjoon shakes his head at you, albeit a little amused at your worrisome thoughts. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you. At least not while I’m here.”

“Coming from the man who tripped going up the stairs at your dorm the other day,” You point out tauntingly. The distant reminder and the sound of his abrupt laughter is enough to momentarily soothe your hammering heart. 

Namjoon gasps, feigning a look of mock hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean!”

“Means I love you very much but I don’t know how well you’d fair against ghosts or demons.”

“Ahh, I see how it is.” 

He sounds mildly offended and pokes his fingers at your sides but, in the ensuing scuffle to flee from his grasp, the both of you trip and fumble until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall, the sound of your snickers like music to his ears. He comes colliding against your front, hands digging into your hips. He leans forward to kiss your lips slowly, feeling you smile against him. A delightful chuckle bubbles at your mouth and he parts from you in the next moment wiggling his brows suggestively while a teasing smirk stretches at his face so wide, his dimples start to poke through.

“Wanna?” he asks. 

It’s a simple question, weighing heavy with dirty implications ━ and honestly? You’re kind of into it. Or maybe that’s just because he returns to kissing at your lips, only this time at the corners of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw. Tantalizing motions that seem to make your head spin violently. Your head lolls back against the wall behind you as he droops his head to your neck, lips meeting with the soft flesh of your throat to suck a delicate blossoming hickey there.

“Okay,” You rasp, “so maybe we can spare some time for this.”

“Ah, so now you’re interested.” His voice is huskier now, muffled by the way he busies himself by nipping at the same spot on your throat. He hears your breath hitch, feels the way you part your legs just slightly enough to have him sink further against you. He marvels at your decision in the morning to throw on a skirt and a pair of thick wool tights. At the time, you had said it was because the weather wasn’t too brisk outside just yet; now, he was thanking you silently for unknowingly picking just the right outfit for the occasion. 

“Namjoon…” Your voice is strained now, a mix between a plea and a whine and he grunts against your neck.

It takes Namjoon a moment to rack his brain, realizing that he finds it hard to even form a proper sentence anymore. “Don’t even need to feel my dick in you. Just wanna get you off, baby. Can I?”

You’re already practically drooling. “Think the boys will notice if we’re gone a little longer?” 

“Who cares?” Namjoon quips. “Jimin’ll probably think we got possessed and lost in the demon world or something.”

You giggle, though your voice splinters off into a soft moan as he continues to nip and suck at your neck. His hand falls to your thighs then, fingers brushing upward faintly until he meets the short hem of your skirt before disappearing beneath it. His hand comes to grasp at the delicate curve of your ass, his palm hot and firm against your soft flesh. 

He groans into your neck. “Been dying all night to touch you.”

“Then don��t stop.”

If the way his hardening cock now forms against your inner thigh any inclination, you don’t think he has plans on doing so. Instead, you watch as he lifts his free hand to your mouth, fingers tapping at your lips in a wordless motion. “Open up.”

You do as you’re told, lips parting just enough to wrap around his two fingers. He gazes at you with hooded eyes as you suck at his digits, tongue laving against the sturdy form in your mouth until his fingers are coated thick with your saliva. His other hand, still attached to the rump of your ass, moves like water over your skin to your thigh once more, nudging you aside just enough, pinching delicately at the skin there; he pulls his fingers from your mouth then, then lets the same hand venture under your skirt in a similar fashion. He wastes no time in pushing aside the material of your panties, pressing his digits at your core, watchful eyes staying fixated on yours if only to watch your every expression. His dampened fingers slide over your folds, spreading them open, running across them, admiring the way your stickiness already forms between your legs. 

“Joon…” You cling to him tighter, both to steady yourself against the sudden ministrations and to shield yourself more from view, though you’re certain there’s a slim chance the boys will come across you and Namjoon like this. You hope.

Namjoon’s fingers slip past your folds then, slow and steady as he feels the tight constricting walls of your cunt. You throb around him, thinking only of his cock, imagining the girth of it fitting snug deep within you. The similar stretch of your walls, the fluid motion of his length burrowing in and out of you, wrecking you into shambles. Now, Namjoon wriggles his fingers upward, scratching at a spot within you that has you writhing against him, the slick wetness of your arousal sufficiently coating his fingers. His thumb finds your clit then, running small circles against the small bundle of nerves.

“So wet,” Namjoon moans, resting his forehead against yours. He notes the way your teeth sink into your lower lip, and pulls his free hand out from under your skirt to tap his fingers against your chin. “Gonna moan for me, baby? Let the boys hear you? Maybe wake the dead?”

“You’re such a brat,” You simper through a shuddering breath, and if you weren’t so consumed by him then maybe you would have laughed at the joke he manages to squeeze in at the last moment. But he’s not wrong. What’s the point in keeping silent in an abandoned building that you’re positive only you and your friends are currently occupying? How much longer do you expect to keep quiet, when the way he’s making you feel begins to slowly burn at your insides? 

He curls his fingers deep in you, and your jaw unhinges in a silent gap. You wonder how long you can last, face burning with every passing second as he fingers you closer and closer to your high. Your hips jut outward to meet his hand with every motion, grinding against his knuckles in a desperate need to get off. You’re shameless about it too, fingers gripping his shirt tightly, brows scrunched together in hardened dedication. 

“Such a pretty little mess,” Namjoon hums. “Want you to cum on my hand, baby girl.”

“Fuck, Namjoon━” You whimper now, head lulling back as he twists his fingers further in you. 

But, as soon as you do so, the echoing sound of footsteps has your eyes darting to the darkened corridor. You make out the sound of oblivious chatter, and the familiar voices of Taehyung and Hoseok echoing from somewhere down below. They must be two floors down, though you can hear them screaming at nothing in particular, except for a string of profanities that meet your ears.

“Jesus, fuck!” That definitely sounds like Taehyung, voice shrill with worry. 

“Chill!” There’s Hoseok, but you think he was also screaming moments ago with Taehyung. “It’s just a spider.”

“I don’t care! Get it off of me!”

“Bunch of dumbasses,” Namjoon shakes his head rigidly, a fleeting grin forming on his face that is quick to fade as he curls his fingers upwards further into you. And, while your attention is somewhat fixated on the boys, you find yourself treading a fine line of not giving a fuck as Namjoon’s fingers stay buried deep within your cunt. Still, Namjoon can sense the slight urgency in your demeanor when your hands wind around his neck to tug at his hair, as if to gesture to the strangers that he already knows are nearby. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs reassuringly, voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing so good, love.”

He slows his fingers almost to a halt as you burrow your face in the crook of his neck. Your walls continue to clench around his fingers, and he adds a third finger to stretch you out just enough in a teasing leisure manner. He does it on purpose too, this much you know for certain, as he pinches playfully at your waist. It’s lewd, the idea of him fingering you out in public like this but the emboldened adrenaline coursing through your veins doesn’t want him to stop. By now, your high overwhelms everything else, causing you to writhe against Namjoon as he cradles you to him. You cum moments later, your orgasm overcoming you before you can sense it, trembling beneath his hands as he continues to finger you through it. Warm, wet arousal leaks from your core, coats his fingers all over as a punctuating whimper of his name tumbles from your lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he says gently. “Let everyone hear how dirty you are. Let it all out.”

Your thighs shake, squeezing shut around his hand, and all he can do is rub soothing circles into your hips with his free hand. He waits for your breath to steady, as the coil in your belly loosens, instead taking the time to admire you to your fullest, drunken hooded eyes glazed over in that perfect expression he loves.

“Want your cock in me now, Joon,” You whine breathlessly. The whining persistence in your voice excites Namjoon, only amplified tenfold by the way you begin nipping and sucking at his neck. 

“Now?” he asks.

“Now.”

Almost instantly, there’s a noticeable shift in his expression, a shit-eating smirk tugging at his mouth. You smother the rest of it before it can become too smug, folding your lips over his. Still, he hums through your eager kissing, “Yeah? Gonna let me fuck you like this, love? Take you raw against this wall, right here, right now?”

“Yes, please,” You mewl. Growing restless, you beg silently, “Namjoon.”

“Better make it quick then, hm?” 

You can only nod, still in a daze from the orgasm that still courses through your veins. Namjoon’s quick to oblige, pulling his hands from your heat and wiping your slick wetness off on his thigh. Clumsy hands between the both of you fumble to undo the button of his jeans, hastily undoing them just enough to free his straining cock from within. He wedges himself between your legs, hiking your skirt farther up your thighs, and he hurries to free his length from its confinements, wild locks spilling out onto his forehead and into your own line of sight. You push his hair up and away from his face, though your fingers grip suddenly at the roots of his locks when he grips your thigh and hoists it up to his hip, and then pushes himself into you at once, the tip of his warm cock easily coaxed by your already wet walls. He moans into your neck but muffles it halfheartedly by kissing along your throat.

“Easy there, boy,” You snicker, though your own words are a weak drunken slur, drowning out into a muffled whimper as he thrusts himself into you all the way. His hips meet yours roughly, grinding against you as your walls stretch around his throbbing cock.

“I’m needy,” he whines. “Just wanna feel you around me.”

He wastes no time in moving again, pulling his hips back only to thrust into you, adopting a steady fluid pace in such a way that has your head lolling back against the wall, and your mouth popping open in a silent moan as you shift beneath him. The wall of the building behind you is rough and jagged but you don’t feel it, not with the way he continues to thrust into you. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, stretching you apart in such a way that has him pummeling his length into your core just right. 

“Fuck,” he grunts into your neck. Impatient hands move to yank your shirt up to your chest, pulling your bra down just enough for your breasts to pop out. He moves to leave a wet trail of kisses to your breasts, catching one of your nipples between his teeth and sucking harshly at it. The new sensation has your own walls clenching around him, and he almost comes undone then. Against your chest, you can hear him murmur breathlessly, “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Mmm,” You tug harshly at the roots of his hair. An unabashedly loud moan nearly tumbles from your lips before you can bite it back. Elsewhere, you can hear the sound of faint footsteps once more in the far distance, Taehyung and Hoseok much closer this time (quite possibly on the same floor as you, but the opposite end), but you don’t seem to care much anymore about the potentiality of being caught. “Fuck, Namjoon━”

“You like being fucked like this?” he rasps. “Out in public, for anyone to see?”

You feebly muster a nod, lips parting in a silent moan safe for the sound of your hot panting in his ear. Hurried yet deep shuddering strokes, he fucks into you again and again until your head is spinning. Every thrust sends a jolt up your spine and, still riddled by your first high, your body is quick to turn into shambles beneath him. Your hands flail outward to grasp onto every inch of his body, hands slithering beneath the material of his shirt, fingernails to dig crescent shapes into his torso, then snaking downward to grasp at his bum, pulling him in closer each time he rolls his hips into yours.

“Joon…” Your voice is an exhausted moan when it meets his ear. He almost doesn’t hear it, instead too caught up in the way your panting breaths mingle with the crude wetness of his cock delving past your folds each time. Somewhere, once more, in the distance even closer this time is the sound of footsteps once more. The thought of someone walking in one you like this━Namjoon wedged between your thighs, drilling his leaking cock into your wet cunt and tearing you to utter shambles━does something chaotically good to you. “Not gonna last.”

“Me neither,” he gasps. “Don’t care. Just wanna cum. Just wanna feel you cum around me.”

His thrusts begin to tread into sloppy territory, fervently itching to get both of you off. You reach your second high first, tumbling towards it with open arms. You can’t contain yourself, the tempting moan dancing upon the tip of your tongue, burning in your throat as your orgasm twists at your belly. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna━” 

But your voice splinters off into a delicious sounding whimper. Wary of being caught by your wandering friends when you’re both so close to being undone (because, really, the idea of someone else hearing you whimper because of how good his cock is exhilarates him), Namjoon’s hand clamps over your lips and you welcome it graciously, favouring the idea of his fingers poking into your mouth so that you have something to distract your moaning. It still comes, broken and inaudible, smothered by Namjoon’s hand, as your tongue lavs around his digits. 

Now, you’re truly a sight to behold, making Namjoon’s length twitch amongst your walls. Exhausted, fucked out eyes gawk at him, too weak to carry on, instead jutting your hips forward to meet his with each thrust. 

“Shit,” he whines. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N━”

He comes moments later, frantic slaps of his own hips having him spilling his seed sloppily into your already wet cunt. The abrupt sensation as your own walls clenching so impossibly tight around him, he feels as if he can’t move, though it’s not as if he immediately plans to. Instead, after a few more rocky thrusts into you to ride out both of your highs, he collapses against your chest and you smooth your fingers delicately through his hair. 

It’s a miracle when you both manage to finally pry themselves off of one another. As Namjoon hurries to tuck himself back into his jeans, you fidget with your bra and shirt, and then the hem of your skirt, tugging it as low as it can go. His cum is still warm and sticky between your legs, slowly beginning to run down your inner thighs. 

You catch him looking at some point and ask curiously, “What?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “Just wondering how you still manage to look so beautiful even after having my cum fucked in you.”

You roll your eyes as you reach out to ruffle his messy hair in an attempt to tame the damage you’ve caused. He smiles wide at the effort anyway. 

“Decent?” he asks.

“Good enough,” You say. “Now, let’s find the boys before anyone notices we were gone for too long.”

And this, he doesn’t disagree with.

Later, when you and Namjoon have regrouped with the rest of the boys back by the cars parked outside the asylum, everyone looks a little more on edge than when you left them. Except for maybe you and Namjoon. You wonder if the boys notice, judging by the way you and Namjoon keep giggling amongst yourselves.

“So,” Jungkook says, “did you guys find anything?”

“Nothing,” Jin admits. “Just freaked out Jimin a little bit more.”

The boy in question can be seen scowling to himself, arms folded over his chest. “All I gotta say is screw this place.”

Hoseok looks indifferent as he reviews a recording on the camera in his hands. When he speaks, his voice is a casual drawl. “Dunno. Thought we heard some suspiciously loud moaning from one part of that building that I’m almost positive Namjoon and Y/N were exploring.”

At this, Taehyung bursts out into wolfish laughter, only prompted further by your sudden horrified expression that you try to play off nonchalantly and fail miserably at doing. So they had heard you two after all? “Ha! They sure were exploring something.”

While the rest of the boys look either intrigued or rightfully confused, Namjoon shakes his head defiantly. “Nah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Resisting the urge to hide behind your hands, you bite your tongue and try to sift through your brain for something else to discuss. Over the childish giggling sounding from Taehyung and Hoseok, you ask, “Well, did you guys find anything? Thought we heard you exploring the third floor.”

“Third floor?” Hoseok echoes, dumbfounded. “We didn’t get that far.”

“But I could have sworn I heard you guys.”

Hoseok’s brows knit together. He exchanges a look with Taehyung, then returns his stare to you. “You probably heard Tae screaming like a lunatic because a spider was on him. We were only in there long enough to try the spirit box out again, but that was on the second floor. Then the spider thing happened. Then, we left.”

Now, this is alarming. You gap at the boys as your mind tries to piece together the puzzles of this dilemma. Had you heard the boys, or perhaps something else entirely? Or maybe it was just your imagination. Namjoon did say your mind plays tricks on you ━ but the sound of footsteps had been so vivid. 

Even Namjoon looks stupefied, gawking at Hoseok. “Wait, you’re not joking, are you?”

“No,” Taehyung shakes his head. “We were filming the whole time. We can show you. Are you guys joking?”

“No,” You promise. “We were━ Erm━ We got distracted. We weren’t really paying much attention but━”

You’re fortunate when Yoongi decides to speak up, interrupting your embarrassed stammering. “So then what did you guys hear…?

A beat of silence passes amongst your group of friends. One-by-one, you each turn to look up at the haunting asylum still standing behind you, the night blurring its shape into one incomprehensible monstrosity. Okay, so maybe the ghost stories about this place are true. A shiver runs down your spine. 

Then━

“So does that mean the ghost is a Peeping Tom or━?” Jungkook asks. You wonder if you should be concerned by his serious tone.

The boys howl with laughter at the thought, though you’re still admittedly a little shaken up by the idea of a ghost watching you and Namjoon bone. Maybe you asked for it, what with deciding to have a quickie in a haunted asylum. 

“I don’t know, but can we please get out of here?” You press thinly. “Jimin was right. Screw this place.”

If the boys are as deeply unsettled by yours and Namjoon’s sudden revelation, you don’t know. You all manage to pack up your belongings and clamber in the cars in record timing, speeding away from the asylum unscathed. And if you really did just witness a ghost encounter, then you suppose it isn’t all that bad. 

At the very least, Namjoon’s video does make it to the trending page.

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[faillicya]

Laughing Jack General HC

 —While I was working on L.J. design, I was thinking of the abilities, and what I wanted to convey through his design, so I hope you don't mind if what I've written isn't accurate to his original story. And yes— it's still not done. I've left it out for a while (more accurately 2 months) but I'm still going to finish it damn it.

          Jack could be described as a nightmarish entity, a demon can also be used to describe Jack. Since Issac abandoned him and he had witnessed the awful mascaras that his old best friend committed, he was corrupted, like an angel that fell from heaven. His creation was supposed to bring comfort and happiness, but he now only brings terror and pain. 

          Jack isn't even close to a friendly, fun, joyful clown. Quite the opposite. He only seems to put his overly friendly attitude as a manipulative tactic to lure his victims, once they are under his grasp, he quickly switches to his true self. Bitter, sadistic, filled with rage that only wants to harm others for his twisted satisfaction.

          His killing is mostly driven by his hatred of children, the word hate isn't even close enough to describe his dislike for children, he despises them. He befriends them, just to hurt them more. After the betray of Issac, he saw children as untrustworthy, and vermin that need to be liquidated. 

          His anatomy is like a very strange like an intricated doll. What would you refer to as a skeleton, is an elaborate mechanism made from some kind of wood, that controls his movements.

          For the inside of his body, some of the areas are stuffed, some are empty. His skin seems that it's made from some kind of leather to imitate skin, you can see stitching along his body. 

          The equivalent of blood for him would be a sort of black liquid, its texture seems very similar to petrol, and seems to flow trow his howl body. It used to be a golden colour but since his corruption, it turned black. 

          The inside of his neck is made of stuffing and a spring, he can hijack his head just like an actual laughing jack in the box.

          His state reflected thought his appearance. When befriending his prey, he's presented in a more human form physically, he almost looks like his old self aside from his colours, he looks a bit dirtier, old, damaged by time. When killing, it's like his mask fell, he's much more horrid. When he finally gains the trust of the child, he shows himself in a more monstrous, deformed, and disgusting shape. His arm is just a clubs of muscle, flesh, bones and organs. Small skull peaking trough, a collection of his victims, that he collects like badges. He never blinks and looks at you straight in the eye, peaking deep in you, like he could read your mind.

          Laughing Jack dimension is where his power is at its peak, he can change everything it’s contains, the rules of physics, the environments. Just like a dream, the law of nature doesn't have to apply.

          While befriending his prey, he'll try to find out their worst fear, so he can manifest them into his dream world later, he'll also show them their loved ones, to deceive them.

          If his target runs away from him, and that there in his dimension, he will give them a sense of hope, by letting them run away. Jack will distort the environment, guide them to places until they become completely hopeless and lead them back into his claws. For a second you'll be outside, running through a carnival, the second after you're inside a mirror maze.

—I’m done, fuck, it’s almost midnight I really need to go to bed. Good night friends, stay safe.

[pyroreadscomics]

I do have a few of my own theories as to why there's a disconnect between myself and other fans on this series, which I'll explain below the cut Though of course, I could easily be missing the actual main reason

I'm reading the series wrong

I know "you're experiencing X media the wrong way" is a weak defense to criticism in the general sense but with Catwoman Vol. 2 I do get the impression the way I engaged with the series was not as the writers intended. I recently learnt of a concept called “Writing for the Trade” where a comic book is written to be read in trades and not one issue at a time (in hindsight a really obvious phenomenon but also something i never noticed because I never sat down a read a few dozen pre 2000 issues in before and noticed the different those runs approach story structure) Anyway, I read Catwoman 1993 reading 3-6 issues a night, a few times a week, in a very similar way that I read modern comics in trades (or the equivalent issues) all in one go. Blitzing through all 94+ issues (and much of the tie-in events) in under a month. Maybe if instead I'd taken that series at a rate of one issue a night I might have appreciated it more (Though… I’m not exactly itching to go back and given it a second chance rn)

I'm missing some cultural context 

I’m not well versed in 90s comics (if the fact that Writing for the Trade being a new concept to me didn’t already reveal that) and recently I was struck by another 90s story where changing cultural context robbed the story of much of its intended impact. And while in that instance I was able to see what had changed in thirty years to make me apathetic to that character’s tragic backstory, I’m wondering if there might have been something in the 90s zeitgeist that I'm just ignorant of. I mean, 90s anti-heroes had to have been popular for a reason. Relatedly:

I’m not vibing with Selina’s characterization

Now, I am cursed with having opinions™ about Selina’s characterization, and while i don’t hate Selina here like i do with New 52 Catwoman or some of the more questionable spin-offs, it’s not landing for me. Individually each writer is of course bring something new to the character and while I like some’s takes (Ostrander) more than others (Dixon), at the end of the day I tend to come away feeling that Selina’s… a bit shallow, and not in the sense of being a very superficially minded person but in the sense of not having much depth. She feels two dimensional and while there are stories that shake her out of that mold, there’s far fewer here then, say, in Vol 3 under Brubaker’s pen. And I suppose that brings me to my own biases, I have versions of Selina I like alot and 90s Selina isn’t a lot like any of them. Some maybe I’m not giving her a fair shake and judging too early. Because she doesn’t have the depth I recognize in the character doesn’t necessarily mean that depth isn’t there, though for the life of me I’m struggling to see it.

I'm really underestimating the extent to which Jim Balent's art is what sells people on this run

I mean, the collected editions are called “Catwoman by Jim Balent” after all. And I won’t deny his art isn’t skillful or even compelling (there are moments where the pencils and inks and colours come together that really impresses me) but between his anatomy and his character design sensibilities, he’s not my favourite Catwoman artist. But then again, I'm sitting here wondering “if New 52 Catwoman was somehow drawn by Darwyn Cooke, would I go to bat for that?” and while yes most of the New 52 run is worse than anything in the 90s run, making it not a fair comparison I'm still struck by the knowledge that, yeah, I might hate that run much less if so. Then again, one of my all time favorite Catwoman stories has awful art so i’m clearly not blinded by the art. 

Relatedly, I'm Asexual and this is a piece of media aimed firmly at the Allos 

Speaking of art, the art in this run is horny. I oft found myself likening scenes to being “like the start of a porno” except that everyone’s clothes (mostly) stay on. Certainly the anatomy, the costume designs, some of minor plot points, all have sex appeal baked into them more than even usual Catwoman stories. And I won’t deny that Balent does a serviceable pin-up (provided the anatomy’s not a deal breaker) but… I struggle to believe that that alone kept this series going for 7 years (or maybe I don’t want to believe)

Nostalgia

Simplest option I suppose, but the most reductive too. People like the Catwoman run they read when they were young.

Kinda hope that’s not the answer, as that’s really boring.

I don't think I get 90s Catwoman

I recently finally finished the Catwoman Volume 2 (1993-2001) as part of my big Catwoman read-through. And at the end of it I was struck by a thought:

I don't understand why this run was so popular. 

And it was popular, it ran for almost a hundred issues and really it wasn't like the series got canceled, it's more like it went on hiatus for six months and they reset the numbering. And even ignoring its popularity back in the day, there are people on this website that I started following near a decade ago to whom 90s Selina, the purple boobsock and all, was their Catwoman. And…

I want to understand why,

Like, normally I'd be content to live and let live with a difference of favorite comic run like this but… well I have Catwoman brain rot and I need to understand everything. Moreover, I want to like everything Catwoman (the curse of being a fan I suppose) and I'm hoping that there's something I'm missing about the series that maybe if I looked at it a slightly different way, to approach it with a different lens, everything would just click into place.

So, if you like Catwoman Volume 2 (1993-2001) please tell me about it. I want to hear other people's thoughts, and perspectives on the run.

[ace-the-fox]

Haruka facts that will probably eventually come up in her fic that I just want to post about because actually writing said fic is too much effort whoo!

She's a talented artist. Really talented. Mainly at drawing people, women especially (HAH, GAYYY). Kira probably recognises that he has a hell of a gifted child when it comes to art. But, naturally, he'd convince her to keep it to herself because he can't have him and his family gain too much attention ofc. Though I can see her keeping it from him all together because it's her private stuff keep out dad! I actually don't know if or where this'll come up in the main fic, but I have a small scene in mind where she draws a nude female for anatomy practice. Then, once she's finished, she realises... she's just drawn Momo. Thirsty bitch.

She hates stuffed animals. Even since childhood. No discernible reason why, they just creep her out. Something in their dead soulless eyes and empty smiles. Give her severed limbs any day of the week and she'll mostly be okay, but teddy bears are a big no.

She's autistic. She just goddamn is. It's called projection <3

Her voice is pretty deep for a female. I headcanon it like the deeper vocals in that Suki Suki Daisuki song, if you know what I mean.

(Now we're getting into her childhood, oh boy-) Her grandmother took care of her a lot when she was still alive. After all her father was young then and needed the help, even if he was a bit iffy about that help coming from his emotionally abusive mother. Haruka doesn't remember very much of those times, being about five or six just, but she remembers they actually went quite well, despite the snide remarks about her father here and there. Her grandmother had always wanted a daughter, but being so old whenever she had Kira he was set to be her only child due to risk, so Haruka was like a substitute for her until she passed.

This one is more Kira then Haruka, but it still fits so... Kira felt that pink was a bad omen after Reimi. He avoided the colour at all costs, feeling that any contact would cause something bad to happen. And then you realise that Haru's eyes are pink, and that that's also where her stand ability comes from (I will get to that very soon in the fanfic, but it's basically a staring contest where if you lose you explode) and... there's a lot of layers.

On the same subject, Kira didn't like looking his own daughter in the eyes when her eye colour first came in. Call him paranoid, but it just brought awful feelings that he'd rather not feel up to the surface regarding the girl's mother. So he'd look at any other part of her or completely away from her if possible. He finally got over that after maybe a few months. I am hoping to write a one-shot to do with this at some point... 👀

[im-orphia]

this one doesn’t have a name, i’m awful at coming up with them lmaoo

this one is difficult. i personal don’t find it very disturbing, but someone i had read over this suggested that kids under 13 should be careful reading this.

there is blood; mentions of the smell and colour of it. there is just overall some kind of creepy imagery i guess? once again i’m no good with these warnings, but the story does describe a monster with some messed up anatomy, but i don’t know how disturbing that would be.

either way, just be cautious as i’d hate to cause any problems for anyone

his heart is pounding loud in his ears, the rushing of his blood merely white noise at this point. fear is settled deep into his bones, feeling like his body is freezing from the inside out as he runs. he can’t breathe, and panic is bubbling up from his core and wrapping around his throat and twisting his lungs- it feels like he is one gasp away from them collapsing in on themselves, but there is no time to stop and catch his breath, no time to try and calm himself, untangle the ugly rope of terror twisting around his neck. he has to keep going, he has to, he has to, he has to.

his feet fall heavy against the old and cobbled stone floor, the sound bouncing off the walls and only adding to the noise filling his head, muddling his thoughts of what do i do, what do i do, what do i do? if he listens close enough, he can discern a second set of steps, or maybe a third, fourth.. fifth? he can’t quite tell, it could be any number, but it’s too many, too many for the single creature that is chasing him. he can hear them echoing his own through the empty hall, pushing him to run faster, faster, faster, to find some tiny nook, someplace he can squeeze himself into, somewhere too small for the thing to reach him. 

he feels about ready to drop dead where is, but he tries to push on, turning down another corridor. there seems to be hundreds, if not thousands of hallways, and he doesn’t know if it’s the fear manipulating his memories of the building in daylight, or if this place truly is a never ending maze. 

he gulps down another breath, looking over his shoulder for only a brief second. he can see the shadowed figure of the creature, tall and mangled and ill proportioned, holding no resemblance to a human, something like a mix of too many wild animals. it’s tall, almost hunching over to fit under the arched roof, bloody red eyes the only real thing he’s able to make out. it’s limbs look too long, and there are too many joints throughout what would be it’s limbs, making it bent in places that simply aren't right. it’s jaw seems crooked, opening into too many overlapping teeth, pointed and yellowing, dripping with something dark.

turning back to the hall, he almost stumbles on an uneven stone, catching himself as he breathes raggedly. his chest is heaving, and he feels light headed, head spinning as he looks along the empty walls for a door, a stairwell, something. he catches a glint of light up ahead, a doorknob, a door leading to who knows where. 

he bites his lip as he stumbles to a stop in front of the door, learning heavily against it as he jiggles the door handle, praying to whoever may listen that it’s not locked, please let it be unlocked.

the door finally gives, and he almost sobs as he stumbles into the room. he can hear the steady fall of footsteps catching up to him as he closes the door slowly, making as little noise as he could. he lets his body fall gently against the heavy wooden door, sliding down as he tries to catch his breath in cut off gasps. he can feel his whole body shaking, and he lets his eyes flick over the storage room; old boxes, filled with cleaning supplies or unused books, dust and cobwebs caught in the corners. 

the heavy footfalls get closer, and he holds his breath, eyes watering as he squeezes them shut, reciting a jumbled string of pleas in his head. for what, he doesn’t know, but it’s the only thing he can do, the only thing to keep his mind off of the thing outside the little room. 

the steps seem to stall, and he hesitantly breathes out, unsure if the creature walked past the room. he gulps, wiping away the few tears that fell before letting his hands gently fall to the ice-cold ground as he waits, sitting in silence for minutes that drag into centuries. his body grows steady through each passing second, the tremors lessening as nothing happens and nothing continues to happen, and he lets out quiet breaths, calming himself with each inhale and exhale. 

he lets his body relax more into the door, swallowing again. he’s adjusting his body again, sure that whatever the hell it was has passed, it’s gone and he’s safe. 

before he can fully calm himself, before anything really, there’s a loud thump at the door, rattling it on it’s hinges and moving his body with the force. his eyes fly wide, the same dread weighing him down and flooding through him faster than he can blink, and the thumping continues on, only getting more forceful. 

he scrabbles away from the door, heart beating harder and harder, loud enough that he’s sure whatever is out there can hear it, can hear the way his mind scrambles to find an exit, the way his blood goes colder than ever and the way his stomach drops. 

the door is beginning to splinter, the hinge slowly ripping free of the wall, and with one more thud, the door burst open, just barely missing his legs as he pulls them up against his chest, pushing himself as far back into the boxes as he can, hoping against everything that he can curl small enough and maybe completely disappear.

he can hear the creature, whatever it is, he doesn’t know, panting above him, cold puffs of air ruffling his hair, he can smell the metallic blood dripping off of it.

it stands there, staring at him with all too bright red eyes, it’s own twisted version of a chest heaving up and down, up and down, but doing nothing more. 

he breathes in the tang of blood, the thick smell of smoke and ash, until, he thinks, maybe he’s only imagining it, maybe it’ll be gone when he looks up, only the scent lingering behind, maybe this is a dream and he will wake up.

he takes one more breath, his lungs aching, and he swallows hard. he slowly lifts his head from where he had buried it into his knees, holding his arms tight over the top of it.

the eyes seemed to be glowing, a dark and thick shade of red, blood red. there is coarse and matted fur, black and smokey. it seems to be turning into a shadow the farther away from the creature’s body, little wisps dissipating to nothing. it’s teeth are long and sharp, narrow and over lapping each other, mouth filled with way too many.

he stares, eyes wide and chest heaving. he takes a breath, another, and before he can inhale a third, the thing lunges forwards, sending him flinching back before everything fades to nothing.

[anonymouslyrandomviews]

IT HURTS

We humans want someone supportive and always by our side . Praises our goods and amends our bad . We never want anyone to tear us down by saying awful things or by bullying...

We look up to those humans who are biologically and non biologically closer to us , obviously I won’t name them all . We expect from them that they would say such things that’ll boost up our confidence and morals . What if they tear you down and tore u apart , made u self conscious and awful that you’ll hurt your self eventually in anyway ..

Weight, colour ,height ,marks ,moles and cellulite don’t define u . What actually does is you , your persona , vibe that u give , nature and more over your gesture but unfortunately we live in a society where all of this don’t really matter . What actually matters here in this society are your physical features , you are brutally judged and bullied by others about your looks . Talking about others your own relative will suck u up until u fall onto the PARAMETERS OF SOCIETY (which are totally absurd) ..

Obesity is one cause which can give rise to many syndromes and diseases . We can help a person with that and can cure them by making support groups and open gyms but pressuring and bullying them and saying that your belly is bulging out of your clothes , you aren’t loveable and misfit because u are fat , OMG IT HURTS SO BAD , that anyone could’ve imagine and totally stupid . Lean is not healthy and chubby isn’t unhealthy. There’s a anatomy where ur bones are broad enough that u look big and it’s totally fine and pretty amazing. Being big is NOT UNHEALTHY. What unhealthy is ALARMING OBESITY ..

I honestly still remember those days where my appearance mattered the most than my gesture and nature . I was judged and commented by some ‘ Brown neck and white face girl’ (I was obese and I had developed Acanthosis nigricans , due to which my neck fold where brown and face color was fair ) it literally made me self conscious that I started covering my neck from even myself because I hated it . In my school years I was misfit from that one popular group because I used to bring lunch and make a side parted braid lol , saying it out loud feels so stupid but trust me it feels good.. I didn’t had an eating disorder but I was eating in unhealthy way that would have eventually harmed me so yeah I controlled my weight WHEN I WANTED IT . Honestly listening to those awful things killed my self love and made me curious about my facial hairs and other IMPERFECTIONS (which actually makes me a different individual) now I realize too late but yes that I’m not perfect I agree !! but the one who is bullying is perfect ? The answer is no . Imperfections makes us beautiful not an Instagram filter, they are temporary but u and yourself is forever..

My problem isn’t big enough to be discussed , I really feel sad for those ppl who are judged because of their mental state and their stature and height which they actually can’t change but I know they badly want to because this society and some ppl are so toxic that they even can make you your own enemy , the kind of energy they give off that bad word isn’t enough for them .. I met a girl she was epileptic and I had no idea what epilepsy was back then , I went to her and tap on her shoulder to call her for attendance she started having a mild seizure everyone started laughing and from that day she was bullied by kids , I won’t blame kids to be insensitive but I’ll blame the adults that they don’t tell their kids that when u see something unusual DONT BULLY JUST CALL SOMEONE FOR HELP OR MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS.. I didn’t do much for her I was unaware of here condition but I wanna hug and apologise for being so dumb and wasn’t there for her when she needed someone badly , she left the school because of all bully and I hope she’s doing best in her life . She was a brave and beautiful girl ..

Judging, bullying and setting such parameters which are totally unachievable is not fair and totally absurd . If you’re perfectly lean just like vs model than good for u , honestly no one is perfect and that’s kind a beautiful. Everyone is not same , they are in variety and that’s kind a amazing and praise worthy that how God has created such a beautiful variety of humans . Peace.

[books-and-milkshakes]

Tag game

Tagged by one of my favourite people: @daphnesvieira

1. what is the color of your hairbrush? I have a black tangle teezer

2. name a food you never eat- I am a ridiculours picky eater, so this list could be miles long. But I really can’t handle sea food or goats cheese.

3. are you typically too warm or too cold? Too warm. 

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? Studying (Ugh).

5. what’s your favorite candy bar? I’m simple. I just like a chocolate bar with hazelnuts. Preferably from Tony Chocolony or Milka.

6. have you ever been to a professional sports game? Yes. My family members are huge sports fans (I’m not), so I have been to several football games (soccer).

7. what is the last thing you said out loud?  I honestly can’t remember. I have been holed up in my room while studying for the past few hours. Maybe I should go outside.

8. what is your favorite ice cream? Ben&Jerry’s Cookie Dough or Chunkey Monkey. I also like three chocolate.

9. what was the last thing you had to drink? Diet Coke.

10. do you like your wallet? My wallet is okay. It does its job.

11. what is the last thing you ate? Left over chinese food

12. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? No. I can’t remember the last time I’ve bought clothes.

13. what’s the last sporting event you watched? Sports is always on at our home, but I refuse to watch that. So I think it was the super bowl.

14. what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? Salt

15. who is the last person you sent a text message to? My best friend

16. ever been camping? Yep. We used to go camping every summer in France or Spain. I haven’t been for the past few years, but I miss it. 

17. do you take vitamins? I take vitamin D.

18. do you regularly attend a place of worship? I don’t

19. do you have a tan? I had the most amazing tan this summer, but I haven’t seen the sun in three weeks and it’s already completely gone. So no.

20. do you prefer chinese or pizza?  Pizza.

21. do you drink your soda through a straw? Not really.

22. what color socks do you usually wear? My socks are so boring! And I never wear the same two socks at a time. Not by choice, but by neccesity. 

23. do you ever drive above the speed limit?  No. But I also don’t have a driver’s license.

24. what terrifies you? At the moment, this entire world scares me.

25. look to your left, what do you see?  Anatomy books (ugh).

26. what chore do you hate most? Cleaning the shower.

27. what do you think of when you hear an australian accent? I like it. But I like all accents.

28. what’s your favorite soda? Diet coke.

29. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? It’s hard to go through the drive thru without a car, so I have to go in.

30. what’s your favorite number? 13.

31. who’s the last person you talked to? My mom, I think. Or it might have been to my rabbits.

32. favorite meat? Chicken or beef, I guess.

33. last song you listened to? My shot by the Hamilton Cast.

34. last book you read? I just finished The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E Schwab (so good!). And now I’m reading Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik.

35. favorite day of the week? Saturday, because that tends to be the only day where I don’t have to do something/

36. can you say the alphabet backwards? No. I can barely say it normally in english

37. how do you like your coffee? Coffee is awful! Can I have a hot chocolate instead? Or some tea.

38. favorite pair of shoes? I have this gorgeous pair of blue boots with little chains all over it. They are my punk dream. And my pride coloured converse.

39. time you normally get up? 7AM when I have to go to school and 5AM when I have to work.

40. what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? Sunrise.

41. how many blankets are on your bed? Just one.

42. describe your kitchen plates? I have unmatched plates with all sorts of colours and patterns. My favourite are Disney themes. I guess I’m not a real adult yet.

43. describe your kitchen at the moment: Messy

44. do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? I don’t drink.

45. do you play cards? Yes, quite often at work actually.

46. what color is your car? No car.

47. can you change a tire? I can actually. Despite the fact that I don’t have a car.

48. your favorite state or province? Zeeland is pretty cool.

49. favorite job you’ve had? I haven’t had great jobs. But one of my jobs right now is at a small convenience store at a train station and we just play games all day, because it’s so quiet. That’s not bad. I’m also interning at the radiotherapy ward in the hospital which is super informative. Oh, and the library. Of course.

I tag: @moons2stars @stonerbughead @good-night-dodger @velvetsugarbabexo and anyone who wants to do it!

[blitheringmcgonagall]

Operation Make My Wish Come True

JILY CHALLENGE December 2019

@blitheringmcgonagall v @magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world

 Prompt:

 It’s September 3rd when “All I Want For Christmas” by Mariah Carey blasts through the walls of Lily’s flat from the stereo next door, and Lily is ready to murder her new nightmare off a neighbour…

 “Who the hell listens to that song in September?” Lily huffed.

I don't want a lot for Christmas There is just one thing I need I don't care about the presents Underneath the Christmas tree

The bass notes made the thin walls of her flat vibrate.

She was in a bad mood. Petunia had just dis-invited her from spending Christmas with her and Vernon (which was a blessing in disguise, scrap that, a total relief, but still), she had a ton of study to do for her college exams in October and an essay to write -

I just want you for my own More than you could ever know Make my wish come true oh All I want for Christmas is you

 Somebody had increased the volume even higher. Lily winced, hands over her ears as she stared at her ipad. She had thought those two new black-haired boys (the cute ones) next door looked decent, she should have known it was too good to be true.

“Right! That’s it!” she seethed, getting up suddenly.

 Drrrrrrriiiinnnggggg

Lily kept her finger on the doorbell.

“Keep it down, will you?” said the tall, lanky, black-haired boy with glasses and hazel eyes who opened the door distractedly.

“Excuse me?” said Lily, her hands flying to her hips.

“What?” a male voice in another room called out. “I can’t hear you with all the noise?”

Bespectacled, cute bloke was looking at her with a gobsmacked expression.

“I said can you please stop making that noise,” he said, looking progressively more distracted and running a hand through his hair.

“Listen, mister,” said Lily, narrowing her eyes dangerously. “If you don’t switch off that horrendous music within the next three seconds-“

The other dark-haired boy appeared, towelling his hair dry and grinning at Lily with the smug look of someone who knows they are unfairly beautiful.

“For goodness sake, Prongs, switch off that Christmas music, you’re driving everyone mad! Can you not see our next-door neighbour is livid? What did you say your name was?” he tutted, shaking his head lightly and rolling his eyes at Lily in a conspiratorial manner.

I won't ask for much this Christmas I won't even wish for snow, and I I just wanna keep on waiting Underneath the mistletoe

“What the hell do you mean, Pads? That was-“ the taller fellow said, looking momentarily stunned as his gaze flew from Lily’s to the smug-and-gorgeous boy’s faces.

“No need to be embarrassed, Prongs, lots of people love Christmas music, I mean you’re obsessed with Christmas and-“ gorgeous bloke’s posh voice sounded like something out of Downton Abbey.

“What the fuck?” the first boy said, his face now a bright red colour and his hand running through his messy hair.

“Look, can you both stop fighting like an old married couple for a just a second, and kindly switch off that stupid song?” Lily said sighing heavily and rolling her eyes back at gorgeous boy.

“I never-“ said glasses guy.

“Switch it off, Prongs! Terribly sorry for behaving so rudely, I’m Sirius,” beautiful bloke said with a charming smile, dropping the towel into the other guy’s hands and shaking Lily’s with a firm grip. “And this is my sort-of brother James – decent chap, aside from his infernal love of Christmas songs, and pretty popular with the girls when he’s not making an arse of himself by-“

“Oi! Pads!” James said, looking at his brother as though he wanted him dead.

I just want you for my own More than you could ever know Make my wish come true All I want for Christmas is you

“For the love of God, can one of you switch off that song before I-” Lily said.

“Sorry! Yes! Yes, of course!” James seemed to suddenly come to his senses and dash off into the sitting room.

“Frightfully sorry, he’s not usually that bad! What did you say your name was?” Sirius smiled widely.

“Lily. Lily Evans,” she said.

  …………………………………..

  “James! James!” she hammered on the door, less than a week later. “Get.Rid.Of.That.Music. Now!”

The door flew open and James stood there, a panicked look on his face.

“I swear I didn’t,” he started.

 I don’t need to hang my stocking There upon the fireplace Santa Claus won’t make me happy With a toy on Christmas day

 “No need to lie, James!” Lily groaned. “Just make it stop! I’ve an exam in two days’ time and I desperately need to revise!”

“Fuck! Sorry! That was-“ James said looking back inside at the flat with a furious look on his face.

“Off. Now!” Lily warned, rolling her eyes at him.

He did look extremely cute when he was flustered, she realised.

“Nice t-shirt,” she added.

I mean, it did look very cute on him, she hadn’t realised what lovely, muscly arms he had, with lovely veins. And the maroon colour made his dark skin tone even more attractive.

“Huh?” he said, looking vacant.

Oh. He was a cute himbo. Oh well, he was still cute, poor boy.

“Never mind,” she smiled up at him. “Can you please switch off that stupid song?”

“I didn’t-“ James said, vaguely gesturing inside his flat.

“You did,” Lily snorted, waving goodbye.

  ……………………………………..

   The next time, it wasn’t as infuriatingly loud as before, in fact, she could hardly hear it. Still. It was almost a tradition now. And it would never do for James to think that is was okay to play Christmas music in October.

“Hello,” James grinned sheepishly as he opened the door.

“Hello,” Lily smiled back. “I see you’re playing that song again?”

“Yes, well, yes, you know me, Mariah Carey and all that lark…” he motioned with his hand. “Can I invite you in for tea?”

“Er, thank you, yes,” Lily said, biting back a laugh. “As long as you promise to switch it off.”

“Ah. Yes!” James laughed.

He made her a beautiful cup of tea (it was just tea, but still, it was exactly as she liked it, and she had only just realised his hands were very beautiful too).

“How did your exam go?” he asked, blowing over his mug of tea.

“Alright,” Lily cringed. “Although the next one is pretty awful, I hate anatomy.”

“Oh, what are you studying?” he asked, looking impressed.

“Physiotherapy,” she said.

“Wow!” he said. “I’m studying Sports and Exercise Science, I’m hoping to go on and do a Masters in Loughborough University when I finish here.”

“Oh! I thought you...”

Well she couldn’t tell him she had thought he was a Himbo, could she?

“Thought what?” James said, looking embarrassed.

“Oh, nothing!” Lily smiled brightly. “Do you like sports?”

She nearly kicked herself in the foot.

“Absolutely!” he flashed her an enthusiastic smile.

She smiled back.

“Er, about the anatomy, we could study together some time? It’s part of my course too,” he said, looking at her expectantly.

“Oh,” she blinked. “Thanks James, yeah, why not?”

   ……………………………………………………

  The next time it came on so loud and so suddenly that she dropped her phone.

“Oh for crying out loud!” Lily said hotly, storming next door and lifting her hand to rap on the door.

The door flew open and Sirius stood there, smiling in a relaxed manner.

“Hello, Evans, Darling!” he said.

“Hello to you too, prat!” she said grumpily. “Tell James to bugger off and switch off that damned music!”

“Tell him yourself, he’s inside talking to his mother,” said Sirius, winking at Lily and placing an arm around her neck as he escorted a startled Lily into the sitting room.

“I… why?” said Lily.

“Oh! Lily!” James’ face was bright red. “I swear that wasn’t me, that was Sirius!”

“Yeah right!” Sirius barked a laugh. “Everyone knows I detest Christmas, Prongs, don’t be ridiculous.”

“He does, dear, don’t be silly,” Mia Potter smiled at Sirius and shook her head at James.

“Sirius, you absolute tosser!” James growled.

“James! Don’t embarrass yourself in front of Lily Evans,” Mia said, giving Lily a benign smile and patting the seat beside her. “James, do be a dear and bring in that marmalade tart you just made, Lily is staying for some tea and cake.”

Sirius winked in an exaggerated manner at Lily and waved James towards the kitchen.

“He’s an excellent cook,” Sirius said, tossing his hair airily and reclining back onto the sofa, looking smug again.

“He is,” Mia agreed.

“He gets very busy this time of year, raising money for his favourite charity, Médecins Sans Frontiers,” Mia added thoughtfully, sipping her tea.

“Oh,” Lily thought, feeling suddenly warm all over, and wondering could James see the heart eyes she was making at him.

“I know,” Mia’s eyes twinkled. “He’s wonderful, isn’t he?”

Well she could hardly say no to his mother, could she? Especially after tasting that utterly divine marmalade tart…

  ……………………………………..

   The exams had gone well, it would soon be Christmas, and Lily was in a bad mood. Which was completely understandable, because what possible reason would she now have to call in on James all the time? They had taken to studying together, and he still played that bloody song at least once a week, which was extremely cute and adorable and it would be officially Christmas in less than an hour’s time, and she wasn’t going to her sister’s and she hadn’t told Marlene and she wasn’t exactly looking forward to…

I don't want a lot for Christmas There is just one thing I need, and I Don't care about the presents Underneath the Christmas tree

Well, that was a bit unusual, she thought. James didn’t usually put on music this late. She stared at Netflix for a while longer and finally got up, fixing her hair and slipping on a dash of lipstick.

“Alright, Evans?” James said.

He looked so stunning, in his cosy Aran jumper.

“Hi,” she said, blushing slightly.

“How are you?” he said.

“Fine,” she lied.

“Are you…” he looked at her expectantly.

“Sorry?”

“It’s just,” he said, scratchuing his head awkwardly. “You knocked on my door and…”

“You were playing that song again,” she said, playing with the back of her earring.

“No I wasn’t,” he said. “I’m listening to a 1980s compilation.”

“No, you’re not,” Lily said calmly.

James raised his brow and opened the door.

It looked beautiful and warm and inviting and the fire was crackling and there was wine on the side table and homemade biscuits and…

Call me (call me) on the line Call me, call me any, anytime Call me (call me) my love You can call me any day or night Call me

“That’s not Mariah Carey, that’s Blondie,” Lily said.

“I know. I told you,” James grinned playfully.

“Well someone was playing it a minute ago,” Lily said, folding her arms stubbornly.

“Admit it, Evans, you just wanted to call over and have some Christmas Eve bubbly with me,” James laughed, opening the bottle of Prosecco and eying her adoringly.

“No I…” Lily huffed.

Something like disappointment flashed over his face.

“I… yes, yes that’s right, Potter, I did,” Lily said, holding her head up high.

Fuck it, I mean, he wasn’t wrong…

“Good,” he said.

His smile lit up the entire room.

He handed her a glass.

“Merry Christmas, Evans,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“Merry Christmas, James,” she said quietly.

They continued looking in each other’s eyes for longer than strictly necessary.

“James,” Lily said.

“Yes?” James said.

They were standing very close together.

“You know, you could actually play that song now, it is Christmas Eve,” she said.

“I thought you hated it?” James said.

“Nah, I didn’t,” Lily’s face broke into a smitten grin.

“Alright, Evans,” James said, saluting her.

I just want you for my own More than you could ever know Make my wish come true oh All I want for Christmas is you

 They moved closer to each other, until their lips were touching, Lily breathed a soft laugh and James brought his forehead down to touch Lily’s. They kissed slowly at first, tenderly.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” James smiled.

“So have I,” Lily placed her arms around his neck and kissed him harder.

“Ha! Fucking finally!” Sirius’ loud and obnoxious voice filled the room as Lily and James jumped in fright.

“Fucking hell! You gave me a heart attack!” James said, glaring at his stupid best mate.

“Took you long enough!” Sirius said, rubbing his hands with glee. “Thank God we won’t have to listen to that godforsaken song anymore! You do realise when you get married, I’ll be able to say this was all due to my playing cupid?”

“How?” Lily said, rolling her eyes at Sirius, as usual.

“Well, it’s very simple. James fancied you as soon as we moved in. I heard you telling your friend Marlene that you hated hearing Christmas songs as you were coming up the stairs to your apartment. Hence, Operation Make My Wish Come True. I stuck on that song full blast, blamed it all on James, and the rest, as you know, is history!”

“You fucker!” said James, laughing despite himself. “I tried to tell her it was you on a number of occasions, at the start, anyway. I may have gone along with it after a while…”

“That explains a lot,” Lily said, placing her head on James’ chest. “You plonker!”

“I know!” Sirius grinned. “I am a genius!”

In fairness…

Sirius winked at them again.

“Merry Christmas, love birds,” he said, pouring himself a glass of Prosecco and plonking himself down on the sofa. “So, what are we watching?”

Lily looked at Sirius quizzically. Her friend Remus thought Sirius was extremely hot. Sirius had made a complete arse of himself when James and Lily’s friends had all played charades together. Sirius had been apparently so distracted by Remus that he had gotten a prompt that read “Namesake” and had proceeded to mime one word, four syllables because (and she was quoting him here) “I thought it was some Japanese book, Evans!”

“James,” Lily said smoothly, holding James’ hand and pulling her towards the door. “I have some anatomy homework that I need to practice with you, in my flat, right now, alright?”

James’ brows shot up.

“Er, yes?” he stammered.

“And another thing we need to work on,” she whispered into his ear, grabbing the bottle of wine on her way out.

“Hey! Evans, that’s cheating!” Sirius shouted after them, sounding horrified. “I bought that!”

“Shut it, Black!” Lily called back cheerfully.

“Yes?” James said, kissing her hungrily as they stumbled towards the door of her flat.

“Yes, Operation Payback Time,” Lily said, waggling her eyebrows at James.

“Ugh, you devious thing! I love you, Lily Evans!” muttered James, continuing to kiss Lily as she tried to fit her key into the lock.

“I know,” Lily smiled as she kissed him back.

[self-shipper-snowdrop]

everyone says practice but it’s obvious you need talent stop getting everyone’s hopes up practice doesn’t work it doesn’t go anywhere

Anon, I want to show you something.

You see this? This honestly god awful, really bad, terrible drawing with noodle arms, an oversized sun and zero proper anatomy? It’s a piece of Professor Layton fanart I made when I was, I believe, eight years old. Ten years ago.

I thought the exact same thing as you did back then. I was looking at my older brother, drawing these pictures that were leaps and bounds better than anything I could do. I hated my drawings. I thought they were the ugliest things on the planet. I tried and tried, I even used those “how to draw” anime books and tried to copy what they did to get better. But I never thought that my art was good enough. I was never my brother, and I’d cry because I never, ever thought my art would change.

I hated that I couldn’t be my brother. That I wasn’t “the artist”, that I wasn’t somebody else.

If I had quit back then, if I had given up because I couldn’t be my brother or another artist I admired, then my art would look exactly like this even now. It would not have changed. But I didn’t do that.

My parents looked at me, and they told me I needed to stop trying to be my brother, because we were not the same person. They said that as frustrated as I was, I would never become him, because I was my own person with different skills. They told me “you’re a remarkable girl who can do anything you put your mind to. If you want to draw, practice. But don’t try to be somebody else, because you never will be them. Don’t draw because you want to be like someone else. Draw because you want to draw.” and I listened to them. When I got frustrated, my brother would point out what I had done that was good. When I said I wasn’t built for drawing, I will never forget how he took my hands and said “you have small, girly hands that are perfect for drawing” and told me keep going. He knew I admired him and used that to tell me not to give up, but he also didn’t let me think our art would ever be the same, and told me I will one day find my own style that is uniquely my own.

So I kept on drawing. I did that so much, even if it was the same thing a hundred times I kept doing it. I spent more and more time drawing and taking looks at things I admired to see if I could do that too. I took pictures of characters I liked and tried drawing that same image for myself as a kid to see how they did it. I started asking where I went wrong, and even though I was self conscious about it I kept going anyway. I remember being discouraged in grade eight when I was thirteen because I thought I hadn’t gone anywhere. But that was wrong, I had, it was just hard for me to see because I was the only one looking at it.

I first saw the changes when I was in grade ten. I was sixteen in that second semester, super invested in anime still. My brother bought me a sketchbook that past Christmas, and on the first page he drew a picture of Grell (knowing I adore her) that was encouraging me to draw, saying “no more loose leaf paper!”. I burst into tears when I got it and I promised him I’d fill up the entire book. I had this sketchbook when I was in Chemistry, and I was drawing Yume100 characters I liked. I noticed how much better the eyes were, and I proudly sent them to my brother and proceeded to draw nothing but eyes for the rest of the break.

I drew more and more and filled up that book. That lead to the art you see, not in colour, on this blog. This, as I said in the previous post, was June of last year. I was seventeen. This was less than one full year ago. For the first time, I was regularly drawing more dynamic poses, and over time, even started to actually colour my drawings. People noticed the difference. For example, my first drawing of Masami in early grade eleven. It was tiny and I didn’t even draw a full body.

Near Christmas of that exact same year, when this blog was encouraging me to draw almost daily, I made these. Same character, same year.

I continued to draw because I loved doing it, and this blog made me love it more. I was finally happy, to some degree, with what I was making. I’d started to find myself and I keep getting better with every drawing.

You do not see changes overnight; they are gradual. I didn’t out of the blue have the art that you see on this blog now, I worked towards that over years and years. It’s not just poof! This person has talent and are amazing instantly! Talent helps but it isn’t everything, and I sure as hell would not say I’m talented. Again, look at the first drawing compared to Masami.

This didn’t happen overnight, or even in one year. This change happened because of effort over the span of nearly ten years. It’s because I did not give up, and I challenged myself, and accepted critique from people who had more experience, like my brother and high school art teachers.

Practice really does help. At the end of the day, it is continued practice striving to be better at something you are genuinely passionate about that brings that change. You don’t get better by comparing yourself to others and getting upset- I learned that the hard way. If I hadn’t kept going for years, then I never would have found my style, and that picture of Masami literally wouldn’t exist. I wouldn’t even colour my art if I had done that.

Sometimes change comes fast, others it comes slow. Sometimes it’s there but you can’t see it because it’s gradual or you’re too close to it to see for yourself. But regardless, you will get better. I know that you can, anon, you just need to try. Everyone has their own journey, and this happened to be mine.

The only thing that will make it so you do not change is by saying practice doesn’t help, and not taking that journey at all.

[dragonanddirewolf]

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Wow thank you for so many questions! Sorry I took some time- I wanted to think about these.

1. When did you get into art?

I think I was about 13? My brother’s wife (girlfriend at the time) was really into anime and manga and she showed me this sketchbook that her friend made. It was so pretty and I absolutely loved it! I spent months copying every single drawing. I then started doing art at GCSE and my teacher was super demanding and somehow I managed to find that really stimulating and decided to stick with it.

I don’t think I ever had a natural ‘talent’ for art. My old drawings were awful. I was a very academic child and found that because art was the most challenging subject for me (like the masochist I am) I wanted to make it my focus.

4. What defines your artistic style?

I think that because I did a lot of oil painting and ‘traditional’ art my drawings have been very sketchy for a long time. Only since doing Inktober I am finally finding a balance between illustration and clean lines and still keeping my original style

6. What level of artistic education have you had?

I have a Bachelors degree in Fine Art. I would say though that despite going to a pretty prestigious art university in the UK our art education is absolutely shocking. There’s zero emphasis on traditional skills (observational drawing, colour theory, anatomy, perspective etc) and no art history by the time you get to university level. All they try to teach you is ‘conceptual thinking’. I absolutely hated paying thousands of ££££ a year just to rent a studio space and spend hours painting to then have to admire my colleagues ‘art’ which was a coffee cup in an empty room.

Most of my skills come from what I learnt in sixth form (high school), years of life drawing and being self taught. I would recommend life drawing to anyone who wants to improve their drawing skills.

10. What do you like most about your art?

I enjoy the variety of things I do. I think that because I’ve only been doing digital art for about 6 months I’m still learning so much and I enjoy all the new things I’m able to create.

If I was talking about details however... I just love drawing faces. They’re definitely the most important element of every drawing and I feel that as long as I can get those right the rest of the drawing will fall into place

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The meme is here if anyone else wants to ask me anything ❤️