#I did cut out half of what I was planning to draw but! I’m still happy with the result

[krismatic]

real salmon hours with pearl [hermitcraft s10 animatic]

#I drew all of this in like 9 hours enjoy 👍 #I’ve never finished an animatic type thing before so like. I decided to do a very short one to see how it goes #I did cut out half of what I was planning to draw but! I’m still happy with the result #anyways. uh. first time ever watching a hermitcraft series and I am enjoying it! it’s just fun to listen to while I do other stuff #hermitcraft #pearlescentmoon #geminitay #you can tell I have no clue how to draw gem’s skin for hermitcraft fjdjkr #grian is there #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft s10 #hermitcraft season 10 #ok goodnight besties

[sapphicseasapphire]

IT’S ME, I’M THE FOOL.

This whole time I’ve been saying that people with God Powers TM are Marked. They all have something on their face! (Except Legend, what’s on his face is just scales, don’t be confused).

But this WHOLE TIME I’ve been drawing Sun without her Marks. Like. She’s literally Hylia. She has God Powers, she should have them. Anyway so this is my Sun redesign for real this time. Just pretend that she looks like this in my “I am Sky” comic.

Anyway so here’s some information about her under the cut.

I don’t have a big story for her like I do for Flora because Cryptid Sky’s story barely changes Skyward Sword like at all. He’s formed that the very very end, after the Goddess’s Silent Realm, so most things involving Sun remain the same.

I will say that she didn’t always have her Marks. When she was born as Zelda, her face was clear, like every other Skyloftian. But when she fell to the Surface and began a quest of her own, when she discovered her divine origins, she started to remember. She’d pray at the springs to recover her memories and her powers, and one by one, her face would be Marked.

By the time that Link had secured all of the Sacred Flames and forged the Master Sword with them, Sun was already lost. And in her place stood a Goddess.

I don’t think that people give her enough credit for all she’s been through. Sun deserved so much better, she lost her life to Hylia’s plans just as much as Link did. And when Link merged into Sky, he was merely mimicking the transformation that his dearest friend had already gone through. Sun’s soul is still split in half, still shared between herself and her Loftwing, but in that empty part of her core lies the domineering presence of Hylia herself. Her life as she knew it is over. Is she Zelda anymore? Or is she Hylia?

She loves Link SO MUCH. When she first comes out of their thousands-of-years long slumber, she’s in shock to see that he’s gone. She falls from the amber shards and lands squarely in Sky’s arms, and Sky envelopes her in his soft wings, holding her as if she’s the most precious thing in the world. In the haze, she doesn’t realize the change in her dearest friend. But when she opens her eyes, she’s devastated.

As far as she’s concerned, it’s her fault. She used Link. Forced him to go on this quest, forced him into the Silent Realms, forced him to wield the Master Sword and the Triforce. She’s the reason that he fused with Aepon; she’s the reason that Link is gone.

But Sky laughs the same as Link would, relief in his eyes when she gathers the strength to stand. She holds her hand in his own, and it feels just like the hand she knows. His face is the same, for the most part: his hair is different and he’s got red spots on his cheeks, but the more she looks at him, the more she sees Link. And as they make it through the Temple together, as she watches Groose fawn over him, she realizes that he’s not gone at all.

He’s changed, just like she is. But just like she’s still his Zelda, Sky is still her Link. The guilt still worms its way into her chest, but as long as Sky is smiling, she’s able to see past it.

Sky does not smile for very long, as a certain Demon Lord shows up mere moments later to ruin their happy ending. To be honest, Sun doesn’t remember much of that night. She remembers the anger in Sky’s face as his body trembled on the ground. She remembers the cold cruelty of Ghirahim’s voice against her chest as she was carried away from her Link- her Sky. She remembers feeling so weak and helpless, cursing the Goddess- cursing herself- for being so useless.

And then all she knew was pain. Blinding, burning agony that enveloped her entire being. She thought she was dying, weightless and alone and scared.

The next time she opened her eyes, she was inside the Sealed Temple. Groose held her. Sky was nowhere to be seen.

She cried into Groose’s chest, something she never would have dreamed of doing a year ago, her head still reeling from that feeling of hopelessness, that pain. All at once, she was scared and relieved and safe and in danger. And Groose held her through it.

Sky would stumble into the Temple much later, limping and bleeding and spasming. His right arm would be totally friend and his wings would drag on the ground, feathers in disarray. He’d lean away from Groose and fall into Sun’s open arms. And when it was time to return the Master Sword to her final resting place, he’d do so with a heaviness in his eyes that’s uncharacteristic and a weakness in his body that’s frightening.

Both Sun and Sky take a long time to recover from that. And really, neither of them ever do. But as Sky starts to physically heal, Sun starts to see more traces of her dear Link. Being around her closest friend and newfound lover is healing, and after the adventure they’d had, they don’t leave each other’s side for a long while.

Sun is very protective over Sky, just like she always was with Link. They exchange Loftwing feathers (Sky gives her his own). And just five days after they’re reunited, they’re separated again.

Okay okay okay. This was less about Sun and more about Sun AND Sky, but they’re pretty much inseparable I think. From Sky’s perspective, there’s a lot of confusing feelings that I’ll get into when I actually write a fic (I’m starting a fic!), but Sun just loves him so much. I have a little comic series which is actually a collection of little short stories in a much bigger plot called “I am Sky.” The short comics aren’t all finished (and they can be read as stand alones) but the order they go in is:

“I am Sky” Stories: Pipit

“I am Sky” Stories: Groose (I’m not done with it I’m sorryyyyyy)

“I am Sky” Stories: Zelda

This all takes place after the Demise battle, when Sky is healing and has the chance to sit down and reflect. When he gets the opportunity to learn about himself, the person that his two halves made him. He struggles a lot, but these specific stories have a lot of comfort. He’ll be fine. Probably.

#the legend of zelda #my art #fanart #chain as cryptids au #cryptid lore #loz skyward sword #skyward sword #sapphire rambles way too long #cac art #links meet au #cryptid sky #cryptid sun

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Part 8

Look at you lucky ducks! Two WIP Wednesday excerpts today! I'm afraid you won't be able to get used to it. Going forward I may update each fic on alternating weeks. I have a busy few months coming up if everything goes to plan and could use the buffer in case I can't get much writing done. We'll see, though.

I'm going to start leaving a fic summary at the beginning of every excerpt in case people find this in the wild and want to know what they're getting into.

Summary: Danny is finally going to meet Jazz's boyfriend Jason. At Jason's family's mansion. He spent weeks making sure he could have an evening off of any Ghost King business. But when he meets Jason on the steps of the mansion, he can barely pay attention to the guy because his focus is on the ghost of the dead Robin hanging off his shoulders. Who is very happy to find someone who can actually see him.

Word Count: 1.4k

First, Previous

----------

“Right. Um… Well, I do just kinda do whatever is necessary or find someone who can. Because, um, well, I’m… kinda the High King of the Infinite Realms? There’s a bunch more titles after that but I refuse to memorize them because ugh.”

Danny looked down at his plate, not wanting to see everyone’s reactions. Jazz must’ve made sure he got a piece of pie because it sat in front of him. It looked so good. Did they even know about the Infinite Realms? Justice League Dark members did, but did Batman? Jazz reached over and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Tim and Barbara’s typing seemed to get faster. And then a pair of pixie boots and legs settled on the table next to his plate. He looked up and met Robin’s eyes.

Robin reached out an poked Danny on the nose. He gave a little trill of safe, friends drawing a smile out of Danny.

At the same time, Duke exclaimed, “That’s why you have a crown!”

And Steph said, “Okay, I may be out of the loop, but what the hell are the Infinite Realms?”

Damian snorted. “Aren’t you too young to be a king of anything?”

Danny half stood. “Look, do you want to go spar or something? Is that why you keep picking fights? Because we can do that. Fighting is good for young liminals. But I really don’t think this is the time or place.”

Jazz groaned and dragged him back into his seat. “Stop it, Danny. You’re on Earth right now.” Speaking over Danny’s protests, she explained to Damian, “We wish. Managed to get them to delay until he turned eighteen at least, but his grandfather wouldn’t let us wait any longer than that.”

Danny let the fight drop, but he did notice how Damian’s grip on his spoon tightened. Looked like they would be having that spar tonight if Damian had anything to say about it. Still, Jazz was right and he had to follow human customs on Earth so he bumped his sister’s shoulder and spoke to her instead. “You know as well as I do that he would’ve if it was possible. But thanks to Pariah, there are things that haven’t been done in a thousand years and it’s been causing so many problems.”

“Steph,” said Barbara. “The Infinite Realms are the spaces between universes according to Constantine. His documentation states that the Realm’s inhabitants are all incredibly overpowered and should not be approached under any circumstances. Just one being can evade all methods of capture with standard supplies.”

Jazz nodded. “And our parents dedicated their lives to building a portal to the Infinite Realms, or the Ghost Zone as they call it, and destroying all ghosts.”

“By ‘ghosts,’” asked Bruce, “Do you mean beings from these Infinite Realms?”

Jazz nodded. “Yes. Most beings from the Infinite Realms come into being when a living creature dies in a traumatic way, with a lot of emotion, or near a large source of ectoplasm. Usually some combination of all three.”

Both Tim and Bruce tried to ask further questions, but Jason’s voice cut in over theirs. “Jazz, when you say your parents wanted to ‘destroy all ghosts,’ did they stop after Danny’s accident?” Jason’s question did, at least, cause silence to fall as everyone stared at the two siblings.

Jazz looked down and gripped the tablecloth tightly, jaw clenched. Now it was Danny’s turn to lay a comforting hand over hers.

“No,” Danny said. “They didn’t. They didn’t know what happened for several years and when they found out… Well, there’s a reason I can’t use their last name and Jazz won’t call them ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad’ anymore. But”—Danny clapped his hands—“this is a great segway into what is actually important. Does the Justice League know about the Guys in White? More formally known as the Ghost Investigation Ward? Or even just GIW?”

“That name is unfamiliar to me,” said Bruce.

Tim agreed. “Babs and I aren’t seeing anything in the JL databases.”

Even Robin just shrugged.

Danny didn’t expect the jolt of pain that sent through his chest and Jazz turned their hands around until they were gripping each other’s hands with more force than any baseline human would’ve been able to.

“I told you, Danny. They didn’t know. They didn’t know.” Her eyes were wet, but she forced a shaky smile. “You could’ve had help.”

Danny just shook his head. “Even if I had believed they didn’t know… Without meeting them, without knowing how many of their own were in danger, I would’ve never trusted them. Too many people rely on me for me to risk it.”

“Care to enlighten the rest of us?” asked Dick. His posture was relaxed, but his voice had an edge that hadn’t been there earlier.

Robin nodded from where he sat staring at Danny. He sent out a questioning Danger? pulse at Danny.

“Yeah, danger,” agreed Danny. “Barbara, Tim, if I give you a law code number, can you pull up the law I’m referring to?”

“Of course,” agreed Barbara. “Just a moment… And shoot.”

Danny gave them the code for the Anti-Ecto Acts. “The Guys in White are the government agency responsible for enforcing the Anti-Ecto Acts which classify all ‘ectoplasmic entities’”—he made the air quotes—“as non-sentient and non-sapient and excludes us from the metahuman protection acts.”

“What the fuck!” shouted Duke.

Next to Danny, Dick suddenly was sitting up tense. “That’s impossible.”

“The league would’ve noticed such an act being passed,” said Damian, though he didn’t look as sure as his words would seem.

Cass merely tilted her head and looked at him while Steph choked on her drink.

Bruce looked to Tim and Barbara. “Is this true?” he asked them.

Robin pointed to himself and mouthed the word ‘Me?’ at Danny.

“I’m afraid so. And Bruce, Cass, Steph, and Damian as well.”

Dick’s spluttering got louder. “How are they all in danger?” he demanded to know.

Before Danny could reply, Tim was speaking. “It’s all true. And far worse than Danny implied. Not only are ecto-entities not protected by the metahuman protection laws, but they are to be actively hunted and turned over to the GIW for experimentation and extermination and anyone who assists them is declared guilty of treason.”

“When did they pass?” asked Bruce.

“Four years ago,” said Barbara. “While Luthor was president. They were hidden in some laws about green energy.”

“Ghost are made of ectoplasm,” explained Jazz. “Ectoplasm is a fantastic energy source.”

“It happened a few months after I defeated the previous king but before my coronation,” added Danny.

“Why do you think myself, Damian, Cass, Stephanie, and Jason will be targeted by this Ghost Investigation Ward?”

“It’ll be easier to show you.” Danny reached down and pulled up his bag. The thing was made in Pandora’s realm and was bigger on the inside. Once open, it took him a moment to find what he was looking for. He could see Robin signing to the group next to him. “Here we are,” Danny said as he pulled out three devices. “These are all different ectoplasm detection devices. One is my own design, one is the Guys in White’s design, and one is my parent’s design. I’ll show you mine first because it’s the best.”

“Might be a dumb question,” started Dick, “but what the hell is ectoplasm?”

“So you know how all the elements in this universe came about from nuclear fusion of hydrogen in the cores of stars?” asked Danny. When most everyone nodded, he continued, “In the Infinite Realms, that base element is ectoplasm. But there’s no need for a star to transform it into anything else. It will mold to the shape any consciousness that interacts with it wants. When sentient creatures slip through, either by a portal or through death or any other means, they shape the part of the Realm they’re in to their will. The stronger the ghost, the larger the area they control.” Holding out his hands, Danny called forth a ball of ectoplasm, shaping it into a glowing-green ice duck. “Something like this,” he commented grinning around the table.

Only to be met with horrified looks as most of the table were staring at his hands with distrust. Damian had his knife out again. Jason, his gun with the other arm held protectively in front of Jazz. Bruce was standing and Cass tense.

“What’s wrong?” asked Danny. “It’s just an ice duck sculpture. Completely harmless.”

Jason’s voice was low and threatening. “It’s an ice duck made of Lazarus water.”

More alarming than his voice was the way his eyes glowed ecto-green and the fear-anger that filled the room.

----------

Next

Challenge: Stay on one topic for more than two sentences.

Outcome: Failed.

They keep getting side tracked with more questions. And Danny still hasn't had a bite of his pie. This evening will never be over.

Tag List Part 1

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#dpxdc #danny fenton #jazz fenton #jason todd #Ghost!Robin #anger management #my writing #every sentence out of danny's or jazz's mouths leads to more questions #they will never be able to get through them all #but more importantly! #will danny ever get to eat his pie? #even he's forgotten about it #and its sitting right in front of him #but so is a ghost so...

[bump1nthen1ght]

Playtime (Male! Vampire / Male!Reader)

Pairing: Male!Vampire x Male!Reader

Warnings: Explicit Content Ahead (18+ ONLY), Blood kink, Non-Consensual ( Hypnosis/ Compulsion), Biting, Rough Sex

Word Count: 1610 Words

Based off this Request (by @harukisakisblog ): Vampire x male reader. Non con (but reader enjoy it) also rough. Breeding i guess (bonus point if reader did get pregnant) also just reader begging to stop but in the end got turned into a cockslut. Mm、let's see.... I guess reader holes got so full that the cum started to get out of it while reader is just looking at the vampire asking for a second round. Idk man i'm horny so go wild please

If you had to describe the feeling of being compelled, the most apt metaphor you could think of is lying down on the beach. The sand leaves little pinpricks of fuzz on the nape of your neck and the back of your arms, the ebbing tide rund between the crevices of your vertebrae and rushes into your ears. It’s a billion different sensations that feel so small, yet so all encompassing.

That’s what your brain feels right now, body limp in the arms of this monster. Your conscious thoughts seem to ebb at the edge of being actionable, but fade before you can grab on. Your skin feels tingly, the freezing touch of the vampire now sucking on your neck so jarring yet unreal.

“Well, don’t you taste delectable.” The vampire purrs, not even wiping the fresh blood off his lips before kissing you on the cheek. “Yes, I think I made a fine choice. Don’t you agree? ”

The words are like slurry in your head, the vampire not waiting for an answer as he runs a clawed hand under your shirt.

“N-no….stop.” You slur, hand grabbing his wrist in the imitation of force. The vampire laughs, pushing your chest down and forcing you on your back. He wastes no time in throwing your legs over his shoulders, lifting your hips and slipping off your pants. A long, painted claw draws circles in the meat of your thigh, pushing up the hem of your boxers.

“Goodness.” The vampire moans, pressing his mouth right up to the skin and taking a deep breath. “You smell so sweet, I simply must have more.”

The sting of fangs biting into your leg barely registers in your mind, but your hands still push and claw at the vampire's chest, even as he remains immovable. The suction of his mouth, draining the blood from your thigh, is damn near erotic.

The vampire licks at your wound, face smeared in your blood and a wicked smile. His wandering hands moves across the fabric of your underwear and squeezes your cock. Your lower half jolts, unintentionally bucking into his grip. As your cock grows hard the vampire kisses down your leg, eventually reaching your clothed crotch. In a move far too gentle for the situation, he kisses your shaft, dangerous sharp teeth glistening in the low light. The open cut on your leg begins to burn, though it only lingers in the back of your mind

“P-please.” You beg, globes of tears dripping from your eyes. “Please don’t do this.”

The vampire tchts, moving his hand to stroke your erection.

“Aww, sweetheart. I’m only doing what we both want. What we both need.” He laughs again, that taunting laugh that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. “Now, just relax for me, hmmm?”

Another wave of compulsion washes over you and your hands go limp against his chest. The vampire presses another kiss to your crotch before pulling down your underwear. Your hard cock bounces out, standing stiff against your stomach. The vampire licks his lips, flicking your boxers to the side of the room, off of your ankles.

The vampire sticks its two pointer fingers into its mouth, sucking languidly before releasing with a pop. You know immediately what he plans to do, especially when he smears more blood onto his fingertips. He presses against your tight entrance and you actually thank how the compulsion has relaxed your muscles, letting him sink into your asshole with little pain.

“That’s it. Open up for me, darling.”

A shiver runs down your spine. The pads of his fingers curl inside of you as the vampire reaches his knuckle. He sets a gentle pace of fucking you open, cooing petnames that glide right over you. The sensations shoot all the way to your toes, the vampire quickly finding your prostate and massaging it gently.

Your cock is left unattended, but not for long. The vampire spits into his free palm and begins jerking you off, matching the pace of his fingers and just teasing the heat in your belly. You bite your lip, your subconscious desperately telling you to fight this off. But instead your body whines when his ministrations stop, the burning in your crotch needing more when the vampire pulls his fingers out.

An animalistic keen leaves you, making the vampire laugh.

“So desperate. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

With the sound of an undone belt buckle and some shuffled fabric, the vampire throws your legs over his shoulders, bending your limp body into a mating press as something cold touches the bare skin of your ass. Your lazy eyes shoot upward, meeting the vampire's ravenous gaze as he strokes his cock in preparation. That desperate voice, trying to fight, is scared by his size. But the one in control, the unconcious running you right now, is excited by how it might feel.

“Now, I want you to scream for me, can you do that?” Another bout of compulsion, though much weaker than before. “I want to hear my name coming out of that pretty little mouth of yours.” A clawed finger runs across your bottom lip. “Say it for me, dear. Say Emil, please fuck me.”

“Emil, please fuck me.” The unconscious says and you wish it was the compulsion that pushed it to do so.

“Good boy.”

With that, he begins to push his cock inside of your asshole, spitting into his hand and stroking his cock as he does. The pressure is less intense than it could have been without the fingering, but Emil’s girth is still formidable, the compulsion only doing so much to the burn. It doesn’t help that he continues to make lewd comments, Emil groaning as he stretches you open on his dick.

When his hips hit your backside, he moans again.

“Look at that, it’s a perfect fit!” Emil spanks one of your ass cheeks, moaning again when you clench around his cock. “Now, for the fun to begin.”

A strong grip grabs your jaw and pulls you into a sloppy kiss, Emil hunched over your body when he begins pounding your asshole. He shoves his tongue in when you gasp from the pressure, already that tight knot stirring in your belly.

The sound of skin slapping skin is debaucherous, which Emil seems to revel in. He makes sure to elevate his moans and gasps, hands holding tight around your jaw and forcing you to look into his crimson eyes. He licks his lips as he presses and swirls his hips against yours, drinking in your reaction.

“I want you to be loud.” The hand around your throat tightens, just enough to be a threat. You feel your eyes rolling unto the back of your head, your breathless moans getting caught at the back. “Scream for me.” Emil squeezes your throat again, pushing your head onto the bed and sitting himself up as he increases his pace. The compulsion and the way he’s brutalizing your prostate send stars behind your eyelids, your crotch canting towards Emil’s thrusts.

“Fuck! Yes, please, more!” The pleasure is all you know in the moment, your balls feeling tight as Emil laughs. His thumb brushes against your cheek while his other hand spanks your ass again. The buzzing has shot down to your toes again, you cock aching from the lack of attention. You’re actively meeting Emil’s thrusts now, tightening your core and throwing up your backside against Emil’s hips, trying to search for more.

That dizzying feeling approaches again, only elevated when Emil wraps a hand around your cock and begins jerking you off. You gasp, trying to focus in on Emil’s face but everything feels blurry. You recognize his laugh, the way his grip tugs and fondles you, but the context of it all is lost.

“Aww, thats right dearie, come for me. Cum on your master’s cock.”

Even without the psychic powers you feel the tug at your brain and your core, cock twitching in Emil’s hands as fucks you. He’s laughing amidst his moans, his pace growing sloppy as he reaches his own orgasm. “Cum all over yourself, watch as I fill you up.” Emil punctuates his words with powerful thrusts and you know you can’t take much more.

“Shit! Fuck!” You cry out, lower half tightening as your orgasm exploded outward, cum splattering up to your chest. Emil’s moan is beastly as he cums inside of you, spurts of his semen filling you up.

The after glow is short, Emil pulling out with a filthy schlick, brushing his long black hair out of his face. He looks down at you, a self- satisfied smirk taunting you. You can barely lift up your head, limbs shaking from the exertion. Your mind feels like it’s sunk into jello, warped and fruitless to move.

Emil sits back on his haunches, patting your thigh as he just watches you tired body. His cum drips out of you, bite marks on your neck and thigh only confirming your place. You’re his, his play thing.

He moves to sit up, feeling gracious enough to get you a wet rag to wipe yourself off, but is stopped. Your ankle is still hooked around the back of his knee, although you couldn’t stop him completely, it's enough to get his attention. Emil looks down at your face.

Your voice, croaking and desperate, calls to him.

“More.” You pant, weak calves trying to pull him back closer to you. Emil sees your cock, half-hard again, as your pretty eyes practically beg for another round.

Emil smirks. Seems he won’t be needing the compulsion anymore.

#my writing #reader insert #monster x reader #monster romance #male reader insert

[fieldofdaisiies]

azriel x eris | 2,4k words | warnings: none | masterlist

“Did you miss me? Is that why you are here again?” Eris drawls. Moonlight dances on the small lake behind him, and it also falls upon the heir to the Autumn Court, illuminating half of his handsome face, his long lashes drawing shadows upon his defined cheeks. His pale skin almost glows beneath the night sky, and a small smirk plays on his lips.

Azriel bristles at the sheer arrogance and takes a step toward the Autumn Court prince. But when he opens his mouth no words leave – he has nothing to say. He has no answer. Because he himself doesn’t know what he is actually doing here. Why he is here.

But he doesn’t need to talk, Eris does the job for him. “Or, are you on one of your little spying missions, spymaster?” Eris raises a taunting brow, nothing but haughtiness on his face.

Fog accompanies the moonlight on the lake, shadowy tendrils floating over the still water like dancing to a silent melody. 

“I‘m only doing my job,” Azriel seethes and for a split second his gaze drops to Eris‘ lips. 

Eris‘ eyes are hooded, following Azriel’s and a smirk appears on his lips. “You are thinking about it? This time at least give me a warning before you k—”

Azriel shoves at his chest, pushing Eris an inch backward. “Don‘t talk about it!” he snarls and since the heir to the Autumn Court annoys him greatly and makes his blood boil, he adds, “I’m here because we can’t trust you.”

That hurts. It really does. The pang of pain shooting into his heart makes Eris stagger another step backward. He has thought he has earned their trust, that he could rely on the Night Court and vice versa. But he was wrong. They are not allies yet, if they don’t trust. But will they ever trust him?

“And what do I have to do to earn your trust?” Eris moves closer again. So close the warmth of his body brushes Azriel’s and the spymaster involuntarily shudders.

“No longer be loyal to Beron.” Azriel has no better answer. This is all twisted and idiotic. He had come up with the idea of distrust. A false pretence. It isn’t the reason he is here, but he doesn’t know what is and he didn’t know what to tell Eris.

“Do you truly think I still support Beron?” Eris spits, voice dripping with disappointment and disdain. “You know what my plan is?”

“You haven’t followed through on it yet.” Azriel swallows thickly, the last few raindrops that land upon his skin feeling much heavier, the air despite being fresh much thicker. Tension is so thick, one could cut it with a knife.

“That doesn’t mean I‘m still loyal to him.”

Azriel says nothing, face veiled in cool indifference, not even his eyes give anything about the way he feels away. A mask he has perfected – that of casual nonchalance. One that Eris knows all too well. 

“After everything he has done to my family, to me, do you really think—”

“What did he do to you?” Honest curiosity and also a hint of concern fills the shadowsinger‘s voice, his question coming so fast it interrupts Eris. All of a sudden, the spymaster’s chest feels so hollow. 

Eris holds Azriel’s gaze, neither of them daring to look away. Or is it impossible for them to tear their gaze away from the other?

Whatever it is, their gazes stay locked, amd something blooms within their chests, making their hearts beat faster and their souls come—

But Eris doesn’t answer. He ignores the question. He can’t answer this right now. He can’t talk about it. Not with Azriel. Not with anyone. No one should ever know the details of how Beron treats him. 

“I see you found my brothers‘ graves.” Not a question, but an observation. And a statement that should lead their conversation into a new direction. 

Eris extends his hand, pointing at the weathered grave stones. 

It almost seems as if Azriel’s shadows stretch out when the Autumn Court heir moves past him. Almost like they want to reach for him. Brush over his skin, bring Eris to Azriel. But Azriel keeps them close to him, his demand crystal clear: stay with me!

Azriel says nothing, he only watches how Eris opens his coat and then reaches inside. Azriel braces himself for everything, but he does not expect what is revealed to him.

Flowers. He doesn’t know the name of them. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Eris, who is believed to be cold and cruel, brings flowers to his late brothers‘ grave. And that even after centuries.

The spymaster steps aside, allowing Eris the necessary space, both physically and mentally.

Gently, the heir lays the flowers down on the damp soil and grass and then gets up and for a moment folds his hand over his heart.

“It is strange,” he murmurs. Slowly, he turns to look at the shadowsinger over his shoulder only to find Azriel already looking at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

“How you can loathe and miss someone at the same time.”

Azriel can’t say the same about his own brothers – there is only resentment and pain when he thinks about them.

But there is someone else this description fits perfectly for, Azriel realises. He runs his gaze over Eris, watches the shallow rise and fall of the heir’s chest, how his lips are a little parted, his red hair glowing in the soft moonlight. But Eris turns away and Azriel is left with looking at the heir’s back. A powerful back, he has to admit – broad shoulders, a strong neck, and nothing but corded muscles that are even visible through his coat and the layers of clothes beneath. 

“Do you have brothers, Shadowsinger?”

Azriel coughs once, hand held in front of his face. Then he clears his throat, taking a few steps forward, his shoulders the exact same height as Eris’, their bodies nearly touching.

“I do,” he eventually says. “I did.”

Eris‘ brows bunch and he turns to look at Azriel, silently regarding the male next to him for a moment. “Dead?”

“Mhm.” There is nothing nostalgic, not a single note of sadness in Azriel’s tone and it makes Eris wonder what could have happened to Azriel that makes him so nonchalant about his brothers‘ passing. 

Azriel wants to provide more information. What they did to him. That he only feels hate in regard to them. But he can’t. Something hinders him from doing so. It would be strange to share your deepest, most haunting memories with your enemy, wouldn’t it?

“They weren’t…good brothers.” Azriel’s gaze moves over the gravestone once again and he wonders where Brack and Sconz are buried. 

A cold huff leaves Eris and his gaze drops. 

He looks at his polished boots, covered in grass and mud. The flowers atop the grave look beautiful, but everything else around it, lifeless. Sad. Dead.

“Azriel, I need to ask you something.”

A breeze brushes their skin, cooling the already chilly air and their cold bodies. 

The tone in Eris‘ voice tells Azriel that his request is sincere, that there is now no room for banter. 

“Go ahead.” Azriel keeps his voice low, and now for the first time regret truly fills him, seeping into his heart like poison. He told Eris they don’t trust him, lied about it, while Eris trusts him. Enough to not have called for sentries or warriors to come for him. The heir even arrived unarmed – that is how much trust he has in him. In the Night Court…

“Lucien.” Eris‘ voice is hoarse, breaks a little when he continues. “Do you know if he is…alright?”

“He is,” Azriel answers matter-of-factly. He actually doesn’t know, or rather doesn’t care about the fox‘s wellbeing, but he assumes he is alright.

“Is he happy? Does she make him happy? Could he find a family in her?” The questions pour out of Eris almost like a waterfall. “The High Lady’s sister I mean.”

Azriel once again has no answer. So, he stays calm for a moment. He blows out a breath, its tendrils curling in front of his face before fading into nothingness.

“Do you really care about him?” Azriel asks instead of answering.

He isn’t prepared for what happens next. Eris grips Azriel’s biceps tightly, turning to him, staring into his eyes. “There hasn’t been a single damn day where I haven’t cared about my little brother.”

Azriel holds his gaze. “Did you ever try to—?”

“Find him? Look for him? Find out if he is alright?” Eris tightens his hold on Azriel’s arm. “Many times. For years. Until I figured out it was too dangerous to continue.”

“Because of Tamlin?”

“Because of my damn father!” Eris’ voice drips with resentment, and is so much louder than intended. 

His chest squeezes, icy cold breaking out under his skin, spreading like frost through his veins. His stomach dips. And all he can see is how his brothers held Lucien when his father cut off her head. Jesminda. Beautiful. Kind, and adventurous Jesminda. His brother‘s sole joy and happiness.

“Because he would have killed him if he found him again.”

A haze, bitter and thick, forms in Azriel’s mind, the picture of his own father’s face as clear as the water of a mountain stream in his mind. He feels angry, furious, cold and sad. And when all these emotions mingle inside of him, brewing beneath his skin, beneath the scars, he lets it out on Eris.

“And yet still you haven’t managed to kill him. You still sit here and pretend to be the wonderful, diligent son.” The spymaster’s voice is cold, tinged with an emotion Eris can’t quite place.

“What can I do?” Eris shoves forward as well, their foreheads now truly touching. Azriel notices how warm Eris‘ skin is despite the cold outside, but doesn’t allow himself to think further about.

“No longer be his puppet and finally grow some balls. Because it still makes me think that you maybe don’t want to put an end to this. That you like being his puppet – that you enjoy it and the reputation and glory it has earned you.” 

Azriel’s breath tingles Eris‘ face. The heir can scent the light hue of spearmint, but he tamps down on all emotions – safe for the anger –, trying to ignore what Azriel’s sudden closeness does to him. To his body.

And Eris isn’t the only one feeling it. Something –some emotion– surges through Azriel, making his skin feel taut, hot. His lips are so close to Eris’. Only mere inches–

“You have no idea what it is like to have a father like Beron.” Eris is fuming, and burning with pain.

“I know more than you think,” Azriel seethes.

“Oh?” Eris raises a taunting brow. “Did your father see you for the bastard and asshole you are and got rid of you when you were still in your diapers?”

Eris is furious. Both at the confusing emotions inside of him and Azriel‘s rash accusation. He hasn’t meant for his words to come out like this or at least phrase them differently. But what is said is said and he can’t take back the words that cut deep into Azriel’s already wounded heart.

Azriel shoves against Eris‘ solid chest, pushing him away. “My father is none of your fucking business.”

Eris staggers backward, but there is a smug look on his face, eyes trailing over Azriel’s irate expression.

“Oh, so I was right?” he drawls, “seems like you have some issues with your own father, so don’t tell me how I should handle the situation with mine.”

There is nothing but arrogance is his swagger as he nears Azriel again and through gritted teeth he says, “Don‘t you fucking dare interfere with my life and how I do things. I know what I am doing. And I need the Night Court as an ally but what I don’t need is a fucking shadowsinger smartass to tell me how to manage my things.”

Azriel’s nostrils flare, Eris words hurting him more than they have ever done before…before…the incident with Briallyn. Before Eris’ time at the Night Court.

“I hate you so much!” Azriel‘s throat bobs as he swallows, eyes burning.

Eris chuckles coolly. “No, you don’t.” 

“Yes, I do,” Azriel seethes, teeth barred. “I fucking hate you, Eris Vanserra.”

Eris raises a brow, almost in a reproachful way.

“Why did you kiss me then?”

He sees the hand coming for him, but it is too late – Azriel‘s fist connects with his jaw and a loud crack sounds. Icy heat breaks out on the left side of his face, a metallic taste filling his mouth.

Somehow, Eris thinks, he deserves it. What he said…it reminds him…of the words his father uses. The words weren’t his own, they were borne from anger, from irritation (Azriel is extremely irritating to him) and from his own desperation.

Azriel voiced exactly what he has been thinking so often - what if he fails? What if he in the end can’t do it. What if he forever stays his father’s puppet.

Eris spits onto the in leaves and pebbles covered ground, saliva and blood now coating the surface. “Leave!” he snarls and it startles Azriel.

The shadowsinger has thought something would follow his punch. That Eris would hit him too. Would want to hurt him too. 

He would deserve it. For what he said. But it is Eris‘ fault. Or isn’t it?

Both have said cruel things this evening, both have made mistakes.

And still Eris does nothing. He doesn’t punch back. He remains calm, unmoving. 

“Leave, Azriel! Get out of my sight.”

The shadowsinger flares his wings, taking one step backward after the other. His wings start to flap, feet slowly leaving the ground.

A chill runs over the landscape, Eris‘ eyes burning holes into Azriel’s body and for a split second the spymaster thinks he can spot tears in them.

When he is almost gone, when he is almost a whisper between the stars, nothing more than a shadow on the horizon, Azriel opens his mouth and says, “I don’t know why I kissed you, Eris, but I know it was the biggest mistake in my life.”

tag list for ACOCD @hnyclover @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @queercontrarian @fandomsmultiverse @acourtofbatboydreams @chunkypossum @baileybird71 @beckkthewreck @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @owllover123 @acotarobsessed @goldenmagnolias @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @v3lv3tf0x @talibunny30 @allyhill @popjunkie42 @skyesayshi @going-through-shit

general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams

#acotar #acosf #azriel #azriel x eris #azris #eris vanserra

[graciegoeskrazy]

Neeeeeeed more of Marty’s daughter and George! Was thinking of their bond/dynamic when George was taking care of her while Matty was sick plssss

is there somebody that can watch you?

george daniel + niece!healy!reader

warnings: fluffffff, being sick, i think that’s all????

a/n: Hi! i like this one it’s adorbs. ty anon!!!

You never heard the quiet footsteps coming into your room. It wasnt until the slight sinking of your bed and the gentle hand on your shoulder that you finally woke up.

When you opened your eyes you were greeted with George.

“George?”

“Hi, Bubs.”

“Daddy is sick. He doesn’t feel well, so you’re gonna spend some time with me. Okay?”

“Is he gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. He just needs some rest.”

George got a text from your father less than an hour ago. It was only 7 in the morning at the moment.

‘Just woke up. I feel like shit.’

‘Alright?’

‘I need you to take care of baby girl for the day. I don’t want to get her sick.’

‘You know you don’t need to lie to get me to hang out with your kid. She’s more fun to hang out with.’

‘I’m not lying. I’m sick.’

‘Mhm…’

‘Mate I have a 102.2 degree fever.’

‘Ew stay away from me.’

‘Christ can you just come and pick up my kid?’

‘Hehe yeah i’m on my way.’

Next thing you know, George was in front of you waking you up, packing up a couple changes of clothes because it was very likely you would be with him for a couple days, and picking you up and heading out the door.

Matty was lying on the couch in his robe and an array of blankets drinking a cup of tea. You and George walked into the room and headed to the front door. George was carrying you with one arm and your mini suitcase with the other. You noticed your father called for him.

“Daddy?”

“Hi, darling.”

He looked like shit. He could tell by the look on your face that you were worried about him and it made his heart swell. That and the fact that you were still half asleep was a recipe for absolute adorableness

When George walked into his flat you were fast asleep in his arms with you head lying on his shoulder. Charli walked out from the bedroom when she heard the door open in close, and smiled at the adorable sight in front of her.

“Look at my little baby!” She whispered.

“Poor girl is passed out.”

She smiled and kissed her fiance. “Any plans for the day?”

“Yeah. hanging out with little Healy.”

…

Cut to a few hours later, Charli and you were sitting in the living room floor coloring notebook pages on either side of the coffee table. George came in with drinks for the wo of you and sat down next to Charli.

“Whatcha drawing babe?” He asked you.

“Princess.” You said.

“That’s a beautiful princess.”

“Do you like it?” You held the picture up to Charli.

She smiled. “I do. I love her dress.”

“Me too. I want to get married in it.” You said, continuing to color.

“No boys till you’re 30,” George said.

“That’s okay. Boys are gross.”

“What?! I’m a boy, does that mean I’m gross?”

“Yeah. You messy.” The couple let out a laugh.

“Hey!” George said.

Charli readjusted. “Boys can be fun! You can go on dates with them and hang out together and marry them.”

“Yeah. When I get married I want a pretty, silver ring and a big, white, puffy dress. Like Cinderella.”

George eyed Charli. They had just gotten engaged a little less than 2 weeks ago and hadn’t yet told you the news. “You know…I know someone who’s gonna get married.”

“Who?” You asked not looking up from your work.

“Auntie Charli.”

Your head shot up which caused the couple to laugh a little but. “You?” You asked. Your jaw was hund wide open. Charli nodded. “With Bubba?” You asked, pointing.

“Yep!” She said.

You ran around the table and hugged her tight. She did the same.

“Isn’t that exciting?!” She asked with a smile.

“You’re gonna look like a princess.” You said while pulling away. George just watched with a smile.

“I know! And you and your daddy get to come and we’ll get you your very own dress to wear so you and I can be princesses together.”

You smiled wide and big.

#george daniel x daughter!reader #george daniel x reader #george daniel #george daniel x you #matty healy #matty healy x daughter!reader #matty healy x reader #matty the 1975 #x daughter!reader #the 1975

[my-insanity-is-an-artform]

A cut from a fic I’ll never finish:

“Throwback to the time I wished to be dead rather than go through exams!” Reader says, throwing themselves to on the ground with their soup.

“What the fuck are you talking about.” Legend asks.

“Just gotta remind myself that its better to be here than back home.” Reader replies.

“Thats fucked up.” Wild says, straight to the point.

Readers’ head turns. “No its not?” They say, questioningly.

Legend scowls. “It is too.”

“Listen man,” Reader turns back to their food, ignoring the looks of horror from the rest of the chain, “Say what you will, but this is infinitely better than back home.”

Twilight frowns. “You almost died half an hour ago.” He points out.

“And I'm pretty sure my old roommate was planning on killing me and selling my organs to pay off her student loan debt. Also she ate pineapple on pizza which is a whole other level of wrong that I’m not getting involved in.” They place their bowl on the ground. “At least here I won’t lose my only source of money if I sleep in for twenty extra minutes. And I don’t have to pay rent!”

Vaguely horrified looks from the rest of the chain.

“You don’t even have a house here?” From Warriors.

“Yeah!” Reader smiles. “Isn’t it great! Now I don’t have to worry about my landlord breaking into my apartment while I'm sleeping!”

“Your landlord does WHAT.” Twilight stands up, enraged.

“That cannot be legal” Four says, looking horrified.

“It’s allowed on the barest technicality.” Reader explains. “But dont worry! He might have the key to my apartment, but he doesn’t have the key to the six padlocks I added to the door!” All of this said with unnerving cheeriness.

Time places a hand on Twilight’s shoulder, calming him before turning back to Reader.

“He never did anything did he?” He asks. Menacingly.

Reader doesn’t seem to notice the eldests fury. 

“Oh he never got the chance. My most recent roommate was a terrifying sight to behold when angry.”

“Was she the one trying to steal your organs?” Wind asks, clearly in morbid fascination.

“No that was my first roomate. Freshman year in college. Weird times.”

The horror had not dissipated.

“What the Fuck.” Hyrule says. “Seriously, what the Fuck.”

“Yeah it sucks pretty bad.” Reader allows. “So you can see why I like it here.”

“We can see it.” Sky says, still looking vaguely terrified. “I just don’t think we want to.”

“Well you asked.” Reader says, shrugging. “Besides, what I have going on now is nothing compared to my early college days. And by early I mean last year.” 

“First off, we didn’t ask. Legend did.” This from Wild, drawing an offended ‘Hey!’ from Legend. “Second, what the fuck is wrong with your era.”

“Dont say capitalism.” Reader mutters to themself. “Its true but you shouldn’t say it.”

“What’s capitalism?” From Wild.

Oh Boy.

oh my god I love this so much. Just the absolute disbelief that Reader would prefer death over their own world.

Reader is such a whole mood. The good ol' days of crushing capitalism and living off of noodles. Nothing to see here, don’t worry.

Just imagine them telling the chain this and is promptly stuffed with food and muttered promises of various ideas

Please I need more. Im begging you.

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #I love this whole heartedly #this brought back memories of thinking about selling a kidney #and I don’t even live in the educational dystopia that is USA

[alangdorf]

Welp, the ref lineup still isn’t done cause I haven’t drawn Shion yet, and the belated valentines I’ve been working on are gonna be like at least a month late cause I just planned three more, but what I did do these past couple weeks is start writing a fanfic and then immediately abandon it to go draw a bunch of only tangentially-related suzutsubas (except for that first pic; that’s a scene from it, albeit one I haven’t written yet), only half of which are fit for public posting (one of ‘em I could make a few edits and feel ok about posting sometime; it’s not that out there, it’s just, y’know. Hamal Cine Bad End Hyperbolic Torture Chamber. I’m usually very “whatever happens happens” about my art but if I don’t show some restraint I know I’ll end up stuck in there forever), but hey, since I’ve been teasing them for ages and finally have some finished stuff with them, take a couple Suzumii! Also gonna ramble abt headcanons under the cut (and it will be LONG)

To begin, a note abt my Len’en gender/pronoun headcanons: as a they/them preferrer myself, I’m thrilled that most people just stick with those for everyone, but I’ve developed some more detailed headcanons as I go through working on designs and I’ll generally be using those. Don’t worry though, most of them are still nonbinary and basically all of them are trans/gq. Relevant ones for this post are Tsubakura: they/them nonbinary (transmasc to some degree) and Suzumi: cis female, question mark?? (to be elaborated on); for clarity’s sake I usually use she/her for Arde and Hamal Cine individually and plural they for the system collectively (also I don’t usually use their nicknames, dunno why), but singular they for Benet (the wiki says Benny is probably short for Benetnasch so I’m assuming that’s their actual name) for reasons which will also be elaborated on (sort of).

Aaalso this clearly isn’t autobiographical or anything but I think I’m subconsciously putting a lot of myself into Suzumi because 1) we do look pretty similar (brown wavy bob + blue eyes) and 2) given their current status as both the main antagonist and the most well-known plural Len’en character (I get the impression that Hooaka also being plural isn’t super common knowledge; I mean it took me several read-throughs of their wiki page and their dialogue with BPoHC Secret Team to get what they were getting at lol) I am probably way too anxious about doing a bad stereotype. Just an observation and also probably partially why I’ve even ended up with so much headcanon for them in the first place

And before I get into the thick of it, notes on derivations from canon: I’m running with the assumption that Suzumi being a system is a relatively recent development tied to whatever incident it was that caused the falling-out, since Tsubakura is like the only person who seems at all familiar with Hamal (including Mitori/Chouki/Fumikado, but they’re more easily explained away as just having met with one of the other alters the few times they’ve interacted) even though she’s supposedly usually the one fronting. They don’t seem to know the mechanics of it though, judging by their confusion when Arde implied that she and Hamal are different people. So basically, I’ll be referring to pre-incident Suzumi as a different character from any of the other three. (Ngl I am very influenced by Dissociation Constant on that and just in general [when will my wife The One and Only Suzutsuba Fic return from the war…..]) I was also debating whether to have Suzumi have any history with the gang before starting to work at the lab/whether stuff would happen around high school or college age, cause they keep referring to everything happening “a long time ago” and I know I, a 24-year-old, feel like stuff that happened five years ago was like yesterday, but I do have the pandemic and not really doing much of anything for most of that time to reckon with so like, eh. College age makes more sense in my head and so does the dynamic of like, Suzumi was only introduced into the friend group (she was acquainted w Hoojiro and Yabu already though bc lab) because she was dating Tsubakura and since that ended, and badly (understatement of the century), they have extremely little reason to be civil with each other and also interacting at all is really awkward.

Ok now on with it! Either end of high school or beginning of college, Suzumi ends up interning at Tsubakura’s lab for college credit (Tsuba’s already practically a department head despite being like 17 or something because. Idk. Who even knows what’s up with them) and she’s like. Only wears t-shirts and jeans (bought a bunch of khakis for this job though), [reading] glasses from the men’s section, hates leaving her hair down (it’s lab safety anyways). Repressed queer in denial, you know the type. Starts interacting a lot with Mx. Tsubakura “wears short shorts that everybody thinks are actually a skirt and also uses ore and omae almost exclusively” Enraku who seems to have everything all figured out and is immediately starstruck (GIRL WHY?? they are such a mess). Lots of “do I want to date them or do I want to be them” confusion (this will be relevant later); eventually evolves into the “am I trans or just a lesbian” question (not that they would need to be attracted to women to be into Tsubakura but you get the picture), which never quite gets answered.

In any case, they do eventually start dating (Tsubakura thinks she’s cute and smart so they reciprocate), and they’re not like super great together cause Tsubakura is emotionally constipated at the best of times (Suzumi’s into that though) and neither of them are the most mentally/emotionally healthy people even back then and also Tsubakura is more or less Suzumi’s boss which is weird, but they’re kind of ok??? Tsubakura’s mom dies at some point, also they move in together (college housing is expensive), the rest of the crew at the very least tolerate Suzumi, etcetera.

And then…! [insert catastrophic event here]!! I don’t have a shot to call on this yet cause I have no idea what it could’ve been (and I’m sure it’ll get revealed at some point anyways); I’m just banking on it being something extremely not mundane and something where you could reasonably set the blame on either (or neither) party cause they sure both seem convinced the other is way worse, huh! In Tsubakura’s case at least, blaming Suzumi is partially a defense mechanism so their self-loathing doesn’t get the better of them over it (guess what the fic was supposed to be about, lol).

The worst part of all this business though is that they DON’T break up over it immediately and it just makes everything orders of magnitude worse for everyone involved. Tsubakura and Arde have hate sex MORE THAN ONCE………… they would both really rather forget about it. Hamal thinks it’s hilarious, ofc, but the less said about her, the better. And Benet… exists??? The only idea that I’m running off of for them atm is the observation that I think they’re the only character with flat black eyes other than Tsubakura/Tsurubami and the subsequent idle thought, “hey if someone malded so hard about a breakup that they ended up with an introject of their ex would that be messed up or what?” So make of that what you will. (Oh and it may have been obvious that this is what I was going for but Hamal is femme and Arde is butch and they’re constantly squabbling abt aesthetic presentation. Having Arde be straight-up male would’ve been too straightforward of an interpretation and I think it’s funnier this way)

The canonically mentioned murder attempts start taking place and I’m leaning towards Tsubakura eventually being convinced to move out even though it was originally their apartment, albeit mostly just because the wikipedia page for house sparrows mentions that they’re known to take over swallows’ nests, usually after they’ve been abandoned, but they will sometimes drive away or kill the current occupants, and that was a very fun fact to come across when specifically doing research for Len’en but idk how else to incorporate it lol. And so on and so forth up until the present time.

Uhhh is that all I have atm? I think so! Anyway, I think I finally shook out all my suzutsuba doodles (and rambling, though I do still have that fic to work on. idk whether I’ll be able to finish it though; I started strong with an extended metaphor in the middle but Iiiii’m not sure if I can successfully write my way up to it while making it make sense. Also I may draw pretty slow but I write even slower!! Eh I’m sure I’ll post some of it sometime) for the time being so I should theoretically be able to finish up my bigger projects now. Maybe I’ll have the valentines ready in time for white day? We’ll see!

#art #len’en #tsubakura enraku #suzumi kuzu #suzutsuba #btw sorry if that’s like not the right ship name lol I saw like one person use it but there’s not much in the tag but that might just be #bcuz ppl don’t seem to make much for it anyways #digital #I should probably ask for len’en discord recommendations sometime soon just given the Circumstances #namely if tumblr actually goes down the drain but also so my little sister doesn’t have to keep watching me have a mental breakdown live #(hi Val!!) #briefly looked into the wiki’s server but that has A THOUSAND MEMBERS?? scary….. #ough FINALLY this post took me like a full day to write #also of note: these are essentially silly little doodles and I got kind of lazy with them #and I still don’t know how to draw Tsubakura’s hat or hair….. #idk why I’ve been having so much trouble differentiating how I draw Suzumi and Tsubakura’s hair but I have and it’s weird

[landwriter]

Throwing vague Hobrinthian inspiration your way. You'd write them so deliciously.

Thank you!! Back in January I wrote 8K of them - I think it's honestly my favourite thing I've written or close to it <3 Just Like Love. The Corinthian comes across Hob in a hotel bar after he's stood up in 1989. Things don't go as planned.

Here's an excerpt from the continuation of that 'verse:

---

Hob Gadling isn’t his boyfriend. Hob is better. He’s a soldier, a hunter, a haunted man, and it makes every grain of the Corinthian sing to know that one of the ghosts rattling around in there is him. Of course it is. He’s memorable. Doesn’t change how good it feels, though, to have been followed across the Atlantic by something almost as hungry as him.

Hob is holding a plastic bag, and the Corinthian can smell the meat from here.

“Fresh from Lancashire,” he says, all fucking casual-like.

The Corinthian walks over, hooks a finger into the bag and pulls it open to see what it is. Black pudding, he thinks. He’s standing close to Hob, close enough to feel how Hob notices it, how his pulse quickens a little. He still smells like airports. He thinks Hob will wrap an arm around him, pull him in. Kiss him filthy right here in his kitchen. Hob doesn’t do anything but let him inspect his gift. He looks up, and pretends he’s disappointed about the offering instead. He should be.

“I’m not a fucking reptile in a terrarium. You don’t need to buy me crickets.”

“Well. Thought this was more on the mice side of the scale.” And then his face does that hideous English thing, where he’s obviously hurt but smiles and pretends he isn’t, which isn’t half as fun when it’s just his feelings. “But you don’t have to-” he starts, all fake cheer, and the Corinthian grits his eyeteeth.

“Stop making that face,” he says, and snatches the bag away. Sees too late Hob smiling a little, and realizes he was playing at being injured, just to get him to come closer. He sets it on the counter, and feels Hob close right up behind him. There’s warm breath on the back of his neck for a moment before Hob speaks.

“You sure? Maybe it’s a bit like feeding wild foxes. Shouldn’t do that.”

The Corinthian turns and uses his height to bully Hob against the fridge, presses him there, then murmurs into Hob’s ear, threatening, just the way he likes. “You think I’ll forget how to feed myself?”

Hob is already hard against his thigh and he tilts his head up, to kiss the side of his neck. His heart is thumping so steady and strong the Corinthian wonders if he’s got a bigger heart working in there, one to power all his hunger. A horse heart, crushed into his ribcage.

“Maybe I’d like it if you forgot,” Hob says. “Maybe I’d like to spoil you. Maybe I’d like you to try eating out of my hand. See if you don’t like it better, to be fed by another.” He says it flirtatiously, covering up the tenderness there with hunger, because he knows the Corinthian’s mother tongue. But he hears the tenderness in it still, and it ripples over his instincts like a different kind of threat. A different kind of snare. Still wire-sharp. He knows he’d draw blood if he struggled in it, even if Hob would let him go the moment he really did. That’s why he stills, he figures. That’s why he goes all limp, submissive.

Hob feels it. Hob knows exactly what he’s done, and he runs a soft hand over the back of his neck, like he’s tamed him. The Corinthian finally twitches away roughly.

“Kinky.” He grabs the forgotten sausage and starts slicing it to be fried. And Hob just laughs, like it was the joke they were making together all along.

---

Twenty minutes later, he’s kneeling on the floor, still wearing his apron that says #1 Grill Dad, and Hob is feeding a cut-up piece of fried black pudding to him. It’s overcooked. They’d gotten distracted. He licks a stripe across Hob’s palm and feels the small muscles twitch under his tongue. Hob’s hand withdraws, and comes back a moment later to stroke the back of his head, dull nails scraping invisible tracks along him. It feels good. He hates it, he thinks.

He leans forward, and nuzzles against Hob’s crotch. The denim chafes his cheeks. Hob groans and ruts into him, his idle hand on his head turned greedy, knotting into his hair. Hob pulls him off, and he looks up, mouth hanging open.

“You going to bite it off if I let you?” he asks.

“Will it grow back?”

Hob sucks in air through his teeth and pretends like he’s considering it too. “You want to take the chance and find out that it doesn’t?”

“Nah,” he says, and Hob laughs and unbuttons his jeans.

---

He blames it on being fucked stupid for the first time in weeks. He blames it on being dark in the room. He blames it on Hob wrapped around him from behind, possessive. “You’d really care for me, huh?”

Hob scoffs, then seems to realize he’s not fucking around. His hand comes around and finds the Corinthian’s throat, and he strokes a line along where his pulse should be. “Yeah. Yeah, ‘course I would.”

“You can’t save me, Hob,” he says.

Hob huffs a laugh against his shoulder blades. “Well, then you won’t mind me trying, will you?”

#asks #the sandman #cob! #the corinthian #hob gadling #realizing one of my favourite corinthian headcanons is that he falls faster and harder than even hob #gets it from his maker yanno #wip excerpts #my writing #just like love #hobrinthian #(but really cob)

[filthforfriends]

Chapter 5: Scared Enough

Authors Note (CW: substance abuse)

Previous chapters linked in my Masterlist

Word count: 4.6k

 The chauffeur observes you all too closely, pacing outside Dami’s dressing room. You're both waiting for him to do a final line of coke before leaving for the airport. Then he flushes everything down the toilet and scrubs out the pill case.

“Are you gonna be okay for another four hours?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll be lucky if this high lasts half an hour.”

“So what do you do on airplanes?”

“Drink and suffer.” He laughs at the face you make. “I deserve it, I did this to myself.” Dami keeps that smile plastered on, but it doesn’t reach his eyes anymore. He looks downward to hide it, awkwardly scuffing the end of his boot against the carpet. You sigh heavily, yearning for the right words, but being unable to find them.

“We have to leave now if we want a chance of making our flight.”

“Yeah.” Damiano essentially chain smokes all the way to the airport and refuses to eat, so you end up consuming half the pizza. He insists on carrying your bag while the valet checks his. On the walk to the gate, you trail behind Dami and tuck your hair under a beanie. Unfortunately sunglasses at night draw more attention, not less.

You make it with negative five minutes to spare; they’re already boarding business class. To avoid a disgruntled traveler filming the entitled rich couple cutting in line, you stand at the very back. The stewardess panics over the fact that first class passengers were the last to board. Damiano uses a bit of his magic to calm her and stop attracting curious glances.

“No complaints here, I promise.” He leans forward enough to just barely breach her personal space and lets his husky baritone take over. Dami has this ambiguous closed lip smile that's totally up to the eye of the beholder. Their interpretation reveals the victim’s motivations. This girl wants to fuck Dami, and you don’t blame her. In fact, she’s so taken that she can only manage a nod. 

Once out of earshot you murmur, “that poor girl.”

“What?” Damiano says under his breath.

“You know what.” He smirks and steps on to the plane. “Let's hope she doesn't fuck up some poor family’s travel itinerary while dickmatized.” Dami scoffs as he shoves your bag into the overhead compartment. 

“It’ll be fine,” he dismisses.

“Says the one without the screaming toddler and 15 hour layover.” This earns a chuckle and he gestures for you to take the window seat.

“Proximity to the bathroom is probably the best plan of action.”

“Stomach still upset?”

“I’m hoping that now it's the kind of upset that can be made better by food that way I can drink.’

“Charming. Maybe wait a bit?”

“Ah, but there's a method to this. You’ve got to start drinking preemptively, that way you’re already drunk when the time for alcohol consumption arrives.” You can tell by Dami’s delivery that he’s used this line at parties and it always landed well. When he sees your face, his confidence drifts away.

“While you're…away I’ll stop drinking, too. That way you have a sobriety buddy.”

“Mm, ‘buddy,’” he winces.

“Yes, ‘buddy.’ Until I’m confident you’re not gonna put your ass in a coma, again. And then some.” 

“Fair, that’s fair.” He puts his hands up in surrender. Damiano leans his head back against the seat and exhales heavily. The sound of the pilot's voice on the intercom makes him startle.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Out of habit you rub his leg, then realize that rubbing his arm is much more platonic, albeit awkward. You decide that the middle ground is petting his hair. The buzzcut is surprisingly soft under your fingers.

“Will you grow it out while you’re there?”

“Do you want me to?” He turns his head to look at you, eyebrow raised. Suddenly, making requests about his appearance has much more significance than it did a moment ago.

“Yes,” you answer timidly.

“Then I’ll grow it out.” It's the most tense airplane ride of your life. You’re trying to monitor how hard Damiano’s crashing, while realizing you have no actual experience with cocaine or withdrawals. What do you look for and how do you look for it without him noticing? One fact is abundantly clear, whether you catch his symptoms or not, there isn’t jack shit you can do about them. 

Soon after the plane has leveled out, he gets jumpy. A cough or the ding of the seatbelt light spook Dami so severely that he has to catch his breath. He starts craning  his neck, looking around at the rest of the plane. Eventually he leans all the way out into the aisle then snaps upright, gluing his back to the seat like he’d been caught doing something illegal.

“What is it?” you whisper.

“I feel like people are filming me.”

“Lets trade seats.” While switching places, you scan the plane for phones. Everyone in first class is laying down except for one woman reading an article on her computer. There's an opaque, closed curtain between first class and business class. The pattern is gaudy, mustard yellow and cobalt blue. Realistically, the only people that could film Dami were those walking up the currently empty aisle or fatigued stewardesses who would be fired for the transgression.

“No one's filming, you’re good. They’re mostly sleeping.” A bored flight attendant infers your concern and hangs a temporary privacy curtain on two small hooks. Damiano orders a mini charcuterie board and two shots of whiskey.

“They’re still filming me,” he hisses, slouching down in his chair. The plane is dark, so you search for the bright light of a camera flash and see nothing.

“Dam, I’m positive no one is filming. If they were, they couldn’t catch anything.” The flight attendant returns with his order and a payment terminal.

“Oh, and two bottles of water please.” You reach down for your purse, but Dami bats your hands away.

“I –”

“No. Do you want anything else?”

“I’m good.” He gives you a dirty look. “I ate your dinner on the drive to the airport.” Dami lets this slide and passes her his debit card. Already knowing that the beep is gonna make him jump, you take your hand in his and whisper, “gonna be a noise. Deep breath.” Dami keeps hold of your hand, even as the stewardess passes his card back, even as he puts it back in his wallet, even as he shoves his wallet into the pocket of his hoodie. Then he leans over and presses his forehead to your temple and all you can think is thank god he’ll be in a secure facility. Because nothing short of that could keep you from throwing your morals to the wind and rechristening your once shared bed.

“It was Aimee, the girl who’s roommate I started – I first did H with.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

“But I broke my promise,” his voice wavers, barely audible. “At first it was celebrating the new contract, but then I couldn’t stop. I thought I wouldn’t need any of it, once SME let up. Like I’d forced their hand and the drugs had just been a tool to get my way. I wasn’t an addict.” You push the armrest up, undo your seatbelt, and turn to hug him. “My quality of life is better, but I still needed all this shit to alter my perception so I could exist. In my mind it was strictly a causal relationship. That was fucking delusional.”

“No it wasn’t.” Damiano cries against the shoulder of your sweater and you rub his back.

“I’m so fucking scared,’ he confesses. “I thought I had control so it was like the floor disappearing out from under me. Months of rationalizations built on a lie and I was just falling and it still feels like I’m falling.”

“I’ve got you.”

“That fucking feeling is the reason I don’t go on rollercoasters and now I get to feel it all the time, how painfully ironic is that?”

“Fate has a really twisted sense of irony.”

“The world is punishing me and I deserve it.” You pull back and cup Dami’s colorless face in your hands.

“No you don’t,” you emphasize, brushing tears away with your thumbs. “Thinking you deserve pain, that's the reason it's so hard for you to quit, because you can’t bear to be alone with yourself. I love being alone with you. Dami, you are a beautiful person.” He kisses you, and really you shouldn’t have expected anything else. The responsible thing would be to pull away and gently reestablish a boundary, but you’ve been craving this so hard. Five seconds, that’s the amount of time you allow.

In those five seconds, you kiss back with equal vigor. The hands cupping Damiano’s face end up extended behind his head. With elbows out of the way, you can press your torso against his while Dami pulls you close, then closer still. His tongue has just found yours when times up. Unfortunately, you don’t have the discipline to wrench yourself away and instead pull back slowly. Damiano responds by trying to haul you into his lap, but you make a noise of dissent. There's a chaste goodbye kiss and a sexually-charged disentangling of bodies. 

“Sorry.”

“No, no, it's uh…” Not out of my system by any measurement.

“It’s just that, um –”

“Mhm”

“Sorry, what?”

“Oh, no sorry I didn’t –”

“No, you go first.”

“Saying anything.”

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything, sorry.”

“Oh..okay.”

“What were you saying?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like a second ago, you were saying something before I interrupted you.”

“Oh, I was just gonna say that…five months – well, it's almost been five months – is a lot of time.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Yeah…since the breakup.”

“Since we last made lo – the breakup. Since we made the break up.”

“Also since we last made love,” you smirk. You hold eye contact, just like you’ve been all day, but this time there's heat behind it. Damiano’s eyes fall to your lips and he leans in again. You hold up a hand to stop him while grimacing. 

“I’m sorry, this is my fault. I’ve been giving you mixed signals, acting like we’re still in a relationship physicality-wise while saying we have to keep our distance for now. I’m just so used to comforting you through touch and I have no idea where the line is to be honest.”

“Sometimes touch is the only thing that is comforting, especially yours.”

“I’m just a physically affectionate person, like I need human contact to feel grounded.”

“I know,” he empathizes emotionally.

“So I’m not good at this,” you admit. “But I wanna be, it’s just…” you sigh while staring at the 80s patterned carpet.

“What?”

“I think if we’re physical my body will forget that we’re broken up. My mind will know, but I think I’ll still feel heartbroken if you aren’t there.”

“Baby, no,” he coos.

“I can’t go through it again and still be the support you need me to be and that I want to be. The affection…for lack of a better word, withdrawals were…rough. But I don’t want to act like strangers either. Like this,” you lace your fingers together, “should be fine, right?”

“Yeah,” Damiano murmurs, but his eyes say so much more.

“So I just have to do my best to keep it at this.” You squeeze down simultaneously, all too easily falling into rhythm with each other. “And ignore the part of my brain that tells me to crawl into your lap, take off all my clothes, and give you a bath with my tongue.” Damiano’s eyes go wide and he blinks a couple times in quick succession. 

“Sorry, that was a little graphic.”

“Actually I’m mentally bookmarking that image for tomorrow afternoon.”

“That's when things will get ugly?” 

“Oh, yeah. I’ve never detoxed from H before, but they have medication to help with that.” He’s visibly nervous and sweating. Damiano opens the shot with one hand and his teeth, then knocks it back. You set a bottle of water on his tray in response. He drinks a quarter of that, which you're feeling good about until he takes the second shot.

“Eat something or you’ll make yourself sick.”

“I know,” he retorts, annoyed. To be fair, Damiano does know a lot more about substances and how they combine than you do. As he’s eating, Dami looks at the row behind us through the crack between the seats. Finally, you recognize it as paranoia.

“I’ll check for phones again, you just keep eating.” The woman on her computer is now working on a spreadsheet and the person directly behind Damiano is watching Casablanca on his phone. Definitely not the Maneskin demographic. Beyond first class, even more passengers are dozing and there's not a single flash from a phone camera. 

“Still no one.” The guy behind us is watching a movie in black and white, so I seriously doubt he knows who you are.” 

“Fine,” Dami concedes, still on edge. He orders two more shots and you haven’t seen him consume alcohol like this since he was a teenager. Sure, he’d have four drinks at an egregiously long event, but shots of crappy whiskey in quick succession was a different behavior entirely. He unclasps his hand and excuses himself to the bathroom. It’s so casual that you can’t ascertain why. When Damiano returns, he doesn’t take your hand again, so you pretend to be on your phone.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m all good.” If you weren’t broken up, you’d fling your legs over his lap and coax him to look at you. If you weren’t broken up, he’d stroke your hair and tuck it behind your ears. Then he’d massage the shell of your ear. If you weren’t broken up, you’d press your foreheads together and Dami would say everything he meant with his expression. Totally vulnerable, he’d confess his thoughts in a whisper, wrapping an arm around your waist. If you weren’t broken up, you’d know details he’d never disclose to anyone else. The emotional intimacy would throb with the beat of your heart. You’d become so accustomed to having your person, and the total vulnerability which accompanied that.  

But you were broken up, so you sat in silence. By the time the place descends, Dami is visibly uncomfortable in his own skin. He has no patience, glowering at the passengers around him. At first the lights coming on is the problem, then the ding of the seatbelt warning, then the way the pilot is descending.

“I need to be off this motherfucking plane,” he hisses. He yanks down the privacy curtain then complains how exposed first class is. You just listen to him and don’t comment. Luckily, the flight attendant allows the both of you off first. This time you carry your own bag until that pisses Dami off too and he lugs it over his shoulder with a scowl.

“I’m gonna take a piss,” he announces, when you arrive at baggage claim. You grab his hand and point to the family bathroom.

“Use that.”

“Why?” he bites. “Why can’t I use a normal fucking bathroom.” You scowl right back.

“Because I’m not a fucking idiot. Because you could ask someone for drugs, or sneak away, or refuse to get in the car. I am far too tired to deal with that shit.” He rolls his eyes, sighs loudly, and heeds your request. Five years of dealing with his mood swings had prepared you for this like none other.

The chauffeur finds you, then finds Dami’s bag, all while he’s still in the bathroom. Had he somehow gotten his hands on something? You’d been with him the whole time. After ten minutes you knock on the door.

“You alive?” He undoes the lock and you slip inside. Dami is bent over the sink with his face in his hands.

“I’m not gonna survive the drive there.” He takes a shaky breath in and sobs. “And I can’t detox from both simultaneously, so don’t fucking asking me to. I want to go home!” 

 “Damiano, in five months you have been hospitalized four times for your substance abuse. You’ve been in a coma. You’ve started taking two of the hardest drugs known to man. You’ve been one modicum of self-control away from doing crack. You’ve poisoned your body to the point that it can’t retain food or liquids. You are going to die.” He looks up in shock. “You are going to die unless you get sober and if I take you home with me, you are gonna do it in our apartment.” There's a long silence where Damiano opens and closes his mouth a couple times, then swallows hard.

“I’ve never experienced physical withdrawal symptoms like I’m about to. I’m…I’m not – I mean, I can’t.”

“You only have to do it once and this is the easiest it's ever gonna be. I know you’re brave enough.”

“You know fuck all!” he lashes out. “It’s not about bravery or some positive affirmation bullshit.”

“You’re right. I don’t understand and I know you hate me right now.”

“I don’t hate you,” he grumbles, standing upright. 

“What you’re feeling is a result of withdrawals. That doesn’t invalidate your emotions, it just means that this particular brand of shitty is very temporary.” Damiano nods and washes his face, beginning to regulate. “That also means that your perception is skewed. The world isn’t nearly as horrible as your brain chemistry is fooling you into believing.

“Okay,” he sniffs. Then he repeats himself with certainty. “Okay. I’m gonna do this. I’ll be okay.” On the walk to the car you trail behind him again, prepared to catch Damiano if he makes a run for it. Once everything is in the Sudan you relax, but Dami has his hands balled into fists as you turn out of the airport.

“Just 40 minutes” you remind him. “Less since there's no traffic right now.” 

“Partition, please,” Dami requests, creating privacy behind the tinted windows. Barely perceptible is the sound of a small motor as the driver rolls up the partition between himself and the backseat.

“You wanna lay down with your head on my lap?” He nods and undoes the seatbelt, curling his body to fit in the small space. As soon as your hand makes contact, Dami begins crying. For the first time in a long time, he allows himself to be exposed, to be truly seen. It's the part of him that used to ask for French braids. He’d never actually wear them in public, but loved the sensation. It was the part of him  that got genuinely nervous about you enjoying a family recipe. The part that could relax and receive when you fingered him with two digits.The part that lay with Princess on his bare chest because he liked the way her fur felt.

“I don’t want to be alone with myself,” Dami confesses. “I can’t remember the last time I liked that person. Fuck, I’m starting to hate my own stage persona.”

“Front men are supposed to be obnoxious to non-fans. If you were likable to the previous generation of rock listeners, you wouldn’t be rock and roll.” 

“Maybe I’m a shitty musician.”

“Someone could justify that statement about most rockstars.” 

“Every tour, every album, every new fucking setlist, I watch the power trio get more talented and I just say the same.”

“That’s objectively not true, but I know I can’t convince you of that today.”

“I should take vocal lessons.”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” Suddenly he’s abrasive.

“Because it will make you feel more productive and more confident. It could also help the longevity of your voice.”

“Oh.” He settles and allows you to stroke his head. “Why is it so quiet?” he gripes.

“Could you roll down the partition and hand me the aux, please?” Leaning over to dig your phone out of your purse also results in Dami getting a face full of your boobs. He seems to be in better spirits afterwards.

“This band is called Snowy Dunes. It’s bluesy hard rock, I think you’ll really like it.”

‘“That's not what I’ve been listening to lately, but sure.”

“Crotchety old man.” Damiano does, in fact, keep his head on your lap the whole way there. There’s two fences, the first with an attendant and the second with an intercom. The security level seems to pacify Dami.

“Just stay in the car, please. I’ll get it,” he says to the valet. You hop out as he pulls his suitcase from the trunk. It’s the very beginning of dawn, when the world is painted in a deep blue light and the birds start to chirp. The facility is just as beautiful as you expected, well manicured trees barely visible and a grand entrance with double doors. The care idles, red taillights ominously hitting the octagon cement tiles. You take Dami’s hand and walk him inside.

“And I thought the other places I’ve been to were nice,” he murmurs.

“Remember that you put yourself on the waiting list three months ago.” He chuckles, before speaking on another intercom.Theres a clicking sound and the left door opens automatically.

“Hey there, we only keep this entrance locked at night,” is the first thing a staff member says. “Are you Damiano?”

“Uh, yeah.” He looks at you, almost overwhelmed with the urge to run.

“I’m y/n, I spoke with you earlier.” You drag him inside and use your free hand to greet someone in a white uniform.

“A little apprehension is normal. Or a lot.”

“Where’s your bathroom?” he asks curtly. 

“Right through here,” responds who you now assume to be an orderly. He leads Dami around a corner and follows him inside.

“Hi there, would you mind if I ask you a couple questions?” A newly appeared nurse seats herself behind a counter on the other side of the hall. The lights were almost as low inside as they were outside.

“Oh, uh yeah! Sorry, I didn’t see you there. And uh, he doesn’t have anything on him. We just traveled through two of the biggest airports in Europe. His stomach has just been upset from y’know…”

“Right, of course,” she responds with genuine sympathy. Now you feel better about leaving him here. “I’ll say goodbye and get out of your hair as soon as he’s back.”

“What's your relationship to Damiano?”

“Well, I was his girlfriend for five and a half years.”

“Woah, five years is a lot in your early twenties.”

“Yeah…but we broke up, because of the…addiction issues. Plus the fame makes things…it makes them complicated.” What you really meant is that global popularity is so intrusive that vital aspects of a relationship go unattended because there's simply no room. She nods like this is something they see daily.

“Do you know what he’s taken in the past 24 hours?”

“Cocaine, uh alcohol, and maybe heroin, I don’t know. He smokes weed and rolled tobacco, plus normal cigarettes.” There's not an ounce of surprise or judgment. She enters the information into the computer like it's the weather report.

“Crack cocaine?”

“No.”

“Okay.” The clicks of the laptop seem loud, but maybe that's because the world around you is so silent.

“He only started using heroin regularly three weeks ago. I don’t know if that matters.” You feel defensive of Dami, then like an dumbass because you were standing in rehab for fuck’s sake. Anxious, you look over your shoulder.

“Do you know when the last time he used heroin was?”

“No.”

“Do you know how he’s ingesting it?”

“No.”

“And do you know what type of heroin he’s using?”

“Um, no. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” she reassures. “We’re just happy to have a little extra information if you’re able to provide it. Do you know when he last ingested cocaine?”

“Four hours ago.”

“Alright. Do you have payment information? It looks like his intake fee has already been paid.”

“Yeah, that was me.” While you were dating, Damiano paid rent and you paid utilities. It was far from equatable, but you made a lot less and he insisted. Post breakup, you found out that a spacious apartment in Rome with private parking was even more exorbitantly priced than he’d led you to believe. So you’d called your landlord to clarify a move out date and were informed that in addition to taking himself off the lease as agreed, he’d paid out the two year contract in its entirety. If you were to move out, the remainder of the money would be yours. 

Subsequently, you decided to stay in that absolutely gorgeous apartment, right up until you needed the money for something. After thoroughly guilt tripping your landlord, he gave you half of the remaining lease payment, which you used for application fees and to eventually secure a spot at rehab for Dami. It was, after all, a totally ridiculous amount for him to essentially give you, with no way of rejecting or returning it.

“I’m not sure if his label is gonna pay directly or reimburse him or what.”

“Alright, so I’ll just collect that information later.” She looks up from her computer screen. “The important thing is that you got him here.” You bite the inside of your lip to suppress the urge to cry. No doubt you were gonna end up lying in a pool of your own tears and snot later today, but if you started now saying goodbye would be very ugly.

“How much pain is he gonna be in?” Before she can answer, there's two sets of footsteps behind you.

“No windows?”

“Not ones that I could reach.”

“If you were the proper height for a basketball player…”

“Oh, shut up,” he jokes (mostly). “So which one of you is gonna tear apart all my belongings like a racoon in a dumpster?”

“Damiano!” You’re laughing too hard to reprimand him, as are the two staff members.

“They’re gonna throw out my 70€ shampoo!”

“You don’t have hair!”

“That’s true,” he smiles, rubbing his buzz cut. This was so like him, rallying at the end so you could leave in good spirits. He was trying to spare you some anguish. It also meant he’d decided to commit.

“We actually have storage lockers for this very reason. Once we feel confident, you can have your shampoo back,” reassures the nurse. “Do you have a form of ID you can show me?”

“Uh, yeah.” His voice wavers ever so slightly. Next he signs a release to provide treatment.

“Looks like you’re all checked in,” she announces in a cheery voice. It's your cue to leave. Both staff members find a reason to look away so you have a moment of semi-privacy. It becomes apparent that your tears won’t wait for a more convenient moment. So you hug him to give yourself a tiny bit of grace to wrangle your emotions. 

“Are you crying?”

“Yes.” The hug isn’t platonic at all, with your arms thrown around his neck and his dangerously low on your back. Body to body, standing with your feet between Dami’s, any closeness that can be acceptably achieved in public has been.

“I’m so angry with the world that you have to deal with this and I’m –” You take a steadying deep breath. “I’m so fucking proud of you and for facing it an – and grateful.”

“Even though it scares me shitless?”

“Especially because it scares you shitless.”

“I love you.” He whispers it right in your ear and kisses your temple

“I love you, too,” you hiccup.

“Give Princess a kiss for me.” He pulls away, takes a step back, then another, and he’s gone without ever meeting your eyes. Seeing as they have actual patients to care for, you drag yourself back to the SUV. Then you cry so hard that the chauffeur stops at his brother’s gelato shop on the way home. 

Notes: Well if it isn't some more nice, light reading from your gal FilthforFriends!

@surelyfreedombound @shinshans @lonnybunnys @davianos-blog @hauntedpostpersona @lizzylynch1 @kammerstx @harryssshouseee @slavicgoddess13 @persona1read1ng @katyldamusic @whore4damia @the-chaotic-cow @icarodamiano @gr8rainbowpunk @elvirabelle @bright-shiningstar @maneslut @stardustingold @little-moonbeam-666 @que--sera--sera @ami--gami

#maneskin #måneskin #damiano david #må #damiano #damiano maneskin #maneskin damiano #damiano david x reader #damiano david fanfiction #damiano david imagine #damiano david x y/n #damiano david x you #cw: addiction #angsty af

[gatorbites-imagines]

sup i got some request for moonknight shower sex with Marc Spector :) the reader noticed how tense marc is and decided to help him out

Marc Spector x Male reader

Headcanons

Marc Spector my beloved

I’m still new to writing smut, so if its awkward that’s why lmao

 Nsfw under the cut

-          You could tell the moment Marc walked in through the door that the mission he went on didn’t go to plan, from the tense lines in his body to the tightened clench of his jaw and the furrow of his brow.

-          You get up from your seat on the couch and meet him in the middle, wrapping your arms around him as he squeezes you back, burying his face into your neck with a rough exhale. Marc inhaled your smell, his pounding headache seeming to lessen just by being in your presence.

-          Marc pulled back, saying he was gonna go shower since he was sweaty and covered in what you could only assume was other people’s blood.

-          He was still tense and annoyed as he grabbed clean clothes from your shared bedroom before going into the bathroom. You could hear him crank the water up high and the opening and closing of cupboards.

-          You bit your lip as the thought of joining him passed your mind. What was there to lose, plus, Marc tended to love it when you did.

-          You open up the bathroom door, which had been left unlocked, and started undressing. When Marc asked what you were doing, you told him it felt like he needed company.

-          The clothes was quickly thrown into the hamper, and you stepped into the shower, hissing quietly at the scalding water when it met your skin. You turned on the knobs to change the temperature, making a comment about how it was bad for your skin, which got you a few grumbles from Marc.

-          You leant in and pressed a kiss to Marcs lips, which he gave a small hum at before leaning down to kiss at your neck a few times, scraping his teeth against your skin which got a huffed chuckle out of you.

-          Grabbing the loofah hanging on the wall, you pulled back from Marc to wet it and grab your soap of choice. “Turn around, would ya?” you asked Marc, who just gave you a look before doing as you asked.

-          You start cleaning his back and shoulders, using one hand to scrub with the loofah, and the other to run up and down his side, giving a faint squeeze as you could feel the tense muscles as you reach his shoulders.

-          Marc groans softly as you squeeze at his tired muscles, leaning his head back as he shuts his eyes and takes in your touch. You lean in to kiss his neck, dropping the loofah on the floor in the process.

-          You wind your arms around his waist, sliding up close behind him so your chest to back. This makes Marc wind an arm back to wrap around your neck as if to pull you even closer.

-          You run your soapy hands up and down his stomach, splaying a hand across his lower abdomen where his cock is twitching, half hard.

-          You murmur compliments against his neck, nipping at his skin as you tease him, hands just barely out of reach of where he wants you the most.

-          Marc grabs at your hip with his other hand, as if to pull you closer to him as he grinds back against you. You groan and wrap a hand around him, which makes him moan softly, Marc moving his head and opening his eyes to look down at your hands.

-          You kiss at his shoulder as you start moving your hand, twisting your wrist in the way you know he loves. Marc groans loudly as you squeeze just right, causing his hips to buck forward.

-          You can feel your own cock twitch against his ass as he grinds back against you, Marc letting go of your neck to grab at one of your wrists.

-          “Cmon baby, just enjoy it” you purr, giving Marcs cock another pull which draws a shaky breath out of your tense boyfriend.

-          Precum gathers at the tip of his cock as Marc starts to feel the need to cum start to build, making him clench his eyes shut, trying to push it down since he didn’t want it to end so quickly.

-          Marc gasps as you speed up your hand and sink your teeth into him, leaving a mark which he knew would be there tomorrow. He moans as his peak keeps approaching, his hands grabbing at you as you grind against his back even more.

-          He lets go of your wrist to reach back and wrap a hand around your cock, causing you to gasp out a noise that sounds like you were punched in the chest.

-          You start moving your hand even faster as you can tell hes getting close from the noises he makes and the way his hips buck and twitch.

-          “Cum for me baby, please. There’s nothing more I want” you hum, your own hips twitching into his grip. Marc moans as he feels himself cum, eyes ripping open as he watches streaks of white hit the wall Infront of him, you pulling at his cock to draw out every single drop.

-          Marc gives a few jolts as the overstimulation starts to run through him, making you finally release him. His hand which is still holding your cock tightening and loosening as he was trying to calm down again.

-          Marc turns his head to look at you, and you lean in to kiss him. This kiss is deeper than the one you had earlier, and he doesn’t deny you entry when you push your tongue into his mouth.

-          He seems to realize that he’s still holding you as he starts to move his hand, groaning softly as you moan into his mouth.

-          You had already been teetering on the edge when he started moving, so it doesn’t take long for you to finish, your cum hitting his ass and back. You clutch him close, the two of you kissing for a few long moments before disconnecting from each other.

-          “Guess we gotta clean you again huh” you giggle, reaching down to pick up the discarded loofah as Marc gives you an unamused look.

-          The two of you share another short kiss before you start cleaning his now dirty back, smiling to yourself as you feel how his formerly tense muscles are now relaxed.

#male reader #moon knight #marc spector #marc spector imagine #marc spector headcanon #marc spector x male reader #moon knight imagine #moon knight headcanon #moon knight x male reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel headcanon #marvel x male reader

[habken]

oh my gosh fellow animation student !! I love learning about other people's art school experience, if you'd be willing to share? I think the diversity of assignments and teaching styles and focuses is cool 🩷 love your art as well !!

Yeah I can share a bit ! I’ve really enjoyed the program so far, I think I’ve learned a lot and I’ve gotten the chance to use programs I wouldn’t have access to usually!

First semester I had 9 classes (I’m counting story lab + lecture as two separate ones) and it was honestly pretty difficult to keep up with the workload, especially because I was still finishing up zine work. I had so many assignments, there were many weeks I’d have something due everyday, sometimes multiple things in the same day, so time management was a big struggle and I ended up having to sacrifice the amount of drawing I did for fun and for socmed </3 I think that was the biggest bummer cause it meant I lost both what helped me relieve stress and something that made me happy :/

While the work was intense and time consuming, I really did enjoy what I was making for each class. My favourite classes were character design, storyboarding, and animation. I felt like they were the ones I did best in and I realized loved my animation teacher her classes were really fun and I laughed a lot lol. I also really enjoyed my life drawing class, I have a lot of respect for my teacher, he marked harshly but I learned so much under him and my life drawing skills have improved a lot since september. He also collects bones and brought them in and it was super cool. He told us all the stories of were he’d picked them up, like asking farmers or finding roadkill and cleaning them.

Overall in each class, I really appreciated the critique I’ve gotten and I feel like I’ve really improved! I actually dropped out of art school before and one of the main reasons was because I felt like I wasn’t really getting anything out of the program. My stuff was nowhere near perfect but I was one of the better students so teachers used my stuff as an example rather than see me as a student that also was there to learn. I hated that so I left, and I’m really happy I don’t feel that way in the program I’m in now!

What I will say though is one of the hardest lessons to learn is that you can’t go 100% on every single thing, it’s just straight up impossible unless you don’t take care of yourself and get no sleep. It sucks because you want to do your best and be amazing at everything, but an assignment that’s half assed is better than handing in nothing at all and also better than permanently hurting yourself because you push through the pain and don’t allow yourself any rest.

One of the things that sucked the most assignment wise was my bone portfolio for life drawing, I had so much planned out and I really wanted to do amazing, but I had to cut a lot out to get it done on time, and so the finished project was lacking a lot. I got a decent mark for it, but personally I know it could’ve been so much better, and I just have to live with the sacrifice I made so I could get all my work done on time lol

I don’t want to share too much more about the assignments I did, but I was really proud of my work in my character design class and also my last storyboard assignment, where we took part of a script and made new boards based on it. I got a lot of compliments from the teacher about my attention to detail with subtle and human actions. I’m happy cause that’s the kind of stuff I love portraying and love seeing in films haha.

One other thing is I was so close to failing layout, the last two assignments I left until the very end and almost didn’t get them in one time before teacher’s grades were due, and without them I would’ve failed the class. As it stands, I got over a 90 average so the two assignments made a big difference lmao.

Sorry this was so long lol

#ask

[theartfulv]

The Making Of My Lockwood & Co. Animatic!

Some people wanted to know about the process on Discord (and I’ve said most of this on there though I think this will be a little more coherent) but I thought maybe the lovely folks on here might be interested too!

This will probably be quite long so bare with (it was over a month of my life 😂)

maybe I’ll be cool and split this into sections

The Beginning/ Scripting Phase

Originally I’d planned for it to focus solely on George and the bone glass, so all of The Whispering Skull, and scripted as such.

(If you want to see the first rendition let me know I’ve still got it all saved 👀)

Generally when I approach lyric based projects I copy down the lyrics, separate them into sections and then write a description of what I want to happen on each line with camera angles and any general cinematography or editing notes.

(I will say though I’ve switched to writing on top of my music file so I can describe everything to the beat and see the timing of each sequence)

So after planning it all out, collecting screenshot references, making numerous Pinterest boards and the thumbnail… I scrapped it.

Peak planning on my end. 🫠 So I scripted the second rendition which was a total of…

Yeah…. That’s it. That is all I scripted and just made sequences up as I went along! Though I did take heavy reference from my original script for the bone glass sequence.

As you can see it was to a completely different section of the song and some of it differs from the final, i.e I didn’t end up using a canted angle in this sequence or any shallow focus.

The Boarding Process

Again I made up sequences as I went! So I started with the beginning for once?! Drawing in Sketchbook Pro and editing the frames together using HitFilm.

(FLASH WARNING)

I planned it so I’d spend half of my time on rough boarding and the other half on finalising it, so 8 seconds per day, which is a lot of work and can range from anywhere between 2hrs and 8hrs… commitment 💪

I did the majority of it during my Christmas break but other than that I just worked on it whenever I wasn’t at college.

So this is what all of my original boards looked like!

Anyway! Onto the first dilemma… The Bone Glass.

After boarding about 20 seconds of the start and one Combe Carey frame (the outside of the hall) I decided to work on the Bone Glass section, originally I’d planned for all the 7 spirits the fly into the frame and merge together to create the bone glass that didn’t happen… but I was inspired by kaleidoscopes and thought that’d be cool too. So I attempted to create that sequence and it was so stressful 😂

Somehow I miraculously figured out how to spin all the different layers in different directions and then inverted each one every second alternating! Then I had to export the file and put it into my actual Animatic which HitFilm did not like at all…

Eventually I managed to export it and that allowed me to zoom out/cut outwards whilst the sections were moving and inverting and then I created the second section with the spiral which HitFilm also did not appreciate so I had to make the file much smaller but I think it worked out anyway!

Then I continued to work out of order…

I did parts of Combe Carey (which is actually quite different from the final version) and then got to work on my favourite sequence!

(Or rest of the sequence) George’s section/ The Bone Glass, and just had this image mixing the original papers taped up in his room with a suspect board, I had visions of Roxanne in Megamind working out Megamind’s next plan/ superhero Titan and the intro of A Series of Unfortunate Events.

I think I’m always very heavily influenced by other media and material and thought it’d be a fun nod to some of my previous hyperfixations.

And I think this is when my plan of ‘do the rough half first then the final half later’ failed… because I finalised all of these frames before even finishing the rest of the roughs 😭

At this point it was about the 27th December and I had about a minute of footage.

After that I realised that I actually had total creative freedom and that’s when I did the first half of the Combe Carey sequence with Annabel’s shadow and the Red Room door!

This then led me to take much more liberty with the rest of the animatic including Annabel hovering over Lucy, The Spiral Section of The Screaming Staircase and The Monks!

Throughout this project I studied so many different pieces of concept art and different storyboards, beats and random animatics to gain insight and inspiration which led me to create a new Pinterest board!!! 🥳

Then…

Disaster struck (except it didn’t but it felt like it)

My PC decided to stop working… then… My GPU broke!?!

Yeah… so no drawing for me!

Oh and all of my files turned blue!!!

Somehow I managed to transfer all of my files onto another family member’s PC who thankfully let me draw on it for the foreseeable/ until it was done (absolute legend) but I’d still lost 3 days working time… which at this point was the equivalent of 24 seconds… and it was not looking good for me and the deadline.

In my head I just had to finish it for the anniversary of the show.

But life went on and so did my college work aka. I had exam week… yeah did I revise for it… (the answer is very little but I actually was only 2 marks of an A so I think that I was pretty iconic) and I also planned all of my coursework (due on the 29th… yikes). But I did it!!!

Then I had a power cut…

But it was okay!!! And I finished it (had to do 14 seconds worth of work on the day of but I finished it!!)! There were a lot of sequences that I’d had to cut or shorten which I’m not too happy about but I finished it!!!

And I guess that’s it really!

As a final thing I thought I’d share a few of my favourite frames :)

That’s All!! If you’d have any questions or thoughts let me know!!!

I LOVE YOU LOCKNATION 😭😭😭

#art #locknation #lockwood and co #fanart #animatic #art process #my brain is melting

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

Mistletoe Mornings

Pairing: Eddie Munson x GN Reader

Summary: Eddie wakes you up for mistletoe kiss. (Part of my Christmas in July Week)

This one is a little shorter cause the one yesterday was really long.

“Babeeeee.” You heard Eddie coo, feeling the weight of him settle on top of you. You peaked open an eye to see him straddling your lap, clad in his black boxer briefs and one of his hand made crop tops. He had cut the sleeves and bottom off of an old Ozzy Osbourne T-shirt, creaking little peek a boos for you to see the tattoos that decorated his skin and the soft pudge of his tummy that hung over the waist band of his boxers. Eddie also had what looked like a clump of weeds dangling in his hand.

“What you have there?” You yawned out, moving to sit up against the headboard.

He smirked, dangling the clump of weeds in front of you. “Mistletoe.”

You smiled at him, rolling your eyes. “And where did you get that from?” Eddie crawled further up your body, now laying fully on top of you, he laid his chin on your chest as he stared up at you with his dark eyes. You welcomed him gladly, thankful for the warmth that he provided, arms coming to wrap around his back in a sort of hug. You shivered as his free hand came to caress your side, cold fingers drawing aimless shapes onto your skin. His hands were always cold, something that you found oddly comforting.

“My little flock of sheep gifted it to me as a gag joke.” He admitted, placing a kiss on your clothed chest. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t put it to good use.” He winked, leaning up to dangle it over your head.

“And what makes you think I’ll kiss you just like that.” You wrinkled your nose at him playfully. “You have morning breath I don’t know if I want to subject myself to that.”

He rolled to the side and off of you, clutching his chest in fake pain. “You wound me fair temptress, you truly wound me! How could you be so cruel to your devoted lover.” He peaked an eye open at you, swaying the mistletoe over your head. “The only cure to end my pain is a kiss from you fair temptress.” You laughed as you rolled onto your side to face him, placing a teasing kiss on his cheek. “Hmm lovely but I think I’m still pretty wounded.”

“Is that so?” You mused, kissing the corner of his mouth lightly.

“Very.” He hummed, moving his face to finally capture your lips. It was slow and lazy, his surprisingly soft lips melding with yours perfectly. You felt his leg straddle your hip as he rolled you back onto your back, resuming your previous positions he pulled away after a moment, half lidded eyes starting at you. A smirk perched on his lips. “I think I’m cured. But-“ He leaned back down to kiss you yet again. “You can never be too sure.” Eddie let himself lay back into you, planning to spend the rest of the morning kissing you.

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson stranger things #joseph quinn

[luimagines]

James

Part 8! :D

Masterlist

First Chapter/ Previous Chapter/ Next Chapter

Content under the cut!

“PINKY!”

The lesser fairy shouted loudly. The poor girl had enough of everything. She was trying to still come to grips with the fact that they had messed up as badly as they did in terms of having their “guests”. She was not happy. “WHAT?!”

“We need things!!”

“What kind of things?!”

“Supplies, materials, the like.” The lesser fairy kept shouting.

Twilight saw the poor girl sag before she looked up. Her eyebrow twitched. “Very helpful.”

“Um-” Twilight spoke up.

She turned to him, with a mildly nasty look. Twilight couldn’t help but shrink back slightly. She huffed and moved her hair away from face, drawing it back into a tight hold with her hands at the back of her head. “Yes?

Twilight coughed, trying to keep his gaze low. It landed on her legs. No bad. Back up. “I can go with you?”

She didn’t look impressed.

Twilight coughed again, feeling a slight warmth to his cheeks. “Really! I’m a great tracker!”

She stared at him for a moment longer before she groaned and adjusted her hair once more. “Alright. I suppose there’s nothing wrong with it. Let me get the list from the Tweedles and then we can head out.”

Twilight tilted his head. Tweedles? Is that their name?.... What’s a Tweedle? And why are there more than one?

The girl left for a moment, Twilight fell into a moment of weakness as he watched her leave, paying a little more attention to her than he should have. He snapped his head away when he realized what he was doing. He felt so dumb. Why is he like this? Why didn’t he go get the others? Why did he offer to go with her? Alone?

She came back faster than he expected and pocket a small piece of paper in her top. Another thing Twilight felt bad for noticing. “Alright. Let’s get this over-”

She paused and looked him up and down, her annoyance morphed into a sweet concerned face- directed at him. “Hey. You ok? You look sick.”

She walked up to him, putting a soft hand on his cheek and his forehead. She was… smaller than he thought she would be now that she’s this close. He could do something. But what was it? What was his brain telling him to do? It was all action but no direction. What was happening? Man, she is so cute!

“Are you sick?” She asked him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He half wanted her to lower her hand to his arm, then maybe he could flex and then she would feel his muscles. No, that’s dumb. That’s really dumb. What is he thinking?

“I’m fine.” He smiles. “I’m.. umm… I was coughing. It’ll go down.”

She raised an eyebrow, seemingly seeing right through his fib. “Uh-huh… quiet cougher, aren’t cha?”

Twilight clears his throat. “...It was on my own spit…”

He’s an idiot. What’s wrong with him? Twilight scratched the back of his head, smiling as brightly as he could to get out of the grave he’s digging for himself. “It’s fine! Really! Let’s go get that list your friend asked for!”

She shook her head and grabbed her staff. “I hope you’re good at identifying trees and catching animals.”

Twilight’s face dropped. “What?”

“We need three different types of bark and some fur. Apparently that sword the chosen one has isn’t strong enough for what we have planned and we need to fortify it before the end of the month.”

Twilight tried to keep up, she was no longer waiting for him. “Why? The Master Sword is capable of a lot of things. It even dispels dark magic.”

“While true, we also need it to close the rifts in the space-time continuum. That being said, they’re still being made faster than we can take out. So! We better make this quick. Then the Lesser One can fix up the sword and the fairy can get off of our backs for a little bit since the plan would be in motion faster than we anticipated.”

Twilight manages to catch up to her and match her stride in an instant… Was she always a fast walker? He’s having to actually need to put effort into keeping up with her.

She walks through the hideout with startling confidence before she moves through some boxes, disappearing for a moment. Two seconds pass before her arm shows up again and Twilight is pulled through. He ends up in the middle of a forest, but he’s disoriented and lost. He doesn’t know where he is.

He’s spinning on his feet, making it worse as he tries to figure out where both of them are. “Where are- How did-”

“You can thank the Lesser One for that.” She says proudly. “It didn’t take them too long to figure out how to get through Hyrule through portals instead of going from dimension to dimension. This way. Bark number one should grow on the west side if I remember correctly.” 

Twilight follows blindly. He’s thoroughly impressed. And it wasn’t even her doing.

“How long do you think this would take us?” He asks her quietly, following her as she leads the way.

“Why?” She looks at him softly. Twilight finds his heart reaching out to the look. “Are you worried about your friends? They should be fine. The Lesser One likes your friend- Sky- Right? And the fairy seems to fly circles around Mr. Traveler. They’ll be taken care of. We don't have them to hurt them.”

“I know.”

“You know?” She turned to him shocked. “...How? I thought that-”

“I’ve been around earlier, remember? As Wolfie?” Twilight adds sheepishly. “I saw most of everything.”

Now it’s her turn to blush and Twilight is taken aback about how it blends into her hair. She covers her face with her hand. “....I forgot about how I treated you for a minute.”

Twilight grins like a doofus. “I didn’t~!”

She sends him a defeated look. “You should.”

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x oc #lu twilight

[purity-town]

No update today -- next chapter's cover has had a good chunk of progress made on it, but I'm too busy tomorrow to get it finished up to post at a reasonable time. (This works out well anyhow, as I'll be moving back down for college next week, so if the current page wasn't partially finished already I may have not had the time to complete an update.) In the meantime, finally getting around to posting ask responses (below the cut)!

I'm really glad to hear you're liking it! Life's been a little crazy lately, so updates have been more scattered than I'd like, but I'm still thoroughly enjoying making this comic, so I'm you're enjoying reading it!

Looking at the timestamps, the first page was released on December 12th, 2020. So we’re just past 2 and a half years now!

The actual “development” of the story technically goes a bit further back to the time around the 1.4 update release, as I was getting really into the game lore and wrote up some worldbuilding ideas. Then in late November of 2020 I started planning a fanfic based on that, did a short 2-page comic set in that AU for fun, and then ended up expanding that original fanfic into the current, longer comic!

I’m gonna tentatively say yes! At least, one per Andrew and the Clothier each. There wouldn’t really have been a reason to make more than one of Andrew. There technically could’ve been more made of the Clothier, but one was all that was really needed.

Fortunately this current set of backgrounds outside of the dungeon is relatively simple, as I reuse the base coloring for the columns and adjust the perspective/lighting as necessary (each column is actually two pieces -- one “flat” side and one “angled” side).

I have a pretty limited capacity for doing backgrounds, so I tend to use tricks like this to reuse them where I can, haha. The first few backgrounds for an area tend to be harder, as I need to make assets and figure out how I want lighting and so on to work, but from there it usually gets easier.

It's still dependent on the background's design, of course -- backgrounds that are painted (usually outdoors) are a much different experience to work with than areas with detailed lineart and textured surfaces, such as the tavern and Andrew's kitchen. I'm slowly getting used to the perspective tools in Clip Studio Paint, though, which is helping a lot with drawing indoor spaces!

In all honesty, I was mostly focused on making it immediately recognizable even in silhouette, and that it fit well on the page, rather than focusing on making it perfectly to scale or the likes, haha.

Design-wise I find the Wall of Flesh to be super interesting -- it visually ties the “first” boss of progression (EoC) in with the last boss (Moonlord). And it’s overall very jarring, in that it’s easy to accidentally summon and turns the Underworld into an inescapable auto scroller in a way none of the other bosses do. And of course the story/lore significance, etc. etc. etc.

So when the time comes, I hope I can do it justice!

Honestly, I’m not sure! I still haven’t totally decided how that whole sequence of events will go -- some parts of it are very clearly planned out, others not so much. In a general sense, I do think that Chris’ reaction could vary significantly with the circumstances -- how much of a shock it is, and if he understands the significance of it -- but generally wouldn’t be good, in a horrified/panicking sense. 

At the current point in the comic, Chris *does* have a general idea that something weird is up with Andrew, just based on what Heather/Malik/Becca were saying (including Heather’s mention of “burns”), plus Andrew leaving in a hurry that morning and brushing it off when asked about it. He doesn’t believe that Andrew is evil, of course, just that he’s dealing with some things, and Chris is appropriately concerned.

So- yeah, finding a doll of Andrew in the Underworld- honestly, there are a lot of ways for him to take it badly.

But hey, once he has the doll, Hardmode won’t be far away, and that’ll bring a whole new host of problems for him to focus on instead!

#purity town #not an update #pt asks