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snek-panini · 2 months

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Today I've got binderary book #3 to share! It's a lighthouse (burning) by books-and-omens. This is a really excellent canonverse (sort of) historical setting liminal ghost story-esque fic that I read practically in one sitting sometime last summer. It's fantastic, well-characterized, angsty and fluffy and fairly plotty and with some really unique worldbuilding. I honestly can't sing its praises enough; it's one of the only times since taking up this hobby that I've known I wanted to bind something before I actually finished reading it.

Have a look at the rest of the photos under the cut; this one came out really well and I'm in love with it.

For this cover we have lineco book cloth on the spine, a strip of chiyogami paper that I got in one one ChibiJay's random paper packs, and blue-gray sketch paper for the primary gray space. It's a little hard to tell in the photos but the HTV for the titles is in two different colors, silver for "a lighthouse" and pewter for "(burning)". The effect is more pronounced in person and I love it. The pewter came in a multi-pack of cricut foil HTV and I can't seem to find it on its own anywhere, which is a shame because it's beautiful. The sort of streaky effect on the cover was unintentional but I'm kinda liking it? It's a more porous paper for drawing or painting or something, and I tried to wax it for waterproofing, but when I used the heat press to get the title on the wax darkened in the spots where the glue was applied to the cover board. At first I was disappointed, but the fic features a really massive unnatural storm, and it sort of looks like water running down a windowpane, so I'm leaning into that and calling it an aesthetic. The back didn't get this heat treatment, so it doesn't have the pattern.

Top view, showing the bookmark and handmade end bands. The bookmark is a navy blue ribbon cut from the inside of a shirt, and I chose red and white because there are so many picturesque lighthouses that have red and white stripes. It's the only color in the book that's not blue or gray. The endpapers are a navy blue silk moire, and I had better luck with them than I did with the platinum ones on my Persuasion bind even though they are the same brand. Maybe it's practice or maybe navy just hides more sins than platinum.

For the title page I went fairly simple (for me anyway) with just a frame I pulled from rawpixel. It suits the story, though, being set sometime around or before the early 20th century. I also played with text colors on the title page, with some words being grayed out to mimic the effect on the cover. The section break is me getting clever with a feature of my printer. I often use a gray line to denote section breaks, but for whatever reason my printer doesn't like them and often makes them blurry. It is only these lines that come out blurry; larger images don't do this even if they are complex. So for this one, where a major feature of the story is trying to figure out what's real and what's a supernatural occurrence, I made one that was deliberately heavier in the center so it would come out sort of smoky or fuzzy, like it wasn't quite real and couldn't be clearly seen. It doesn't look this fuzzy in the unprinted file but I love the effect and I feel very clever for manipulating the printer like this.

I'm going to show off some interior shots but this bit contains spoilers for the story, so if you don't want to see that then maybe skip the rest of the post.

I wanted to get creative with my title placement since a lot of my binds look very similar inside, and this concept really let me try that out. The plot of the story is that the reason there are so many supernatural phenomena at this lighthouse is that someone in the future ran an experiment to harvest energy and accidentally cracked spacetime with it, and bits of the future and the past and the might-have-been are seeping through the cracks, and the longer the cracks exist the more seeps through them and the worse the ghostly stuff gets. At first it's not clear whether there's anything weird happening at all, and it becomes clearer that something is wrong the further in you get because the cracks are worse. So I had this idea for a vintage lighthouse illustration with an overlay of cracks in glass, that become more defined as the story progresses until something is done and they're sealed up in the end. I am not a visual artist and even this straightforward concept was too much for my skills, so I chose the lighthouse and the crack overlay and my amazing husband did the actual image manipulation. There are five different images, with the cracks invisible in the first and final chapter and most visible in chapter 10 and 11, when the characters are trying hardest to fix the problem. I'm really really proud of how well this turned out.

And that's it! I have several more binderary books to post but they are all still waiting for titles before I do the photos, so I don't know when I'll have them up.

#guys i love this book it came out so pretty #though it was a struggle at times #it got trimmed crooked and the gilding had to be scrapped and then the case was too small #so it actually got trimmed like 4 times #totally worth it though i mean look at it #everyone look at the cool thing i made #i'm so proud of it!!#bookbinding #fanbinding #snek makes books #good omens #fic rec

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echo-bleu · 4 months

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shine still brighter (2/?)

Chapter 1 | On AO3. Deaf!Artanis bullet-point fic.

And I'm back with some linguistics! I barely have an idea where I'm going, but writing this AU is a lot of fun.

Three weeks later, Arafinwë brings little Artanis to Fëanáro’s office. She’s immediately entranced by all the shiny gems and strange little contraptions that are everywhere and she tries to touch them, and Arafinwë is terrified that she’ll break something and Fëanáro will explode.

“Let her,” Fëanáro shrugs. “There’s nothing in there that I can’t afford to replace. It’s mostly old prototypes, anyway.”

Right. His twins are a year younger than Artanis. He’s used to little children running around and being curious.

He brandishes a sheet of paper. “This is just a very rough sketch, and sign language is terribly frustrating because you can’t really write it down, but I’ve thought of ways to go beyond the basic mimic gestures and into the symbolic, which is really what you need for a language to express complex thoughts. We can use spatial variation to express basic grammar, such as tenses. A flexible word order can also take us a long way. Using the entire body opens up an incredible number of fascinating options, think of facial expressions alone! A smile or a frown could be used to modulate any statement into a question or an affirmation, or even something else entirely! We could have a specific mood for reporting speech whose origin is doubtful, for example. And the potential for spatial morphology! I really need to talk to some dancers about this, they might have new ideas. Or theatre comedians, maybe. Oh, and I’ve also devised a signed alphabet based on my Tengwar, for direct translation. It won’t be immediately useful, of course, but you’ll be able to teach her to read and write more easily, and it can be used for names and maybe homonym disambiguation.”

Arafinwë has not understood any of that, except that Fëanáro is very excited.

Fëanáro has never been excited at him before.

It’s a very intense experience.

“…can you teach us?” he asks, a little winded.

Fëanáro once spent a decade learning the languages of various wild animals, one after the other, so he could in turn teach them to Tyelkormo. Of course he can teach them.

“It’s not a complete language yet,” he warns. “I can’t make a language for her. She’ll have to make it her own.”

“…okay.”

“I’m calling it Mátengwië.”

‘Language of the hands’. Fair enough.

He goes to sit cross-legged in front of Artanis.

She puts down the shiny brass model of a windmill she was playing with and looks at him.

She doesn’t instantly scream in his ear, which is a good thing, because Arafinwë has clear memories of Fëanáro excusing himself from meals because of the noise he and his siblings were making.

“Hello,” Fëanáro says, deliberately moving his hands into signs. “I’m your uncle and I’m going to teach you some signs.”

Arafinwë’s heart jumps at “uncle” (Fëanáro has never forgotten the “half” before, when he even bothers to acknowledge them as family).

Most likely he hasn’t invented a sign for “half” yet, but that seems like a strange oversight on his part, given his insistence.

Artanis is fascinated.

“We’ll start with simple words.”

Fëanáro is speaking slowly, because he’s not fluent with the signs yet, but he doesn’t baby-talk. Arafinwë isn’t sure what Artanis actually understands of this – she can recognize some words from their lip-shape, but not consistently, and definitely not whole sentences.

The signs don’t seem to look like anything, not like the ones Findaráto made up. Those were all easily understandable in context.

But within a few hours, Artanis and Arafinwë both have a handful of new signs for everyday items and tasks.

Fëanáro uses clever ways of mimicking and pointing to explain them to Artanis, and she seems to catch on immediately.

Then she spends the rest of the lesson pointing at various things around the office for Fëanáro to name.

Artanis’s signs are a bit sloppy and simplified, because she doesn’t have much dexterity yet, and Arafinwë’s are self-conscious (because doing literally anything in front of Fëanáro makes him self-conscious), but they’ve communicated more in one afternoon than they have in the last two years.

And it’s thanks to Fëanáro.

Ñolofinwë is never going to believe it.

And Fëanáro was bearable the whole time.

Scratch that, he was nice. He teased a little, but it was never mean, and never directed at Artanis. And he laughed at his own mistakes just as much.

Arafinwë actually had a good time.

They go back the next afternoon.

And the next.

They get to basic grammar and full sentences.

Artanis is opening up again.

She still gets frustrated a lot, and she’ll slam the door and lock herself in her bedroom whenever that happens, but she retains and uses each sign that Fëanáro shows her.

Arafinwë does his best to keep up.

Findaráto is still not doing too well, but he notices the changes, and after a couple of weeks, he begs for permission to come with them.

Fëanáro seems a little doubtful at adding a teenager to the mix, but Findaráto, if he has sufficient motivation, is an excellent student.

He takes to signing like a fish to water, faster than Arafinwë, and faster even than Artanis, who doesn’t have the benefit of translation.

Within a few more weeks, Fëanáro and Findaráto, and Arafinwë to a lesser degree, are capable of basic conversation in the sign language, allowing Artanis, by imitation, to start moving beyond naming objects and easily demonstrable actions, and into the abstract.

It’s beautiful to witness.

It’s still not a complete language by any means. Fëanáro repeats that warning several times per session, though Arafinwë doesn’t completely understand why it’s important.

It’s important because as they make up more and more sentences, they’re starting to hit at the limits of what Fëanáro has built.

It is not long before Artanis and Findaráto are inventing their own words, at first by combining signs or miming things, but soon enough they’re using their instincts and coming up with brand-new signs. And sentence structures. And grammatical elements.

It’s fascinating to Fëanáro.

(Contrary to popular opinion, he’s not a prescriptivist. The thorn issue is specifically sensible to him because it relates to his mother and he’s entirely irrational about it, but he’s otherwise endlessly happy to watch language evolve and he’s tracked all of his sons’ linguistic progression from when they were born, with charts and all, well into their adulthood, recording all the teenage innovation that other elves tend to scorn.)

Findaráto’s innovations in sign language are mostly based on Quenya, making up signs to translate words from his mother tongue.

Artanis’s innovations are astonishing. Entirely new ways of expressing concepts, of stacking signs on top of each other, of using space and her body to explain abstract ideas.

She takes Fëanáro’s basic concept and elevates it in a way he would never have thought about.

He hasn’t felt the rush of shared creation since he was Mahtan’s apprentice.

He can feel it with Nerdanel when they try something entirely new that isn’t either of their fields (like, say, making children) but in his chosen fields, everyone else is too far below his level to follow him.

And now this tiny child, who is far from being able to keep up with his linguistics knowledge, is making leaps and bounds that he would have never imagined.

He is obsessed.

Arafinwë is getting a little concerned.

He’s also getting frustrated, because he was never good at the word invention games that many of the Noldor are so fond of, and now he’s getting left behind in his children’s learning.

Angaráto and Aikanáro are learning signs bit by bit, enthusiastically, uncaring about having atrocious grammar and form in the way only children can. Artanis frowns and corrects them with a serious face that’s absolutely adorable.

Eärwen is struggling because of her fatigue, but she’s better than Arafinwë at getting to the essentials, at mastering the phrases and signs that she needs first without getting into complex, abstract things. It means that she misses some of Artanis’s rapid development, but at least she can tell her daughter that she loves her

And to stop screaming in their ears to get their attention.

Generally, things are getting better. Findaráto is coming out of his shell, Artanis gets frustrated far less often, and astonishingly, Fëanáro is being nice to Arafinwë even outside of the lessons.

The lessons are really more of an excuse for Fëanáro to document Artanis’s progress, she doesn’t actually need his help any more, though she’s surprisingly open to his suggestions to make a turn of phrase more elegant, or a sign more economical.

Surprisingly, because she’s not taking anyone else’s advice.

On anything.

Being able to communicate hasn’t made her any less stubborn.

She insists on doing everything herself, and now that she has a language of her own, she’s started to resent people who don’t sign.

Findaráto’s translations, even though he tries hard, aren’t good enough for her.

She refuses to play with anyone who can’t sign to her satisfaction.

Understandable reaction—but unfortunately impractical, because she has little patience for anyone who don’t sign as well as she does, which means the only people she’ll voluntarily spend time with are Fëanáro, Findaráto and maybe Arafinwë, on a good day.

Fëanáro has shown an incredible amount of good will so far, but he’s very busy. Mátengwië may have become one of his special projects, it’s still only one of them.

Specifically, aside from his princely and fatherly duties, he’s working on ways to capture light inside gems.

He can’t spend all of his days with a child that isn’t even his.

Findaráto is about to start university and needs to focus on his studies, however much he loves his sister. And socializing exclusively with a child isn’t very good for him, coming out of several years of depression.

“Eärwen and I have been talking about tutors,” Arafinwë tells Fëanáro one day. “Artanis is more than old enough to need one now, but none of them can sign with her. And she doesn’t read or write yet.”

“Reading will be a challenge,” Fëanáro confirms. “She doesn’t know Quenya, she will need to learn an entirely new language and medium at the same time. But she’s very bright, she’ll pick it up.”

“But who can teach her? I tried to start, but didn’t make any progress, she lacks any patience for what she doesn’t understand.”

“That’s not strictly true,” Fëanáro chuckles, remembering hours-long conversations with little Artanis about subjects as varied as which of her brothers is the most intelligent and what should be the right hand-shape for the word “turtle”. “But this particular challenge is understandably frustrating. I will teach her.”

“Truly?”

“Yes. As for tutors, I suggest Tulcasar, once she’s proficient with writing.”

“The loremaster? They’ve always refused to tutor any of us, I know Father asked them.”

Fëanáro laughs. “They tutored me before you were born. They will only accept the brightest students, they dislike children who cannot keep up with them. They lasted two weeks with Findis.”

Arafinwë tries very hard not to feel offended. Fëanáro isn’t even saying it as an insult, he’s so confident in his own superiority that it doesn’t register to him that it might be belittling.

“They’re tutoring Morifinwë and Curufinwë part-time right now,” Fëanáro continues. “My eldest two were never as interested in academic pursuits. Tulcasar will enjoy the challenge of learning Mátengwië, and Artanis is bright enough to keep them on their toes.”

“Alright,” Arafinwë says carefully.

“In the meantime, for the other subjects, you might ask Nelyafinwë or Morifinwë. You know Nelyafinwë adores her. And Morifinwë could use the challenge. I think he’s been feeling a little inadequate since Turkafinwë was accepted into the Hunt and Curufinwë got me to promise him an apprenticeship. He hasn’t found his craft yet.”

“Does he even need a craft?” Arafinwë asks. “I don’t have one. Findaráto is showing no sign of choosing a single field, and neither has Findekáno. Or Father, for that matter.”

“He thinks he does, at least,” Fëanáro says. “Perhaps Nerdanel and I have encouraged that a little too much. He persists in learning to paint, thinking it will please his mother, but I doubt it will ever be more than a hobby. If tutoring Artanis could help him realize that his strengths are more in academia, I would be grateful.”

“Fine, I will ask him. On one condition.”

Fëanáro raises an eyebrow—they both know that Arafinwë isn’t the one doing him a favour, here. But Arafinwë persists nonetheless, because he’s been meaning to bring up the topic.

“Let Maitimo finish his apprenticeship with Ñolofinwë. You know Father is not a good teacher, and he dislikes statecraft, for all that he is the King. Your hang-ups with our brother are hindering your son.”

He fully expects Fëanáro to get angry, only hoping that he’s accumulated sufficient goodwill that it won’t be the end of what friendship they have managed of late.

But Fëanáro laughs.

“You have been away from court for too long, Ara. Nelyafinwë has been shadowing Ñolofinwë for years.”

Arafinwë frowns. “The change hasn’t been acknowledged.”

“Does it need to be?”

Maybe it doesn’t. Let Fëanáro keep his pride and his misplaced grudge intact. He’s been fairly quiet about Ñolofinwë lately, no need to push him into another bout of paranoia.

And so Artanis starts taking reading and writing lessons from Fëanáro in the morning and spends many afternoons with Maitimo or Carnistir. Arafinwë and Findaráto come along the first few times, but it quickly becomes clear that she’s in good hands, and that their presence is hindering her more than helping. Arafinwë starts spending more time at court, since the family are now in Tirion a lot more.

Fëanáro and Ñolofinwë are actually being polite to each other. It’s quite a sight to see.

Things are going quite well, really.

#shine still brighter #galadriel #feanor #finarfin #finrod #silmarillion #silm #the silmarillion #tolkien #tolkien fanfiction #silm fic #echo's fanfiction #disabled tolkien characters

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brocktonbay · 21 days

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Insane how much your art has come along. Your spiral of ants and no one lives forever vids were some of the first worm things I saw. Love the work, keep it up! Do you practice drawing a lot?

thank you so much! it’s wild to look back at the stuff I made five years ago. definitely a situation where my ambition outstripped my skill, but I’m glad for it :)

Hard to say whether I draw a lot—certainly not as much as I’d like to! Most of what I drew before the past two years was just the stuff I posted on tumblr/reddit/youtube/discord. Which is A LOT for one fandom, but not much compared to people who do art for school/work.

I slowed down on parahumans stuff in recent years because life got busy and I got a bit less obsessed (it’s been almost a decade since I first read worm 😱) And as fun as comic strips and rough sketches are, I’m trying to be more deliberate about how and what I practice. It’s frustrating, but then I can apply that practice and throw together something like Golden Brown in a single (long) day. Compare that to Shake(r) It (also made in a day) and BOY does five years make a difference.

I’m excited to see what the next five years hold :)

#not worm #asks #idk why it’s always surprising to me that people watch my stuff and remember it #i read every comment and message I get but I’m still blown away by the volume and sincerity of it all #that there are people out there that I don’t even know who care enough to notice the changes in my skill and style over time…

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periwinklemoonlight · 6 months

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I AM VERY INTERESTED I LOVE HEARING THOUGT PROCESSES AND ITS SO CLEAR HOW MUCH PASSION AND CARE WAS PUT INTO YOUR ZINE PIECE

AHH THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!! i have so many thoughts i dont know where to begin LMAO ill start with the outfit designs first!!

to start things off, every design has one specific colour in mind to represent that hermit! pearl - blue, gem - green, impulse - yellow, doc - black/gray, and grian - red! (everyone's nails are painted their colour) every design was deliberately punk-inspired, since during the king arc the soup group was a force of resistance against the monarchy's tyranny :P therefore, the soup group are the main focus of the art and their designs are intentionally made so that they stand out more from the other two, though i made sure they were all unique in one aspect or another :] let's go character by character now! (i'm including all my initial design sketches + some inspo photos too)

pearl - she's the lead singer of soup group, along with playing the electric guitar! her design features a double tank top + low rise big pant combo, moon motifs of course, and two distinct shades of blue! The darker one is seen throughout her hair and outfit, while the lighter one in her moth antenna is reflected in her guitar. the main inspiration for her look was avril lavigne, which is also what influenced me to add those fun blue hair streaks :D on her shirt i wanted to have a sort of skeletal moth/butterfly design!!

gem - the keytar! i wanted to make sure that gem and pearl's designs looked very distinct from each other, so i went for a slightly different vibe with gem's! her design is based more off of the plaid skirts, big boots, and fishnet looks i found while looking through early 2000s lip service magazine scans (as well as some hayley williams looks!!) :D additionally, shes got vine tattoos over her body to call back to her nature elf vibe this season!

impulse - the drummer of course!! for his look, i wanted to go a little more anarcho-punk (since its a much older punk style and hes the oldest member of soup group LOL), so his vest jacket has got a bunch of diy additions like patches, pins, paperclips, and chains, along with a bunch of spikes!! in my mind, the back of his jacket has probably got a whole lot more patches, spikes, and studs :] beyond that, i made sure to give him lots of piercings (though my options were limited since s9 impy has a beard lol), and stretched earlobes for fun!! ideally his pants would also have a lot more patches and fun bits, but since his legs would be entirely covered by his drums in the final piece i went for something simpler

doc - an opener and feature on the song! since he's not part of the soup group, his design is quite a bit simpler than the others in terms of both look and concept :] his look is monochrome save for his robotic red parts and green skin, but still looks interesting thanks to that fun leather jacket :D his look is purposefully more reminiscent of a 50's style greaser, i wanted to go for an older fashion style to make him look more intimidating/mature, as well as set him apart from the look of soup group since the perimeter was an independent nation in the king arc!

grian - another feature/opener! design wise? hes literally just green day i can't even lie like the pun was perfect and also the black shirt + red tie combo is iconic and also fits his look so effortlessly it had to be done LMAO also, if you look closely in the final piece you can see he's wearing eyeshadow! this of course is again because hes grian day /silly. but to be real, i think this style also fits him really well since the tie + spikes & studs combo gives the look that sorta rebellious vibe that was all over his videos during the king arc :]

AND NOW FOR THE INSTRUMENTS!! this segment is thankfully much shorter

pearl's guitar is of course a nod to my design for her and her moth wings! butterfly guitars are harder to draw than you'd think LOL

gem's keytar has got a vine design all over it to match her tattoos

impulse's drum set has got the soup group punk band logo! the logo design may honestly be my favourite part of the piece, i feel like i really nailed what i was going for :D

and thats it! i'll edit this post or rb with any details i missed if they come to mind! thank u for reading anyone who has made it this far <3

#elle's design talk

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shakertwelve · 10 months

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Hey hii hello hiiii what do u think was Marquis trigger backstory? Since ur the professional on him and we don’t know shit about him(besides his apparent vampirism lmfao)

Interested in your marquis backstory thoughts because his power implies a lot but I can’t quite put it together - there’s SOMETHING that he feels the bones breaking each time and doesn’t show it but idk what. Forced to play into a role even as it causes agony? Macabre leaning? What’s goin on there

SO the first big thing about marquis's background is that i really don't think he grew up with any wealth or comfort at all—his cape persona is a performance that he's putting on to get as far as possible from his much more humble origins, imo. heathcliff stuff. obvious tension of identity there that fits with a changer power and also makes sense with his pain tolerance, which suggests he's had a lot of experience bearing through pain without any help, and the way he talks; he often sounds like he's picking his words deliberately and even trying to give off an air of sophistication, but he never actually uses any words that are especially fancy or obscure. ward messes with this a bit by making him act like an actual cartoon vampire sometimes, but i think i'm still pretty close to the mark.

at one point he mentions that his father was a doctor, but i don't think the man he's referring to there is his biological father—his wish for the brigade not to put amelia into the foster system makes me think he himself spent some time in the system and didn't enjoy it (pretty plausible, especially considering this would've been in the 70s and 80s) before he eventually ended up with the man he thinks of as his father, which is why he's hopeful that amelia will be alright if she's with a good family from the start.

if anything i think he probably grew up more like rachel than anyone else in the cast, but while rachel dealt with being treated badly by human society by forming connections with her dogs instead, marquis never totally gave up on the idea that he could prove himself to be worthy. his dedication to being a "noble" villain, to me, seems like it comes from an almost childish sense of fairness; he has to believe that if he makes himself respectable, people will recognize it and respect him, if he holds himself to a higher standard he won't just be treated as another criminal, if he chooses his words carefully enough he won't be misinterpreted, and if he trusts his daughter to the dallons they'll rise to the occasion and take care of her. it's something he notes makes it difficult for him to understand amy once they're reunited, because she lacks that same internal drive; she's already seen that no matter what she did, she was never really treated like she belonged in the dallon family, so she can't make herself care enough to try anymore. my guess is that it's different for marquis because he had a father figure he actually looked up to, who (in marquis's memories) was a self-made man who was respected on his own terms, and if his father did it right, he can, too.

in a literal sense, his power is the ability to contort himself into any shape that could possibly be wanted from him, but he has to keep breaking himself over and over again to do it—and he does! his shard doesn't even need to throw in anything to protect him from the pain, because he's already willing to do anything just to become someone who can be accepted like he wants. trying to describe the exact moment of his trigger would take more speculation (i could sketch out a timeline but i'd really just be making up the details), but i think those are the underlying issues that are already cooking in his head when it happens.

#ask #flattered to be called the professional on him! i just think he's neat

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cheapsweets · 3 months

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The Recondite Haesorog

My response to this week’s BestiaryPosting challenge from @maniculum

Now, I actually have a suspicion what this creature might be - I wasn't deliberately trying to work it out, but when I was throwing around concepts for the drawing, something clicked... If it is what I think it is, it's at the same time a really cool description, with some bits which are wildly out... I didn't pursue that particular line of thinking with my piece this week, but I'm going to be interested to see what this one turns out to be :D

Jinhao shark fountain pen with a fine, hooded nib, with Monteverde Raven Noir ink, over initial pencil sketch. I'm going to do some experimenting with the brush pen and the fude-nib in future pictures again; I appreciate the consistency of the lines that this pen is giving me, but I suspect those other pens would give a little more character to the lines.

As an aside, I'd genuinely encourage anyone looking at these challenges to give it a try; its given me a bit of focus to get back into something I used to enjoy, without too much pressure (both in terms of the time and also this mostly being about fun!)

As ever, reasoning under the cut…

"Ethiopia is the home of a creature called the Haesorog, as large as an ox, with the footprints of an ibis, branching horns, the head of a stag, the colouring of a bear and the same thick coat."

Okay! For such a short description, we've actually got a fairly good amount of detail. Of course, some of it doesn't really make sense together - bird feet with horns and a bear's thick coat? What could be going on here?

I figured that, rather than trying to work out something realistic, I'd actually treat the description at face value as much as possible. As such, we have an ox-sized, deer-headed creature with long, bird legs and feet, covered in shaggy hair! I actually tried to put a bit of deer anatomy into the legs, but they were primarily referenced from ibis photos - I'd set myself on that particular pose, but it was impossible to find a front-facing picture of an ibis with its leg raised (not perfect, but turned out better than I was fearing!)

The horns gave me cause for thought - horns don't tend to branch, but they're very distinct from antlers (antlers being bone, and shed yearly, while horns are covered in a keratin sheath which is not generally shed). In the end, and given the description of it having a deer's head, I went with antlers, specifically taking inspiration from the wapiti (American/Asian elk) and red deer for the grand, branching antlers rather than palmate antlers of the fallow deer I'm most familiar with. I did give them a little texture, as a nod to the horn though.

Charles Knight's Animal drawing was really useful here - the short essays in that book made me consider more carefully some aspects that I wouldn't have just looking at the drawings, including things like ear position, and the general vibe of the animals I was referencing.

Still experimenting with plants and trees for the background - some came out better than others, but I've learned a few more things from this about what does and doesn't work well!

I'm now kinda wishing I'd drawn a fuzzy horned dinosaur for this, but I'm still happy with the directionI went 😅🦖

"It is said that the Haesorog changes its appearance when it is afraid and, when it hides itself, takes on the likeness of whatever is near — a white stone or a green bush or whatever other shape it prefers."

Well, this is cool; an ox-sized animal that is also a master of disguise. You can see my nod to this in the background where a hunting party (plus dog) are walking straight past a Haesorog disguised as a tree...

I did a little look into medieval costume (and dog breeds) from Ethiopia; I know that this is a bit of a catchall term for Sub-Saharan Africa, but it gave me a place to start. Turns out that the figures were too tiny to put in any detail of the clothing (or to make the Ethiopian Highland Dog) distinct, but the history there is fascinating (including Ethiopian delegates to Florence in 1441 being frustrated about the Europeans constantly referring to their kind as 'Prester John' 😆

This seeming magical power of disguise also gave me a couple of extra influences in the style - the forest god from Princess Mononoke, and the goats from that film and from the Nausicaä manga. Not sure how much it came across!

#Haesorog #maniculum bestiaryposting #bestiaryposting #my art

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myechoecho · 4 months

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Rewatching W: Two Worlds

ep 5

It was absolutely heartbreaking to see Cheol find the comic books and realize his entire life is there. He sits there and reads his life story from the beginning (this was also a neat way to give us some more background on Cheol's life and some details on the prosecutor). He has to relive everything. After he is just defeated. When the bookstore employee tells him that the series has been a best seller for 5 years, all he can do is laugh. The pain of his existence is nothing more than entertainment to millions.

He goes to Yeon Joo, and even through his turmoil is able to smile and flirt with her. I like that he’s able to say that he regrets pushing her for the answers. He never expected anything like his. He’s grateful to her – her consideration and her protection. He genuinely thanks her.

Their roles are reversed - she wants him to stay with her because he has no money, house or id. He’s incredibly touched. He kisses her, and this the first real kiss they share. She is still his key, and now his only light.

Cheol, of course, cannot stay put. He goes to see Sung Moo. Going through his house incredibly only causes more trauma for him. He sees the planning boards, the character models, the sketches. He finds out that Yeon Joo is Sung Moo’s daughter and while he is hurt by this, he is not angry with her all.

In betweeen this we get the fight in the operating room between Yeon Joo and the Professor, which makes me laugh. It’s a bit of lightness in a heavy episode. Yeon Joo, the shipper vis the Professor, the anti. As someone who has shipped multiple couples since childhood, and has had some anti ships, this highly amused me as it felt very familiar.

The confrontation between Cheol and Sung Moo amazing. I forgot that Cheol had actually dragged Sung Moo in first. Even though Cheol is a living breathing person in that world, he stabs chooses to stab Cheol. Cheol manages to stab him but is not injured. It makes even more sense why how Cheol knew he could shoot Yoon Joo without her getting hurt.

The flashback shows a young Yeon Joo, drawing to escape her parents argument and we see what looks like an early version of Cheol

Cheol lays it all out for Sung Moo – he’s rightfully furious. Sung Moo is a miserable man, terrible husband, father and an alcoholic (I think his drinking only got worse through years).

Now Cheol says Sung Moo made Cheol the opposite of himself, but that's only really true post the attempted suicide. Up to that point his life was even more miserable than Sung Moo's. As for the suicide plot, Cheol points out the misery porn comic was the only thing Sung Moo felt he had control over. Sung Moo may not be able to commit suicide but he could make Choel do it. It’s interestingthat Cheol didn’t realize that it was not Sung Moo who saved him; Cheol saved hinmself.

I have some sympathy for Sung Moo here. Drawings changing on their own making him think he as crazy, his friends laughing at him and dismissing him, he’s an alcoholic. He does want to endure for Yeon Joo. The money he makes he wants for Yeon Joo (though he stole her character).

Cheol has the gun pointed on Sung Moo but he is unconcerned. He's deliberately cruel to Cheol. He taunts Cheol to shoot him because he, confident that his character set up is absolute and Cheol won’t deviate. It is not in his character to shoot an old man. Yeon Joo, who has been listening this entire time, KNOWS that Cheol would shoot if provoked enough.

Cheol is willing to go back to the original planned ending but it Sung Moo says it won’t work because Cheol has to understand to accept it (part of his character set up). Again, Cheol is perfectly happy going back as long as he knows who murdered his family.

The final blow is when Sung Moo reveals that there was not culprit - it was just a setup. He didn’t ever plan to let Cheol find out who it was so he didn’t need to know the identity of the killer nor did he care. I do call BS on his explanation. The hero is made when the crime isn’t solved? Ummm what?? If you are a good enough writer, the story doesn’t have to end with finding the culprit. Even disregarding that – most stories DO come to an end and finding the culprit would be a natural ending. God, how unsatisfying as a reader to have a beloved main character just get killed off for no good reason, ending the story without resolving any of the ongoing plot lines.

For Cheol, his family was real. His trauma was real. His pain and endless suffering was real because he lived it. It was not just something that Sung Moo drew.

Cheol is able to show mercy and simply asks Sung Moo to find another way. But Sung Moo can’t leave it alone. He taunts Cheol again. Cheol is HIS creation and his character set up means he won't shoot. This is what finally breaks Cheol and he shoots Sung Moo.

Sung Moo was so arrogant that he forgot the reason they became entangled is because Cheol refused to die. He’s been deviating from his determination for years.

Still have zero issues with Cheol shooting him here. He's in a highly traumatized stated and Sung Moo has tried to kill him multiple times. If I'm remembering right, even Yeon Joo didn't have much of problem with it.

#w two worlds #kdrama

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seleniancalamity · 8 months

Text

what's that, another AF post? featuring all of the designs i.. for some reason never posted! read below the cut for more info and yes im aware some of these poses are garbage these are once again in my old style i drew these like weeks ago :sob: also the text below is Stupidly long so bear with me

bet you're wondering "gee, steven, where's cyalm/celesteal and voixer?" Welllllllll there's a bit of a problem with those designs and it's called "i might of taken a bit too much inspiration from a different artist's designs and i dont remember said artist's username" and so i'd feel REALLY bad for posting them (which is sad because voixer is my favorite design of literally all the ones i drew)

anyways, some design notes

arrolin was an actual fucking pain to design. red/green is such a difficult color combo to work with. i originally tried adding yellow but a challenge i wanted to do for this artwork is stick as close to the original palettes as much as possible

mino and morward are meant to reflect on each other since morward is meant to just look like mino but Advanced since.. here they're both robots

solgon and naen are married you can't convince me otherwise thats why i gave them rings

(yes i know naen is doing the "you know i had to do it to em" pose)

signol is a deliberate design disaster. i love them. (i also made them genderfluid because i said so)

i made shallare look like the most Guy of All Time with intent he's meant to look like if a normal ass guy was a point

i've already uploaded stratosfear in a different post so i'll probably post my own design for the first star savior later since i dont have any actual art for them besides a low effort sketch

pasless looks like a farmer i'm gonna be real i had no idea how else to incorporate Woah he's the guy that represents The Past (tm) other than make him look like a farmer

yawgate is meant to straight up deadass have a portal in his torso like i just thought it was a sick idea so i did that no i didnt think of the consequences

please ignore compale's shoes. they're meant to have snow shoe spikes but i cannot draw perspective for shit

ploque is best described as having designed to look like he'd work at home depot

ixol is meant to look like they made hawaii part II miracle musical into a personality trait

anshine is just an angel bro idk what else to say about him i made him very angelic looking to contrast stratosfear looking demon-y

ulipse was very fun to draw idk why also i have no idea where i got the inspiration for her design other than just "damn what if i made her more fem presenting because all of the other points are very neutral or masc barring signol"

and finally, staraza! my design for the second star savior! they have no personality atm i just think they're neat i gave them three colors and made them a point because... Well funny story i was on actual AF2 restored and someone said something along the lines of "point star savior ocs are bad" and i was like, internally. "fuck you" and decided to do it out of spite

I'll post a celesteal/cyalm/voixer design eventually but idk if it'll be the one i use personally

Also how the fuck do i tag any of this im just not gonna tag all of the characters i cant be bothered im sorry

#adventure forward #adventure forward 2 #adventure forward 2 points of conflict

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milos-journal · 2 years

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The Everyman

Ok, so awhile ago I made a post that was like "What if I made a long rant post on Vinnie Everyman" and that's essentially what this is. Some notes first, I'm sick so unlike the Asher Family post the art for this post is traditional sketches because I've tried hard to do digital, full drawings and it just is not happening no matter how hard I try. This post is also VERY loosely drafted, so it may be a bit ramble-y. One last warning, this will be talking about the canon events of EMH. If you don't want spoilers, are fictionkin/a system/an IRL, or are simply triggered by some of the events/topics discussed and shown in EverymanHYBRID, please be careful reading this post.

Now from there, I can get started!

Vinnie Everyman feels like a character that is either looked over or deliberately excluded when talking about EverymanHYBRID. Whether it is fandom culture just wanting to mash their favorite characters faces together or it's simply many viewers do not find Vinnie as interesting next to Jeffrey and Alex and their family troubles, Evan struggling with possession, or Steph's long-term struggles as expressed in the tumblr blog CANYOUSEETHEWORDS. Which, both are valid in all honesty. It is fine to not like a character. What this blog post seeks to refute is a claim that seems to consistently circulate around the EMH fandom - that Vinnie is a snake and backstabber.

Which, is partially true, which will be elaborated on a little later. However, Vinnie has all the makings to be a tragic character just like Evan and Jeff, but is often swept under the rug and treated as cruel simply because he did what he thought he needed to survive.

Vinnie Everyman is viewed best when you take him as you do many protagonists, especially in Slenderverse: A representation and vessel for the viewer. His actions make the most sense when the audience puts themself in his shoes.

Obviously, at surface level, Vinnie is a bad person. He conspires with a demon, leads his friends to death, and seemingly feels no remorse until it is far too little too late. So yes, Vinnie is, by all definitions, a snake. But one must put context into his actions.

Looking back on the series, it should be kept in mind Vinnie is entirely led astray by HABIT. While it is not directly said but rather implied multiple times, one time I would like to note is almost all of the video "Lexi", but especially the part where HABIT highlights Vinnie is the guardian, however that is simply not the case, as seen by what he wrote for the role of guardian.

"THE GUARDIAN SHALL LOSE HIS HEART AND THEN HIS BLOOD AND FIGHT TO LOSE ALL HE LOVES"

"THE GUARDIAN SHALL DEFY A GOD ONLY TO BE DEALT A FATAL BLOW"

These lines paint the Guardian as a martyr like figure who is dealt repeated emotional blows, only to be killed. However, these lines almost wholly fit Jeff plenty more than they do Vinnie. His "heart" can be easily put as Jessa, and his "blood" as Alex, since they are blood relatives. Jeff during the series consistently pushed the viewers to search for answers while he also searched himself, which would be his fight.

However, the role Vinnie better fits, the Voyeur, is cruel in description and a lot more true to Vinnies intentions.

"THE VOYEUR SHALL WATCH FROM AN EMOTIONAL DISTANCE, INSISTING UPON MAINTAINING THEIR STRENGTH."

"THE VOYEUR SHALL REMAIN IDLE TO ALL WHO SEE, HOWEVER BUSY HE MAY BE BENEATH"

"THE VOYEUR SHALL SWALLOW JUSTICE’S SWORD"

HABIT, by telling Vinnie he is the guardian, is not only making Vinnie a trustworthy figure in the viewers eyes but making Vinnie feel like he is the victim. By saying he lost his love and his blood (which could be his found family, or his friends, or simply the amnesia that made him forget his family) he no longer is not a victim. On top of that, he's now framed as a martyr in the situation.

To circle back, Vinnie is not only manipulated consistently throughout the series, he's also someone the viewer sees themself through.

With the knowledge Vinnie was intensely manipulated by HABIT in many ways, it is understandable to follow his whims. While he almost certainly is not a trustworthy figure from the start, he certainly is a threatening one. The possibility HABIT threatened Vinnie into submission is certainly high, and honestly, given the situation, many people would throw friends under the bus to literally save their life.

As easy as it is to go "Not me!", and the scenario is certainly not a realistic one, what Vinnie goes through is understandable if one thinks of EMH as more allegorical.

Putting HABIT in the position of just an awful person, and Evan as an idealized version of said awful person (an interpretation of EMH I personally subscribe to), the situation is a lot more easy to digest.

Its easy to follow trustable people, and even, in the case of EMH canon, people who hold a position of power, even if the person effected knows its wrong. Given the circumstance Vinnie is manipulated and threatened, its easy to fall into the trap and dig a hole too deep.

(geddin loser, im reliving horrific trauma)

All in all, Vinnie as a character when analyzed is interesting and well rounded. While he intensely stabbed his friends in the back, the way it was framed for him, the other option was to fall to whatever may have been threatened.

Sorry if I rambled plenty or if none of this made sense, as mentioned earlier I am intensely ill and in between school and such I did not and likely won't have the free time to make this post, so I decided to post this while I can. Thank you for reading this far at all, I appreciate it! :-)

#vinnie emh #vinnie everyman #vinny emh #vinny everyman #everymanhybrid #milomamu #AUUGHHH #tw manipulation #tw threats #idk thats all i can think of #this took so much brain power #didnt say it in the post but i have fucking MONO #and this made me wanna fall to the floor and collapse #but i did it! the thing i wanted to do for a month or so!#emh

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paperback-rascal · 2 years

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Okay, since Crosshair is the unofficial barber of the bad batch, what's his take on Tech's hair? Like is he confused as to why Tech wants his hairline so short? Or did he give Tech the hairline as a joke and it grew on Tech?

Oh, I think Tech's haircut is one of the most deliberate of all CF99.

Contrary to fanon, I headcanon Tech not having problems with his hair whatsoever.

If you look at the hairline of his forehead, it's rather "geometrical"... and a perfect spot to lift his googles pretty high up his face without touching the boarders of his hairline. His hair is cut short so it wouldn't rub/snag against the strap of his goggles (and possibly ripping the hairstrands out of his skull, if the strap of the goggles is space!rubber or anything like that) also, in the past, he might had issues with his hair leaving greasy spots on the inside of goggles' lenses when he pulled them up.

I think the general idea was Tech's - he found the standard, "reg", haircut to be too long for his liking, but hated the idea of shaving his head completely.

The “design” is half-joke on Crosshair's part, as he was a bit irritated by Tech's neverending requests for touch-ups. One day he used protractor and calipers to prove a point that it's-FINE-Tech. However the sarcastic joke fell flat as Tech's summarized it was a good idea to have a set of measurements to keep his haircut constant and up to snuff.

So yeah, I'm sure there is a technical drawing-esque sketch of Tech's haircut (made as a joke by Crosshair) stashed somewhere either at Havoc Marauder or their living quarters on Kamino.

---

BTW, Anon is referring to those artworks of mine: [LINK], [LINK]

===

STAR WARS: The Clone Wars/The Bad Batch © George Lucas/ Dave Filoni/ LucasFilm/ Disney

#the bad batch #bad batch #TBB #Crosshair #CT-9904 #Tech #clone force 99 #CF99 #headcanon heavy #star wars #Crosshair the CF99 barber #paperback-rascal replies to stuff

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errantnight · 9 months

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24. Loveless? Never heard of it.

Sorry this took so long!

“You’re joking, right?” Genesis leaned forward over the half eaten, and more than half disgusting, MRE balanced on his lap. The teenager across from him tucked a strand of silver hair behind his ear as he focused on his own meal, shrugging one shoulder slightly as he oddly rearranged the food on his tray until none of it was touching.

“I don’t have a sense of humor,” Sephiroth intoned in a low and deliberately monotone voice. Beside him Angeal sighed, nudging him with his elbow in a slightly uncomfortable show of sympathy . Genesis did not find it funny, but then he didn’t think Seph had either when they’d overheard a handful of Third’s complaining about how they’d expected Sephiroth to be more charismatic and how he never said anything that wasn’t entirely serious.

It wasn’t entirely untrue. Genesis had also expected the other SOLDIER to fit into the mold of the larger than life figure he was portrayed as in newspapers. He’d anticipated impassioned speeches, skilled and effortless leadership, everything he’d have wanted to become himself - and if he was honest with himself he thought he might end up in that role for Sephiroth. They’d made him look older on the news and Genesis and Angeal had both been startled to discover he was shorter than them by a couple of inches. Even more surprising, and horrifying to Angeal, the infamous Second was younger than them by a couple of years!

“How can you not have heard of Loveless,” Genesis continued, “it is the ultimate classic. Everyone has to read it in school at some point at least.”

Something odd flickered across Sephiroth’s face, a microexpression that Genesis couldn’t parse because it looked too much like jealousy and that didn’t make any sense.

“I’ve…” Sephiroth paused, frowning down at his meal and shifting the limp green beans to the furthest part of his tray with a grimace and taking a bite of the clearly preferred mushy carrots, “I’ve never read any fiction.”

Genesis swallowed down the urge to exclaim WHY? As Angeal shook his head slightly, a pained look on his face.

“My friend,” Genesis reached out and clasped Sephiroth on the shoulder, the younger boy going stiff beneath the casual touch but not shying away, “the fates are cruel.”

Beneath his hand came another small shrug, the other boy’s features smoothing out to practiced blankness.

Frowning, Genesis took a last bite of the only thing left on his own tray that he could stomach and pulled his sketchbook out of the larger pocket of his fatigues and began to write. He didn’t use his usual flourished cursive, realizing uncertainly that Sephiroth might not be able to read it. He copied out the expanded translation of the epic poem he loved so well.

He lingered over one bit in particular, his heart beating fast in his chest as sketched a caged bird alongside the words - Three friends went to the battlefield, One was taken prisoner, One flew away, And the one who remained became a hero

Someday they would be hailed as heroes, he was certain of it. His lips shaped his favorite passage - Even if all that awaits us is a harsh tomorrow, Ever the winds may blow against us, Ever and ever we persevere.

He watched over the spiraled top of the book as a tiny smile flickered on the edges of Sephiroth’s mouth. He’d reached the final bit on his tray that he seemed to have saved for last. A handful of dried fruit, too sticky sweet for Genesis’ own tastes, slowly disappeared as Sephiroth ate them one at a time.

“Three friends went to the battlefield,” he murmured to himself as he tore the page from the book and passed it over, “You read this and I’ll quiz you on it tomorrow,” he said, sharp tongued as he looked away from Sephiroth’s somehow astonished expression.

Slowly, Sephiroth took it, frowning in concentration as he read.

Thanks for giving me this prompt, it kind of turned out really sweet! The version Genesis writes down here is a something I did using deepl translator from the Japanese version of the poem on the FFVII wiki! I think it's kind of a lot more interesting tbh!

Come on people give me more prompts!

#asks #writing prompt #prompts #fanfic prompts #fanfic #ffvii #ff7 #sephiroth #ffvii genesis #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #ffvii angeal #loveless

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purplekoop · 5 months

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Each time I look at Necro I think they have a crow on top of their hand. It takes me a minute to register it’s actually their fingers. It’s just the shape and all the evil sorcerer motifs. This isn’t a dig at your art, just a funny mistake I keep making. Evil-looking robots are always a favorite of mine.

Huh... no no, I see it, you have a point. Probably doesn't help that I was lazy and made that the only shaded part of the entire sketch aside from the eye, so I can see how it'd stick out as a separate being. No offense taken though, I totally get that kind of visual mixup even for art that does have more effort put into it.

Also a random tidbit about Necro (or Nekross, not totally certain on that yet but it's plausible) I wanna bring up now that you mention it is that I don't actually consider them to be necessarily "evil". Not necessarily "good" or "moral" either, but I definitely wouldn't call them a villain. Both in a functional sense, since I want there to be at least a reasonable explanation for any character to work with the rest of the cast in canon, even if they don't necessarily like each other.

Necro's morality is unique due to a lore detail I've yet to share: while making new bots obviously requires metal, it's taboo and illegal to take any material from a dead bot unless they consented to it in life. This definitely makes sense for bots who've died since the reawakening, who've had a consciousness and since lost it, but this is a more contentious rule in-universe for the millions of lifeless husks who never were "alive" in the same way as the ones who reawakened to begin with. That's a lot of material left unused, especially for a society who needs it to rebuild and repopulate on a planet where those materials are relatively scarce after humanity used what was readily accessible.

Necro, as you might expect, rejects this whole notion of "respecting the dead". They're a survivalist, their philosophy is "do whatever it takes for the greater good". They think that taking any lifeless bot body is justifiable for any ends, since when the consciousness is gone, they think the metal should be used by someone who actually can use it. Of course, the rest of the cast thinks this is morbid at best and actively despicable at worst. Easy comparison is like Moira, except for a character with similarly dubious methods for "the greater good" but a much less aggressively antagonistic demeanor and with more justifiable circumstances.

This dissonance with the other characters, even the similarly menacing Velenna, is very much deliberate. I wanted somebody who stuck out from the rest of the crowd, both in design and in narrative. I wanted them to look alien and inhuman more than the rest of the cast, with the inscrutable face and uniquely non-human anatomy. But I also want them to still read as "intelligent", mostly with the cape and the pose. Off-putting, but they're still a person just as much as the more pleasant-looking bots are. And that's not too far off from their relation with the others narratively: strikingly off-putting, but still recognizable as more than just a monster or a supervillain.

Anyways uh. Yeah that was a bit of a tangent, but it felt topical and I wasn't sure where else to put it. I really should make proper character story stuff sooner than later, but that's gonna take some effort. Slowly but surely though, as I feel like it's important to define this world along with the stories of its individual characters. Necro is an instance of one where I get to do both at the same time, defining how this society would have unique views on death due to their unique circumstances, and how this character interacts with those views. Admittedly it's something that should be lower priority than... coding I guess, but right now I don't have a computer that can safely run a programming software, so I have an excuse now! yay?

#koop's oc stuff #war bots #asks

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middleearthpixie · 1 year

Text

Seven Days ~ Chapter Nineteen

Firefighter Frerin Durin died in a fire set deliberately. But after he helps his brother, Thorin find happiness, Frerin is offered a second chance. He has to prove himself worthy by righting the one major wrong in his life. Otherwise, history will repeat and he will die for good this time. The catch? He has seven days in which to do this and isn’t even certain what his major wrong is.

At least, he doesn’t know for long.

Syd Prescott has known Frerin since high school. She spent one night with him and then he vanished from her life. Now, he claims he wants to make it up to her, to right was he realizes was his major wrong. But can she trust him? And can he prove to her that she can before it’s too late?

A/N - This story is the sequel to Miss Fortune, but is a stand alone story.

Summary: Frerin makes it to the eighth day and Syd asks about Tori

Pairing: Modern!Frerin x OFC Syd Prescott

Characters: Frerin, Syd, Thorin, Alex, Nico

Warnings: Oral Sex (m/f receiving)

Rating: M

Word Count: 4,499

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

As he unlocked his front door, Frerin let out a low sigh. “I never thought I’d see this place again.”

Syd bit the inside of her cheek as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her yet again. She was pretty sure she’d never cried as much as she had over the last twenty-four hours. And as she just hung back in the doorway and watched as Frerin crouched to rumple the hell out of Riley, her throat tightened yet again and tears blurred her vision. He was there. He’d remain there.

She hadn’t lost him.

He looked up. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she managed, pushing away from the doorjamb to close the inside door. “Just relieved, is all.”

“Tell me about it.” He straightened up, brushing dog fur from his Levi’s as he faced her. “Why did you decide you believed me?”

“Alex, actually. She’s usually my voice of reason.” She inched closer, smiling as she said, “When I wasn't sure I should have agreed to go out with you again, she was the one who said maybe you had changed. When I told her what you’d told me, she said Thorin had had a similar nightmare and reminded me that this is what my family does. And I was such a bitch to you, I—”

“Syd,” he closed the gap between them, easing his arms about her waist, “you had every reason to think I was playing you. My history doesn’t exactly paint me as an innocent angel and I’d already flaked on you once.”

“Yeah, but… I knew something was different about you when you came into the shop last weekend.”

“You told me to leave you alone.”

“Okay, so I didn’t realize it right away. No one’s perfect.”

A slow smile lifted the corners of his lips. “This is true. And I’m glad I didn't leave you alone.”

“Actually, I think I told you to go away.”

“Same thing.” His arms tightened about her, drawing her flush against him. “And now, I’ve grown on you.”

“You’ve grown on me.”

His thumbs brushed lightly along her back. “Want to come and meet my family?”

“What?”

“My mom and dad. Maybe my sister. You already know Thorin, so…”

“Are you serious?”

“Syd, why wouldn’t I be? I told you there was something here and I don't know about you, but it’s nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

She smiled as she draped her arms about his broad shoulders. “What do you think it is then, if you’ve never felt it before?”

His eyes softened, his smile almost shy. “I think this might be the first time I’ve actually really fallen in love, Syd,” he murmured, his voice low and almost growly, “Because I’ve said it before, but it’s never made me feel like this.”

“That could also be because you’ve come back to the world of the living.”

“I did that last week and it didn't feel like this. It’s you, Syd. You’re my girl.”

“I can live with that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He bent toward her, his lips soft and warm as they pressed lightly against hers. She slid her hands along the firm muscle of his shoulders, along his neck, to let her fingers slip into his hair. His arms tightened about her and without warning, he lifted her easily, sighing into her mouth as she wrapped her legs about his waist. Heat from his hands sank into the backs of her thighs, and he backed up slowly, her belly whooshing as he sank onto the sofa. Those hands swept up now, beneath her loose black and gray striped sweater, skimming along her back, his palms hot and rough against her skin as he pushed that sweater up.

He drew back to whisk it over her head, his eyes deep blue now as he looked up at her and murmured, “You are so fucking beautiful, Syd.”

He didn't give her the chance to respond, but tugged her back to him to meet his kiss once more. She melted against him, her fingers twisting in his hair, her lips parting at the gentle probe of his tongue against them. Hot and slick, his tongue caressed hers, tangled with it, drew it back into the sinfully wet heat of his mouth. His kiss made her head spin, for he kissed her as if he thought he’d never get the chance to again, and she couldn’t fault him, as the urge to just wrap her arms around him and devour him swept through her. She realized how very close she’d come to losing him forever, and that chilled her to the center of her being.

He broke the kiss, his whispered, “You want to go upstairs, honey?” breathless with arousal.

“We can if you want.”

“I thought you were cold,” he murmured, his eyes soft as they held hers. “You shivered.”

She caught his face between her palms, her thumbs moving lightly along his cheeks. “I realized how close I came to losing you. Forever.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Syd,” he replied, smiling as his fingers brushed her bare back. “I think it’s safe to say you’re stuck with me.”

“I don't think I’ll mind that all that much.”

His laugh swept warmly against her skin. “Good.”

He tugged her back to him, his kiss fiery and demanding now and that was fine with her. She rocked gently against him, smiling at the soft moan that rose to his lips and the gentle pressure against the apex of her thighs. He arched to meet her and the solid rise of his erection against her made her shiver again.

His fingers skimmed along her back, paused at her bra strap. A quick pinch and the band opened and he drew back to offer up a wickedly sinful grin as he caught the straps to ease over her shoulders. As the pale blue satin fell away, his hands replaced it, cupping both breasts to gently slip his thumbs about her nipples.

Her eyes grew heavy lidded, her head almost too heavy to hold up as those sinful caresses sent a slow fire rolling through her. She bit down on her bottom lip as he rolled her nipples into tight, aching points. The fire spread wildly through her, heated her blood and sparked her arousal as the knots deep within her belly slowly tightened.

Frerin shifted slightly, and she couldn't hold back her gasp as his lips closed about her left nipple, as the tip of his tongue flayed it in the most maddening, teasing way possible, flicking back and forth over the very tip of the taut bead, then swirled hard and quick about it.

Her fingers twisted tighter in his hair, pulling him harder to her, whispering, “Frerin…” as she did.

He let her nipple slip free, skimming his lips along the inner curve of her left breast, up along her breastbone, her neck, until he seized her lips again and pulled her hard against him. He thrust against her, the pressure creating a sweet friction that sent tingles racing through her.

She curled her fingers into the front of his dark gray, long sleeved tee and tugged, pulling it free from the waist of his jeans. He sat forward to give her room to tug it up and drew back with a smile so she could pull it over his head.

Syd drank in the sight of him, from his dark hair that her frenzied fingers had shoved into peaks, to the slope of his neck into his shoulder, to the defined muscle of his chest, shadowed with just the right amount of dark hair, to the muscles of his abdomen, where that dark hair picked up just below his navel to disappear into the waist of those perfect Levi’s.

“Syd?”

“I love you,” she told him, looking up to meet his eyes.

A slow smile lifted the corners of his lips, a smile that warmed her as much as his murmured, “I know. I heard you, at the warehouse. I heard you at the hospital. And if I could’ve answered you, I would have.”

“No,” she shook her head, trailing her fingertips down over his chest, down along his firm belly, to hook in his belt, “that’s not what I mean. I mean, I love you.”

“I know.” His eyes darkened, his hands coming to rest on her hips. “And I love you right back, honey. With everything I have, Syd.”

She held those beautiful eyes as she slowly tugged his belt from the loops and unbuckled it. His pupils widened. He smile grew more sinful. His eyes almost danced as she popped the button and tugged to lower his fly.

“Syd?”

“Shhh…” She leaned in and swept a kiss along the side of his neck, smiling at the low moan that rose in his throat as she teasingly bit him.

“Do that again,” he whispered, and when she did, his moan was louder this time. “Syd…”

She smiled, flicking the tip of her tongue along the scruff of beard around his Adam’s apple. The fingers on her hips tightened. She moved lower still, down into the hollow of his throat.

She eased off him, placing a hand on the inside of each of his knees to gently press them away from one another. He obliged, and she sank to her knees between his, her lips skimming along the defined muscle of his stomach as she did so.

“Syd…” His voice was an airy whisper, her name floating into the air on a puff of arousal and desire. His fingers slid into her hair. They tightened. Twisted.

She kissed down to his navel, heat wafting from him even hotter now. The coarser hair below his navel tickled her nose. The smooth waistband of his boxer briefs slid easily out of her way as she hooked a finger in it and continued her path.

That trail of coarse hair thickened, spread wider as she moved lower. A hint of musk teased her nose. Mingled with it were eucalyptus and cinnamon, his scent as heady as anything she’d ever breathed in before.

As she tugged that smooth waistband out of her way, he sprang free and a low moan rent the air when she leaned over and swept her lips along his hot, veined length, then bent to take him in her mouth. The fingers in her hair tightened, his hips rocked gently toward her as he growled, “Sydney…”

She smiled, teasing him with long strokes and swirling caresses, savoring each moan that wafted to his lips. She treated him to a variety of sensations—slow, fast, hard, soft, swirls, flicks—and little by little, his fingers twisted harder in her hair, her name came rougher on his lips, his hips moved of their own to meet each sensual stroke.

His body tensed. His fingers tightened. His thrusts came harder now and he growled, “Don’t stop, honey… oh, please… please don’t stop… Holy shit… that feels sofucking good…”

She didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down. Instead, she reached up, let her thumbs sweep about his nipples, smiling as he growled his approval as his body tensed even more.

“Syd!” His hips bolted off the sofa, his release furious as he arched into her, as he gave a sharp tug on her hair and let out a strangled moan as he came. His breathing grew raw and ragged as he shuddered against her, then slowly sank back into the cushion. His fingers loosened. His body relaxed.

He drew in a shaky breath. “Oh, holy fucking shit…” he whispered, sounding more than a little dazed. He fought to breathe, and when she pulled him free and looked up, she smiled. His head was back, his eyes closed, and she could see the pulse beating in his neck.

Carefully, she tucked him back into his briefs, easing the waistband back into place, and smiled at the dazed note of his voice when he whispered, “Holy Christ, that—that was—oh, that was fucking amazing, Syd…”

He reached for her, tugging on her arm as he breathed, “Come up here and let me take care of you.”

“No. Not now.”

“What?” He managed to lift his head, his eyes opened to slits. “Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because who turns down oral?” His smile grew wolfish. “And I really want to go down on you right now, honey.”

“Frerin.”

“I want to feel you get wet and slick, honey,” he murmured, his voice a low, purring rumble. “I want to feel your nails digging into my skin, your fingers twisting in my hair, and I want you screaming my name as you come against my tongue, Syd.”

A shiver ran up her spine at his growl and she smiled up at him. “I like how that sounds.”

He winked. “I love you.”

Before she could answer, he grabbed her around the waist and maneuvered her onto her back, offering up a wicked smile as he popped the button on her jeans, tugged down the fly, grabbed the cuffs, and whisked the denim from her legs.

The first touch of his lips to her skin sent a shiver through her. It was only barely a kiss, just the touch of his lips down between her breasts, but it was enough to send heat ribboning through her. His lips were gentle, soft, and she bit down on her bottom lip at the equally soft and gentle sweep of his tongue against her now too-sensitive skin, followed by another kiss. Kiss. Sweep. Kiss. Sweep.

He moved slowly, teasingly, caressing his way down to the scalloped lace edge of her dark green thong. With each one, she trembled a little more, the heat grew a little hotter. Her desire for him grew stronger still. Frerin looked up as he hooked a finger in that lacy band and gently tugged.

Lace skimmed along her thighs, his breath came soft against her skin as he bent to trail a feathery kiss along her inner thigh, up toward her hip, and when he looked up once more, it was to regard her with eyes that looked like smoked aquamarines and his voice was a low, rumbling purr as he murmured, “Holy fuck, you are perfect…”

“Frerin…”

“What? You are? Beautiful face. Beautiful body. And I fucking love you…”

Her toes almost curled at purr in his voice, at the heat in his words, and when he bent to her, he stole the breath from her lungs and the thoughts from her mind with the first glide of his tongue against her. She sucked in a sharp breath with that first stroke, heat swirling through her as he moved slowly, silkily, taking his time to tease her until she shoved one hand into his hair, twisted, held on, and flung the other above her head, her fingers clawing at the throw pillow cradling her head. She caught the corner of it, tugging as her back bowed sharply with the first ripples of her orgasm swirling through her.

“Frerin… oh, god… yes…” It was all she could muster, the only words her brain and mouth could agree on. Fire filled her. Knots twisted deep within her core, radiating white-hot pulses of sweet ecstasy that throbbed through her with every beat of her heart.

He took his time, looking up to meet her gaze and she melted at the heat in his eyes. Then, he winked and she breathed, “Mmm… I love you…” in a long, sigh that misted into the air like vapor.

He moved slowly along her, swirled his tongue about her aching bud, he swept over it, and as she neared the summit, he didn't move faster, but he added just enough pressure that fire rocketed through her, shattered her like hot glass thrust into cold water.

Her hips bolted toward him. She yanked on his hair, unable to think or breathe or do anything other than savor the bliss tearing through her as she cried, “Frerin!” and surrendered to the moment.

Surrendered to him.

He drew out her orgasm, drew out the fiery pleasure until she was convinced she’d melt right into a puddle there on his sofa even as his tongue slowed and he shifted to press a tender kiss along the inside of her left thigh.

“Frerin…”

Her eyes closed of their own accord, her entire body going to mush as he feathered kisses up and over her leg, then over her hip. Along her belly. Up between her breasts. He settled against her gently, nuzzling her as he whispered, “Want to go upstairs now?”

She could only loll her head from side to side, still too languid, too melted, to do much else. “I… I can’t move…”

His laugh came warm and soft along her neck. “Am I too heavy for you?”

Her response was to wrap her arms about his middle and pull him harder against her. “Not at all…”

His warmth became hers and she sighed softly at the teasing kisses he swept along her neck. “I hope you brought an overnight bag, honey. I plan on keeping you here.”

“For how long?”

He lifted his head, his eyes soft and gray-blue once more. “As long as you’ll let me.”

“That could be a long time. I like it here.”

He smiled. “I’m strangely okay with that, Syd.”

“Frerin?”

Syd’s voice rose like an airy mist into the darkness as they lay under the soft sheets, under the plush blanket, under the cozy comforter, wrapped as much in each other as anything thing else. He’d been dozing when her voice caught his attention to jolt him back awake.

“Yeah?”

“Did this all actually happen?”

He smiled, even though she couldn't see it. Her head was tucked into the curve where his shoulder met his chest, and all he could see was the top of her head, dark copper in the light offered by the hall fixture. “Which part, honey?”

She lifted her head and offered up a heavy-lidded, sleep-eyed smile. “All of it, I guess, starting with you coming into the shop last Friday.”

“Yeah. It actually happened.”

“Good. I was afraid I’d imagined it.” Her head came back to rest again him and he bit back a sigh as her fingers danced lightly along his chest. Her strokes came soft and gentle, and relaxed him to the point where he wouldn’t have been surprised to start purring. He could happily lay there, like this, with Syd in his arms, until time itself drew to a close.

Riley lay curled in a ball at the very foot of the bed, occasionally opening an eye to peer up at them, then she’d yawn and go back to sleep. It was all so absolutely perfect, that Frerin wished he had some way to hold on to that moment for a little longer. He’d learned the hard way that life was fleeting and no tomorrow was guaranteed and that the moments that mattered the most were the moments like this.

Her fingers brushed across his chest and without thinking, he brought a hand down atop hers to quiet it. He tightened his fingers around hers and for a moment, forgot how to breathe when she turned her head just enough to brush a kiss along the outside of his right nipple.

“Frerin?”

“Yeah?”

“Who was that woman? At the warehouse.”

His drowsiness drained away and he picked up his head. “You saw her?”

“Yeah. She was at the far end of the hallway at first, but then she was right there, crouching next to you. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I saw her lips moving.”

He drew in a deep breath. “Her name is Tori. At least, that’s how I knew her.”

She lifted her head. “How you knew her?”

“Yeah, the night I died,” his fingers tightened about hers once more, “I don't remember all of it, but I do remember parts of it. I was here. I’d been out with Nico and Brewer and Cassidy and Wheeler, and maybe DiBenedetto, I don't really remember. Anyway, we’d gone to Darcy’s and some guy came up to us, looking for a fight. Kept telling me to stay away from his sister. But, I wasn’t the least bit interested in his sister. Amy Lawrence is one of the worst bunker bunnies around here and I wasn’t touching her with someone else’s cock, never mind my own. So, I left because I’d been—are you sure you want to hear this?”

She lifted her head to gaze at him, and nodded. “Yes, unless you’d rather not talk about it.”

“I know how it ends now,” he grinned as she propped her head on her fist and her eyes glittered in the soft light, “so I don't mind.”

“Then tell me.”

“Lisa and I were fighting. She thought I was cheating on her—which I wasn’t, just so you know—but I do knowshe was cheating on me, not to mention she’d given a few hints that she wouldn’t mind trading up in the Durin family, either.”

Her forehead furrowed. “Trading up?”

“She wanted to bang Thorin.”

“She did not.”

“She never came right out and said it, but she dropped enough hints that I definitely picked up on it. Anyway, she went to stay at her mom’s and I went out and I was lousy company, so I came home. I was fighting with my girlfriend, this guy George wouldn’t leave me alone about his fucking sister, so I had enough and came home.

“And it was the weirdest thing. I was up here, sitting on the edge of the bed, and all of the sudden, I just got flattened by this exhaustion. So tired, I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. I passed out and when I came to, I wasn't here any more. I don’t remember the fire, or being hot or burned or breathing in smoke or anything. It was like I blinked and my surroundings changed. And it was just like you imagine it—white, quiet, tranquil.

“Next thing I know, there’s this girl in the doorway. She was cute, and kind of shy, and she introduced herself to me. Tori. She was a teacher. Killed in a school shooting a couple months before George Lawerence barbecued me. At least, I think it was a couple of months. It’s hard to say because time really is different there. All I know is she died before I did.”

Syd winced at that, and pressed her lips together as her eyes gleamed softly. He reached up to curve his hand against her soft cheek. “It’s okay, Syd. I’m here now, remember?”

“I know but… jeez… Frerin, someone actually killed you.”

“Well, Thorin found him. And he found your sister, so at least something good came of it. And now, none of it even happened, so that’s even better, if you ask me.”

“Still…”

She leaned over then and brushed his lips with hers. It was a soft, fleeting kiss, but it was enough to warm his blood once more. But before he could wrap her in his arms, she drew back. “Go on.”

“She acted like my conscience, almost. I figured she was there to be like a guide of some sorts. There’s no welcome brochure or handbook or anything. You just kind of… meet people.”

“Like God?”

“The Big Guy? Yeah, and his right hand woman, Diane. She’s the one who showed me what happened after the warehouse fire yesterday. And the one who told me that Tori wasn't a guide for me. I was her guide.”

“What?”’

“Yeah, apparently, being a firefighter gets you brownie points and the Big Guy thought I was a decent guy. He thought I could straighten Tori out, but I didn't even know she needed it. She popped up here a few times last week, and assured me no one else could see or hear her. I thought she was helping me. Turns out, she wasn’t. At least, not as much as she was helping herself.”

“What?”

“She lured you out to that warehouse, Syd. I don't know if she pretended to be the guy you were supposed to meet with or if she took him over or what, but Diane told me Tori lured you there and deliberately set the place on fire because she knew if it burned wildly out of control, all battalions would be called in. She knew I’d find you. She knew when I came and found you, that I would put your safety before my own and that when I did, she’d make sure I ended up dead for good.”

Her eyes went wide. “What?”

“Yeah. I saw her and asked her for help, told her to just get me to the first level and I’d be able to get us out. And when I did, she told me, I wish I could, Frerin. But if I did that, then you’d be okay. And if you’re okay, you won’t be coming back here. And I want you back here. You’re mine now, and I won’t let you go again.” Renewed anger curdled deep in his gut. “She wanted me to die in that fire because she knew my time here was up and you and I hadn’t made up at that point. As far as I knew, you didn't feel about me the way I did about you, and I thought that was it. But Diane told me I was wrong. And she and the Big Guy let me come back. They knew.”

“I told you I loved you when they wheeled you out of there.” She reached down to brush his cheek with her fingers. “And you were so still, I thought it was too late.”

“It almost was. But, they knew I was happy here, that I was happy with you, and I think that played a part in their decision as well.” He shifted to ease her onto her back and carefully eased over her. As he came flush against her, he added, “Diane asked me how I felt about you, Syd. You know what I told her?”

Her eyes shimmered as they met his and her voice cracked as she whispered, “What?”

“That I love you with everything I have to give and I planned on marrying you if they’d let me come back. I want to marry you and have kids with you, and spend the rest of my life proving to you how I feel about you, honey.”

“I like how that sounds, Frerin,” she whispered, slipping her arms about his waist to trace her fingernails gently along his back.

“Me, too, Syd.” He dipped to her, capturing her soft lips in an equally soft kiss. Her arms tightened about him and for that moment, all was right in the world.

#Gerard Butler #Frerin Durin #Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Frerin x OC #AU #Frerin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Modern AU

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