#this was my first piece after like a year of hiatus from art so i am very rusty i apologise

[theragethatisdesire]

quick bright things - eren jaeger x afab!reader, 18+!!

okay hi. after my many-months writing hiatus, i am offering up this humble creation. welcome to the world of quick bright things, caught somewhere between a fairytale and a shakespeare play and a priceless piece of jewelry. this was inspired by....a lot of things, from midsummer night's dream to saltburn to the secret history to romeo & juliet like, you name it and i've probably crammed it in here. eren is a lot different than i normally write him (or read him, for that matter), i hope you all find him as lovely as i do! this will be 2 parts (for now...), i'm not sure what else to say except i'm happy to be back and i hope you all love part 1 ₊˚⊹♡

pairing: eren jaeger x reader

wc: 10.4k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

cws: alcohol, swearing, smut, fingering, reader has female anatomy, wet dreams, allusions to cannibalism (idk that's a stretch it's more of a metaphor), exhibitionism, cum-eating, creepy stepsiblings, rich assholes, throat-closing amounts of sexual tension, i honestly don't even know what to put here

without further ado...

-

"Last year I abstained / this year I devour / without guilt / which is also an art."

“Now don’t forget: university is for discovery, for adventure.” Your mother tucks the front of your shirt into your skirt, tugs at your collar until it’s sitting prettily against the cliff of your collarbones. It’s not a good fabric, this shirt; it’s cheap and scratches uncomfortably at the summer sunburn still lingering on your chest. “It’s for finding your passions, your life path, yourself…”

“Darling, you’ve been philosophizing since breakfast. You’re going to give the poor girl a conniption.” Your father chuckles lightly, swinging the hammer at the wall of your dormitory and finishing the hanging of one of your many posters over your creaky, lofted bed. The posters are bright and colorful, almost garish in the pristine, ancient light pouring in from the windows. With a slow blink, you realize you’re going to take them down later, that they feel incongruous with the dust particles and the oak furniture.

“It’s alright, really.” You manage a smile of compromise, lips clamped tight to hold the flutter of nerves in your throat at bay. “I think I’ve got it from here.”

There’s an expectedly teary goodbye, a small monologue from your father about how much you’ve grown, and a few reminders from your mother to separate the darks and the lights when you do laundry, to focus on your studies. Just before she slips out behind her husband, she grabs you by the shoulders and presses her lips to the side of your head, kisses a blood-red print into the shell of your ear.

“Don’t forget. Find something.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Whether it started with that conversation or with the buildup that accompanied the thirty-six months of monotonous paper-writing and numb boredom of your first three years at Oxford, you can’t be sure. In truth, maybe your first three years weren’t all that boring, and they only seem so by comparison of everything that came after, but you can’t be entirely sure of that either.

What you can be sure of is that something down the line—between meeting Sasha in that class on Milton and squeezing her hand as the plane landed and the dozens of bottles of champagne you’ve consumed over the last weeks—something led you to this moment, standing in this kitchen somewhere outside Verona with your bare feet against the hot clay tiles, staring at the sharp angle of an unfamiliar, tanned collarbone. 

He’s coated in linen: a half-unbuttoned, burnt-orange drape of a shirt is rolled carefully up around strong forearms, and one large, boyish foot peeks out from his baggy jeans, propped up on its throne upon the opposite knee. A golden cross winks at you from his chest, nestled in the sparsest dusting of chest hair and dripping with the same peach juice that’s sliding down his Adam’s apple, from his strong chin, from the crooked smirk that’s pointed at you like a knife.

You recognize him before he speaks– this must be Eren. Sasha’s mentioned him enough times: the shock of rich, dark hair, the lakewater eyes, the way he leans back in his chair like a king and cocks his head like a trickster. This is Eren, and you tell him so.

“Guilty.” The sun compliments everything about him but his smile, a little too sharp with too much danger behind it. It’s a smile made for moonlight. “And you are?”

A memory surfaces in your mind, a cautionary childhood tale. “You can never let a fairy know your name,” Emma tells you, graver than death, crouched in the bushes beside you, “or they steal you away, and you can never be human again.”

“Well?” Eren says expectantly, head leaning even further to the left. He’s studying you, the baggy linen pants pooling around your toes and ruby-studded ears poking out of a fray of frazzled bedhead. You feel naked, feel a wild urge come over you and wonder how his eyes would glow at you if you were. You shiver, goosebumps raising in the stuffy summer air. When his lips twitch, you realize Eren’s noticed; you feel feverish.

You mumble your name at him, as if it’s something given unwillingly. Waking the espresso machine seems like the right thing to do with your hands, and you’re grateful for the noisy mechanical sounds it provides to shatter the still morning. You bring an absentminded hand to rub over the tip of your ear, feel if it’s grown to a point yet.

“We haven’t met, have we? I feel like if we had, I’d remember.”

God, you wish he’d stop talking.

“Well, do you go to Oxford?”

“Sometimes.” You roll your eyes, and he laughs, little bells and glass shattering. “I’ve been abroad for the last semester. I flew in from Egypt a couple of weeks ago.”

“Hm,” you hum to yourself, choosing a small red cup for your morning coffee. You aren’t sure what to say; the most exotic place you’ve ever visited was a seaside town three hours from your house.

You can hear his newspaper crinkling; the sound of him putting it down betrays his arrival behind you, but you still don’t expect the puff of warm breath over your shoulder. He comes into your space like he belongs there, like there’s never been a door that wasn’t held open for him to stride through. “Are you still asleep?”

Before you can answer, you hear a shriek from down the hallway, and you breathe a little sigh of relief, thanking whatever ancient gods that belong to the hills you’re in for the interruption. Venus springs to mind, and you swat her and her entourage of Graces away from you with a huff.

“You absolute asshole!” Historia comes barreling into the kitchen, dramatic, fluffy dressing robe spilling out into the unrelenting summer heat behind her. You realize that in the three weeks you’ve spent with her, you haven’t once seen her in the actual kitchen, watching the way the breakfast chef’s eyes widen at the sight of her as he hurries by with an armful of eggs.

“Stori!” Eren elegantly catches her best attempt at a tackle with the good grace you assume he does everything with, breaking out into a warm peal of laughter. “Since when do you not love a surprise?”

“Since always.” Historia’s face is scrunched up where she’s buried it into the crook of his neck, forehead red with the effort of squeezing Eren as hard as she can. “You could have at least called, I mean– ugh, I didn’t even get the chance to get your favorite–”

“Relax.” Eren urges her, rubbing soothing circles into the small of her back. He carries them both over to his seat, plopping down and curling her up in his lap like a child. Eren holds his cup of coffee to her lips temptingly, and Historia shoves it away with another scowl. You hide your giggle at her antics behind your espresso, not wanting to remind them of your presence, but enjoying the show all the same. “Brat.”

“Ow,” Historia hisses when he pinches her thigh, expression lightening when she catches sight of something on the wall. “I always forget how pretty the kitchen is here.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“Still getting dressed.” Historia’s blue eyes turn to the frescoed ceiling with an irritated huff. “You know he can’t stand to be seen in his pajamas.”

“That’s because he doesn’t wear any,” Eren remarks with an eye roll of his own. “You could have called to let me know we’d adopted such a pretty houseguest for the summer.”

Your face burns with acknowledgement, and you can feel your toes curling into the clay bricks of the floor hard enough to scrape the tip of your pinky. Eren seems satisfied at your bewilderment, letting his eyes drag over your hardly-covered chest lazy as a wandering mouth.

“Why would anyone wear pajamas under those heavy duvets? It’s almost thirty-two degrees out.” Armin breezes in in a feigned display of nonchalance, but you can see the way his eyes skim over Eren like a ship narrowly avoiding an iceberg. The Titanic was inevitable, and so is the gravity of Eren sitting golden on the other side of the room.

“You look good, Min.” Eren squints his eyes at Armin’s shirt, nearly identical to his own. “Where’d you get that?”

“You left it last summer,” Historia hums, tucking her head under Eren’s chin and nuzzling into his chest more completely. Armin makes a soft snort of irritation, grabbing for a fig in the bowl of fruit on the counter and beginning to rummage through the cabinet drawers.

“Do you want half a fig?” Armin’s cool gaze slides to you, and you shake your head, feeling a little underwater as two lifelong relationships unfurl in front of you, your mind still fuzzy from last night’s wine. “Historia?”

Historia says no as Eren says yes, and Armin makes his sound of annoyance again before continuing his rummaging, muttering about the inconvenience of finding a knife.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Sasha, still disheveled with sleep and grinning bright as Christmas morning, pops her head around the doorway. “Shouldn’t you be overseeing the construction of your pyramid?”

“I’m not dead, Sasha,” Eren laughs—it really is distracting when he does that—pulling Sasha onto his other knee, ignoring Historia’s grumbles of discontent. The NYU Men’s Lacrosse t-shirt that Sasha cropped too short rides up, exposing the swell of her breast, but no one acknowledges it. Eren’s hand tucks in snugly around the curve of her hip, easy and natural, and you wonder if his fingers have ever itched to travel up under the hem of her tiny sleep shorts.

“Not dead yet.” Historia glares up at him venomously, reluctantly making room for Sasha to pile onto Eren and smother his face with kisses. Sasha pulls away from him suddenly and frowns.

“Peaches?”

“Where are the knives in this fucking kitchen?” Armin’s growl of frustration is loud enough to make you jump, and Sasha giggles at you.

“Jesus, Armin, you’re going to kill her, and it’s not even noon.” Sasha slips off of Eren’s knee, practically bouncing over to where Armin’s viciously jiggling a locked drawer. She slides open the drawer next to him and draws a long, wide knife from it, passing it to him with the blade extended and her eyes on you. “Did you meet Eren?”

“Careful of his hand!” Historia squeals, shooting an arm out towards Armin as if she can deflect the tip of the blade from across the room.

“It’s fine, Stor.” Armin’s voice floats across his nearly-bare shoulder, mild and careless as it grazes the collar of the too-big button down sliding off of his slim frame.

“That knife’s a little big for a fig, Sasha.” Eren stands, placing Historia on the table and pinching her cheek when she scowls at him.

“There’s no such thing as a too-big knife– listen to me. Did you meet Eren?” Sasha’s fingers are gripping into the flesh of your arm– hard. Your eyes widen in surprise at the urgency in her eyes, like if you haven’t been introduced to Eren, there’s grave danger afoot.

“We met.” It happens quickly and easily, the slide of his heavy arm around your shoulders. You can feel your body tense under the lazy weight of him, big hand wrapped around you like it belongs there. “I don’t think she’s particularly fond of me.”

Eren shoots you a wink that you’re sure is intended to mean something, a reference to an inside joke that you have yet to establish, maybe.

“I didn’t say that,” you say in your own defense, wanting to yank Sasha to the side and demand to know why she hadn’t warned you that Cupid himself was going to greet you in the kitchen this morning. Armin slices the fig neatly in half, a strangely practiced motion performed by small, soft hands. He offers it to you again insistently, and frowns when you shake your head.

“I said I wanted it, ‘Min,” Eren says with a hint of red to his words, snatching the halved fig from Armin’s hand and biting into it voraciously, little pieces of the flesh spattered around the corner of his mouth.

“You’re such a brute,” Armin scoffs, picking the meat of his half out gingerly with an oyster fork that you don’t remember him grabbing from the drawer.

“Why don’t you like Eren?” Sasha pouts at you, grabbing the hand that’s squashed between yours and Eren’s hips. Your palm feels hot against her fingers.

“I said I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say much of anything, to be fair.” Eren’s got the fig pressed to his mouth, digging his teeth and tongue around in the husk of it obscenely enough to make your cheeks warm. Being so close to him is filthy, that cross around his neck is looking you straight in the eye to make sure you feel it. 

“Eren’s always a pest,” Historia provides from her perch on the kitchen table, picking at her perfectly manicured toenails, “why would she like him?”

“You like him plenty,” Armin says, not looking at her. It’s not the first time that’s been brought up, if Historia’s answering sneer is anything to go by.

“You’ll love him if you give him a chance.” Sasha smiles hopefully at you, nodding.

“Yeah,” Eren grins down at you, teeth colored with fig, “give me a chance.”

“Eren, you’re going to scare her off,” Armin says with a roll of his eyes, peering around Eren’s broad shoulders to look you up and down. The way his eyes drag over you makes you feel like there might be a stab wound somewhere on your person that you don’t know about yet, the adrenaline of the moment keeping you numb.

“Back off her, Eren,” Historia echoes, “she’s fun, I don’t want you to make her leave.”

“She’s not going to leave.” Eren looks directly at you as he says it, something in his smile growing imperceptibly darker. A dare. How much will you let me get away with?

You stare and stare at him, ignoring the continued bickering of Armin and Historia in the background. He’s golden and blood-red, oil smeared on his forehead and a crown of thorns nestled in his dark thatch of hair if you look close enough. If you’re not imagining it, his hand might be tightening around your shoulder, maybe he’ll leave a purple bruise on it.

“Of course not,” Sasha interrupts your thoughts, thumbing at your cheek affectionately, “she belongs here. With us.”

“She’s our little fairy,” Historia giggles dreamily, referencing the long-winded fairy tales you drunkenly make up every night, casting each other as heroines and knights and dragons.

“Right,” Eren agrees, not breaking your gaze, “our little fairy.”

The only thing that comes to mind is your childhood friend, Emma, looking on at you sadly with her muddy toes, watching the wings sprout from your back.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Days lug themselves by, barefooted and dragging their heels, and most of the time, even the monotonous rise and fall of the sun doesn’t help to differentiate one calendar block from the next. Like a bat, or maybe a slinky, silvery fish in an underwater cave, you rely on your other senses to track the passage of time.

For example, today, you know it’s a Wednesday because Maria, one of the three house chefs, brings fresh peaches up from the co-op down the hill every Wednesday. Sasha’s spent the last thirty minutes hand feeding you peach flesh as you lounge by the pool, insisting that you suck her fingers clean of juice and feeding you little sips of champagne each time you sober up enough to tell her that that’s lewd. Historia swats at you and giggles at the smacking and slurping sounds you make around Sasha’s fingers, oiled-up palm landing on oiled-up hip with a wet slap; Armin admonishes her quietly from his seat beside her, insisting the girlish noises emanating from the three of you are tearing him from his book. You can feel Eren watching, too– that’s all, though. Always just watching.

You wonder how opaque the lenses of Armin’s sunglasses are, perched haphazardly on your nose, wonder if they’re doing a good job of masking the slow lick of your gaze over Eren’s skin, wonder if you care. Maybe the champagne is finally getting to your head.

“We should go in soon,” Historia sighs, a hand tossed across her forehead. She’s a little movie star, built for the golden age. “It’s so hot.”

“It’s always this hot,” Sasha argues, and you can practically hear the furrow in her brow, not willing to take your eyes off of the trickle of sweat running down Eren’s chest to see it for yourself. You’re really getting the hang of it, this opposite-sense thing. Everything’s upside down here in the heat.

“She’s getting hungry,” Armin supplies, wiping the sweat off his palms to reach up and turn the page of his novel. Brideshead Revisited. A little on the nose, isn’t it?

“I am not!” Historia hates when people point out her appetite, but not really. She kicks up a fuss because it’s “ladylike”, and she’s advised you to do the same.

“You are,” you sigh, really feeling the heat sink into you even with the heavy, lazy movement of lolling your head to face her, “you always get hungry around this time.”

“What time is it, then?”

You don’t reply– you don’t know the answer.

“I think we’re all hungry,” Eren, ever the peacemaker when he can find the time to be so, sits up, letting the shirt that’s been shading his face fall into his lap. Your eyes track its descent– even that seems slow. He says something to you, managing a crooked grin while he squints in the heat of the sun, but you don’t hear it.

“Huh?”

“Everyone except you, anyway,” he repeats himself, reaching over Sasha and smearing his thumb through the peach juice collected on your chin. Eren’s thumb disappears between his pink lips, and when he sucks on it with a satisfied hum, your jaw clenches hard enough to hurt.

“I guess it’s getting close to dinner,” Sasha says regretfully, picking her wristwatch, a priceless Braus family heirloom, up from a puddle of orange juice and tanning oil. “We should probably clean off.”

“I might even shower twice,” Armin rubs a hand over his belly with a grimace, “this tanning oil makes my skin greasy.”

“I feel disgusting,” Historia agrees, sliding red toes into her sandals and standing with a dramatic stretch.

“Filthy,” Eren murmurs in agreement. He’s still staring at you.

“I’ll be in soon. I’m so close to the color I wanted for today– I just need, like, ten more minutes.” You peel down the strip of bathing suit stretched over your hip, showing off the distinct mark of yesterday’s color and today’s tan.

“You’re crazy,” Sasha scoffs, throwing some designer sarong her mother lent her over her shoulder, “I’m melting.”

Armin and Historia pause their bickering over who gets to wear Armin’s Cucinelli belt to dinner—Armin wants it for his trousers, Historia for her maxi dress—just long enough to offer a momentary goodbye, breezing along into the house with Sasha. You settle back into your chair and take a deep breath, letting the sun sink into you just long enough to forget that you’re not alone.

“Open up.”

You’ve been enjoying this game of trading one sense for another, and you keep your eyes shut firmly, letting your jaw fall open and your tongue hang out. A piece of peach, fleshy and dripping with juice, finds its way onto your tongue, pinched too roughly between strong fingers. When you close your lips around the fruit, the fingers stay with it, frozen in their pinched position and forcing you to suck the peach from them, to swallow around them, to run your tongue along them and get as much of the meat as you can. When the fingers withdraw from your lips, you open your eyes and gasp quietly.

Eren’s leaning over you, a solar eclipse that smells like tan skin and sounds like Campari, and in the silhouette of the sunlight, you think he’s smiling.

“You’re still hungry,” he says, a question that’s left its punctuation mark behind. You think of Historia, of the improper shame of revealing your appetite. You dodge.

“I’m never hungry.”

“Never?” Eren crawls over you to kneel between your legs, propping one of your ankles up on his shoulder. The game you started is ripped out of your hands, chess pieces flying into the pool, scattering across the table, knocking over bottles and matchbooks. It’s so silent out here in the sun it hurts, and you almost miss the constant buzzing horseflies of early summer.

“Never.”

“If you’ve never been hungry,” Eren muses, tilting his head so that his cheekbone fits into the sensitive arch of your foot, reaching a hand down to splay it wide on your belly, “you’ve never been full.”

“How do you figure?” Your words come out throaty, waterlogged.

“Can’t have one without the other.” Eren shrugs, turning his head to the side. His lips brush against your heel, your Achilles’, the swirly seashell dangling from your anklet. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, toes twitching behind his ear. “I don’t believe you, anyway.”

“No?” You try to tilt your head coyly, like your heart’s not clawing and scratching against your throat to get to him. Hungry, indeed.

“You wouldn’t stare like that if you didn’t want to.”

You’re taken aback, but not enough to fall out of the moment– Eren’s lips closing around the knob of your ankle slowly, like the pit of a fruit, make sure of that.

“Didn’t want to what?”

Eren’s hands meet the cushion on either side of your head hard enough to rattle the chair, his long, tanned body stretching over yours. He’s close enough to brush his nose against yours, but you can still see the hazy green of his eyes flicking here and there on your face: from your eyes to your lips to the beauty mark on your cheek. Your poolside lounge feels more like a butcher’s block under your taut spine.

Sasha’s told you about the wolves in these hills, that they howl murder at night, but they’re sleepy and indulgent in the heat of the sun. One of Eren’s canines catches the light and glints at you as he grins.

“Eat yourself sick.” He practically spits it into your mouth, one thigh pressed into where you’re sticky and sinful, and he chuckles under his breath when you shudder under him, feverish in the late-afternoon heat.

Before you can even think of biting back, Eren’s off of you, picking your sandals off of the ground and sliding them gently onto your feet, stopping to run his palm from your ankle to your kneecap with an appraising hum. 

“We should head inside,” he says evenly, offering a hand to pull you to your feet, “I’d hate for us to miss dinner.”

You don’t have anything to say back to him, letting him lace his fingers through yours like lines in a play, interspersing seamlessly with the summer scenery. Eren leads you through the kitchen, waits patiently for you to take your sandals off, and waves you on your way up the stairs, saying he needs a cigarette. As the distance between you grows, your mind grows clearer, and you turn on your heel, calling down to him from the top of the stairs.

“Eren? Eren? Where are you, Eren?”

“Call me something else,” Eren pokes his head around the corner, smoke pouring from the grin on his face, “whatever you want, really. Make your own name for me.”

“You stare at me, too,” you say, tearing through his impishness. Eren cocks his head, unperturbed, smile growing wide as he nods.

“I do.”

“So you’re…” You can’t bring yourself to say it, not where it might echo in the cavernous hallway, where it might take the form of a confession. You scamper down the stairs, nearly sliding on bare feet, almost crashing into Eren when he appears at the foot of the staircase, catching you with two broad palms on either side of your ribcage. You pluck the cigarette from his mouth, stick it between your own teeth, narrow your eyes accusingly, and whisper: “You’re hungry too.”

“For every man hath business and desire, Such it is.” Eren takes the cigarette back, pulling on it and making a clear show of trying to hide a smirk.

“Hamlet?”

“A woman with teeth and a brain,” Eren tilts his head at you, “aren’t you something?”

“Do you always quote Shakespeare when you want to fuck somebody?”

“Only when I want to fuck you.” Eren stubs the cigarette out on the ancient oak of the staircase railing, grins up at you brilliantly, smiles brighter when he notices how obviously flustered you are.

“I need to go take a shower,” you say hurriedly, choking on the remnants of your shame and your confidence as they burn out in your throat, making an attempt to back up the stairs away from him. Eren laughs at your attempted escape, catching you by the wrist and pulling you close to him, close enough to dizzy you on the tendrils of smoke still sticking to him. Your breath stills, your heart slows as Eren wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you together, skin on tacky skin.

“Oh, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” Eren coos to you, mouth moving against your cheekbone. “C’mon, just one bite.”

“He that is proud eats up himself,” you hiss a quote back at him in response, ripping yourself from his grip and scrambling up the stairs, heart pounding and cheeks burning. You can hear a lovesick sigh follow you up to your room, and hope that the slam of the door behind you is enough to keep it from touching you.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

The murky waters of your vision ripple out into clarity, and you’ve found yourself in a forest. You’ve been here before, you recognize the tall, thick trunks and the bed of fallen leaves under your feet. You’ve been coming here since you were a little girl, been wiggling your toes in the greenery since before you could remember. You never come alone.

It appears just as you remembered: a blinding glimmer of light, a flame for a head, and ribbonlike wisps of energy that beckon you like arms, like love. One step towards it, and it disappears, vanishing into nothing with an echo that might be laughter. You think it’s happy to see you.

When it reappears a few feet away, you take your first steps, sighing at the feeling of the wild enveloping you, of the prickling of your skin, kissed by the chill winding through the trees. You wish you could explore this place, so familiar and so strange all at once, but you know you have to keep moving, keep following the lights as they lead you deeper and deeper into the forest. They won’t hurt you; you aren’t sure why that’s true, aren’t sure why you keep moving. You just know better than to stop.

They lead you over a familiar path, winding past a creek, over a bed of flat stones with an ice-cold creek running over them. You never tire here, legs pumping and arms working to push yourself faster. You’ve never caught the lights, and you aren’t sure if you ever will, but again, you know better than to doubt. It feels like hours, feels like minutes, feels like purpose, chasing these lights through the forest, but suddenly, something’s new.

There’s a little chirping sound, almost conversational and too high-pitched for you to understand; you’re not even sure if you recognize the language. It ricochets around the bones in your body, touches something ancient in their marrow. You almost jerk your head to the right to find the source, but you resist, pushing ahead on your path as the lights lead you deeper. You get the feeling that you’ve gone off-script somewhere, that this is a part of the forest you haven’t seen before, but the warmth in your bones shoos your doubts away. You’ve never been this far, but it feels like home.

A growl curls around the shell of your ear, plants fear right in the center of your chest. Your eyes widen at the light before you before it disappears; you frown at the next one, not daring to speak but demanding an answer anyhow. The lights will save you, won’t they?

Shrieks from overhead, guttural, animalistic calls, howls and chatters of excitement; you never presumed to be alone in this forest, but you never presumed to be in danger, either. The lights urge you on, vanishing and regenerating at an alarming rate, your feet drumming against the forest floor faster and faster. A sliver of moonlight begins to glow from the trees a ways off, an indication that there’s a clearing ahead, and you shove the bile in your throat down, swing your arms faster, ignore the frantic fluttering of your pulse in time with the bestial chorus ringing clearer and louder from the trees with each passing second.

You do, against all odds, manage to launch yourself into the clearing, and the moment you feel the soft cushion of moss under your feet, as opposed to the branch-littered, crunchy path of the forest, you nearly stumble to your knees as your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness of the clearing. The grumblings of the woodland entities have quieted, an almost awestruck silence settling in the open space around you.

“There you are.”

Your head snaps up comically fast– “You?”

“Me,” Eren says, that razor-sharp, moonlight smile lighting up his face. He looks…right here, as if the forest is extending a sense of belonging, as if he’s been here longer than the ancient trees themselves. Even the little crown nestled atop his head is fitting: a tangle of brambles and thorns and leaves tucked into his dark locks. Is that a throne under him, that mass of branches and leaves and some silvery metal you can’t place?

His eyes glow in the starlight, illuminated with a certain hunger that you can feel reverberating through your bones. It should be frightening, but it’s enticing. You feel welcome.

“What are you doing here?” Your tongue is slower on the uptake than your mind, and you can feel the suspicious expression folding your facial features, hiding the thrum of anticipation the sight of him brings.

Eren cocks his head pityingly, smiling at you in a way that would seem predatory if it wasn’t so entirely disarming, so entirely inviting. Your feet are bringing you closer before he even speaks— you know why you’re here before he says it.

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren beckons you onto his lap, firmly grabbing your shoulder and silently demanding you straddle him when you try to turn away from him, “you’re beautiful, so…alive here.”

He takes a bit of your hair between your fingers and rubs it, satisfaction flickering over his face. It’s then that you realize how little fabric covers you; really, it’s only a thin, wispy excuse of a dress, hanging in tatters around your body and leaving your skin free for the taking. Taking notice of your dress leads you to take notice of another pressing matter: Eren’s naked beneath you.

“Where are we?”

“Does it matter?” Eren reaches up to toy with your hair again, smiling gently. He tilts his head up, asking you for something you can’t identify, but that you already know you’re willing to give. Your soul, maybe.

Your lips meet his in a tentative brush, a motion that feels shy, but practiced. It’s a reflex, an instinct, to kiss him this way. Eren groans gutturally against your mouth, pressing into you deeper, digging his fingertips into your bare skin. The chorus of inhuman chatter erupts around you both again, and you jump, almost pushing away from him before he stops you with a firm hand against the small of your back.

“Sh,” he whispers, nipping at your chin, “don’t pay them any mind. You’re with me, remember?”

It’s difficult at first with the ever-growing hum of life around you, but it grows increasingly easier to melt into him, to lose yourself in the rhythm of him. He’s thick and hard underneath you, pressed right where you’re already slick and ready for him, and he’s got a tight grip on your hips, working you against him to make sure you feel it and oh– do you feel it.

A debauched gasp pours from your mouth to his; Eren sinks sharp teeth into your bottom lip with a grunt of approval, pulls you up to situate you over his twitching cock. You can feel the lecherous eyes of the woodland creatures, spirits, monsters, whatever they may be around you, looking in on the sticky, tangible arousal building between your bodies. The steady glow of Eren’s eyes, the prick of the thorns in his hair under your fingertips, the insistent weight of him pressing against the wet heat of you: all of it keeps you grounded, keeps your hips rolling into Eren like your life depends on it, like it’s what you were born to do.

“Are you ready?” Eren murmurs, quiet as the grave, stilling your hips and lifting you.

“I’m not sure, I–”

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren interrupts, “so long for you– you’re ready for me, I know you are.”

And with that, he’s sliding you down onto his cock, splitting you open, dropping your jaw. The cacophony from the forest grows deafening, but the glowing eyes in the brush streak and blur as your eyes flutter closed, a stuttered moan falling from your lips.

“Oh–”

“Knew you were ready,” Eren sinks his teeth into your collarbone, lets you wiggle and roll your hips until he’s situated comfortably inside of you. “You were born for this. For me.”

You can’t even bring yourself to disagree, to refute, to question. It’s godly, the way he fills you, the twinge of pain in the pit of your belly that doesn’t waver, no matter which way you squirm. The longer you sit, perched upon him– you feel something akin to divinity, akin to prophecy ringing through your bones. You were born for this.

“Eren…” It’s more of a sigh than anything, a confession and an admittance of guilt, a repentance. He likes the way it tastes, you can tell by the way his hands grip you harder, roll you along his cock faster with an urgency that betrays his calm, adoring gaze. He’s sinking his claws into you, bit by bit, and you’re better for it. You belong here, with the night on your skin and Eren nestled inside of you.

“Don’t ever leave,” Eren smiles gently, as if it’s a choice, “stay with me forever.”

The pleasure’s beginning to peak in your stomach, the howls swirling in the air around you start to feel more like a blanket, the moonlight like a crown. His hands are so hot they almost burn, his tongue licking up your neck feels like a baptism. Your back is arching, your blood is rushing, the stars are speaking to you– what are they saying?

Your fingernails have left angry indents in your throat where you’ve clutched into the skin in a desperate attempt to regain your breath, shooting up out of your slumber with a vicious jolt. Your head spins with the sudden movement, the antique furnishings of the room bleeding into candlelit blurs as you heave for breath.

“Sleeping?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the gravel of Eren’s voice, having believed yourself to be alone. Some instinctual part of your mind almost remembers falling asleep on the loveseat in the glass-enclosed sunroom earlier, one too many martinis to thank for that, but you can worry about that later– Eren’s your priority now, shirtless and leaned against the doorframe with one eyebrow raised and a very telling flush rising to his cheeks. The chilly wetness between your legs brings your dream to the forefront of your mind. Had he heard, somehow?

“What are you doing down here?” You do your best to narrow your eyes into something convincing enough to pass for annoyance, unsure if you’ve managed to pull it off with the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

“Water,” Eren says simply, raising a glass you hadn’t noticed he was holding, “but it seems like you might need it more than I do.”

“I don’t–” He ignores you, crossing the room to hand you the ornate glass. Your throat is dry, and so you drink, eyeing him suspiciously as you sip.

“Dreaming?” The corner of his mouth twitches almost imperceptibly.

“Nightmare.” You push yourself up to sit, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. “How’d you know?”

A long pause, Eren’s eyes dragging over you slowly, your skin burning. “You were squirming.”

“It was disturbing,” you say truthfully, looking over your shoulder and half-expecting to see some horrible monster leering at you from the doorway, salivating over you and Eren, “but I’ve had this same dream since I was a kid. Part of it, anyway.”

“Need company?”

“No,” you say quickly, shaken by the dream and how low Eren’s pajama pants hang on his hips, “I just need to get to my real bed. I’m sure sleeping outside had something to do with it.”

“That’s not true.” Eren’s scooping you up into his arms before you can open your mouth to argue, as if you even would. This isn’t unusual for him; you’ve grown used to his tendency to touch you, to hold you close to his chest as though you belong there. It echoes in your head, you were born for this. A shudder wracks through your body. “Cold?”

“Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your own voice. Eren nuzzles your head deeper into his shoulder, lets you get a noseful of the scent of him. Dewdrops, mankind, a rotting forest floor. It gives you a disconcerting sense of deja vu.

“Sleeping outside is good for you,” Eren goes on, scaling the stairs with impossible ease, “my mom used to tell me that.”

“Is that so?” It brings a sleepy little smile to your face, despite yourself: the image of a messy-haired, fussy baby Eren, curled up in his mother’s lap and looking up at the night sky.

“Sure.” You can hear the nostalgia in his voice. “The stars can talk to you that way, through your dreams. They show you where you’re supposed to go.”

Your blood runs cold at that– does he know? How could he? He’s a man, not a mind-reader, not a mystic. Right? You let him carry you to your door in silence, the only noise being the padding of his bare feet down the Turkish carpet runner in the hall. When he gets to your door, Eren finally starts to move to let you down, and your mouth moves without your permission, voice small and echoing in the still nighttime air.

“Eren?”

He freezes, muscles locking you in place against his chest. “Yeah?”

“Was I talking in my sleep?”

Eren settles you on your feet before answering, leaving one lingering hand on your hip and bringing the other up to brush at your cheek. Your eye must have been watering– his thumb catches a stray tear. His smile is a little too sharp when he answers.

“No, why?”

“Just wondering.” Relief courses through your body, but your muscles stay taut under his touch.

“Okay,” Eren looks you up and down one more time, as if he’s making sure you’re all there, “goodnight, then. I hope your dreams get better.”

When he turns to go, the broad silhouette of him growing darker as he retreats, you remember something fragile underneath the floorboards.

“Wait, Eren! You forgot your water.”

“My what?” When he turns to face you, he’s still grinning– baring his teeth, more like. You think you’re imagining the glow in his eyes, too fresh from that dream.

“Your water. I think I have a cup in my room if you need it.”

“Oh.” Eren waves a hand nonchalantly through the air, catching a stray stream of moonlight. You can see the dust particles dancing around his hand, enchanted by his movement. “Wasn’t thirsty."

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

It’s a slinky, dazzling dress; Elie Saab, Spring 2005, maybe? 2006? Sasha had lent it to you, insisted upon you taking it, really. It’s got to be worth at least your years’ rent payment, dripping with Swarovski and cut low and square across your chest, and easily the most decadent thing you’ve ever worn but– it’s family dinner night. No expense is spared.

Historia sits across from you, reaching one dainty hand out for Armin’s negroni, nearly dipping the massive drop-pearl charm on her bracelet into the first course: a cold, cucumber soup. Armin nudges her meaningfully, scowling and handing his glass to her, glancing apologetically at the stiff-backed butler across the room, who wasn’t looking anyway. Sasha’s at the head of the table, working on Historia’s serving of the cucumber soup, dunking focaccia bread into it in a voracious manner that you’re sure wasn’t outlined in the etiquette courses she’d endured as a child. And he’s next to you, naturally.

His dinner jacket looks out of place on him, oddly enough: angular and overly formal, as well-fitting as it is. You wish it was a little greener, a little more playful, something to match the Eren you’ve gotten to know under all the glitz and glamour. It’s too human for him, really, but that thought makes you shudder faster than you can shove it to the side.

“Wasn’t that the girl from Luxembourg?” Sasha asks through a giggle, finally leaning back to allow the butler to collect the remnants of her first course. Historia frowns at her, gulps back nearly half of Armin’s cocktail.

“No, the girl from Luxembourg was a slut. He wouldn’t have touched her.”

Armin and Eren exchange a look that implies that, whoever the slut from Luxembourg might have been, she didn’t escape their clutches unscathed. Historia notices the guilty smile dimpling Eren’s cheek and smacks Armin in retaliation.

“Ouch, Stori!” Armin scowls right back at her; if you didn’t know about Armin’s father’s remarriage to Historia’s mother, you’d think they were actually related.

“She was a slut,” Historia sniffs, finishing the rest of Armin’s cocktail in a second swig.

“It was Eren’s idea– you’re always punishing me for what he does.” When the staff place the second course, some sort of ceviche, in front of him, Armin crosses his arms over his chest and looks away like a huffy child. Sasha laughs and swats at his shoulder.

“Don’t pretend you don’t have your own hand in things. You can’t blame everything on Eren.”

“Maybe he can,” you shrug, the champagne going to your head. You’re feeling impish, feeling like one of them. Wildly, you reach a hand up to pinch at Eren’s cheek, smiling to yourself when you feel it turn warm under your fingers. “I mean, just look at him. He’s a devil.”

“Am not,” Eren scoffs, slapping a hand on your leg and shaking it playfully, “you weren’t there anyway. Min’s very convincing when he wants to be.”

“I am.” Armin smiles at you, head tilting intrepidly. “I can get Eren to share anything I want, I bet.”

It feels loaded, like a challenge, and Eren’s fingers tighten where he’s gripping your leg. When you chance a glance to the side at him, his jaw is tense, gaze focused on Armin like a threat, like a predator.

“Not anything,” Eren says, voice low and dangerous, more somber than you’ve ever heard him. Armin’s face falls for a millisecond, scrunching his nose at the murderous glint in Eren’s eyes, before he clenches his jaw and glances between the two of you with a haughty smirk.

“Est-ce vrai? En êtes-vous sûr? Tu l'as dit toi-même - je suis convaincant quand je veux quelque chose.”

“Ne commencez pas avec moi, pas pour ça.” It’s hardly louder than a murmur, but the threat carries all the same. You look to Sasha with widened eyes, hoping for a translation, but she’s chewing slowly on a bite of her ceviche, looking at Armin, Eren, then Armin again with a strange expression you’ve never seen before.

A heavy silence settles over the table, Eren’s fingertips leaving sore spots through your dress where they’re digging into your thigh, and Armin’s eyes dancing over Eren’s face, that same smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Daring.

“You two are so in love,” Historia gripes with a roll of her eyes, smashing the carefully-cubed ceviche on her plate into a mush. You eye the smear of meat on her fork disdainfully and set down the bite you had been about to pop in your mouth, opting for your glass of bubbles instead.

The jokingly grumpy lilt of Historia’s comment seems to cut the thread of tension that had grown taut between the two men, as Armin allows Sasha to pull him away from Eren and back into his corner of the table with her and Historia. Their conversation drones on, the ethics of Eren and Armin’s tendency to tag-team women fading into the background as you wait for Eren’s hand to slip from your thigh. It doesn’t.

His thumb rubs idly over the slit of your dress, brushing it back and forth over your bare skin for just long enough to get you used to the pressure of his palm beaming heat through the thin fabric, get your guard down. And then his fingers slip underneath, grabbing into the hot flesh of your thigh.

You jump ever so slightly, flighty as a fawn, and Eren chuckles under his breath beside you when you choke a bit on your champagne. He’s cool—stoic, even—as he bashfully bats away the scandalous insinuations of Sasha and Historia’s storytelling, the lewd raise of Armin’s eyebrows at the mention of a certain leggy redhead in Prague. His hand stays steady, possessive and permanent on your leg. When Armin and Historia start arguing over yet another of Armin’s alleged missteps with one of her college friends, Eren takes the opening to lean into you, murmuring into your ear.

“What’s got you so jumpy?” His breath puffs out hot and sensual against the shell of your ear, and you can feel your earring lifting with the movement of his lips. He’s so close.

“Not jumpy,” you answer under your breath, trying to keep your composure.

“Hm,” Eren hums, leaning back just enough to study your profile, “wasn’t sure if you’d dozed off, started dreaming again.”

Your head whips towards him in what is surely an uncouth accusation of insinuation, borne of shock, but luckily, Armin’s too busy being hand-fed ceviche by Sasha and scolded by Historia to notice. Other than his eyes, Eren’s stiller than death, watching over the antics with the littlest smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. His eyes, though, flick down to you, glinting like a dare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means something?” It’s a challenge, and you realize too late that the rope around your ankle has cinched, and you’re caught in his trap.

“No,” you say, hoping for more conviction in your voice, but it comes out as a breathy whisper. The corner of Eren’s mouth twitches, and it pulls an irritated huff from you.

“Tell me about your dream. The one that woke you up the other night.”

“Tell you– w-what? Here?”

“Yes, here,” Eren repeats you, quiet and calm, keeping one eye on your bickering friends to ensure you’re kept all to himself, “unless it’s something you can’t share.”

The blanching of your face tells him everything he needs to know, and that sickening admission almost overshadows the fact that he knows. He undeniably knows, now; maybe not the specifics, but enough to know that you had woken up sticky and gasping after a sinful dream. Maybe he even knows it was about him. 

You’ve given up on trying to understand the otherworldly elements of Eren; the way he seems to appear at inopportune moments and know what you’re thinking at every turn, but this is too much. You quickly realize that while you’re not sober, you’re certainly not drunk enough to deal with him, and you finish your glass of champagne in a single gulp.

“You’re one to talk about sharing,” you hiss at him, trying to will away the goosebumps prickling your arms as his fingers inch higher, skating along soft skin. Eren’s demeanor falters, if only for a moment– he looks frustrated.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Eren leans into you, brows furrowing. “I don’t share just anything, and especially not just because ‘Min wants a taste.”

“Am I yours to share?” That heavy swig of champagne has gone straight to your head it seems, as you turn your face up to him defiantly, finally saying the quiet part out loud. The weight falls off your shoulders like a head, and you can almost feel the itch of the guillotine at your neck as the words leave your mouth. Eren, ever the gentle executioner, only lets the calm fascination return to his face, brings his fingers further up your thigh.

“Tell me about your dream, hm? They’re not listening, it’s just you and me.”

He’s only inches away from where you’re already beginning to grow hot and wet– he hasn’t even done anything, and you want to chastise yourself over the undeniable need beginning to bubble inside you. Eren’s smiling so sweetly, as if he’s lulling you into a sense of complacency, and your tongue hangs heavy in your mouth, eager to spill your secrets.

“I…I’m scared.”

Eren’s eyebrows raise and his smile grows a bit toothier, disbelief written plain on his face. “Of me?”

“Sometimes,” you say, small and honest as the grave, “it’s like you aren’t real.”

“I’m very real,” Eren insists, two fingers pressing against the damp silk of your panties, his eyes lighting up when you stifle a gasp, “doesn’t that feel real?”

“Wait–”

“The dream,” Eren says again, increasing the pressure of his fingers, “were you scared of me there, too?”

“Yes,” you whisper, ashamed and painfully cognizant of the feel of him between your legs, “I was in a forest, running after the little lights, they– I’ve seen them for a long time.”

“Since you were a child,” Eren repeats your confession from the other night. He’s reading you, you realize, not like a book, but like a poem. You couldn’t put the difference into words if you had to, but there’s a certain melody to the flickering of his gaze over your hot face.

“They’ve never led me anywhere before,” your words hitch in your throat, stopped dead when Eren’s fingers start rubbing circles over your swollen clit. The silk is thin and soaked, and his fingers slide over you in a way that feels god-given. Your jaw hangs ever-so-slightly, the butlers coming to change the course. You wait for Eren to slip his hand out from under your dress, fearful of the staff watching as he toys with you, but he only nods encouragingly.

“Keep going.”

“Um,” you stammer, swallowing thickly and glancing at the plate of bleeding, rare filet in front of you, “they took me to a clearing in the forest. There were creatures, ones I’ve never seen before.”

“Did they hurt you? Any of them?” A furrow appears between his eyebrows, deep and concerned. Some small part of your brain, muted since Eren’s hand slid beneath your dress, worries itself with why Eren seems so disquieted with your dream– it’s not like you actually could have been hurt, it was only a dream. Wasn’t it?

“No, they stayed away. They just made a lot of noise, but they all got quiet when…”

A knowing smirk. “When?”

“When I saw you.”

Eren pats your thighs gently, urging them apart; he looks relieved, exhilarated, unreal. If you didn’t know better, you’d think his eyes were glowing in the candlelight. Armin, Historia, and Sasha’s clamor across the table grows louder with each passing second, but as soon as you begin to wonder if you should be doing a better job of hiding what’s very clearly happening under the slit of your dress, Eren’s fingers have wiggled their way beneath the fabric of your silk thong. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, eyes widening.

“I was glad to see you,” Eren says quietly, “in the dream, I mean.”

“You said you’d been waiting for me,” you whisper, keeping your voice low to hide the whine scratching at the back of your throat, “that you’d been waiting a long time.”

“I bet I was,” Eren hums thoughtfully, grinning viciously when he sinks a finger into you, clearly relishing the way your fingernails tighten into his wrist. “I never lie.”

“Even in a dream?” You feel fuzzy and warm, blinking moony, worried eyes up at him. Eren shakes his head in confirmation, curling his finger and making your thighs clench. “You put me in your lap, and–and, you had a crown. It was nighttime, I think, and the moon was really bright. You were inside me.”

Eren slides another finger in to match the first, and you’re hardly able to stifle a moan when it comes fluttering through your teeth, a breeze of a sound compared to what you’re struggling to keep captive in your chest. Eren’s other hand reaches forward to grab a small piece of the carved steak, brings the meat up to your mouth and brushes it over your lips.

“Eat,” Eren instructs, smiling placidly as you mindlessly obey, biting into the red meat, “but keep telling me.”

He waits patiently for you to chew around the bite of steak he’s offered you, eyes searching you for something– what it is, you can’t be sure. Your mind is wobbling around the flashes of memory of your dream, distracted every few steps by an overwhelming rush of pleasure from between your legs, Eren’s fingers curling incessantly against your walls. You swallow, never taking your eyes off of him.

“You fucked me.” The confession is breathless when it leaves you, and even through the haze of what you pray isn’t a rapidly-approaching orgasm, you don’t miss the way Eren’s shoulders stiffen, the way his eyes flash. 

“Did I fuck you, or did you fuck me?” Eren murmurs back to you, mischief in his eyes and a tense gravel to his voice. “You said you were in my lap, after all.”

“I—oh, god—I don’t know,” you’re barely able to keep your voice low, a little whimper interrupting you, “Eren–”

“Keep going, it’s okay,” Eren’s fingers don’t slow– in fact, they begin to move more harshly, “you’re safe with me, you know that. I showed you in the forest, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.” You can’t stop your forehead from falling onto his shoulder, teeth digging into your lip so hard you aren’t sure if that coppery taste is from the steak, or your own blood. The conversation in the room, despite being made by only three people, feels like a deafening rush in your ears. 

The realization hits home that Eren’s going to make you cum all over his fingers in front of your friends, the staff, and your dinner, and he’s going to wrench it out of you in a matter of seconds, if the tightening of your gut is anything to go by.

“What else?” Eren practically growls in your ear, low and hoarse. “Is there anything else?”

“You asked me– fuck, you asked me something.” Your hips are canting forward into his palm, your face tacky and warm thinking about the couture fabric under you, now drenched in your cum and sweat. “Eren, you have to slow down, please–”

He’s merciless, pumping his fingers into you ceaselessly, rendering you a lost cause. “What did I ask you?”

“You asked—oh, my god—asked if I, if I would stay with you forever.”

“What was your answer?”

You can’t respond, not with the way you’ve stopped breathing to swallow down the debauched moan bubbling in your chest. Your entire body tenses, strung tight as a bow around Eren’s fingers as the knot in your stomach unravels, cool, inevitable release finally crashing over you. Eren works you through it, murmuring little hushes into your hairline, and placing a comforting hand over your fingers that are digging into his wrist, smiling against your forehead as you slide your hips back and forth over his hand.

You manage to pull the whole thing off impressively subdued, no more than a tinny whimper leaving your lips, only to be absorbed by the sleeve of Eren’s dinner jacket. When you dare to sit up, to meet Eren’s eyes, he’s still looking at you expectantly, as if that wasn’t enough.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” you whisper, waiting for Historia to chastise you, or Armin to make a lewd comment. The three of them are still arguing, Sasha stealing bites from Armin’s plate each time he turns to snap at Historia, who’s now sitting amongst a crowd of empty crystal glasses.

“What was your answer?” Eren says again, pulling his fingers from you and smirking at the glisten that stretches down into his palm.

“I woke up,” you say with shaky conviction, trying to glare at him.

“Are you still scared of me?” Eren asks innocently, picking up a piece of his steak with his hand and feeding it to you again. Your cum mixes in with the flavor of the steak, gives it a certain tang and salinity that makes your heart beat faster, even though you’ve just floated back down to consciousness.

“I– I don’t think so, but…” you trail off, looking down at the plate. Eren brings another piece to your lips, letting you bite half and giving the rest to himself, not missing the opportunity to suck on the tips of his fingers. Your thighs press together when his eyes flutter shut, knowing what he’s tasting and watching him revel in it.

“But what?”

“I don’t think I understand you,” you confess breathlessly, “I think that’s what scares me. I spend all day looking at you, and I never feel closer to understanding you, to really touching you. It’s like you’re not…” you trail off in search of the right word.

“Real?” Eren cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Human,” you say without entirely meaning to, widening your eyes at him in apology. “I’m sorry, not in a bad way necessarily, but– you feel…like you’re above me. In a sense.”

“Above you?” Eren frowns, forgetting his dinner entirely and looking straight at you with rejection written all over his face, wrinkles you want to smoothe over with your thumb.

“I just…” you sigh, finding it harder to meet his gaze by the second, “I don’t understand what you want with me.”

“Still?” Eren tilts his head. “Even after that?”

“The dream?” You nearly chuckle in exasperation. “It was just a dream, that’s all.”

Eren frowns a little, reaches for your glass of champagne– oh, god, when had that been refilled?– and hands it to you. He watches you take one sip, and then another, that concentrated pull of his eyebrows never ceasing until you reach a shaky hand out for your fork, beginning to feed yourself small bites of steak. His perplexed expression ripples out into one of contentedness, smiling gently as he watches you take care of yourself.

“All days are nights to see till I see thee, and nights bright days when dreams do show me thee,” Eren finally says, looking at you very much like you’re supposed to be parsing something out from his quote.

“On to the sonnets now, are we?” You cock a playful eyebrow at him, despite your tired, slouching posture and your repeated attempts to keep your guard up. Eren grins mischievously, leaning in as if he means to press the tip of his nose to yours.

“I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say–”

“If it be love indeed, tell me how much?” You’re quicker than him on this one, a vicious little smirk cutting across your face when you manage to cut him off. Eren’s eyebrows raise, impressed, but you don’t keep him down for long.

“There’s beggary in love that can be reckoned,” Eren finally says, twirling the ring on your pinky absentmindedly. You don’t even remember when he laid his hand atop yours, but it feels heavy and comforting, and so you let it lie there, just for the time being.

Your post-orgasm exhaustion hits you like a train, the temptation to slump against Eren’s shoulder winning out over your propriety. You’ll sit back up by the fourth course, you tell yourself, nibbling on a large piece of parsley that had come as a garnish on your plate. Eren doesn’t seem to mind the weight of your fuzzy head nodded into the cotton of his shoulder; in fact, he seems to adjust himself so you can nuzzle closer, eyes blinking owlishly as you reach for your glass of bubbles. You’re teetering dangerously close to the edge of unconsciousness, and you almost wouldn’t care, until something catches your eye.

Over the rim of your glass, Historia is staring at you. It’s not a look of admonishment, but more…caution? Concern? Pity? All you can discern for certain is that Historia must have seen everything Eren did to you, everything he’s still doing to you, taking a caviar bump off the back of his hand and laughing at Armin, shoulder shaking under your cheek. Historia’s brows furrow at you, her bottom lip wavering slightly.

You sit up suddenly, ignoring the way the room spins with the speed of your action. Eren turns his head to you, surprised, only to follow your gaze across the table to Historia. You’re trying to keep from looking at him, but you can’t help yourself, watching his expression crumple into something stern and disparaging.

Historia withers for only a moment, before narrowing her eyes at him threateningly. Eren squeezes his hand around yours. Sasha shoves Historia admonishingly for not listening to her joke. Armin’s eyes focus in on where your fingers grip your champagne flute hard enough to turn white.

You think you see a few pairs of familiar, glowing eyes in the bushes outside, peering in on the scene at the table. You think you need to go to bed.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger fanfiction #aot #aot fanfic #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x you #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #that's all for now folks!!!! #more to come in part 2<3

[project-reaper]

Moving forward into 2024!

I haven’t really had a proper chance to say Happy New Years, so this will have to suffice, with a little breakdown of what’s been going on and what’s to come!

WHAT I'VE BEEN UP TO

I’ve been spending the better part of the last year working on new projects and endeavors. Both with Time Gate and outside of it. From vendoring at markets and working expo’s for the first time to working on art pieces completely outside of Time Gate, 2023 was a hell of a year and it makes me all the more hyped for 2024. That said, I’ve been carrying a weight with me through 2023 that’s made it difficult to enjoy it to the fullest - the weight of knowing that [AFTERBIRTH] is still on hiatus.

This isn’t the longest hiatus that I’ve been on, but it’s certainly starting to approach the record and I wanna get it back on track. Like getting back in shape after spending an entire winter hibernating and eating nothing but junk food, getting back into drawing [AFTERBIRTH] on a schedule is gonna be a process of rebuilding good habits and learning what I can do better to keep those habits alive and well.

The fortunate side to taking hiatuses is that it always does give me a new sense of perspective. In this case, I learned that I put myself through a lot at the start of [AFTERBIRTH]’s production. Like, way more than I realized. At the time I thought I was super capable - and I am! - but now in hindsight I can recognize it wasn’t healthy or sustainable for me to manage that sort of output all on my own. I’m still grinding away at comics like I always do with those other projects I’ve mentioned, but it’s still nothing near the amount of work I put myself through just to meet my own deadlines with [AFTERBIRTH]. I also have this thing called help now in the form of a background artist who’s been working with me on those other projects, which has been an amazing and enriching experience.

Having that time away from [AFTERBIRTH] not only gave me the breathing room I needed to recuperate from the burnout I got myself into, but also got me out of the routines I had stuck myself into, which has given me some new tricks and skills that I’m really hyped to bring back into Time Gate with me.

This does, in a way, mean that I’ve had to really reflect on Time Gate, a lot. It’s a project I’ve been writing since I was a kid, and drawing as a webcomic since I was around 18-19. It’s changed a lot in that time, but I’m finding while a lot of those changes have been reflected in the comic as it is, there are still so many more I want to make - because like the comic, I’ve changed a lot, too, both as an artist and as a person, and considering Time Gate’s always been a sort of personal extension of myself, I no longer resonate with a lot of parts of it that I’ve since outgrown. It’s not so much that I want to hide or take for granted those parts of it that are ‘uglier’, but I want the writing and art to be expressed in the best way it can be because at the end of the day, I’m trying to tell a coherent story that’s enjoyable to read and experience. I’m also the sort of person who learns best by just getting their hands dirty and learning what not to do, and boy, have I spent a lot of years doing just that through Time Gate.

GOING FORWARD

So, going forward, I’ve adjusted my schedule with my other projects to accommodate the time I need to both get back into Time Gate: [AFTERBIRTH] as well as prepare for the upcoming convention season. I’ve got a bunch of plans for this year’s markets with new ideas for prints and stickers and other goodies that I’m really excited to make! And I just, overall, want to pull myself out of the burnout funk. You can’t force recovery to happen on your own time but there does come a point where you gotta start taking steps otherwise you get stagnant, and I feel like that’s where I’ve been the last few months.

AFTERBIRTH FORMAT CHANGE

[AFTERBIRTH]’s format will be changing back to page format in its second season. Vertical format works for some projects and stories, but not for Time Gate. It’s been fun, but part of learning what I’m best at is learning what I’m not best at and the vertical format is too limiting for what I want to do with Time Gate in the future. Color will still be remaining!

REAPER RECOMPILED

I will also be working on the Recompiled editions of Reaper. These will predominantly be the first few volumes redrawn and rewritten to accommodate a tighter story down the road. I know, I know, “don’t get trapped redrawing/rewriting stuff”, but I feel the changes that I wanna make are so necessary that they’re part of what’s holding me back from continuing with [AFTERBIRTH] into Thread of Fate and beyond. There are a lot of really silly and otherwise unnecessary writing decisions I made back during Reaper that I currently feel aren’t working for what I’m trying to accomplish in its sequels, and let’s face it, I wrote it almost ten years ago when I was still very much learning, so it’s due for an upgrade. It'll be the last time too, because it'll be putting us on Loop 9999 and remember what Matty said about surpassing 9999-

This will be something I’ll be picking at slowly but surely. When it’s ready I’ll basically be replacing the old pages and updating any new mirror sites with only the new version (I’m currently planning on trying out NamiComi and Lemoon and of course I'll be continuing to post on ComicFury and GlobalComix).

THE BIG GREEN ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM-

All of that will basically be working towards my biggest step - getting the flying fuck off Webtoons. Because let me tell you, I've basically spent the last two years like this:

Y’all know that I’m not really one to roll over and take shit from massive platforms, and Webtoons is no exception. I’ve been posting to it since 2016 and I’m very very much done with it; just like with Tapas it’s no longer the site it used to be and there’s fresh competition entering the market that I’d rather put my focus on. At the very least, I want my independence back, if I’m gonna be stuck having to market and network my own work anyways I’d much rather be doing it for my own site or platforms that aren’t constantly undercutting its creators by removing core features and not implementing necessary ones. I as well as many others have been doing our own investigating into Webtoons and we’re basically feeling like canaries in the mineshaft right now, picking up on some massive warning signs that we want to get ahead of. The worst that can happen is that I pull the same stats I pull on Webtoons somewhere else, what a tragedy that would be LMAO

LIVESTREAMING

And then of course there are my livestreams. Like learning the hard way that I shouldn’t have been drawing [AFTERBIRTH] on such a strict schedule, I’ve learned that streaming on the schedule I used to be streaming on just ain’t for me. Call it the ADHD but I’d much rather stream when I have something to legitimately talk about or showcase rather than force myself to stream even on days when I’m really not feeling up to talking. And I’d like to get back into doing actual video editing content, whether it’s speedpaints or gaming videos or commentary stuff, whatever have you. Now that I have a proper PC rig that’s actually built to do heavy duty stuff, the possibilities of what I can create are a LOT more vast and I wanna take full advantage of them!

That said, if you wanna see an example of what the streams will look like when we return, check out this lil’ time lapse demo:

Definitely couldn't do that on my old setup! It might not be regular streaming like before, but it’ll damn well be higher quality and more fun to watch haha

WELL THAT WAS A BIG WALL OF TEXT WASN'T IT

So yeah! That was a lot of words but I hope it clears up everything that's been happening on my end. Thanks for following along with my work all these years, whether it’s Time Gate or my lil’ secret projects or my streams, through all the ups and the downs. Long-term projects like these may take their toll but there’s so much joy in seeing them change and grow over time, and I want to fully embrace and reflect that growth as best as I can through what I bring you guys.

Thank you all so much, let’s make 2024 a good year <3

#time gate #comic #webcomic #project reaper #twitch #twitch streaming #hiatus #announcement

[frozenjokes]

Hermitdragons Masterpost (Wings of Fire x Hermitcraft/Third Life AU)

Grainshifter (Grian) was born to the Nightwings under one full moon, giving him the power to read minds. However, as fortold by Nightwing seers, he also possesses animus magic, a power that the Nightwings will use to bring their tribe into greater glory, becoming Watchers that feed off the strong emotions of the other dragon species, particularly fear. When Grainshifter attends Jade Mountain Academy in disguise as a Skywing called Grian, the Watchers take notes, and years later they surprise him with his very own death game featuring all his friends.

hello hello! this fic is on hiatus, and while I would like to finish it one day, it is my first foray into fic writing basically ever, and my writing has improved dramatically since a year ago when I started to write this. It’s been a while since I’ve reread this, but I have been told it’s good! lol. However! There’s still a lot of content (70k words and SO MUCH ART) so let’s get into it!

Fic One - Ruler of Everything

After Grian betrays Nightwatcher secrets to one of his best friends, Scar, he is punished by the Nightwatchers and placed into a death game with all of his past friends from the academy. However, there are two dragons he does not know; Scott, a Seawing who seems mostly normal, and Martyn, a dragon whose mind he can not read at all. Whose mind no one can read. Whose body can not be manipulated by animus magic. Soon, it is clear that Grian is not the only dragon here that is being punished.

Fic Two - Mechanical Hands (this fic does not exist but in theory it would after the first)

Grian comes to terms with his relationship with the Nightwatchers, finally realizing and accepting that they do not love him, and only want to use him. He teams up with Martyn in a shared goal of destroying animus magic, but a massive problem still stands; they’re both still stuck in these death games. And their friends are still under the Nightwatchers’ magical control. As the games go on, things are starting to feel hopeless, but revealing the secret of Martyn’s immunity to animus magic that he has so desperately tried to keep might just be the solution these trapped dragons need to escape.

Beyond these summaries, I’m going to try and keep these story explanations brief, however, if you’re interested is All Of The Art + commentary + more story explored through the art, then you can keep reading under the cut :) also just as a warning there is a lot of undetailed cartoon blood below

Designs

before writing, these were my first pass of most of the designs in the series! As you can probably tell from the references of the main three characters at the top, Scar, Grian, and even Martyn have changed quite a bit, and if I ever return to this series, other designs will probably change as well. Except Joel and Bdubs. Those are peak. The biggest change from these designs, is that Jimmy is not actually a dragon in this fic!(which is why I included the third picture with him, Scott, and Grian) He is super human, and he dies first for A REASON. He just looks the way canon Jimmy does, minus the wings.

Full Pieces

I made two fully rendered pieces for this fic. To the left is a scene from the academy where Pearl, Ren, and BigB are play fighting in the mountains while Grian and Scar watch. Grian is very uptight in the academy, struggling socially, and his friends, painfully aware Grian comes from a bad home situation and possibly raised in a cult, are trying to help him relax and have a nice time in school while he has the chance.

On the right is a scene from far into the death game, where Scar is overtaken by the magic of his red life, and is threatening to force Grian to kill all three Dogwarts dragons, and at the same time, blowing himself up in the process. The dragon on the left is Skizz and I hate his design, however the little tie thing is hilarious.

Chapter Headers

I made a ton of headers for the chapters of this fic, though most of them are broken on ao3 as far as I’m aware. However, you can see them here!

dragons featured in order of appearance: Scar, Pearl, BigB, Grian, Martyn, Scott, Jimmy, Ren. This isn’t actually every header but I’m going to run out of images and these cover most of them. The ones I left out aren’t anything special.

Mini Comics + Misc Art

I have literally run out of image slots. But that’s okay (most of the stuff was covered, but if you want to scroll through the hermitdragons tag then feel free). Hope you enjoyed regardless! This series is still very close to my heart, and even though I kind of lost touch with it, it’s something I still love dearly. Thanks for reading :)

#hermitcraft #life series smp #third life #life series #traffic smp #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #grian #martyn inthelittlewood #inthelittlewood #scott smajor #smajor #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #desert duo #dogwarts #evo watchers #pearlecentmoon #bigbst4tz2 #bigbstatz #trafficfic #trafficblr #hermitdragons au

[taminoarticles]

— Tamino for Fucking Young!, #21 EVOLUTION / December 2022 (x)

The evolution of the music industry is always in perpetual motion and social platforms are having more impact in addition to streaming. In 2021, one of the world's bestselling singers, Adele revealed the real reason for refusing to make music for TikTok. She explained that if labels are pushing artists to make music for 14-year-olds, who will do the music for her peers? The way we consume music now is based on algorithms and trends but yes, what about being more organic and independent from social applications and platforms? This is a topic we shared and discussed with Belgian-Egyptian musician Tamino in this piece.

THE NEXT DIMENSION OF TAMINO

BY IVICA MAMEDY

Production   Fashion and Art Moroccan Association (F.A.M.A.) Photographer   Moz ERO

TAMINO-AMIR MOHARAM FOUAD known mononymously as TAMINO is the grandson of Egyptian singer and movie star MUHARRAM FOUAD and rose to fame in 2018 with his debut album “AMIR”. If at the beginning the press and fans were comparing him to JEFF BUCKLEY, quickly he pulled away these comparisons as the way he defended his music was unique. On stage, Tamino is hypnotizing and has the power to transport you to another dimension.

After a two-year social media hiatus, TAMINO came back in April 2022 with some new music and released his second record "SAHAR" this September. Once again, this album is a masterpiece and hauntingly beautiful. Before defending it on stage, we met him in Paris where we talked about how his process of making music changed during the worldwide lockdown in 2020 and his approach to using social platforms with parsimony.

THIS ISSUE IS ABOUT EVOLUTION AND HOW DID YOUR FIRST RECORD "AMIR" CHANGE YOU HUMANLY AND AS AN ARTIST DURING THIS WORLDWIDE LOCKDOWN IN 2020?

I feel like my life changed drastically in a short amount of time. I've been on tour for a very long time and I was just focused on that. Seems I gain maturity quickly. When I got back home during the pandemic, I realized how I neglected many things in my daily life and how I was more isolated on tour than during the lockdown. I took the time to see my friends and meet new people. I was evolving as a human being, not as an artist. This made me feel more comfortable writing new songs and creating was an easy and quick process.

IF THE PROCESS WAS QUICK WITH THIS SECOND ALBUM, HAS THE WAY YOU MAKE MUSIC CHANGED?

The process was still pretty similar but being alone with an instrument to find out how to create new sounds was important to me. It's about taking the proper time to create the most authentic and melodic sound.

DID THIS LOCKDOWN HELP YOU TO BE MORE OPEN AND EXPLORE MUSIC WITH NEW PEOPLE AND COLLABORATORS?

I worked with the same bunch of producers, and I also created myself as a producer on this album because I learned a lot about recording and the process to develop demos for example. I was actively part of the production which created some big inspirations in the studio. I have known the double bass player for a long time as he was living behind my counter. We were hanging out together but it was the first time we teamed up to make music. We developed the concept of a dark room for music. We were going into a room and trying to figure out which instruments we'll use to create something organic. It was a great time for exploration.

THE MAIN CONVERSION SINCE YOUR FIRST RECORD IN 2018 IS THAT THE MUSIC INDUSTRY DEPENDS A LOT MORE ON SOCIAL PLATFORMS TO BE SUCCESSFUL. I KNOW YOU ARE VERY DISCREET ON THESE PLATFORMS BUT DID YOUR LABEL RECOMMEND YOU TO BE MORE PRESENT ON TIKTOK FOR EXAMPLE?

For sure they suggested that to me as they do with other artists. I have a TikTok account but my fans know that the only account I'm taking care of is Instagram. My management helps me to update all the other social platforms so it gives me more time to enjoy Instagram in a good way. Two years ago, I deleted Instagram from my phone to avoid being distracted because enjoying pure moments is important to me. Take time to be bored and sometimes it's when you're bored that creativity comes. Now I'm back on Instagram to promote my new project and at the same time, I'm happy to discover beautiful inspirations and imagery on this app.

IT IS PART OF THE JOB OF A MUSICIAN I GUESS NOW?

Yes, but it has to be genuine….if I can give advice to younger artists who struggle on social platforms is the genuine way you communicate with your community.

THIS TWO-YEAR SOCIAL MEDIA HIATUS HELPS YOU TO CREATE THIS BEAUTIFUL NEW ALBUM. IT'S YOUR WAY TO UNVEIL YOUR INTIMATE SIDE?

It was a beautiful moment making this album. It's about maturity and those moments in the studio making these songs was a hundred percent pure. It can't explain how it was such a meaningful moment when we gave birth to "Sahar".

ANY SONG ON THIS ALBUM THAT YOU CHERISH THE MOST?

Oh man, it is so complicated to choose as they are all my babies. It depends, as my favorite song now will not be the same tomorrow. I need to start playing them to compare. The main difference with the first album was that I was already playing them live before they got released.

HOW DO YOU FEEL WHEN YOUR ALBUM IS NOT EVEN OUT AND YOUR SHOWS ARE ALREADY SOLD OUT? ARE YOU MORE CONFIDENT KNOWING YOUR FANS ARE STILL HERE FOR YOU?

It’s amazing and I’m so grateful for this to happen. I mean, there are no words to express how it is a pure recognition for an artist. We have to look at laying bigger venues so people have more change to come. I like playing in small theaters as well as in a stadium. Both can feel intimate as well as people sharing the same energy.

YOUR MUSIC VIDEOS LOOK VERY CINEMATOGRAPHIC. THERE’S ANY MOVIE WHOSE AESTHETIC REPRESENTS YOU THE MOST?

I’m a movie freak and my brother is very into aesthetic images. If I need to name a movie, I will say one of my favorite movies, The Lord of the Rings.

#tamino #tamino amir #fucking young! #article #interview #english #2022 #with photoshoot #i SPRINTED to get this

[shadamyzine]

Greetings from the Council of Shadamy! It’s about time we finally reveal ourselves! The Shadamy Zine Mod team consists of six dedicated moderators hoping to make this experience as great as possible for everyone involved!

Read more on us in the thread below!

Each of us has created numerous Shadamy food, from fanfics to illustrations, which you can check on our social medias! <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ CHAKO - @ochako999 | Twitter

I'm Chako! I have several experiences as contributor and merch artist for several zines but this is my first time modding and heading one! So excited! Compared to other veteran mods, I'm the fandom baby as I just joined around May last year but i love Shadamy with a passion! I hope all the graphics and zine decos I made is to your liking! <3

☆ MOMO - @momotarotea | Twitter | Ao3

I'm one of the writing mods for this zine, and while I'm new to making zines I'm a bit of a veteran when it comes to Shadamy. The Sonic X scene where Amy hugs Shadow thinking he's Sonic is what got me on the band wagon, and over a decade later here I am, writing and drawing them... I hope we can make something amazing as a team!

☆ ARi - @killingthecringe | Ao3

I'm Ari, one of the writing mods for this year's zine! I was also a mod for 2022 Shadamy Secret Santa, and my day job as an admin means organization and writing are my fortes. I've been a Shadamy fan since 2009, and have came back to the fandom after a long hiatus last year! Please feel free to reach out if you need anything, from writing advice to a pep talk. I am always happy to help!

☆ SHADOW - @shadowsfascination | dA

You can call me Shadows. Been a Sonic fan since the beginning of time! ;) My passions include drawing, writing, reading, gardening, traveling and daydreaming.

I'm one of the art and translation mods and I have experience running other projects. I speak Dutch (fluently), so if you need help translating from English to Dutch, happy to help!

☆ NVRA - @nvrfearthefall | IG

Hello! I am one of the art mods for the Shadamy zine, and I am so excited to be here! I've been a Shadamy fan since literally 2020. I love this pairing so much, but my frustration over the lack of content in the official canon is what inspired me to start drawing! I participated in the Shadamy Secret Santa and in last year's Shadamy zine. My piece is currently the icon for the tumblr page/discord server! :D

☆ MiSTLETOE - @deadrabbithq | Twitter

Hi! I'm Mistletoe! I've been a Shadamy fan since the good year of 2012. I'm an artist and a writer. I am in charge of zine formatting and I love helping people so I will do whatever I can to help if you need anything. Don't be afraid to hit me up.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

We've been planning for this project since last year! We're all so hungry for more contents of this pairing so we decided to team up and here we are now <3

We are looking forward to your interest and participation!

#shadamy #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #sonic the hedgehog #shadamyzine2023 #meet the mods

[hiveworks]

OBELISK - Interview with Ashley McCammon

September 2023

The year is 1908. Evelyn Reuter is dealing with the affairs of her deceased father in her hometown of Manhattan. While she takes solace in the homes of her queer friends, grief presses in around her until one day... the mysterious Margot appears in her life.

Obelisk is a 16+ gothic horror/romance comic about vampires and lesbianism. In celebration of Obelisk's return from hiatus, we asked author Ashley McCammon @draculings for an interview.

What was the spark behind making Obelisk? Why a webcomic versus another style of publishing (print, self pub, etc.)?

My original inspiration for Obelisk was in my frustration with lesbian vampire movies - there are so many of them, and none made for a lesbian audience, let alone involving butch women! I wanted to tell that story, and celebrate that point of view. It’s similar to why I chose to set the comic in 1908 - the early 1900s are something of a transitional period, something not explored often when we aren’t talking WWI or the Titanic. I wanted to tell a story about the radical change happening in just a few, unusual people’s lives, in this transitory period. As for it being a webcomic - as a young artist, I always wanted to make one! It’s such an accessible, experimental way to tell a story, where even the website can be part of the atmosphere. Making a deeply atmospheric, spooky comic, that feels the most fitting.

For new readers, how would you describe your two lead women?

Evelyn is muscling through her day to day when we meet her - she’s putting on a brave face, or one that she hopes exudes confidence - but really feels like she has no idea what she’s doing. (The impostor syndrome is incredibly strong - something I think a lot of people can understand!) She’s been left with this enormous responsibility on top of the grief of losing her dad, and having that job and security is pressed on her as something she should be grateful for. She’s absorbed that idea and really hasn’t taken a moment to breathe - or to consider what she really wants for herself. Margot is quite the opposite - she’s a vampire who lives only for her own desires, a hedonist who’s been floating through existence that way for as long as she can remember. For all of her self indulgence though, she’s never connected much with anyone. She holds herself far above people, only ever showing them this facade of a regular person. It’s very arrogant - but it must also be very lonely! (Not that she has anyone to admit that to… yet ;)   )

What can you tell us about what's lurking for Evelyn in the upcoming chapter?

Evelyn makes a very bold choice at the end of chapter two, one that scares her - putting her own desires first, impulsively, in a way that will change everything and surprise even Margot herself. (Patrons read way ahead and will get to see this very soon, and the time she spends with Margot throughout chapter 3 as a result!)

Obelisk is a traditionally inked piece, with some digital final touches. What guided your decision to make this a traditional comic versus a digital one?

It really wasn’t a choice, to be honest - traditional media is where all my passion for making art lives! Obelisk is drawn and inked traditionally, and finished with Copic markers and the occasional paint pen or colored pencil for that killer red highlight ;)

What are some of the challenges in working this way? What do you find rewarding?

It can be tedious to scan, piece together and clean up my pages, but ultimately I have a fairly streamlined process for it and I don’t mind. I love having a physical final product to look at and hold when I’m done with it, it gives me a sense of accomplishment and connection to my work!

Do you have any tips for other comic artists on resuming a series after an extended hiatus?

Put your health first, and spend time reconnecting to your story before diving back in. It’s easy to feel obligated by the hamster wheel of social media and garnering attention, but your own connection to your work in the long-term is what matters most. Obelisk wouldn’t be the same story if I hadn’t had that downtime, and it’s off better for it!

What are some comics that inspire you? Do you have any reading recommendations for fans of Obelisk?

As far as webcomics go, I’m a big fan of Tiger Tiger, Hemlock, Barbarous, and Heirs of the Veil!

What is the best way for fans of Obelisk to support you?

The very best way is through my Patreon! Patrons have immediate access to the next six months of Obelisk pages (that’s my whole buffer!) as well as tons of behind the scenes work as I develop the next chapter and share work-in-progress shots right from my drawing table.

Obelisk updates Wednesdays and can be read for free at obeliskcomic.com 🩸Be sure to white list the site on your ad blocker and follow @draculings for more info and updates!

#obelisk #vampire #lesbian #lgbt #comic #interview #blog

[aur0raaura]

Twin Princes AU

LEGEND

Part one | Part two

Buy me a Ko-Fi!

AAAAND SCENE! Wow wow! I didn't expect for what was supposed to be another doodle comic...end up with me putting a lot of effort-!

Life got in the way plenty of times- making me take quite a bit to finish this...even contemplating on just putting this on hiatus and just do something else-

...but I did it! I didn't let any discouragement, nerves and bad feelings get to me.

Now I'm sure many are wondering- HOW did this come to fruition? Simple: my friend pointed out that my next comic should focus on Kyurem's involvement in this! Many were wondering what sort of role the old dragon played after the previous comic (Family) and the art piece that accompanied it (The Giant Chasm)! So I went for a more artistic approach to this, making the artwork look like a tale at first, but then shifting to a more crude and cold atmosphere- I was going to polish these last nine pages, yet my friend would tell me that the sketchiness helps with the narrative- and honestly, she was right! Thus I tried to add some subtle sketchiness on pages 7-11 on part one! I wonder if people noticed that detail...? Anyways, time for some fun behind the scenes stuff...!

Here's the very first concept of my Original Dragon design, including his human form!

You can tell I did some adjustments in the final product, but I really wanted to make sure this dragon had characteristics of the tao trio in some way, plus-- I wished for him to have a unique sort of feel- kinda ethereal? I also gave a teeny bit of eastern dragon influence because...well...tao trio. The tail is actually inspired by a plasma engine!

It's why I gave it a bit of a swirl to it- ...kinda reminds me of ice cream- His human design...well, I wished to make sure he looked like the princes yeah-? He is their dad after all! So I made sure to reflect that- Same with his clothing as well! Ah right...I should show the design of our princes yes...?

WHOA WHOA WHOA-- those faces... Hmm... I wonder if people can start piecing together why this au is called the "Twin Princes AU" with this and what was told in this comic...? The design in itself was conceptualized by a rough idea my friend sent me a whiiiiiile back, but asked me to refine it further! Make it fancy, royal, elegant--!! You get the point. XD Though this is the finalized design i came up with as I brainstormed this comic! I hope I could convey how magical yet refined they are! As for Kyurem....oh my! What a reveal as well huh?

What a throwback....! I drew these a while back!

Well, there's certainly some familiar design choices...! And another clue to this whole puzzle- unless some of you have figured it out! Let me know through my ask box! ;D

I really didn't expect such a warm reception towards this au me and my pal cooked up last year. To think mixing concepts from our ocverse (GUARDiANverse) with pokemon could work so well...! I suppose fantastical elements mixing with another fantastical setting aint such a bad idea...! This AU has kinda expanded since it's conception... to a point of having other stories of other characters that take place in this version of the pokemon world!

Though for now, I may need a bit of a breather. 20 pages was QUITE the endeavor! Yet...that doesn't mean I wouldn't be opposed to tell more of my tale in other ways! Shoot me an ask, tell me! Who knows, I may answer with a doodle comic! For now, I'll just slowly cook my next idea! Maybe I should give the witness to these tales some spotlight...? I dunno...but honestly, feel free to shoot asks. Well, I hope you all can be patient with me in the meantime!

#submas #sbms #pokemon #twin princes au #aura's art #oh man it feels good to finally show this to it's completion! #I was having quite the rough time while trying to finish this...making things take way too long #I also participated in the PokeMas art contest too! ...in which delayed things further #haha woops...! but i really wanted to give it a shot! #oh right! I also added a Ko-Fi link- i wasn't sure if to put it there...but it's there if you want to have a way to tip me! #I just hope it's not too invasive x'D #once again...thank you for the support thus far and for being so patient with me! i really appreciate it #im not used to such positive feedback and it means a lot that this many people are interested in our story

[newfrontierbackstage]

1,000 views Milestone and more

Hello everyone. Today I have come to talk about the most important milestone the fic has ever reached. A little bit ago, New Frontier reached 1k views on Ao3 and it honestly made me so proud, happy and satisfied with seeing such a number, even after months of hiatus and inactivity. The support that this fic has received is... honestly something I never expected.

If I may go off character for a bit, I want to tell you guys a few guys. I created this fic just for myself, for my own sake and to show the fandom some cool stuff, some action and my type of writing that I tend to like and go for. The first version was very much a showcase of inexperience and lack of understanding for a lot of things when it came to writing, but it was still the most fun I had writing the fic.

Then I went to reread what I had created and written... I started to see the cracks, to see that what I had put on the paper just wasn't as amazing as I first thought it was. So with that in mind, I decided to start going back and rewrite previous chapters, as it felt necessary and I felt it could elevate the story to higher levels and although that was pretty fun at first, it started to drain me pretty bad in the lenghtier chapters. It started to feel like a job.

The chapters have absolutely improved and I feel the fic's direction is in a much better spot, but I had to fight myself to get the motivation to keep going. Being honest, I was very much considering the possibility of dropping the fic on its entirety. as it truly felt that draining and boring to write. I wasn't doing new stuff, I was just rewriting older stuff and noticing my many mistakes!

My friends like CharmmyColour and LonelyLittleShips adviced me to write other parts of the story that were more exciting or thrilling. I honestly didn't think that was going to work out and I still tried to write through Chapter's 5 and 6 with a pessimistic and saddened state of mind.

That was until GoldenTulipLynx (my current cowriter) came into my life a year ago. We started to discuss more of the fic and he actively encouraged me more and more to write a few months ago. He told me to do so at least once a week to get some progress done and I did. It wasn't a perfect process, but it definitely led me to write more. Then he suggested me to write something exciting and for the first time, I actually listened to that advice and...

It worked. It gave me my inspiration back somewhat and it made me want to get writing more and more. If it wasn't for his inspiration and also the encouragement from my other friends, I may have cancelled the fic as a whole, so for that I'm truly grateful to them.

What I'm also grateful for is have fans and followers that have been patient, loyal and comprehensive towards the fic's state and progress. This took so long because I wanted to give you guys something worthy of that much of a wait and also have fun while doing so.

I really wanted this message to be special, as I felt the ocassion was the perfect time to do so. Truly, thank you guys. Thank you for still being here and I hope you look forward to what else I have cooking up.

And because I knew this was such a special ocassion/milestone, I also wanted to give you guys something exceptional, so with that in mind... I commissioned some art for New Frontier as a treat for you guys, one that displays Cavendish with his rifle in a wonderful forest, one that's going to be the usual hangout spot for him and Dakota.

This is my gift to you, everyone. Hope you have a good day/afternoon/evening/night and I'll see y'all down the trail!

With love: hypersonicJD

Edit: I have removed the background of this piece as I have found out it was been AI generated. I do not condone anything AI generated and thus, the commissioner's credits have been removed as well and I would like everyone to reblog this new version of this post.

#milo murphy's law #au #space western #balthazar cavendish #fanfic #new frontier #mml #space cowboys #a new frontier #1k views #Ao3 milestone #sci-fi forest

[smallpapers]

Updated profile pic!

Thanks to everyone for your support through the past year <3 I can't believe TOH has ended...

Some updates/ personal notes under the cut!! Like, its really personal its almost narcissistic!

PRONOUNS: I go by she/they now!!! I've always had a lowkey gender crisis (fueled by an existential crisis really) so I am FINALLY trying this out. Feel free to refer to me with they/them pronouns :) (I guess I should have seen something coming when I made my first proper OC over a decade ago as an aro ace agender lol)

TOH ENDING: I'm really sad that the owl house is over...but I'm so glad I got to meet so many cool people in the TOH fandom!!! I even had the pleasure of sending a few friends stickers as a small token of appreciation. I'm like super grateful for all the encouragement and notes! I don't talk much here but I do read the reblog tags :) The brainrot was so serious that it made me draw basically everyday the past year (even if its a small doodle) and i really feel like i grew as an artist, and I honed my skills although I still have a long way to go! I can see improvement in my framing and colouring skills :) I think I might do some funny compilation video in the near future...

A BREAK/MINI-HIATUS: I am considering taking a small break from fandom. It might be a few weeks or maybe less, depending on how quickly I get out of this slump. I am guessing its a burn out from all the negative news regarding AI 'art' and being tussled round by the twitter algorithms. Also maybe because i did two epic pieces back to back... I have a lot of ideas and I really don't want to stop posting art online! I want to do sort of a post-WAD/pre-epilogue HW comic series, as well as a grom animatic :)

THANK YOU HUNTLOW ugh they mean so much to me... I know its silly because its a silly little fictional ship. But its really unlocked some creativity in me that I lost? Along with such a lovely community, it has really inspired me to keep drawing! Maybe its a right place at a right time thing, but after watching ASiaS, it gave me brainrot so much that it kicked my other bad habits out the window! I got to do so much cool stuff i always wanted to do including making an animatic, comics, being in a fan zine, epic pieces, making stickers... I can't believe they are canon now its been such a journey to watch this ship and the shippers blossom :)

THANK YOU!!!! If you've ever liked or reblogged any of my drawings, especially leaving funny tags, I just really want to say thank you <3 I really do cherish all the comments I get!!!! and if you've read this far, I'm super impressed!

That's all from me for now!!

<3 papers

#smallishpapers #its a lot of personal stuff and some thoughts hahaha

[curedeity]

HAPPY FANFIC FRIDAY YALL! Since artfight will be starting soon, I'll be taking a break from fanfic friday. I decided what better way to celebrate this new hiatus than to draw one of my own fics!

This scene comes from "Gasher's Dilemma" one of my earliest and most popular beyblade fics. I really think it is the first fic people really knew me by, and the one that stuck with people the most in my early days in the fandom. And I'll be honest, it is a pretty good encapsulation of my image.

Despite what this art might look like, this is not actually ship art. This isn't supposed to be that romantic of a moment at all (though I get that interpretation), and is one of the ones that stuck with me most upon rereading this fic. I'll be summarizing more later, but this scene is supposed to be a show of solidarity from Madoka to Hikaru as they both deal with their identity as women.

"Gasher's Dilemma" is a tough fic for me to look back on. If you haven't read it yet, I'd like to encourage you to, as it stuck out from my others for a reason. It is an in-universe exploration of sexism, and I think still interesting in that regard. At the same time, the fic is (I am knowingly exaggerating here) a flaming piece of shit in dire need of a rewrite or three.

I'll now be explaining the fic, explaining the scene I depicted, and then giving my thoughts and rambles about the fic below the cut. Thank you for humoring my amazing self-indulgence.

"Gasher's Dilemma" is a fic from Madoka's perspective that serves as an in-universe examination of the sexism in beyblade. It is structured through a scene of Madoka with each girl in the series, up to Sophie. The girls will pass off advice to one another, or rant about their own treatment and the emotions that's causing them. This structure is pretty important, because it centers the focus on all the girls, allowing for a narrative of community and solidarity to shine through. It deals with a lot of themes, but specifically the feeling that you are not doing enough to break stereotypes, that you are the problem, that you are only this way because an outside oppression has shaped you to be so.

The scene depicted here is from after Madoka and Lera talk. Lera is the first girl Madoka encounters in the fic to be more confident about her place as a woman. Lera calls out the sexism she experiences, showing she knows it is someone else's fault, not her own. She encourages Madoka to ignore it, and continue her passions confidently. This leads Madoka to remember Hikaru, who is so scared she is letting people down by stepping away from blading, and encourage her to stop worrying about others thoughts and expectations. She will never be good enough to change the mind of a sexist, so she should only focus on being happy as herself.

It's an important show of solidarity, that even as Madoka is finding herself more and more unsure, she reaches out to the women she knows to share their words, and try to improve together. It is about telling people what you need to hear, and also genuinely wanting the best for them.

Its an emotion that really sticks with me when leaving this fic, as it reminds me of the good experiences that inspired this fic.

"Gasher's Dilemma" is one of the more specifically inspired fics from my own life that I've ever written. At the time of writing this, I was thinking back on my high school gym class. It was only for a semester, but it really destroyed my self-esteem as a woman in a way nothing had before (and I did martial arts throughout all my years in school, played basketball in elementary, and never had a problem with gym).

At first, the gym class was normal, this was during the sports that could be considered more feminine. But then we switched to more physical games like soccer, and it all changed. We would start class by getting into teams, and there would be 2 girl teams, and 3 boy teams. Then, the gym teacher would pair up the three boy teams and the 2 girl teams, and set the girl teams against each other for the entire class period, not rotating us out.

What was the worst thing is he made us agree to it each time. He asked us and we always agreed that we were fine just going against each other. I always agreed.

It made me feel like shit, to tacitly admit i "wasnt good enough" to go against the boys because of my gender. Especially when i didn't believe that at all. I had never particularly struggled going against boys, not anymore than against girls. But as class went on, I found myself believing it a bit more, and hating myself for that.

It created a pretty bad environment too, a lot of girls were ticked off at the situation, and occasionally would mutter about blaming others. The boys, many of whom I'd known for years and many who I'd never had problems with, also started trusting us less. Whenever gym was brought up, the girls would always have a gendered issue to complain about, normally even a bit tiredly and anxiously, like we didn't even fully comprehend the situation yet.

But even then, we all still stuck together. I had many friends who sympathized with what was going on, and would commiserate, even if we were still working out. We would encourage each other, or just be there through the situation. It's that solidarity that is key in the structure of this fic, and this drawing.

I think it was these clearly personal feelings I was working through in this fic that resonated with people. It's why, even now, I'd still encourage people to read it. I know it connected with people, and I'm glad.

The fic is a mess though.

I reread it every so often, and am struck by how lazy my style is in this fic. The scenes are far too short, and the character work is still a bit wonky because i havent written these characters much. The narration is bland and there is so much work to be done on it. I critique this so much because I know I am a writer who could do better, who could execute this idea better.

Not to mention, there are elements thematically in the fic I'd change. While I've come to the realization having a narrow focus would still help, my gender commentary is pretty lacking. It doesn't really bring trans realities into the picture, and understanding just how constructed gender is makes for a better social commentary. It doesn't comment on the realities of race at all. It's, overall, a critique that could still use some work.

I'd also want to add Selen and Motti in. They weren't there because I didn't know how to add them initially. Both of them stick out even among the small cast of girls. The Garcias have so much to critique in their portrayal, and Motti is almost a joke character. I would've struggled to integrate both originally, but now I have thorough ideas of how they'd lend themselves to Madoka's journey and the themes of this fic.

Basically, it's a fic I really want to rewrite someday, because the idea still speaks to me after all this time. This is a fic and a subject that means a lot to me, and maybe I should return and reexplore these memories. But if any fic deserved to be the first fic of my own I drew for fanfic friday, it would be this motherfucker.

#beyblade #beyblade metal fight #mfb #gashers dilemma #fanfic friday #madoka amano #hikaru hasama #art #my art #fan art

[covenofthearticulate]

#VCselfrecsunday 

#VCselfrecsunday is a chance to rec one of your own works (fic, art, head canons, meta- go wild!) and say just why you liked making it, what you’re proud of, or what made you want to create it in the first place. 

My self-rec is:

Hazy Shade of Winter

Fandom: Vampire Chronicles Series - Anne Rice Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac Characters: Lestat de Lioncourt, Louis de Pointe du Lac Additional Tags: Angst, Smut, Blood Drinking, Cock Warming, POV First Person, POV Lestat de Lioncourt, Little bit of Fluff, blood snowballing? is that a thing? it is now. Summary: Louis has these nights, you see. Nights in which the waking world is too loud and the prospect of getting out of bed is simply unbearable. I understand it perfectly— happens to the best of us vampires every once in a while, Brat Prince included. The problem with my dear Louis, however, is that he is still so hungry!

This was the first fic I wrote after about a 4 year hiatus, so in a way I think of it a lot like a comeback fic. I was honestly expecting to be so terrified and overwhelmed with this piece, especially since it was the first ever time I’ve written entirely in first person (and the first time I’ve written Lestat’s pov, no less!), but for some damn reason, writing Lestat came frighteningly easy to me. No wonder Anne kept him around for so long LOL he was honestly such a joy to spend time with, and so different from Louis!

I think, out of all of my fics, this one has the most of my voice in it, if that makes sense. Like, of course all of my writing has a certain tone and a certain poetry that is unique to me, but this one just felt very me in the way that it’s paced, the way Lestat’s stream of consciousness meanders, the various one-line wallop sentences that are sprinkled throughout. 

And, of course, it was really fun to stomp around in this murky grey-area of canon! One of the things I get really emotional about is when, in Merrick, David points out that Louis has been refusing to drink blood from any elder vampires because he doesn’t want to grow stronger. I don’t think it’s ever been fully discussed what affect that must’ve had on his and Lestat’s intimacy, so there’s a lot of tension and yearning and it fucks me up a lil bit LOL it’s just so good.

Tagged by: @hekateinhell thanks friend <3 Tagging: @nodominion @auburnandamberangel @emileesaurus @calipsan aaaaaand anyone else who wants to jump in!!! please go for it, consider yourself tagged!!

#VCselfrecsunday #mine #my writing

[heimesweek]

And thus, it comes to a close...

A bit late indeed, but I still wanted to take a moment to express my most sincere thanks for all of your incredibly stuff posted and generosity to this event!!!!

Thank you thank you THANK YOU EVERYONE for participating ik this fun little week... Every Single Day was so cherished and adored!!!!! Your artworks and creativity were and still ARE all so so so SO delightful!!! And it was a genuine honor to witness the passion and talent all you guys brought to every entry for Heimes Week. The effort so many of you put into your pieces was evident!!!!! YOU ARE ALL SUCH A TALENTED BUNCH I ADORE U GUYS!!!!! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU 🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭💕💕💕💕💕

All the art and comics were so awesome, I still keep going back and looking at them over and over!!! and it was truly inspiring to see how each and every one of you brought something different to the table. Not to mention the sheer amount of time and energy you all put into each piece was evident and leaves me in AWE, like again some of you were whipping out whole COMICS. Each work of art was so so visibly a labor of love. All yall's talent and dedication shone through in every single piece, and I am still so awestruck by the passion and heart that you guys brought to your work.

Hermes x Heimdall was the pairing that first roped me back into posting in God of War fandom after so many years. The idea of throwing them together goofily bc of their similarities in a way that was both unexpected and captivating inspired me to start creating and sharing GoW art again after a long, long hiatus. The more I delved into this pairing and explored the concept as a whole, the more I found myself drawn back into the fandom.

What brings me the most joy, however, is seeing how much others have been inspired by this pairing as well!!!!! Seeing people genuinely enjoy and appreciate the creativity and effort that goes into creating works centered around Heimes has been so incredibly rewarding. It warms my heart to see how much passion and love people have for GoW and the creative works they produce as a result

God of War as a franchise and a fandom has always held a special place in my heart, and being able to contribute to it again in my own small way, now ours together, has been a true pleasure. Knowing that these kinds of posts have brought happiness and inspiration to others is the greatest reward of all 🥺🥺🥺🥺💕

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart and from all of us vibing with these two blorbos- for being a part of Heimes Week. Your contributions were truly a sight to behold, and it was an absolute privilege to witness your talents day by day!!!! Your super cool art has ABSOLUTELY left a lasting positive impact on all who attended, and I genuinley do look forward to seeing what whimsical creations u all will bring to the world in the future... Keep on creating, and know that you have my deepest praise and admiration.

HERE'S TO NEXT YEAR...

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

(art by @staymauy)

#heimes #heimdall gow #hermes gow #heimesweek2023 #heimdall #hermes #god of war

[moriche]

Meta: The Stranger - Analysing a scene from Draft to Published - by Moriche (Ao3)

Summary: This is a piece of authorial meta, showing an analysis of my writing process by means of a scene from Fear in a Handful of Dust. You'll find my original draft for this scene inside, as well as the final scene that's been written about a year later. I explain the how and why of the changes I made while editing, and generally give you a little look inside the mind of a writer.

This piece of commentary/meta I wrote is a bit of an odd little thing, and I'm partially coping my author's notes in here because I don't quite know how to introduce it. Excuse the rambling :p I've gotten an overwhelming response both here and on Ao3 to my Morrowind fic Fear in a Handful of Dust, something I never could've dreamed of when I first hit that 'post' button. Thank you for the likes, the kudo's, the reblogs and the comments. You're amazing. I started writing Fear in 2021, after a long hiatus. Truth be told: I was not well versed in writing as a craft. I was not used to writing prose in English, which is my third language. Looking back, my first drafts were rough. And yet, that old advice that to get better at writing, you must write holds true.

The more I wrote, the better I got, until I'd grown so much that the difference between those first chapters and the last ones became starker with every word I wrote. I knew that if I wanted to publish this I had to use my initial version as a draft, and start rewriting and reworking it into the version of Fear that you're all reading. But why do such a thing? Why put in so much effort? Because to truly tell a story like Fear, you can't just rephrase a few key sentences and call it a day.

I had to look deeper. I had to take the core ideas, the core concepts I'd introduced in my draft and find out how to tell them. I had to create a living, breathing world. I had to tie all of these ideas together into an internally consistant story, and to create continuity where there was none. I had to figure out what I wanted to tell, how I wanted to tell it, and weave everything together into something whole.

But where do you start? What makes a first draft? What makes a final chapter? How do you even approach the difference between the two? I tried to find comparisons between first drafts and final chapters by other authors, to see what they changed and more importantly, why they changed it. I found less of it than I'd hoped, with the main exception of Brandon Sanderson, who uploaded all drafts of one of his books on his website for this exact purpose.

So I wanted to give something back to everyone, to old and new writers alike. I hope it's useful to you. And to everyone in this community, to everyone with their own original vision of Morrowind, be it in art or in writing - thank you as well.

(Art: fineliner on paper, 6x6 cm)

#morichesfic #moricherambles #tes #tesblr #elder scrolls #fanfic #elder scrolls fanfic #meta #writing meta #writing process #author process #writing analysis #editing guide #editing #writing tips #drafts #writing drafts #going from draft to chapter

[definitelypersie]

Small vent piece I did a few days ago that kinda spiraled when I drew it at like 3 in the morning. This is a DnD character of mine named Pandora Bell Dreamsong! She was one of my first PCs I really bloomed into DnD with.

More info under the cut! Me rambling and infodumping about her mostly + a gif version of this as a prize at the bottom

She’s a Satyr from the feywilds who is a college of lore bard. To sum things up in the homebrew game she’s from, all realms are pretty firm and locked with very few people to pass between. Pandora however was restless and much too eager to explore, she persuaded her way to gain favor with an Archfey who held domain over water. Said favor allowed her to become an ambassador for the Fey realm to see if relations could be made in the prime realm/if the Fey should even consider it.

She really hasn’t been taking the ambassador thing seriously though. She joined a party who briefly skirted by the Fey realm, and decided to disguise herself! The golden laurels she wears is effectively a hat of disguise, another favor she won from the Archfey who let her through. With said laurels she kept herself disguised as an elf! I was able to keep it from everyone in the party for literally two of three years that we played. The only reason she was found out was because we ran into a dragon who called her out in front of everyone. A deep convo later and then she showed everyone who she really was? No big hoot or holler about it, just party wanting to make sure they can rely on her.

All in all though she’s been through a lot, even technically an Insta-kill but was barely brought back by the cleric of the party. She’s warm, bubbly, easily excitable, a little stubborn, a bit too optimistic, and enjoys herself whenever she goes and wherever she can perform.

But some out of game things happened including a huge split/rift which has caused the game to go on indefinite hiatus and… it’s not looking like it’s ever gonna come back or be the same.

So, a small mourning piece in honor of my gal here! If I can find a DM who accepts Fey PC races I’m going to try to bring her in to give her love again but we’ll see if that’ll happen.

Oh also! She’s an avid collector of trinkets and baubles. One of the odd things she’s bought was a card that initially was a mirror but changed into a tarot card of her and so she was a little freaked out but bought it? I made art of said card a week after starting the game (three years ago!) and after her buying said card but I think my new one works better.

Oh! And that gif version I mentioned is below too!

Procreate kinda sucks for exporting gifs tho

#DnD #DnD OC #oc #oc art #satyr #satyr oc #satyr art #faun #faun oc #faun oc art #dnd art #dnd satyr #moon #art #tarot cards #tarot card art #dnd tarot #sketch #gif #fantasy #fantasy art

[illuminatedcomics]

Today I remembered Mad Magic, and I made a LONG post about it. MM ran from November 2017 to May 2020 for a total of nearly 200 pages, my longest comic yet, not only in terms of actual continuous posting, but in development, as I have sketches and art dating back from 2011. Almost ten years of planning and drawing resulted in me having a big burnout that lasted a year and a half. It wasn’t MM fault that happened, and this post is sort of me coming to terms with what went wrong.

While the details and the higher concept shifted and changed multiple times, the heart of this comic always remained the same: there’re two girls, they’re roommates, and they live through a series of comedic horror adventures. 

Around early 2017, I combined this first draft with many newer ideas about high concept parody/deconstructions of Harry Potter: “What if a teenage Chosen one enters their adulthood and realizes they can’t top all the stuff they did as a kid?” and “What if one of those wallpaper background bullies that work as henchman for the main rival was the center of the narrative?” To be honest I was never a huge fan of Harry Potter, but still, I was in the right age group to see the movies as a kid, and read a few of the early books, so these concepts intrigued me.

Enter Mad Magic, the story of Joy Kaplan, former Demon Goat (that’s your house Slytherin), who after getting kicked out of school, ends up living a life of expedients, together with sassy Alix Peck, a punk girl that appears normal but has actually a mysterious past.

You know how they tell you “don’t make your first comic your big end all epic magnum opus”? Well, Mad Magic wasn’t technically my first attempt at a webcomic, but it nailed the too big for its own good part. When I finished planning it, it was going to be 17 chapters long (40 to 80 pgs each), with dozens of characters, twists, turns, action scenes, magic, time travel, vampires, elves, doppelgangers, lovecraftian gods, crossovers with other stories of mine, long haul plans a la Once Piece where that one character introduced in one panel in page 4 of chapter 1 was supposed to become the main villain of the story arc of chapter 12…

Considering the series ended after 4 chapters and a quarter, we know something broke down along the way. But what? Well first off MM was a ton of work. I structured the pages in a large euro-comic style, with four rows of panels, that fluctuated between 10 to 20 each, all full color. With a day job, completing a full page could take a couple of days or even a full weekend. So that was tiring, maintaining the schedule ate up a lot of free time, and whenever I missed an update or decided to take a brief hiatus I always regretted it and felt like crap about it.

But the biggest problem was a lack of general fulfillment and this absence was caused by my perceived inability to “find an audience”. There’re plenty of articles online explaining the causes of burnout, and one of the big ones is the problem with “reward”, when you don’t feel like the effort you put into something is worth what you’re getting in return.

There were people reading Mad Magic, there were people that seemed to love Mad Magic, but in my eyes, they were never enough… but what would’ve been “enough” anyway? What magic number would've made it worth it??? Ultimately, this junction between my inability to gather a larger interest, and the presence of this foggy, undescribed “number” of people that would’ve satisfied me caused the wheels to break down. I was letting things like subscriber counts, likes per page, pageviews and reblogs dictate how I perceived my own creation. If a page got fewer likes than average, I started wondering, obsessing what was wrong with it. 

The point is, after nearly three years of working on Mad Magic, doing my damnest to put out pages weekly, I was seeing absolutely no growth in reach or audience and I didn’t really know what I was doing wrong or if I was doing anything right in the first place. This stagnation led to stress, which led to losing pleasure in doing the comic in the first place, so that I was forcing myself to make pages, eventually leading to burnout and the complete loss in my desire to draw again. It took me a year and a half to get back into things, a period so nasty and bleak that even the idea of reading a comic made me queasy. The fact that this coincided with the global covid pandemic exacerbated the problems, but I think that even without that, it would’ve simply taken a bit longer to reach the same point of no return. I realize now this mentality was unfair towards the few readers I had, and to myself too.  I try not to worry about the idea of “finding an audience” anymore. I make the stuff I make because I want to, if I catch myself thinking “people won’t care about this” I nip it in the bud. I’m lucky enough that I don’t need to draw for a living, and considering artist’s spaces on the web seem to be constantly shrinking, the whole endeavor of finding a following online seems just a headache. I also try not to be bothered by the concept of schedules and updates.  I only draw when I want, when I feel like it, and it works. I look at stuff like Toxic Park, one of my current projects: in 2022, I produced around 80 pgs of story in two blocks, when the will and inspiration to do so hit me. That’s roughly the same amount of pages of Mad Magic I made in a similar period 2017/2018, by forcing myself to have at least one page ready every single week. So, the change in schedule or lack thereof, didn’t result in a change in output. Not to mention, that in both cases, I tried to develop other ideas simultaneously, and while with MM coming out that felt like crunching, at my leisure carefree pace I also made a 20 pages historical comic, Theo the Lucky, and nine more shorter comics, which are all around two to three pages worth of story (and you’ve seen posted on this blog). Simply put, I feel like I draw so much more now that I don’t cage myself in a mentality where “I must get this done before this completely imaginary deadline hits”.

I still hold the Mad Magic’s cast dear to my heart, they’re part of a ten year journey. I often try to think of ways of bringing it back, but continuing from the point where I left it off, where things were just starting to get interesting, doesn’t feel right. I may follow Osamu Tezuka’s Star System, where the same characters in personality and design are recontextualized in completely different stories. We’ll see.

Mad Magic is still up on tumblr where it was originally posted! And looking back at it, I think it still holds up relatively well. I lost all passwords and emails relative to that account so I can’t access it, but the entirety of the comic in its uncompleted state (I think some pages might’ve been weirdly flagged during the tumblr porn ban?) can still be read here:

@madmagic-comic

#my comics #webcomics #tldr #wall of text #illuminatedcomics #mad magic #web comics

[supernovadragoncat]

My Writing Year in Review (2022)

I did one of these in 2020 and 2021 and wanted to give an update for what I've been up to in 2022 and plans for 2023.

✍️ 2022: The Year of The Re-Write ✍️

In February 2020, I fell back into the SanSan fandom after a four year hiatus. Coming back to fandom meant temporarily shelving my completed manuscript for "God and Monsters". It was meant to be a temporary break, but I spent the next year and a half writing a lot, reading a lot, learning about the craft of writing, and only occasionally revisiting the manuscript.

By September 2021, I'd gotten enough distance from it to know it needed work. It wasn't my perfect baby anymore. It was a piece of writing that had good bones but needed to be ripped down to the studs and built back up again. Mind you, I'd already rewritten it from fanfic form, so the prospect of another massive revision was daunting.

But writing is rewriting, so I rolled up my sleeves and did the work, day in and day out through the rest of 2021 and the entirety of 2022.

It meant waking up at 4:00 am to squeeze in a few hours of revisions and rewrites before work. It meant late nights because I was on a roll and didn't want to stop. It meant getting honest with myself about when I needed to scrap something and start again.

The blood, sweat, and tears were worth it. I ended 2022 with a draft I'm proud of, one that's close to the finish line.

🔮 2023: The Business of Writing 🔮

The manuscript is called BLOODLINES. It's with the first round of beta readers. It'll then go to editors.

I've spent the past year learning everything I can about the publishing industry and getting honest with myself about what I really want as an author, what success means to me.

There's great pride and validation to be found in landing a traditional publishing deal. However, when I quiet my ego and fears and pipe dreams and listen, I know this:

I want to shamelessly create art that I'm proud of. If this story pleases no one else, it will always please me. Finishing this story that was conceived in a dream almost ten years ago will be enough for me.

My plan is to self-publish this work. Like most self-published authors will tell you, you really need to run the enterprise like a small business. So that means, this is the year of learning the business side of writing.

In the meantime, I plan to finish a few of my SanSan WIPs (Moonchild, Origins, and The Naughty List). I've got one just about done and will start posting it soon.

Thank you all for the support, encouragement, and love. Many blessings in 2023!

✨ Onwards ever, backwards never ✨

#on writing #gods and monsters the novel #Bloodlines #sansan #on fanfic writing