#only had 3 sketches by the end of that 4 hours too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blindmagdalena · 1 month

Text

Guilty Pleasures ( chapter four )

18+ 5.2k homelander x plus size f!reader. office romance, stalking, voyeurism, office sex, cunnilingus, cream pie, breast play, flight sex, lite overstim, riding. nebulously takes place post s1. part 4/4. AO3 link. CH I CH 2 CH 3

Homelander takes what's his, and you get what's yours.

welcome to the final chapter! thanks so much for reading. i really enjoyed the dynamic between these two, and i hope you do, too. 🖤

Homelander doesn’t hold it against you that you take him up on his suggestion to be absent the following day. He leaves a little peace offering in your office to say as much: a mug for your collection that reads simply, You’ve Been Mugged. He adjusts it seven times on your desk before he finally leaves it alone, surveying your office a while before letting himself out.

The thugs he lasered down in the alley don’t garner much attention, but it’s enough to warrant a statement on the truth of what happened. With them dead, the truth becomes whatever he makes of it, and his truth is that two vagabonds were assaulting a cherished Vought employee before he put a stop to it.

It’s precisely the kind of hero story the public loves.

“I acted on instinct,” he tells the newscaster. He relives the moment as he tells it, recalls only to himself how fierce you had been. How determined you were that if you were going to die, you would die fighting. “They were going to hurt her. I like to believe any good citizen in my position would have done the same.”

Madelyn taught him that conviction without contrition would always read as arrogance, so he speaks firmly but with a furrow to his brow, and he closes his eyes when he inclines his head to accept praise. No matter how dead she is, her voice remains an echo in his mind: follow the script, and you’ll be fine.

They use his words to segue into a discussion of gun control, and Homelander’s mind drifts somewhere distant, hearing without listening to the petty squabbles of humans crying about their little toys and laws. He supposes this is how God feels when humans pray to Him over every minor inconvenience. Bored and painfully above it.

While it’s easy enough to keep himself distracted during business hours, Homelander’s life comes to an abrupt halt alongside the end of the working day. Like the equipment that broadcasts him, there’s little use for him once the cast and crew goes home. All around him the employees commiserate at the end of their work day and pass around invitations to the bar.

He receives none.

Not that he would accept them if he did.

Seeking both council and companionship, Homelander finds himself in Noir’s apartment, seated in the chair Noir keeps for him. It’s the only one the hero owns, what with his interior design being deeply steeped in westernized ninja nonsense. The place is half dojo, half living quarters.

He laments his situation to Noir, explaining his patience in courting you, the lengths he’s gone to endear himself to you on a personal level, and the bitter sting of your rejection.

“See her,” Noir writes in his sketchpad, sitting on the floor on the other side of the low table. “If glad to see her, good. If not–”

Homelander snorts at the series of knife sketches that follow. He has no doubt Noir would put an end to anyone for any reason Homelander gave. Simplicity has allowed Noir an unwavering loyalty to Vought, and as an extension, Homelander himself. Luckily for you, he has no interest in that happening. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Noir,” he muses, clapping his hands on his thighs before he stands up. “You’re right. I’ll go see her. Thanks, buddy.”

Noir offers two thumbs up. A true uproar of approval.

Under the cover of darkness, Homelander returns to your house, the flight path a familiar one now. He lands silently on your roof this time, cocking his head. He’s not confident he’ll be able to resist your siren pull if he approaches now. He folds his hands behind his back and peers through each layer between him and your bedroom, stopping when he can see you.

You’re nestled deep in the splay of your blankets, lips parted around shallow breaths. He bites his own bottom lip, remembering how badly he’d wanted to feel them. Taste them. He’s certain now that if he allowed himself to be close enough, he would. Denial, for as much as it stung in that moment, has only made him hungrier for you. Fuck, the way he’s craved you from the moment you first brushed him aside.

He watches you shift in your sleep and his eyes narrow, honing in on a familiar flash. His stomach flips–it’s his cape, the fabric pinned between your blanket and your body. You really are sleeping with it, the star spangled blue fabric tucked up under your chin. Do you smell him on it? Homelander groans softly. Like your underwear in his bedside drawer, you sleep with a trophy of your own.

“Fuck,” he says, aching. His heart, his mind, his cock–all of it at once a cacophony of vicious yearning and impatience. The urge to peel the roof like a sardine can and carve his way straight to you nearly knocks the wind out of him, has him preemptively reaching for the shingled surface.

Only the lingering wound to his ego gives him pause. He’s been bitten once, leaving him shy to instigate, but this revelation feels like progress. You’re aching for him as much as he is for you. He’s sure of that now. It’s time that he made you feel that ache. Feel his absence. Then you’ll realize the foolishness of your coy game.

Clenching his jaw defiantly, Homelander lifts up into the sky.

He’ll be benevolent when you come to your senses.

The next day, Homelander keeps himself scarce, preoccupied. Ashley is perkier than usual, thrilled–if not suspicious–with his easy participation in whatever inane business she brings to him. It helps distract him from the endless feeling of waiting that he’s enduring.

He sticks stubbornly to his schedule, fantasizing about the torment his avoidance has surely wrought. He’s tempted a time or two to break, but each time he remembers the mortified Oh! you uttered before he kissed you, he refocuses himself.

You’ll come.

Not before lunch, but that is the perfect opportunity for it. He makes himself more available then, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair.

No sign of you.

He gives you the benefit of the doubt. A meal to embolden you.

Then you’ll come.

He waits.

Lunch long since over.

He waits.

The day is winding down.

He’s fucking tired of waiting.

Where the hell are you? He’s given you the entirety of the day to seek him out, ample opportunity to come thank him for his gift, to address the aching thing ruminating between you. You’d be a fucking liar to say you don’t feel it, too. By midday, he’s seething with impatience and hurt. There’s no chance he’s going to let you stand him up.

It’s precisely the wrong time for Ashley to rear her head back up. “Okay! That’s that, now regarding the amnesty for–”

“Ashley!” He snaps, a harsh and throaty sound. “Would you shut the fuck up?”

She stops in her tracks, staring wide-eyed. Of course it was too good to be true.

Homelander all but leaps to his feet, pushing out of his chair so hard that it flips backwards and into the wall in a heavy clatter. She clutches her vPad to her chest and quickly back steps out of his way, watching in frightened bewilderment as he storms from the room, making a beeline towards your office.

He doesn’t bother knocking this time. Still, his restraint is undeniable when he pushes your door open. He barely catches himself from pushing the damn thing clean off the hinges.

Your head snaps up from your computer, eyes wide. He hears your heart jump and he savors the alarm that shoots through you. Payback for the awful misery you forced him to endure in the hours since he last saw you. Still, the sight of you disarms him. For all his seething anger, there is something small in him that retreats it when your eyes are on him.

There’s a heaviness to your gaze that his strength can do nothing to alleviate. No incredible feat of his can wrench away what it is he wants from you. What he needs. It’s something you have to give him willingly, and that alone is enough to temper his rage. The familiar fear that you won’t.

He marches to the front of your desk and levels an accusatory finger on you.

“You like me,” he hisses, bending to brace his opposite hand on your desk.

You blink owlishly, lips parted. That clearly wasn’t what you expected him to say. He’s not sure it’s what he meant to say. “Homelander–”

“No,” he says, voice pitched low, a warning. “No, no. No games, no workarounds. You like me. You do. And I like you. So,” he abandons his point to make a vague encompassing gesture, but he doesn’t know what to say next. He didn’t think this far ahead. All day he had practiced the calm benevolence he would show when you approached him, chastised and yearning. He has nothing to back up this frenzied play for.

You stand. Homelander rises to his full height with you, jutting his chin out. He watches you with all the wariness of a wounded predator as you circle around your desk, your hand gliding along the wood like you would flank a horse so as not to spook it.

He can’t determine the intent behind your gaze. He angles his body towards you, facing you head on. You look like yourself again, in your element and free from the fawn fear of the alley. He can’t entirely decide which way he prefers you. When you were in his arms, he was your hero. In your office, his position feels more precarious.

The silence stretches on for hours–or seconds, it’s impossible to say–before he can no longer stand it. Sucking in a breath, he–

You kiss him.

Homelander goes shock still, hyper aware of your lips pressed feather light to his, your breasts against his chest, your hand on his forearm. He doesn’t know when he closed his eyes, but he senses when you begin to pull away.

In a flash he cups your face in his hands and pulls you in deep, inhaling sharply, like he’s only just remembered how to breathe. He kisses you, kisses you, kisses you as if he can trap you in the cycle of it. You don’t resist, you don’t tense. Instead, you sigh an angel’s breath against his lips. Only then does he break to look at you.

“I don’t understand,” he says, bewildered, flushed.

“I do like you,” you say, eyes glassy.

His brows pinch. “But… That night–”

“Wasn’t right,” you interrupt. “I wanted to kiss you, but not like that. Not then. Not because you saved me, not because I was in shock, not because of…” you rock your head side to side. “Whatever other bullshit… You let me down that night.”

“Let you down?” Homelander echoes, taken aback. “By saving your life?” He asks, his temper a perpetual simmer ready to flare. He’s immediately tempered by your hands taking his wrists, squeezing. You hold his gaze and your expression is gentle, but there is a firmness in your stare that he finds intoxicating. Not an ounce of fear, even when his anger emerges.

Good. You shouldn’t be afraid of him. He saved you.

“I was shaken. Badly. My date was an entitled asshole, those men, they tried to…” You shake your head, holding his hands to your face. “I didn’t need you to be a man. I needed you to be a hero. I wasn’t ready.”

A light in Homelander’s eyes flicks on. You just weren’t ready. He’d been right after all. He fixates on that, choosing to forgive you for that, at least.

“Well, why didn’t… You could have said something,” he says, feeling like a deflated hot air balloon, all slack expansion and heat with no purpose.

“I would have,” you say, your cheeks soft and round in his hands, lips slightly puckered from his hold on your face. “But you ran away.”

“What? I–” He laughs incredulously. “I did not run away.”

“Flew away,” you say, pushing in to kiss him again. He screws his eyes shut. Fuck, fuck. Oh fuck. He’s been dreaming of this, aching for it. To feel you against him, wanting him as much as he wants you. “Pretty fast, too. Looked like you shot straight up to the moon,” you say, breath hot and sweet on his lips.

“I…” He swallows, hands slipping down to either side of your neck, thumbs tilting your chin up. “I’m sorry. I wanted you,” he says, trailing his parted lips along your jaw, kissing and breathing you in the way he’s craved to. He can feel your skin growing hot against his lips, hear the uptick of your pulse as your heart begins to race.

“Do you still want me?” You ask, voice lower now. It sends a delicious hot pang all the way through him.

“You have no fucking idea,” he murmurs, nipping at the lobe of your ear, desperate to test the give of you under his teeth, the feel of your soft and yielding flesh branded into his memory the moment his lips touched your skin.

A knock snaps his attention away from you, but it isn’t at the door. He looks down and sees that it’s you knocking on your desk. “So take me,” you say, voice laced with heat. His lips split into a wicked grin. He snatches the edge of your heavy wooden desk and effortlessly tips it backwards until everything slides off of it, clattering to the floor. He lifts you up, relishing your delighted little yelp, and places you down on the cleared surface like a doll, stepping in between your legs.

He kisses you again. Let me in, demands the press of his tongue. You yield to him, but it’s far from a surrender. Your tongue meets his eagerly, tasting him as much as he does you. Tasting you. That’s what he wants. He wants to map every inch of you with his tongue.

Homelander slips his hand between your legs, pushing your skirt up out of the way. He presses his fingers to the heat between your thighs, rubbing through the thin fabric of your panties. You sigh that same seraphic sound against his lips, slipping your hands up into his hair, already taking a handful of it to tug gently.

He breaks the kiss and takes his fingers from you after the barest tease of pleasure. The impatient sound you make goes straight to his cock, as does your flustered expression. He brings his fingers to his lips and drags his tongue over the leather of them, sliding them past his lips to give a quick suck. It’s not enough, too slight a hint of you. He needs more. You watch him with rapt attention, giving his hair a demanding little tug.

“You can pull as hard as you like,” he tells you with a smile, tilting his head against the grasp you have on his hair. “Tells me I’m doing a good job.”

“I’ll tell you when you’re doing a good job,” you rasp, giving his hair a sharp pull and then a downward push. That sends a shiver down his spine.

Fuck yes.

Homelander sinks down onto his knees, lifting each of your legs up over his shoulders. You give a little gasp when he yanks your ass to the edge of the desk, giddy with the way he manhandles you. He swallows, mouth dry, thirsty for the wet, heady smell of your pussy. He maneuvers his head under your skirt until he’s close enough to drag his tongue up the soft cotton of your panties. Your breath hitches and your grip in his hair tightens while you egg him on with sharp little rolls of your hips.

He closes his eyes, giving a rumbling moan for the taste of you, even through the fabric. He laps until the fabric is soaked, clinging to your skin, and he can feel your clit swollen and stiff on his tongue through your panties. He closes his mouth over it, sucking you through your underwear while you writhe above him, keeping yourself quiet.

That won’t do.

He wants to hear you.

He wants the whole fucking Tower to hear you.

Hooking the crotch of your panties with his finger, it only takes one sharp little tug to tear them, exposing you to him.

“Homelander,” you moan. The sound of it lances a spear of heat through him, leaves his cock throbbing needily in the rigid confines of his cup. He groans into you, rocking his hips against the empty air. The only proper answer is to dive in, to close his lips around your clit and finally suck the rich nectar of your cunt without the filter of fabric between you. You taste even better than you smell, like salt and sex and sweet ripe fruit. It overwhelms his senses immediately, his eyelids flickering.

The more he laps at you, the silkier your pussy becomes. Between circling your clit, he drives his tongue deep into you, drinking you down noisily and messily, a parched man gulping from an oasis. Your thick thighs are tight on either side of his head, your pulse pounding in his ears. He moans low and wicked for the taste and feel of you.

Your grip on his hair tightens sporadically, sharp little tugs that match the staccato cadence of your breaths. “F-fuck, your tongue feels-feels fucking unreal,” you moan, grinding down against it. The strength of it, the slight thrum of restrained power that courses through him, and the sheer relentlessness of his stamina is driving you wild against his mouth. “Fingers, use your fingers,” you tell him. He loves the rawness of your voice, the authority and desperation in your demand.

Removing one of his gloves, he moves his bare hand to the sweltering wetness of you, teasing his finger just below where his tongue is rubbing your clit. His index finger slips easily into the slick mess, and he savors the quiver of your velvet walls around it. He lets you ride his finger, stays all but still while you greedily bounce your hips, both hands fisted in his hair. You use him for your pleasure, and it makes him delirious with want.

Homelander's gaze flickers up. He peers through the layer of your skirt to catch a look at you, to watch you while you cannot watch him. You’re losing track of yourself, lips parted, eyes glazed with pleasure, shivering with each flick of his tongue and dive of his finger. Euphoria looks good on you.

Christ, he has been patient. He would chastise himself for waiting so long to touch you, to taste you, to feel you, but he can’t bring himself to. The wait gifted him with this exquisite hunger, and he proved something important; you both yearn for the other. You crave him. He can see it in your hazy eyes, taste it in the spill of your sweet cunt.

You belong to him. He needs only to take you.

One finger becomes two, and then three. Your heels dig into his shoulders and fuck yourself down on them, moaning recklessly now, not caring who hears you. It’s music to his ears.

“Fuck, Homelander, I-I’m coming, I’m-don’t stop, don’t stop,” you beg prettily. You don’t need to, but he enjoys the song anyway. He laps at your clit in quick upward pulls of his tongue, lips creating a seal around it. His brows furrow tightly, his own neglected arousal pounding through his body like a wardrum, but he doesn’t touch himself, too focused on you.

Your whole body locks up tight when you come, breath caught in your lungs, your clit fluttering delicately. He presses his tongue to it, savoring the taste of your euphoria, how it floods your system and changes the flavor of you. Your pleasure grows his hunger into something monstrous, something demanding, but there is satiation at least in bringing you this, in showing you all the things he will be for you.

You’ll never want for anyone–or anything– else ever again.

Homelander doesn’t stop. You begged him not to. He finger-fucks you through the aftershocks, lapping up every drop of your pleasure, stroking you inside and out while your cunt squeezes his fingers. He doesn’t stop until he feels you pushing him away, your sweet songbird moans sounding more like whimpers, oversensitized. He withdraws his fingers, giving one last noisy slurp before emerging from beneath your skirt. His face is shiny and wet with your slick, his pupils blown black. He's panting, looking every bit like a beast lifting its bloodied head from the belly of its kill.

Crawling up your body, still predator hungry, he rests his knee on the desk between your legs. He cups either side of your face, fingertips digging possessively into the back of your neck. He meets your eyes, pinning you with the intensity of his gaze, wordlessly drilling into your mind that this moment, this feeling, this tingling warmth in your body is him.

I did this to you, his expression reads. You’re on my lips, he says by pressing them to yours, kissing your own taste into your mouth, his body throbbing, desperate for an ounce of that same relief. You’re mine.

To his amazement, your eyes mirror his own savage hunger. You kiss him hard, shamelessly licking into his mouth, huffing shallow breaths from your nose. “Lie down,” you tell him, voice as sweet and coarse as raw sugar. “I’m going to ride you.”

Homelander doesn’t need to be told twice. Exhilarated, he rolls over, flipping you with him and steadying you above him in a fluid motion. The desk isn’t as long as he is tall, but it doesn’t matter. He’s already half suspended in the air with his own excitement, helping you with overly eager hands that fumble alongside yours with his belt, which falls to the ground with a distinct thud. He gives a little jump at the voracity you rip his zipper down with, grinning.

Together, you shuck his pants down to his thighs. You grip him through his red briefs, a fractured moan falling from his lips.

“Cute underwear,” you coo. His cheeks flush to almost the same shade. You flatten your palm over his cock and he bites back a whimper, teeth sinking into his tongue. You give a light squeeze, fingers curling around his cock through the fabric, and he lets out a rough breath. “You feel close,” you tell him, stroking him in a loose fist, your hand warm, the fabric soft.

He nods fervently, the friction and your voice already teetering him towards the edge. He makes a sound of both anguish and relief when you release him, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. You tug his underwear down, his cock bouncing free, engorged and dripping precome.

“Don’t move,” you tell him, bracing one hand on his chest and sliding forward, your other hand moving between your bodies to steady his cock against the rapturously hot press of your soaked cunt. His hands fly to your hips, fingertips biting into the softness of your body. You allow him that, focused entirely on the act of taking him into you. The fat head of his cock it slips inside, evoking a sweet little gasp from you, and Homelander fights not to slam in the rest of the way.

Both of your hands fall to his chest, your eyes meeting his. He holds your gaze, mouth twitching around silent sharp breaths. He watches you sink slowly down the length of him, engulfing him in such sublime rapture it’s a wonder he doesn’t come right then and there for the feel of you alone. His grip on your hips flexes and he gives a sharp little thrust up, forgetting himself to the divine feel of your pussy.

“I said don’t move,” you remind him breathlessly. God, you’re beautiful like this. The fluorescent light behind your head haloes you, giving you the look of a debauched angel he plucked from the heavens to have and keep as his own. He expects you to move, to bounce yourself on his cock like you did his mouth and his fingers. He wants to watch your tits bounce, see your face clearly when you come on his cock, but the only part of you that moves is your hand.

His gaze drops and quickly darkens, watching intently as you stroke your clit. The initial contact alone makes you jerk, makes your pussy spasm and squeeze him so good he almost chokes on it. Your only response is to sigh, tipping your head back and spreading your legs a little wider, taking him deeper. He wants so badly to fuck you, to slam you down and rail you until your desk cracks in half.

“Mmmm, fuck,” you moan, rubbing yourself in circles, the lewd noise of it loud and irresistible to his ears. “Fuck, fuck–ah, god,” you start to pant, head falling forward, brows tightly pinched. You’re so sensitive after the assault of his mouth, the flavor of you still fresh on his tongue. The faster your fingers move, the closer he feels you get, the clench around his cock steadily tightening. He wants to thrash, but you keep him pinned in place with your look of expectation and pleasure. You’re getting off on him as much as you are your own fingers, on the swell and throb of his cock inside you, on the sheer power you hold over a god.

You’re loud when you come, nails clawing into the chest of his suit. Homelander’s eyes roll back, lips parted on a soundless cry of his own. The spasming heat of your release is too much and he loses himself to it, eyes flaring up with crimson light as he comes with you, every shudder of your climax stroking and milking him of his own, flooding you with his own wet mess.

His restraint breaks with the dam and he sits up abruptly, startling a noise from you, which he swallows with a hard kiss, cupping the back of your head. He holds you still and he fucks you, lifting from the desk entirely so that he alone supports your weight, driving you deeper onto his cock. Your legs tighten on either side of him, shaking.

Out of his mind with pleasure, he tears your blouse open with his teeth, diving in close to lick, suck and bite at your chest. He buries his face between your breasts, holding you tightly as he fucks you both through your respective orgasms, the slap of flesh against flesh echoing obscenely in your office.

Hitching your legs properly around his waist, he bounces you on his cock until the pleasure borders on pain and a secondary shock rolls through him like another orgasm, stealing his breath. Only then does he finally slow, mouthing languidly at your chest until he sucks your nipple into his mouth. He moans against you, grinding to an eventual halt. You comb your fingers through his hair and goosebumps erupt across his body, which shivers in the euphoric aftermath.

He loses track of how long he stays suspended like that, lost to the overwhelm of sensation. Your legs go slack while his angles slightly upward, his face pressed to your chest, your head resting atop his. He nuzzles at you, bleary eyed and slack with pleasure. He kisses a trail up to your clavicle, your throat, your jaw, smiling in the loose, easy way that only a good fuck can never make him.

“Wow,” he says after a while, voice thoroughly frayed.

You giggle, groggily lifting your head. He adjusts until you can relax against his chest, fold your forearms across it and settling your chin atop them, admiring him. He touches your face with his ungloved hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb, then the curve of your bottom lip. His smile widens when you kiss the pad of his thumb.

“Wow indeed,” you say, swinging your legs lightly. “Can’t say I’ve ever been fucked mid-air.”

“One of the many benefits of dating me,” he purrs, caressing your cheek with his knuckles. He kisses you again, drifting slowly back down, unhurried.

Your brows lift lazily. “Who says we’re dating?” You ask, but your smile keeps his hackles from rising.

“Me,” he says, eyes crinkled at the corners. He lands gently on the desk, helping you to it. “You and I are officially going steady.”

You give a thoughtful hum, carefully untangling your limbs from his. You slide off of the desk while he puts himself back together, your knees trembling faintly. “Fairly sure asking someone out requires a question mark. You know. The asking part. You didn’t even buy me dinner.” You attempt to button up your shirt, but it’s obviously a lost cause.

He exhales a quiet laugh, pulling you back into his arms. “Well, I certainly ate.”

“God,” you laugh, rolling your eyes, but they don’t stray from him for long. There’s a sparkle to your gaze that he wants to capture in his palm and never set loose.

“Will you go out with me?” He asks, lips brushing yours.

“Mmmmmmmm….” You hum once more, drawing it out, feigning a great deliberation. “There’s something you should know first.”

He quirks a brow. “What’s that?”

“My guilty pleasure,” you say, nose bumping his.

Intrigued, he inclines his head to prompt you to continue. Can’t be worse than mine.

“Superheroes,” you say conspiratorially. “Can’t get enough of them. Loved them my whole life. Especially this one in particular…”

He breaks into a frayed, charmed laugh. “Let me guess, name starts with an H?”

You suck in a breath through your teeth, lips curved downward in a mock grimace, and nod subtly. “ Total fangirl. Embarrassing, right?”

Homelander shakes his head. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never felt guilty about pleasure. Where’s the harm in it?”

The harm inflicted on those thugs couldn’t count. They had it coming.

“Harm to my pride, my ego, my reputation,” you list, tapping his suit to punctuate each one. “I made a pretty big fuss about not liking you. I had myself convinced that my Homelander only existed in my fantasies, and you were just the guy who plays him.”

My Homelander. The words stir an unexpectedly sentimental surge of emotion that wells up from somewhere deep in his chest. He clears his throat lightly. “What’s the verdict now?”

You sweep him with an appraising gaze. “Still deliberating.”

He clicks his tongue, nodding. “I don’t suppose I could arrange a meeting with the jury?”

“They’re available for dinner tomorrow,” you say, the tilt of your lips sly.

“It’s a date,” he murmurs, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You kiss him, pressing your smile to his. He doubts he’ll ever tire of the softness of your lips, or the easy way you melt against him. He wraps his arms around you, content to let this moment pass only because he knows there will be more to come. He’s determined to make every one of them better than the last.

All of the pleasure, none of the guilt.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #my writing #x reader #yandere x reader

296 notes · View notes

sinsinsininning · 4 months

Text

A little bit softer

Chapter 4

Eustass Kid x crew mate!fem!Reader

This includes Kid’s POV of the end of Chapter 3 while the reader is in the shower. 😳

Also to clarify, Badger is a made up character, I didn’t feel like incorporating a cannon character into the reader’s backstory. I spent literally 2 seconds on the name and even less time on a vague description of him which I’ll post later.

TW: swearing, voyeurism, masturbating (both male and female)

~~~~~~~

After you left him on the deck, Kid ate slowly, thinking out the details of his next steps. He had no idea where this bastard, Badger, was or even what he’d look like.

Plus the West Blue was crawling with dangerous crews and the notorious 5 Families of the West, headed up by Capone Bege. Not someone Kid was on good terms with and, depending on how deep into the West they’d go, someone they’d likely run into.

While Kid would prefer to just make this a quick mission, so they could double back and enter the Grand Line, he was excited to think of all the practice the crew would get fighting all these other crews. It’d be good training before they entered the New World.

After finishing, he pulled out the maps and started charting again. Wire eventually returned to join him and the two worked quietly. Kid was making a list of things they could get while in the West Blue when Wire spoke up.

“So what’s this Captain’s name?”

“Why’re you asking?” Kid growled. “Just chart the stupid map.”

“I’m nearly done, I just need to know where to find him, then I can finalize the map. Right now I’ve just got it charted how to get there while avoiding marines bases and included supply stops. But I need a specific area to finish.”

“His name is Badger.” Kid said after a beat.

“Is that his first name or last name?” Wire asked.

“The fuck if I know. His name is Badger, he’s in the West Blue, and I’m gonna kill him. Make the map.” Kid blustered for a moment, he felt a little silly, all this effort and he didn’t even know who the guy was. Fuck he didn’t even know if you’d been honest…. Nah you were nearly crying, you wouldn’t lie like that. Wire sighed heavily and Kid nearly smashed the table.

“Ok, I can’t finish it tonight, but I’ll go through some logs and see if I can get more info on him.” Wire relented, knowing the captain was at his limit. “We should be able to make it to the next island tomorrow, I’ll do some more digging then too.” Kid grunted an acknowledgement, head down as he finished his list, pen nearly tearing the paper.

Wire stood and started putting the supplies away, he glanced at his captain.

“Boss… you know-“ He paused and considered himself, Kid glanced at him with a scowl. Better play it safe. “Just let me know if you need anything, you know I’d help.” Kid bristled at that, but just grunted again to dismiss the tall man.

He doodled a few sketches of his projects on the list, trying to clear his head. Eventually he puts everything up and leans against the railing, watching the waves and night sky.

After an hour or so, Heat joins him to take his watch shift, but brought a few beers for his captain. Kid downs his first two quickly, then nurses the next one.

“It’s none of my business,” Heat starts off.

“Then don’t fucking bring it up.” Kid snaps.

“But I think we should get rid of the sniper rookie.” Heat continues, eyes on the coast.

“What? Why the fuck do you think that?” Kid stood to shout at him. “Thought you two were buddy-buddy?!” He could keep the jealously out of voice.

“She’s alright. But she’s soft.” Heat isn’t phased by the shouting. “She won’t make it in the Grand Line. We can’t have that type of weakness.”

“Quincy’s soft. Wire’s soft. You questioning my authority huh?” Kid gulped the rest of his drink and tossed the bottle behind him. “You think I keep a weak crew?! That what you’re trying to say?!”

“The only thing she’s got going for her is she’s cute.” Heat added nonchalantly, Kid was fuming.

“Fuck off like she’d want your ugly, stitched up headed ass!” Kid grabbed his vest, forcing the other man to look at him. “She’s staying, she’s a good sniper and a good crew mate. Fucking question me again and I’ll fucking throw you overboard!” Heat grinned and Kid felt like he’d been caught.

“I get why everyone’s been fucking with you lately,” Heat chuckled. “It’s fun. You’re so biased for her, I’m a little jealous really, wish you’d defend me this hard.”

Kid wanted to shout again but he felt like he’d reveal too much. Well, more than what he’d already done. His face was hot and he felt deflated, but he released Heat with a shove.

“Maybe if ya did your job and not play mind games I would.” He finally says, Heat resumes his watch. An awkward silence falls over them.

“It’s not that bad, Boss. Trust me it could be worse. Imagine you liked Pomp? He’s fucking insane. I heard he sold his ex husband’s kidney for cheating on him in a dream.” Heat tried to console his friend, not his forte, but he felt a little bad at his trick. Kid let out a short laugh.

“Fuckin’ hell that can’t be true…. Can it?” He started on his next beer, sitting back down. They laugh together again.

“I don’t actually think we should get rid of her. Just sayin.”

“I know.”

“Yeah she’s soft, but she saved my ass that last fight, shooting that guy trying to creep up on me while I was taking care of Reck.”

Kid just hummed in response, still hesitant to say anything about her. Heat noticed.

“I promise it’s not that bad.”

Silence.

“I don’t think she’s scared of you, not really at least.”

“I heard what she said to you.”

“I think she’s scared of her ex captain. Should make her sit down with Wire, he’d sort her head out.” Heat lit a cigarette, offering a pull to Kid who shook his head.

“Not a bad idea. Just don’t want anyone knowing how-“ He paused. “She can go to Wire but I’m not gonna make her.” He said finally, Heat nodded in understanding.

“You can’t say it, I gotcha.”

“I can’t say it first.” Kid sighed, finishing his last bottle.

“Makes sense. Don’t worry,” Heat claps his hand on the captain’s shoulder. “It’ll happen.”

“Since when have you gotten this mushy?” Kid sneered. “I hate it. Go back to minding your own business.” Heat laughed as his captain got up. It was past midnight and he was tired.

He made his way down the halls, he needed to return his dishes or else Killer would bitch at him all day tomorrow. He placed them in the sink, then a thought struck him. Quickly glancing in the fridge, your plate was still there, all wrapped up nicely.

You hadn’t eaten since breakfast, he slammed the fridge shut. Fuck, you probably hadn’t finished your shit yet. He stalked down the halls towards your make shift shop room, irritated that you’d not finished yet and had still not eaten.

A small part of him was excited to have an excuse to talk to you, even if it was just to bitch at you. Maybe he’d walk you to the galley personally, to make sure you followed orders. Maybe he’d sit with you as you ate too, couldn’t let you try to skip out. After that he’d grumble at you for making him stay up late to babysit you, even though he chose to do it.

Then he may as well make you go to bed. His bed. With him. Obviously to make sure you didn’t try to sneak back to your project. He’d keep you pressed in his arms all night to ensure you didn’t try anything.

Fuck he needed to stop, he was hard in the middle of the hallway. He adjusted his belt before entering the shop room, hoping it’d hide his arousal. Somehow the shop was empty, all the weapons cleaned and stacked up correctly. He looked around for any mistakes or mess you’d left behind, anything that’d allow him a chance to speak with you.

But the room was spotless, everything put away correctly. Then where the fuck were you? He wondered if you went to bed right away, tempted to check your bunk. He headed toward it, pausing when he passed by the bathrooms, steam pouring out the door.

The doors to the bathrooms all had hatches at the top that opened to allow steam to vent. He was a little impressed that the hot water still worked after everyone’s showers.

With you in the stalls he didn’t have any excuse to bother you, you’d finished your work and unless he wanted to wait until you were out to force you to the galley, he was out of luck for tonight. Kid turned to go when he heard you moan.

Oh fuck.

He glanced around the halls, no one could hear you or see him palm his cock over his pants. You weren’t generous with your noises, obviously trying to stifle them, but some slipped out.

Your groans and whines sounded frustrated, like you couldn’t work how you wanted. He reached his hand inside his pants to grip himself, jaw clenched almost painfully to avoid alerting you. His mind filled in the gaps of what he couldn’t see. He pictured walking in and offering to help you reach your climax, since you still seemed to struggle.

He thought about how’d you’d look right then if he did, wet and naked, probably surprised and shy. Maybe you’d try to cover yourself, until you’d realize what he was offering. Or maybe you already knew he was there, confident he’d join you. Maybe you’d tell him exactly what you wanted from him.

He’d let you boss him around, at least at the start, but after you cum once or twice, then he’d be in control again. He thumbed his slit right as you let out a different moan.

Oh. That one was much more satisfied, he didn’t know what changed to make everything work for you, but he was pleased. He stroked himself faster now, checking the halls quickly, then held his ear to the open hatch. Your whines and moans were breathier, much more high pitched. He squeezed his cock, picturing it was you. When he closed his eyes and really focused on listening, he swore he could hear how wet your pussy sounds.

Your moans are getting faster and he tries to keep up, hand pumping hard to get himself off. Finally you let off a loud moan, cutting yourself off halfway through in a pathetic attempt to be quiet. He’s not quite there yet, so he moves his hand fast, but freezes when you turn of the shower.

Shit you were done. He was fucked.

Without adjusting his pants he quickly walks down the hall, his workshop is closer than his room. It’ll have to do for now, it’s not the first time he’s jacked off in there. He gets the door closed and locked before resuming.

Part of him is irritated, his high was so close just to be edged back. But more of him felt a little proud, you’d gotten off before him, as you should. Yeah it wasn’t like he’d gotten you to cum, but it still stroked his ego. He thought about that as he sat down, hand around himself again, stroking quickly.

He wondered how many times he should make you cum before he did. Hell how many times should you cum before he even fucked you with his cock. At least two times on his fingers and maybe three times of his tongue, that seemed fair.

He rubbed his tip harshly as he thought about your sounds, they were so sweet and full of emotion. Kid could basically read your mind from how expressive you were, so open and honest with your lewd moans. He could tell when you were close, when you were struggling, and even when something clicked. He wondered what it was that made you moan like that, thinking of ways to extract that info.

His climax caught him off guard as he thought about you. He came across his hand and chest with a groan, some of his spend getting on his pants. As he came down, panting as he leaned back in his chair, he could hear you walking down the hall.

Leaping up, he tucked himself back into his pants, grabbed an old rag to wipe the cooling cum from his hands and chest. He knocked over the chair and toppled a few tools in his haste. Your steps were quiet but he was hyper aware of you as you passed the door.

After a few minutes of quiet he finally exited, going straight to his room and laying face down on the bed. He wanted to shout but settled for smothering himself until he finally dozed off.

#one piece #one piece smut #eustass kid #one piece kid #eustass x reader #kid x reader

106 notes · View notes

kitthepurplepotato · 11 months

Text

MWRMI Part 3

Week 1 - The Art of All Might 🎨

~•🥦•~

Summary: Y/N works on an All Might art. Midoriya becomes an art critic.

Warnings: Some swear words, mentions of blood

First Part Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Midoriya wasn’t lying when he said he won’t be home too much. It has been 4 days since the pool-accident and you haven’t seen the guy at all since. Sometimes, you wake up to some rustle in the middle of the night when he gets home, or to the annoying ringing noise of his fancy ass bracelet, but that’s it. He leaves before you wake up and comes back when you’re already asleep, and sometimes, he doesn’t come home at all.

You are a little bit concerned for the hero’s general health so you decide to start preparing some food for the poor fella; there is always a new cup noodle box in the bin in the morning even though there is freshly made rice in the rice cooker. He probably just mixes some rice into his noodles and thinks that’s “good enough”.

Well, it is NOT. Mama Y/N will make sure the boy eats his vegetables before he runs away to fight the evil.

With that said, you wake up at the humble hour of 11AM and make your way to the kitchen with your sketchbook and your pencil case; you want to get a start on your commissions while the food is cooking.

You want to make something without rice today; he’s been eating rice with cup noodles for at least 4 days in a row so you decide to make a pasta dish full of veggies and some chicken salad in case he wants to snack on something when he’s in a hurry.

You went out for grocery shopping the day before; you used your own card to buy them, thank you very much; and bought a bunch of veggies and tomato sauce. You put some water on the hob to boil, you slice up your veggies for the sauce: some eggplants, paprika, tomatoes, garlic and onion; after the veggies are in the pot with the tomato sauce, you put some chickpeas in it as well for some protein.

Yes, this will do. The amount might be a bit over the top, but Midoriya is a big guy and he probably needs to eat way more than a normal person.

Oh fuck, you hope he doesn’t have any allergies.

Gluten is definitely fine as the cup noodles he ate had gluten in them, so you should stop freaking out. This is pro hero Deku you are talking about. Allergies have nothing on him. He’s too PLUS ULTRA for that shit.

After you are done with the salad; the chicken is also getting ready on the hob; you sit down on the massive table to start to sketch out your commission. It’s All Might Texas smashing a nomu into the concrete in his young age costume.

You start sketching while the food cooks, concentrating mainly on All Might right now; the background can wait until the last minute even though you already have a rough idea for it; a city next to the sea, the sea rumbling aggressively from the tremors of All Might’s smash in the background. Ahh, epic.

The food is done way before you are, so you quickly box up the most of it and continue working on your drawing. You end up drawing until late, not even realizing how dark it is outside already. This is the thing with you; once you start, it’s really hard for you to stop until you finish the rough sketch and All Might is a complicated character anyway; it’s hard to describe why but you feel like his body is somehow more detailed than anyone else’s.

You end up falling asleep on the table around 2AM; you only wake up when you hear the main door open but you are still half asleep and so-so tired, you don’t have it in you to move. There is no reason to move, really; there is food on the table for the hero to eat, the table is big enough for him to have enough space to eat even with half of your body being splayed out on it. You might have a slight back ache already from the pose you are sleeping in, but honestly… whatever.

“Ahh, silly you.” You hear a mumble really close to you, but you decide to ignore it for the sake of your beauty sleep. You can hear Deku microwaving the food you left out for him and saying thank you while sniffling aggressively. Is he crying? Fuck, he’s so precious. He’s still just a shy boy deep inside, isn’t he? You can hear him moving your sketchbook from under you; if you wouldn’t be half asleep you definitely would NOT let him do that.

“Hm.” He mumbles and stands up from his seat then sits down again; by the sound of it he’s writing something down on a piece of paper. Probably a thank you message. After a while the clink of the fork stops and you can feel Deku’s warmth around you.

Why is he so close?!

Oh… you are being carried, bride style.

Pro hero Deku, your favorite person in the world is carrying you to your fucking bed at whatever AM and he smells fresh and nice, even though he just came home from work. He probably showered before coming back.

Okay, this is a stupid fanfiction, isn’t it? What a fucking cliché thing to do, like honestly, can’t this person come up with something more creative? No kudos for this one. No kudos.

Midoriya moves the sheets out of the way and puts you down; he makes sure you are properly tugged in like a little child. You are waiting for the kiss on your forehead but it never comes; apparently the greenette realized you are indeed not a child and it would be creepy as fuck to do something like that after knowing each other for only a few days. He sighs and leaves your room; you can hear a slight rustling and the buzzing of the microwave before you pass out completely.

~•🥦•~

The next day comes sooner than you expected it to; the sun beams into the room with full force thanks to the blinds not being closed the night prior. You take a look at your clock; it’s 8AM.

Well, at least you were able to sleep 6 hours and to be fair, you don’t do much during the day anyway, so this will do. The flat is quiet, the only sound you can hear is All Meowt doing his business in the bathroom. Not the best sound to wake up to but you’ll take it.

Speaking of All Meowt, that cat hates your guts. Every time you leave your room he scrambles into Deku’s through the little pet door; of course there is a fucking pet door on every single door. This cat is the most spoiled creature the world has ever seen.

You really hope he just needs some time to adjust to your existence in his home, otherwise it will be really hard for you to take care of his needs in the a future. You really don’t want to barge into the pro hero’s room without a permission from Midoriya, and you are also not sure if your fanatic little heart would be able to take the sight of Midoriya’s personal little room with all his beloved kick-knacks and stuff. It’s too much information. Like damn, you’ve been wondering about how his bed looks like (and feels like… Khm.) for years.

You shake your head to clear it up and make your way to the kitchen; as you move closer to your impromptu work space you find two notes and a newspaper cutout of All Might attached to your drawing.

Okay, that definitely wasn’t there when you fell asleep.

You take the All Might themed sticky tags in your hand to read them;

One says “Thank you for the food! It was awesome! You are the best! Plus Ultra!” The note ended with Pro Hero Deku’s fancy signature which you always wanted to get but never had the chance to. Midoriya probably knew that, hence why he signed it like that instead of writing his name on it. What a legend!

The other note is a bit more messy and contains feedback on your sketch.

“Too many muscles! This is golden age All Might in his Young Age costume! Not realistic! Use the attached picture for reference, it’s the best one I could find! Please take care of it and give it back when you’re done! Thank you!”

You can’t help but giggle. Deku, Number 1 hero of Japan just left All Might themed sticky notes on your silly little sketch.

“Izu-Izu, your twin is weird, but I kinda like him. Don’t be too jealous though!” You mumble to your favorite cardboard cutout who looks really happy next to Midoriya’s massive All Might one; you can see them both perfectly from the kitchen through the massive archway. They are almost holding hands.

You take the little notes into your room and put them on the side of your dresser; you really hope this isn’t a one time thing and you can fill the whole side with Midoriya’s notes and be the only person in the whole world who owns hundreds of sticky notes written by pro Hero Deku. You might even end up in the Guinness Records. That would be super cool!

… okay, let’s focus. You really need to stop fangirling over the guy you live with, it’s creepy as fudge. It may also ruin your chances to form a bond with the greenette and you might end up on the streets then. It’s time to grow up.

With that said, you make your way back to the kitchen to eat something and continue your sketch - well, thanks to Midoriya’s feedback you kinda need to start it all over again but that’s fine.

As you open the fridge door you get a little bit confused; the leftover food from yesterday is completely gone. Not like that’s a bad thing or anything, but the truth is, that food was supposed to be enough for a week. A week. How the heck is it gone already?!

Oh, there is another note on the empty shelf.

“I’m so sorry, the food was too good and I accidentally ate most of it… then I woke up thinking about it and decided to bring the rest of it to work with me…

I’m so selfish, I’m sorry! (*_ _)/\ Please order some takeaway with my card today! Also, sorry about all the notes! Midoriya”

You burst out laughing at this point, scaring poor All Meowt to death when he tries to sneak out from Midoriya’s room to nibble on his food.

Honest to God, this guy can’t be real.

Needless to say, you are NOT going to use that forbidden card you hid away in your night stand, but instead, you’ll make more home cooked food for the hero to enjoy after a hard day of work; you really love cooking, especially when your efforts are appreciated, so this whole shenanigan only makes you happy, to be honest.

You put another meal together and sit down to fix your sketch; you also have enough time to do a rough sketch of the background! And if that’s not enough of an achievement for the day, the food tastes amazing and you actually make it to bed this time, even though you kinda wanted to be taken to your bed like a motherfucking princess by the guy of your dreams (again), but you really don’t want to spoil yourself too much or use the poor, tired hero to fulfill your stupid fantasies.

As you wake up to the lovely morning sun the next day, you are already excited to get some new notes to add to your collection; and just as you expected, there is a new batch of “collectibles” attached to your drawing, but this one…

This one is fucking long.

“Texas smash makes a bigger impact! All Might wouldn’t be able to use Texas smash so close to the sea, the vibrations would cause an earthquake which would cause a tsunami. It’s really dangerous, Y/N!!! Texas smash can also change the weather! Keep that in mind!”

“… well, shit. So basically, my whole idea is trash, thank you very much, Midoriya Izuku.” You sigh into the distance, talking to no one in particular and click your mechanical pencil to the table to ground yourself.

How can you use your idea but be realistic without changing the whole thing up?

Oh, right! 💡

Instead of one picture you decide to make a comic out of this; the main picture stays the same and can be used as a poster but you’ll add a comic strip as an extra, where All Might mumbles “fuck” in an American accent while the massive waves devour the area around him.

Yeah, that will do.

This is how the first week of living with pro Hero Deku goes. You draw, he comments, you fix your shit just so he can find another flaw the next day. When you don’t get a nasty comment on the base, you move on to the colors, naively thinking that nothing can go wrong from here because you are literally staring at a picture of All Might while doing the shading, but apparently you used the wrong shade of yellow on All Might’s hair; shit you not, All Might’s hair had a light shine to it when he was Young, which means that using a darker shade of yellow with a muted, lighter one isn’t “realistic” because you need to use a light pastel yellow for highlights to get the right shade.

You MIGHT HAVE put a bit too much chilli into the chili con carne that day as a silent and respectful “fuck you.”

On the last day before his first day off, you finally finish your masterpiece; you might have been a little bit annoyed with him for all the feedback but honestly, this is your best work yet, so eventually, all the nagging has payed off.

As per usual, you leave the art out on the table, opposite of his freshly made dinner. (Which you safely hid under a massive food cover, because All Meowt is a fucking menace…) You are just about to go to the bathroom to clean yourself up before bed when the main door opens with a loud bang; and by loud bang, you mean “was that a fucking earthquake” kinda bang. You are ready to defend yourself from the intruder with the fucking mop you grabbed with your shaky little hands (it’s 3AM and you are fucking tired, okay?!), when a green fluff of hair comes into your view. Deku stands by the door for a few seconds, takes a deep breath and slides down the door to sit on the floor, leaving a lovely trail of blood on the poor thing, making the hallway look like a murder scene in the process.

“Fuck.” He screams silently to not wake you up; you didn’t think silently screaming is an actual thing but apparently it is; then takes a deep breath to calm down. This guy can’t even swear without looking cute, what the fuck.

“So, am I supposed to scream and call the hospital, or is this an every day thing? I’m not sure how to react, to be honest.” You deadpan, absolutely confused. Midoriya looks up at you then laughs, his smile reaching his eyes in the most adorable way. This guy will be the death of you, bloody or not.

“Sorry, I usually shower before I come back but I was on the field for 9 days, I just couldn’t keep it up anymore. I just wanted to to be home.” That last sentence broke your heart. This poor guy went back into his office to use the shower every single day just for you. He’s such a precious guy.

“You are allowed to come home dirty.” With a random burst of confidence, you sit down next to the injured hero. He looks at you with teary eyes but he still gives you a cheeky smile, clearly appreciating your efforts to make him feel less awkward about the situation. “Midoriya, this is your safe place. Use it. I won’t run away because of some blood.” To make your statement even more credible, you stroke his blood soaked hair gently and his eyes widen at the sudden affection, but he doesn’t move away from it. His eyes fill with more tears, slowly trailing down on his freckled face as he hides his face in your chest in embarrassment; he doesn’t say anything, he just stays there and trembles from the exhaustion and the pent up stress. You try to calm down your racing heart, slowly stroking the hero’s back too soothe him and he melts completely into you; in only a few minutes the trembling stops and his breath evens out to a normal level.

“Y/N?” He mutters into your chest and you can’t believe this whole situation right now. This is way too personal, way too intimate, way too… domestic. The worst part is that it feels so normal; it feels like he belongs here, like he was made to be cuddled by you in the middle of the hallway at 3AM. It just feels… right.

“Hm?” You answer in a whisper; you don’t want to ruin the peaceful atmosphere around you.

“Let’s buy some plants tomorrow. And a bench. And stuff… for the garden.” He mumbles, half asleep. “I want to go shopping. Yeah. I want it.” He murmurs, saying the word ‘want’ like it’s something he’s never done before in his life.

“We CAN do that. We can do anything you want. But if you don’t mind me asking; go have a shower. Please.” You giggle, your hands playing with his curls absentmindedly. He chooses this moment to look up from your chest, right into your eyes; you can’t help the blush spreading on your face from the closeness. By the look of it, Midoriya is not affected by it at all; he just smiles gratefully and goes to his room while your heart does a weird backflip in your chest.

“Can you heat up the food?” He shouts from his room, and that’s when you decide to talk back a bit just to keep the guy in check.

“I ain’t your servant, cheeky young man!” You try your best to sound offended but your laugh betrays you. Midoriya pops his head out of the door, half naked with a mischievous smile on his lips; your heart will definitely give out one day if he keeps doing shit like that.

“Please?” He looks at you with his biggest puppy eyes, his smile not fading for a single second.

Fuck, he could probably ask you to bring the sun over for him and you would happily burn to death while doing so.

“Fuck’s sake, Izu-Izu!” You whine and Midoriya bursts out laughing; it takes you a few seconds to realize what’s so funny, but when you do, your soul leaves your body for a second.

“Did you just call me by your husband’s name? I’m breaking up with you.” Midoriya does a perfect job in acting like a jealous mistress, and while you can’t help but laugh, you are dead inside.

You just called Pro Hero Deku by a pet name; a pet name that belongs to your cardboard cutout of him. And he remembers. Of course, he fucking remembers. Who would be able to forget that awkward conversation?

Ahh, you want to leave the Earth and start a new life on Mars. The language barrier might come in handy; you can’t ruin your life by blabbing bullshit if they can’t understand you, right? Even though, knowing your luck you might be able to ruin everything just with your pure existence.

You really hope the Earth swallows you by the morning. Or like… now.

~•🥦•~

You: I called Midoriya Izu-Izu.

Jirou: I’m not disappointed.

You: I hope you choke on a guitar pick.

Jirou: Rude.

… Next chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated 🥦

Taglist: @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #midoriya x y/n #midoriya x reader #deku x reader #deku x you #midoriya izuku x you #midoriya izuku x reader #pro hero deku

184 notes · View notes

dwcmarshalarts · 4 days

Note

I adore your style and content - I’m considering doing masters studies of some of your pieces just to try it out, but I’m still fairly new to art. I was curious if there’s any part of your process or any particular advice you’d have?

Gave this answer before to someone who asked me the same question, and I think it still counts! 1) Build stamina. You can do this by drawing often- and with intention. Start your drawing with a warm up- something light, not overly serious. Focus more on the literal mechanical feeling of your hand moving to draw. Then focus on the heavier stuff after you’ve both literally and mentally warmed up, setting the stage for more involved drawing. Make this a routine and drawing overall will be less tiring over time.

2) Focus on replicability, not detail. This goes hand in hand with the previous point. A lot of people develop a kind of perfectionism early on, where they get overly attached to a specific sketch and don’t wanna budge from it, and put details until it “looks good,” even when the subject as a whole is wonky. I like to equate this to “too much icing, not enough cake,” or “building on sand foundations.” I’ve been there before, and it can hold you back. Instead of focusing on a specific piece and how you rendered it that one time, focus on how you render it such that you could do something similar, easily replicate the concept. Once you’ve built more stamina, you can open up the gates to tackling the same subject matter in different ways.

3) Mind your mark making. Some folks agonize over the tiniest detail, sometimes for hours. At the end of the day, that itself doesn’t necessarily bring improvement- that’s more of a test of patience. Unless someone specifically asks, you don’t- for example- need to draw every single ridge of every knob on a switchboard in great detail. These things can be implied through mark making. Remember, a lot of drawing isn’t about literally making something for people to see- it’s tricking the eye into believing what’s drawn is actually there. You’ll be amazed at what detail can be like even when you don’t define every part.

4) Drawing is more seeing than “making it up.” * Don’t be afraid to use references and such. It’ll help you render form than imagining it- sometimes the imagination can conjure things incorrectly. *Even seasoned artists who don’t typically use too much references need to do studies from life or books every now and then to reinforce skills.

One point I didn't add before for style things specifically is: 5) Look where the artist got their inspirations from if you want to learn from them. No art exists within a vaccuum, everyone has their influences. Trying to do a study from someone's art will only take you so far- because then it'll feel more like mimicry than actual, learned study. Research or try to see parallels with artists that you might think had a hand in influencing a given artist's style. Notice the patterns there- certain textures are invoked here, this form was defined like this, etc. A lot of folks confuse wanting "more of a thing" as opposed to "what makes that thing desirable/unique." If you'd like to know where some of my influences come from, I'd say look at the works of Squiddy, covers for Hellboy comics, and the Snowpiercer graphic novel.

Addendum: If you're looking to draw anatomy specifically- study from real anatomy, and learn how to do those before you begin to "break the rules" (exaggerate, anthropomorphize, etc). For resources on that, I'd recommend the Morpho books (all of them haha) and Dynamic Human Anatomy by Roberto Osti.

Hope this helps somewhat, feel free to ask if I missed anything.

#dwc ama #questions for dwc

35 notes · View notes

steamberrystudio · 9 months

Text

27/08/2023

So now that Gilded Shadows is wrapping up, I am promoting When Stars Collide from "Spare time project" to "Part time project"

What is the difference? Well, when I work on something in my spare time, that means it is late at night or the weekend. Literally when I am not doing anything else and just feel like tinkering with it.

As a part time project, this means that I will be spending an hour or two each day during the work week to do things for this project. It will start making more steady progress even if I'm not focusing on it full time.

This is basically taking it from me spending 0 - 4 hours on it a week to 8-10 hours on it a week.

My goal is to have the draft complete before the end of the year (by 'draft', I mean 'rough draft'). But more on that below.

Summary

Finished all scenes for the new chapter three

Finished Yren chapter 6 scenes

Started catching Kav's route up to the others

Edited Asher's CG to account for the new conference room BG

Small adjustments to Wil's first CG

Ramble

This week my big focus for WSC has been on writing. As I mentioned, I really want to get the rough draft completed by the end of the year. Currently the draft is nearly 70% complete (for those following updates in multiple places, when you see different percentages....it's because I've written more since then. Rofl).

Now, the draft was nearly 70% in the past as well but I added another route since then, so I lost some progress due to the increase in target word count. I'm also calculating things more precisely now as I created a newer and fancier writing spreadsheet to track my progress and keep myself on track.

I went back and wrote in the new chapter 3, reorganising all the existing chapters and scenes to accommodate it.

I finished Yren chapter 6 (which catches him up to Noel and Raif).

And now I'm working on catching Kav, the new character, up to Yren, Noel, and Raif. (Remember, Daaz and Asher's routes are already fully drafted).

I have written about 15000 words since my last update here. I don't expect to write that much every week and my goal is actually a fair bit more modest than that. Gilded Shadows is not 100% complete yet. I still have multiple KS related things to finish and, of course, I will be making corrections and focusing on its beta testing once testers have had a bit more time with it.

WSC is still a part time project. This was just a particularly good week for it.

I have also worked on a few other things for WSC - mostly UI related and some art related things.

I received a new BG since my last update, and realised that...I have to revamp all the existing CGs. Or at least update them to change the background elements. I've only edited one so far but I don't think it'll be too much effort to fix the others.

And I continue to streamline and adjust the UI to make it look nicer and be more efficient.

So...

Kav. The new character. Kav'isari Tiaine, a Ka'mérian crew member who works in the space labs most of the time and specialises in identifying alien technology (what species it belongs to and what it does).

To explain where Kav came from, he actually popped into my head months ago. And every so often, I would contemplate whether or not I wanted to add him. I would say I first had the idea in January or February of this year. I would repeatedly think about it and dismiss it.

I then mentioned it to a friend sort of off-handedly back at the very beginning of June. A month and a half later, I mentioned him on a voice call on my server knowing full well that if I really talked about him and had a conversation about him, I would probably end up doing enough character brainstorming that he would become "real." And I talked about him anyway.

And that's exactly how he became an actual character. I think I had his sprite sketched out by the end of that day.

But he had existed as a concept long before that. The main reason I was willing to add him instead of ruthlessly telling myself no is just that I felt there was a gap in the cast for a gadfly style character who has a little mystery to him. And I just knew I could manage another route based on the length of Asher and Daaz's routes.

So...yeah. That is how Kav came into being. His introduction into the story has caused a few minor changes to standing lore or things in the prologue (just mentions of him, etc). But the changes to the currently public content of the game are pretty minor.

Kav won't actually appear in the game until Chapter 3. He gets mentioned a few times up to that point. There are some logistical considerations to his route but I have talked about those more on Patreon.

Speaking of Patreon, now that WSC is moved into "part time" status, I will be starting to slowly release some Patreon-exclusive lore posts for this game there. Like most games monetised through Patreon content, the lore posts will not be critical to having a full and complete game experience. Rather, it is going to be comprised of additional and extra lore content.

Some of the lore content released on Patreon will be in the game (such as character back stories) but Patrons will get to see it early and will get it presented in a different format.

Much of the content can be considered "extras" rather than necessary.

I will also be updating on the development progress weekly there (available to all patrons) rather than bi-weekly, and my updates there (going forward) will tend to be more detailed than the ones here.

Once episode releases start, Patrons will be able to access them before they the public releases. But backing on Patreon is not necessary to be able to play the game and get a full and complete game experience. It's just how this particular game will be monetised as I'm looking for more sustainable release styles so I can continue to make games.

That is all for this update. I will see you in a couple of weeks to talk about WSC again!

#when stars collide #updates #amare game #indie otome

85 notes · View notes

snow-143 · 7 months

Text

Water Coloured Tears | Jeon Jungkook

six- late night inspo (1.7k words)

'You're late.' I say without looking up at him.

'And you're as blunt as usual I can see.'

Finally, looking up at him, I squint my eyes before replying, 'Don't change the topic. Why are you late?'

'I had something to take care of.'

'Look, if you aren't going to take this project seriously just say that from the get go. At least that way I can prepare to pick up your slack, so I don't fail.' My voice is a little more accusatory than it could be.

'I'm only 15 minutes late. Chill.' He's finally sat down, across from me, levelling us out.

Managing to soften my voice, I return to my previous point, 'You are going to take this seriously, right?'

'Yes, y/n, I'm taking this seriously. I really just had to deal with something.'

'Okay. Then lets get to work. I was thinking we could both brainstorm on our individual pieces today. I have a couple of ideas, and I'm sure you do to.' I can't help but smile thinking about the art we could make together. We used to always come up with the craziest ideas together, they may not have always come out as we imagined, but we always had fun.

'That sounds good. What do you have in mind?' He's smiling now too.

'Get your sketchbook out, and I'll tell you. That is if you remembered to bring it.' It was meant to come off as harsh, but it came out far to soft, as if I was joking with him like old times.

'Shit...'

'Jungkook, I swear to god if you tell me you've forgotten it again I will shove this eraser down your throat.'

It's silent for a minute before be bursts out laughing, retreating his beaten up book from his bag. 'Not funny.' And with that I fling the rubber off his head, hitting a perfect bullseye.

This does nothing to sober up his laughing, if anything it made it worse. He's now hunched over the bench making a massive scene out of it all. 'God. You're scary when you're angry, you know that?'

'I've been told once or twice.' I let out a little laugh at this.

When he finally straightens up it's my turn to laugh at the others expense. A massive red mark has formed right in the centre of his forehead. 'Damn I have an extraordinary shot, maybe I should've gone with sport. My talent is obviously being wasted here.'

'Very funny.' He rubs the red splotch on his head cursing, 'How bad is it?'

'What? Worried it'll put off the flock of women always surrounding you?'

'Oh, trust me, It'd take a lot more than this to deter them.' He's smirking now, and It's putting an end to my fit of laughter.

'Right, sorry. Forgot you were like some sort of Greek god here.' I scoff.

'You jealous? Because you sound jealous.' He's still smirking, god do I wish I could slap that smirk off of his face.

'Jungkook, I've seen you playing Barbies with your little sister. Trust me, I do not see in you whatever every other girl on this campus sees in you.'

As soon as I'm finished talking it's like his whole demeanour has changed. He's not smirking any more, so I guess I got my wish.

'So about the individual pieces, how exactly do you think we should go about it?' Is all he replies.

Ignoring the lump in my throat I open my sketchbook and show him what I've planned so far. They aren't very detailed, but they show the overall message I'm trying to put forward.

By the end of my little presentation he's smiling again, and I can't help but feeling a little shy. We've spent hours showing each other our art but after all this time I feel like I'm laying my soul out to him.

Art has always been the way I express myself, and I'm always worried that maybe I'm showing too much.

I've only done sketches for 3 pieces. Technically 4. One that I'm planning on making out of stained-glass, it'll be made up of multiple different parts that hang from the ceiling to make an overall image. The second one is a drawing of a man, that may or may not resemble Jungkook, comforting a little girl, who may or may not resemble me as a child- representing someone healing your inner child. Of course, I'll have to find a way to incorporate the photographs, but I'm sure I'll be able to make up some pretentious explanation.

And lastly there's a sketch of 2 sculptures, both resembling me and Jeon. I must say I enjoyed drawing him far too much, and I'm sure I'll enjoy sculpting his face even more. They count as 2 pieces as we will make them separately, but they also fit together. I've drawn them, so they have cloth covering their eyes that can be removed. I'm also planning on having LED lights in their eyes, so we can change the prospective of them. We can arrange them in many different ways; with them facing away with the fabric covering their eyes, them facing each other with different colour settings on the lights to represent emotions, etc.

I've explained all of this while showing him the drawings. Him adding a little hum here and there, never interrupting me.

The sculpture is the only one of his that I've planned as I wanted it to be a joint project and for the rest I don't want to control his creativity.

'I know I've planned ahead a lot, and we still need to incorporate the pictures, but I'm sure we can think of a way to incorporate them. And for the others we can centre it more around the pictures. It's okay if you don't like the sculpture idea it's your project too, but I just thought-'

'This is amazing, y/n.' He cuts off my rambling. Closing the book I look away from his gaze.

'It's just a rough idea. You can put in any input you like.'

'Actually, I have a couple ideas myself.' Looking over at him, hinting at him to elaborate, I notice he's still smiling. It's gentle, admiring almost.

After a moment he breaks from my gaze, focusing on his sketchbook instead. 'There not as detailed as yours but... I just had a burst of inspiration last night and this morning.'

He's rubbing the back of his neck now, a nervous habit of his. I'm the one smiling now, he always did get inspired at random times. He'd go months without even picking up a pencil sometimes and then seemingly at random times he'd get 'inspiration' and then you'd never see him without his face buried in a sketchbook.

'Is that why you were late?' Glancing at me, he gives me a shy smile.

'Sort of.' He says before opening his book.

While he's flicking through his drawing, trying to find the most recent drawings in the unorganized mess I decide to try and get a look at his other drawings. It may be an intrusion, but I'm curious on how his style has changed over time.

'What was that?' I ask after he rushes to turn the page.

'Nothing. It was nothing.' That was definitely not nothing. There is a high chance I have lost my mind because I can't believe what I just saw.

It was a drawing of me. A drawing of a picture I posted on my Instagram over a month ago at least. Except the background was different.

In the actual photo I'm laying on my bed, but in his drawing I'm in a field of flowers. One that looks suspiciously like one next to his childhood home.

And surely that can't be right. It makes a lot more sense that I've finally lost it.

Deciding that I did infant hallucinate it, I focus on the drawing he's stopped on instead.

It's a beautiful drawing. If he hadn't told me that he only started on it last night I'd easily believe that he spent hours on it.

It's a drawing of a girl. Me. This I can accept as the whole project has to revolve around the other person. Except it's not just a regular drawing of me. I'm sat in a dark room with my legs crossed and my arms up in the air, looking more carefree than I truly have felt in months. My smile is bright, blinding.

But the thing that catches my focus the most are the angel wings I've got. They almost look like they're shining in contrast to the dark background. There's a bright light coming off of me lighting up the surrounding space.

'I um, I already have a photo to represent this one.' Looking up at him, we lock eyes.

I don't even know what to say. It's beautiful. I look beautiful. He truly is an amazing artist if he could show someone he clearly has some sort of disdain for in such a positive light.

Before I can even compose myself to ask any questions he's clearing his throat and looking away. Getting one last look at the drawing, I watch as he turns the page.

The next sketch is one where we are hugging. I'm basically a rainbow incarnate, full of colour. Whereas he looks like the storm clouds that hide the prism of colour away from sight. There's a bright light in both of our chests. But where we're connected in the embrace my colour is leaking into him. At first, I think it's a beautiful concept until I realise that where he's gaining colour I'm losing it. He's draining me of it. Leaving those parts of me a dark void whereas he's being filled with my light.

'I also have a picture for this one.' This time I don't look up at him. I don't think I can.

'These are insanely good Jungkook.' Swallowing the lump in my throat, I ask what we should do this Wednesday.

prev | m.list | next

///////////

a/n: first saturday i haven’t been at work in like a year so i figured i’d write last night instead of sleeping :)

49 notes · View notes

blamemma · 11 months

Note

25 maxiel? 👀

"Hey! Mate! Look what Red Bull made for me!" Daniel bellows at Scotty when they cross paths down the Melbourne walk. He pulls the cap off his head, thrusts it forward towards him. "Look," he points. "It's got a 3!"

His marketing guy and assistant for the weekend, Chris, had delivered it to him this morning, a box of about 10 of them to get him through the weekend. He didn't know it was something Red Bull were going to be doing but when he saw them -- when he put it atop his head -- when he looked in the mirror -- when he showed Blake -- this was it, he was back at Red Bull.

Scotty beams at him, takes the cap out of his hands, and then pulls Daniel under his arm, rustling his knuckles through the shortening curls.

"This is cool mate," Scotty responds, still holding the cap in his hand. "Same sponsors once again. Brothers in teams."

"Damn right! You can have that one - wear it if you want." Daniel says. "I've got plenty of them."

"Ahhh I can't DR-" Scotty begins, but Daniel snatches it out of Scotty's hands, knocks Scotty's Carhartt cap off his head and places the new Red Bull '3' cap on to replace it.

He's already put 2 aside for Isaac and Isabella, knowing they'd be too big for their small heads, but wanting them to be part of whatever moment this was, 2 for his mum and dad also. Now he'd given one to Scotty, and Blake would probably want one as well. He's only got 4 more to get him through the weekend. And sometimes, when fans gave him really nice gifts, or tell him emotional stories, he feels inclined to pass one onto them as well. He'll need to be careful now though.

"It looks good on you." Daniel offers. Scotty smiles at him, all teeth.

"Not as good as you look back in navy mate." Scotty offers.

"Yeah feels fucking good!" Daniel responds before they both turn their attention back towards the adoring crowd surrounding them, cheers of 'Daniel' ringing out, even though other drivers are starting to make their way through. Daniel steals one last glance at Scotty, catches the '3' glimmering in the light, and feels content.

Hours later, and Daniel lets himself settle. Lets himself sit down and breath. He's spent the day being dragged everywhere, a plethora of interviews, a sketch video for some TikTok comedians, hundreds of photos with fans. He knew his first race back would be intense, knew that it being in Australia would make it ten times worse.

But throughout it all, he hasn't stopped smiling. The only thing he's felt throughout is pain in his cheeks. A never-ending smile at being back, at being loved, at people being happy to see him, and constantly asking what his future plans are. He doesn't know yet, but the idea that people want him back, care about where he's heading is good, it's positive, he holds it close.

He watches Max walking through the paddock, heading towards where he's sat outside. Watches as Max's own face lights up when he spots Daniel.

"Daniel!" He says, "I have been looking for you. But you have been very busy of course!" Max pulls out a chair next to Daniel and then hands a hat over to him.

"Scotty asked me to give this back to you. He said he couldn't wear it all day because he was going to Aston Martin." Max continues to hold out the hat, but Daniel doesn't move, so Max moves it forward ever so slightly. A nudge. Daniel finally takes it, begrudingly.

"They are very cool. It is nice to see your number on Red Bull things again. Did you ask Christian for them?"

Daniel squeezes his eyes shut, cringes at the suggestion he asked for something like this. For a cap that distinguishes something old now. . It feels humiliating. Clutching the discarded hat in his hands, he wants to rip his own one that he's currently wearing off as well.

Of course Scotty didn't want to wear it.

He's not driver number 3.

He's not a driver.

He's not someone Scotty can support.

He's not a driver.

He laughs to himself a little. At the thought that--

“Wow. Guess that hurts…” Daniel says, almost laughs through it, clutches the cap close to his chest, almost ripping it apart in his hands. The days been overly emotional and everything is bubbling to the surface now, tears pooling in his eyes. He turns his body, faces Max more, but doesn't look at him, simply attempting to shield his face from any passers by who may want to take a photo of him.

“What?” Max asks, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezing, staring intently at Daniel, the frame of his nose, the pout of his lips, framed in golden sunlight. Max thinks it's the being here, Melbourne, the paddock, Red Bull, that hurts. The being there, but not being there.

“This." Daniel says, throwing his arms up in the air, the cap going flying into Ferrari's neighbouring unit. "Pining after someone, giving them everything, giving your best mate a cap they don't even feel proud enough to wear...loving someone who doesn’t love you…” Daniel responds. He doesn't know why he suddenly lets all out, why he tells Max of all people but it spills out so quickly, he can't take it back.

Max takes a sharp intake of breath, drops his hand suddenly from Daniel's shoulder.

"I do not think it is very fair of you to make these kind of statements Daniel." Max whispers, knows he can't say what he needs to say right now, not when there have been cameras constantly pointed at Daniel all day, people with microphones following him around, hoping for a soundbite of anything.

Daniel turns, looks at Max with a puzzled look, his eyebrow furrowed. Max sees in his peripheral vision Daniel picking at his fingernails now, and Max's arm lurches forward, yanking Daniel's hand away forcibly. He hates it when he does that. They stare at each other for a long time. Max almost feels like he can see the cogs in Daniel's brain turning at overtime. He's blinking slowly, staring at Max, his face shallow. Max waits, waits, waits for Daniel to say something, but like always, he stays mute, ignores the obvious answer.

"I think maybe Daniel, you are always looking for something more. I don't know what you think is missing. But maybe you should work it out. A lot of the answers are staring you right in the face and have been for a long time." Max says, standing up and leaving Daniel to wallow.

Years ago, he would have stayed, comforted Daniel, talked through their shit and then grabbed a beer together afterwards.

Max is over those days. He knows what he wants. Always has. It's up to Daniel now.

#daniel/scotty #daniel/max #dr #mv #sj #this is like the most obvious way this prompt could have gone i feel sorry for not being inventive #xx #also sorry this is kinda sad #my writing

60 notes · View notes

neptuniite · 1 year

Note

I really love your paintings! I was curious if you wouldn't mind, could you show your process and tips for oil painting?

Thanks for asking! I had gone and taken progress photos while working on my recent painting of Hickey: hopefully this is enough to walk you through a general idea of how I complete a painting, or at least an Alla Prima (single ~3 hour session) portrait. It's a chaotic process, especially in the beginning, but a lot of fun. I want to start first by saying that this isn't exactly a tutorial, just a showing of how I work. I also want to say that if you are starting out with oil painting, you should be painting from LIFE when possible, rather than from photos. Only thing is, in my case, I cannot wrangle Adam Nagaitis into my room, so photos it is, when it comes to fandom work. Anyways...

Step 0. Brushes, paints, etc. I use sizes between 12-4, though I usually stick to 8 and 4 for most of my painting. Boar bristle brushes are great. For the paints, I'm using the Zorne palette: cadmium red, yellow ochre, titanium white, mars black. That's it. I don't bother to clean my palette between paintings, I usually mix new paint over what's there. Bad habit? Probably.

Step 1. Sketching over another sketch you don't like (clean canvas who??) Yes, this looks like a nightmare. Yes, you aren't really supposed to do this. Typically, I start my paintings on a clean TONED canvas, meaning solvent + a neutral transparent paint so it's not just a pure-white ground. In my next process post I'll show this. However, if I'm lazy and forgot to prepare surfaces, then I'll paint over an older piece I don't like. This was a failed cast study (on primed paper, so I can cut it later) that is now being repurposed into a cold boy. Can you see Hickey? My sketching is usually done with a transparent dark (in this case, alizarin crimson + mars black) and solvent to thin it out. This is slightly more sketching than I would typically do. Main structure lines to focus on are the angles for the eyes and nose, and then the centerline for the face as a whole. You can use a caliper to check proportions at this stage.

Step 2. Block in! With some paintings I'll block in the darks first, others I do the lights first. In this case, I started with the lights. The block-in stage for me consists of 2-3 values only. Dark and light. He looks scary. Goofy, even. You can see that the anatomy of the block-in is pretty bad, but that slowly gets corrected as the painting progresses.

Step 3. Added in the dark background, because it was getting difficult for me to judge the values of the painting with that pesky cast portrait in the background. Typically this isn't an issue when you're painting on a proper surface, lol. I also added his rosy cheeks in on this stage. I love painting from those outdoor scenes, because everyone has bright pink cheeks :)

Step 4. "Oh thank god, he has eyes now." I continue modeling the portrait by using intermediate values and highlights to round out the "planes" of the face. These planes are not that obvious in this particular painting, as the reference photo had very soft, ambient lighting. Always squint when looking at your reference to make sure you don't overstate shadows, especially in a case like this. I've also decided to leave the periphery of the face (hair, clothes, etc) very unfinished, almost untouched. Personal preference!

Step 5. Take care of some drawing mistakes. Here I am scraping away some paint from the forehead, since I realized the hat was up too high. A palette knife is excellent for taking care of this.

Step 6. Call it quits before you start overworking it too much :) I'll varnish this in a few weeks. Thanks for getting through to the end! I'll post more progress timelines in the future, as my process looks a little different depending on what I'm working on. Feel free to reach out if y'all have any questions.

#the terror #the terror amc #oil painting #portraiture #work in progress

132 notes · View notes

irisbleufic · 6 months

Text

So, I spent the last 5 days of sitting around with this serious arm injury rereading the very first epic fic series I ever wrote. Although the posting dates on the below chapters are all 18 November 2013, the reality is that these were originally posted as individual stories on LiveJournal throughout the entirety of 2004 and into the spring of 2005. Those were my junior and senior years of college. This series was the last thing I relocated from LJ to AO3, and I was too exhausted to do a proper comb-through for typos and minor formatting issues.

Well, that state of things is no more. I cleaned up all of the editorial issues during this week’s rewatch-the-film-and-reread-my-fic binge. I also changed the names of a few of the chapters (they’re really stories strung together), although not drastically. The chapter called “Clippings” used to be called “Business,” “Spiral” used to be called “You Must Listen to Me Now,” and “Closer to Fine” used to be called “The Middle of Things.”

I had an ask a few days ago along the lines of: What the hell is Toy Soldiers, anyway? On the surface, it’s a 1991 action movie/teen drama. It stars a young Sean Astin and Wil Wheaton as Billy Tepper and Joey Trotta, the central protagonists among the cast of younger characters. At the time I saw it in early 2004, I had only ever seen Sean Astin in The Lord of the Rings. And, incredibly, I didn’t even know who Wil Wheaton was.

That might be one reason I was able to take this film to heart so earnestly (i.e. I completely lacked knowledge of Wesley Crusher, Wheaton’s Star Trek character from around that time who it was traditional to mock, although I still don’t get why). However, the primary reason this film wrecked the back end of my 2004 spring break was that I had watched The Celluloid Closet for the first time only days before watching Toy Soldiers.

I challenge any queer person to watch this documentary (about the Hays Code and the horrible fate met by queer-coded and queer characters in cinema) and this under-appreciated action film back to back and come out of it without feeling devastated and furious about what happens to Billy and Joey. Especially to Joey. And now, in an era of rampant school shootings and hostage situations, Toy Soldiers hits with even more gravity than it did in the 1990s and early 2000s.

These boys are where it started for me. Every every horrific canon media ending that has ever made me furious, every hundreds-of-thousands-of-words long fix-it series I’ve written in the past 19 years, can be traced back to this moment. This string of stories was what I wrote before I ever wrote the likes of Crown of Thorns (Good Omens), Anthology (Pacific Rim), and Delicate, Dangerous, Obsessed (Gotham). Hell, one of my instrumental original characters in CoT appeared for the first time at the end of Book of Hours before I ever thought to use her in a Good Omens context.

This story has meant the world to me even though the fandom around it at the time of writing, and even now, was never more than about 20 people. Most of those people are still with me, the dearest friends I could ever hope to have 💙

Chapter Index for The Series / Book of Hours by irisbleufic

1. Stereotypical (2013-11-18)

2. Persuasion (2013-11-18)

3. Taste Testing (2013-11-18)

4. Leaving a Mark (2013-11-18)

5. Trick or Treat (2013-11-18)

6. Omerta (2013-11-18)

7. Translation (2013-11-18)

8. Sketches (2013-11-18)

9. Falling (2013-11-18)

10. Caught (2013-11-18)

11. What It Takes (2013-11-18)

12. Noteworthy (2013-11-18)

13. These Shadows Have Offended (2013-11-18)

14. Love Never Did Run Smooth (2013-11-18)

15. Within Reason (2013-11-18)

16. Composure (2013-11-18)

17. Clippings (2013-11-18)

18. Without End (2013-11-18)

19. Prologue: Every Hour (2013-11-18)

20. Book of Hours: Part 1 (2013-11-18)

21. Book of Hours: Part 2 (2013-11-18)

22. Flashback: Spiral (2013-11-18)

23. Flashback: Silver (2013-11-18)

24. The Orchids (2013-11-18)

25. Closer to Fine (2013-11-18)

#toy soldiers #fanfiction #wil wheaton #sean astin #good omens #pacific rim #gotham #fandom history #meta #billy tepper x joey trotta

31 notes · View notes

greenfogg · 21 days

Text

Commission Recap!

Heyo! Reminder Comms are Open.

The first May Comm comes from @ahundredbunnies for a flat colour sketch of their OC! My Comm sheet asks if people are comfortable with me sharing the process of their Comms on my socials and/or portfolio and the lovely Bunnies said 'Yes to all, feel free to show the entire process' so here it is!

First, the Initial Sketches and colour Tests! These took 4 hours once all the references had been acquired.

Sent these off to Bunnies and got their feedback.

Onto refined sketch and colours! This took another 3 hours itself. They opted to only get an update at the initial sketch phase, so this is the first Bunnies will be seeing this too. Exciting right?

And finally the End Delivery!

#ArtCommision #Paid Commission #digital art #digital illustration #art #illustration #procreate #my art #sketch #pink #bunny #greenfogg #tiimelapse #speedpaint #ahundredbunnies #ok but for real this oc is adorable bunnies i love her

9 notes · View notes

seirclys · 1 year

Text

SUOL-nim Season 4 Livestream recap!

Note: This will only be the English portions since I don't speak Korean or Japanese (ノAヽ)

Reminder: DO NOT SHARE IMAGES OR SCREENSHOTS OF SUOL-NIM'S STREAM. WE AREN'T ALLOWED TO DO THAT.

Season 3's recap

Thank you to @eloise-writes-things, @leila-lirui, @bluebutterflyrose, and @karmablacks for helping supplement some of this information when I was outside or when I was sick ^^

This time she's streaming on Youtube instead of Twitch! However, the VOD will still not be saved afterward.

As speculated, the cover is Winter and Siyeon(our transmigrator FL), with the necklace Winter gave her in the caves :)

volume 6 will be out this summer(approximately)

Unfortunately, she doesn't know when the English translation will be licensed since it's between Gyeoeul-nim and the publisher,,

Her voice is so nice... she speaks Korean, English, and Japanese too!

Return of the pink underlayer for the magenta hair!

She talked a little about the Alice in Wonderland dress! The color was specified in the novel as "sky-blue", and SUOL-nim thought it would be fitting for Siyeon to wear such a dress while adventuring with our White Rabbit, Winter

Ahh I had to leave the house for a few hours so the stuff below are all my panicked notes. Some of these are out of order, sorryyy

SUOL-nim showed us the concept arts of the characters individually.

Fun fact, Siyeon and OG!Penelope's concept art has them wearing the same colored shoes, but Siyeon's shoes have low heels, almost like flats.

She says that out of all the characters, Callisto is the hardest to draw. This is especially since his golden hair has narrative importance and the aesthetic is hard to nail down.

The webtoon is mostly SUOL-nim's own work! She doesn't really speak to Gyeoeul-nim about work matters or help in adapting some scenes.

It takes her a week to finish a chapter, so she doesn't really have a "backlog" of progress. This is also why there's an extra week of break after four weeks.

One of the most memorable changes she made in the adaptation was changing the Empire's name from "Inca" to "Eorka". She reasoned that because "Inca" is the name of a real Empire, it would be confusing. Thus, she changed it.

The anagram of "Eorka" to "Korea" was completely accidental.

She has an Instagram for her SUOL account(like how she has a personal and a work Twitter) but has no plans on using it since her Twitter is overwhelming.

She doesn't have a favorite dress, but one of the ones she's especially attached to is the white Goddess dress since most of Penelope's wardrobe is dark.

She shows her folders occasionally, and we get little peeks of concept art for characters like Ivonne, the assassins, Penelope's male disguise, Cedrick, Emily's Hunting Competition dress, Winter's layered clothing, and minor characters, as well as the tiny bird monsters.

She also showed the dress concepts for Season 3!

In addition, we got to see a rendered concept of Penelope(think the promotional portrait) as well as a version of that style for Reynold and Penelope's faces in her folders.

There was also a WIP with Eckles and Penelope, perhaps a small illustration she scrapped, hasn't released yet, or just a concept.

We also got to see a silly doodle of Penelope, a redraw of a Crayon Shin-Chan frame(it's a popular kids manga/anime in East Asia).

The original was Shin-Chan trying to decide between a few identical outfits; the VADD version is the one where Penelope is surrounded by objects representing each ML.

The ointment from Reynold, the scroll from Callisto, Winter's mask, Eckles' collar, and Derrick's bird cage.

Her rendering is immaculate; Siyeon glows off the page.

The info after this is second-handed since I'm still sick and I fell asleep an hour before it ended ;-; but my throat is killing me and my ears were ringing

The Eckles Penelope art is the preliminary sketch for the physical Vol. 6(from my calculations!)

She moved to sketches around this time ^^

For the top row, SUOL-nim drew a Penelope, an Eckles getting dressed, and a sulky baby Reynold in a onesie. To the right of him is a doodle of him and Derrick in high chairs, with the Duke and a heavily pregnant Duchess watching over them.

On the bottom row, we have Emily in a noblewoman's dress and a fan with her hair pinned up(with feathers!), the head butler Pennel, and an overworked salaryman Cedrick on his phone.

Edit: He's chatting about Callisto with his feet on the table while thinking about strangling Callisto loll.

The stream was approximately 6 hours long!

Also, something she reiterated for a bit: Season 4 is planned to come out in August/September. The dates are tentative but she wants to get it out to us by that period.

It was nice seeing a lot of the discord and tumblr crew!!

Also, the stream tea: SUOL-nim requested that we translate our comments that weren't in Korean, English, or Japanese since she has to moderate the chat still and she doesn't want to feel left out of her own stream. Even if it's conversing amongst themselves, they should still translate.

A group of Arabic-speaking viewers actively ignored her and there were small fights in chat, and she even addressed this issue TWICE.

And in the end they still didn't do it, so... PLEASE RESPECT SUOL-nim's stream rules! At the end of the day, it's still HER stream! She has to moderate it! Don't make it unnecessarily difficult for streamers to stream!

This is basic chat etiquette.

#lysia's posts #lysia recaps!#villains are destined to die #vadd #death is the only ending for a villainess #death is the only ending for the villainess #ditoeftv

53 notes · View notes

kx0e · 9 months

Note

RAHHHH TYSM FOR ASNWERING MY PREVIOUS QUESTION!

So. I had 3 problems-

1. Constant study but no results

>I make sure I atleast spend 2 hours atleast twice a week doing full body or partial body sketches with references (from lineofaction🔥), and have been since 2021, but going from barely any art ability to now, all i've managed to do is drawing things from the neck up☠️ No matter how many different kinds of faces or perspectives i try its always the 3/4 side view. And i can barely even draw a recognizable jawline😭 (but then on any whiteboard or public art thing its as if the spirit of a medieval master artist possesses me)

2. motivation

>how on this earth do you stay motivated to draw your favorite fandoms😭 theres tons of shows i LOVE or games that I adore, whos characters i literally am obsessed with, but once i pick up a pencil its as if I've never seen them in my entire life💀

3. I know youre not really an oc artist (understandable, if I had the ability to draw genshin and/or persona characters forever, i WOULD.) But if you do have any, is there any specific place you got inspo from? a lot of art advice i see is to turn an object or concept into a character of some sort, but no matter where I look, and how inspiring it is, as previously stated, all traces of muscle memory delete themselves the second i pick up a pencil☠️

Have a nice day, Im really bad at explaining i apologize, and TYSM for hearing me out💖

long reply

1 - maybe doing some theory rather than drawing could help you, if you study the human skeleton and muscle you might understand more how the body works and therefore how it must look in different poses (read MORPHO). Other advice is to trace your references with basic shapes and landmark (just a cube and a cross for the face) and then do your study, you can also do quick studies focusing on only one part of the body but draw it under all angles (the thing is to not rush, if you have trouble drawing the face as a whole, draw all the element separated and add them little by little)

2 - this honestly depends on the person, im someone who loves fandom art but i have zero OCs because im not interested, dont force yourself to draw things you dont want too it usually ends up looking bad anyway !

3 - i do look at objects first when doing character design, but i also like to look at plants or in fashion history books. Most of the time i first do a global search on pinterest to find the general idea and then go to more specific sites depending on what im going for

i think you should take your time and draw only when you're in the mood for it, when you feel motivated pick up a pen and DONT THINK just draw whatever

remember art takes time, patience and a lot of practice, dont force yourself and draw for yourself first ^^

#ask #hope this helps

19 notes · View notes

fazedlight · 5 months

Text

20 Questions More

A deeper and more detailed version of the 20 questions for AO3 fanfic writers. Thanks @eqt-95 and @inkedroplets for the tag!!

1) How do you keep getting ideas for your ship/fandom?

Daydreaming. Writing fanfic is secondary to that. It was only in the past couple of years that it occurred to me that I could write some of it down and see what happens.

2) Which authors inspire you in your fandom, and why are they so freakishly good?

@searidings is my absolute favorite, the way she unravels the characters' emotions and angst is absolutely superb.

3) Aside from the characters of your main ship, who are the characters you love to write?

Ohhh I really love this question:

Cat in Inauthentic, as well as this ficlet and this one. I love her sense of humor.

Lillian in Darkness in All Things. For the same reason as Cat, I just love her snark.

Zor-El in Even Though You're Kryptonian. He kind of surprised me when I started writing him, and to this day I don't know if some of his lines are driven by genuine confusion or if he's just trolling.

4) Are there pairings or tropes you know for sure you'd never write about? Which ones?

I'm a never-say-never kind of person. There's a lot that I don't think I would ever write, but I've been surprised on where stories have taken me before, and may be surprised again.

5) What is your writing process and why is it cursed?

"Process" might be an overstatement...

I have a "scribbles" doc where I keep my ideas. I cull ideas often (though ideas often make their way back anyway). As I write more into the doc, a certain idea may get too big for it, so I spin it out into its own doc.

From there, I kind of go back and forward between outlining and writing. I write completely out of order. Which is why, so often, my multichaps are almost fully drafted by the time I publish chapter 1. I've usually already made it to the resolution point of the plot (meaning, no one's in danger anymore, the bad guy is gone, etc), though the final chapter often doesn't get written until later.

6) What is your favorite part of your writing process?

I love when I've finished the first pass of a chapter/one-shot, and I'm in the editing stage. The story really feels like it's coming together at that point, and it's before all the self-doubt starts bubbling up (that hits hard just before posting).

7) What’s the weirdest thing you’ve had to research for a fic?

A friend of mine is a professor in astroparticle physics, so I spent a couple of hours asking him about quantum mechanics stuff. But only a small portion of that ended up being relevant to the fic and the rest was just for fun.

8) Is there a particular writing rule you struggle with (grammar, spelling, tense, reality in general)?

When I'm first sketching out a scene, about half the time I write in present tense (it feels more like I'm writing a play at that point sometimes), but I publish in past tense. So I end up needing to do a bunch of revisions 😭

Also TYPOS.

9) What was your hardest scene to write so far and why?

Fight scenes are ROUGH, man.

This is probably one of those answers I'll change every time depending what's at the top of my mind. But writing out a fight scene - like in Even Though You're Kryptonian, Darkness in All Things, or It's a Metallo Life - gets surprisingly difficult if there are more than 2 people.

I know exactly how I'd shoot those scenes if I had a camera crew, special effects, etc. But it's hard making sure the audience is aware of where everyone is positioned, why they can/can't act in the moment, etc.

10) Have your characters ever done something you didn’t expect, changing your plot completely?

All the fucking time, man. From the very beginning, even. I was trying to have Lena still be angry by the DEO scene in So I Kept Pretending, but that didn't make sense anymore.

I actually recently had a fic idea dissolve because it wasn't vibing with the characters. Which is fine, it became a ficlet instead!

11) If you could converse with any of the characters, who would it be and why?

Absolutely Kara. I have so many questions about kryptonian culture and how it drives her character.

12) What are some of the tropes or themes that you find yourself returning to in your writing?

Trope-wise, I definitely return to the Rift again and again. I find themes around forgiveness and understanding to be really interesting. Can two good-hearted people with conflicting needs hurt each other while still loving each other? How? What does that mean for the aftermath?

I think that's part of what draws me to supercorp - the complexity of their relationship. How they can both be right, and both be wrong, and love each other enough to rebuild from the ashes.

13) What's your most important resource as a writer?

Coffeeshops and libraries. Getting into slightly busy, cozy environments, out of the house, really helps shake loose the stuff in my head.

14) Can you share some of your strategies for editing and revising your work?

Especially for longer works, I tend to put the work down (and circle to other works, or go outside, or whatever) before coming back to it. It helps to step away for a bit - it's easier to pick up on repetitiveness or unclear passages when coming back.

Though I always find mistakes in my stories much later, so I'm not sure I'm one to give advice on this anyway 🤣

15) Which is worse: making the summary, picking the tags, or the anxiety when you post your fic?

Posting anxiety is the absolute worst. If I leave myself in front of my computer I'll end up refreshing constantly waiting for the first kudos (if it's a one-shot or first chapter) or the first comment (if it's a later chapter) to figure out if I've accidentally pissed off everyone in the fandom somehow.

Luckily, my partner will usually pull me away to go on a walk or grab lunch or do something else to take my mind off it 💗

16) How do you define success for your fanfic - hits? Kudos? Comments? Bookmarks? Or just if you like it?

I only publish what I like. Sometimes I'm nervous that other people won't like it, but I will always like it. Stories that aren't going a way I like - even if I think the idea is cool! - will dissolve. Just recently I dissolved one that felt like it was a cool idea, but it didn't make enough sense for the characters.

Kudos and comments always make me feel appreciated as an author!! Sometimes I'll get a user subscriber out of it, too, and it feels like an honor that someone would want to hear from me more than once.

The thing that feels most precious, though, is when someone comments on how something made them feel (I love making people laugh at my dumb jokes, or cry when a story is supposed to hit emotionally), or when they pick up on something that I wasn't sure would get picked up on.

I tend to lean towards understatement in my stories. For me, the biggest success is knowing that someone recognized what I was going for, without me being overt.

17) Do you have a playlist for your favorite character/ship?

Alas, I don't. But given that Kara is canonically a Britney Spears fan and musicals nerd, I feel like my default playlist works 🤣

18) If fan art was going to be made from your work, which fic would you pick and which fan artist would you like to create it?

Oh gosh, I don't want to pick someone and create pressure, or not pick someone and make them feel bad. This fandom has so many great artists!

That said, some of my favorites do commissions, you can see everything I've commission here.

19) How many WIPs do you currently have?

1 supercorp & 1 rojarias (for @supergirlmayhem)

For me, 2-3 is my happy number, so I'm relieved to be down to this after being so high (I think up to 11?) for so long.

20) What's your advice to new fanfic writers?

If you're wondering why you can't find that story you want, it might mean that you're the one to write it 💗

- - - - -

Tagging (respectfully and without pressure) @rustingcat @luthordamnvers @sssammich @tinyvariations @thatonebirdwrites @theredcapeofk @sideguitars @luthordamnvers @mycatismyeditor @inkedroplets @nottawriter @snowydragonscave @jetgirl1832 if you want some rapid-fire q's thrown your way. But also anyone who'd like to do this!

#I'm not sure who has been tagged already so sorry for additional tags!!#mel stuff #ask game

14 notes · View notes