#shes one of the best fantasy illustrators
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a style study of incredible artist, Sara Kipin! I redid an old piece of mine but trying to use elements of her art style to elevate it, and to continue to better my own techniques.
by woah10spac--6/18/23
please please go check out her art @sarakipin she's my inspiration
#art#fantasy art#fantasy character#fantasy illustration#practice#dnd#d&d#dungeons and dragons#character art#character#d&d oc art#dnd fighter#sara kipin#different art styles#I wish i could tell Sara how inspiring her art is to me#shes one of the best fantasy illustrators#in my humble opinion
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big lady, big kisses 😌💕
#dnd#dungeons and dragons#fantasy art#centaur#satyr#faun#character art#illustration#nudity#blows kisses to everyone who's commented on nyssa's lil tail going :3#the centaur's coat color is based on mongolian wild horses because that's what her overall size is based on (and also it looks cool)#I was only putting nyssa in centaur sketches to help with the sense of scale and proportion#but one thing about nyssa is that she wants to be kissing (etc) all of the time and it's hard not to follow that impulse lol#in other news this is the best horse I have EVER drawn in my LIFE#apparently the secret to drawing horses is that trying to draw the head sets the tone for the whole thing to be weird and hard and bad lol#my OCs#nyssa
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Happy holidays, my loves! May your holiday bring you the joy of bringing joy to others💕
#dnd#dungeons and dragons#character art#illustration#christmas card#gnome#wizard#artificer#I have traditionally not posted the christmas card until after christmas BUT... I am excited and impatient 😌#this is the best card art I've done in YEARS I'm really happy about it!!#they went out pretty late (as usual) but it sounds like people have been receiving them this week 💕#also-- it was a Just Because gift and not a Winter's Splendor (fantasy!christmas) gift but this IS a canon gift Mel made for Zhartook!#it's a windup but also one of her artificer abilities lets her make an item magically produce sound#it's a wood thrush and it sings and makes ambient background forest noises#cause we were living on an airship and she thought something to remind him of home might be nice for his room 😌#my OCs#Melliwyk#Vale Walkers#dungeons and doodles
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haven't seen this on here yet so:
in case you don't want to slog through the shitscape that is the bird/letter website, take a peek beneath the cut (shamelessly copied from the something awful forums dungeon meshi thread)
- Her first memory of video games was watching her father playing Wizardry on Famicom, also Dragon Quest, Ultima, and Fire Emblem among others.
- She was a difficult child so her parents didn't let her play. Wizardry is a boring game to watch, but the monster illustrations on the walkthrough evoked her imagination and made her keep watching.
- She only started becoming a serious gamer after the serialization of Dungeon Meshi was locked, for research purposes. Before that, she read fantasy novels such as The Neverending Story (Michael Ende) and The Lord of the Rings (JRR Tolkien).
- The international title for Dungeon Meshi: Delicious in Dungeons was decided by her editor.
- D&D popped up a lot when she researched the history of video games, so she read the rule books, replay novels, and games inspired by D&D.
- One of the first games she studied was the Legend of Grimrock (game's 80% off on Steam atm). Originally, she wanted Dungeon Master (FTL Games) which was famous for "RPG with meals" but hunting down the game and machine was too much.
- She didn't like games other than turn-based RPGs at first, but she decided to stop being picky and play anything that piqued her interest.
- She played Zelda: BotW and TotK on a borrowed Switch from her editor due to the console's scarcity at the time.
- She enjoyed Red Dead Redemption 2 and God of War for their stories. RDR2's incredible attention to detail had Kui engrossed so much that she asked her editor and other mangaka to play it so she could discuss it with them.
- Kui praised The Witcher 3 localization as something only possible with full support from the developer. Cyberpunk 2077 is one of her all-time favorites.
- Papers, Please was her first taste of indie games.
- Disco Elysium is the perfect game for her due to the lack of fighting, intriguing story, charming character interaction, and top-down perspective. She tried playing it in English at first due to an unlikely chance for JP loc, but it was out of her ability. Thus she is forever grateful to Spike Chunsoft for localizing it.
- Kui played Baldur's Gate 3 from the time it was in Early Access. Again, she's grateful for Spike Chunsoft's JP loc. She hoped BG3's success would bring the possibility of JP loc for other titles too, such as Pathfinder: wotr
- She likes games with top-down perspective because they have narration text for monologues and scenery description. Even if the graphic is lacking, the texts show the atmosphere and each character's behavior and psyche. Also, characters that react to your choices.
- She praised Unpacking and House Flipper for being able to tell what kind of person lives there only through their belongings, and that there's no right or wrong for the placements; she would make the best arrangement and then enjoy her hard work while sipping tea.
- The biggest inspiration for Dungeon Meshi was the Cosmic Forge pen from Wizardry VI. With improved graphics from its predecessor, now it could show broken farming tools in the background and many more details that made exploration so much fun.
- At the time of the interview (Dec '23) she still hadn't watched DunMeshi anime, but she attended the recording sessions. She's embarrassed that the dialog she wrote now acted passionately by professionals. Marcille's screaming was wonderful but also made her want to flee.
- Kui was anxious about the CP2077 anime adaptation, but she was relieved it was the Night City she knows and loves.
- Other than minor adjustments, she left it to TRIGGER as to how to adapt
- She's happy that Mitsuda Yasunori was chosen as the anime composer, as she used to play Chrono Cross and rewatched the opening many times.
- Her anticipated games in 2024 are Cloudpunk, Nivalis, and Avowed.
- DunMeshi would be hard to adapt into a game because in the first place, what Kui depicted in the manga are parts that are omitted in games for the sake of brevity.
- If DunMeshi game was Wizardry-like, it'd be told through Laios' perspective and eating was essential not to die
#dungeon meshi#she only started playing video games after dunmeshi got picked up???? damn#that's dedication to the craft#i would *so* play a dunmeshi video game...#likes top-down perspective and strong narratives and character reactivity... she's just like me fr
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Creator Spotlight: @chaaistheanswer
Hi everyone! I am Clara, but you can also call me chaa! I am a digital artist based in Auckland, New Zealand, with a bachelor’s degree in Creative Media Production. After graduating from uni, I moved out to pursue my art career and I’ve been a freelance digital artist ever since. I love concept art, especially character design! Creating characters influenced by my love for fantasy is what I live for. Thank you for stopping by, and I hope you enjoyed my art!
And thank you, Tumblr, for this opportunity!
Check out our interview with Clara below!
Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?
I specialized in art in high school and have a bachelor’s degree in Creative Media Production from Massey University with an animation pathway. For our thesis film, which I worked on with several of my classmates, I took on the role of producer, art director, and concept artist. Our short film was featured in the Wellington Film Festival Terror-Fi in 2020. After graduating, I went on to become a freelance artist, but my goal is to work for the gaming industry as a character concept artist. Ever since I first picked up a pencil, I knew I wanted to become an artist!
Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?
Art block is quite common among artists, and unfortunately, I too have fallen prey to the affliction. I have several ways of overcoming art block: watching movies, playing games, reading, or going out for a drive with my sister. These are just a few things I love to do to help keep my creative juices flowing!
What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?
I tend to obsessively research about completely unrelated topics while I draw. I find learning new things helps improve my concept designs, especially in creating backgrounds for my characters.
Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?
Video games and anime were my biggest inspirations! Anything with a captivating story that’ll send me to the edge of my seat, and loveable characters. I’m particularly drawn to high and dark fantasy.
How has technology changed the way you approach your work?
Technology has made a huge impact on us artists over the last few years. I used to draw a lot on paper, but since getting a tablet, I find myself searching for the undo and redo buttons and even trying to zoom constantly while I draw on paper. I used to only draw for myself as well, but after posting my art online, I now have an audience to whom I can share my art. Because of this, I am able to earn a living doing what I love by creating illustrations for clients.
What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?
I am very proud of this recent commission I’ve done for a client! Fortunately, the piece turned out exactly how I wanted it to look, and my client was very happy with the result. I am also in the process of working on a Webtoon, which is going as smoothly as I hoped it would be before its re-release!
What advice would you give to younger you about making art that's personal or truthful to your own experiences?
The best advice I would give my younger self is to never hold back! Try not to think about the negatives of creating and sharing art that you believe in. Embrace vulnerability, and don’t be afraid to dig deep into your own emotions and experiences. Always explore, and don’t limit yourself to your own bubble. And most important of all, stay true to yourself! Stay true to your values and beliefs, and never compromise your own authenticity for the sake of pleasing others. Your art is a reflection of you as a person.
Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?
@yuumei-art has been an inspiration to me since my early Deviantart days. I admire how she uses her skills to focus on environmentalism and cyber activism.
@nipuni is another inspiration of mine. I found her when I was in the process of recovering from Dragon Age Solavellan hell. I admire how she manages to capture faces well while also sticking to her style. Her paintings are so beautiful and very pleasing to my eyes!
Thanks for stopping by, Clara! If you haven't seen her Meet the Artist piece, be sure to check it out here. For more of Clara's work, follow her Tumblr, @chaaistheanswer!
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Good Omens graphic novel update: March 2024
Happy March. We bumped into the one and only Maggie Service at an event earlier this month, and here she is with some enamel friends of ours:
It turns out, her words, not ours, that they’re not only good for the aesthetic, but handy for covering accidental food stains. Here she is showing off the gorgeous Aziraphale and Crowley pins to the crowd.
Anyway, we have a bumper one for you this month, and an important update on timings. Let’s get to it.
PledgeManager
First of all, we were due to launch the PledgeManager with this month’s update, but there’s a few last minute hurdles we need to get through and so we’re pushing it back a few final weeks just to ensure all the is are dotted, and ts are crossed. We’ll now be launching this on Thursday 18th of April, in the late afternoon UK-time, to ensure that all team hands are on deck for the move into this next phase.
We’ve got a bunch of FAQs ready for the launch, and we’ll have a PledgeManager-specific update to coincide with it going live where we’ll lay out everything as clearly as possible. We appreciate your patience on this.
Rather than hold back the PledgeManager-adjacent information to the new launch date, however, we’ll still share with you some of the new things that will be available!
In terms of new additions: you wanted more ̶d̶u̶c̶k̶s̶ items? You’ve got them! We’ve got two new notebooks: one featuring lots of ineffable artwork from the graphic novel, and one featuring the much-loved ducks.
We’ve also got two new mugs: one for Tadfield visitors, and another for… duck lovers.
We’ve got a big sticker set bringing together lots of the art from this campaign. And, we’ve got a new enamel pin pair: these gorgeous Crowley and Aziraphale wings that together make a little love heart. You can either wear them both, or split them with your own best angel.
These will be available to purchase like the Aziraphale and Crowley pin pairs - not tied to the mystery packs.
Tier updates
While some elements of the campaign are facing delays, other elements are hurtling forward at full velocity. Fans of the very cute, brace yourselves: here is Sarah Graley’s print for the loot box:
We’ve got some more map previews from Julien Labit, capturing Tadfield, heaven, hell, and many, many places in between:
And, we’re excited to unveil Alice Oseman’s Crowley illustrations for Loot Box #1, completing the pair alongside her Aziraphale sketches from when she watched Good Omens years ago:
On the add on front, here’s our Good Omens slipcase that can be added to pledges, to keep your graphic novels nice and ̶a̶c̶c̶u̶r̶a̶t̶e̶ cosy:
We are quite into pins, you may have noticed. Here’s some more that will be available in the mystery packs:
Moving up to the Obsidian levels, here are some of the sample art pieces from William the Antichrist, illustrated by fantasy artist Mike Nash featuring Crawleigh, and the Citroen 2CV. We’re excited to see these new editions come to life:
Evolution of Eden
We thought it would be interesting to show the evolution of the graphic novel itself. We’ve found it glorious watching Colleen’s artwork arrive in each new stage, and so here’s a sample of the stages of Colleen’s first image, in the Garden of Eden, from pencil sketch, through ink, to the finished page:
And another, from its initial concept sketch, through to this celestial delight:
Lots happening, the lay of the year changing a little, but still full to the brim with Good Omens.
Until next time.
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More fun Calvin and Hobbes facts!
Not only is Hobbes NOT an imaginary friend by word of the comic's creator, Bill Watterson, but he doesn't seem to know what an imaginary friend is, nor that plush toys in general are actually toys; Susie Derkins (a girl Calvin has complicated feelings about and tends to randomly alternate between prosecuting a rivalry between the two of them and seeming to regard her as a friend or at least someone he bothers talking to) has a plush bunny she calls Mr Bun, and Hobbes at one point notes with some concern that he seems comatose.
The comic was well known for its lavish backgrounds, and two chiefly notable examples include the woods around Calvin's house and the landscapes of his imagination; in the former, he and Hobbes often go exploring, sledding or racing around on a little red wagon, often while expressing philosophical insights (usually ending in Calvin crashing into something in a way that underscores the point of the dialogue).
On that above note, in the latter case, Calvin often imagines elaborate and fanciful settings such as alien worlds, and the tone of a lot of these vary between comedic bits of Calvin pestering people by shooting them with darts while his fantasy portrays him as a space hero fighting horrible blobby creatures.
Calvin And Hobbes probably wasn't the FIRST comic strip to follow then-current paleontological debates and scientific course, but it was written at the exact right time of increasing interest in dinosaurs as public consciousness accepted the image of them as clever, quick-moving and fierce creatures instead of the slow-moving brutes doomed to die out from earlier perspectives; while the comic initially did depict them as something akin to retrosaurs, this died away very quickly and the comic was an entry point for becoming a Dinosaur Kid for a lot of people i think
There is often a division between the vibrantly illustrated worlds of Calvin's imagination against the much more dull visuals of school he has to deal with; he frequently has trouble with his school work, he's EXTREMELY prone to acting out and causing mischief at school, and school is often portrayed as a dull, exhausting and tiring thing he hates above everything else. His fantastical worlds are fun and lovingly illustrated; the world he has to actually deal with is at best tiring.
Hobbes is essentially his only friend. Calvin doesn't really seem to want to deal with other people at all (he seems to find it difficult at best and the few times he does, he comes off as out of his depth and uncertain). While he pesters Susie at the best of times, she is also notably the ONLY person he goes out of his way to talk to at all, and some of his comments to her are strongly revealing.
Calvin himself is an EXTREMELY intelligent kid, often discussing deeply philosophical stuff, and its frequently brought up that no one knows why he struggles with schoolwork as much as he does. At one point Susie even raises the question and he gloomily replies that he finds his life is easier if he lets everyone's expectations for him be as low as possible. Interpretations have ranged from him being an undiagnosed kid on the autistic spectrum (not unlikely, given this was written from the mid 80s to mid 90s) to simply reflecting the anxieties of school for many kids of the era.
This strip exists:
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Steven Universe told from the perspective of other characters
Garnet: A story of gay empowerment from start to finish. As a book it would be titled either Made of Love or Stronger Than You and feature Garnet's gauntlets with her wedding rings on them as cover art.
Amethyst: A seemingly wacky coming of age story that drops the most heartfelt moments when your guard is down. The cover resembles kids' detective stories, the kind where the whole gang is looking around for clues to the mystery.
Pearl: Everything up to Rose's death is an ancient literary classic titled The Ballad of Rose Quartz, illustrated with intricate inkbrush paintings. Steven Universe season one to three is the kind of introspective life after tragedy novel you pick up to look sophisticated reading. It's probably titled Without Her or something similiar. I don't have a title for season four and onwards, but the blurb is "it's not easy to manage twenty girlfriends, two life partners, a son and a dark past at the same time!" It's much more lighthearted than the previous two, but still prone to punching you in the emotions with little warning.
Connie: A magical adventure series just like the Unfamiliar Familiar! It centers Steven the magical boy with his best friend and eventual love interest Connie as the female lead. The tone gets a little darker after the first book/season, but less so than the original Steven Universe (let alone Steven Universe Future).
Greg: First a coming of age story, but unlike Amethyst this one is about breaking away from toxic people in your life. This story gets its happy ending when Greg finally finds someone he can be himself with in Rose. The time until Rose's death is a romantic comedy titled My Girlfriend, her Girlfriend and Me and conists mostly of shenanigans. After Rose's death and Steven's birth, it turns into something more bittersweet centering Greg's worries about being an adequate father to his magical son.
Peridot: It's titled How I learned to stop worrying and join the Rebellion and is easily the most lighthearted installment here. Our dorky protagonist is very obviously a somewhat unreliable narrator, but in a funny way. She encounters a few struggles, but they are quickly overcome with the power of friendship.
Lapis: This is just multiple whump fics. They're in a collection titled Bad Things Happen Roulette. Steven Universe the Movie is a pretty standard fantasy adventure with a group of powerful heroes though, and Steven Universe Future is the fluff fic with a smidge of angst you'd read as a pick me up after Bad Things Happen Roulette.
Bismuth: The war is a good vs evil sci-fi story with lots of social commentary. The Diamonds are definitely irredeemable here. I don't know what to do with the few episodes of the original Steven Universe she was in, but the movie is an empowerment narrative against systemic oppression titled Still Standing, or something in that style. Steven Universe Future however is a romantic comedy.
Rose: This is just a straight (well, bi) up tragedy. Our protagonist desperately tries to recover from her childhood trauma and be a good person, but is ultimately unable to escape the prison of her own mind. The book wins several literature prizes, but very few people actually read it because it's just too depressing.
#su#steven universe#su garnet#su amethyst#su pearl#connie maheswaran#su peridot#su lapis#su bismuth#su rose quartz#garnet#amethyst#pearl#peridot#lapis#bismuth#rose quartz
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S.A.N.T.A. BABY
[A.KA. Stupid And Nasty Tinsel-Related Activities]
A Festive 5+1 Eddie Munson Fic
Summary: 5+1. Five times reader embarrasses herself in front of Eddie, and one time she doesn’t.
Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader
WC: ~10.5k (oops)
CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI!, SMUT, NSFW. Strangers to sort-of-enemies to lovers. Drinking, smoking, Eddie and reader call each other nicknames, loads of embarrassing situations, swearing, suggestive language, implied birth control, description of and discussion about a sex toy, flagrant and unnecessary use of the number 69, reader has a tattoo but it’s not essential to the story so you can ignore it if you want, bondage fantasy involving fairy lights, lap riding/dry humping, Eddie has tattoos and intimate piercings, fingering, unprotected p-in-v (always wrap it irl!), aftercare, fluff, the Upside Down hasn’t happened. I imagine reader & Eddie to be mid-late 20s and it might be the 90s, but hopefully I left it ambiguous enough that you can choose. I tried to keep reader’s appearance neutral, though I’m still new at this and I may have missed things - let me know if you spot anything (likewise typos or missed tags, etc). The elf outfit in the pic is for costume illustration only and does not indicate reader’s ethnicity or appearance.
A/N: Written for @bettyfrommars’ & @allthingsjoeq’s festive prompt party (thank you, guys!); I decided to smoosh five prompts 6, 8, 12, 14 & 15 together to create… whateverthehellthismutantthingis 😆 It’s my first 5+1, and my first festive fic, please let me know how I did! 🎄 I’ve taken artistic license with the format - if I’ve understood it, it’s way too long for a standard 5+1, and I don’t think they usually have 4+k of unnecessary smut at the end (‘What do you mean, Kittie? Smut is always necessary!’). I couldn’t bring myself to cut it because I’m a deviant and to paraphrase the song, it’s my fic and I’ll add what I want to 😂 Enjoy! 🥂🍷🎁
Christmas was never your favourite time of year. You suppose that your early Christmasses were probably happy, but once your parents split and family politics came into play, the season just became less enjoyable all round. These days your mom and stepdad tended to use the extended break to visit your brother in California, and this year will be the third in a row that you’ve been left to your own devices. Not that you couldn’t go with them, but you just felt a little out of place and in the way, him with his scrapbook-perfect family and kids, you with your alternative interests and a dress sense that your stepdad once described as, “Far too much black for a family dinner. We’re not the Addams Family, you know”.
This year, though, you were optimistic. It’s your first year away at college in Indianapolis, and your roommate, Robin, who you get on outrageously well with, has invited you to spend the holidays not too far away in her home town, Hawkins.
Plus, Robin has taken it upon herself to, in her words, ‘“Christmas Carol the shit out of you”, after you’d told her about your disdain for the holiday season and that Santa stood for ‘Stupid And Nasty Tinsel-related Activities’. She’d declared that this year you’d have the “Best. Christmas. EVERRR!”, and she’s making good on it, despite the promise being made months ago when you were both soaked in tequila at the end of orientation week.
It’s going fairly well so far. You’ve met a couple of Robin’s friends, a nice girl called Nancy and Robin’s ex Vickie, and together you’ve had a shopping trip, a lunch out and a girls’ night in. You’re optimistic that the rest of her friends will be just as friendly and welcoming. Next on the ‘Best Christmas Ever’ agenda? Seeing a local band at a local bar…
“Honestly, they’re, like, really, really good!”
“Really, Robs? This band that your friends started in high school are so good that they’re still playing dive bars in their home town?”
The bar is dingy and grubby, but it’s packed, Robin insisting it’s because the band is great, but you suspect it has more to do with the cheap beer prices.
You’re not averse to live entertainment, you just prefer places with a bit more space. More ambience, less… sweat? Ambiguous stickiness??
Half a beer in, you make the excuse that you need some air, not admitting you’re actually hoping to find someone to bum a cigarette off outside, feeling your most recent attempt at quitting is already on seriously shaky ground.
There’s already a couple of guys around the side of the building when you exit the front door, one in a torn flannel and another, his back to you, in a heavier-looking jacket.
You recognise Flannel as the bartender, a lanky, but not unattractive, somewhat worried-looking guy with a grungy haircut and ripped Clash t-shirt, who’s just finishing his cigarette and flicking it to the floor. As he leaves to go back inside he offers a cheery half-salute to his smoking partner and a, “See you inside, dude.” You assume the other guy must be a regular, and from the subtle glimpses you get as he flicks his ash, he’s about halfway through his cigarette.
Whilst he’s not looking you sneakily take in the view (your excuse being that you are a tourist here, after all). He’s tall, dressed all in black, with broad shoulders draped in worn-in black leather, long dark curls falling about them. You can’t determine the exact colour in the poor lighting of the bar’s neon sign, but they look shiny and well cared for, rather than lank and grimy like so many of your college buddies seem to think is the fashionable way to do it these days (ugh).
Trailing your eyes down his back, you see the hem of his jacket half-obscures a black leather belt that’s just visible sitting on his slim hips. It’s studded with silver rivets and adorned with a variety of draping silver chains that jingle at the slightest movement.
Well-fitting, dark black jeans cover his legs, and a scruffy pair of heavy black combat boots complete the look. They're unlaced at the top and casually flare out, his jeans crumpling, effortlessly stylishly, in the tops.
The belt chains catch your attention again as he shifts from one foot to the other, making them swing, drawing your eyes to the seat of his jeans and showcasing a cute, tight, rounded pair of butto-oh! He’s turning around! Shit, shit, okay, be cool, and definitely don’t look like you were just checking out his ass…
He looks at you with surprise, he obviously hadn’t heard you come out. He’s taken slightly aback, but manages to greet you with a quick, “Hey.”
You reply, eloquently, “Hey.”
Smooth.
Leather Jacket gets out his lighter.
“You, uh, smokin’?”
“I was kinda hoping to bum one, actually. I’m supposed to be quitting, but you know how it is when you get around bars and booze.”
You shrug a little, suddenly feeling sheepish, and more than a little selfish when you realise your presumption.
“Oh yeah, I sure do. Think I’ve tried quitting about, what, five times now?”
He chuckles a little, shaking a stick out of the packet he retrieves from inside his jacket, offering it to you.
“You need a light?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, thanks.”
He leans in to spark his lighter, and you’re briefly engulfed by the scent of him. Old leather, hints of a musky, spicy cologne, whiskey, clean sweat, and, of course, cigarette smoke. It feels like a warm hug, but something else too, something more primal, enticing.
You notice his hands as he holds his lighter close to your face. They’re big, strong-looking and veined, his fingers adorned with chunky silver rings that glint and twinkle in the faint neon glow.
It all catches you off guard. You pull back quickly once your cigarette is lit, not ready to explore that kind of sensation right now.
He’s turned sideways to you again, leaning his back against the side wall of the bar. He smirks in your direction, a dimple popping in the cheek nearest to you, and you feel a little heat rise up your neck.
His gaze flows over your form, taking you in from top to bottom. Is he checking you out?
“I, uh, I like your boots.” He nods down towards your feet, flicking a little ash from his cigarette off to the side furthest from you.
You automatically glance down, like some kind of idiot who didn’t dress themselves less than an hour ago.
Sheesh, way to make an impression on the locals…
“Oh, thanks!”
You smile, genuinely pleased. You’re wearing your favourite pair, laced and buckled black leather New Rocks with a chunky, steel-coloured metal heel. You know the style doesn’t have universal appeal, which is of course part of the reason you love them, but it’s nice to have your taste appreciated by someone as cu- erm, as friendly as he is.
“I haven’t seen you around here before. You new in town or sumthin’?”
“Yeah, kinda passing through, I guess. I’m just here for the holidays, hookin’ up with a friend.”
He nods in acknowledgment, curls bouncing softly around his face.
You continue, “Apparently I’ve been promised the ‘best Christmas ever’, and they think they’re going to achieve that by bringing me to this divey bar to see some schoolfriend in a lame-ass metal cover band. I mean, god, no offence, but this town is hardly Seattle. I can’t imagine they’re gonna be Nirvana-quality, right?”
The guy snorts through his nose and then genuinely laughs. “Yeah, they probably are shit. Towns like this are full of wannabe rockstars straight outta high school, y’know?” You don’t notice how his lips purse as he suppresses a grin, as he continues, “Singers are the worst, always such assholes. Second only to guitarists, of course.”
You answer with an enthusiastic, “I know, right?!”, thinking back to the musicians you’ve dated since high school and how they were all convinced they were destined to be the next Eddie Van Halen or Steven Tyler. Thinking of a couple of guys in particular as you take a drag of your cigarette, as you exhale you mutter, “Christ, guitarists really are the pits.”
He snorts, smiling again, then drops his finished cigarette to the ground, crushing it out with the sole of his heavy boot. “At least with all their equipment and shit it makes them easy to spot.”
You gift him a smile and a small nod. “Yeah, I guess it does.”
“I’m heading back inside. Maybe I’ll see you later?” He quirks an eyebrow at his last comment.
“Yeah, maybe.” As he moves to open the door you add, ”Hey, thanks for the smoke!”
He turns back to you, his distractingly broad grin now fully on display, half-shouting back as he moves through the doorway into the bustling interior, “No problem, all you have to do is ask. I’ll see you later, Boots!”
You finish your smoke and get inside just in time to get to your seat, a tall stool opposite Robin around a high table, your back to the stage, as the band start up.
There’s a few complicated beats from the drums as the guy behind them warms up, and the bass and rhythm guitars thrum a few notes, garnering whistles and cheers from the crowd.
You wait for the cliché of the singer coming up to the mic and introducing the band, but what you actually hear is a low, self-assured, somewhat recognisable voice, that’s both commanding and sultry, that drawls, “You know who we are.”
Suddenly there’s a burst of impressive guitar work and drums, and the crowd erupts as the room is saturated with the opening chords to Black Sabbath’s ‘War Pigs’.
You’re impressed, and intrigued. This isn’t the ‘dodgy 80’s covers schoolkid band’ you were expecting. These guys sound… accomplished.
You turn on your stool, and notice a subtly familiar form at the mic. Less bulky as he’s no longer wearing the leather jacket, a ripped band tee now showing off his pale arms and clavicles, and black ink that you can’t make out adorning solid biceps and veined forearms. Guitar in hand, confident, brash, cute. Chains dangling from a studded belt, silver rings glinting, hair flying as he flicks his head, commanding the stage, readying himself to sing the first lines…
Oh shit…
The band’s cover of ‘War Pigs’ is faster than the original, and they give it their own twist, making it heavier and grittier. After the (irritatingly brilliant) guitar solo Leather Jacket Band Guy even throws in a few lines from Deck The Halls, the audience going wild, and joining in enthusiastically when the ‘Oh Lord yeah’ is replaced with a ‘Fa-la-la’.
The rest of their set is a mix of covers and originals, all in a similar, heavy style, and as they finish to a rapturous throng you realise, flustered, that you couldn’t tear your eyes from the stage the whole time. Robin totally notices. You even let her get in a cheery, “Told ya so!”, as you reluctantly admit they weren’t completely terrible.
You spot the frontman (singer and guitarist, cue internal facepalm) jump down off the low stage, and you feel a little uneasy as you see him start heading in your direction.
You’re at peak embarrassment and can’t bear the thought of having to face him after what you said outside. You hadn’t even heard them play and you dissed the fuck out of them, him specifically. What makes it worse is that they were actually really good. The last thing you need is to have that thrown back in your face, in front of Robin, by their cocky lead guy.
Suddenly you want Spontaneous Human Combustion to be a real thing, turn you to ash so your only presence would be scuffed up on those heavy, unlaced combat boots, going unnoticed and carried out on everyone’s soles into the chilly night. But science and physics are apparently not willing to defy themselves for you this evening. Bastards.
Quickly, you get off your stool, mumbling something about needing the bathroom, and head off in a random direction, in your haste to escape not even asking where it is.
You chance a glance over one shoulder. Oh god, he’s heading straight for you…
As you stumble about in the crowd, you notice a free seat next to a guy at the bar. You hardly register that his coiffed hair and polo shirt don’t quite fit the vibe of the place, so desperate are you to build an alternative narrative that doesn’t involve the guy whose band you just dissed coming to talk to you. You’d said you were visiting a friend, he’s not to know it wasn’t a boyfriend, right? If he sees you with someone he’ll back off and leave you alone, right?? Surely he wouldn’t confront you with a potential Defending Your Honour™️ fight on the table. Right???
So, that’s the plan.
A really good, foolproof one? Um, no. But Band Guy is moving through the crowd, and you’ve gotta do something, fast.
You reach the bar.
“Hey, could you do me a favour real quick? A creepy guy’s been hitting on me, and I need to give him the message that I’m not interested. If I buy you a drink, will you act like you’re my boyfriend for, like, the next 30 seconds?”
He turns to you, and you notice his features. Golden skin, chiselled jaw, stunning hazel eyes, hair to rival the hottest supermodels’, a scattering of moles that look like constellations. Goddamn, he’s pretty. What is it with this bar? Is everyone inside it cute? Why have you never been to Hawkins before??
You give him a pleading look, and tentatively hold out one hand towards where his is resting on his thigh, hoping he’ll take it.
“Well, for a sweet thing like you, how could I say no to that tempting double offer?”
He smiles then, full and beaming, and you almost slip off your stool. A warm palm comes to cup over yours, and you manage to blurt out an order to the barman, saying, “Two of whatever he’s having.”
Just then, Band Guy reaches you. You do your best to swoon at Polo Shirt as your drinks get delivered, lifting yours and clinking it against his with a, “Hey, sweetheart, thanks for bringing me here”.
“Oh, I didn’t realise you were here with someone tonight.”
“Yeah, this is the friend I was telling you about. We’re spending the holidays together. Isn’t that right, sweets?”
Band Guy purses his lips, you hope in consternation, but it’s whatever, you just want him to leave you alone to stew in your mortification.
He backs up half a step, saying, “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it then.”
Success!
Just as you think your devious plan has worked, Band Guy turns to Polo Shirt, slaps his open palm against his shoulder a couple of times, and saunters off, with a, “Nice to see you, Steve-o. Just checkin’ you're wanting a lift back in the van with the guys, like usual?”
Oh. Oh god. They know each other?!
He turns away, smirking back briefly in your direction to fling a casual, “I’ll see you around, Boots”, before continuing his path to the other end of the bar. You see him greet Flannel with a high five followed by a bro handshake, the latter making exaggerated air guitar movements and clearly congratulating him on a great performance.
If cringing caused bodily trauma you’d be in the ER by now, most likely on life support. What are the chances of embarrassing yourself all to hell in front of a cute guy you’ve only just met, twice in one night?
Also, wait, you totally didn’t just admit that you find him cute. Nope. No siree. Nah. Niet. Definitely not.
Stupid Robin convinced you to take this stupid job in the stupid mall and now you’re stuck here smiling this stupid smile at all the stupid local kids in this stupid elf costume.
Stupid striped tights, stupid short skirt, stupid tight green tunic, stupid fluffy collar.
And yeah, okay, stupid self-induced hangover from stupid drinks last night thanks to stupid Robin’s stupid friends. Actually, they were all really nice, especially ‘Steve-o’ and the barman, Jonathon, neither of whom mentioned your embarrassing faux pas with Band Guy, which makes them total heroes in your book. Plus, Band Guy mercifully gave you a wide berth for the rest of the night by doing Band Stuff™️, so that was a win too.
At least the dress code for this gig stated ‘black footwear’, so you could wear your own boots. You’d never admit it out loud, but you think the combination of the red and white striped tights with your chunky, alternative boots actually looks kinda cute. It’s just as well, because you’d packed light (you and Robin joking that so long as you had your ”Pills and panties” you were good to go), and hadn’t brought any alternatives.
You’ve been at this for a couple of days already, beaming artificially at the kids as you try to corral them into some semblance of an organised line, and handing out stickers and treat bags for the ones who’ve seen Santa, putting your best singsong voice on as you ask for what feels like the millionth time, “So, what did you ask Santa for?”, and, “Have you been good this year?”
Your face has begun to ache with the effort of all the smiling, although the cheery mall Santa (a big, friendly guy called John? Jack?) takes up most of the slack, with a voice deep and gravelly enough to control even the worst-behaved little shits. You hope his day job uses it, it would be a shame for a voice like that to go to waste. He should probably be in sports, or acting, or law enforcement or something.
You can’t deny the money is coming in handy though. It’s reliably supporting your holiday booze habit, and you’ve even treated yourself to a couple of Christmas treats, some silver skull jewellery from a surprisingly well-stocked accessory shop, and something more, um, personal from the ‘specialist interest’ shop you’d found hidden away at the back of the mall’s upper level. The nice lady who worked there, Karen, even kindly offered to drop off your purchase at your staff locker later today.
You’re on the later shift, so Santa’s already here, and as you make your way out to the grotto area (which is essentially just a few old stage props surrounded by a few giant polystyrene candy canes; you surmise this might be one of the first years they’ve done this) you’re greeted by a predictable, “Ho ho ho!”. But today it’s a different voice than usual. Still deep, still booming, but not the one you’re used to.
As you round the glittery candy cane on the corner, the deep baritone gives way to a much higher, cheekier pitch.
“Ho, ho- hoooooly shiiit, I’d recognise those boots anywhere!”
Oh no… It can’t be…
“Heeey, Boots! I didn’t know you’d be one of my little helpers today!”
Even behind the fake beard you can see the smugness spread across his face.
You stop in your tracks, hands coming up to your face in a vain attempt to shield your embarrassed self from the impending, and, you’ll admit, completely justified, teasing.
Realising you can’t hide from it, you huff out a breath and amble over to him. He looks way too comfortable sitting on that ornate throne, like he’s used to such a position, somehow…
As you move closer you see that even beneath the tacky acrylic costuming, he still looks cute (damn him). He’s foregone the white wig and opted to display his own locks, chestnut curls cascading over his shoulders, and the white faux fur of his hat and beard create a subtle frame around his eyes. You observe their colour properly for the first time, and even in the harsh fluorescent lights of the mall they look like swirling pools of liquid cacao, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything quite like them before. They’re fixed on you as you walk to him.
You plonk down on a fabric-covered hay bale next to the throne. There’s no line of kids waiting as yet, and you’re relieved you can get this next part done without too much of an audience. Deep breath, pull off the bandaid, or whatever that stupid phrase is.
“Listen, about last night. I’m really sorry. I not only stole your smokes but also dissed your band before I’d even heard you, and that wasn’t cool. And that thing with Steve at the bar? God, you must think I’m such a loser. And, I know you probably couldn’t give two pebbly shits about what I think right now, but you guys are actually really good.”
He turns to you, looking down his nose and through his lashes at you.
“Hey, don’t sweat it, sweets. I did kinda bait you into that first part. And at the bar? That was… creative. I actually thought it was pretty funny.” Smirking, nodding and turning his face to the front again, he continues, “And for the record, we do play other places, not just this so-not-Seattle town.”
You risk a glance at him. The Santa suit is obviously too big for him, the collar wide enough to show off his pale throat for a moment before he turns back to you and the comically-fluffy beard obscures it again. You can see the outline of his taut, muscular thighs under the loose faux velvet of his pants, and his boots (those boots) are worn just like they were last night, unlaced at the top, casually stylish, the red fabric pooling around the calf and ankle. And to finish it off, there’s what appears to be a large throw cushion stuffed down his front.
It turns out he’s covering for (Jim!) Hopper, who’s apparently the local police chief (nailed it) and has been called out to check on some weird occurrences at an old research facility on the other side of town.
Band Guy Santa continues, sarcastically, “Pfft. Providing the town of Hawkins with security and safety instead of performing the frankly, essential, public service of dicking about in a Santa suit. Inconsiderate, right?”
“Yeah, totally”, you giggle.
“The organisers heard from Hop that I was somewhat… theatrical, so they asked me to fill in.”
You remember how theatrical he looked whilst on stage, and you feel your throat heat up, hoping he won’t notice you subtly pulling at your collar with a finger, or see the perspiration appearing on your décolletage.
“So, you may wreak your revenge now, sweetheart. I’m not exactly in a position to defend my sartorial choices right now, am I?”, he says as he gestures to himself, sweeping a palm up and down his garb. “Gimme your worst.”
You’d feel pretty bad if you laid into him now, not only considering your own current garb but especially with what you’d said last night outside the bar. However, he is giving you an opportunity to even the score for his manipulation, and it would be a shame not to take it. You decide upon a combination of cheekiness and diplomacy. (And not flirty. Definitely not flirty.)
“I dunno, that beard covers most of your face, which obviously does you some favours. But don’t do yourself down, you look… good in red.”
He swallows as you stand to move away from him, and you hardly realise that you’ve rendered him speechless, as you joke, poking at the obvious cushion by his middle,
“Although, I’m totally not buying this padding, you know,”
Suddenly a party of schoolchildren appears from nowhere, and before they get between you and you get too far away to hear, he stammers out, “Uh, I’m Eddie, by the way.”
You half-yell your own name back, adding with a smile,
“It’s nice to meet you. Have fun today, Santa.”
It’s late afternoon and Santa Eddie is on his regulation break. You’re doing your best to herd the over-sugared, post-school crowd into some kind of order, when Mrs Santa (a lovely lady called Claudia) calls your name and says you can go on your break now too, if you want, and to please tell Santa that he needs to get back here and start doling out Christmas wishes.
You jump at the chance for even just a few minutes away from the diminutive hoards (though you could listen to Erica, one kid you do like, diss commercialism and the ethics of lying to kids en masse all afternoon), and make your way to the locker room.
Eddie’s still there, sitting on the central bench, beard pulled down under his chin, and he appears to be holding a package in his hands, though from the look on his face you don’t think it was one he was expecting. As you move closer and peer into the box, you spy the contents, and a bright red, glittery shape becomes visible.
Oh god, no. No-no-noooo…
It’s the order you placed from the shop at the back of the mall, but Karen’s obviously dropped it off next to the wrong locker - Eddie’s is number 69 and yours is 96.
It’s a dildo (of course it is). A Christmas-themed, flexible, long, thick, glittery, red dildo, with a gold lamé ribbon tied artfully around the base.
Eddie’s face is a picture of surprise as he turns to look up at you, eyes and mouth wide and eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline. He’s holding the packaging, your name visible on the wrapping, nixing any hope you’d had of feigning innocence and pretending you knew nothing about it.
“Uh, I think this is yours. I’m so sorry. I-it was left by my locker and I opened it assuming it was for me, and then I saw your name on it, but by then it was too late…”
He sees you slump down into the bench a few feet away from him, face in your hands. You don’t know him well, but you decide to let him get whatever he wants to say out of his system rather than potentially make everything worse by trying to get him to shut the hell up.
His tone is mocking, but not exactly mean, as he continues,
“It’s a pretty one, really. Y’know, festive. I admire your choice of aesthetics and commitment to the season.
But you know, Boots, if you wanted to feel special inside this Christmas, all you had to do was ask.
Wait, do you also have an Easter-themed one? Is it a rabbit?”
He’s turned to face you now, far too pleased with himself for that final quip. Arrogant bastard.
The tears come in a wave, and you fold in on yourself, trying to hide your face even more. The heat in your cheeks feels about the same temperature as the colour of that fucking dildo.
“Hey, hey. I was only kidding.” He scootches closer to you on the bench. ”Look, there’s nothing wrong with it. Everyone deserves pleasure, it’s healthy. And I get it, Boots, it can be hard for girls to find a guy who actually knows what the fuck they’re doing. And, maybe you don’t even want or need a guy, you just want some special time by yourself, right?”
There’s a short pause, like he could be considering his next choice of words.
“And anyway, I actually think it’s kinda hot…”
This surprises you. You’ve never met any guy who didn’t take the presence of your toy collection as a personal insult.
You risk a glance in his direction, hoping your wet and stinging eyes don’t look as red as they feel. “You really think so?”
“Oh yeah”, he responds, crossing his legs as subtly as he can, shielding his lap. “The one you chose? It’s… sophisticated. The glitter gives it a real nice touch. And,” he drops his voice a little, continuing in an almost-whisper, “I’d love to see what you do with it.” He clears his throat and looks away, finding a convenient patch of plain wall to focus his gaze upon.
Confused, upset, and unable to fathom exactly what’s going on (is this just banter? Or is he flirting? Wait, does he like you??) you grab the box from him and move to stuff it in your locker. Trying to hide the crack in your voice, you call over your shoulder, “Claudia says your break’s over and to get your jolly ass back out there, pronto.”
Oh shit… shitshitSHIT…
Stupid collar, stupid faux fur, stupid cheap zips! Goddammit!
You’re at your locker - the one that should’ve secretly contained your special Xmas gift to yourself - trying to get out of your stupid elf costume, but the zip won’t budge. The top of it is enmeshed amongst the stupid faux fur of your collar, and your frustrated, unsighted and fumbling ministrations appear to be making it worse.
You need help. An empathic soul to come to your aid and diligently untangle you from this costuming hell. But there’s only one other person here, and, even though your last encounter ended better than it could have, he’s still the last person you want to see right now.
Why tonight? Of all nights? How could this happen on the one night where the literal only person left in the entire fucking building is him??
You can only assume you’re on the real Santa’s shit list. Were you really that naughty this year?
Your brain rewards you with a brief, but telling, synopsis of your year so far: smoking blunts behind the library with Robin during study breaks, skinny dipping in a freezing lake on a dare, all that tequila, that brief foray in the back of a Camaro with that guy (Bobby? Billy?). Okay, you were no saint, but this? Come on…
Dejectedly, you drop your chin to your chest and let out a frustrated huff.
Looking miserable, and literally dragging your heels, you shuffle back out to the grotto, steeling yourself for whatever mocking banter Eddie will subject you to this time.
He’s leisurely rearranging the grotto area, and fiddling with the fairy lights behind.
“Hey, Boots. What’re you still doing here?”
Still not looking up, and flicking your eyes everywhere but in his direction, you mumble,
“I, uh, I need your help.”
“What is it? C’mon, you can tell me. We’re quite intimately acquainted now, wouldn’t you say?“
You can hear the smirk in his voice and you want to slap it right off his face. Your response comes out in a rush.
“MyzipisstuckandIcan’tgetoutofthisfuckingcostume, okay?”
“Well, honestly, if you want me to undress you, all you have to do is ask…”
There’s annoyance in your voice as you spit out, “For fuck’s sake Eddie, are you gonna help me or not?”
“Of course, Boots, I’m just messin’ with ya.” His voice drops to an almost-rumble as he instructs, “Turn around for me, yeah?”
His voice is commanding, yet soft and velvety. Parts of your brain turn to marshmallow, and you consider that you’d do almost anything he asked, if he asked you like that.
You do as he requests, your back facing him. You tilt your head down slightly, allowing him better access to the top of the zip, inadvertently also exposing the back of your neck.
He exhales (is it a bit shaky?), and you feel the heat of his breath on your nape, the sensation raising goosebumps along your spine and worrying your legs a little. It’s all you can do to not drop to your knees right there and then. You let out a tiny gasp and try to cover it with a deep swallow.
Eddie works gently on the collar of your garment, fiddling with the fur and disentangling what he can. As he works you continue to feel his breath on your neck, and you wonder if he has any idea what it’s doing to you.
Seemingly satisfied he won’t make it any worse than it already is, Eddie grasps the tag with his fingertips and places the palm of his other hand on your shoulder blade, the heat of it radiating through you so intensely that you have to scrunch your eyes closed and try to ground yourself.
With a quiet, “You ready?”, Eddie begins to slowly lower the zip.
It dislodges under his delicate touch, and although the zip is now completely free-moving he continues to pull it downwards ever so slowly. You feel another frisson of excitement, and even though you could at this stage probably quite easily take over and get out of the garment yourself, you don’t move away.
As the opening reaches your shoulder blades, you feel something else. It’s featherlight, barely there, but you think you can feel the knuckle of one of Eddie’s bent fingers brushing the skin of your back as he pulls the zipper slowly downwards.
Part of you thinks you should be freaked, after all an almost-complete stranger is touching you without your consent, but somehow it doesn’t feel weird. It feels… nice. Safe. Right.
The lower the zip goes the more of Eddie’s breath you feel on your back, and as the sides separate the edges of the colourful tattoo on your shoulder blade become visible.
Eddie's breath stutters at the sight, and as his knuckle passes over your bra strap and connects again with your lower spine you abruptly shake yourself out of your reverie.
Clutching the front of your tunic to your body, you move quickly away from him, stumbling back towards the locker room and mumbling, “I’ll take it from here. Thanks Eddie, you’re a lifesaver.”
Plonking yourself down on the bench in front of your open locker, you take a few deep breaths, trying to centre yourself before you get changed and wondering how on earth you’re going to be able to face him again tomorrow, the (yes, you’ll admit it now) hottest Santa you’ve ever seen...
Back in your own clothes (black, wide-gauge fishnets, an old tee from a punk band that no longer exists, and a flared black skirt - much better) you’re about to scurry out with your head down when you hear muffled grunts and groans from the main floor. What on earth is going on out there?
You amble back out to the grotto area, trying to appear nonchalant and like this is your usual route out of the building.
You see Eddie’s combat boots sticking out from behind a pile of fake snowballs. They seem to be twitching.
You move closer until you can see his entire form. He’s lying on his back, immobile, completely tangled in fairy lights. You can’t help but start to giggle, not least because for the first time since meeting him it’s he who’s the one in a compromising position.
He’s struggling, likely making it worse, and he starts as he sees you, barking out, “Oh god, Boots, you scared me! Well, laugh it up, fuzzball, I guess it’s your turn to rag on me now.”
“What on earth happened? Are you hurt?”
“I said I’d help rearrange these lights, so I was up that ladder, moving them around, when the rung gave way. The lights were the only thing I could grab for when I span, fell, and, well, here we are!”
He gives you a broad but sarcastic grin, realising the absurdity of his predicament, trying to spread out his palms in a jazz hands kind of illustration but only managing to do it with one, the other trapped at his belt line by a string of dazzling pink lights.
“Um, you need a hand?”
“Uh, yes please.”
You take a moment to appraise the situation. You see the broken ladder, the tangled piles of lights, scuffed-up fake grass and unruly piles of snowballs.
As for Eddie, he seems unharmed, if a little bruised in the ego (and, perhaps, the elbows). He’s still wearing the Santa suit. Well, most of it. He still has on the hat for some reason, and the trousers, but he’s discarded the beard and jacket, presumably for reasons of temperature regulation or ease of movement, and his ‘belly’ cushion is nowhere to be seen.
And his top half? Well, his top half is now adorned only in a tight, white tank top.
You swallow as you take in his torso. He looked good on stage that night at the bar, but you never really got to see him this close up. Or this well lit.
His skin is almost as pale as the fake snow that litters the area, but there’s a creaminess to it that just makes him look, well, edible is the only word you can think of. Apart from ’lickable’. Yep, that would work too…
He’s solid, well defined, but he’s not stocky. You imagine that years of carrying amps and band equipment around has toned his muscles rather than bulked them.
And the tattoos… Oh. God.
You’ve always had a thing for people with alternative tastes, but this guy takes the cake. Swirling black ink in a variety of designs and styles covers his pecs and biceps, with smaller but no less elaborate designs adorning his forearms.
You notice a subtle glint under the colourful strings of lights that enwrap him, and spot that one of his nipples is pierced, the ring of metal just barely visible through the taut fabric.
Your eyes drift to his hands (those same hands that entranced you that first night), and although there’s no rings tonight (you guess ‘Badass Santa’ wasn’t the version on the mall’s wish list) his hands are no less attractive, still strong-looking and veiny, and you spot a number of small finger tats that you hadn’t been aware of before.
His position and the fact that he’s still struggling mean his abs are tensed, with his forearms are in front of him, making them, and his shoulders, really pop.
Jeezus.
Your thighs clench and you feel a heat bloom in your core.
He notices you staring, and for a moment seems to revel in it, but eventually breaks you out of your trance, asking, “You gonna help me get out of this, or what?”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course, um, lemme just…”
You decide to start at his feet, reasoning that’s where the tangles are the least bad, and at least if his feet are free he’ll be able to sit up.
That decision has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you’d like to see him sitting, bound, tied up for you, naked…
Shit. Fuck. Concentrate…
Eventually you free him from the majority of his confines, your fingertips and the backs of your hands brushing his skin and the fabric of his clothes occasionally. As he’s able to sit up, his hair tickles you as you work, his scent invades you all over again, and the two of you share glances and timid little chuckles as you move around him, both aware that you’re closer than you’ve been before.
Eventually he’s completely freed, and as he stands and steps out of the final loop of lights he flops exhaustedly backwards into his golden throne, eyeing the pile of entangled lights and running a hand over his face, mumbling, “Shit, there’s no hope for them tonight. I’ll deal with it all in the morning.”
You stand to the side of the throne, wanting to check he’s ok, and in a bold move that you weren’t expecting he lifts one arm and takes the tips of your first two fingers in his, gently raising your hand in a silent instruction to come closer.
Mirroring your earlier comment, he says, “Thanks, Boots. You’re a real lifesaver”, adding, with a hand against his forehead, “I would’ve been here all night, could’ve starved to death. They'd've found my mummified remains in the morning.”
You find yourself stepping towards him, and with your free hand try to give his pec a playful slap, murmuring, “You’re so dramatic. No, wait, theatrical!”
The slap fails though, as he rapidly brings his other hand up to the back of yours, trapping your palm against his chest. You can feel the heat of his skin, the slight sheen of sweat just noticeable as your fingertips breach the low neckline of his top, the heavy thud of his heartbeat.
You don’t realise how close you’ve become, and you gasp as your knees touch the side of his. He gently grabs the hand that’s on his chest and pulls it to his side, and to stop yourself from toppling forwards you have to step around him, ending up standing astride his legs.
Your eyes lock, and something changes. For a long moment neither of you move, and you feel your breathing rate speed up.
Not breaking eye contact, Eddie slowly moves your arm up to his shoulder, and you find yourself climbing onto the throne with him, straddling his thighs.
He breaks out that low, rumbling voice again, as he murmurs,
“That’s it, Boots, come sit on Santa’s lap.”
As you lower down onto him, you feel the heat of his thighs through your thin tights, and then the contrast of the chill of your metal-coated heels against the backs of yours.
You also feel something bloom in the pit of your stomach. And further down. A warmth, heat, need.
Eddie moves one hand to hold the back of your waist, pulling you gently, moving you further up his lap towards him.
You feel the unmistakable bulge of his arousal between your thighs, and as he moves you closer you gasp as you feel it nudge your mound.
You look at each other for another long moment, aware that this is very new territory. His eyes flick between your eyes and your lips, as he asks, quietly, “Is- is this okay?”
It’s all too much and simultaneously not enough. You definitely weren’t expecting any of this, but at the same time you find yourself desperately nodding, needing more of him, of Eddie.
You answer by slowly rolling your hips lightly against him, your lips parting slightly.
The few layers of fabric between you aren’t enough to dull the sensation of his cock pushing against your centre, and you feel it gradually pressing between your folds, your growing slick making the movements easier.
Suddenly, his bulge nudges your sensitive bud.
You gasp again at the sensation, making Eddie exhale a long low, warm breath over your torso, before he speaks again.
“Boots, can I kiss you?”
You take a breath, considering how this could all go. You could walk away now (albeit with shaky legs and damp thighs) and leave any possible awkwardness or complicated entanglement in favour of a simple, uncomplicated holiday with your friend.
But then you look into his eyes again, as his hips gently buck and nudge you once more, and your decision is made.
Breathing out, you reply,
“Fuck yeah, Santa.”
Wearing a soft, sly smile, he gently brings one hand to the back of your head, bringing you to him as he moves forwards, chocolate eyes roaming your face, scanning your eyes and lips.
Noses bumping and lips millimetres apart, he pauses for a moment before closing the gap, pressing his soft, plush lips to yours. They feel divine, soft and velvety, and this close you can smell everything him now, with the subtle addition of something faintly minty.
You kiss him back, and then you both press forward harder, parting your lips at the same moment, the tips of your tongues touching and dancing before sliding past each other and deepening the kiss, your teeth bumping gently and hot breaths mingling.
It’s wet, hot and needy, your hands grasping his shoulders, and his arms pulling you closer to him.
The rolling of your hips gradually becomes stronger and more forceful, and he bucks harder up into you. You need more. Breaking the kiss for air, you take a couple of lungfuls, toying with the drawstring on his red pants before asking, bold and more than a little cheeky,
“How are you feeling? Still entangled? Do you need a hand getting out of these, too?”
“Yeah, fuck, I’m feeling very… entrapped, kinda claustrophobic. Might be in shock from such a traumatic experience. I might need to loosen my clothing a bit, y’know, for medical reasons.”
You give him a smirk, and untie the cords. Raising up on your knees slightly, you slide your thumbs hands into the waistband of those and his fitted, black boxers (fuck, is there anything about this guy that isn’t sexy?). He quickly takes the hint, lifting his hips off of the throne and allowing you to move his garments down to his thighs.
As you work his member gets caught on the elastic of his boxers, and as it releases from the fabric it springs back onto his abdomen with an audible slap. You can’t help but look, and you’re not disappointed. It’s pleasantly, but not overly, big, thick and veiny, curved slightly and with a large flared head. The tip is shiny and pinky-red, and as you stare it twitches away from his body and a tiny bead of precum leaks from the tip. You’re surprised, but also delighted, to spot a shining pair of steel balls decorating a frenum piercing, and that there’s a few pretty dot and line work tattoos near the base.
It’s beautiful. You want to tell him so, but he grabs you and pulls you in for another deep, passionate kiss, his length trapped between your bodies, hot and pulsing.
You melt into the kiss, tongues slipping and sliding, lips rubbing, noses smooshed against each other and enjoying it for as long as you can both do without air.
Needing another deep inhale, and also wanting to get your hands on his delightful cock, you sit up again, slipping one hand between you and grasping at his length. Eddie hisses, then moans,
“Oh, Boots, you’re gonna fucking kill me.”
You enjoy the feeling of him in your hand for a few moments, relishing the heat and hardness, before you position the palm of your hand behind his cock and push your centre towards him again, trapping his length between your hand and belly.
More thrusts of his hips moves him between you, your slightly adjusted position now pressing him firmly between your clothed folds, his cock dragging the fabric across your clit. You can’t help but let out a high whine, and you feel his cock twitch again.
“Too much fabric. Wanna feel you.”
His voice is gruff, desperate, wanting.
You lean back a little, resting one hand on the arm of the throne, keeping your other hand wrapped around his cock. You’re not sure you ever want to let it go.
His hands move from your ass to your thighs, running over them and squeezing. When he reaches the part exposed by your lifted skirt he growls, feeling the skin of your hips and belly through the mesh of your tights.
Suddenly, his chin dips and he gives you an almost evil grin. His eyes remain connected with yours as the tip of his tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth as he pushes some of his fingertips through the holes, grabs tightly and pulls.
You freeze as the sound of snapping fabric echoes around the grotto, cool air now gracing your belly and inner thighs. You gasp, not only at his actions but because you packed light and don’t have any other tights with you. But as Eddie’s thumbs trace up to the crease of your thighs, dangerously close to your heated core, all thoughts of packing and capsule wardrobes are erased. You want, no, need him to touch you.
With a smirk, you say, “Please touch me, Santa. I promise I’ve been such a good girl this year.”
His jaw goes slack and he looks at you in awe. You notice how black his eyes have become, the beautiful chocolate hues all but obscured.
He flicks his gaze to your core, black satin panties with lace edging fully on display. He runs one thumb pad up your very centre, feeling the smooth, silky fabric, your heat, the dampness that’s already apparent.
“Christ, baby, is this all for me?”
“All for you, Santa. I’m pretty sure you’ve been a bad boy this year, but you deserve a treat anyway.”
His eyes flick to yours again briefly, his lips curling into a lascivious smirk, before returning to the beautiful display between your legs. He hooks his thumb around one lace edge and, much more gently than he handled your tights, moves the soaked satin to one side.
With a tenderness and reverence that you’ve never experienced before, Eddie parts your folds with his thumb and runs it delicately from your wet lips all the way up to your clit. His eyes are fixed there, jaw slack, and you genuinely think he might drool.
As he connects with your sensitive bud you keen above him, eyes closing and head rolling back.
“That’s the spot, huh?”
You come back to look at him, and manage to breathe out, with a lilting giggle, “Fuck, yes.”
He moves his thumb in a small circle, and your mouth falls open in an O, your brows furrowing slightly.
“You want me to keep going, Boots? All you have to do is ask…”
You’re lost, gone, away in space, and you don’t have the capacity to chide him for his cheek. All you can manage is a breathy, “Please Eddie, please keep going.”
His thumb speeds up slightly and he gradually and gently increases the pressure, and you can feel the coil in your belly tightening already. Fuck, he’s good at this.
Your hand remains clamped around his dick, squeezing it occasionally, his hips rutting up into your fist at a leisurely pace as he watches you fall apart on his lap.
He moves his other hand from where it’s been resting on your hip, and, widening his thighs slightly to create space beneath you, brings the tips of his index and middle fingers to your hole. You’re sopping wet and swollen, lips almost sucking him in just from the slightest touch.
He looks to your face again as he asks, “Is this okay?”
You manage a rapid, shallow head nod and a, “M-hm”, and he slowly plunges two fingers into you, scissoring them and generating a low groan from you, which in turn causes a harsher snap from his hips.
“Jeezus, Boots, you make the most delicious sounds, wish I could record them, listen to them on a loop. Fucking hell.”
“Maybe you can, you’re a musician after a-all…”
That’s the last thing you can say for a while, the combination of Eddie’s smirk, his talented fingers pumping in and out of you, his glorious thumb movements, the feel of his cock in your hand and his hips bucking beneath you all conspire to bring you to your peak.
You grip the arm of the throne hard, nails denting the pile on the velvety fabric. Your eyes close and your vision goes black before becoming a thousand tiny fairy lights, a firework igniting in your core and spreading throughout your body in the most delicious waves as you spasm around Eddie’s fingers.
You don’t notice you’ve been groaning until your senses return, and you feel a slight roughness in your throat. Eddie continues his movements, though slower, and helps you ride out your aftershocks as you pant on his lap.
Only when you start to twitch in discomfort does he remove his thumb from your clit. He slowly pulls his fingers from inside you, and to your surprise brings them up to his lips, pushing them fully inside his mouth and sucking greedily, closing his eyes and humming at your taste. Popping them out with a wet smack, he says,
“My god, Boots. You taste better than sugar cookies and cotton candy combined.”
Your arms feel suddenly weak, and you flop forwards, forehead on Eddie’s collarbone. You feel his warm, broad palm on your back, rubbing gently, soothing you.
“Y’okay there, sweetheart?”
You manage a little squeak, and mumble a tiny, “Mmph, yeaaah…”, as he chuckles lightly.
After a few moments you sit up a little, gazing into Eddie’s blown chocolate eyes through an endorphin haze, and you notice your cheeks are tense, in what must be, given Eddie’s somewhat lovesick expression, a goofy smile.
You realise you’re still holding on to his dick, and give it an experimental squeeze, to test whether your muscles are responding to signals from your brain (yeah, that’s definitely the only reason…). Eddie’s hips buck up, and you sneak a look down to see more precum leaking from the tip. You gather some with your thumb, circling it gently over his slit.
Eddie inhales with a hiss. His strong arm around your back goes to pull you in for another kiss, as his other hand reaches up to the hat atop his head, pulling it off and discarding it amongst the tangled fairy lights.
You move towards him for a deep kiss, releasing the grip on his member and running your hands around his (surprisingly muscular and delicious) neck and into the hair at the base of his skull, tangling your fingers into the curls and tugging gently, earning you another moan.
Shifting your hips along his thighs, you press your soaking folds against Eddie’s turgid cock, and the combination of sensations causes Eddie to break the kiss and emit a loud, low groan. His arms tighten around your torso and he moves his warm mouth down your jaw and neck with wet kisses, then lightly bites the top of your shoulder.
You sigh, knowing what you want.
“You ever fuck an elf, Santa?”
Eddies still mouthing at your collarbone as he mutters into your warm skin,
“Goddammit, you’re incredible.”
You move backwards slightly and Eddie takes the opportunity to reach behind him, grabbing the back of his tank top and dragging it off, dropping it carelessly to the side of the throne to join the lights and his hat.
Fuck, his chest is glorious too.
Bringing a little of your lower lip between your teeth, you run your palms down his solid torso. You want the opportunity to play with that nipple ring and examine each and every one of his tattoos, but right now there are more pressing desires on your mind.
He lets out a shaky breath as you brush his abs with your fingertips, shift your position and line up his swollen head with your eagerly awaiting hole.
“You sure about this, Boots?”
You look up at him, at his blown dark eyes and pink, kiss-bitten, shiny lips, and quirk an eyebrow as you run your fingers into his hair and murmur, “Oh yeah, Eddie. I want you to make me feel… special inside.”
He gasps as you angle your hips and sink down, pushing the head of his cock inside of you, gradually taking his thick length.
He kisses your lips once more, humming, as you acclimatise to his girth, then grins lasciviously as he thrusts his hips upwards, filling you completely. You’re close enough that the moans you let out mingle together and your breaths become shared, eyes locked and mouths agape.
You roll your hips, sliding Eddie’s length in and out of you at a gentle pace. You can feel every ridge and vein as he enters and pulls out, and you’re sure you can feel his frenum piercing dragging against your walls.
You can tell he’s holding back, consciously stilling his own hips and allowing you to set the pace. But this doesn’t last long.
Voice gravelly and ragged with lust, Eddie mumbles,
“Shit, baby, I gotta move. I wanna fuck you so bad, Boots. You gonna let me fuck you?”
Mouth close to his ear, you breathe out a small, “Please”.
It’s all he needs.
Grabbing your ass and squeezing hard but not harshly, Eddie pulls you down onto him as he thrusts up from below. His pace is ruthless as he lifts and drops you, matching his rhythm as he grunts and mumbles incoherent curses. You can’t make out much, but you do hear,
“Fuck, baby, you feel so divine, taking me so well, Jeezus Christ.”
Fuck, he feels amazing.
You remember his cock tattoos, and imagine how they might look, shiny and covered with your slick, disappearing in and out of your glossy lips.
This image, combined with a particularly hard snap of Eddie’s hips causing him to angle slightly differently and start to nudge that special place inside of you, causes you to let out a loud gasp, and your mouth drops open as you try to form a sentence.
“Oh fuck Eddie, I’m- I’m…”
“You gonna cum all over Santa, pretty girl?”
He continues thrusting at that delicious angle and you feel your legs start to tremble.
“Fuck! Y-yes, ye-ess!”
Heat building in your core, you just about hear Eddie mumbling,
“Shit, you’re squeezin’ me so tight, I’m not gonna last much longer. Where do you want…?”
Before he can even finish you’re blurting out,
“Inside me Eddie, please.”
You bounce on Eddie’s lap as his thrusts become deeper, faster, and then harsher and less rhythmic. You grind down onto his pelvis, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone and his thick, dark pubic hair, as his cock continues to bully your most sensitive spot.
Suddenly your muscles tense, thighs clamping around him, your forehead pressing hard into his, as his hips slam up into you. You let out a low whine as you peak again, vision blackening, all your muscles tensing as your walls clench around him.
Eddie follows almost immediately, thrusting harshly upwards and pulling your hips down onto him, and you feel rushes of warmth as he groans and empties himself inside your fluttering cunt.
There’s quiet for a moment, and all you can hear is your panting breaths and the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears.
You sit in silence for a few minutes, foreheads feasting against each other, heartbeats slowing and breathing becoming more regular.
Breathlessly, and without full clarity, you sit up slightly and mumble “Fuck, Eddie, that was…”
Eddie chews a little on the inside of his lower lip, and with the widest, sexiest smile you’ve ever seen, replies softly,
“Merry Christmas, Boots.”
After a few moments spent pecking kisses on various parts of your face, making you giggle, Eddie eventually helps you to lift off his slowly softening cock. He leans over to retrieve his discarded tank top and uses it to help clean the mess you both made between your legs.
You unpeel yourselves from the golden throne, feeling sure the heels of your boots have left marks in your ass, and he aids your passage back to the locker room on wobbly legs, helping you wash and making sure you’re ok.
As you gather your things he changes into his street clothes. They’re not dissimilar to last night, though he’s foregone the chain belt and has chosen a somewhat more fully intact shirt, and he watches you as he slings on his leather jacket.
Almost ready, you look down forlornly at your gaping tights, the hole barely covered by the hem of your skirt. Eddie chuckles, and tries to lighten your hosiery-related mood.
“Perhaps I could buy you a new pair? Maybe at lunch tomorrow we could go visit your favourite shop, and you could pick out something nice?”
The image of Santa and one of his elves nonchalantly browsing the displays in a sex shop amuses you greatly, and you tell him so, but he insists he would totally do it, if you wanted to.
There’s a pause as you retrieve your coat and go to put it on, and as you do he adds,
“Well, I’d call it a Christmas gift, but… I’d actually prefer to get you something a little nicer. If you’re around. And you’d let me, of course.”
You’re surprised by Eddie’s unexpected tenderness, and the implication that he might want to continue… whateverthisis. You don’t want to presume anything, but there’s certainly a little tingle in your belly at the thought.
You reply, sardonically, “Sure, I guess. So long as it’s not red and glittery, I think I've had enough things like that to last me for a little while.”
You both snort-laugh at this.
As you start to walk together to the staff exit at the back of the mall, Eddie offers to take your bag so you can fasten your coat and put on your hat and gloves.
Trying to sound casual, he asks, “Sooo, how’re you gettin’ back to Robin’s?”
“I was gonna take the bus, like usual.”
Eddie looks at you sideways, slightly bashful.
“Could I, maybe, give you a ride? We can stop at Benny’s on the way, if you’re hungry. It's a diner”, he clarifies, remembering that you’re not from around here.
Your tummy flips, and not just from the thought of a milkshake and fries.
“Yeah, sure, I’d like that.”
Eddie smiles that wide smile again, and you see his cheeks turn a little pink. It’s odd, him being all shy and self-conscious after what you two have just done, but somehow it’s also incredibly endearing.
As he walks you through the parking lot, still carrying your bag and toying with a stray piece of tinsel that he found in his pocket, he says,
“Y’know, I’d still really like to see what you do with that Christmas dildo.”
Thinking back to how he looked all tangled up, you smirk back at him as you think of how you’d quite like a redo of him tied up for you.
As you reach his van, you lean against the passenger door and coyly look at him.
“Well, maybe I could show you. Could we, maybe, do something after work tomorrow?”
With the sweetest dimpled smile you think you’ve ever seen, Eddie cocks his head to one side and lifts a hand to run the tip of one forefinger along your jawline, as he replies in that low rumble,
“Oh, Boots, you should know by now. All you have to do is ask.”
🎄You may not yet be completely sold on the whole idea of The Holidays™️, but you’ll have to admit to Robin that this might well be the start of your Best. Christmas. Ever.🎄
Thanks so much for reading! ILY 🥰
Please support your content creators by not only liking but also commenting and reblogging - it’s so important. If you liked this there’s a good chance others will too, and comments and reblogs are the only way posts get seen. Consider it a Christmas gift to your writers and followers 😍🎅🏼 Thank you, and Happy Holidays, however you celebrate!
Resources: Proof that Deck The Halls can be sung to the tune of War Pigs (and vice versa), plus the ‘Fa la la’ 😊🎄
#prompt party#Santa!eddie munson#come sit on Santa’s lap#festive fic#promptparty#festive smut#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson#stranger things#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#5+1#5+1 fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#Christmas fiction#best christmas ever#Eddie munson fan fiction#Eddie munson fanfic#Christmas smut#rockstar!eddie#strangers to lovers#steve harrington#robin buckley#S.A.N.T.A. BABY#boots#joseph quinn
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rewatched more community with my friend. more specifically, horror fiction in seven spooky steps (and cooperative calligraphy, but that’s not relevant here).
annie’s story is just so obviously the best. it’s not just reflective of how her mind works, but also reflective of her entire relationship to jeff, her latent anxieties of his predation, the way in which she fantasizes about having the power to, quite literally, murder him gruesomely. it cycles through annie’s entire inner monologue regarding what jeff means to her: first bridal carrying her into his home in a chivalrous way, asserting his desire to protect her as a father might, then introducing his more predatory and exploitative tendencies through his relationship to britta (who is fine with being a vessel of desire through which he consummates his animalistic urges, unlike annie), then asking to be reformed through annie’s unique intelligence (shoutout to king lear!! i knew annie had taste), but then ultimately revealing that her efforts to construct him in a more palatable image are futile, at which point she subverts the power fantasy by destroying him painfully and without remorse. even putting aside the fact that annie clearly views britta’s tacit enjoyment of sex with men (and jeff in particular) as something appalling and debasing (because she’s a lesbian), annie’s psychological landscape as it relates to her sexuality is a distinctly macabre gothic horror, illustrating how her sense of desire is mingled with horror and repulsion. annie’s attraction to jeff has always very clearly been a power fantasy, but whether he is the one with the power (reminds her of her father, an older man who has life experience validating her existence through his approval) or she is (her ability to reform him, the worst man she knows, ideally demonstrates her ability to be desirable to anyone; she wants him to submit to her that prove that she can be powerful in her own right) doesn’t really matter. either way it’s clear that this attraction is hollow, signifying her desire to be loved rather than her desire to love jeff.
it’s also interesting to note that troy’s story immediately follows annie in an attempt to show her up, and while far cruder and more childish, it also illustrates his latent sexuality and its more horrific implications. annie and troy, notably, are the only characters whose stories are about sexuality in any way, unless you count pierce’s racist and misogynistic delusions, which you shouldn’t. shirley fantasizes about being vindicated as a christian, jeff sublimates his own fear and loneliness through chang (lol), britta brittas it, and abed completely detaches himself from his story whatsoever, because he’s literally normal. but annie and troy both belie their fears regarding their latent (homo)sexuality through the vehicle of the horror genre. but while annie’s fear of jeff’s predation is resolved through an empowering subversion of her victimhood, troy’s anxieties about being codependent with abed are simply resolved through accepting his codependency as a power fantasy which he levels against the unnamed crazy old racist doctor (ie, pierce, but also ie, hegemony). obviously troy does eventually confront the fact that he has subsumed his entire identity into abed’s, but i do think there’s also something quite beautiful about the fact that on a purely subconscious level, it’s not something he’s afraid of, but in fact something he welcomes. by becoming one with abed, he is also becoming himself. it’s quite a puerile power fantasy, because it’s troy’s, but it also conveys a really poignant sentiment regarding the nature of troy’s desires, his anxieties regarding his growing codependency (moving in with abed earlier in the season, doing literally everything with him, trying to counterbalance this fact by randomly deciding that he’s into britta) but also his acceptance of it as something that only makes him “more awesome.” coming out isn’t linear, but also by the time troy does come out, he won’t actually need to, because the closet is made of glass.
#community textposts#abed is obviously the goat but i also do love troy and annie so much#troy is an angel and a gift to this world and im convinced that that wasn’t even donald glover#the spirit of troy barnes simply posssessed him every time the camera started rolling#and annie literally deserves to kill people (jeff). as a treat
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When visiting the many islands that comprise the Fire Nation, it was not uncommon for their royal majesties Fire Lord Zuko and Master Katara to don the traditional dress of the host island.
Almost as soon as I had finished working on the art piece I did with Zuko and Katara in Thai inspired outfits, I knew I wanted to do something similar but with outfits inspired by the Philippines (or outfit, sorry Zuko I find women's fashion more interesting than men's).
Before jumping into the commentary, I'll stress that this design is fantasy inspired by the Philippines. Although I did research, it is not an accurate representation of Filipino national costume, nor is it meant to be.
This was more challenging in some ways than the Thai piece, because even though the Thai piece required a ton of detail work, I was creating a design much closer to its real world inspiration. In this case there wasn't a specific "look" I was trying to recreate, instead I wanted to create a design inspired by the traditional fashion of the Philippines. However, 1). pre-colonial fashions were very different from the Spanish inspired styles that arose during colonialization and that have since evolved into modern traditional Filipino attire, and 2). the Philippines is home to many different indigenous groups, each of whom have their own traditional costumes.
Originally, I wanted to exclusively look to the pre-colonial period for inspiration, but when I looked only at pre-colonial designs, I found I missed the iconic silhouettes seen in modern Filipino dresses. So I widened my research scope to see how I could combine pre-colonial with elements of modern fashion.
For pre-colonial styles, the best historical resource is the Boxer Codex. Karakoa Productions was also a helpful resource to see how pre-colonial looks were being interpreted from historical illustrations and descriptions into real world garments. I looked at modern designers from the Philippines to see how they were playing with the design of terno (which often feature the iconic butterfly sleeves I wanted to include). One design I was really inspired by was a look worn by Filipina actress Kathryn Bernardo.
Both written and illustrated accounts of the pre-colonial era in the Philippines emphasize the prevalence of golden jewelry, so Katara has a gold necklace, bracelets, hair beads, and belt. Katara's belt is inspired by two main sources. The first is an extant kandit (royal belt) woven from gold wires in the Museo ng Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas's pre-colonial gold collection. The dangles on it are loosely inspired by the beaded belts made by the T'Boli people.
With Katara's skirt, I tried to blend the longer style of skirts seen in the Boxer Codex, with a striped pattern inspired by the numerous woven designs I found in traditional indigenous attire. The specific photo I used as inspiration was labeled as being from Kalinga, but I found similar weavings from other groups as well.
The flowers in Katara's hair are flowers found in the Philippines - sampaguita, waling-waling orchids, plumeria, hibiscious, and santan. She also wears her dual moon-flame tiara.
♥ Please do not repost. If you like it and want to show people, share a link to this page instead. Thank you!
#zutara#katara#master katara of the southern water tribe queen consort of the fire nation#atla#pandaverse#zutara pandaverse#the Philippines holds special significance for me so I hope I did it justice#look I made a thing
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maybe, tim thought to himself, the best part about kissing hawk was how his hand would come up to cradle his jaw as they moved.
the easy answer would be to say that his favorite part of kissing hawk was all of it. the fact that he could, that hawk would kiss back, that sometimes hawk kissed him first. every little part from the way tim felt hawk smile against his lips to the way hawk could never just have one kiss and instead came back for two, three more; tim loved everything.
but hawk had a habit of slowly bringing his hand up to tims jaw while they kissed, running his fingers along the jaw line and tilting tims head one way or the other. tim wondered if hawk was aware he was doing it. it felt more intimate than was most likely intentional.
tim remembered reading fairytales with his sister when they were children, looking at the illustrations of prince and princesses locked in a romantic kiss. he would practice drawing with the books as inspiration and he loved the happy endings everyone got. a big castle and the setting sun to seal the deal, but it was the way the prince would be so careful in that final shot that stuck with him. after slaying the dragon with force he remembered to be kind and soft with his love, handling her with care so she knew she was special.
more than once, tim had drawn a fantasy involving hawk in shining knights armor and himself in elegant garb with a castle silhouetted in the background. to be precious to someone, even after they defeated monsters, made tim flush.
there were no dragons to slay and fairytales werent real, but happily ever afters had to begin somewhere.
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I was curious to know, is there a specific adaptation of JTTW that you particularly enjoy? Whether its good or accurate isnt important but more like in your personal taste
AUGH going to be honest @seasonalsummers in that I don't feel like I can pick just one...there's so many excellent retellings! But I will take this opportunity to present some of my favorites.
So first up we have the 1986 Journey to the West tv series. It is in many ways very goofy and gaudy, but there's just as many reasons why it's considered one of the best retellings out there, from its genuine heart to the adherence to the og classic. And needless to say its Sun Wukong really set a standard for cheeky scheming monkey behavior. You can start watching it here:
youtube
Next up is 2016s The Monkey King 2. While this film is one of those retellings that gives the White Bone Demon a lot more prominence than she has in the og classic--and definitely has its own silly stupid moments--it also stands as one of the very few retellings that directly addresses the paradox of Tang Sanzang's mission: that he's trying to get the sutras to help mortals achieve a state of peace all while abhorring violence, and yet its only because of the violence of his disciples, especially Sun Wukong, that he's able to right a number of wrongs or simply go from day to day uneaten. You can watch it here:
youtube
And now it's time to give kudos to 2015's Monkey King: Hero Is Back. While this film is FAR from a faithful retelling and (usual refrain) has its own silliness, pretty simple plot, and gross-out humor, it also has so much heart and stands as a wonderful embodiment of the dad Wukong characterization. One also has to give it credit for its main child character, Jiang Liuer, being a genuinely charming kid who's wonder at the world and desire to do good drives the story forward in a sincerely lovely way. You can watch it here:
youtube
More recently--and in a work that is at best only loosely following the plot of Xiyouji--is 2022's Lighting Up the Stars. This film follows the story of a Li Nezha coded little orphan girl Wu Xiaowen and a Sun Wukong coded funeral director Mo Sanmei as they go from a very tense relationship to a genuinely loving father-daughter relationship. While there are moments of this film that feel kind of overwrought, it's an honestly wonderful exploration of what goes into dealing with death and the importance of love in all its many forms during life. I also have a soft spot for Mo Sanmei, who from what I've seen is the very peak of explicitly shitty cringefail loser who then genuinely works hard to become a better person Sun Wukong out there. It can be watched here:
youtube
Turning away from film and animation for a moment, I simply have to give proper kudos to Chaiko Tsai's comic The Monkey King. Between the gorgeous art, fun character designs, a good sense of how to translate many of the stories of Xiyouji into comic format, and a resolution to the Sun Wukong vs. Niu Mowang fight that I actually prefer above that in Journey to the West itself, this is definitely a comic worth going through! You can purchase it here for about $30.00
And last but certainly not least, one simply has to give due credit to 1964's Uproar in Heaven. It's an absolute gem of stylized Chinese animation, a work with the very rare allowance on the Monkey King getting to go full grandpa for tons upon tons of monkeys at Mt. Huaguoshan, and it's very faithful to the first half of the og classic with the difference that here Sun Wukong does his havoc in heaven and gets away with it. All around its a really fun work to watch and does have a lot of importance from both an animation and a historical perspective. You can watch it here:
youtube
So those are my favorite adaptations of Journey to the West! It's but a fraction of the adaptations out there, but I hope other people found these as fun as I do.
#journey to the west#jttw#xiyouji#sun wukong#monkey king#jttw retelling#jttw adaptation#chaiko tsai monkey king#1964 uproar in heaven#uproar in heaven#monkey king hero is back#lighting up the stars#journey to the west 1986#aaaaaa#to this day one of my favorite things about jttw#is all the incredible adaptations and retellings its inspired#ask answered
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@eddiemonth prompt, oct 16th: Library | Eyes on Fire - Blue Foundation | Curious
a/n: little Eddie & Wayne, ADHD!Eddie, pre-canon Eddie & Jonathan friendship. un-betaed because I'm challenging myself to write these in under an hour.
read on ao3 | ao3 masterpost here
All his life, all seven years of it so far, Eddie has been told to be quiet, to sit still, and to not touch things. He can’t help it most of the time– there are so many things to explore, and learn, and find, so many different textures to feel. Eddie learns best when he’s able to physically hold something in hands to help him focus and it’s gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion.
But living with Wayne, at least for the summer, he’s been given more opportunities than ever before to lean into his curious nature without being scolded. They’ve gone to museums, petting zoos, science centers, even the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Each new experience is a novelty and Eddie’s loved every single one of them. Today though, Eddie’s nervous.
“You almost ready, kid?” Wayne pokes his head into Eddie’s bedroom, warm smile and a cocked eyebrow. Eddie’s been taking his time, untying and retying his shoelaces over and over to stall.
“Uh, yeah! Yeah, I’m ready.” Eddie offers a tight smile, one that feels faux even to him.
“Do you not wanna go? We can try something else if the library isn’t your thing.”
Eddie shakes his head. “No, I wanna go! It’s just…”
Wayne enters the room fully, sitting down on the bed next to Eddie who fidgets with his fingers and looks down at the floor, his feet swaying back and forth over the edge of the bed.
“Just what?” He doesn’t touch him, but Wayne’s presence alone is comforting enough.
“What if I get in trouble? Aren’t you supposed to be super quiet and stuff in libraries?”
Eddie knows Wayne well enough by now to know that he’d never get in trouble that way that he has with his dad, but he doesn’t want to disappoint or embarrass Wayne, either.
“Well, yeah, on the grown up floor for the cranky old guys like me,” Wayne bumps his shoulder against Eddie’s, and Eddie can’t help but smile– real this time. “But there’s a whole children’s room that has games, lots of books, fun stuff. And if it feels like too much, you just give me our little signal and we’re outta there.”
When Eddie first started going places with Wayne, they’d developed their secret signal that probably wasn't too secret but worked just the same– Eddie would stand next to Wayne and step on his foot. Not hard, not enough to hurt, but enough that Wayne would notice, look down, and see Eddie’s overwhelm. And like promised, they’re outta there. No questions asked.
“Okay, I think I’m ready then.” Eddie stands up and heads toward the front of the trailer. “Let’s go.”
They’re at the library for all of a few minutes, Eddie hesitant to leave Wayne’s side as they scour the fantasy books, when he meets another kid around his age, maybe a little younger. Both boys go to reach for the same illustrated copy of a book about dragons.
“Oh, sorry, you can take it,” Eddie offers, moving his hand instinctually.
“No, no it’s okay, you were looking at it first. Go ahead.” The other boy responds, shrugging and looking back at the shelf.
There’s a woman behind him, smiling down fondly as she speaks. “Sweetie, why don’t you share with your new friend?”
“Yeah, if you wanna share, we could. Only if you want to though.” Eddie bounces on his heels, hopeful. He doesn’t get to make a lot of friends when he’s home with his parents.
“Okay, yeah,” the little boy smiles carefully and pulls the book from the shelf.
Eddie follows him to a small table at the end of the aisle and they pour over the pages, full of colorful illustrations and short stories. Eddie loses track of time, but he and his new friend, who he learns is named Jonathan, are just kids who don’t need to watch the clock.
They finish the book and return for another, and then another. Eddie's disappointed when the day ends and they have to leave, but he sees Wayne trade contact information with Jonathan's mom, Joyce.
"We'll see you again next week, Eddie. It was so nice to meet you." Joyce smiles, sweet and comforting, and Eddie isn't so afraid of the library anymore.
#eddie munson#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#jonathan byers#joyce byers#wayne munson#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#myblurbs#eddie month prompts#don't mind me just projecting a little onto eddie [fake surprise from the audience]
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Hey Dutch I wonder why I keep seeing some fans say cloud kiss to tifa was hollow ? I guess u call them cleriths or something I knew to all this and just learn about a ship war? Do you believe hollow since he not himself and would the real clown ever try to kiss a girl
Honestly, it's just them coping. Sorry if that's a boring answer, but that's really all it is and I can't paint it in a better light than that, every Clerith response you've seen to the kiss....is the definition of coping.
You have to remember some people have been believing that FFVII is the tragic love story of Aerith and Cloud, and that Tifa is "just a friend", for 27 years now.
The proper application of critical thought is to look at the evidence and see to which conclusion it leads.
These people have started with the conclusion, and then have to force fit the evidence to lead to the place they want it to.
Problem is, the more evidence comes out, the harder it is to get it all to fit, so they have to twist and bash it into place. Which is why you get some very bad takes from one side of this argument.
Why is Tifa always denigrated? Because Tifa represents an existential crisis to the Clerith world view in a way that Aerith doesn't for Clotis.
Same thing with Zack.
The reason Cleriths call the kiss Hollow, or say it's optional, or whatever their next plan of attack is, is simply this.
SE decided to give Cloud and Tifa a kiss, and for Clerith to happen, Cloud can't have genuine feelings for Tifa, since she's the one who'll be living with him. So the kiss will have to be twisted and undermined.
But the thing is of course, that no amount of ad hoc rationalization can change the fact that SE CHOSE to give Tifa and Cloud a kiss.
It wasn't "braindamaged and confused Cloud" that chose to kiss Tifa, it were the developers. And the question they really have to ask is "why?". Would SE choose to have Cloud kissing Tifa? To illustrate how heartbroken he is over Aerith having feelings for Zack? Are Cleriths really that deluded about how SE would treat its characters? (yes they are, they are that deluded, but they shouldn't be). Or did they decide to show Cloud kissing Tifa because....there is an obvious growing romance between Cloud and Tifa?
SE COULD have chosen to give a kiss to Aerith....but they didn't...instead they first gave Aerith and Cloud a scene where Aerith asks him to indulge her fantasies, and then one where Aerith is unsuccessfully trying to recreate her time with another man, and finally a scene of her confirming that while she likes Cloud, there is "like, and like like".
Tifa in contrast confirmed that she specifically "like liked" Cloud SEVEN years before the game even started. Aerith at best was still trying to figure that out when she was dying. And at worst (and more realistically) discovered in death that "No, it wasn't like like", which the mere fact that she even had to ask, kinda already betrays what the answer is.
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Soma and Whitewashing in Anime:
Avoiding "Brown"
Here is an image of Soma comparing his skin tone from the first season of Black Butler and the current season airing now. As you can see, Soma's skin is noticeably lighter than it was in the past. I considered the lighting and took shade from his hand that looks relatively mid tone. However, that's not really a fair excuse if the anime continues to lighten Soma's face this way.
I also compared his skintone from the Book of Circus season which is relatively more recent, and chose images where he's clearly in good lighting. Soma is still noticeably lighter this time around.
Whitewashing is an incredibly common phenomenon that been happening a lot lately in anime, especially with reboots. A great example I can think of off the top of my head is One Piece where they lightened nearly everyone's skin color in the anime, despite some of the cast being characters of color?
(^^^this character is canonly black according to Oda, the mangaka.)
"Oh but Oda gives Usopp pale skin in all his color illustrations"
One, he should know better. Two, if Oda said Usopp would be African in real life, and chose a brown, Jamaican-american actor to play him, then yes, they have been ridiculously disrespectful in how they've been portraying the character's racial features so far.
In that sense, it's actually relief that anime studios in the past weren't afraid of giving their characters darker skin unlike mangakas who were terrified of even the lighest shade of brown.
For instance, I am happy that A-1 studios made Soma, Agni, and Mina, who are all the same race, slightly differ in skin tone. Mina's skin is cooler toned compared to Soma and Agni's warmer hues.
HOWEVER, and other fans pointed this out, Soma and Agni's skin leaned so far from being golden brown to straight yellow in many scenes, that they were walking around like they have jaundice which is so... Of course A-1 studios found some way to mess it up ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Another thing, do you guys honestly think being accurate to Yana's art style is always the best thing to do in adaptions? Angela Blanc, the secret villain in the anime original first season, pretends to be an abused maid and gets whipped in her very first scene. And according to Yana's concept sketches, she was originally brown. I'm actually glad the anime whitewashed her in that instance.
I'd like to point out, Sebastian's skin tone has also changed in the new season, and he's noticeably tanner than his previous anime appearances and yana's illustrations. So why is this okay for the anime to make creative changes for sebastian's skin tone, but have to stay accurate for Soma? (whose dark skin been established in anime viewers' eyes for decades now).
To be fair, I did a comparison of the anime grayscaled and Soma in the manga during the Weston arc. I checked the values and while I will say that his skin is relatively in the same as the manga, only few degrees lighter, whitewashing isn't only about skintone.
Colourism in Features
We could argue whether its just different anime styles or the way Yana draws noses, but its not a great look for Soma's nose to be made noticeably sharper compared to his flatter/rounder nose in the manga/earlier seasons of the anime.
Talking about the Mandela effect and cognitive dissonance as well... there's also something about how manga readers seen Soma with brown skin and pure black hair years in the manga, only for the anime to lighten those features.
It doesn't help that Soma canonly has purple hair and yellow eyes (if anything, I do appreciate the more natural tones they gave Soma this season. No more highly saturated purple hair/yellow eyes and skin!)
Yes, Kuroshitsuji is a fantasy story, and YES artists of color like to play with fantasy features with characters, me included! But my point is that black/brown representation in media is so little already, character artists are also averse to drawing any defining racial features.
Yana has designed brown-skinned characters in the anime with straight white hair and light-colored eyes about three times now (ie. Agni, Angela, and Hannah). The only Indians with dark skin and hair are a bunch of homeless thugs that Soma and Agni stop from mugging Ciel, proving they're "one of the good ones", and Mina whose treatment in the manga/anime is abysmal.
Discussing Racism in Fandom
Alright, so over the past few days, I've seen some fans disappointed with Soma's skin tone change and I hope my post illustrates why they would be. But I've also seen some angry and frustrated reactions to those fans! And I want to ask, why?
Why is fans bringing up racism in anime considered "discourse" but reacting harshly towards those fans is not?
Why would fans expressing disappointment about whitewashing gets you more angry than the whitewashing itself?
Why is being disappointed that an anime lightened a character's skin tone, a character who both anime-only watchers and manga readers alike saw as dark-skinned, stupid to you?
How come the fandom gets a good laugh out of the usage of "fag" potentially canceling the anime, but talking about race is a "risk" to getting a new season?
And if you disagree with my points and believe the anime is only being accurate to Yana's work, why not just say "Soma's skintone is more accurate to Yana's color illustrations, but I understand the disappointment and shock," without being condescending towards us for being concerned in the first place?
I'd be pretty happy if the anime was just using intense lighting and that Soma is darker than he appears (in fact, if that happens I'll reblog the good news to this post!) Because this post isn't "discourse" to me, I'm discussing race regarding one of my favorite characters in the fandom. Discussions like these don't ruin the fandom, but actually help it become a more welcoming place for fans of color.
#breaking out the caps for this#i really do feel spoiled by manga edits of soma#that give him dark brown skin i imagine him having#only to return to yana's art of him like oh... :')#some of yana illustrations of soma is just inconsistent anyway so im used to it#like he'll go from midtone to white... eh#also one piece fans you have my condolences#this recent season hoo boy#anyway im not even 'that' bothered by the change - its so typical at this point#but i just dont want anger towards fans of color to take root in this fandom#just because they want to discuss race#kuro#kuroshitsuji#soma asman kadar#weston arc#public school arc#b.txt#racism#whitewashing
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