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Masterlist

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Masterlist

Kyle with grillz and a silver ear cuff

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Masterlist

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Masterlist

Ved`ma, the OC of @karlachismylife, Juju also provided Ved`mas tats, so it's my first official art collab, I guess.

Thank you so much for being patient with me!

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I’m so tired, I want to lay down and cry for a week.

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Beloved artists!

Matching couple profile pictures with @sixleggedboar just because.

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once again, we're ready and willing! opening this month's c0mms with updated sheets and a slight price adjustment on Linework and Full Illustration pieces. also! made Rendered Sketches available again since peeps liked them a lot last year omg

if y'all are interested, feel free to send a message!! thank you, babes!! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!! mwah!!

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Duty Free

#PriceGazWeek

Day two: Duty

Here comes the promised fluff! I also asked my comrades for additional prompts and they gave me: beach, sunscreen, bucket hat.

Sitting in an uncomfortable chair at the gate with his arms crossed and chin tucked to his chest, Price comes to the conclusion that civilian airports move agonizingly slow. Back at the base a helo in reliable Nik's hands would've already taken them high into the sky, eating the distance confidently - yet here the number of their flight is stubbornly staring at him from the big screen against the "Check-in" still glowing lazily and clearly in no rush to change to "Boarding". He bounces his knee impatiently, antsy and not used to having absolutely nothing to do - Kyle in the seat next to him chuckles softly and places his warm hand on the shapely thigh, calming it down like a wild animal with too much energy to burn.

"There's a smoking area down the hall, sir," he murmurs with an amused smile and nods at the long hallway guarded by vending machines with overpriced water. "Reckon you could use a walk, eh?"

John grumbles into his beard - most definitely cursing this airport and potentially a certain young Sergeant that convinced him in some mysterious way to spend their leave frying themselves under the seaside sun - and gets up, stretching his long legs and marching to the promised haven of condensed tobacco smoke.

He should think twice next time instead of allowing Garrick to weaponize his big beautiful eyes against him, decides Price.

John doesn't notice a Duty Free plastic bag tucked into Kyle's backpack as he returns right in time for them to board the big shiny plane with a friendly blunt nose - Gaz must've browsed through the store while his Captain was enjoying a cigar before the flight like some posh buisnessman in the segregated lounge.

The sea is beautiful.

Kyle has somehow scouted a secluded, wild beach not too far from the tiny family-owned hotel they stayed in, and they dragged their restless arses out there practically at dawn to ensure they get to enjoy some peace away from the noisy tourist crowds, relatively small in an unpopular vacation destination town, but still flooding the more "civil" beaches closer to the noon. And now it's just them and the rich blue sea shimmering with blindingly white reflections under the freshly risen sun. And it's beautiful.

Price, despite all his protests and indignations about the prospect of laying and doing absoltely nothing, is doing exactly that: propped onto a trusty backpack, he's resting on the ochre yellow sand quietly and watching the small playful waves bubbling in the surf zone. There are seagulls circling above the water in the clear skies, not too bothered by two humans out in their wilds amongst brown rocks with green seagrass clinging to them where the tide is slowly retreating; their cries mix with the grainy rustling of the waves and taste like salt on the lips.

Kyle is sitting facing the vast body of water that pours over the world's end slightly diagonally, so he can watch John relax too. His dark skin is shining with sweat under the bright rays and he keeps his head tilted with a lazy squint of the eyes to protect them from the light - the view is too hypnotic to tear his gaze away. Breeze draws rippling wave patterns in the dry sand, gathering tiny rock after tiny rock at Kyle's feet, toes digging into the soft warm surface and anchoring him as if a huge wave is about to crash into the shore and try and drag him into the open sea.

He's looking at John, his broad chest with dark curls of hair growing in a hundred different directions, just as unruly as the soft strands on his head; his finally almost fully relaxed shoulders, big hands with a trusty old watch on the wrist resting clasped together on the softness of his lower belly. It's obvious that Price is at least halfway asleep, lulled by the repetative song of the ocean and the weight of the heat.

Sweat soaks through Kyle's eyebrow and makes him wince a little, and it distracts him from the beautiful man laying on the sand enough to notice his skin prickling already under the sunbeams. Gaz gets up silently, leaving indents in the volatile soil, and digs up their bottle of the strongest sunscreen they could find. Rubbing the cool milky cream into his skin at least in the most exposed places, he lands himself into the sand next to John and brushes his fingers, now smelling of the nice, slightly sweet lotion, against his Captain's cheek to wake him up a bit before startling with more insistent touch.

"Sunscreen, sir," he explains quietly - this place makes him want to be no louder than the gentle breeze - when Price jolts and clears his throat. John blinks, covers his eyes with a big palm, his scrunched against the sun face a beautiful mosaic of expressive wrinkles, and sits up, allowing Kyle easy access to the pale skin with dots of freckles everywhere - like a shell that got stuck on a rock ledge next to their spot and faded in the sun, becoming white with soft peach leopard spots.

Gaz gets sucked into the process, running his hands over the bulk of muscles and fat and kneading out the knots Price brought with him to their vacation. He works out some grunts and hums from his Captain and gets him relaxed enough to slump forward and lose the everlasting boonie hat with a slightly stronger gust of wind.

Too melted under the sun and Garrick's skillful hands, Price doesn't reach for his hat immediately, not even opening his eyes, glued shut by the heat and the lazy caress, and barely finds enough restraint to muffle down a groan, when Kyle nuzzles into his dark hair and kisses behind his ear, tickling thin skin with his moustache.

"Got me wrapped around your finger," mutters John, unable to even pretend like he isn't fully content with the situation, and leans back as he's guided by Kyle's gentle hands. Gaz places a hat back onto his head and kisses him.

"You don't say," he purrs, slowly spreading the sunscreen down John's body, watching dark hair get stuck to it and prepare to turn gold in the sun.

The breeze sprays him with a few cold droplets, as if pretending to reprimand him for his mischief, but John Price stays oblivious, dozing off again in his fancy new frog bucket hat from the duty free store.

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Omg!!!! She’s perfect!!! I love you so much, thank you!!

Zhar belongs to @nrdmssgs

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Thank you for tagging me! I love games hehe)

The last song you sang out loud:

Oh-oh, so I saw this Tiktok edit of Soaps death scene with a choir that half sings half cries out loud Let Down by Radiohead. And these lines: You know, you know where you are with You know where you are with Floor collapsing Floating, bouncing back coupled with him falling down clicked so good in my head that I was singing it for a few days straight, when I was alone.

Your favorite crisps flavour:

Salted caramel, salted dark chocolate. I've discovered these things lately and they are drugs.

The last book you opened:

The End of a Regime: How Three European Dictatorships Ended by Alexander Baunov. Because I'm a delulu.

Earbuds, headphones, or nothing:

Headphones. Cant put anything inside my ears - it makes me feel dizzy.

The last place you went, other than home:

Hair salon.

A color that looks good on you:

Black. I absolutely rock it (like anyone)

The last trailer you saw:

Witcher 4 game trailer.

No pressure tags for my lovely friends @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot @sofasoap @eenochian

Catch Up Game, thank you @gomzdrawfr for the tag!

The last song you sang out loud:

Ren - Patience. I only recently found it since it's not on his main music channel and it stuck with me. Ren's music is very special to me, and learning more and more of his amazing journey makes me want to be a better human. It's impossible not to sing along to his songs (well, where I can keep up with his speed, lol).

I've got the strength of a mountain, I've got the courage of the deep blue sea...

Your favorite crisps flavour:

Cheese! I like trying unusual flavours and do enjoy just salt or onion, but nothing beats cheese to me.

The last book you opened:

Anarchism: Its Philosophy and Ideal by Peter Kropotkin. Been reading it little by little for a while, gotta read up on that theory!

Earbuds, headphones, or nothing:

Most of the time nothing, because I sit in my room and can use computer's speakers without disturbing anyone // dad's professional sound system when I want good sound experience. I do prefer big headphones thanks to dad, but currenty don't have a working pair so I'm stuck with earbuds. Not fun :(

The last place you went, other than home:

My uni, then tobacco shop, then a green alley for a walk. Life isn't very exciting atm...

A color that looks good on you:

I reckon any colour I like looks good on me (to me), but my mother says it's red or pink, I think? I did paint myself as gay rainbow clown yesterday and liked it very much, though.

The last trailer you saw:

Literally just watched Dead Meat's Monday horror news stream recording, and the last trailer on there was IT: Welcome to Derry (upcoming HBO series). I think it's gonna be a good one, but I'm not into series much :( HOWEVER right before that we watched Guillermo del Torro's Frankenstein trailer AND THAT ONE I'M SO HYPED FOR I hate that it's Netflix only release, but man, del Torro is the Maestro, can't miss out on that. No one gets and loves monsters like he does, and his visuals are so close to my heart... just big big excitement.

Look at me finally doing at least one of these games on time... no pressure tags: @killerpancakeburger @nrdmssgs @elaineiswithyou-blog @devil-in-hiding @gemmahale

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Professional goals right there.

commissioned my friend to draw Ripley bending a Xenomorph over with her [purple] strap, that motherfucker thought i was kidding until the money went through

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Masterlist

Badger, the incredible OC of @on-a-lucky-tide!!! Thank you @karlachismylife for showing me this gorgeous boy!!

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Hi guys!

I decided to bring together a little compilation of our mutual journey so far. So I'm releasing a coloring book, that you can print wherever you are comfortable to. The book comes in two variants:

Option A: Lineart. Here I left only my final lineart, this is the way my work looks before I start coloring it. So you can recreate my vision of the anatomy or make you adjustments to the volumes of every muscle.

Option B: Shaded. Here you will have the lineart and the light shading that you can use as a guideline for your custom color shading.

Each option comes as a zip archive of pdfs that you can download for free right here.

Just open the catalogue for either Line of Shaded zip, choose a picture you wish to color in the catalogue I provided in these two lists at the top of this entry, open the pdf and hit the print button!

also fuck bastards who take money and run. soap would never

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So beautiful, im merely crying!!

Space feather grass was singing

I crave public validation despite my writing being at its lowest at the moment, that's why I present you a little nikprice thingy from an au inspired by soviet sci-fi, especially the cartoon "The Mystery of the Third Planet". There's a very special feel and mood about soviet sci-fi, and while I lack the skill to convey it, it means a lot to me (I grew up on it, after all), and I will keep trying to write a big multi-part work in this au, but for now have this.

This piece was written in Russian around April 12th (Cosmonautics Day, established on the day of the first human flying in space) and translated by me very badly, that's why it's so weird and unlike my usual writing style in English.

CW: established NikPrice, suggestive closer to the end, fluff, bad writing, no plot at all.

BUT I have something really cool for this piece/au to make up for my shitty writing: two artworks gifted to me by my Russian artist comrade (their telegram channel) and by @gomzdrawfr. The text is under the artworks!

A star in the sky, shrouded in a pink halo, was licking the tall hulls of the ships lined up on the flat spaceport like chess pieces on a board with wet-looking reflections. The sloping sides of the streamlined galaxies conquerors were warming up under the watchful eye of the square windows of the main building of the spaceport, a sharp spindle rising upward like a collector's needle, waiting for the spaceship butterflies. In the windless atmosphere, the noise of a busy trade hub was being carried far and wide and mixed into the familiar cacophony — the clanking of the jointed limbs of clumsy robots, the incessant rattling of belt conveyors, the electric hum of force fields.

Price stuck a cigar shaped like a long-haul freighter into his mouth and began patting the pockets of his space suit, his frown deepening with each empty one. Realising he hadn’t his lighter on him, captain cursed under his breath and reached for his blaster holster, but changed his mind halfway and turned around to run up the springy ramp to his ship for a less dangerous source of fire.

A hand in a silver sleeve appeared out of nowhere, blocking his way like a gallant barrier, and thin plasma threads lit up right between the blue eyes crossing toward the tip of his freckled nose, connecting the thin legs of the miniature model of the first artificial satellite like a spiderweb.

— Nik, — Price immediately greeted the ion lighter and its owner in a tone that was more of a fact stating rather than greeting and lit his cigar from the plasma mesh. — Startin’ to think our meetings are not accidental.

— Just doing a little delivery, captain, — Nikolai slyly evaded an  answer, smiling broadly, and hid the souvenir lighter in his chest pocket. — Are you here on duty?

Squinting in a futile attempt to keep from smiling back, Price dropped his chin to his chest with a raspy “hm,” and rocked back and forth on his heels, as if pondering what to say to his old comrade.

—  Yes, — he finally settled on the only possible option — to tell the truth — and shook the ashes onto the heat-resistant surface of the spaceport. —  Counteracting dangerous elements.

Nikolai threw his head back in a rich laugh —  Price had always noticed how freely and easily Nik laughed, as if his whole body was just waiting for another explosion of joy: laughter was born deep in his stomach, rolled freely up the broad chest and, pushing off from relaxed shoulders, flew out, catching onto the raven curls of Nik’s hair in the end, like circus gymnasts grabbing the rings under the striped roof. Compared to this, the restrained, coughing chuckles that rolled out of his own throat and got lost somewhere in his beard seemed dry to Price, as if his ability to rejoice was as tightly squeezed by the service uniform as he himself was — unlike Nikolai, who chose a free path.

Anyone who had ever seen the way John’s Neptune-blue eyes, decorated with comet tails of crinkles around the corners, sparkled as soon as they spotted the notorious smuggler, of course, knew that wasn’t the case.

— Should I start worrying already? — Nik playfully tilted his head to the side, examining John — skin kissed by all the stars in the galaxy, sprinkled with translucent freckles, round smiling cheeks, shiny and soft-looking beard; everything that made the first captain so unforgettable.

— Depends on what kind of “little delivery” you have here, Nik, — Price moved his famous hat back a little and nodded at Chimera, which he would easily recognize from a hundred thousand ships. — What if I drop in for a quick inspection, hm?

— And what if you don’t? — Nikolai turned around and placed his large, heavy hand on the other’s shoulder, slowly leading John further away from their spaceships. Their leisurely pace did not fit well with the chaotic haste of the well-organized life of the port — crews from all corners of the universe, service personnel, robots rattling with iron guts were scurrying around, but the two captains patting each other on the shoulders paid no attention to anyone, forcing everyone to go around their tall figures. — Shall we fly?

Price, hypnotized by the kind, cunning squint of the dark Labrador eyes, finally came to his senses and saw that they had approached the flyer parking lot and that Nikolai had two large rental tokens in his hand. Taking the cool circle with a shimmering imprint of the code, he chose a machine and squeezed into the cramped seat with a quiet groan, cursing under his breath in an attempt to accommodate his overly long legs — he could only wonder how Nikolai managed to get seated comfortably faster than him and bring the flyer into vertical takeoff already.

The chrome shine of the spaceport with its white and red lights got quickly left behind — Nikolai set a course, and Price habitually completely trusted the second captain. Beyond the built-up area of ​​the global trade megaport, the planet turned out to be covered in monotonous steppes. The shadows of two flyers, blurred by the murky atmosphere, glided across the wasteland, slightly wobbling on minor unevennesses of the landscape. Everything looked the same: no forests, no hills by which one could determine how much distance they had already covered — they could only rely on the machine's own meter and inner intuition.

Relying exactly on that, Nik suddenly began to descend in a graceful spiral, and John followed him. Unused to the wind, the long, soft grass with a touch of pink silver swayed in waves under the onslaught of unexpected gusts — the glitter of the reflected light of the local star made this dance look like ripples on water. Opening the canopy of the flyer, Price turned his head in search of the source of a strange sound, similar to the ringing of an endless stream of aluminum coins pouring out from somewhere, but there was nothing around except for the swaying grass, reaching almost to his waist.

— John! — Nikolai called out softly, holding out his hand in a fingerless glove to help him jump onto the springing ground. Firmly grasping the offered palm, Price stood firmly on both feet and suddenly, without warning, yanked Nik towards himself, ducking under his arm to play against his center of gravity. Almost falling over, the man caught himself and with interest flaring up in his lazy eyes dragged Price along with him a couple more steps. — Not bad.

— But you’re not that easy to fool, — Price chuckled, turning out of his unstable position and getting into a stance, ready for a sparring match with an unequal weight class.

Circling each other and getting tangled up in the pearly grass that was trying to hug their ankles, the two captains came together once, twice, three times — smiling excitedly and growling, finally they fell to the ground and began to writhe on it, dirtying their spacesuits with silver dust. Price, who knew perfectly well that allowing Nikolai to end up on top meant losing, thrashedin a bear hug like a frenzied hound, trying to saddle Nik and squeeze him in a vice of steel thighs.

— You're losing your grip, Nikolai, — he panted, holding Nik's wide wrists pressed to the ground above his head, and instantly paid for it, thrown up by strong bucking hips like a rider on a spirited stallion. To catch his balance, Price released Nik's hands for a second, which Nik immediately took advantage of, placing his hot palms on the first captain's arse and squeezing the generous muscles through the stiff fabric with a satisfied purr.

— I think I'm holding up pretty well, — he retorted, looking like a cat that had just gotten a bowl full of cream and ignoring the force Price's firm knees were digging into his sides with. Throwing his head back onto the crumpled grass blanket that was playing with a metallic sheen in the rays of a low-hanging star over the horizon, Nik smiled again and continued to knead the other captain’s ass. Curly strands scattered around his face like a black halo only made him stand out more clearly against the light background of the surrounding world, drawing all of John's attention to the eyes that were studying him with genuine trepidation, covered by a sly squint. — John...

Allowing his own legs to spread wider and pressing his crotch against the magnificent mass beneath him, John ducked down and was met halfway by Nik's lips reaching out to him. One large palm, leaving his rear, migrated to the fluffy back of his head, burying itself in the chestnut strands gilded by the local sun and pressing John even closer. Parting his soft lips, Price licked  over the other’s, slightly catching the short stubble with badger stripes of gray on the chin with his tongue, and deepened the kiss, greedily caressing Nikolai's tongue and lips.

— John, — he breathed out again, grabbing Price under his bent knee and rolling over so that he was on top without the slightest resistance from the captain, who was already melting. In the tightness of the uniform jumpsuit it was impossible to hide the erection that was becoming more and more obvious, and Nik pressed John closer to himself, allowing him to feel his own hardness.

Muttering something incoherent, Price began to fidget, tugging at the chrome zipper of the second captain, and as soon as he managed to unzip it even a few inches, he immediately pulled the elastic collar of the white top under the spacesuit down to bury his nose in the silvered curls of hair on Nik's chest and deeply inhale his warm scent. Maintaining an indecently high level of self-control, Nikolai took advantage of John's stillness to unzip his overalls completely and run his calloused palm over his soft stomach. He pressed teasingly at the lower abdomen, and Price groaned gutturally and tried to buck — failing under the impressive weight of the other's body; then Nik slid his hand higher, squeezing John’s full pec with loving admiration and immediately finding his hardened nipple with his thumb.

— Nik, dammit, — John hissed with a broken gasp, greedily squeezing Nikolai's powerful shoulders with his hands and trying to rip off the tightly fitting sleeves. Giving up when it didn't work either the first or second time, Price with a reproachful look in his eyes tugged at the other man’s belt and posingly spread his arms on the soft bed of grass, instantly jolting up when the sound of coins falling that had already turned into background noise split and multiplied and became louder. — What is this?

Blinking, Nikolai burst out laughing again and, sitting up on his heels, in a wide gesture ran his palm over the grass bowing in waves, causing a new ringing — while the ripples caused by their arrival continued to sway, adding their hum to the polyphony they had created.

— The feather grass is singing, — Nik explained, turning his loving gaze back to John. The blush that crept onto his wrinkled, freckled, wise face could have been attributed to the pink reflections of the local star if it had not already gone beyond the horizon, leaving only a white night. The alien sky lit up with pink northern lights snaking from the pole very close to their location — but John already didn’t notice two of the five moons solemnly floating up to the horizon to watch him being slowly made love to by Nik.

Waiting for fuel before leaving the next day, Captain Price stuck a cigar shaped like a long-haul freighter into his mouth and found a lighter in his chest pocket. The thin legs of the first sputnik model flared up with a plasma grid, and John, smiling until the corners of his eyes wrinkled, lit gis smoke contentedly, looking into the purple sky.

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Im not proud of how loud I snort here.

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Im in love, your honor