#saniika

[itsonly4-ever]

charade

By saniika on DeviantArt

[saniika]

Fantaghiro

Rewatching the movies while drawing the cheeky princess.

A delight!

(also I totally ignore the last one - never happened, bad fanfic) May we survive the rest of the year.

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[prodogg]

Artist: saniika

[kigozula]

We wanted to talk by Saniika

[nattravn-art]

I coloured a commission from @saniika of my dorky boy Karim, yet another background character who became more important as I thought of his backstory and involvement with other characters.

He's a disastrous moron with a heart of gold!

[katzuyas]

The sacrifices come and go, that is the order of the world. Fearful little things draped in their red cloaks, they quake in them from the cold or the stench of death that clings to the very aura of Victor's being. It is hard to tell which and, bored of hearing only the stuttering and pleading, Victor has ceased asking.  

"You are the beast?"

Another one stands there like so many before him. This one, however, speaks without being spoken to and Victor cocks his head to the side at the surprise that still rings through the air long after the words stop. It's locked in the scent that wafts towards him in waves of shock, shame, and something bitter that Victor can't quite place.

The smile that he keeps on his face is fake and cold, but when he speaks his words are sweetened with honey that is meant to seduce, entrap. Now, much more than before as his own curiosity is piqued.

"Yes, why?" Victor asks calmly. "Were you expecting someone else? Do I not present myself well?"

"No, no!" the sacrifice hastens to say. "You just, um, you look..."

He looks away, cheeks aflame.

Ah, Victor realizes, so that's what it is. The form he's chosen this time must be incredibly appealing to this one, if the scent that permeates his aura is right. And Victor's nose rarely is wrong.

Victor chuckles, taking the few steps that divide them, so he can easier breathe in the divine smell of his sacrifice's nervousness and interest. Blue eyes gleam when he casts them slowly over the sight before him: that of slightly full rosy cheeks, dark lovely eyelashes and sun spots which cover the bridge of a perky, little nose.

"And what about you, sweetling?" Victor asks, his pulse coming faster with excitement of an upcoming chase.

He takes the sacrifice's chin in hand and pulls his head towards him so their eyes can meet – blue against the warm brown that Victor only now sees is speckled with curious red. He licks his lips and leans close, drawn in by the lovely scent of the dark hair and sun-kissed skin.

"Are you a sheep in wolf's clothing," Victor whispers, "or are you a beast just like me underneath this pretty cloak of yours?”

He slips the fingers of both his hands down the lean throat, over the collarbones, right to where the hood of the cloak, crimson like the rest of it, pools in ripples of fabric onto the sacrifice's shoulders. He can feel the rapid heartbeat that flutters under his fingertips like a bird locked in a cage, and he grins – sharp and dark.

"Shall we find out if you can be a match for me, little sheep?"

It’s a complete surprise and delight when strong hands close around Victor's wrists just as he pushes the hood off the pretty head that has been gifted to him. The grip is strong, promising, but Victor has already done what he wished to do.

Red fabric slides down to rest on the sacrifice's back, slow and gentle like the autumn leaves that fall from the trees, leaving them bare. Bare for the eye, as the young man before him can be, he is far from naked – armed with a flush on his soft cheeks and courage speared in his gaze to a point so sharp, Victor truly believes it can cut him.

And it sets fire to his veins.

"The question is," his sacrifice says, voice touched by a rasp of a growl. "Are you a match for me?"

His hands squeeze Victor's wrists hard enough to denture little crescents of his nails into Victor's skin. They don't break it, but the harsh pulsing under the very fingertips tells Victor that they could. The young man's wolf ears, which are as dark as his hair, rest flat against his head in a sign of utter enrapturement, maybe even anger, and it thrills Victor beyond belief.

His sacrifice is so beautiful, so enchanting. So daring.

"What's your name?" Victor asks.

"Yuuri," the man says. "Yuuri Katsuki."

Victor's lips quirk into a grin that is as sharp as the array of teeth in it. "Well then, sweet Yuuri, how would you like to be mine?"

"I refuse," Yuuri Katsuki says as if it's the most simple of answers, and it is.

And this time when Victor laughs it’s an honest sound, unforced, because finally he’s got what he’s bargained for – a person to spend his life with, his True Match.

something small I wrote way back when for @saniika‘s little comic strip in the fantasy zine! it’s inspired by the red riding hood prompts sanii did, and we both liked the idea of working some more on this -- hence this ficlet! I hope you enjoyed and pls make sure to check out sanii’s art & writes ❤️

[yoimusicalzine]

It is our great honor and privilege to present to you the latest addition to the Bright Lights CAST!

Invited merch artist:✨ @saniika​ ✨

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[savedbythenotepad]

me whenever i see @saniika‘s art: i’ve been #blessed in this chili’s tonight. i’ve been fed the Good Food.