A Painter Behind the Curtain
reading this completely ruined my sleep schedule and i'm not even complaining. It was so good, I literally couldn’t put it down. I was hooked deep into the night, eyes burning, heart aching, fully consumed by the tension, the longing, and the unbearable need for them to just fall apart in each other’s arms. The insane sexual TENSION in every glance and every unspoken moment between Ian and Raymond. LIKE It’s a slow, burning kind of pull that makes you stop and reread the panels AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN just to relive the moment. Their chemistry is like an electric in its quiet intensity, these quiet moments feel more intense than any loud declaration and you feel it even when nothing is said, and that 'stillness' makes it even more magnetic. EVEN the character development is masterful. You watch them change..sometimes painfully, sometimes.. beautifully, because of and for each other. Nothing feels rushed or convenient. Every moment feels earned. The journey is messy, but real, and you can’t help but root for them, even when they’re at their worst. Somewhere between the longing, the pain, and the warmth, I realized.. love really does top all human emotion. It moves us, breaks us, rebuilds us. It lingers in silence, fuels joy, and sharpens sorrow. No other feeling stays as deeply, or changes us as much. Love is the reason behind everything we fear, hope for, and fight to keep. BUT Let's not forget about the author. The one who started it all. The one who made us suffer all kinds of human emotion discovered. That's not easy. That’s artistry. The pacing, the mood, the dialogue?! it’s the kind of work that makes you pause and realize: This isn’t just good. This shit TOP TIER. ITS JUST THAT GOOD! It pulls you in, chews you up emotionally, and leaves you staring at the ceiling at 3 a.m., wondering how a story could hit that hard. If that’s not peak storytelling, I don’t know what is.
Naked Color