#Muse Post 2

[blood-starved-beast]

love how all the Nyx kids we know are losers. They're all some flavor of dork and all are vaguely pathetic.

Except for Charon. Dude is living the High life swimming in dough and even got a boyfriend locked in. So much rizz that even Aphrodite is noticing. King shit.

[pinkravat-art]

messy gomen

[lafamilledelioncourt]

The heartbreaking thing about a lot of viewers who haven't consumed the books is they don't completely see is WHY Lestat is near sobbing when he asks "Did you hurt yourself?"

Yes, for general reasons like he loves him and what not. But, don't forget, he also said, "I gave you to Armand. You tell me if that is saving."

In TVL, you get ALOT more of the Lestat/Nicky relationship. You see them bond, fall in love, and then Lestat have to contend with that love once he's kidnapped and turned.

Nicky does not take the vampirism very well. Nicky is a very desolate sort of character. Religious trauma to the max, and then throw in family trauma, gay repression, and then vampirism.

When Lestat leaves Paris with Gabrielle in TVL, he essentially leaves Nicky with Armand. He entrusts him into his care in a way, and Nicky chooses the fire. He can't endure as they call it. Naturally, it breaks Lestat's heart.

One of Armand's jobs as coven leader was to cull weak vampires who can't survive on their own or endure. So there is definitely room for S3 for them to show Armand pushing for Nicky to accept the flame.

With Louis, Lestat doesn't fight back in Paris and lets Louis go with Armand. Once again, he's entrusting someone he loves to Armand. Even if it's very much unwilling, but I'll give it to him for once for respecting a choice.

When Armand calls out to him in San Francisco, it's Lestat's worst nightmare. Louis is hurt, Lestat can't get to him. Armand either has allowed him to be hurt, hurt him himself, or did not protect him as Lestat wants him protected.

It is heavily implied Lestat thinks Louis died in San Francisco. In the books, Armand tells both of them the other died to keep them apart. Once again, the person Lestat loves is dead because of Armand.

Lestat, in his mind, has ultimately failed Louis, and so he falls apart as we see him do in 2x08. When Louis shows up, he cannot believe he's there initially. It's very clear he's only half there mentally. He has to ask him if it was all real and if he'd really been hurt because he has to know if it is really Louis. It's a question you'd ask the ghost of the person you love, but Louis CAN answer him.

Needless to say, please read the books if you're up for it. They are a riot.

[lucabyte]

Different standards

[bunnithechubs]

i'll be your piece, your A-R-T.

[saphstories]

Now I might be stating the obvious here but...

Ya think the reason Shadow is so offended by Sonic calling him a Faker is because it's the one thing Shadow is most afraid of? That slim chance that he isn't...real? That he's artificial...a fake?

[wintr-wandr]

[fanart💛] One of my first illustrations of Partitio! This is from early 2023.

[noliaert]

Finally got around to finish this one! Here's my ode to iwtv season 1! <3 I made both a version of bailey's claudia as well as delainey's 👍👍

Close ups 👇

[youarenotthewalrus]

The thing about slashing copyright terms to something sane is that we'd still see a ton of stuff based on old work but a lot more of it would be motivated by creators going "so I have this cool idea for a new spin on an old classic" and a lot less of it would be motivated by corporate rightsholders going "I own this intellectual property and would like a Return on my Investment."

[bionicboxes]

THE SMOOTH TASTE OF [NEO]

[somorrow]

Okay but Dabi loves to tie you up. The sight of you flushed, hands high over your head, your breasts slightly pressed together, and your mouth gagged gets him going. The power he has over you now (and always) never fails to push him further. Your glassy, watery eyes, your red face and the drool slipping past your lips. He wants to hear you whine, plead, try to beg for more pleasure, beg for the sting of his searing hot hands and tongue on your skin. He’s never gentle unless he feels like it — which isn’t often. Your compromising position gives him full access to your entire body, exactly as he wants it. He takes whatever he can from you, your breath, your praises, your orgasm. In fact, he tears it from you almost violently with every jerk of his fingers and aggressive swipe of his tongue. Even when you finish the first time, he’s not done with you. Nowhere close. Not until he hears you say it, or at least try to say it from that pretty, full mouth of yours.

Touya…

He wants to take at least three more nearly painful orgasms before he caves and decides to give instead of take take take. And luckily for you, it’s the exact thing you’ve been begging for all night.

[blood-starved-beast]

Something that isn't talked enough about (granted it's been less than a week) is how much of Hades himself is in Mel.

Yeah she's meticulous, overtly serious, and a hardworker. Contrast that with her brother and all that. But what gets me a lot is how much she sounds like Hades too. She uses swears - things like "get out of my blasted way" or "Silence!" to end conversations she doesn't like. She can be and often is hostile when she's in the middle of her work, which she prioritizes over everything else. She gets called a bore for it. She is a hard ass and is very self-righteous. I love that a lot about her. It's fun when you see people inherit aspects of personality traits from their parents even when they've never learned it directly from them.

[sioneve]

Minalinsky is back!

Shikaco also came! She's also the one responsible for taking all the pictures lol

This tweet is what makes it even more wholesome

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: this got long sorry 😔 but creepy/perv bakugou, recording, film major bkg x art major reader, masturbation, coercion, dubcon before it just becomes con, voyeurism/exhibitionism

as an art major, you typically did some works for a few students on campus; for their plays, as background pieces while they danced, a cover for their released songs. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to ask you to create something for them, and you enjoyed it more often than not. but, you weren’t usually the art itself.

Bakugou is a friend’s friend that you’ve seen a few times, ran into at the library or at coffee shops. he’s a film major, and always looks so unhappy about the whole thing, as if he didn’t choose it himself. you joke to Mina that you think he’ll graduate and become one of those directors that hate everything and yell at the actors constantly and later on get sued for being a dickhead. you never say it to him though—you’ve never spoken more than a couple words to the man.

it’s why it shocks you when he approaches you one day. it’s after one of your painting classes, and he stands outside the door with a frown and his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyebrows scrunched as if pissed at the mere sight of you. he asks you, in that low and gruff tone of his, if you could star in his final project for the semester. says it’s supposed to be a film made with this criteria and that, but, you’ve kind of checked out on the conversation after the first sentence.

“You mean, you want me to create something and that be the star of your film?” you ask him, feeling so intimidated at his stature. he always seems to loom, his hair shadowing the lights above, creates a cast over a portion of his face, makes his eyes look…unsettling. like they’re looking straight through your flesh, can find the marrow in your bones. he scoffs like you’ve offended him, rolling his eyes into his skull, mouth pulled tight.

“No.” his voice is firm, gaze concentrated only on you, like the halls are empty and you’re the focus of his lens. “I want you to star in it.”

his words confuse you—you’ve never presented yourself as an actor before, never alluded to wanting to be in the spotlight if not for what you create with your hands. but he shuffles on his feet, looks desperate even. there’s some hemming and hawing for a minute or so—why not choose Mina?—she’s busy—why choose me?—‘cause you’d be perfect for my short film—what’s it about?—you’ll find out once you get the script.

and even after you hesitantly agree and get the script—you still don’t understand what you’re doing. why you’re here, why you’re the only person, why it has to be a solo film, why there’s damn near zero lines in the entirety of the have-to-be forty five minute film.

the scenes are all so long, and maybe it’s because movies aren’t your forte or chosen major, but you just don’t get it. one scene; you’re staring at yourself in the mirror while Bakugou holds a small, black camera over your shoulder. he’s eerily quiet behind you, whispers out a faint fuckin’ go when you have to wash your face in the sink, makes you do it over because your movements are too jerky and unnatural.

the rest of the scenes go that way; you doing regular at home activities, being put under a lens, quietly barked at to do this and move that way and fix your hair and remember to frown.

“Isn’t there another way to film this?” you ask him on the fifth day of shooting in his spacious loft. there’s a bubble bath scene coming up, one you dont understand the importance of, but Bakugou tells you it’s the most necessary part of the entire thing.

“No,” he grunts out, looking at you from under his lashes as he sits on the lid of the toilet. “But I’ll make it soapy, so the camera won’t see much.” the camera? much? you weren’t worried so much about what the camera captured as you were the man behind it. he looks at you with such intensity, you feel naked already despite the robe you wear that’s suspiciously already your size.

he leaves the bathroom when you sink in the hot water, returns before you can say it’s okay, hears the water splashing and thinks that’s good enough. he kneels on the floor beside you, camera pointed directly in your face, makes your chest hot and your skin feel prickly. the scene passes on regularly enough; you run the water over your arms, tilt your head back as you sigh, whisper the few lines scripted, lean back and close your eyes, sigh again. it’s almost relaxing, makes you forget about the friend of a friend recording you naked right now. almost.

“Touch yourself.” Bakugou suddenly demands, hushed and quiet behind the camera. your eyes immediately shoot open, looking to him in question, how he’s eerily still in his spot hovering over you.

“Huh?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly, looking around the rounded lens in your face, trying to ignore the red blinking light. but Bakugou only frowns.

“It’s a masturbation scene. Touch yourself.” he repeats, voice louder, more demanding this time. your stomach twists at the thought of doing something so intimate in front of him. he’s a handsome guy, for sure, even made you consider asking him out after this, figured he was just serious about his work and awkward about certain things. but…something had been off about this entire thing since the start.

“But—but I don’t, I’m not,” you stutter, sitting up a little, the bubbles covering your chest starting to disperse with your movements. but Bakugou only sits a little higher on his knees, finally pulling the camera away from his face for the first time since he’s asked you to do this for him.

“You want me to fail?” he asks, booming voice eerily quiet in the silent bathroom, carmine eyes dull, shaded over with something terrible. “Then do it.” he tells you when you shake your head quickly.

you stare at him until he gets back into position again, camera back pointed at you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you swallow thickly, wondering if the art that will come out of this will be worth it. so you listen, sneak a hand under the water, start touching yourself in a way you never have in front of anyone.

is it bad to say that it’s exhilarating? being watched and recorded by someone who breathes so heavily every time your voice hiccups? being directed to touch your chest next when the suds start to disappear and your nipples start to peek through? is it bad that you want him to send you this portion of his film, only, just so you can watch yourself again and again? make a portrait of yourself with your fingers on your nipples and your knees raising from the water and your head thrown back from the intensity in oil pastels?

“That’s a wrap.” Bakugou announces when you finish, head spinning and still panting. you look over to him, how he closes the camera, the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’ll get you a towel.”

you wonder when’s the next time he’ll need you. or better yet—maybe he could be the star in your final drawing project? you had finished it already but, what was the harm in starting over with him as your muse? as naked as you are? camera not blocking his face so you can paint the similarities of his blushing cheeks and eyes when you direct him to look at you? to touch his chest? to play with himself just like that?

[richard-madden]

Was I too harsh? Are you kidding? He loves it.

[goosiifer]

like this for a small starter ! ✰