#The wonky lines and thickness are a ☆ feature ☆

[the-contraire-of-zugzwang]

hehe class doodles go brrrrrrrr

[vaimetanyx]

"...Stygius, the Blade of the Underworld, must have been amongst the finest weapons ever wielded..." - Stygian Blade entry, Codex of the Underworld.

Unfortunately this one isn't so fine and needs a remake, but here's how it was made while I work on Stygius 2

(Full process under the cut)

[Skull pauldron] [Belt] [Greaves] [Toga + sash] [Wig + Laurels] [Armbands] [Flaming feet] [Satyr Sack] [Stygius v1] [Stygius v2] [Nectar]

Unfortunately Stygius was the victim of con time crunch, and I wasn't even sure I'd be able to make the rest of my outfit in time for the con so Stygius, as a prop, had the lowest priority. But hey for a sword done from scratch in a week, not too bad.

I guessed all the measurements (which ended up making Styg 1 a hand and a half sword instead of the one handed sword it should be) and made a pattern. From there I was able to cut out a base, attach a handle, and then cover it in EVA foam. I then proceeded to so a VERY wonky job on the blade bevels, and even took a few chunks out, which meant I had to use foam clay on some parts of the edges which ended up leaving an inconsistent finish once it was painted.

For the skull I used spare EVA foam for the base, built up the bulk with aluminum foil and hot glue, then used more foam clay to sculpt the features and create depth (and ideally for that thickness it should have had several more days to set). The leaves were just some cut and dremelled EVA foam, and the pommel base was, you guessed it, more EVA foam and foam clay.

The gem was made from epoxy resin, and poured into a mould I made out of cardboard, sticky tape and some plastic lining, and coloured with some watercolour pigment. Somehow that actually worked.

I primed the whole thing with plastidip, and next was Spray Paint Hell. I had to do it all in one day, and the masking tape I was using to protect the parts I'd already done started pulling off the actual paint and sometimes the plastidip when I tried to remove it. I don't have a lot of experience with spray paints so my coats also weren't to the standard I wanted, and there was overspray despite my best efforts.

The spray paints I used were cheap and it showed. So I decided that they would be a base coat, and that the whole thing should be hand painted over most of the sections in order to achieve the correct colours, and in the case of the skull, match the other bone accessories. My sister helped do a lot of the base coats while I was at work so I could focus on detail work when I got home, and even there I was still painting the night before.

To tie everything together I did a few coats of gloss spray the morning of the con. Unfortunately, it didn't quite dry so it stuck to the surface it was resting on when I did the other side, which caused most of the paint defects. However, it was finished in time for the con and luckily the worst of the marks were on the back.

The main issue to address with Stygius 2, besides not doing an absolute catastrophe of a paint job last minute, is to fix up the hilt. It's too long and thick, the pommel is too chunky and badly shaped, and the gem is the wrong colour. The skull could also use more sculpted depth and a bit more shading to make it really stand out.

[cy-cyborg]

Hey, what program do you use? If I'm familiar with it I'll see if I can help!

Generally speaking though, when i have bad flair ups, these are some things I've tried:

See if your tablet has a dampener. It's been ages, but I had an old wacom tablet that had it's own built-in dampener setting that would be applied on top of whatever line correction your art program does. It's designed to help correct the shakiness some older tablets would get after years of use, but it had the nice side benefit of helping with hand tremors too (its possible it was a downloadable plugin or something, not a built-in feature, like I said, it was years ago)

When I started getting hand shakes I changed my style to include much thicker/imperfect lines. The thicker lines meant I could "chicken scratch" my way through big lines, making it look like one big, straight line when in reality it's thousands of tiny little ones.

Try a textured screen/tablet protector and/or a glove that gives some extra friction. I found with the gloves, if they're thick/grippy enough, they can act as a kind of suspension for the smaller hand shakes and tremors. A tea towl folded over a few times can also do the job. The screen protector does the same thing but with the pen itself (just be aware it can wear down your nibs faster). This was something I didn't think would help me much but it did end up really helping.

If your art program has it, vector layers and lines are a life saver. In Clip studio, you can draw your line as wonky as you need to, then click and drag the control points it makes on the line into place. You can mess up as many times as you need to and it is all editable, you can even adjust line thickness and opacity after the fact (on bad days I don't even try to match what I'm trying to draw, I just draw a random line then drag the control points into place lol)

Try different programs if you're able to and see if different stabilisers work better for you. I've used clip studio paint, photoshop, flash (showing my age there lol), pai t tool Sai, procreate and blender's 2D toolset, plus a few others and they're all wildly different in how they handle correction. I never got the hang of the procreate stabiliser for example, but the csp one on 100% is honestly amazing for me. I've met others who feel the opposite, or people who prefer the ones in other programs, they're all different and you might find something better for your needs in another program.

I don't really know how to describe this next thing other than to try treating your lines like shading. You sometimes see this in old comics or in art styles with really heavy lines/shading, but I found treating my lines like part of the shading process helped make it a bit less obvious that I was having a bad shaking day for the same reason I mentioned before. You can turn one big line into thousands of little ones, and any inconsistency that shows up when you're using this particular method tends to look more like texture than accidental scratchiness.

If you've got the money, I've also seen a few physical devices you can buy to help lessen hand shake. My old art teacher (who had a degenerative muscle condition that would make him shake) used to swear by this thing he had, it was like an arm rest attached to a mechanical arm that would move with you as you drew. It was mainly there to offer support but you could turn the resistance on it up and it would help mitigate the shakiness he got. Obviously that's not something that's available to everyone but I thought it worth a mention as something to at least look into.

Like I said, this is just what's worked for me and other disabled folks I know, but I hope at least something here was helpful. If not, let me know, I can ask around and see if folks I know irl with the same issue might have some ideas!

do any artists (specifically disabled artists) have tips for how to draw when your hand shakes and you cant draw a straight line? because ive been trying to get back into drawing but i have issues with my hands and my coordination so everything i draw is really messy and im not happy with how it looks because of that! ive tried using the correction tool or whatever its called and it still just isnt working. thanks in advance if you have any tips!

[mettywiththenotes]

*puts on my Delusional thinking cap*

Okay so... I feel like the painting Will gave Mike in the van is not the same painting in the first ep of season 4

Here’s a comparison

What we first saw

What was shown

Both paintings show the same colours - black, brown, crimson, someone with black hair, a stick (something thin at least). Those are the most distinguishable features

But it strikes me as odd that, in the progression shot of the painting, the crimson and brown of the “dragon” is so thick. Looking at the dragon on the bottom picture, I can’t think of anywhere where the thick bold lines fit on the dragon except it’s wing (where the red line is)

But even then, the angle shot in the first screencap suggests the black blob and stick are opposite of the red, next to it at least, whereas the wing is up in the air and not at all near the character who is supposed to be Mike

If that thick crimson in the screencap was supposed to be a part of the dragon’s body, then it doesn’t match. The red on the dragon is lighter than the brown and crimson are. If Will were to try and blend the colours together and then paint the shape of the dragon, that would be one thing, but what he is painting in the first screencap is so dense that I just can’t see any way that that shape would become the dragon

So, I honestly think this is a fake-out. Both paintings have the same features shown - a big crimson colour, what looks like a person with a blob of black hair, some kind of stick that could be mistaken for a sword or a weapon, and other figures next to them. The angle in the first screencap is just wonky enough to make you maybe not question the placement of everything. It has enough of the same colours and shapes to make you nod and think “yeah, they’re both the same one”

But it’s not the same. I’m so sure those are different paintings

Which makes me wonder if 1 of 4 things happened

1) Will mistakenly picked up the wrong painting but ran with it once he realized

2) Will’s dragon painting is a sort of fail-safe. Like, he painted both of those pictures but took and showed the commissioned dragon one because it was safer than revealing all his vulnerable feelings with such a heartfelt painting as the one in the first screencap

3) Will got home from the airport and painted over his first painting

4) The dragon painting is not Will’s painting at all, it’s some kind of poster he bought, but he played it off like it was his own

Perhaps it is just me being delusional but... I really don’t think they’re the same one

[bogleech]

“INSTANT LINE ART” TRICK FOR THIN AND NOODLY THINGS:

Just draw your thin, noodly things as thick brush lines

Select their whole area

Find the “increment” feature if it’s present in your art program, which expands the size of a selection. I clicked it a couple times to make an increment of a couple pixels.

On a lower layer, fill that area in black.

Now it looks like your shapes had line art all along!!!

On an UPPER layer, try fleshing out little details and touching up anything that came out wonky.

[unbridgeabledistances]

ok i have an inbox full of prompts, but i was making valentine’s day plans & all of a sudden felt very inspired to write some valentine’s day gallavich! featuring uncle mickey, homemade cards and a lot of domestic fluff- i’ll probs have a part two up sometime this week!<3

--

It was a lazy, slow-paced Sunday afternoon at the Gallagher house. Mickey had been lying on the couch passively watching trashy reality TV for god knows how long—and apparently at some point he’d fallen asleep, because now the TV volume was just a low hum, and he was being woken up to the startling crash of the kitchen back door slamming shut, and the rustling of shoes and coats being taken off and discarded by the front door.

“Alright Franny, let’s set this stuff up on the kitchen table.” Mickey heard Ian’s voice sail across the room, his eyes still closed to block out the cheery sunshine teeming in the living room.

Mickey tried to doze off again, attempting to block out the bright light infiltrating his eyelids, but it was no use— whatever Ian and Franny were doing, murmuring and clanging in the kitchen, there was no way for Mickey to escape the sound now and drift back into his sunwarmed sleep. He begrudgingly shoved the scratchy crocheted blanket off of his lap, stretching as he rose and stumbled into the kitchen.

He wasn’t expecting the carnage that he saw when he turned the corner; the kitchen table was covered in an explosion of sheets of multicolored construction paper, all reds and pinks and whites, with tiny multicolored stickers and tubes of glitter and shiny ribbons arranged and spread wide across the countertop, scattered with glue sticks and pairs of scissors and an exploded box of crayons. There was a small mountain of cut-out hearts piled high on the table, smattered with glitter-glue and blocky handwriting.

Mickey rubbed his eyes, taking in the scene. “What’re you two Picassos up to?” he asked drowsily.

Ian looked up, his eyes light. “Look who’s awake!” He gestured at the table emphatically, like it was Christmas morning. “Isn’t it great? Me and Franny grabbed all this stuff at the dollar store for less than ten bucks. The glue sticks definitely kind of suck, but I think it’ll get the job done.”

Mickeys eyes scanned to Franny, who was hard at work trying to cut a shape out of a piece of red construction paper, her brows furrowed in concentration. Ian kept chattering on as he unwrapped another sheath of the paper.

“Debbie left Franny with me since some rich lady called her with a weekend handywoman emergency that popped up at the last minute, so now I’m helping Franny make her valentines for school.”

Mickey scoffed. “Fucking valentines?”

Ian rolled his eyes as he contentedly started to glue together two pieces of paper. “Yes, Mickey, valentines. You know, those nice things that normal people give to each other on Valentine’s Day, along with a box of chocolates or some shit and a note about how much they love each other—”

“Yes, I know what they are, smartass. Don’t know why you didn’t just buy the little cardboard ones at the store though.”

Ian smirked, his eyes still focused on the paper beneath him that he was smudging glitter on. “Yeah, well. Franny wanted to make them, and I thought it’d be kind of fun.”

Just then Franny gasped triumphantly, raising a lopsided and crumpled paper heart up for Mickey to see. “Look, Uncle Mickey! I cut a heart! Uncle Ian showed me how!”

Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian, who had a sheepish look on his face. “Didn’t know you had so many hidden talents, Gallagher.”

Ian flashed a grin. “I used to be really into art class in elementary school, what can I say.”

Franny looked up at Mickey with wide eyes. “Do you want to make valentines with us? We have to make twenty-seven, because that’s the number of people in my class.”

Mickey faltered. Sitting here gluing fucking glitter to pieces of paper was not exactly what he’d had in mind as his plans for the weekend…

“Uh. That’s okay kiddo. I think you two’ve got it covered.”

Franny seemed to readily accept Mickey’s answer, instantly looking downward again and grabbing a fistful of crayons from the table to continue enhancing her masterpiece. Ian, on the other hand, tore his gaze from his own valentine.

“Oh c’mon Mick, you don’t wanna help?” Ian asked, his voice goading and his eyebrows raised.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks but no thanks.” He turned, walking over to open the fridge and grabbing a beer from the top shelf.

“C’mon, just one valentine. Franny can show you how to cut out a heart shape, right Fran?”

Franny nodded vigorously. “Yes, I know how!”

Mickey took a swig of his beer and sighed. “Jesus, fine.” He pulled a chair between Ian and Franny, slowly scraping it on the linoleum, and then perched on the edge uncomfortably. “Alright Franny, show me what you’ve got.”

“Okay, so the first thing that you have to do is pick which color is your favorite. What’s your favorite color?”

Mickey had taken another sip of his beer, and now he sputtered slightly. “I don’t know Franny, you pick for me.”

Franny’s face melted into a pout. “But you have to pick, Uncle Mickey, it’s your favorite color!”

Ian bit back a laugh, his eyes still bright and cheerful. “Yeah, Mick, c’mon. What is your favorite color? We’ve never gotten this deep in our relationship before.”

Mickey gulped again from his beer can and flipped Ian off in the process. “I don’t fucking know. Never thought about it before.”

Franny held the stack of construction paper up to Mickey. “Look! There’s red, and yellow, and blue, and purple, and green—”

Mickey cut her off. “Uh, give me a green one.”

Ian smirked. “Green?”

“Fuck you, it was the first color I thought of.” Of course, that wasn’t really true—if Mickey needed to have a favorite fucking color, it was obviously going to be green, like the green eyes that met his gaze every morning and were the last thing he saw before he went to sleep at night— even if he would never be caught dead admitting that sappy bullshit to Ian.

Ian looked like he was holding back a smile. “Right,” he mused. “Hey, Franny, pass me a blue paper? Cause y’know, that’s my favorite color.”

Mickey gently shoved Ian in the square of his chest. “You’re being fucking soft.”

Ian let a crooked smile burst onto his face. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Mickey leaned back in his chair, holding the piece of thick green paper in front of him appraisingly. “Okay Franny, what’s step two?”

Franny stretched her body across the table to reach for one of the strewn pairs of scissors. “Now, you fold the paper in half, and then you cut out the shape of half of a heart, like this.” She drew an example of the curved pattern on the backside of Mickey’s paper with the tip of her finger. “And then you unfold it and it’ll be a perfect shape!”

“Sounds easy enough.”

Mickey took the scissors from Franny’s grasp, and held them up to the paper. It was just a fucking half circle with a little indent at the top— this wasn’t going to be too difficult. Ian and Franny went back to being absorbed in crafting their valentines, while Mickey started to botch and slash at his piece of construction paper.

When he was finally satisfied he unfolded the shape, the outer shell of the paper falling away. It was… well, it was kind of a heart, with two slanted sides and a wonky top half. It looked more like a blob attached to an angle than anything else.

Ian looked up from where he was doodling on a glittery heart and snickered.

“That’s uh… that’s a good first try, Mick.”

Mickey slammed the piece of paper down onto the table. Fucking arts and crafts, he was never good at this shit even when he was little—he fingers were always too fumbling, too clumsy for him to make anything delicate and pristine. Ian’s hands should have been as ungainly as his, but instead they were quick and nimble, smoothly cutting perfectly-rounded circles and gluing neat lines of glitter.

Franny noticed that Mickey was done cutting his shape. “Good job Uncle Mickey! Now you just have to draw on it, and put on stickers and glitter.”

“Yeah Mickey, let’s see those artistic skills.”

Mickey aggressively flicked some flecks of glitter from the table in Ian’s direction, then picked up a crayon and gripped it with an iron fist. What the fuck was he supposed to draw? This was a valentine for kids at Franny’s school, the fuck did kids like anyways? He started to draw some sort of stick figure, but the arms were too long and the head was too small, so he tried to color over it and make some sort of tree or some shit…

As Mickey scratched at the paper, he looked over at noticed suddenly how content Ian looked—how blissed out and settled he was, just running a crayon over the colorful paper and shaking bits of glitter onto pools of glue. If Mickey was being honest, he hadn’t seen Ian this light and happy in a while; he’d had a hunch in his shoulders for months after the wedding and the pandemic and all the minimum-wage job bullshit, the shadows of expectation hanging over him and causing a deflated weariness in his gaze that was impossible to ignore. But right now, Ian looked like he was having as much fun as Franny was, practically vibrating with satisfaction as he put the finishing touches on his drawing and reaching to place his completed valentine in the growing pile.

Mickey snatched the paper out of Ian’s hand, slightly crumpling it around the edges. “Wait a second. How the fuck did you do that?”

The valentine was immaculate, the heart symmetrical and traced in a thin outline of glitter. In the center of the paper there was a perfect little cartoon of a dog in a top hat, with an air bubble that read “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Ian shrugged. “Watched a lot of cartoons when I was little. And I’ve always kind of liked to draw.”

Mickey shoved the valentine back in front of Ian. Goddamn perfect fucking husband who’s good at fucking everything. He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, suddenly losing all motivation to play along.

Ian smirked, then reached to rest a hand on the back of Mickey’s neck. “Giving up already?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Fuck you, Gallagher.”

Ian’s smile just widened. “Here, how about I cut the fucking shapes and you glue stuff onto them. That’d still help me and Franny a lot, right?”

Franny nodded. “It’s okay Uncle Mickey, I was bad at cutting the shapes too at first.”

Mickey huffed. Okay, so maybe he was horrible at this shit, but the least he could do was suck it up for Franny’s sake. “Fine,” he muttered, and grabbed a glue stick and a bottle of glitter.

A few minutes passed and they settled into a comfortable silence, enveloped in the sound of the scissors gliding and Franny scribbling on paper.

Suddenly, Franny looked up as Mickey reached across the table to grab a pad of stickers.

“Hey Uncle Mickey, what do you and Uncle Ian do for Valentine’s Day?”

Mickey didn’t really know how to answer that question— he darted a glance over at Ian, trying to signal as much. Could you ruin the spirit of Valentine’s Day for kids in the same way you could fuck up Christmas? “Uh, nothing really.”

Ian chimed in. “We used to like Valentine’s Day when we were little like you Franny, but now that we’re big we don’t really celebrate it. Right Mick?”

“Yup.”

Franny’s brows were furrowed again, this time in contemplation. “But. You love each other, right?”

“Sure, Franny. But we don’t need a special day for us to remember that,” Ian explained.

Franny seemed appeased enough by that answer to resume her drawing. “You don’t give each other valentines or candy or anything?”

Mickey almost laughed. Of course he and Ian had never celebrated fucking Valentine’s Day; if he was being honest, he didn’t remember even really thinking about Valentine’s Day before now, other than it being a day when Mandy came home crying in middle school because the boy she liked didn’t ask her out, or buying all the half-priced chocolates in red and pink wrappers at the drugstore a week later with his brothers. With all the shit in his life the past few years, frilly fucking holidays like Valentine’s Day were just… not on Mickey’s radar.

But maybe— maybe this year was different. This year, for maybe the first time in his life, Mickey felt secure and steady in a way that he never had before, like the ground was solid beneath him and wasn’t going to cave in at any minute. He had a fucking husband that he loved—why couldn’t they celebrate Valentine’s Day like a normal goddamn couple? Ian didn’t seem to be too bothered that they both didn’t give a fuck about the holiday, which was all the more reason to catch him off guard. He kept pressing stickers down onto the construction paper, his mind starting to churn.

By the time they’d made the twenty-seven fucking valentines, Mickey had made up his mind; this year, he and Ian were going to celebrate Valentine’s Day.

part two here!

[yeah-klave]

Jungle Dreams

Written, with love, for EnKlave Fest 2021. 

Prompt: Sneaking away into the jungle. 

Genre: Smut, with a side of fluff.

Word length: 2.1k.

Warning: Explicit sexual content (18+ only, please).

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of The Umbrella Academy characters or settings.

****************************************************************

Finally out of sight and earshot of the camp, they stumbled through the undergrowth, laughing and kissing and fumbling, hands blindly pulling at clothes in their haste. Dave gently pushed Klaus against the trunk of a tree and attached his lips to Klaus’ neck.

“I didn’t think we’d ever get chance to sneak away!” Klaus gasped, tipping his head back and frantically grasping at Dave’s shoulders.

“Dramatic,” Dave breathed heavily, his lips pressing kisses along Klaus’ jawline. He took the lobe of Klaus’ ear into his mouth and sucked hard. Klaus shivered and Dave grinned, grazing his teeth along the flesh before giving it a sharp nip.

Klaus gasped and clutched at Dave, raking his fingernails through Dave’s gloriously mussed curls.

“It’s been three days, Dave,” he whined. “Three whole days. I’m practically dying here. Dying of blue balls.”

Dave huffed a laugh. “What a tragically fitting end for Vietnam’s biggest drama queen.”

He sucked a kiss into Klaus’ skin, just below the line of his collar.

“Oh, Daaa-vuh,” Klaus moaned, clawing desperately at Dave’s back. “Please can you stop being funny and charming for one second and just fuck me already?!”

Dave grinned and caught Klaus’ eye. “Certainly, your highness,” he added with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Klaus rolled his eyes, but hurriedly turned in Dave’s arms, his hands scrambling to unbuckle his pants. With a flourish, he let them drop around his ankles. Then he leaned forwards slightly, holding on to the tree trunk for support. He looked back at Dave over his shoulder and pointedly spread his legs.

Dave grinned again, leaning his head to one side and taking in the view.

Klaus huffed, his eyebrows comically crinkling together in an adorable frown.

Dave moved forwards and reverently ran his hands over the pale skin of Klaus’ ass. He gave the right cheek a proprietary little squeeze, then gave it a light slap, watching the glorious jiggle of the flesh.

“Please hurry up,” Klaus sighed, his eyes huge and beseeching.

Finally, Dave acquiesced. He couldn’t deny those eyes anything.

He dug into the deep pocket of his pants and drew out the little jar of lube. He coated his fingers, then ran the tip of one around the rim of Klaus’ hole, before gently pushing inside.

Klaus let out a deep sigh and rested his forehead against the arm he had propped against the tree.

Just as Klaus had taught him, Dave began moving his finger, methodically pressing and stretching. He pulled his finger out, stacked his index finger over his middle finger and then placed them at Klaus’ entrance, only the very tips inside.

“Squeeze, please,” he said, and Klaus sighed, but then clenched obediently around Dave’s fingertips.

“And relax,” Dave instructed after a moment. Klaus relaxed his muscles and Dave watched in admiration as both his fingers easily sank another inch inside Klaus’ body.

“I love watching you suck me inside like that,” Dave said in awe.

“Daaave,” Klaus whined, “come on.”

Dave eased his fingers the rest of the way inside and started scissoring them, gently stretching Klaus’ entrance further. Klaus let out a low moan.

“You don’t have to be so… thorough.” Klaus wheedled. “I have done this a few times before, you know. I’m good to go!”

“Or,” Dave said patiently, “we could just enjoy this bit before racing on to the next part.” He ran his other hand down the gentle curve of Klaus’ spine, ending by giving his left ass-cheek an affectionate squeeze.

“God, Klaus, I love your ass.” Dave brought his other hand around to Klaus’ front, took hold of his dick and gave it a couple of gentle tugs. “Among other things.”

Klaus moaned wantonly and spread his legs further.

Dave smiled and curled the fingers of his other hand and Klaus let out a desperate gasp.

“Please.” Klaus said shakily. “Please, Dave. I need you inside me. Now. Before they start to wonder where we are and come looking.” He swallowed thickly. “Please, Dave. I need this.”

His voice was as breathy and light as usual, but Dave could hear the undercurrent of real urgency. The genuine desperation that didn’t stem from raw sexual desire, but from the need to connect with someone. To really feel something. While they still had chance.

Dave leaned forwards and pressed a tender kiss to the exposed skin of Klaus’ shoulder, right at the juncture of his neck.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured soothingly in Klaus’ ear, “I’ve got you.”

Klaus gave an involuntary little shiver, but nodded slowly.

“I know you do,” Klaus whispered back.

Dave slowly eased his fingers out of Klaus’ body. He unbuckled his own pants and unceremoniously pulled out his achingly hard cock and quickly slicked it up.

Dave moved behind Klaus. He rand one hand down the curve of Klaus’ spine again, before taking firm hold of Klaus’ hip. Finally, holding the base of his cock with his other hand, he lined up and gently pushed inside Klaus’ body in one deliciously long, slow slide. Then, he stopped. His heartbeat was thudding in his ears and all his nerve endings were on fire. He’d never get used to that feeling. Never. Not if he did this every day for the rest of his life. Completely unparalleled bliss.

Klaus let out a long, low moan.

“Fuuuuucck, yeeeeesssss! Dave! Finally!”

Dave withdrew slowly and Klaus released a breath in a deep, satisfied exhale. Dave took hold of both Klaus’ hips and thrust in again firmly, snapping his hips as he bottomed out. Klaus gasped and his internal muscles contracted sharply around him as Dave’s cock hit that sweet spot deep inside. Dave grunted and gripped Klaus’ hips tighter.

Suddenly, all the frenetic energy from earlier came crashing back and Dave pulled out and thrust forwards again firmly, then started snapping his hips and driving into Klaus in a gloriously intense and deliciously punchy rhythm.

“Fucking finally,” Dave heard Klaus exhale between grunts of pleasure.

Below him, Dave could hear Klaus chanting his name between desperate little moans and uninhibited grunts. Dave felt a warm glow start deep in his chest, Klaus’ obvious pleasure urging him on.

Dave found his rhythm and soon lost himself to the indescribable feeling of fucking Klaus. The tight, wet slide… the sound of Klaus’ desperate panting moans and punched out grunts of pleasure… the obscene slap of skin on skin… the delicate, warm weight of Klaus’ hips under his palms… chasing his desire… succumbing to this primal need… the rough pleasure of engaging in something so base and animalistic… pure carnal instinct driving his hips forwards… sinking himself inside his partner… claiming and taking and pleasuring and pleasing and thrusting and thrusting and thrusting.

“Dave!” He heard Klaus cry urgently. He swallowed and tried again. “Fuck, Dave,” Klaus said more urgently, “I’m close.”

Without loosing his rhythm, Dave brought one hand around and started jerking Klaus’ cock in time with his own thrusts.

Klaus keened. The pitch of his voice changed. His moans became higher and he released little abortive wails on every thrust. He sounded breathless and desperate. His legs started trembling and distantly Dave was aware Klaus’ knuckles had gone white where he held onto the tree trunk for support.

Dave grunted and increased the pace of his hips, the muscles in his powerful legs tensing and straining.

“Dave!” Klaus sobbed and then, suddenly, Dave felt him tense and then the world held its breath for a second. And then Klaus released the breath he’d been holding in a long shaking exhale as his body began contracting rhythmically around Dave and his cock pulsed and twitched as he ejaculated thickly onto the jungle floor.

And then Dave’s entire word narrowed to the glorious pressure building between his legs and the roaring in his ears and the sound of Klaus’ moans and the feeling of Klaus cumming on his cock and, finally, Dave let go and fucked his release deep inside his partner in heady waves of crashing pleasure, grunting and moaning and sweating and cursing.

And then he was done. Dave felt all his muscles relax and he slumped forwards slightly over Klaus, trying to catch his breath. Klaus’ knees buckled. But, on instinct, Dave caught him and held him up firmly with one large, strong arm around his tiny waist. He planted the other against the tree trunk, anchoring them and keeping them both upright. Dave nuzzled into the soft, warm space behind Klaus’ ear, then peppered kisses down his neck and across his shoulder, licking a soothing stripe over the mark he’d sucked into Klaus’ neck earlier.

“Was that what you needed, baby?” Dave asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Klaus replied throatily. Still slumped bonelessly against the tree, barely holding himself upright save for Dave’s strong arm holding him firm. Klaus turned his head and blindly sought Dave’s lips.

Dave leaned forwards and kissed him. It was wonky and off-centre and wonderful.

Slowly, Dave pulled his softening cock out of Klaus’s body. Klaus sighed and his hole gave a delicate flutter. Dave watched a thick bead of cum ooze out and dribble thickly down the inside of Klaus’ thigh.

Dave dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and gently cleaned the sticky mess from Klaus’ skin. He ducked down and carefully helped Klaus pull up his pants and fasten them again, then, finally, tucked himself away, refastened his own pants and snapped his belt back into place.

Leaning back against the tree, Klaus watched him fondly through half-lidded bedroom eyes, absently trailing his fingers down his neck to press lightly against the spot of darker skin. The shadow of a lost kiss.

Inches apart, Dave looked at Klaus and the satisfied expression that softened his features and gave him a radiant glow of happiness. And, once again, Dave was overcome with a wave of pure affection. He reached out and tenderly cupped Klaus’ cheek in one large, soft palm, his thumb gently rubbing the delicate skin at the corner of Klaus’ eye. Klaus blinked slowly and looked back at Dave, the expression in his eyes unmistakable.

“One day,” Dave said simply, “I’d like us to do that in a proper bed.”

“We will,” Klaus said quietly.

Dave gazed deep into Klaus eyes and was filled with the almost overwhelming urge to pour all of himself inside this man – not just his sticky, orgasmic release, but his whole heart as well.

“I want to lay you down and kiss every inch of you” Dave said reverently. “I want us to take our time. We could take all night if we wanted. And then, I want to hold you afterwards, until you fall asleep in my arms. I want to wake up the next morning to your hair in my face and your ridiculously cold feet pressed against my legs. I want all your sleepy grumbling and your morning-breath kisses. And then I want to make love to you again, in a pool of early morning light, while you’re all groggy and warm and loose-limbed and peaceful.”

“I want that too,” Klaus said, looking wistfully back into Dave’s kind, sincere eyes. “Well, we are due R&R in a few weeks…” he trailed off suggestively, his eyes scanning Dave’s face and the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.

“The thing is,” Dave said quietly, “I don’t just want it here and now. Not just a Vietnam fling. I want it every day. Every. Single. Day. For the rest of my life.” He paused, took a deep breath and added, “I want you forever, Klaus.”

Klaus swallowed hard and took a deep shuddering breath. “Me too,” he said hoarsely. He pulled Dave’s face towards him and pressed their foreheads together and held him there, just breathing the same air. “We’ll make it work,” Klaus murmured into the space between them. “Somehow, Dave, we’ll make it work. That’s a promise.”

“Don’t,” Dave replied sadly. “You can’t promise that.”

“I just did,” Klaus said stubbornly. “And you better believe I’m not going to let the universe make a liar out of me about this. God might have written me off, but nobody should ever underestimate my selfish streak.”

Dave huffed a laugh and held him tighter. They stood quietly, just relishing the moment of peace and closeness.

“We should get back.” Dave said finally.

“Yeah, we should.” Klaus grudgingly agreed.

But neither of them made any attempt to move.

They just held on to each other and shut the world out and pretended prejudices didn’t exist and that the war was happening somewhere else to some other people.

Instead, they ran gentle hands over warm flesh and slowly kissed in a dappled green, enchanted bubble of hope and love and jungle dreams.

[harper-emory-writes]

The heart strings (chapter 1 )

Pairing: Aragorn x original female character (devon) 

Words: 2270

Summary: to be summarised later 

Warnings: violence, smut in later chapters, trigger warnings of abuse and flashbacks 

DON’T LIKE IT , DON’T READ IT!

authors notes: @my-marvel-musings​ my lazy arse has done it their have it i will regret it later but ah welll, i will go die in my hole of embrassement whilst leaving this in here 

Devon POV 

Devon’s hair was a light dusty brown blonde in colour as she wiped down the wooden surfaces of the tables in the prancing pony. The warm light of the roaring fire extruded heat as she watched all the locals come and go. There was far near the back of the tavern. The cloak that covered him only showed a pipe that was being smoked. Her eyes shifted onto him a few times as she carried on her cleaning of the tavern.

The locals were quieter than expected, she noticed as the Bree people were staring at the darkened cloaked figure. The groups of people’s whispers to whom she served drinks earlier that evening were all speaking in hushed voices. “That’s one of those ranger folk. I hear they’re dangerous.” The time slowly ticked past as the locals dissipated out of the tavern. The playing of music made its way out of the pub. She looked out at the bards playing in the rain. A drizzle had just started as she said goodbye to the last customers. 

The cloaked man was still at the back of the tavern. She kept an eye on him but did not think that unless he needed help, she was much for worrying on customers if they had a room in the tavern she was only here as a job to be a barkeep. Her mind drifted as she went to get her cloak, to cover her outfit as she walked home. Her dark coloured trousers were tight but gave her a slight show off to her curves. She never felt part of the family. 

Her sisters were tall and thin, whereas she was shorter than both her mother and sisters. She was always more of an ugly duckling. Her family life was not simple, nor was it going to be easy. Her boots were dragging from the mud that the track she took most days, the path was quiet, the rain was getting heavy as Devon wrapped her cloak around her body tighter as she curled into the tree line heavier. Her mind was flashing back to her childhood. 

“Hahahaha, come on, ugly, you will never catch me,” Ferne shouted as devon tripped back over in the mud. Her checkered dress made it hard to run in as she was barefoot, her shoes were stolen away from her by her sisters. Devon never liked dresses as a young girl. Her sisters often teased her about the dislike them. Her skin was covered in mud as her brown eyes squinted at two shapes in front of her. Their voices high pitched as they shrieked at her. “Haha, devon is chubby, and she can’t get up.” Ferne and Cecilia started running again as devon picked her self up off the floor. “I will get you one day,” she whispered as her eyes fluttered close. 

Devon looked up at the sky as she kept going down the track. Her hazel eyes brimmed with tears from the memory as she tucked her cloak over herself, wiping at her eyes before carrying on with her journey. Her body was slightly cold as her body got farther away from the Bree. Her eyes fluttered shut as she kept moving. Her clothing soaked through from the rain, her body started to shiver, the mud being too slippery for her footing to hold any longer.

The woods were more sheltered as devon slipped between the trees. Her hair was matted from her cloak being soaked as she walked amongst the large pine trees. The forest soon fell from her as she lay on the forest floor. Her legs curling up into a foetal position on the forest floor.

Aragorn pov 

The sound of brego’s hooves squelching in the mud as he pulled on the bay horse. The large pine trees over his head did give him little shelter as the rain lashed against his cloak. The female he followed quietly, staying behind her quite a bit of the way as he whispered in elvish to brego. Quiet mutterings as the footfall stopped. The woods opened up into a slight clearing as he dismounted, looping the reins over bregos head as he walked into the woods. 

The roots were slippery as he picked his way over them. His eyes settling on a body from the looks of it in the centre. The rain was getting heavier as he tied his beloved steed to a tree before creeping closer to the body. It was a female, her skin deathly pale from the cold as her clothes were soaked through to her skin. 

His first reaction was to pick her up, but he was not entirely sure how without startling the lady. His clothes were slightly wet as he picked the female up, unknown where she was from or going as he watched the woods. The leaf canopy swayed as he gripped at the unknown stranger, his face watching hers, seeing her relaxed features as he mutters to himself. “Nin mel.”

His eyes wandered over the strangers' facial features as he quietly walked brego following him as he grabbed the reins that he attached to a tree earlier. The body was still slightly breathing, letting him know that she was alive but only barely before hypothermia would get her. 

His eyes wandered over the features of her face. Her nose was slightly wonky, and her lips were large and easily kissable as he kept walking; the slow, steady pace made it easy to carry as he just watched his footing. The woods soon opened up to a clearing, the fire recently burned down, and his sleeping gear easily locatable as he placed her on a thick blanket just to give her some warmth as he placed another blanket on the top of her, usually did not have two blankets. Still, there was supposed to be a cold snap in the air as he watched the storm clouds clear on the horizon, as he made up a small fire of wood which he had rummaged around for earlier whilst setting up camp. 

The fire burned nicely as it provided a heat source for him, and this complete stranger he found in the woods. It was noticeable that she was either going home to the woods as he placed the mouthpiece for his pipe into his lips. His eyes watching as she slept, hoping the warmth of the fire would get her so much less pale than she looked when he found her. 

The rain started again as the smoke cloud from his pipe, his eyes continually watching the female as the rain poured down in the woodland clearing he had set as a camp. The fire kept up as the rain dampened it down slightly. 

Devon pov 

Her eyelashes fluttered open, the rain sheeting down as she propped herself up on her elbows, feeling dazed from only just waking up, her body marginally warmer as she watched the fire burn on the wet ground. Her body was somewhat warmer as she sat up, her hazel eyes scanning the silhouettes of a horse and a man—complete strangers as she watched him from a reasonably good vantage point. 

Her hair was messy as she tugged her fingers through her hair, the dirt cloaking her ends as it splayed over her back. The blanket on the ground damp as devon soon got up, her footsteps trying to sneakily move past as she looked for an exact opening in the trees for her escape. 

Devon’s clothes were still slightly wet as she got up onto her two legs, her body somewhat wobbly as she started walking towards a clear opening in the trees. A voice soon caught her attention as it spoke to her in a gruff tone. “What do you think you're doing leaving when you could have died, and there is no saying you still can’t die from the storm.” Her head soon turned around as she snarkily replied, “well, unlike some others, I still have to go home and get jobs done.” A light chuckle came out from the stranger’s voice. “If it is on my watch, I would not let you go home at all.” Devon looked straight at him, her voice not breaking at all as she monotony of her voice dropping slightly as she kept her eye on him. “Hmmmmm, and what does this mean you will do to me, stranger?” a deep chuckle came out of him as he got up from the tree stump that he was previously sat on before he spoke again, this time his tone rougher as his footsteps took steps towards her. “Anything I would do to keep you.” her voice hardened on the surface yet again as she toyed slightly with the cloaked stranger. “I challenge you to a game of riddles then, hope your brain is enough to match your brawn.” her face contorted into one that was not easily readable. She waited for his reply patience was never her strong point. As she was waiting for a reply from the stranger, her mind drifted back again. 

The smell of blood was noticeable as the house was a pigsty. The leftovers from last nights chaos were every time that devons mother and sisters decided to have a party. Devon's hair was loosely tied in a bun as she sighed at the mess. Devon was an okay child by any means; her outfit was ripped and not cared for as she heard the shrill voice of her mother. “Wretch, why is this not clean yet.” devon winced as her upper arm was still sore from the fall she had just yesterday. Her lack of healing knowledge tried to heal it the best she could as the blood dried on her skin. It was the same as it usually was. She was the unwanted child, her sister and parents ruled her choices, and maybe one day it would break her to do the worse, but that was not the day. 

Her stomach was open that night, the night where she did not know if she would live to see her day. 

Devon's eyes were glossed over slightly; her hand went down to the large wound, which had only just healed up 2 weeks ago. Her ears heard the strangers reply as he spoke back to her. “Deal, but you look like you have seen a ghost.” devons eyebrows knitted together as she said again. “I have seen nothing, but what do I expect for a stranger to know.” his voice was a calming influence slightly as he spoke again. “You go first, then little one.” devon stood, her eyes still knitted tightly together as she told her tine of voice unwavering as she challenged him. “At night, they come without being fetched. By day they are lost without being stolen. What are they?” he stayed quiet for a bit before answering her. “The stars” devon scowled slightly as she looked at him to give her a riddle. “It lies behind rocks and rills, and under mountains and hills. It cannot be seen or felt, nor even heard or smelt. What is it?” devon quirked her eyebrow before speaking again, this time slightly cocky as she opened her mouth. “The dark.” her face smiled somewhat as she watched the stranger. 

Aragorn POV 

The female made him curious, he wanted to steal her. The game of riddles was a curiosity he had been normal, but she was covering something up. He would soon find out that the girl challenging him underneath, she was obviously not a damsel in distress but his curiosity was telling him that she was being hurt in a certain way. He asked the girl. “Now little one what would you do if the wolf knew he could keep you forever.” the scoff that came out her mouth before he walked forward, his strides predatory as she stepped back. “I would run.” his chuckle that came out of his mouth was gruff almost rough and brooding as he spoke again. “Then I must catch you my little one.” he was soon wrong when she made a break for it, his legs much more able to catch up as he loped through the trees like a wolf was when their prey was fleeing. Her hair easy enough to follow as the predator and prey game soon would be stopped as the girl tripped over a tree root. He was one to take advantage as he watched her before pinning her so she could not get up. 

His body was above hers as she squirmed and wriggled around on the dirt. Her mouth hurling insults at him. “You bastard all I need to do is get home.” he soon chuckled as he watched her looking at him in disdain. His voice spoke again. “And you did not think I would not chase you down little one.” he was greeted with her fist hitting him in his chest. His eyes watching hers as he moved his face closer, his voice quiet and soothing as he watched her. “I am not here to hurt you please just let me help.” the female had a spirit like that of a wild horse not wanting to be tamed. “Just leave me alone please.” her eyes were glassy the tears in them not shed as he lowered his lips to kiss her, the woodland birds were singing their song as he lifted his lips off her. “Now why did we need to fight and why do you have to get home Dilthen er ?” 

[friendlyinterdimensionalbeing]

Common insecurities that I find absolutely gorgeous:

Big, humped, aquilline or crooked noses. I think there is absolutely nothing sexier than an angular side profile and a nose that is a dominant feature.

Crooked teeth: perfect teeth creep me out. I love snaggle teeth, wonky canines and gaps.

Pear-shaped female bodies.

Thick calves and thighs: strong, nourished looking legs with a bit of jiggle are so incredible.

That little fat pouch at the bottom of girls' bellies: I wanna kiss it. 10/10

Frizzy/bushy hair

Messy, thick eyebrows

That little trail of fuzz from the belly button down.

Hairy armpits.

Stretch marks

'Imperfect' breasts

Wonky smiles

Grey hair

Wide hips

Freckles, birthmarks, vitiligo. Skin is so beautiful when it's complicated. It's like marble or artwork.

Crows feet wrinkles and smile lines.

Teeth that aren't stark, startling white

'Untrendy' fashion sense.

Unique, strange or loud laughs

Widow's peaks

[bennettandyank]

Glitter Girls Keltie review!

This is my first time doing a review for this blog. I tried to cover everything. Sadly I do not have other 14 inch dolls (like Wellie Wishers) to compare her to, but from what I have seen they can swap clothes perfectly.

Keltie, as I mentioned above, is a 14 inch Glitter Girls doll. She has dark skin, dark brown wavy hair, and brown eyes. She retails for $21.99 from the Glitter Girls store, but is currently out of stock. I bought mine from Mercari for $16 plus $11 shipping. She was new in the box, but I did not take pictures of it.

Keltie comes wearing an outfit consisting of a pink t-shirt, blue ombré skirt, leggings, Mary Jane shoes, and a white bow. True to the name Glitter Girls, every single piece of the outfit has glitter.

The shirt features what I believe is an exclamation point. It has a geometric design inside. The sleeves are sewn so that they look cuffed, which I think is a nice detail. The triangles in the middle of the shirt are in gold glitter, however I did not notice this glitter shedding. The material is rather thin, but she’s a $20 doll. I’ll manage. I give it an A. It’s cute and simple, and has decent mix and match potential.

The skirt is a blue ombré skirt. She wears it quite high on her waist, and it stops above the knee. It has a glitter trim. I didn’t notice this glitter shedding either while I handled her. A+ This is my favorite part of her meet outfit. The quality is good for the price and I think it’s very pretty, and again has good potential to mix and match.

She wears white leggings with a geometric triangle print in blue, pink, and gold glitter. Due to the way these are sewn, most of the pink triangles can’t be seen on her legs, which is a shame. The glitter on these did shed a bit when I removed them. I give them a B- for shedding and not being able to see the pink triangles.

Her shoes are white Mary Janes that are absolutely covered in glitter. I liked these in the stock photo because white Mary Janes can go with so many different outfits. However, these shed pretty bad.

I also absolutely cannot get one of the shoes to buckle properly. The other one closes fine but this shoe will not. You can see here that the shoe has shed glitter onto her skin. Shoes get a C+ because they shed and don’t close, but are saved by still being good for mix and matching for photos.

I forgot to take a close-up of her bow. It’s white glitter and is on an alligator clip. It doesn’t shed. A

Keltie’s brown eyes are pretty and detailed. They do not open and close. She has eyelashes, and you can probably tell that the one on the right here was glued on a little wonky.

The wonkiness is even more evident in bright lighting. I may use tweezers and try to pull them off and glue them on straighter.

Keltie’s face paint is bright, but natural. Her eyebrows are long and thin. They remind me of Josefina’s eyebrows.

Her ears are about as detailed as an average AG doll in my opinion. I think her side profile is quite cute.

Her hair is a little wild when taken out of its ponytail. She doesn’t have a part in her hair, so I think having her hair up, or at least half up, might be the best move. However, it is incredibly soft, and surprisingly thick.

Her waves are not very neat. I kind of want to put curlers in her hair and see how it turns out.

Her hair is rooted and her scalp is painted black, but with white lines that can be seen wherever you try to part her hair.

I have hit the 10 image limit so stay tuned for part 2!

[kashuan]

All right, there are quite a few things that come to mind with a question as broad as this, so here’s my best attempt to sum up what character design means to me in like 5 minutes :,D. I’m going to start with a few very quick sketches that talk about more my general approach to drawing, but I’m going to build up to how it all connects with character.

Step 1) Find reference! Whenever you can, use reference, it will always make your character’s posing look 100 times more genuine than anything you can pull from your brain, and that’s nothing to feel bad about. It’s not cheating because we’re not stopping at Step 2 either, which is where the misnomer comes in that you’re just ‘copying’ (protip: even step 2 isn’t a straight Copy; as long as you’re not tracing, you’re not copying, and even tracing has its uses for personal studies). I could do a whole answer of it’s own about picking your reference, but I’ll keep it short by saying: not every reference will fit every character. Keep in mind your character’s attitude when choosing your ref. Some poses are so generic they’re one size fits all, but even this very simple pose has unique character to it. The way the legs are posed, to me, gives it a young and girlish feeling, and depending how you played with the expression, you could even make it come off shy. An overbearingly confident character, while also taking an arms crossed pose, will likely position their legs differently, assuming a stance that takes up more space, etc.

Step 2) Draw pretty much exactly what you see first, but keep it simple. Think of the body like individual shapes; anatomy is not the focus right now, and you’ll actually hinder yourself if you hone in on that first. What you want to do at this stage is capture what the pose is generally doing; character isn’t involved yet Step 3) Now, working off 2′s framework, start considering body type. If you skip the previous step, you might have a hard time capturing the gesture correctly, since it’s a lot for your brain to juggle at once. When I sketched these two different body types, I built it straight off the first drawing, erasing lines as needed.

So the first image includes some extremely basic body type variations, this one pushes that idea further. 1 is the basic frame from the last image, while 2 is about playing with proportions. There are a lot of ways you can play with proportions, and as I’ll come to sound like a broken record about: make those decisions thoughtfully. For example, when I made this version shorter than the reference base, I had to consider exactly where I wanted her to lose that height. Here, I made her shorter waisted, took a little length from the legs, and gave her a squatter neck as well. You can do one of these or all of them. Just keep in mind those are all individual options. Letting your train of thought stop at ‘this character is short/tall so I’m just going to generally shrink/stretch their body’ means you’ll run out of variety pretty fast, and sometimes the overall proportions can end up looking wonky (though there’s always exceptions to the rule, remember that the individual body parts should remain correctly scaled in relation to each other). Image 3 is another approach to proportional manipulation, except rather than focusing on height, it focuses on fat distribution and to a lesser extent bone structure. Again, there’s so many individual places you can focus on here, make sure to mix them up. Arm size, shoulder broadness, chest and hip size, leg thickness and musculature, foot and hand size and so forth.   Image 4 is a further exaggeration of image 3 and the lines have started to get a little more stylized. While image 3 is still reasonably realistic, 4 is just starting to cross into cartoon territory. Advantage of 4 is that when you are able to push the proportions further due to the leniency of style, you can sell a clearer idea and a clearer character. Downside is, well, it looks more cartoonish now, and depending on the needs of your image that might not be what you want ie: it can look like a mistake rather than a purposeful choice if everyone else around the character is drawn more realistically.

Also… I see variations on this general advice quite a lot for women, but don’t forget about doing the same for men. It’s great to see how eager a lot of artists are to experiment with the female form that is simply absent in a lot of mainstream media, but I find that men really tend to fall by the wayside here even though they often get equally shallow treatment in the mainstream. There’s usually like 2-3 ‘go-to’ body types for men and that’s it. Men’s bodies can have the exact same amount of variety as a woman’s, including the individual ways the fat can be distributed on it, and the assorted ways their proportions can be played with. Whenever I find an artist that does this it’s like striking gold to me tbh. 

So there’s some very rough hows. But, perhaps even more importantly than any of that, is WHY you make these choices. This is going to get a little stream of consciousness, but with a question this broad, I tried to hit on as many general points I could think of in regard to my own process.

-When I start to design a character, I really need to have an understanding of them first. This includes things like backstory, personality, habits, so and so forth… Yes, all of this stuff shows up in their design, even if it’s just a drawing of them standing straight up. This isn’t just like ‘this character got this scar at age 7 so I need to know where it goes′, I mean in depth info about them. I touched on this a little bit earlier, bringing up the different ways a character would assume the same general pose, but let me expand on that. -What do I mean by personality? So there’s the most obvious answer, which is that a bubbly character will assume bubbly poses, a sullen character will slouch more, etc… But let’s take it further than that. This is a concept I’ve touched on in past tutorials, but here’s a quick recap. A character’s personality involves their opinions, for one; how do you make that show up in their design? Well, one of the most obvious questions I always ask myself is: what is their opinion on their own appearance (the thing we are drawing)/how do they want to be perceived by others? Consider a strong character. I see a lot of artists who take this thought as far as: okay, this character is strong, so I’m gonna throw a 6 pack on him, maybe a nice pair of guns, and call it a day. Which leads to like, nice art, but also...kind of bland? I think that’s because this is a rather half-baked approach. How can we take it further? Ask yourself more specific questions. Is your strong character concerned with being perceived as an ‘ideal’ sort of fit by others (the type you give that showy 6 pack to) or does that not matter to them? (more likely to look ‘chubby’ if not outright fat, though probably is just as if not more capable of actually doing some real heavy lifting than saran wrapped abs man). If they’re some kind of mystical being that can look like whatever they want (ie: the anime waif that can also lift 1000 lbs-trope), you should still take into account their personal perspective on appearance. Don’t just stop at ‘this guy/girl is strong so they’ll look super shredded’ or ‘they’re magic so I’ll do whatever’. Doing this, you’ve instantly lost a chance to inform the audience more about the individual there beyond ‘they’re strong’ -Break it down further with their habits. What is their daily life like? If they’re running ten miles every day they should probably have some strong looking legs. If their job involves a lot of lifting, maybe focus on the upper body more and leave the legs less defined. Do they eat a lot? Or drink? The way the fat distributes in both these cases will be noticeably different (and this isn’t even taking into account points like an endomorph vs an ectomorphs body, which I always suggest reading up on). I’d definitely recommend drawing as many different body types as you can just as studies, in order to add these variations to your mental library. I’m sure every artist has seen this popular athlete line up by now, but really study images like this. Don’t just mindlessly copy what you see when you create your own characters though; think about why those athletes have the bodies they have, what they specifically did to get them like that, and how that can apply to your character’s own life. -One thing that has always bothered me is how often artists are afraid to use the head (not the features; I’ll get to that in a second) as an extension of the body when it comes to imbuing it with variety and character. While it is absolutely possible to have a thin face and a fat body (as is any combo), it’s another missed opportunity not to experiment with chubby cheeks, a soft jawline, etc. It’s a cliche to mention him at this point as an inspiration, but one of my very favorite things about Mucha’s art was how he was able to make fuller faces look so beautiful despite being a rather nontraditional approach (so many art books try to tell you this is a big NO). example, example. These faces actually look like real individuals to me than a drawing that focuses too hard on being generically aesthetically pleasing. -So, facial features. A face with less traditional features isn’t just going to be more memorable than Stock Beautiful Face #73, but it’s basically a more zoomed in version of informing the audience about the character in the same way the body does. -Know tropes, play with tropes, do not rely on tropes. Sunken bone structure, long features-guy will always pretty much read like a villain (or at least someone off-putting), but find somewhere to make the formula your own. Give him thicker eyebrows or big ears. Give the girl with the standard doll-face a nose that sticks out a little more prominently or a crooked smile. -Speaking of are so many different ways to draw a smile, do not underestimate the mileage you can get out of this one feature alone. Artists tend to have a favorite way to draw smiles, in my experience, but remember your character. Would they have a big toothy grin, a handsome ‘cool’ looking smile, a small shy lopsided one, ones that touch the eyes, ones that don’t… This is probably a repetitive point by now but just do whatever you can not to draw the exact same feature on two different characters, and make sure to think through your reasoning for every choice you make. To me, it’s always immediately evident if an artist really knows their character or if they’re just trying to make something aesthetically pleasing. The former is always more attention grabbing in my opinion. -One of my favorite things to consider when designing a character who’s part of a family: genetics and how you can play with them to inform the audience more about the character’s story. Does this character take after their mother or father? How? Why? Why why, you might ask? This isn’t a photo of a real person, this is an illustration that you should be making deliberate choices about every step along the way. It’s one thing to draw a character that looks like their parent simply because logic dictates they should, another to make meaningful decisions as to where and why they do. Some examples: He has his father’s eyes because they carry the same intensity and other characters are a little put off by him because it (conversely, maybe he’s such a gentle character that this detail stands out twice as strongly). He has the same hair as his father, but he styles it differently to avoid the association. She has her mother’s nose which everyone compliments her on so shes happy to be seen in profile. She has her father’s broad shoulders and she’s a little self conscious about it so she tends to wear baggier clothing. Etc etc! In all these cases, you can communicate these details through even a simple drawing of the character standing alone, and should try to as often as you can. -In the end, the only way you’re going to know how to draw all these different details, whether they be different body types or different facial features, is by studying real people. Draw as many different kinds as you can, add them to your mental library. Your reference will never give you everything you need to work it, and I’m not sure if that’s maybe what this question as getting at-- if I have a reference folder of go-to ‘types’ or something. I don’t. I have a folder of poses labeled with characters I think they’d fit, and that’s about it. If you’re just imitating what you see in a photo, you’ll always be drawing That Person, not Your Character. So you are going to have to pull some of it out of your brain. Note, however, the important difference between just ‘making it up’ and recalling information you’ve studied in the past. That said, while on this last topic of expanding your mental library, that includes not just doing studies, but also learning and observing the ways other accomplished artists work. Here are some of my book recommendations when it comes to those which have most helped me in regard to this particular subject. This includes books that specifically tell you how to vary your body types, but also ones that just have a lot of examples of different kinds: Morpho: Anatomy for Artists Morpho: Fat and Skin Folds Famous Artists School Course in Illustration and Design (If anyone is interested in this one and has trouble finding a non $500 copy, hit me up and I’ll help you out) Spirit of the Pose Anatomy Lessons from the Great Masters Drawing People: How to Portray the Clothed Figure Figures from Life (my favorite currently; not the most varied array of figures but he goes in depth on how to successfully grow an academic study of a model into an illustration influenced by your own ideas and personal style) If you found this answer helpful, although it isn’t specifically about character design, I go a little more in depth about some of the topics I briefly covered here (such as choosing the right reference, good vs bad reference in general, honing in on shapes, pushing the pose, etc) in this short book of mine :>

[pollylynn]

Billet Doux, Chapter 2—A Season Two Caskett WIP

Title: Billet Doux, Chapter 2 WC: 1100

A/N: An insert for Sucker Punch (2 x 13) 

She camps out in the laundry room’s lone chair while her clothes churn back and forth in the washer. She has smuggled her still-damp jeans and blouse down a basket full of non–blood soaked clothes and forced herself to throw the whole lot in together. It’s sensible. It would not be sensible to afford them—the two offending items—their own damned machine.It would give them more power than they already have, and it turns out they have a lot of power. So she is sensible and a good citizen of her apartment building to boot. She shoves the entire load into the one washer sufficient to her sensible needs and camps out like she’s guilty of something. 

She is guilty of something, of course. She ended a man’s life. The fact comes to her that way for the first time as she rocks without rhythm from the chair’s three level legs on to the single wonky one. It comes to her that way as she studies the blur of suds and dark fabric tossed on stormy seas behind the machines’s glass front. 

She has regrets. That is astonishingly gross understatement for the complex and potent mix of emotions roiling just beneath the surface, but that’s the part she’s ready to acknowledge right now. She regrets with a pain that is sharp, deep, and constant that she ended Dick Coonan’s life before she could learn anything more about who ordered her mother’s murder. 

She remembers with a burning mix of fury, shame, and embarrassment the first slash of that regret. She remembers the thick, sickening pump of Coonan’s blood beneath her hands and shock of her own scalding tears. But here, with the unsteady tick of a metal chair leg against cracked tile—with the regular shug, shug, shug, of the washer—she regrets taking a man’s life.

That part is belated, and she feels a new kind of shame. She feels a deep uncertainty about herself a cop—as a human—that it’s taken her a day to come around to that. It’s too heavy for the laundry room. It’s too much, and she feels the press of a decade of loss inside her own chest. 

Her phone dings just then. 

She almost jumps out of her skin. The wonky chair nearly goes over entirely backwards and she has a deeply unpleasant flash of memory featuring Sarah Manning and tragic, accidental head wounds in the laundry room. She rights herself at the last second, and the moment is . . . weirdly cathartic. That hot-skin prickle of fear all over her body pops some kind of release valve, and if she’s not actually smiling when she digs the phone out—if her heart is still thumping without rhythm in her chest—she is something closer to centered. 

Full day? Alphabetizing your Russian literature? 

It makes her laugh. The asinine specificity of it—the fact that it’s a dig and a compliment at the same time—makes her laugh loud enough that the sound bounces around the room. 

It’s 9:30 am. Dewey decimal-ed all that after my 10K, before breakfast. 

The washer whirrs to a drum-shaking stop. She pockets the phone and makes herself ignore the second, damned near immediate ding as she separates out what can go In the dryer and what she’’ll take upstairs to toss over the rickety drying rack she needs to replace. She holds up the jeans and tries to decide if the dark color on the damp thighs is imaginary or not. She bundles them into the basket with half a dozen other things and shoves the rest into the dryer. 

She lines up her quarters and gives the silver tongue of the coin slot a shove to set things tumbling. She eyes the damp clothes in the basket, then the wonky chair. It should be no contest. Her tailbone is already griping about the forty-five minutes she’s spent with little but cracked vinyl between her and the plywood seat. 

She launches herself back into it anyway, though. She slips the phone from her pocket and tips herself over on to the wonky leg. She tips herself as far back on two legs as she dares and peeks down at his reply. 

Library talk? Why, Detective, I don’t think I’ve ever sexted before noon . . . 

She blushes. It’s a stupid comment—dorky in the extreme—but it makes her blush and press the phone face down against her thigh for long enough that he must think he’s crossed a line. The phone dings again, and when she flips it screen up, he’s backing off at speed. 

Anyway. Won’t bother you. 

There’s a pause not quite long enough for her to kick herself for locking up for no good reason, other than the fact that she’s not sure whether she’s imaging the dark discoloration on the thighs of her damp jeans. The phone dings again. 

Glad you’re keeping busy. 

Laundry, her thumbs tap out, and there’s a spiritual exclamation point. There’s a plaintive cry and a follow-up. Staring into the tumble-dry void. 

It’s a bit much. It’s more than a bit much, but she doesn’t want him to go. She wants company. She wants his company, but the phone stays silent until she’s on the verge of propping the basket on her hip and heading upstairs. There’s a ding just as the wonky short leg thunks against the cracked tile. 

What’s your tumble-dry mantra? 

Her eyes dart to the machine’s glass front. She hears the metal-on-metal report of zippers and buttons. She thinks of the washer’s shug, shug, shug. She shakes her head, laughing again, because it is meditative, camping out here. It might also be messed up hyper-vigilance about a set of clothes no one in the world would recognize as recently blood soaked, but it’s meditative and not entirely at odds with the reason she said yes to the Captain’s offer of a few days to herself. She closes her eyes and lets sounds of the tumbling drum fill her mind.

She opens them again and grins hard as she taps out her reply: Brassiere. 

She lets it land. She bites her lip and makes herself wait for a long count of five before she follows it up with Yours? complete with the most innocent question mark  in the history of question marks.

It’s more than a long count of five before he replies. It’s more than a long count of five fives before the screen flares. 

Same. How weird is that? A/N: See? Another short chapter where nothing much happens. Brain Poneh gonna Brain Poneh. 

[honestlyfrance]

Summaries :) I’ve always had trouble deciding how to summarise my story but make it very intresting so people want to carry on and read it

hi, anon! Thanks for the ask 💕 having trouble with summaries is a common thing I have too

summaries

Fun fact, you can write summaries however you like to! My summaries were wonky at first because being on AO3 was alien to me at that moment since I was so new to the platform, which was why I write summaries in two ways. Firstly, you need to know two things:

a) Don't spoil in the summary. One thing that peeves me (and maybe others) off is that the major turning point in a story is said, which sucks because then I know how it's going to end. Your summary, the back of the book kind, should have: characters and their role, setting, and major conflict/goal. You can set the major conflict in a question or any way you like, as long as you don't spoil any other small detail or plot twist.

Here's an example of mine to give you an idea:

The twenty-year long partnership between Agent Sam Wilson and Agent James Barnes comes to an end when a promising lead on their cold case, the Missing Carol Danvers, arises, but on their way to Louisiana, obstacles are stacked, secrets are spilled, and tension is thick in the air. Now they must ask a question to themselves: Will I stay, or will I leave this place?

Full name, time setting, place, their roles in the story, and their goal. That's what English class teaches you, and it definitely doesn't mean you should go all out. If you read your summary as a reader and it reels you in, it should work flawlessly for others too.

b) Now you get the usual AO3 kind, or the "excerpt + or + sentence summary." or "excerpt" kind. A cool trick to pull this off, if your opening line is good enough to reel in readers (which it should) you can use that alone! Another thing is if you're going to use this kind of summary, is that you shouldn't use anything that spoils the entirety of the work. To get this output, you can use a dialogue piece that gets you excited and all hyped up, because if it works for you, it will definitely work for others.

Example for you:

"I love art," Sam had signed in ASL, his hands moving enthusiastically as Bucky held onto every word, and it's a tragedy really, when the brown in Sam's eyes had a glint of yellow in them when the sunset settled in them beautifully. "I'm a tour guide actually. Studied it all my life."

Bucky had nodded, his grin almost contagious as he watched the light from the plane window outline Sam's features as if a mosaic. "Do you make art yourself?" He spoke carefully, and his ASL was wonky at best, but Sam appreciated every move of his fingers and lips.

Sam smiled, mouthing, "I wish."

OR

Sam Wilson is in love with art and a sergeant named Bucky Barnes.

It probably won't reel you in the work, but it definitely reveals a lot of things without having too many details stacked upon another.

Overall tip: If your work has a discernible goal and stakes, then use the first tip up there. If it's just your cute lil drabble or one-shot with no discernable goal, you can use the excerpt kind.

I hope this helps you out 💖

-

ask for writing advice?

[oggyfromthebog]

HOLD! WHO GOES THERE? WHY, IS THAT [OGGY BOGWNWAYNE] THE

 [CRIMINAL SCUM] OF [FAHALUNE]? THEY DO LOOK [RAGGED] FOR A [MAN] OF [648] YEARS. DON’T THEY CALL [HIM] THE [JAUNTY AND  WELL-CONNECTED SCREW UP]? I’VE HEARD THEY’RE ALSO [BOORISH AND THICK-HEADED] THOUGH. DON’T TAKE MY WORD FOR IT BUT THEY DO LOOK AN AWFUL LOT LIKE [JOE GILGUN].

Additional Info

Criminal Ties: While not a criminal mastermind Oggy has connections. Is your character involved in smuggling, laundering, selling drugs, unfortunately for your character Oggy is your regular plug. Or your one option to turn to in anycase. He’s also available for thievery, intimidations, inflicting wanton violence, and general mischief.

Best friends, just about, maybe: Oggy just adores your character, looks up to them or is incredibly attracted to them and as such tries very hard to impress them and convince them how similar you both are. He may not have success with that and ends up more as a toady then a ride or die best friend.

Every Cousin’s got a cousin: Oggy is mostly elf, a little human on his mother’s side, and somehow tangentially related to the great house of Fahalune, and a few of its crime families though most would rather ignore this distant cousin he could pop up and remind your character that blood is thicker than water and couldn’t your character set him up with a new job, some cash or a place to stay. Yeah you’re related, he swears, probably.

Drinking/Fighting Buddy: Oggy has a tendency to over indulge, it gets him in trouble sometimes it gets other people in trouble. Your character could be involved. 

We all owe somebody: Oggy also indulges in the vice of gambling, he always manages to have money but rarely keeps it. Your character may be looking to collect a debt, or if he was lucky once he’d be looking to collect from your character.

Optional Info

He has multiple scars and multiple tattoos. Most notable are the scars on his face bisecting his right eyebrow, one clipping his nostril, and one trailing from the corner of his mouth to his chin that sometimes makes him dribble when he drinks.

He has a right eye he describes as ‘wonky’ from getting it cut then healed wrong. The magic “didn’t take right” and like a bad knee that swells and hurts when the weather is bad his eye gets cloudy when it’s bad out.

While technically part of a lesser house he’s never been noble in anysenes. Growing up with organized crime rampant in his port city he took more to the streets. His lesser house never had much in the way of reputation and funds anyway, connections were nice but he still had to fend for himself.

He’s got animal-bonding to some extent, and before teachers gave up on him they thought he could have been a dragon-rider, or at least a gryphon-rider. After problems attending regularly and fighting during magic classes--plus subsequent injuries--that avenue is closed to him.

After failing at dragon riding he’s wondering if someone could teach him how to channel animal-bonding into berserking magic.

Physical Description

HEIGHT: 6’4”

HAIR COLOR: Messy Brown

EYE COLOR: Golden Hazel, Except when the right is Milky White

GENDER: Male

BUILD: Wiry and Tall

DISTINGUISHING FEATURES?: Pointed Elf Ears notched in places, Multiple tattoos, Multiple scars. One notable scar bisecting his eyebrow and running partly down his face.

ANY HEALTH RELATED ISSUES?: Partial blindness in his one eye. 

Personality

Oggy doesn't have a steady job, he picks up the odd one when he can. People who want things done know how to contact him. He's survived this long making a less than legal living, and intends to do so for as long as he is able.

Oggy’s look is distinct, with a notched pointed ear, multiple scars and tattoos, and an eye that works only half the time so much so that Oggy leans into his intimidating features. In his typical line of business it is more lucrative to be scary than goofy as he’d otherwise look.

Oggy is not big on ideals or responsibilities. He’s not a cruel person by any means but he does look out for himself and his own comfort above all else. Not mean, just self centered and lacking a strong moral code.

Oggy is an animal appreciator but also a pragmatist when it comes to meals. 

History

Oggy was born a moderately privileged elf who squandered away opportunities to succeed on the straight and narrow path. Not much happened in his early life that he would consider important. He struggled with motivation for schooling, found an easier path with friends of the family in the organized crime side of the port city he grew up in. Failed out, grew up, disappointed his parents, but still swings by for family dinners and to cause problems on purpose. 

There was always a question in his youth if his biological father was the father he knew since birth, the one his mother married. Neither Bogwnwayne parent seemed to care about monogamy, neither was very good about family conversations, but his mom was the more open one by far. Because of this he’s wary of certain philandering council members, and how related he really is to a portion of the Vae population.

Being gifted in the animal-bonding magic and a city boy in his bones, the majority of the animals he’s been exposed to appart from the meal have been rats. Predominantly rats, but also street dogs, and street cats. May have affected his outlook a bit. 

[captaintuggeroferebor]

the one with the Witch and the Saytr

You smiled, shaking your head fondly at the sight of Orak and Sophie leaving the building for yet another date. The sound of the door opening had made you pause in your typing, letting out a chuckle when you saw the Orc swing her around in his arms before they continued down the street.

The smile turned into a smirk when you thought back to the signs, the premonition that had come to you the morning she had found Taco. You had seen yourself not answering her call and telling her you didn’t know who Taco belonged to.

Premonitions always had a purpose. Only the foolish would deny them or try to challenge them; awful things had happened to Witches who didn’t follow their premonitions.

Your eyes flickered to the clock on the wall and you sighed, standing as you turned the computer off, needing some coffee and a distraction from opening the other apartment buildings you owned. There had been a few setbacks with the contractors, all leading to more and more headaches for you.

The leaves were just beginning to change, the Earth settling into colder weather after Mabon, and now as Samhain approached the thinning of veil between all the worlds made everything seem all the colder to you.

You thanked the gods the ability to see spirits was not common among your line.

After snatching up your phone and grabbing your hand sewn coat, you stepped out of the bottom level of the apartment complex straight into your garden. It had been necessary to have one but also attracted more and more people to your building.

Everything in the small space grew better, making your decision to allow a Pagan into the building a no brainer.

Your herbs had never been more potent and easier to put into potions.

Even if Pagans and Witches didn’t have a particularly…kind past.

The walk to the coffee shop wasn’t a long one, but it lead you through the more cozier parts of the city. Past the elementary school, the seaside pub, and the auto shop that had just been put it; you dreaded the day it got as busy as the inner parts of the city.

The coffee shop was lopsided, the shapes wonky and out of place, held together by golden lines of magyck and your face lit up when you stepped into the bustling place. People were nearly backed out the door, Elves, humans, Orcs, and several others.

It appealed to all and was your favorite place in the-

You groaned in exasperation when you realized which barista was working the bar then turned it into a cough when the Orc in front of you gave you a strange look.

The barista’s name tag read Los and he had always annoyed you; his puns and sassy comebacks grated on your nerves in just the right way to set you on edge. Which only made the situation worse. Because you had worked customer service jobs for years and didn’t want to bet hat customer, you never wanted to be that person.

But Los…just.

You suddenly had the urge to scream; you had enough problems right now without throwing him into the mix.

After getting to the front of the line and ordering, you went to wait for your drink, praying to the Gods that Los would somehow not notice you.

But of course he did his moss green eyes narrowed before smirking in your direction. You had committed yourself to the right hand path of magyck, but the look on his handsome, open looking face made you reconsider it.

He moved with efficiency, you begrudgingly told yourself despite the urge to hiss at thinking that. Los wasn’t too tall, only a few inches taller than you, his body lean and lanky. The horns on his head started just above and forward of his ears, curling around twice and giving him a menacing look.

Well, when he wasn’t wearing the polo and apron, you amended.

That did take away from it.

Los called your name, his voice mellow and pleasant. That was, until your fingers touched and his face split into the most self serving grin as he said, “Got a bit of resting Witch face without your coffee.”

He winked.

And you did you best not to storm out of the coffee shop like an angry child.

You had already stomped halfway back to your apartment when you realized there was something written on the cup, something you had nearly mistaken for the rune tattoos on your knuckles.

His number was written there, along with a winking face.

You were definitely considering the left hand path now.

*

“We could get some boos tonight.”

You stopped typing and made a face so ridiculous at the wall, knowing that Los would have laughed had he seen it; you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

“Oh but I did,” Los laughed on the other end now, low and pleasant.

You shook your head, returning to your typing. “I hate you and your stupid puns, you know that.”

“Do you hate me? Or is it you just wanna put me in my place?” he asked, his tone far too sickly sweet to be anywhere near innocent.

The week or so you had been texting back and forth had progressed pretty quickly to phone calls, following the fact that Los had made one too many kitchen puns while sending you pictures of him cooking something absolutely awful and you hadn’t been able to stop yourself.

You called to tell him why he was an idiot and in how many ways he was an idiot. Which only made him laugh and you hated to admit it, he then made you laugh as well.

Now he called you whenever he could.

But his words, the struck a cord with you and you felt yourself grow warm and crossed your legs.

“And if I did?” you asked.

You could hear the smile and heat in his voice when he spoke. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, after a few drinks. Tonight at the pub?”

“I’ll be there.”

*

The kiss was hungry, sloppy in the best way. You and Los stumbled towards his car, the alcohol in your system making your skin hot, too hot. Your tattoos glowed in the moonlight and when you pulled apart your shirt.

He gasped, looking at you like you were the most powerful and beautiful thing he had ever seen. “Gonna put me in my place?”

His dark curls were strewn about his head, green eyes bright, pupils slitted horizontally and blow wide. The button up shirt he wore was mused from where you had been pulling him, the fabric tight over his arms in the best way. Your glowing eyes traced over his features, the arch his nose,  and his down turned ears.

You spun him around, grinning when he let out a gasp as you unlocked the door and turned him again, pushing him into the seat.

“Stay.” you commanded, a rush of magyck flowing from your fingertips.

A simple spell that didn’t require words, and no one would see or hear you for a time.

Los looked up at you, licking his lips. You sank to your knees, running your fingers through the thick fur on his legs. He twitched, hooves scraping against the ground, but stopped when you shot him a look.

“Good boy.”

He shuddered at the praise and you bit your lip, fingers curling around his cock, spreading the precum that dribbled from the tip, stroking him slowly. Los whined at that, hips thrusting up in an attempt to get more friction.

You squeezed hard, causing him to yelp. “No, we’re gonna do this at my speed. Not yours.”

He looked like he wanted to disobey but then let out a needy noise, nostrils flaring.

All of that defiance disappeared when you moved your hand again, a few more times before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, sucking. Just enough.

Los fell back against the seat. His head thumped against the seat, a desperate, low noise came from his mouth.

“Please,” he begged hoarsely.

You quirked a brow before waiting a moment, wanting to drag out his torture for just a little longer.

His hooves scraped against the ground again, the muscles in his legs and stomach jumped as he stopped himself from thrusting upward.

Without warning you swallowed his length, the thrumming between your legs intensifying at his yell of surprise and then the long, drawn out moan he let out. You kept your eyes on him as you pulled back, using your hand in a corkscrew motion; a hum coming from your mouth at the sight of him desperately clawing at the leather beneath his hands.

“Fuck, please, don’t stop,” Los babbled.

You bobbed your head, running your other hand through the thick fur on his legs.

It wasn’t long before he couldn’t help but to thrust upward into your mouth, fingers digging into the leather now, and you let out a moan of your own at his desperation.

That only spurred him on and that was enough to make you pull back, ignoring his begging.

You pulled him up and out of the car slow by his shirt, your lips connected in a lewd, downright filthy way, neither of you caring about the finesse of it anymore. With your free hand you unzipped your skirt before breaking the kiss, the two of you panting, but not pulling back.

Your forehead pressed against his, voice hoarse and absolutely wrecked when you spoke. “You’re gonna bend me over and fuck me.”

“Fast or slow,” he leaned forward, nipping at you bottom lip.

You nearly growled. “Fast.”

Los shoved your skirt down and spun you around, a hand on your back forcing you to bend over, your hands braced on the back seat. You let out a whine when he rubbed the head of his cock against your folds, spreading your arousal around. A small whine escaped you when he brushed against your swollen, neglected clit.

He groaned, “If this is what bossing me around does to you…you can do it all the time.”

You didn’t get a chance to comment on that, he slammed into you in one smooth stroke and you let out a scream at the pain and pleasure. It had been so long it burned as his girth stretched you, the sting only made you crave release all the more.

There was no chance to brace yourself, your body jerking forward each time he thrusted back into you, only seconds after he pulled out. Your legs shook as he hit just the right spot each time as pleasure jolted through you.

Los didn’t slow down, his hands gripped your hips hard enough that he would leave a mark. You couldn’t stop the noises coming from your mouth anymore, head hanging as you simply tried to stay standing, the desperate whimpers and sighs were the only thing you could get out.

He leaned over, breath hot on your neck, hips jerking as his fur covered legs pressed against yours. One of his hands left your waist, moving to your clit and rubbed it in hard, fast circles.

“Fuck, Los,” you cried out, legs threatening to collapse as the pleasure rushed over you and you came hard and fast.

You only stayed standing because Los refused to let you collapse, the tightening of your walls around him was too much. His hips jerked forward a few more times and he cried out your name, warm seed spilling inside you, filling you.

Los’ hands were gentle when he pulled out of you, turning you around to press his lips to yours sweetly. “I’ll follow your lead anytime.”

“You said that,” you kissed him again. Then, after a moment, you frowned. “We’d better get out of here, my spell will wear off soon.”

“Round two at my place?”

“Hmm.” you chose not to answer the question, other biting you lip as you shimmied your skirt back up your hips.

[emsartwork]

I hope its not too much of an ask, but what would be like a "typical traditional dress" of each of the winx home planets? Like, I know modern and interplanetar fashion is mostly worn, but what about like a dress that just screams *insert planet*?

omg yes!!! ive been wanting to talk about this for a while lol thank you for indulging me

all of the girls are drawn as the princesses of their respective planets(even the ones who aren’t princesses), excluding tecna who is drawn as the queen of zenith because the royalty there is based on intelligence and not bloodline.(and also because tecna will def become queen lbr)

lynphea has very temperate climates, not too cold but not too hot. the land is primarily covered in forests and prairie, with a moderate level of variation in hill and valley heights. the costline is ragged with many inlets and port cities, as well as many many sources of fresh water inland. Lynphean clothing is primarily made with natural fibers and dyed with various plant and animal substances. though many dyes of lynphea could produce VERY vibrant colors, they prefer to leave their cloth in more subdued colors. 

lynphean traditional dress consists of a light colored stand up collar shirt with lighter cuffs, dark loose pants gathered at the ankle, and simple flat bottom shoes(or none at all), and is all gender neutral. in warm weather they wear cotton or linen as a short sleeve shirt, with loose and breathable silk pants, with flats usually made of bees-waxed fabric(to water proof) with a leather sole. in cooler weather they wear a long sleeve silk shirt over a woolen undershirt, with wool pants and leather boots. Lynphean royal dress(floras outfit here is based off of krystal’s dress at the sovereign’s council) consists of a loose shirt/dress over pants with metal accents, and a sleeveless floor length coat featuring a high detailed collar. The lynphean circlets are two parts, one on the head and one around the shoulders, both are tied in the back with cords and are made of a uniquely flexible metal called lynphenite. The heir’s circlet’s have an orange stones and the sovereign’s have blue.

lynphea is the only one that i didn’t base off of another culture, which might be why its a little more plain lol

Melody has a varied climate, leaning a little more towards cold than warm, but some areas can approach tropical. The topography is full of mountains and valleys, and people live where they can. the coast has many many small islands scattered around it before stretching out into open sea. fresh water is available primarily in the form of rivers. Melodian clothing is primary made of silk and hemp equivalents that leave the cloth in strong colors from the beginning. They can produce very strong dyes, but a sign of wealth is having clothing in pure white which is very hard to achieve with traditional methods.

Melodian traditional clothing consists of a wrapped tunic/robe with a belt, over tight or wide legged pants, and slippers. Its mostly gender neutral, thought men tend not to wear as wide belts/sashes.  In warm weather they wear a short robe over fitted capris and slippers, they tend to wear brighter/warmer colors in the summer and spring. In colder weather they wear a long robe, usually layered over another robe or wide pants(not pictured), with an unfastened coat of thick woven fibers. Melodian royal dress (i VERY VERY loosely based what musa is wearing off of Galatea’s outfit at the sovereign’s council) consists of many many layers of snow white cloth trimmed in gold, its really hard to do anything in traditional royal dress so its only really worn for ceremonies and hyper formal events.

I based Melodian clothing off of chinese and japanese clothing.

Solaria has a warm to VERY WARM climate.  The land is very largely covered in desert, the only spots of life are surrounding a river or oasis. the coast is full of river deltas and is the where the most cities are located. Solaria has a near constant rain storm at the northern pole due to their wonky rotation. It is the source of most of their rivers, and living in that area is considered impossible. their clothing is primarily made of linen and is incredibly light. They have mostly blue or orange/red dyes.

Solaria traditional dress consists of a light linen dress fastened at the chest or shoulders, a belt of leather or metal, and leather strap sandals. It is all gender neutral. In warm weather, solarians wear short tunics draped from the shoulder. In the odd cool weather, they wear a long, short sleeved dress, with a draped vest. leather is more common than metal in cold weather. Solarian royal dress(stella’s dress here is based off her episode 1 dress before she and blood get to alfea) consists of a long long dress or short tunic, with a long, colored sash/wrap over it. metal accessories at the waist and collar are common. the crown  of the solarian heir has no jewels, but the sun and moon crowns feature white/blue and yellow/orange gems.

I based the solarian clothing off of ancient greek, roman, and egyptian clothing

Andros is MOSTLY ocean, and has a climate similar to earth’s, warm in the middle cold at the poles. Islands are spread all over the planet but most of the population lives on the largest cluster and have a lot of bridges and ferries through them. Their clothing is made of linen and silk, as well as a planet specific fabric called tidal-web which is mostly water resistant. a lot of it is actually knitted instead of woven leaving no seems. They have MANY dyes and prefer bright colors.

Androsian traditional clothing is a bright thigh or knee length shirt, is belted at the waist, over darker pants gathered into a cuff below the knee, with leather, strapy sandals or boots; there is gold embroidery everywhere. Gender neutral. In warm weather the shirts are sleeveless and the pants shorter, both are made of linen or tidal-web. in colder weather they wear a short sleeve tunic over a cuffed long sleeve. the pants are thicker and have more fabric but are still gathered into a cuff. the leather androsians use is generally seal leather, and is used for shoes and belts, and sometimes coats. Androsian royalty wear a longer tunic over silk pants. The tunic is usually more complex with more embroidery or a different cut to the sleeves. The heir and the king/queen related to the ocean also wear a draped, pinned, floor length vest. 

I based these outfits off of other androsians I’ve drawn, but I think i based the original version of Aisha’s parents off of Afghan clothing.

Zenith has a very cold climate, most of the planet is tundra or glacier. where there is land, they have some impressive mountain ranges and a lot of the zenithian cities are actually inside the mountains in cave systems. the coastline suffers frequent cold storms in the winter and much of the population there are summer only. Zenithian clothing is made of cotton, wool, fur, and leather. They use knit as often, if not more, than woven material. They have very few plant based dyes, and are limited to purple and green. 

Zenithian traditional clothing consists of a front fastened, collared, shirt, a fur lined coat, and wool trousers with leather boots. they’re pretty gender neutral, women will sometimes wear a skirt instead of pants, but this isn’t preferred as its leaves legs cold. In warm weather they wear a light coat over a cotton long sleeve, the pants are a loose wool, and the boots are water proofed leather.They usually wear darker colors in the summer. In cold weather they wear fur hats, wool scarves, knitted undershirts, sweaters, a fur lined wool/leather coat, wool thermals, leather/wool pants, and waterproofed leather boots with metal grits on the bottom to grip ice. Zenithian royalty is determined by intelligence, so even if your dad is the king of zenith you might not be the prince/princess. The King/Queen formal wear consists of the Spark of Zenith head-dress(the crown basically), a collared shirt, with metalic fibers woven in, a fur lined, metal accented coat, a metal collar/chest plate, pants, and leather/metal boots.

I based the zenithian clothing on russian and mongolian traditional clothing.  

Domino has a unique climate as its totally dependent on the topography. The planet is covered in high, high mountains, and most peaks are uninhabitable. The people of domino live in the more temperate valleys between the mountain ranges. The coast line is a lot of sheer cliffs, but where some valleys meet the ocean there are thriving port cities. Their clothing is made of cotton, linen, leather, and wool, as well as a planet specific clothing called dragon’s-breath, which is light while still being very warm. They have access to a few dyes, and mostly stick to light/bright colors, or leave cloth undyed.

Dominian traditional dress for women consists of a shirt and skirt, made of either linen, cotton, or dragon’s-breath, with a leather corset and shoes. The men would simple substitute pants and a vest. In warm weather, they wear the most basic set of shirt and skirt, with a leather under/over bust leather corset, and water proof leather shoes. the sleeves are often rolled up and the skirts are occasionally hiked up to the knee depending on the heat. IN cooler weather the shirt and skirt are made of dragons-breath, providing warmth with out heaviness. the shirt is ruched and fastened up all the way. an over skirt is also added consisting of moisture wicking wool and a contrasting trim. the corset is leather and lined with cotton. Dominian royalty (bloom’s dress is completely made up here) have a shirt with invisible fasteners, and a long skirt. The over skirt is replaced by a draped floor length vest under the embroidered leather corset. The sleeves are full and gathered along the upper arm with a ribbon that matches the cuff holding the sleeve to the wrist. Dominian royalty hand make their crowns so each one is different.

I based Dominian fashion on medieval europe, specifically scotland/ireland, with a few chinese aspects thrown in(because the great dragon looks more like an eastern dragon despite being associated with fire???) 

lmao this was probably more than you wanted but i love worldbuilding so much sry