#and i have to imagine for real the shading and like so evidently present fabric folds and the lighting/shading; again; for emphasis; was a

[unproduciblesmackdown]

forsooth reread the first part of lackadaisy and just a few excerpts, particularly w/a visual focus

like i said, that i started reading this in '07 (which, consulting the copyrights, means the end of this section was still Currently Updating at that time, very fun for me, i do also remember A Break b/w the end of that section & the first page of part two b/c i remember being so [oouhh hell yes] when that updated)

mentioning the off the shits quality right from the start and like, around this age maybe already starting to draw a bit more / beyond like doodles to pass the time at school or at home largely; not being at all very Online yet to know abt what the hell people post anywhere so like my god people not only just make their own comics, not only are they essentially ongoing graphic novels, someone can also just be making something this high quality....intriguing and just holistically inspirational on the artistic front, that people just Were out there able to just do this kind of stuff, nonprofessionally, b/c they wanted to. and just the intrigue of like, i loved keeping up with it as a whole then & since, the historical element is fun, the drama & mystery elements, the dynamic adventure aspect, the slightly lighthearted playful nature of the work overall (jellicle...), the constant relevance of Character and the constant progression of Story

but also it sure occurred to me that a big like Artistic Illumination & Motivation element of it is how immediately effectively quasi three-dimensional the art is, especially with the figures: the realistically consistent geometry in changing perspectives / characters being consistently constructed out of would-be three-dimensional shapes, the Lighting/Shading doing a ton to define the 3D shapes, the use of fabric wrinkling adding not just visual detail but following form & movement....middle school / would-be high school years as sure a particularly transformative time for my drawing like, hey, i can just do stuff, hey i can make & post niche fanart so that i'm motivated to draw just a lot more b/c i really am hardly moved to do it outside of that lmao....and i imagine that having This dropped in my lap and like, its feeling pretty immediate was this inspiration of like, organically selling this approach of Constructing Figures / to be thinking of things very three-dimensionally even when it Wasn't actually like, animation or an elaborate still life. like evidently my own art is very Line focused but i would say i'm also definitely thinking of figures as 3D like this / striving for the linework serving that too, or just generally striving for more [the Geometry works "realistically" despite obvious stylization, as it clearly does w/lackadaisy]

[vidalinav]

Nessian Week Day 2: Gifts (Part 2)

Summary: Cassian likes Nesta’s night gowns... and buying her things. Swear this is not a sugarbaby AU. It just sounds like it. 

You can thank @arinbelle and @simpingfornestaarcheron for this. They threatened me with knives. 

~

Nesta’s on the armchair when he gives her his gift. She’s already reading a book, and he can tell she’s surprised to see another one resting on his palm. 

“What’s this?” She asks, “It’s not my birthday.” 

Cassian only smirks, looking to wear she traces the cover, and where she traces his hands holding the book as if his skin is more precious than paper. “Does it need to be your birthday for me to give you gifts?” 

Nesta raises a too heavy shoulder for him gifting her a book. But he’s long since heard this argument she gives. He knows her all too well. 

“I haven’t gotten you anything,” she says as if the words might make it take him back. There’s disdain in her voice and Cassian knows it’s for herself. For the lack of love she thinks he’ll find by her actions. 

Cassian thinks no such thing. Nesta loves with her whole heart, so achingly overflowing. She rubs at his wrist without so much as a thought, as if it might soothe some pain in him. But the pain is in her, and so Cassian rushes to absolve her of her misguided guilt. “I don’t give you things, expecting anything in return. I get you thinks because I want to.” 

"But you’ve gotten me so many things lately.” 

Nesta’s right about that. Cassian is endlessly giving her gifts. He can’t stop, it seems. He goes into the city and they pass by a window, and something about that bag reminds him of Nesta. Something about that bike seems like Nesta. Something about that candle smells like Nesta. He passes restaurants and bakeries, and all around he sees food Nesta might try. He goes walks through the city, and he thinks of all the places Nesta would like. 

She never leaves his mind and when he’s spent the day with his friends, meetings turning into dinner, Cassian thinks of Nesta then, too. He stops by the bookstore, because what else screams Nesta Archeron, but a smutty book? He peruses the titles and finds the raunchiest he can find. Cover and all. 

That’s what he gives her to absolve himself of his guilt. For being away for so long, for not asking if she wants to come with, or go somewhere else. That’s what she holds in her lap. Something to ease them both. 

She sets the other book on the side table, and Cassian recognizes the title. One of her favorites she keeps re-reading. Nesta takes the book, flipping to the inside cover. Even the description is tantalizing. Cassian flips to some random page in the store and it has him wanting to read the words to her, or... have her read the words to him. He can only imagine what they can do with all that description. 

“You brought me a romance?” Nesta only looks up at him, blinking those long lashes and furrowing her neat brows. “How did you know which one to choose?” 

She purses her lips and Cassian focuses on the color. A dark shade of pink from where she bites. Nesta always bites them when she reads. A bad habit of hers.

But it’s the color that Cassian holds on to. How nicely it contrasts with her skin, the sweet freckles dotted across her shoulders from when she trains. Her shoulders are bare, except for two tiny straps. Such flimsy things to pull and tug. Still he wants to kiss at them like he does every night. Such an engrained, important routine.  

“You think I don’t know your tastes?” Cassian snorts. “I picked the one with the male that looked most like me. See.” He points to the cover, where there’s indeed a muscled male, with long dark hair. Cassian’s hair is shorter and his ears aren’t pointy and his muscles are much more defined, but it’ll do for Nesta’s fantasies. 

Nesta scrunches her nose and Cassian wants to kiss their too. Everything about her is tooth-rotting sweet. 

“You’re full of yourself,” she says. 

“And you haven’t said thank you,” he taunts. He uses the voice he knows annoys her. Casually chastising. A voice he knows also makes her blush. Maybe that makes her irritated, too, how much he affects her without trying. Cassian uses that tone well, and he uses it often. 

Cassian raises a brow, waiting for her response, but his mate waves a hand, half-dismissive, half-haughty. All manners of insecurity tucked away. This is the Nesta he knows so well. He knows the other parts of her, too. But this is the one he fans the flames to, the one who makes him light up with mischief. “I didn’t ask for the gift.” 

Cassian almost tuts, shaking his head. “But you like it. Page 103 has something in there we should try.” He tucks a stray piece of hair that falls forward, and he makes sure to brush his hands across her neck. “He takes his whole fist and he--” 

“Stop!” Nesta calls. “Fine, I like the gift. Please don’t give me anymore details.” 

Cassian smiles, a wide victorious grin. “And that means?”

Nesta scoffs, “thank you, Cassian.” 

“A please and a thank you, what will the world do?” He kisses her head, suddenly serious. He can smell lavender and peppermint tea and just her scent alone makes him want to hold her close. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. 

Cassian moves to sit on the side of the armchair. His plan is for Nesta to move, to make room for him as she so often does. Another part of their routine. The chair is big enough for them both. Perhaps they can read the book to each other, exchange word for every smoldering word. 

Nesta doesn’t budge from the seat. She begins to read and Cassian coughs, shuffling on the tiny arm space. He nudges against her shoulder, but Nesta simply continues. She doesn’t even smile up at his antics, give him a glare because he irritates her. She reads and she ignores him. 

“You haven’t gotten me anything,” Cassian complains.  

Nesta huffs, “you just said you didn’t give me things to receive anything back.” 

She barely lifts her eyes off the page as she tells him that and something about the way she looks at the book annoys him, has him wanting to reach for it and take it back, throw it out the window if he has to. 

“I can think of more than a few ways to thank me,” he goads. 

Nesta rolls her eyes, “All you think about is sex.” 

Cassian doesn’t disagree. Especially not when she begins biting at her lip as she reads. “Yes, but that’s all you think about, too.” 

He gestures to the book in her lap as proof and Nesta squints at him as if he needs to come up with better evidence.

“No,” she argues, “I’m currently thinking about how long it will take me to read this... I might be up all night.” She flips to another page. “You just got me something new to read and you were just going on about manners, I’d think it rude to not first enjoy my gift.”

“And what of my gift?” He sings.  

Nesta raises a brow, and it’s that expression that has him burning at the seams. Her hair is down and he wants to comb his fingers through it, pull at it, feel how soft it is... and she’s wearing one of those nightgowns again. 

She always wearing one, even if Nesta will hardly keep it on throughout the night. Cassian never knows what to do with his hands while she’s wearing it and he thinks that Nesta must know. She wears it to entice him. To make him want her more like that’s even possible. 

It’s possible, Cassian finds. 

Her nightgown today is the richest green and her skin glows pale in the moonlight. He aches to trace the sweet swell of her breasts with his tongue. They look so inviting in that silk dress of hers and there’s a bow right at the center. His present to unwrap. 

“I’m very satisfied with you being my present.” He says, his voice so low he can hardly recognize himself. With his thumb, he traces the little ribbon. “Look, you even have the bow.” 

Cassian watches as the blush rises at her chest and he wants to kiss there. He aches to do so, but first he moves to tug the ribbon with his teeth. And when Nesta straightens, her book lowering even further, he nips at her nipples that peak through the fabric. Just how she likes. A little bite and a tug, a little pain to entice her. To make her breath catch in her throat. 

He takes his time with them. Nesta’s breasts are gods given. They deserve his attention. Large enough to fit in his palms. 

But Nesta’s impatient as she always is. 

Cassian leans forward, until he’s practically towering over his mate. She’s so small on that couch and she looks lonely there, all tucked in dark blue. The book lays open where the fabric billows between her legs, but Nesta pays no mind. 

“Now will you let me unwrap my gift?” Cassian grasps her neck, and Nesta gasps but he merely rubs his thumb at her pulse. He can hear it hammering away as Nesta blinks, her eyes so wide and her cheeks so pink and he’s just at the edge of her mouth. 

He thinks he’ll kiss her there, but first... 

Cassian snatches the book from her lap. He holds it above his head as she leaps from the chair. Irate and just a tad too slow.

“Hey!” She scowls, “You overgrown bat! You just got me that book and now you’re bending the pages!” 

“It seems you get distracted easily, sweetheart. We should work on that,” He says. 

But Nesta’s been working on many things and so she lunges for him, wrapping her legs around his waist as she reaches for her book. Cassian merely holds it higher. 

“I mean why read smut when you can experience the real thing?” He offers. Nesta reaches even further, pulling at his shoulders. Cassian moves the book to the other hand, just out of her reach. “I’m always willing.” 

“You’re a horrible person and I hate you.” 

Cassian gasps at that, holding his other hand to his chest. 

“I don’t even want your gifts,” she adds, her eyes burning with fury. 

“Now you’re just asking to be spanked,” Cassian says, shaking his head, “Is that what you want, Nes? I think that was on page 50. It’s a shame you never got to it.”

“You just like to hear yourself talk!” But Nesta looks at him as she blushes, and when he smirks, she wacks him in the chest. “Give me back my book!” 

Cassian merely wraps his arms around her, keeping her steady in his arms. The book is tucked behind her back and Nesta twists to no avail. “How about you read it to me?” 

She hits at his chest again and Cassian laughs. “Fine, I can read it to you, but you should know I’m going to make voices for the characters.” 

“I hate you,” she seethes. 

Cassian only smiles and kisses at her nose. “I love you, too, Nes.” 

~

@arinbelle @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @nestaarcher0n @duskandstarlight @soitsgorgeous @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @thewhelk @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell @lovelynesta @sirendeepity @champanheandluxxury @ladynestaarcheron @moodymelanist @teagoddess99 @spoilersteph @angelic-voice-1997 @bo0kmaster69 @drielecarla @generalnesta @cozycomfyliving08

~

Two fics in one day? So unlike me. 

[globerjk]

A MIRACULOUS STORY HAPPENING AROUND CHRISTMAS

A gift for @chelseaapproved in the 2k18 Secret Santa Exchange @mlsecretsanta. This is only the second chapter but this story will continue. Here´s the link to the first one.

Happy Holidays, I hope you enjoy

CHAPTER 2

Face flushing, utterly embarrassed and clinging to just 30 inches of fabric for dear life, Adrien Agreste let out a less than masculine shirk.

“La-la-ladybug!?”

His high pitched yell was the only sound disrupting the otherwise quiet night.  

She opened her mouth, closed it and then opened it again continuing the motion several times as she froze in shock but took the time to look him up and down before collecting herself.  Finally turning around and covering her reddening face in her hands, all she could do was join him in his screech with her eyes tightly shut.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry…. Ohh my goodness Adrien, I’m so so so sorry… Ohh God, that did not just happen… I saw nothing, NOTHING! I swear!!!”

Why was this his life?

Given that this was his private suite, he was tempted to leave the bathroom totally nude.  It was almost midnight and the heater was providing the most enjoyable atmosphere to do so; at the very last second right after opening the door and without looking into the bedroom, he took a towel to put around his waist with the only purpose to get Plagg to shut up.

He wasn’t expecting anyone anyway, let alone his superhero partner to be showing up unannounced; but since the Kwami was getting in his nerves, loudly complaining about his new found liking for nudity he made the good –and very last second- call of covering himself up.

It wasn’t a kink or anything like that but just a silly thing that made him feel independent after so many years of living a controlled life in the Agreste’s household; similar to having sweets for dinner, over sleeping on the weekends or not always matching his socks.

And to think he felt exposed to his Lady when he dropped his transformation just hours ago, talk about averting catastrophic events, final destination style.  There was no Camembert big enough to show his gratitude to his annoying companion.

Maybe if he invested in a cheese factory, maybe.

After the initial shock, he grabbed the first pair of pajamas pants and weathered t-shirt available and put them on at light speed.  Placing himself in front of Ladybug, he touched her shoulder to let her know that it was ok to look at him.

They found themselves staring into each other’s eyes with matching red faces before he gestured her to sit with him on the couch.

“You know?” She finally broke the first uncomfortable silence since the beginning of their partnership.

“I don’t, but go ahead” he shrugged, still not meeting her gaze.

“Must you joke? At a time like this?” she smiled and finally began to relax, looking at him as her face tuned down to a pretty pink shade.

"Well, now that you´ve learned who I am, can you really blame me?” his smile contradicting the sadness in his voice.

“No, I suppose I can’t” she smiled fondly “actually, I makes a lot of sense” her tone was soft as she leaned over to place her head in his shoulder and her hand into his. “I came here to apologize, Adrien. It was petty of me to leave without even telling you how I felt with the turn of events and you deserve so much more than that” She took a deep breath and let it out before continuing “I signed up for Christmas fun with my partner not to get my circuits fried.”

“Sorry My Lady” he kept his gaze also blushing slightly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for” she squeezed his hand “maybe just for surprising me and stealing my thunder”

“What do you mean ´your thunder´?”

She scratched her head with her free hand, annoyed at how inaccurate she sounded “What I´m trying to say is that I was thinking, I AM thinking, about telling you who’s behind my mask, you just beat me to it, I guess" She shrugged.

“Really? Wow!” Adrien shifted making her move her head so they were facing each other.

“Not right now tough, soon. I’m wasn’t quite ready yet and I won´t let your reveal make me fell pressure. Besides…” she was cautious but he took her other hand, now holding both to encouraged her to continue.

“Now that I know who you are, I’m more convince that I need to wait”

“Why?!” He was louder than necessary, hurt and concern evident in the way he let go of her hands.

“Please don’t get the wrong idea. I love that you told me, I do” She hurried to reassure him and interlaced their fingers again “Adrien you had to deal with the identity of Hawkmoth all by yourself? I can’t even begin to imagine what you must have felt, discovering that your own father… and his goal being… “she stopped for a second to breath and then forced herself to continue “I wasn’t there for you and I´m supposed to be your best friend. when you revealed your identity, all I could see was a friend that I let down”

Tears were covering her eyes and his were starting to match. Little sobs slipping away unauthorized from her.

“Don’t worry Bug. My friends have me covered, also my annoying Kwami” he tried to lighten the mood “plus, my father and I are seeking professional help. We are going to therapy, together and apart and I’m actually moving back with him for the holidays” He placed their hands on his chest to try to convince her that it was all going better, she didn’t need to worry about him.

“Why are you consoling me when I’m here to comfort you? I wasn’t there for you as Ladybug and I wasn’t there as myself either, and there´s no one else to blame but myself. Hawkmoth was out of business; what real reason did I have to keep my identity from you? I can only assume what you felt after my poor reaction tonight and I´m so sorry for that. You must think I´m a horrible person, I felt such guilt that I couldn´t face you. I needed to think of a way to make it up to you, I still have to figured it out… But I promise that I will” She was crying so hard that it was breaking his heart.

“You don’t need to My Lady” His tone still calm, reassuring.

“I do, Chat, I do.  Because I was half there for my partner Chat, who was as surprised as me but unaffected on a personal way and I was… I mean, I’m sure your friends were there for you as Adrien but I Know you could begin to explain to them the magnitude of your situation.  What did you even tell them? That you were going through some difficulties with your father?” Breathing deeper was helping her get out of her chest what she wanted Adrien to understand. She knew that she was breaking some sort of record with this amount of rambling, but she wanted it all out.

“They think our problem is an abusive relationship and in a way that’s the truth”

Simple, no more explanations were needed and his friends where all over him. Chloe even got him a suite on his father’s hotel free of charge and during the first toughest months she, Nino, Alya and even Marinette took turns to stay with him over night.

“I was never alone. I always was at least with one of my friends and always with my Kwami. Remember Plagg? Little black kitty? The power to knock down the Eiffel tower? He’s being an amazing companion as exasperating as he can be”

“I warn you kid, the next time you are about to show your ´ding-dong´ to your Lady, there will be no annoying or exasperating kwami to stop you. You just keep insulting me and you´ll see” Plagg interrupted mockingly, making the two teen blush intently.  They released their hands as if on fire and adverted each other’s gaze.

“Plagggggg!!!!” Adrien hiss at his friend, who just went into the bathroom with a piece of cheese.

Mortified, Adrien inhaled and exhaled sharply before joining their hands once again.  Ladybug took it as a sign to continue, still very red.

"Well, now you have me as well, knowing all of you” She smiled and this time it felt genuine even with her blush and Adrien felt his heart skip a beat.

How wrong would it seem to kiss her now, since the conversation had been so dense? Probably not the best idea, so he stopped himself before leaning closer.

“So tell me, Adrien Chat Noir Agreste, what are this big plans for the holidays you mentioned?” It was good to see her calm, it helped him relax as well.

“Well, our therapist feels like we are ready to try to live together again and I have to admit that I agree.  For as much as I was disappointed and angry, I must confess that I never stopped loving my father.  He came clean to me as Adrien, you Know? Before he gave back the miraculouses” he smiled at her “that help a lot”

“Seriously?” If he could see her eyebrows they surely be up in her hairline.

“Yes, the same day.  He came to my room right before leaving for the massage house.  One hour later, the master was summoning us and the rest as they say, its history” It felt so good to tell her all of this, to finally have her being a part of his life as Adrien.  That’s what he had set out to get when he decided to reveal.  

He still loved her, very much, but he was in peace with the fact that his feelings were unrequired.  Being distracted with the hole ¨Hawkmoth turn out to be daddy¨ issue was at least helpful for this.

*

Ladybug and Adrien felt lighter after the long talk, getting closer on the couch and going from the heavy topics to brighten the mood with jokes till they felt sleep entangle in each other.

The next morning, Marinette was awakening first thanks to a remorseful Tikky.  The Kwami was sorry for not being able to hold the transformation longer but was clever enough to borrow a cookie and tap her holder´s face to get her attention before Adrien could caught her unmask and on her fluffy pajamas.

The pink light wake him but he didn’t get the chance to steal a snick peak of the girl beneath the suit.

“Good Morning beautiful” Ohh good his raspy morning voice, of course! He hurried to clear his throat.

“Morning handsome” Hey, she teased back! “I´m going to go before my parents kill me for not being in my bedroom”

“Big plans for today My Lady?”

“Not really, I´m finishing the last touches of some presents in the morning and a movie marathon with my dad for the afternoon”

“What about le réveillon de Noël?”

“Ohh well… I´m only half French and we actually celebrate tomorrow.  I may be joining a friend with his family though”

“Half French, huh? What about the other half?”

“Another story for another day” She teased “What about you, big moving day right?”

“Yes, I´d say I could use the help but I have the muscle part cover” He even flexed, morning Adrien was not a very articulate Adrien.

“By your bodyguard, I assume” she chuckled, still teasing him.

“Thanks” He frowned

“But seriously, do you need anything or?

“Don’t worry, I have a friend who´s family also celebrates tomorrow.  I was planning on asking her to accompany my father and me to the Midnight mass after the standard French dinner: Seafood and oysters as starters with bread and butter, followed by caviar, foie gras and then lots and lots of traditional Bûche de Noël”

“Looks like your friend is in for a treat, how come she doesn´t celebrate on the 24th?”

“Well, she´s half Chinese, and they celebrate on the 25th this year” He said stretching, he did not sleep well in that couch.

“Hey, what do you know! I´m also half Asian.  Ok-got-to-go-now-bye”

“What!” Adrien was surprised with that little fact about Ladybug.  Not giving him time to process, she simply half hug him and hurried out the window.  

Next part

[loveandcigarillos]

Partition

Ryan Coogler x Black!Reader

Warnings: Language and Beyonce-inspired  Smut.  

A/N: Why not do two in one day since I’m feeling creative. I’m thinking about a part two to this. If you want to be tagged in future things, let me know Also, @thelipstickdiaryfiction on​ is my separate blog for a Coogler/ MBJ fic. The first part is up and the second is coming real soon. 

Tag List: @emoniclark22 @miss-jayjayy @allcaps1928 @darkgoddessofgold @lokithanos @tessathedragon @daytimeheroicsonly @maynardqueen101 @brianabreeze

“C’mon, Y/N. We’re already 20 minutes behind and the traffic is heavy. We need to leave, baby.” 

Ryan was doing his best to be patient with his fiance but his nerves were getting the best of him. It was unlike her to be this late getting dressed and the night of the Academy Awards was a shitty time to start. 

“Y/N -“

“I fucking heard you, Ryan, shit! I’m coming.” Her own agitation was apparent in her voice and before an argument could be started, Ryan decided to drop the issue. The last thing he needed was an attitude from her. “It’s this dress. Do you think it’s showing too much? I don’t want to embarrass you.”

His eyes traveled up the short staircase in the shared Los Angeles apartment and landed on her body as it she carefully made her way cautiously downstairs. The black designer gown hugged her body closely while the geometric patterns that were cut into the chest and thighs of the gown were accented by thin mesh fabric, showing hints of her deep brown skin underneath. 

She stood nervously at the bottom of the stairs and prepared yourself for her fiance to send her back upstairs to change into her back up dress. Instead, he stood there smiling up at her with a look in his eyes that she’d only seen in the confines of their bedroom. 

“You look damn good, baby. Did I buy that?” 

Answering his question with a bashful nod, she took a step down to become eye level with him. “Do I really look okay? I can go change if you want.” 

“No! Don’t change. You look amazing,” He said trailing his hands down her sides and around her waist to grip lightly on her ass. “And we hella late already. If you go back up there, you may never come down.” 

The pair shared a laugh before linking arms and crowding into the backseat of the provided SUV. The drive to the Dolby Theater was longer than expected, leaving Ryan to silently worry about what would happen during the night. 

His film was nominated for Best Picture, among other things, and the thought of having to publicly give a speech terrified him. He constantly wondered if people around him considered his accent unfit for a mainstream director or if his nervous stutter translated into a lack of knowledge. In the midst of his thoughts, he inadvertently squeezed his fiance’s hand causing her to look up from your phone screen and over at her husband-to-be. 

“What’chu thinkin’ about Ry?” 

“You think I sound crazy when I talk? Be honest with me.” He said continuing to stare out of the window. Though he had asked a question, he was still deep in his thoughts and trying to come up with his own answer. 

Sensing his mood shift, she nuzzled herself into his side to get a better view of his face. She knew he often dealt with the feeling of not belonging in the industry but had never heard him express it. Even with her constant validation, she felt like she had let him down by not giving him enough reassurance. 

“Look at me.” She requested, reaching up to grab his chin and turn his face. He reluctantly peeled his eyes from the passing cars and looked into the eyes of the woman he loved. “You are intelligent. You are important. Most importantly, you belong here. This moment is here because you deserve it. Who cares what they think about an accent? Fuck them white people!” 

The last sentence earned a hint of a smile as he relaxed under her touch. “Our driver is white, baby.” 

“Not you, sir. I’m sorry. No offense.” 

“None taken, ma’am.” 

“Aye, my man, how much longer until we get to the Dolby?” Ryan asked checking his watch. If they hurried, they would have about 20 minutes to walk the carpet before being ushered to their seats. 

“About, 10 minutes, sir. It’s just off this exit.” Ryan responded with a quick thank you before settling back against the seat. 

Catching a glimpse of his fiance, he was finally able to take in her attire for the night. The setting sun dancing across her skin drew his eyes closer to the mesh inserts within the dress. The solid portions of the gown expertly covered the parts of her body that he loved to grab and kiss, sending his mind to thoughts of what she looked like underneath. As if she read his mind, her hand slid up his thigh before she stopped and gave him a knowing look. 

“Sir, could you roll up the partition? I need to have my dress...adjusted.” She used her last word to give Ryan the confirmation that he had been looking for. Within seconds, the thick black Plexiglas that separated the front from the back of the vehicle was wound upward, providing privacy for the young couple. Y/N was the first to move, locking her lips onto his neck and leaving wet kisses against his skin. 

“Let me show you how important you are.” she whispered against his ear, kissing it to punctuate her request.

“You finna do this right here, sweetheart?” His voice had dropped to a shaky whisper as he relished in her touch. 

With all the promo tours and press junkets, the two of them hadn't touched each other for weeks. While she understood, she was growing impatient with the lack of intimacy.

Humming a response before reaching to undo his belt and pants, she made sure not to destroy any component of his clothing. Once the obstacles were out the way, she slowly dipped a hand into his boxer briefs, using the tips of her fresh stiletto nails to gently graze his shaft. His head dropped against the headrest as his chest heaved in anticipation. She could tell that she wasn’t the only one craving affection. 

Lust clouded her dark eyes as she pulled his member free from its cotton prison, taking in the sight she was presented with. His dick sat throbbing in her hands, tip glistening and inviting her to taste the nectar that had been conjured up just for her. She held it for a few moments, admiring him before feeling a hand at the back of her neck.

“Stop playing around. We only have a few minutes.” The firm command sent a rush of heat through her body, and down to her aching core. Her mouth quickly attached to him, producing a hushed groan from each of them. 

Her head and hands moved quickly as she pumped away at him, attempting to speed up his release. Low curses fell from his lips and served as the praise needed to keep going. Before she could pull out her signature finishing move, he carefully grabbed the back of her head and pushed your face down while thrusting upward. Following his lead, she stretched her mouth wider, sticking out her tongue to accommodate his size. 

“You’re doing a good job, baby. I’m almost there.” 

She gently reached up to stroke his lower abdomen and to feel his muscles contract, signaling his impending release. Knowing he was on the verge, she took the opportunity to tease him a bit, pulling her mouth away and using both of her soft hands to twist in alternating motions while maintaining eye contact. 

“I just want to make you happy, daddy. Can I do that for you? Will you cum for me?” She asked, filling in the gaps between sentences with sloppy kisses on his sack.

A primal grunt was the answer Ryan provided, guiding her head back to his lap while rubbing small circles on the small of her back. The needy expression that came with his closed eyes and bottom lip trapped underneath his top row of teeth was all the motivation she could’ve asked for. 

Moments later, her throat was greeted by the warmth of his seed, a feeling she’d secretly pleasured herself to when he was away. 

“Fuuuuck!” was the next word to leave Ryan’s mouth before he removed himself from the safe haven that was her mouth. In the reflection of the tinted window, she could see that the eyeliner she had applied earlier had held up to it’s waterproof promise, showing no evidence of smearing or running. 

Once the rustling of Ryan’s belt had ceased, she looked over at him to see if he was okay. All she found was a goofy smile plastered across his face. “You know I love you right?”  

Giving her a sweet kiss on both cheeks, he pushed loose strands of her hair behind her ear and passed over the mouthwash that was available in the backseat. 

The Dolby Theater was finally in view as both of them gave each other a once over to ensure that they had returned to the neat form they’d donned when they left the apartment. Instead of linking arms, she grabbed his hand to give him a reassuring squeeze before taking off to the main press area. 

A sense of pride overwhelmed her while she watched him navigate through questions on the importance of his film, his plans for his upcoming directorial pursuits and the obligatory suit designer shout out. Before wrapping up his interview, he extended his arm and lightly tugged her towards him, eventually wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“Also, I want to show off my lady really quick. Spin around, baby.” She gave him an amused look before allowing him to twirl her in a quick circle to give the journalist a good view of the dress. “I mean look at her. If tonight wasn’t as important as it is, we would’ve turned the car service around.” 

The heat that once had her dripping at the sound of his voice, rushed back to her cheeks. If she  were a few shades lighter, everyone tuned into the television broadcast of the pre-awards show would’ve seen her already artificially blushed cheeks turn another hue of red. When she set out to give him a confidence boost, she hadn’t imagined it’d turn into all of this. 

The black journalist gave her the universal ‘I see you, girl,’ look before ending the interview. 

“There you have it. Director Ryan Coogler almost missed the awards because his fiance is so damn fine. If you use my headline, make sure you credit me.”

[lovelettersbetween-blog]

Love without Letters

Antonet was nearly finished sewing a petticoat that Sylvia had ripped in a fit of passion when she heard the front door open. Antonet looked up, alarmed. Sylvia wasn’t due to come back from a visit with another one of her endless line of suitors until the next morning and she knew the rest of the servants were downstairs eating. She quickly got up and rushed out into the hallway.

“Hello?” she called out to the figure near the doorframe. He had his back to her and she could not tell who he was. Loose curls flowed over his narrow shoulders, giving way to lavish coat with a thinner waist than she was used to seeing. Tight breeches and stockings hugged his rather shapely legs and ended in a pair of particularly small red heeled shoes. Antonet’s fear slightly gave way to appreciation of his attractive form and dress.

“Sir? May I ask what you are doing here?” Antonet called out.

“Sir?” the figure inquired. “Do you really not know me?” He turned around, revealing the sweetest face Antonet had ever seen.

“I’m sorry, I –“ she began. The man reached up to pull off his wig, letting the true curls fall loose underneath.

“I cannot believe you didn’t know me. You have seen me in this attire many times before!” Sylvia exclaimed.

Antonet blushed. She stammered out many excuses, but nothing could disguise the panic she felt. She wished he had been an intruder or any real man at all.

***

Weeks later, Antonet still could not forget the incident. She found herself looking at Sylvia in a different light now. She had thought her attraction would end the minute Sylvia changed back into her proper attire, but she could not forget the way her legs had looked encased in close-fitting fabric. Something about seeing her as a man, as a person to which she was allowed to be attracted to, had altered her vision of her mistress.

Which is why Antonet was so worried about Sylvia’s newest scheme.

Sylvia had arrived home early that fateful night because she had struck out with her latest pursuit, a certain Sir Geralt. She had been pretending to be a man as he was known to enjoy both sexes, and Sylvia was intrigued to discover if she could successfully woo someone as a man. She had nearly succeeded with Alonzo and the thrill was something she couldn’t forget.

However, it was proving difficult. It wasn’t that Sir Geralt wasn’t attracted to Sylvia, he was simply bored with the romance. Sylvia had amped up her seduction, unsure if a lack of forwardness would be taken as a desire for friendship; however, her evident desire was uninteresting. Sir Geralt liked a challenge.

That is when Sylvia decided to make Sir Geralt jealous.

“Mistress, you know I have been eager to aid you before, but I believe pretending to be your lover lacks subtlety,” Antonet said to Sylvia as they rode to Sir Geralt’s residence .

“The time for subtlety is long past. Now hush, we approach. Say nothing that you would not say to a lover in his presence,” Sylvia said at the carriage pulled to a stop.

The evening was everything Antonet could have dreamt of. Everything she had longed to say and do with Sylvia in the past weeks was possible. And Sylvia was happier than she had been in months as she strung Sir Geralt along with success. By the end of the evening, he was nearly prostrating himself at Sylvia’s feet. He let them go finally, a few hours after midnight, with the promise that he would write Sylvia (or Alexandre, as he knew her) the moment she left his sight.

In the carriage, Sylvia was giddy.

“I suppose you are glad he is infatuated with you now? It all worked according to plan,” Antonet said glumly.

“I am glad, but not because he is infatuated with me,” Sylvia replied, looking at Antonet earnestly.

“What do you mean?” Antonet asked.

“I believe there was another present tonight who is infatuated with me. Which makes me very glad indeed, for I lust for her as well.”

Antonet looked up with shock to meet Sylvia’s loving gaze. She had imagined her lips on hers many times, but in this instance, her imagination was a paltry shade of the real thing.

[bradywade55]

Essay 2-Vampires, Zombies, and WEREWOLVES…OH MY!

        Since the dawn of time, even dating back to prehistoric times, we can imagine that ever since the first human beings made their beds, there have always been monsters lurking underneath them. We would like to think that such creatures don’t exist however discrediting such being would also, in turn, discredit our deepest and darkest fears. The truth in the matter is that these beasts are created from the embodiment of the emotions, actions, beliefs, and even the insecurities of individuals. These different ideas are translated through various cultures and are often portrayed through literature, media, and often times through stories and lore. The inspiration behind these creatures are generally eerie and dark emotions and behaviors, typically regarded as taboo to general society. We have witnessed our illusive past give birth to a plethora of ominous creatures including, ghosts, vampires, zombies, demons, and more. Each of these archetypes, once thoroughly understood, easily reflect popular stereotypes that were present during the time their creation. However, there is one archetype that is frequently referenced in the Horror genre, despite its mysterious inspiration. The archetype I am referring to is the werewolf. Although historians are able to place a date or time frame on specific early tales about beast in which match the descriptions of werewolves, there are a great deal of stories of these beasts and similar creatures terrorizing early civilizations in which the origins remain unknown. This causes speculation regarding when these beasts made their first appearances, or even where. Many individuals might even argue that the Werewolf is as ancient as the first Homo Sapiens, if not greater.

       The Werewolf is regarded as a majestic beast but is not to be confused for a docile animal. On the contrary, the earliest known tales of these beings are bold and bloody, beyond one’s wildest dreams. A story originated in 1765 tells of an exceptionally large Wolf-Like creature that supposedly mounted an attack on the mountainous town in the southern region of France. This beast was known as none other than “The Beast of Gevaudan���. The wolf immortalized in this tale was said to have claimed the lives of over 60 victims in which included many women and children. It believed that the wolf also stalked and killed several different flocks of Sheep and Cattle. Low and behold, this story rapidly. In good time, it would appear that this story had its influences in every corner and crevice of the planet.

       Regardless of how “fake” monsters appear to be as portrayed in media, there are always very “real” influences that are hidden within the hype. The werewolf, much like many of the other archetypes featured in horror, serves as a distinct symbol for a multitude of human behaviors and emotions. The most convenient way of approaching the werewolf archetype is to value the scope of this creature for what it truly is; an Animal. In regards to literature and film, the creators have often heavily relied on werewolves to represent the animalistic side of human interaction. Many early stories depict men undergoing anamorphosis in which they are transformed into a ferocious beast. When placed into perspective, this serves to play on the boundaries of human nature. Various characteristics such as lust, greed and sexual prowess are amplified and funneled into the image of something fowl and malevolent. Many of the earliest depictions of werewolves also were influenced by curiosity, adventure, and the intellectual inertia during this period of enlightenment. Virtually, the creation of this creature was driven by the imagination trying to make sense of our species wild and disproportionate history. Humans were just beginning to form rigid civilizations but curiosity proved to continually pressure the structures we set in place. We could either face the reality that the human race, despite having advantages over the animal kingdom, is not very different from the more primitive species, or we could ignore our short comings and shift the shade to someone, or better yet, something else. Unfortunately, humans took the easy way out and instead fabricated a brand new species, not familiar to any specific kingdom or phylum, to point their red hand at. However, it is interesting to note that many scientists, at least during the era of the creation of the werewolf, speculated the possibility that these creatures do indeed exist and that they simply have just flown the radar. I guess the true interpretation is left up to the skeptic.

       In all honesty, werewolves do not deserve the negative wrap that they have obtained. They have been serving as illegitimate “scape-goats” for the actions of men, too afraid to own up for their own flaws and wrong doings. An episode of podcast called “Lore”, created by Aron Mahnke eludes on this concept. The particular episode, titled “The Beast Within”, goes on to the describe the misconceptions that contributed to the bad reputation that werewolves hold. The podcast describes the relationship between the lunar cycle of the moon and how it corresponds with extraordinary behaviors exhibited by humans. Many individuals, including a great deal of medical professionals, have tried to identify true links between the lunar cycle and manic behavior however no hard evidence currently exists. So far, the best explanation one has amounted to regarding this phenomenon involves unremarkable coincidences. However, in his podcast, Mahnke attempts to provide relief for many of the werewolf enthusiasts of the world by justifying the criminals behind the scenes of the mockery. Aron outlines much of the ancient roots of lore surrounding these beasts but the interesting part comes when he begins diving into the psychological roots. He explains that Werewolves served to justify many of the horrors of life during early times. He compares the gruesome acts depicted in werewolf tales to those of serial killers. He proclaimed that the flaws of those whom committed demented acts, such as those of murders and psychopaths, were deflected off of the actual beings and were blamed on so called ‘monsters” that supposedly didn’t exist. As it appears, humans couldn’t deal with the imperfections of their race, however someone had to take the blame.

       Werewolves now take on a poor wrap as the savages or villains of the horror world. They are portrayed as being far more hostile and ferocious in comparison to the other monsters in the Macabre genre. All of the other monsters including vampires, zombies, and other creatures are all portrayed as being sophisticated, structured, and even more animated, with exception of the werewolf. Instead, werewolves are typically illustrated as primitive, animalistic, and often times stubborn as a rock. This characteristic play into the stereotypes of the human man. When we look at the inspirations for creatures such as vampires and zombies, we see easily personifiable characteristics, however when approached with all of the qualities that make up “the American beast”, we as a race find it easier to lie to ourselves than to face the facts and accept the consequences. I find it funny that the other animals we view as “inferior” to our species in the animal kingdom have openly accepted their short comings and have learned to adapt through evolution. On the other hand, humans still struggle to accept our existence. No matter how advanced our technology becomes, we as a people still remain subject to our primitive ways. We as a people are the real “beasts”.

Works Cited

Cherry, Kendra. “The 4 Major Jungian Archetypes.” Verywell Mind, www.verywellmind.com/what-are-jungs-4-major-archetypes-2795439.

Editors, History.com. “Werewolf Legends.” History.com, A&E Television Networks, 23 Aug. 2017, www.history.com/topics/folklore/history-of-the-werewolf-legend.

Mahnke, Aaron. “Episode 3: The Beast Within.” Lore, Lore, 6 Apr. 2015, www.lorepodcast.com/episodes/3.

“Monsters of the Gévaudan : The Making of a Beast.” Google Drive, Google, drive.google.com/file/d/1yIVAVDoe1kSjTgkVsRts_wOx2rdOC5kO/view.

Radford, Benjamin. “Werewolves: Lore, Legend & Lycanthropy.” LiveScience, Purch, 30 Oct. 2012, www.livescience.com/24412-werewolves.html.