#double chin art references

[this-is-where-i-hide-my-bullshit]

I've been trying to find good references for drawing/painting double chins and GOD BLESS DUANE BRYERS!!!!!

That man did God's work!!!

[cyclorose]

paige doodles :3

my favorite gender: depressed bisexual fast food restaurant employee that smokes a lot

[boyybites]

Thinking about when concerning ref sheets fat characters/disabled characters are automatically 20% or 25% off the total price and any mobility aids/aids in general are free add ons.

[kamaluhkhan]

YOUR SWEETHEART PSYCHOPATHIC CRUSH !

pairing: levi ackerman x fem!reader word count: 5.7k chapter summary: while spending your summer at the ackerman's estate, you and levi become slightly obsessed with each other despite mikasa being very clear she doesn't want you to fuck her cousin. warnings: alcohol, smoking, slight enemies to lovers dynamic, kinda rough smut (18+!!), oral (f+m receiving), unprotected period sex, mentions of blood, yearning, religious imagery/references, morally ambiguous protagonist with unclear motivations, eat the rich vibes....essentially very saltburn inspired so...yeah author's note: been having levi brainrot all summer and this is the result hope y'all enjoy ♡

♪: the louvre by lorde

you weren’t in love with him. 

picture levi ackerman on a gilded summer day. shimmering, sweaty skin. designer sunglasses and overpriced flip flops. mouth red and sticky from the popsicle melting in his hand. sharp jawline. sharper tongue.

you understood why people loved him, of course — and so many did. 

he saw through them, and they wanted to be seen by him. 

picture levi ackerman at a busy pub on a friday night, the most expensive whiskey in front of him. one eyebrow quirked, silver piercing disappearing beneath his hairline. grey-blue eyes watching carefully. interested. suspicious.

he was dangerous;

picture levi ackerman on a hot, midsummer night. on his knees, canines sparkling in the moonlight. blood on his chin, between his fingers. he’s wearing pristine silk pyjamas that will soon become stained with grass and dirt and other unspeakable things. 

beautiful, of course;

picture levi ackerman in a marble bathtub, skin wet and soapy. defined muscles and intricate tendons that could have been carved from marble, too. smelling of citrus and bergamot.

and compassionate, somehow. 

picture levi ackerman handing someone a cigarette, heart beating fast after a heated argument. long, slender fingers and a silver crested ring. black stars etched across the skin of his hand, similar to his cousin’s. 

you loved him. 

picture levi ackerman across a bountiful breakfast table. he pries open a ripe fig, reaches over for some tea. as always, he holds his cup from the top. burgundy bruises in the shape of someone’s lips decorate his neck, disappear under the collar of his shirt. 

you loved him.

picture levi ackerman, preening as if for a portrait they’d hang in an art gallery. taking a slow drag of his cigarette, backlit by the sun shining in from grand windows, framing him like a halo. 

but, were you in love with him?

it’s a sticky, sultry summer — the summer mikasa first brings you to paradis. 

with each day that passes, slow and sweltering, june gradually melts away in the blistering heat, but july lingers. 

time passes differently when your life is filled with luxurious nothing. 

mikasa always had friends over, all of whom had their own summer houses nearby. you recognized them from school. work, actually — they were frequent customers at scout’s coffee.

there was historia reiss (oat vanilla latte), who was family friend to the ackermans and twice as rich; annie leonhart (double shot of espresso), who grew up next door; eren jager (black coffee) whom mikasa had gotten back together with at the end of year banquet; and, jean kirstein (cappuccino with extra foam), one of eren’s frat brothers who seemed to notice you more now that you were out of your emerald green uniform and instead squeezed into a very revealing bathing suit mikasa had given you to wear. 

she’d been doing that a lot since you arrived to paradis: giving you last year’s dress to wear at dinner, a blouse that didn’t fit her right, a skirt she wore once that she thought you would look so good in, trust her.

you’re sure it was a coincidence that jean only took interest in you now. 

“oy!” jean whistles your name from across the water. “enjoying the view?” 

you stop your task to look at him, but your eyes quickly wander.

you are, in fact, enjoying the view. on the other side of the pool, levi ackerman (no coffee, just earl grey tea) lounges on a pool chair. his pale skin shimmers under the afternoon sun. levi’s mouth is stained, red and sticky from the popsicle melting in his hand. 

levi, whom mikasa had already deemed off limits. he was family, she said, and you were her friend. it wouldn't be right, she said.

she might not be too thrilled to find out how much you wanted to run your tongue over levi’s lips and underneath his jawline, chase the sweet popsicle stains with the salty sweat on his skin.

“instead of painting mikasa’s nails, you should paint me like one of your french girls sometime,” jean continues, lifting his prada sunglasses just to wink at you. he then goes back to his conversation with eren, the two of them talking animatedly in the shallow end while sipping their beers.

oblivious or not to your staring, levi seems too busy devouring another gothic novel — last week was frankenstein by mary shelley. this week is oscar wilde’s the picture of dorian gray. he’s shirtless, wearing designer sunglasses, overpriced flip flops and board shorts. in his day-to-day summer outfit, an entirely new expanse of skin is on display: a sword tucked into his forearm; angel wings sprouting from his shoulders, almost golden under the sun’s rays; flowers and thorns blooming between his ribs; a snake slithering across his hip bone. 

mikasa clicks her tongue, a telltale sign that she’s impatient for you to get back to work, so you do.

“so, here’s the thing: eren told me than jean likes you,” mikasa says once you finish with her left hand and start on her right.

annie snorts. she’s one chair over, clad in a light blue bikini, suntanning with her eyes closed yet very much engaged with the gossip at hand. “you think? he’s been drooling over her since the start of summer. i’m surprised he hasn’t made a move yet.” 

“well, apparently, he’s been waiting for you to make the first move.”

you bite back a scoff. “why?”

“he likes to be chased, sometimes,” mikasa explains. “it’s a game to him.” 

“i don’t know. i’m not really looking to play any games,” you lie, thankful that she let you borrow one of her many pairs of vintage sunglasses as they hide how your eyes instinctively flick over to levi. 

“come on!” mikasa pouts. “jean would be, like, the hottest summer fling. he’s smart and sexy and definitely knows how to show someone a good time.” a sober mikasa would have never said that — eren would hate his girlfriend talking about another guy like that — but she reaches over to grab her second margarita, smudging the fresh polish on her thumb, and takes a long gulp before adding: “you should go for it. right, guys?”

“you should totally go for it!” historia encourages, leaning over the other side of annie to nod at you enthusiastically. “jean is such a catch.”

“heard he’s good in bed, too,” annie adds. “so, yeah. go for it.”

“right,” mikasa smiles, satisfied. “it’ll be good for you.”

it’ll be good for you. 

you didn’t even want to think about what mikasa meant by that, however well-intentioned. 

the truth is that you had arrived to the ackerman’s sprawling estate with a hand-me-down suitcase, one old swimsuit, and a bitterness buried in your throat. 

mikasa had invited you because she pitied you, the poor scholarship student working at the cafe she and the others frequented. all you had to do was comfort her after another argument with her flighty boyfriend eren jaeger, and suddenly the two of you were the best of friends. inseparable, even when spring finals bled into summer break.

friends is a generous word, really. she was your golden ticket, you were her charity case.

what’s that saying about the road to hell?

it’s paved with good intentions.

you wonder what that means for the road to paradise, then. 

“just promise me you’ll consider it? at least give it a chance? please?” mikasa looks at you with those naive, hopeless romantic eyes. she wants this for you, and you have to keep her happy if you want to stay in this paradise for a little longer. 

“okay,” you concede. “i’ll think about it.” 

when you glance across the pool once more, levi is gone. 

SPRING SEMESTER. 

amid the chaos of students rushing across campus, all you could focus on was useless clicking. 

click.

click.

nothing. not even a goddamn spark.

served you right, buying a lighter from the dollar store. 

“need a light?”

levi’s voice had a deep baritone, one that might have been calming if the two of you hadn’t spent the past hour bickering. he argued that caravaggio’s painting of judith beheading holofernes was more sophisticated than any other rendition; you challenged him, stating that artemisia gentileschi’s work was more powerful — cathartic, even — and therefore a better representation of the story.

erwin smith, the professor leading your art history seminar, urged the two of you to stay focused on the class material, but between you and levi — it always got personal. 

you couldn’t afford the textbook, so how could you know anything about art? 

his family bought his way into the university, so how could he know anything about anything? 

so on and so forth. razor-sharp insults and sarcasm that dripped from your tongues like honey, the other always eager to lap it up like a starving dog. 

if there was one thing you could count on from then on, it was levi providing a snarky comment or underhanded joke meant to remind you that you were only a guest in the aristocratic world mikasa pulled you into, and for you to defend yourself as best you could through equally cutting remarks.

it was like that ever since mikasa dragged you into the group earlier in the semester.

everyone was already a few drinks in at the pub when you walked in behind her. the most expensive whiskey was sitting in a crystal glass in front of levi. he quirked one eyebrow at you, silver piercing disappearing beneath his hairline. grey-blue eyes watching carefully — interested, suspicious — as mikasa introduced you.

it was exhausting. a little exhilarating, too, but not enough to keep you from sliding down to the ground, back against the cold limestone wall, knees pressed to your chest.

“not from you,” you told him. you expected him to leave you alone, grant you a minute to compose yourself.

instead, levi sat down next to you, legs stretched out because he knew the crowd would bend around him. you listened as he lit his own cigarette on the first try, handing it to you without taking a drag. 

long, slender fingers and a silver crested ackerman ring. black stars etched on the skin of his hand, similar to the ones mikasa has.

you couldn’t help but stare; levi ackerman had that effect on people. 

it was almost unfair how attractive he was. all he had to do was lounge against an old building, dark hair with a sharp undercut and eyebrow piercing glinting in the late afternoon sun, to give michaelangelo’s david a run for his money. 

you dug your nails into your palm to keep yourself from accepting his offer. there was always a price to kindness, especially with people like him. 

after a few moments, levi rolled his eyes. he brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply, just for show.

“it’s not poisoned or anything. i wouldn’t do that. not to you, at least.” 

you weren’t convinced, but smoke curled around his words. when it hit your nostrils, you had to give in.

“god,” you practically moaned as warmth filled your lungs; your heart rate eased as you finally got your vice. levi let out something of a choke. his cheeks became slightly flushed.

it must have been your imagination. levi ackerman did not get flustered.

he cleared his throat, your fingers brushing against each other when he accepted the cigarette you handed back to him.

“mika says i’ve projected certain….insecurities onto you.” 

mikasa had changed her major three times already, and the one she’d settled on then was psychology. her new pastime was psychoanalysing the people around her, depending on which chapter was being covered that week. 

“she says i should apologize for —”

“being a dick?”

“yeah, i guess.” 

it wasn’t an apology. he just looked at you with his signature, disinterested gaze. 

“okay.” you wouldn’t give him forgiveness, anyways. 

“can i ask you something, then? without you biting my head off?”

a pause.

“fine,” levi responded. 

“what insecurities?”

another pause. he twisted the ring on his finger, almost nervously. 

levi ackerman did not get nervous, but maybe he wasn’t used to letting his guard down. 

the silence stretched between you.

“let’s just say that i’m not as blue-blooded as i try to seem,” he finally said.

you turned your head to examine levi ackerman: ironed button-down rolled up to his elbows, showing off elaborate tattoos that must have cost a fortune. brown leather satchel engraved with his initials. shiny new rolex.

“oh. could’ve fooled me.”

levi laughed, stiff and hollow. you could taste the bitterness from his lips when it was your turn with the cigarette, and instinctively licked your own. 

“you more than anyone should know: that’s kind of the point.” 

it was the way he said it that got you. his voice just above a whisper. protecting his secret — and, by proxy, yours. 

you gnawed the inside of your cheek, hard enough to taste copper. 

it never occurred to you that you might not have been the only outsider. 

there might have been reasons why levi remained on the edge of the group, a brooding mystery to most of them, why you were the only one levi bothered to argue with. there were reasons why he didn’t skip class or get blackout drunk on weekdays like the others, why he was always so pristine, so perfect, so composed. 

“look, i’m not a bad person. it’s just —”

“sometimes you have to bite,” you finished his sentence. “you’re angry at the world, and you know that the wrong person might take everything away if you step out of line and let that anger slip through.”

it was a coping mechanism; one wired within you, too, even if it sometimes manifested in different ways. you didn’t need a textbook to recognize that. 

“yeah.” 

you could tell he was trying his best to hide his reaction, but you knew — by the sudden glint in his eye, the slight relaxing of his jaw. 

levi ackerman did not let his guard down, but there you were, recognizing the hunger inside him as your own.

“well, i don’t care if you bite,” you promised. “just don’t be surprised if i bite back.” 

the corners of his lips curled into a smirk, matching your own.

“i’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

you let the time pass, let ash fall from the smouldering cigarette you shared until it was down to the quick. the sun was hidden behind the lecture hall by then, and the quad was quiet. only you and levi remained.

“i should get to my next class,” levi informed, breaking the comfortable silence you had unexpectedly built. he got up swiftly, although he was likely already late. 

“see you around.” you caught a flash of silver where he was just sitting. you grabbed it, and held it up. “don’t forget your lighter.”

he flicked his eyes towards the object in your hand, and he frowned. 

“keep it.”

“i – i can’t.”

“it’s fine. just take it.”

“i don’t need your handouts, levi,” you snapped. you remembered the time he had teased you for wearing one of mikasa’s blouses, warning you that her handouts aren’t enough to make you pass as one of them.

levi winced, clearly remembering too. “consider it a gift for being — what did you call me before?”

“a dick.”

“right. anyways, you’d be doing me a favour,” levi continued. “i’ve been wanting to get rid of this one; got a better one waiting for me at home.”

you would’ve continued pushing back, but it was too late. levi was already walking away. 

levi looked back once and winked at you. you let the cool metal lighter burn through your skin.

apparently, trust fund kids suck at monopoly. especially after a few bottles of wine taken from their parents’ cellar.

they don’t really have a strategy, and those who did…well, it can’t beat yours.

you secure property left and right, make deals, and, yeah, screw people over until you’re the only one remaining with any candy-colored bills. by the end, you’re drunk off pinot noir and a high on the euphoria of winning this little, insignificant game. 

“no fair!” jean whines. “how’d you do that?”

“a magician never reveals her secret,” you hum. 

“what if i asked nicely?” 

you shake your head with a slight smile, leaning over to grab the last of the pretzels as a cover for getting jean’s hand off your thigh. he’d become bolder in the past few days in his flirtations; you, in all fairness, gave as well as you got — lingering eyes, purposeful touching, flirty banter. 

levi, sitting across from you, sips his drink calmly. 

“maybe you just underestimated her,” he suggests. 

“hell yeah, he did.” historia gives you an enthusiastic high five.

“i did not underestimate her.” jean rolls his eyes. “it’s just, i didn’t expect her to —”

“ — have a strategy that might outwit you, of all people?” levi mocks.

“put your teeth away, ackerman,” jean huffs. “i’m just saying — i’m a business major.”

“you did fail econ 200 twice, jean,” eren points out. 

“you’re lucky daddy kirstein payed off the professor so you didn’t have to take it a third time,” levi quips, earning a scowl from jean. 

“don’t get me started, you underground piece of — ” 

“okay, good game everyone!” mikasa interjects, so loud her words bounced off the walls. the ackerman’s ‘cozy’ den is just as grand as any other room, large with signature tiled floors and marble columns. she turns to you and jean, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “why don’t the two of you go get more snacks, and the rest of us will decide on a movie?”

as everyone else follows mikasa to the home theatre, the board game now forgotten, you and jean head to the kitchen.

“my dad didn’t pay the professor off, for the record,” jean says as you start refilling bowls. he leans against the counter, watching you. “he paid for a tutor. i mean, i had to pass the class, right? if i’m going to take over my dad’s real estate company. there’s nothing wrong with a little help.”

you smile like you mean it. 

“of course not.” 

and that seems to pacify jean, until he bluntly asks: 

“is something happening between you and levi?” 

you freeze. “why would you say that?”

jean walks around the large kitchen island, stopping in front of you. 

“he just seems…protective over you.”

“nothing’s happening,” you swallow the lump in your throat, unable to say more. “nothing’s happening between me and levi.” 

if you keep saying it, maybe it will become true. maybe the tension will evaporate, and the fire in the pit of your stomach will die out, and you will be able to give mikasa what she wants.

jean watches you through thick lashes, hands creeping over your hips. playing the part, you throw your arms around his neck, fingers threading through auburn hair.

“good. because this dress is incredible.”

it’s mikasa’s dress. gucci, spring collection from the year before.

“jean,” you whisper his name like you want him. 

jean kisses you then, and you kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, slides a hand underneath the dress you wore. whispers again how incredible the dress was, how good you would look on your knees for him later.

you feel nothing. it’s fine.

you squeeze your eyes shut and, ignoring your guilty conscience, imagine a certain raven-haired boy in jean’s place. it works fine, allowing you to deepen the kiss, but then jean presses his thigh between your legs, and his stubble itches against your cheek.

fuck. you don’t want this. 

lightheaded, you rip away from jean’s grip and place a hand on the counter next to you to steady yourself. you swallow as much air as you can, but still feel terribly breathless.

“everything okay?”

of course, it’s levi. he came to inform the two of you that cruel intentions was decided on (a message from mikasa), and to tell you to hurry the fuck up with the snacks (a message from eren).

jean smirks as he walks past your raven-haired boy and winks at you before he leaves the room.

levi is the one who helps you bring everything to the home theatre. he doesn’t say another word to you all night.

the only time you can truly be at peace in paradis is late at night, looking out into the dark green nothing. 

it became a habit of yours, going out to smoke when you figured everyone was asleep. you’d formed an attachment to a particular stone bench next to a statue of some melancholy mythological woman (persephone, maybe?), and parked yourself there every night to look up at the stars. 

quiet. limitless. alone.

even then, there’s always someone watching.

“nice lighter.”

those are the first words levi has spoken to you in the past week that aren’t delivered like he’s getting his teeth pulled. 

“nice shirt, too.”

you look down, remembering that you’re not wearing the nightgown mikasa had given you when she saw your actual pyjamas: a pair of old boxers and an oversized marvin the martian t-shirt. 

that’s one thing you can’t bring yourself to give up in all this, apparently: the soft, worn cotton that feels like home. 

the other, unfortunately, takes a seat next to you. you should tell him to leave you alone, but you find yourself wanting him to stay.

he reaches out for the cigarette. you pass it to him like a moth to a flame, body betraying mind, knowing deep down that it might cause you to burn in the end. you watch as he inhales deeply, then tilts his head up as if sending the smoke as an offering to the full moon.

the quiet, formerly comforting, now makes your skin crawl. 

“so….what’d you get on the final?” that’s the best you can do in terms of small talk with levi ackerman. your heart stops, when you realize your mistake — 

the reality of what happened the last time you studied together.

levi, for his part, doesn’t bring that up. he hands the cigarette back to you.

“97. you?”

“98.”

levi whistles. “better go celebrate with your new boyfriend.”

“he’s not my — ” 

you bite your tongue. 

careful. 

you want to bite that smirk off his lips.

it’s been a while, but he’s trying to rile you up.

you wonder what levi saw in you that made him think this was how to understand you: by throwing a punch and seeing if you could match his fight. 

the truth is that jean isn’t anything to you. nothing had happened after that moment in the kitchen, and you wanted to keep it that way. you know that levi is perceptive enough to notice how you subtly distance yourself from jean, despite mikasa’s efforts and jean’s once again one-sided flirtations. 

(you have a clear image of levi at breakfast a few days ago, prying open a ripe fig and holding his cup of tea from the top, burgundy bruises in the shape of someone’s lips decorating his neck and disappearing under the collar of his shirt. historia had thrown a party next door, and you had the profound displeasure of watching levi make out with someone who wasn’t you. as soon as your eyes met his from across the room, levi removed himself from the person sucking on his collarbone. you weren’t sure it was a coincidence.)

“so kirstein isn’t your boyfriend?” 

“what does it matter to you?”

“are you just hooking up, then?”

“why do you care, levi?” you snap.

it was dark, and you felt levi shuffle closer to you. you turned your head away, refusing to acknowledge the weight of his gaze on your body. 

“i think you know why.” his voice nothing but a burning whisper in your ear.

levi, the clever brat, after giving you the cold shoulder, is not only trying to rile you up — he’s teasing you.

god, you were losing your mind, playing levi’s game, when he should have been losing yours.  

you felt a fresh kind of heat spread through your body.

“whatever.”

you rip the cigarette from levi’s fingers, careful to avoid skin touching skin, snuff it out, and make all the moves to leave.

“wait.” he commands, grabbing your wrist before you can get too far. “let’s start again. i know you heard me earlier tonight.” 

you clench your jaw, still standing. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

(your bedroom is the closest to his, with only a bathroom with thin walls separating the two. earlier, you swore he was pleasuring himself to the rhythm of your name, but when you entered the bathroom to check, all you found was water swirling down the bathtub drain.) 

“i saw you.”

“what do you want, levi?” his name like poison on your tongue, fire in your throat.

levi doesn’t say anything for a bit. 

crickets chirp in the distance. 

neither of you move. 

“i think about that night all the time.” levi swallows, hard. “that night in the library.”

(during finals season, late night at the library, when you were both frustrated and bone-tired and in need of release, levi fucked you in a secluded corner. two fingers in, knuckle deep. you returned the favour after reaching your high, kneeling down on the carpet to taste him. he was wiping away his own cum from the corner of your mouth just as someone walked over to examine the shelves for a book on the italian renaissance. it was careless, and dangerous, and neither of you spoke of it again.) 

mikasa made her expectations for you clear, and you need to please her, so you bit back your desire, swallowed whatever spark might have been between you and levi, and carried on as acquaintances because you couldn’t really afford to let it catch.

except, levi’s looking at you like he did then, hooded eyes, dark blue with desire. 

he lets go of your wrist and you already miss his touch. 

so, the reckless part of you stays, sits closer to him, tries not to melt when his silk pyjamas brush against your naked thigh. 

“i think about your mouth.” he brings a tentative hand to cup your cheek, thumb tracing your bottom lip. “those pretty little moans, the way you said my name….” 

you can’t help it; you brush your fingers in the junction between his neck and shoulder, and find his pulse strong, but steady. 

“levi,” you sigh, and he shudders.

“fuck, just like that.” 

you and levi are so close now, you aren’t sure the air you’re breathing is your own. 

“it kills me, that you’re only a room away —” 

“i think about your fingers,” you finally confess. you lick your lips, grazing levi’s thumb in the process. “i think about the way you taste, how full you made me feel.”

levi sucks in a sharp breath. by now, he’s snaked his other hand underneath your shirt, fingers tracing shapes onto your stomach.

“kirstein might murder me.”

you nod slowly. 

“mikasa might never speak to me again.”

“you’ve been driving me insane all year,” levi justifies. “all fucking year. when mika brought you to paradis, i thought we’d have all summer….”

he scrapes his nails against your ribcage, wandering further into dangerous territory.

“i guess we better make up for lost time, then.” you suggest. his hand stills, eyes locked on yours. “don’t you think, levi?”

levi answers by surging forward, and kissing you with such ferocity, he might as well be a man starved. teeth on teeth on tongue. you tangle your hands into his hair, pull on some strands just to see what he'd do. he groans, and retaliates by biting down on your bottom lip, hard enough that you taste the metallic tang of blood mixed with the remnants of minty toothpaste on his lips. you whimper and pull away slightly. he holds your face firmly between his two hands, so you can’t go too far.

"sorry." levi smirks, and you know he doesn't really mean it. 

you don’t care. you tug his hair some more and crash your mouth back to his, let your tongue trace every one of his teeth as if committing to memory.

you’re jolted back to reality when his hand dips beneath the waistband of your underwear. 

“shit. wait.” you push levi away and need a second to appreciate the state he’s in: raven hair a mess of your own making, pupils blown wide as he watches you with greedy impatience. 

“what is it?” he presses when you take a second too long to explain.

“oh. it’s just,” a nervous laugh bubbles from your chest. you’ve craved this, craved him for so long, and it seems cosmically unfair that something else prevents you from satisfying your hunger. “i’m on my period.”

levi blinks at you. “so?”

you’re flustered, having to spell this out for him. “well, i guess we can’t really have sex, then?” you pause, watching as levi tilts his head. “i can suck you off if you want —

“what i want is to taste you,” levi states. “it’s lucky for you, i’m a vampire.” 

you would have bet all your money that levi was just fucking with you, ready to leave you to tend to yourself for the night. 

it’s a bet you would have promptly lost, seeing as levi slides to his knees and lodges himself between your legs.

“if you’re not comfortable with it, i don’t have to.” 

your teeth catch your bottom lip, heart almost beating out of your chest.

you could back out now, suck it up and get on your knees for jean instead, gush to mikasa about it later and keep making her believe that you’re following her word like scripture. 

but — it’s just so sincere. sweet, almost, how levi tilts his head up at you, waiting for your command like you’re a deity he’s dedicated his life to, willing to do anything and everything to prove his devotion. 

the final transgression, the nail in the coffin: 

you reach down to brush your fingers underneath his jawline and tell him it’s okay — that you want him.

levi sinks his teeth into the flesh of your thigh, soothing his tongue over the sting before removing your shorts and underwear.

he has his way with you, bringing you over the edge not once, but twice with his sharp tongue and skilled fingers. you bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from screaming, until it’s just too damn much and you have to push levi’s head away. 

levi looks up at you again, this time with a devilish grin, canines sparkling in the moonlight. crimson on his chin, between his fingers. once spotless silk pyjamas are probably stained with grass and dirt and whatever wetness he’s gathered from you. 

maybe you should be on your knees, too, repent for the sin of crossing a line that was very clearly drawn, but you don’t care. 

you’re hot and sticky and overstimulated, and fuck if you aren’t entirely blissed out. 

levi confesses that wants, needs, to be inside you, so he carries you to his bedroom. you claw at the angel wings engraved on levi’s shoulder blades as he thrusts into you and sucks at your pulse point, your collarbone and chest.

“knew you’d feel like bliss, all tight and wrapped around me,” levi exhales, moving up to press his sweaty forehead to yours. “i’d call you angel, but we both know our friends would sentence us to hell for this. worth it though, right, baby?”

“fuck, levi,” you moan at the nickname, which encourages him to go faster. one of his hands moves to grip the pillow beside your head; you take the opportunity to angle your chin and run your tongue over the tattooed sword on his forearm, tasting salt. “so fucking worth it.”

you reach your climax when levi starts rubbing harsh circles onto your clit. he lets you ride out your high before pulling out of you, stroking himself a few times, and painting your stomach with his release. 

lingering in a post-orgasm haze, you take a few moments to look around. levi’s room is pristine, save for the dirty clothes you practically tore from each other’s bodies and the now ruined sheets. you’re about to close your eyes, but levi taps your cheek. 

“hey. you okay?”

“yeah,” you yawn, tracing a finger across the roses decorating his chest. “sorry about the mess.”

levi shakes his head. “don’t worry about that. i’ll do laundry tomorrow,” he assures. “but let’s get you cleaned up now, beautiful.”

it was such a rush at the beginning, between you and levi. now, the result of your… whatever you want to call it — obsession, violence, passion — sees the two of you sharing a bath.  the air thick with steam and smelling of citrus and bergamot. levi ackerman in a marble bathtub, skin wet and soapy after washing away blood and dirt. defined muscles and intricate tendons that could have been carved from marble, too.

he falls asleep in your bed, and you fall asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

in the morning, when you wake up, levi is sitting on your windowsill. backlit by the sun shining in, framing him with a halo, he takes a slow drag of his cigarette, preens for no one in particular as if for a portrait they’d hang in an art gallery. 

you’ve tried, multiple times, but could never quite capture his beauty. at least not with a regular hb pencil and flimsy sketchbook paper. you thought he deserved to be immortalised, all shadows and intense angles. maybe the louvre in paris or the uffizi in florence; displayed somewhere for all to admire, like renaissance portraits of italian nobles or ancient gods carved in stone, given sacrifices from starving peasants. 

levi represents everything you want to burn to a crisp.

and, yet.

levi notices you stirring.

he smiles at you (you’d sit in hell just for a glimpse of that rare, precious, levi ackerman smile) and murmurs a good morning, sweetheart (how is it possible that you can taste his words on your tongue, thick like honey and just as sweet?), all while looking at you like you were the work of art.

you feel something twist in your gut. 

you’re so, utterly fucked.

[laudanine]

How to make a back-patch: Hancock edition

Hey guys! So the tutorial for the Hancock patch is here! So the standing rule on this patch is "you can use my art and make your own, but you are not permitted to make money off it." But man, make your own, go nuts!

Steps 1 to 5 are mostly about how I made the image itself. Steps 6 to 9 are about making a patch once you have your final image. Skip ahead if you need!

So here's the supplies I personally use for these patches -

Tulip fabric paint, black and white

Talc powder

Charcoal powder

Tracing paper

Paintbrush

Fine-tip squeeze bottles

Fabric

My computer

Tape

A thumbtack

A pencil

And to be clear, these are NOT the only options. I've done this with black or white acrylic paint instead of fabric paint, it works fine. If you don't want to bother with the squeeze bottles you can use a paintbrush instead. If you don't have talc powder, cornstarch would work. If you can't find powdered charcoal, you can crush some up like I did, or use graphite, or literally whatever. You get the idea.

If you're going to be using the fine-tip squeeze bottles, now is the time to put your paint (fabric or acrylic) into the bottles and thin them with water to your level of comfort. You WILL need to test the paint on some fabric first, to be sure you can apply it evenly and that it flows well. If you're going to use acrylics, I highly suggest you add a drop of retardant to the mix ALONG with water.

2. I find my images for the figure I'm drawing. Yes, we're tracing: this ain't fine art and we're not gonna be snobs. Here we have John Hancock from the game and John Hancock IRL Danny Shorago.

3. I trace my images! You may notice my two reference images are the same pose! I'm gonna trace the first one by taping my paper over my computer screen and drawing LIGHTLY.

When I had the basics for Danny's proportions down, I left the paper where it was and moved the image of Hancock underneath the paper and traced what I needed from that image. That gets me this double-layer image.

4. I decide which of these lines I want to keep. Even with the faces for John and Danny lined up proportionally the shoulders and neck length of the two figures are pretty different. I decided that I wanted to go with narrower shoulders, and free-handed in the ruffles for his shirt.

5. Now I merge the two faces. I have to get the skin texture from John onto the face I have, which is mostly Danny. I kept up a whole screen of reference images for this process so I could decide what I wanted to pull from where.

And I leaned hard into the skull for his cheekbones and nose. You can see I actually used a colored pencil to outline those skull-like elements before I chose my final lines, and used another piece of my own darn art to add a chin scar I just really like. It is NOT a bad idea to trace a SECOND COPY of this image AT THIS TIME. Your image will be getting really dirty and messed up in the future, so unless you want to start over, you should make a spare copy (spoiler: I didn't do that and had to do this whole thing a second time to make a second patch...)

6. Align your fabric and your tracing paper up and tape first the fabric down THEN the paper on top, separately.

7. Poke holes! Use your thumbtack to poke holes along the lines you're trying to transfer. The way I'm doing this patch most of the image is white lines on black fabric, with SOME black lines on white for his face, neck, and shirt. For that reason, my transfer process is gonna be in TWO parts, one to lay down the white portions and then later to put the black lines ON TOP of the white areas as needed. I don't have a photo for this step: poke holes, you know how to do that.

8. Apply talc/powder to the image and use a paintbrush to gently brush the talc over the surface. You can use the brush perpendicular to the surface to GENTLY push the powder into the holes from the thumbtack holes.

9. Peel off the paper GENTLY. As you can see, I didn't even poke holes for the lines in his face, just the outlines for what's going to be painted in white. What you have is a little connect-the-dots to apply white paint to.

10. Apply white paint and allow to DRY COMPLETELY.

11. Once the white paint it TOTALLY DRY you're going to repeat steps 7 to 9, poking holes in the locations that you want to have BLACK lines appear. For me that's the details on his face and shirt. Instead of talc, the powder I used was crushed vine charcoal. You can see I'm starting to apply the black paint along the lines of black spots of charcoal.

12. Add, like, words and stuff! Also clean up, and fine tune, etc. You did awesome, and if it didn't turn out, well you DEFINITELY made a spare copy like I suggested you do in step 5, right?!?! Right.

Some notes:

This process also works on tee shirts if you want, but definitely use the fabric paint and not acrylics or the paint will flake off when you wash the clothing. Instead of taping the shirt down, I suggest you thumbtack it to a board or to some thick cardboard to keep it still while you work.

If you don't have a computer/screen you can trace on then print the images you want to work with and tape them to a window to use as alight-box.

You don't need to use the charcoal, honestly. If the design is simple or you're feeling like a BAMF, you can skip the black paint and the black powder and just use the negative space of the black fabric instead.

Tracing, and I cannot say this clearly enough, is not cheating when you're not tracing someone else's art. Trace a face. Trace a figure. Trace a landscape. I don't care. If you're tracing any image, you're going to need to do a lot of work to make your shitty traced image (my step 3) into something that looks like art (my step 5). That act of work, that's making art. Congratulations.

If you made it this far and REALLY want to donate money to me over this, don't! Maybe donate to the Palestine Children's Relief Fund instead at pcrf.net because that'd be SUPER cool.

Hope some or all of this helped someone somewhere be a cool punk badass like everyone's favorite Mayor.

[sarcasticscribbles]

Do you think drawing fat people is hard?

It’s a bit different from drawing slimmer people, especially when most references and art assets mainly showcase slimmer folks. Plus-sized characters in media are far and few in between, and they often just have a little more curve with a slim face. There's nothing wrong with that, but everyone has different weight distributions, which can lead to a lot of diversity in body types!

I don't think drawing fat people is “hard”, but it can take a little longer to seek out references for the anatomy. There are some good resources online but one I've found super helpful is FAT PHOTO REFERENCE, you need approval to access it but once you're in there are so many amazing photos of bigger people posing!

AdorkaStock (also known as Senshi Stock) have a great body diversity for art references, and a rich library of different poses!

In general, I decide what body shape I want to go for and add some mass to it based on my reference; I based a lot of my character designs on shapes, so that decided the weight distributions. Good to remember about weight is that it weighs (lol), so instead of just adding rounder shapes to characters, make sure it's also pulling down a little.

Double chins are very common but rarely showcased, so I think it's a good feature to add if you want to draw a bigger person.

I’m not sure if any of this is helpful, or if the question was meant to offer advice or just to critique my character designs (which is fair). As an artist, I've noticed that “flaws”—and I mean more than just weight, as someone who has struggled with my own size—make for more engaging character designs.

Adding my own insecurities to character designs helps me accept and embrace the uniqueness of features that aren't often seen; everyone deserves to be seen, because we’re all here, and life’s too short to strive for a picture-perfect existence.

[spookymultimedia]

In my style I gave him a double chin for a few reasons. It's such a small addition but I think it does ALOT for his design

It makes his face significantly easier to read. The official art isn't meant for animation or comics, it's more so just a visual for the players and the audience to reference. It does what it needs to do. However my style is extremely expressive and semi-realistic, I need the details for that.

Another reason is I think it looks more convincing that he's stuffed with some straw. It's like a little bludge you might see in a burlap sack of something. I guess if metaphorically the demonic part of his body are "bones" then imagine the hay acts as the muscles and fat around those bones.

And the cutest reason is I think it makes him look a little more like Mikey

Also I don't think anyone has noticed yet but I draw little stitches on his mouth to look like little snake bite piercings, purely just for fun 😅

[mommycity]

hi hungry anon back again! i present to thee... DOUBLE CHIN SUGU ‼️‼️

its just a tiny eensy weensy thing hanging from the bottom of his chin but the way you laser in on it after a few days of sharing your food with him is a little freaky (but he doesnt mind it that much because of all the kisses you give him right there)

for fanart reference i highly suggest monosrojo's art of chubby sugu its like the only jjk art they have other than a drawing of yuuta + rika BUT VERY GOOD

when suguru starts visibly gaining weight you smother him in kisses, giving him the same treatment he gives you.

squeezing his love handles, nuzzling into his tummy, smacking his FAT ass when he walks by, and saying how much you love him, of course ♥️.

and he quickly takes it all in stride. backed by his own assurance in himself and affirmations from his supportive partner!!

and your reply about him making you feel better...actually so real.

you probably send him a text about how bad your day was, or venting about an incident at work and the second hes off the clock, hes heading to a wonderful bakery that he frequently splurges at.

the box he brings home is huge and heavy, but packed to the brim with one of every pastry they offer while in his head hes thinking about making a sandwich thats layered with tons of different fillings. all together, his plan for dinner is incredibly calorie dense, but as long as youre happy he doesnt mind.

when he gets home, he gives you a kiss from where youre laying in a sad heap on the couch, but you perk up at the pretty box he set down on the coffee table.

if you ask what it is, a sly grin is plastered on his face, 'something to make you feel better.' is all he says before tucking you under his chin and letting you vent about your day.

as you start talking, hes going to hold up macarons, donuts stuffed with whipped cream and strawberries, custard hand pies, whatever is handheld and easy to bring to your mouth.

then once youre more distracted by eating than talking, hell start handing you huge croissants stuffed with cream and fruits, different flavors of cale slices, mini fruit parfaits.

and then, unexpectedly, you turn around from where youre sitting in his lap. 'try some su!' you cajole as he denies over and over.

'theyre for you to feel better, not me.' he argues, but you whine.

'you wanna know what would make me feel better? if you ate something.'

that finally convinces him to open his mouth and eat a macaron that was left over from the many flavors he bought, and your reply stopped him in his tracks.

'good boy!' you kissed his neck as he swallowed and turned back around like nothing happened.

underneath you, his dick probably twitched and you covered up your evil smile with a spoonful of the two thick slices of triple chocolate cake on the flimsy paper plate in your hands.

'come down here guru, try some of this,'

this time, hes obedient and leans over your shoulder for a bite out of the other rich slice you hadnt touched yet.

'here, some more.' another forkful and suddenly youre putting bite after bite of cake in front of his mouth and hes willingly taking it into his mouth and swallowing.

eventually the two of you are tearing apart the rest of the box.

hed hold a huge glazed donut to your lips that youd finish in two bites, suguru would get four or five pieces of fudge popped into his mouth one after the other.

finally, he moans around a huge frosted cookie being shoved in his mouth and buries his flushed face in your neck.

sugurus breathing hard with crumbs around his mouth while youre swallowing down your last slice of strawberry shortcake that had a thick white glaze across the top of it.

'does your tummy hurt?' you asked, hands already moving down to his distended torso. from personal experience, something as intense as what the two of you just did would always result in you whining for gentle tummy rubs.

'yeah, yeah.' you laid him back on the couch and moved his shirt up for better access.

once you get your hands on the tight skin of his tummy, he moans at first contact and arches his back.

you stop and let him settle before going back to caressing from the bottom of his taut and heavy belly to the top and back down again.

he keeps moaning and writhing, but combined with the way his round tummy poked up definitely added to your little fantasy of getting him pregnant. maybe you could get him to have twins somehow...

i think suguru would cum just from having his full tummy kneaded and massaged, especially with some lotion.

when you notice he moans particularly loud and thrusts his hips up, your eyes are drawn to the wet patch against his jeans.

youd tease him a bit, then order takeout (the sandwich could be saved for another day). its probably something meant for a full family that the two of you devour, then migrate to the bed to lazily fuck and cuddle.

thats my little soapbox spiel heehee, i hope you enjoyed it ^_^ and feel free to add on!!

It's been 4 billion years oh my gosh...hungry anon save me hungry anon

[blimbo-buddy]

hi blimp!! do you have any tips on how to draw fat/big cats? i have some fat characters of my own, but i'm really struggling to make it seem obvious through their art that they're fat, especially in the face :[

Visual example that might help out a bit

The cheeks become chubbier and can show up more prominently in expressions like smiling

A double chin can help out a lot too

Keep in mind the neck folds and general fat folds, not just in the face/neck area, but all around the body

My biggest piece of advice is: DON'T DRAW ALL OF YOUR FAT CHARACTERS LIKE THIS:

You can still draw plus-sized cats like this, but don't only draw them like this, especially if it's a cat that is specifically fat. Not chubby, not pudgy, fat.

This is really all the best suggestions I could give on how to draw fat cats. I'm not the best at explaining my process of design or advice but I can sure as hell try

Here's some resources that cover how to draw fat people (I apply this to my way of drawing fat cats sometimes)

Some other tips I can give when drawing fat cats:

Go crazy with their shapes, fat characters can have the same body shape range as skinny characters

Take references, lots of references

Look at how other artists might draw fat cats, it can really help you get an idea of what you want out of your fat character design

Don't be afraid to trace photos of fat cats to have a starting base

Ask around more, many artists have different approaches and better advice than I could ever give

Fluffy fur is not always a stand-in for fat, don't constantly do this (Obviously fluffy cats can be fat too, but I've seen time to time, artists just making the cats fluffy instead of fat)

[dogtoling]

oh tumblr user dogtoling, blease, impart unto us your wisdom of drawing really good fat cephalopods

I think i've answered this exact question before and it's kind of a tall ask... the best advice I can always give is to just study how to draw fat people first (granted, easier said than done in regards to finding references). Once you have a hang on how that works and how fat sits on the body and how it usually accumulates, that basic knowledge goes a pretty long way when drawing non-human characters too. for people who are completely new to drawing fat, the best off-the-top-of-my-head tips i can give are:

1. don't just draw A Circle. you won't get very far with that most of the time. if you really want to start with a shape, i'd recommend a rectangle and working out the shapes from there (more balanced than a circle + you're less likely to mess up in the gravity part)

2. fat =/= JUST the belly. I think this is pretty commonly talked about but a lot of people that are new to trying to draw fat people will just try to add a belly to an otherwise thin frame. And don't get me wrong, that IS also a body type that exists, but especially when you go higher in weight it's about filling out the whole body. add some width. study which areas accumulate more fat and which don't!

3. DO NOT BE AFRAID OF THE DOUBLE CHIN. Skinny Face on Fat Body is pretty common to see and again while you can also have a body type like that, it just seems like a lot of people are scared to draw double chins or not sure how they work. Don't be afraid to give fat characters fat faces, it makes a huge difference!! (though, also pay attention to not go overboard with this part, because it can also end up looking really off.)

4. remember that fat has weight, so if you think you've done everything correctly but the drawing still looks off, it's often because the GRAVITY is off. Fat Has Weight. So while you draw, try to visualize where that weight rests organically. (also this specific step will come back to haunt you every single time you draw a fat character sitting down or in any non-standing position)

5. Fat can change shape in different positions (for example rolls can appear or disappear depending on how the torso is bent). consider this when doing different positions - but don't go overboard here. Fat still usually has a general shape, it's not some kind of freely shape-shifting jello with the consistency of some goop. And again, body type matters here, some people are more firm than others.

6. At bigger sizes, pay attention to subtle differences in positions and posture that both the weight and the space it takes up might cause. For example, with bigger bodies you'll often see the arms angled slightly to the side rather than straight down the sides (collision with chest/upper body fat = arms Cannot just go straight down). you probably get the point. The keyword most of the time is SUBTLE, but also if you skip this part, the results might look strange and again you have no idea why.

this list is Not comprehensive because as i've added a disclaimer in like every part, there is a huge variety of body types. So the best way you can learn in the end is, unsurprisingly, just seeing and drawing different body types! but i tried to think of and include a lot of common pitfalls that people (including me) tend to fall into when learning and how to Skip the extremely frustrating "why does this look Wrong" part to at least some degree instead of having to stare at the art for 5 hours and just try to work it out.

anyway NOW TO THE CEPHALOPODS PART - if you draw Inklings with human anatomy you're basically done already. Just, doubly study real-life fat people in that case. But in the case you don't, practicing on real fat bodies is still useful because as I said before, understanding the basic rules is widely applicable even for other creatures! My approach to inkfish is that they're generally pretty human-shaped, but because they have no joints or bones, I try to avoid rigid segments in most areas and thus make them generally more smooth. that means less rolls (pretty much none until actually larger sizes) and more just, idk, smoothness.

This is more or less the mental map i work off of:

While you'll usually look at the inkfish torso and view it as mostly A Singular Cylinder, it becomes more obviously segmented with more weight. The arms, legs or tentacles don't have any shape other than Noodle, so they just get thicker overall for the most part. Go above a certain weight threshold and you start seeing more texture and rolls. In humans you would definitely have to consider stretch marks, but I omit those from Inkfish because that's scarring that I feel wouldn't occur in a species that's got flexible enough skin to drastically stretch and change form unscathed all the time anyway.

I have to point out that fat tentacles are a game changer in my opinion! They're a part of the body too, so as a very inkfish-specific tip, just add weight to the tentacles if you have a fat character. It adds a significant amount of immersion and just looks more sensible I guess. I'll use Engel's old hairstyle as an example because he's a very good example of this specific aspect...

yeah i feel like that illustrates my point.

(This isn't really relevant to DRAWING fat inklings, but someone is probably going to wonder about it so I'll answer it: i'm ignoring the logistics of a fat inkling being able to stand or walk without any kind of internal support structure. It's definitely notably difficult for them because as opposed to humans with skeletons, they have to support the weight mostly using JUST muscle. However from a realism standpoint, inklings being able to stand or walk at their size EVEN WHEN NOT FAT wouldn't work in the first place, and Splatoon is full of creatures like Cohozuna or the Great Zapfish, or even Mr. Coco, which would crush themselves and suffocate and die under their mass if they came out of the water... and they're constantly out of the water, so TL;DR no one in Splatoon gives a shit about the laws of physics anyway. If you can have the suspension of disbelief to accept Crusty Sean walking on two legs as a whole ass bipedal giant prawn, that should be able to extend to a fat inkling.)

I don't really know what else to write so hopefully this helped somebody. Lol

[mechanicalriddle]

My journals are liable to be a little barebones this year since I have been extremely busy for the past 2 months lmao.

To my dear and WONDERFUL Exalted Secret Santa....

Hirudana Siithavari- Current Gunstar Autochthonia PC, Worm of my heart (also brain)

If you're not in the know about the 2e Gunstar Autochthonia shard, everyone lives in Autochthonia and its a lot nicer than regular Autochthonia but also its in space and also the Yozis are chasing you 100% of the time. We've got it sort of star trek vibes but a little grungier and a tad diesel/rustpunk.

Siithi (32 y.o., she/her, 5'6") is a dipshit No Moon necromancer. She's a bit of a golden-hearted asshole, and while quite capable of taking things seriously, she also loves acting like a complete hooligan. Unfortunately lately she hasn't really been acting herself lately on account of she is maybe a little bit stressed out.

Her main character arc so far has been overcoming her own insecurities to come into her own as a powerful Chosen. Now she is finally getting the hang of it, but also currently dealing with like 4 different parties all vying for her allegiance (a number of whom are literally inside her head), trying to unlock the secrets of necromancy while being the Deliberative's first and only practicioner (with no formal training in anything involved), and slowly drifting away from her best friend, the dragon-king Meteor-Dream, who has formed a maligned pact with the Viator of Nullspace and lost most semblances of "humanity" that they had left. So shes basically pretty cranky, and not getting a lot of sleep. She finds working with her hands to be very therapeutic, so she's mostly trying to keep busy to forget about it.

This is working as well as one would expect.

She's blessed with the ugly bastard's confidence, and usually sporting either severe RBF, a wide & wry grin, or something smugly between. Sort of a slouching creeper. She emotes exaggeratedly and has a little bit of natural rubberhose stretchiness, plus a very minimal concept of personal space.

Motifs- The colors of chemicals, grime, and industrial decay (rust-red and algae green, ochre, dusty grays, various shades of black and brown) paired with the bright hues of warning. Rustpunk machinery chic, gears and bits and bobs. Black leather, vinyl, and latex, with silver studs and hardware. Machines that hiss and undulate. Mysterious stains, diaphonized specimens, sludge, slime, small skittering and squirming vermin.

Anima- Siithi's iconic anima is a moonlit mangrove swamp except the water is oil and the trees are made of steel and pulsating tubes and the moon is really really huge and reflective, also she is suspended over the surface of the water by a bunch of tubes connected to her back because thats fun. Her glowing/burning anima is pretty much like the regular Lunar anima except that its kind of gloopy and flows like wax in a lava lamp.

Her spirit shape is the Asian Buffalo Leech (Hirudinaria manillensis). Feel free to draw either her human or hybrid form.

Ideas (I like to put in a list of these in case you wanted to draw a little scene but arent sure what to do; feel free to ignore them completely)-

She's a bit of a gearhead, so you could draw her peeling an engine apart, covered in oil

Or disassembling a rotted corpse on a steel table with a bonesaw, covered in blood

Ruefully drinking coffee out of a go mug, or nursing a glass of dark-colored liquor on the rocks at a sci fi dive bar

Smoking weeeeeed

Notes- She is very much musclefat. Please don't omit details relating to this like her double chin, rolls, etc. She has a couple hairstyles listed in her references (take your pick), and sometimes has sparse facial hair which you can choose to include or not.

Cynis Niraj- Traitorous Twink of the Realm

(most of my art of this guy is either like 5 years out of date and/or trapped on my former PC, so hopefully these give you enough to work off of. he doesn't really have a signature outfit so you can have some fun with it!)

Niraj (21 y.o., he/him, 5'8") is a little water aspected bastard boy I held close to my chest for a very long time; he happens to be probably the most important Ledaal Tedeo backstory character (besties+magic college roommates, also Niraj has been dutifully covering Ted's tracks to try to prevent him from being detected by his Realm detractors).

He is sort of on track to be Cynis's next spymaster because while he may be a sorcerer he has all the sneaky bastard manipulator spells... infallible messenger control, corrupted words, silent dreams etc etc. More damningly he is the present wielder of Calumny (spoilers). A large proportion of his time at the Heptagram was spent cultivating his ability to lie and diplomacy his way out of anything, and the rest was of course spent doing... You know. Sorcery. Has the capacity to self reflect to some degree (e.g. why he didn't spurn his best friend completely right off the bat and has been reassessing his loyalties to the Realm as a result) but he's also a nervous animal who wants nothing more than to seek comfort in the familiar. Probably not the worst guy in the world but he is a rich kid, full stop.

Niraj carries a constant level of tension well beyond his years (it happens when you're lying thru your teeth on the daily to essence 5 shikari on behalf of your pet solar). Lately his anxiety has been much more difficult to hide. His outbursts are snide and a little temperamental but usually all hot air. The poor devil hasn't put on a genuine smile much in the past decade.

Motifs- Eels and various other toothy fish. Thick smoke and clouds of incense. Orchid and lotus flowers, draping vines, tobacco & potpourri, and general floral motifs. Dark-stained wood and leather. The night, and deep water. Dark, rich, luxurious garbs and tapestries; comfort over looks over practicality. The colors of his house, and of affluence.

Anima- Dark underwater cavern with toothy formations; deeper in the cave you can see dark shapes swimming in hypnotic patterns. Also, he has a little red lantern hanging over his head like an anglerfish lure.

Ideas-

Miserable in the bath. SFW only as per the rules of the event. Maybe he's in a nice bubbly bath. Or maybe he's bathing fully clothed.

Or simply laying facedown in an estate fountain. Not really his best angle, though.

Sitting in a dark room, forging a correspondence by candlelight.

Looking contemplative and/or nervous on the prow of a boat.

Also smoking weeeeeed or hookah

Notes-

I would say make sure his skin tone is accurate and also hes got magic top scars (depicted) in case you do choose the bath option or have him with his shirt slightly open all sexy or something. IDK

Keeping most of my other OCs on reserve this year. Have fun with one of these little freaks.

[polarisbear]

there’s a process i like to go through every time i sit down and commit to drawing something more than once (detailed image and text id under the cut)

[image id 1: a sketch page of all of the octopath traveler 2 travelers. there is a row of small full body sketches and a row of bust shots.

image id 2: a sketch page focusing on a small ochette redesign and figuring out how to draw partitio.]

[image id 1: a set of sketches of the playable cast of octopath traveler 2. at the top are a row of small full bodies of the travelers. below are busts of them. agnea bristarni is clapping her hands together with a smile; she has sun-kissed skin and freckles. ochette is excitedly running to the right. throné anguis has her arms crossed as she frowns. castti florenz looks off screen with worry. hikari ku’s hair blows in the wind as he looks upset; he has an olive skin tone. partitio yellowil is giving his best smirk as he winks with his hand on his chin. he’s black, referencing his concept art. temenos mistral has a hand on his chin as he gives a mysterious smile. osvald v. vanstein looks disgruntled and like he desperately needs sunlight.

image id 2: a sketch page mostly focusing on ochette and patritio. there is a sketch of ochette’s back as she stretches, there are also small drawings of other beastlings. there is a simple reference sheet of ochette as she poses, her design slightly altered. her hair turns black at the tips, and it’s put up in loose twin tails. her clothes have a more “finished” look, and all of the leather material has been refined. there is more beading detailing on her. the right side of the sketch page is just partitio headshots with different face angles and hairstyles.

text id: “What if. Jacked.” “fluffy face :)” “beading! Important Toto’haha craft” “She re-dyes her dress periodically” “Beastlings can look like any canine/feline Can live anywhere” “Toto’haha is known for impressive leather-working (bc of all the animal hides they have)” “Stripes break up form -> harder to follow” “Claws. bc cool” “Recent trading = metal weaponry is pretty commonplace” “gladiator sandals but fr” “becomes black at the tips” “didn’t notice the eye shape went down (looks extra smiley lol)” “dashing young man (… phoenix wright”)” “silver rings from home” “High pony for w/o hat” “Low pony for hat” “double pony layering trick (from Agnea!)”]

[angel-of-the-moons]

Nothing Is Lost side character lineup

Djedefhor -- Merit's father. Both of their kids get most of their looks from him.

Ahrenkare -- Merit's baby brother. Tried to portray how lively and playful he was.

Benerib -- Merit's mother. Tried to imply a bit of an age gap between she and Djedefhor.

Nefertiti -- Obviously needs no introduction. Her design was based almost entirely off of her bust, using some of Tzipporah's art as a starting reference.

Heba -- She is very young here. She's little, around 4-6 years old when Merit died. Tried to show some of that baby fat in her lil cheeks. And yeah, I know most kids had their heads shaven with the sidelock of hair... But I felt like a wig with the locks braided in a similar fashion fit her more.

Akhenaten -- Another who needs no introduction. Based his look off his statues (that I could get decent references of) and a bit of Rameses. Wanted to give him a cocky, self-assured air around him with a bit of a twisted twinkle in his eye.

Hathor -- Duh. But for this design I wanted her to be a bit on the thicker side. Tried to give her a bit of a double chin and soft proportions. Because. C'mon. You can't tell me the goddess of sex, music, love, and motherhood is a skinny twig. She hasn't made an appearance yet, but she will in some flashbacks!

Bakenkhonsu -- ("Servant of Khonsu") The High Priest of Khons(h)u, and the Fist at the time of Merit's life and Akhenaten's rise to power. I wanted him to look soft and sweet; approachable. The perfect look of the man who comforted Merit when her brother and mother died, and eventually, her father. One of Merit's closest friends and confidants. Most definitely figured out Merit and Khonshu did the dirty in the temple. He's not dumb asdfghjkl

[wachtelspinat]

I have a serious question! What references did you use to learn to draw Roadhog's body type? It's my first time trying to draw a body like his and I'm STRUGGLING. I'm using your art as reference because your depictions of him are godly, but I could use any tips you have. He's my babygirl and I want to be able to do him justice 💓

hey ! good question and thank you very much for your kind words <3

i've been drawing body types like his not enough to say very comfortably that i know what i'm doing, this is mostly due to me not having done a lot of studies in this regards (i wanna change that)... but i've been trying to push it ever since the midnight crew days (since i love drawing our fabulous boy hearts boxcars and he's kinda the same category)...

i kind of looked at various references through out the years, starting with concept art from bioshock 2...

... to pictures of strongmen (they sometimes lack roadie's gut but pictures of them are amazing for arms, the chest area, necks, backs and all that)

(these are dennis kohlruss, eddie hall and rongo keene as examples)

this is older but you get the idea, just to see how things flow when there is more than just skinny muscles and skin.

sometimes it helps just tracing their ingame models, altho i'm more often changing a bit here and there (mostly roadie's giant hands... they’re just not... they just don't go with my stupid idea to go more realistic lol) but i think it's a good way to get a feeling of his body dimensions, especially length of legs, torso etc.

as a general tip i'd say don't be afraid to experiment! you know how to draw a skinny leaf of a guy? try adding more volume to it, try defining muscles through layers of skin. always google ref if you need, you don't know how a double chin rounds exactly? or how some skin folds at the sides move when twisting the torso? google it, or make ref yourself, see what your body does. because in the end we're all consistent of the same parts, it's just a matter of dimensions and volume i think

there are also a LOT of amazing artists out there i draw inspiration from drawing the best, beefiest bears... and yes i mean that in a literal way... they are mostly furry artists on the nsfw side of things, hence i'm not linking them here (i'm sorry)... but in general... idk if you're on twitter or what your preferences are, but a lot of artists specialize in drawing roadhog-type-o-guys and they're so much better at this than i am. and it's not just artists... to be perfectly honest a lot of people upload very good ref on twitter in form of photos of them it's just... mostly... nsfw x') last but not least, i can always recommend the book "morpho fat and skin folds" for certain things

hope this helped a little and if you got any more questions or idk, need help with a certain pose?? feel free to ask

[k20spock]

[ID: A colored digital drawing of the op’s fursona. They are largely based on a tiger, and are standing upright with longer front limbs and a slightly hunched posture rather than having a completely human body shape. They have a wide build, with broad shoulders and hips. They are also slightly fat, with a double chin and fat around the stomach and hips. The tail is not based on a tiger’s but a leopard gecko’s. It is thick with slight ridges. The tiger also has short antlers that are shedding velvet, appearing dark red. The coloration is based on a tiger’s, orange-brown with a white chest and belly, tip of tail, scruff, and muzzle. There are black stripes, some resembling stretch marks on their hips and stomach. The tail is spotted instead of striped. There is also a spot in the center of one of their arms. They have a scar on one of their hips and the inside of one of their lower legs. There is also a pinkish blotchy marking on their chest. They are wearing a small earring, and are smiling. The background is a dark gray and writing in the upper right corner reads “me!”. End ID.]

HIII I drew a fursona HIGHLY recommend it was so so fun. rambling about the design under the cut!

so the pose was initially referenced from the dungeon meshi art of the tiger and bear beastmen cause I really like the sort of anthro designs like that, that have those longer arms and hunched posture so they look human shaped but they can get on all fours if they want to. being bipedal is lame. I then changed stuff around to accurately get my body type (which took forever). Don’t draw this sort of thing often but I’m happy with it. I added a few not tiger features as well. They’re a bit bulkier than a tiger which is kinda the bear influence, and the antlers are from the den from slay the princess because I love her and I love her design. and the tail is a gecko tail! my name is gecko I had to include some gecko elements. and the stretch mark markings are based on my stretch marks, the scars are surgical scars of mine, the spot on the arm is a birthmark, and the chest splotches are psoriasis discoloration. Wanted to include little details like that so it was recognizably my body! I’m so happy with this guy and now I want it all dressed up in little outfits. you guys gotta get on this it’s so fun. also for the image description I just used one pronoun set (they/them) for simplicity but you can refer to them with any of my pronouns :)

[l0velylecter]

shining like gun metal, cold and unsure — könig / f!reader

HE TOLD YOU IT FELT LIKE HIS HEART WAS COLLAPSING ON ITSELF. Followed by light-headedness and the need to sit down, König made it sound like you gave him a stroke. Stendhal syndrome, he calls it. A psychosomatic phenomenon where an object of great beauty overwhelms a person to the point of sickness. Shy and unconvinced, you drop your gaze. Seizing the rare moments when he has his hood up to the bridge of his nose, you trace your fingers across his cheeks, asking him if he really found you that beautiful.

“ Natürlich,” He whispered, breath hitching in his throat, “ You consume me, häschen.”

summary : war and art are best observed from a distance ; and yet König finds himself drawn to your beauty, as he is to all things dangerous. [ told through snippets + each scene inspired by a painting ] pairing : könig / f! reader fandom : call of duty modern warfare ii rating : m for mature and suggestive themes, minors don’t interact (mdni!), not safe for work (nsfw!) warnings : brief mentions of injuries tags : afab! reader, female parts, könig being absolutely down bad for you, references to art history / pieces, he doesn’t actually have this aesthetic sickness he’s just trying to rizz you, size difference, tender love making, he gives off the vibe as someone who’d get infatuated ( not in a toxic way tho lol ),  told in parts, small details about reader like wearing earrings mentioned, mild background for reader nothing complex.  word count : 1.3k note : font is normal sized under the cut ! song used for inspiration : art deco by lana del rey 

01| He couldn't pull his eyes away. In rapt attention, he observed the slight tilt of your head, the flutter of your eyelids, and the tremble of your bottom lip. Even when your cheeks were stained with soot and grime, sporting a small, thin cut that burned bright red, you still rendered him speechless. Tears were sliding down your chin. König was never good with people, never good with words. But when you were shivering next to him, frozen in shock — how could he not try? 

He dragged his thumb experimentally over your fingers, testing the waters. You lifted your head to meet his eyes for the first time, and König instinctively looked away, overwhelmed, intimidated. So he settled for cradling your hands, hoping it would ease the fear off your body.

And when your fingers curved around his, gentle like a scallop shell, smooth as a pearl, he let out a shaky sigh: a half gasp that sent you smiling. 

02| It was strange to finally have a face to accompany a name that has always been there: on every contract, every license, every delivery— your small and neat signature would end each sentence like a punctuation mark. An anonymous benefactress, hidden in plain sight. But now, you were speaking on the phone five meters from him, brows furrowed and shoulders slouched. He can sense the worry rolling off you in echoes, and even as he dragged the cloth over the nozzle of his sniper, he kept his gaze glued on you. The pearl earrings clipped against your ear, shining as you turned around. Your eyes glided over his, doing a double take. Curious. Caught in the act, König didn't bother hiding it. Your eyes trailed down the arch of his nose and the chapped skin of his lips, and he realised then that his hood was dangling across his nose. With half his face bared to you, his right hand instinctively flew to rub his stubble, nails scraping the dried gunpowder. The person on the other line called for your attention. Once. Twice. But you were too busy staring back, fingers unconsciously ghosting across your lips. That was his cue to duck his head and pack his gear, leaving you to continue your conversation.

03| König pulled you out of the water, hoisting you to the shore with one arm around your waist. In the background, his company scrambled to get water out of their lungs, some rushing past him to salvage whatever gear they had left. Yet the world fell on deaf ears to König, focused on how you were limp and draped over his chest, numb and cold. 

He pressed his lips against yours, administering two rescue breaths. And he repeated the motion, sealing your mouth over his to blow. When you remained limp, he undid your bulletproof vest, removing the already tattered and soaking shirt underneath to press an ear above your sternum: hoping, praying, for a heartbeat.

With an index finger beneath your ear, he continued with compressions, pace growing sloppy with each second.

Then you started to cough, gasping for air. A few seconds passed where all you could hear was the sea crashing in on itself: the bird, the wind, the rise and fall of his chest. Ignoring the taste of metal and salt on your tongue, you chose to gaze up at him.

It was as if someone had turned the lights on. The tides came to lift the curtains, sweeping away his mask to reveal his face. Drops of seawater from his hair trickled down your cheek. 

When the team found you, König had wrapped a dark, dry cloak over both your bodies to chase away from the cold. With his hand swung protectively across your shoulder, fingers tugging the fabric to cover your bare chest, you sink further into his half-embrace. Even when you were both kneeling, with his size, König covered you: his warmth already taming the goosebumps. The entire time he had his eyes on you, checking, guarding. Without his sniper hood, his pupils shined clearly, a reflection of the sea behind you. A gust of smoke flew overhead, whatever remained of your plane sinking into the waves. The flowers crept from the fields ahead, blooming in between your knees. 

04|The straight razor made a light clink as you lowered it next to the sink, and in the small space of the single-spaced bathroom, you leaned forward to reach for the towel behind his head — his forehead brushing against your ear. You ran your hand over his face, patting the wet cloth gently, checking if the water was warm. And underneath your fingertips, König bloomed: leaning against your touch and chasing after it when you retracted your arm. Outside the window, the clouds began to oppress the sun as it set over the horizon, casting dark, blue shadows over the two of you.

“ You look handsome,” You whispered, earning a small, bashful smile. Beneath your palm, you traced the scars that littered across König's face.

He raised his hand to dwarf yours. Even in this position, with him seated across you, he didn’t have to look up to reach your eye level.

“ And you’re beautiful.”

He told you it felt like his heart was collapsing on itself. Followed by light-headedness and the need to sit down, König made it sound like you gave him a stroke. Stendhal syndrome, he calls it. A psychosomatic phenomenon where an object of great beauty overwhelms a person to the point of sickness. Shy and unconvinced, you drop your gaze. Seizing the rare moments when he has his hood up to the bridge of his nose, you trace your fingers across his cheeks, asking him if he found you that beautiful.

“ Natürlich,” He whispered, breath hitching in his throat, “ You consume me, häschen.”

“ Consume you?”

“Ja. All of me.”

The words came out like a confession, a breath of devotion — reverent and akin to worship. And then, you were kissing him. Two comets stuck in orbit finally colliding, collapsing.

His mouth tasted like when the sky finally breaks to relieve the earth of the heat: cooling, soothing. The first rain in spring. His tongue was eager and heavy against your open mouth. König inhaled the little noises you made, answering in low, long groans, hands desperate against your waist as they pulled you flush against his bare chest. The rain outside growing louder by the minute.

05| Here in the dark, König was a painter, and you were his muse. His hands expertly glided over your over-sensitive bud — dragging his thumb like a brush over your slit. With concentration, he worked you open. Your internal muscles fluttered around him, the jolt of pleasure up your spine stealing your thoughts for a moment.

König continued exploring, working you, his mouth moving over the expense of your body as if it was his canvas: from your neck to your breasts to the inside of your arm, his tongue found pleasure points you didn't even know existed.

The sheets were cool. A delicious counterpoint to the heat. As you arched, legs on either side of his waist and ankles raised to his shoulder, König’s breath hitched as he pushed inside you. Slowly, gently, making you feel every stretch, every inch. 

And within this symbiotic relationship between art and artist, just as he breathes life into you, you inspire him back: dragging your fingertips down the expanse of his shoulder blades as they curl and stretch, leaving a few scrapes and scratches. Your mark. Your signature. 

It was almost comical how a man who screams of death managed to ease you back to life, winter meeting spring, the land dancing with the sea, the sun waiting for the moon: König's grip on you tightened as release washed over you. His lips kissing away the tears down your neck, his chest pressed against yours, heartbeats lulling into one. He followed soon, jerking inside you, mouth eager and wanton against yours. 

Schöne, he tells you.

Schöne.

a/n : this is mostly writing practice / a blurb which is why there’s soo many descriptions + i’ve been getting back into art history so i wanted to see how i can relate the two... i’ve always wanted to try out writing soft and intimate love-making scenes lol i hope i did well. enjoy könig lovers ! <3

information on the paintings 🖼 ( to better understand why i chose them ) :

01| the birth of venus by sandro botticelli it depicts the goddess venus arriving at the shore after her birth, when she had emerged from the sea fully-grown. plato further argued that contemplation of physical beauty allowed the mind to better understand spiritual beauty. so, looking at venus, the most beautiful of goddesses, might at first raise a physical response in viewers which then lifted their minds towards the godly

02| girl with a pearl earring by johannes vermeer some of the first literary treatments of the painting were in poems. for yann lovelock in his sestina, "vermeer’s head of a girl", it is the occasion for exploring the interplay between imagined beauty interpreted on canvas and living experience

03| the kiss by gustav klimt ( he’s austrian so könig probably knows his art well) gustav klimt depicts the couple locked in an intimate embrace against a gold, flat background. the two figures are situated at the edge of a patch of flowery meadow that ends under the woman's exposed feet. the man wears a robe printed with geometric patterns and subtle swirls. art historians have also suggested that klimt depicts the tale of orpheus and eurydice. more specifically, klimt seems to be showing the exact moment when orpheus turns around to caress eurydice and loses his love forever.

04| the kiss by edvard munch the outside world appears vibrant and lively, whereas the interior of the room is timeless, with the couple frozen in their embrace. in this motif, the couple's abstract form, in which the faces of the two appear to be merged as one, indicates their sense of belongingness and togetherness

05| death and the maiden by egon schiele  the painting was created when the painter, after marrying edith harms, was drafted into military service in the first world war. the presence of death, but also the connection between death and eros in several of his works from this period, is associated with this event.  in this painting, the woman clutching the shape of death as her lover, in a monk's robe, loses its horror.