#drawn with pencil on paper and ink of trace paper

[ash-anime2000]

(W.I.P) satoru and nanami as vampire and priest (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) (inspired by this fanfic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59401315/chapters/151488163)

[boundinparchment]

Chiaroscuro

Il Dottore cannot sleep and his mind cannot help but wander. Established Dottore x GN Reader, absolute fluff. It needs no explanation. Also on AO3 here.

Your book was open, spine cracked, pages pressed against your chest in a desperate attempt to not lose your place.  He heard you catch it in time, sigh in relief that the pages weren’t wrinkled, and then return to the steady breathing he’d heard for the past few hours.

In your defense, it was late by normal standards.  Any other night, he’d have joined you on the other end of the sofa he kept in his private office, your head in his lap as you read aloud.  But this formula wasn’t going to work itself out and he couldn’t easily hand this over to a Segment, not this time.

He sighed softly and tried to relax his hand, lest he snap yet another pen (this time, out of sheer frustration rather than a passionate fervor).  It didn’t make sense.  By all accounts, the way the variables interacted should lend itself to this calculation perfectly.  So where was the snag?

Dottore tried to work backwards, thinking through step after step, logically, impartial.  The potency of the residue…entirely dependent on the strength of the dead Archon…which was based on the faith their mortals had in them…

Faith wasn’t quantifiable.  There was no magic number that served as a benchmark.

As intangible as the stars and just as much a lie.

His hand began to move of its own accord; he worked best when he got his thoughts down on paper, could see the words.  

When had he drawn…?

Dottore’s finger traced the outline of the hand in the margins of his notes.  Not his.  He knew the intentional style of his own studies, for he’d spent centuries without a Kamera through which to capture specimens.  Accurate details and representation were only as good as the eyes and hands that could capture them until Fontaine’s invention was available.  He’d even found something close to peace in creating detailed sketches of specimens and structures; he would never admit that giving visuals to his ideas was one of his favorite parts of development.  It was one element he hated giving over to a Segment, even if a younger part of him was better suited.

But it still begged the question: what was your hand doing in his notes?

Red eyes shot up at you, still fast asleep, head lolled to the side.

He leaned back in his chair, clipboard propped against his knee, a pencil instead at the ready.  He couldn’t keep wasting ink, he’d be left with nothing but a mess.  

Usually this difficult of a time meant his perspective was skewed and that even a Segment would be useless.  He’d have long started pacing if you weren’t here but he didn’t want to disturb you.  Funny thing, how self-aware he’d become around you.

His hand moved of its own accord as his eyes traced your sleeping form.  

You’d come down here one day by accident, looking for a quiet place to escape to, book in hand.  One of his Segments pointed you back upstairs to the library with all of the bluster and impatience his younger self was known for.  But you’d shot back that a debate-bordering-on-duel between Arlecchino and Tartaglia had broken out, leaving the library more of a war zone than a place for research; who was he, in any form, to deny a person a safe haven for that?

You were warned of the screaming, the shouting, the mechanical dangers.  All you’d done was shrug and say that you’d keep out of the way.

He doubted you would find it any better down here.  And yet you returned, week after week, a pile of books and notes in your arms, and kept to your little nook near the stairs.  Unobtrusive.  

But you were always there and your absence was felt nonetheless when you fell ill or whenever your department pulled you back.

You always returned, though, and he hated how that soothed a strange knot in his stomach. 

It wasn’t until several months in that he offered the tranquility of his office that the two of you really spoke at length.  He couldn’t afford for anyone to know about the Artificial Archon project, and having you in his office, where he could keep a better eye on you, seemed to have been a sound decision.

Until both of you spent the better part of an evening and the early morning in deep discussion about the redundancy of the entire Archon system when clearly, there was no point to it.  The Tsaritsa ruled with an iron fist; the Anemo Archon was all but absent.  It fit the nations’ respective beliefs, you argued, but it kept the people divided, focused on things that didn’t matter.  No wonder Khaenri’ah hadn’t subscribed to the notion of a god.  And why was Fontaine dealing with a floating threat, clearly on Celestia’s radar, but not Snezhnaya?  

Soon enough, he couldn’t be rid of you and he didn’t want to be.  He couldn’t place when, precisely, which was a source of frustration he couldn’t rip out, not like the weeds of his past.  But at some point, his heart yearned and you answered and now he spent his sleepless nights marveling at you, not unlike how he marveled that Ruin Golem so many centuries ago.

Your eyes, curious but cautious, caught things he did not.  So much life there, in a way he could never quite capture in his mind’s eye.  He did not find it tedious to explain something to you, to break it down in a different way.  Food tasted better when you were around.

You’d lament having to iron your uniform again with the way your shoulder was positioned.  Even in sleep, your lips always moved ever so slightly, as if speaking in your dreams.

Lips so soft he did not deserve them and yet you bestowed upon him kiss after kiss anyway.

No matter how dark the room you entered, it was as if you brought the sun with you, brightening even the darkest corners of his mind.  He angled the pencil, pressed harder at the shadow cradling your face as the nearby lamps flickered.

He carefully smudged and blended, flicking his gaze up just long enough to confirm the shape of your cheek, your nose, your brow.  

He could not help but wonder if he was growing soft in his fifth century. 

The world had not worn him down.

But you certainly had.

[nico-di-genova]

Keep to the Line Verse

Chapter 6

“Okay, so, twenty-seven turns,” Charles says, tracing back over the rough sketch of the circuit he’s drawn into his notebook – originally in hurried pencil, now in a slightly more clarifying pen.

He’s got one hand smearing ink and lead across the paper, the other pressed to his thigh beneath the table, trying to still the jittery bouncing that overtakes him anytime they hit a patch of turbulence. The empty scotch glass next to his notebook has already been refilled by the flight attendant twice, the orange peel that had been curled delicately over the rim picked to pieces by Charles’ anxious fingers.

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Bonus:

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You wring your hands as you watch Steve drift along the other wall. The white tee shirt makes the ink on his arms seem starker as he has a thumb hook in his jean pocket, the other reaching to take an oval frame from the console table. 

You squeeze your fingers tight, until they might crack, then release the tension along with your breath. He sets the picture back down and stands straight, looking around emphatically.

“Nice place,” he remarks as he faces you, “lots of space for you… and your… boyfriend?”

You watch him dully, “it’s nice.”

He is unfazed by your blunt deflection, “these old century townhouses, there’s not many of those left. I remember my mother lived in one. A few streets away.” He nears you and you brace yourself. He angles his arm towards you and shows you a banner that reads, ‘Brooklyn strong’.

“Oh, that’s very nice,” you lean back on your heel and pivot. “We should probably get started, we’re already behind.”

“You’re from Brooklyn too?” He asks as he goes to the bench.

“Grandparents lived here. They left me the place.” You take out a folder, the typical package you have ready for beginners, “we’ll start by tracing your hands.”

“Alright,” he stands close as you open the folder on the back of the piano. You turn and pluck a pencil from the jar on the shelf.

“It’s just… an exercise,” you explain as you hand him the pencil, “trace left then right and label them left and right.”

“Oh, wow,” he accepts the pencil, “this feels like grade school.”

“Hmm, well, yeah, my students are typically younger… my older students have a little more experience.”

“No, no, I’m excited,” he says as he spreads out his hand on the paper. His hand is huge. 

You spin again and slip out another looseleaf and hand it over, “for your other hand.”

You set it down on the polished wood and he thanks you quietly as he focuses on following the outline of his long fingers. Looking at his hand makes you feel tiny. Your eyes scan the small stars on each knuckle, red, white, and blue. The ring finger is untouched.

He finishes the exercise and you go over the five-finger system with him. It feels so ridiculous. He’s not a child but you find it simple and easy. When you have that all done, you fold up the file and put it aside.

“Sit,” you gesture to the upholstery.

He obeys, looking down at the keys as he rests his hands on his jeans. You think about grabbing a stool as you consider the limited expanse left beside him. You can fit. You lower yourself and hit a key.

“We’ll go over the musical alphabet now, low to high.”

You sense his gaze, intent on you as you go through the usual introduction. You pause and have him repeat what you just did on the keys. He does it slowly as his arm presses to yours.

“Now from middle C,” you instruct and demonstrate. “You want your hands at middle C.” You raise your hands, “left: F-G-A-B-C, right: C-D-E-F-G. Thumbs together.”

“Right,” he does exactly as you say. He has good form as he keeps his hands on the keys but not heavy.

“Good,” you get up and take the metal TV tray from the small rack tucked beside the shelf. You unfold one and bring it around to his elbow. Your grandfather always had one open beside his leather chair. The paint shows the wear. “Now, we will go through a warm up and have you write it out.”

“Okay,” he watches you. His blue eyes are so brilliant and intense. You realise, he’s been looking at you for longer than you knew. You take the folder and open it up again. “I appreciate the patience.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry,” you spread out a blank sheet, “you’re much less fidgety than a six-year old.”

“I hope so,” he chuckles.

“So, our goal by the end is for you to play one song. Does that sound good?”

“A whole song?” He echoes, “uh, yeah, I can do that.”

“Nothing too complicated,” you turn the folder to him and put the pencil across it, “so as we learn, we’ll write down what we play and this will help you learn to read music.”

“Right, let’s do the spider song as our warm-up,” you stand beside the piano. You can’t bear to sit next to him, not as you feel the sweat still speckling on your neck and beading under your hairline. 

“Spider song?” He grins, “that’d be a good tat, huh? A spider?”

“Um, I guess, I…”

“You’re not spider girl, though,” he says, “flowers.” He glances over at the window sill then back to you. His eyes descend slowly and you struggle not to wilt. You feel like he’s looking right through you, “poppies.”

You nod and shift your feet closer together, “I appreciate the simplicity.”

“Ha, I can never keep a plant alive,” he snorts, “you must just have that gentle touch that helps them thrive.”

“Well, um, I think we should get started,” you cross your arms and stride behind him, going to the other side of the piano. “Middle C.”

🎹

The lesson is as successful as any other. You stand at the corner of the piano as Steve keys out Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. He hits the last note with the same pride shown by the bouncing seven-year olds that perch in that very spot daily. 

“Great. You got your first song,” you say, “there’s a print-out in the folder,” you point beyond him, “it shows the keys, I know it’s not the same but it’s a good way to practice position. You can use that if you want to practice between lessons.”

“Between lessons,” he pulls his hands into his lap, “does that mean I passed? I get to come back?”

“That’s up to you. If you really want to learn, you’re going to need to keep at it. Older students tend to take a little longer. Um, sorry, not to… I hope that isn’t insulting.”

“Nope,” he claps his legs and turns, standing from the bench. He pushes his head side to side and cracks his neck, “I’ve always needed a little extra love, you know? I can be a bit bullheaded. Sam says I got a thick skull.”

You know he’s trying to be friendly. There’s just something off. You still can’t believe he’s really there or that you let him in. To that point, you’ve been going through a routine, letting the steps guide you through. Now, you’re at a loss. There is no parent coming to usher him out of your home.

“I got the fee,” he reaches in his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, “I guess I should’ve paid at the start.”

“No, uh, that’s fine,” you eke out.

“So uh, same time next week? Do you think maybe I could come back sooner?”

“Um, I’d have to look at my schedule. I’ll call–”

He holds out several bills and you accept them quietly. You always find the payment is awkward, even if it’s the whole point. You are offering a service, you deserve everything you earn. 

“Great, I’ll keep my phone close.”

The silence rises to strangle you. You peer around, grasping the bills tightly. What do you say to make him go? It’ll be easier to tell him you’re at capacity over the phone but you can’t then. Not to his face.

“You know, I still didn’t get a good look at your piece. Do you mind?”

“What?” You look at him.

“Your ink,” he nods at your feet, “do you mind if–”

He doesn't finish his question as he bends to look at your legs. You sway uncertainly and turn, pointing your toe to present your ankle to him. You don’t know what else to do. He examines it and you wince as he reaches to touch the skin beside it.

“Sam’s a talented guy,” he drags his fingertips away and stands, “helps when you have a great canvas. It suits you, sweetheart.”

Your brows rise as you gape at him. You quickly snap your mouth shut and fold your hands together. Your heart is pulsing behind your ears. You need him gone. This is your space and he’s intruded for long enough. The lesson is over.

“Don’t forget your folder,” you flit away from him and fold up the file, “here.” You face him again and push it against his chest, “I have to clean up for my next lesson.”

“Clean– this place is immaculate,” he looks around as he clutches the folder by the edges, “I don’t think–”

“Please, I have a lesson to prepare. Don’t forget to practice.”

You take a step back as he gazes at you. Unmoving. You might be telling him to go but it’s entirely his decision. Your nerves ping at the thought that you could not make him go. That if he stays long enough, he’ll realise your lie. Your excuse. He is your only lesson that day.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he relents at last as he tucks the folder under his arm, “see ya next week.”

You’re paralysed as you watch him cross the room. He disappears down the stairs and you listen to the creak of each step. At the bottom, you hear him shuffling around and when you find the courage to go look down, the door closes behind him.

You hurry down the stairs and quickly twist the lock. You let out your breath and lean into the wind as you let out a shuddery breath. His scent lingers. You’ll have to open some windows and light some incense. Hopefully, you can forget all about him.

[mizuki-t-a--art]

Fanart of Five Nights at Freddy's. Drawn with colored pencils, alcohol ink markers on paper.

* Don't steal / trace / copy / edit / use my artworks. Thanks for reading! *

[smallpeniscollective]

In the Woods

(Eddie Munson x Reader) (18+)

Summary: this was supposed to be from a longer fic that’s been brewing in the pot for a long while, but I got that worm in my brain that doesn’t let me finish things, and I haven’t posted in forever so you guys can have the porn scenes. if I ever finish it u can have the full fic as a treat <3

Word Count: 3.4k

Content: swearing, sexual content, protected sex, p in v sex, outdoors sex, slight edging

A/N: (this takes place at skull rock, also there are some things that reference the plot of the fic or moments within the full fic, ignore those <3)

Minors DNI please !!!

*~*~*

“So, did you do anything with your art, back in the city?” he asked, pondering if she was planning to be some snooty big-shot in an art gallery, or if she was aiming to be the next Van Gogh or Monet. He couldn’t help but picture the scene of her, scantily clad in nothing but an oversized button-up shirt, paint all over her but so focused on her work that she didn’t even care, the sun beaming through her studio space. God, she was so hot.

“Yeah, actually, I was training as a tattoo apprentice after school back in the city before I needed my, uh... little break,” she answered, flipping open her sketchbook to the first empty page she could find. She grabbed one of her sharpened number two pencils and placed the tip of it to the paper, beginning a doodle unrelated to their plans of DnD-related art.

“A tattoo artist, huh? I’ve actually got some tatties of my own,” he said, hoping that she’d ask to see them.

She waited a moment, the silence stilling the air between them. After a pause so long that he feared he had dismantled their conversational flow, she finally looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Well, are you gonna show me them?”

“Oh, r-right,” he stammered, immediately pulling himself from his spot against the boulder and shedding his layers of his denim vest and leather jacket, revealing tatted forearms. He stepped away from the boulder, closer to her, and held his arms out for her to see his sweet ol’ tatties.

She took one of his forearms in her hands, one hand holding his wrist and one hand propping his arm underneath, and he hoped that she didn’t notice the immediate goosebumps that raised on his skin. She did notice, but chose to say nothing, basking in the idea that she could set off his nerves like that. She slowly rotated his arm, studying the bats decorating his pale skin. “That’s so sick,” she said, looking all the way up at him from the forest floor.

In this moment, he realized she was face-level to his crotch, and sitting in front of it too. He tried not to picture her with her mouth on him, so that he wouldn’t pop a boner right in front of her face. Flustered and breathless, he airily chuckled, stepping back and saying, “Y-yeah, I really like that one.”

She gave him a look that asked, You okay? before asking aloud, “You got any others that you’re hiding from me?”

Remembering the one on his chest, he pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing a hint of the one that rested below the right side of his collarbone. “This one, too.”

“I can’t see it from over there, dummy,” she giggled, climbing to her feet with a small grunt.

She approached him, eyes fixated on the hint of a tattoo. Taking the reins, she pulled his collar down further, brushing her fingers against his. His breath hitched as he felt her fingers against his hot skin, feeling like his heart was audibly pounding out of his chest. She seemed so calm and collected, using her other finger to softly trace over the inked skin on his chest, the contact making him suck in a breath through his teeth.

The tension in the air was thick like a fog, and she felt like every cell in her body was being drawn to him in a magnetic pull. She felt her own breathing speed up in their proximity, and she looked away from his chest tattoo and into his eyes to find he had been staring hard at her with blown pupils and flushed cheeks. She released the collar of his shirt, not moving her hand from its spot on his chest, not saying a word or breaking eye contact. The air around them felt electric, like lightning was about to strike them both down right here, right now.

She parted her lips to say something, anything, but no words came to mind. All she could focus on was the buzzing in her core and the heat in her face. He glanced down at her parted lips, letting his imagination roam wildly with fantasies of those lips on his, those lips all over him, and his lips all over her. She noticed this, subtly gripping his shirt in her hand. Deciding that she couldn’t take any more of this tension that choked her like a warm hand wrapped around her throat, she yanked, aggressively pulling him into her and smashed her mouth against his.

His hands flew to her face instantly, cupping her cheeks strongly as she sucked on his bottom lip, running her tongue across it gently as an inquiry. He invited her in, and they did the dance of sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. She reveled in his taste and smell, the cigarettes and the hint of weed from a while ago, and the sound of his labored breathing from his nose against her face. She even liked the way his large nose pushed into her cheek, and she let her arms wrap around his neck in a tight embrace.

He stroked her cheek with his thumb before dropping his hands to her waist, pushing softly and leading her backwards until she felt herself bump up against a large surface, making her gasp against his lips. She let him pin her to the boulder, pulling him in closer and pressing her chest into his. When his abdomen pressed into hers, she could feel him already hard, making her whimper softly into his mouth. He took it as an opportunity to go farther, nestling his thigh in between her legs and resting his knee against the boulder, feeling the absolute heat radiating from her.

Her fingers dug into his hair, accidentally scratching at his scalp and eliciting a groan from him, which ignited her core like a fire. Without realizing it, she had let herself drop onto his thigh, pressing the seam of her jeans up against her clothed heat and rubbing against her covered clit. He felt her slight grind against his leg, letting himself grind his own arousal against her. He lowered one of his hands from her waist to her inner thigh, stroking it with his thumb and eliciting a full-on moan out of her with how close he was to touching her where she needed him most.

Upon hearing herself moan like that, she pulled back, panting. “Wait,” she breathed out, “we’re just friends… we shouldn’t—”

“This is what friends do, right? They help each other out?” he asked lowly, dipping his head to skim his lips against her neck in a ghost of a kiss in an attempt to tease her into wanting more. And, boy, did it work. He could see the goosebumps appearing all over her body.

She shivered before she responded with a meek, “Y-yeah, friends can do this...” He noticed the way her thighs clenched together against his thigh, and stroked her thigh again, even closer to her core that was now damp and getting damper by the second, making her suck in a quick breath through her teeth.

“Just friends,” he agreed, finally placing his lips against her skin and nipping at her neck. She was like putty in his big, warm hands, leaning into his touch and digging her fingers further into his hair, which made him smile against her skin. She could feel the outline of his lips moving against the warmth of her neck as he murmured, “Ugh, I’ve been wanting to touch you like this so bad, ever since I fucking laid eyes on you in the school parking lot.”

“M-me too,” she stammered, pulling him impossibly closer to where he just had to nestle entirely between her thighs. His hands climbed further down, sweeping underneath the curve of her ass to lift her, and she willingly obliged, letting herself be lifted and pressed against the boulder with her legs wrapped around his waist tightly. “I even asked Dustin who the hottie in the jacket was,” she whispered in admittance, and he bit down hard on her neck, eliciting a shocked whimper out of her.

“God, you’re so fucking cute,” he groaned before deftly licking the purple skin where he had bit down on, making her release short, panting breaths and grip his hair harder. “And so fucking pretty.”

He pressed his hard, denim-clad crotch into her, the pressure against her driving her insane. He gently ground into her, one hand holding her up by the ass and the other hand dipping underneath her shirt to feel her hot skin. She mewled like a kitten, needing more friction, not even caring about the rough surface against her back. He broke from the kiss to look at her in her desperate state, seeing her pleading eyes and tousled hair. He smirked, leaning down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he whispered, “You want it, baby?”

“Please,” she whimpered, and he chuckled darkly.

“Already begging for it? Aw, how could I deny such a pretty girl what she wants,” he teased, pulling back and letting her down. She wobbled on weak legs, and he softly pushed her back to lean against the boulder so that he could undo her pants, kneeling down to slip off her shoes and slide her pants off, revealing her legs to the chilly open air, already acquiring goosebumps. Her breath hitched at his own desperation, although a more dominant and demanding desperation.

He gazed down at her underwear with absolute adoration in his eyes. “Jesus, even your panties are so fuckin’ pretty,” he whispered to himself, still kneeling before her. She couldn’t deny the wetness that had pooled in her underwear, feeling her excited walls clench around nothing. This was really happening.

He placed his large, hot hands on her upper thighs, his cool rings contrasting the heat of his hands. He gently spread her thighs, sweeping a hand underneath one to lift it over his shoulder, his eyes locked on the sopping wet patch in the crotch of her panties.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” was all he could say, swiping over he drenched, clothed slit with his thumb to gently rub her sensitive nub over the fabric. Her breathing quickened, and she almost dropped her body weight on him, making him tense up his strong arms to stay put in their position. He looked up at her, her pupils blown and her face red, before asking quietly, “May I?”

“Y-yes,” she breathed out, and that was all it took for him to pull the crotch of her panties to the side and slide two thick fingers through her slick folds.

“Jesus, you’re so wet,” he whispered, pulling his hand back to watch in awe as the slick covering his fingers stringed as he separated his fingers. She whined pitifully, hoping it would bring his touch back to her.

Instead, he stood up, leaving her legs trembling and her half-exposed heat dripping down her thigh. When she saw him begin to undo his own jeans, her eyes were glued to his bulge, the zipper coming down to reveal a large tent in his plaid boxers. Before she let herself get carried away, she pulled herself back to reality for long enough to ask, “You got a rubber?”

“Oh! Yes, I do,” he chirped, leaving his clothed erection hanging out of his black jeans while he reached in his back pocket to pull out his wallet, an old leathery thing, and pulled out a silver packet. “Bingo,” he said, holding it up.

“Did you plan this?” she asked, wondering why he had brought along a condom in the first place.

“Not this specifically,” he admitted with a smirk, “but I did put this in my wallet right after we met.”

“You cheeseball,” she teased, taking the condom wrapper out of his hands. “Can I put it on you?” she asked, gazing into his eyes to find a glimmer of adoration in his.

“Y-yeah,” he breathed, looking down and pulling himself out of his boxers.

She couldn’t help but ogle at it; it was long but also quite girthy. She would have called it impressive if she didn’t want to give him any more of an ego that he already had. She settled for mouthing the word, Wow.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, she ripped the edge of the wrapper off with her teeth, ignoring the smidge of package lubricant that touched her tongue. He stepped up close to her again, his length brushing against the belly of her shirt. Taking the rolled up rubber, she touched it to his tip, that already had a small bead of pre-cum leaking. He hissed at the contact as she rolled the condom down his length, gripping it and shimmying the latex down as far as it would go, her band brushing against the mound of dark brown hair at his base, which tickled her hand.

He watched her do this, his stare morphing from awestruck to almost predatory as he thought about all of the things he could do to her, anything to get her to make those beautiful noises for him again. As soon as the condom was on, he swooped her up once more, lifting her to pin her between the boulder and himself with the only barrier between them being the thin, soaked fabric of her underwear.

She wanted to kiss him again so bad, but she just couldn’t look away from his intense eye contact. She wrapped her arms lazily around his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair strands at the nape of his neck. His eyes bored into her soul as he reached down in between them, pulling her underwear to the side, and sliding himself up and down her wet slit, gathering her slick and bumping the sensitive nub that made her gasp and wrap her legs around him tighter. She tried to look down in between them, so that she could watch him, but his other hand grabbed her jaw, holding her face so that she had no choice to but to hold his stare.

His member prodded her dripping hole, and he leaned in to finally kiss her again, pressing into her and pushing himself in at the same time. The sensation of him ever so slowly stretching her out made her moan into his mouth, and she pulled him harder into the kiss, her hands buried at their rightful place in his hair.

Once he was buried to the hilt, she adjusted to his size, feeling herself relax around his member, and she broke their kiss to bury her face in his neck, his hair sticking to her face. She felt her walls clench down on him from his lack of movement and her need for just that. He leaned his head against hers, nuzzling her for a moment before whispering in her ear, “You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes,” she stammered out, feeling her own hips stutter against his body at the thought of him pounding into her.

“Yes, what, baby?” Chills ran down her spine. She never pictured herself enjoying being dominated, but with Eddie, she wanted nothing more for him to do whatever he wanted with her.

“Please!” she squeaked out, whimpering against his neck.

And that was all it took for him to give her exactly what she wanted, what she craved so desperately. He thrusted into her, against the huge rock, at a leisurely pace, and the drag of his thick length continuously stretching her from the inside had her already quaking. She was a mess, whimpering and whining into the crook of his neck, feeling the pleasurable burn of her tightness being filled out so completely. “Eddie, that feels so good,” she whined.

When he began to pound harder, he pulled her head away from his neck and cradled the back of her head to keep it from banging against the solid rock behind her. He wanted to watch the pleasure in her face. He listened to her whines turn into moans, he watched her jaw go lax and her brows knit together.

“Fuck, baby, you look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he groaned in between his own grunts, one hand behind her head and one digging into the side of her hip so hard that he was almost worried he’d leave a bruise.

He slid his hand down from her hip, down in between their bodies, down past her pretty panties, and landed on her sweet, throbbing cunt that was taking him in so well. She whined at the contact, thrusting her hips out for him, and he absolutely ate it up, using two fingers to rub soft, slow circles around her aching clit.

At this, her legs were tensing up, squeezing around his waist hard. To him, she sounded like an angel, moaning and whimpering so beautifully just for him. He let himself speed up his pace, slamming into her ferociously while keeping his fingers slow and steady.

Her whole body was shaking as she felt that string inside of her wind tightly, begging to snap, and Eddie knew. He could feel her tightening up around his cock, and he wanted to give her something she’d never forget.

He slowed down his thrusts into an agonizing pace, slowly sliding in and out with ease, his fingers taking their time on her overstimulated bundle of nerves, prolonging the build-up to her orgasm. She was downright trembling against him, and her eyes fluttered open to look at him, her eyes welling with hot tears of pleasure. She needed more, needed him faster and harder. All she could do was beg pitifully, whimpering strings of “please, please, please,” with her moans.

“Please?” he groaned, taking in the sight of her writhing before him. “Oh, baby… you don’t need to ask, you’re almost there,” he teased, adding his thumb to swipe up and down her drenched slit while he kept his fingers on her clit.

She let her hips chase the feeling, rutting up against him as the overstimulation from his the slow push and pull of his cock, the attention to her slit, and the touches around her clit gathered up inside of her, tightening up in her core until she felt like she was about to burst. She squeezed her eyes, her chin wobbling as she began to feel that white hot pleasure sear through her.

Just as she felt herself slowly begin to let go, he felt the first tight clench and smirked. He suddenly began pounding harder once more, feeling her walls flutter around him so tightly he thought it would project him out of her. Her moans were more like quick, high-pitched squeals as that string inside of her finally snapped and she came harder than she ever had in her life around Eddie’s cock.

He rode her through her orgasm, continuing her pleasure as he chased his own, listening to her incoherent babbling as she let her lips loose on his neck, mindlessly licking and sucking at it as she held him so tightly that her nails dug into the back of his neck. His grunts became his own soft moans as his hips stuttered into hers, and he came with a soft, “Oh, fuck, baby,” cooed in her ear, spilling himself into the condom but wishing he could just paint her insides with his seed. He dropped his head against hers and they stayed there like that for a good, long moment, basking in post-coital bliss.

Both panting and sweaty messes, he pulled back and she looked at him, a wide smile blossoming on her face. They both couldn’t help it, and they laughed hard at the irreversible choice they just made. She winced as he pulled out, and in consolation, he kissed her sweaty forehead.

He slid the condom off, tying the end of it into a knot like the world’s wimpiest water balloon, while she put her put her pants back on, swiping off the dirt it had gathered from sitting on the forest floor, and slipped her shoes back on.

She watched as he tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped up his jeans, filled condom still in hand. He took a second to look at it wonderingly, before suddenly turning to throw it as hard as he could up towards the huge boulder above them that was shaped like a skull. They both watched as it disappeared above the head of the boulder, not hearing it land on the other side, leaving them both to assume he had managed to throw it on top of the boulder, to sit there until somebody was bold enough to climb it and discover a nasty, used condom.

He released a content sigh, stretching his back backwards before joking, “So, ‘hottie with the jacket’, huh?”

“Shut up,” she retorted, slinking back down with shaky legs to sit on the ground. “So, you wanna talk art?”

[lovehugsandcandy]

Aerin drabble. At this point, I have lost count (7? yikes).

The charcoals leave smudges of black and gray, ground into his fingertips, and, when he sweeps a hand over Raine’s back, the color transfers to her skin in graceful swoops and dark whorls. He lingers as he connects the freckles on her thigh, eagerly swipes a smear of ink over her cheekbone, and traces every curve like the art it is. When he traces a swooping line down her stomach, she giggles helplessly, while the pad of his thumb at her neck makes her sigh. 

It was hopeless, he realizes, to think he could ever stay away. To escape from her orbit is impossible, and he was a plumb fool to even imagine he could. He is drawn to her like the fae to the wood, like pencil to paper, and he wastes reams of notebooks and rivers of ink trying to recreate her likeness.

Unfortunately, she’s a vision even Aerin can’t capture; nothing drafted in his sketchbook approaches the art of her. Any portrait is only a subpar imitation by an unworthy artist. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot capture the fierce beauty in her gaze, the enchanting twinkle in her eyes. Still, he puts quill to scroll, pastels to paper, filling sketchbooks with copy after copy of her. And when she travels, he flips through the images and wastes endless nights spent unsuccessfully trying to capture perfection as he waits for her to return.

[icantleave]

poll time

The conditions are: there is a perfect circle drawn in pencil on a piece of paper. You have to trace it with a tool of your choosing like an ink pen or a brush

[fainthedcherry]

IT'S TIME TO FINALLY ABBACCHIO POST. I was spending several weeks just gathering all the times I've drawn Abbi!!! :>

A LIST OF WHAT DRAWING IS MEANT TO BE WHAT:

1TL - First time drawing Abbi, just exploring his design basically in my artstyle

2TR - SECOND time drawing Abbi (doodled a bust outta boredom at work again and realised how fun he is to draw from then on)

3MDPPR - Doodle of Abbi and Moody Blues in combat, bc his ASBR hand poses RLLY intrigue me, SLAY ABBI SLAYYY SO I referenced that pose when he URRYA's but FRONT perspective

4MDPPR - I then last second wanted to fill my empty page w/ another doodle of Abbi getting harrassed by the Sex Pistols to wake Mista up midst his makeup routine bc I felt like making a cute doodle ;v

4MDGTL - Drawing a dream I had almost a week ago, I only finished that drawing yesterday bc I was so sleepy the past 2 weeks I didn't pick up the pencil much in result T-T

4MDDGTL - JUST REDRAWN MY FAVOURITE MEME. In case unaware, this is referencing the Samuel Johnson painting. Idk why, but that painting is just so perfect and I've doodled Abbi in response to a message to my friend Hart LMFAO (you got my permission to repost this one btw memes are made for sharing imo so go ahead for that piece in particular)

BTM L & R - 2 more boredom doodles! One at work, one at school when the teacher didn't give us clear instructions on what to do so the entire class including me just sat there and procrastinated bc he's that bad of a teacher 💀

RAMBLING ABT THE FULL ART PROCESS ON EVERY PIECE BELOW;

TOP DRAWINGS. I WAS DRAWING ABBI AT WORK BC I WAS BORED AND IT WERE SLOW DAYS W/ NOTHING TO DO IN MY DEPARTMENT THAN SIT AND CHECK INK TANKS. I then realised, how much fkn FUN IT IS TO DRAW HIM. I always loved Abbacchio's design, even 3 years ago, when I was still in high school and freshly watched Golden Wind in its peak popularity smwhr, with an over-active fandom that fed me SO many funny Dio parenting Giorno memes. NOW that like 4 of my friends and apparently EVEN MY BOYFRIEND like Jojo, I'VE BECOME MEGA OBSSESSED AGAIN JUST LIKE 3 YEARS AGO. AND DAMN AM I GLAD I AM BC ABBI IS THE FIRST CHARACTER I PROPERLY AM FINALLY EMBRACING MY CRINGE ERA OVER. Side note but the rhyme actually I came up from the top of my head randomly when I thought abt him (and sobbed over his backstory once more my poor donut victim) I used to be afraid to draw ANY fanart at all, bc I was afraid, people would HATE my takes on characters I love - but now that I'm older and I basically dgaf abt what people have to say abt me and my tastes, I finally dared take a step into fanart territory and braved myself into drawing my fav depressed blorbo.

MIDDLE DRAWING - PAPER DOODLE. AH YES. THE DOODLES THAT TOOK 3 SCHOOL WEEKS NOW BASICALLY, 8HRS OF DRAWING BETWEEN LESSONS EACH. I was shaking SO HARD on a certain week, and the classmate sitting next to me POUNDED THE TABLE A LOT OUT OF BAD HABIT. I SEVERAL times ACCIDENTALLY in panic always yelled "BE CAREFUL!" until I was done re-tracing Moody Blues's sketch to clean it up properly 😭😭😭, ABBI LOOKS OK. NOT PROUD OF ABBI. BUT DAMN MOODY BLUES KINDA SLAYS. (Disregarding its funky gummy hair not connecting back to the shoulders which is somth I only now know after staring at Abbi and MB for HOURS to study how to draw them properly)

LOOONG PARAGRAPH AHEAD ABT TO EXPLAIN THAT DRAWING IN METICULOUS DETAIL;

MIDDLE DRAWING - THE ONE WHERE ABBACCHIO APPEARED IN MY LORE-HEAVY DREAM. IRL me was in the dream going home from work (late-shift), with a fictional coworker who looked real, but doesn't exist IRL, I forgot her appearance, so she's a grey blob in my doodle of what happened in the dream. BUT as I was walking through a park that VAGUELY, SLIIIGHTLY resemblences my IRL park in my town, suddenly a YU-GI-OH LOOKING FKN PURPLE PORTAL APPEARS. PINK LIGHTNING COMES OUT OF IT. SUDDENLY ANCIENT, BRITISH FKN VICTORIAN GHOSTS EMERGE AND START BALLROOM-DANCING??? <-This was the SECOND TIME. LATELY. I DREAMED OF GHOSTS TRYING TO HURT ME IN MY DREAMS. AND SOMEONE PROTECTING ME FROM THEM IN RESULT TOO THO. BUT. These ghosts were a pretty pastel-pink, tbh they looked rlly cool I might make em world-lore relevant ghosts or something LOL

^I freeze like I do IRL if something scares me and I just stand there and watch?? Suddenly this like British Monopoly-man mfer comes OUT. WITH A MODERN KITCHEN-KNIFE. YOU CAN'T GET MORE BRITISH THAN THAT. THE DAMN GHOST NEARLY SHANKED ME IN THE HEAD. I JUST BRACED AND ACCEPTED MY DEATH THEN AND THERE. THEN FKNNN MOODY BLUES OUT OF NOWHERE ALSO URYA'S THE BRITISH VICTORIAN GHOST SO I'M SAFE.

^ABBACCHIO PROTECTED ME. HE COMES OUT FROM THE TREE AND STARES DOWN THE GHOST. MFER STARES AT HIM ANGRILY BACK, SO THEY SEEMINGLY HAD BEEF IN THE DREAM, BEFORE I EXISTED. AND THE BRITISH GUY MUMBLES SOMETHING, PICKS UP HIS HAT, FADES AWAY INTO DUST LIKE IN MY WORLD-LORE ABOUT GHOST-DEATH. I JUST STARE IN AWE THAT FKN. LEONE ABBACCHIO FROM JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE IN THE 3D-ASBR MODEL LOOKING FLESH STOOD IN FRONT OF MY IRL HUMAN SELF. OF NOTE: I WAS LUCID-DREAMING. I WAS AWARE, HE WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO EXIST. SO I IMMEDIATELY GET UP, GET WOOZY BC BLOOD CIRCULATION IN MY LEGS SUCK, AND WANT TO ASK HIM IF WE CAN BE FRIENDS. BEFORE I CAN DO THAT. HE GETS ALL PISSY WITH ME AND IS REALLY ANGRY AND SNEERS.

--"You shouldn't be out at this time. Go home already. It's too dangerous."

"WAIT- BUT CAN I TALK TO YOU-"

--"NO. I SAID GO HOME!"

HE WAS ACTING LIKE CANON ABBI AND I APPRECIATE THAT THANKS DREAM, BUT MINUS POINTS FOR NOT ALLOWING ME TO SIMP. SO YEAH I DID RUN HOME AND I LISTENED. MY FRIEND FOLLOWED SUIT CONFUSED ASF.

--"Why were you surprised that he's real?? Did you NOT see him lurking behind the tree?!"

"NO??? YOU DID????" "

--"[GROAN] LOOK."

>SHOWS ME DRONE-FOOTAGE SOMEHOW OF ABBI DANCING W/ A GHOST. THEN I NOTICE IT'S JUST A MOODY BLUES REPLAY AS HIM. THEN. PUNCH THE VICTORIAN GUY. HE WAS SNEAKING UP ON THE GHOST THE WHOLE ARSE TIME AND MY BLIND ARSE DIDN'T SEE IT. SO YKNOW I WON'T MENTION THE REST OF THE DREAM BUT TURNS OUT THE BRITISH POSH GHOST WAS PART OF SOME MAFIA. HENCE THE BEEF W/ ABBACCHIO HAPPENED AND HIM STILL BEING IN PASSIONE IN THAT DREAM IN B4 TRAITORING DIA.

OK ART PROCESS OF THIS DRAWING; INBETWEEN IMAGE AHEAD I HAVEN'T DRAWN;

^THIS DRAWNIG IS JUST AN OFFICIAL ILLUSTRATION OF ABBACCHIO I HAVE EDITED. I DID *NOT* DRAW THAT. That is an official drawing from David Productions / Hirohiko Araki. SO YEAH I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF THIS, NOR HAVE I DRAWN IT. DISCLAIMER OUT THE WAY B4 SOMEONE THINKS I'VE PUT EFFORT INTO THAT DRAWING DONE? GOOD!

I denoted, what might've caused Dreambacchio as I call him, to look like THAT. I was playing ASBR the same night I dreamt of this Abbi, but his model had colouration C. That explained, why his 3D ASBR model yelled at me and ONE SPECIFIC FRAME from the anime. Like I kid you not, IT'S THIS FRAME.

*ONCE AGAIN NOT MY DRAWING. DAVID PRODUCTIONS, JOJO PART 5 SCREENSHOT TAKEN FROM THE ANIME. NOT MY DRAWING. GOOD, MORE CLARIFICATION!!

HE YELLED EXACTLY LIKE THIS AT ME. IN THE DREAM. HIS FACE IS ONE-TO-ONE TRANSLATED ONTO A 3D MODEL OF HIM INSTEAD. IN THAT FKN DREAM. I REMEMBER HIS FACE CLEAR AS DAY IN THE DREAM. Like I kid you not, I am so obssessed w/ him lately, that I remembered PARTS OF MY DREAM CRYSTAL-CLEAR. That is something usually I DO NOT remember 100%, to my friends who know me, they know. SO YEAH TESTAMENT OF HOW MUCH I LIKE ABBI IG.

ALSO of note; I accidentally indoctrinated my friend Kobra to ALSO simp him, and now we're BOTH obssessed w/ Abbi. 😭 The catalyst to her liking him so much tho, is bc I apparently draw him hot??? LIKE IDK IF I DO. IF SOME JOJO FAN FINDS MY DRAWINGS OF HIM HOT. I'M GLAD. I TOO, LOVE DRAWING ABBACCHIO'S MAN BIDDIE-WINDOW. /hj

Unironically, the way he dresses I DREAM of dressing tho IRL....Imagine if I owned that 90's gucci coat Abbi's is based on, and fixed it to suit an Abbi cosplay. SOME DAY. I WILL COSPLAY AS HIM. THAT'S A THREAT. IDC IF BIOLOGICALLY I'M A WOMAN. I CAN DREAM TO BE LIKE THIS MAN. HE IS JUST VERY STYLISH AND I LOVE GOTHS.

--

MIDDLE DRAWING DIGITAL; JUST A MEME I LIKE I'VE REDRAWN TO REPLY TO MY FRIEND. I didn't watermark the panel above bc I traced a few things from the OG portrait here and there. THE PANEL BELOW THO. IS DRAWING WO/ TRACING. That one I watermarked at least bc I HAVE drawn it by myself. Above I was just lazy, sleepy and came freshly home from work, I SLAVE AWAY AFTER WORK, TO DRAW ABBI LATELY OBSSESSIVELY. I JUST CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF HIM BLAME MY AUTISM DFKLLSDG

Doodles below - also self-explanatory, done in the span of 15 mins. Since our school-PCs have Adobe programs and APPARENTLY Paint.Net I got DEVIOUS and just..The first file that exists on my school-server drive is THIS doodle of Abbacchio now. Using my German tax euro for the right things, y'all /lh

THAT CONCLUDES MY RAMBLES ABT THE PROCESSES OF THESE DRAWINGS I THINK. HELLA JOJO TAGS AHEAD BC HONESTLY I KINDA WANT PEOPLE TO SEE MY DRAWING OF DREAM-ABBI THE MOST TBH. BC HE'S JUST SO PRETTTYYYYY-

I PLAN TO DRAW MORE ABBACCHIO....SO STAY TUNED IG IF YOU ALSO LOVE ABBACCHIO!!!! My art request ears are VERY open, if you want me to draw a jojo character next 👀👀👀 (THOUGH keep in mind, they will be minimal doodles, BC I am spending most of my effort on owed art I have to pay off still!!!!!!!)

HELLA TAG-AVALANCHE AHEAD. FAIR WARNING. I'M SO GLAD THE TUMBLR LAYOUT I USE PUTS THEM TO THE SIDE SO IT DOESN'T DISTRACT FROM THE DRAWINGSSS. SORRY IF YOU FIND TAGS ANNOYING BC AGAIN I JUST WANT PEOPLE TO STARE AT MY DREAM-ABBACCHIO TBH...I MIGHT TURN HIM INTO MY OWN CHARACTER OR HELL IF PEOPLE WANT IT...CAN BE SOME FORM OF JOJO AU. BUT IDK IF PEOPLE WANT AN AU WHERE THE PASSIONE GANGSTAR GANG FIGHT A BUNCH OF BRITISH MOBSTERS THAT ABDUCT TEENAGE GIRLS WITH SPECIAL EYES AND HAIR TO A CRUELLA DEVILLE TYPE OF WOMAN.

^YES ONCE AGAIN, WILD DREAM WITH WILD DREAM LORE.

[nahalism]

Do you gravitate towards a grey scale? If so why so

this is such an interesting question because im not sure if its the grey that im drawn to, or monochromatic palettes in general. i really enjoy seeing how a single colour can create stark or subtle contrast, depth, a sense of a forms transparency, or even seeing what shapes and silhouettes can be created by grouping different tonal values of the same colour in a larger composition. its hard to explain but i just feel like details can dilute a message, and when colour is stripped back i can bypass the details, and get straight to the raw intention of whatever mood, atmosphere, or subject is being shown. that increases my empathy, which increases my reception to what im seeing. especially when it comes to painting, sketching and film! whether its oils, coloured pencil, charcoal/graphite/ink, or watercolour (same for sepia and cyanotype prints), theres something haunting about those mediums in limited colour palettes. its like pulling a ghost or a trace of something out of the paper rather than putting it on. so maybe its a mix of monochrome palettes, their application and the value scheme used?? lol idk.

[wolverinedoctorwho]

[ID: Photos showing the progression of a chibi-style drawing of Gale Dekarios, done with marker and colored pencil. In Thorass, the word "Illusion" is written on the left side of Gale, while "Gale Dekarios, Wizard of Waterdeep" is written to his right. /End ID]

Did a chibi Gale!!! I really just wanted to practice drawing him. I know my current style is pretty repetitive (hell, I trace a cutout to get the base shape correct) but it's what I'm most comfortable/confident with right now. I'm currently flirting with the idea of making a Gale paper doll, so this gave me an idea of what he might look like!

More rambling under the cut!

Things I wish I'd done differently:

The bracers and belt. Dear gods. I tried the details in the base sketch and realized it looked awkward so I erased it, and then when I went to do my initial line I just started drawing them in again! Next time I draw this outfit I will definitely NOT ink those in that way!

I wish I could do more shading. I'm not really sure how to shade, but it's harder with colored pencils when your color options are limited and you can't just slap on a Multiply layer. I tried to shade on the leg with black colored pencil and I wish I had tried that on a different project first 😔. I also think the arms and torso blend together bc even with the little shading I tried they're still not distinct.

Overall I think I could have found a better balance with the details. The bracers and belt did not need to be that complicated compared to the pants and boots and earring. I just kind of got lost in the lines when I was trying to get the shape of Gale's belt figured out.

This is less a critique and more a lament, but I really wish I had more markers and some paint pens. They would have really spiced this up!

His eye shines looked so good in the sketch and then I messed them up with the first brown pencil and couldn't fix it 😞

Things I like in this piece:

I like the way the orb and the lines came out! I'm not very good with inking fine details like that, so I'm happy with the way it turned out.

I really like the shade of colored pencil I found for the robes. It's almost exactly the shade of the robes in game.

Though I wish I could have made the eyes darker, I still like the way they turned out. I'm not really sure how to draw eyes that aren't anime-girl-shaped, but I tried to convey Gale's sweetness and softness. (I did forget about the eye whites when drawing on his face-lines, though...)

Despite going overboard with the details I do still like that I was able to do them. The belt turned out messier than intended but I think I figured it out in the end, and having never drawn a bearded character before I think I did a decent job!

I was honestly really nervous about this one until I put down his hair and face colors. That was a really fun moment when it all came together! I think adding in color really helps with a style like mine, because otherwise I find the details kind of mush together.

By the way, I wrote "Illusion" in Thorass next to him because of how much the word gets associated with him in game. If you choose to do Gale's Weave Sex Scene, the book you look at on his balcony says "Illusion" in Thorass, albeit backwards and upside-down.

Things I want to work on next time I draw:

Body types!! I know when drawing in chibi style it's hard to show a character's actual body, but I want to make it obvious that this Gale is chubby!! I think widening the chest would help with that, and rounding out the torso in general as well.

Shading, as mentioned above. That might be something I have to practice with digital art, but maybe someone out there is an expert at colored pencil art and can throw me some advice.

I want to make him even Gale-ier. I wanted to include all his wrinkles and put some gray in his hair but the former is difficult in my style without making him look angry and the latter is hard when I don't have any silver drawing tools other than a regular pencil. I think he's pretty Gale-y already, but I want more.

I need to be more careful not to press my pencil in so hard when getting my shape down and sketching. I can see lines in the paper where the sketch happened :(

I gotta get a better idea of what his boots look like. And learn how to draw boots in general. Lol.

[aerixwri]

Failed Exam (wip; pt. 1)

trauma, yummy.

Kathleen hated their bedroom.

The curtains hung creepily from its pole. It covered one window and half of the second pane, only a fourth of the barely lit kitchen slivered inside. The light laid idly. A line drawn on her brother’s bird-nested blanket, it stretched a path that zigzagged on Ezra’s grey-blue covers.

Tonight, like so many nights before, Kathleen lay awake. Mama told her that she needed to sleep early tonight. And she did. She tried really hard that night.

The stark white had become grey in the dim two by two box that closed in on Kathleen and their queen-sized bed. She and her brother laid next to each other, two adult-sized indents on the mattress kept them together. The only pop of color eased in through the curtain gap, a washed out green that popped then melted into the bleak bedroom. Sometimes, a woman’s hand would flit through the space, only to be slapped away by the heavier hand of a man. Whispers followed. Blurry arrangements.

Kathleen’s hands intertwined with her own blanket. She pulled it over her body and vanished under its vastness. Her breath, every inhale and exhale piled up under that blanket, flutters of cloth rose and fell. A bump, like pencil pushed through hard paper, was the only hint of her body.

Shadows clung at the spill of Ezra’s blanket. Moving shadows. Traces of black ink, two bodies, that had four hands, two heads, and fragile glasses at their disposal.

[mybrilliantart]

Cute Gojo Satoru - Easy Drawing Tutorial

Gojo Satoru, the charismatic and powerful sorcerer from the hit manga and anime series "Jujutsu Kaisen," is a fan favorite known for his striking appearance and playful personality. Drawing a cute version of Gojo Satoru can be a fun and rewarding experience, even for beginners. This step-by-step guide will help you capture his charm in an easy and approachable way.

Materials Needed:

Pencil

Eraser

Drawing paper

Fine-tip black pen (optional for inking)

Colored pencils or markers (optional for coloring)

Step 1: Basic Head Shape

Start by drawing a simple circle for Gojo's head. This will be the foundation of his cute, chibi-style appearance. Lightly sketch a vertical and horizontal line across the circle to help place the facial features symmetrically.

Step 2: Facial Features

Begin by drawing large, expressive eyes slightly below the horizontal guideline. Chibi characters often have oversized eyes to enhance their cuteness. Draw a small curved line for the nose just below the eyes, and a simple curved line for the mouth to give Gojo a cheerful expression.

Step 3: Hair Outline

Sketch the outline of Gojo's iconic spiky hair. Start by drawing the hairline, which follows the curve of the top of the head. Then, add large, pointed spikes that extend outward. Keep the spikes slightly exaggerated to maintain the chibi style.

Step 4: Body Shape

Draw a small, simple body below the head. Chibi characters have proportionally larger heads and smaller bodies. Use basic shapes like rectangles and ovals to outline the torso, arms, and legs. Position the arms and legs in a relaxed or playful pose to enhance the cute appearance.

Step 5: Clothing Details

Add details to Gojo's outfit. Draw the collar of his high-necked jacket, and add simple lines to indicate the folds and seams. Keep the details minimal to maintain the chibi style. You can add his blindfold or his sunglasses on top of his head for extra character.

Step 6: Hands and Feet

Sketch small, simple hands and feet. Chibi hands can be drawn with just a few curved lines to suggest fingers, and the feet can be simple ovals or rectangles. Keep the proportions small and cute.

Step 7: Finalize the Outline

Go over your sketch, refining the lines and adding any additional details. Make sure the proportions are accurate and the lines are clean. Erase any unnecessary guidelines and adjust any elements to perfect the overall appearance.

Step 8: Inking (Optional)

For a polished look, use a fine-tip black pen to outline your drawing. Carefully trace over the pencil lines, making sure to follow the contours of Gojo's features and clothing. Allow the ink to dry before erasing any remaining pencil marks.

Step 9: Coloring (Optional)

Add color to your drawing using colored pencils or markers. Choose appropriate colors for Gojo's hair, eyes, and outfit. Use light, pastel shades to enhance the cute, chibi appearance. Add shading and highlights to create depth and dimension.

Step 10: Final Touches

Add any final touches, such as additional shading, highlights, or small details, to enhance the overall look of your drawing. Step back and admire your cute version of Gojo Satoru, appreciating the effort you've put into capturing his charm.

Conclusion:

Drawing a cute version of Gojo Satoru from "Jujutsu Kaisen" can be an enjoyable and accessible project for artists of all levels. By following these simple steps and embracing the chibi style, you can capture the playful and endearing side of this beloved character. Remember to practice regularly and have fun expressing your creativity through your artwork!

► Video Drawing Tutorial

► All Video Cute Drawing

► All Video How to Draw Chibi Characters

[russellmoreton]

Drawing around the body, 2010 Pencil,cyanotype and ink on paper with astronomical data. by Russell Moreton Via Flickr: russellmoreton.blogspot.co.uk/ independent.academia.edu/RussellMoreton Practitioner using the creative receptiveness of material together with the inclusion of drawing to harbour transits and passages of human presence, vulnerabilities centred around the human condition. My work adopts strategies which articulate a sense of absence and anonymity within the abandonment of the work to its location. I feel drawn to this registering of passage, encounter together with its farewell. The choice of materials gathered together implies a personal geography, with both an emotional and aesthetic sense of locality and place. The performative recording by physical means which renders itself as a trace of human presence, now becomes a vacant territory open for the consideration of others. My work continues to investigate this sense of material response with the performative trace of a human absences. The place-ment of these acts attempts to promote thresholds from which to reflect upon spatial, sociological and psychological conditions and perceptions. Currently working in clay, low fired to produce and promote a fragile vessel. This vessel is installed to act as a dwelling presence reverberating in a resting place. from which work is drawn into the human form to register a surface of absences resulting from past gestures and solitudes. Order and randomness, meticulousness and impulsiveness, drawing excess and graphic reduction are just some of the vibrant, tension-loaded poles that characterize the large-format drawings of the German artist Jorinde Voigt (b. 1977). Her works condense various elements of the cultural environment in the dynamic sequences of strokes, turbulently curving lines, diagrammatic structures, numbers, word fragments and collaged color areas of her drawings – which the passionate cello player refers to as “scores” or “notations”. She systematically analyses pop songs or pieces of classical music, kisses, temperature profiles, an eagle’s flight-path, horizon lines or the color values of individual plants and the contents of philosophical texts. Voigt uses measureable parameters like place, time, or sound volume, and self-defined rules or selected algorithms, and combines these fragments and impressions of reality to produce dynamic relational structures, thus creating a polyphony of different ways of perceiving the world. Jorinde Voigt’s largest solo exhibition to date – which builds a bridge from her early notations, reminiscent of classical conceptual art, to her most recent works that reflect the human desire to fly – traces the development of the specific system of symbols the artist uses to document and orchestrate processes of perception, imagination and thought. Curator: Stephanie Damianitsch Russell Moreton a visual artist uses simple gestures of drawn Human traces gathered and presented amongst natural materials. Exploring themes around the Human condition, vulnerability and abandonment. Materials are employed to further underpin our sense of place and time. The act and gesture of drawing adds a ephemeral mark amongst the materiality and locality of place. Currently using clay to register these themes, installing work Augury Vessel 2010 into Chapel Arts as part of their research residency programme.

[yourundead]

I'm going to be trying to do more traditional art this year. This is particle board recycled, pastel crayons, colored pencil, acrylic, and ink. This was free drawn on with a reference of myself I took. Might look into tracing paper and or some other easy way of projecting sketches on to larger canvas. I'm going to sleep on this and decide in the morning if I want to do more or if I'm just going to sign it and call it good.

[mizuki-t-a--art]

Fanart of Mefilas from Shin-Ultraman the movie.

Drawn with colored pencils, alcohol ink markers on paper.

* Don't steal / trace / copy / edit / use my artworks. Thanks for reading! *