#favorite sculptors line

[kenro199x]

FLYING HEDORAH, FAVORITE SCULPTORS LINE Toho 30cm series RIC version

The flying form of this abomination is much bigger than I thought it would be. I love this movie, so when this exclusive version with her (I think it's her since I heard that the Final Wars Hedorah was male, or maybe I got that switched up) came with the Petri dish and crawling landform, I had to get it.

[honeyscara]

•Chuuya Nakahara• bsd

Synopsis: spending some time with your boyfriend while it was raining outside

CW: 18+ MNDI! soft sex, chuuya x female reader

~On a rainy day~

You sat next to chuuya, reading a book, unaware of the fact that he had been admiring you since you came over to his house. It was pouring outside. You got caught up in the rain while returning from the bookstore so he gave you one of his shirts to wear. However, he was starting to regret his decision of giving you his shirt. The sight of you made his mouth go dry. It was an oversized shirt that hung off your shoulder slightly and it reached till your thighs. You weren't wearing anything underneath since your clothes were soaked due to the rain.

Chuuya was unable to tear his gaze away from you, his eyes tracing the lines of your body. You had your head buried in the book while he was admiring you. You were like a little statue carved by a sculptor, beautiful and delicate with just enough curves for a man's eyes to devour.

You made him restless, even when you were doing nothing more than sitting there, reading a book. You looked so cute but at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to take that shirt off you and kiss every single inch of you. But he held himself back and just sat next to you, patiently waiting for you to finish reading your favorite book.

"Is the book really interesting?" he asked.

"yess, I wonder who the killer might be" you reply and look over at chuuya who was sitting next to you, looking at you like a lovesick puppy, making you blush slightly.

"sorry I wasn't paying much attention to you" you said and placed the book on the table.

"the weather's so nice today" you say and wrap your arms around him.

Chuuya immediately reciprocates and holds you close.His embrace always felt so warm and comforting. "it certainly is" he says in a soft voice.

"...darling?" he began and you pulled away from him. Your breath hitched when his hands slowly slid up your thighs. the room fell silent for a few seconds, the only sounds being the rain pattering against the roof and the winds howling.

"do you want to.." he begins, inching closer towards you. His gaze shifted from your eyes to your lips and back to your eyes again. It looked like he was holding back from doing anything else.

"...do you want to make love?" the gentleness was visible in his voice.

You nodded and chuuya pressed his lips against yours. Chuuya was sure he could feel you smiling against his lips as he kissed you passionately. The both of you taking things slowly, savoring each other. Chuuya gently pushed you down onto the couch, not breaking the kiss. He kept peppering small kisses from your neck to your collarbone.

You tugged onto his shirt, desperate to get it off him. He complied, slowly pulling his shirt off revealing his toned upper body. You could make out the scars left due to him using his corruption ability. Your fingers traced along it, dragging a shaky breath from him.

His one hand now slowly unbuttoned the shirt that you had on while kissing your neck. He continued placing wet kisses along your shoulder as he pulled the shirt down to your waist, exposing your bare chest to him. Your body shivering a little as the cool air hit your exposed skin. His eyes roamed across your torso, taking everything in. You suddenly felt shy, feeling exposed under him.

The ginger noticed your nervousness and leaned in, brushing your hair out of your face.

"darling you look so fucking beautiful" he whispered in your ears before pecking you on the lips again.

He slowly trailed kisses down to your chest as if he was savouring even single inch of you. A small moan leaving your mouth as he trails his tongue over your skin, lightly sucking on your sensitive nubs, eliciting another moan. He looks up briefly, seeing your flushed cheeks before diving in to continue teasing you. You felt more sensitive as chuuya continued, kissing and sucking on you, causing you to arch your back and squirm under him. A few moans leaving your mouth as you try to control yourself.

"princess let me hear you" he says before slipping the rest of the material off your body and tossing it somewhere in the room.

"ah" you gasp at the sudden coldness of his fingers pressing against your heat.

.

.

.

.

.

"are you ready princess?" he asked and you nodded eagerly, feeling needy. Chuuya chuckled at your reaction before pushing in. He took his time, moving slowly, giving you time to adjust. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he pushed in deeper while maintaining eye contact with you.

"fu-ck chuuya " you groaned at his gentle movements inside of you.

Your hips bucked forward instinctively, a string of curses falling past your lips. Chuuya smirked and went a little faster, his hands on your hips, guiding you. A few moans leaving your mouth, the rain becoming a distant background noise. You could only focus on chuuya. The sight of him above you was arousing you even further.

"you're so beautiful" he mumbled, keeping his eyes locked onto yours.

His thumb stroking your skin softly, drawing circles on it. You could feel yourself reaching a climax and your whole body was tensing up You whimpered when he thrust in harder, making your walls clench around him. You both were panting and sweat dripped down your faces.

"a-ah fuck chuuya I'm close" you cried out as your hands gripped onto the couch.

"fuck, can you hold put just a little longer princess?"

He let out and kissed you passionately. His other hand moved down to hold your chest, squeezing gently. You let out a muffled moan at the feeling of his calloused palm on your chest and the sensation of his lips grazing over your neck.

.

.

.

.

You were cuddling with chuuya on the couch, bedsheets covering the two of you, watching a movie.Your head rested comfortably on chuuya's chest and his arm was draped loosely over your stomach. You yawned as you stared at the screen, not paying any mind to what was happening as you were tired.

Chuuya glanced down at you and smiled, running his fingers through your soft curls, trying to calm your nerves. You smiled brightly up at him and he couldn't help himself but smile back. His heart swelling at the sweetest smile.

"my sweet angel" he mumbled and kissed your forehead.

"stay over today" he pleaded, giving you the biggest puppy eyes ever. How could u say no to that? You ended up falling asleep with him on the couch as the rain pattered against the window.

[uwmspeccoll]

Wood Engraving Wednesday

NICHOLAS WILSON

This wood engraving, World View by Arizona painter, sculptor, and engraver Nicholas Wilson (b. 1947), is reproduced in the Wood Engravers' Network  Fifth Triennial Exhibition, 2024-2026 catalog of the Wood Engravers’ Network (WEN), the national organization for American wood engravers. I was the juror for this traveling exhibition.

Wilson is a self-taught artist who has lived in Arizona for over 30 years. His work tends to focus on the natural environment he encounters in the Arizona landscape. On making wood engravings, Wilson writes:

Among the various media I work in, my favorite, as I grow older, is wood engraving. The graphic expression of subject, presented in black and white parallel lines, dots and dashes, enable me to render my thoughts in precise detail. 

View another post from the WEN 5th Triennial Exhibition.

View more engravings by members of the Wood Engraver’s Network.

View more posts with wood engravings!

– MAX, Head of Special Collections

[the-black-manor]

The Little Moments

Summary: You enjoy a good fucking in the tub with your master.

Warnings: Cervix fucking, unprotected sex, cnc.

Kinks: Vampire, oversized cock, excessive cum, cum inflation, breeding, shower/bath, master/pet, dom/sub.

Characters: You and your loving Master.

Words: 2,632

More writing on Patreon.

Soft classical music draws you subconsciously to your master's bedroom, where you pad silently on bare feet across the dark wood floor to the bathroom door. You don't bother knocking before you turn the brass knob and step inside. Within the dimly lit room sits your master in a large, black claw-foot tub, whose golden accents have worn and faded through the many years it's belonged to him. If you didn't know any better, you might think that your master was sleeping. His pale skin seemed almost to glow as the moonlight filtered in through the tall window opposite you to light upon his face. He looked like a statue, chiseled expertly from marble by the deft hands of a master sculptor.

You were suddenly very aware of your own presence in the room and how much of a blemish you seemed to be amidst this picturesque scene. For the briefest moment, you wanted to sneak out of the bathroom without your master knowing you were ever there. But you stayed. He already knew you were there. He always knew when you were there.

"Master?" you called quietly.

He didn't respond, only lifted his hand out of the water and held it out toward you. He liked to wear gloves, your master, and while no one else knew why, you did. His hands bore the sign of his age. They were a roadmap through the many centuries he had been alive. Deep lines crossed his wide palms like canyons, and his fingers were thick and long, tipped with crimson nails. You padded forward and rested your hand in his. His skin was gray, almost translucent here, thin, and pulled too tightly over pronounced tendons and bone, like a corpse. He is a corpse. You knew this, and yet, despite the lack of a heartbeat, the absence of breath in his lungs, and the cool of his skin, he always seemed so very alive to you. Warm, despite no blood to flow through his veins, with bright eyes and a smile that could bring gods to their knees. Alive, dead, undead, it didn't matter. These were just words to you; they held no weight. He was perfect.

His fingers curled around yours, firmly, but not tightly. Pink peonies floated on the surface of the water, and the faint aroma of vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg, and other warm spices drifted into the air, carried by the steam. He liked to use oils in his baths to keep his skin from becoming leathery, and this one was one of your favorites. The water was so still, it looked like glass, and didn't obscure any of what your master had to offer. Long legs with strong thighs, a thin waist and stomach with just the barest definition of abs partially hidden by dark hair leading down to his crotch, where his cock rested, always semi-firm, between his legs. His chest was covered in the same dark hair as his belly, strong and toned, and he had muscular arms that he, unfortunately, liked to keep hidden beneath dress shirts made of expensive fabrics.

Your gaze wandered toward his, where he peeked at you through one half-open eye, a smirk on his delicate lips. Your face heat up in embarrassment, and you looked away. He only chuckled, a deep reverberation through the room akin to the first rumbles of thunder that precede a storm.

"Are you going to get in, or not?" he asked, and your heart skipped a beat. His voice was music.

He gave your hand a squeeze and you looked back at him. No matter how many times you had slept together, how many times he had touched you, how many times he had looked at you with those pale green eyes, it always felt like the first time, and you felt how David must have felt when he stood before Goliath. You were so small in comparison to this man, this creature, that stood taller than life.

All the same, you nodded, then lifted a foot over the edge of the tub. Your master took very hot baths, but a dip of your toe confirmed that it had cooled enough for you to enjoy the water comfortably.

"Can I sit on your cock?' you asked sheepishly, like a child asking for a second cookie.

"Of course," he smiled, and sharp teeth glinted in the moonlight.

He knew you would ask. You always do.

He scooted back to make room for you and helped you keep your balance as you stepped into the tub. You settled between his legs. The water reached well past your chest, and you could feel the weight of his manhood on your lower back. You knew he would need a moment to get himself ready, so you sat upright, making sure not to obstruct his access to himself. His fingers brushed against you, sending a chill up your spine, as he curled them around his cock. The stillness of the water was broken as he began to stroke himself, creating little waves, one of which carried a fluffy peony right to you. You cupped the flower gently in your hands, and lifted it to your nose, where you breathed deeply, picking its scent out from the rest. You closed your eyes, enjoying the heat of the water and the soft melody drifting through the air.

Your master groaned behind you, and his legs tensed around yours. It never took him long to get ready. You imagined it wouldn't take you long either, if you were always ready to breed someone like he was. Sometimes you wished you had the ability to have sex for hours on end and still be aroused when the session was over. Other times, you saw the look on his face, and knew that he was only barely winning the fight with his instincts. You saw how he would shift throughout the day to try and get comfortable, how he would squeeze his legs together to try and give his greedy cock some friction. In those times, you pitied him. You wished you could give him more of what he needed. You'd told him that you would never say no to him, that he could do whatever he wanted to you, but still he held back. If he didn't, he would break you, and so he was never truly satisfied.

You felt his cock throb against your back, and your own legs clenched in response.

"You can sit in my lap now," he said.

You set the flower back in the water, then used both sides of the tub to lift yourself up just enough for him to position himself beneath you. His hands found your hips and he pulled you backward. Your arms shook as you held your position, waiting for him to line up. His cockhead found its way between your folds and prodded at your entrance. He wiggled, only ever so slightly, but his knee collided with your leg, and you lost your grip on the tub.

You collapsed onto him with your full weight, and his cock slid inside without warning. You cried out and tried to stand, but his arms snaked around your torso like prison bars. He laid back and pulled you with him, holding you firmly against his chest. Your eyes watered and you clenched around him in pain. He rested his chin on your shoulder, and gently rubbed your stomach.

"Hush, love, hush. Stay still. The pain will pass."

You relaxed as best you could and let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Almost instantly, the pain began to subside. Your master insisted over and over that whatever magic or powers he had weren't for healing, but you knew that his touch could relieve pain at the very least. You had experienced it more than once.

You whined and turned your head to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. His soft beard, neatly trimmed and shaped, brushed against your forehead.

"There, that's it," he purred.

One of his hands traveled up your body to play with your nipples, pinching and rolling them around between his fingers, while his other hand found its way between your legs and gave your clit the same attention. Just when you began to think that you were getting used to the size of him, you were reminded just how big he really was. His cock alone made you feel full. He stretched you well, and even while his cockhead was pressed hard against your cervix, he wasn't completely inside of you. You could feel the thick vein beneath his girth massaging your g-spot as he adjusted to get comfortable.

You hummed and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sink into him, to give yourself to him fully. You were limp in his arms, a toy to be played with, nothing more, and he took full advantage of that. His nails were more akin to claws, but he kept them filed down for you, and you were silently grateful for it as he worked your clit. He moved his fingers just right, and the pleasure that traveled up your spine was like lightning, causing your back to arch involuntarily..

You whined as he pulled you back down with a strong arm and a chuckle.

"Already so sensitive to my touch, and I've only just begun."

You knew he was grinning without needing to see it. He liked to tease you, and he was very good at it, and you had come to know exactly how he responded to certain things. In this case, a grin was predictable. You only wished you could see it, see those fangs that he cared so diligently for.

You buried your face further into the crook of his neck, breathing him in as he rubbed your stomach, massaged your clit, and began moving gently in and out of you. Pain came first, as it always did, but quickly gave way to pleasure as his cockhead kissed your cervix with each thrust, and the girth of his cock filled you deliciously. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and nuzzled against you with a content hum. When you finally managed to contain your squirming to the occasional buck of hips and tensing of abs, he released his hold around you and brought his hand up to card his fingers through your hair. He took a fistful and pulled gently, and you moaned in reply.

He found a comfortable pace for you and settled into it, moving quickly, but gently, providing just the right amount of friction inside of you. Paired with the slow, almost lazy attention to your clit, it took no time at all for the embers of arousal to ignite in your core, burning low, but hot.

You closed your eyes and released a small whine, to which he responded with a groan of pleasure.

“You always feel so good… You hold me just right, pet.”

“Master…” you breathed as your walls clenched around him tightly. “I’m close… Please fill me. Please, Master.”

He pressed his lips to your temple and you felt him smirk as he placed a gentle kiss there. Wordlessly, he picked up the pace, and water splashed over the edge of the tub. Strong waves carried the peonies over as well, until it was just you and your master in the tub, with him thrusting into you hard. Your breathing picked up as the coil in your stomach tightened and tightened ready to spring. Your master groaned again, and his cock was hot inside of you. With each growl he let past his teeth, your climax came closer and closer, with each moan and whine, the spring tightened, until he was panting in your ear as he fucked you and you were milking his cock with your walls. 

“Oh god… Master… I’m gonna cum. Please can I cum?”

“Fuck, yes…” he breathed. “Cum for me sweetheart. Milk me.”

His breath was hot on the shell of your ear, and you cried out as your climax tore through your body. You tried to arch your back, but his arms were wound tightly around you, holding you fast.

“Fuck… fuck,” you swore as you felt him still, pushing hard against your cervix. 

Pleasure clouded your vision as he thrust farther inside, forcing his cockhead to open your cervix and push into your womb. The edges of your vision darkened as his cock throbbed, unloading thick ribbons of hot cum directly into your thirsty uterus. He growled loudly as his climax overtook him, and he held you so tightly you almost couldn’t breathe. Still you came, waves of pleasure washing over you in time with the throbbing of his thick cock. 

You could feel it moving inside of you, pulsing, and the warmth of his cum seemed almost hotter than the water around you. You squeezed your eyes shut to stop the room from spinning and rested a hand over your stomach. It began to grow beneath your palm as your womb filled with his seed, stretching to accommodate as he filled you with more and more, until you were bulging and braindead. All you could think was “Yes, Daddy, yes!” as your stomach swelled like a balloon, spurring your orgasm on.

After what seemed like ages, your master let out a whine and sucked in a deep breath. He relaxed back and you fell, limp, on top of him. Your hand slid from your stomach, which was so large, the top of it sat well above water-level. One of his strong hands replaced your own, and he rubbed soft, comforting circles over your swollen belly, soothing the taut skin there and bringing you down from your orgasm.

You couldn’t move, and as you gasped for air, you became very aware of his cock still nestled firmly inside of your cervix. 

“M-master…” you whined. 

“Hush, darling.”

A moan escaped your lips when he shifted to get more comfortable, and he chuckled.

“I know, darling. Doesn’t it feel nice?”

You nodded. “Mmm… feels nice…”

“Good, we’re going to stay here for a while, okay?”

You nodded again and he kissed your temple once more. 

“My good pet. My sweet little cum-hungry toy,” he purred. “You and I are firmly knotted together, aren’t we?” he mused. “Well, that’s no trouble to me. It looks like we’re just going to have to stay here until I soften enough to pull out of you.”

You whined.

“B-but..”

“But I’m never soft?” he smirked. “Yes, I suppose that could be a problem… for you.”

He settled in, holding you and stroking your big belly with a smile on his red lips as you clenched around him. Each movement he made was a mix of agony and ecstasy, and you couldn’t stop your walls from reacting in kind. It wasn’t long until he was hard again, filling you full with his cock, stretching you wonderfully. He was inside of you fully, every last inch of him, and he used this rare opportunity to his advantage, rutting into you gently.

While your eyes drooped and sleep tugged at the back of your mind, he used your body to pleasure himself. You didn’t complain. He felt amazing, and the spring in your core was tightening again. You would do anything for your master, including remaining thoroughly stuck on him so that he could use and fill you as he pleased. You sighed and relaxed back. There was no fight in you, not that you wanted to fight it anyway. You smiled as he moved inside of you. It was your purpose in life to please him. You were, after all, his good pet.

His sweet little cum-hungry toy.

[gojira-ekkusu]

Toho 30cm Series Favorite Sculptors Line Moguera (1957)

[ghostflowerdreams]

Who are your favorite artists? The art kind.

I'm a bit surprised I haven't been asked this question before!

I appreciate so many artists that it's hard to narrow it down. But based on what I can remember and what I can check on my Instagram and bookshelf, here are some of my favorites:

Gustave Doré (1832–1883) → A French artist, illustrator, and sculptor, celebrated for his intricate and dramatic engravings and illustrations. He is best known for his illustrations of classic literary works, including Dante Alighieri's The Divine Comedy, John Milton's Paradise Lost, and Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven. His skillful blend of realism and romanticism, combined with his mastery of visual storytelling, has established him as a significant figure in the history of illustration and fine art.

Vincent van Gogh (1853–1890) → A Dutch post-impressionist painter renowned for his expressive use of color and bold brushwork, which had a profound influence on 20th-century art. His most famous works, such as Starry Night, Sunflowers, and The Bedroom, showcase his unique style and emotional depth, capturing the beauty of the world around him.

Henriëtte Ronner-Knip (1821–1909) → A Dutch-Belgian painter best known for her detailed and charming depictions of domestic cats. Specializing in animal paintings, her style combined realism and a romantic touch, often portraying cats in cozy, playful, or elegant settings that captured their personalities and grace. She was celebrated for her ability to convey texture, particularly in fur, and created intimate, lifelike scenes that became popular in 19th-century bourgeois society.

John William Waterhouse (1849–1917) → A British painter associated with the Pre-Raphaelite movement, known for his romantic and mythological subjects. His art style blends elements of Romanticism and Classicism, featuring realistic figures, rich colors, and a strong focus on nature and detail. Waterhouse is best known for his depictions of female figures from mythology and literature, such as The Lady of Shalott and Ophelia, which convey a sense of beauty, melancholy, and mystery, making his work iconic in the realm of 19th-century art.

Harry Clarke (1889–1931) → An Irish stained-glass artist and illustrator. His work was influenced by Gothic art, Symbolism, Art Nouveau, and Irish folklore. This blend resulted in a distinctive aesthetic that harmoniously intertwines beauty with darker themes. Clarke is best known for his illustrations in classic literary texts, including James Joyce's Dubliners and Edgar Allan Poe's Tales of Mystery and Imagination. In these works, his illustrations masterfully balance whimsy and darkness, creating striking visual narratives that continue to resonate with audiences.

Alphonse Mucha (1860–1939) → A Czech painter and decorative artist best known for his distinctive Art Nouveau style, characterized by intricate, flowing lines, elaborate floral motifs, and a harmonious use of soft colors. Mucha's work often features idealized female figures, embodying beauty and elegance, and is heavily inspired by his fascination with nature and Slavic folklore. He gained fame for his poster designs, particularly those promoting the actress Sarah Bernhardt, as well as his decorative panels and illustrations.

J.C. Leyendecker (1874–1951) → An American illustrator renowned for his iconic magazine covers and advertising art, particularly his work for The Saturday Evening Post and the Arrow Collar Man campaign. Leyendecker's mastery of visual storytelling and branding helped shape American commercial art in the early 20th century, and he significantly influenced later artists, including Norman Rockwell.

Leonid Afremov (1955–2019) → A Belarusian-born artist known for his vibrant, impressionistic paintings created using a palette knife technique. His distinctive art style features bold colors and dynamic brushstrokes, often depicting landscapes, city scenes, and emotional moments, such as rain-soaked streets or sunlit parks.

Ayami Kojima → A Japanese artist and illustrator best known for her work in video game design, particularly as the character designer for the Castlevania series. Her art style is characterized by intricate, gothic aesthetics, combining dark fantasy elements with a detailed, ethereal quality.

Victoria Francés → A Spanish illustrator known for her evocative illustrations that blend gothic, fantasy, and romantic themes. She is particularly known for her illustrated books, including the popular series Faery Tales, which showcases her unique blend of fantasy and gothic aesthetics.

Yoshitaka Amano → A Japanese artist and illustrator renowned for his distinctive style in character design and concept art, particularly for the Final Fantasy video game series. His style fuses his interests in traditional Japanese aesthetics like those of wood block prints with Western fantasy elements. It results in ethereal forms, and a dreamlike quality, especially with Amano's use of watercolor techniques and intricate details to create a sense of movement and fluidity in his work.

Nico Delort (IG: nicodelort) → A French illustrator known for his detailed, black-and-white artworks created using scratchboard techniques. His art style is heavily influenced by the aesthetics of 19th-century engravings and woodcuts, blending elements of Gothic, fantasy, and mythological themes. Delort's work is recognized for its dramatic use of light and shadow, intricate textures, and atmospheric depth, often depicting moody, fantastical scenes.

Vania Zouravliov → A Russian-born artist known for his intricate, surreal illustrations that blend dark, fairy-tale-like themes with fine detail and symbolism. Zouravliov's work explores beauty and darkness, merging the macabre with the fantastical.

James Jean (IG: jamesjeanart) → A Taiwanese-American visual artist and illustrator known for his surreal, highly detailed works that blend elements of fantasy, mythology, and pop culture. Jean gained early recognition for his award-winning covers for DC Comics' Fables series.

Audrey Kawasaki (IG: audkawa) → A Japanese-American artist known for her blend of contemporary Japanese aesthetics and Western art influences. Her ethereal paintings often depict young women surrounded by nature, featuring intricate line work and a soft color palette. Her works are typically painted on wood panels, adding a quality that enhances the emotional depth of her subjects.

Jessica Cioffi (IG: Loputyn) → An Italian artist known for her enchanting illustrations and concept art that seamlessly blend traditional and digital techniques. Her work reflects the influence of 19th century neo-gothic and Japanese manga, and among the artist's favorite themes are witchcraft, folklore, and mystery.

Wenqing Yan (IG: yuumeiart) → A Chinese-American digital artist and illustrator known for her detailed, expressive art. Her style blends elements of anime, fantasy, and realism, featuring vibrant colors and intricate designs. Yan draws inspiration from nature, technology, and personal experiences, and she is well-known for her webcomic Fisheye Placebo and art series like Knite, which explore themes of activism, technology, and the environment.

Gretel Lusky (IG: gretlusky) → An Argentine digital artist and illustrator, Gretel Lusky is recognized for her whimsical, vibrant artwork featuring fantasy characters, and magical themes. Her style blends cartoon and anime elements, characterized by bold lines, expressive characters, and a colorful palette. She is well-known for her enchanting illustrations on social media, where she shares art tutorials and collaborates on various comics, book covers, and other projects. She is also known for her debut graphic novel Primer, an original graphic novel for DC Comics.

Margaret Morales (IG: margaretmoralesart) → A Filipino watercolor artist currently residing in America. Margaret Morales is known for her dreamy, ethereal portraits that intertwine feminine figures with elements of nature, such as flowers and animals. Her style, characterized by soft brushwork and pastel hues, creates a surreal, fairytale-like atmosphere. Her evolving work draws inspiration from art nouveau, mythology, fantasy, natural elements, Japanese/manga art, and fashion.

Tactooncat → An Indonesian digital artist known for creating illustrations that feature cats in a humorous and whimsical style, particularly cat memes and videos. Their work appeals to cat lovers and fans of lighthearted, expressive illustrations.

There are so many more, but hopefully the ones I've mentioned have caught your interest enough that you'll want to look them up. Each artist offers a unique perspective, whether through their distinctive style, use of color, themes, or techniques—there’s plenty to discover and enjoy.

[kararisa]

brushstrokes

— you’re beautiful and i’m insane

— painter!kaveh x sculptor!reader; art school au

— author’s notes: kaveh’s release grabbed me by the throat and slammed me against the wall and i’ve been enamored by this damn architect ever since. quote is from Venice Bitch by Lana Del Ray

Kaveh has always been a creative person, possessing the ability to take the whispers of an idea and turn them into tangible masterpieces of ink and color

Each line and brushstroke on the canvas were stories of all the love, joy, and pain that Kaveh has ever experienced

A desk of organized chaos is what someone is usually greeted with if they were to ever set foot in his dorm

Picture a set of markers and pencils lying splayed across his desk while he works on his next assignment. Or a stack of sketchbooks also sat in the corner of his room, both finished and unfinished (or “cursed”, as he so lovingly calls those with only a handful of sketches on the first page)

But creative drive can’t last forever – Kaveh’s brushstrokes, once guided by inspiration, now dance hesitantly upon the blank canvas in front of him

He stares at the white blankness, and he swears it stares back at him

“Find something that inspires you”, “Find beauty in the mundane”. People spewed all the same bullshit but none of it helped. and it didn’t exactly help that he’s constantly under the pressure of deadlines

Once, all he needed were his ideas. and now not even those are enough

And that’s when he met you

In one of the college library’s many hidden corners, the two of you just so happened to reach for the same book at the same time

Your hand brushed against his. And Kaveh’s eyes met yours 

“I kinda need that for an assignment,” you whispered to the blonde. In response, Kaveh takes the book and gives it to you

“Here. Just as long as you hand it over to me when you’re done,” Kaveh smiles

The two of you begin to chat more while checking out your books: current projects (he learns you’ve been working on improving your sculpting, and Kaveh shares he’s working on improving his composition), favorite food in the cafeteria (Kaveh tells you that he’s quite fond of soups), and the like

He began to bump into you more often, and not just in the library. You see each other in the hallway in between classes, sometimes the quad, maybe in the dorms if he’s lucky. Heck, he even saw you taking a swig of alcohol with your friends in the hidden storage room where he and his friends would drink on cooler nights

But you truly began to get to know each other when he walked in on you working on another one of your sculptures in one of the empty art studios usually reserved for lectures and live figure drawing classes

You sit near him and the two of you make easy conversation.

As the hours passed by, and the sky’s blue hues turned orange, the topic of the conversation steered to why the two of you decided to pursue art in the first place

And Kaveh couldn’t quite explain it, but ever since that day, his creative drive seemed to return to him in earnest. It’s slow-going, but at least now he can pick up a pencil or a brush without losing his ideas

Maybe it’s because he’s found a new source of inspiration

Or maybe it’s just because he likes your company

[sotwk]

I'd love to know more about Arvellas <3. He's my favorite OC of yours, and I got so sad when I read about his death :(

Another Arvellas lover!!! <3 Dear Anon, I too am sorry that Arvellas had to die. :( Another piece of Thranduil's heart that was ripped away! But, like everything Thranduil and his family sacrificed for the sake of Middle-earth, Arvellas' death was not in vain. By saving Dain's sons Gror (Dain Ironfoot's grandfather) and Thror (Thorin's grandfather) from the cold-drakes, he preserved the Line of Durin.

But enough about that! Let's instead think about how Arvellas lived exactly 2,500 years filled with love and happiness and success! Here are some headcanons that will hopefully make you smile as you see that he lived a full, long life:

Prince Arvellas Thranduilion

15 Fun SotWK AU Headcanons

Arvellas held more titles and official roles in his father's kingdom than any of his brothers. All of Thranduil's sons are workhorses, but Arvellas tallied the highest number and widest variety of achievements.

Arvellas ranked "Master" in multiple occupations: Master Scholar, Master Healer, Master Architect, Master Artist.

He was Prince-Regent (governor) of the most thriving and last surviving province of Eryn Galen, Cemamath (that corner of Eryn Galen that the whole kingdom shrank into by the end of the Third Age).

For most of his early life, Arvellas devoted his energies to being a scholar--particularly a writer of history and transcriber of books. He carried around parchment and quills in his robes because he was always writing!

Arvellas is the cleanest, most polished, and most meticulously groomed person in his family--except for his hands, which seemed to be permanently stained with ink due to the constant writing.

Arvellas has an unusually high imperviousness to poisons, even for an Elf. It is unknown whether he was born with it, or it gradually developed from years of testing his own potions on himself.

Although he prefers to avoid violence and deeply dislikes killing, Arvellas has more than enough warrior skills and training to hold his own in battle. His weapon of choice is a cusped-blade falchion.

Arvellas was Mirkwood's ambassador to the Dwarven people in Ered Mithrin (the Grey Mountains) and briefly, the young kingdom of Erebor (before his death).

He could speak many languages, but most noteworthy was his fluency in the Dwarves' "secret" language, Khuzdul.

However, he respected the Dwarves' culture and did not teach their language to others. Eventually he gained permission from his good friend, King Oin, to pass on his knowledge of Khuzdul to exactly one person: his niece and protégé, Princess Anariel (Mirion's daughter).

Arvellas studied the Orcish languages and even the Black Speech (though he never uttered Black Speech aloud in his father's realm).

Arvellas was an accomplished painter and sculptor, and over the centuries some of his works were sent as gifts to various noble houses, including Imladris, Khazad-dum, and Minas Tirith.

Arvellas played the harp, and one of his most cherished possessions was a golden harp made for him by the smiths of Khazad-dum.

Unsurprisingly, Arvellas had many admirers, but the most memorable of those admirers was Tauriel! She had a big "girlish crush" on the prince from childhood for at least a century before finally outgrowing it, and Arvellas became her mentor and one of her dearest friends. Still, Legolas enjoyed a number of years of being able to tease her over it!

Arvellas's personality and demeanor is very similar to and inspired by Prince Albert from "The Young Victoria", who is played by my chosen fancast, Rupert Friend! I chose Rupert because he is Orlando Bloom's doppelganger, but the way he makes Arvellas come alive through his portrayal of Albert is just a happy coincidence! That aura of princely regality and wisdom and strength and devotion!

Thank you so much for letting me gush and babble about him, Anon! <3

Want to learn more about Arvellas? Arvellas Headcanon Masterlist

OTHER USEFUL LINKS:

Introduction to SotWK

Main Headcanon Masterlist

[rumiracle-whip]

4 & angelstone for the ask game :)

4. where it hurts.

Peter should have fallen asleep hours ago. He was exhausted, but he couldn't drift off for more then a few seconds. He stared up at the blank sky, he wished there were still stars.

Fuck, everything hurts.

It wasn't even a big fight, they just got ambushed by a group of blights, it should have been nothing. Exandroth just had to show off, though. Now Peter had to deal with the constant feeling of his skin being on fire, and the dull ache from the scars where eyes had opened and shut. His feet were all blistered from walking too, just his luck.

Trying not to cry from sheer frustration, he turned on his side to face the rest of camp. Thanatos was shut off, resting. Lizard and Sunny slept in a little pile near the fire, the little fox stirred and yipped quietly, dreaming something Peter could never understand. Rumi was keeping watch, polishing her harpblade until in shone in the firelight just like her eyes did. Peter found himself entranced by the soft curve of their smile, the way their hair perfectly framed their face. Rumi was more what Peter had expected angels to look like before Exandroth showed up, divine and ethereal in his beauty. A painting worked on for decades until it was perfected, a statue carved by the greatest sculptor in the world, a magnum opus.

Their eyes drifted up to meet his, and in a burst of golden sparks the blade disappeared and Rumi looked at Peter the way she always did, like he was the most important person in her life.

It scared Peter sometimes, when he looked at him like that. He doesn't know if he had ever been someone's favorite person before. What if he was reading into it all wrong, what if he wasn't special to Rumi at all, what if he was just as much a nobody to them as everyone else.

Then Rumi smiled at him, and all his doubts melted away.

"Couldn't sleep?" He asked. When Peter nodded in response she pat the space on the fallen log next to her.

"Sit then, its awfully quiet out here, I could use the company."

Peter obliged and leaned his head on Rumi's shoulder, they were so warm...

"So is there any reason you're still up?" They murmured, softly as to not wake the animals.

"Exandroth was just an asshole today." He answered, his voice muffled in the folds of Rumi's cloak. "Can't sleep cus it hurts too much."

Rumi frowned and turned Peter's face towards him. "Why didn't you tell me? Look- here." He placed a hand on Peter's chest and he shuddered as the shimmer of magic spread through his body, it had to feel like being swallowed by starlight. When it dissipated, he felt a little better.

"T-thanks," He stammered, "I guess I just didn't want to bother you, you know?"

"You could never bother me, Peter." She whispered, taking his hand and examining the palm. An angry red line blazed across the center, still oozing a substance that looked like liquified light. Exandroth only ever opened eyes on his palms to mess with him.

"I wish he treated you better." Rumi lamented, closing Peter's hand around the scar and placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles. A flurry of butterflies were set free in his stomach. He hoped they didn't notice how much he was blushing.

"If you ever need anything from me," He continued, "No matter how trivial it seems, let me know, alright? I'm here for you, always."

"Always?" He repeated, "But what if-"

Rumi brushed his bangs away from his eyes and that shut him up pretty quick.

"I will be here as long as you need me to." They said with such finality and devotion Peter didn't think he ever believed anything less, "Now get some sleep, we have a long day of travel ahead of us."

The harpblade reappeared in her hands and she plucked out a few notes. "I will wake you once it is time to set off again."

Peter nodded and laid back down, on the other side of the fire this time, closer to the person softly singing an old ballad to fill the quiet. When he closed his eyes, for the first time in what felt like an eternity his dreams were pleasant.

[sunset-aria]

Amber's Art Resource Compilation (The Return!)

Once upon a time, I used to regularly share link collections of helpful art resources here that I would stumble across on my various feeds and timelines, both to keep track of them for myself for later reference, and to share them with others who also might find these resources useful or interesting. And considering how many websites most folks are spread across nowadays? It seems like as good a time as any for me to start doing this again! Feel free to share and reblog to whoever you think will benefit!

(I would recommend that if there's any links that you find particularly helpful, perhaps save the image or video to your computer for safekeeping. I have no idea how long Twitter links will work because of obvious site shenanigans, even with Nitter as a workaround...)

TIPS, TRICKS, AND TECHNIQUES

Drawing easy straight lines in CSP with line variance! (I use this one all the time now):

https://nitter.net/PharanBrush/status/1573559518830940160

Every layer blending mode explained in detail!

https://nitter.net/DanHollick/status/1583080119068807168

A digital inking tip for unsure artists: use a blurred sketch!

https://nitter.net/quasimaddi/status/1585011119277555712

Tips for drawing motion blur by hand:

https://nitter.net/stardustjarr/status/1553140493462241280

Divide layer trick for removing unwanted colours for a picture! (Works great for cleaning up scans)

https://nitter.net/DaveRapoza/status/1513918096922226694

Quick perspective tip: think in several layers of depth!

https:/nitter.net/toni_infante/status/1530209210558042114

A trick for handling 1-point perspective in backgrounds:

https://nitter.net/djamilaknopf/status/1478738291386204160

And another interesting perspective insight from someone else in the same thread:

https://nitter.net/Masa_Ikku/status/1478747970233585667

Easy architectural facades for buildings: paint it flat, skew, and expand!

https://nitter.net/DevinElleKurtz/status/1481791432490815489

Sinix Design: Anatomy Quick Tips. A playlist of videos focusing on how to break down and draw specific parts of body anatomy. (A favorite resource of mine!)

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLflflDShjUKH4EfZyf0vuKEuqeqvlV0Qd

EDITED TO ADD: Thank you to Honeybees for a wonderful link to some additional book resources!

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vEv0qEQKeGuWI4MPUcX8adWtNuGtTgSB

This folder contains:

"Anatomy for Sculptors", "Anatomy of Facial Expression", and "Form of the Head and Neck" by Uldis Zarins. An invaluable set of resources for understanding the 3D volumes of the human body from all angles! Goes into detail about skeletal structure and musculature, with photos and 3D models to help break down structures.

Volume 1 through 6 of "Hamm Tips", an amazing PDF archive of knowledge from the late Jon Hamm's art advice Twitter. Covering a wide variety of topics from inking to composition to visual narrative, there's a little bit of everything to learn here! (These PDFs are also still available to purchase on https://jessehamm.gumroad.com/ Proceeds go towards supporting Hamm's wife.)

The Morpho Series by Michel Lauricella: "Clothing Folds and Creases", "Fat and Skin Folds", "Hands and Feet", "Simplified Forms Anatomy for Artists", and "Skeleton and Bone Reference Points". A collection of detailed drawn figures and studies covering a variety of essential topics. Especially helpful if you find it easier to learn from seeing drawings rather than photos or 3D models!

DOWNLOADABLE TOOLS AND ASSETS

Baydews shares their favorite CSP brushes:

https://nitter.net/baydews/status/1607413330444169219?t=wH2Ijop-0llRr_HUF-0PTA&s=19

Master list of CSP brushes and assets!

https://cspmasterlist.carrd.co/

CSP Perspective Box asset:

https://nitter.net/PharanBrush/status/1687876570764238848?t=82DGi0khF8qtZTrndemHhg&s=19

Extensive 3D prop resource (Models can be imported into CSP and more!)

https://thebasemesh.com/

REFERENCE MATERIAL

Line of Action, a figure drawing resource tool! Most folks probably know this one, but it's still worth pointing out as a favorite for gesture drawing practice of many kinds:

https://line-of-action.com/practice-tools/figure-drawing/

AdorkaStock, another great resource for pose photos:

https://www.adorkastock.com/sketch/

A reference search resource for finding photos of human heads from specific angles:

http://referenceangle.com/

A similar resource to above, but for animal heads from specific angles:

https://x6ud.github.io/#/

And another, for finding photos of poses with limbs in specific positions:

https://x6ud.github.io/pose-search/#/

Japanese terms for certain eye shapes, with photo examples:

https://nitter.net/authorkurikuri/status/1597780432526925824?t=45tt1w6XFisqf53wLpW4TQ&s=19

Need pose inspiration for a mermaid? Try photos of skaters!

https://nitter.net/BelgharbiHouda/status/1521578742203752453

Actual mermaid poses, in 3D model form, with multiple turnaround angles:

https://nitter.net/kingcholera/status/1466065821835403271?t=QOTTQ_NaM4lC67hjaIWHKw&s=19

KingCholera's Patreon is a great resource for free 3D model poses! (Select "public" in the Tier dropdown at the top of their Patreon post feed to get a list of currently available free resources):

https://www.patreon.com/kingcholera

Another example from KingCholera's public ref collection: shoe refs (turnarounds)

https://www.patreon.com/posts/480-shoe-pt-2-70970957?utm_medium=social&utm_source=twitter&utm_campaign=postshare_creator

PAID RESOURCES

Eco-friendly bubblewrap substitute (helpful if you sell merch):

https://www.ecoenclose.com/shop/greenwrap/

Plushie sewing templates and tutorials from an awesome plushie artist, NazFX:

https://nazegoreng.gumroad.com/

MISC RESOURCES

Font help: good title and body typeface pairings:

https://nitter.net/Unenthuser/status/1539391099919224837

Font: SS Pretzel comic-friendly font:

https://nitter.net/salinsley/status/1445752040123092998?t=JqHW97mq0Zsie84vddCkPg&s=19

Rarebit: a Neocities webcomic website template:

https://nitter.net/spellsquad/status/1537116379706298368

[queenofglassbeliever]

@emonydeborah and @leveragedlibrarians I created a character profile for Alexandria!

Full name: Alexandria Stone.

Nicknames: Alex, Allie, "Pebbles", Andria

Relative(s): Jacob Stone (father), Athena (mother), Eve Baird ("aunt"/mother figure), Flynn Carsen ("uncle"), Ezekiel Jones ("uncle"), Jenkins ("grandfather"), Cassandra Cillian ("aunt"), Isaac Stone (grandfather), Unspecified number of paternal cousins.

Affiliation: The Library, The Librarians

Occupation: Librarian in Training, Sculptor, College student (online)

Status: Alive [Immortal]

First appearance: And the Brainchild

Portrayed by: Josephine Langford.

Alexandria Stone is the demigod daughter of Librarian, Jacob Stone, and the goddess Athena.

History

And the Spear of Athena. In the reset timeline, the Library is tethered and the Librarians have a moment of respite. Until the clipping book sends them on a quest to recover Athena's lost spear. Their success in the mission catches the eye of the goddess herself. Though it is Jake specifically who has Athena's affection.

And the Brainchild. Set between And the Steal of Fortune and And the Christmas Thief. The Librarians come into the Annex one morning to find a newborn baby girl wrapped in linen and wool in woven basket. There's a note, in Greek, addressed to Jake. The baby is a gift from Athena, concieved from her divine thoughts and Jake's ingenuity. Jake calls his new daughter Alexandria after the lost library of. After reaching physical maturity, around 20 or so, Alex became immortal.

Personality

Alexandria is a polymath with a IQ of 260. She spent most of her time in the Library, getting lost among the endless rows of bookshelves. Jake would often find Allie, sitting on top of the shelves which she used to climb up on when she was a child. She is incredibly stubborn and fearless.

Abilities

Invulnerability. Alexandria is immune to all physical harm.

Genius level intellect. The daughter of a genius and the goddess of wisdom, Andria possess a mind that far surpasses that of a mortal. As a kid, she was bullied by her school peers because of her intelligence. The bullying became so bad that she was pulled from school and was instead homeschooled in the Library.

Skilled hand-to-hand combat/Martial artist. Starting at the age of 8, Alex was trained by Jake and Eve in self-defense and later in martial arts.

Telumkinesis. As a demigodess of war, Alex possess the magical ability to adapt to using any weapon.

Ley line weaving. Imagine that ley lines are composed of billions of "threads" of magical energy. Alexandria can weave those "threads" together to cast various spells.

Enhanced Physical Prowess. She has enhanced strength, durability, and swiftness

Craftsmanship. Alexandria is a very skilled sculptor and at pottery.

Relationships

Jacob Stone. He is Alexandria's father. At the beginning, he was very unsure of his ability to be a good father. But he took it one day at a time. Jake and Allie are very close and have a loving relationship. Allie was given the nickname "Pebbles" because she "is a small Stone." She shares a lot of similarities with her father and looks very much like him. They disagree over her future at the Library. Alexandria has dreamt and prepared her entire life to be a Librarian. Jake isn't necessarily against it, but he does want her to half a normal life outside of the Library. At least for a time before she receives her letter. He wants her to go to university and have experiences.

Eve Baird. Affectionately called "Aunt Eve," she is seen as a mother figure by Alex. Aside from Jake, Eve had the biggest hand in raising Alex.

Jenkins. Considered to be Alexandria's honorary grandfather. He has been a teacher, a guide, and a friend to Alex all her life.

Flynn Carsen. Alex has always enjoyed Flynn's company and beating him at chest.

Ezekiel Jones. Though Flynn is the fun uncle, Ezekiel holds the position of favorite uncle. (Though Flynn doesn't know that, he believes he's the favorite). Alex has been Ezekiel's partner in mischief since before she could walk.

Cassandra Cillian. Their relationship had a rocky start due to Cassandra's dislike of babies. The noises and the smells were just too much for Cassandra's synesthesia. But thinks got better when Alex was around 3. Alexandria began showing strong mathematical abilities far above her age. Cassandra became a tutor of math and science. When Alexandria developed magical powers and felt that they were too much, too big, Cassandra became an understanding ear and mentor.

Athena. Alexandria's mother, whom she's never met. She has received gifts from Athena which she keeps locked in a chest at the foot of her bad.

Isaac Stone. Alex's paternal grandfather. She met him once and he insulted her father. So she threw him threw a wall. She was 15 at the time.

Gallery

[moonsugar-and-spice]

Sending queries for Bao ‘The Bloody’ Zirrik via a very nervous courier.

- Favourite person, and why?

- Has anyone, or anything, ever made you think maybe you were in the wrong line of work? Whether that be an unexpected joy in doing something else, not wanting to end up like someone, or perhaps, witnessing something so awful it liquified even your bowels.

- Is there anything you regret?

Bao leans back in his chair as he looks up from the letter to study the poor courier, his mouth crooking with an amused scoff.

Sentimentality has no place in the world I've carved. ‘Favorites’ can shift like sand in a desert storm. Sure, there’re those who’ve earned a measure of my respect, a few I’ve called friend, but it’s a currency easily devalued by incompetence, by betrayal. The ones at my side today are well familiar with the price. Though sometimes, in the dead of night… I think of my mother. Her laugh, her honeyed tea. I don’t linger on such things long.

There is a flicker in his skewering green eyes, there and gone too fast to name, before he grins. It is cold and dark and mocking.

Wrong line of work? The past is a graveyard of tittyfuckers who’ve doubted and dithered. Now I walk on them as I tend my garden, do my whittling out there too. Every man’s got his pastimes. Always had a knack for shaping things, maybe I missed my calling to be a sculptor, eh? But people are more interesting, and more malleable, than wood. And only fools and the weak can indulge the luxury of doubt, it’s not one you can afford in the chaos of forging an empire, a legacy.

Bao's smile shifts, and he shrugs one beefy shoulder.

Seen plenty. It can be a messy business, violence, and sometimes it's a damn spectacle. One standout was just the other week, some waterbender charged up on this new black market drug. Spiked a guy’s blood pressure so high it turned him into a human geyser, blood spraying out every hole and making new ones like juice bursting from a hot, overripe melon. Terrifying, sure, in an exhilarating kind of way. If anything, it hammered home the point that there’s only two sides to this coin. And if you’re not on one, you’re on the other.

As for regret, every choice has consequences, some foreseen, some not. I underestimated an upstart once. Saw their ambition, their hunger, and mistook it for recklessness. Shame, too, could've used them to my advantage.

Ask my OC anything

[sagemonsters]

@inkysqueed has a blind date with...

Atesh the Fire Elemental

Atesh is a tall, stern-looking humanoid with dark gray skin the color of soot. Craggy, antler-like protrusions curve backward from his skull, glowing as though their cores are full of embers… and perhaps they are! His eye sockets are filled with fire, and the strands of his long hair (which he typically keeps in a waist-length single braid) are equally fiery and fierce. His body temperature is quite hot, and he most often wears a leather workman’s apron over plain, durable clothes.

Atesh has forsaken his family’s typical profession (some kind of smithing such as silversmithing, goldsmithing, or blacksmithing) and has dedicated himself to mastering the art of glassblowing. The shelves of his workshop are full of intricate, beautiful glass sculptures, some small enough to fit in the palm of a child’s hand and others too large to be carried in the arms of an adult. He is devoted to his craft (he is autistic) and can talk for hours about the history of glassblowing techniques in Egypt, Venice, and the modern world, but respects other art forms as well. He takes your fics just as seriously as he does his own creative pursuits, and is always happy to listen to you talk about your writing.

Atesh’s love language is gift-giving, and he will often surprise you with small sculptures. Some are abstract conversation pieces you can put on your desk or nightstand, while others are sculptures of your favorite Pokémon. He is always touched if/when you give him something in return, and never throws any of your gifts away.

Atesh is ordinarily a very grave person and takes everything seriously, but your jokes and silliness can make him smile like nothing else. He loves your sense of humor and comes to you whenever he needs cheering up after a particularly difficult day in the workshop or from dealing with social events full of people he doesn’t know (generally artist exhibitions and craft fairs).

Atesh completely understands your struggles with familial acceptance and authenticity. As an autistic fire elemental, he often feels like his allistic parents and siblings don’t really understand him or his passion, so he has to censor himself around them to avoid ridicule. Atesh wants to create an environment where you can be 100% yourself around him and his friends without fearing an emotional reprisal.

Part of what you loved about going to the fair was seeing everything that people made to sell in the little market section. Sure, the sheepdog trials were fun, and fair food was always delicious, but it was really seeing all of the crocheted and knitted things that fiber artists had made, as well as the jams, jellies, and other preserves, and the soaps and lotions from local makers, and the creations of the jewelry-makers, as well as the artwork of the painters, sculptors, furniture-makers, and woodcarvers… When you got right down to it, a lot of the joy of the fair’s market came from seeing the variety of things that people had made, and the obvious joy and pride that the creators took in their creations.

You didn’t have any spare cash this time around, so you were just browsing the stalls and giving compliments whenever a vendor seemed to be running low on patronage. As you wandered, you found yourself making your way toward a tall, square tent-booth with a dark canvas exterior that had been lit from within by what seemed like a thousand twinkling, color-shifting fairy lights that had been taped to the interior walls. At the entrance, your eyes widened: the inside of the tent was lined with shelves full of glass sculptures, all of them catching and reflecting the multicolored light in a dazzling display. There was a sign next to the cash register that read: YOU BREAK IT, YOU BUY IT.

“Anything catch your eye?” a deep voice asked, and you startled a bit. A fire elemental with appropriately fiery hair and eyes poked his head out from around one of the shelves.

“Just looking!” you said with a smile. Your eyes wandered over the glass confections that crowded the shelves of the tent. They really were beautiful, and most were abstract; here was a textured plane whose whorls and divots seemed to suggest a face, and there was a spiny concoction that seemed reminiscent of either a sea urchin or a star…

“I think I have something for you,” the fire elemental said, and plucked something off one of the shelves. He approached. Up close, he towered over you, and his broad shoulders strained against the seams of his shirt. It took an effort of will for you to pull your eyes down to the two glass earrings he held in the palm of one hand.

The earrings reminded you of arched cathedral windows, with tiny silver frames filled by deep blue glass that swung on pivot rings from their hooks to catch and reflect the light.

“These are lovely,” you said with an apologetic smile, “but I can’t afford them.”

“They are a gift,” the fire elemental said, without a single note of irony in his voice that suggested he was playing a joke on you. 

Your brows knit with concern. “Are you sure?” you asked.

“Absolutely,” the elemental assured you. “If you’re not really an earrings person, I also have a pendant…” He half-turned back to the shelves of his shop, clearly getting ready to start searching through his inventory.

“Why are you giving this to me?” you asked. “I’m not important or anything.”

The elemental turned back around and frowned gently at you. “Well, that’s not true,” he scolded. “Everyone is important. And I’m offering you a gift because…” He sighed. “Because it’s very difficult for me to talk to people I find attractive, and I think you have extraordinarily kind eyes. I like that in a person, so… please accept the earrings—or a pendant.”

You felt your cheeks heating with a blush at the compliment. “Thank you,” you said, and told him your name.

“I’m Atesh, by the way,” the fire elemental said. “I hope we can stay in touch, if you’re open to that.”

“I’d love that!” you said, and quickly got your phone out of your pocket to add Atesh into your contacts.

see here to get your own blind date with a monster!

[voparwave69]

Sappy romantic shit

My bf made me a playlist of songs that describe how he feels towards me, which really helps him because he's so poetic and doting and can express it without speaking (I've said this before but he's semi nonverbal, in that he does talk, but it's not common). One of the songs he has is Your Song by Elton John. I love the line "if I was a sculptor...but then again, no! Or a man, who makes potions, in a traveling show," because he can be the sculptor and I can make potions in a traveling show :o) but HIS favorite line is "anyways, the thing is, what I really mean...yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen." and he always rubs my hand during this part. He drew me one time to show me how I look up at him, he's 7'2 so in the drawing i of course look like I'm short as hell even though I'm actually 5'7 lol, the sky around me was pale pink and he drew a soft breeze blowing through my clothes, and I just...the way he depicted me, I could see the intense love he was capturing in my eyes, but most of all, I could see the intense love in the pictures existence, him taking the time to draw this unbelievably gorgeous drawing just because he wanted to show me how I look through his eyes.

[gojira-ekkusu]

Favorite Sculptors Line Godzilla (1984) Cybot Version

[sofiaispunk]

The Space Cowboy and his Ladybug - CHAPTER 5

Javier Peña x reader

Summary: After a heated argument with your husband Steven, you stumble upon your long-lost best friend Javier at the bar.

Words: 2,9K

Warnings: angst, trust issues, violence, brief mention of past domestic abuse (mentally and physically), insecurity, references to suicide attempt, smut, TRAUMA, lowborn, heartbreak

The wooden door of The Laredo Bar creaked as you pushed it open, escaping the humid embrace of the Texan night. Inside, the atmosphere was heavy with the nostalgia of old tunes emanating from a jukebox in the corner. Your heart was pounding; earlier, you had a huge fight with Steven about wanting to visit Chucho’s farm. He just didn’t understand the importance of this place, the memories it holds for you. Frustrated and yearning for some solace, you decide to have a drink to calm your nerves.

“Steven, Chucho invited us for dinner at his farm tomorrow. It would mean so much to me if we could go,” you told Steven as soon as you came back from Diego’s birthday party. 

He raised an eyebrow and gave you a dismissive look. “I already made plans to meet up with the guys tomorrow. Can’t you just go by yourself?”

You felt a jolt of disappointment. “Again? But, this is really important to me. You know Chucho is my family. Can’t you reschedule with your friends?” you pleaded.

Steven rolled his eyes. “Why do we have to revolve our entire trip around your past?”

Anger surged through you, but you tried to keep calm. “This is not just nostalgia, Steven. This is my life, these are the people who were there for me when no one else was. Can’t you see how much this means to me?”

Steven crossed his arms. “Well, maybe if you tried to live in the present instead of clinging to your past, you’d see that I have a life too. I’m not canceling my plans. You can go visit your ‘family’ if you want,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back. “Fine,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you left your house once again. You needed air, you needed to breathe, and most of all, you needed to escape the cage that your life has become. You also just needed a moment alone, and a drink to calm your nerves.

As your eyes scanned the room, meeting the curious stares of patrons lost in their own world, the familiar scent of stale beer and peanuts filled your nostrils. You edged towards the bar to order your favorite red wine, but something – someone – caught your eye. There, hidden in the shadows and nursing a glass of whiskey, was Javier Peña.

Even though his back was turned to you, there was something about his posture that made your heart flutter. His hair, once a wild mess of curls, was now cut short and speckled with gray. His lean shoulders of the past now carried a mature, rugged broadness. As your eyes traveled his form, you realized that time has been a merciless sculptor, chiseling both of you out of experiences and hardships.

A torrent of emotions surge dthrough you – anger, regret, longing – all fighting for dominance as they formed a whirlwind in your chest. Despite the hurricane within you, you found yourself drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. With a thudding heart echoing louder than the rhythm of the jukebox, you tapped his shoulder hesitantly.

He turned around, and the intensity of his piercing brown eyes sent a shiver down your spine. Time had etched its passage on his handsome face in the form of a few rugged lines, and his once youthful, carefree aura has been replaced by a somber, hardened mask.

“Javier…” your voice barely rose above a whisper.

For a moment, he looked at you, his face unreadable. The boy you once knew so well had morphed into a man who feels like a stranger.

“It’s me…” you manage to choke out.

His eyes widened in surprise, and a spark of recognition flickered across his face.

“What are you doing here?” he muttered, not with the warmth of old friendship, but more like a stranger.

“I… I needed a drink,” you stumbled on your words, the intoxication of his presence making you dizzy.

“No, I mean, what are you doing in Laredo?” he retorted, not even bothering to look at you properly.

“I came with my husband,” you murmured. “He’s here on business, and I… I wanted to visit Chucho.”

“Chucho? That’s rich.” His tone was so biting it could cut glass. He finally turned to you, his dark eyes cold. “You sure it’s not just another pit stop before you hit the road again?”

“That’s not fair,” you retorted defensively. “I care about Chucho, he was like a father to me and you know that.”

Javier snorted; his eyes stone cold. “Yeah, until you decided he wasn’t worth sticking around for either. Tell me, you planning to make a habit of this? Swing by every decade or so just to check if the old man’s still kicking?”

“Javier… please don’t.” your voice was just above a whisper. You didn’t know what to do or what to say. Everything felt too much, too close, too constricting.

For a moment, there was just silence between you.

“You shouldn't go to Chucho’s if you're just going to leave again,” he said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. “Don’t break that man’s heart a second time.”

“You act like you’re blameless in all this, but you abandoned me first!” you exclaimed your voice raw with emotion. “And Chucho? He was my family too! Maybe if you could look past your own ego, you’d see that!”

“Oh, I see everything perfectly,” he cut in harshly. “You ran away and didn’t look back. Not for me, not for Chucho. But hey, maybe you were too busy dreaming about a perfect life away from this hellhole.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“What about you, Javier? You weren’t there when I needed you the most!” you blurted out, the memories flooding back. The night your father drunkenly beat you, the desperate calls to Javier.

His face darkened and he slammed his glass down on the bar. “That’s not fair, and you know it. I didn’t know what was happening to you, but you knew what you were doing when you left!”

The pain in his voice was as raw as if the wounds were fresh. You felt your own heart cracking open.

“I called you that night,” your voice cracks. “I needed you, my best friend. But you screamed at me, and Lorraine was more important.”

Javier looked as if he’s been slapped. His eyes were wild, and his mouth opens and closes like he’s trying to find words.

“That night, everything changed,” you continue. “When you weren’t there for me, I knew I couldn’t stay in Laredo. Not with my father, and not when my best friend had replaced me.”

The two of you were breathing heavily, and the air is thick with a decade of heartache and regret.

“You think I replaced you?” Javier’s voice was low, full of pain. “You were my family. You were my everything. You think I don’t know I messed up?” Javier’s voice is suddenly quiet, the coldness giving way to pain. “But this, all of this,” he gestured between the two of you, “it’s not just on me. We both made choices. And you chose to leave me.”

Your shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of you. You realized that he was right. You both made choices that led to this moment. The anger, the bitterness – it’s all just a mask for the deep hurt that’s been festering for over a decade.

“I don’t know how to fix this, Javier,” you whispered, the tears still flowing.

“Well, there’s nothing to fix. You came 13 years too late for that. See ya around,” he said , his voice icy and void of the warmth you once knew.

He snatched his leather jacket from the back of the stool, his movements curt and sharp. With that, he turned on his heel and strides toward the door.

As you watched him walk away, his figure receding into the dim light, you fel tlike a chapter of your life is closing, one that’s been left open and unfinished for far too long. The weight of all the years, the pain, the longing, and the regret settled heavy on your chest.

Javier Peña, your sanctuary and your heartbreak, is walking out of your life again.

After Javier left, you sat there, staring at the empty doorway where he had disappeared. The bustle of the bar, the chatter, and laughter became a distant hum in your ears. You were consumed by your own thoughts, your own ghosts.

His words echoed in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your consciousness, pricking you like shards of glass. You kept replaying that fateful night you fled Laredo, abandoning everything you held dear.

Where had it all gone wrong?

Laredo ca 1977

The evening was heavy with tension as you locked yourself in your small bedroom. The familiar sounds of your father’s slurred speech and his thunderous shouting seeped through the thin walls. A sense of dread crept over you, because this time it felt different, the anger in his voice was more menacing.

You could hear him stumbling through the house, his shouts becoming more and more incoherent. You sat on your bed, your knees pulled up to your chest, your body quaking. You wanted to block out the sounds, to pretend you were somewhere else, anywhere but here.

Suddenly, the shouting became louder, and you realized that he was just outside your door.

“Come out here!” he screamed; his voice full of venom.

You stayed silent, praying he would go away.

“I said come out!” The demand was punctuated by a violent bang against your door. The door shuddered as if it might give way.

“You’re worth nothing! Nothing!” he spat through the door. The words cut through you like a blade.

You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears. This was worse than it had ever been before. His rage was a tangible force pressing against your door, and you knew you couldn’t face him. Not this time.

You reached for your phone with trembling hands, your only lifeline. Your fingers barely managed to dial Javier’s number.

But when he answered, his voice was not the comforting presence you so desperately needed. He was distant, annoyed.

You tried to speak, but sobs choked your words. You could hear the muffled sound of laughter and music in the background, where Javier was.

The banging on the door became more ferocious, the wooden frame creaking.

“Please,” was the only thing you could manage to whisper into the phone, but Javier had already hung up.

The bangs on the door grew louder, more insistent. The frame shook with each furious hit until finally, with a crack that echoed in the small room, the door burst open. Your father's towering form filled the doorway, his face twisted in rage that was more terrifying than anything you'd ever seen.

In his hand, he held a half-empty bottle of whatever cheap liquor he'd been drowning himself in. With a roar, he flung it in your direction. You barely had time to react, throwing yourself to the side just in time as the bottle smashed against the wall, showering glass shards everywhere.

His slurred insults cut through the air, every word a dagger aimed straight at your heart. "You're nobody! You have nobody! You're worth nothing!" His venomous words echoed in the room, his anger filling every corner.

Your heart pounded in your chest like a trapped bird, every instinct screaming at you to escape. But there was nowhere to go, no way to escape the nightmare unfolding in front of you. All you could think about was Chucho's house, how safe it felt, how far it was. And Javier...you needed to reach Javier.

But before you could even process the thought, your father lunged at you. His fingers, rough and calloused from years of manual labor, wrapped around your hair, yanking you upwards.

Pain exploded in your skull as he rammed your head against the wooden bed frame. Everything swirled around you, the room tilting on its axis. Dizziness washed over you, threatening to pull you into the darkness.

Your father’s punches landed on your chin and ribs with brutal force, each blow driving the air from your lungs. The taste of blood filled your mouth. With every ounce of strength you could muster, you fought against the dizziness and reached for your phone once more, desperation and fear giving you a surge of adrenaline. Your fingers felt numb as you dialed Javier’s number again.

He picked up.

“I don’t feel good... please help me...” you managed to croak out between sobs. Your voice was weak, almost inaudible, a pathetic whisper in a storm of violence and terror.

Suddenly, you heard another voice on the other end, shrill and impatient. Lorraine.

She snatched the phone from Javier, her voice coming through the speaker. “What’s going on? Can’t this wait?” she snapped.

Your tears blurred your vision as you choked out the words, telling Lorraine what was happening, the pain, the blood, the desperate need for someone to save you.

There was a pause on the other end, then a snort.

“Oh, she’s just being dramatic, as usual,” you heard Lorraine say, not realizing you could hear her. “Besides, she thinks she’s bleeding or something.”

Something inside you broke at her words. The last thread of hope you had was severed. If Javier wouldn’t help you, if Lorraine thought you were just being dramatic, then there really was no one.

You didn't wait to hear more. You hung up, your trembling fingers barely able to press the button.

It was as if a veil of clarity descended upon you. You had to get out. You had to save yourself.

With a sudden burst of energy, you fought back against your father’s grip. You kicked, scratched, did whatever you could to break free. For a moment, you caught him off guard, and he stumbled back.

Not wasting a second, you bolted from the room, down the hallway, and out into the night.

The humid air enveloped you, but you barely felt it. All that mattered was escaping, getting as far away as possible from the nightmare you had called home for too long.

You didn't look back.

Javier, who had once been your rock, your anchor in the storm. Javier, who was supposed to understand, to be there. But he wasn't. And when he needed you, you weren't there either. A symphony of misunderstandings and missteps that led you both on paths you never imagined, alone and hurt.

Javier was more than a crush or your first love.  He was your best friend, your confidant. The one person who knew you inside and out. The person you thought would stand by you through everything. But life had other plans.

He had taken your heart those many years ago, and you realized with a startling clarity, as you sat there alone in the bar, that he never gave it back. His words, his actions, the anger in his eyes – they still held sway over your heart. His presence still caused your heart to flutter, his absence made it ache.

No, you realized. Javier Peña still had your heart. And the bitter truth was, despite the years and the pain, you didn't want it back.

In the cold, dim light of the bar, you sat alone with your thoughts and your memories, nursing a heart that seemed forever pledged to a man who could never be yours. And for the first time in 13 years, you allowed yourself to grieve for what was lost, for what could never be again.