#i have a bunch of new drawings but i can't decide when should i show them so i'm doodling more sillius stuff

[apollokyler]

SILLIUS IS AT IT AGAIN

[starry-907]

Animation vs Life SMP

alright so i said in the tumblr community if we got new life series and influencer arc ep 3 on the same day i'd post my (currently very minimal and disorganized) thoughts for animation vs life series! and uh. we did indeed get new life series today soooooo yeah.

thoughts below the cut cuz it will likely be a bit long shgsldjf

Explanation of life smp

so! for those of you that don't know what life series/life smp is, it's basically hardcore but you have (usually) 3 lives instead of just one (there's been 2 seasons that don't follow that exact idea). when you hit your last life (referred to as your "red life") you get to be hostile and kill others outside of specific circumstances. last person alive wins! there's been 5 seasons so far (and a vaugely canon april fools ep), with the 6th season starting today, leading to me writing this here.

a lot of folks also add in some additional lore with these beings called the watchers, with the lore being that they're the ones organizing the games and kinda keeping the players locked in this loop of death games. i think one of the content creators has his own lore involving the watchers, martyn inthelittlewood.

if you want an explanation of ava/avm i can't type that here or we'd be here all day so instead i'll just link this post i made a while back that should help explain some stuff

The foundation

essentially this au starts with the idea of what if instead of mcyt-ers, the watchers decided to nab some silly sticks for their death game instead? the current lineup that they grabbed is:

Vic, Chosen, Dark, Second, Green, Blue, Yellow, Red, Purple, and Mango. i might add the mercs if i want more people for more complexity, but i'm still in the baby stages of ideation here.

thing is though, the watchers want to have a pawn member actually in the games, so they can manipulate events the way they want to, whenever they need to. so.....

(yeah that's right i made drawings to go along with this explanation)

ok so it isn't just because they're also purple, it's because they seemed the best candidate in terms of skill and such. cunning and resourceful, but still desperate for approval in a way, so just breadcrumb some praise and you should be able to get them to do what you need them to do right?

i mean purple does eventually realize something's up and doesn't listen to the watchers as much (when they can get away with it).

purple's changes

of course, being made a watcher does come with some changes, external and internal.

external, they get these floating eyes around their head, and the watcher symbol on their back. both of them are usually not visible, only really showing up in low light (light level 3 or less) or when under extreme stress. somehow no one's really questioned it? i mean if you're stuck in a death game (that you don't know is a loop of death games), your friend suddenly getting a bunch of eyes isn't a major concern.

what does garner attention (esp cuz these can't be hidden), is the fact that purple's elytra have turned into full on feathered wings (also with the watcher symbol). they don't allow for flight in the games (unfair advantage), but they do serve as a more... permanent reminder of where purple's ultimate loyalties should lie.

(in case you can't tell, i'm working with majority morally dark watchers here. there are some that don't like the idea, but most of them are more than down for it).

ok jumping ahead a bit we're talking curses!

what's a life series without some curses and patterns, eh? i do not have many right now, but i do know what the biggest one is, i'll do that last.

mango gets a curse to always fail to protect a close ally from death at least once

vic is cursed to always have one death that was preventable

blue has sort of a reverse of mangos, she will have at least one death protecting an ally.

ok starry but what about the canary curse?

i'm glad you asked. who's the one that always runs into battle first in ava, and is therefore the one to always die first?

THAT'S RIGHT. HECK YOU *CANARIES YOUR RED*.

i realize there's other characters that could've fit but at the same time canary red just hits so much more to me. granted the watchers didn't know for sure who their canary would be during the first game, but once red died they just collectively went 👀 and hit him with the curse.

after the first game, the ends of red's bandana become stylized to look like wings, and anyone who knows how to look can see faint images of canary wings on his shoulders. only purple knows the exact reason why.

hey so are they just stuck forever or what

uhhh haven't fully thought this part through. HOWEVER! i do know the main focus characters of this au! purple is clearly one of them, since they have a connection to the watchers (kinda against their will). the other primary focus character... well a lot of folks headcanon that the winners get to remember the past game(s) as a reward for their victory, and the first winner is someone who's more than used to dealing with having an urge in the back of their mind to kill.

basically woe, platonic bugduo upon ye. dark wins the first game, learns about the watchers and stuff, and decides to work with purple on trying to break the cycle. also! for those of you who know how third life ended take that but instead it's chosen and dark. tragic siblings.

(i guess dark did wind up fulfilling their code to destroy the chosen on- *gets exploded*)

other misc things/the scenarios imagined

they would go through all the current games, i don't have many ideas for limited life though (i've only watched all of third and secret life, i need to catch up on the others)

i realized that the boogey curse session from secret life could be very interesting to deal with (blue would be the one to start with the boogey curse), i might write that one if i ever write things for this

purple realizing at the start of limited life that everyone had their memories of third life erased (except dark, they realize dark knows but maybe by that point the alliances are already made)

purple gets to go feral at least once as a treat. is it the boogey curse? red life urges? the watchers? who knows but they get to go feral

as i said, dark is able to resist the red life urges a bit better due to experience with the mission code (which is somewhat suppressed by the watchers, they don't want to let their game be ruined by something like that). also remember how scott didn't kill anyone while affected by the boogey curse in limited life yeah dark does that and it's actually the worst

red notices the wings, he knows about canaries but he doesn't know the full significance of them.

idk what associations the winners would get (i'm still thinking about the different winners at this point anyways). I think yellow would win one, maybe also chosen or second...?

unlikely alliances, unlikely alliances as far as the eye can see. double life especially

PLEASE if you have any ideas or questions come yell at me in my ask box, i would like to talk more about this and i'm curious what thoughts y'all might have

[pomrania]

Smaugust: "fluffy"

For Smaugust I am drawing cats as dragons. If you want me to draw your cat as a dragon, reblog this post with a photo of your cat, as well as the cat's name included in the body of the post. Read below the cut for full details; it's the same as in previous years.

This particular post is accepting requests so long as it's still 15 August 2024 somewhere in the world. If it's no longer that date, check my blog to see if there's a current post.

This prompt can be interpreted as "share your fluffy cats" or "I can draw dragons with fluff instead of just scales"; if you have a preference for if your kittydragon should be scaly or floofy, include it in the post.

One request per person per day, and only one cat per request. It is acceptable, and even encouraged, to make a request for every day of Smaugust.

Cats will be dragonified in accordance with the theme for the day, given in the post's title. I'm using the prompts from @pencilcat's list, although not necessarily in the given order.

Non-cats are allowed so long as you provide reasons why the animal in question is actually totally a cat.

Check the date given at the top of the post, to see if requests are open for it. Unless it's literally impossible, I'll be drawing and then posting every valid request I've received; however, sometimes that gets done once requests are closed for a post. So just because I reblog this post and add art to it, that doesn't necessarily mean it's okay to make your own request (doesn't necessarily mean that it's not okay, either).

One thing that's changed from last year: there won't be a post for every day in August. I'll be deciding each day whether I feel up to making a new post (and thus taking requests) at the moment, or if I need to work on the requests I still have, or take a rest. Since I can't guarantee that requests will be open for any given day, if you know ahead of time that you're not going to be available on certain days but you'd still like to see your cat drawn as a dragon, get in touch with me ahead of time, because I'd hate for anyone to have to miss out.

The deadline for requests on a particular post is "when it's no longer that day anywhere in the world". This is because I hate fiddling with time zones. If you're in the Americas, this means anywhere from a couple to a bunch of hours past midnight, depending on where you live; in Europe, it's longer than that; for the rest of the world, listen I don't actually know where the international date line is (if that's what it's called) and I don't care enough to look it up. In practice, the deadline is "whenever I get online the next day", unless I'm sufficiently annoyed or particular that I'll actually check the date stamps.

I'd prefer for you to only give me one picture per request that you want drawn as a dragon, because then I don't have to choose. However, it's perfectly okay to include extra photos if you just want to show off your cat; I'd just ask that if there's more than two of them, that you put them under a cut so they won't take up too much room on anyone's dash.

[brucewaynehater101]

Deep down, Tim knows that they are at fault. Deep down he knows that Jason and Damian attacking him like that *isn't ok*. But that's a truth he can't bring himself to face because even if he did, would Anyone believe him? If he told Bruce or Dick that the attacks still happened, that one of them tried to take his life at least once a month still, that neither of them would do anything. Tim doesn't know if they would defend him and punish Jason and Damian, or if they would just say, "you need to be more careful Tim, they can't always control themselves." And if the answer is anything but the first he knows his heart wouldn't be able to take it.

Instincts are there, but they are easy to over come. They very from shifter type to shifter type and usually fall into groups by Animal Type. Such as a Tiger and a Housecat will have similar instinctive problems but they won't be the same as a Wolf or Dolphin's. As a snake Tim 100% has the urge to nap in warm places and does get slower when cold. His suit has special heaters in it that the others don't have due to his inability to regulate his own heat. Damian insists that Tim being unable to function without "a bunch of hand warmers" I'd proof that he shouldn't be in the field and should be fired. Tim bites his forked tongue to stop himself from screaming that if Damian can't not give into his instincts and attack Tim anytime he sees him Shifted then he shouldn't be in the field because he's gunna attack a civilian.

Also for now Bruce has no idea how shifters work. But this is Good Dad Bruce. He's going to put in Effort. He's *going* to find the resources he needs to parent this New Tim because he doesn't think he can bring himself to send any version of any of his children to a home that could hurt or likely kill them. Until then, Bruce is going to insist on New Tim (he gets called TJ thanks to Duke. After all, they can't call him Drake, he hates Timothy, Tim would be confusing, and neither Tim likes the idea of being called "Jackson") takes one of their spare rooms and gets a full 8 hours of sleep every night/day and 3 full meals a day. TJ was Visibly Confused by this due to the fact he hasn't been staying in the manor at all for almost a year due to Damian and Jason. He only sleeps in his nest which has Beyond Batlevel Security to keep them out.

Also, I can't decide. Would a healthier version of Damian and Jason stay away like Tim wants them to or would they go "no *fuck* your bastard excuses for Brothers we will teach you what it's like to actually trust and have us have your back."

Tim not seeking an answer or help is very angsty. He chose his emotional/mental health over his physical well being. Part of it may be him knowing how to navigate the murder attempts but not knowing how bringing this up would change the status quo (in possibly worse ways).

I like what you've added about Tim's instincts. A good milestone for that batfamily is if they find Tim napping on a window seat. This would be a huge show of trust by him and an indication that he feels safe.

I think a healthier version of them would give Tim space and communicate boundaries with him, but they would also try to bond with him.

For Damian, this is a lot of parallel bonding. The kid will find wherever Tim is in the Manor and sit in the same room with him doing something different (like drawing or doing his homework). It is an effective way for Tim to get used to his presence and stop seeing him as a threat. Of course, Tim is nervous or on edge the first 10 or so times this happens. Eventually, he starts to lower his guard enough that Damian can make a comment or two. They slowly work up to full conversations and Tim seeking out Damian's presence himself.

For Jason, he'd try to read in places near Tim as well. His main strategy, though, might be favors or gifts. He'd learn what foods Tim likes, what activities Tim wants/needs to do that Bruce won't let him (like sneaking out), and generally just helping Tim out in small ways. It at first freaks Tim out, but they work up to Tim himself asking Jason for favors.

[ghostykapi]

it's easy to fall (harder to leave)

pt. 2 of what if I (never) told you I had fallen // angst + happy ending bc once more I can't handle pain

hello, I lived from suffering from 2 weeks of cramming. enjoyyyy

"thank you for much for coming into this interview!" you couldn't help but feel the ball of anxiety slowly build up as the interviewer happily closes out the segment of the show.

feeling vulnerable underneath all the gazes of the cameras and the live audience wasn't a new feeling to you. after all you are the writer and producer of the group, the brains that help create the identity of your art. you had to learn how to battle the pressure, criticism and hardship your group had to go through everytime you had a comeback with the title track coming from (mostly) you

now that was out in the open, all you had to do was figure out if she understood what you said in that interview, if she ever bothered to watch it anyway.

the promotion period came and went, draining you both physically, mentally and emotionally. you had never felt more thankful for a break that lasted longer than usual.

on the first day of the said break, your group decided to have a brunch out before going your seperate ways. some decided that it would be best spent with their families, and some decided that they're going to spend it in their dorms, recharging their energies and hanging out more with other idol friends.

you also decided to do the second one, with the intention of finding more thrift shops across the city to get some clothes for the fall. so when the brunch rolled around, you had a notebook with you at the table to show to your group how you made your most recent song.

"you know" your maknae mumbled as she flips the pages on her left hand and eating her food on the right hand "I knew you liked her this much but not far enough to make a song that brought us 5 wins"

"no pain, no gain" you joked while playing with the ends of your sweater, a habit you do when you get nervous "but honestly I didn't expect that too. the liking her that deep kind of thing"

"whatever it's worth" your leader gives you a reassuring pat on the back "it's good that you're painfully aware of your feelings and doing your best to try to move on"

yeah. trying to move on is a hard ongoing experience for you. especially when you see son chaeyoung spam your phone that you'd deliberately leave in your dorm to avoid confrontation

yeah, definitely a hard experience on you

"thanks you guys" you give them a smile before they end up swishing you into a group hug with shouts (of love) in between

after the brunch, you found yourself waking along side the han river. taking in the scenery of the happy people around you with the change of a more chilly season.

finding your usual spot, you sit down, opened your notebook and started to scribble random drawings your mind thought of.

a pair of lips, a bouquet of flowers, a small tiger, two promise rings, a bunch of random strawberries-

fuck.

fuck fuck fuck.

you really need to figure out new things to draw and not anything associated to chaeyoung anymore

closing it shut, you decide it's the best idea to finally head back home and get some rest. you stand up and start walking back home. you barely take more than 10 steps when you feel your phone vibrate in your bag, indicating that there's a caller

not bothering to check the name of said caller, you answer your phone while continuing your walk

"hello, y/n speaking"

"stop walking and turn around"

you feel your heart stop as you quickly turned around, seeing chaeyoung standing right there with a phone against her ear.

by the heavens she still looks gorgeous as the day you lost her

"you should really stop avoiding me" she complains as she drops the call

"I wasn't avoiding, I was just busy with the comeback" you can't be in her presence right now, not when your heart is still hurting "and speaking of comeback, I just finished my promotion period, so I'm heading back home to get some rest"

you tried walking away from her to save your already broken heart, but she grabs your arm and tugs you back to her. the grip not leaving any negotiations to let you go

"y/f/n I swear to god" even though she's tiny, you swear that son chaeyoung angry is a scary thing "you will not avoid me again"

you avoid her gaze and only stared at the ground, feeling the sobs climbing out of your throat "you know why I do"

"no I don't"

"yes you do"

"no" you can hear the hurt and desperation in her voice "I don't"

you still refuse to look at her as the tears blur your vision

"yes." you feel the grip finally loosening up but the emotional pain leaving you to stay put to the ground "yes you do, it's true. it's all true"

you don't hear the laughter of the people anymore. you can't hear the swaying of the trees and the crunch of the leaves anymore. you only hear the sound of your heart taking in more cracks as you finally admit it to her

"y/n" chaeyoung brings you into a hug as you softly cry into her shoulder "y/n/n"

"I'm sorry" you gasp out as you feel each wall finally come crashing down "I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't want to scare you away-I was so scared-"

"it's ok" she cuts you off, rubbing circles on your back to calm you down "you don't have to be sorry"

"I should be" you shake your head, remembering that he's still in her life "it's not fair for you and for him"

she feels her heart break at that, even if you had the chances to hate him and tell her to break up with him, you still choose to support it despite loving her

"you don't have to be with me unnie" you pull away to properly look at her despite the tears still going, to show that you're serious "it's ok. I'll be ok"

"no" she softly calls out and tries to stop your from leaving, but you were determined to go "no no no please don't go"

"unnie" you plead with her, gently prying her hands away from you depite the panic settling in her eyes "I'll be fine, just give me some time and I'll be back being your best friend"

this has to be it right? the good decision that brings your heart and her's at ease sooner or later

"for what it's worth" you smile with all the love that lets you "thank you for teaching me what is love, my muse"

that breaks her.

"don't go" she's more stubborn now, her eyes panicking as she tries to bring you in "please don't go away again"

"how will I move on if you won't let me go?" you gently push her away but she clings unto you with all the strength that she can have

"don't move on, just, please stay. don't go. don't leave. please don't. I can't handle you gone again" she cries out "I just got you back, please don't go"

"unnie" you try to reason with her but it's hard. not when you also tears come out of her eyes and you're quick to wipe them away

"don't go" she whispers, as if she's scared to scare you away "come back home to me please"

you can't say no to that, not when she still has your heart in that palm of the hand just like that.

"what about him?" you can't help but feel the guilt eat you up inside but chaeyoung is quick to shut it down

"broke up with him the moment I heard your interview" she explains "I couldn't be in a relationship with him when I know my heart couldn't move on from you. he understands too and I couldn't let you slip away from me"

"what do you mean" you feel your brain run through a million thoughts, the most prominent one being "couldn't move on?"

she doesn't say anything, only bringing you back to her dorm, to her room to show you the amounts of notebooks she ran through that was just full of drawings, pictures and words that were all of you.

you sit on her bed as you trace her drawings of you, each one accurate with your features. you can't help but feel tears come back

"don't cry" she kisses your tears away, bringing her hands to cradle your face "it hurts to see you cry"

"I can't help it" you look into her eyes and feel the overwhelming sense of relief and love "it's hard to believe something you're brain thought was impossible"

"it's not" chaeyoung reassures you, just as you always did for her "it's not hard to fall in love with you and it's not easy to move on from you too"

she kisses you that day, as you both mend your hearts over sharing stories of how you both fell in love with each other. each crack won't be healed that day but as the weeks, months rolled by and as you both go back to each other, you can feel it getting better

"my muse" you whisper one night as she sleeps in your arms, the moon giving her the softest glow "I'm home"

[bauhausdog]

i feel weirdly energetic for some reason, (◕‿◕) so im gonna talk about something in my mind a bit.

basically, i think that "learn the rules before you break then" and both "shape language is real, triangle can indicate danger" and "shape language isn't real, look at all these square characters, they have nothing in common" are kinda flawed and highlights what i think its a deeper problem on how we tackle art theory as a whole. Also, i think appeal is subjective and that, actually ugly or "unappealing" things have value.

skip to the star emoji if you just want to read my main point

I don't like how the drawing fundamentals are treated as a single canon, i personally don't believe in a single canon on, uh... pretty much anything, perception, even though there's quite a lot of objective ideas in it (like how lenses work, ambient occlusion, anatomy, etc.), that doesn't mean the way we make those connections and create theories based on them is objective and silver bullet proof. To make my point a bit clearer, I'm specifically talking when people refer to the "fundamentals" as the rules, to further sharpen my point of view, i rarely, if ever, believe in rules in art. To exemplify of what i mean, let's immerse a bit in the world of... uh.. renaissance era, although it would be delightful to rant about centralizing "art" as "beauty and skill" and those as whatever western society at the time thought it was good, i am not and i dont want to make a comparison of bigoted "beauty" guidelines to "uhmmm, not so objective aesthetics" guidelines, but i do want to use a specific pattern of thought in it.

Ok, so, (at least the art we known) from that era looks kinda the same right, that's because they had a somewhat set of ideas and values of what made "something pretty", and "good art", that is, realism = good. Ok, then let's say you, fellow artist, wake up in bed, and decide to read a hypothetical "art rules" book and decide to compare it to the "good art", you see how you should structure the steps of a drawing, how you should apply anatomy, how you should render shit, and so on. "golly gee, that's a bunch load of rubbish if i ever seen one" You might say, but you take another look at your 1500 deviantart gallery book, all of the popular mainstream artworks seem to have followed these steps, right? But there's something missing,

Here's a question, how do you make something new then? art right now doesnt look like reinassaince that much anymore. You might say "oh break the rules", im gonna get to that part, put that in the back of your head. Ok, so, how do you create something new? how would you create artwork? if you were trained like those famous painters, you would probably just follow their steps and mindset, and create similar artwork, but can you break the pattern while upholding restrict art guidelines? imo you can't

"bauhausdog, what does this have to do with cannons?" shhhhhh... im gonna get to that part.

So, art history taught us that, in a nutshell, people just ducked around and finded out, breaking that rigid art canon piece by piece, although it's worth noting that a lot of it was also ideological, but i want to shine a spotlight on the art part of this phenomenon, "art should have realistic colors" lol no, fauvism, "art represents reality" lol no, surrealism, "art should be realistic" lol no, modernism, "art should not be realistic" lol no, naturalism.

people broke that weird rigid old canon, and people learned that they could make new things bc of this experimentation.

Alright, let's tie evertyhing together so far, in the modern day, we have taken a lot of lessons based on these art movements, we absorved a lot of stuff, we have knowledge of almost everything, our process of drawing, our way of arting, our 'artstlye', is super varied, there is a lot of elements at our disposal, we can be as realistic as we can, as cartoonish as we can, we live in the same timeline as tawog and everything everywhere all at once, shows that mix different methodologies, philoshopies of art in one motion picture.

excuse my "middle-upper class got out of art school trust fund guy" term here, but we do live in a hypermodern reality, this is super, super cheesy, but it is everything, all at once :PPP.

Now, let's wrap the previous question, how do you create new stuff? experimenting, literally thinking outside, inside, and about the box, that box being our conception of art, also, the way we conceptualize art is super importqant, i mean, its literally the way our little heads organize what is a art and how do you art a thing.

"bauhausdog, you said something 30 minutes ago about the back of the head", ok, so, to talk abut how we conceptualize art, let's talk about, well, the thing. Until now, my thesis isn't breaking any new ground, i'm not proposing a solution, or at the very least pinpointing a problem, well, i can kill the rest of the birds with just a single stone, a quote stone.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

"learn the rules before you break them", it seems reasonable at first, let's break down the phrase, "learn the [rules](...)" what is this "rules"?, well, it's the general notion of art fundamentals, "(...) before you "break" them", what breaking means, exactly? well, if we take fauvism, fauvism was about subverting naturalistic rendering as the "correct pretty" standard, fauvism is basically messing with colors, duck around, find out. This distinction is important to make, in my interpretation, "breaking" is equal to that, experimenting outside a strict set of guidelines.

But wait, did you catch it? the weird connection with these two sentences, "learn this general set of rules, then you can experiment and get to your own conception of what art is", this sounds weirdly similar, where i've heard that before....

this is where it all comes together, follow me on this logic for a bit. Based on what I talked about the art movement argument, i said that previous experimentation (eg: modernism) lead to a better conception about art and its elements in general (eg: learning about abstraction and how to incorporate that on an artwork with modernism), the give-away here is that we build upon to a better and more comprehensive understandment. So, the contradiction to me is, if you need to learn and build upon a certain set of guidelines to then be able to do your own thing, there is something wrong with this set of rules.

To me it is just so weird that these rules just ignore that we live in a world of everything, why a "wrong" color palette is wrong? why airbrushed pillow shading is wrong?

and i'm not crucifying this one phrase, in my opinion, this is part of a wider acceptance of just this general "art guidelines" that you need to learn to improve.

What i am criticizing here is a generalized "art conceptualization canon" that fails to consider the subjectivity of aesthetics and caters to a mainstream type of art, and is tunnel visioned and doesn't teach art beyond the bite sized pieces of information.

I don't have a lot of examples to back this up, but what i do know is, there's no agreed upon, universal opinion on whats appealing or not, what works or what doesn't, what's true or what's not. The only example i will bring up is this. perfect perspective is bullshit, like, persperctive is the least broken rule here, perspective should not always be drawing straight lines converging trhough a point, honestly, freehand it, use your knowledge to distort it. "draw straight lines converging to a point" is a bit shallow

In my opinion, art should be taught in a more hollistic way even down to the little details, actually, i think it would be beneficial to teach a hollistic view in art as a whole, as in, the individual elements don't live in a vacuum. And also, there should be an emphasis on different aesthetic values (eg: naturalistic, western comic book, modernistic, eastern) and be mindful of the subjectfullness of aesthetics.

In conclusion, i think we should start refering to the general "fundamentals" as like, "post-modern western society's theory on illustration aesthetics" or in an actual serious manner something like "objective art theory". that's still a janked mess of a broken, but i would much prefer structuring things as like "perceptual color theory", "emotional color theory", "western color theory", instead of plain "color theory"

tldr: "art fundamentals" are a bit reductive, tunnel visioned and puts a single set of aesthetic values on a pedestal

also, a bit of a tangent, but i dont believe in a universal appeal at all, "dont shade with airbrush", "dont pillow shade" there's at least one human being that really, really likes the look of airbrush with a pillow shading look, just follow your art honestly, even if it is ugly, who cares, ugliness should be celebrated, not in the "not conventional" kind of way, i mean graffiti is beautiful, but i hated graffiti, acne looks pretty, but im still trying to unlearn to hate acne.

extra tangents: i think that color theory reflects certain aesthetic values and is not universal (dont have anything to prove but a suspicion), let people do random ugly shit for fun, "bad" art has value.

sorry if it doesnt sound coherent as much as i try to push my brain power my head feels foggy when i try to talk about something

I will add to this more later

[tyranasauruslex]

do you think rome has ever made a mixtape songs for lukas when he gets bored?

Roman takings tips from those early 2000's Cosmo "How To Impress Your Man" lists. I actually see Lukas as the mixtape guru - he'd make Roman his own Spotify playlist.

Bored Roman would wander around the house and send Lukas multiple voice notes about the stuff he finds:

"What's this green stuff in your fridge? It looks gross. Eww... it tastes like grass. Why are you eating grass? There's nothing normal in your fridge by the way... even your bread is weird. What is Limpa? Ohh ok that actually tastes nice... Eww pickled fish. Your country is weird. I ate all your bread by the way."

"Your mom called so I told her you abandoned me to work... she's gonna send me baby Lukas pictures via email. I might put them on insta... I haven't decided yet... Oh my god you look like a baby giant... Your poor mom having to shove you out of her vagina. Ok you're actually kind of cute for a baby giant with your little knitted hat on... Aww baby Lukas at the zoo... ha, that giraffe must be related to you. All my baby pictures are with the nanny... or with Shiv looking like a bald egg. Thats depressing."

"We should go to that new Italian on the upper East side... I called and they said they'd do plain pasta for you... only if you want to though. You probably have boring work stuff to do or Tom will want to take you to show off. I can just go with Shiv and listen to her complain about how the baby ripped apart her vagina for the millionth time. Having a baby sounds gross but at least Lilly is cute... and small, not a baby giant like you were. I'll just take Lilly to the Italian. Babies can eat pasta, right?"

"Just so you know I've taken one of your sweaters cus I can't work out the heating system. Why are your arms so long? Like, how to you even operate them? Ohh this kinda cosy... you'll have to buy another one because I'm keeping this one. I'm in your closet by the way and it's giving serial killer. Nobody is that organised. Or neat. I bet if you decided to murder me this is where you'd hide my body. Or you'd stitch me up inside a bear carcass. Ohh cool... you have the shirt I wore when I first stayed over. You're such a dork. But in, like, a cool way and FUCK! Don't worry I'm not dead, I just tripped over one of your massive shoes. Is that how you came to the US? Via shoe-boat? You know, cus your Mister Viking and stuff... Ok, so I have a question... Are your stupidly big feet an indication of how big other stuff is? Cus it kind of feels that way when you cuddle me but... actually forget I asked that. I'm just gonna delete this..."

"You're asleep when I'm sending you this but I think you need to know how much you look like a dead body when you sleep. Here... I'm sending you photographic evidence... Why don't you make any noise? Like at all? You keep telling me I say a bunch of random shit in my sleep and... oh you moved. I'm gonna whisper from now on... Wait, what if you're actually dead? I'd get the blame and end up in fucking prison being molested by the guards. I can't go to prison so I'd have to dismember you in the bathroom or something. Also thank you for not being mean about the whole dick to shoe ratio... and for the drawing. Cus you know i've never really... well, anyway it makes it less scary even if you can't draw for shit. I'm just going to pet your hair for a bit cus I know you like that... Oh fuck I woke you up!"

[minorfamilysupremacy]

literally have only gotten into these dramas within the last month i have been binge watching like crazy but i read your post on BOC and now i am scared ajdjfkfk (am currently on KinnPorsche bc I have been enjoying 4 minutes 😭😭😭) like i feel like i should be more informed but holy shit that reality show sounds fucking awful.

to be honest, anon, thai BL is littered with production companies that range from sus to outright predatory/abusive, so whether or not you value being informed more over all else is really going to influence your ability to enjoy the genre. (at no point am i saying you should/shouldn't be a more informed viewer -- in the grand scheme of things, i'm a fucking nobody and how you choose to live your life and what you choose to watch or not watch is none of my fucking business. not everyone can or is willing to do the deep dive to determine if every single one of their funny ha-ha gay shows is an ethical minefield, and quite frankly, living life watching over your shoulder to see if you've committed an act of internet wrongthink is fucking exhausting.)

personally, i never watched THC or DFF or 4m, and that's because i as an individual don't fuck with BOC any longer. that history is extensively documented on this blog, so i won't rehash it. however, i'm an oldhead and my perspective is going to be colored by a lived history that a new fan can't replicate. nobody who rolled in after all this shit went down is obligated to pick up the collective fandom trauma. how i feel about fellow oldheads continuing to support BOC is NOT the same as i feel about new fans supporting BOC. there are two entirely separate sets of standards that are applied, which is only fair.

ultimately, enjoying art often comes down to a reckoning that doing so has directly or indirectly hurt someone, and weighing the cost of that. that is true of art throughout history -- can't throw a stone in classical music without hitting an asshole; how many of the 'great' film directors were abusive monsters? some of my own faves are rancid pieces of shit whose tyrannical treatment of their costars made for some of the greatest art ever put on screen, but there are other notable names in film history whose similar treatment disgusts me. in the end, to some degree, we're all complicit with enabling monsters by enjoying art. that's the nature of the beast. we all just draw our individual lines in the sand and some of those lines are conflicting and nonsensical and hypocritical, because so are human beings as a whole.

if you enjoy 4m and end up enjoying KP, that's your business. nobody can tell you to enjoy it or not to enjoy it or how/where/when/why you do it. whether the things you learn about BOC put you off from it, or you just decide, hey, you know what, ignorance is bliss, i'm just gonna watch the show -- that's your business. a bunch of loudmouth assholes on a dying social media site (myself included) don't get to dictate anything about your media viewing habits.

[winterlogysblog]

AM I RECORDING (DRABBLE) | FAIRY TAIL FANFIC

Title: Am I recording

Pairing: Natsu Dragneel/Lucy Heartfilia

Summary: It all started with a subreddit post.

AO3 | FFNET

Based on the YouTuber / Streamer AU I posted.

Note: I'll write for the other couples as well.

------

Lucy smiled as she watched a YouTube video and prepared her own set-up.

"We're back with Uno!!" He shouted.

It's Natsu Dragneel's video. He's playing a multi-player game with his friends which in Lucy's opinion is always his best content.

The latest video in a series where he plays with Gray, Gajeel, and Juvia.

"Are you guys ready?" He asked.

"Ready for hours of fuckery, you bet your sweet ass I am," Juvia replied.

Collective shocked gasps and Oh My Gods erupted.

"Jesus Christ." Natsu laughs. "Way to start the game Juvs."

"Don't mind her she's high on coffee," Gray added.

She can't help but giggle. Their interactions are just so funny, their chemistry with each other is absolutely brilliant, and they are enjoying themselves and having fun.

"Red cards would be very much appreciated you guys." Natsu chuckled as the cards in his hands were just a bunch of red number cards.

"Sure do bud." Gajeel chuckled as he played a +4 card and changed the color to red.

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!!" Natsu shouted as the rest laughed.

Lucy laughed along and decided to finish the video before she started filming her own. She has her own YouTube channel and she has a pretty decent amount of subscribers and views.

Her plan for today was to film a make-up transformation video, an Arcane-inspired look. Even if she is a make-up channel she loves different shows, movies and games and she draws inspiration from them and makes something of her own.

------

Natsu looked at his computer for a while, deciding on what to do. He had a blast playing Uno with the others yesterday. He has 6 hours' worth of footage, he can definitely milk that in at least 3 videos. After a bit of contemplating, he has decided to plan an upcoming collab with Gray where they try to make carbonated anything since he just bought a soda maker which should arrive by tomorrow.

After, he decided to record a video where he scrolls through his subreddit. A classic. While reviewing the posts he stumbled upon a picture of a beautiful blonde girl.

"Lucky Lucy is a YouTuber who does these YouTuber inspired looks. She did one of Erza, Mira and Levy already and she recently posted this one of you." Natsu read the description.

"Oh that's really cool." Natsu said, and clicked the link and played the video.

"Hello, my shining stars welcome back to another one of my videos." She started.

"This is part 4 of my YouTuber-inspired look series. If you're new here and you don't know what that is, this is a series where I take my favorite YouTubers and turn their brand into a makeup look. And today we'll be doing Natsu D Slayer, he's my favorite YouTuber like ever, I'm a huge fan."

Natsu, despite knowing absolutely nothing about makeup, watched her intently.

"He is really funny and charming, and my favorite content of his is when he does collaborations with his friends. His chemistry with literally anyone is amazing." She said.

"Awww... that's so nice, and she's doing such a good job too. I know nothing about makeup and I can't judge her but I love the dragon. It looks like Mike Tyson's face tattoo but it's a dragon... and it has color." Natsu commented and laughs at his own stupid comparison.

"And this is the finished look." She smiled and did close-up shots of the details.

"It honestly looks amazing. Lucy, you look beautiful and I love the dragon." He smiled.

------

Lucy literally jumped from her seat and screamed bloody murder when she saw Natsu's latest video.

"Dragon Makeup?!"

She looked through her notifications and realized that he left a like on her video.

The thumbnail is a close-up of the dragon she painted on her face when he made an inspired makeup look of him.

She didn't hesitate to play the video. The video is a regular Reddit meme video and by the time he watched her video, she almost cried at all the things that he said. The footage of her video was cut and the only thing that was kept was the beginning, the end, and the Mike Tyson tattoo comparison to the Dragon which she found hilarious. She finished watching the video and pressed the like button and commented on her gratitude towards what he said.

------

It didn't take long for Natsu to find Lucy's channel intriguing. He followed her YouTuber-inspired look series based on pure curiosity and soon he finds her other content and is pretty impressed with what she could do with her brush.

He finds her really intriguing so he ended up reaching out to her and they slowly became friends.

One day, he contacted her.

"Hey, Lucy. I know my type of content isn't really in-lined with yours but I would love to collaborate with you. I'll be playing Uno with Erza and Gray next week and you're welcome to join us."

Lucy screamed in delight as she read the message. She immediately typed in her reply agreeing to the collab.

------

Lucy has so much fun playing with them. She now understands why Natsu loves collaborating so much with them.

Once the video is posted. There's a huge wave of fans loving her interactions with the group which is a huge relief to her.

This might be just the beginning of a wonderful and amazing relationship.

[rikeijo]

Today's translation #96

Yuri!!! on Life

Sayo Yamamoto x Mitsurou Kubo conversation

Part 18.

Interviewer: Had everything been already decided when you were drawing the storyboards?

K: Everything had been already decided, even the place each character would be in after each SP and FS. The order in which each character skated etc., too. We didn't really think that we want to change a lot [in the anime, compared to the storyboards] because we were creating the story, while thinking about it in this reverse order - how to make a story in which those settings we had already decided on, will be put to a good use. Because of this we had to make sure that the skaters, who would stay with us until the Grand Prix Final, were to our viewers characters they really care for. And so, because we had decided who would participate in the GPF, I was drawing the storyboards, while thinking that I'd really want everyone to like Chris, JJ and Pitchit, and also to, please, like Otabek, who appeared when the story has already progressed quite far.

Interviewer: Was it a deliberate decision to show Yurio's competitions in the later part of the anime?

K: Well, the first part of the story was about Victor and Yuuri mainly, so I included only little bits of Yurio's story there, because the "Yurio angle" of the story is also so incredibly charming, that if we included more of him, then the viewers' attention would get too sidetracked. So we engineered the story in such a way that viewers could first get to like Yuuri and Victor, and the sense of anticipation of what the two of them can do would be something that you just couldn't miss in this story.

Interviewer: Since when have you been thinking about making Yurio and Otabek friends?

K: I have been thinking about it since almost the beginning of the story, but I haven't really thought about how they would become friends, and like that I have reached episode 10. When I was discussing the "so how should they become friends, hmm?" thing with the director, I think we started to talk that "maybe he should, for example, sweep him away in a car, and that's how they would become friends?"… (laugh). Director, what can you say about Otabek's appearance in the story?

Y: I'm mean, it's Kazakhstan! It's a country you can't ignore, if we are talking about men's figure skating.

K: Oh yes. Another thing is that if we gave all the time in the Grand Prix to characters, whose SP and FS we had already shown once, then there would be no new program to show [during the GPF]. That's why we thought that it would be better to have a new program to show in the Final for the first time, and so we were thinking to give this role to Otabek. So yeah, we decided vaguely that we were going to make Yurio and Otabek become friends, but not really how we would do it...

[Notes: Still two parts of the interview left!

Like always, if you have any request about what you would like to read next, don't hesitate to contact me ✨ Like, e.g. another Sayo interview or Mitsurou interview? Another member of staff interview? (Hiramatsu-san or Otsuka Manabu? I'm not a fan of Jp VAs... But if somebody wants to read their interviews, I have a bunch of those too 🌻）Maybe something about the music, choreography, costumes?

Also, a lot of people followed me in the last few days (exodus from Twitter maybe?)~ Hi to everyone and thank you for looking at my translations!! 💜 ]

[potatoesandsunshine]

hi anna now i dont have a New fic ask game for u but what i CAN do is send u more from that one from like last week. 6, 12, 15, 25, 34? :)

thank u abby <3 it made me really happy to do these :) 

6. Vaguely spoil one of your fics without telling us which one it is

depressed woman decides to invent a new, sexier form of self-destruction, only to stumble into one of the oldest forms of self-destruction there is

12. What fandom do you want to write for more often?

literally any of them the writing output has not been good more video games!! i wanna write dragon age stuff i have a BUNCH of dragon age ideas and we’re at the point where i am able to overcome the Fear Of People Wanting Me To Be Lore Compliant. i’ve discovered ‘fuck it who cares’ in a real way. older games too - it was so fun writing about oblivion when i did my last playthrough, and i’ve got a skyrim idea that’s been on the backburner for about ten years so it should almost be time to write it. but also i just need to branch out from critical role; i like it so much but i get really stuck in a rut with it these days. if i had the brain space to get into a new tv show i’d even take something with that - my best friend had been trying to get me into true blood for a couple years now so maybe there’s potential in that direction. i’ve been kicking around a silly percy jackson idea after the tv series came out? i kinda just feel like tv is the way forward

15. What fic of yours would you most like to rewrite?

the one that is by far my most popular fic, revolutions in new orbit. i’m glad it makes people happy. i got a comment on it really recently from someone who still loves it! unfortunately i think it suffers from ‘wrote it in a rush four years ago’ syndrome and it is RIDDLED with things that bug me. i hate the pacing. i think the word choice is clumsy. parts that are supposed to have tension feel flat to me. there are so many FUCKING commas

25. Which fic do you think is your saddest?

probably chili, quiche, casserole, a taz amnesty fic from truly forever ago. it’s another that i see as sort of clumsy writing, but it’s literally all about sympathy meals and draws extremely heavily from my own experience with trying to support people in grief. it’s a much more real-life based fic than the couple of ‘oh this character died here’s my farewell to them’ oneshots i’ve written, and i really needed it at the time.

34. What title do you want to use, but can't figure out a story to fit?

you like to think that you’re immune to the stuff (yes from addicted to love :P i love that song sm. can we talk about the florence and the machine cover yet)

no amount of coffee, no amount of crying (from gotta have you by the weepies. can we talk about the samia cover yet)

not everyone’s got a sleeve where they can wear their heart (from riding into the sunset in a busted car by free cake for every creature)

the madness on young lovers’ lips (fast like a match) (from fast like a match by river whyless)

yes we get naked but not naked enough (from every body by thao)

as you know i love songs i love lyrics and a lot of times i hear something and think ‘that’s a title’

[fadebolt]

My brother and I both have our birthdays in March, so our uncle has bought gifts for both of us simultaneously. He has decided to pick a Steam game that has been peaking his interest due to how much he's been hearing a lot about it from someone else recently (and from a rather popular CA video too, I guess).

I suppose it's not very hard to guess what game I'm referring to here. He's even going to wait for me to get home before he'll try it, which is just so incredibly sweet. I hope he'll end up liking it, but considering how he's played a bunch of very unique games that are difficult, have pixelart, or require a boatload of patience, Rain World should be right up his alley.

This is the first time I've managed to get anyone outside of my 4 and 6 year old cousins interested in the game, and I'm frankly quite pumped about it. Though I pray he isn't gonna come over to the Tumblr fandom of the game, cus yeah, he's an amazing guy and I love him, and the same goes for this community, but sometimes, it's simply for the best to keep some things nicely separated, even if you hold both of them rather dear to yourself. As sweet as Tumblr is, it does have a bit of a scary side to it, and it already gives me enough anxiety about the stuff I'm putting out, so I really don't need the stress of having to worry about someone else too.

On another note, I'll have to travel right when the anniversary stream is happening, so I won't get to see the art and announcements live, together with everyone else :(

Thankfully, Akupara does archive its streams, and I doubt any of my stuff would show up anyway, since they only get to showcase, like, 1% (or maybe even less) of the art month drawings, and as much as I'm improving, I'm definitely not even close to the top 1% yet.

Also, again, apologies for the bits of silence, I'm often forgetting to post stuff, cus there's just too much stuff happening, and it's difficult to keep track of it all. I guess I should look through my stuff to see if I forgot anything good, but outside of that, I'll probably just put up everything in a Google Drive as proof that I actually did the darn challenge (even if I attempted some things that were a bit much for me to handle in such a short timeframe, but you know, we live and learn).

Oh, and what did I choose for my birthday gift? Why, the La Ilusion Renata Glasc skin from League, of course! I spammed the heck out of the Chem-Baroness when the Arena was around, and it sounded nice to have a new look for my girl for the next time when the mode rolls around :D

Fright Night is a cool choice too, but I prefer the 'evil mistress of nature' vibes, plus I wanna keep the mask!

That's it for my ramblings! I'm honestly very excited, but also tired as all hell, and I'm definitely taking a bit of a break from drawing once March is over. I might get back to it fairly soon, but that depends on a ton of factors I can't really predict. We'll just have to see what the creative part of my brain will desire during my somewhat sparse free alone time!

[zakblogzak]

White Lotus Season 2

In all of cinema there are few things I like better than an intimate moment in a diner, and the extended pancake scene that constitutes the ninth episode of Euphoria is a classic, a kind of photonegative It’s A Wonderful Life in which the angel, Ali this time instead of Clarence, attempts to forestall a suicide on Christmas Eve. In lieu of Clarence’s heavenly projections, Ali has only his voice and experiences with Alcoholic Anonymous’s Twelve Steps. His task is to sell his charge, the teenage user Rue, on the possibility, and desirability, of salvation from drug addiction-unto-death. Like George Bailey, she’s reached a dead end, but unlike George, she has a bleak history of pain to draw on for evidence about who she is. Ali persists. “The sentence you’ve given yourself is that you, Rue Bennett, are beyond forgiveness. That punishment is way too harsh, and it’s also way too easy. It allows you to keep doing exactly what you’re doing without changing, because you deserve it…This is why the world keeps getting worse. People keep doing shit that we deem unforgivable and then in return they decide there’s no reason to change. So now you got a whole bunch of people running around who don’t give a fuck about redemption. That’s scary.”

For a series-length illustration of his point, see The White Lotus, Season 2, which is replete with people doing shit we deem unforgivable and not giving a fuck about redemption.

What scared me about the show, which was puerile, was that the writer, Mike White, also didn’t seem to give a fuck about redemption, or justice, and neither did a good portion of its audience, which mistook the show for a takedown of the rich, when it was, instead, an irresponsible hall pass of the sort we really can’t afford to be handing out right now.

It is not a deep take on The White Lotus to say that none of the characters are likable. I understand that the repulsiveness is a mirror positioned to show the audience our resemblance to the gallery of character failures onscreen, and that the potentially redeemable characters are offscreen: you and me. The mirror works as well as it does because its characters have just enough complexity to disguise the fact that each is a reality TV-style typecast of a privileged American or Brit—the naif new money, the self-righteous employment lawyer, the recent Stanford grad, and so on—but their unrelenting childishness lost my trust that they had anything meaningful to say about me.

Take the dynamic between Ethan, who recently sold his tech company, and his wife Harper, an employment lawyer. Although both are, apparently, socially aware professionals in their mid- thirties—able to use words like "white passing”—neither seems to have the emotional-communication skill set to navigate what should have been some softball dilemmas in their relationship. Why are they on this vacation in the first place? Couldn't they have discussed their friendship with Cameron and Daphne, as well as their new money and the problems it would present them, before they got to Italy? Is this really the first time they are problem-solving around their sex life? Is Ethan really so blockheaded that he can't accede or emote when his wife is coming on to him, and such a weakling that he will hang around while his friend, predictably, cheats? The answers to these questions may be yes. There are people for whom this would be so, maybe especially in the tech-finance-Hollywood Bropocalypse these characters arise from.

But among the people I know watching The White Lotus, the answers would be no. Because we've grown in our thirties, and learned many lessons these characters seem to have skipped, we would have avoided many of the interpersonal pitfalls on which its plot relies. And though we certainly haven't explored moneyed white viciousness from every conceivable angle (there are just too many), we know some things about this now, and have a lot of new language. If we are anxious to see ourselves in these unsavory people, it’s because we retain the liberal instinct to self-flagilate, and The White Lotus exploits this, but to our credit, we have less in common with Ethan, Harper, and the rest than the show wants to think.

Maybe we are not the target audience, and The White Lotus is speaking directly to the elite, in order to destabilize them with its satire, but if so it misses badly, as it fails to deliver a character one could safely identify with, or any kind of real justice through which the viewer, put on notice, could adjust their personal behavior.

A rule of storytelling is that every person is a protagonist in their own narrative, and will reject a storyline in which they are cast as the villain, dupe, or fall guy. People don’t want those roles for themselves. (This holds for any type of storytelling, including the stories we tell about our friends, families, political enemies, and even ourselves. When Rue gives in to the idea that she’s an irredeemable “piece of shit” is exactly when she resigns to eventual suicide.)

Most viewers of The White Lotus will eventually reject an identification with the characters, no mater how alike they may feel at first, because of the derision the show cynically heaps upon them. Again and again, the path to protagonism seems depressingly blocked for these characters as even their softest traits get painted black. We see Albie blocked when his attempt to chide his father and grandfather on the patriarchy is presented as needling, meek and ineffective. The show then ridicules his judgements of the elder generation. "We used to respect the old," says his grandfather. "Now we're just reminders of the offensive past." Shortly, Albie turns to his father's vices and barters his mother's emotional safety for a 50k euro endowment to a gf he just met, who plays him. Harper's awareness of the world’s power dynamics is seen to cause buzzkill marital frigidity and, god forbid, endanger the vibe among the incurious elite. Dom's sexual addiction is an unbeatable frailty caused and made lonelier by the fact that one's male family can't be counted on for emotional support, only lies and hypocritical outrage. Tanya's longing for love and emotional fragility are foolishly attached to yet another untrustworthy man. Portia, who I thought may be the show's moral foil, falls subject to a rote “bored with the nice guy” narrative. She has her heart broken and her phone stolen by yet another toxic man. All of the Italians are semi-caricatures. The male gays, laughably, would kill for interior (design) beauty. With the exception of, possibly, Valentina, there is no one with whom to cast your lot—and no vision of how your lot would be improved if you did—so the show turns into a spectator circus. We’re not growing with any of these characters, because we can’t identify with any of them, because they aren’t growing themselves.

This would be fine if The White Lotus instead delivered some kind of plausible justice to any of these characters, but it frustratingly does not. After an appalling display of unchecked sex drive and will to power, culminating in a poisonous emo-homicidal showdown—which tracks with a typical endgame plot line from the Transformers series—almost everyone still alive seems frankly fine. The two couples come to virtually no harm. At the end, Cameron and Daphne appear glowing, untroubled. Ethan and Harper’s sex life miraculously reignites through (no, good guess, but not better “communication and trust”) just having sex! The DeGrassos return home negligibly poorer but no worse for wear, and are back to their misogyny. Portia’s kidnapping hasn’t left her visibly scarred. And though Tanya dies, it happens at the hands, not of poetic fate, but the disinterested villain gravity. We’ve spent seven episodes building toward a karmic takedown for these despicable people, but the losers are the viewers, who are left where we started: with the impression that, with enough money, there are no consequences, and nothing matters.

Maybe these rich people feel sad inside? Fine. But so does the large section of America whose material security is challenged by the social, business, and political practices of the winner-take-all economy. We see none of these people. And if this show was a cathartic vehicle in which the elite get to whisper their sadness to the nation, as if in solidarity, while saying next to nothing about the effects of their power hunger, then eww.

Maybe it was all just for fun? Nah. It is a mistake to the subscribe to the “aww come on it was all just for fun” winking and jabbing that does so much work to forgive the unforgivable in our culture. Plus, the show itself would reject this reading. It is satire. It clearly has something it wants to say. And besides, even if it is just entertainment, we should never forget the massive soft power that Hollywood and its financial backers can’t but use to influence our perceptions and debates. Think about the vast and varied violences that the movies have done to Black people over the last century, on and offscreen, for “entertainment,” and the impact of that violence on the public perception of communities of color. Think about the industry's tremendous disregard for women. I am not for creating a permanent class of villains out of anyone in our culture, including the wealthy (they can do that for themselves), but no mass-market production gets to ignore representation, and The White Lotus is representing the rich in a certain, miscalculated way.

People are talking about The White Lotus because it points a finger near the 1% and says, "See?" Yet the effect of the mild critique is to serve as a kind of permission structure for yet more selfish nihilism from just these sorts of people. Unlike Rue in the diner, for whom nothing matters because she has narratively condemned herself, for The White Lotus’s rich, nothing matters because they float on a cloud of privilege, and this is why they also have no belief in redemption or motivation for change.

The White Lotus thus becomes a part of the plutocracy’s fortress of “don’t-look-here”. In this bargain, we don’t question the ascendancy of the rich, and in exchange, we get to watch content in which their (highly paid) avatars fill homes and spiritual vacuums with luxury goods and experiences. The money from the creation of these goods and experiences, demonstrably, does not trickle down, but the behavior pattern does, so that for many viewers the dominant emotion one has while watching Daphne swipe her card is is a kind of comfortable envy. “I have problems too,” we seem to say, “and if I had that kind of money, I could ignore them in Sicily, instead of in front of HBO. But look, they’re no better than me! They behave badly and feel sad too!” And this it the point. We’ll live with their tax breaks and bailouts, thank them for their charitable contributions, keep our affordable housing and kids out of their spaces, and pay their monopolies while they to strip the social contract of meaning, so long as we can plausibly believe it leaves them maladjusted, miserable, and mean. It’s a distraction that works for us, but it works much better for them, since it also reinforces the Promethean self-image that they suffer for the magnitude of their important works, without which society would surely crumble. They serve us this content themselves, on their networks (HBO is owned by TimeWarner). Every once in a while, if we get too close, they'll reluctantly cough up one of their own, like the Sacklers, whose drugs Rue consumes, or like Harvey Weinstein, who has his cheap proxy in The White Lotus. But this is not what mainstream class accountability looks like.

Neither is this a strong critique of masculinity. In the post-#MeToo world, The White Lotus makes no news when it demonstrates that toxic masculinity and the patriarchy are destructive. What would be fresh is seeing culturally-literate, emotionally-agile men emerging from the ashes as a desperately needed solution to the question "How to Be A Man in 2022?” for adults left bereft by their loss of innocence, but eager to do better. Instead, it struck me as of a piece with the tragically forlorn manhood that Gen-X writers have been serving us for going on two decades—see for example some of the works of Judd Apatow, or shows like Succession, or even Curb Your Enthusiasm—without any compensating vision for how to move on from that cultural moment. We've laughed with some of these characters, seen them roasted, and we've been made to empathize with them, pathetically. But this vision of stunted manhood is tired, and it has done enough to shut down the conversation about what masculinity could actually look like if we imagined alternatives. It’s not fun anymore.

Does all storytelling have to be responsible, and who gets to say what responsible means? I'll say this: There is such a thing as irresponsible storytelling. We know this now. Don’t yell “stolen” in a crowded election. And don’t yell “inevitable, tragic, doomed” to adult male millionaires. It only encourages them. Responsibility needs to be among the criteria we consider as we evaluate, produce, and consume stories: we need to examine the intention of a narrative, as well as its effect, and ask “Can we afford this?” In our shared, constructed reality, stories are told before they become real. Asking for more responsibility out of our public storytellers is exactly where we need to start to fix our culture, not the end product we can expect when our culture is "fixed".

As for The White Lotus, I subscribe to the idea that, if we are going to make it through this lifetime without severe social cataclysm, that we are going to need to talk our way down from extreme plutocracy, which, given the captured state of power in the United States today, means that the rich will have to reform themselves: through fear, pressure, coercion, self-interest or altruism they will have to believe in the desirability of change as they divest from addictive destructions and embrace caretaking as the 21st century's new mega-model, where consumption was the 20th's. Responsible storytelling at this moment in history is that which brings people along in this belief. We deserve to catch a glimpse of an alternative reality in which our miseries are offered a middle offramp forward—different, more beautiful, possible. Barring that, we deserve satire that saves space for everyone on the future justice committee, but in The White Lotus we get neither.

HBO itself, along with the other streamers, has shown that responsible TV can be deeply gratifying and entertaining. Many recent shows, including Euphoria and Insecure, demonstrate that well-rounded characters—characters that take our grasping attempts at morality and growth seriously—can be dark and funny, human and dramatic, moving and satirical too.

For a different contrast, see the writing coming out of Sex Education and Ted Lasso. Both offer an alternative universe for our consideration: a world that is just like ours, except that the characters consistently communicate about life's important, challenging matters, and eventually find a way through, to growth and understanding. In Sex Ed, Principal Groff, a character nearly as repellent as those in The White Lotus, struggles to cope with his estrangement from his job, his wife, his son, and the world at large; his change as he finds acceptance and cooking was deeply moving. His son's transformation from bully to sensitivity was equally compelling. On Ted Lasso, Hannah's transition from vindictiveness to vulnerability, for example when she sings karaoke in front of the team, or Jamie's tempering in the face of rejection, offer other examples. Many other shows, written by younger writers and people of color, are doing this really well.

Can we get some of this treatment applied to the uber-rich, whose character flaws, like those of the Greek Gods, really are destroying the world? Not because they deserve it, but because they need to see themselves as changeable moral agents, just like the rest of us, and because it could be culturally therapeutic?

As we struggle with race, class, gender, power, and change in social life, we need to be able to highlight and center the parts of ourselves that are good and worthy. Doing so requires admitting that we have some. It requires seeing moments of upward realization, of redemption, even and especially within characters so wretched. The culture industry should be leading on this. Instead, The White Lotus seems to be saying that money, whiteness, and adulthood are inevitably vilifying, and that millennial/Gen-Z attempts to rectify or imagine alternatives—to care—are inevitably alienating and doomed. Not only do we need that not to be the case, it is not the case, and saying it’s so is part of the problem facing efforts to make real change.

[kirider]

part two!

Lupat stuff: 1 and 2, aka "if I had a nickel for every time a green ranger died before the series started I'd have two nickels-"; 3 is pokemon headcanons for Noel ("lucario is yellow not gold" shhhh) (shiny thievul taken from donbrothers, hi); 4 is crossover with Girl×Heroine (I wanna watch it so badly I don't care if it's a kid-show) I'm pretty sure the girls are ooc in this but oh well; 4 is headcanon stuff that I still haven't decided if I wanna make it an arc in Team Bonding

Random bunch: 1 Goro and Kitaoka; 2 Gotchard made when they first showed him; 3 wheel challenge that I will definitely finish and totally isn't haunting me haha *sweat*; 4 Jisariz doodle made after episode 2; 5 is kitties; 6 THSH, Ichika deserves a skirt for the suit and of course I can't be normal about it but instead made headcanons for that

....when you have an idea but you can't figure out what to draw to share it. Anyways. Sky cotl brainrot, if you give me a manta of course I'm gonna think of Sky

Magical girl boys which I will finish. At some point. I hope. They're totally not haunting me haha. Ace is almost done tbh. I have more designs but they're still on paper and not in the folder

The only Ryuki and Knight I care about are the Card Warrior ones, sorry

Gosei stuff: 1 big piece that i haven't had the time to work on yet; 2, 3 and 4 are headcanons for angel culture (I thought too much about worldbuilding for them whoops); 5 Agri showed up with a red shirt once and I decided that they share clothes now; 6 episode 27 o|-(; 7 and 8 Philip and Hyde are friends in the tv bumpers, that's canon to me

Geats brainrot: 1 and 3 are from vocaloid songs; 2 is (distruction) Tsumuri and Ace made based only from the episode preview; 4 is because this last part of the series is very close to the prediction of the ending I made near the start, but with a different aesthetic; 5 I think they should play other games than fortnite /j (kirby, animal crossing, sky cotl); 6 (only the bottom half) is from the Lamentation arc, I wanna draw bubbles; 7 is one of the OOO crossovers, and an headcanon for Keiwa; 8 is Jamaity Buffa from the episode preview that I still want to go back to

ExAid brainrot, with a lot of Kiriya: 1 is various Kiriya forms from his various deaths; 2 this is from Tricks Lazer, they're in a RPG; 3 Kokoro Parad bc yes; 4 ....this requires me to learn a whole new skill I'll be back when I have time to learn it. I do love this Emu tho; 5 Combi Bakusou Bike ExAid; 6 screenshot redraw; 7 and 8 were for an animatic (8 is the planning, 7 is me taking a break from planning but staying on theme), but requires me making a whole choreography for it. Send help

More ExAid brainrot: 1 more Girl×Heroine crossovers; 2 music girlfriends; 3 Emu and Parad totally not exploring an abandoned PizzaPlex bc I've been watching too much Ruin; 4 trying to make a design for Nico (for one of the not-fics i made the cover for); 5 and 6 just hanging out in the CR office; 7 (it's still mostly on paper but It's in the folder ot counts) Lazer most fucked up transformation lesson my beloved

1 gold fusion final forms with ExAid and R/B; 2 I haven't met AkaRed but his concept sounds so cool can't wait to meet him; 3 episode one Gira; 4 ...oh boi. This is like a 10 part series. It's never gonna be finished. Why did I decide to have them on chairs.; 5 this is from a W au, unfinished bc I cannot figure out Wakana, sorry girl. Ryuga is a just a cameo in the au, this piece is where this comes from ; 6 and 7 are from the skates stuff. I love the skates stuff so many good tags

Tagged by @excadrill , thank you 🥰

RULES: Reveal the titles of the documents in your WIP folder and tag as many people as there are documents. Let others ask questions about the ones that interest them and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit!

My tablet automatically names my files, so sadly can't share titles :(

But!!! I can share the thumbnails of some sketches! I'm always up to ramble about my drawings lol

There are a lot tho, bc i have the attention span of a goldfish and just keep jumping around stuff o|-( so I'm gonna put them in a reblog ...maybe two bc of the image limit

For the sake of everyone, I'm gonna share only stuff I've thought about recently, bc if I shared aaaall the wips we would be here all week lol. This is already gonna be so long as it is

Ignore the dates, they're a mess bc I tried to group them by series

Also, not tagging anyone, bc everyone I can think of rn already did it or has already been tagged. Except you. I'm tagging you. Yes you reading this. Do it.

[takoyaaki]

[csm] male characters kissing their s/o.

male csm characters x reader; reader's pronouns are never specified. characters include aki, angel, denji, hirofumi, and kishibe. warnings for not sfw with aki and kishibe. fem charas kissing their s/o here.

aki hayakawa.

there's an undisclosed, dormant part of aki that's fulfilled whenever he's able to make you melt. it's like a rush of warmth that invades his chest and makes a home out of his heartbeat.

and it's not unpleasant. in fact, he'd almost call himself an addict – an addict to the sensation of you sighing into his mouth and relaxing in his arms, whispering his name oh-so lovely that, for those moments, he can forget that devils exist and his days are numbered.

his ministrations are patient, explorative, and heeding. slender, lengthy fingers experimentally toy with strands of with your hair, trail down the outline of your jugular, and finally rest at your waist.

there's more nothing that he thinks of besides how he wants to treasure you. how these short yet precious moments are lucky to stumble across, and therefore he is lucky.

he almost wants to melt with you, into you.

"aki . . . aki, it feels good . . ."

face buried into the crook of your neck, aki's lips are light, rolling sweet kisses against your skin. his bites are shallow, barely harsh enough to leave lasting marks. there's a conscious hue that dusts his cheeks, and as he gazes at your bare form underneath his, he catches himself smiling faintly.

you do, too. aki can't decide whether it's his temporary retreat or rare expression that prompts you to laugh, but nevertheless, his fingers slot between yours as he holds your hand to his chest.

his voice threatens to break for you. "please, stay with me."

angel.

"this is dangerous."

you are dangerous. to think that it wouldn't be death, or another devil, to be the cause of his unease, but a mortal. it isn't often when angel withdraws into his own mind to ruminate, yet after every interaction with you, he could probably call introspection one of his new hobbies.

"you always say that."

as if shocked, angel freezes. with the side of a coat held against your cheek, you tilt your head at him, expectant. but it's not a cruel anticipation that taints your visage; your peer is genuine, without any hint that betrays otherwise.

angel chews his lower lip, averting his gaze from yours. after a pause, he sighs, defeated. "yeah, i do. you sure that jacket is thick enough?"

"positive."

another sigh, albeit this time, it's not as heavy as before. angel wants to screw his eyes shut, however he knows that's not a smart decision right now. as if what the two of you are doing is any more safe.

"hold it taut."

briefly, for less than a second, angel pecks the cloth right over your cheek, retracting as swiftly as possible. despite the bare, quick gesture, a smile breaks across your face, and you beam at him with sentiment that you definitely should have.

every time the two of you get urges, you always go back to the damned jacket, holding it up to whatever patch of skin either of you want to treasure. the jacket serves as a barrier from angel. to keep him from stealing any more of you than he already has.

angel doesn't like that he holds your heart as tightly as he does. but he doesn't do anything else about it, because he's content with you having his heart, too.

denji.

it takes him two full minutes to realize that he's been smiling like an idiot.

he's smiling into your lips as he kisses you, into the flesh of your cheeks, and as he draws away from your face. an exhilarated laugh is about to spill from he tip of his tongue.

wow.

you look just as happy as he feels.

denji can't help it. with razor teeth showing, he grins and lifts you up by the waist, the fabric of your top bunching around his hands while he spins you in the air.

"whoa – getting dizzy – "

"this is! the best! ever!"

he's sure the whole apartment complex can hear him, but he doesn't care. it's not like aki's around to glower at him, or power is nearby to peep at what the two of you are doing. but, then again, he's kissed you before in front of them. but it feels . . . nicer, somehow, when it's just the two of you.

yeah. just the two of you.

denji sets you down, and you wobble, nearly toppling over the kitchen counter before catching yourself with you fingers bunched in his shirt. when he sees the flush coating your cheeks, exuberance electrifies his entire skeleton. he plants hasty, yet prolonged, kisses on each of the corners of your mouth.

"eager today, huh?" you manage to interject between his rush, fingers locking sweetly behind his neck. denji buries his face between your collarbones, breathing in the smell of your clothes. they smell like they're fresh from the laundry.

"when you're here? hell yeah."

hirofumi yoshida.

"i thought you wouldn't be shy around me this time around. c'mon, you're cute like this. no need to hide."

despite his encouragement, it just so happens that he knows you won't budge. forehead glued to his shoulder, you're adamant against his words, nuzzling yourself further into him. as he exhales an indulgent laugh, you mumble something into his shirt.

hirofumi hears exactly what you say, however he feigns as if he hadn't.

"mm? these ears are getting a bit old – "

"we're the same age, hiro-kun."

"aha, well . . . " peeling himself away from you, he delights in realizing that you (cutely) attempt to glare right at him. the worry of your lower lip gives away your fluster completely. "say it again, just for me."

he sees your throat bob as you grasp at words. finally, you settle on ones that you're content with. "screw you . . . "

hirofumi hums into your lips shortly after, putting a bit more force behind his ministrations as you lean back, bracing yourself on your palms. as he pulls away, you're breathing hard enough that your top heaves with each exhale, and a satisfied grin crawls onto his visage.

"was it really that awful?"

you hesitate, although hirofumi notices a hurried confirmation on the edge of your teeth that you nearly blurt out. but with another kiss to your forehead, you resign yourself.

a sigh eases from your lips instead. "you're way too good at this, you know. it should be a crime."

a crime, huh?

he extends a hand, helping you steady yourself on the floor. "i'm only being honest. you should try it someti – "

"oh, cut it out!"

kishibe.

how long has it been since he's kissed you like this? he honestly can't recall, nor does he really want to. the only thing kishibe knows is that his thoughts will take him to an earlier time, less haunted by the future and more hopeful than the present.

suckle leisurely, bite until you're breathless. kishibe doesn't give you time to gather your bearings, calloused hands running down the smooth expanse of your back and resting over the curve of your ass.

"kishibe – !"

you're tugging him, too. pulling at the lapels of his coat and clawing at his tie, practically undoing it for him. if he weren't so preoccupied with keeping your mouth busy, then he'd goad you for your impatience.

he's about to grunt your name, too, however settles for seizing your arms. gradually, kishibe backs you up until you're braced against the wall, wrists pined on each side of your head, and at his mercy. he takes his time devouring you, tongue running harshly against your teeth and with a leg between your thighs.

yes, it's definitely been a while.

he withdraws only once he's sure you're lightheaded, although he'd be lying if he denied being out of breath himself. his chest heaves, hints of sweat coalescing on his brow, as he observes what mess he's made you into.

bite marks along your collarbones. puffy, swollen lips. eyes glazed over like you're hypnotized.

you grin coyly at him, flexing your fingers against his hold. you angle your neck, exposing the untouched, unmarked column of your throat.

"you're not tired yet, are you, old man?"

"you better watch your mouth."

[babyybitchhh]

Ogun x Reader 18+

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 8,375

Warnings: established relationship, cunnilingus, brief mention of breeding/pregnancy implication, piv sex, creampie

A/N: I really did not think I'd finish this and yet, months later, here we are. I said I wanted to do Ogun's hair for him so that is exactly what I did. 😤 A LOT of research went into the first half of this fic, I can't even tell you how many braiding videos I watched or how many haircare blurbs I read through, so if my ignorance shows I really do apologize. I can barely do my own hair let alone someone else's and I put in a lot leg work for about 5 paragraphs of relevant information. lol Best boy deserves it though, so please enjoy!

♥♥♥♥

The quiet drone of the TV against the far wall was the only source of noise in the small apartment and neither of you were paying any attention to it. Hadn’t been for the last few hours, but that was how most wash days went. The background chatter was superfluous at best when you had all of your attention zeroed in on your boyfriend's hair and Ogun was pleasantly dozing at your feet, lost in his own little world of pampered bliss.

It did, however, serve its purpose in helping you better keep track of the time. If left to your own thoughts, you would have all too easily slipped into the same comfortable lull as him and forgotten about everything else you had to do. Like think about food, for example.

Briefly glancing up at the sound of cheesy sitcom music, you mentally check off another half hour. It was starting to get late which meant he’d probably be starving by the time you were done and that wouldn’t exactly come as a surprise given you’d been at this for the better part of the day. All that hard earned muscle mass of his certainly wasn’t going to maintain itself.

And, now that you were thinking about it, you were starting to notice the creeping pang of hunger in the back of your mind, buzzing faintly like an incessant afterthought.

Drawing a breath, you start to ask if he’s in the mood for anything in particular but Ogun manages to beat you to it.

“What should we do for dinner?”

You smile to yourself, fingers deftly moving through his hair with practiced ease -- under, scoop, under, repeat -- while you give that question some thought. Surely there was something you could whip up with what you had on hand in the kitchen. The real question, however, was what.

Doing a quick mental checklist of your cupboards, you rapidly narrow down your options. A fast and easy pasta dish was out of the question without the sauce or any ingredients to make it with. No meat for hamburgers. There was still some salad mix in the fridge but he needed something far more substantial than that. Damn. You should probably go shopping soon.

“Hmm,” Gently tilting Ogun’s head forward, you pick back up on the half finished braid you were working on. He was almost done, with only two rows left to go. The argan oil and shea products you’d put in his hair left your fingertips feeling buttery smooth and soft, their lingering smell as warm as it was soothing. It permeated the air in the living room, enclosing you both in your own little bubble for two and making for an altogether pleasantly relaxing Sunday afternoon.

“Let’s see …” You murmur at length. “I could probably make a stir fry with some vegetables and shrimp. How’s that sound?”

“As much as I love your cooking,” He shifts on the floor and glances over his shoulder, forcing you to pause what your fingers are doing. “I was thinking we could order in tonight. My treat.”

Your smile grows even when you try to ignore the unmistakable flutter in your chest. “Oh? And what’s the occasion?”

“There isn’t one.” His mouth curls up, mirroring yours. “But if you need an excuse, consider it thanks for doing my hair.”

“That’s sweet of you, but I’m not finished yet.” Placing a hand atop his head, you pointedly turn him around straight again and Ogun laughs, very softly, when you release him so you can get back to work.

You enjoyed getting to do this for him and the fact you liked playing with his hair was no secret either. It was wild and thick, very close to being untamable, but it was also incredibly healthy -- something you would have all too happily taken credit for if it hadn’t been in the same enviable condition as when you’d first met him. That he trusted you enough to let you do this was, perhaps, more intimate than anything else you’d ever done together, and with a few more twists you put the finishing touches on the braid.

Letting it hang next to the others, you direct him to lean back so that you can easily reach the front of his hairline again. He acquiesces without a fuss and sinks into the couch, letting the back of his head settle comfortably in your lap. Ogun’s shoulders brush your knees when you hunch closer with a pink rat tail comb in hand and you’re acutely aware of him watching you as you begin sectioning out the next row. You start to smile again, even though you try not to.

“What?”

“I’m still waiting on an answer.”

You shoot him a quick look.

Golden eyes gleam back at you, reflecting endearment and humor alike, and you quickly focus in on his blown out, fluffy hair again before he can successfully distract you. “I don’t know. You pick.”

“Nope.” He hums goodnaturedly. “That’s not how this works. You can’t just push it back on me when I asked you for a reason. Tell me what you want.”

“I really don’t know - hey!” You squawk when he gives the back of your calf a sharp pinch in retaliation for being so uncooperative and you squirm, giggling. “Don’t do that! I’m honestly not sure what I’m in the mood for.”

“Then think about it.”

“I am.” You intone, gently pushing Ogun’s head forward just enough to get at the crown of his head. Relative silence claims the room once more while you consider an almost endless list of potential choices and finish up the second to last braid. Thankfully without any more pinching attacks on his end. He was going to look so nice when you were done.

“What about a pizza?” You suggest at last.

“I’m game.” He murmurs, slouching to the side so he can rest his temple against the plush cushion of your leg. It gives you the perfect angle to attack the final strip from and you get to work weaving coarse strands into his preferred fashion, your fingers moving quickly but efficiently. You’d practiced tirelessly just to ensure he wouldn’t have to go to someone else for this without skimping on the finished product's quality and it certainly showed.

A few moments later, the task is complete.

Grabbing an elastic band, you gather Ogun’s styled hair into a neat little ponytail and tie it off at the back of his head. You finish up by running your fingertips across one shaved side of his scalp, affectionately feeling out the new growth before deciding he can go another week or two until you have to bring out the clippers again.

“Alright. You’re all done.”

Lifting a hand to feel over his hair, he twists around and peers up at you with an expectant grin. “How do I look?”

“Like the most handsome man in the world.”

Ogun positively beams. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Leaning close, you press a brief kiss to his smiling mouth. “What sort of pizza do you --”

He cuts you off when he suddenly pushes up on his knees and catches your lips again.

Your eyes go big when broad hands find the meat of your thighs and gently squeeze them while he kisses you much more impassionedly than you’d kissed him. A sound of surprise rises in the back of your throat but he quickly swallows it, making your heart race.

Heaving a quiet sigh through your nose, you lean into the gesture and meet him halfway, eagerly kissing him back.

Grinning knowingly, Ogun tilts his head and slots his mouth more securely over yours to deepen the exchange. You find yourself slowly melting against him and you bring your hands up to grab onto his shoulders. God, he was unfairly good at this. Not that you were complaining, but a polite segue from one topic to the next would have been appreciated. You’d been thinking about dinner, what sort of toppings you wanted on your pizza, and now you were thinking about …

You groan, very softly, when his palms drag up along your sides, bunching the cotton of your t-shirt in the process. It allows for the briefest skin on skin contact and an eruption of goosebumps spreads across your body, as anticipatory as they were impatient.

Lips parting, you grant him access and Ogun jumps at the chance, eagerly sweeping his tongue into your mouth to lav yours with warm, wet attention. The smooth, flickering strokes he graces your palette with inspires a flood of molten heat in your gut that leaves you wanting more. Always more. It was never enough where he was concerned - and you slide one of your hands higher still to tenderly cradle the curve of his skull.

Much to your whining disappointment, however, he pulls back a moment later to give you some space and you whimper at the loss.

“Ogun …”

“Shh. I’m right here, baby.” He whispers, leaning back in to press a quick peck to your lips before doing the same to the corner of your mouth.

It’s not enough to pacify you though and you loop both arms around his neck, trying to pull him back in again. He obliges with an affectionate nuzzle, pressing close to settle against your lap and pin you to the back of the couch under his sturdy weight.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?”

You pull your mouth in an imploring pout. “I’d like for you to finish what you started.”

He laughs, sweet and boyish as he pulls back to fix you with a big grin. “Oh? And have I ever left you wanting?”

“No, but I’d hate for you to start now.” You sound a little whiny. Needy.

Another quiet laugh and Ogun comes in to kiss you again, much more sedately this time. His soft lips mold seamlessly to yours, working against your mouth at just the right speed, with the right amount of pressure to steal the air from your lungs.

You let loose a soft moan as you arch underneath him and push your chests together, basking in the fleeting contact despite how unsatisfying it is. What you really want is to have his body working over yours without the impediment of bothersome clothes in the way. To feel the chorded steel muscle he’d worked so hard to build flexing and driving into you.

A shudder ripples through you when the thrumming desire that wells inside slithers out from between your legs to ignite the rest of your body in heated flame. An all powerful compulsion which you wouldn’t have fought even if you could.

His mouth still working in tandem with yours, Ogun gives your waist a possessive squeeze and it sends a fresh wave of sharp arousal racing down your spine. You whimper, pushing up into him a little harder, more fervently, as you clutch at his shoulders. The need to have him laid out on top of you has taken over your higher functioning mind, all thoughts of pizza long gone out the window as the velvety push and pull of his mouth draws you further under his spell.

Willingly, you surrender to the exigent summons and curl your legs up around his narrow hips to tug him even closer, urging him into action.

A hot puff of air fans across your face when he abruptly disengages from the kiss, moving to press his lips against the apple of your cheek, your jaw. There’s a noticeable haste in his actions now and you turn your head to give him better access, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat to his seeking mouth.

Ogun wastes no time and immediately swoops in, pecking his way down the column of your neck with an occasional love bite here or there for good measure. Each one seemed to make your toes curl that much tighter to the point where you could hardly stand it anymore.

“You play dirty …” You mumble, lightly running your nails across his nape.

“Mm, how so?” He sounds distracted and preoccupied, too busy mouthing at your pulse to pay it any mind.

“You told me to decide on dinner …” You trail off when he latches onto the juncture of your neck and shoulder, immediately succumbing to the tantalizing suction Ogun applies with his lips. You let out a soft, faltering groan, brows furrowing in pleasure when it makes the simmering heat in your gut double and then triple as teeth sink into delicate skin.

Shuddering, you deliberately wrack your brain in an attempt to finish your train of thought but that proves much more of a struggle than you’d been prepared for.

“But … nngh, but now all I want is you …”

He comes up at your somewhat dreamy admittance, a mischievous look camping out on his face even as big hands push at the hem of your shirt. “Oh yeah? Anything you want in particular, sweetheart?”

Lifting your gaze, you peer up at Ogun from just a scant few inches away. The shallow rise and fall of your chest has no doubt clued him in that he’s got you all worked up now but you aren’t exactly trying to hide it. He already knew just how weak you were for him, knew precisely how well your body always responded to his advances, so there really wasn’t any point in pretending otherwise.

You were powerless against his undeniable charm and he seemed to get just as much enjoyment out of that as you did. And looking at him now you think, not for the first time, that you just might be the luckiest girl in the world.

“Let’s start with that talented mouth.” You murmur, reaching out to take his smooth jaw in hand and pull him, grinning, into another kiss.

Noising quietly against your mouth, he leans further into you until it feels like you’re being pleasantly crushed under the hard, muscular weight of his frame. It only serves to get you even more riled up, now well and truly desperate to feel his bare skin flush against yours as you roll your hips forward and drag your clenching pussy across the front of his pants.

Lips parting on a heady groan, he returns the favor by slowly thrusting his pelvis forward so you can feel the stiff outline of his cock caressing your clothed slit. You keen at the sensation and cant your hips into the pressure, the two of you gradually picking up a steady, unhurried rhythm together that damn near drives you wild.

Hands staying busy while he sedately humps you, Ogun patiently works your shirt up higher and higher until it’s bunched under your armpits. Reaching around for the clasp of your bra, he gives it one good tug and the satiny soft material loosens around your shoulders with a near silent slither. Bringing his hands to the front again, he shoves the cups up out of the way before letting them descend on soft, pliant breasts that seem to fit just right in the curve of his worn palms. Giving them both a gentle squeeze, he kneads your chest until you groan and tip your head back, breaking apart from the kiss in favor of sighing up at the ceiling.

He takes that opportunity to dip his face close and press an open mouthed kiss to the center of your sternum while he carefully squeezes your tits in a pinching grip. It makes you shudder, wishing you could clench your thighs and ease the growing ache there, but that’s impossible when he’s slotted between them like this. You have no choice but to endure the thrumming tension and you squirm underneath him, needily bucking up to meet the next thrust of his hips with a frustrated little groan.

“Ogun,” You gasp, letting your fingers scrabble to grab hold of his black t-shirt and tug on it. “I need you. Now.”

Bringing his head up, Ogun allows himself a moment to drink in the wanton expression on your face while he cups his hands around your breasts almost reverently. “How do you need me, baby?” He mumbles, letting his thumbs brush over your stiff nipples in a feather light caress. “What do you need?”

“Your mouth …” You whine, practically choking on it.

“Where do you need my mouth, huh? Tell me.”

“On my pussy.” It’s more a plea than a statement and you shake for him even as the words leave your mouth.

Ogun shifts against you and bends down, mouth opening wide over the pebbled peak of your breast. You watch on, mesmerized, when the pink of his tongue darts out to lap at the fleshy bud before sealing his lips around it and suckling. Your eyes slip shut as you arch, pushing your chest up to meet him while your fingers cling to the cotton of his shirt. Ogun doesn’t linger long though and he soon comes up off the first with a dull pop before catching your other nipple between his lips.

Briefly worrying it, he slides his hand forward to tweak the spit lathered bud between thumb and forefinger, making you outright seethe. You give up on getting his top off with an impatient little huff and bring your hands down to grasp at his arms instead. The firm, wiry muscle under his skin offers little give no matter how hard you squeeze or dig your nails in, and he remains ever unperturbed, casually sucking the tip of your breast to stiff, throbbing attention.

“Please, Ogun …”

With a faint hum, he comes up off your chest and presses a quick peck to the puckered nipple. “I know, baby. I know.” Moving back to the first nipple, he kisses that one too. “Just be patient, alright? You know you don’t have to beg me to go down on you …”

You groan at the velvety suggestion and tuck your chin down to pin him with an imploring look. Ogun offers you a lopsided grin in return, pinching both your nipples between his fingers and carefully tweaking the sensitive flesh until you outright gasp. You feel like you’re running on autopilot now as you reach up to sandwich his face between your palms and pull him into yet another kiss, lips crashing together with an intensity that makes your pussy flutter.

His mouth parts against yours, opening wide as if to swallow you whole, and all the while he keeps plucking at your tits until they’re aching almost as much as your neglected cunt. You couldn’t take it anymore ...

Tightening your legs around Ogun’s waist, you dig your heels into the small of his back and draw him right up against you so you can feel the hard weight of his cock digging into the spot where you need him most. A frazzled, high strung wail claws its way up the back of your throat as you jut your pelvis up and rub yourself against that thick, pulsing heat in search of some relief but very little is forthcoming like this.

He pulls back at the sudden friction thoufg and issues a faltering groan that seems to echo off the walls for as quiet as it is. “Shit … you really want it that bad, baby?”

“It’s your fault …”

“I know, I know.” Bending close, Ogun presses a hard peck to the center of your chest. “And I’ll take responsibility for that, don’t you worry.”

Lower he trails, slowly kissing his way down your fluttering stomach as his hands come around to unbutton your shorts. The zipper quickly follows suit and then he’s tugging them down your thighs while you eagerly twist to help get you undressed just that much quicker.

Thoughtlessly tossing them aside, Ogun reaches for your panties next but he’s much more subdued in removing these. One torturous fraction at a time, he carefully pries the thin cotton away until they’re low enough to expose your puffy slit to the air. He lets out an appreciative noise of approval when he sees the sticky mess you’ve made along the seam and your heart pounds in your ears as you draw your legs up so he can slip the dainty cotton the rest of the way off.

He discards them somewhere on the floor, probably right alongside your shorts, before palming your bent knees. Gently, Ogun eases them apart so he can peer down at your sticky cunt with an unconcealed expression of hunger.

“Look at you, baby. Just look at this pretty pussy, already so wet for me.”

Smoothing big hands up along your bare thighs, he bends close and presses his mouth to the apex of your mound in a surprisingly chaste but hungry kiss. Digging your fingers into the couch cushions, you enticingly wiggle your hips at him and gold eyes flash at you from between your legs, amusement and something much more dark shining within them.

You feel his lips eagerly curl against you then, and he shuffles closer to the couch so that he’s hunched directly over your prone body. Hooking long fingers under one of your legs, he hauls it up and over his shoulder before repeating the process on the other side. Grabbing big, grasping handfuls of your hips, he uses his hold on you to drag your lower body just to the edge of the seat, making you squeak at suddenly finding yourself completely vulnerable and laid bare. Your pussy clenches tight in anticipation though and you tremble, drawing a steadying breath when he pecks at the soft swell of your inner thigh, warm breath puffing against your skin.

There was no denying that he had you completely at his mercy like this and you would have been lying through your teeth if you said that didn’t excite you.

“Comfortable?”

At your nod, Ogun leans forward just enough to bend your legs towards your chest and fold you against the top of the couch. He settles on his knees and dips his head down, mouth parting so his tongue can take a quick swipe from the bottom of your gushing cunt up to the top. The sight of it has you groaning for him, your vision swimming as you force yourself to keep watching.

That proves exceedingly difficult when he presses in close, making the meat of your pussy lips squish and mold against his face. Slowly kissing at you to work them open with his mouth, he flicks his attention up to regard your face and you practically vibrate on the cushions. Another swipe of his tongue hits its mark, wetly knocking your clit, and you let loose a seething mewl.

“O - ohh! Yeah …”

Ogun’s fingers dig into your twitching hips to keep them spread while he takes his time slowly swirling around that sensitive pleasure button. He starts at a wide breadth and then gradually works his tongue in tighter and tighter circles until he’s finally grinding it into oblivion. The soft, gooey friction of his mouth is enough to have you wheezing in pleasure as sweat beads, unnoticed, along your lower back and you arch, making your tits jiggle with the motion.

“Right there … don’t stop!”

Issuing a low sound of agreement, Ogun opens his jaw wider and drags his tongue straight up through your slick, juicy folds. You can feel every little thing - every nerve ending and every meaty bit of flesh that tries to cling to the textured muscle and your legs jerk at the sensation.

Tossing your head back against the couch, you blindly reach down to grasp his knuckles in a death grip. “Ah, haah … feels good ...”

In lieu of a proper response, he tilts his head and attacks your thrumming clit from a different angle. He’s relentless, mercilessly battering that delicate little pearl back and forth with such fervor that it leaves you quaking under his attention, struggling just to breathe. You’re not sure how much more of this you can stand, the threat of tipping over the edge before you can even fully enjoy it looking like a very real possibility now, but then Ogun seals his mouth around the fleshy nub and sucks.

Hard.

“Oh!” You choke on a haggard, stuttering gasp of pleasure, lurching underneath him.

Confidently humming, he comes up off you with a dull pop and a sticky breath of air. “Looks like you’re already getting close.” Ogun murmurs, sounding really quite smug about that.

Never one to leave you hanging though, he crowds one of his hands between your legs and presses blunt fingers into your slit. Finding your throbbing clit again, Ogun starts to rub it in fast strokes made smooth by the viscous mix of saliva and arousal that absolutely coats your pussy and this time you practically shriek.

“Yes! Yes, I’m getting close! … nngghh … please, please, pleeease! Ogun, please!”

But he refuses to let up on your poor little cunt just yet. “Please what, baby?”

You twist, thighs flexing and going ramrod stiff around his head. Your vision was starting to blur around the edges, reflexive tears pricking at your eyes. It’s hard just to think straight let alone form a semi coherent sentence when he’s relentlessly rubbing your clit with roughly calloused fingertips like that, the friction almost too much to bear and quickly riding the line of overstimulation. You couldn’t handle much more of it.

“Pl - please put your dick in me! Please! I wanna’ come on your cock, Ogun! I’m buh - aaah - ah! - begging!”

A low, rumbling groan rises up in his chest but, still, he doesn’t stop. “I thought you wanted to come on my mouth?”

“I - I changed my mind!”

He grunts, deep and primal in his acknowledgement, and the sound races straight to your throbbing cunt.

You respond with a broken groan, only to nearly come right up off the couch when he withdraws his fingers and replaces them with his mouth. Supple lips part and work you open again so he can worm his tongue into the crease of your body. He delivers a series of taunting flicks to the straining bud hidden within, making you sensitively twitch, before dragging the flat of his tongue across it in broad, sweeping strokes. You could feel yourself tipping ever closer to the edge and, with a wheezing gasp, you reach down with both hands to cradle either side of his head.

You’re not sure if you want to push him away or draw him closer - as if that were even possible at this point.

“Oh - Ogun, wha - wait! Nngh … if you keep going - -“

Smacking his lips, he comes up just enough for you to hear him say “You’ll cum? Good.” Before diving back in.

The way he immediately opens his mouth wide and plunges his tongue into the satiny soft folds and creases of your cunt, teasing at your entrance, has you jolting as if you’ve been electrocuted. Gritting your teeth, you clutch him all the tighter while the building pressure inside you steadily inches towards blissful discomfort. Your heaving body was truly hanging in the balance now, entirely at his mercy (of which there seemed to be none) and your legs uselessly flex in the air when you squeeze them around his head. You could almost taste it in the back of your throat.

“Fuck! Right there …” you whine as you rock your pelvis against his mouth, the motion stiff and halting. “Right there, baby … I’m s - so - ooooh - close!”

Ogun grunts in approval and drags his tongue up to the top of your slit again, burying his face somehow even deeper into the cushiony give of your pussy. He glances at you, very briefly, from under the fall of dark lashes and the heady, masculine glint in those burnt gold irises sends a powerful shudder rippling down your spine. Your mouth drops open as if to scream but nothing comes out. For a worryingly long moment, it feels like you forgot how to breathe.

All you can do is watch on in thrumming suspense when he drops his gaze and gives his head a shake to jostle all the nerve endings in your cunt. The braids you’d worked on all day give a little bounce in their ponytail before settling again, and your eyes start to roll back when he flattens his tongue to your clit so he can grind down on it again. Static shoots through your system as you arch against him, so fitfully your back starts to ache in protest, but it was much too late. Nothing could stop it now, not even if you wanted to.

You suck in a haggard breath and the coil snaps, just like that. With an almost violent jerk, you devolve into a fit of convulsions that has you wailing up at the ceiling in total disregard for the upstairs neighbors. They probably heard you every time you and your boyfriend had sex but it’s not as if you could very well help it. Ogun was a talented individual by nature and that certainly transferred over into bedroom activities too.

Helpless, all you can do is cling to him through the full bodied tremors that shake you straight down to your core while he leisurely laps at your throbbing clit to ease you through it. He always seemed intent on milking your orgasms for all they were worth, and that certainly didn’t help your case with your neighbors either. It always felt like something of an out of body experience when he was the one going down on you and you couldn’t exactly say you disliked him for that.

The exact opposite, actually.

“Oh, god …”

With a stuttering groan, you slowly go limp as you come down from your high one piece of you at a time. It was hard to tell which jagged edges fit where, but you’re still acutely aware of the mess he’s made of your cunt when Ogun finally straightens and you feel a rush of fresh air hit your drenched slit. You shiver at the sensation and crack your eyes open to peer down at him, whimpering.

“You didn’t listen …”

Snorting a quiet laugh, he shifts against you and brings a hand up to swipe the glistening moisture from his mouth. “I only did what you initially asked for, sweetheart. That doesn’t mean I can’t give you the second request, too.”

Your lips curl in a warbling smile at that, and he grins right back.

Letting your head loll against the couch cushions, you contentedly watch as he brings your legs down off his shoulders so he can move to stand. Leaving you spread out and feeling like silly putty, he yanks his shirt over his head with one quick, fluid motion that makes his abdominals tantalizingly ripple before reaching for his pants next. He makes quick work of the button and then the fly, anticipation evident in his body language when he shoves them along with his underwear down to his feet.

Ogun’s thick cock bounces eagerly when he steps out of his discarded clothes, and the sight alone is enough to make your pussy clench tight. You still felt sensitive and over wrought, so fresh off the tail end of your orgasm, but that doesn’t stop you from moaning faintly at the sight of him.

You’d never known a more attractive man in all your life.

“Ogun …” You murmur, eyes slipping shut when your desire flares back at full force dizzyingly fast.

Your eyes immediately pop back open, however, when he slides his arms under your knees and leans forward to brace against the couch, folding you up like a pretzel. Your toes flex as you squirm underneath him, glancing down at your defenless little cunt with an excited squeak. Puffy lips can’t help but spread in this position and you easily catch sight of your swollen clit straining towards him in obvious need, not yet satisfied.

Hovering just a scant breath away, his straining cock - all silky smooth and heavy - twitches in anticipation, eager to sink into you. It doesn’t look like it's going to fit. It never does but, somehow or another, he always manages to squeeze every girthy inch of himself inside you and the thought alone has you throbbing in sharp, sporadic pulses.

It was almost embarrassing how fast you were bouncing back from the first round, but you can’t quite complain when you watch his hanging ballsack sway with the motion of getting himself situated and your pussy responds in kind with an intense pulse. He had the body of a breeder and you were sure he would’ve already had you heavy and round by now if only you weren’t on birth control. Maybe someday, though …

“Ogun …” You were starting to feel well and truly delirious now, and you reach up to dig your nails into his forearms for leverage to ground yourself with.

He doesn’t seem to mind it though, and he merely issues a soft grunt of acknowledgement as he rocks forward a bit to angle your defenseless pussy up at him more. You can feel yourself squeeze down and you groan, dazedly watching your own thighs flex in their bent up position but there was simply no way out of his hold now. The thought alone is enough to have you breathing out a stuttering puff of air, which you promptly choke on when he starts to lower his pelvis towards yours.

“Yes, yes, yes, please give it to me, I need it, I need it, please --”

You’re whining. You realize that on some level, but you’re much too consumed by this desperate hunger to have him rearranging your guts to care about that right now. It wouldn’t take Ogun long at all to have you creaming around him at this rate.

Unperturbed, he casually adjusts his position over top of you before swooping down to catch your babbling mouth in another heated kiss to silence you. The passionate force behind the gesture pushes your head back against the cushions and you relent, groaning into his lips as your hands fly up to offer his sides an encouraging squeeze.

Luxuriating under the strength of his body, you drag your palms up across his chest and higher still to grasp his shoulders. With a weak, halfhearted jut of your pelvis, you make a sad little attempt at angling your hips up enough to feel his leaking cockhead against your sticky cunt but it’s no use. He has you thoroughly pinned and at his mercy like this. His for the taking whenever he saw fit to skewer you on his sizable length and not a moment sooner.

It was too much.

You suddenly break from the kiss in favor of keening in soft desperation. He pulls back, stopping just long enough to regard you with that infuriatingly attractive, heavy lidded look before pointedly glancing between your bodies.

Slowly, you follow his lead only to swallow hard when his thighs flex forward and the underside of his cock skirts along your parted pussy lips. The crude way it bumps against your clit has you jolting at the sensation and clutching him all the more fervently. Your whole body positively shakes as Ogun shuffles his feet a little further apart and tries again, the bulbous glans slipping and sliding through petal soft folds once, twice - until it abruptly finds its mark on the third stroke.

Catching at your entrance, he pauses for a moment and then slowly starts to sink in. Your breath hitches, mouth opening on a silent scream as you watch the ruddy pink head slowly disappear into your body. The stretch is immediately felt, and it’s more than enough to make your greedy pussy flutter around the intrusion even as it gushes more sticky slick to ease the way.

But the more of him that slides into the gummy sleeve of your insides, the less good it does. He’s just too big - wider than he is long, yet still large enough to push your heaving body right to its limits. You hold your breath, head spinning, when he pushes further in and forces your squeezing passage to make room for him. More and more, until he’s about half of the way inside where he finally pauses to let you adjust.

You twitch, weakly writhing like a small animal caught in the merciless maw a steel trap. You were utterly powerless underneath him.

“Oh - Ogun! Fuck … fuck me - dear Sol, please just fuck me!”

He draws a slow, calming breath. “You’re still so tight, baby … I don’t want to hurt you.”

Whimpering, you reach between your legs and wrap trembling fingers around the base of him. Ogun moans after a few awkward pumps of your hand and tilts his face up at the ceiling, basking in the sensation of you jerking him while he’s half wedged inside your body.

It must feel good because it takes him a prolonged moment to get his bearings again and when he does, he carefully eases himself back just enough to give a tiny thrust forward. You can feel the moment he slips in a little deeper than before and you guide him into it, one sedate thrust at a time. When you stroke up, he pulls back and when you stroke down, he pushes into you. It’s a maddeningly cohesive rhythm that has you panting like a bitch in heat long before he finally slides home and you outright choke when the fronts of his thighs settle against the backs of yours a small eternity later.

“Shit,” He hisses, brows knitting as he peers down to admire the sight of his pelvis flush against yours. “That’s a tight fit … how’re you doing, sweetheart? It’s not too much, is it?”

You give your head a numb shake and roll your eyes up at him, teasing your fingertips through the mess of curls at the base of his groin while you do it. Words couldn’t even come close to describing how stuffed full you felt, but you loved it.

“N - no … it’s perfect … feels - ngh - good …”

Smiling, Ogun dips his face close to press his mouth to your forehead in a chastely sweet kiss. He stays like that as he carefully angles back until just the tip remains and then, so slowly you can feel it in your bones, he pushes back in. The drag is exquisite and it feels like you’re practically suffocating on the intense pleasure of every solid inch, each throbbing vein. You could feel it all.

A wordless cry of pleasure bursts out of you when he slides back out and in again at that same staggered pace. He’s so big you can feel the pressure on your cervix and when he wiggles his hips, grinding into you, oh god, it feels like he’s pushing the glans right on that raised ring of puckered flesh. Your mouth drops open but nothing comes out. It was hard just to keep your eyes focused anymore.

Haltingly, he starts up a gradual but steady pace as your body adjusts around the intrusion and makes room for him, your pulpy walls clinging to the length of him on each drawn out stroke. It comes as a great relief, particularly when the building pressure swells into high strung arousal and replaces the initial discomfort of being stretched right to the breaking point.

In a matter of moments, the sticky wet clicking that noises each time your pussy sucks him in deep on the downward thrust comes to dominate the living room. The sound of it only seems highlighted by your sensitive bleating and the husky groans slipping out of him, the drone of the tv so much an afterthought now that you forgot it was even on. Even when he picks up enough speed to drive the fronts of his thighs against your upturned ass, creating a sharp, fleshy slap, it’s nothing compared to the hungry slurping of your cunt.

You probably would’ve been embarrassed by the whole thing if only it didn’t feel like he was spearing you straight down the middle. It made your eyes cross, mouth hanging open in doped out bliss while you cling and clutch at him for dear life. There wasn’t a single inch of you that he didn’t touch like this and it lit up every nerve ending along the way like a goddamn firework.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think he was going to break you in half.

“Such a pretty baby. Look how well you’re taking my cock ....”

You gasp. “Hnng, s’so big …!”

“And you’re taking all of it,” he murmurs, just this side of breathless. “Like a champ. Do you have any idea how good you look right now? Huh?”

You warble out an incomprehensible response, far too overwhelmed and riveted by the way Ogun’s cock glistens obscenely every time it makes another appearance between your thighs. Your fingers dig into his forearms, leaving crescent shaped marks in his skin and try not to scream in ecstasy while he carves out a space within you.

You loved watching him fuck you like this for a multitude of reasons, the most pressing at the moment being that it drove you absolutely wild.

“If you keep squeezing me like that … ngh, I won’t last much longer.” He warns, his tone far too strained to hold even a hint of real reprimand.

“I want it,” you blubber wetly. “I want it, Ogun, please …”

“You want me to cum in you?”

A jerky nod accompanied by a mewling whimper.

He lets out a shaky breath as the speed of his thrusts quicken and you jerk underneath him, bleating like something wounded. The muscles in his arms flex and twitch around you when he smoothly adjusts the positioning of his hands, hunching further over you without so much as missing a beat.

“God, you drive me crazy …”

You’d like to tell him the feeling is mutual but you don’t get the chance. A particularly sharp snap of his hips knocks something loose inside you and you uncontrollably shake, legs kicking up uselessly at the air with a wordless noise of soaring pleasure. Cumming again doesn’t seem like such a far off possibility and a frazzled whine claws at the back of your throat when he presses his sweat slick forehead against yours, prompting you to glance up.

Ogun’s eyes were always beautiful to look at but especially so when you were staring into them from just a hair's breadth away and they were clouded dark with primal need as well something much more weighty.

“Tell me you want it, sweetheart. Tell me.”

“I - ngh - aaaahh, I want your cum, Ogun! I need you to fill me uh - up, please, I want it so baaad!”

A shudder races through him and he groans, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment as if to get his bearings before cracking open again. Keeping his forehead against yours, he tilts his head down to look between the two of you and, once again, you follow suit.

The sinfully rich color of his cock, just a shade or two darker than the rest of him, looks all the more tantalizing coated in your slick. You’ve all but drenched him at this point, the tight curls that frame his length visibly damp and matted together now. You suck in a frazzled breath at the sight, your head spinning alarmingly fast when the building pressure in your gut becomes almost too much to withstand. How was it that one single man could make you feel so primal with need but tenderly cared for at the same time?

“I - -“ You all but choke on it, wheezing at the next stroke. “I’m gonna’ - ahh, cum again … don’t stop!”

“I’m about to cum too, sweetheart.” With a soft groan, he lifts his attention to pin you with a heady look of challenge. “Think we can cum together?”

You frantically nod. “Uh huh!”

The corner of Ogun’s mouth twitches at that, settling into a lazy smirk as he shifts back and slows the motion of his hips. You can’t help groaning in disappointment but you realize what he’s doing quickly enough when he lets up his hold on your legs so he can lower himself down to lay out on top of you. Working his arms under your overheated back, he practically crushes you to the front of him and you bring your own up to wrap them around his neck.

This new position increases the pressure in your guts by a noticeable margin and the air rushes out of you with a stuttering sigh when he crawls up onto the edge of the couch to pin your thighs under his weight. Your legs are just as useless as before, twitching impotently in the air when he eases his hips back as far as he can. He doesn’t make it far, just enough to feel the drag and the subsequent plunge, but it makes you cry out all the same.

Face shoved into your hair, Ogun lets loose a series of heavy grunts when he picks up his earlier pace and the same sticky clicking rises in the air again. It’s much less deafening this time, softer by virtue of his shorter strokes, and you gratefully clutch him against you, glad to hold onto him.

“You feel so good …” he groans, making you shudder at the puff of hot air against your neck.

You can’t quite find your voice though, and you respond with a faltering moan that has him twitching inside you. The thick bands of musculature across his shoulders dance under your fingers each time he moves, emphasizing the raw strength in his lithe body. And yet he was still being careful with you, the plunge of his cock as carefully measured as before so as not to slam against your cervix but still tease it.

It wasn’t even that he was unreasonably large but, rather, he just so happened to fit you like a glove and that was perhaps the most arousing part of all.

“Ogun,” you finally manage to whimper. “Mm’ gonna’ cum …”

“Me too …”

The quietly stricken groan that comes out of him next makes your toes curl. You clench around him in a palpitating flutter, so close to the edge it brought the sting of tears to your eyes. His hips stutter at the squeeze and he trembles against you, struggling to keep up the subdued thrusting he’d settled into.

It quickly proves futile when his body tenses up with a low, faltering moan that rattles so deep you feel it in your cunt. The air catches in your throat and you squeeze him with your arms across his back and your legs around his narrow waist, clutching him to you as he lurches. Blunt fingers dig into your skin and he gives a little jerk, issuing a sucker punched wheeze seconds before you feel the rush of hot seed flooding your cunt.

You tremble wildly, nails clawing into his back when the sensation of Ogun shooting thick ropes against your gummy walls makes your muscles clamp around him hard enough to send you over the edge. Writhing in bliss, you stutter out a groan that he matches with one of his own while the two of you quake through your orgasms as one.

It was transcendental in a way you never would have thought possible.

Dropping his face to the couch cushions when you finally start to grow still underneath him some moments later, he issues a rumbling sound of satisfaction. The ragged quality of your panting quickly rushes in to replace the sticky wet squelching of your cunt, and you go boneless while you try to catch your breath. That was a lot easier said than done though and he, predictably, recovers much quicker than you.

“I’m surprised we really managed to pull that off.” He hums in contentment and turns his face to kiss at your ear, teasingly soft. “That’s a first.”

“And hopefully not the last.” You wheeze, making him chuckle.

“You liked it then, I take it?”

Dislodging your cramping fingers from his back with a certain amount of effort, you bring your hand up to push the hair from your face. “It was amazing … intense. I didn’t think we could do it either.”

Ogun lifts his head to press his mouth to your check, your nose, the spot between your eyes, all with a big smile on his face. “I’m glad we did. I promise I’ll try my best to make it happen again but no promises, okay?”

You can’t quite stop from giggling. “Don’t worry. I have faith in you.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Pausing long enough to give your ribs an affectionate pinch, he carefully pushes up from the couch and leans back. His softened cock slips out of you in the process, and you internally wince at the dribble of hot cum that oozes from you without him there to stopper it.

You draw your legs up to keep the mess to a minimum when he stands, gleaming eyes taking in the sight of you curled up on your couch with his semen leaking down the crease of your pussy for a prolonged beat. And then, he grins.

“Wanna’ get cleaned up and I’ll order that pizza?”

“How am I supposed to think about food after all that?” You pout at him.

Sending a sly look down at the spot between your thighs, Ogun starts to turn towards the bathroom. “I’ll get you a rag. I’m sure you’ll realize just how hungry you are once the adrenaline wears off. Besides, you should probably refuel before I try to give you an encore.”

Smiling at that, you appreciatively glance down at his tight ass before he disappears through the doorway. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind he’d be able to pull it off.