#i'm rusty

[spoiledskullz]

Sonic riders Welkin!

[domi091]

Back at it with my Brother Bear au shit...

[melscrate]

I cheated a liiitle, I spent 40 min on this, but I think there is no point in sharing a 30-min version because it's mostly textures and tuning haha

a pity I didn't see @first-try-techno-challenge prompts earlier :( for today I have chosen the theme "Gifts"

[starryknightskyy]

Un besito

[kitramune]

It's been a while since I drew some Nekoyasha content.

[komero-otus]

amnesia arc brainrot (PLAYLIST LINK)

[csphire]

Purples, Blues, and Gold

Words: 1,800

A prequel to Rosemary, Lilacs, Lilies and Bergamot

Astarion is at a loss on how to go about picking out something new for himself when given the chance. Floundering a bit he reaches out to his love for help and receives some supportive guidance. Just a short and hopefully sweet fluffy one-shot that's been living rent-free in my head since buying him an outfit at the Facemaker’s Boutique.

Bodies scattered the floors and blood soaked into the rugs at the Facemaker’s Boutique. The staff and owner were still rattled by the murder attempt. But at least Figaro ‘Facemaker’ Pennygood was so thankful to still be alive that he offered a discount to them all on the spot. The last thing Astarion expected was for their defacto leader as well as his lover to actually take up the offer so readily. But in their early days, she was not above picking up rags and anything else not nailed down for a bit of extra coin to buy one more healing potion or spell scroll.

With a soft clap, Anna declared, “Well now that bit of unpleasantness is all sorted out, how about we all do a little shopping?”

He watched as Gale and Karlach gave one another a tired but agreeing shrug. They both made a beeline to pick out some long overdue fresh undergarments to start. Astarion however felt rooted to the spot for so long that she noticed, drew close, and offered her hand. Stopping just short to give him the chance to decide if he wanted the contact or not. He stared at it for a moment before thinking to take it in his, give it a nervous squeeze, and side-eye the others. His lips pursed tighter as one of his brows cocked high in quiet alarm.

In a discrete murmur, so low only he could hear she guessed, “Star… has it been a while since you’ve picked something out for yourself?”

After a soft embarrassed clearing of his throat, he admits in his own way, “To say I���m out of touch with the current trends would be an understatement. What do you think I should get?”

Read on here:

[dandiest-doodles]

First piece for huevember

[callsign-birdie]

Just being horny again. I'm not trying to make this neutral in anyway. This is purely my filthy thoughts, but I'd figure I'd share

Rhett's pulled off the side of the road in his pickup, he's got half his body resting against the driver's side door. My body resting against his. His thighs bracketing mine, as he has his forearm pressed against my throat. His other with his long calloused fingers in my pussy. He's nuzzling and biting my neck while whispering in my ear, telling me I'm being such a good boy for him. How he loves the feeling of me so helpless, but I trust him. His face is lightly shadowed by the ball cap he's wearing, but I can still make out his features lit up by the street lamps as I stare up at him. I let out breathy moans and thank you's for indulging me.

[sapphic-pie]

Never done one of these before.

Could have pushed certain values and edges a bit more but I’m happy with the approach overall (there is a sort-of logic, promise) and practice is practice. 

What the CSP screen capture function doesn’t show (thankfully) is the hundreds of times I flipped the canvas and toggled layers on and off to see if there was a minute improvement in detail. Enjoy x

P.S. Obviously the video is sped up but just note that the screen capture only records the brush strokes laid down - it doesn’t account for the waiting and thinking and taking my time/making cups of tea (this took over 2 hours this evening, after a failed attempt yesterday)

[raayllum]

"My mom used to do that." for claudiez 👀

as always they're in their 20s... Plus send me a number with a ship and i'll write it <3 accepted ships are tdp canon ships + rarepairs (claudiez, sopreli, corvus/terry, sorvus)

There's very little that Ezran remembers about Sarai.

He remembers the warmth of her smile, he thinks. The softness of her hair in his chubby little hands. But beyond that, there's not much else—too recently weaned before her death for more than stories he's heard to take hold, and even then, it feels like every year Harrow (until he couldn't) and Callum, or even Aunt Amaya, would bring up something new, something small, that they remembered, and he was learning it for the first time.

Mom always wore little gold beads in her hair.

Those were her favourite pair of earrings.

She planned out the castle gardens, with those hedges over there.

Soren, even, citing that she was his first sword-fighting teacher back when she'd been captain of the guard, before she and Ez's dad had fallen in love.

Her birthday is always hard, an added winter chill growing throughout the castle. Ezran ensures more fires are lit, and Claudia enchants little glass jars of orange light with her Sun primal, for people to carry in their pockets to keep them warm. He dons his more heavily furred royal cape and keeps Bait close while he writes letters to his brother and Rayla in Xadia, climbing the cold steps up to the rookery to send them.

Claudia joins him more often than not in his study, to save on candles, she says, as they do their work long into the night, but Ezran thinks she just likes his company, his heart doing a hopeful little dance in his chest. He steals glances at her atop the rim of candlelight dancing in her green eyes, now with that spark of light in them that'd been gone for so long during the war. After the war, too.

"You know," he begins, when they're heading to the study after lunch, "we could go to the library. The fireplace there is warmer. There's more comfortable chairs."

We used to always sit up in the library when it got cold, his dad had said, and Callum would play on the floor with you in your mom's lap.

Claudia thinks for a moment, then grins adorably. "Why not?" she says.

They settle in with tea and jelly tarts as an extra bonus, Claudia easing off her prosthetic and letting her stump be close to the fire; Ezran knows the cold makes the phantom pains worse this time of year. (Terry still sends over a herbal remedy that helps with it from where he's set up an apothecary on the border of Del Bar and Katolis with Corvus.)

More of her dyed black hair falls in front of her ears while she works, making notes on charts for what magical goods will be imported once the ice melts, and Claudia pushes it back impatiently until she sits back and begins braiding it. It's still shorter than it was in their teens, no longer all the way down her back, but long enough to braid as she starts the process, fingers jolting.

Dark magic took a lot from her, but one of the things it left was permanent nerve damage in her hands. (The cold makes that worse, too.)

"My mom used to do that," Ez half-remembers, half-recalls. Another story about the differences from their royal portrait—the one real non-Callum produced picture of their mother he has, the way he pictures her in his mind's eye—and how she'd worn her hair in a braid just as often loose or in a bun.

Claudia smiles then, softly. "She did. She's actually the one who taught me, after..." Lissa, another woman Ezran has never really met, isn't a wound anymore, but it's still hard during this time of year. "After my mom left and I grew my hair out."

Ezran sets aside his letter to an Evenerean diplomat, rising when she struggles again. "I can do that for you, if you like."

"Oh. You don't—"

He steps around easily to stand behind her armchair. "Let me?"

Claudia turns to the front fully, exhaling. "Alright."

He gathers her hair gently, hands confident due to the way his father had shown him him growing up, but styled a bit more the way Moonshadows do their braids, like how Rayla had demonstrated. For love and affection, she'd said, having small, long ones tucked away behind thicker locks for each of them—Callum and Ez and Soren, her boys, and then for each of her parents.

"There," Ezran says, finishing. He takes off his cape too for good measure, and drapes it across her shoulders. Claudia is looking at him wide-eyed when he walks back around to face her, and he passes a hand self-consciously over the patch of hair he's growing on his chin.

"Thank you," she says at least, tugging his cape further over her shoulder. The royal red brings out the green of her eyes and black of her hair. It suits her.

"Don't mention it," Ezran says, sitting again. They catch each other's eye, briefly, and share a smile, before she blushes a bit and looks away.

He feels warm for the first time all day.

[nekrophoria]

[khaliissa]

fruit sketch to heal the soul

[fromkenari]

Brandon Sklenar as Spencer Dutton in 1923

[pain-in-the-riri]

Part 2: A further devastating translation for wolfstar lovers!!

I will fall, blinded, at the sight of you

and pale light will not help me come back to myself

It's even strange to me to imagine, no one around,

how to survive until dawn, and no one will tell me how

You are bigger than the sun, and greater than a distant star,

In my heart, there's a wound and the fault, the fault, the fault

the fault, the fault is yours

only yours

it's so difficult for me to believe,

to imagine, that you are not near me.

In the crossroads of your thoughts, I am locked out,

"There is no longer anyone, anything there"

That was your answer

And with those words, the world will put out its light

And now, scream -- don't scream

And call out to me -- don't call out to me

In my eyes, you are the sun

Like in cherished dreams

You are the stars

You are the stars

You are the stars

And I'm the moon

I'm the moon

( Previous translation here -- Drowning )

[girllookingoutwindow]

Don't do the set of gifs you've so much important things to do. And somebody else is going to do it.

Oh, fuck.