#like the shading itself looks good but with the other parts of that drawing it really just doesn't fit the vibe I was going for??

[artsy-1diot]

drawing kudos managers as I beat them part 7 (+satellite investors)

IM FINALLY FREE FROM THIS DRAWING OH MY GOD i had to learn how to draw skelecogs just for this drawing and it took like four days to make.

also fun fact one of my besties is named nix :3

[je0ng1nn]

SHOW ME WHO YOU ARE — Hwang In-Ho

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ PAIRING — Hwang In-Ho x fem!reader

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ INCLUDES — basic Squid game violence, maybe a little bit spice, age gap (reader is mid 20‘s In-house is late 40‘s), Jealousy

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ NOTE — Okay y‘all.. since my last fanfic about Sangwoo got lots of love, i decided to write another one.. this time about In-ho!!! I seriously love that guy it isn’t normal anymore… I also tried out a new writing style as i‘m still trying to find out a good style to write in, so let me know which one you prefer!!

(PART 2)

I was talking to Gi-hun as I felt an uncomfortable feeling, someone was staring at me. But not the normal staring, the type of staring that would linger on you for way to long. The type of staring that made you feel uneasy right away. But i decided to shrug it off. „I hope the next game won’t be too difficult,“ Gi-hun said as he slowly exhaled.

„Me too.. the last game was exhausting enough.. I really thought we would’ve died when we only got 10 seconds left to make it to the finish line..“ I closed my eyes in relief, it was definitely an expierience for itself, Pentathlon felt like the hardest one.. Red Light Green Light was very easy.. just the shock of the people dying for the first time got to me.

„Hm.. let’s just dig in right? I think we need enough energy for today.“ Dae-ho said. I nodded and started to eat my food, listening to the others as they continued to talk. Me and Young-il were the only ones being quiet.

„Y/N-ah.. take my bread, i don‘t need it. You didn’t eat a lot yesterday after the game ended.“ Young-il smiled at me, it was a weird but reassuring smile.. it made me feel warm inside. „Oh really sir? It isn’t a problem or?“ I asked again, only to make sure. He just nodded and handed it to me, i didn’t take the whole tho, i broke it in half.

„Young-il sir, don’t give me everything, you also need some food and energy.“ I gave him the other half. He was a little shocked by my action, his eyes widened slightly. I looked up at his, before giving him a soft half-smile. He nodded and ate together with me.

We continued to eat in peace before guards came in. „Players, please follow us to the next game.“ the one in the middle said. We all looked at each other before hesitating to stand up. Young-il took my wrist to make sure i didn’t get lost in the crowd.

My cheeks got a light shade of pink as i quickly looked away. I heard a short chuckle coming out of Young-il‘s mouth. I just decided to ignore it, but my body made it hard. It completely gave me away, my heart skipping a beat at his sweet chuckle.

We followed the guards into a room, Young-il‘s grip tightened on me when we arrived inside. „What could this place be?“ I asked quietly as i looked around. The whole room was big and colorful. It counted 50 Doors, each having different colors, in the middle of the room there was a platform with a statue in the middle of it. It looked scary but also nostalgic, like a sweet children’s place, but knowing what happens in here, it didn’t seem so sweet as it looks.

„Players, please step on the platform in the middle of the room“ the creepy voice called out, I tensed at hearing it, which Young-il felt. He looked down at me, his hand letting go of my wrist but finding its way on my shoulder instead, drawing circles on it to reassure me.. which weirdly helped.

„When the game starts, the platform will spin. Shortly after, a number will be called out. You must then form a group that matches the number, enter one of the surrounding rooms and lock the door within 30 seconds, or be eliminated.“ We all slowly went to the platform, i kept holding onto Young-il somehow, only his presence already kept me safe..

„I repeat,“ I completely blended the creepy robot voice out as i was looking up at Young-il, captivated by his beauty. Of course he isn’t stupid, he noticed i was staring, but he enjoyed the moment just like me.

The other‘s talked, but i stayed quiet, they tried to make a planning what to do when certain numbers got called out. I held onto Young-il‘s arm, just listening closely to the others. After around 2 minutes, the platform suddenly started moving and music started playing. I accidently stumble at the sudden movement, but Young-il catched me with his strong arms.. „Are you okay?“ I just nodded.

I felt uneasy, this didn’t feel right. The song made me feel even more uncomfortable. Young-il noticed, he tried his best to help me, which did. His presence already made me feel better. Suddenly after some time, it stopped again. Everyone stumbled again.

„TEN“

I looked at Young-il, and then at Gi-hun. We were 5.. we needed 5 more. Hyun-ju came to us, „are you guys 5?!“ she quickly asked, the pressure in her voice was bearable. „We‘re 4! we just need one more!“

Gi-hun nodded, he looked out for someone, and noticed Jun-hee, it was the pregnant girl. She was nice earlier to me. He looked over to Hyun-ju who knew what he was symbolizing. 8 of us already went to the room quickly, Hyun-ju took Jun-hee‘s hand and guided her quickly but also gentle to us, after all she was pregnant.

We had 15 seconds left and Hyun-ju quickly closed the door, I was in a corner next to Young-il. He squeezed my hand to calm me down. He leaned down, whispering in my ear.

„We are ten, don’t worry. I‘ll protect you, yeah?“ His voice was low and raspy, i had to keep my composure and nodded. „Thank you Sir.“

He chuckled again, his breath touching my neck. „Drop the sir, yeah?“ I just nodded as i felt another blush creep up my face.

The timer was already over. We could hear gunshots, but Young-il covered my ears. He kept his promise, keeping me safe.

„The following Players were eliminated: Player 013, 043, 049, 054, 060..“ Our room was quiet, Gi-hun was looking throught the little slit of the door, watching the people getting taken away.

The atmosphere was tensed, everyone was breathing heavily. Yet Young-il was calm as always, drawing circles on me again, but this time, on the inside of my arm. Shortly after, out doors were unlocked, and we slowly went out. I almost slipped from the blood on they floor, but luckily Young-il kept me in his arms.

And everything repeated, the platform started spinning and the music went on. This time i didn’t stumble, as it was as unexpected as last time. And soon after, it stopped again.

„FOUR“

we all looked at each other in panic, we were 5, shit.. Young-il look at Gi-hun before pushing me into his arms. „Take care of her, and go, Now!“ He yelled, Gi-hun catched me quickly, but i tried to get away from his grip. „Young-il!“ I screamed out, but i couldn’t run after him. Gi-hun just let out a quick „don’t worry“ and ran with me in his hand to a free door. Dae-ho quickly closed it after we got in. I was rushing to look through the slit, but i couldn’t find him.. Shit, where was he???, Gi-hun tried to pull me away, but i just hit his hand away.

5 seconds later the door locked. I flinched at the gunshots, but i couldn‘t care less, all i cared for in the moment was Young-il.

The creepy voice called out who was eliminated again, but i couldn’t focus on it, i tried to see if Young-il was out there.. he can’t die, what would i do without him?

The doors unlocked, i slowly opened it, my hands shaking. Dae-ho took my shoulders, he tried to help me calm down. But it didn‘t, it wasnt the same touch Young-il had.. it didnt feel right. We slowly walked to the platform.

I couldn’t spot him, my heart sinking, before i felt Dae-ho being pushed away from me. I got hugged from behind. I immediately recognized Young-il‘s strong arms around me. Gi-hun spoke up, „Young-il! You made it“. You could tell he was happy to see him too, but he just nodded and gave him a smile, before whispering into my eyes.

„I told you i will survive and protect you at all cost, Baby.“ This made something with me, he smirked to himself, i could sense that. He knows what he did to me. Letting go of me he talked to the others again. I just stood next to them, listening closely.

This game went on quite for some time now, and slowly i started to feel exhausted. I knew that as soon as we would be back at the dorm, i would take a big nap. This was the last round, the music was going on and for a moment everything felt good.

„The next number will be two,“ Young-il said, i looked up to him. „What do you mean?“ I asked, we were 5, what if one of us doesn’t find a partner? „We are 126 players left, there are 50 doors, when the number will be 2, it can only hold 100 people.“

It made sense, it would bring out a fight to whom will get a room, and for sure 26 of them won’t. „It makes sense, I think so too.“ Gi-hun agreed with him, „Me and Y/N will go together,“ Young-il said, taking my hands in his, our Fingers intertwined. It made me look down. My heart skipping a beat. „Jung-bae, go with Dae-ho.. I‘ll find someone.“ Gi-hun said, Jung-bae wanted to say something against it, but suddenly the platform stopped

„TWO“

Jung-bae couldn’t do anything and had to take Dae-ho with him Gi-hun went to search for a partner, and Young-il took me to a room. On the way there, a guy pushed me down and tried to get into the room me and Young-il chose. You could see the rage in his eyes. He took the guy by his collar, pushing him away. He took my hand and helped me up quickly. We made it into the room, 18 seconds left. I exhaled but stopped. We heard another guy in here, shaky breath.

„OUT!“ Young-il yelled angry, the guy shook his head. „I was here first!“ he shouted back, pressing himself into the corner. „I said, go. out.“ His eyes were sharp, his voice cold and loud.

„Push her out, Girls are weak anywa-” he couldn’t finish his sentence, before Young-il went behind him. He choked him, slowly sliding down the wall as he cut off his breathing way. The guy was struggling. But the most intimidating about this was the way he looked at me while he did so.

„Ten“

„Nine“

„Eight“

„Seven“

„Six“

„Five“

„Four“

„three“

Suddenly, Young-il turned his head, which let out a loud ‚CRACK‘ the door locked a second after he died. Young-il stood up, slowly walking to me, not braking the eye contact. He trapped me at the wall, his arms on each of my sides, keeping me from moving.

He pressed his lips sharp onto mine, i melted at the touch, but at the same time, i didn’t. Trembling beneath him. My hands wandered to his neck before i closed my eyes and eventually gave in, kissing him back. The kiss quickly turned into a tounge kiss, the Gunshots were completely ignored. He backed away, before moving to my neck, kissing it, biting on it, I let myself relax, whimpering at his touch. He let go, making my groan a little, he smirked to himself. His mouth went to my ear, he whispered into it, before biting my earlobe a little.

„You won’t tell anyone yeah? This will be our little secret, Darling.“

Okay i might make a second part out of this, because i‘m to lazy to write more at the moment, might even publish it tomorrow👀 stay tuned my loves!!! If you want to be tagged in the second part, comment below!

[lymtw]

Soft and Slow

Thinking of a soft and slow, but heated make out session with Toji, where he's got you beneath him, brushing his lips against yours with the intention of not stopping until both his lips and yours feel raw.

One of his hands is on your waist, squeezing tenderly, while the other is in your panties, thick fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. You're humming little whimpers into your kisses, pushing at his chest every once in a while and breaking the ongoing kiss.

"What, ma?" Toji asks, his voice deepened with restrained lust. His eyes are so dark, you can barely see the green that naturally brightens them. "Why're you pushing me away, hm?" He asks, kissing the corner of your lips.

"Please... slow down," you say, breathily. "I don't want this to end so soon."

"Baby, that was slow," he says, with an amused grin on his face. "Was being gentle and barely moved my fingers."

You sigh, embarrassment coursing through you and showing itself in your face through a bright shade of red that smothers your cheeks.

"Come on," he says, softly, leaning in again to continue where things were left off. Toji's lips lock with yours, the gentle synchronization egging on the pleasure he draws from you. He wasn't lying when he said he was barely moving his fingers. He just knows you've always been a sensitive little thing for him, and because of that, he loves testing your sensitivity in moments like these. Moments where even just the kissing part would have you squirming, and his weight on your body makes you need him so bad that you feel filthy for letting your thoughts of the situation evolve into something sinful.

"Kiss me back, princess," he murmurs, noticing the way you're heavily slowing down, not fully reciprocating his kisses like before.

"W-Wait-" you gasp, slapping a hand on Toji's wrist. "I'm gonna-"

"Then cum, sweetheart. We can do it again and again if that's what you're stressing over."

"Mm-mm." You shake your head to emphasize your response. "The first one is always the strongest. Please, Toji. Pretty please, not yet," you beg.

Toji has a look of strange disbelief painted on his features. How could you not want this? It's been going on for the better part of half an hour, now. The edging must be driving you crazy.

You pull his hand out of your underwear and the other one off your waist, bringing them both up to your lips. "Please, baby..." you murmur into his palms, kissing them both repeatedly. "...not yet. Just a little longer." You change the position of your hands and hold his hands tight, bringing his knuckles up to your lips this time.

Toji clicks his tongue, making it clear that he's the one who's being impatient. He just wants to see and hear the side effects of your pleasure. You're teasing him with those little whimpers and gasps between kisses. The reason it's so hard to bear is because he's so used to you giving him what he wants, when he wants it. This is one of the rare times where you're trying to stand your ground against him. You always hope you have enough willpower to keep up your defense because Toji knows every way to sneak through it or tear it down. Your love for him is a severe disadvantage, and because of it, all it takes is a few words and it's as if your defense was made of flimsy paper.

"Alright, alright, little masochist. I'll slow down even more, for you."

You giggle at the nickname, welcoming Toji's weight on you again. He makes a brief detour and directs himself towards your ear to whisper some much needed information.

"I'm not going any slower than this, you understand?" He mutters, into your ear.

"But-"

"Princess," he says, cutting you off. "It's yes or no. Do you understand or not?" he asks, stomping all over your wants because for once his needs outshine them. You nod, silently, in response. "Good." He pecks your cheek, leaning back to look at you. You look... not all there, or at least not like you did just seconds ago. It's not what he wanted. He sighs, knowing what it's gonna have to come down to as he cups your cheeks in his warm hands. He knows there has to be a different approach. One that doesn't involve him making you feel like you were in the wrong for wanting him in a specific way.

"Wanna cum? For me, mama?"

There he went, tearing down your defenses like they're party streamers. For me. Those two simple words were all he needed. He knew exactly how to catch you in his trap. Redirection was key. If he made it seem like a favor to him, you would do it with zero hesitation. It's one of the many pros that came with you and your constant need for his praise... He just knew you too well. Well enough to know that it worked the second the twinkle in your eyes returned.

"I'll take it slow, just like you wanted," he promises. "but, you can't push me away. Even if I bring you to the edge with that same pace you begged for." He knows he'll bring you to orgasm even with the limited movement you allow him.

There was a beam of tranquility in your eyes, a twitch in the corners of your lips, where the key to unlock the two words you strived to hear as many times as you could in a day, rested. It was only a matter of seconds before you would give in. You were right there, centimeters away from his clutches.

"Mama..." he says, pushing for you to answer him while leaning towards your lips again. "Let me make you cum," he says against the corner of your lips, a devilish smirk on his face.

"Fuck- Fine, okay," you say, waving your imaginary white flag.

"Mhm... that's my good girl."

And there they were, those two words you forever longed to hear from Toji. If he wanted you to be on the edge again, he did a great job of getting you there without having to do much.

Toji centered his lips on yours again, starting out with that same slow rhythm, as to not rile you up so quickly. He incorporated his touch a couple minutes later, his hands returning to the previous positions they held on your body—one on your bare waist, the other slipped into your underwear. You jolted at the reintroduced stimulation his fingers offered your clit, a sharp gasp breaking the passionate kissing.

"Shh... It's okay, doll," he murmured, quickly directing your attention back to his lips. He was feeding off your breathy moans and whimpers. If he hadn't pressed you so hard before with the promise of pacing himself with you, he would have gone back on his word and quickly made you cum so that he could work you up to the next orgasm, already.

Truly, you were heaven in his ears, on his lips, and in his hands. Despite not looking at you, he knew the sight to be insane, as well.

Your hands went to the sheets, the material balling up messily in your fists as Toji brought you closer to your peak. You did your best to keep up with his lips, but nothing was as clear as the strokes being drawn between your legs.

By the four minute mark, you were a panting mess, shamelessly chasing more friction from his whole hand. That's where the hand he had resting on your waist came into play. It lowered down to your hip, immobilizing you enough to stop you from taking more than what he was offering until he gave you permission.

"Be good," he mutters, cutting through the soft sounds of your whimpers. He knew you were close. So, so close. Your moans were getting higher in pitch and you were trembling beneath him. He just kept rubbing his fingertips against your clit, over and over, bringing a lingering—echoing sensation throughout your entire cunt. You completely fell apart after a few more strokes, each more pressurized than the other until you snapped. You lost the ability to kiss Toji back when he used the entirety of his hand on you, cupping your cunt to draw out as much of your pleasure as he could. Your head was thrown back into the pillow, waterfalls of lewd moans and cries filling the room. "There you go, mama," he coos, allowing you some freedom to roll your hips against his hand. He presses quick kisses into your jaw and the column of your neck as your face is aimed towards the ceiling.

You surpassed the zenith of your pleasure and in time treaded towards more than you could handle. You nonverbally begged Toji to stop, wrapping your much smaller hands around his forearm. A couple whimpers and squeaks of overstimulation were required for him to slow down to a halt, even after your quivering thighs trapped his hand between them.

Your eyes fell shut and you sighed, contentedly. Toji observed your state of bliss, a shade of pink dusting lightly over his cheeks. You looked so pretty, lying there on the pillow for him. He can see you clearly, despite the curtains being shut to keep your little world safe inside. This allows nothing and no one to peek in, not even the moon and its guiding light. You're more brilliant than the moon, anyway. Much prettier, as well. It doesn't take a genius to establish this, especially when you look at Toji with all the stars in your eyes.

"Let's go again."

[bonus-links]

Director's commentary maybe?

HELLO!! lots to say abt this one

i have this diagram with the entire plot of bonus links on it where every plot point is a digital sticky note. anyway the note for this update was just called "loft and wolf talk about being assholes". The original intent was for them to talk a bit more about how they both left their families behind (re: the party update) but the scene ended up taking itself in a different direction, as they so often do. I've saved that dialogue for later tho >:-)

this panel? bane of my existence to color. you would think after 3 years of making these comics I would have learned how to color night time lighting. ANYWAY. i think it's really funny that Wake is the only one managing to get a good night of sleep 😂 good for him

this whole scene was originally also going to be at night but a) i am so tired of night lighting and b) i thought this kind of morning twilight was appropriate for this conversation :-) it turned out a little brighter than intended maybe but I did my best lol

one more thing to keep loft up at night forever

this is directly referenced from this TP screenshot, I think from the mortal draw training. one of the overall themes for this update is, loosely, the ghosts haunting everyone, so. hello hero's shade :D and hi mask

speaking of ghosts haunting everyone, Loft's BG is the pattern I use on Fi's text boxes, and Wolf's is the shattered mirror of twilight

i also set up these shots to kind of parallel each other; wolf and loft coming to an understanding, while slate and champion can't. another parallel being how Fi is silent the way Champion is silent.

I'm not gonna comment too much on Champion and Slate's conversation (or lack thereof lol), but I will say that Champion's role in the story is like. one part literal and one part metaphorical. Champion is not fully the person he was when he was alive. It's the ghost of him in all senses of the word. something to keep in mind

in regards to the fairies, that's actually a total happy accident 😭 i was just sort of coloring them at random, but it really does look like it could be Ciela, Leaf, and Neri 🥺 i'll leave that interpretation up to you guys

omg also if you saw the WIP for the last page on Patreon, I had originally drawn Slate without his tunic. Literally the only reason i changed it was bc I felt like the page needed the pop of green from his tunic lol the dark color of his turtleneck kept getting lost in the bg. so yes I did have to go back and redraw/recolor every panel 😭

that's all for now, thanks for reading!

[chadleys]

›› pairing: astarion x reader

›› wordcount: 1.9k

›› genre: established relationship, smut, fluff.

›› rating: 18+, mdni

›› synopsis: got a request for pregnant tav and astarion taking place after the events of the game. this is that.

›› warnings: pregnant!reader, impreg, biting, mentions of blood drinking.

the grounds of the manse are still, quiet, as you examine yourself in the full-length mirror by the window. cloud cover has been rolling in all day; a storm is brewing. you wish it would just arrive already — you’ve always loved the rain. and any excuse to spend the afternoon in bed with your beloved while rainfall pounds at the windows is a good one to you.

you turn this way and that, examining the subtle swell of your belly. that’s not the only change you’ve noticed, of course; your hips and thighs are a shade larger, your breasts more plump, arms slightly too thick to fit into most of your tunics anymore.

at the moment a sheer, lacy negligee drapes from your shoulders, the bottom hem barely brushing the backs of your thighs.

just as you start to grimace and turn from the mirror, a knock at the door distracts you.

❝ is my love decent? ❞ astarion’s dulcet tones make your legs quake and a tenuous bout of gooseflesh prick your arms.

❝ as though you’d care either way, ❞ you purr. a moment ago, you were desperate to get away from the reflection in the mirror. now, you stand your ground, waiting for him to enter.

which he does, beautiful body sliding between door and frame as his crimson gaze finds you. he sighs, wistfully, and his bare feet make quiet shuffling noises along the hard wood floor as he approaches. ❝ what can i say other than that you’re right? you are utterly indecent and i have to be honest. i prefer you this way … ❞ those last words spoken right into your ear send a shiver down your spine, your lashes fluttering before flying open again.

this. this is why you so suddenly changed your mind about abandoning your post in front of the mirror. it’s been enchanted. ever since your return to baldur’s gate, both your and astarion’s fortunes have vastly improved. not only monetarily, though it’s certainly been fun to watch your coffers steadily rise and eventually overflow. but also your general quality of life; not only do you have a special midwife who’s been helping to check on the babe from time to time, making the periodic blood meals it requires more palatable for you, but every mirror in the house has been magicked to be able to show a vampire’s reflection.

❝ admiring yourself? ❞ astarion’s voice is unbearably low and intoxicating in your ear. you nearly fall into his arms, as one wraps itself around your waist, hand cupping your belly. ❝ … i know i am. ❞

your hands come to brace themselves on astarion’s forearms, running back and forth, though you’re comforting yourself more than you are him. ❝ just the opposite, ❞ you all but spit. ❝ i don’t look like myself anymore. these changes, they … they disgust me. ❞

suddenly, you’re being whirled, losing your footing. but astarion is there, hands on your biceps, drawing you close and pressing his mouth fiercely to yours.

you melt, fingers clutching at the collar of his tunic, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

just when you think he’s sucked all the air from your lungs, he presses you back and allows you to breathe again.

❝ i don’t ever want to hear you talking about yourself like that again. and i do mean ever. ❞ gentle fingers swipe a lock of hair back from your forehead. ❝ you’re carrying my child; how could you possibly be disgusting? ❞

at a loss for words, you let him wheel you slowly back around to face the mirror. chin hooked over your shoulder, his scorching carmine gaze roves over you. slow hands part the lapels of your negligee, traipsing over all of your newest curves. ❝ look at this beautiful body ... ❞ his voice is low and hot, splashing molten waves over your entire body. ❝ and it's all mine. ❞

in one swift move, he sinks his teeth into your neck, making you moan and squirm against him. he doesn't drink from you anymore, not when you need all the energy you have to keep up with the life growing inside of you. but it's enough for him to continue to mark you, never letting your bites heal fully before he leaves more.

❝ astarion ... ❞ his name is a plea on your lips as you lean back into him, a solid pressure against your back.

❝ i can smell you, ❞ is his response, one hand traveling steadily downward, ❝ getting so wet for me. it happens more often now that you're pregnant, have you noticed? i certainly have. ❞

you want to tell him that it's not like the two of you weren't having sex every single night before. but now you're having sex every morning, too. and afternoon. and evening …

instead, you swallow thickly and swerve onto your other path of thinking. the path that focuses on the heat between your legs, thighs already sticking together as astarion slips a hand between them and cups your sex.

❝ please tell me you were wearing this — ❞ he plucks a piece of flimsy fabric from the negligee between his teeth. ❝ — for easy access? ❞

❝ of course. ❞ it hadn’t even crossed your mind.

astarion releases a shaky breath and steps away from you. you miss him immediately. ❝ get on the bed. ❞ normally he would throw you onto it, bthe two of you are taking every precaution for the baby.

climbing onto the soft bedspread of your giant four-poster bed, you allow astarion to come after you, crawling, hunting you as if you were his prey. the softest, sweetest prey he’d ever encounter.

legs spread, you welcome him between them, where his hardness presses — warm and insistent — against your wetness. but he still has his breeches on.

you hook a finger into the waist and tug, letting the fabric snap back against his alabaster skin. ❝ these, i think, need to come off. ❞

❝ why, i do believe you’re right. ❞ using his roguelike reflexes, the trousers are gone before you know it and his erection is jutting up, thick and hard, against his stomach. the sight is enough to make you salivate.

normally you’d put it in your mouth straight away, but pregnancy has made you overly sensitive to nausea and you really don’t want to chance ruining this lovely afternoon. so you pull him down by his tunic and kiss him again, your tongues slipping, dancing, enjoying themselves.

one of astarion’s hands has found itself down between your legs again, and he parts from you to whisper, ❝ you’re so wet … i think i could just … ❞

he trails off, and the head of his cock finds your entrance. gentle fingers splay your lips apart and he guides himself right into you, gliding easily along your slick walls. this is not the first time you’ve gotten wet so easily for him and certainly won’t be the last.

you pull your legs back, hooking your arms around your knees to hold yourself open for him. you’ve made this exact shape with your body many times before, and not always in a bed as comfortable as this one. but the extra weight you’ve put on makes holding the position a touch more difficult this time, and one of your legs slips from your grasp, knocking astarion hard in the side.

❝ gods, sorry! ❞ you reach for him, to make sure he’s okay, but the vampire catches your hand easily and pins it to the bedclothes, fingers twined with yours.

❝ never apologize to me, my love. you have no need to. you could ravish me, and still i would thank you. ❞

the thought makes your toes curl; being with astarion hasn’t always been easy, especially when you first met. but now … especially now that you’re pregnant, his desire to dote upon you has grown immeasurably. you want nothing more than to bask in the intensity of his gaze forevermore … and to give birth to his child, of course, but that is still months off.

❝ i still c-can’t believe, ❞ you stutter as he begins to thrust, ❝ you actually managed to get me pregnant. ❞

astarion covers your swollen belly with one of his perfect hands, and both of you watch your breasts sway as he fucks you. ❝ my dear, i was so full of your blood that night i’d be surprised if you don’t give birth to twins. ❞

the thought makes your head swim, your legs clench around his waist, drawing him in, wanting him so much deeper.

neither of you had strictly known that was how it worked; that the more blood a vampire had drunk, the more virile they’d become. not until conducting some research and investigation after you’d mysteriously missed your cycle that month.

needless to say, however, both of you were beyond thrilled.

❝ careful, ❞ you jest, with your legs still tight around him, urging him on. ❝ don’t want to poke the baby’s eye out. ❞

astarion chuckles, leaning down to lay a chiding bite to your chest, fully on display now that the opposites sides of your negligee had fallen completely open. ❝ i don’t claim to be an expert, but i don’t think that’s how it works, love. ❞

as if to prove his point, his hips start to piston in and out of you. harder, faster, astarion holds your gaze as he all but begins to plow you.

pregnancy has made you sensitive in ways you couldn’t believe were possible. the ridges of his fat cock dragging against your tight walls make the room go fuzzy, the bed canopy above you shifting and twinkling like a sky full of stars.

your hands are in his hair, tugging, drawing a hiss from him as he tosses his head back against your ministrations.

he growls, tight and low, that he wants to see you cum, wants to see you lose yourself for him. and you can’t help but obey.

your entire body seizes, toes curling in the sheets, and astarion fucks you through it with harsh, demanding thrusts. you’re so wet that his cock makes sticky sweet noises every time he enters you.

it takes him no time at all, after that, to finish for you. this time you pull your legs back as far as possible and tell him to cum as deep inside of you as he can, wishing to every god you believe in that he could get you pregnant again now, fuck another baby into you.

the one already inside of you is demanding enough, but you can’t help but marinate on astarion’s earlier words: what if you’re having twins? the thought fills you with inexplicable joy, heart pounding big and broad in your chest.

astarion sighs and slips to the side of you, sliding down to place his cheek against your belly. ❝ see? i don’t think he minds at all … ❞

❝ oh? and how do you know it’s a he? ❞ you can barely catch your breath to ask, fingers brushing hair back from astarion’s sweaty forehead.

❝ i don’t. but if you have a boy, you can be guaranteed i’ll be getting you pregnant again as fast as i can, so that he’ll have a sister to keep him in line. ❞

[shadowdaddies]

Holiday Traditions

Lucien x fem!Reader fluff

Summary: Reader finds Lucien preparing for some of his childhood Autumn Equinox traditions, and decides to surprise him.

Wind whipped softly at your cheeks, late September air bringing a much needed reprieve from the exhausting heat August had brought this year. You smiled at the sight of a leaf, twirling in the breeze as it floated down from its branch to join the others scattered about the forest floor in a kaleidoscope of greens, oranges, and yellows. 

The sound of rustling foliage pulled your attention from the path to the Exiles’ Manor. A familiar head of long flaming hair brought a smile to your lips, his presence drawing you like a moth to the flame. 

Hearing the sound of your approach, Lucien looked over his shoulder from where he knelt on the ground, his returning smile sending heat pooling in your belly. You glanced beyond him to the small structure in front of him. A small structure had been built, its fine craftsmanship an indication of who had crafted the object. Lucien’s golden complexion flushed slightly at your curious gaze, your eyes roving eagerly over the small pyre he’d built, decorated beautifully with an assortment of berries, nuts, and what seized your attention most - two cornhusk dolls laid together at the front.

Kneeling in front of the arrangement, you reached a hand out and twined Lucien’s fingers through your own. “What is this?” you whispered, voice soft with awe.

Lucien squirmed slightly, a rare moment of self consciousness showing behind his charming facade. “It’s a Mabon Altar,” he nodded, reaching out to brush away a leaf that had fallen over the display. “It’s an Autumn Court tradition.”

His gaze flicked to yours, studying your reaction. “Each year, we - they - celebrate the Equinox with rituals, to honor the Mother, and to ask her for prosperity, protection, and balance.” He laughed dryly at his own words, mouth twisting into a wry smile as you carefully picked up one of the corn husk dolls. 

“My mother holds the traditions very sacred. The dolls are supposed to represent those we love, to pray for their good fortune.” Gaze swinging to the other doll which still sat on the earth, amber eye swam with emotion. “I hardly believe that,” he swallowed thickly, “but my mother always made dolls for each of my brothers and me. And one like this.” 

He held the doll, pulling it closer so you could see the intricate details Lucien had worked to cut and carve. The doll was darker than the one in your hand, the corn husk itself nearly as dark as the soil, while parts of it were painted gold as though to resemble the doll’s clothing. You looked to the doll in your own hand, studying the lighter hue of its husk, shades of red so much like Lucien’s. “This one is your mother?” you questioned softly.

Lucien nodded, a mournful smile playing on his lips. “It meant so much to her to create these each year. It makes me feel closer to her - even if I can’t be there in Autumn with her.”

Pulling your hand from his, you intertwined your arms and leaned against his warm frame. “And who is that?” you prodded, gently taking the other doll from him.

“I don’t know. I think it was just an idea of my mother’s - a symbol of hope for protection, or her future.” 

Setting the corn husk back in its place, you leaned to press a kiss to Lucien’s cheek. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I hope I can be here to celebrate the Equinox with you, if that is okay.”

His answering smile stole the air from your lungs, unbridled joy casting a ray of sunshine through him as Lucien stole your lips for another, deep kiss. “I can think of nothing that I would love more,” he purred, your insides melting at the suggestive tone. 

~~~

You were lounging on the pink sofa in Lucien’s lap days later when Twilight began to darken the sky. Flashing a conspiratorial grin to Vassa and Jurian, you excused yourself to your room, smiling at Lucien’s groan when the other two quickly did the same. 

In your room, you hurriedly grabbed the burgundy dress from your wardrobe, applying rouge to your lips before giving yourself an assessing look in the mirror. 

Yesterday during your visit to the Day Court on emissary business, you had asked Helion about the library’s books on Autumn Court’s Equinox traditions. The High Lord had shocked you by knowing plenty about their traditions himself, recalling the feast they had each year with different foods to represent the different Houses.

The way in which Helion spoke about the rituals held such a reverence, you couldn’t help but grow more excited to surprise Lucien with a party. You had thanked Helion - who bid you farewell with a mournful smile that oddly reminded you of Lucien’s - eager to race home and begin planning.

Exhaling a nervous breath, you swiped the final touches of makeup across your eyes before turning back to the living room.

“My vixen, you couldn’t stay away for-“

Whatever witty remark Lucien had planned died in his throat, mouth agape as he took you in. You were indeed the vixen, your dark red lips matching the tight fabric that donned your figure like a siren’s call to the male in front of you. Moving as though in a trance, Lucien swiftly stood from the couch, his hands finding purchase on your waist, shamelessly trailing up your body to feel the curves you’d put on display.

“What is this?” Lucien asked, his voice practically a growl with the self restraint he barely clung to. 

“This,” you purred, stepping back to offer him the full view of your body once more, “is what I wear to a party.” 

“A party?” he echoed, tongue flicking out over his bottom lip in intrigue. You simply hummed in response, lacing his fingers in your own as you led him towards the front door with a playful wink over your shoulder.

Opening the door of the manor, you smiled at how incredibly Vassa had pulled together the evening. Fae lights glowed like fireflies throughout the trees, illuminating the table that was set with an ornate dinner and fae wine. A symphonia played the gentle tune of a familiar orchestra, setting the mood for Jurian and Vassa as they swayed on the makeshift dance floor. 

“What is this?” Lucien breathed, hand still tight around your own. 

Smiling brightly at the wonder in his expression, you led him to the table where the others were now taking their seats. “I learned a bit more about Equinox traditions, and I wanted to surprise you with some new memories of a special holiday for you.”

Jurian coughed from across the table, earning an elbow to the ribs from Vassa and an eye roll from you. “Vassa helped a lot... And Jurian a little bit, as well,” you teased in response to the latter’s outraged expression.

“Thank you all, very much,” Lucien murmured, voice thick with emotion. You leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek before filling his plate with traditional Autumn celebration foods, laughing and drinking with your friends late into the night until the moon was high in the sky. 

“It’s time,” you whispered from where you leaned against Lucien’s warm chest. As midnight approached, you followed the path to Lucien’s altar, whispering your own silent prayers from behind as he lit the pyre with a flick of his wrist. 

Turning to face you, Lucien stood aglow in the firelight, his amber eyes and bright hair glowing like the sun. You smiled bashfully at his beauty, still in place as he walked up to you, and right past you. 

Stunned, you turned over your shoulder to find him standing on the dance floor, poised in a dramatic bow with his hand outstretched in askance. “My cunning vixen, will you do me the greatest honor of dancing with me?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics, earning a mischievous wink as Lucien spun you into his arms, your chest flush against his, hearts beating as one. The fire burned a soft crackle, illuminating the dark night as the symphonia began to play a slower sort of melody. “Thank you for sharing your holiday with me,” you murmured, cheek laid against Lucien’s chest as you swayed.

Lips pressed gently to the top of your head, lingering there for a long moment. Pulling away slightly, Lucien’s hand tucked under your chin as he guided your face to look at his. “Thank you for giving me new, sweet memories, every day,” he murmured, eyes glowing with emotion before they flicked downward, suddenly turning dark.

Wandering hands found their way back to you, Lucien pulling you impossibly close as his hands squeezed your ass appreciatively. “There is one part of you that will always be the sweetest, though,” he purred, leaning down to tug your earlobe between his teeth. “And I won’t be sleeping until I’ve had a taste.” Before you could react, Lucien tossed you over his shoulder, one hand holding you still as the other moved precariously further beneath your dress while he strode back towards the manor.

A Happy Equinox, indeed.

[alicenpai]

the shadow and her living doll 🌹🌼 print for montreal otakuthon! come see me at next week from aug 11-13 ✌

you can grab it as a print here if you so wish ! WIPs & other thoughts under the cut

shadows house is such a fantastic series & i wholeheartedly recommend it... the story delves into super dark horror elements but doesn't present itself as a story with no hope. hope must be found and then tenaciously gripped with all one's heart, much like pandora's box. it tickles the victorian gothic part of my brain forever imprinted on me since i was 14 haha...

in the first draft i had marionette strings hanging above the characters (kinda reminds me of Erased.. since I just finished rewatching that ahaha...) & shadow puppet hands on the sides, almost as if gripping each character. i decided against it in the end, to let the characters shine in the spotlight (literally).

i also wanted a more active or lively pose, but kept in line with the stiff victorian portrait style, caused by long camera exposure times. i'm not sure if that worked out better bc i'm unsure if this drawing is interesting to people wahahaha.

initially i also wanted more of a dollhouse theme, but each draft got more and more muddy, so i decided to save it for another day (i'm around ch 90 in the manga, so probably a good call to save a more complex idea until i'm all caught up)

^ quick 5 min style test i posted recently! in that post i stated that i wanted to streamline and simplify my art style more, especially after the recent bunch of illustrations i did in the past winter that took way too long to complete, at the sake of my health.

im continually looking for areas to simplify more in my art, but one of the areas i will NOT skimp on is depicting fabric!!!!!

what also helped was working on my sense of structure in my spare time, so that i could be better at depicting form without relying so much on shading to show 3d forms. i love colouring, but i need to be working smarter, not harder from now on. using 100000 shades and highlights is just not feasible anymore wahaha.

in this drawing i loosened up with the bg and kept it rough, inspired by the wonderful xeroxed bgs of 101 dalmatians, and only implied details, rather than actually rendering all of them.

the tldr is that i draw too slowly i just would like to be able to make more drawings more often!!

[wickedsniffles]

Domestic Bliss

Summary: A bit of morning sex during allergy season. Wade has the kink. Logan has the allergies ❤️ (This got SO out of control but holy moly was it fun to write)

Pairing: Wade Wilson aka Deadpool x Logan Howlett aka Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: established relationship, oral sex, handjobs, snz, kink!Wade, praise kink, pet names, fluff

Word Count: 1.2K

Wade's situated between Logan's legs, on his stomach, in the warm nest of their bed. He's sucking his cock in an almost dreamlike state, only half focused on the task at hand (in mouth). As nice as it is to get his partner off, as much as he loves to do it…it's getting harder and harder to ignore his own arousal. 

It's all because of the look on Logan's face. Flushed pink and worrying at his lip, Logan is the fucking picture of sexual pleasure. His pretty hazel eyes laser focused on Wade, breathing heavy as he fights not to arch up into his mouth. 

One hand sits on top of Wade's head, fingernails digging into his scalp gently. The other stays at his side, wandering up to his face every once in a while to scrub at his nose. The nose that is much darker shade of pink than his face, itchy and irritated, only drawing attention to the handsome shape and strong outline. 

Wait, what? 

Yeah, you read that right. Wade's unashamedly sucking cock and getting off to how Logan looks like he's trying hard to stay in the moment, focus on Wade, and not give in to the itch they both know is torturing him. 

It's allergy season, baby. And they might both be built to heal anything from a papercut to an axe wound, but that healing factor doesn't do shit against a nose as sensitive as Logan's. He's a wreck with the first warm breeze. 

A polite wreck, to be sure. Uncharacteristically polite. Of course, with Logan being Logan, there's no way he'd come out and admit to being taken down by something as small as a grain of pollen. The first time Wade notices him being allergic to something, Logan stifles it so well that he almost misses it entirely. Like a fucking sneeze ninja. 

They'd been cuddling together on the couch. Logan had just, like, frozen in place and pressed a knuckle to the side of his nose. His shoulders shook once, twice, three times. A soft exhale. 

Wade remembers bristling. Kink activated. “Um…bless you?” 

Logan had gone bright red down to the tips of his ears. “Shut up.”

The more attention Wade paid – and trust him, audience, he was paying plenty of attention now – the more times he caught him. When there's a lot of dust. When it's cold outside. Around certain flowers. God help him. As months passed and they got more comfortable around one another, Logan stopped stifling them like that every time. But Wade knew it was still his first instinct. 

Wade moans around what's in his mouth and takes Logan deeper, pressing his hips hard into the mattress. He can't believe Logan hasn't sneezed since he started sucking him off. 

But he looks like he might. Wade knows the look by now. A lot of blinking with those long pretty eyelashes. Expression going all distant and far away. Breath hitching, lips parting.  

That, or he's about to come. The fact that the two expressions are so similar makes another wave of heat clench in Wade's abdomen. 

“So fuckin' – good, baby,” Logan croaks, sounding absolutely wrecked. He scrubs at his nose with a thick sniffle, swallowing hard. “You gettin’ close too?” 

Wade whines his affirmative. I’d be closer if you indulged my weird kinks, bub. 

Smiling at that, Logan thrusts deeper into his mouth, making Wade take more, and god that’s a treat in itself. 

“You’re –” his breath hitches, followed by another irritated sniff.  “You’re gonna make me come,” he says. Nose scrunching in that familiar way.  “Wade –” 

He can’t take it anymore. Wade takes the hand that Logan has on his head and winds his fingers through, then grabs his other hand by the wrist until he’s locked in place. Oh, oops, sorry, I’m sooo cute and I just wanna hold your hands while I suck you off. Or do I have ulterior motives? 

They make eye contact. Logan tries to break loose from the grip, but Wade’s not letting him move an inch. Logan’s no idiot. He knows exactly what Wade’s trying to do, what he’d like to happen. His eyes narrow, both with exasperation and the effort of trying to hold back. Wade’s heart leaps. 

“You are f-fucking…” 

Oh, he’s not holding back this time. Wade grins like the devil around the cock in his mouth. 

“Heh…heh’ESSH-uh! Esshh! ESSHH-uh!”

Logan sneezes into his shoulder, breathy and desperate. Finally finally finally – 

That’s all Wade needs. With a long, muffled whimper, he comes hard against the sheets, feeling the warmth of it bloom against his stomach with each spasm. He relaxes into the mess, going boneless, and hears Logan scoff out a laugh. 

Wrestling his hands free, he carefully takes himself out of Wade’s mouth. 

“Bless you,” Wade manages, working his jaw. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Logan answers. “I was gonna say ridiculous.” 

“Yeah.” He’s definitely not gonna deny that. Wade Wilson is the original seven herbs and spices of ridiculous, with some added kick to keep people on their toes. 

His Wolverine’s eyes crinkle up into a smile. “C’mere, Red.” 

Crawling up until he’s straddling Logan’s cock, Wade can’t help but mirror the expression. There’s no one else on this planet – no one else in the multiverse – who matches his freak like Logan does. Who loves him like Logan does. They’re two perfect halves of the same fucked up pepperoni pizza. 

Wade rubs his half-hard cock against Logan’s until he’s groaning with need, gripping it tight before leaning in to kiss that spot on his neck that makes him all hot under the collar. Logan gasps instantly and almost crushes Wade to him, pressing his face into Wade’s old t-shirt. Tilting his head for better access. 

“Fuck, please,” he says, breath hot on Wade’s skin through the material. 

He comes undone in only a few strokes, in just a handful of open-mouthed kisses pressed to his neck. Logan pants and gasps through every pulse of his orgasm, arching into Wade’s hand as Wade strokes him through it. 

“Good boy,” Wade tells him, low and hot in the shell of Logan’s ear. He shudders at the praise, dribbling a little more come with the smallest sound of need. Fuck. 

They breathe for a while, cuddled close like that. The feeling of Logan’s arms around him and listening to his pulse gradually slow against Wade’s cheek is his idea of a lazy morning well spent. He’d gladly spend hours like this, if it weren’t for the mess they’re currently covered in starting to get cold. Hell, they might come right back here to their little bed nest after they shower. 

“C’mon, peanut,” he says eventually. “Let’s get cleaned up. We’re gonna be stuck together if we don’t move now.” 

Logan doesn’t answer at first. When he does, his response is another trio of hitched sneezes into the collar of Wade’s shirt, followed by an irritated growl. 

“Sorry. And yeah, let’s go,” he sighs, rubbing at his itchy nose with the back of his hand. “Wade, get offa me.”  

Wade can’t move; he’s stunned into horny silence, more than aware of his cock filling up against Logan’s thigh. 

Once he realizes what’s going on, Logan breaks out in an embarrassed grin, shoving Wade off of his lap and onto the mattress. 

“You are the fucking worst.” 

“I love you too, babygirl,” Wade says sweetly. “And bless you!”

[rutobuka2]

I've been wanting to ask for a while but never was brave enough to. I'm not a very good artist myself but whenever I try to do a comic by the second panel; my art, mind and hand are all worn out from doing one panel.

How do you keep your panels and art style so consistent throughout the comic?

hi!! thank you for being brave to talk to me! I really enjoy discussing technique!

I think comics seem simple and easy to make, but they're a looong process.

👉First of all: start small. like, ONE page small. TWO pages, etc. just tell one joke, or one kiss, etc. it'll make the entire process less daunting. but do think of the beats of the story like...

1- character A is doing a thing 2- character B makes a comment 3- character A gets embarrassed

/ end

something simple, but you can cut up each little beat into two panels if you like, or just keep it at 3 and explain more with the dialogue.

👉for the drawing part, you should really start with a really ugly basic sketch to outline what kind of dialogue and story progression you want to make on each page.

this is a sketch of page 11 of my Bunny Crossing comic:

as you can see, I put a lot of focus on drawing the more delicate moment where Bilbo notices Thorin remembered the comment, so I just actually drew his face in detail there. But the rest was just enough for me to know later where each character is, or if I needed to draw a background, where the dialogue should go, and such.

👉divide your work into days. if it makes you exhausted, you can take one entire day to draw the rough sketch. Then, another day for the dialogue and speech bubbles. Then, another day to actually draw the panels and the more polished sketches of each character. Then, another day for the lineart. Then, shading. etc.

👉try drawing grayscale first. Don't add colors until you're sure you'll have the energy to finish it! It'll get you used to the process, you'll iron out any errors easier.

👉consistency comes from the process itself. I try to be careful while drawing the sketches for my panels, because a good sketch can help you so much in the long run!

👉look for reference on other people's work! manga artists and western artists have loads of footage of themselves drawing online, you'll get inspired for sure!

I hope this helped a little bit! Do respect your own rhythm! 💖 also, if it doesn't help, not everyone likes to draw comics, and that's ok! It IS a very repetitive process. static illustrations are amazing too, and I envy the skill!

[pseudokap]

Family Reunion My second artwork for the Apotheosis Zine! (account here) (art rambling + mild apotheosis spoilers below)

(i wrote this out on a google doc) Ohohoho i have a lot to say for this piece! It’s is inspired by the fight between Thanatos and his siblings: Yuri, Arboth (on the left) and Ranar (on the right) from episode 9 I took inspiration from the painting that saved Yuri, which was described as depicting a lone sunflower on a hill. The composition frames Yuri as the sunflower itself with the orange rectangle representing the frame of a painting. The sunflower shape circles her head like a halo (because holy family y’know). There are also petal-like patterns in her hair, which I thought looked nice. Also the sunflower forms the pupil of an eye, which can be interpreted as either Exandroth (and his sort of familial relation to Thanny as his creator) or the other gods Arboth and Ranar’s eyes are red, for possession by the blights. Or something. Also Yuri is crying because, well I’d be sad if I had to fight my brother because I got possessed by a god. There really was still a part of her in there, even if she was just a vessel. I took some creative liberties on my Thanatos design because it looked cool and I also couldn’t figure out some of his armor in the official design:( well, the armor has feather-like components now. I guess. Everything is scratched because he’s fought A Lot and there’s no way the armor is Not Absolutely Wrecked to an extent. I actually had a ton of fun shading his armor! Other neat things: - The contrast of the holy family’s white clothing (typically representing good) vs Thanatos’s black armor (typically representing evil). Obviously Thanatos is one of the protagonists in this story, so in this case we’re going against the “typical” - Pure white is only used in Thanatos and Yuri’s eyes, intended to draw attention to their faces I’m very happy with this piece, especially Thanatos’s armor and axe! There’s a lot of ways to interpret this and parts that I can’t find the words to explain.

[ratzquantum]

𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

— a teeny tiny bit angsty but big fluffy peeta mellark x reader blurb

mornings waking up next to peeta still feel a little uneasy after the rebellion. fortunately, you know just how to fix that.

the mornings were always difficult, especially when every morning was a different surprise. sometimes it felt like finally reaching the top of a tall mountain, then other times you felt like the mountain. he treated you like some barrier, a big obstacle. it was not a practice either of you had wanted to fall into—though you were also aware it could not have been avoided.

the fried egg you had been tampering with sizzled between two crusted bread buns. butter oozed off of the sides, dripping into a puddle of gooey, leftover residue. the egg's edges had been trimmed (burned) to a crisp, toasty brown. it definitely smelled good, even if the image itself looked shriveled and overcooked. peeta would enjoy the thought you put into the food, that enough was guaranteed. but everything about that idea in itself bothered you.

ever since peeta was rescued; ever since peeta was abysmally brought back to his conscience, food had lost its taste and peeta had lost his touch. peeta had lost much that he could not recover, but specifically his baker's touch. it was as if the capitol had drained him of his joys—his skills and prides—just because they wanted to. you despised it. baking was one of the easiest crafts, and they took that from him because it entertained them.

you baked bread for peeta because he could no longer bake on his own. you baked breakfast and dessert for peeta to recoup old emotions he hesitated to feel. even so, it bothered you that your baking was never good enough to bring back peeta's bubbly laugh; the crinkles in his eyes when he smiled deep enough. never good enough to rid peeta of that long, distant stare; the ache in his muscles; the gentle shake in his fingers when they engulfed your own.

you plated the fried egg sandwich atop the cool white kitchen countertop and reached up to release the window shades in front of you. rays of sunlight dripped into the room, glimmering off of the eggy-residue. if he did not enjoy the food today, especially after you managed to not burn the whole egg to a crisp, you might as well faint there and then.

the sun gave way to speckles of dust in the air, peppering the house with that unusual feeling of 'comfort'. you were never too sure of what the meaning of home was, but sometimes you could believe you were living in it now.

you ambled your way past the sun, past the dust, and through a small hallway into the bedroom you shared with peeta. the door was partially opened from your escape earlier, revealing the crumpled bedsheets on your side of the bed. you nudged the door open further with your foot. blonde tuffs shed themselves from behind heavy sheets. a smile seeped into the cracks of your lips. his nightmares were subsiding.

the fried egg sandwich was abandoned on a nearby dresser. you were clambering into bed beside peeta without any hesitation, leaving the lights dim and the sheets scattered. his warmth had found yours and engulfed you whole.

your arms stretched out to meet peeta's waist, fingers digging gently into his loose shirt to draw him back to you. he let out a soft groan, eyebrows deepening at the sudden movement. cloth tangled between your fingers as you lifted his shirt just enough to press two fingers against the low end of his back. peeta shifted against your chest, murmuring a ghostly whisper.

"y/n?" his lashes fluttered open as your fingers tenderly kneaded his back, massaging circles into his skin. his lips parted to sigh deeply in response to your touch. your fingers traced along his spine, soothing his woes. peeta's head fell back and bumped into your forehead, earning him a soft giggle.

"breakfast is ready," you cooed, planting a kiss on the back of his head.

peeta hummed dejectedly, turning over his shoulder to face you. "told you not to make me breakfast anymore," he huffed. his face painted his voice, squinted eyes and crinkled brows gazing at yours.

it did not take more than a minute for you to change his mind. his eyes found your unchanging smile, and those sullen wrinkles softened up.

"but you won't stop, real or not real?" he whispered, a brief chuckle paired with the usually solemn question. your eyes glimmered against his stare as he drowsily smiled at you.

"real."

you reached the top of a particularly lucky mountain this morning.

[sovya]

like magic

ran haitani x f!reader (with hints of rindou haitani x f!reader)

minors n ageless blogs dni

cw: inc-st, dddne, use of honorifics ("nii-chan/san"), slight manipulation (on ran's part), pet names ("princess" "little girl" "sweetheart" "sweet girl"), D/s dynamics (including having rules), infantilization, slight humiliation, praise, degradation, teasing, hand as a gag (to keep you quiet), piv (mating press), size kink, free use (if you squint)

synopsis: ran, after a long day of work, wants nothing more than to decompress with his favourite girl—but he doesn't want to share. ♡

an: if i forgot any cws, pls let me know ! also srry this is so disgusting lol

wc: 2.5k

"you make it sound so easy..." a loud huff departs from his lips, pink and slick with your saliva and his own.

your whines cut through the heavy atmosphere of your sizeable bedroom, a sound that echoes off the finely decorated walls before seeking purchase in the recesses of ran's mind.

"but i need you... don't you need me?" long eyelashes give shade to your gaze as you look up at him longingly. you can almost see him question if you're asking in good faith or if you're simply trying to rile him up. 

either way, it's working. 

"aw, c'mon princess, you know that i do... nii-chan just hates to hurt his favourite little girl, that's all."

"but 'm tough... i can take it! i've taken you before."

"no, i know... i’m only worried that if you hurt too much, you'll scream and cry and then rindou will wake up. an' if rindou wakes up, he'll want a turn with you… and we both know rindou will be much meaner to you than i am."

your eyes leave his face as you look around the darkened room, just barely visible thanks to the lights of the city. he makes a good point, even though you wish he didn't. as much as you love how rin fucks you, your sleeplacking body might break under his strength alone. your gaze returns to your eldest brother's face, giving him a dejected nod. 

"hey, don't look so sad, little girl... 'm still gonna fuck you." his form hovers over yours rather menacingly, his hands on either side of your head holding himself up.

he looks like a God like this, you think to yourself. his normally perfectly styled hair now falling around his face after his nightly shower, the dark purple strands contrasting against his rather pale skin. the tattoo along the length of his neck bobs as his Adam's apple does, as if intentionally drawing attention to itself—though maybe that was the point of getting it on his neck in the first place. your sights trail further down his body, his work shirt having been discarded hours ago, hung up for dry cleaning the next time the maids come by. despite the strain on visibility, you can make out the distinct markings of his half body tattoo, eyes following the intricate patterns the ink has weaved into his skin. he's too good to be true but he's here and he's real and he's looking at you like he wants to eat you—not whole, but to savour you instead.

"so how are you going to..." your voice trails off, words fleeing into the sound of the fan running on the other side of your room.

"fuck you?" he smirks at your hesitation to use a curse word, something him and rin have agreed is strictly unallowed—only for you though, of course. "'s okay, honey, you can say it just this once. i won't tell rin."

"how are you going to f-fuck me if you don't want me to make loud noises?"

his smirk spreads wider, like a burning wildfire across his face, one he couldn't contain even if he tried.

"i’ll be gentle, sweet. take good care of ya." he shifts his weight to his left hand, using his right to caress your cheek, his thumb smoothing out the plush skin there.

“but… what if it hurts? like you said…”

“hm…” ran starts to look around the bed before reaching for your stuffed rabbit, placing it onto your chest, “hold your bunny, okay? cry into her if you need to cry.”

an involuntary whine escapes you, your arms wrapping around the stuffed animal your brothers bought you many years prior—prior to this moment, prior to them fucking you stupid nearly every night.

reaching his hand down to the waistband of his sweats, he haphazardly pulls them down until the band rests around his muscular thighs, his cock finally springing free.

“see, baby, there you go. just hold onto your bunny an’ nii-chan will be right here, okay?”

“okay…” the utterance comes out much less confident than ran was hoping for, but he’s too hard and his day has been too long to give a fuck.

he gathers the skirt of your nightgown and pushes it further up your hips, his large hands finding their way to your bum as he lifts you slightly, allowing the garment to collect around your body, just below your belly button. he leaves your bottom half completely exposed, your cunt now in full view.

“just as pretty as the first time i saw her…” ran sighs, speaking mostly to himself.

while his left hand remains on your body, touching your side with a gentleness not unfamiliar to you, his right hand pulls back, finding its way to his aching cock. he begins to touch himself, teasingly slow, as his gaze drags up and down your body.

“nii-chan…” whining, you give him a pout and ran can’t help but laugh.

“what?”

“want touches…” your eyes begin to well up as you watch him masturbate above you, knowing that the brothers gave you a rule against touching yourself without their express permission.

“what do you say, then?”

taking in a shaky breath, your brows furrow a little more, “please?”

“please what?”

you can’t totally see his face given the darkness of the room, but you can just tell he’s got a smirk plastered across his face.

“p-please… ran-nii, will you please touch me?”

“touch you where?”

goodness, you feel like sobbing. you feel a painful lump in your throat beginning to form and you swear it’s going to weigh you down into the mattress and leave you there, crying, for an eternity.

“r-ran… please? i need you. need you t-to touch me on my… in my… my…” you struggle desperately to get the words out, wrestling with your mind to just let you say the words—those incredibly humiliating words—you need to say.

“your… what?” his hands go back to your bum, lifting you up as he goes to line himself up with your entrance. afterall, you both know he can’t have you sobbing.

“there! touch me there! please!”

ran places a hand over your mouth, trying to keep you from nearly shouting at him again. the sheer size of it engulfs your face, causing you to clench against him, and he can feel it.

he hisses out a “fuck” when he feels your pulsating cunt against the tip of his cock, the way your arousal is dripping down your slit.

ran simply cannot wait any longer. he needs to feel you wrapped around his cock. his sanity depends on it.

the hand on your face presses harder against your skin, the bones of his digits digging in as he starts to sink himself inside of you. his jaw falls slack, letting a strained groan make its way past his lips. it may be dark in your bedroom, but he can see how your eyes dart around his face in a panic, never having taken him with this little prep before. you’re scared and incredibly pliant, just how he likes you.

you draw in a shaky breath, intense and fraught, like with every inch he presses inside of you, he threatens to knock more air out of your lungs. gripping onto your plushie tighter, you feel tears beginning to pool at your lash line, his cock stretching you with a harsh sting.

“there you go sweet girl… look so pretty like this…” ran whispers as he finally bottoms out, his gaze nothing short of absolutely adoring.

you blink and a tear falls down the side of your face and onto the pillow, “i do?”

ran lets out a breathy laugh, nodding while his hips start with a relaxed pace, “yeah, princess, so fuckin’ pretty.”

smiling up at him, you manage a small giggle, “thank you, ran”

he begins to speed up, the sound of his skin slapping against yours getting louder and more frequent, “that’s not what you call me… you know that…”

starting to sob, you partially hide your face with the head of your bunny plush, “sorry nii-chan… ‘m sorry…”

clenching his jaw, ran groans through his teeth, low and needy—like a man possessed.

“there we go, good girl… that’s what i like to hear.”

his cock stretches you open, keeps you open, as it drags along the gummy walls of your cunt. the feeling is almost agonizing, despite the arousal dripping down and forming a little puddle below you. you feel an intense ache in your core, like he’s threatening to tear you open. and through all of this, you feel so ardent, so eager, so good.

feeling you tighten around him, ran draws in a sharp breath, his fingers gripping at your pillows even harder, “fuck, sweetheart… love when you do that. w-what’s it you’re thinkin’ about in that pretty little head of yours?”

you give him a drawn-out whine, all of a sudden feeling overwhelmingly shy. looking up at him, your brows furrow as you shake your head.

“no? you don’t wanna tell me?”

you can feel yourself tighten around him again, but you repeat your headshake.

“alright, that’s fine.” suddenly, ran stops his movement, causing you to gasp—and you’ve got that precious panic face back on—how cute.

“wait… no. please keep going, ran-nii. i-i’ll tell you, promise,” you do your best to talk quietly, but the possibility of ran stopping is just too much for you to bear.

“you promise?” 

his cock is still buried inside of you, and he’s just as desperate as you are to keep going, but he’s gotta tease you. what else are big brothers for?

sniffling, you nod, opening your mouth to speak, “was just thinking about how you feel…”

ran starts to roll his hips into yours again, a smug look creeping across his face anew, “how i feel?”

“yeah… h-how you’re stretching me out and…”

moving faster, bringing himself back to his previous pace, ran raises an eyebrow at you, “and what?”

“just… how big you are…”

he licks his lips and his eyes grow heavily lidded, the classic haitani stare piercing through your soul, sending the most primal feelings surging through you—feelings you can almost guarantee are rushing through him too.

“how big i am, huh?” his large frame shifts above you, ran’s hands moving off the pillows and to the undersides of your thighs, pinning your legs to your chest.

you let out a squeal and ran’s hand finds its way to your mouth once again, attempting to keep you quiet as the weight of his body keeps your thighs pressed to your torso. a muffled “mhm” leaves your lips but is cut off by your big brother’s palm, causing him to laugh. the low rumble comes from deep in his chest and you can feel his abdominal muscles tensing against the backs of your legs as he chuckles.

he’s so strong, the feel of his muscles like absolute torment to you, causing your cunt to clench around him another time.

“you’re such a naughty girl… getting off on your big brother folding you in half and fucking you like a toy.” ran growls, throwing his head back and moaning. his head comes back down just as quickly so he can look at you while he speaks again, “but that’s okay, you know that… nii-san loves his dirty little girl.”

ran moves his hand from your mouth, pressing his sweaty forehead against your own, gazing into your eyes with so much love.

i love when he does this, you think to yourself. ran can play all the mind games he wants, can be conniving and tease you until you forget where he starts and you end, but the way he looks at you when he’s close gives all of his secrets away.

“i love you s’much, ran-nii.”

before you can register what’s happening, ran’s lips meet your own, capturing you in a kiss. it’s passionate and incredibly comforting all at once, making you dizzy and sending your heart pounding. his soft lips move against yours languidly, a wide contrast to how harshly his cock slams into you.

“nii-chan wants to make you cum, baby… ‘s that okay?” ran practically moans into your mouth, but you know his question is rhetorical. you know it doesn’t matter what you want, not really. that you finishing is all a part of his fun, too.

you nod anyway, lips parted and wet with both of your saliva.

ran snakes a hand down between the two of you, the pads of his middle and ring fingers touching your clit as he begins rubbing fast, tight circles against it.

you can’t help but squeeze your plushie tighter, tears starting to well up and fall, the crystalline droplets catching what little available light peers into your room.

“you’re so beautiful…” ran still speaks against your lips, as if he’s trying to convince you to let go right there underneath him. “the best little sister a guy could ask for.”

whimpering, you dig the back of your head further into your pillow, ran’s lips having no issue following.

“p-please?” although you’re unsure of exactly what you’re begging for, ran takes the cue to keep going. his long fingers continue swiping at your clit as his cock drags against the sweet spot inside of you, your entire body shivering and your eyelashes fluttering as you struggle to maintain eye contact.

your eldest brother ruts into you like an animal, breath catching in his chest with each thrust inside of you. his lips meet yours once more as he feels you starting to spasm and clench around him, desperate to swallow your moans, keeping them all to himself.

a high-pitched mewl escapes from your throat as you finally cum around his cock, your arms and legs trembling as sobs begin to wrack through your body.

ran’s orgasm isn’t far behind yours, his movements stuttering as he wraps his arms around your back, desiring nothing more than to hold you close as he finishes deep inside of you. he looks blissed out and incredibly vulnerable, so unlike the untouchable God you’re used to viewing him as. still, you can’t see him as anything short of perfect.

as the two of you lay there, you do your best to catch your breaths, hearing the sound of ran’s heavy exhaling right next to your ear.

“you okay, princess?” ran’s the first to speak, as always. you guys could have gone for hours and he could be mere moments away from passing out, and he would still check in on you, still do all the aftercare you needed. he’s attentive and sweet like that.

“yeah, ‘m okay… are you?” your voice comes out as a whisper, moving your hands from the plushie you were holding to return ran’s embrace.

he chuckles, maneuvering his head so he’s looking at you again, the warmest smile on his face, “just peachy.”

suddenly, the tender moment is interrupted by the sound of the doorknob to your bedroom jiggling, followed by the harsh light of the hallway as it creeps open.

"aniki... i believe it's my turn now."

[betterbemeta]

I think AI Art exploits and degrades not just artists, but every single person who looks at it in some ways because 'how we look at art' is part of art itself.

This principle is super easy to experience as an artist. All you have to do is practice and reach a plateau where things you did before seem worse to you, that felt great at the time you made them. Your ability to see art changes as you make art, and as you view art.

It's not snobby to say that there is a low average level of 'seeing' art. There's also a low average level of seeing technical design, or seeing weather patterns, or seeing copy editing mistakes and that's why we have architects and engineers, meteorologists, and professional editors. I think a lot about this bit by Scott McCloud in Understanding Comics:

Like the point here is not that 'most people are superficial', but that the surface of art is what most people are familiar with. And it is this basic familiarity that I believe AI Art exploits to fake integrity, something that even the most well-known laughably 'bad art' still technically has.

Like, laugh all you want but effort went into the surface of this art such that it appeared 'okay' to the one who made it, and to those who maybe aren't paying attention or see that its colored and shaded first, the anatomy last. It relies sort of on your familiarity with 'what art looks like' to accept it, but not completely. Someone did work to try and earn your acceptance even if, uh, it's not very good in some ways.

But AI Art relies fully on how unfamiliar you are with art. Let's call this principle 'glamour'.

At first 'the glamour' is unconvincing: this is during the AI's training. But the first 'pass' is the threshold where information builds up about how to reproduce a minimally acceptable image. This is where the glamour is set: the minimum accuracy to convince a human being to fill in its gaps. To basically capture their imagination. From there, front-end use of the machine learning model is released for general users, and it is those users who then select out of many outputs which glamour fools them most. As the other half of this system, the hidden decision-maker, humans are also 'learning' familiarity with the glamour: comparing it to not just our surface knowledge but to itself. We have left reality.

A good example of this can be seen in AI-generated pictures of fiber crafts. It's possible that traditional or digital artist might not be perfect with their drawing or perspective or coloring etc. or may stylistically push the boundaries of perspective or form on purpose. But for a knit, crocheted, or sewn piece a final product often can't exist without its craft having physical integrity:

Aside from the issues that are obvious (fake tilt shift photography with no consistent field of blur, a spaghetti yarn ball, unknown stitch on the vest, no comprehensible seam between the arm and the body, etc.) here are some things that stick out to me to knowing even a little about knitting,

The fake stockinette on the helmet is confused about whether it is completed horizontally or vertically: vertical on the headband (many hats terminate this way, so there are plenty of images to sample) but indecisive when it has to become a round hat shape.

The number of rows on the arms is inconsistent, decreasing strangely where a k2tog would never be.

There is no consistent way the hands make sense, if they are 'mittens' or if the stockinette ridges become 'fingers'.

We can't see how the bottom of the foot was finished: the left foot either began or was decreased to meet at a central point but it doesn't match the right foot and it's not clear how either foot keeps it shape.

Beyond the plagiarism of the images that went into generating AI outputs, your diminishing time to learn about/be exposed to 'things' (beyond just 'art,' anything that isn't essential to your survival) will become increasingly exploited in the future. If left unchecked, images like these will represent not only novelties or etsy scams but a large amount of people's exposure to 'things' in general. Which then leads to something like AI inbreeding (AI generating based on AI), except like... with you.

When people are more familiar with a glamour than 'the real thing', even superficially.

Exploitation of this type isn't even a new thing. It's just that AI can speed it up or extend it to new spheres. Anyone can see a physical table and think 'this table is crap' if it's poor quality because of how much we use tables and our knowledge of what tables are and should do. But I think the blog McMansion Hell actually illustrates a real, practical situation where the familiarity level with a craft (architecture) is low and standards lower to meet it. These hulks were certainly built to invoke 'glamour', but when closely inspected, they have the design equivalent of 12 fingers or bra straps bleeding into someone's skin.

Another easy example might be the excessive 'glamour' that surrounds selling cars in the USA. Very few people will buy enough cars to become more than superficially familiar with them and the amount of people who are car-related professionals is negligible next to the number of people who require a car.

Both cars and houses are expensive purchases that are made relatively infrequently, which is why their brokers and dealers can bet against a customer's average level of knowledge. But soon, many more things may become like buying houses or cars: obscured by glamour.

AI Art relies on you to be a sucker, just like how a sketchy sales rep depends on you to be a sucker. Except even worse than the sales rep, your brain is expected to not just be dumb and inexperienced, but also to get actively dumber over time from doing all the work too.

[mojo-bro-tho]

Sweet Ichor

~This is 3.5k alternate variation from the original draft for chapter 7 of Blood Sugar. Most of the context leading into this part of the chapter is the same (sort of, part of what’s different will be obvious but the rest was just poorly constructed so I’m not showing that probably) but this part takes place inside the Mausoleum so if you’ve read it already you know what’s up. I’m mostly just posting this because the tone imo is veeeeery different and I think it’s interesting. Included as well will be the alternate/joke title for this chapter!~

Psychopomp and Circumstances of Glorious Whore

There was a conflict for shades of light and shadow around her. The warmth from the minuscule candlelight, the menagerie of color trying to form a halo around her head but was engulfed by lifeless stone and darkness.

“Good evening, Professor. You found me much faster than I thought you would.”

“Dare I say, Miss de Riva, but you evaded me for far too long. Shameful on my part really.”

She wasn’t wearing her leather coat anymore either, and her messenger bag was curiously absent. The sleeves of her turtleneck sweater were the slightest bit too short for her arms. But without the coat, and with her sauntering around the corner of the sarcophagus, her figure was no longer hidden. Nor was the way her hips swayed while her fingers delicately traced the markings she passed by.

The air was stale and surprisingly dry given the season. Thoughtlessly, Emmrich took a few long strides to meet her at the edge. He couldn’t fully fathom why, it was a natural pull. Not like two magnets but as if she was physically tugging him towards her. His lower back felt heavy and he couldn’t help but recall again the weight of her boots against him. Rook held her arm out with an overly polite gesture.

“May I take your coat and bag, sir?” She asked sweetly, and Emmrich hardly had a say in the matter. Their arms met, his sliding just above hers. A ghost of pressure entirely outweighed by the weight of the fabric itself. Rook herself was the one to grasp the leather strap of his satchel and help him out of it, careful not to tussle his hair with the aid of him leaning forward.

Rook turned on her heel, the short trip back echoed off the walls with the click of her heels against smooth stone. He followed and watched her dip behind the three foot width of the sarcophagus furthest from the door. Hidden there was her messenger bag and her coat haphazardly pooled in the middle, partially leaning against the confinement itself. In contrast, Rook softly sat his satchel atop her leather and then carefully folded his own coat to lay it across her things. Emmrich couldn’t help but quirk a brow up at it but she seemed unbothered by her own level of care towards her items.

“Look at our stuff, sitting next to each other like they’re friends!” She straightened her posture, elbowing him in the side. Charming, like always.

“Miss de Riva-”

”Rook.”

“Miss Rook?”

“Just Rook. You can drop the Miss.” She argued.

“I thought we settled this already. I refer to all of my students with honorifics. It’s polite.” He countered, taking a much needed step back and way from her.

“Well, I’m not exactly one right now, am I? I don’t think most teachers are out playing hide and seek with their students. At least not any my age.”

“I’d argue that this wasn’t hide and seek at all. If the point is to be caught, wanting to be caught, I believe that changes the game entirely.” Emmrich folded his hands behind his back, jewelry jingling and drawing Rook’s gaze briefly to his hands. “But perhaps you’re right. The lesson ought to continue, Miss de Riva.”

She bit her tongue. This wasn’t what she was trying to lead him towards, but progress was still progress. Take it slow. Not everything was a chase to rip clothes off, perhaps he was too mild mannered for that sort of thing. Rook doubted that but it was always a possibility. At least for a starting point.

“I’m all ears, teach.” She replied with a grin, quickly bending the tips of her pointed ears out to be more prominent. Emmrich hid a chuckle before continuing.

“If I recall, there was another aspect of this hunt you’ve yet to provide. What did you learn from your private sightseeing?” His eyes narrowed on her and she did the same to him.

He seemed strangely pleased with himself. Far too pleased, it was suspicious. Rook nodded, quickly twisting and dipping low to retrieve her journal from her bag. It was still opened to the page she was writing it, slightly crinkled from being thrown back into the crowded space, and extended it to Emmrich. A moment passed with neither of them moving. His arms remained behind his back, silently thumbing at one of his bangles to calm his nerves.

“Didn’t you want to see my work?” She asked.

“Read it to me.”

That… caught her off guard. The way he said it wasn’t necessarily curt or forceful, but it carried a simplistic sort of authority that lacked his usual gentleness. Not cold but not warm either. There was no way that wasn’t on purpose, and she did well to hide her excitement behind an air of ignorance once it clicked. Back to the notes she went.

“Well, to start, I noticed that as I went deeper, the burials became older. And at first, it was sort of random, so the garden’s paths were created after most of the deceased were buried, yes?” To her question, Emmrich simply hummed in approval. Rook faltered for half a second, and it showed in her voice as she continued. “The path I took led back to more recent graves compared to what we had seen earlier. The first one I marked as A.N., I guessed it was after the end of the monarchy and possibly belonged to someone a part of the group who fought for the dismantling. ‘Hail to the Greater Mourning who finds a silent watcher ever yearning.’ I think is what the headstone said, Greater Mourning referring to the soldiers who defected from the royal army. If the grave didn’t have candles, I would have guessed the guy sucked like the other one but clearly people still like him so…”

Emmrich moved, keeping a distance away from her as he made his way to the wall housing the only windows. He stood between the two much like Rook had earlier but allowed his shoulders to rest against the cool surface. He memorized the way the speckling of light hit her, and this time the candlelight behind her did glow to highlight form a ring around her shoulders. Much better than the shadows from before.

“The other ones were easier to figure out, I think. One grave had brass engravings instead of gold, probably couldn’t afford it. The ones beside it were all brass as well, so that led me to wealth scarcity. Still during the monarchy just before the revolution. Then we had the monument, that was probably a donation as it wasn’t labeled with any specific name but there was a dedication to the hungry and the figure was holding a basket. Famine, during the Ravening Era. Morbid name, by the way.” She tutted disapprovingly.

Her gaze flicked back to him again. He was just standing there. Silently. Something unnerving crept through Rook’s veins. It was difficult to make out his features in the darkness, but she could see the glint of his glasses as his head turned and followed it to try and find where he was looking. Was… was he checking her out? If he was, he certainly didn’t seem pleased with it.

“Go on.” He said, lacking any encouragement.

“Are you going to stay quiet the whole time I do? Aren’t you supposed to tell me if I’m right or not?” She asked.

“Do you require my approval for every observation, Miss de Riva?”

Oh, something was definitely up.

“Are you cross with me, Professor?” Rook closed the notebook and brought her hands to rest in front of her, inverting Emmrich’s stance.

“Not in the slightest.” It didn’t sound like a lie. And he had been smiling when he found her. But still, something wasn’t right. This was a different melody line than she found herself associating with Emmrich. A simple line of repetitive, low tuned piano chords. They were left to thrum in the extended quiet so Rook felt it more in her core than in her extremities.

”I know asking you to play a game with me during our session wasn’t on the schedule. But, to be fair, I thought a little distraction might help.” She felt the need to defend her reasoning, a squirming sensation racking up her spine that she froze against.

“I said I wasn’t cross.”

“Yes, but you seem upset about something.” It was putting her on edge.

“Well then, let me reassure you.” Emmrich took a few small steps forward, greatly shortening the distance between them as there realistically wasn’t a lot of space to be separated to begin with. “You needn’t be so worried about trying to please me. I’m not upset, or angry, or frustrated.” His usual tone returned. Smooth and dignified. Rook hadn’t realized how soothing it was until his voice had briefly become devoid of it. “I’m simply trying to decipher something.”

The back of Rook’s heel pressed against his satchel on the ground. “Emmrich…” She tilted her head to the side, looking up with a quizzical expression. There was something recognizable in this for her. A dip into the puddle he would often skirt around. This time it wasn’t a slip followed by a reactionary tightening of the jaw. He appeared calm, filled with purpose. Closer again. Violins played beneath the piano.

“I can handle your provocations, and I was under the impression that it was simply something part of your personality.” He spoke quietly.

“It is.”

“Most definitely. But now, I’m starting to believe there’s more to it.” He was close enough at this point that Rook could feel some of his body heat trying to needle against the exposed parts of her skin.

But his arms remained behind him. She could move to either side, he was leaving her the option. Rook was so accustomed to him trying to keep up with her that admittedly she was a bit thrown by his demeanor. “Oh?” She wanted to ask but lacked a proper way to articulate it. Her mind fizzled as his scent caught up to her. Had he always smelled like that? Yes, he had. Like fresh soil and frankincense.

“You’re looking for something. Aren’t you, Miss de Riva?” He asked.

“Rook.” She corrected. Their lesson was over, that much was clear.

“Rook.” He agreed. The grip on her journal tightened. Emmrich noticed she was wearing a swatch of pale, pink glitter under her brow. “You’re a rather peculiar young woman.”

“Would you believe me if I said that’s the first time anyone has said that to me?” She teased, a fraction of her usual confidence returning.

“I would. Because I believe I’m one of the only people who’s been able to hold themselves together long enough for them to tell you that. But you don’t exactly make it easy.” He leaned forward and Rook craned her neck expectantly. “How much longer until our session ends?” She attempted to glance down at her watch but Emmrich’s hand moved to the small space between their bodies. There was no contact but it blocked her sight from her hands. “Don’t check. How much time?” He asked again, and the answer came almost instantly.

“A little more than 20 minutes.” And her vision was full of him again. Tracing and mapping the lines on his face as though they were a secret map to his thoughts.

Something began to click into place. “You keep a timer in your head most of the time but you needed to stretch the minutes with something.” A sense of urgency, blood pumping. Not quite a trick but a gentle nudge towards a goal. No, Rook wasn’t so sinister as to do that.

It wasn’t malicious, it was beneficial. Mutually. But now the question was why? Monetary gain or something else? There were too many variables. What he could tell from all of these moments, all of this time he had spent with her, was that Rook was rather meddlesome. She can’t help herself for whatever reason unbeknownst to him. She had to poke, had to be involved, and she had something to gain by doing so. He couldn’t give in to that. The extended hand shifted, grasping against the edge of the sarcophagus and boxing in her left side. The options were closing in, and time was ticking. Heavy snare rattled in her bone marrow.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe you’re giving me too much credit?” Her words came out breathier than normal, and she swallowed to try and steady it.

“Not for a single moment. There was a reason you left the ‘prize’ so vague.” He added. Rook was surprised to see him figuring out aspects of her intentions. She had left it vague on purpose. Anticipation, letting imagination take hold. “Perhaps you’d allow me the opportunity to choose what I consider ‘worth my while’?”

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Rook could hardly contain herself. There he was, she found him at last. It wasn’t transpiring exactly how she figured but that didn’t matter. The grin on her face was the proverbial nail in her coffin from Emmrich’s perspective. All he had to do was play into it, just a little. If he had know Rook was this prone to excitement then he could have nipped this in the bud much sooner.

Meanwhile, her thoughts were a whirlwind. Rook kept multiple condoms in her bag but there was always one tucked into her bra whenever she had an appointment, even if that wasn’t part of the initial contract. “Of course. You did win, it’s only fair.” All he had to do was make a choice, take the lead and move. It was so simple. It would be so easy. Her muscles screamed and the pain flowing down her leg could be more easily forgotten.

This woman had been tormenting him. And Emmrich felt entirely vindicated for it. He couldn’t be angry, how could he possibly even begin to? Her knees buckled as he got close. How could he ever be cross with that? It was almost pitiful. And it was nothing short of a miracle their bodies hadn’t crashed together before this moment, even more so now, they still weren’t touching. Maker, he wanted to but he could hold it in just a little longer. Their appointment would end and he could leave.

Lavender eyes, so saccharine and misty at the corners. The tips of her fingers hooked under the hem of her skirt, slowly raising the material. She knew he wanted to look, wanted to touch. It was in the way his bracelets clattered when his free hand went low and met the etched surface above her elbow. Nowhere left to go now. And in her mind she was begging for him to show her the dance again.

“I believe you’re enjoying this far too much, my dear.” It was his turn to make her crack. Making him go on a ridiculous chase, always taunting him, crossing far too many boundaries. He had to know why.

“Don’t act like you’re not having fun.”

“Forgive me, I should rephrase…” His voice lowered. “I would like very much to hear you say exactly what you’re wanting from me.”

“I want you to d-” There was humming but not in her head and not coming from Emmrich’s chest.

A bell began to toll.

Loud and full of doom.

Too close to not be the one outside.

Rook’s notebook slipped from her trembling fingers. Panic splattered across Emmrich’s features with just enough time for her to understand that they probably weren’t supposed to be in here. Her right hand wrapped around Emmrich’s tie and yanked, back pressing flat against the sarcophagus as her body slid. Everything else that followed was quick and instinctual.

Emmrich fell to his knees atop the hard, cold stone. The noise his jewelry made being drowned out by how tremendous the sound of the bell echoed in the small space. Rook stifled a wince as she settled into a deep wall-sit, having to hover several inches above their bags. Each heel stabbed into the stone just outside of Emmrich’s legs. Ow, ow, ow, Gods damned leg, ow, fuck! Not now, any time but right now, please.

There wasn’t much time to process what was happening aside from the very apparent. Rook made a pained expression, her legs were quaking, and it was making his bangles rattle with his hold on her waist. So when the second bell chimed, he didn’t have time to think of an alternate solution. Both hands found the underside of Rook’s nylons and he… pulled her towards him.

The gold went quiet, muffled against the plush expanses of Rook’s thighs. Locked hip to hip with assistance from his cupped hands and her half sit on his lap. He could feel the presence of his satchel touching his right knee. Heavy footfall bounced off the walls. A hot puff of air stuck to his neck with his nose buried in her hair.

The door creaked.

Both of their bodies still and the footsteps became the loudest thing either of them had ever heard. In Emmrich’s head, he was screaming at himself. The groundskeepers. He should’ve blown out the candles as he went but he hadn’t been thinking because of Rook’s-

Rook…

In the silence they fell into, every sense jumped to take over. A chill ran up his spine like frozen nails being dragged up the vertebrae. The air around them grew unbearably hot, especially against his hands. He felt bare skin, soft and… Wait, why did he feel bare skin? She was wearing tights.

Andraste's fucking breath, did these things have cutouts? He hadn’t meant for his grip to tighten but Rook felt the moment of realization. The cold sting of his rings warming against her. She also felt something else. One of his fingers twitched and grazed the lace edging of her thong. His body silently shuddered. A deep breath through the nose, drinking in the scent of a perfume that haunted his dreams.

It took everything in his power to not roll his hips into her, or to pull her even closer just to have a second of friction.

Someone loudly exhaled before the footsteps returned. Please just blow out the candles and leave, Emmrich thought to himself. Neither of the figures on the floor breathed. Not until they heard the door creak again and chatter as it closed. The humming returned but softened. A waft of relief settled down his neck. For a second there he was petrified they’d been caught. There was no other way to interpret what was happening other than as an act of sanctimonious exhibitionism. His hands were still up her skirt and he was half hard, there was no way of explaining that.

Another handful of seconds passed where neither Emmrich nor Rook spoke a word. The sound of each other’s breath heavy in their ears. The thunderous heartbeat in Emmrich’s chest reverberated against her balled up fists clinging to his cardigan and shirt. He had to stop this. While he still had a sliver of consciousness left from the shock of the intrusion, he had to. But Rook couldn’t take it.

“Emmrich…” No, no, don’t say his name right now. Not in that tone. Please, Rook have mercy. His fingers twitched again and she inhaled sharply. “You haven’t moved your hands away.” The words rounded against his jaw.

“Your ankle is trapping the back of my leg.” He muttered, she his mustache clip the edge of her ear. Her ankle rolled.

“So it is.”

“Rook, we can’t do this.” The pulse in his chest was music to her ears. He couldn’t take this from her now, not without a fight.

“Why not? You were the one who grabbed me by the legs and dragged me to your cock.”

“That wasn’t-” Deep breath in. “I apologize for that but this isn’t the agreement we had.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a contract tweaked. We can smooth over the details later.” Her argument was enunciated by the smallest shift in her hips. Left hand gliding up his chest until her finger ran through the hair at the back of his neck.

“But I can’t change the contract. I can’t.” No matter how good it felt. The back of a thigh pressed into the strain in his slacks. He couldn’t move his fingers in time to stop it grazing past the lace again, closer to the core, wet. Was this turning her on? Genuinely?

Fuck. Stop. They couldn’t ruin this. He wouldn’t let them ruin this. He got carried away before, trying to get her to confess to whatever her confounded scheme was. Swept up in the moment that’s all it was. He would have stopped before it escalated to this. This wouldn’t have even happened had they not been interrupted.

“Just this once.”

“It wouldn’t be just once.” He knew that already. It was part of his problem, part of why he had turned down her offer the first time.

“Then don’t let it be.” She sighed into his skin, fingers curling and pulling his head back. Her mouth crashed into the side of his neck but it came off as mostly ravenous teeth and brushes of sticky, soft lips. Emmrich swore his vision went white for a second.

[a-s-levynn]

How i draw hands

under the cut, sorry for the wait, love you all

OKAY so it has been a while i did one of these. I have a vague memory of @ghost-raven-7 you asking for hands.

I also have a foggy memory of @takemetoasgard you mentioning mouths, so if you want, i could do one for that as well? I'm kinda enjoying doing these. In all fairness, these also help me to figure out how i do stuff actually.

So HANDS

Mind you, i am still neither a proper artist not particularly good at what i'm doing. It is just what i'm using or looking out for currently.

Also there is a lot of text, sorry about that.

As always references references references. With hands it is nice, because you have ready made reference package a ttached to your body. But you still gotta find what helps you understand how it works in 3D.

As always i have to preface, that if you know anatomically how your hand works and looks will help. I mean if you know where are the larger muscle groups or the tendons, etc. We all love cool lines on a back of a hand drawing, but it is more satisfying to look at if the line indicating the tendon is actually at the correct place. So i can only recommend to look at at least some anatomy illustrations.

But beyond that, what helped me a lot, was to simplify the hand to 2D shapes and figure it out from there. But how i do that?

Take pictures. It makes it so much easier, than just simply holding my hand in a certain position. I can do that as well, but if i take a picture it usully helps more with the "understand it in 2D" thing.

I segment it roughly like this, but others do it differently. It doesn't really matter as long as you are consistent with it, and you understand why you put a segment where you did.

Usually the segment edges are at joint lines of your hand. For one, because the natural lines of the hand can guide it. Secondly, joints are the movement points. It is where the parts of the hand will bend.

And simplifying a pose and trying to make it work on paper, at least for me, is much easier when i moving 2D panes around the space, instead of a complex 3D object. At least this is how i understand it. But how that works in practicality?

Let's have an other picture of my hand. Excuse the quality. Also the lack of ST bracelets, but i need you to kinda see the lines of my otherwise amorph upper appendage.

So using the same blocking, this is roughly how the segments go. This is a tricky one, because of the the bending pinky and the general angle of the hand. But most prominently, the yellow pane folds in on itself, as if you are curling one corner of a piece of paper in front of itself.

You may notice that the blocking's edges are not as straight anymore, more curved. It is because of the perspective. If you want, you can think of your hand as a series of cylinders or tubes attached to each other. If you are not looking at it dead on, but from an angle, it is going to look curved.

Imagine a roll of toilet paper with a straight line running across it horizontally. From a very specific angle, it looks like a rectangle with a line. From any other perspective, you see that it is actually curved, amd the line won't be straight anymore. Also the top or bottom of it going to have a circe and all that. No more 90° angles. Same goes for the hand.

But with your hand, it is helped by the fact that your hand comes with build in lines, to guide you, and help you sell the 3D feel.

So have the above photo as a reference and do a step by step. Excuse me for not scanning or making a video, i am not on top of my game right now, but i'm trying.

Also watch me throw on my cord bracelet on there, to sell the illusion of curviture even further. I am not above cheap tricks to make it more believeable.

Of course if you throw some shading at it, it is going to further the illusion of the curves and 3D nature of a hand. It helps if you pick a proper lightsource not like me, but still. In general, if you shade the recesses and creases darker, then you can't miss too hard.

These are just the basics, you can refine or stylize it from here as much as you feel like it really.

Also, nails. I don't really like them, for me it messes up my anatomy more than i'd like to admit it, because i am way too lazy with them, but i know people who actually find adding them super helpful. So experiment!

And i think that's it for hands? If there is anything i should add, or needs more clrification on, please let me know and i'll either edit this, or add it in a reblog. And again, i apologize for taking this long.

[doodlemancy]

uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhh

so here's the deal re: this fucking horseshit. god i hate this.

i, personally, have mostly given up on trying to dodge inclusion in AI datasets. the stuff i make generally isn't what they're looking for anyway and there's no real way to 100% avoid being scraped short of becoming entirely invisible online, which would um, lead to me having no money and dying. that's part of the cruelty of all this, but also, in a way, it's the same risk artists online have always taken; if you want people to see your work, you have to post it knowing that some of those people are fucking lowlife piece of shit scumbags who will try to resell it on redbubble or something for a quick buck. AI is just a new and exhausting way for garbagey people to stink worse. i am not in any way excusing that behavior or trying to imply people should not be mad about it or that we shouldn't condemn this move and fight back. "if you don't want your work stolen, don't put it online" is the kind of shitty Internet Tough Guy talk i've always hated since my dA days. it's as useless and heartless as telling people that if they don't want their bikes stolen, they shouldn't leave them at the bike rack. i'm saying that i, personally, will not let a bunch of soulless thieving shitheads drive me offline. i belong here. they belong in a wifi-proof dumpster.

nightshade and glaze eat my artwork alive. they make it look terrible. when you have to sell things on the basis that they look nice, it's a big problem when protective measures make them look like dogshit. my work is not a good candidate for these processes. even if that weren't the case, i don't have the stamina, especially right now while my chronic pain is flaring for the third month in a row and my adhd meds are scarce, to go back and shade/glaze everything, and it wouldn't work on reblogs anyway. given the way midjourney and its equally stinky siblings have already scraped years and terabytes' worth of image data from popular websites, it doesn't seem worth my time. if you think it is worth yours i am not going to like, yell at you. i am just one person. but i want to be clear about the kind of situations some of us are being forced into.

i think some of the doomsaying about AI and what it will do to us has been overblown-- they need you, for marketing purposes, to believe that someday their shitty robot will be as good at "drawing" and as practical to work with as a human-- but the consequences of "AI" (which is not even actually AI) are already real and visible and obvious to anyone paying attention. i unfortunately am not infinitely wise and powerful and therefore do not have an ideal all-encompassing solution to this deeply stupid problem that the Most Unlikeable Manbabies On Earth have imposed on us after NFTs fizzled out.

what i do have is a very large repository of nice anime and game screenshots i've taken, knowledge of many archives of nice public domain images, a computer that can run nightshade overnight or while i'm off doing other things, and, most importantly, near-infinite capacity for pettiness. i do kinda feel like the jury is still out on how well nightshade/glaze will work in the long run, but in the meantime, i suppose it wouldn't cost me a lot to... perhaps... every time i get Mad About AI™, channel that anger into dumping some thoroughly-but-not-spammily-tagged, high-quality, inconspicuous poison onto this godforsaken hellsite via a secret side blog. i could make a batch of poison ahead of time, keep it on my phone, use my Toilet Scrolling Time or my Public Transit Time to post and tag up an image here and there. it could be a fun challenge to try to make some pretty robot poison that some humans will still enjoy.

the other thing we need to poison at this point, IMO, is the word "AI" itself, by being loudly and mercilessly critical of any company that dabbles in it, the same way we all clowned on any company that pushed their luck with NFT/crypto shit a couple of years ago. we need to have every corporation terrified that association with AI will tank their sales and hurt their brand. AI must = number go down and lots of people screaming at you. companies will fuck around. we must provide the finding-out. we shouldn't have to. but we can!

so make sure to let tumblr know you hate this. maybe you could include this interesting link (tw child abuse) about how Stable Diffusion was trained on some extremely serious crime. or these screenshots of Midjourney devs just sort of admitting what their whole thing is, which i got here but which have kinda been spread all over since January.

spite and anger can be forms of hope. that's all i have to say, or at least all i'm willing to type with my left hand tonight.