#save a writer

[iriel3000]

At a pub crawl. Don't have day 28 done

Trying to write in the restroom, but someone always goes with me!!

#writer problems

[c0smic-coral]

reblogging to help my fellow writers

I am a(n):

⚪ Male

⚪ Female

🔘 Writer

Looking for

⚪ Boyfriend

⚪ Girlfriend

🔘 An incredibly specific word that I can't remember

[likesomeoneinlovee]

𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐭

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!reader

Summary: Joel jerks off to the knowledge of you taking a bath after waking up with a hard on.

Warnings: Male masturbation, pervy ass Joel, you are unaware that the horny old man is jerking off! Joel calls himself daddy, [ Under water ] Unprotected PIV, No foreplay no nothin just straight up fuckin’. Dirty talk. No beta, ya girl dont got TIME!

A/N: This has been rotting in my drafts so I just thought I’d wrap it up and post it while im sleeping over my grandmas 😒 ALSO IK I JUST POSTED DAMN.

Word Count: 2,070

Joel didn’t remember falling asleep like this.

How the thin sheet he had wrapped himself in now formed a tent over his thighs.

Oh, fuck. 

Morning– or, I guess for him it was afternoon wood. Off from work the idea of a nap sounded mouthwatering for once, the way his back sunk into the mattress no matter how firm it actually was. Feathery softness of the pillow behind his head. He hadn’t even bothered to much as wash his hands let alone take a shower.

Now aware, sentient his mind came to that familiar feeling of the need to plunge his cock into his fist. Shaft sticking straight up with his tip pushed against the cotton of his briefs. Leaking.

“Goddamn– fuck.” 

It wasn’t ideal. 

Neither was the dewiness of the sweat that had seeped uncomfortably into his skin. A musk that steamed off of him. 

He threw his legs over the side of his mattress, running worked fingers through his greying curls. Fuckin’ inconvenient. His palm slapped down onto the back of his phone that slept face-down on his end table. Picking it up to check the time. 

2:44 PM 

Before he left for work it was almost as if he could still hear your sweet voice telling him you were going out with your friend ‘til three. Sixteen minutes until you were back home. Sixteen minutes to jump into the shower and fuck himself. Unfortunately in the literal sense.

He popped up from his bed with a long rumbling moan that followed. 

Jesus Christ. He was fucking hard.

It was a heavy footed march towards the bathroom– out his door. Down the hallway. To the door on the right. 

The door was closed while he remembered leaving it open. Not that it mattered. Honestly he was so fuckin’ screwed right now he didn’t know his left from his right let alone when or if he actually closed the bathroom door.

He was just about to turn the knob when he heard something.

The grinding squeak of the faucet.

Water pouring out into the tub. Slapping against the pearly porcelain.

Just his fucking luck.

It would figure you’d be home now outta all times. It was out of the ordinary for you to actually come and leave the time you said you would. Joel got lucky sometimes. The days you actually did so.

Today, unlucky. More than usual. 

All the while you were meandering around the bathroom. Looking through every cupboard and drawer for things a fifty-seven year old man would never EVER store in his bathroom let alone go out of his way to buy.

But then one pull of the cabinet underneath the sink you saw it, the holy grail of this old man’s bathroom. One singular, milky white bath bomb. 

Oh my god. In a home like his it was as if you were a miner who had struck diamond. A rarity, absolute gem. 

You picked up the round chalky bulb within your palm, bringing it over to your bath. Using your pointer as a thermometer to check the water. Hot, steaming. Perfect. Stripping yourself from your clothes as you stepped into the tub one leg at a time. Soon enough it was your full body swimming within. Dropping the bath bomb in, biting your lip down to contain the ecstatic smile on your face as it fizzed.

Blissed.

Joel heard all of this. 

Shocks wracking to his cock just at the simple sound of the clanks of your belt as it dropped to the tiles of the bathroom. 

The water of the tub swishing back and forth as you sunk in. He could only imagine the sight. How much harder he’d be if he got to saw you slippery and wet, your naked body glistening with the hot water of the tub, face flushed from the warmth.

Fuck he’d give anything.

For weeks it was you in his dreams. The girl makin’ his cock stick up every time he woke up. At first the thoughts would make his stomach sink, chest tightening at the thought. He was sick. 

He was still sick. Although, he didn’t have the energy to be ashamed. 

He moved closer to the door as his breath hit the chipping, white painted wood. His hand moved down to squeeze his dick pulsing in his boxers. Gripping it, fuckin’ hating it for the ruthlessness. The cruelty. 

“Oh, baby.”

Whispering to no one as he pulled himself out of his boxers. His tip drippin’ with precum. Eyes screwed shut. Joel Miller was a sore fucker to in his head to tell you how he felt. Although he could easily bounce his fist up and down his stiff cock as you washed your pretty body that he spent his free time watchin’. Craving. Only separated by the door between. 

“Fuck. Makin’ daddy’s cock so damn hard you don’t even know.”

Moving lips pressed against the cold door. 

“You don’t even know, babygirl.”

No, you didn’t. And if this man wasn’t such a pussy those unspoken fuck-feelings that you damn well both felt for each other wouldn’t have to be so unspoken. 

He could tell you. He could tell you how you were gettin’ him harder than any disgustingly vulgar porno could get him. Than any pill he could swallow dry to get his dick workin’ again. The thought of you his own personal Viagra without needing to consume anything. 

The mind was a powerful thing. 

His fist pumped. Sloppy with himself as he had no need to go at a pace that made sense, that had that rhythm. He didn’t need to give himself that. Twitching as his bulbous head sputtered out slick that trickled down the length. 

His throat was tight as his hips jerked. Fuck fuck fuck. Pushing the tip of his cock into the door, already so close as if he had any need to control himself as he was trying to get this done. Get the job finished so he could go back to normal.  

Gaudily clutching, hugging his fat dick with his fist. His hips stuttering til–

“Oh, f–fuck–!”

Too goddamn loud.

The hand that he had braced against the thick trim surrounding the door now palm his mouth. Oh this was really stupid. He was making it even stupider, riskier. 

If he continued to hold this sounds deep within his throat it’d explode. Or– at least it’d feel like that. His balls were drawing up, tightening uncomfortably taut. His pace slopping, slowing as ever quick yank and pull turning into a long, drawn stroke down the length. 

Another bubbled up. This time as he reached that peak. 

Cumming into his palm. Opaque seed spitting out onto the door.  

“Sweetie. Fuckin–!”

“...Joel!?”

The curses were the most obvious, seemingly too ashamed to really drive home those so-very-cute pet names as he moaned. 

You knew the sound of a moan, though. Maybe you were young but you weren’t a fucking dumbass. The sound of a male orgasm was much different than that ‘I stubbed my toe’ type groan. Even yell.

He felt his cheeks heat up instantaneously. He had no more excuses left in him unless he were to sputter meaningless claims. Begging you to believe he had just stubbed his toe on the bathroom door.

Aftershocks still running through his body in waves. Panting like a dog. Sweating like a pig.

You were basking in the warm water. Your heartbeat took quickly to picking up. Joel Miller. The man old enough to be your fucking father standing outside your bathroom jerking off to the little splashes of the water? Imagining your naked body on the other side.

And you. You were just a girl after all. Couldn’t help the curiosity that pumped in your veins.

“Joel, come in!”

He’d hesitate. How could he not? His breathing still ragged. His cock had hardly even gone soft. But goddamn if he didn’t see you he knew he’d absolutely be killing himself. Turning the knob like heaven was on the other side of it. —For him, it was even better than that. More exciting than eternal life.

The door was kicked open as he singled you out. Staring. Your body was slick as the lighting from the window sheened over your body. He was in there quick. Ripping his briefs off his thighs. By five seconds his cock began to stiffen again. Your tits glazed with the bubbly, soapy water that filler the bath. The normally clear bath water milky, fizz bubbled to the top from the bath bomb that had evaporated as Joel worked himself to his orgasm.

You’ve got his body overworked and you haven’t even touched him yet.

So worked up he forgot he even had his flannel on as he got into the tub. Water that just barely reached the top spilling out onto the tiles, he’d have to wipe that after. The thick fabric of his shirt clinging onto his skin like a fuckin’ lifeline. Hugging the soft muscle.

Stiffed. Once again stiffed. Slapping up against his belly as his hands gripped at your thighs.

“Joel—“ You’d mewl, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He had you.

“This pretty pussy. I ain’t never fuckin’ seen her before.

Why you been so cruel, huh?” He was rambling.

He pushed his head into you. Seeing you stretch out, getting used to the feeling of his tip first. Then he’d slowly let himself sink into your cunt. Gripping your thighs, his hips spasmed.

“Joel!” Another moan. Desperately clinging to him, wet hands placed on his fabric-covered shoulders.

“Got me jerkin’ off out there like a fuckin’ teenager.”

He whimpered, his pace already taking no time to quicken, expeditious and brisk. The man wanted to fuck you senseless. Taking your lips to his, pushing his tongue down your throat. Every moan between the two of you vibrating between your lips. Joel’s cock plunging in and out.

In. And. Out.

Rutting into you with every fiber of his fuckin’ being. He never felt a girl like this— so good, so beautiful and so fucking tight.

Joel Miller has never been so fuckin’ pussy-whipped.

The water of the tub was splashing, spluttering, it was messy. It was quick. Yet he knew afterwards, once the aftershocks yet again dissipated maybe he’d fuck you again. And again. And again—

“God— Fuck yes, Joel! Right there. Right there.”

Nibbling his neck every time his head curved up to kissed that soft spot that made you wanna squeal.

“Daddy’s gonna fuckin’ fill this sweet little cunt.”

He’d moan

“Fuck you S’good.”

His brain was mush. The filthy fucking words uttering from his lips weren’t ones he necessarily put thought into— or, better yet. He put none at all. His thrusts were getting tighter, rigid. His stiffy painful with every clenching, the contraction of the muscles in your hole.

You felt your climax right there. Right. There. Every time his fat dick carved a line right on your cervix you’d cry again, your fingers clawing, ripping down the fabric of his now soaked flannel. He was so practiced. Intently watching the contortions of your face. Your pelvis blew with the intensity of your orgasm, panting into the side of his neck, feeling that familiar euphoria you had always found by the touches of your own hand.

His peak followed close. Spilling his semen into your cunt shamelessly filling you to the brim. He didn’t fuckin’ care about the risks. Not now, definitely not now. All he cared about was how good you felt around him, deep within the hot water of this tub. His tub.

“Oh fuckin’ shit. Baby.”

Momentarily you felt as your eyes would roll back into your skull at the feeling of his cum being beat into your cunt, your orgasm forcing ecstasy making you smile against his neck. His hand braced on your belly, feeling the heat and tightness in your gut settle now that it was all done.

All done?

Miller’s been waitin’ months for this, ain’t no way in hell you were all done. He was gonna make you feel it again. Feel all of it again. Once, twice, three times over— all until you’re squirmy, all until you’re beggin’ him to let you take that breather.

“I fuckin’ love this pussy. Can’t get enough.” He’d drawl.

His face buried into the crook of your neck. Tongue flicking in light, lazy kitty-licks against the skin.

This’ll be lasting til’ the water’s cold.

[pastawayallday]

I couldn’t resist, I had to draw something from Firefight by @remedyturtles . I’m obsessed, I legit cry at every chapter.

[sunderwight]

A fun prospect for Superhero-themed SV AU's that I don't often see is genre dissonance. Like, Luo Binghe as this edgy 90's style antihero who just straight up kills his enemies and sleeps around and is driven by selfish motives (revenge, ambition, etc) rather than altruistic morality, vs Shen Qingqiu as this kid-friendly supervillain who is "evil" mostly in terms of aesthetics and his ability to make inconvenient problems that are reasonably safe for child heroes to solve. Something like Punisher vs Team Rocket in terms of vibes.

Maybe the reason they meet is because some big publishing house akin to Marvel or DC just bought up the rights to whole bunch of older, discontinued comics titles, and decided to do a Justice League/Avengers style mash-up with a bunch of nostalgia properties and their most recognizable heroes and villains. Which means lots of crossovers condensing several titles into a handful of series.

Luo Binghe's origin always features him as a teenager, so he reboots as the youngest Avenger-equivalent team member in the new continuity. Even in this reboot, however, the writers still mostly go the gritty and dark route with his plots and stick to the same key developments -- his abandonment as an infant, his adoptive mother's tragic death, his tough life on the streets, abusive mentors and backstabbing "allies", and so on.

But Luo Binghe's life suddenly starts experiencing periods of dramatic change in his life when he's brought in for appearances in the lighter, friendlier world of the Junior Heroes continuity. After all, he's a natural choice for tying the two continuities together thanks to his youthfulness. Luo Binghe isn't consciously aware of the fact that he's moving between different titles and different writers. All he knows is that sometimes, when he hangs out with the bright and talented Ning Yingying, he's drawn into "conflicts" with Shen Qingqiu -- the kind of "villain" who will call for tea breaks, never actually hits anyone when he shoots his ray gun, leaves clues for all of his crimes, and can't seem to stop from imparting genuinely helpful advice in between his witty quips and taunts.

When Luo Binghe fights Shen Qingqiu, somehow he never actually gets hurt. Neither do any of his friends. The world in general seems brighter and lighter, as if there is some secret barrier protecting everyone from all the evils Binghe knows only too well exist in the rest of his life. Luo Binghe is increasingly convinced that Shen Qingqiu is the source of this mystical safety net. After all, for an allegedly powerful genius who is able to fool half the world about his wicked aims, he's never won a single fight against a kindhearted but somewhat ditzy teenager and her ragtag bunch of friends!

So what's he spending his actual energy on?

Luo Binghe is pretty sure it's keeping the real evils at bay. Making himself the biggest bad in town, and in doing that, making it so that the "biggest bad" is nothing worse than a slightly judgmental teacher in a pretty costume.

It's not long before Luo Binghe doesn't want to go back to the Justice League equivalent, to his world of misery and strife, even after his visits with Ning Yingying are supposed to be over. Especially as the global stakes of various heroic activities start getting higher, and it becomes clear that the boundary between Shen Qingqiu's safe world and the grimdark reality of Binghe's usual life are getting thinner...

[iriel3000]

No work is ever wasted. And if it’s not working, let go and move on — if it’s useful, it’ll show up again.

Pixars 22 Rules of Story Telling

[ballpointsbenny]

As promised, here is my Shen Yuan AU, the "tiger of Bai Zhan" shen yuan (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

I wanted to make something for the mascs and tops in the audience because in my humble opinion we need more big rugged shen yuan. (Also cuz I ship him so hard with sqq and them being total opposites has my brain going brrrrrr)

So what is this about? Basically in this au shen yuan is this absolute fiend who joins Bai Zhan at like 10, ( also meeting sqq by accident while on his way to the mountain). He's unapologetically fixated on everything monster and demon related, he has no qualms about beating the fuck out of anybody who makes fun of him, he's strong he's careless and an absolute headache to every single one of his shixiongs to a point where they have to send him away on missions and isolation training just to get him off their backs. He goes to brothels once he's old enough and does not care for any sort of chastity, drinking and having fun as much as he pleases and his peak is absolutely unable to stop him because he's one of their best assets.

I'm working through his backstory and why he ended up like this (he's still a transmigrator) but this post is already lengthy enough (⁠⌐⁠■⁠-⁠■⁠)

I'll definitely draw more stuff for this tho (⁠ ⁠՞⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠՞⁠）

Also I need a weapon idea for him cuz sword just sounds boring and not like him at all, maybe just straight up fists will do? ◖⁠⚆⁠ᴥ⁠⚆⁠◗

More art for this AU!!

[ahmadalturk]

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[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

BELLE A DONNA 🥹

the way this hurts me so much, I shall bill u for my therapy.

hankel is literally the worst fucking episode I can’t stand it but just thinking about how much I would love on my sweet baby pretty boy Spencer and want to take his pain away

it’s the way he needs and craves comfort but then wants to comfort r bc she’s so sad too. GAH 😫

also let’s talk poetic, lyrical word choice? “grasping for silver linings like they’re needles in haystacks”, “the messy, desperate press of his plump lips”, “a low string of air”

girly pop you did the damn thing. I am there. I am taking care of Spencer and I’m crying in the club.

a/n: tobias hankel when i catch you… (divider from @reveriesources !!)

warnings: extreme angst, it’s hurt/comfort but it’s rly sad, basic spencer trauma, blood, showering together but it isn’t sexual, i watched the tobias hankel eps and i just wanna comfort him so here this is

going home with spencer reid after the team figures out where tobias hankel had taken him. once he’s been medically examined, he’s wrapped up in a jacket, tucked under your arm in the backseat of the suburban. he’s trembling under your touch, and you muster every last bit of your courage not to break down. you’re determined to be strong for him, he needs it.

it’s normally him cradling you like this, especially after tough cases, in your bed, or the couch, or even in the conference room if you can sneak a moment alone. it’s not to say that you’re weak, you’re just a bit more outwardly emotional than spencer. maybe a lot more outwardly emotional. it’s a hard job. it’s an impossible one right now, as you sit there, cradling your man as he shivers in your arms.

you’re practically on top of him, your arms coiled around his neck while your legs sling over his lap. his arms squeeze your waist, weak, deft fingers leave wobbly imprints on your plush skin, like he was trying to absorb you through his fingertips. your fingernails gently scrape his scalp, your body on overdrive as you so desperately try to comfort him, to calm him. anything to stop this godawful shaking you don’t think your heart can handle it much longer.

“i’m sorry…” your head snaps up at the sound of his voice, your heart dropping to your stomach.

“spencer?” you struggle to find your breath as his name passes your lips, your voice is hoarse from crying.

“i’m sorry…” he whines in a far off tone, eyes half shut, “imsorryimsorryimsorry-”

“spencer!” you cut him off, cradling his jaw in your hands as you get him to look at you, lightly tapping his face to force his eyes open, “spencer, it’s me. you’re safe.”

you see it in his eyes when it clicks, when he sees you. the relief is palpable, it’s contagious. you stay in each other’s arms the entire ride home. the second you get in the elevator of his apartment building, he breaks. he collapses into you, a sob escaping his lips.

“oh, spencer,” you gasp out, lightly kissing his lips, testing the waters.

“i thought of you the whole time,” he sobs, kissing you again, deeper this time. you move in time with each other until the ding of the elevator breaks you apart.

your heart just aches at the sight of him. his brows are furrowed, his eyes screwed shut as tears flow like a waterfall down his sweet, sweet face. you hastily wipe at his wet cheeks, it’s the closest thing you have to being able to take his pain away.

“i thought of you, an-and my mom,” he chokes out even more sobs at the acknowledgment of diana, and you kiss his salty cheek as you prepare him to exit the elevator.

he takes a deep breath to try and quiet his sobs as you walk through the hall to his apartment. he all but falls through the door, just barely holding himself up on the side table next to the entrance. you hastily wrap your arms around his middle from behind, cuddling into him when he relaxes in your hold.

“let’s get you in the shower, then you can sleep. okay?” you whisper, your cheek pressed to his back.

“okay,” he mumbles, and his garbled tone breaks you even more, which you didn’t even realize was possible.

once you’re both under the hot stream, you dedicate yourself to soothing him. you rub some of your body butter up and down his arms, along his back, massaging the skin until his muscles begin to relax. little whimpers slip past his lips as he loosens up under your touch, and it makes you feel on top of the world.

you revel in the pure intimacy of the moment- grasping for silver linings like they’re needles in haystacks- as you stand here, washing the lotion off his reddened and bruised skin. you catch a glimpse of the blood stained water swirling the drain, and you almost lose your composure. you falter in his arms, just a tad, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your eyes glass over.

“hey,” spencer whispers, oh so soothingly. he takes the body butter from the shower rack and dips his fingers in. the cold lotion on his deft fingers massages into your skin, and you finally let your eyes fall shut, “you were so brave for me today, hm? hotch told me all about it.”

the fact that he’s trying to comfort you is the trigger that unleashes the waterfall of tears you’ve held in since late that afternoon. memories of being in that godforsaken house flashes through your mind- seeing spencer so scared and frail on that computer screen, the adrenaline of sheer panic bursting from you like a fireball, hotch having to carry you from the room, your white knuckle grip on the kitchen table, the violent chattering of your teeth as you sobbed and heaved.

“i’m sorry, i need to stop,” you bury your face in your hands, desperately wiping at your tears as if the past 24 hours could wipe away with them.

“what? no you don’t,” he states matter of factly, “why did you say that, honey?” his brows are furrowed, and he looks so earnest, so unbelievably spencer. a small ray of light shines through the cracks in your heart, you just adore him.

you smile weakly, “becaaaauuuuseeee, my love,” you nudge him as you whine, almost childlike, “i want to be here for you. i need to be here with you, to make you feel better. i can’t do that if i’m blubbering like a whale!” you let out a wet gasp and turn your face into spencer’s large hand that’s cradling it.

“i don’t care what you’re saying,” he whispers out breathlessly, planting a sloppy kiss to your lips, “i don’t care what you’re doing,” another kiss, his hands roaming hastily around your body, like he needs help believing you’re real, “just as long as you’re here,” kiss, “as long as i have you, i’ll be okay. we both went through it, honey. cry it out, we’ll get through this together,” his voice breaks at that last word, and you grab him by the cheeks for a desperate, messy kiss.

you spend a few minutes like that, his lips devouring yours, tears streaming down both your cheeks. the messy, desperate press of his plump lips on yours is enough to erase the horrors of your day, just for a moment. he’s always had the power to do that to you, to make you feel like you’re on a different planet when you’re with him, no matter what is going on.

when you break apart, you press your forehead to his and attempt to regulate your breathing. he follows suit, so you grab his shampoo and work your fingers through his scalp. you’re so gentle, scrubbing lightly along his scalp to shed the dirt and grime from his hair. you study his every move, especially the way his head tilts back slightly as you scrub, eyes falling shut. he lets out a low string of air when you move his head under the stream of water, and you can’t help but plant a kiss to his sudsy neck.

once you lathered his body with just as much love and tenderness, and he so eagerly returned the favor, you two were finally ready to sleep in each other’s arms. you hand him your fluffiest towel, and allow him time to try off before you insist on moisturizing him before bed. he whines about it at first, a small little pout forming on his split lip. you kiss it, and it curls upward in a cheeky smirk.

“your skin needs it,” you promise, “plus, i kind of just want to touch all over you,” you wiggle your eyebrows flirtatiously. your first genuine smile all day appears on your lips at the blush on his cheeks. you never get tired seeing the effect you have on him. just like you did in the shower, you tenderly massage lotion into his skin, also applying an antiseptic to any minor scrapes or cuts, kissing them when he hisses at the sting.

you sit him down on the bed when you get back to your room, and grab a fresh pair of pajamas for him. he brings you between his legs, fingers intertwining with yours. “i love you,” he murmurs, and you smile.

“i love you more,” you reply against his lips, placing a quick kiss to them after, “let’s go to bed my love, let me hold you while you fall asleep, hm?”

you knew he could never say no to that.

[iriel3000]

This rant will self destruct in 5 seconds

WHY???

I do house work or paperwork or not fun whatever for HOURS and no one bugs me. THE MINUTE I START WRITING OR TRYING TO POST, the world needs me.

ARUGHAHGHAGHHGA😩

I am actually in the mood to write but no one else is in the mood to do what they are supposed to be doing so guess who keeps getting interupted every ten minutes.😭😖

and do I want my family or friends to know I write fanfic? NO! but that is when they need the computer(when they use their phone any other time) or stand directly behind me to talk to me as opposed in front like normal

it's a fucking conspiracy....

[wordsbyhisheart]

— Voices from Palestine, the hypocrisy of the west

[sillykawa]

Been thinking about Capitano all week.... so

Imagine a young Capitano before the fall of Khaenri’ah. With a wife and child—a little girl. The two most precious ppl in his life and he couldn't save them. Their death breaks him, the source of his hatred, because what did they ever do to deserve such a cruel fate. He longs to join them but death is something he cannot have so he carries their souls in his heart.

He wants to give all the fallen warriors a final resting place, but he also longs to see his family. Sometimes, in the sea of voices in his head, he hears his wife—and that’s what gets him through 500 sleepless years, to exact his revenge.

The cutscene where he’s climbing the stairs with all the warriors —at the top, next to the throne of flames, he finally sees his love, his family, waiting for him.

[adobe-outdesign]

Muppet fact of the day: One of the Muppet show's pilot episodes was called "The Muppet Show: Sex and Violence", but the Muppets are owned by Disney now and Disney really doesn't like the word "sex" so they insist on just calling it "the Muppet Show Pilot"

anyway reblog this forbidden image of Jim Henson in front of the Sex and Violence title card to make Disney mad

[drawnbythestream]

Started reading a promising-looking fic only to, yet again, find it to be full of characters being annoyed at and wanting to hit Qui-gon (for stuff he never even did in canon). Which is not my idea of a fun or productive use of my time. So I decided to recycle a Ponyo pose instead (because redrawing scenes from studio ghibli is calming)

[domiiomii]

Concept art and final render of Silco's office occupied by Sevika.

x

[help-alaas-family]

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