#sort of anatomy study? kind of?

[asexual-shelly]

yes she can be creature. As a treat.

[dandyshucks]

fellas.... the art is not going well tonight, I'm ready to start gnawing on my sketchbook

WOE to the artist who tries to draw shit above their skill level AUGH

[mangled-by-disuse]

also like if I may weigh in as someone who did their third-year anatomy project on a fat cadaver

uh

it's fine?

like i'm not saying i loved the amount of adipose (i.e. fat) tissue I had to remove to access the chest cavity (especially since it took up a LOT of embalming fluid so it was quite liquid a lot of the time), and it definitely required more work to access than a thinner cadaver might have. But ultimately, the hardest part of that project wasn't "oh no the cadaver is fat", it was "oh no I've never had to remove ribs before and I somehow wasn't prepared for this to involve pliers".

also, honestly, the parts of that cadaver with the most fat (breasts and jaw - I was dissecting for the laryngeal nerve, which is in the neck, so I didn't go below the first two ribs) were actually the easiest parts to remove the adipose tissue from, because you could do it in lumps. The hard parts to deal with are the thinner or visceral fat patches, because those are more delicate work - but you also don't know those are there until you get to them, because they're not visible from the outside and are just as likely to be significant in a skinny person as a fat one. (also they tend to be around the delicate structures you're looking for, whereas the fat which is most affected by being fat is the large areas immediately under the skin, like the belly and breasts and butt, which is on top of the core structures so it's easier to remove without needing to be super delicate.)

meanwhile the other person who had the laryngeal nerve project was working with a cadaver which had almost no body fat at all and she did NOT seem to be finding it significantly easier.

Time-wise, I actually finished my project second out of a class of 12, by the way, and did extra work on it (the chest investigation wasn't in the original plan, I just hit a point where I'd fully dissected and recorded the neck and throat and I still had four lab sessions left). Almost like the weight of a cadaver doesn't correlate directly to how long it takes to dissect. go figure.

The reason fat cadavers are not accepted for medical programmes is that you need to cut through every layer of fat carefully. Which takes time, and lab sessions are inherentely limited in that. It's better for med students to spend that time looking at what organs actually look like in bodies. This isn't fatphobia, it's just .. the way dissecting bodies works? In the same way surgeries on fat people take longer because there's just physically more tissue. The alternative would be to force the med students who get fatter cadavers to do more lab sessions at weird times outside of the usual schedules. Or force them to stay over the holidays. Or not let them get enough time to do the lab work they need to. Which imo would be a bit fucked up especially when med school is already so difficult and time-consuming.

It’s fatphobia. Fat bodies absolutely need to be studied. To ignore an entire demographic of oppressed individuals in the medical field for the sake of convenience(?!) is violence. Did you even read the article? They called working on fat cadavers “unpleasant.” It’s fatphobia and it’s unacceptable.

[talesfromthebandgeekmafia]

Holy shit I love my job. Today is Tea loving her job day.

[vetyr]

hi, i ireally love your work and i don't know if you've answered this before but, what kinds of studies do you do or how did you learn color theory? i wanna get better at rendering and anatomy but im having trouble TT TT

Hi! Long answer alert. Once a chatterbox, always a chatterbox.

When I started actively learning how to draw about 10 1/2 years ago, I exclusively did graphite studies in sketchbooks. Here's a few examples—I mostly stuck to doing line drawings to drill basic shapes/contours and proportions into my brain. The more rendered sketches helped me practice edge control & basic values, and they were REALLY good for learning the actual 3D structure behind what I was drawing.

I'd use reference images that I grabbed from fitness forums, Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest, and some NSFW places, but you could find adequate ref material from figure drawing sites like Line of Action. LoA has refs for people (you can filter by clothed/unclothed, age, & gender), animals, expressions, hands/feet, and a few other useful things as well. Love them.

Learning how to render digitally was a similar story; it helped a lot that I had a pretty strong foundation for value/anatomy going in. I basically didn't touch color at all for ~2 years (except for a few attempts at bad digital or acrylic paint studies), which may not have been the best idea. I learned color from a lot of trial and error, honestly, and I'm pretty sure this process involved a lot of imitation—there were a number of digital/traditional painters whose styles I really wanted to emulate (notably their edge control, color choices, value distributions, and shape design), so I kiiind of did a mixture of that + my own experimentation.

For example, I really found Benjamin Björklund's style appealing, especially his softened/lost edges & vibrant pops of saturated color, so here's a study I did from some photograph that I'm *pretty* sure was painted with him in mind.

Learning how to detail was definitely a slow process, and like all the aforementioned things (anatomy/color/edge control/values/etc.) I'm still figuring it out. Focusing on edge control first (that is, deciding on where to place hard/soft edges for emphasizing/de-emphasizing certain areas of the image) is super useful, because you can honestly fool a viewer into thinking there's more detail in a piece than there actually is if you're very economical about where you place your hard edges.

The most important part, to me, is probably just doing this stuff over and over again. You're likely not going to see improvement in a few weeks or even a few months, so don't fret about not getting the exact results you want and just keep studying + making art. I like to think about learning art as a process where you *need* to fail and make crappy art/studies—there's literally no way around it—so you might as well fail right now. See, by making bad art you're actually moving forward—isn't that a fun prospect!!

It's useful to have a folder with art you admire, especially if you can dissect the pieces and understand why you like them so much. You can study those aspects (like, you can redraw or repaint that person's work) and break down whether this is art that you just like to look at, or if it's the kind of art that you want to *make.* There's a LOT of art out there that I love looking at, probably tens of thousands of styles/mediums, but there's a very narrow range that I want to make myself.

I've mentioned it in some ask reply in the past, but I really do think looking at other artist's work is such a cheat code for improving your own skills—the other artist does the work to filter reality/ideas for you, and this sort of allows you to contact the subject matter more directly. I can think of so many examples where an artist I admired exaggerated, like, the way sunlight rested on a face and created that orange fringe around its edge, or the greys/dull blues in a wheat field, or the bright indigo in a cast shadow, or the red along the outside of a person's eye, and it just clicked for me that this was a very available & observable aspect of reality, which had up until that point gone completely unnoticed! If you're really perceptive about the art you look at, it's shocking how much it can teach you about how to see the world (in this particular case I mean this literally, in that the art I looked at fully changed the way I visually processed the world, but of course it has had a strong effect on my worldviews/relationships/beliefs).

Thanks so much for sending in a question (& for reading, if you got this far)! I read every single ask I receive, including the kind words & compliments, which I genuinely always appreciate. Best of luck with learning, my friend :)

[prettyboykatsuki]

best friend yuuji? you’ve just rang the dinner bell

i was just thinking like.

im adding this after writing but this is soooo fucking long lmao im sorry.

tags for fem!reader (reader is referred to as a girl many times, no explicit mention of anatomy), best friends to lovers, 18+ etc

okay. i feel like you and yuuji meet in a stereotypical way

yuuji is your best friend. you met when you guys were sat next to each other in school (classic case of quiet kid and loud kid) but yuuji is uber friendly so he naturally made friends with you. you guys always clicked. in a weird way. no one else could ever fully grasp it

but you just get each other. you have similar mindsets and find each other comfortable. so you grow up and into each other - and become best friends after a long while. he comes over a lot to yap while you study and while it looks one-sided - you often take care of and look after yuuji and make sure he's not carrying too much at once.

anyway . you have a really good relationship. you're not glued at the hip but it's like, you stick together so much people often ask where the other is when one of you is missing. you get older to around middle school and puberty starts to really . hit you know.

a lot of girls confess to yuuji in that time. it's normal. sure he's rowdy and loud but he's the kind of good guy you notice when you really talk to him. fundamentally good, and not crude and shallow like other boys your age. popular but not obviously. it's the first time in your relationship you are self conscious about being his best friend and just happening to be a girl

there's rumors and stuff. you and him never talk about it until some stuff happen (like yuuji seeing it cause problems) and then you talk. the gist of it is basically that - you're yuujis best friend in the world and nothing could change that. it doesn't matter who you are. he's just trying to show you he cares

and you realize right then you are in love with him.

years go by. you get a little older. you go through highschool much like middle school - with no boyfriend. yuuji dates infrequently but usually gets broken up with. this pattern repeats into college.

(what you don't know, because yuuji never bothered to ask - is that the girls he used to date broke up with him simply because he wouldn't shut up about you. everything he should've done with a girlfriend he did with you already. he even keeps pictures)

when you get into college and grow into adulthood, you and yuuji are still extremely close. you chose to stay home and so did he - so not much is very different. except now you're meeting all sorts of new people and having new relationships form.

you don't know how exactly it comes up. you're studying for an upcoming midterm, yuuji is talking about how he got turned out by the cute girl that he works with and he pauses and asks.

"you know, i know you study hard but you should have fun too," he says this laying in your bed like he owns it, turning his head to look at you where you're bent over your desk. "haven't you thought about getting a boyfriend now that you're in college?"

you are good at brushing this off. you've been doing it for years. you do not tell yuuji that you don't date guys even after you get asked out because you're in love. you just shrug and tell him straight.

"i already told you. im not going to think about dating until i'm finished with school and i've held my career for two years."

"but aren't you bored?" yuuji asks, sincere. he doesn't press you but he is being nosy. "i don't play around that much either but i don't know. a little is healthy. and you've always working hard. playing around with handsome guys might be fun."

"not gonna change my mind."

"don't you get i dunno," he lays on his back. "sexually frustrated, though?"

you pause. you flinch. you've never talked about this before.

you clear your throat a little. "don't be inappropriate. and i do the job myself just fine."

"i guess girls don't have to worry about losing their virginity as much as guys but,"

you try to move on as swiftly as you can from talking about this in relation to yourself. "you make it sound like you slut around, yuu-chan."

he laughs a little behind you. "well no but you know. it's nice laying with another person. only if we're together though."

"yeah, sure. good for you. stop pestering me about it then and go get a girlfriend."

"so mean," he replies, laying back on his stomach. "but do you really not care at all about losing it?"

you frown, swallowing the words explaining that you do care but not just anyone will do. you give him a half truth. a lie of omission.

"it's not that i don't care but it has to be with someone i trust a lot. i don't know any guys like that, so,"

"ehh?? what about me?"

you freeze. you're sure you're mishearing it. "what about you?"

"well... you trust me right? so i could help you with it until you do find a boyfriend,"

you turn around. surely not. surely you misheard. surely he did not tell you to have sex with him so casually. you turn around to verify he's fucking with you.

only to find the most blatant sincerity you've ever seen. he's never been entirely stupid but well. he has his moments.

"do you even know what you're saying? you have to get it up for me to do that."

"well sure. but im reliable and trusrtworthy. and maybe it'll relax you a bit."

you think at that point you're definitely losing your shit but no. unfortunately your guy is dead serious. and you know, yuuji is an idiot but he's not enough of an idiot to not know it's unconventional - but in the moment, in the second he asks, his reasoning is for good. he gets a weird little feeling thinking about you losing it to someone you don't trust you know?

you obviously debate with him on this. you refute him, even - telling him that there's no way he thinks that's a good idea. and you go back and forth and you stop him at some point. to just be like

"do you even think you could kiss me?"

and yuuji just stands to his feet, leans over your desk, and kisses you.

and well. after that, it's kind of like you can't keep your hands off of each other.

it's clumsy your first time. you have no experience. but yuuji is your best friend, and he's himself - so he's patient and gentle and sooo very helpful. he teaches you to kiss and breathe through your nose and open your mouth and all sorts of other things. he's big so it's kind of hard to put it in but he takes is time. the sex feels really, really good and is intimate - almost naturally because that's your very best friend in the entire universe.

and so like. you guys have sex. you dont really plan it or anything but somehow when you get alone - it just gets so, so tense and neither of you can seem to cool down.

and how could you, you know? you've always wanted to fuck yuuji and maybe, seemingly, he wants it too. he gets so red when you bend down on your knees and try to blow him and it makes you so confident. you just... start fucking all the time. and you guys have been so close that no one cares if you two are alone together or not.

and so like. you begin this intensely sexual relationship and miraculously unchanged relationship. like you hang out as normal. and you fuck alot. and it's amibigous and vague.

you're kind of torn up about it, but yuuji is the kind of guy to not hook up with more than one person - so it's not hard to delude yourself into dating. he's already sweet and cuddly and thoughtful. and you know, you've always been so, so strict with yourself. you're really on top of your shit you know? so you reason with yourself, fine. ill just do this and see what happens. it's not like you.

(but it's hard to be strict with yourself when he makes you cum six times you know.)

so weirdly, in a weird way - you're kind of fine. you're a bit numb, a bit adjusted to it.

BUT YUUJI? OH YUUJI IS GOING THROUGH IT.

look. i mean what i said about yuuji being sincere and dense about this whole thing. he really does just want to help you and he doesn't think anything of it. sure sex is for someone you love, but yuuji does love you so it's fine to him.

the problem? the problem is you go from looking like a vague, amorphous and wonderful friend whose appearance he rarely thinks of (outside of beautiful, because of course you are - you're his best friend)

and instead become the most insanely fuckable person he has ever laid his eyes on and it is . ruining his life.

again. it's not as if yuuji ever thought you were unattractive. beauty is bigger than appearance to him, always has been - and you've always been the most beautiful girl in every room because you had a lovely character to you. he adores you. as a friend.

he never.... saw you in any other way. not even when other people kept assuming he did. you're a girl so he knew people would try to box you into that with him regardless but it was never like that. or at least, in his head it was never like that.

sure, whenever he dates someone - he is subconsciously compares them to you and sure, no matter what the person he has the most fun with is you but that's normal right? best friends is a big deal after all

you have sex for the first time and it's like. all of a sudden he's seeing all these aspects of you completely different. it's such a dramatic shift for him. like.

but it's not.... just your body really. of course not. he's not just lusting after ou but there's just something different about how you look in his eyes. something about how you readjust your sweater, how you wipe the corners of your mouth. something about the way you look at his place with shorts and a comfortable shirt just barely riding up your stomach and matching fuzzy socks (that are kinda matted from being worn)

all of this is just so, so fucking sexy now. he gets the weirdest fluttery feeling and just . can't help but be on you. you don't even know what you do to him either, and how could you? but god it destroys him. really ruins him to see you all doe eyed. know how you feel when you cling onto his biceps.

for the longest time - he can barely figure out whats doing it to him.

and then like. one day you're finished having sex and you're both so tired you fall asleep. and you're at his place - naked in his bed. he wakes up in the middle of the night. he moves the covers you know, to get up and get a towel - wipe you down.

and then you sort of hold onto him. still asleep. you let out a very soft whiny nooo, and he just. finds it so cute. so without thinking, he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead and tells you to keep sleeping which you comply with bc ur not awake anyway.

and then when he sits up again he's like. oh. shit shit shit. shit.

that's when it hits him that he's in love with you which is. troubling to say the least. not only because he feels guilty for ruining your friendship but also because he knows himself well enough to know there's no way he could hold himself back.

but he thinks about and... does he have too? he knows it won't be right away but you do this with him too. so maybe, just maybe, there's a chance right?

for what its worth, i do think you two end up together with a minimal amount of angst. but the amount of heavy ass pining...the months it goes on of you two getting insanely, unbearably intimate and then not talking about it. and like. yuuji tests the waters with you. kisses you before he leaves, and does all sorts of stuff but you always go with it. you both cover it up but eventually it all spills and i think that's mostly cause yuuji is so open ......

anyways.... best friend yuuji.... he is on my mind....

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Studious II (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

After your last coupling, Prince Aemond has been acting quite strangely toward you. It doesn't make sorting out your own feeling for him any easier...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: smut (kinda?) , male masturbation, female masturbation (attempted), more Aegon commentary, more Aemond awkwardness

Author's Note: WOW, I was not expecting anyone to like my awkward Aemond brain dump, but boy howdy did y'all... I hope this lives up to the hype!

Read Part I Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here

My Masterlist

Taglist below the cut

Studious II

The day after his marriage, utterly distraught by the look of confusion and dissatisfaction on his wife’s face after the bedding, Prince Aemond Targaryen came to terms with the fact that he desperately needed help. And though it went against every instinct he had to ask for it, he would much rather admit this weakness – this shortcoming – than suffer seeing that disappointment on her sweet face each time he came to her.

He went to Grand Maester Orwyle first. For while he had taken a vow of chastity, his knowledge of anatomy would be more than useful. Besides, he had always been kind and patient with Aemond during their lessons in his youth – he would not judge the Prince for this failing.

For more practical knowledge, he asked Lord Jasper Wylde, his father’s Master of Laws. His long-held position on the Small Council proved he could be trusted. More than that, the man had seeded twenty-seven surviving legitimate children thus far, and another was soon expected. ‘Ironrod’ clearly knew what he was doing.

Lastly, Aemond reluctantly enlisted the help of his older brother. He had his doubts about whether Aegon actually knew anything useful. Still, no one could deny that he had more relevant experience than anyone in King’s Landing who was not a whore.

Aemond listened to their advice diligently, as if it were no different from anything else he had studied. And, like always, he had been a good student.

The glorious sounds his wife had made when he started putting his lessons to use still echoed in his mind. The gentle whine when he had kissed her. The sharp inhale when he had started caressing her. The shiver that ran through her when he found her ‘pearl,’ as Aegon had called it. And her delicious gasp when he found that sweet spot inside her.

But there were other sounds – worse sounds. The alarm in her voice after he had brushed his tongue against her lips. Her confusion as to why he was touching her at all. How her eyes had gone wide with panic when he began to pleasure her, and how she had begged him to stop.

And every time he closed his eyes, he saw her hiding her face in her pillows after he smiled at seeing her find her own pleasure as he thrust into her – as though the very idea of enjoying being with him was something incomprehensible. Like it scared her.

She hadn’t wanted to look at him, kiss him, or be pleased by him. And she hadn’t come.

So, he assembled his advisors the next day, seeking some explanation of what he had done wrong. Or new instructions on how to please her in a way she wouldn’t eschew.

They had quickly decided the solution wasn’t some new technique, but for Aemond to ‘woo’ her.

The prospect at once delighted and terrified him.

At least he had advisors to help him figure out how.

Indeed, Lord Wylde had taken on the demeanour of a man plotting a war. He asked Aemond to list every detail he knew about his new bride and wrote everything he said word-for-word on a piece of parchment, along with his own commentary and musings on strategies.

Aegon’s comments and observations, mostly concerning her breasts, were not written down.

But the elder Prince did not mind, as he was quickly distracted by his own interrogation of Grand Maester Orwyle. He wanted to know precisely when, why, and how the Maester had pleasured Helaena.

Once Orwyle finished giving him the details, it was clear the Prince was far more impressed than offended. When Aegon finally turned back to the matter at hand, the Maester said a silent prayer of thanks that he was not going to lose his head.

After more than an hour of strategising, they had devised several courses of action for Aemond to try.

“She will be so enamoured by you that you won’t even have to touch her to get her to come,” Aegon declared proudly.

Orwyle and Wylde winced at the Prince’s crass words, but could not deny they also felt confident in the plan.

Aemond growled at his brother, eye blazing with rage. “This isn’t just about sex, Aegon. I want... I want her to like me.”

He sighed and slumped in his chair, running a hand over his flushed face. While he would never admit it aloud, he wanted so much more than to just be liked by his wife.

He wanted her to feel the same thing he felt exploding in his chest every time he looked at her. The intensity of the feeling was more frightening than losing his eye had been. And more thrilling than his first flight on Vhagar.

More than anything, he wanted her to love him – as he loved her.

But as his fingers grazed the leather strap of his eyepatch, he knew it was an impossible dream.

She was so beautiful. So gentle and kind. So pure and full of light.

He was monstrous. In the years since losing his eye, he had become as hideous in his soul as he was in the flesh. He had delved so deep into the darkness of his anger, resentment, and hatred that he knew there was no escape.

Until she had come into his life.

From the first moment he saw her step out of her father’s carriage, he knew that if she looked on him affectionately and allowed her holy light to shine upon him just once… perhaps he could be saved from damnation.

“I need her to like me,” he sighed, feeling not like the fearsome Prince and warrior he was, but like a whimpering, desperate child.

A dozen snide, and admittedly quite witty, comments died on Aegon’s lips. Once, he would not have hesitated to say them, to laugh at the hurt in his brother’s eyes.

But that was before Driftmark.

Before he had failed to protect Aemond from their bastard nephews – spurred on by the very teasing Aegon had once led them in. Though he wasn’t there when the eye was actually cut, he knew that if he hadn’t been such a twat before then, his brother would be whole.

He would still be an awkward, pathetic mess with no clue how to fuck a woman properly, but… he wouldn’t think himself so unworthy of his wife.

“Well,” Aegon drawled, slipping back into the mask of the blithe, carefree Prince everyone knew him to be. “I think we can at least manage ‘like.’ Now, get off your brooding ass, woo the girl, and make her come!”

-

You sat comfortably in a secluded corner of the Red Keep’s library, reading the book you had been forced to set down after your husband’s arrival in your chambers the night before.

Libraries were all the same, no matter where they were. The peaceful quiet interrupted only by the turning of heavy pages every so often. The soft shafts of yellow sunlight streaming through the small windows – stained glass, if you were lucky. The smell of old paper and well-worn leather.

It was far too easy to imagine you were back in your father’s library at home. Even better, this little corner you found felt as private as your own rooms.

More private, perhaps. Here, Prince Aemond could not barge in requesting you perform your marital duties.

Or so you thought.

A shadow stopped in front of you, blocking out the mottled sunlight you were using to read. Thinking that perhaps it was later than you’d thought, and one of the Maesters had come to tell you that you’d once again stayed past the library curfew, you looked up with a polite smile.

And met the single violet eye of your husband.

“Good afternoon, wife,” he greeted, dipping his head slightly and giving a decidedly awkward smile.

With his dimples, he was very nearly handsome when he smiled. But it did not quite reach his eye, and his brow was set too hard for you to truly see him as such.

Blinking rapidly as you tried to quickly hide your disappointment that your private reading spot was discovered, you returned the smile as best you could. “Husband.”

Aemond stared at you as though he expected more, as was apparently his habit, but you only stared back.

Why should it fall to you to put more effort into the marriage than he did?

Finally, he cleared his throat slightly. “I was wondering if I may join you in your reading? I noticed last night that you were reading Valyrian history. It is a favourite subject of mine.”

Indeed, you had begun studying the history of House Targaryen more in-depth the moment your betrothal was announced. You wanted to familiarise yourself with the family you were to join.

Though your ideas about becoming a true member of the family faded quickly, you continued your research. As much as the disappointment of your marriage had made you loathe to admit it, it was a fascinating history.

But now it meant Aemond wanted to read with you…

“I am sure you’ve read this particular history before,” you said, shyly showing him the title. It was little more than a beginner’s primer, almost more a storybook than a proper history, but you had to start somewhere. “Would you not rather read something more… novel?”

He laughed slightly, and you realised you had just unintentionally made a play on words. And not even a particularly clever one.

“Seeing my family’s history through your eyes would be quite ‘novel,’ as you so cleverly put it,” he replied, obviously quite determined, if he was willing to compliment you.

Was that… the first compliment he ever gave you?

When he smiled at you like that, it brought you back to the way he smiled when he had done… whatever it was he had done while he was inside you that made your vision burst into stars.

You blushed as heat pooled in your stomach at the memory, and the feelings that came with it. Your feelings about him, which you hadn’t yet allowed yourself to sort through – if you even wanted to.

He had made you feel so small and unwanted in the training yard when he grimaced and ran away from you. But then he had touched you so gently and gazed at you reverently at your slight gasp of pleasure like it was as beautiful a sound as he’d ever heard.

And then he left. Again.

But that was what you wanted – wasn’t it?

You had no idea what you wanted. And right now, figuring it out wasn’t your primary concern.

What he wanted from you was.

You prayed it was honestly just to discuss history.

So, you smiled as genuinely as you could and gestured to the seat across from you. “Then I would be… happy to have you join me.”

His eye lingered slightly on the seat next to you, but he nodded and took the seat you indicated.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

“Should I…” you began, at the exact moment he opened his mouth to speak.

You looked down, clamping your lips shut to let him speak first – as a good wife does.

He let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh before setting his hand on the table. You watched as he flexed his fingers, wondering for a moment if he wanted you to reach out as well – if he wanted to hold your hand.

It was a ridiculous thought. One you silently scolded yourself for as you gripped the book harder, keeping your hands firmly where they were.

Silence fell as he mulled over his words, the left corner of his mouth twitching every so often as though he had almost decided what to say. Not wanting to interrupt, you simply sat there, pondering how uncomfortable you had become in this once-soothing place.

When it was just you, you savoured the silence. When he was here, you abhorred it.

“Do you have any questions?” Aemond asked, finally breaking the silence.

His words confused you. Was he referring to the book or to him? You had so many questions about what he had done last night, though you were more than a little afraid to ask them.

“What kind of questions should I have?” you replied, ashamed by how small your voice came out. Hopefully, he interpreted it as respect for the library.

He quirked his head, his lips again spreading in that not-quite smile, not-quite frown he often made after you had said something to him. Then, on the table, his hand curled into a fist.

“Just…” he gestured to the book. “Questions about what you don’t understand. I would be more than happy to help you.”

If your mind had been clearer, perhaps you would have seen the offer for what it was: a genuine desire to help and, perhaps, a way to get to know you better.

But something about Aemond clouded all your good sense as thoroughly as a stormy sea.

Your brow instantly furrowed in anger. Did he really think you were so stupid you could not understand a simple book meant for children?

“I have no questions,” you said coldly, your voice louder and harder than before.

Aemond blinked, his eye widening as he reached further across the table toward you. “I… I have studied the histories extensively, and I know they are complicated and difficult to understand. If there is anything that you are struggling with, or – ”

“Of course,” you cut him off. All your mother’s advice about how to be a good, dutiful wife was long forgotten as your anger rose higher and higher. “It is quite a difficult book. The words, I’m afraid, are well past my simple understanding. I’ve actually only been looking at the illustrations.”

His face was frozen, his eye wide, and his mouth hanging slightly open. He looked remarkably like a freshly caught fish. You laughed at the thought, slammed the book shut, and stood.

“Although,” you hissed. “Even the pictures have started to become too ‘complicated’ for me. I’m afraid my headache is returning.”

He finally blinked and leaned across the table, truly reaching for your hand now. “No… I didn’t…”

You stepped away, harshly pulling your hand away from his. “If you will excuse me, husband. I must rest before the evening meal, or else I fear I will be too exhausted to participate in any intelligent conversation.”

That look of hurt again came over Aemond’s face, but you were far too angry to care. As you stomped out of the library, you did look back at him once.

If you had, you would have seen him slump over in his chair with his head in his hands before he pounded his clenched fist against the wood table, earning quite the scolding from a nearby Maester.

-

You once again did not attend the evening meal with Aemond and his family.

It had been a hard decision to come to. You had even dressed before finally deciding to remain in your rooms. But in the end, you supposed that the consequences of missing a second night would be easier to endure than an evening sitting next to your husband.

Your husband, who so obviously disliked you and thought you were an idiot.

That was what he had insinuated, wasn’t it? Why else would he have offered you help in understanding a children’s history book?

It was stupid of you to even want to read about Targaryen history, you scolded yourself. It was little more than a repetitive tale of countless generations of dragonriders who all shared the same handful of names. A stupid story about a stupid civilisation.

But as you sat at your desk eating your solitary meal, you couldn’t help but wish you hadn’t left the book in the library.

You contemplated sending one of your maids to fetch it, but you had no doubt Aemond would hear about it. That is, if he hadn’t just taken it himself.

Oh gods, what if he had?

He would find the notes you had made and tucked into the cover – including the family tree you sketched to keep all the names straight. It would only confirm his suspicions about your intellect.

You could picture his smug smile when he found the notes. The way the corners of his mouth would lift just enough to expose his dimples. There would be an arrogant twinkle in that violet eye. Perhaps he would be so amused by his simple-minded wife that he would have to bite his lip to hold back a laugh. Those lovely pink lips that had felt so soft on yours…

Shaking your head violently to banish the foolish, lustful thoughts, you took a long drink of your wine. Hopefully, it would soothe your nerves enough for you to think about anything but Aemond. Or at least enough to calm your breathing and banish the heat that bloomed beneath your thighs.

Once again, you lost your appetite and sent your meal away only half-eaten.

You needed to pray.

That was the only answer. The only way you could rid your mind of these horrible, sinful thoughts.

You had only just grabbed your copy of The Seven-Pointed Star when there was a knock at the door.

Not again.

“Who is it?” you asked, heart pounding with both nervousness and anticipation.

“It is Grand Maester Orwyle, Princess,” came an unfamiliar voice. “The Queen sent word you were unwell.”

A great wave of relief and disappointment washed over you, your book falling to the floor as your hands went slack. “Yes, come in,” you called.

Then, to yourself, you whispered, “I am quite unwell, indeed.”

-

The next afternoon, you sat comfortably on your couch, still in your nightgown and robe. It was improper, yes. But after assessing you in your somewhat panicked state the night before, Orwyle commanded you be relieved of your duties for the next few days.

‘Duties’ was a strong word, as your responsibilities only required you to stand silently next to your husband at court and gossip with the Ladies in the afternoon.

Still, you were glad to be rid of them, even if only for a few days. You had plans to go to Sept and pray and to sort out your feelings for your husband – the frightening, complicated feelings that had you so rattled that the Grand Maester himself thought you to be genuinely ill.

But not today.

Today, you would simply rest, drink your chamomile tea, and read the books your maid had fetched from the library.

None of them were history books. That had been the one requirement you had. Well, that and no romance.

So, as you sipped your tea, you allowed yourself to fall into the world of your book – a world of grand adventure, mythical beasts, and a pirate lord with a dashing smile and eyepatch…

Damn.

You threw the book aside, dangerously near the lit hearth, and crossed your arms. But before you could get too far into your wallowing, there was a knock at your door. Again.

“Who is it?” you called, eyes blazing as though you could see through the wood and smite whoever stood behind the door.

There was silence.

“It is Aemond,” came his soft, melodic voice. “May I please come in?”

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to say ‘no. No, I don’t want to see you.’

“Yes, you may,” your voice said instead. You baulked, unsure how the words came out so wrong.

The moment he stepped through the door, you turned your eyes down. You didn’t want to look at him, for you knew if you did, your logic would abandon you as whatever it was you felt for him overcame you.

But then you caught a flash of bright pink, and your head snapped up.

Aemond was carrying a small bouquet of dog roses, your favourite flower.

The large blooms were the most vibrant pink you had ever seen, perhaps even more so than in the fields where they grew back at home. Even the dot of yellow in their centres seemed as bright as the sun.

They seemed so out of place against the wall of black leather that was Aemond.

Slowly, you looked up from the flowers to face your husband. He had crossed the room to stand before you – awkwardly, as always. His lips were pursed, and his brow set in a deep furrow.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly and quietly, stiffly holding the flowers out to you. “For what I said yesterday.”

You did not move to take them. Did not blink. Did not breathe.

“I did not mean to offend you,” he continued, arm still extended. With the flowers only inches from your face, you could see how tightly he held the stems – his knuckles were bone white. “I spoke without thinking, and my words did not accurately reflect my intentions. I only meant – ”

His voice faltered as you reached up for the flowers. You did not want him to snap the stems. They would die more quickly if he did.

As your fingers brushed his, he flinched, dropping the flowers unceremoniously onto your lap. You immediately grabbed them, carefully examining each bloom to ensure it was not damaged. Thankfully, they were intact.

You stared and stared at them, memories flooding your mind. Every year, your entire family would journey to the fields where the dog roses bloomed. First, you would picnic together in the grass, the happiest meal of the year. Then, when you were finished, you and your siblings would race to examine each flower, competing to see who could find the loveliest bloom.

They would do so without you this year.

Distantly, you heard Aemond saying your name, drawing your attention back to him. He was frowning, his brow crumpled. “I thought…” he whispered, “I thought you would like them.”

You blinked, confused by his words. But the motion sent the tears welling in your eyes spilling down your cheeks. You were so caught up in your memories you did not notice you were crying.

As you looked back down at the flowers, you missed the subtle movement of Aemond’s hand, reaching out to wipe the tears away. Instead, when you moved away, he clenched his fist so tightly that his nails began to bite into his palm.

“I miss home,” was all you could say before the tears began to fall in earnest.

Aemond stepped back, bumping into the low table before the couch. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I did not mean to upset you.”

Then he turned, stumbling into the table once more, and left.

As the sound of the shutting door echoed in your mind, you did not know whether you were still crying from your homesickness, or because he had left you again.

-

After Aemond left, and you had finally stopped crying, you had one of your maids set the bouquet in a vase. But not before you had carefully inspected each stem to be sure they were intact.

Somehow, they were.

You put the vase on your vanity where the flowers could catch the sunlight before crawling into your bed, intending to take a nap after what was an unintentionally exhausting morning.

But you did not find sleep.

Instead, you stared at the ceiling, thinking over what Aemond said.

He had apologised for making you feel stupid, and then you immediately cried over flowers.

You had never felt more stupid.

And now you felt like you needed to apologise.

So, despite having Orwyle’s official permission to skip all your obligations, you finally rose from your bed as the sun set and asked your maids to dress you for dinner.

Because you made your decision to attend the evening meal at the last minute, the rest of the family had already begun eating when you arrived.

Aemond, who sat facing the door, was the first to see you. His eye immediately went wide, and he stood so quickly that a servant had to catch his chair before it toppled to the ground.

Aegon began laughing hysterically.

Queen Alicent shushed him once before she stood, giving you a mildly concerned but otherwise pleasant smile. “I’m so glad you could join us, my dear,” she said pleasantly as she gestured for you to sit. “We were beginning to worry about you.”

“I have simply been tired,” you assured her as you slowly walked around the table to your place. Curious, they had still set a place for you, despite your missing the last two meals. “Adjusting to life at court has been more difficult than I thought.”

As you came to stand before your chair, Aemond held a hand out to help you sit. Then, just as you had only hours before, you looked from his hand to his face. His brow was still set in a furrow, but he was almost smiling.

You took his hand, squeezing it tighter than you usually would. The only forgiveness you could give while being watched by his mother, grandsire, and siblings.

He seemed to understand, giving you a real smile – a breathtakingly beautiful smile – as you sat. You wanted to return it, but all your lips would do was tremble pathetically. You were sure that if you opened your mouth, you would burst into tears. So, you fixed your eyes on your plate and listened to the idle conversation around you.

Aemond himself began serving your plate, somehow knowing exactly what you liked and what you didn’t. When he finished, you looked over to him briefly and nodded your thanks, earning another of those beautiful smiles.

Your stomach flipped, and you told yourself it was only because you were hungry.

Neither you nor Aemond said anything to each other for the rest of the meal. Instead, you were more than content to simply listen. Or try to.

You were all too aware of every movement Aemond made. The way his long, elegant fingers gripped his goblet. The severe line of his jaw moving when he responded to his grandsire’s questions. The way he sat, legs bowed slightly outward to allow him comfortably at the table.

If you weren’t careful, your leg would brush against his.

You made sure to be very careful.

What you were not aware of was Prince Aegon’s eyes on you, noticing each time your eyes slid to his brother. Every so often, he would dip his chin and raise his brows when he made eye contact with Aemond, nodding toward you in encouragement.

Aemond noticed, but did nothing to act on it.

Not until the meal was ended and everyone rose from the table. He stepped to your side and extended his arm, accidentally bumping you, rather firmly, with his sharp elbow and causing you to jump away from him.

“I’m sorry,” Aemond said hastily. “I just… I hoped I could escort you back to your chambers?”

You looked at him for a moment, at the near-pleading in his eye, and nodded, slipping your arm into his for the first time since your wedding ceremony, and began to lead you through the castle halls.

As your private chambers were separate from the rest of the family’s, you were alone as you walked. You were not sure whether you were grateful for it or not.

The silence was palpable and nearly painful.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and Aemond stumbled at the unexpected sound. “For the flowers, I mean. They are a favourite from home.”

You looked up at him, and he gave another half-smile, but said nothing.

Silence fell once more.

“You look very beautiful tonight,” Aemond said, nearly shouting the sudden words. The corner of his lips twitched when you looked at him in shock. “This dress suits you much better than the one you wore yesterday, and is far more flattering than your nightclothes.”

Any warmth you felt at the initial compliment was thoroughly snuffed out at the remainder of the comment. Though you once more felt like crying, you schooled your features into indifference as you turned away from him, only looking straight ahead.

“I did not know you disliked them so,” you muttered, removing your arm from his and clasping your hands in front of you. You fixed your gaze straight ahead and did not waver. “I will not wear them again.”

Aemond stilled, but you did not break your stride. You only knew he followed after a moment when you heard the soft sounds of his boots against stone.

You walked in silence until you reached your door, then turned back to him. “Is there anything you require of me tonight, husband?”

He wore that expression of hurt that caused your chest to tighten, but you did not allow yourself to react. Finally, after a long moment, he licked his lips and shook his head once.

That was all the dismissal you needed. You opened your door just enough to slip through and shut it firmly behind you.

You did not speak to your maids as they prepared you for bed until they presented you with one of your favourite cotton nightgowns and your robe.

“Not those,” you whispered, though you longed for their comfort and warmth. “Something else. Anything else.”

They dressed you in one of the thin silk nightdresses, one which matched the colour of the dress you just removed. Though it was soft and luxurious against your skin, as you settled beneath your covers, you felt cold.

In the hall, Aemond took a stumbling step forward to rest his forehead against your door, his hand resting on the handle but not moving. He stayed like that for many long moments, silently cursing himself, before he stepped away and retreated to his own chambers.

-

The following day, you woke still feeling tired. It had been hard to find sleep when you felt so cold. When curling into yourself still did not warm you, you rose from the bed and stalked to your dressing room, determined to find your more comfortable nightclothes.

But the moment you ran your hand over the well-worn brocade of your robe, Aemond’s words again echoed in your mind.

He was right. It was not flattering. Your father had it made when you were younger, and he had obviously expected you to grow as large and tall as your brothers. But you had not, and the robe still overwhelmed your frame.

Your maids had offered to take it in to make it fit better, but you had denied them. You liked the way you could disappear into it, how it could double as a blanket, the way it streamed behind you as you ran through the halls of your father’s keep.

It was familiar – it was home.

Now Aemond had ruined it, as he had your dreams of a happy marriage.

Reluctantly, you rang the bell for your maids, apologising for the late hour, and asked for another blanket.

But worse than the aching in your bones and the heaviness of your head was the sinking feeling in your stomach when your maids told you that Aemond had sent word asking you to come watch him fight in the training yard.

No reason was given. Why would there be? A man did not need a reason to summon his wife.

You wanted to ignore the request. With Orwyle’s orders that you should rest, you easily could. Yet you could not deny the sinful part of you that remembered how you felt watching him train only days ago.

With his sword in hand, Aemond was a different man. He was graceful and confident – the Prince you imagined when you first heard of your betrothal. The sight of him had lit the smouldering fire of desire within you, shameful as it was.

Despite your prayers, the memory of his seeming indifference, and his more recent insults, you could not deny you wanted to see that man again.

So, you once again donned your warmest cloak – only after confirming with your maids countless times that it was flattering – and headed to the training yard.

Aemond was not in the ring when you arrived but sulking by a table full of weapons. His arms were crossed tightly in front of him, and though he faced the ring, he was not truly focused on the fight. He looked as distant as he did on your wedding night, just before he asked you to get in the bed.

That is until one of the Kingsguard – the Dornish one – pointed to you on the ramparts, and he looked to you.

You braced for another grimace, but it did not come. Were it not for the slight, almost hopeful raise of his brows, you would think him completely indifferent.

He turned back to the weapons table, quickly selecting a longsword and walking to the ring, barking an order that immediately disbanded the current melee. You watched him jump up and down, stretching and shaking his limbs to prepare for his own fight.

The Kingsguard stepped into the ring with him, wielding a large morningstar. The sight of the fearsome weapon sent a shiver of fear through your veins, but you quickly brushed it aside in favour of a small surge of pride.

You had seen Aemond fight. Surely success would come easily.

Though perhaps not.

At the first strike of the Morningstar, Aemond fell to one knee as his shield shattered. You startled, prompting the old Lord to your side to set a hand on your back and whisper his assurances.

“The Prince is a fine warrior,” he said, “a single strike will not fell him.”

But it was not only the one strike.

Over and over, the Kingsguard’s weapon struck, Aemond only barely avoiding it each time.

Once, after Aemond was forced to concede several steps back, the Kingsguard let his offensive stance fall and whispered something. Your husband only growled back at him, loud enough for you to hear from where you watched. Though even in the ferocity of his new advance, he fumbled through his strikes.

This was not the man you watched in the training yard before. However, there were hints of him, sometimes – a graceful swing of the sword, the agile avoidance of an incoming strike, or a strong blocking with his shield (which was replaced several times).

Though those glimpses were few, they were enough to light that fire once more as each one sent that tingling down your spine.

You even considered going down into the yard when the fight was over and asking him to take you back to your chambers.

The idea when quickly squashed when the fight ended badly.

A powerful blow from the morningstar sent Aemond backwards into the dirt. He only barely hung onto his sword. The Kingsguard dropped his weapon and approached the Prince with his hand outstretched.

Aemond did not accept it. Instead, he swatted the knight aside as he stood, driving his sword point-first into the dirt. Then, after whispering something you could not hear but could tell by the fury in his eyes was harsh and likely cruel, he turned and left the training yard.

Without a single glance your way.

-

Aemond did not attend the family meal that evening. He could not bear to face his wife after such a mortifying display.

Seeing her disappointment would break him, he was sure. Though worse was the possibility that she may laugh at him – mock him, as he had unintentionally mocked her.

Gods, he had not fought so poorly since he was a mere boy and had not yet been allowed to wield real steel. Perhaps the next day, Cole would give him his wooden practice sword back. He would deserve it, for both his abysmal performance and his arrogance.

When Lord Wylde suggested he invite her to ‘witness his martial prowess,’ he had let himself fall victim to Aegon’s flattery and his own vanity. And the gods had seen fit to punish him for it.

He would beg their forgiveness later. After he committed another sin. One he had been indulging in far too often of late.

Though his body – already sore from the fight – protested every movement, Aemond removed all his clothes. All the while, he tried not to think about the wrongness of what he was about to do or how much he had embarrassed himself, but about his wife.

How beautiful she had looked on the ramparts. How her hair floated so gracefully in the wind. How the colour of her cloak brought out a delightful sparkle in her eyes. How she had jumped each time Cole landed a blow.

That she cared whether he lived or died should not make his heart flutter as it did, but he would take whatever she would give him, even if it was the barest of affection.

When he was naked and laid himself across his bed, his cock was suitably hard and leaking. Still, he reached for the small phial of oil Aegon gave him when he suggested he ‘practice building his stamina.’

“It is a sin,” Aemond had hissed, horrified by the mere suggestion.

Aegon only shrugged. “So is killing. But we do so in war without fearing the wrath of the gods. Why? Because it is in pursuit of a noble goal. I would say making your wife c… happy and satisfied is a noble goal, wouldn’t you?”

It was an impressive logic – for Aegon. Still, Aemond went to the Sept each morning to ask the gods for forgiveness.

And each night, like now, he practised.

After depositing a droplet of oil into his palm, he took hold of his cock and began to slowly stroke himself.

It was nothing like being in his wife. No matter what he did, he could not replicate that wonderful feeling. So he quickly stopped trying.

Instead, he pumped himself hard and fast, trying to get to the edge of his peak as quickly as he could – and then stopped. He curled his hand into a fist at his side as he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting a few agonising moments before resuming at a slower pace.

The only thing that made that waiting bearable was assuring himself what it would lead to – or what he hoped it would lead to.

He pictured his wife as she had been when he was touching her. How she had come so close to giving herself over to pleasure.

He hoped she would not ask him to stop the next time. Instead, she would let him touch her until she came. She would let him taste her, something he had never considered before Aegon told him of it, but which he now craved like a man lost in the desert craved water. She would beg him to fuck her, to once again brush his cock against that spot inside her, over and over until they both came apart.

And he would gladly obey. He would do anything she asked – if she only would.

Aemond brought himself almost to coming over and over until his stones ached from being denied so long. Only then did he allow himself release, spilling across his stomach with his wife’s name on his lips.

-

The dinner felt unbearably strange without Aemond beside you. No excuses for his absence were given; it was apparently not a subject anyone else was curious about.

So, you ate your food, spoke when you were spoken to, and excused yourself the moment you were done eating.

Though he had never much talked to you at meals, his presence was still somehow missed. You missed the touch of his hand as he helped you into your seat, the low timbre of his voice when he answered a question from his mother or grandsire, and the warmth of his gaze whenever you caught him looking at you.

You missed all those little joys, which you only then realised were indeed joys, so much that you would gladly endure his insults and criticism if it only meant he was there. Besides, you liked how he had gawked in the library when you mocked him in return. That could become a fun little game…

As you left the dining hall, thinking about how he had smiled at you the night before, you found yourself turning not for your own chambers, but for his.

Perhaps he was hurt from his fall, and that was why he was not there. Surely, it was only concern for his health that had you turning this way, nothing more.

But then you took another step forward, and you knew.

You desired him.

The shock and shame of it had you immediately retreating to your own rooms.

You quickly had your maids prepare you for bed, dressing in another silk slip of a nightdress before sending them away and curling beneath your blankets.

Soon, your own heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. The godsdamned crickets had gone silent again, wishing for you to hear every shameful thought you had clearly.

You thought of the strength he had shown in holding off the Kingsguard’s attacks. The strength you had seen in the tautness of his muscles as he hovered over you. As he used those hands that so skillfully wielded a sword to bring you pleasure.

Your legs squeezed together of their own accord at the thought, and you became all too aware of a wetness between your thighs – the wetness he had once coaxed out of you with his gentle touch.

Spreading your legs and trying not to think about the sin of what you were doing, you slowly raised the hem of your nightdress and slid your hand over your folds.

Where Aemond’s fingers were warm, yours were cold. You rubbed your hand over your thigh momentarily, remembering him doing the same thing, before touching yourself again.

This part of you was unfamiliar, and you fumbled around more than Aemond had that first night.

You found your entrance first but shied away from slipping a finger inside. Somehow, that felt too wrong, too much of a sin.

But that was not the only place Aemond had touched that brought you pleasure.

Following the same line his thumb had taken, you searched from that little spot that had sent lightning through you.

It took some time, but you found it.

Though, no matter how fast you moved your finger or how hard you pressed, your own touch did not bring you nearly as much pleasure as Aemond’s had. Finally, after many long minutes, your attempts were causing far more frustration than anything else, and you ripped your hand away from your sex.

You nearly cried when you saw your fingers glistening – with bright red blood.

Your moon’s blood was here.

You were not pregnant.

-

The next morning, you immediately sent for raspberry tea to soothe the aching that had already taken hold in your abdomen and did not get out of bed until it had arrived and you had drunk two cups full.

Then, you wished you had not gotten out of bed at all. There was another note from your husband – he wanted to meet you for a walk in the gardens.

At least it meant he was not hurt. But to face him after what you had done, or tried to do…

A good wife did not do what you did. A good wife would have gone to his chambers and made sure he was well, would have let him take comfort in you.

Gods, you should have done so. You wished so badly that you had done so.

You could not change what you did, but you could be a good wife from this point on – you would be.

So, despite your pains, you dressed and headed for the gardens, where his note said he would be waiting for you all morning.

You spent the entire walk through the castle praying. To the Father for forgiveness for your sin. To the Mother for forgiveness for failing your husband and to beg that his seed quickened the next time. To the Crone for the wisdom to be a good wife – again, as the same prayer had obviously not worked the first time. To the Warrior, for the courage you would need to face Aemond. To the Smith, to repair what had been broken between you. And to the Stranger for whatever you had forgotten to include in your prayers to the others.

Truly, you needed the blessing of each of the Seven.

It was only by clutching the Seven-Pointed Star pendant until your fingers hurt that you did not collapse at the sight of Aemond.

He looked ethereally beautiful in the morning light. The soft sunlight streaming through the few leaves that still remained on the trees set his hair aglow, like he was touched by the gods themselves. Indeed, they must have been tempting your devotion to your promise. Why else would they make him appear so tempting?

You swallowed thickly, grateful you had approached him from the left, so he would not see you gawking. Then, once you had regained your composure, thanks in no small part to a new wave of pain in your belly overwhelming any desire, you stepped forward and curtsied.

“Husband,” you greeted with as much sweetness in your voice as you could muster, “thank you for the invitation to join you today.”

Aemond stood from the bench and bowed back to you, even though protocol did not require it. “Thank you for coming,” he said with a shy smile. “I was worried that… you might not.”

“It would be improper for a wife to deny her husband’s wishes,” you replied.

Dutiful. Polite. A good wife.

But Aemond’s smile fell. “I hope you do not feel you had to come here just because I asked,” he murmured, not meeting your gaze. “I hope that you wanted to come.”

You found yourself almost smiling at him, at the sentiment he offered. Then, nodding, you stepped forward and awkwardly held your hand out for a moment before returning it to your side. “I have not yet had the chance to see the gardens. Will you show me?”

He looked as though you had just offered him a kingdom and held out his arm for you to take.

Despite the heat radiating off him, you shivered as you looped your arm through his, and he began to lead you down the flagstone path.

You walked in silence for a while, but it was not as heavy or uncomfortable as before. There was only the faintest hint of tension between you, the rest replaced by a kind of contentment – unfamiliar but pleasant.

Aemond only spoke to name some of the plants you saw. How he knew exactly which ones you could not identify yourself, you did not know. He just… knew.

You stopped in front of the gnarled trunk of a wisteria vine. It was not in bloom, and most of its leaves had fallen, but it was still beautiful in its bareness.

“It is wisteria,” Aemond said after a moment, pointing with a finger to trace its path from its roots to the very ends of the vine some twenty feet away on a trellis. “At the end of spring, it will produce hanging blooms that are a lovely shade of purple.”

You looked up at him, at his one eye and its lovely shade of purple – the colour of wisteria, you realised.

Before you knew it, you were smiling so wide it hurt your cheeks. “I know,” you replied, your voice almost a laugh. “It is one of my favourites.”

Feeling yourself begin to blush furiously, you turned back toward the plant. “There was one even larger than this right outside my window at my father’s keep.”

Aemond did not – could not – respond. You had just smiled at him, and it was more beautiful than he had ever imagined.

-

You walked through the gardens on Aemond’s arm until you had seen every plant, every flower, every leaf. It was the happiest you had been since arriving in King’s Landing, and indeed in many years before.

But it could not last forever. While you were merely a wife, Aemond was a Prince. He had duties far more important than walking with his wife. So, when he mentioned the hour was growing late, you did not ask him to stay.

You merely removed your arm from his, bowed your head, and whispered your farewell. As a good wife does.

Yet Aemond remained in front of you, the look in his eye so intense you had to turn away.

“May I come to your chambers tonight?” he asked, his voice small but firm.

Your chest tightened.

You wanted to say yes – to kiss him and feel his touch once more. But…

“My moon’s blood arrived today,” you told him quickly before the fear in your gut could still your tongue.

Until he made that request, you had been enjoying the time spent with your husband so dearly that you had nearly forgotten the pain in your belly, the undeniable proof of your failure to produce an heir.

Your failure to be a good wife.

As tears sprang to your eyes, you watched his face twist with confusion, then crumple with despair, and finally, freeze into an expression you could not name.

Once more, he felt like a mystery to you – a stranger. Had you really come to know him so well, to care for him enough that even a single unknown expression could cause you this much pain?

You must have, for the pain in your empty womb was nothing compared to that which now took hold of your heart.

He looked to the flagstones below you, his mouth starting and failing to find words. “I…” he began, then stopped.

“Aemond?” you asked, desperate now for him to say anything, even if it was to call you stupid again.

Your mind was so clouded by fear at what he may say next that you did not realise it was the first time you had called him by his name since the wedding ceremony.

His eye met yours again, and he raised his brows. “Thank you for the walk.”

And then he left. Again.

To your credit, you did not cry until you were back in your rooms.

-

You did not go to dinner that night or even eat the meal that was brought to your rooms.

You only prayed and cried and prayed some more. Until you fell asleep on the couch in your sitting room.

After waking in the dark at some point in the night, with a blanket over your shoulders. You knew you should move to the bed, or you would be sore in the morning. But whatever you did, you would be sore for at least a few more days. So, you stayed on the couch.

For a while, you watched the door, hoping that Aemond would walk through and throw himself at your feet as he begged your forgiveness. And despite your better judgment, you would give it to him without hesitation.

But he did not come.

Eventually, you fell asleep again.

When you woke once more, you were indeed sore. But it was quickly forgotten when you saw something unfamiliar on the table before you – a leather-bound journal and a folded note with your name written on it in beautiful script.

Curious but cautious, you only grabbed the note before settling back into your seat to read it:

My dearest wife,

Forgive me for not coming to you myself to apologise, but given the way I acted the last time I did so, I believe you will prefer this.

I am so very sorry that my behaviour towards you has been utterly abhorrent. Please know that my stumbling words and foolish actions come not from a place of malice or even indifference. Rather, they are an attempt by a stupid and incompetent man to try and impress his wife.

There is nothing in the world that I desire so much as to see you happy. Nothing I wish for more than to see your smile and, if the gods bless me, to be the reason for it.

For my love, when you smiled at me yesterday – I have never felt anything so wonderful.

But as the past weeks have shown, I fear I am incapable of presenting myself with dignity when I am in your presence. Your beauty, kindness, and pure goodness overwhelm me the moment I see you, and all my good sense abandons me. No matter my intentions, nor the poetry I compose in my mind prior to coming to you, the very moment I am with you, I become little more than a bumbling idiot, unable to even say ‘hello’ without somehow offending or upsetting you.

So, I will no longer try. I know I have caused you much more discomfort than anything, and it pains me beyond measure. Already, I have begged the Seven for their forgiveness, and now I beg yours.

If you do not wish to give it, I will understand. I will accept whatever you decide and act accordingly. If you wish to not see me again, I will disappear. But I would be doing you a disservice as your husband if I did not at least share with you the depth of my feelings before we are parted – if that is indeed what you desire, though I hope it is not.

I am all too aware that if I tried to do this myself, I would say some ridiculous thing to make you hate me forever. That is, I admit, my greatest fear. So, I have asked the servants to deliver you this note, along with my diary. I know you keep your own, for I have seen it in your chambers. Therefore, you know that what you will read is not merely words, but the truths of my very soul.

Please know that I am not afraid to share it with you. As my wife, you are entitled to know everything about me. But more than that, I want you to. I want you to see all that I am, to know me as well as the gods themselves. I pray that what you will learn will not frighten or upset you but show you the man I so wish to be. The man I would be, if you allow me.

I pray you will like him, perhaps even learn to love him. For he loves you so very, very much.

I have marked the passages I most want you to read, but you have my permission to read everything. I will not hide anything from you, not anymore.

With all my love, more than you know,

Your husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen

As you lowered the note, now stained with several of your tears, you looked at the journal – the diary – on the table. It contained the truth of your husband, the man who had confused and angered you, delighted and amazed you.

It was a truth that, once you knew it, would change you forever.

But you had already been changed, hadn’t you? Irrevocably. The only thing the diary would change was whether it was for the better or for the worse.

So, after one last prayer, you set Aemond’s note back on the table, picked up the diary, and began to read.

-

Taglist (bold means I couldn't tag you) If I forgot you, I'm sorry! I've never had a taglist this big before!

@hb8301 @that-girl-named-alex @bat-revival @dahlias-and-marigolds @dc-marvel-girl96 @nina2697 @padfooteyes @missusnora @bluebirdonafencepost @bellaisasleep @yentroucnagol @sarahkimtae @imjustboredso @howdoichangemynameto @hopebaker @yelenabeleovapocket @let-love-bleeds-red @maximizedrhythms @xideshiz @siriusdumblittlepuppy @skikikikiikhhjuuh @lemonivall @anisa269 @flavorofsalt @queenofshinigamis @elles-mind-palace @dragonfireandpixiedust @glitterandgoldfinds @daydreamerblues @tswiftsthings @kitkat-writes-stuff @miraclealignertlsp369 @cryztalline @im-obsessed-with-marvel @fluffiy @kotonei-molyneux @natie335 @killjoynotes @mariahossain @bellstwd

[evilmoldywizard]

Hey guys, recently been turning evil about Stanford pines again because of book of bill, so here are some headcannons I have of him

- as someone (myself) who has a lot of hand issues that come from joints in places they shouldn't, I feel like he has a lot of chronic pain with his joints and wrists specifically. (I'm an avid Stanford pines finger splints believer), because just trying to make the anatomy work when drawing his hands makes mine sore just thinking about it. I feel like as he gets older especially he starts to need extra support for his fingers and wrists with all the tinkering with machinery, and stealing heavier tech parts he does.

- the scalp over the metal plate in his head has trouble growing hair like it used to before surgery, and its partially why his hair has started going gray heavier around that area, its overall a bit of an awkward patchy area, he doesn’t really care much though. It also gives him headaches whenever the weather is off, but he only really notices this when he is back home in the mystery shack.

- he of course is covered in more dumb tattoos that he picked up throughout the multiverse, as well as some actually good meaningful ones too. He's also had a lot badly removed but just enught that you can still see them faded.

-transgender because he just is

-i would say “did his own top surgery” but I feel like he would of never bothered, because of the recovery time. He would probably be one of those trans guys that just work out an insane amount to sort of even out the muscle.

- regularly gets confused/ straight up forgets details about the dimension he's in. (canon, I know but listen) he has been through so many versions of so many realitities and god knows how long he spent in each, trying to relearn customs, languages, names of things, etc, and genuinely gets upset when he forgets which pieces are from what dimensions. It just reminds him how much he has missed out on. This also leads to a lot of derealisation issues and paranoia about finally being in the right place.

-in some dimensions he has been able to study up and get some more degrees on some like really obscure topics. I feel like he did this in the really early years before he became an outlaw in nearly every dimension. He probably wanted to fall back into as familiar of a pattern as he could with all the constant chaos around him, academic approval is the closest thing he can feel like to having control over his current situation. It also kind of reminds him of Fiddleford, but he doesn't like to dwell on it, or really think too hard about it.

- he genuinely loves hearing about new changes to his home dimension from dipper and Mabel, even dumb little memes Mabel keeps showing him. He doesn’t really get it, but he just likes to be included.

-he visits Fiddleford almost every day since they reconnected. Trying to find pretty much any reason to see him. He misses him more than words can say and feels guilty about how things ended with them, and Fiddleford knows this. He just likes having Stanford around too much to say anything about how obvious he is being.

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Newt scammander x mermaid reader🧜‍♀️🌊🪄✨️

Newt scammander, a magizoologist, first caught sight of you within the bay of the forbidden forest.

You were the only species of mermaid that frequently surfaced. Seeking massive interest, he wanted to study you.

You were observed frequently sitting on the rocks, showing high levels of intelligence in communication.

Newt began to sketch your anatomy, the look of your tail and your appearance. Believing to have discovered a new species of mermaid that's never been seen before.

As you sat upon the rocks and your tail fin draping below, just touching the murky water. You heard a noise from behind. Upon seeing a mysterious reddish-brown haired man, wearing a light blue trenchcoat with a yellow and black scarf representing hufflepuff draped around his neck. you nearly freaked. You pushed from the rocks into the black lake's water.

Newt—not meaning to have frightened you—stepped forward. He was curious to know if you have high levels of adaptive communication, understanding English.

Your tail gently swam up and down toward the surface. Curious about whom that human was, it's not natural to see men out this far—nor have they ever seen you before.

Your head peeked above the surface. Your eyes curiously gazed at him, wondering if he had any sort of good or bad intention.

Newt muttered, "i-i'm s-sorry I didn't mean t-to disturb you—" unsure if you understood a word. "You're very exquisite, something I only wish to understand if you let me."

He has a gentle voice. Kind. Soft. You thought.

You were still unsure, but you raised yourself amongst the surface more. Exposing your neck and head, but enough to still keep your gills in the water. You felt the wind gently billow against your skin.

"Are you the only one of your kind? are you gregarious? Or are you solitary?" He asked.

You understood him, deciphering his dielect, thanks to the many witches and wizards speaking among the surface.

You held up your index finger saying "Just me."

Newt, impressed by you, took notes within his journal. "Just you? S-sounds rather isolating."

Your head bobbed within the waves as your tail gently swayed to maintain balance. "Do you have a name?" he asked.

"Y/n" you said simply.

"Y/n. Extraordinary." He smiled to himself. It seemed everything you did fascinated him.

"Mine i-is Newt." He smiled back, feeling a connection between you.

"Newt." You say back, your lips curving into a smile.

"I-i have to go now, but I'll come back." Newt said with a hint of disappointment.

The weird reddish-brunette man carrying a journal left. Oddly, you were fond of him. This was the first time anyone had tried to communicate to you.

Over the next few days, the odd man came back exactly in the afternoon. You sat upon the same rock smiling at him. Often, he would bring food, fish, crustacean, and squid—sometimes kelp, but you weren't highly fussed on that.

Newt would speak to you of the surface world, fascinating you even more. You find it odd that many wore clothes, let alone how they were living in huge stone like rocks—meaning houses to him—. You didn't understand how they walked, how they ate, and how they flew on magical sticks.

Newt eventually offered you a safe place where he could study you further, inside his bag? Though that was only an illusion, inside, there was a whole sanctuary with different creatures. You were hesitant at first but the idea appalled to you.

Newt and you formed an unlikely bond, as he routinely brung you food in return to study you further.

One day, along the shores of the black Lake. He spotted a woman faced down within the sand. Newt worried came to your side, realising it was you but with legs?! As to how this happened was a mystery.

He took you in quickly as bunty, a kind lady who assisted newt, helped aid you. When you awoke, you were rather freaked, as this was not your usual environment. When you looked down, you saw legs!

You stood up from the bed, trying to walk but finding it rather difficult. Newt reassured you and helped teach you how to walk.

For the past week you spent on land, you had learned a lot. Learning of the surface dwellers culture and tradition.

However, knowing this wouldn't last, you bid farewell to Newt diving back beneath the waves of the black lake returning to your mer form.

From then on, Newt would visit you occasionally to check in on you. You were the first of a kind. A rare species to uncover. The first to be discovered and founded.

[thatbennybee]

Hey there! Just wanted to drop by and say how much I love your work- "Rewinding Our Fate" is on my mind when it's not song or my personal AU(s) related. I also wanted to ask you for any tips on how you draw the Trolls. Got any for beginners?

Uhh sure!! Here's typically how i go about troll anatomy studies. Trolls are made up of really simple shape language like circles and triangles!

Pop Trolls are usually this bean/egg body type but there are exceptions of course, like John Dory who is more square, or larger-built trolls like Bruce, Biggie, or King Peppy.

Techno Trolls and most Rock Trolls have longer legs and shorter torsos.

Barb is kind of an oddball but she has the largest troll eyes we've seen so far but Rock Trolls do tend to have varying eye sizes. They do tend to be bigger for a lot of fem-presenting trolls. Val is kind of a oddball too bc she has more of a Pop Troll appearance in both body type, ear shape and color saturation.

(Maybe she's more Punk Rock than she is Hard Rock? TWT sort of opened up the possibilities for trolls of more than one genre so shrug)

Hopes this helps a little!

[ohno-the-sun]

Oh uh forgot to ask in the previous ask (the one with the digital piece of candy and scurrying and stuff)

How do you draw art so good

Like

Is there a method you use or is that just the style you've gotten over time?

you've activated my trap card

I'm just gonna preface that this tutorial is from someone who was not professionally trained and didn't have a lot of free time for art, so a lot of the tips I have is short cuts I use to get the best results quickly

If you genuinely want to get better at art then please look at references and practice that is always the best

However if you are like me and only really do art for fun but want to go faster then these are for you pfppt

Overall I'd say my style is influenced by speedpaints I would watch when I was younger, I like analyzing how people do things and what makes something look "good" to me

I always recommend watching them because they will often have techniques you've never seen before or do things a certain way that you can try out yourself

I consume good art, it feeds me

but seriously it can be super helpful when developing your own methodology, or just generally trying something new

Usually it starts with me pulling some references from artists I really admire and sort of sketching out how they do the things I like

For example 8um8le has like super good anatomy and poses so I focused on trying to replicate how they do that

venemous-qwille is super good at color and pulling focus so that's what I focused on in my study of them

In general I'd say my process is sketch -> silhouette -> color -> shading -> render

I really don't like doing lineart lol

I'd say for the sketch the most important part is using references and just kind of fudging it until it looks correct anatomically/physically

General rule of thumb is spend time on areas of interest, and keep non important areas light (like the stitching on his pants)

I don't do lineart because I think its unnecessary for most paintings I do

I naturally tend to put more time and focus on areas of interest (like hands and feet) and if you use a brush with opacity for the sketch, those areas are naturally going to be darker in the final sketch

Of course this is gonna be different for everyone but it's what works for me

Sometimes I do a really really sketchy layer underneath my sketch/lineart, just so I know where everything is going

Use thumbnails! They are great to help figure out the general layout of things and what pose I wanna do

Next is what I call the "silhouette" layer

This is super important for me cause it helps me refine the figure and make sure the pose/anatomy looks correct, also depending on what color I choose for the silhouette helps guide what colors I'm going to use on top

This piece is a good example of how it works. The silhouette shows me how the figure interacts with the background, how the pose looks and if its any good

The silhouette layer doesn't have to be super clean, as long as it follows the sketch decently well and shows where the figure is then its fine

I also sometimes make the silhouette layer multiple colors to help guide shading and vibe

Next is the coloring layer. I usually make this a clipping layer on top of the silhouette layer, or I change the silhouette layer to alpha lock, either way it saves me time on coloring everything in

Sometimes I am super rough with the coloring too, using like an airbrush or my fav watercolor brush just to generically block in color where I want it

Works out cause most objects have like a bounce light to them from surrounding objects, so this is sort of a cheat I use to get that effect without all the work lol

Also don't be afraid to have the lower silhouette layer shining through, having multiple colors sort of subtly shining through the piece helps lots

Next is the shading layer, this is usually another clipping layer, usually set to "multiply"

The colors I pick here is usually within this range, any color works, just depends on the piece and vibes.

Since this piece is set in a sunset forest I choose a more desaturated orange for the shading layer

I know there's a whole thing about multiply layer being a crutch (and it kind of it) but it is a useful tool when you just want some darker values across the piece but don't want to go through the process of color picking every single darker shade

Also in my opinion it looks better than picking a darker color and setting it to a lower opacity, idk I just think the color has more "depth"

Next is the hardest to explain, sort of the vibes layer

Usually its just a layer of more concentrated color on top of the normal color and I fudge with the settings and values until I get a result I like

Next is the longest step, is the "extra" or the render stage.

Usually I add a background before this step so that if I need to merge the figure better with the background I can

If I render with a white background but he's supposed to be in a dark forest, its going to mess with the lighting severely

Also this is when I add more "vibe" layers on top to get the figure to match the background better

Backgrounds in general I recommend checking out @/derekdomnicdsouza on instagram he's got lots of great tutorials for breaking down backgrounds simply

I'd say general rule for the rendering layer is to focus on the areas of interest and spend less time on areas you don't care about

I even blur stuff out on the edges I don't want people to see, partially to save time on fixing mistakes in areas I dont care about (oop), but mainly to help draw the eye to the areas I do want people to focus on

Theoretically parts of the background should like mesh with the characters, parrallel lines are a no no unless they are directing a viewer to look somewhere, things that are perpendicular help bring things together

tbh I'm still not the best at layout and probably need more practice, but overall this is what I like doing

Overall this is what my layer set up ends up being

Sort of a sandwich with the lineart/sketch as the "meat" lol

Color and basic shading below the sketch, clean-up and rendering on top

I like this method cause it's super flexible if I ever want to try something different or try to replicate someone's style

I can make each step less or more messy depending on the end result and can add a lineart layer if need be. Also if there's a part that is straight up not working or needs to be removed its super easy to do cause I can just paint over it on the "extras" layer, color picking from the surrounding area to get the same vibe

Generally rule of thumb for my style is: get the initial layout of colors, form and shading to look good, then the rendering should be smooth sailing

Really the best advice I can give to get better at art is to enjoy what you're doing and become very very obsessed with drawing a silly little guy

You'll eventually get very good at drawing them pfptpf

[decafbat]

i really like how much depth your art has, do you think you could show how you break down bodies when sketching if that makes sense? it’s something i struggle with a lot in my art! ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

ok apologies in advance, this is probably going to be a really long and tangential rant about art that may or may not actually help you in learning how to construct bodies. im just gonna put it under a cut to save everyone from seeing this huge text wall.

i dont think its gonna be possible for you to replicate my methods here, because theyre mostly just really specific shortcuts for finding certain proportions and reference points for anatomy, which i'm fairly versed in, but not as much as i'd like to be. the shortcuts you'll need will be different from mine. im glad you think my art has depth, that is something i am trying to seek very intentionally right now, and i dont think im even close to the depth of form i am actually aiming for. so like. this makes making a tutorial kind of inherently hard. nevertheless, i threw this quick sketch together after like 3 failed attempts. (i was doing those attempts digitally, ended up giving up on that and going back to traditional because its what im most comfortable with rn)

i didnt get all the steps i took to get here because scanning that much would be cumbersome but ill try to explain how i got here. i start with the head almost every time.

i use a lot of symbolic/graphic shapes when drawing heads and dont stick to using forms very often besides the circle at the center of the head, which i use as the base to form these graphic shapes around. think of it like "wrapping" the ball in various textures and masses. the eyes are usually "textured" onto the head, notice how the her left eye looks narrower then her right. of course i try to make sure her bangs sit along the curve of the sphere and her ears look like they sit on opposite sides of the head. its easy to forget that part, making the head look unsymmetrical. the particular masses of leica's head would be her snout, which is just a curve extended slightly outside the diameter of the ball, and her hair, which are two strange organic shapes that are quite hard to draw, two hair sprig anime antennae things (forgive me, i forgot the word for them,) and the back of the head, which i usually need to extend slightly. its a little too extended here, needs more on the top, i fix this in the final pass. this was a quick sketch, so i didnt focus too hard on the forms of the head beyond the most essential ones for her design, but i sometimes highlight the form of cheeks with curved hatching, or try to make the eyes appear more sunken-in as they are on human faces. i dont know how to proportion the neck and torso correctly until i draw the head, so i always do it first. next, i did the torso.

so heres why i said that you probably wont be able to replicate this approach. you do kind of just have to practice anatomy, i cant just make it make sense because im not very good at explaining this stuff, but ill try to go through what i did here. so, i generally use simplified bone shapes to find proportions and reference points, as well as more complicated shapes like those of elbows and knees. i try to study fairly often because im not satisfied with here im at with this stuff yet. of course, i dont think i'll ever be. so i'll usually start with the ribcage, add a shoulderblade out the back to find the shoulder, the armbones come out of that, the bone in the upper arm connects to the ulna with a sort of three-pronged attachment, one big knurl in the middle, which forms the thrust of the elbow, two little ones on the side. i think those are part of the ulna but i dont remember. see, you dont really have to know what exactly they do as long as you know what they look like. the ulna does some goofy rotation shit i dont understand, connects to the wrist, and then we have a hand, which, i mean, im not good enough at hands to even be telling you how to do it, but i just have a big squarish mass and some little hotdog fingers coming out of that. you can see on her left hand that ill have a big circle forming the the area on the hand where the thumb attaches... theres more depth to the hands, i think you can easily find better tutorials then i could offer. anyway, under the ribcage theres the pelvis, represented with a box. ill get into that when i talk about the legs. i wanna briefly talk about the way i add the flesh and fat to the bones.

so, i really can't give a comprehensive crash course on anatomy, but i can point you towards the morpho series, which is where i get most of this stuff from. you can get very far with the volumes Simplified Forms, Fat and Skin, and Skeleton and Bone Reference Points. moving on, i just kind of have a feel for where the masses attach by now. the important thing to remember when drawing fat characters like this is that the fat should "hang" from the bones and flesh, drooping down slightly. leicas fat hangs substantially, so she's not very wide despite her weight. this is important to her character design i feel. i almost always draw characters naked first when doing serious drawings because it will come in handy knowing where the forms of the body are when i add the clothing. by focusing on the way her body looks naked, i can modify the impression of those forms when adding clothes, and when i add them later on in this drawing, leica will take on the distinctive boxy look i try to draw her with.

if you look at the arm, youll see that the place the line of bone sits is very high compared to the whole mass of the arm, the flesh and fat of the arm "hang" from the bone, and then the upper arm squishes against the bent forearm too. even if the anatomy in the arm is indistinct, it can still look convincing when the forms act realistically against one another. the elbow has much less fat connected to it, so its more bony then the rest. this isnt actually consistent on all people so like, think about that kind of thing when designing characters, like i was talking about before, fat can sit in infinite different ways. maybe if i was doing a more objective anatomy lesson i'd draw cath, because i do have a sort of vague understanding of muscle placement that doesnt come through here, but probably would if i was drawing a scrawnier character. let me know if you want that.

a word on the breasts too: they hang a bit lower then you'd expect, keep that in mind. the attachment point is also angled, as the line shows. the line starts roughly in the middle of the torso and ends around the armpit, but the form of the breast can go underneath the armpit or even connect around the fold of fat in the back. many things to think about. i love boob shapes. ok lets finally get on with it and talk about the legs.

so, the really specific shape of the pelvis doesnt matter that much unless youre drawing a really thin character, so its just a box here. out from the sides of the pelvis, extending out more then you'd expect, is the femur, which ends in a similar joint to the arm. this shape helps me figure out the form of the knee. two masses on each side with a bunch of complex and weirdly shaped bones forming the kneecap, which i have omitted because i dont yet know shit enough to include them. i am learning though. so, obviously the feet are just scribbles here because im just gonna put her feet in socks anyway. you really dont have to do more then you have to. a few tips i can offer here, the butt should hang a bit too when drawing fat characters, i think the butt is supposed to start just below the pelvis if i remember, but take that with a grain of salt. i also didnt really do that here but its hard to tell because she's facing mostly forward. again, i dont think i can really communicate what's going on here. morpho has a lot of great drawings explaining the shapes and muscles of the legs, all things i might focus on more when drawing a scrawnier character. for this case, i regrettably don't go too hard on the legs. also i should note that legs would usually be much longer, leica is really short so ive exaggerated the proportions to communicate that. i may change my mind on that front in the future and give her more grounded proportions. the important thing to remember with legs is just getting a nice hierarchy of forms going. bigger thigh going into smaller calf going into smaller foot. it mostly comes automatically now.

i added the clothing, shaped up her head a bit, added a bit of fur. i put her in her classic outfit, just a sweater and jeans. i enjoy the big thick folds that come out of these clothes, and big areas of white space too. its nice. i try my best to form all the folds around the forms of the body i drew earlier. thats one case where i really really have no idea what im doing and could never explain it in words. its just some fun intuitive play with loops and lines. this is at around the stage for a sketch where i'd do inks, or if it was going to be a finished pencil drawing i'd erase out parts piece by piece and replace them with nicer and more defined lines and tones.

i guess that's all i can offer , i hope that halped.

[kotoku]

not exactly a request, but…

Imagine being a sort of half-blood monster humanoid, perhaps even one of a handful, and spending most of your life feeling as though you don’t belong anywhere, like you just came out wrong and there’s no cure for it...

And then you meet Laios and he absolutely freaking adores you and will not let you forget it.

imagining reader just hiding every single part of their appearance that shows their half-monster side, always walking with their head bowed down in shame. they have experienced so much hate, disgust, and horror to the point they don’t have much mirrors so they can avoid looking at themself. it’s truly sad.

i could see the reader usually spending most of their days down in the floors scavenging for some items that could be sold for money, considering it’s pretty detached from the surface world. maybe the reader is like senshi, who makes the dungeon their makeshift home, navigating the ecosystem and surviving all by themself. i think a floor that may be more deeper or less populated with adventurers is where reader can safely show their more monstrous appearance/self.

and then one fateful day, the reader meets laios. whether its through helping him and his party escape a monster or simply stumbling across them by accident, you’re now bound to his little gang of weirdos. he’d enthusiastically ask if you’d like to join, not knowing your true identity since you immediately sealed yourself away beneath a hood/etc… the reader, who has nothing much going on and figured they could use a change, would join (mostly due to laios’s pestering because you were pretty petrified of these people finding out what you are).

skipping ahead, lets say during a fight your identity was revealed. your appearance shocks the entire party, some feeling a little wary of you (their suspicions were already developing because whatever the situation, you always had that damn hood/cloak on). but nonetheless, they’re accepting. especially a certain blond tall-man who had a undying love for monsters.

ahh, count your days because this man is going to be the death of you. he’s so stunned, happy, fascinated, and angry because why didn’t you tell him !? what do you mean you hated what you are !??! WHY WOULD YOU HIDE SOMETHING AS COOL AS THIS FROM HIM !?!??!

laios is so envious of you, goddamn.

he’ll use every chance he gets to study your anatomy, your biology, your whatever. he’s obsessed. the others are interested too but not as much as laios�� often having to wack or chase him away from you when you start feeling overwhelmed.

besides laios’s excited self, the rest of the gang are open to hearing about your insecurities and are a great support system. senshi would like to learn more about you so that he has an idea of your diet and what nutrients you need. chilchuck, a stern fatherly figure to you, would make sure laios isn’t getting too handsy with you. he’s also there to nail it into your head that you arent weird or anything (tough love huh..). marcille, if she doesn’t have any information on your species/monster, would like to learn more about you as well. like chilchuck, she’d be sure to drag laios away when he’s got a little too close and up in your personal space.

one night, you’d explain to laios about your insecurities in detail and your history. he wouldn’t really understand it because you’re so cool ??? but i think he’d get it because he’s been in that kind of situation back in his home town. he may not exactly know what you went through, but at least he’s able to understand and if you let him, he’ll gladly help/support you.

bye, you’d cry from happiness/relief from the party, especially laios’, acceptance.

group hug ensues**

sorry this was so long, it’s a lovely concept and i love just imagining it ^^

[winxanity-ii]

UNCONVENTIONAL ALLIES

ship: deadpool!gojo x fem!mutant!reader x wolverine!geto warnings: non-explicit word count: 3.3k a/n: Writing this was so much fun! I just love blending different worlds and seeing what kind of chaos unfolds 😂. Hope you enjoy this wild ride! 💖

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You were sitting at a dingy, neon-lit bar tucked away in a forgotten corner of the city.

The place smelled of stale beer, fried food, and something musty that clung to the faded upholstery of the worn-out bar stools.

A jukebox in the corner plays a muffled tune, the kind that barely competes with the low hum of conversation and the occasional clatter of pool balls.

The air was thick, not just with the haze of cigarette smoke but with the weight of a thousand stories that had soaked into the cracked wooden walls over the years.

You were hunched over a dog-eared copy of your Anatomy & Physiology textbook, muttering terms under your breath like some sort of desperate mantra—brachialis, trapezius, sternocleidomastoid—trying to cram as much information as you could before your brain decided it's had enough.

You had read the same sentence three times now, and each time the words made less sense than before. Frustration bubbled up in your chest.

With a heavy sigh, you sat back and threw your head back against the creaky barstool, feeling the weight of everything crashing down on you at once.

The looming specter of your upcoming exam was like a shadow over your thoughts, a constant reminder of how much was riding on you passing this class.

Your mind raced, not just with the material you were supposed to be studying, but with the overwhelming tide of stress that came from being swamped in thousands upon thousands of dollars in student loans.

Every page you turned felt like another reminder of just how deep you were in. And as if that wasn't enough, the thought of returning to your messy, noisy dorm made you groan inwardly.

Your roommate had been a nightmare lately—blasting music at odd hours, leaving her stuff everywhere, and treating the place like her personal dumping ground. It was impossible to find peace, and it was driving you insane.

You reached over for your drink—a grapefruit High Noon, the only small comfort you had allowed yourself tonight. The cold, fizzy liquid was a slight balm against the headache building behind your eyes.

You took a long sip, letting the bitterness wash over your tongue as you tried to drown out the noise around you and the noise in your head.

Just as you were about to return to the same sentence you had been trying to absorb for the last ten minutes, you noticed movement at the far end of the bar. Two guys slipped in, almost unnoticed, except for the way they carried themselves—like they weren't just walking into a bar, but onto a stage.

One was wearing a skintight red and black suit that clung to his lean, muscular frame, showcasing his agility and strength. The suit had a dark, almost tactical look, with black patches accentuating the deep red fabric. It was all about practicality and style, with twin katanas strapped to his back in a sleek 'X' formation, ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice.

His mask was a full-head covering, stretching tightly over every contour, leaving no part of his face nor hair exposed. The eye areas were reinforced with black outlines, creating a stark contrast against the red, giving the impression of expressive eyes even though they were hidden.

Overall, he looked like he was dressed for battle, but even then, there was a playfulness in his stance, like he was just waiting for the fun to start.

The other guy was in all black. His outfit fully leather, tough but flexible, perfect for someone who needed to move fast and hit hard. It was sleek, with subtle detailing that caught the light when he shifted. Over his eyes, he wore a sharp mask, a slim black visor that added to his already intimidating presence. His long black hair is tied back into a neat bun at the back of his head, adding a touch of elegance to his otherwise rugged appearance. His hands were gloved, with a weird alteration that freed his knuckles on up.

The whole look was one of power and precision, every inch of him screaming danger, but in a way that was somehow... controlled. Like he was the kind of guy who didn't make idle threats.

Together, they were an odd pair—one dressed like he was ready for a chaotic spree, the other like he was here to end a war. And yet, there was a strange harmony between them, like they had been through this dance a hundred times before.

"What's with these two?" you muttered under your breath with a snort, flipping a page in your textbook without really seeing it. "Comic-Con isn't for another month."

The two men walked further into the bar, their steps measured and purposeful. A few patrons glanced their way, curiosity flickering in their eyes for a moment before they turned back to their drinks and quiet conversations, uninterested in the newcomers.

You silently watched from your tucked-away spot, noting how out of place they looked against the bar's grimy, dimly lit backdrop.

They made their way to the bar, their movements fluid yet distinct—one with a swagger that screamed "look at me," the other moving like a shadow, quiet and precise.

Thinking this was the end of it, you forced yourself to refocus on your textbook, trying to absorb the intricate connection of human muscles that had been eluding you all night.

Just as you started to get a grip on the complex anatomy, two shadows fell over your book, fully obscuring what little light the dim bar offered.

You sucked your teeth with an annoyed "tch," glaring up, ready to tell off whichever group of men thought they'd get lucky tonight. But your words got caught in your throat when you realized who was standing before you—the two men from earlier.

The one in red, who now sat in the seat next to you, had a vibrant galaxy cocktail in hand, stirring it with a straw like he had all the time in the world.

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the surreal scene, but quickly got back on track. With a disinterested, sarcastic tone, you asked, "What could I possibly help you two gentlemen with?"

The man in black opened his mouth to speak, but the one in red jumped in. "Oh, there's a lot you could help us with! Cooking, lending us some cash, maybe even—"

"Deadpool," the one in black interrupted, his tone flat but carrying a note of irritation.

The man in red's head snapped towards him. "Huh? What's up?"

The one in black groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose with clear exasperation. He turned to you, his demeanor shifting to something almost apologetic. "We don't mean to interrupt your evening, but we're looking for 'Y/N.' We've asked around and heard that she often frequents this bar."

For a moment, you just sat there, heart pounding in your chest. Your mind was racing, but outwardly, you kept your expression cool and passive.

You tilted your head and nodded realistically, pretending to be unfazed. "Oh, Y/N? She's my roommate. We come here sometimes to study for our exams, but she flaked on me tonight. Guess she got caught up," You paused, then asked casually, "What do you need from her? I can pass along a message if you'd like."

The two men exchanged a glance, and the one in red burst out with a long, drawn-out "Wow, you're good!" He turned to his companion, still twirling his straw in his drink. "Bro, if we didn't have a pic, I'd 100% believe her," he said, holding both hands up in mock surrender.

You froze, your breath hitching in your throat. Your mind raced, a thousand thoughts per second.

Before you could think of a way to escape or talk your way out, the man in red turned back to you. "Look, toots, I'll be honest—we need you. Now, I understand how scary this may be, two men coming in and searching for little ol' you, but you have no worries, I promise."

The man in black spoke up, his tone more measured. "Yes, like he said, we're not here to harm you. We just—"

His friend cut him off, leaning in closer. "You want to trust us? Look," he said, before abruptly reaching up and pulling off his mask. "Bam! Face reveal!"

Underneath the mask, his features were striking: bright blue eyes that practically glowed in the dim light of the bar, and a handsome face with sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline. His hair was cut short in a buzzcut, white as freshly fallen snow, adding a stark contrast to the dim, smoky atmosphere around him.

His skin was marked with faint burn scars, lines and patches that wove across his face like a map of past battles and close calls. Yet, these scars didn't detract from his appearance; they only added to his rugged, mysterious allure, hinting at the untold stories and experiences that lay beneath the surface.

The one in black sputtered, "D-Deadpool, what the fu—"

"You can stop with the code names, Geto," the man in said with a smirk. "We gotta get her to trust us."

The one in black—Geto—groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose again in frustration. "At my expense, though?"

Deadpool shrugged nonchalantly, leaning on his hands and tilting his head down to take a sip from his drink. "Why wouldn't I? You expect me to call you 'Wolverine' all night yet we know her name? I wouldn't trust us either."

Geto groans again, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Again with the 'trust us' bullshit. That still doesn't give a good reason why you revealed my fucking name and not your own.”

Deadpool just lets out a giggle, shrugging again with a carefree grin. "Oops?"

Geto stared at him blankly for a moment before bluntly stating, "Fuck you, Gojo Satoru."

Satoru's mouth dropped open in mock shock. "W-Wha… why… my entire government name, bro??? Even the damn Japanese format??? It was just a last name, you're acting like I said Geto Suguru..."

Suguru just ignored his outburst, turning his attention back to you, his expression serious once more. "Now, as I was saying, we've been searching for you."

You blinked, snapping yourself out of the mini-panic swirling in your mind, now acutely aware of the two men surrounding you—Satoru sitting casually beside you and Suguru standing in front of you with a more guarded stance.

"And why would that be?" you asked cautiously, trying to mask the nervous energy coursing through you.

Satoru, never one to let a moment of tension linger, cut in with a playful grin. "Because our jobs tend to get really messy, and we need a pair of healing hands for quicker recovery times. Besides, something's telling me you might be up for a little adventure."

You raised an eyebrow and snorted, unimpressed by his casual tone. "And why would I want to do that?"

Suguru finally spoke up, his voice gravelly and weighted with a seriousness that cut through Satoru's playful demeanor. "You look knowledgeable in the medical field," he said plainly. "And like Satoru said, our line of work tends to need that kind of expertise."

Before you could even think of a response, Satoru umped back in, his grin widening even more. "Plus, we've got a feeling you'd make a great addition to our little team. It's not every day you find a cute healer; most tend to be old crones."

And there it was. The mention of your healing powers.

You're not sure how, but it seemed like no matter where you went, that knowledge always managed to catch up with you.

Being a mutant wasn't something you advertised; it wasn't something you wore on your sleeve. Especially not in a world where the line between acceptance and fear was still razor-thin, where prejudice against mutants ran deep.

You'd learned early on to keep your abilities under wraps.

The hate and mistrust toward mutants had only grown more intense over the years, with some humans seeing you as a threat rather than a person.

Sure, there were heroes and vigilante groups like the X-Men who fought for mutant rights and tried to prove that mutants could be protectors, not dangers. But still, the divide remained. A silent, persistent wall between those who could heal and those who only knew how to fear.

It wasn't just about staying safe. It was about maintaining some semblance of a normal life, of blending in.

The last thing you needed was to be dragged into the chaos of someone else's fight, to be seen as a tool rather than a person. Yet here you were, once again, your secret laid bare before these strangers who seemed to know more about you than you were comfortable with.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your expression neutral, ready to tell them you had absolutely no interest in whatever scheme they were trying to pull you into. But before the words left your mouth, the door to the bar slammed open, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot.

A group of burly men stormed in, instantly grabbing the attention of everyone present. The leader—a rough-looking guy with a missing hand, which was poorly wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage—scanned the room with a snarl until his eyes landed on Satoru.

His face contorted into a scowl as he pointed his bleeding nub directly in your direction. "That's them!" he growled, his voice filled with fury. "Get those bastards!"

Before you could even react, the men charged forward, but Satoru's grin only grew wider, like he had been waiting for this exact moment. Suddenly, he threw a hand up, shouting, "Wait!"

The men paused, looking confused, their momentum halted by the unexpected command.

Satoru stood up slowly, the corners of his mouth curling into a mischievous smirk as he loudly slurped down the rest of his cocktail.

He released an exaggerated "Ahhh" of satisfaction, savoring the last drop before shoving his mask back on with a quick flick of his wrist. He turned to the men with a gleeful expression and said, "Okay, I'm ready, boys~."

Without missing a beat, he launched himself into the fray.

The bar erupted into chaos.

Satoru moved like a blur, dodging a punch with a fluid twist of his body, then delivering a quick jab to his attacker’s gut.

It was almost like a dance, his movements graceful yet deadly.

He ducked under a swing, flipped over a table with the ease of a seasoned acrobat, and landed a perfectly timed kick that sent one guy crashing into the jukebox, which sputtered and then blasted out distorted music. "Nice try, but you're gonna have to do better than that!" he quipped, his voice filled with that unmistakable humor.

Suguru was a stark contrast. All raw power and precision, he grabbed one of the men by the collar and slammed him into the nearest wall.

The impact left a dent in the plaster, and the guy crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Suguru didn't waste a single movement—every punch, every kick was delivered with a calculated brutality meant to incapacitate. "Stay down, monkey," he muttered, his voice low and dangerous, as he drove a knee into another attacker's stomach, sending him reeling backward into a table, which collapsed under the weight.

As the fight intensified, bar patrons started scrambling for the exit, knocking over chairs and tables in their haste to escape.

The bartender, a burly man with a grizzled beard, stepped out from behind the bar, shouting above the noise. "Hey! You're gonna pay for this mess! Take your fight outside, or I'll—"

Before he could finish his sentence, the leader with the missing hand growled in frustration. "Shut up!" He grabbed a glass from the bar with his good hand and hurled it at the bartender, the glass shattering against his skull.

The bartender stumbled back, eyes wide with shock, before collapsing behind the counter, blood pooling around his head.

The violence seemed to escalate, everything becoming a blur of fists, broken glass, and shouts.

A chair flew across the room, smashing into the wall near where you were crouched, and you instinctively threw up your arms to shield yourself from the splinters. Heart racing, you knew you had to get out, but the chaos was overwhelming.

One of the attackers swung a metal pipe at Satoru, who effortlessly sidestepped and countered with a spinning kick that knocked the man off his feet and sent him sliding across the bar’s sticky floor. "You guys really know how to make a guy feel special~" Satoru laughed, eyes alight with adrenaline.

Wide-eyed, you stuttered, "H-Holy shit," as your flight set in. Hastily, you tried to pack up all your things, shoving books and papers into your backpack with trembling hands.

Just as you threw the bag over your shoulders and turned to make a run for it, a rough hand reached out and grabbed your puffed ponytail in a tight grip.

"Where do ya think you're going, girly? Leavin' your crew so soon?" a gruff voice sneered.

You looked up to find one of the thugs grinning down at you with a mouth full of yellowed teeth.

Desperation bubbled up as you blubbered, "L-Look, I have nothing to do with this, I swear! I'm just a struggling college student!" You weakly rubbed your hands together, hoping to somehow appeal to his sense of mercy—if he even had one.

The man let out a wet cackle, but just as dread washed over you and you thought your life was about to end, his eyes widened in shock. An arm had looped around his neck from behind, pulling him back with surprising strength.

It was Suguru.

"That's no way to treat a lady, now is it?" he growled into the man's ear, his voice low and dangerous.

With his free hand, Suguru shot his arm out, and you watched in stunned silence as three sharp metal claws extended from between his knuckles with a sharp "snikt."

In one swift motion, Suguru slashed upward, driving the claws through the man's head with a sickening gurgle. His movements were methodical, almost surgical—each strike designed not just to disable, but to finish his opponent swiftly and efficiently.

"This is getting messy," he muttered, casting a quick glance your way. "Stay low and keep your head down."

A small splatter of fresh blood dotted your face, hot and sticky. Too shocked to speak, you could only nod wordlessly, your heart hammering in your chest.

A flash of metal cut through the dim light as Suguru disarmed another attacker, the weapon clattering to the ground.

The jukebox, now playing a scratchy rendition of an old rock song, suddenly exploded into sparks as another attacker was thrown against it, his weight too much for the old machine to bear.

The smell of burning circuitry filled the air, mixing with the scent of spilled alcohol and the coppery tang of blood.

Just as you thought things couldn't get any worse, the leader of the group grabbed a table leg and charged at Suguru with a wild roar. He swung the makeshift club with all his might, but Suguru sidestepped, letting the momentum carry the leader past him.

Suguru turned and delivered a punishing elbow to the back of the leader’s neck, sending him crashing to the ground.

With a few men down, Satoru turned to you, his eyes sparkling with amusement despite the chaos. "Looks like you're coming with us, whether you like it or not," he teased, and before you could argue, he rushed over, scooping you up over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. "Hang on tight, princess!"

You began shouting, "Wait—what!? You can't be serious!!" just as your world flipped upside down in an instant.

Satoru's grip was surprisingly firm, and you were jostled around like a ragdoll as he darted through the chaos of the bar, cackling like a madman. Chairs and debris flew past, and you clutched onto him, trying not to lose your dinner.

Suguru, maintaining his composure amidst the chaos, bent down to grab your bag and textbooks. He gave you an apologetic glance, his expression almost soft despite the situation. "Sorry about this," he said, his voice calm amidst the madness.

The three of you burst through the bar's front door and into the cool night air.

The sharp contrast between the smoky, dim interior of the bar and the crisp, open night sky made everything feel surreal, like you had stepped out of one world and into another.

Satoru's laughter echoed in your ears, wild and free, mingling with the distant sounds of the ongoing brawl behind you. "Trust me," he shouted over his shoulder, not slowing his pace even a little, "we're gonna have a lot of fun!"

As Satoru sprinted down the street, weaving through narrow alleys with you still slung over his shoulder, you let out a small, incredulous laugh.

It was half at the absurdity of the situation and half at the exhilarating sense of liberation coursing through you.

Because at the end of it all, against all odds...

...he might just be right.

A/N: hi guys! just wanted to post this after watching the new deadpool wolverine movie and binging on SatoSugu x reader fics, so hope this wasn't a too bad of a read; not sure if i'll actually do more of this or not 😩also, sorry for being gone for so long, finally dug myself up out of my lil ball of anger/sadness. now that i'm back at the dorm, i hope to bring you guys more of the lil delusions i have swimming about ❤️❤️

[wewerebornsextuplets]

idk how but you draw in the Oso-san style so good i need to know your secret please

HAHA thank you very much!! im glad you think so :D unfortunately im not very good at explaining how i work, but ill try my best to show what i mean!!

once again this is long as hell. you know the drill at this point

to be honest, half the battle i fight with drawing in the osmt style is just. Looking at it. the ososan art style actually fluctuates pretty wildly depending on what you're looking for, whether that be the mobile games (for instance, tabimatsu and hesowars look nothing alike in terms of style despite both being the same source material), official art and merch, or even the seasons of the show itself!

using ichi as my example here since i draw him the most, but its pretty easy to play spot the difference with the varying styles. even within a specific season you can do this across episodes, especially with season 1!

when i draw, i tend to be a bit sacrilege and use references across different media; usually ill use the show [especially season 2, if only because its a bit more "uniform"] as reference for the actual features and colors/poses/etc, but i like to use hesowars to reference proportions, since they seem to be most consistent there.

SOMETHING IMPORTANT TO NOTE: theres a WEALTH of fanartists that have styles that are INCREDIBLY similar to the show, so be careful to check your sources! these artists deserve credit for their hard work, which they often don't get since their work is reposted under the guise of being official art.

once you've pinned down the exact style you'd like to emulate, and the character you're looking to draw, its really just a matter of finding references, which is pretty easy! you can scrub through different episodes for good angles/shots, or if you're going for one of the game styles the AU wiki has most of the games catalogued to my knowledge. if you're looking to draw an oc, use characters you think they would look similar to in the show. if you really wanna waste your time, though, you can always scrub through crowd scenes in the show to see if any background characters might look like what you're going for; the season 3 episode Mt. Takao comes to mind, there were a lot of cute mob characters there.

using keiko as my example here, you can see that i pulled her features from multiple different characters to get her to look right in the style. with ocs, its important to reference a number of different characters, since the likelihood of a background character being a 1:1 for your little guy is unfortunately pretty low. there WILL, however, be a lot of characters that look KIND of like them. the key is to figure out what parts go where!

to this point, most prominent ososan women have very similar stock anime girl faces with very minor differences, so if youre looking to make a cute girl oc, most of the womens' faces can be used somewhat interchangeably. if you want your cute girl oc to have a more unique face, though, the movie gave us some women with more unique faces in the form of the NEETs' old classmates! theres also no harm in referencing male characters faces in this regard. #butchswag #kiruminikuya

BUT. going back to the assumption that you're drawing a canon character, today I'll be drawing oso for my example

when you're first getting a feel for the style, tracing some of your references can actually be a really great way to acclimate yourself to the characters proportions and features. think of like when you were a kid, and would trace over pictures of pokemon or cartoon characters so you could draw them better. its basically the same principle! this was especially helpful for me when it came to eyes; they vary the most wildly of any other trait that characters have in ososan, so going over the different shapes to get a feel for each of them was very important.

when you trace, though, I recommend doing so a bit more loosely, sort of like if you're doing a photo study for anatomy; block out the basic shapes and do small markers for different features (i.e small lines to denote where the eyes start and and, distance from nose to mouth, things like that), and from there draw the rest on your own.

after long enough you'll get a feel for the basic placement of where everything should go! the eyes and nose are undoubtedly the hardest when it comes to the sextuplets, since they shift around a LOT between games/seasons/etc. so don't feel bad if you have a hard time with that, since there isnt really a "right" answer with how frequently it changes. i still fuck it up all the time myself!

as for some basic tips, heres some stuff i try to keep in mind when drawing them that just helps the finished product look a bit nicer!

when drawing the hair + fringe line, its important to swoop it downwards a little bit; the flat across look Can work, but if you're not careful you risk showing the tops of their eyes, which is um. ew! ick! nast!

when a matsu is facing forward, their hair will usually tend towards one direction to keep the silhouette. in most screenshots i saw, the bowl cut points left! that said, dont be afraid to point rightwards if its better for your specific drawing!

and lastly: USE THE LIQUIFY TOOL. LIBERALLY. i am not joking when i say this has saved my ass so many times, its hard to get the placement right on the facial features and even harder to get everything to LOOK good, so if its available to you i HIGHLY suggest just squishing everything around with a liquify tool until it looks right. you can always go back and correct the blurry lines. its really a life saver

BUT YEAH! i dont know if this was very helpful but i hope you're at least able to gain something from it :-))

[drunk-on-dk]

Track 1: Hotel | Choi Seungcheol (m)

Track 1 - Hotel // Montell Fish - playlist linked here

Pairing: Heir!Choi Seungcheol x fem!reader Genre: SMUT (minors DNI), angst? w/c: ~3.1k (some change, barely proofread tbh) Summary: Old Money/Heir!Seungcheol can't help but invite you to his hotel room no matter how dangerous you are for him and his reputation.

Explicit Content - Minors DNI, Listeners 18+, NSFW Warnings Below

content warning: unprotected sex (stay protected pls); oral (male receiving); no specific pronouns used, but reader has female anatomy & wears a dress; degrading name (brat); bratty reader; dom!cheol; big dick!cheol; rough?cheol (pussy slapping, choking, makes the reader crawl); a bit of commentary on shitty businesses for the sake of minimal plot; secret hooking up lmao

a/n: lol this is the beginning of my playlist series and I just got so excited I couldn't wait to post! I hope you all enjoy it! As always, all feedback is appreciated <3

“When I met you in that hotel room

I could tell that you were so bad news

But I keep messing with ya, messing with ya

And now you messing with me, messing with me”

Seungcheol knew you were bad news when he first met you in ECON 101 his first year of university. You had plucked his pen right out of his fingertips with a devilish smirk on your lips and continued to scribble your number down on his hand without a second thought after he had been assigned as your study partner for the semester.

Admittedly, you were very attractive to Seungcheol the moment he laid eyes on you in the lecture hall. However, he soon would find out you both lived very different lifestyles. Seungcheol was the son of a successful tech business tycoon; following in his father’s footsteps and only committing to majoring in business to please the demands of said father. You, on the other hand, were a stubborn, moral driven business major who scoffed upon finding out Seungcheol was next in line for a company that didn’t seem to care about their own employees. You sure gave Seungcheol an earful about his father’s company, in which Seungcheol was already aware of the scandals and fully agreed with all that you said, but he couldn’t admit that to anyone but himself.

Unfortunately for Seungcheol, you were painstakingly intelligent, and he swore he wouldn’t have made it through economics without your consistent help. Honestly, Seungcheol claimed he wouldn’t have made it to graduation without you being by his side for the next years to come.

Both of you resented each other in a way; Seungcheol wished to live a normal life and wished that he had half the wit you did, whilst you were envious Seungcheol blissfully lived his life with ease, not needing to lift a finger to get what he wanted. You turned a blind eye to it though, admitting that Seungcheol was smart and too kind in comparison to his hard exterior, and you believed he’d make a better CEO than his father one day. Maybe you could even keep his head on straight if you stayed by his side long enough.

Even though you were tons of help to Seungcheol in university, you had caused him plenty of problems outside of classes. You became an activist of sorts, using a platform that you had built online to speak out against companies that engaged in immoral acts. One of those companies being Seungcheol’s father’s company, quickly becoming a thorn in his father’s side upon your rapidly gaining popularity.

After university, Seungcheol found you at large business events, usually catching you conversing with important people in the industry, a pretty, stray hair framing your face as you’d scribble notes down in your journal. Later he’d spot you seated in the far corner of whatever gala it was you both were attending, a glass of champagne in hand as your sharp eyes observed the crowd, only softening when you’d spot Seungcheol.

Seungcheol’s father demanded he kept a low profile at these events, and you were a controversial figure. However, it was hard to stay away from you, even when he knew his father hated the impact your words had on his business and would curse him out for ever knowing you. Seungcheol somehow always found a way to chat with you, basking in your snarky comments and rants that you’d sneak in by the bar. You were such a pain in the ass for Seungcheol in many aspects, but he was inevitably drawn to you from the beginning.

Seungcheol knew he was screwed when he started routinely fucking you after these events, typically inviting you up to whatever expensive hotel he was staying in for the night. You’d chuckle condescendingly at the ridiculous penthouse, but Seungcheol knew you didn’t care all that much when your dress would suddenly pool around your feet, stripping for him after just a blink of his eye.

To Seungcheol’s dismay, the first time you two snuck away had been caught by the paparazzi, and it had ended up in a business journal, calling Seungcheol out for flirting practically with the enemy.

Not even the scolding Seungcheol received that day could keep him away from you though; he just had to be smarter from now on. He couldn’t deny you when only you knew exactly how to ease his tension after these events.

Maybe the forbidden aspect is what drew him to you as well, but Seungcheol knew damn well that he loved how much of a brat you were for him. He couldn’t lie that you turned him on every time you tore his father’s business apart, shivers running down his spine as you’d run your mouth to him all the way home, and smirking at the fact you’d even dare to say such a thing in a limo funded by his father’s business. How ironic.

You’d keep going back to him as well, knowing that your relationship with Seungcheol was not practical in the slightest, even if part of you fantasized about a life with him outside of all this business bullshit, but damn, did he give you good dick. It sure did a good job at lessening whatever stress you felt at the end of the night.

It became routine, Seungcheol would invite you to his hotel, you’d scoff at the ritzy interior, and he’d stare you down expectantly from the opposite side of the ridiculously big room.

“Are you going to be a fucking brat tonight, Y/N?” Seungcheol asks, his husky voice sending chills down your spine as you try to keep your cool. “Or will you strip and crawl to me like how I asked?”

“Bite me, Seungcheol,” you spit out, but you can’t stop your fingers from playing with the straps and zipper of your dress.

“You better watch what you ask for.” God, you love the way his voice deepened in tone, coercing you to follow his orders as he watches you with a bushy eyebrow raised expectantly, and throwing his suit jacket on the floor like it was trash.

You refuse to break eye contact with him as you strip down, loving the way his gaze would falter when your dress finally drops to the ground and soaking in the groan that escapes his lips once he notices you have no undergarments on.

Dropping teasingly to the ground, you fall to your hands and knees, continuing to keep your eyes locked on his as you slowly crawl across the room to him. Seungcheol begins to strip himself, pulling his belt off once you’ve made it halfway to him, and finally unbuttoning his pristine white shirt, revealing the fiery skin you’ve touched so many times underneath it.

Ultimately making it to Seungcheol’s feet, his thumb grabs your chin, forcing your gaze back up to his after making eye contact with the obvious bulge in his trousers. Sitting on your knees, you pull his thumb into your mouth, running your tongue around the digit and gliding your hands up his solid thighs.

“Oh,” you coo condescendingly, “did your in-staff pleat these pants for you? I’d hate to ruin the perfect ironing job, Cheol.”

This is what Seungcheol adored about you; loved that you found a way to dig into his lifestyle and had enough courage to call out how he was fed with a silver spoon every day. It’s also what enraged him, unbelieving that you still thought so lowly of him after all these years.

“God,” Seungcheol ran his free hand through his hair, flustered by your boldness and the way you continued to suck at his thumb between your words. “I think this brat needs their mouth stuffed.”

“I didn’t crawl all the way here for nothing,” you pout, pulling away from Seungcheol with a ‘pop,’ and starting to work at his pants button. Finally pulling down both his trousers and underwear, you couldn’t hold back your chuckle after coming face to face with his brooding, leaky tip. “Looks like you need help, Cheol.”

The groan that bubbled from his chest was feral as he grabs at your hair, a large hand pulling it into his grip before he lines his length up to your mouth. “Open.”

You didn’t mess with Seungcheol when he got this demanding, your lack of words being enough to egg him on as your jaw drops slack for him, wet tongue falling out eagerly as you wait for him to stuff your mouth full.

“Don’t tease me, Y/N,” he pouts, cherry-red lips matching your puffy ones while awaiting your final consent before inserting the tip of his head into your expecting mouth.

“Fill me, Cheol, ‘m hungry for your cock,” you mewl, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes as you grant him your final blessing. As much as Seungcheol was a little shit, he sure was respectful as hell, and you couldn’t deny the flutter in your heart every time.

Finally giving in upon your permission, Seungcheol shoves his length past your lips, groaning out in pleasure when his head hits the back of your throat, only gagging around him as it still took you some time to get used to his size and how rough he likes to be.

“Such a fucking pro, Y/N, such a good little brat for me.” It becomes messy so fast, immediately acclimating to Seungcheol as he uses your mouth for his own pleasure. Seungcheol becomes entranced with the way drool pools outside of your lips, his pleasure intensifying as you moan around him, tongue working at the underside of his head.

The grip he has on you drives you wild, the heat at your core becoming more prominent as he bucks into your mouth and guides your head as you thoroughly suck him off. When he pulls you off, the only thing that connects you to him was the string of saliva hanging from your swollen lips and his hardened cock.

“Going to finish so soon, Cheol? Did it feel that good?” You pout up at him, a patronizing tone enraging him as he pulls you up to eye level, a strong hand wrapped around your throat before he pulls you into a bruising kiss.

“You need to learn when to shut up, Y/N,” he moans into the kiss, feeling even dizzier when you roll your body against his, the warmth of your skin on his reminding him of how real you are.

“Never,” you refute, smiling against his lips before he begins to nibble down the side of your neck. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“I know it all too well,” he chuckles into your neck, sucking tenderly and pulling the delicate skin between his teeth, being sure to leave a mark on you. “Seems like you still need to learn a thing or two.”

You don’t even have a chance to mutter another word before Seungcheol is diving down to your chest, drawing a gasp from you when he pulls your nipple between his teeth, sucking and nibbling harshly at the peak. You almost collapse, but his hold on you is strong enough to keep you flush against his body, a reminder of the hard erection pressed against your lower abdomen.

Finally gaining enough sense to play into Seungcheol’s game, you egg him on even more, “how will you ever teach me anything?”

This is enough to rile Seungcheol up, turning you around and bending you over the armrest of the couch next to you. Falling face first into the plush cushions, you barely have time to process the harsh slap against your pussy, legs nearly giving out as the cool air and remnants of string burn at your core.

“Will this bratty pussy take me well?” It’s Seungcheol’s turn to be arrogant, knowing he has the upper hand as he runs his pointer and middle fingers between your folds, gathering up your slick on his fingers. You know he gets a taste of you, hearing his lips smacking as he hums in approval. “As much as I’d love to get another taste, I think you need to be stuffed full elsewhere to learn a lesson. You don’t deserve my tongue tonight, Y/N.”

“Please,” you’re giving in and begging for him at this point. “Please teach me a lesson, Cheol. I’ve been a bad all night.”

“My brat,” he’s teasing from behind you, your body and inner walls instantly reacting as you feel his tip prod at your core, collecting enough of your wetness before pushing between your folds. The guttural groan he lets out has you pushing back, allowing for him to fill you until his hips encounter your ass and you’re both crooning in satisfaction, “Always know how to take me so well, like the good little thing you are. Not sure there is much of a lesson other than shutting that mouth of yours, which I can do by filling you to the brim.”

Unfortunately, he is absolutely correct, the only words escaping you are incoherent pleas as he begins to drag his cock out of you before shallowly thrusting inside of you again.

Seungcheol’s nails are digging into your hips as he slowly tries to regain his senses, the feeling of your pussy pulsing around his cock is already making him feel delirious. The only vice you have is the velvety fabric of the couch, your nails leaving trail lines in the luxurious fabric as you try to come to and adjust around him.

The pace he sets is immediately brutal, his hips crashing against yours as he begins to thrust in and out of you. The sound of your skin slapping against his is lewd, and a honeyed gasp is pulled from you with each snap of his hips.

You’re clenching so tightly around him he swears he could lose himself in you, a hand slapping against once your ass cheeks in frustration as your walls continue to suck him in so perfectly.

“Feel s’good, Y/N. This bratty pussy always proves to take me so well, how are you so damn tight all the time?”

You’re so breathless with your response that he barely even hears you, but he can’t hide the smirk that graces his features when you admit exactly what he wants to hear, “no one fucks me like you do, Cheol. Only you fill me so well, s’big and s’good.”  

“You always know exactly what to say, huh?” He’s pulling you back up by the neck now, fingers wrapping around you like a necklace as he props one of your legs up on the armrest, allowing for better leverage to fuck up into you.

You’re moaning pathetically at this point as he bullies his cock up into you, the friction of his head dragging between your walls so delightful, just like he’s made for you, and his actions arousing you even more. Seungcheol’s lips are all over your skin, leaving trails of saliva down the back of your neck and shoulder, his hot lips sending blissful shivers through your body and coercing your head to fall back into him. His fingers run across your chest, rolling your nipples between the digits as he whispers dirty, sweet nothings into your ear.

Eventually, his fingers make their way down your torso, thick pads meeting your swollen clit and drawing an embarrassingly loud cry from you. Seungcheol continues to thrust up into you, his head contacting your cervix in the most pleasurable way and winding up the hot coil inside of you even more.

It’s devastating how familiar he is with your body at this point, knowing you’re way too fucked out to even refute any of his words, and recognizing the tell-tale sign that you’re close to finishing as your walls pulse uncontrollably around him, legs weakening but he holds your entire body weight up with ease.

“Does my brat deserve to finish?” It’s so annoying the way he bites at your ear when he edges you closer and closer to your release, thumb circling your clit in a tantalizing motion and intensifying the heat burning in your core.

“I don’t know,” you bite back a moan, sick of the games he’s playing at this point and rolling your hips back to meet each of his thrusts. Seungcheol can’t help but chuckle as you try your best to talk back, “you tell me, Cheol? Did I do well?”

“You did so well until now,” he lets out a breathy sigh, pulling his fingers away from your throbbing clit, but it becomes a strained groan as you clamp down even tighter around his length.

Pathetically, you fall back down onto the couch, your own hips chasing his motions, grinding back into him all before you’re just about slamming your ass against him with each buck of his hips.

“Fuck,” he’s moaning out, calloused hands palming your ass and meeting you with each thrust, watching where he connects with you as his cock disappears into your pussy with each desperate plunge back into you. “I take it back, you did so well. So, so, so well.”

With that final praise, you’re falling apart on his cock, walls clamping down on him like a vice and trembling and crying from beneath him, muscles shaking as you feel your arousal shatter within you. Seungcheol is following suit, unable to hold himself back when you feel this good around him, letting rope after rope of his cum fill you just how you like it.

Seungcheol falls against your body, pounding chest meeting your back while he shallowly thrusts his hips into yours, milking the rest of both your orgasms and memorizing the whimpers that come from you as you begin to feel overstimulated.

Seungcheol’s a gentleman of course, treating you to a nice, hot bath in the jacuzzi sized large enough to fit an entire group, and tucking you into the silk sheets of the pretentious hotel. Even after this luxury treatment, Seungcheol can’t avoid the snarky comments you mumble before you drift off to sleep, which is so damn endearing that he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

Admittedly, it’s always disappointing when he wakes up the next morning and you aren’t there, even if Seungcheol knows it’s for the best. The note you leave with a water bottle and medication for his hangover is always enough to keep him hooked, your pretty handwriting reminding him to leave a good tip for the staff, a kiss mark of your lipstick as a signature and reminder of you.

God, you were bad news for him, but he’ll keep you around as long as he can. Even if that means just inviting you up to these damn hotel rooms for now.