#with great bone structure for days

[netherworldpost]

@kernyen-xo /

Cheaply.

Watercolor sets made by Crayola. Acrylics made by Crayola. The brushes these kits come with are frustrating, cheap brushes are typically $3-5 each. You can spend as much as you want on a brush, the cheap ones are surprisingly good. This is extremely common advice, this isn't just from me.

When you find "ah I like this" go with a student grade of whichever you prefer. Or both! I find watercolor frustrating. I find acrylic doesn't look graphic as much as I want. I fell in love with a paint called gouache because it is very flat, layers nicely.

I would not start with oil paint. It is expensive, requires a lot of special care to keep you safe. Fumes, cleaning agents, etc. Fall in love with painting, then if you want, give oil a try. Be prepared for days (weeks, months, literally) for paint to dry. This isn't to scare you off it -- it's great -- but I wouldn't start here.

Oil has tremendous variety of things you can do with it.

Watercolor is ethereal.

Acrylic has great graphic qualities, lots of range.

I like gouache because it looks almost animated (there is a reason for that, it was/is used in animation background sometimes). It's tricky and tempermental.

Paint by numbers kits if you don't draw. Maybe even if you do and just want to dive into painting.

Mixed media sketchbooks. Lets you experiment a lot, cheaply. The big thing about sketchbook paper is it comes in a few forms -- very cheap (newsprint) and takes dry media (pencils, etc.) well, cheap (mixed media, lets you experiment quickly and a lot), and expensive (hot press has no texture, cold press has a texture).

Painting needs something that can get wet and not fall apart.

Start with a cheap mixed media sketchbook and see how you like it. Move on from there.

Ton of videos across lots of social media and much content. Has the advantage of multiple perspectives, you don't get trapped in "I think this is crap" or "This is the best" versus your thoughts.

Start cheaply.

Art stores and product manufacturers exist to make money. This is a neutral statement. The point is they are a store, they will sell you whatever you think you need, whether you need it or not.

Conversely!

Some things that are not universally useful but sold in art stores are great labor savers. Some people look down at disposable palette paper, others need the flexibility because they have a hard time washing palettes... etc.

Start cheaply. Look at hardware stores, lots of duplicate functions in items.

I come from a background of digital art and a lifetime of business where "ah where the BONES ARE WE GOING TO FIND MONEY FOR--"

Have fun.

Get in deep and frustrated and then drink the frustration (but not the paint water) because you realize you're frustrated because you can FEEL how it should look but you can't get there yet.

The journey is amazing.

I've started looking at the mountain of business problems I have been sorting through for the last few years.

"Okay. How is this supply chain issue with stationery compared to a painting I want to do of the piranha plants of Super Mario Brothers?"

This is literally something I asked myself.

It took me out of the problem (supply chain issue, boxes, our office size, the number of stationery items I want to design) and forced me to look at it as a painting (structure, where does it stay simple, where does it get complex -- what makes sense -- ah, PDF downloads).

Paint.

Learn by doing.

Start cheaply.

Keep going. Build up.

[diana-thyme]

The Ultimate Grimoire Guide

So! I have been seeing a ton of grimoire ideas and thought I’d stuff them all together. A lot of ideas are from @manifestationsofasort, @banebite, and @pigeonflavouredcake. Check them out! They have a ton of cool stuff there.

What Do I Use For My Grimoire?

You can use anything for a grimoire! For a physical one, journals, binders, and notebooks are good. For digital ones, Notion, Tumblr, Docs, and even just your file folder are great.

Introduction

A Book Blessing

Table of Contents

About Me

Your Current Path

Your Personal Beliefs

Your Spiritual Journey

Superstitions

Past lives

Favorite Herbs/Crystals/Animals/Etc.

Natal Chart

Craft Name

How You Entered The Craft

Astrology Signs

Birthday Correspondences (birth tarot card, birth stone, etc.)

Goals

Safety

Fire Safety

What Not to Burn

Toxic Plants & Oils (to humans, plants, animals)

Crystals That Shouldn’t Be Put… (in sun, in water, etc.)

Things That Shouldn’t Be In Nature (glass, salt, etc.)

Potion Safety

How to Incorporate Blood in Spells

Smoke Safety

Wound Care

Biohazards

Core Concepts

Intention & How It Works

Directing Energy

Protection

Banishing

Cleansing

Binding

Charging

Shielding

Grounding

Centering

Visualization

Consecration/Blessing

Warding

Enchanting

Manifestation

Meditation

What Makes A Spell Work

Basic Spell Structure

What Not To Do In Spells

Disposing Spell Ingredients

Revitalizing Long Term Spells

How To Cast Spells

What To Put In Spells

Spell Mediums (jars, spoken, candle, sigils)

Spell Timing

Potion Bases

Differentiating Between Magick and Mundane

Common Terms

Common Symbols

Intuition

Elements

Basic Alchemy and Symbols

Ways To Break Spells

Laws and Philosophies

Correspondences

Herbs & Spices

Crystals & Rocks

Colors

Liquids & Drinks

Metals

Numbers

Tarot Cards

Elements

Trees & Woods

Flowers

Days

Months

Seasons

Moon Phases

Zodiacs

Planets

Incense

Teas

Essential Oils

Directions

Animals

Symbology

Bone Correspondences

Different Types of Water

Common Plants

Entities

Deities You Worship

Pantheons

Pantheons & Deities Closed to You

Common Offerings

Epithets

Mythos

Family

Worship vs Work

Prayers & Prayer Template

Altars

Deity Comms

Devotional Acts

Angels

Demons

Ancestors

Spirit Guides

Fae

Familiars

House, Animal, Plant, Etc. Spirits

Folklore Entities

Spirit Etiquette

Graveyard Etiquette

Boundaries

Communication Guide & Etiquette

Spirit Work Safety Guide

How Entities Appear To You

Circle Casting

Common Offerings

Altars

Servitors

Mythological Creatures (dragons, gorgons, etc.)

Utility Pages

Gazing Pages

Sigil Charging Station

Altar Pages

Intent Pages

Getaway Pages

Vision Boards

Dream Pages

Binding Page

Pendulum Board

Crystal Grid

Throwing Bones Page

Divination Pages

Mirror Gazing Page

Invocation Pages

Affirmation/Manifestation Pages

Spirit Board Page

Other Practices

Practices That Are Closed to You (Voodoo, Hoodoo, Santeria, Brujeria, Shamanism, Native Practices)

Wicca and Wiccan Paths

Satanism, Both Theistic and Non-Theistic

Deity Work

Religious Paths (Hellenism, Christianity, Kemeticism, etc.)

Animism

Types of Magic/Spells

Pop Culture Paganism/Magic

Tech Magic

Chaos Magic

Green Magic

Lunar Magic

Solar Magic

Sea Magic

Kitchen Magic

Ceremonial Magic

Hedge Magic

Death Magic

Gray Magic

Eclectic Magic

Elemental Magic

Fae Magic

Spirit Magic

Candle Magic

Crystal Magic

Herbalism

Glamours

Hexes

Jinxes

Curses

Weather Magic

Astral Magic

Shadow Work

Energy Work

Sigils

Art Magic

Knot Magic

Music Magic

Blood Magic

Bath Magic

Affirmations

Divination

Tarot Cards

Oracle Cards

Playing Cards

Card Spreads

Pendulum

Numerology

Scrying

Palmistry

Tasseography

Runes

Shufflemancy

Dice

Bibliomancy

Carromancy

Pyromancy

Psychic Abilities

Astrology

Auras

Lenormand

Sacred Geometry

Angel Numbers

Ornithomancy

Aeromancy

Aleuromancy

Axinomancy

Belomancy

Hydromancy

Lecanomancy

Necromancy

Oneiromancy

Onomancy

Oomancy

Phyllomancy

Psephomancy

Rhabdomancy

Xylomancy

Tools

Crystal grid

Candle grid

Charms

Talismans

Amulets

Taglocks

Wand

Broom

Athame

Boline

Cingulum

Stang

Bells

Drums

Staffs

Chalices

Cauldrons

Witches Ladder

Poppets

Holidays

Yule

Imbolc

Ostara

Beltane

Litha

Lammas

Mabon

Samhain

Esbats

Deity Specific Holidays

Religious Holidays (Christmas, Easter, Dionysia, etc.)

Celestial Events

Altars

Basics of Altars

Travel Altars

Deity Altars

Spirit Altars

Familiar Altars

Ancestor Altars

Self Altars

Working Altars

Self-Care

Burnout Prevention

Aromatherapy

Stress Management

Coping Mechanisms

Theories & History

Witchcraft history

Paganism

New Age Spirituality

Cultural Appropriation

Thelema

Conspiracy Theories

Cults

Satanic Panic

KJV

Witches in History

Cats in History

Transphobia in Witchcraft Circles

Queerness in Witchcraft Circles

Other

Recipes

How to Get Herbs

Foraging

Drying Herbs and Flowers

Chakras

Reiki

Witches Alphabet

Runic Alphabet

Guide to Gardening

Your Witch Tips

Resources

Other Tips

List of Spells

Cryptids and Their Lore

What is a Liminal Space?

[milksuu]

ᴀ ʀᴜʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀꜱʜ & ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ ───── ♛

pairing: evil!hiccup x f!mute!reader

wc: 1.7k

tw: yandere, implied kidnapping, obsessive/possessive behavior, mention of blood/violence, mention of death

synopsis: You regretted the day they left him for dead. And you’d regret the day you ever saw him again—he’d make sure of that.

A gleam of orange blazed in the bleakness of night.

You watched from your hilltop window—the thatched roofs off the eastern slopes of Berk twisting and writhing in flames. Even from a distance, you heard the breaking moans of ceilings, the cracks and bends of collapsing wooden structures, and the piercing wails of scales met with sharp edges of iron. Despite The Red Death’s fall, dragon raids still plagued the lands.

Perhaps it was all a sign of retribution. 

You were told to stay within the safe confines of your home. Your father hadn’t wanted to risk your life, considering how precious you’d become. The next Seer in line after Gothi, gifted with spiritual wisdom, healing, and authority of officiating the next chief.

But the price to pay had been steep. 

The house was dark, not even the smallest candle lit. Nothing that would draw a glimmer of attention to the home. A creak ached the roof above, and you flitted your nose up to the rafters, drawing lines across the ceiling. Nothing but your shallow breaths filled the silent dark. 

The hearth then erupted with flame and spark, jolting you from back to neck bone. Had you any voice, a strangled scream would’ve ripped from your throat. Twisting, you had almost forgotten to breathe. A figure shrouded in shadow and leather stood beside the crackling firewood. Light and dark danced in an undulating battle across the strangers’ features–revealing a horrifying familiarity.

“Hope you don’t mind if I warm this place up a bit.” That voice, boy-ish in tone, lacked any hint of innocence or niceties. He stretched a gloved hand towards the licking flames, doing nothing to warm the ice coating his insides. “Couldn’t help but notice you looked a little cold and...alone.”

A snap of wood made you flinch; addressing him with quivering lips and dilated eyes. Your long-lost greeting didn’t forebode well.

Every piece of leather tightened around his body as he shifted. Turning to ensnare you within his talon like stare. When embers casted a sheen across his face, you braced against the sight. Soft features long since abandoned, reforged into a visage of cold iron. Carved and littered with scars and nicks across his furrowed brows, cheeks, and clenched jaw line.

“Well, this is kind of embarrassing. Wait, no. That’s not the word I was looking for. More like—disappointing. That sounds like a better fit. For you and everyone else here.” Hiccup stalked forward, a contraption of metal clanking and scratching against the splintering floors. Each step clanged through you, until he stood one heartbeat away. “After all these years, I’d thought you’d have a bit more to say than a blank stare. Every night, I dreamed about how this conversation would go. Just like how I dreamed things could be better than what they were. Funny how you can plan for things to go a certain way, but then…”

He pressed his hands at each side of your head, the glass window behind begging to crack from the pressure. His scent permeated, forcing you to swallow. Once smelling of spring honey and rolling glades, now sundered to singe your senses like bone ash and lightning storms. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s a little different.” He placed a calloused finger into the dip of your clavicle. He dug and dug until your pained gasp fell deaf to his ears. Tilting his head, he curled the lip of his mouth. “So, just like Gothi, you gave up your voice. Good—great, actually. This works out better for me.” 

The smile that crept over his lips never made it up to his eyes. Not like before. Those vibrant meadows sullied into a sickly, muddled green. Thick and ichorous. And dared you stare long enough, you could never trudge your way out. Although you already felt stuck within them, your hand slipped silently into the pocket of your dress, where your fingers brushed against the hilt of a dagger. 

You drew it a mere inch before his hand captured yours, twisting until he pried it into his possession.

“Come on. We both know you were never good at fighting.” He chuckled, wagging the sharpest point between your trembling eyes. “I’ll admit it. I wasn’t either back then. That’s something we had in common…until I had to be. Guess that didn’t work out in anyone’s favor on this wet piece of rock. Now, did it?”

Your vision blurred. Screams of the village roared in your ears. Screeches of dragons pierced through the air, engulfed in smoke and fire. Having consumed so much in its wake, you felt the heat of chaos leech into the glass. Searing your back pressed against it.

“Woah. Hey, don’t cry. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” he swept a rough thumb over a falling tear stain. “Not all of them will die tonight. I mean, just think about it for a second. Can’t be chief and rule over a bunch of burnt corpses. How counterintuitive would that be?” 

“As for you though…” he continued, and your heart stalled as he traced the cold metal down your flush cheek and neck, pausing just above your breastbone. “I’m only standing here, watching everything and everyone turn to ash around us, all because of you. And don't tell me you don't remember. When you mended my leg. Somehow kept me from bleeding out. Just before the entire village abandoned me.” His clouded eyes narrowed down. “Including you.”

Releasing you from his pinning weight, your legs wobbled. As if he hadn’t just snatched your foothold underneath. Terror kept your feet webbed in place, watching as he twirled your dagger in his fingers like a child's play thing. Crouching near the fire, he mindlessly poked and prodded at the stoking wood. He picked away a scrap of charred chipping, before plunging the blade into the flank of the burning log. You gazed at him, chest tight, aching. How he hadn’t flinched when the fire slicked around his hand like oil.

He dragged the smoldering stump from the hearth, creating a scorched line. When the licks of fire seeped into the house floors, he rose, one vertebra at a time. 

“If I’m being honest, I probably would’ve done the same thing.” He unhooked a masked contraption from his belt buckle and tightened it over his face. The eye sockets were of yellow stained sea glass, and the mouth of it appeared like a muzzle of iron teeth. “Leave something already weak, then crippled to survive on its own. Gambling on the high-stakes of death. So sure of the outcome, no one bothered to turn over a shoulder.” Hellfire rose and swelled in the reflection of his mask. “Maybe they should’ve.” 

The rapid hunger of the hearth fire blazed and curled across the floor of the home. Heat lapped towards your skin, drawing out sweat from your pores. Dense smoke began filling the wooden death chamber. You inhaled the black snowflakes, searing your lungs once they melted inside you. You slapped a hard hand over your mouth, coughing and shuddering against it. A pang of panic willed your body to move. You attempted to open the window behind you, but to your horror, it had been welded to the frame. 

Your eyes watered, hugging the wall as you traced it to the door. When the handle clattered against your pulls and tugs, a ghostly laugh floated around you. The metal was bolted shut from the outside. A bout of nausea cramped your stomach. Fear darted your eyes toward the stairs, where the flames hadn’t yet reached—but soon. Perhaps the window of your room hadn’t been tampered with. 

You darted towards the steps, and before you could place one foot up, a black beast stalked from the darkness of the second floor.

The floating embers danced hauntingly over the onyx scales, and gashes rippled in the firelight. Revealing wounds healed twice, perhaps three times over. That body of night perfectly reflected it's master’s outward appearance.

And as you drowned in those feral slits of pure abandon, it was apparent they also shared the same broken, unmendable soul. 

“Oh. You remember Toothless, don’t you?” Your face paled, backing slowly as the Nightfury slithered down the steps like black ink. A predatory growl rumbled above the snapping and collapsing wood around you. Hiccup sauntered to the dragon’s side, patting the thick of his neck, pulsing with power. Another laugh at your expense. “Looks like he remembers you.”

You fought the claw of unconsciousness raking over every part of you. Choking, straining against your hand pathetically covering your mouth.

“Since you did me a favor back then, I’m going to give you one chance to make it up to me.” The mask muffled his voice, but the wickedness screamed, rattling your veins. “You can either choose to stay here and burn with the rest of Berk or…” he lifted a hand, hardly an invitation, but a devilish bargain. “You can choose me.”

In the thick of your pounding head and chest, you considered burning to death was the wiser option of the two. All that he was—what he’d inevitably become—held no promise of a life worth degrading yourself for. Nothing about you would be spared. And it wouldn’t be long till you dropped on hands and knees, begging for him to take your life. To end his drawn out game of torture. One he’d carefully crafted for years and years. 

Just for you, only for you.  

Still, you clung to life. A measly mortal thread. Your shaking hand lifted, painfully reaching for his fingertips. One step forward, and the world spun in wisps of red and black. Your lungs and heart throbbed, practically seizing. A calculated arm caught you, cradling you wholly, close as any lover would. 

“Good choice.” 

You heard the waning words of approval, and through the fading light of your vision, something fastened over your face. Your last conscious breath had been clean, airy—a pleasant contrast to the toxic fumes. 

Then, nothing.

[hansoeii]

Hello! Hope you're having a great day/night! I absolutely adore your art, you are one of my favourite artists. I love the way you shade and do backrounds. Also everytime I get into a new show I immediately see your art for it??

I was wondering if you had any advice on drawing more realistically (backrounds, anatomy etc) but still keeping a style?

Hey hey!

Thank you so much!

I have a pretty good understanding of facial structures, because before I got into drawing more semi-realisticly, I heavily focused on realistic portraits. Here are some example, these are from around 2019!

(yes, I was really into danmei and kpop back then, haha)

I just always loved drawing/painting faces and it was all I did. But at some point I realized that I wanted to do more than that because just portraits felt super restricting. So it took me around 2-3 years to somewhat find my style. Thought it would be fun to show a little timeline! Advice will follow afterwards :)

2020

I began working on my OCs in 2020 and since I didn't have an exact reference to work off of, I struggled a lot. My art from this year is super wonky.

2021

Still wonky, but the Lokius obsession was the jumpstart into finding my style! My work from this year is all over the place haha, I was experimenting a lot.

2022

This first ofmd piece is pretty much the first drawing where you can see where my style is gonna go, which I think is pretty cool! This is the year I made the biggest progress cos I was drawing SO much. These two pieces are only six months apart. The one on the right was the first time I gave drawing a background a proper go, too! It was a good year.

2023

And this is where I am now! I'm still constantly learning and improving, but I'd say I have a style you can recognize now!

Now here comes some actual advice, haha:

What I highly recommend you to do is to study your favorite artists as much as you can! I have like 5 A4 sketchbooks all from 2020 that I filled with sooooo many studies, where basically all I did was look at artists I like and copy how they draw stuff, to try and figure out how to stylize certain things. Some of my favorite artists are Ami Thompson, Velinxi and TB Choi. But I also liked to just scroll through pinterest and study all the art I came across that I liked! For example, if I saw a really great drawing of a pair of pants I would copy it many times in my sketchbook and try to learn how they stylized the folds. Doing this for a prolongued period of time will naturally improve your own work! It'll be difficult at first, but you gotta push through, it's gonna be worth it!

I also highly recommend studying unique faces to try and avoid the same-face syndrome. Find some cool looking people and try to draw them as simple as you can! Maybe even draw a little timeline where you first draw them as cartoon-y as you can, and keep going until you end up with a more detailed, realistic drawing. Maybe in the middle of it you find a step that feels the most fun to you, so you can try to build on that! It's a great way to figure out what kind of style might be the best for you.

Here are some cool faces I found on pinterest!

I have a pinterest board with many more!

One REALLY important part of learning how to draw all kinds of things is to understand forms and shapes and how to manipulate them. I have so many pages in my sketchbook filled with just shapes that I drew from all kinds of angles without any references.

This is a great video on it:

6 Ways to Draw Anything by Proko

Learning how to do this is so crucial! Young artists often think they first have to learn all kinds of detailed anatomy before doing anything else, but all that's gonna do is make you tired and hate drawing. Shapes are where it's at! Once you understand how shapes work and which ones to use for certain parts of bodies or objects, drawing is gonna get so much easier! Once you understand them, you can get into details such as muscles and bones!

And honestly the most important point is to just absolutely love what you're doing! I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't for the fact that I get extreme hyperfixations on certain media that turn me into some kind of beast where I can suddenly draw 10 detailed illustrations a week, haha. Just be passionate about what you do, find something you REALLY love and go crazy!

I really hope this was somewhat helpful! My inbox is always open if there's any more questions :)

[sweets3rial]

bubbles and cuddles

inspired by this request

id!leon x fem!reader

summary: you haven't seen your boyfriend in a while though luckily, after a long mission and an even longer day, you arrive home just in time. you spend the rest of the night loving on each other gently before falling asleep in each others arms.

tags: tooth-rotting fluff, domestic fluff, so smut, smutty innuendos, canon universe, lots of kissing, bubble bath, bathing each other, little to no dialogue, reader works at bsaa and leon works at dso, undressing each other, mentions of violence and injuries, infinite darkness or death island leon in mind

word count: 3.8k

your radio was blasting the loudest music to keep you in high spirits and also to keep your eyes from shutting. you exited the freeway and tears were pricking at your eyes from holding them open for so long. you just needed to get home. you needed to.

your whole body was sore. you could barely lift your arm without wincing in pain. the bruise on your shoulder was only getting worse.

it’s funny how the body works. on the field, you couldn’t feel any pain. a sting here and there but most of the time you were able to fight through it. but the minute you stepped off the field, it was like every bone in your body had been reduced to dust.

the adrenaline was no longer running and your brain could finally rest, leaving your body in shambles.

the nurses said there was nothing wrong. A dislocated shoulder that they popped right back in was all they needed to do, now your shoulder is swollen, your blood busy on healing that certain area which left you light-headed and extremely exhausted.

it was rare that you and your boyfriend were put on the field at the same time. though, he works in a different division under the government. his job was similar to yours, keep the bioterrorists from spreading, investigate the area, eliminate anything infected, and report back to the higher-ups what you found in extreme detail.

you haven’t had time to sit down and spend a full night with your boyfriend in over a month. it was like the minute one of you got home the other had to leave, whether it was for a meeting, a mission, or just to be in the office as backup.

it was a constant cycle. you went home to sleep and awoke to go to work. it was on the clockwork. the minute you got a call, there was no ‘five more minutes’ or ‘i’ll just call out’. you had to get up and go or else lives would be lost.

it’s a cruel world you lived in, one that many many people weren’t aware of.

you smelt of blood, shit, and piss. your hair was oily and frizzy, it hurt to breathe, you could still taste the ash in your mouth, and gunpowder had made its way underneath your nails.

you couldn’t wait to get home; to your bed, to food, to safety, to peace. you couldn’t wait to get home to your boyfriend, the love of your life.

you couldn’t wait to cuddle into his warm arms and press your skin against his. he was your home, your escape from all the piss and shit in the world. he was your comfort, his embrace was like a barrier to you and the only person who protected you when you weren’t protecting yourself.

you could let your guard down around him. you could sink into him and cry, you could cry and sob in his arms and all he did was comfort you.

Leon was everything you wanted in a man, not only is he the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on, but he was also such a great partner. he is caring and sweet, he’s structured, intuitive, and organized, he’s dedicated to his work and getting the job done and well he has humor.

he’s a bit sarcastic and cocky at times but all it does is make you laugh.

he’s intelligent, coordinated, and a great observer.

you truly believe you fell in love with him because of how he is on the field. the one time you two coincidentally ended up on the same terrain at the same time and when you truly got to see him at his full potential is when you knew you were falling for your coworker, basically.

he was quick. his eyes constantly moving, taking hints and notes of every movement around him. he was able to observe and analyze, which is why you couldn’t hide anything from him.

he knew what was wrong with you from one glance. he could read you like a book. he could see the pain, the sadness, the hurt. it got even worse as your relationship grew.

he took note of your behaviors and your words, what you did and said when you were upset. even the tone of your voice. you couldn’t lie to him, you were forced to communicate with him because he wouldn’t leave you alone until you told him what was wrong.

that’s why you love him. there were so many other reasons. you could go on a tangent as to how and why you fell in love with the D.S.O’s golden boy.

you turned the radio down as you pulled into your neighborhood, your fingertips itching to reach home.

it was late and quiet. the sky was clear and deep indigo color, letting the stars gleam to their full potential. the moon was full and you could see every crater from where you sat in the driver's seat.

the streets were lit up with the moonlight, a blue hue casting down onto the sidewalk and the roofs of the houses.

no one was awake, not even the stray cats, it was still and silent.

as soon as you pulled into your driveway, you could care less about how you parked and whether the car alarm was on or not. you stumbled out of your car heels in hand and made your way towards your door.

to your luck, just a few steps, the sound of a puttering motor was heard down the street. you knew that sound anywhere. who else would be zooming down the street loudly this late at night?

you couldn’t help the smile that arose on your cheeks as you turned to see your boyfriend just turning onto your block.

of course, he had no helmet on. even after telling him multiple times to wear one. he always shrugged it off and said he was fine. though you were always worried, there’s been many many times that he’s crashed and destroyed his previous bikes.

you were scared that one day it’ll be his head next.

his deep brown hair was whipping in the wind, his eyebrows furrowed to keep himself from falling asleep and he was gripping the handlebars with pure impatience. he needed to get home.

once he caught eye of your car and then your figure standing in the dark cold night, he couldn’t help but go faster. the sight of you eased every muscle in his body.

he needed to get to you and make sure you were okay. he was glad to see you standing on your two feet, home, and safe.

though you were wearing a thin white button-up, the sleeves rolled up and some buttons undone. in this shirt, you could move easily in and even though he loved the way it clung to your figure, he also wished you wore something warmer.

he’s told you many times to wear something thicker that way you didn’t come home sick. but you insisted on wearing something that gave you easy mobility.

guess you’re both stubborn.

there you were, standing with a hazy smile on your lips, holding your shoulder and slowly dragging yourself towards the end of the driveway to meet him.

he carefully pulled into the driveway and next to you. his heart filled with warmth as he got a faint whiff of your perfume. he put his kickstand down as he put a stop to the engine.

he couldn’t wait to hold you and kiss you. he could tell from the look on your face and the way you were carrying yourself, you were exhausted.

your body practically slumped into his and a heavy sigh left your lips. he ran his hand up and down your back and lifted you onto his lap, being weary of your legs making sure they wouldn’t burn on the pipes.

you wrapped your arms around him and went weak in his embrace. god, you needed this. you missed being held by him.

he guided your legs around his waist, rubbing his gloved palm up and down the skin of your thigh soothingly. no words needed to be exchanged as he lifted both of you up and off the motorcycle and over towards the front door.

you were glued to him, holding him tightly as he carried you up the porch steps. you nuzzled yourself further into the crook of his neck and took a deep breath of his cologne. it was such a comforting smell.

warm cedarwood, fresh pine, and hints of sweet vanilla. his shampoo smelt fresh like mint along with the scent of his gel and sweat.

one arm held you close to him while the other worked on getting the door open once he stepped inside, you hauled yourself onto him and the tip of your toes. you kept your hands on his shoulders, roughly massaging his tense muscles, ignoring your pain, and looking into his eyes.

bloodshot and glossy with heavy bags. he melted into your touch, eyes fluttering shut and a sigh leaving his lips. both of you had a long long day.

there were no words that needed to be exchanged, you walked backward as he walked towards you. your hands went from his shoulders to his zipper. slowly undoing his leather jacket until you could see his plain navy blue t-shirt underneath.

he shrugged his jacket off letting it fall at his feet. as you took a step backward onto the stairs, he wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you close to him.

he nuzzled his face into your chest, placing soft kisses on your skin. his hands traveled up and down your back, feeling at your figure. your shoulder blades, your spinal groove, the curve of your ass. he just wanted to feel you.

he caught the way you winced as he squeezed you closer to him and he loosened his hold on you.

no one knows how much he missed you, how much he missed holding you, and the feel of your skin against his. he was glad he got home when did, if not, you would probably already be asleep.

he looked up at you, his chin buried in your cleavage. you brought your nose to his, nuzzling them together and sucking in a deep breath from your nose. god, you missed him.

you brought your lips to his in a deep and passionate kiss, spilling all the words in your heart to him, all the lonely late night and all the bad days, all the words you never got to say while he was gone, and all the words you wished to say.

his hands traveled from your back, around to your stomach, and up toward the buttons of your shirt. he slowly began unbuttoning each one, he wasn’t in any rush and he wasn’t undressing you out of lust, he just wanted to feel you.

he swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, begging you to pry your mouth open so he could taste you. your legs went weak at the feeling of his warm tongue against yours and his hands slowly peeling your shirt off of your skin.

he threw it somewhere onto the steps, keeping his mouth on yours as he took a step forwards which further urged you to continue up the stairs.

you two slowly undressed each other as you made your way to the bathroom, neither of you daring to pull away from your kiss.

by the time you two got to the bathroom, he was left in his boxers and you were left in your underwear. your arms were wrapped around him, your body pressing closer and closer to his. he was all yours tonight, there were no missions or meetings or phone calls.

it was just you and him.

you turned around briefly, leaving his lips with a wet smack, bending over into the bathtub, and then turning the faucet on. the sound of water pouring into the bath drowned out the sound of heavy pants.

you shut the drain and reached for the jasmine bubble mixture sitting on the side of the tub. meanwhile, he was busy walking up behind you and rubbing up and down your sides. you stood up straight, leaning into his touch as you poured bubbles into the warm water.

he brought his head down onto your shoulder, kissing your bruised skin before slowly making his way up your neck and to your ear. his arms wrapped around you once again, pulling your back closer to his chest.

“missed you,” he whispered into your ear, playing with the hem of your panties.

“i missed you more,” you sighed out blissfully as you turned around to face him.

in a split second, your lips were on his again, teeth clashing and tongues morphing together. he worked you out of your panties as you worked him out of his boxers. his hands found their way under the purchase of your ass, giving your cheek a nice slap — prompting you to jump.

so you did, wrapping your legs around his torso and locking your ankles together. he stepped into the tub, the bubbles tickling his skin and the warm water soothing his sore muscles.

he slowly sat down in the water, more focused on keeping up with your pace. he could tell how much you missed him, you were kissing him without pulling away for a breath and you were clinging onto him like a koala would do with its mother.

your bodies were slowly succumbed by the soapy water, the smell of jasmine in the air, and the sound of smacking lips echoing off the walls. his hands traveled up your back, one hand working on splashing your back with water, rubbing the soap into your skin, and massaging your spine. the other hand worked on holding the back of your neck, keeping your lips pressed to his.

your fingers tangled themselves into his hair, scratching and rubbing at his scalp which earned you a satisfied moan. he pulled away briefly, throwing his head back and against the back of the tub.

you lifted yourself off of his lap and turned around to shut off the water. the water shut off with a squeak, a few stray drops escaping into the heap of bubbles and then there was silence. you leaned back against his chest, the water and bubbles covering your chest and ticking your chin.

he let his heavy arms come over your unwounded shoulder, his hands searching for yours in the water and eventually he found them. slowly gathering each of your fingers and intertwining them with yours.

you leaned your head back against his chest, shutting your eyes and letting out a sigh. you could hear the water sploosh and splash as he reached over for the washcloth at his side. he dipped it into the water, soaking it with the soapy water before lifting your arm.

he brought the warm cloth to your arm, continuing to place kisses on your shoulder and he washed your skin. he gently lathered the soap into your skin, even if he was exhausted he was never tired to help you.

he continued to lather your body, wiping away at the sweat and grime, kissing at the cuts, and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. his breath was hot and heavy, his words were like lullabies and his voice was like a drug.

you sank further into him, close to passing out until you remembered you needed to wash him too. you reached for a spare cloth, copying his actions and dipping it into the water. you turned to face him, straddling his lap and sitting on his thighs.

you placed a lazy kiss onto his lips bringing the cloth to his neck. you lathered at his shoulders while he lathered your back. your bodies stayed pressed together, not a single inch of space between you two.

he pressed kisses to your collarbone, not wanting to leave your embrace for a second, his body chased yours when you leaned away, his lips stayed on your skin and his eyes glued to yours.

it was moments like this you treasured the most. skin to skin and nothing but love. slow tender touches and silence. you two could be comfortable with each other without saying a word, every touch and every kiss spoke for itself.

the water had slowly become less warm, now murky from the dirt and grime that had stuck to your skin. he reached for the drain, unplugging it and letting the murky water drain.

both of you stood up at the same time, supporting each other as you stood to your feet. Leon turned on the faucet and switched the water to the shower head. you loved baths but everyone knew marinating in your bath water wasn’t ideally hygienic.

so, for the next twenty minutes you and Leon sat under the running water and at this point, the weariness was getting to you both. your eyelids felt heavy and your body was ready to shut down. a yawn left your lips and you leaned your head against Leon's chest.

“sleepy?”

you replied with a nod and he hummed, nuzzling his nose into your wet scalp and placing a kiss at your hairline. he wrapped one arm around your waist while the other reached to the faucet. he turned it off with a loud squeak.

silence filled the room, and only the stray droplets of water were heard. steam gathered at the roof, heavy with the scent of jasmine and citrus. you stepped out of the shower, your boyfriend not too far behind. he reached for your towel, fluffing it out in his hands before turning to you.

your arms were crossed over your chest, your teeth clattering and your shoulders bouncing up and down. he chuckled a bit, he found it cute.

he pressed the towel to your cheeks, squishing them together and intently puckering your lips for him to bend down and place a warm kiss on your lips. he continued drying you off, pressing the warm towel into your body until your skin was completely dry.

he scrunched at the ends of your hair, catching any stray droplets that fell onto your skin. meanwhile, he was pressing kisses to your face.

on your eyelids and brows, to the cold tip of your nose, to your soft cheeks, your chin, and the tips of your ears. he treasured every inch of you and his lips on your skin only lulled you deeper into a daze. you wanted to sleep so bad.

but you couldn’t leave him wet and cold. you reached for another spare towel, doing the same, squishing his cheeks and bringing your lips to his. he couldn’t help but smile against your lips, wrapping the towel around your neck and tugging you closer.

his lips moved against yours in perfect sync, he knew what you liked - a slow and passionate pace. he sucked at your tongue, moaning at your minty taste. he had you backed up into the wall, hands at your hips pressing you closer against his half-hard cock.

his lips left your tongue and then his teeth went to pull at your bottom lip. he knew exactly how to get you riled up. if you weren’t so tired, you would’ve fucked him so so long ago.

“let’s get you to bed, hun.” he hummed, you nodded in agreement, wrapping the towel over his wet hair like a hoodie and tugging at each side to pull him back towards your lips. you left a quick kiss on his lips before turning to leave the bathroom.

your bed was the same way as you left it. undone with blankets and pillows thrown everywhere. you didn’t care to get dressed, you needed to sleep naked, damp and all.

you slid into bed, your limbs completely giving out on trying to carry your weight. Leon watched you slump into bed, he wasn’t so far behind. he crawled in after you, chasing the warmth of your body.

you both got situated under the covers, rubbing each other's legs against one another - his hairy ones and your smooth ones. you couldn’t help but chuckle at the feeling. your bed was warm and soft and his arm draped over your side was heavy and secure.

you were at home. this is what you missed the most. him. even if you were sleeping on the cold streets as long as you had Leon, it was home.

home for you was wherever he was.

you nuzzled yourself into his chest, moaning comfortably as you entangled your legs further with his. your left thigh onto top of his and then your right on top of his other. he held the back of your head securely against his chest, massaging your scalp with the pads of his fingers.

you shivered, it was that feeling when you were so comfortable and so soothed to the point you just quivered. a small laugh erupted from his chest and then his lips found your forehead.

“get some rest, hun,” he whispered to you deeply. his command for you to fall asleep was like a switch. your body felt heavier as if it was sinking into the mattress, you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. your body was slowly succumbing into a deep sleep.

Leon waited for your heavy breaths to begin, he continued massaging your scalp and peppering kisses onto your skin. he wanted to wait to fall asleep, he finally has you in his arms after a very very long week. he isn’t going to waste a second.

he took a moment to admire your sleeping state, cheek squished against his bicep, damp hair splayed out onto the pillow above you, and lips agape. you sucked in deep heavy breaths, your chest pressing against his with every inhale, then falling with a light snore.

he tucked some of your hair behind your ear, away from sticking to your cheek. he ran his thumb over your eyebrow then over your lashes, careful not to bother your sleep. though, he was sure if the house collapsed you wouldn’t even budge.

your eyelids fluttered at his touch, your lashes tickling your cheek as you did so. he placed one last final kiss on your nose before turning away to yawn.

he rested his head back down against the pillow, further nuzzling himself against your naked body.

his limbs were becoming heavy. his eyes fluttering shut and the last thing he saw before he fell asleep was you.

the beautiful face that he would later wake up to. though for now, he’ll dream of you and what the future holds for you two. he’ll dream of a happy life with you away from the city, a dog or cat, children, and the weight of a ring on both of your fingers.

he’ll dream of your warm smile and your voice, your touch and your love. he’ll dream and dream until he has to wake up to reality. but at least that reality was with you by his side.

(divder cred to @saradika,, pics from pinterest)

[meanbossart]

i just need to take a second to gush about how much i love durge drow and astarion, they feel so fleshed out and perfectly written together in their fucked up wretched ways. They really inspire me to write more for my own tavs, hopefully one day ill be able to say im as happy with my own work as i get when seeing yours. I have to ask though, do you have any tips on drawing head shapes and faces? or maybe about wrinkles? i find i really struggle with that stuff when drawing and i adore how expressive and grungey all your art looks!

First of all thank you so much, I love hearing what people think of the two of them together 😭

Honestly you've hit on something that's quite near and dear to my heart, I love developing and figuring how to draw and stylize different faces to get the most unique, interesting looking results - everything about the details is highly rewarding to me. What does x type of nose look like from this angle? In this style? How can this eyeshape best translate to my art? How different does a face look when its making this expression? What does that MOUTH DO? etc etc.

In fact you kind of inspired me to put a little tutorial/guide together the last hour lmao and what a blessing it is that the two current subjects of this blog serve as great models here, being that their faces are basically polar opposites!

When it comes to heads, you've probably heard it a dozen times before that you want to think of them in terms of geometry and facets; my process to drawing them is pretty conventional so I won't spend too much time on it, but it goes something like this:

Obviously I don't do every single one of these steps most of the time, which is just something that comes from practice/developing muscle memory, but it is helpful to start off this way for two main reasons:

By making these guide lines and splitting a head into pieces like this, you'll have an easier time seeing and understanding it as a multidimensional object, and in turn, facilitate It for you when you venture out into doing wacky angles and lighting.

Making different headshapes starts HERE. notice how Astarion's "face" slate is narrower and longer, how my durge's jaw pieces sit lower on the head, how all of the same pieces came together in the same way but we ended up with one real pointy elf and a real brick of a drow - making characters look different successfully begins very early in the sketching process.

The next thing you want to do branches out into every day life: start noticing yours and other people's facial features. How does an upturned nose look from a high angle? How does the size of someone's cheekbones affect what they look like when they smile? How about when the light hits them a certain way? Does someone's lip shape changes when they pout? When they laugh? How does a person's hairline change the shape of their face? You do NOT need to creepily sketch every stranger you see on the bus, but get into the habit of actually noticing what people look like when you talk to them - when you look at pictures, when you watch movies - make a mental list of interesting ways mouths, noses, and eyes can come together in a variety of different proportions to make completely distinct looking mugs, and how they change depending on how you are looking at them.

Light and shadow play a HUGE role in how faces look, too, basically as crucial as actual bone structure does. As you see up there I tried to rough out how natural, head on, and underhead light would look on these two very different looking guys, and while we can see definite patterns, there are small differences that come to be because of the sizes and shapes of their features.

Here is a very, very basic look at how some of these features come to look the way they do, how they interact with one another, and how they compare between a blocky, rather conventionally "masculine" head and one that's much softer and slimmer.

Note please that it is not one or two characteristics that give a chaarcter their "look"; you can reduce a face to eyes, mouth, and nose through stylization and still have them be recognizable, but if you want to do more than that, you have to consider the whole package! Chin, cheeks, brows, direction of the jaw, slope and size of the forehead, depth of eyes, ridge of the nose, etc - I know this is probably far more than you bargained for, but if you start making note of a FEW of these things now and slowly add on, this will eventually become second nature to you.

Similarly, understanding how these characteristics come together will help you with rendering light and shadow in a realistic way, and predicting what their facial expressions may look like - if no two people are alike, neither are their smiles. :)

Lastly, remember that I'm no expert - I have developed my own methods and semiotics and yours may look slightly (or vastly) different, and that's fine! I hope only that by sharing this it has given you a base to work off of.

Anyways, I HOPE this has been helpful and not just the unsolicited ramblings of a face pervert.

[boytumms]

Hey guys! This is a little collab I did with @let-me-fill-you, they've sent me many wonderful prompts in the past and I liked one so much I asked them to expand one so I could draw something for it!

Although it is a fine summer's day, you are cold, beneath the earth. For several minutes, you have followed the abbot into the bowels of the monastery, far deeper than you believed, deeper even than the catacombs. Thankfully, it hasn't been a single spiralling staircase all the way down, or else your head might've twisted off from sheer dizziness. But there is a growing pit of unease in your stomach. Where is the abbot leading you? And why now, immediately after you took your vows? Every time you think to ask, the words catch in your throat or the abbot speaks first, "This way." You are grateful for his guidance, at least. It's a maze down here - and the architecture has taken a turn for the unfamiliar, making the darkness all the more unnerving. Could it be that the monastery was built atop an older structure? The order is old, dating back centuries. You haven't the slightest notion of what might've come before. But you have a growing suspicion you're about to find out.

Soon, you see light ahead, stronger than the lantern borne by the abbot. You see a barred door, flanked by two members of your order... but they're not dressed in the monastic habit. Instead, they are clad in fine armor, made of what appears to be... silver? It gleams in the fire-light, lustrous and covered in filigree. No, not filigree, you realize as you draw closer. Runes. Protective spells. Your eyes drift from one's cuirass to his belt, and what you see isn't a cudgel - as expected of simple monks - but a blade, slender and deadly. Your blood chills, on the verge of becoming ice. You look to the abbot in trepidation.

The abbot's expression is grave. "Now that you are one of us, bound by oath, it is time you learned the truth of our order - our shame, and our obligation." He beckons you closer to the door - a great, heavy door, barred not once but twice. You hesitate to move from your spot, but the abbot is patient (and insistent). As you step forth, you console yourself with the knowledge that a door like this is not easily opened, and you are not alone. You should be safe. Should be...

Once you're close enough, the abbot slides open a slot for you to peer through, into darkness - but you hear it before you see it, whatever it is. You hear... moaning? It's dull and low, but clearly in pain. It's enough to raise your hairs; you feel the urge to pull away before something lunges out of the darkness, but you also feel the abbot's gaze boring into your skull, locking you in place. So you continue to stare into the darkness, until your eyes adjust.

And what you see is... a boy? Pale and thin as bone, his face veiled by a head of unkempt hair. You cannot tell if he's conscious, but his lips are open, from which the moaning emanates. He is chained to a rock, jutting out of the ground like a crooked tooth, kept halfway between standing and laying. His wrists, locked tightly within manacles bolted into the stone itself, are starkly red and raw from chafing. You imagine his ankles are similarly bound, but you cannot see them because, well... his stomach is in the way. You cannot believe your eyes. This isn't a gut swollen in hunger, but a sack of flesh, bloated like a fat mosquito, hanging from his skeletal frame all the way down to the rough stone floor, obscuring the entire lower half of his body. His belly, though it feels inappropriate to call it that (it doesn't look like an extension of himself, more like he is attached to it) is huge and ugly - shaped like a droplet from some great weight inside it, and wider than his shoulders, stretched perilously thin and marred with unflattering stretch marks and spider veins. Chains crisscross the gravid expanse, again not made of iron but hallowed silver - and wherever these hold tight, there seem to be burn marks.

Your stomach curdles. What could possibly necessitate this barbaric treatment? Then, as if in direct response to your thought, you see it - something huge and powerful, squirming and shifting within the boy's belly, pushing this way and that, recoiling from the silver, protruding in between the gaps. This isn't a silent affair - you hear the boy's skin creaking as it is stretched to its utmost, you hear sloshing (of amniotic fluid?), you hear sizzling as the tortured skin makes contact with the silver, and worst of all you hear a muffled growling of something vicious and hateful, and you hear the boy's moaning increase...

But it's cut off by the rasp of metal, as the slot is shut in front of your face, startling you. Refocusing on the abbot, you blink a few times, readjusting to the lantern light on this side of the door.

The abbot's expression has not changed, but did he always look so tired? Perhaps it is you who has changed, from the person you were just a minute ago, before you saw that. You look deep into his eyes for answers, a justification of any kind.

He tells you, with solemn cadence, "You must bury whatever sympathy you have for that boy. He contains Armageddon - a monster so terrible that, had it been allowed to enter our world, would have doomed us all. It is trapped in there, but we must remain vigilant. So long as he carries that monster, it will not allow him to age. And he must not die, or else that thing will be free to find another host, another womb to bear it. It may seem cruel to keep him like this, but remember your vows. You have a duty to your brothers and sisters, and the world beyond these walls. You must close your heart to his suffering. In the days to come - not today, or tomorrow, but soon - you'll be expected to feed him, to give him water. It's a heavy burden we share between us, so the onus does not break any one of us. And when that time comes, he will speak to you. He will cry, he will beg, he will howl and scream for the slightest of accommodations, a loosening of his shackles, anything to alleviate his pain, and you will know in your heart that his pleas are genuine. You must not listen to him. The devil does not speak through him - it has nothing to say to us - but it will use our better angels against us." The abbot places a heavy hand on your shoulder. "No one is deserving of that boy's fate. But he must suffer it all the same."

After that, the abbot leads you back to the surface, back into the warm light of day. But you remain cold.

[superiorsturgeon]

out of curiosity, why do you like sturgeons so much?

A chance to info dump about my favorite fish…?!

I grew up in the Great Lakes area of North America, where fishing is pretty popular but everyone knows that fish populations aren’t anything like “the good old days” when people took out huge numbers of fish while messing up their spawning sites. I got pretty into fishing when I found out that I could catch bluegill in the surrounding farm ponds, and once in a while my family took me to an isolated fishing cabin for vacation, but for years I never encountered a wild fish bigger than a kilogram or two.

BUT THEN…

I found out about sturgeon! They were HUGE fish that had once lived in the rivers and lakes all around my home, and better yet, fish almost exactly like modern sturgeon had existed all the way back in the Cretaceous period alongside the dinosaurs, and they STILL EXIST TODAY!!! The fact that small numbers of these huge dinosaur fish still existed made them seem almost like a real-life lake monster/cryptid, except that we had proof of their existence!

Furthermore, there’s just nothing else like them. Sturgeon get big. Like, REALLY big. The record for the largest sturgeon was almost 11 meters/24 feet long, which is colossal for freshwater animals. They have armor plates of bone running down their sides, and at the same time they don’t have bony skeletons. They also have a crazy mouth structure, which allows them to actually pop their jaws out like a tube and suck up food. And on top of all of this, the adults are absolute tanks. I’ve seen skin nearly 8mm thick, and it’s so tough that people make leather out of it, and they occasionally lose fins or even entire gill plates and just keep on swimming! (I found out about that last one when I tried to wrestle a big female out of a river and my hand went straight into her gills. She didn’t seem that bothered by it!)

For a long time I filed sturgeon along with Alligator Gar, Giant Mekong catfish, and Yangtze paddlefish as a semi-legendary fish that may still exist, but I was never going to see except possibly in an aquarium, until I enrolled in graduate school. For those unfamiliar with grad school in the US, it typically involves both high-level classes as well as an independent research project the student designs and carries out with help from an experienced professor. When my mentor asked what kind of thing I wanted to study, I tossed out “sturgeon” as one such possibility, expecting to hear that I would probably have to limit myself to more common/accessible species.

I was blown away when she said “Actually, I think I know a guy…”

For the next several years, I got to ride along collecting wild adult sturgeon, gathering eggs, and raising the baby fish in a lab and in a hatchery. I was holding something that I had thought of as a semi-mythical lake/river monster in my own hands! I got to see a river choked with giants as big as 2 meters long, and I got to hold a 5-centimeters mottled baby whose armored scutes were still sharp and possessed the little arrowhead shape and big black pectoral fins that remind me of Mickey Mouse ears! In the video below you can even see a little heartbeat! (Don’t worry, this little guy was returned to the tank soon after to recover from his anesthesia!)

Sadly, I didn’t find anything super groundbreaking in my research, but my experience DID land me a job working in sturgeon aquaculture! If you’ve ever had caviar that wasn’t poached, it probably came from a sturgeon farm, and if you want to see a lot of big fish up close, this is a good place to do it! I probably personally handled more individual sturgeon than there are wild fish in several sturgeon species. In addition, while the wild broodstock I mentioned above might reach 2 meters and over 50kg, the sturgeon I dealt with at the farm would easily double that, and there were a LOT of them! I got to see sturgeon behavior that had never been recorded in field guides, and even a few crazy one-in-a-million mutations like the infamous “ghost” sturgeon!

I even got the opportunity to cook my own sturgeon meat (Yeah, I basically turned into the Touden siblings from Dungeon Meshi except for sturgeon instead of RPG monsters). I got pretty good at making smoked sturgeon, but the meat is also good on the grill or baked, and people have been cooking them in various ways for centuries.

My favorite part of the job was physically wrestling the big fish! Sturgeon are easier to grab than other fish with the right know-how, but a human-sized fish often has its own plans for the day and won’t always cooperate. I was pretty good at moving the adults by the time I left that job, but it was still a wild rodeo every time!

Even more exciting was how we spawned each new generation of sturgeon. In the wild, they form massive spawning runs in big rivers that in the past would be enough to tip small boats, but in a lab or farm we have to use other means. I’ll spare you the details, but I am one of a small number of people who have surgically extracted eggs from a live sturgeon and sutured them back up to swim another day.

The tldr of this essay is that sturgeon are a big, crazy-unique fish that have been around a long time, and I’ve spent a lot of my career handling and working with them. There’s just nothing like them for a fish nerd and they’re damn cool!

(Clip art not mine, I think @sturgeonposting drew or shared it!)

[perpetualcosmos]

Astrology insights on Health & More! Pt. 2

*Please Note these are all my personal observations and research, not yet from a professional opinion!*

---> Body part ruled by Taurus is... Neck, shoulders, ears and throat! Now, What it means is that these natives usually have wide, elegant necks, shoulders and even jawlines depending on where they have their Taurus placements. Ex: Personally seen that natives which have Taurus in either 3rd house, in mercury or Venus conjunct mercury in, 2nd house placements, 3rd house placement and basically mercury placements indicating that these natives have a deep voice.

---> Taurus placements (Specially in conjunction, sextile or trine) always carry an energy of elegance. These natives always have a way with their voice, their body and their posture that draws people in. A pull, sensual and hypnotizing.

---> Prone to be interested in Art, Design, Photography, cinematography, music, dancing, etc., in it's most Venusian form, Taurus natives are hard working... when they want to be, otherwise you cannot pull them for anything to do. They have their priorities straight and keep clear of what doesn't suit them. But the tendency to overindulgence in things like food, sex, drugs, money, etc. Is highly prominent.

---> Really, Financial freedom isn't everything, and so isn't pleasure. A thing I have always noticed with Taurus natives is that they might be inclined to aroma and massages, a good way for these natives to decompress is maybe having a self care day with going to the spa, taking care of your hair, going for aromatherapy, going for shopping and indulging in things which make them feel safe.

---> Security & stability is extremely important to Taurus placements/2nd House placements/Taurus degrees holders (2°,14°,26°). But because of their nature, these natives tend to only focus on financial stability, often forgetting emotional investment is just as important. Signs in the body could be stiff shoulders, a blocked throat, always being told they don't "listen", not being able to take a proper break, mood swings, etc. Extremely prominent when these placements in a person's chart are underdeveloped.

---> Taurus placement carry similarities with their sister sign, Scropio, such as:

• Control - a major theme for both signs in opposite sectors, for Taurus natives, it's mostly money and finance. On the other hand, emotional and sensual control is for Scorpio natives.

• Obsession - as mentioned above, in the sectors.

• Pleasure - Both appreciate Pleasure, for Scorpio placements it's intimate, powerful, a connection and always transformative -- it's in the emotional. For Taurus placements, it's imagination, realistic and 3D focused -- it's in the material.

Ex: Adele with a Taurus Sun in 11th house at 15° (cancer degree)! Should I be even shocked that she is a singer, known for her voice and beauty everywhere? Absolutely not lol. Supporting this, is her Mercury in Gemini in the 12th house at 0° (I can't make this up). She is someone who is known for her music all over the world, carrying so much of her emotions and her ability to reach high notes. She definitely has a beautiful neck and shoulders, with her being very expressive about what she wants through art (which in her case, is music!). Another example is of Keira Knightley with a Taurus moon. Definitely something who carries a strong Jaw and bone structure, along with again wide shoulders and great posture. Her energy also draws in people on the stage, you can't help falling in love with how dedicatedly she carries her with her Moon conjunct Mars in Taurus. No wonder she is so dedicated to her Art (here it's acting). A beautiful thing about Taurus moons is when they find something that they are extremely passionate about, no one can stop them from achieving their goals and giving their best. Especially when they love their work, it shows Everywhere.

Other examples are Zendaya, Nick Jonas, Lindsay Lohan, Donald Grover, Channing Tatum, Miley Cyrus, Gigi Hadid, Robert Pattinson and more.

Source: Pinterest

____________________________

A/N: Thank you for checking this post out and omg thank you for the likes and follows 🥹🫶

*I am so grateful for all of you, thank you for your support. I wasn't sure if I should do this but because of you... I am here. Thank you. And I just want to say if no one has told you lately... I am proud of you, you are trying so hard, even if it's just you being alive. Thank you, I am grateful you are here to read this.*

With love & grace 🥹✨

[tlbodine]

Stuck? Try junebugging.

I don't know who needs to hear this, but we're 5 days into nanowrimo so maybe this will be helpful.

Do you want the safety and surety of knowing what happens next in your story but can't stick to an outline? Does knowing in advance what will happen suck the joy out of discovery writing? Do you try to wing it through plots but get tangled in plot holes or have a story that runs out of steam because you can't figure out what went wrong? Are you at your most creative when you have a little bit of guidance? Do you tend to under-write? Do you get ideas in your head for random scenes and snippets that drop from the sky without context?

If any of these apply to you, junebugging a draft might be for you!

What Is Junebugging?

Since you're on Tumblr, you might already be familiar with the concept of junebugging as it relates to cleaning. If not -- I think the idea was first introduced to me by @jumpingjacktrash.

The basic idea is that you tackle cleaning by way of controlled chaos. You pick a specific area you want to focus on, like your kitchen sink, and then wander off to deal with other things as they occur to you, but always returning back to that area. You end up cleaning a little bit at a time in an order that may not make sense to an outsider but which keeps you from getting overwhelmed and discouraged.

How Does Junebugging Work in Writing?

OK, so that's great, but how does this work with writing? Well. In my case, the general idea is to jump between writing linearly, outlining, and writing out of order. It usually looks something like:

Start free-writing a scene, feeling my way through it and enjoying the discovery process.

Thinking, ok, now I have this scene, did anything need to happen to lead up to it? Do I need to go back and add some foreshadowing? Does this scene set anything up that needs to be paid off? And then jump forward/back to make those adjustments.

I'll usually have a bunch of disconnected ideas of ideas that have popped into my head, so I'll write those down in a list somewhere and then try to figure out what goes in between them and what order it goes in.

I'll write what I call "micro-scenes" which is where I'll just sketch out a few essential elements of what's going on without worrying too much about details, description, etc. -- just he did this, she said that, the setting was this, real bare-bones script. Then I can come back through and flesh out each of those microscenes into an actual scene later.

Got a story that has a complex structure? No problem. Write through each storyline one at a time and then chop them up and weave them together afterward. Write all the B plot scenes first then come back through to do A plot and C plot. Move the pieces around like legos. No one ever has to know.

This method works for me because I can't "decide" story elements in advance. I have never been able to just sit down and "figure out" what happens in a story beyond a couple steps ahead -- I have to discovery-write my way forward. But at the same time, that gets really daunting. So I zoom forward with micro-scenes, roughing out the beats in the most bare-bones way possible, then when I run out of clear vision for what happens next I backtrack, flesh out those scenes, build in connective tissue, etc. and by then I will probably find more inspiration to jump forward.

It's basically folding drafting, outlining, and revising all together into a single phase of writing, which is chaotic and goes against everything people teach you, but if it works? then it fuckin works.

Anyway, sorry for the jumbled-up post, I'm dashing this off quickly while I heat up a pizza and I'm about to dive back into my WIP -- but I hope this was a little helpful. If nothing else, take this as my blanket permission that it's 100% OK to jump around, write out of order, write messy, outline sometimes, pants sometimes, and do whatever else it takes just to get through the story. You've got this. Good luck.

[pomefioredove]

In my bones I know that Rook is the type of guy who loves to go exploring be it forest or man-made structures. With that in mind I have an idea for a fic:

MC!Reader & Rook Hunt making weekend dates out of exploring the unknown places on Sage Island. It's their little ritual that they take great joy in! From the restricted sections of Crowley's office to a small abandoned island off the coast they enjoy taking in sights meant for no-one else.

ROOK REQUEST!!! thank you I love him so muchhh... the fact that archeology becomes an interest of his is so adorable to me <3 rook baby let me take you out and tell you about the incan empire and dead languages and

summary: weekend dates with rook type of post: fic characters: rook additional info: romantic, established relationship, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, french warning, fluffy and cute <3

"One thousand words, one thousand, can you believe that?" you ask, twirling a perfectly-sharpened pencil between your fingers. It had yet to even graze the surface of the paper in your lap.

What a waste of wood.

You slump, leaning against the rough bark of an oak tree. A movement in the foliage overhead sends a deluge of leaves onto your lap, coloring the white of the empty paper with vibrant shades of green.

Rook emerges from the verdure above with a graceful plunk at your side.

"Five hundred each, chéri," he says, picking a leaf out of your hair and ignoring the ones on the notebook.

You tilt your head to the side, watching as he scales the tree again. "Yes, but I was under the impression we'd do it together,"

"Ah, a marvelous idea!" his voice calls out from overhead. "But that can wait for later, non? Come up and see this robin's nest I've uncovered!"

You chuckle. Even with the deadline looming nearer, you couldn't help but indulge him.

Crowley's words still rung fresh in your mind: "Five hundred words on the evil of trespassing. Each!"

Admittedly, seeing the man actually get angry was both amusing and unsettling. You supposed digging around the secret chamber behind his office was pushing it, but how could you resist Rook's charming smile when he said he'd found a trap door and wished to explore it together?

How were you supposed to know that passage would end up in Crowley's office, anyway?

"Mm?" Rook's head pokes out from the leaves again. "Are you coming, Trickster?"

You had begun to fill out that nickname quite nicely.

You set aside the pencil and paper (still untouched) in favor of scaling the lowest branches of the tree. You'd become quite the climber since meeting Rook.

"Ah, the way you so carelessly toss aside your obligations, as if freeing yourself from the shackles of the modern world!" Rook sings, offering a hand to help you onto the branch he's sat atop.

You can't help a smile as he guides you onto the thick part of the branch in front of him. "It was rather symbolic, wasn't it?"

"Chéri, if only I had the time, I would write a poem for every little thing you do," he sighs dreamily. "Come, miel, join me in being wild."

He cups your chin and guides your gaze to a curve where two branches meet, only an arm's-length away. Nestled in the heart of it is a small, delicate, cup-shaped nest, filled with baby blue eggs.

"Très magnifique," he comments, his voice breathless and soft. "The miracle of life. A sign that spring has returned once more, putting Monsieur L'Hiver to rest."

"They are beautiful... will they hatch soon?"

"Ah, that depends on how you define "soon". Robins incubate for but two weeks," he says. "Soon for us, but half a lifetime for them..."

His ensuing sigh is soft and contented, almost distracting you from the feeling of his arms finding their way around your waist, and his chin resting on your shoulder.

"Mm... I could stay here all day. Have you slept in a tree before, chéri?"

You've learned by now not to take such comments as jokes, although you're sure he already knows what the answer is.

You smile, your sweet tone tinged with the faintest hint of mischief. "No, not recently,"

"It has been a long time for me. Sometimes I fear I've become too domesticated... c'est bien I have you to bring out the wild animal in me again, hm?"

He chuckles to himself before promptly burying his face in the crook of your neck again, breathing you in.

You lean back into him, earning a little squeeze from his arms. Perhaps you could stay here all day, if not for...

"The essay..." you murmur.

Rook laughs again. "It can wait. I will gladly chance the ire of our headmage and my housewarden..." he clicks his tongue. "Taking risks for you is a delight I cannot help but indulge in."

[porkcutletbowl44]

Honestly been thinking about Simon and his Goth!gf 😻

(SFW & NSFW!) (mostly fem pronouns)

Simon is completely enraptured by his Goth partner. He loves your style, quirky attitude, and strange hobbies!

He's always happy to listen to whatever skull you randomly find in the woods, even helping you identify different parts of the teeth and skull structures.

He helps with cleaning your bones too, giving in to whatever activity it is.

He loves how you laugh at his bad jokes, returning some of your own corny dark humor ones.

He happily lets you apply his war paint, letting you get practice for designs and such on his face as your canvas. Would totally go look in the mirror and look it over, nodding in approval, "Makes me look like m' inna death metal band."

Loves loves loves to help you dress up! Tightening your corset? Consider it done the moment you approach him with the clothing in your hands with the puppy eye look. Helping you tie your little boots? Absolutely! Gives him a chance to appreciate your toned calves from years of wearing heels, ALWAYS gives them a kiss when he's done and switching to the next leg.

He will ALWAYS compliment your style of the day, so proud to be your man and walk with you out in public, makes him feel less like a sore thumb

....Likes the cute little harness straps you wear with your outfits, it does something to him, makes him want to buy a different kind of leather straps ;)

Those little chokers make him feral, he is always finding a reason to give it a lil tug to pull you closer in whisper in your ear 🥴

"Y' look magnificent, doll."

"luv how short y'are...gotta great view up 'ere."

"Gonna wear this f'me? But you know I prefer you in nothin' at all, luv."

He knows he can whisper whatever he wants to you, your makeup effectively covers up your blush...but not your widening eyes, or the clench of your thighs when his deep voice goes straight to your cunt.

[applejuicebegood]

God!Jason x Goddess!Reader

A/N: The Percy Jackson kid in me had too. And with Hades II now in early access.. like c'mon. This was inspired by the song Broken Crown Masterlist

The tang of blood clouded the air of any room he occupied. His downcast glare as sharp as his bronze blades, stained with divine and mortal blood alike. He was vengeance incarnate. His body structured upon the anger and vitriol of mortals.

He wasn't like his brothers, of course he wasn't. His purpose was to crack bone and rip flesh, their's was to protect and cultivate. Jason didn't mind the difference. Someone had to embody the violence of his families worshipers.

He was content to live in his routine of bloodshed and occasional peace within the palace libraries. Until his gaze attached itself to you.

You were small within the great pantheon, a goddess of sea creatures and river life. And like Jason, you were content. To float upon the backs of your whales and manta rays under Helios's blinding glow. To fall asleep tucked away in your alcove with the river otters snuggling against your feet. To braid small shells and river pearls into your hair on the rocky bank of your forest lake, your legs lazily kicking in the crystal waters.

Jason had stumbled across your alcove after battle, his robes clinging to his body due to a combination of sweat and blood. He bent to his knees, your cool blue waters washing away the specks of dead flesh and the maroon from his hands and forearms. It tainted your waters, brining unease and uncertainty to your sanctuary. 'What are you doing?'

He looked up, your voice like waves against a rocky shore. And for the first time in his immortal life did he know what it was like for a mortal man to worship at the feet of the divine. He stuttered an apology, the blinding quality of your beauty too intense for him to look at more more than a few seconds. He vanished back into the shadows of the trees, his heart pounding in his ears.

He knew he had to see you again. His soul demanded it. So he bloodied his hands repeatedly just so he could wash them in your waters. For he would tear through the mightiest of men just to glimpse at you from afar.

He became a nuisance wedged into your days. And your annoyance with him couldn't be contained to just that, with how frequently he showed at your pools and rivers. It was fated that you both would fall deeply for each other.

Your blooming love felt predetermined, like your bodies had been crafted to fit against the other. Once the discovery of mutual love was made, you languished in each others grasp. Years of solitude and isolation suddenly shattered by each-others presence.

You cleansed him within your pools, washing away the scars of violence the world expected of him to bare. He would unfold into the safety of your solitude as your cradled his head in your lap.

You both would bathe in the warm glow of the canopy against the river banks, giggling in your own amusement as you tried to feed each-other olives.

You would steal his cloaks if he had to leave you for war. For you to curl yourself in, a weak replacement to his arms typically wrapped around your torso as Hypnos would claim you both.

To claim that Jason worshiped you would be a pity to the extent of his efforts. He adored you entirely; his precious, sweet goddess. He would carry you across continents if you demanded it. He would rip apart the world and drag your soul from Elysium should you ever be separated by death. You filled the vacant hole deep within him.

His shoulders bare the weight of limitless anger yet the touch of your sun bleached skin against his could quell any pain, any anguish.

Your marble statues are now confided to museums and the greatness of your love is limited to sonets and song. But nothing, not even time, could kill the power of the Vengeance Gods adoration for his Wife born of water.

[harmonictechnicality]

model!steve and voice actor!Eddie (part 2)

part 1 here | ao3 link here | the temp is up on this one so like... dni if under 18 pls

Steve spends a lot of his spare time at the gym. Comes with the territory of modeling or whatever. Gotta keep himself strong, without developing bulging muscles. Gotta keep himself toned, without becoming too lean. Somewhat of a balancing act to this media fuckery circus.

Times are changing, yeah maybe. But not for puffy-lipped preps with killer bone structure. Steve still falls under the category of stereotypical Pretty Boy, and he’s chill with that. Fucking owns it.

Most days…

He’s currently cooling down on the treadmill - brisk walk, almost a jog. It’s a good pace for multitasking some adult shit that he needs to get done. Staying hydrated, keeping his photoshoot calendar up-to-date, answering a few emails. Yada yada.

Steve takes a swig of his seaweed (more like arsenic) smoothie. Opens the top email that reads:

The Fallen King - Final Commercial Cut

Right. Steve almost forgot about this particular shoot. Well, tried to repress the thoughts of that mega-douche director who kept referring to Steve’s ass as ‘prime real estate.’ Fucking creep.

He scrolls down to the attached file and slides his headphones back over his ears.

The ad opens with a wide shot of Steve draped over the throne, fog swelling around the bottom of the screen. The music is an eerie cello solo, set to a heavy bassline. 

Just another oversexualized cologne campaign, he thinks. Probably will barely feature the product because they paid big money for Steve’s body. Gotta get their fill of it (ha, they fucking wish Steve would fill them up).

But then the narration rolls into his ears and the room does a somersault. Practically inverts it’s axis at the sound dripping in Steve’s ears:

‘The mighty will fall from grace…’

“Oh shit.” Steve almost wipes out on the treadmill, has to catch his fall on the side bars. His knees are tingling, calves molten and shaky. Already half hard, which is definitely going to be a problem in these flimsy, mesh gym shorts.

‘Forbidden love and public slander…’

But that voice. That tone. That sinful register set in the minor key of Holy Fuck.

‘Will bring them to their knees.’

Alright, that fucking does it. Steve pauses the video before he’s fully tenting-out in a goddamn fitness center. Packs up his shit, chucks the sludge smoothie in the trash, and finds an empty stall. Emphatically locks it.

“Agh, damnit!” Steve's thumb slips over the screen and exits out of the video. It scrolls back to the top of the email - a new message has been added to the chain.

Seriously, what obnoxious fucker does ‘Reply All’ these days?

The new message reads:

Great work, team. (Sorry for being such a vocal slut.)

(… Not that sorry though.) - Eddie Munson

That’s right - the voice artist. Almost didn’t recognize the voice, but the repressed memory of that day comes flying to the surface when Steve sees the name. 

He recalls the guy being objectively cute too. Not in the California ‘sun-kissed skin’ kind of way. More in the Seattle ‘rain forces me to be a pale homebody’ kind of way. His eyes were something else though. They reminded Steve of the sepia tone filters he used in his early modeling portfolio. No way in hell Steve could ever forget knockout eyes like that.

The locker room is empty. Steve reopens the video, raises the volume high enough to mute out the thin hum from the air conditioning unit. Only wants to hear Eddie’s voice. That’s it. 

He’s already touching himself when the first phrase falls out of the headphones. Can’t even help it now that he’s alone. It’s all too good. Works himself up all stuffy and sensitive by the time the new part comes up:

‘Drenched in their guilt. Soaked in their shame.’

Fucking christ.

‘Choking on worthless confessions…’

Nope. Nope. Absolutely not. Choking? Worthless? What is this, a sado hotline? Steve feels the heat spreading on his neck, flushed over in a non-exercise way. There’s a thump in his dick, has to squeeze his fingers around it. Like his body needs a reminder to calm the fuck down.

‘Until all that is left of them is desolate darkness.’

Pretty sure the raspy exhale after every phrase is going to do Steve in, saturate his last ounce of dignity with want. Eddie’s breathing is taking Steve’s breath away, and that’s an outright mindfuck. Earfuck. 

Something is getting fucked, and somehow, Steve still needs more.

While the song sustains, Steve strokes himself to the percussive rhythm. 

‘The Fallen King. The scent of secrets.’

The hiss on the last syllable fades into the music till everything fizzles out, going dead silent.

Well, everything goes silent except for Steve, who is utterly rattled. Can hear his dense breath and it’s way too noisy for a public space. The pulse in his neck is irregular, hitched the fuck up. His smartwatch is buzzing, alerting him that his heart rate is elevated, which duh. His whole body feels like it underwent some sexual awakening in the middle of a fitness center. 

And, sure. That’s a common place for people to realize how gay and desperate they are, but not like this. Not with zero visuals of sweaty bodies. 

Before he starts the video over to… finish the job, a phone call lights up his screen. Because of course it does.

He reads the name and swipes it open. “What’s up, Buckley?”

“I need coffee.” Robin whines, already pouting into the phone speaker no doubt. 

“You always need coffee.”

“Yeah but like… it tastes better when you buy me coffee.”

“Oh, so you want to mooch off of your own client?” Steve teases because he can. They can annoy the shit out of each other and write it off as endearment. “Pretty unprofessional of you, Ms. Manager.”

Robin groans. Makes it a long one too - probably to show off both her annoyance and lung capacity. “Fuck all the way off, you were my friend first. Always friends first.”

“Always friends first.” Steve agrees. She’s right, usually is about most things. Robin has been his manager since his last agency went bankrupt from pouring their funds into promoting Fyre Fest. And everyone knows that turned out to be an entire fuckshow.

Honestly, it’s easier this way - Robin being his manager. They get to hang out more, he has more input on gigs that he’s interested in…

Interested in. Huh. The metaphorical lightbulb flicks on in Steve’s voice-drunk brain. Having his best friend as his manager is also convenient when Steve needs the phone number of a certain co-worker.

“Alright, fine.” Steve has a sly grin on as he talks. “I’ll bring over some coffee.”

“Thank god.”

“If!”

“Ugh.”

He huffs out a laugh. “If you can send me the cast and crew contact sheet from the Fallen King commercial.”

“Ew, why?” Robin asks, sounds totally repulsed. Valid, that shoot was Objectification Station.

But truly, Steve’s not in the mood to make up an excuse. He’s sore and sweaty and half-hard. So he just gets to the damn point. “Look, do you want coffee or not?”

“Okay okay.” That’s one way to speed up the process. Caffeine threats - works every time. “Dropping the file to you now.” 

“You’re the best.” Steve sings.

“I know, I know.” And the line clicks dead.

Okay. This is not a booty call, it’s not.

Steve is just texting a semi-stranger to tell him that his voice is potentially the hottest thing he’s ever heard. Okay, he’ll definitely phrase it better than that, maybe throw a few emojis in there to normalize the tone. Soften it up to sound very un-stalkery.

Yeah. Not a booty call. And if Eddie happens to send an audio message, and Steve happens to jerk off to it… still not a booty call, right?

Pathetic, maybe. But not basic, thank fuck.

He types, then re-types the message out way too many times before settling on this:

Steve: Great work on the commercial voiceover! Got ur number from the call sheet. hope that’s cool.

Steve hits send before realizing he didn’t have the goddamn common sense to introduce himself. He’s not even a rookie at hookups, why is he suddenly so frazzled by this guy?

“This is Steve by the way…” he mumbles into an audio message. Hits send, then quickly makes another:

“The… model guy.”

The model guy? What in the flustered hell is going on with him?

A chime notification goes off maybe two minutes after Steve sends the last message. Which is like… hot. Shameless fast texters are a millennial turn-on, for sure.

It’s a voice text, so Steve takes thirty seconds to calm down whatever involuntary throb just happened in his sweatpants. He sucks in some air and presses play:

“Pretty sure all the kids these days just send a ‘u up’ message to people they wanna dick down at midnight.”

Damn. Eddie’s voice sounds totally different, but just as sexy. Like amateur porn sexy. Is amateur audio porn a thing? It should be.

Steve quickly saves the audio file and types back.

Steve:  Ok pls don’t mention ‘kids’ while I’m trying to flirt with u

Eddie: Waitwaitwait So we're definitely flirting right now? I actually interpreted that correctly?

Steve: Like u said It’s midnight So… *shrug emoji*

And a phone call comes through. Eddie’s contact name flashing in a harsh light, too blinding and too unexpected. Steve’s heart is hammering at his rib cage, suddenly so fucking nervous. He waits until the last ring to answer, buys himself some time cause god knows, he needs it.

Steve takes a breath and swallows. “He-”

“Okay, so you do realize this is the sewer rat voice actor guy from the commercial shoot, right?” Eddie interrupts, sounds out of breath. “And not like… a fellow model or Timothee Chalamet’s cousin or something?”

That earns a hearty laugh and eye-roll from Steve. “He is so not my type.”

“Thought he was everyone’s type.”

“Nah.” Steve rolls onto his belly, very giddy and disarmed by the ease of the exchange. His nerves are set aside, replaced with his usual confidence. “More into sewer rat voice actor guys.”

“That… is some very specific criteria.” Eddie coughs or maybe it's just a dry laugh. He sounds pleased as hell, so laugh seems more likely. “Holy shit, I’m flirting with a model!”

“You’re cute." Steve should not be so charmed right now, but the impulsive honesty is really doing it for him. "Dorky, but cute.” 

Eddie mumbles something incoherent, then clears his throat. Speaks quieter this time. “So why’d you text?”

“So why’d you call?”

“Just, uh… needed confirmation that this is real life.”

Steve lets out a ‘hmm,’ thinks of a proper response to that. “If I was there, I could pinch you. Ya know... so you’d know it’s real.” Okay. Maybe not proper, but whatever. It’s late. His brain is half scrambled from hormones and exhaustion, cut him some slack.

“Would do a lot more than pinch you if you were actually here.” And sure, Eddie might have mumbled that, but Steve clearly heard it. He heard exactly what Eddie just suggested.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Fuck, we’re doing this?” Eddie whispers.

Steve turns onto his back again, lets his hand wander down. “If you’re into that. Like hearing your voice, Eddie.”

“Like hearing you say my name like that.” And Eddie sounds like he means it. His tone is smoothing over, the same way it did in the narration. “You sound so worked up already.”

Steve moans, chest falling hard enough that the phone slips. Has to reposition it to get all that good vocal seduction back in his ear.

“God, wish I could see what you look like right now.” Eddie exhales, getting that nice rasp that Steve likes so much. It’s sultry and rich. Breathless at just the right moments. “Bet you’re lying down, aren’t you? Phone wedged between your neck and ear cause your hands are too busy to hold it properly. Am I right?”

“Yeah.” Steve pushes past the waistband of his sweatpants, then his boxers.

Eddie hums. Growls. “The things I’d do to you like that. Lying down, looking so eager to please. Saw how good you are at taking direction that day of the shoot. Does that apply in the bedroom too, baby?”

“It… fuck.” Steve strokes himself slowly. Can barely get the words out cause it feels like he's chewing on Eddie's voice. Swallowing every syllable. “Yeah, it does.”

“See - that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“Problem?”

“That I don’t know what you’re into. How you like it.”

“Pretty open to… trying things.” Steve reassures, eyes closing to soak in every sensation. “Just keep talking.”

And thank all that is holy, Eddie does just that. He keeps talking. “Can’t stop thinking about that pretty neck of yours. How I’d kiss it, suck on it till your skin goes tender and soft under my lips. Till your head rolls back like it did in that video.”

Eddie's words are syrup. Heavy and tempting. “I’d let you rest it on my shoulder while I get my hands all over you. See what sweet spots drive you wild, get you to squirm for me.”

Steve's grip tightens, pumping at a pace that’s close to getting fucked. A pace that makes it easier to pretend that it’s Eddie’s hand wrapped around him, making his vision blurred and spotty - even with his eyes screwed shut.

“Eddie, you’re… oh my god.” Steve whines, knows it must be pretty fucking loud with the speaker smushed against his cheek. “You’re so good at this.”

Eddie shushes him, sounds like he’s snickering a bit. “I’d tease you like that until your thighs start to tremble. Until you beg me to go further. End the torture.”

“Fucking christ…please.” Guess Steve really is that good at taking direction. Or maybe he’s extra easy for guys that turn his brain into liquor. Too busy begging to know which one it might be. “Keep going.”

Eddie’s laugh is dark and rough. “Sounds nice hearing you beg like that. Like sin.”

Feels like sin too. 

Steve’s fingers are slicked nicely with precome. The friction of his palm is making everything warmer, better. And stirring all of those feelings up with Eddie’s voice? Fucking hell, Steve is close. He’s so damn- “Okay, okay. If we don’t stop, I’m gonna-”

“I know.” Eddie purrs, sweetly mean. “Thought that was the point.”

“Cannot believe I'm about to say this, but maybe…” Steve has to dig his hand out from his boxers to complete the sentence. Knocks his head against the wall because his behavior is totally batshit right now. “Maybe I want to see you again first? Is that weird?”

His skin sort of tingles from going this long without finishing. Never solved the blue-balling issue back at the gym either, so Steve’s on the verge of climax insanity right now. Didn’t think he’d discover an edging kink at the ripe age of twenty-five, but eureka. Here it is.

“Not weird.” Eddie’s voice returns back to a calmer one. The one that doesn’t make Steve want to bend over and get fucked so hard that his organs shift around. “I mean, I’m weird, sure. But wanting to complete this in person is not weird. Very un-weird, in fact.”

“You talk a lot.”

“Yeah well… voice actor.” Eddie says, sort of deadpan. “You couldn’t see that, but I just did ‘razzle dazzle’ hands.”

Shit, Steve really likes this guy. He just used the phrase ‘razzle dazzle hands,’ and Steve is still horny for him. Wow.

“Is tomorrow too soon?” Steve manages to say before overthinking it.

“Tomorrow-tomorrow, or like today-tomorrow?” Eddie asks. “Cause it’s past midnight.”

Right. Booty call time moves at an entirely different pace than normal time does. “Today-tomorrow. If you’re free.”

“Free as a dead composer’s anthology of music.” Eddie answers happily.

Steve opens his mouth to respond, then shuts it because what? What does that even mean? Is that a yes or a no? Goddamnit, his head hurts. Too many questions, not enough orgasms.

“Most classical music is royalty-free.” Eddie clears his throat, sounds like he’s tapping on something. “… So yeah. I’m free.”

“Right.” Steve chuckles, hard to believe he’s unapologetically gushing. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Eddie.”

“Great. See you today, Steve.” Eddie is still snorting at his own joke while the call ends.

They haven’t sorted out any of the details yet, but it doesn’t matter. It’s happening. It’s real.

So real, that he wants an actual date with Eddie before steamy phone sex. He wants to make Eddie laugh before making him come. That's like... unheard of for Steve. Uncharted.

Damn.

Today-tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

[slowd1ving]

Hello, I love your work, can you write a Dg x boyfriend! Reader who is like Osaragi from Sakamoto days please, take care of yourself, you are great

FAR FROM ANY ROAD ゜・DG

"And strange hands halted me, the looming shadows danced; I fell down to the thorny brush and felt the trembling hands." And after the numbing day concludes, after the rain swallows all your sorrows, where else do you return if not home? honestly anon when I got this request I was fully wondering whether you meant the full deal of osagiri and was going to write actual assassin reader... then I re read the request. anyways hope you enjoy this short fic because once more I was at a loss whether to write actual headcanons or a scenario.. pairing: diego kang x male reader warnings: canon typical violence, blood, sort of hurt/comfort? not comedic sorry :'( wc: 1.4k

LOOKISM MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Tonight, the rivulets of rain streaming down your body feel particularly heavy. Those drops chase the blood that stains your skin and seeps into your clothes: petrichor battling against the acrid, metallic reek; purification against the concentrated sanguine of your sins and the sins of these assailants. 

In this abandoned construction site, you feel much like these unfinished buildings. A crude facade with crumbling foundations. Of course, the unconscious bodies of these Workers resemble those decrepit structures far more—alas, you’re not referencing their physical state, but rather the slightly-numbed, slightly-exhausted mental state you’re in. 

The bruises and scrapes littering your skin might make any lesser man hiss at his incompetence in guarding his temple, but to you, you absently trace the wounds with curious fascination. One last moment of entertainment, before your fun and games abruptly end. 

“How unpleasant,” you finally utter—the bleak words are washed away by the rain, to be heard by nobody but yourself. It’s always a thrill to perform your Sacred Duty; that is, teaching these wrong-doers a salient lesson that is beaten into their very bones. Your transgressions are only to correct their own sins, not bound to any particular affiliation but yourself. 

Against your injuries, your gelid fingers don’t spark the same warmth he does. It is at this particular moment that the joy completely evaporates, it is at this moment where all you want is to take off the crushing black veil and retreat back home. 

Home. You’ll be late as usual—limping back to the dimly-lit apartment with carmine kissing your knuckles and a frown on your face. 

These hours, where the clouds swirl a rich black, and only the street lamps pity your lonely journey home, no longer feel so welcome. So it's despondently that you start the meander back to the city. 

゜・

It’s early summer when you transfer to his class—almost comically late in the year, James Lee notes. Right on the cusp of the holidays, you stand before your peers with caustically empty eyes and a careful blankness on your face. How dull, he dismisses before crunching down on his candy: an obnoxious gesture that swivels your pupils in his direction. But not much else changes in your face—it seems you’ll be just as boring as his classmates, if not slightly more weird.

Though, as you slip into your seat with almost serpentine grace, as you click your mechanical pencil in such a way he briefly wonders whether you know you’re wielding a writing utensil and not a weapon, as your loping gait starts appearing in the edges of his vision wherever he is—this is where his eyes start following your motions curiously.

These endeavours prove fruitless; you’re a model student, if not subpar to his own vast academic success. There’s nothing noteworthy about your clipped speech, nor about your penchant to eat heaping bowls of food in one serving on the rooftops. Maybe there is that feeling he gets—that you seem to be holding yourself back during sports and other activities—but he’s come to his own conclusion. Boring. And just like that, his interest wanes once more.

It’s in the holidays that he sees you once more. This time, you’re out of uniform and in such peculiar garb he half-believes you’re an apparition: clad in rich black with a veil thrown over your head.  Or at least, he would believe you were a ghost were it not for the heaps of unconscious gang members strewn around you, and the vibrant red staining your fists and face. And when he laughs, when your head finally turns to gaze at the boy at the abandoned parking lot—you look as nonplussed as ever, and that is perhaps the most interesting thing about this ill-fated encounter.

Even with the lacerations cutting deep, you barely wince. Even as he finds you, again and again and again as you’re guts deep in beating these ‘sinners’ up, you barely spare him any greetings as he watches on amusedly. Even as he’s taken to cheering you on from the sidelines, you ignore him just like he did you—though, it’s more matter-of-fact than malicious, like it would be unprofessional to acknowledge him. 

It seems James Lee has found himself a new form of entertainment: all wrapped up neatly in a parcel of a boy with weirdly haunting eyes. 

゜・

But with age, naturally, comes the act of growing up. As he sheds his crimson locks, as he slips on his new moniker and buries his name along with his past, as he finally puts a name on the captivation you’ve bound him in—no longer does he laugh as you throw yourself into danger. 

Rather, with each new scar you accumulate on the vast and brilliant canvas of your skin, he can’t help but feel each pain on his own body. 

This especially bodes true as you stumble across the threshold, back into the lonely recesses of your apartment. It’s a small thing in the suburbs—far from prying eyes that snag on the lace decorating your body, far from those that could pick up on your sins. 

When you shuck off the heavy boots—ever the contrast against the exquisite craftsmanship of your clothing—you want nothing more than to collapse against the cold tiles of the floor. As you take on the more fatal—the more perilous—jobs, the money proportionally increases. 

But you don’t get the chance to sink onto the ground, because warm hands suddenly catch your frigid body just as you’re about to keel over. 

DG, Kang Dagyum, Diego—he’s got many names. James. The man you’ve known for the past three years holds you close to his designer sweater. He willingly lets the plush fabric to be soaked in the sins that trailed in with you: clear, polluted rain, which seems to perfectly encapsulate your sullen mood; mud soaking the hem over your veil; and finally the sanguine, oily blood that never seems to wash off. 

“Sorry.” Guilt eats away at you as you watch the material seep with wickedness. “I ruined it.”

Laconic as ever, you feel worse for staining his clothes than you do for coming home bruised and bleeding. His heart seems as tattered as you look, wrenching and twisting through his flesh while you inhale the powdery scent of his freshly-laundered loungewear. 

“You’re not sorry for coming home to me like this?” he bites out. There’s not a trace of laughter in the tight lines of his mouth—for James can’t find these stupid jobs amusing any more. He makes enough, God knows he makes more than enough, for you to leave this cursed work behind and just stay by his side. 

“Um,” you murmur, and he can practically hear the cogs in your brain whirring as you wonder why he’s not mentioning the deep smears of crimson that assault his outfit. “I can change before coming in—”

“Stop.” He interrupts you with his tight grip on your body and the concerned, devoted glint in his softening eyes. “Can’t you worry about yourself for once?”

His job is harsh within itself: volatility and high-pressure wrapped in one, but the things you do for money are downright punitive. It’s paradoxically comical: a man who’s stained his hands with blood far darker and deeper than you have, versus a pseudo-vigilante whose life revolves around violence. Diego Kang, or more accurately, James Lee conceals his past as though it were a separate entity: while still keeping the dregs of yesteryear with him in the form of you.

No, that’s not right. He doesn’t keep you by him. He’s bound to you instead, he realises through his adoring gaze and tender hands, through the reverent kisses he presses to your glacial arms. 

You still as his fingers card through your skin: past the fragile, wounded dermis; weaving through the sinuous muscles, and past the tangles of veins; and finally, they hold tight on the steady thrum of your pulse. You’re alive. You’re alive and breathing, and your heart is still beating through all those layers. 

Only then does he gaze up at you. None of his past ghosts through his look: neither boredom nor the callous indifference he once regarded you with. He’s been destroyed and reborn anew within these three years, while you still remain the painfully reckless fool. 

He’s no longer James Lee.

No, there’s not a single trace left of the boy who once saw your endless struggle as entertaining: save maybe the part of him that’s always been enraptured by your existence.  

゜・

EXTRAS

DG: …

reader: yeah I beat up those haters who were harassing you on twitter

DG: …

DG: without me 🥺

[harmoonix]

Fairytale-Astrology Notes

Tale as old as time

True as it can be

Barely even friends

Then somebody bends

Unexpectedly

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Venus at 2°, 14°, 26° degrees makes the native very beautiful naturally, you are very charming and romantic 🌹

Jupiter at 7°, 19° degrees could be a blessing to beauty. You might be very pretty and might be involved into beauty in life (such as jobs, hobbies that implies beauty and art) 💋

Venus at 10°, 22° degrees, makes the person very serious about relationships, attracted to vintage things, glamour and amor, wanting serious partners, having amazing glow-ups and very good fashion style

Venus at 11°, 23° degrees, they have something that makes them unique from the rest of the world, attractive features, mesmerizing eyes, friendships forever with those people, very attractive lips and face expressions

Mercury in the 3rd/11th house is that type of person who is very interested in drama and wants to know more and get deep into it (it may not apply to all but you may tend you like drama/scandals)

Mercury positively aspecting Jupiter gives a high vocabulary to the native and can be very analytical to words, it also gives you a very good mind power

Uranus harshly aspecting Moon it can mean that the native can go through multiple stages of moods, they can switch of very fast and these people can also feel when you switch your mood while being with them

Uranus - Sun aspects: Radiating a very rebellious energy, having your own rules and the crave for wanting to live the life how you want to be not how others want you to live, standing up for themselves, powerful, magnetic

Saturn making an harmonious aspect with Venus: You can have very beautiful face and body features and a great bone structure, also when you have glow-ups you shine even brighter, you are like the eternal flame of youthfulness

Saturn making an harsh aspect with Venus: The Native can have a very prominent part of the body who makes the native shine or to be recognized about, you have your own rules when it comes to dress codes. The love life might come with some lessons for you but is coming with a purpose, to discover and find someone who loves you for real

Saturn and Mars aspects: You can have very strong muscles, if you are working on getting a good body the muscles can be a good part to start with

Mars - Sun aspects are kinda the same like Saturn and Mars aspects but here it can also make your abdomen stronger and a good body appearance, these aspects especially at men makes them to stay out without the t-shirt on...

Mars - Uranus aspects are very kinky people and can have many kinks related to physical body, they might have a kink about a certain zone of the body or that certain zone might turn them up

Moon making an harmonious aspect with Venus: The native can be very charming and might attract a lot of eyes upon them. Is a very enchanting placement to have, it gives you numerous talents and gifts , also can be very gentle and gracious 🤍

Moon in Sagittarius might be that type of person who can't stop laughing even in serious times 😭

Moon in Taurus is that type of person who stalks their exes after a breakup because they still love them somehow.🌺

Moon in Scorpio is that type of person who can stay loyal to you until you do them dirty and they will probably delete you from existence 😍

Moon in Virgo is that type of person who gets sceptical about someone they are like "I feel something is wrong with that person" and people don't believe them but after 2-3 days truth comes up and the feelings they had for that person were true.

Pluto - Mars aspects are very intense aspects to have, it gives the native a very alluring energy and aura around them and they might end up with people crushing for them

Pluto - Venus aspects are hard to understand sometimes, they love very hard and seek for feeling the true love but it comes with challenges and many lessons

Pluto - Sun aspects make the native very rebellious and independent, they have their own rules and make their own rules, they have a very strong mindset and personality

Pluto - Neptune aspects are very strong spiritually and subconsciously, they can often find themselves in situations of 'Deja Vu' and it feels like their subconscious tries to guide them to the good path of their life

Asteroid Eros [433] making an aspect with Mars: The native can be very romantic and sensual, they are sexual and intimidating, wants to bed with you 24/7, addiction to sexual energies

Asteroid Eros [433] making an aspect with Sun: The native can be obsessed with themselves and would like people to admire them, these natives might love to look a lot in the mirrors, they are beautiful and they know it 💅🏼

Asteroid Eros [433] making an aspect with Jupiter, Jupiter expands their romantic side and these natives can often find themselves flirting or talking seductively, they can also have big hopes for their love life, and good luck in finding the perfect partner

Asteroid Eros [433] in the 1st/10th house might attract a lot of eyes on them because of their appearance might be very enchanting to the public eye

Asteroid Eros [433] in the 7th house can be obsessed over relationships and might always want to find that kind of true love, people can project into those natives very often due to their nature and personality. But these people tend to be very romantic and gentle

Asteroid Ceres [1] in Scorpio loves physical touch and they usually need to touch something to feel safe. Ceres in Scorpio is also a very powerful placement to have because you nurture your soul with pleasure and love but physical touch is the thing your soul might like the most

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Tale as old as time

Song as old as rhyme

Beauty and the beast

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As i always say, if you feel this doesn't reasonate with you...make sure to check your sidereal chart for deeper understanding and also the persona chart of that specific planet/asteroid you're interested in. 💋 Have an enchanting day, with love Harmoonix ❤️

2023®.Harmoonix