#Professional Textured Cards

[akshayaquapri]

Textured Business Cards

Textured Business Cards – Make a Statement with Premium Texture

Your business card is the first impression of your brand—make it count with Quapri Textured Business Cards. Designed for professionals who value quality, our cards offer unique textures, high durability, and a premium feel. Whether you prefer a classic or bold texture, our carefully crafted options help you stand out.

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A modern, patterned finish that gives your card a distinctive, eye-catching appeal.

White Texture

A minimal yet stylish texture that enhances the clarity and readability of your business branding cards.

Needle Point Texture

A finely detailed, durable texture that offers a premium tactile experience, making your business card feel as impressive as it looks.

[quapriprinting]

Velvet Touch Visiting Cards

Velvet Touch Visiting Cards: Indulge in Luxury

Take Your Brand to New Heights with Our Luxurious Card

Get to make long-lasting impressions on clients and partners alike with Velvet Touch Visiting Cards. The double-sided soft-touch coating of these cards makes them a hundred percent different from any other visiting card. The colors pop out with the best prints, leading to a telling role of the logo, along with the message behind the visiting card.

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https://quapri.in/product/velvet-touch-visiting-cards/

[goshashka-design]

Corporate Business Cards

A Symphony of Professionalism and Design In the world of corporate aesthetics, the business card emerges as a silent ambassador – a compact canvas that speaks volumes. Whether exchanged at networking events or slipped into a leather wallet, these vectors embody trust, reliability, and sophistication. Against a backdrop of professional design, they become more than mere contact information – they…

[ellierenae]

SUPER UNIQUE writing ideas for hobbyists and professionals looking for fun, personal projects to get their inspo back

get a fictional pen pal (ask your other writer friends!) and spend time decorating envelopes, picking out a handwriting style, maybe buying a cheap perfume/cologne that smells like your character to really get to know them and feel their presence. if you have hand tremors or bad handwriting like me, you can choose a handwriting font for them and print their letters out!! more examples: save the dates, wedding invitations, birthday cards, party invites, etc.

use old calendars in character (there are many "expired" planners on sale around the end of the year, usually August) personally, i use them to record major life events like first band tours, trips abroad, holidays, birthdays... even trash pickup days and when they forget to roll out the bins!

sketch floor plans this can be on graph paper if you have the know-how when it comes to scaling down, but there are also tons of simple apps that allow you to both create the floor plan a builder would use and add furniture like an interior decorator. some even let you rotate them afterwards and see the furniture and walls burst to life in 3D! you can think of them as the sims but where everything is actually to scale

make an architectural model if you have some scrap cardboard, paper, and glue, you can easily bring the floor plan you just made to life (you'll need practice if you want to get really fancy with it of course! window panes and railings are the gnarliest part for me, haha)

make a playlist as your character maybe the most accessible one on this list, you can make the playlist your character listens to. sometimes this can be fun and surprising, like when my little guy Possum from Violence Without Plot is covered in tattoos and plays punk music on stage but listens to nothing but spa music to wind down between shows

write something your character can see this one is so weird to summarize but what i mean is like... a school essay for your teacher character to grade. cryptic street signs warning about danger by the lake. a memorial plaque beneath a statue. a character's online blog. a few of the cards in a grandmother's recipe box. a business card for a smooth-talking lawyer. things you can write that make everything feel so textured and real

these are all things i do on the daily, and it makes my life as a writer a thousand times more joyful and fulfilling. so have fun, be safe, and don't forget to unplug the hot glue when you're done <3

[pradaax]

Dark But Just A Game

Choi San x Reader 18+

A pretty little fool to think exceptions still rule

Killers take life, hunters chase prey, lovers surrender hearts, yet money is all of the above. You understand this better than anyone. Some might call you crazy, but you prefer to think of yourself as ambitious. Ambition tastes sweeter when dipped in danger, and you've developed quite the appetite. You follow the rules, but only because they’re the game you’ve chosen to master

You adjust the black fur coat draped over your shoulders, the plush texture a stark contrast against the cool bite of the Parisian night. Your fingers trail over the diamond necklace resting at your collarbone a piece worth nearly half a million, a symbol of conquest, of power. The driver steps out, rounds the sleek black car, and pulls the door open for you, you step out, heels clicking against the pavement. The breeze snakes around you.

Your eyes lift to the grand entrance of Le Mirage Noir, the most exclusive casino in the city. It looms before you, opulent and decadent, its golden glow bleeding onto the cobblestone streets. A playground for the rich, the corrupt, and the dangerous.

The grand stairs leading up to its entrance feel like a runway. You walk them as if they were, each step a statement, each movement calculated.

A guard eyes you as you approach, but you don’t even spare him a glance. Instead, you slip the gold card from your clutch and place it in his gloved hand. He inspects it briefly before punching in a code. The doors swing open, revealing the private sanctum of the elite. The real game isn’t played on the main floor with common millionaires throwing away their fortunes on roulette and whiskey—it’s played here, in the shadows, where the stakes are more than money.

A woman in a tight red dress, iPad in hand, scans the room. "The game will begin after when our last guest arrives," she announces, her voice clipped and professional.

You barely acknowledge her, the scent of aged whiskey and burning cigars lingers in the air, mixing with the quiet tension that settles over the room. You slide into a seat at the opulent card table, ignoring the curious glances from men who think they’ve never seen a woman like you before. They are wrong, of course. They have seen your kind in their nightmares.

And then, the air changes.

A presence strong, deliberate, commanding.

Choi San.

You knew he would be here. His reputation precedes him, though no criminal record taints his name, the best predators leave no trace. His business dealings are whispered behind closed doors, and tonight, you are finally close enough to see for yourself.

His dark hair is slicked back, not a strand out of place, features sharp enough to carve into the weak. The suit clings to his broad shoulders, but it’s the lack of a shirt underneath that draws eyes. The sharp lines of his torso are on display, a deliberate provocation. He moves with a confidence most men fake, his presence a force even before he speaks.

He slides into the seat beside you, and the scent of his cologne, a blend of cedar-wood and something deeper, more dangerous wraps around you like a silk noose.

“Game will now begin.” The dealer announces, his uniform crisp, his tone devoid of emotion.

Rules are read and cards are dealt. The game is simple but the true game is not in the cards; it is in the glances, the subtle movements, the power play beneath the surface.

You are aware of San’s eyes drifting to you occasionally, studying, assessing. He leans slightly closer as he picks up his cards, his voice a quiet murmur, meant only for you.

"I don’t believe we’ve met."

His accent filled your ears, you don’t look at him immediately. Let him wait. When you do turn, it is with the ease of someone unimpressed yet vaguely entertained. "Haven’t we?" You muse, taking a slow sip from your crystal glass. "I feel like we have."

His lips curl slightly at the edges, a ghost of amusement dancing across his face. "No, I would remember."

"How flattering." You say dryly, placing your bet without hesitation. The dealer moves to San. He doesn’t even glance at his chips as he matches your wager effortlessly.

The room hums with quiet tension, the soft clink of glasses and the shuffle of cards a background symphony to the game unfolding before you. Your fingers rest lightly against your stack of chips, your expression unreadable.

San studies you, his gaze carrying the weight of someone who rarely meets his equal at the table whether it be in business, in power, or in danger. His fingers tap against the green velvet, a single, rhythmic beat, like a countdown to something inevitable.

"You play with confidence," he remarks, his voice smooth, rich like aged whiskey. "But confidence can be mistaken for recklessness."

You turn your head meeting his eyes, "And hesitation can be mistaken for weakness." You counter.

San lets out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating between you. He enjoys this. The push and pull, the veiled threats wrapped in silk words.

The dealer flips the next card. A queen of hearts.

Your pulse remains steady, though you can feel the shift in the game. This is not just about winning. Not in the way these men at the table think.

Your true game is being played between glances, in the way your fingers trail the rim of your glass, the way San watches the movement, as if deciphering a secret code.

"Tell me," he muses, placing his next bet without looking. "Does a woman like you follow rules?"

The way he asks makes it clear he already has his own theories.

You lean in slightly, close enough that your perfume something dark, laced with jasmine and intrigue mingles with the scent of his cologne. "I could ask you the same thing." You murmur, a ghost of a smirk on your lips.

San’s gaze darkens just slightly, something shifting behind those sharp, unreadable eyes. "Perhaps, but I have a feeling we both already know the answer."

The final card is revealed.

A heartbeat of silence.

Then, San places his hand down, revealing his cards. A strong hand. One that would crush most opponents.

But not you.

You let the moment stretch before flipping yours over, stronger. Unbeatable.

A slow, deliberate victory.

San exhales through his nose, a quiet huff of amusement rather than frustration. He lifts his glass, tilting it toward you in a silent toast. "Impressive."

You accept the compliment with the slightest tilt of your head. "I know."

The dealer clears the table, sweeping away the remnants of the game, but the real match, the one unspoken, lingering between you and San remains unfinished. The weight of his gaze presses against you as he stands, fastening the single button of his suit jacket with an almost lazy confidence.

He extends a hand, palm up, an unspoken invitation. “Join me for a drink?”

You let a beat pass, letting the moment stretch just enough to make him wait. Then, with an almost amused tilt of your head, you place your fingers in his. His grip is steady, warm, but never desperate. A man who is used to control.

At the bar, a glass of deep red wine appears in front of you before you even speak. San slides onto the stool beside you, his own drink. A dark amber whiskey already in hand.

“You don’t second-guess yourself,” he observes, his eyes locked on yours over the rim of his glass. “That kind of certainty isn’t common.”

You take your time with your drink, savoring the taste before you respond. “Certainty comes from knowing exactly what you want.”

A small, knowing smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “And what is it that you want?”

You set your glass down gently, your fingers tracing the rim. Then, you turn toward him, your expression unreadable, but your voice smooth as silk.

“What makes you think I’d tell you?”

Perhaps it was the drinks or perhaps it was the way his gaze lingered on your exposed thigh through the slit in your dress, or how he would slowly lick his bottom lip, or even how his knee would gently nudge yours, each time with a quiet, unspoken tension.

Maybe that’s what led to this moment.

Pressed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse, the city lights flickering in the background, his lips trailed down your neck as he pulled your coat off with an urgent intensity.

Your fingers deftly undid the button of his jacket, your hands trailing down the hard line of his abs. He smirked against your neck, the heat of his breath sending a shiver through you, before his lips found yours again.

The kiss was far from gentle; it was raw, desperate, a battle for control. San’s hands slid down your waist, his nails biting into your sides, making you gasp against his mouth. He yanked you closer, and your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. In an instant, your legs circled his torso as he lifted you effortlessly.

He carried you down the dimly lit hallway and into his room, where you were roughly thrown onto the plush, king-sized bed. His jacket was tossed aside, his strong arms on full display, the noticeable bulge in his pants making your pulse quicken. You bit your lip at the sight. “Let’s see how good you feel, darling,” he murmured.

He tugged your ankles, dragging you closer with ease. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you pressed your heel against his chest, a sly grin playing on your lips as you applied just a bit of pressure. His grip on your ankle tightened, but he didn’t stop you. Slowly, you dragged your heel down his chest, stopping right at the bulge straining against his pants.

“Let’s see what you’re hiding under there.” You teased, your heel pressed against it gently. Your eyes locked with his, dark and heavy lidded. He let out a low scoff, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Come on, I'm waiting, darling." You taunted mirroring his smirk, tilting your head slightly. The mockery in your tone didn’t go unnoticed, and you could see the way his jaw tensed. You had him right where you wanted. You had the upper hand now, and you both knew it.

He catches your ankle, gripping it tightly, pushing it aside. “You’ve got a sharp tongue,” he says, the amusement evident in his voice, but the dangerous edge never leaves. In one smooth motion, he shifts, pulling you closer, his body settling between your legs. His fingers trace the line of your thigh, sending warmth trailing up your body as he whispers, “But sharp tongues tend to get bitten.”

You bit your bottom lip as his hand slid under your silky dress, his gaze locked on yours, never wavering. His fingers brushed your heat, and he let out a low hum, feeling how soaked you were through your panties. Without a word, he pushed them aside and slipped a finger inside. The soft moan that escaped your lips only made his eyes darken with hunger as his finger curled inside you.

San slowly withdrew his finger, and in an instant, you were flipped onto your stomach. He yanked your dress down, followed by the lace panties you wore. The sound of his zipper being undone made you turn your head just slightly, and as he pulled down his pants and boxers, his large length was revealed. He reached over to the nightstand, pulling out a condom.

He held the edge of the gold wrapper between his teeth as he grabbed your legs pulling you closer to the edge, your eyes lifting to catch his reflection in the large mirror in front of you. With a practiced motion, he tore open the wrapper and slid the condom on.

"Going to fill you up so good." He whispered, his voice low and steady. He crouched down, parting your cheeks, and ran his tongue over your heat, making you flinch at the unexpected sensation.

His nails dug into your skin as he continued, flicking his tongue with steady precision. You moaned, your body reacting to the pleasure. San stood upright, positioning himself at your entrance, and slowly pushed in, making sure you took every inch.

"Fuck-"

"Taking it so well, aren't you?" He chuckled, his nails digging into your sides, and you knew the marks would bruise later. One hand gripped a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back. Your eyes met his in the mirror, a trail of drool slipping from the corner of your lips. "Look at the mess you’ve become for me."

He suddenly pulled away, leaving you gasping at the emptiness. With a swift motion, he turned you onto your back, leaning down to take your breasts in his hands. He tugged at one, his mouth closing around it as his tongue teased the hardened tip. Your hands instinctively fisted in his hair, pulling him closer.

He surged forward, pressing his lips to yours once more, the kiss growing deeper. A soft moan escaped you as he entered you again, and you bit down hard on his bottom lip, making him groan lowly. The sharp, metallic taste was mingled with the sweetness of the kiss.

His hand tightened around your throat, breaking the kiss as he gazed down at you, a mess beneath him. With each hard thrust, he kept pushing deeper, his thumb tracing the trail of saliva from your lips, sliding into your mouth. The room echoed with the sounds of your bodies colliding, the air thick with heat and desire.

"You're so tight." He whispered, the words making you tighten instinctively around him. He groaned as you wrapped your legs around him, pushing him deeper. "Can you feel me in your stomach?" He breathed out thrusting into you harder. You could only hum in response, words slipping away in the overwhelming sensation.

San lifted himself, placing one of your legs over his shoulder as he began to rub your clit, causing your back to arch. "Ahh—San," you moaned, your head turning as your eyes rolled, unable to hold back the wave of pleasure but you couldn't finish yet.

"Let me... mmm... ride you." You whispered, your words barely audible. His movements froze, and he slowly pulled away. You gripped his arm, pulling him down onto the bed. He settled onto his back as you kicked off your heels and crawled toward him.

With deliberate slowness, you sank down on him, a groan escaping his lips as you took him in completely. You threw your head back as he filled you, the sensation overwhelming. Gently, you began to move your hips, building a steady rhythm.

"Your dick feels so good inside me." You moaned out unable to hold the sinful words coming from your mouth. "I bet it does, baby girl." His hands firmly on your hips, guiding your movements to quicken. A tingling sensation on your clit caused your walls to tighten.

Your hands grip his shoulders firmly as you move rhythmically on his cock, leaning forward with louder moans while your nipples brush against his chest, pushing him even deeper. 

The warmth creeping through your body intensified with each slide downward. He cupped your chin, lifting it gently to press his lips against yours. 

Your legs grew weaker as your walls tightened around him. San pushed upward with greater speed and intensity, causing you to cry out from the overpowering pleasure. "Oh God, I’m abo-" 

"Me too, baby, me too."

With one final movement, you both reached your peak. You collapsed onto his heaving chest, your legs trembling and both your breath mingling in the aftermath.

Dark But Just A Game

[mika-mp3]

The treasure is all mine!

-Prologe- (Chapter one, chapter two) Genshin Impact x Creator!Reader

warnings: first post ever! almost swear word, the most classic start to a SAGAU fic ever (Im sorry I dont know hot to start else), no y/n used, gender neutral ,english isn't my first language so propably spelling errors, I don't know how Aranaras talk. (I professionally ignored that quest.), characters might turn yandere in the future

summary: After playing TCG your screen becomes strangely white. It starts glowing brighter and brighter and the light seems to suck you in? That can't go wrong... right? Suddenly you find yourself in a forest, not remembering anything but meeting a little creature that might be able to help you out

characters: you, your mom (no this is not a joke), aranara!oc: Aramasu

word count: 1.359

wattpad version here

https://pin.it/38Diiq1CA

"THIS BI-" you yelled at the screen. The third time. The third time you lost at that damn card game, and the third time you got annoyed because of it. "How?? How can this be so hard? It's the same technique I always use when I play normally! It works against bosses; why not now in the Genius Invocation TCG? I was so close this time too!" With a frustrated sigh, you let your head fall back. On the screen was still the word "defeat," big and plastered onto a red background for extra drama. Seriously, who had this idea? It's just frustrating at this point. Not even the recommended teams online seemed to work. You even tried copying the other players' teams that defeated you, but you still lost anyway. Why were you doing this again? Oh right... rewards.

Another sigh escaped your mouth when you heard your mother's voice from the kitchen. "Darling! Come down, dinner is ready!" A small smile crept on your face. 'Darling,' a nickname your mom gave you whenever she was in a good mood. Seems like work was quite alright today.

"Coming!" you answered, the dinner smell already reaching you by the time you finally mustered up the courage to sit up. Looking at the screen one last time, you decided to stop playing Genshin Impact for today. You had already done your dailies and everything else you felt like doing. Seriously though, doing dailies started to feel like a chore. That's why you were more than happy to open chests and explore instead. Standing up, you turned the game off and watched the screen go black.

Or... did it?

You were just about to leave the room when it lit up once more, but not with the loading screen, just plain white. "What the..." A bright white light filled the room, instantly blinding you. With your hands lifted before your eyes, you managed to get closer. "What is this?!" you said, a bit of fear in your voice. This had never happened before! You didn't even know that your screen could be so blinding! Just when you were about to touch it, everything went dark. Dark and warm. That's all you felt. Looking around frantically, you tried to make sense of the situation. It was still bright outside, so it shouldn't have been so dark now! Maybe just the aftermath of the blinding light?

"Darling, are you okay?" You heard a voice in the distance, but it felt oddly far away, as if it went further and further away with every word spoken. "M-.. Mom?" you asked, but there was no answer. It was still very warm. So warm. Slowly, you felt yourself grow weaker and weaker. Soon your knees gave in, but you didn't fall while your eyes closed shut. Before you could say anything else, your consciousness had already left your body. . . . . So... comfy. It was so warm, like on a sunny summer day when you lie down on the grass and just enjoy the fresh air. Talking of which, whatever you lay on felt just as nice. The sounds of birds could be heard in the distance. After a couple of minutes, you opened your eyes and saw...

A vast expanse of vibrant green, stretching out before you. You're lying on a bed of soft moss, the texture cushioning your body like the most luxurious mattress. Above, a canopy of trees sways gently in the breeze, their leaves creating a symphony of whispers. Sunlight filters through the branches, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow that dance around you.

You sit up slowly, feeling the softness of the moss beneath your fingers. The air is filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the earthy aroma of the forest floor. You take a deep breath, the freshness of the air invigorating you. The sounds of chirping birds and the distant babble of a stream create a soothing background melody.

As you look around, the forest feels both alien and familiar. Massive trees with trunks wide enough to house entire rooms rise majestically around you. Their leaves are an array of colors, from the deepest greens to shimmering golds, reflecting the sunlight in a magical display. The forest floor is dotted with flowers of every hue, some glowing faintly, adding to the otherworldly atmosphere.

Confused, you try to remember how you got here. The last thing you recall is the blinding white light from your screen and your mother calling you for dinner. Your thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of something soft nuzzling your hand. Looking down, you see a white rabbit, its fur pristine and its eyes large and expressive. It seems completely at ease, cuddling against your hand as if it belongs there.

With a gentle touch, you stroke the fur of the rabbit. It nuzzles into your hand, happy and content. A gentle smile spreads across your face. Have you ever felt so at peace before? It's hard to say when you don't remember anything from before. Not like it matters now. Nothing matters. There is no reason to question anything at all. Not why this wild rabbit is so calm and cuddly with you, not scared at all. Not why you don't feel certain things, like hunger or thirst. It's all so nice and warm and cozy.

Wait, there is something. Some feeling, not very familiar, but you still recognize it. Are you being watched?

Yes. No, no, it can't be that. Probably? Turning around, you scan your surroundings. All the bushes, the trees, and their leaf crowns, then you see it.

It isn't threatening, more weirdly familiar than anything. The small creature is floating above the ground with a little cute 'hat'? One word pops into your head as the creature comes closer: 'Aranara.' But how do you know that? It feels natural, like knowing the name of a dog or cat. Aramasu. This little Aranara's name is Aramasu.

"You're not a Nara," says the curious creature.

You answer, "No, I am no Nara. That's what I believe, at least."

With a soft smile, you reach out, cupping the little Aranara's face. It looks up, surprised, almost speechless. The warmth soothing through its body by the mere touch of you.

"What might you be doing here, little Aramasu?"

The rabbit, still cuddled up in your other hand, seems very happy with the encounter. The Aranara isn't surprised that you know its name; it feels truly natural.

Aramasu's eyes widen slightly, then it relaxes into your touch. "I was just wandering, like I always do. But today felt different. The forest whispered to me of a new presence, something... special."

You look around; the forest seems to glow with a subtle, otherworldly light, as if acknowledging Aramasu's words. The trees sway gently, and the air is filled with a soft, harmonious hum. It feels as though the entire forest is alive and aware of your presence, welcoming you in a way that goes beyond mere coincidence.

"Special?" you ask, intrigued. "How so?"

Aramasu tilts its head, studying you with a curious expression. "You have a light within you, one that resonates with the heart of the forest. It's warm and soothing, like the embrace of the earth itself. It's rare to see such light in anyone other than the forest spirits."

The rabbit nudges your hand, drawing your attention back to its soft fur. You feel a sense of contentment and belonging, unlike anything you've ever experienced—or at least, anything you can remember. The forest, the creatures, even the very air around you, all seem to sing in harmony with your presence.

"Perhaps," Aramasu continues, "you are more than what you think you are. The forest recognizes you, and so do I."

As you ponder Aramasu's words, a sense of purpose begins to stir within you. Though you may not remember your past, the present feels vivid and alive, as if this is where you were always meant to be. The forest, with all its mysteries and wonders, seems to be waiting for you to discover your true self.

-to be continued-

https://pin.it/3bEkLA0wa

Thank you so much for reading! Fell free to give me feedback and ideas how to continue this!

Mika

[random-blurbs]

Hi I just found your blog and omg love your writing!! 10/10!! Would it be ok if I hear your thoughts or hcs on Mark but how do you think he would treat his darling if there were different species ? (Like human , mega human or an alien ?) (I’m fine with female or gn reader ^^) please 🙏

A/n: Aww thanks I appreciate reading that!! ╰(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)╯

In my very professional and correct opinion - I really don’t think Mark gives a fuck if that makes sense. Like if he’s interested in you and you got a solid personality man is willing to be your #1 cheerleader. Human or not man is just happy to be there, if anything he would be mad curious wanting to know every detail about you. Which can be good for late night talks lol

So have my headcannons!!

Mark x Alien!Reader

- “Wait is that like regular you, or your costume?” He apologizes every time he remembers his first words to you when he thought he was fighting a villain recognizing how he might need to check his words from now on.

- “You didn’t know Mark it’s fine.” Even after all the apologies he always takes you out for a sweet treat every time he remembers wanting to see a smile on your face, and not hate him for his words. (Which you can never do)

- If you ever want to win an argument you always pull that card, effectively making him shut up and get on his knees to apologize.

- Without you knowing he has made a list of all your little quirks in his note apps, never wanting to forget something that can make you feel out of place with your time on Earth.

- He was always so curious where you came from, as he admired the gold lines streaking your body, it was a delicate set of patterns that glow when you’re feeling too much of one emotion. And the singular twirly antenna sprout you have on the top of your head made it hard for him to not fall for you, weirdly so. All of this effectively made you stick out when you’re walking down the streets as you’re usually beaming, a walking star practically.

-It hurts his eyes, like really bad (he’ll never tell you this) so by the end of the day he’s squinting at his mom trying to recall the moments he had good vision

- Everytime people give him the solution of sunglasses he shoots it down, wanting to embrace every part of you… even if it blinds him

- You forced him to wear sunglasses ever since you saw his trash piled with eye drops

- “How do you not find them cute?” He asked shocked, looking up at you with a scooped up kitten in his arms. “These ‘things’ are demons on my planet practically.” You say bluntly, shivering at the cat-infested home you remembered you left. Misinterpreting your words as 100% truth; whenever there’s a cat nearby he scoops you up with so much panic you always assume you’re being under attacked. But in fact it was just him throwing you over his shoulder and hauling ass away from the cat.

- He likes feeling the difference between your skin, and the gold plates practically etched onto your body feeling the difference in texture. He likes hearing the noise when he taps on it hearing a clank every time making him chuckle.

-If we’re being honest he can keep himself entertained for a good hour just doing that with every part of your body.

-He still loves and cherishes it didn’t matter what you are. He loves the crinkle your eyes do whenever you smile, the way you wear your emotions free for everyone to see never ashamed of who you were.

- You being so in tune with your emotions, you always help him understand his own considering everything he goes through, glad you’re by him through it all.

- It was a burning question every time he sees your antenna bouncing around. He needs to ask. But would he offend? He doesn’t want to. But the curiosity is killing him.

- It took him a year to ask you.

- “If like…… someone cuts your antenna do you die?”

- You couldn’t help but give him massive side-eye as you try to see if he’s holding an unknown pair of scissors. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

- “It’s not like I was going to cut it!”

- “You said it so suspiciously can you blame me!”

- You don’t die if it’s cut. (Much to your own relief whenever you see Mark holding scissors)

- He’s glad that you never joined the hero scene much to Cecil’s dismay considering he knows what’s going to happen if you do.

-Everyone is going to love you, see how beautiful you are, fall in love and there’s never going to be enough time to be one another, and you’ll leave him to rot. And he really wouldn’t want to resort to locking you in his closet so he’s grateful you’re all his.

-That’s what he says atleast as you gave him an unimpressed look at his dramatics.

- “That wouldn’t happen.”

- “You don’t know that.”

- He adores and practically kisses the floor you walk on, never feeling luckier to be called your boyfriend.

- If you get Mark to love you human or not he would do anything in his power to make you the happiest person in the planet.

[putschki1969]

2025/01/03 Blog post by Wakana 明けましておめでとうございます🌟〜2025年もどうぞよろしくお願いいたします‼︎〜

❗This is Fan Club EXCLUSIVE content❗ ❗PERSONAL USE ONLY❗ ❗Do NOT SHARE on other sites❗ ❗Join her FAN CLUB! Check out my detailed TUTORIAL ❗

Happy New Year🌟〜Please Continue to Support me in 2025‼︎〜

Happy New Year everyone🎍😊🎍 With the new year upon us, I feel even more determined to spend as much time as possible with everyone, sharing happiness laughter😃 May this year be filled with joy, energy, and love✨

I spent the New Year with my family, here are some photos they took of me on New Year's Eve, it looks like I am having a blast😂I decided to make a collage out of the photos. This makes it look like a proper New Year's card💌 Thank you for your continued support in 2025‼ ️✨＼＼\\٩( 'ω' )و //／／✨

We had sukiyaki on New Year's Eve🤤 My brother was in charge. Doesn't it look delicious?😍 It tasted amazing...😍 We had soba noodles while watching the Red & White Year-end Song Festival, after that we greeted the new year while watching a Silvester Concert, then we went to bed😊

The next day, on New Year's Day morning, my sister-in-law made some great New Year's dishes!! ! ! ! ! I have no words to describe how amazing all of it was...😭✨The table setting was gorgeous too...😭✨ It not only looked beautiful, everything was also really delicious, I just wanted to keep on eating😭✨ (My sister-in-law is actually a professional cook)

There were cute little bunnies in the different New Year's dishes and in the zoni! 🐰 (I helped cut the kamaboko into decorative shapes 😊 It was difficult but fun 😆) We were all able to put whatever we liked on our plate🍚 I'm not the type of person who can eat a lot all at once, so I like to take my time and eat a little at a time. So I guess this sort of New Year's arrangement works best for me 😂. It's fun to eat all kinds of things slowly, little by little, while chatting ☺️💕

In the afternoon, we were all watching "The Solitary Gourmet" on TV, and the fried horse mackerel looked really delicious...🐟 I was captivated by the crispy texture of the fried food that Goro was eating... My sister-in-law then suggested that we should just fry the leftover shrimps from the day before. This is what she made for us! 🍤 Beautiful fried shrimp!!! 🍤With tartar sauce!!! ! ! ! (The heart-shaped lemon slices are so cute♡) She even fried some maitake mushrooms and sweet potatoes together😭✨ We all ate the crispy and juicy fried foods while they were still fresh❣️ It was the best...😭💕Freshly fried is food is truly the best😭💕

I had a really fun New Year's holiday~(((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o))) I got to re-charge my energy🤗 I know that many of you are busy, but please make sure to take time to look after your mind and body😊

The first big thing I am looking forward to this year is getting to meet you all at the Kalafina concert!

I also have some special news to announce for my solo activities!! ＼＼\\٩( 'ω' )و //／／ I'm planning to reveal it in the next episode of my podcast "Wakana's Talk Garden", so please look forward to it!! ･:*+.\(( °ω° ))/.:+

Once again, thank you everyone for your continued support this year! ! ＼(^o^)／Until next time~☆( *'▽'*)/

＊＊＊Wakana＊＊＊

[pansyfemme]

hiiiiiiii ^^ asking your main this bc my internet was finicky when I sent it to your art account; Do you have any tips for using pastels?

i saw your ask on my art account,I think you mean oil pastels, right? Here's my general tips with them:

This is one of the only art supplies that I genuinely think you need to adjust technique with depending on brand. Some brands will genuinly be nothing like eachother, and this is okay! but it's something to consider if your piece does not look much like someone who uses a different brand. I find that student-grade oil pastels (which are higher in filler) tend to have a thinner application than professional grade, and can 'skip' or feel even dry at times. This isn't really meaning they are worse, but it's considerably different than professional grade, which apply very thickly.

I know that the assumption with oil pastels is that you are 'drawing', but you are firmly 'painting'. I know that's hard to say, but oil pastels in a lot of ways are solid paint that you are smearing onto a surface, so you need to work with them closer towards how you would tend to apply color in a painting.

do not over rely on blending. I know it's tempting to smear the colors together with your finger, but that's generally where things go wrong for me when I work with oil pastels. I reccomend using fingers as little as possible, if you are interested in smearing and blending, qtips work fine, or color shapers are good for precision.

Scraping off color is a good technique, but also can be overused. Be careful with removing too much pigment.

Breaking off little bits and applying with a pallete knife can be really helpful for precision. There is no rule saying you have to apply it one way.

Most importantly: Use paper that can handle it. Nothing thin, nothing too glossy but nothing too textured either. I personally prefer some sort of card or board if possible. I think with a lot of drawing mediums the assumption is to only use paper, but oil pastel works often better on non-absorbent surfaces with a slight grit. The oil can seep and bloom through some papers.

Your painting will 'cure' to some level eventually, but sennelier oil pastel fixitive does indeed work and I reccomend it heavily.

If your work is not fixed, store covered somewhere free of dust until you are able to. Oil pastels attract dust like no other medium i've seen.

You can use an x-acto knife with very gentle pressure to score lines into your paper that the oil pastel will not go into. You can also remove bits of color with it.

Work BIG unless you are doing something that isn't very detailed. yes, you can burn through pastels quick, but it's pretty impossible to work with them super detailed unless you work on a larger scale. be aware of the scope of your painting.

here's a couple artists I admire who use oil pastel as their primary media:

misako flodin

michelle uckotter

[knivestothroats]

ITWS/ProVic Crossover Event Of The Century (part 1)

This is a crossover of In The Woods Somewhere by me and Professional//Victim by @victimeyez. Part 2 is here. Content warnings: Captivity, discussion of torture, discussion of sex trafficking, drug and alcohol use

Fletcher owned one suit. It lived in the back of their closet next to their old lucky leather jacket. They figured they used up all the luck when they took a bullet to the chest and didn’t die, so it had been cleaned of blood and retired.

The suit only came out for dinner parties Fletcher grudgingly attended for networking purposes. This one was a business mixer someone had rented out a ballroom at a hotel for. Almost a two hour drive for Fletcher, but it’s not like events were being hosted in the woods.

They combed back their hair neatly. But they couldn’t stand to look at their reflection, so they tousled it again. Stylishly. 

Fletcher scanned the room for familiar faces when they walked in. Not wanting to make an immediate beeline for the bar, they walked to it casually instead and ordered an old fashioned. Something to hold and sip would help them look and feel more at ease, less awkward and out of place. They leaned against the bar for a moment, surveying the crowd again. Still, no one they knew. That meant it was time for cold introductions. 

It was what these events were for, but… ugh.

Fletcher’s eyes landed on an intriguing pair. One was on the taller side. He was wearing a blazer over a turtleneck, silver wire-frame glasses, and his hair in a half pony. One hand held a cocktail, and the other was planted firmly on the shoulder of a slightly shorter man. He had dark curls falling around a gaunt but pretty face. Shadows clung under his eyes, which drifted nervously around the room before returning to the floor. He was dressed in black slacks, a white button-down shirt that hung a bit loosely on his frame, and most notably, a red leather collar with gold details.

If nothing else, they were the most interesting.

Fletcher approached the pair. They held their hand out to the taller man. 

“The name’s Fletcher, nice to meet you.”

He took it gladly, with a firm but non-threatening grip. "I’m Caius, and my friend here is Tommy."

Fletcher managed to refrain from cringing at the name. They glanced in his direction in time to catch Tommy looking at them nervously before turning his head away. Fletcher hadn’t intended to offer their hand to him - the power dynamics were clear here - but now they barely wanted to look at him. 

It wasn’t an uncommon name, but it still struck a chord every time they heard it.

"What business venture are you two representing?" Fletcher asked, shifting their attention back towards Caius.

With practiced ease, Caius pulled a business card from his jacket pocket and held it out to Fletcher between two fingers. "We make dreams come true."

Oh, Jesus. Fletcher raised their eyebrows just briefly as they took the card. An almost velvety texture, sharp edges, silvery print. “Personalized entertainment,” followed by a phone number. Fletcher flipped it over to a blank back. 

"How very enlightening," they said dryly.

"You'll have to forgive me for being discreet. Tommy works for us as a private entertainer, of the torture fantasy variety. He's very responsive to direction, and… stimulus. He's less of a call boy, there are a lot of rules if you want to fuck him." Caius smirked on the word "fuck." He spoke with an even, telemarketer tone throughout.

Tommy wasn't facing Fletcher head-on, but his eyes were focused on them just to the side. He squinted slightly, as if trying to think of something.

"Hm." Responded Fletcher flatly. "So, torture is a free for all, but sex has conditions."

"We have ways of fixing most things, but penicillin can only do so much.” Caius said. “We have a state-of-the-art lab for flash healing and scar-free recoveries. He's a blank slate every time." 

To the side, Tommy's gaze lowered, filtered by long eyelashes. Fletcher turned their sights back on him, sizing him up from a new perspective. He was pretty, in a frail way. Timid, most likely beaten into submission. Collared, but not leashed; that meant he could be trusted to follow orders, at least to some extent. He had the allure of a prey animal to a predator like themself. Caius had chosen well. Or molded him well. 

“Which do you get more requests for?” Fletcher asked, returning their attention to Caius. “Torture or sex?”

Caius grinned wolfishly. "Torture - sex is cheaper from anyone else." He tipped back his drink for another sip, but did not take his eyes off of Fletcher for one long gulp. It was weird. He made it weird. "I'm sure customers like you get it for free."

"Customers like me?" Fletcher echoed. "What makes me so special?"

Caius cocked his head, shifting gears. "You tell me. Who are you, sharp stranger?"

Ok, so definitely the type who thinks flirting with customers will help him close deals. Fletcher answered unaffected. "I run a training operation. People send me new recruits or nepo babies that aren't living up to expectations and I teach them the skills to be productive members of criminal society. Mercs, mobs, murderers of all kinds. Done work with a lot of families and guilds, hoping to make some more connections tonight."

"Aren't we all." Caius looked around the room briefly. "We will be doing a demonstration later, hoping to drum up some noise for our service." Tommy was a statue at his side, staring off into space like he had drifted from his body. At least for now, while he didn’t have pain to pin him in place. "Maybe you could help me out - you see, I don't want to get this blazer stained... and you could use a bit of color."

"Mm," Fletcher took a sip of their drink. "People usually pay me for that kind of service. I come highly requested. Or I did, when that was my game."

"People usually pay me for that kind of service. Or at least… providing the body. But look at us - we could be here, right now, making a connection."

He was laying it on thick. Fletcher tried to retake control of the direction the conversation was heading. "Not sure if I should be surprised that there’s a market for it. Obviously this is a more major industry than people realize,” they gestured around the room, “but in my experience, not everyone wants to get their hands dirty. Not that dirty, anyway. Not everyone has the stomach for it, let alone the appetite. What's the going rate for something like this?"

"It depends on what you have in mind. Time, tools, location, severity. You could get a quote from my associate over there," Caius said, pointing to a neatly groomed salesman with short, ginger hair. The gesture caught the attention of said associate, whose eyes widened upon seeing Caius talking to a potential client. He rushed over, trying not to look panicked. 

"Hi, hello, I'm Rory." Slightly out of breath, he stuck out his hand for Fletcher. "I see you've...met Caius."

Fletcher shook his hand. "Fletcher. Pleasure. You handle the finances for this operation, then?"

He gave a short, biting laugh. His chill, easygoing sales persona was slightly tight on him at the moment. "Yes, I do, you don't have to give Caius any money, all the payments are processed through me."

Fletcher chuckled. "Caius wasn't trying to shake me down. I was just wondering what you charge for this sort of service. Although it sounds like it varies. You have a ballpark, or a range?”

"Well, it depends on a few factors, yeah. Tools, time, location, severity. But if you can tell me a little about what you have in mind, I can get you one right away." Rory flashed a winning smile. "And if I may, you might be interested in a special contraption my associate has made, which we'll also be demonstrating later today. Maximum pain for minimal effort sort of thing, if you don't want to get your hands dirty. Or if you do." He raised a conspiratorial eyebrow, leading the upsell with practiced charm.

"Mostly just asking out of curiosity," Fletcher said. "What's the contraption?"

"The Cradle," Caius easily volunteered. "Michelle is making toys now, and they're just so inspired." Whatever the contraption was, the mention of it seemed to snap Tommy out of his reverie. He promptly switched to a more refined look of abject misery.

Fletcher caught the change in demeanor. "It rocks them gently to sleep, I take it?"

"Something like that. You'll have to catch the whole spiel when we do the demonstration. Then maybe you can do a demonstration for me." 

Fletcher had been trying to be diplomatic, but that was a bit much. "Ok, slow your roll, bud. You’re laying it on way too thick right now and I’m gonna need you to tone it down.”

Rory very firmly stepped on Caius's foot, and he dropped his smile suddenly to a more neutral expression. "One hour, ballroom stage. See it for yourself. Come and join the fun, or don't."

He spoke matter-of-factly, betraying no emotion if he was insulted by Fletcher's rebuke. Rory gave Fletcher a tight smile and moved to pull Caius away by his arm. "Caius, come get a drink with me." 

Sweat was beginning to form on the ginger salesman’s forehead. Bags forming under his eyes, slight jitters in his hands - probably due for another bump. Caius resisted for a moment, seeming to consider. Tommy moved in to Caius's other side and subtly touched the sleeve by the man's relaxed arm. Caius turned at the touch and they met eyes, exchanging something wordless shared with just a look. Caius walked away amicably with Rory, but Tommy stood there, staring at Fletcher. Studying their face for a moment before telling them, with a defeated voice, "I know what you want."

Fletcher raised their eyebrows. "And what is that?"

Tommy did not keep a prideful look, he just looked experienced. Performing an unpleasant role that had long become old hat to him. "You like it when they squirm."

Fletcher smiled, flashing teeth. They took a step closer to Tommy. "How long have you been... doing this?"

"A while. Around five years, as far as I can tell. They don't let me put tallies on the walls."

Fletcher folded one arm across their chest and left the other loose to swirl their glass. They thought of a number of questions, but weren't sure if they wanted to know the answers. There was a certain level of detachment that made everything easier. Asking how he ended up in his position may be tempting, but hearing his story could create sympathetic feelings that Fletcher would inevitably have to smash down when they left him at the end of the night. Because they sure as fuck weren't going to rescue him like an abused dog. He could have been an enemy who crossed them and lost, he could be a random victim picked up off the street. It didn't make a difference. 

"Caius said you fulfill fantasies. You've gotten good at figuring out what people want, then."

"I had to."

"You're better at it than your owner." Fletcher glanced over their shoulder to the bar. Rory was leaning in a little too close to Caius and talking fast while Caius glowered at him. They turned back to Tommy. "Five years, huh? When did you give up?"

"Handler,” Tommy corrected. “I guess...it doesn't really matter." There was a low table off to the side of the crowd, flanked by two plush chairs. Tommy took a few deliberate steps towards it to check if Fletcher followed, and then eagerly claimed one of the seats. He seemed to enjoy sitting down in such luxury like a child might enjoy playing in a pool. Scant pleasures abound for him.

Fletcher pushed out the other chair with their foot and sat, somewhat poised on the edge as if they’d have to jump up at a moment’s notice.

"It's hard to place an exact moment, but...I would say, whenever it was when they had to reattach my hand." He smiled numbly.

Fletcher put their drink down on the table and studied his face. He seemed too aware of his situation to tell an easily refutable lie if he didn't need to. Still, Fletcher had been around the block, and that was extreme. They didn't want to seem gullible. "Are you fucking with me?"

"I'm five years in and just - just look at me," he gestured vaguely to himself. "No scars, no bumps. Experimental stuff. They gambled on the right guy. I say guy, because he's not a doctor any more."

Fletcher did look Tommy over. He was right. This was a person who had accepted his place in Hell, which means he'd been there long enough to get through all the stages of grief. He should be covered in scars. He should have a crooked nose and fingers. He should be in pain when he walks. All he really had to show was a sunken face and dead eyes. Fletcher leaned back in their chair and glanced over to Caius and Rory and again. There was a third person with them now, and they all seemed like they were trying not to make it obvious they were arguing. "Any chance your not-doctor is here tonight?"

Tommy opens his mouth with a wry grin and then seems to think better of it, closing his mouth to chew over his answer again. "No, he's not. I'm not sure Caius would share. That information."

"I saw the smirk,” Fletcher said playfully. “You have something you want to tell me."

Tommy chewed on his lip as he thought about it. "You're going to get me in trouble."

Fletcher put their hands up innocently. "How am I going to get you in trouble?"

"You almost talk to me like a person," Tommy said.

God, he was so pathetic. Part of Fletcher wanted to be nice to him and part of them wanted to grab his face and smash it into the table. Either could get a fun reaction. "Look," they leaned in conspiratorially. "This is your chance to get it all out. You probably don't get to talk shit with customers, right?"

Tommy's face was slightly flushed. He was practically bursting at the seams, but he swallowed down the desire and sat back, sinking into the seat. "You think you're the first to try this?"

Fletcher blew out a breath and rested their chin on their hand. "You are a professional, huh?" they said with a smile. "I may not convince you, but... I like you better than your handler, so far. I think it would be fun to know something he doesn't."

Tommy sighed and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes for a long moment. "You're the type that needs a reaction. You like being feared. You've been doing the 'lone wolf' thing for a while now." He removes his hands from his face and his eyes stare at them in his lap. "You've convinced yourself you're comfortable with it."

The smile faded from Fletcher's face. They paused for a long time, staring Tommy down. He wouldn't look up to meet their gaze. "I wasn't asking for information about myself," they said coldly. "Look at me."

"I don't - I don't know why I said that." He kept his eyes down.

Fletcher reached out, put two fingers under Tommy's chin, and tilted his head up. They fixed him with a hard stare for a moment. Studying his face, thinking, but also... he wasn't wrong before. They wanted him to squirm. "That's quite a skill. I don't know if you're wasted in this role or if you're perfect for it."

Tommy closed his eyes for a long moment, and when he opened them again they met Fletcher's with focus and clarity.

"I'm perfect for it."

Fletcher put their chin back in their hand. They drummed their fingers against their lower lip. "I haven't talked to anyone else here yet," they said. "But I think you're probably the most interesting person in the room."

Tommy sat up suddenly, turning as Caius, Rory, and a third man joined them. Caius wore a grim smile. "Has he told you I'm evil yet? Made you sympathetic to his cause?"

"Um, no, but I can figure that out," Fletcher said. "We’re all at the evil convention." They finished off their drink and pointed to the newcomer. "Michelle, I take it?"

"You may take it," The other man said with a nervous laugh. His hair was divided into twists that nearly touched his shoulders. "And you're Fletcher in the Rye?"

Fletcher laughed. "That's pretty good." They stood to shake his hand. "You're the inventor?"

"Oh, more like tinkerer, but I suppose. Are you looking for any new toys for your collection?"

"Well, your associates keep alluding to your 'cradle,' trying to create an air of suspense to keep me interested, I'm sure. But, it's working enough that I want to know what it is."

He laughed. "Yeah, they're the ones that know how to sell. It's a curved brace that connects into nerves along the spine. Are you sticking around for the little demonstration we have planned?" 

Rory stood by as if waiting for one of the others to say something he would have to try to make up for, but held fast for now. Caius leaned over Tommy's chair and cupped his boy’s face with one hand, his thumb pressed to his lips while his other fingers supported underneath his chin. A peculiar touch, and an almost casual gesture, but some meaning was hidden there. He was touching Tommy where Fletcher had, in order to tip his head up. Caius dug his fingers into the hollows of his cheeks in an almost teasing squeeze before letting go.

Fletcher watched the interaction carefully, studying both their faces. "I'll stick around," they said. "I should work the room more, anyway. And I need another drink." They picked up their empty glass and raised it in a salute. "Gentlemen."

Rory and Michelle gave small, appropriate nods. Caius flashed them one last winning smile before turning suddenly and leaning into Tommy's space to whisper something in his ear.

Fletcher returned to the bar and opted for a whisky sour this time. 

“I’d prefer honey, if you have it,” they said as the bartender set to work. They glanced over their shoulder to scope out perspectives to chat up, but ended up turning back to the bartender. 

“So, do you work for the hotel, or do you work for the host of the event?” Fletcher asked.

“I’m employed by Ms. Hannowitz,” he said, referring to the host. 

Fletcher nodded. “Okay, so you know what’s going on.”

“Indeed I do,” he said, setting Fletcher’s drink on the bar in front of them. 

“Thanks.” They took a sip. “It’s great, thank you.” 

They turned towards the crowd… then back to the bartender. 

“So how does that work - are you solely employed as a bartender for Hannowitz, or do you do other stuff for her, or is there like a catering company specifically for illegal events?”

A pair of women approached the other end of the bar and waved the bartender over.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said to Fletcher before walking away. 

“Oh, sure, sure,” Fletcher muttered. Taking another sip of their drink, they surveyed the crowd. Finally, they saw someone they recognized - a capo in a family they’d done work for in the past, and trained a couple foot soldiers for. He was talking to a couple people Fletcher didn’t know; perfect opportunity for introductions. They made their way over.

~~

The troupe doesn't make a spectacle of it when they make their way to the stage. Caius and Rory each clasp a hand around Tommy's wrists and rush him up to prevent a last-minute escape attempt. Caius had slipped him a little something earlier, which was not pain meds as Tommy had hoped but instead a muscle relaxant. He wasn't running off anywhere any time soon.

Backstage, Michelle opened the suitcase they had loaded in earlier and started to fit together pieces stored inside. Rods interlocked into a surprisingly sturdy frame, and the suitcase was detached from the wheeled base. With a few turns of an allen wrench, the base unfolded into a longer, thinner platform that the metal frame fit into. It resembled a rolling clothing rack, but unusually tall and wide. 

Tommy was watching the construction, his stomach tight with fear. It had been a long time since he cried before the torture even started, but his eyes were prickling with unchecked emotion. Beside him, Caius fussed at the backstage vanity. He had pulled out a little doggy bag of cocaine and poured some onto the chalky desk. He dug in his wallet for a credit card and a crumpled receipt, which he smoothed out and rolled with ease. He cut the ivory with his credit card into two lines before wiping one off the edge into a vial. 

"Head back," He instructed Tommy, and when he didn't respond fast enough Caius wrenched his head back by his hair. He pressed the vial under his nose and tapped it gently, emptying the coke into Tommy's sinuses before pinching his nose shut. "If you sneeze, I'll leave you up for them all to use. Don't waste my shit." 

Tommy's eyes watered at the pain triggered all the way down his throat, but managed to nod. Caius let go and let him wipe his nose while he took the other line for himself. 

"Ready?" Michelle had a hand on one of the supporting polls, wheeling the rack along. 

Caius coughed and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. "Where's Rory?" 

"He's already out there, setting up the table." 

Caius sniffed and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, alright, let's do it." 

Tommy wondered what coke was like for Caius. He seemed energetic and focused and jolly. For Tommy, it just made his nervous heart pound harder. He felt like trapped prey, with an overwhelming urge to run, but nowhere to go. Mixed with the muscle relaxant, he felt caged inside of his weakened body. 

They walked on stage to see a sizable crowd already waiting for them - enough people had noticed the set-up begin, and plenty others had been invited to attend personally by a member of the team. Caius slunk off to go about some nefarious business while Michelle positioned the rack facing out towards the audience. He stopped at each of the four wheels to press a trigger down with his foot, the wheels locking stubbornly onto the stage with a rubber seal as each was fastened. Rory was laying the finishing touches on a folding table to the side, covered in a variety of implements to inflict pain. In the middle layed a long black piece of metal, curved and thin with an appearance reminiscent of a xenomorph's detached spine. Tommy’s heart hammered in his chest looking at it, and he took one step back towards the stairs. 

"Hey," a friendly voice said, as a hand gripped him by the arm. He turned and Michelle was looking at him with a curious smile. "Come here, this way." He was led towards the frame by Michelle's push, who gentled him like a wild animal backed into a corner. "Stand here, just like that, good. Strip down to your underwear, please." Tommy gave an anxious glance at the crowd formed in front of them. "Don't be shy. Here, I'll help." 

Tommy didn't resist as Michelle helped him undress, cooperating slowly in a daze. None of this felt real. His head throbbed in time with his heart. A moment later he was strung up to the frame, pulled taut up on the balls of his feet by his wrists chained above him. Michelle took his clothes, and Caius reappeared at his side, one cold hand spreading over his lower back. 

"Let's get started."

In another life Caius was some shithead Shakespearean actor. At least, he knew how to project to the room. 

"Friends among us, we are here to demonstrate a new and original design from our labs." He did not have to clap his hands or ring a bell, the people were intrigued enough by Tommy's public binding that the dull roar simmered to a quiet murmur among the crowd. Michelle stepped up to center stage and took a deep breath. 

"Pain is not evil. It is not inherently a punishment from our bodies. It is a part of our natural homeostasis system, our bodies' need to maintain good, working order. Our body tells us what we need through these systems. We feel thirst when we need water, tired when we need sleep, hot when we are overheating, cold when our body temperature is low. We even crave foods that satisfy nutritional needs - red meat when we are low on iron, maybe some popcorn when we need the salt." It got a very modest chuckle from the crowd. "We have built-in sensors throughout our bodies that tell us when we are injured or wounded. All of our sensitive nerves are there to alert us when the body has been damaged. The signal we receive that holds that information, is how we sense pain.

"Common methods of interrogation - or just play - manipulate the body to create pain. But sometimes, we need to generate a lot of pain without causing a lot of bodily harm. What if we used these nerves, these sensors, directly, to cause pain without unnecessary damage?" 

Caius fetched the Cradle from the table and brought it to Michelle, who held it up to the audience. 

“We are here today to introduce the Cradle, a device for not only generating pain, but immobilizing the subject by it, too. No more handcuff keys to lose. The Cradle conforms to the human spine, and when lined up correctly, slides pins directly into the shallow bundles of nerves along the subject's back. With physical damage no worse than a few pinpricks, you can latch this into a person's spine with an incapacitating amount of pain. The Cradle then locks in place with a simple mechanism that the victim physically cannot reach to unlock. "

There is an excited murmuring through the audience, and Michelle is received well when he holds it aloft. 

"As I began the build and manufacture process, I realized the Cradle could accomplish much more than I had planned. By wiring electrodes into the crest of the artificial spine and running copper filament through the pins, the Cradle is able to directly stimulate the nerves with electricity from the rechargeable battery pack located at the small of the back. Each charge is good for 250 hours of consecutive use, and can be stored without charge degradation nearly indefinitely. "

Caius and Michelle moved to Tommy then. He didn’t even register that Caius was telling him to turn around, but they guided him into it, twisting the rope suspending him so his back faced the audience. He felt distant from his body and his hands were already numb. 

"By lining the dial up with the top vertebrae, which you can feel at the base of the neck here - " A firm few fingers felt along the back of his neck for a moment before circling a low spot. "-minor adjustment to account for varying heights-" Something cold was pressed to his back, and then there was an intense pressure as the pins there threatened to pierce his skin. "-clamp to insert the pins at an angle, and lock in with a further series of hooks to secure the mechanism-"

Almost as soon as it breached his skin, the pain was unbearable. His back seized with the intrusion and he screamed until he had no air left. Dragging in another deep breath agitated the creature biting hard into his spine and he struggled to collect air.

They let him go and he was slowly turned back with the unwinding of the twisted cord. He was forced to face the audience as he trembled and seized, muscles clenching up into painful cramps, only driving the pins deeper. He kept waiting for the pain to plateau, to break, but it seemed to only heighten more and more. He dry heaved and his legs shuddered, his body spasming in some attempt to relieve the pain it only stoked. They let him dangle there, the monster on his back crushing his spine in shocking agony as he screamed himself hoarse. 

"As you can see, it is quite effective at its original purpose. The Cradle has two forms of charge to create different reactions." 

Fletcher watched intently. Tommy clearly knew what was coming. His movements were sluggish - either doped up or disassociating. Maybe both. The moment the device kicked on was clear. His face contorted and his legs gave out, bending awkwardly beneath him as his restraints kept him from collapsing. The screaming was loud, and long, interrupted only by gagging breaths. Michelle explained different settings for pain and immobilization. Fletcher figured they could adjust the settings to make it impossible to scream, hitting that sweet spot where the pain takes the breath from your body. At the very least, cause his muscles to seize enough that he can’t open his mouth, and the cries seep through muffled and broken. But these men were showing off - they wanted the screams. 

It looked like a good device. Sure, there were tasers and jumper cables that could cause similar effects. Paralytics, nerve agents. But the Cradle seemed more fine tuned, most versatile. Portability was a question - does it fold up? Still beats a car battery, but not the other options. And they’d be interested to see if it left any marks on his back when they were done. 

Michelle turned the device off. Tommy hung limp, jerking with aftershocks. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but he didn’t sob. Just moaned with pain. Fletcher had wondered if they were going to feel conflicted about watching the demonstration. After all, they had enjoyed talking to Tommy more than they had any of his owners. But they ate up every moment. 

Tommy really was good at it - or good for it. Not much participation was required on his part. Maybe if he had gotten a chance to beg. He was probably really good at begging. Hell, he reads people so well, he probably had it down to a science. 

He would probably look good bleeding, too. The contrast of his pale skin and dark hair would pair so well with the rich red of fresh blood. 

The troupe on stage took a few more questions. Blah blah blah warranty, blah blah blah voltage, blah blah blah tetanus. One older woman up front piped up. 

"What is the lasting damage remaining after use? Have you studied the extent of the nerve damage left?" 

"Why don't we ask him?" Michelle and Rory had been fielding most of the questions, but Caius stepped up to address that one. He crossed over to Tommy, who was starting to recover enough to just barely keep himself up. Caius took his face between his hands and lifted his head to speak directly to him. They had a low, murmured conversation for a moment, before Caius dropped his head and turned again to face the crowd. 

"As you can see here, there is some bleeding from the punctures." Caius addressed the woman while he used Tommy's back like a prop, gesturing to his various parts like a ranger teaching children about some animal captured for their wildlife display. "The bleeding is little more than the amount shed for removing a simple IV, as the needles are only a wider gauge by two or three times. Immediate after-effects can include tingling, numbness of the extremities, muscle spasms, cramps, and a low-grade fever. Tommy here is doing quite well for having undergone our trials, though he has reported continuing nerve pain for up to three months at a time." 

Caius gripped Tommy's arm suddenly and pushed, spinning him around on his suspension a few times while he struggled to get his feet to support him. He slowed to a stop facing out to the audience. His dark curls stuck to his forehead with a thin sheen of sweat from the pain, and his eyes were red from crying. He still had little drops of his tears down his chest, and he cowered in his near-nudity before the excited audience. Caius ran his fingers through Tommy's hair, smoothing his hair away from his face and adjusting his curls with a few sharp tugs.

"I'm afraid we did not properly introduce him before, but this is Tommy, and he's a very important part of our business. He's not just here to model Michelle's wicked inventions. See, he is our most requested product by far." Caius put a possessive hand on his clammy lower back, pushing Tommy slightly forwards towards the audience. 

Michelle and Rory stepped to the side to let Caius do his song and dance as they moved into a different part of their show-and-tell. Rory seemed to have given up on directing Caius, mollified by his drugs. The same drugs that kept Tommy awake as he already trembled from the strain. 

"What would you do if you had him to yourself for a few hours?” Caius asked the crowd. “Anyone?" 

There was some nervous shuffling before a young man called out, "Bull whip!" 

Caius cracked a grin. "Whipping, certainly. I'm partial to the cane, myself. What else?" 

“I'd make him walk on nails!" Another enthusiast called. More people were getting intrigued. 

“I'd use him like a punching bag." 

“I'll make him beg for his life." 

“I'd skin him to the bone." 

“He could clean my house in a thong." 

“I could use a car battery to make him dance." 

“I'd make him dig his own grave." 

Talk amongst the crowd grew as people began to brainstorm, and then to one-up each other. Caius laughed with mirth and called them off with the lazy wave of a hand. 

"So many good ideas! We use top of the line medical procedures that can't be found outside our labs to keep Tommy fresh for his next date. If you can host, we can come. Tommy is responsive, vocal, and sensitive." 

Caius turned and punched Tommy in the stomach. The wind was knocked out of him immediately with the well-placed strike and he struggled to curl in on himself as he wheezed. He could not shield himself with his arms tied above him, and he looked exceptionally vulnerable as he struggled. Mostly nude, strung up in front of a crowd eager to devour him. He had no recourse as Caius dug his fingernails into the tender flesh of his side, raking them across diaphragm and leaving angry red lines in their wake. Tommy flinched and wriggled, a fish caught upon a hook. 

"To demonstrate his uses tonight, Ladies and Gentlemen, we will invite a very special guest on stage. Please give a round of applause for Fletcher!"

[continued]

@victimeyez @lonesome--hunter @desert-dyke @coldresolve @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @suspicious-whumping-egg @whatwasmyprevioususername @whump-only @misspelledwitch @redstainedsocks @thehopelessopus @im-just-here-for-the-whump @thatsthewhump @aqua-blogging  @utopian819 @bloodinthemud @pretty-face-breaker @cursedandtired @morning-star-whump If you changed your url or don't want to be in the taglist anymore lmk

[akshayaquapri]

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[ferronickel]

Hail, flatter! This one, who is a layperson of the arts and comixcraft, has a query for you:

So like, what is flatting?

I've seen your flats in Wifwulf, and I've read about the flats in Looking Glasses, and generally get that it results in an image with similarly coloured areas sharing the same false-colour.

But like, how is it then used? The final images seem to contain more colours and shading, so why not just go straight to this? Why do false colours get used instead of the real ones? How do you pick the colours and how many get used?

How come this is a thing that a whole other person can do separately? I guess that's because it's time consuming - so it saves time somehow?

Thank you! I come in the spirit of humility wishing to relieve my ignorance of your noble craft!

OHOHOHO!!! You've activated my trap card and now I get to ramble about comics craft! And in my area of professional expertise, too! Be prepared for a long post

I'm going to start with the last part of your question:

How come this is a thing that a whole other person can do separately? I guess that's because it's time consuming - so it saves time somehow?

So the thing about comics is that it is one of the most intensely time consuming mediums to create. One person can make comics on their own fairly easily, but it takes forever to produce. Consider that I've been working on Looking Glasses for 18-19 months and have drawn about 87 pages. Now, the western comics industry expects issues to be produced monthly, generally 24 pages in length. It's very difficult for a single person to work at this rate, so the labor of producing comics has been divided. Generally these jobs become:

Writer (writes the script)

Editor (edits the script)

Artist (draws the lineart)

Colorist (colors and renders the art)

Letterer (adds balloons, dialog, and sfx)

Flatter (sometimes 'color assistant' they take the art and prepare it for coloring)

This isn't comprehensive though, there are a bunch of other jobs, like designers and layout artists. Occasionally the artist job gets broken into Pencilers (who sketch the art) and Inkers (who ink the sketch). Basically, by splitting the work amongst a number of people you can produce comics much faster. Not all of these jobs are required, and creator-owed books might have artists do their own coloring and lettering, while big work-for-hire books might have twice as many people working so they can pump out a spider-man book every other week.

Okay, so why Flatters?

Flatting at it's most basic level is just coloring inside the lines. You take a black and white page of art, and you have to fill in every part of the page that will eventually be colored. It's a pretty time consuming task depending on how involved your lineart is.

Flatting a page of Looking Glasses doesn't take me all that long, usually less than a half hour, which is pretty quick. Looking Glasses pages tend to be... optimized for flatting though. There are only ever a few characters and there aren't a ton of background details.

You mentioned Wifwulf (created by my longtime friend and collaborator Dailen Ogden), here's one of it's pages:

Basically everything that's a different base color, (every tree, plant, bit of moss, character, etc.) needed to be picked out separately. Each page of Wifwulf took me a few hours to flat. If Dailen had been doing that themself, those hours would have really added up, but instead they could spend that time drawing and coloring. Now, that said, these pages have a lot of texture, so it's hard to see exactly what I did.

Here's an example from a comic I worked on early in my career. (Lineart by Patrick Custodio)

The writer for this comic loved to put in these incredibly complex crowd scenes, which is something the artist excelled at drawing. I was coloring and flatting at this point on the book, and before I could even start coloring properly, I would need to flat for like eight hours. (I have a much more efficient method these days) It was frustrating because I just wanted to work on the actually creative part, but the majority of my time was spent on something monotonous. As soon as I got the writer to hire a flatter for me, coloring a page would take me only one or two hours, not nine or ten.

So that's why flatters exist, mainly to ease the workload on colorists.

But like, how is it then used? The final images seem to contain more colours and shading, so why not just go straight to this?

Flatting serves a couple of purposes. It's main function, like I said above, is just coloring in the lines. After finishing your lineart it has to get colored in, so in a layer below the lines, you add colors.

The secondary function is preservation. I like to work in a way that is non-destructive, basically, at any point in the process I can restore an earlier version of the drawing if I make a mistake or don't like something. Flats are integral to this.

In digital art, there's this thing called anti-aliasing, where the edges of a line or shape have a drop off of pixel color or opacity. It makes the edges look smoother or blurrier. The three dots on the left are Anti-Aliased, while the one on the right is Aliased, there's no drop off, just hard pixels.

Anti-aliasing is fine until you need to change the color using the paint bucket, or select using the magic wand...

See how the anti-aliased art doesn't play well with these tools, but the aliased art does? So with something like Wifwulf, the final art is going to be full of texture that makes it impossible to select anything again once it's painted. By having a dedicated aliased flats layer under the rest of the artwork, you can always re-select any part of the image you want.

I always leave my flats layer alone, and do any detail work in layers above. For example when I was painting this, it really helped to be able to select just the titan so I could work on those paints without worrying about brushstrokes overlapping the rest of the characters.

One of the other things you can do with flats is quickly selecting certain elements. On most pages, I flat my panels, figures, and background elements separately. Later, with a single button press, I can select just the characters in the scene, or entire panels at a time, which makes things like shading a whole lot easier.

Why do false colours get used instead of the real ones?

If you're flatting for other people you often don't know what the final colors are going to be, so you just pick random ones. Garish colors can be helpful because it makes it obvious that they're not the final colors. Why don't I use the correct colors on my own pages when I'm flatting? Habit, mostly. It's also faster to grab random colors than to track down the correct ones. Sometimes two different things will have the same final color but I like to flat them with different colors so I can select them individually if I need to.

You can see the process a bit here. In my flats, Lancer's spade (eye? eyes? thing) is a different color from his tongue, even if they end up being the same white in the final image. This would help if I ever needed to select just his eyes for some reason. You can also see how I select his body fur color and then add details on top, like his colored fingers and the grey on his arm. Those elements have blurry anti-aliased edges, and it would be impossible to re-select them without flats.

How do you pick the colours and how many get used?

I use the default "additional color set" palette in clip studio and just work my way through it. I pick row and work my way down (for a change of pace I vary which row I start with). How many is mostly dependent on the artwork. You just keep going until you run out of individual objects to color. I have worked on pages where I've run out of colors on this palette and had to start making up more. Typically a page of Looking Glasses only needs around 20-30, though.

So! That's flatting! It's a little known job, and it's how I got started with my comics career, so I have a lot of thoughts on it. I was trying to be concise (lol), so I hope this all makes sense, but I'd be happy to clarify or answer any other questions about this process. I know I didn't really go into how I flat my work, so I can make that post if anyone is interested.

[toychest321]

L.U.V. Dolls - Initial thoughts

(Special thanks to @dollsinvogue for notifying me about these and clarifying their names! And credit to youloveit.com for most of the info I'll be going over)

For anyone not in the know, the creators of Glo Up Girls are releasing a new doll line named L.U.V. (Limitless, Unique, Vibrant) Dolls, coming May 1, 2024

The most notable aspect of this release is the fact that the dolls' outfits were displayed at New York Fashion Week!

To add onto the line's central high fashion aesthetic, the dolls' boxes (from what we've seen) are made to resemble magazine covers

Already I'm giving them major props for such a bold choice in marketing!

I also admire how while the brand has a clear theme (with bold prints and ruffles in particular being a running motif throughout designs), most of the characters have styles that speak well to their individual personalities! It makes me want the line to succeed so we can see the second outfits in doll form as well, and speaking of which...

The first design we have is for the character Harper. I absolutely ADORE both of her looks here, I'm guessing she'll have a very soft and sweet personality between the use of light colors, lace, and puffed sleeves! I'm also detecting some slight 1950s inspo with the a-line silhouettes, sinched waists, polka dots, and large collar! I also really hope the dolls come with the purses shown! Easily an 8/10 design here.

This character Londynn's designs are probably my second favorite, and another good example of consistent characterization! The hot pink pops without distracting from the bold prints on display, and the use of colors like black, brown, white, and beige tie them all together! I'm also wondering if this character might be an adventuring type between the animal motifs (fur on the first coat and a pale pink zebra print on the second jacket) and knee-high tan boots. While the doll's style doesn't look to be exactly for me, I appreciate the thought put behind it! Also I'm giving a bonus point for giving the doll textured hair as well, 7.5/10.

In third we have Brooke, and I find I'm somewhat conflicted with these designs? Both of these respective designs are fairly well-executed imo, but I'm not sure they give off the same character. The left honestly kinda reminds me of Karma Nichols but slightly edgier with the sleek material and black accents. The right, meanwhile, gives me girlboss vibes. I will give it that they were able to make a professional look without being too boring (side-eyeing Barbie Style rn), by adding the ruffles at the jacket and pants for a unique silhouette. Maybe the inconsistency in style is for a day-to-night look? Honestly the only thing I'd change are the puffed sleeves on the first designs. Overall I'd say this is a solid 7/10.

And lastly we have Autumn's looks, and honestly? I kinda hate it. The first look is decent, but sorta comes across as too similar to the first two's outfits between the pale tones and the pink? That second look though is atrocious. The skirt looks like a puffer jacket and doesn't match at all with the pattern, and asymmetrical sleeves have always been a pet peeve of mine. It's a Barbie Extra look, in a bad way. 5.5/10

Despite my negative thoughts towards the end, I have high hopes for this line! With Rainbow High abandoning its High Fashion aesthetic for an uglier child-friendly sparkle rainbow slime vibe, I feel like these dolls could take up the hole it's leaving behind if they play their cards right!

I look forward to what this line has to bring!

[wickermayne]

106 - A Naruto/Tsunade Smut Oneshot

“I’m surprised it took you so long to ask for this,” Tsunade said, amusement tickling her tone as she poured a hefty amount of lube into her palm.

Maybe it was her background as a medical professional, the instinct to care about others, though Naruto preferred to think of it as Tsunade just liking him so much — either way, despite her general tartness towards him, she warmed up the lube between her hands for his benefit before stroking it on his cock.

And she was dutiful as she applied the lube on him. Her small fingers worshipful on the weight of his cock, palms massaging it into his skin from the base to the tip. Tsunade was attentive over thick veins, rolling back his foreskin and rubbing the lube underneath the crown of his head. She smeared some of the excess onto his balls, fondling them gently even though there was no real purpose to it, only Naruto’s pleasure.

When she was finished, his cock looked polished, his tanned skin gleaming in the room’s light.

“Um…”

His brain’s capacity to form words left him as he watched Tsunade pour more lube directly onto her massive tits. She rubbed it over her pale skin until they were fully coated, delectable, her pink nipples hard and calling his name.

Tsunade moved closer between his spread legs, Naruto sitting on the edge of his bed. He stared down, mouth opened in awe as Tsunade lifted her tits and enveloped them around his cock, until they were completely sandwiched.

Tsunade hummed as she cupped her tits, applying a delicious pressure around his length. She pumped them up and down, the underside of her tits smacking against the inside of his thighs when she pressed all the way down, his foreskin pulled back and his leaking tip peeking out on the descent.

She looked at him, her eyes like melted chocolate, affection dripping off her smile.

Somehow, Naruto found the strength to speak.

“I respect your dignity, y’know?”

Tsunade raised her brow, her lips catching in a smirk. “This is coming from the guy who asks for lap pillows while sucking on my tits like you’re trying to draw milk?”

Tsunade was fucking his cock with her tits, lifting and dropping them over his length. The slickness of the lube allowed Tsunade to slide her fat tits over his cock with ease, their soft and pillowy texture along with the pressure she applied with her hands was driving him mad. Precum was flowing thick out from his tip and dripping on the top of Tsunade’s tits, mixing with the lube. Arousal swirled like a whirlpool at his gut, painting over his groin.

Tsunade kept her gaze on him, aware that his brain was struggling to compute anything, patient as she always had to be with him.

“That’s different, y’know?” Naruto breathed, fighting the urge to buck of his hips. Instead he reached for Tsunade’s face, carding a strand of her hair gently behind her ear. “That’s my dignity. I don’t care much ‘bout that when I’m with you.”

Tsunade laughed, something deep and rich, meaningful. Her adoration for him clear in the crinkle of her eyes. “What am I going to do with you, brat?”

Her smile made him want to pull her up and kiss her silly, but she was focused on her task. Tsunade pressed her knuckles into either side of her tits, his cock squished between them as she rocked them against his length. Naruto moaned, swearing under his breath at the intense pulls of pleasure from his gut. Tsunade winked at him before lifting her tits, fucking his cock with them again.

Between the abundant lube on his cock and that smeared over Tsunade’s tits, the sounds they made as his cock pushed through the tight enclosure of her breasts was so messy wet. It was almost like the sounds they made when they fucked, maybe a little nastier because of the stickiness of the lube. Each time Tsunade descended on his cock, her tits clapped against the inside of his thighs, leaving behind some lube. The coating becoming thicker as she worked him over, until the layer would cling to the bottom of Tsunade’s tits before breaking from the tension when she pulled off.

“Oh my fuckin’ god,” Naruto groaned, his senses overloaded. The sight of Tsunade on her knees, worshiping his cock with those fat tits that Naruto loved, the envy of women all over the world. The sounds like they were fucking and the feel of her tits, soft and wonderful as they hugged and rubbed over his cock.

But it was the love in her eyes that drove him insane.

“Feels good for you, brat? You like the way I’m fucking you with my tits?” She cooed and fluttered her eyes at him, his tip nearly brushing her chin when she moved down on him.

“It’s amazin’, granny. Way better than my imagination, y’know.”

She giggled, tilting her head down, those eyes still locked onto his as she stuck her tongue out.

“Fuck me,” Naruto murmured, the tip of his cock sliding over Tsunade’s tongue each time the tip peeked out of her cleavage, lapping at his head and clearing away the precum like it was her favourite treat.

“I will, after you give me a nice, fat load. Will you do that for me, Naruto? Drench my tits in your cum?”

It was so unfair, when Tsunade acted coquettish and sweet with him. How was he supposed to ever fight that?

She gave him a suckle on his head, and that was the last straw, the heat of his thighs overflowing.

“Oh f-fuck, granny —”

He was already coming before he finished warning Tsunade, her tits still working on him, shaking up and down and milking his cock. Naruto grunted as he pulsed, ropes flying in the air and landing back down on the top of Tsunade’s tits, another landing on the underside of her chin. She didn’t even flinch, jerking him off with her tits until he settled down.

“What a mess you’ve made.” Tsunade grinned as she spread apart her breasts, his cum splattered across their expanse. “You can’t breed tits, you dummy.”

That made Naruto snap, lifting Tsunade off the ground and throwing her onto his bed. She laughed as he lined his messy cock against her dripping entrance.

“Then I’ll breed this cunt how 'bout that?”

“I’m menopausal so that won't— ooooh, fuck!”

He pounded her until Tsunade was chanting his name, not brat, her cunt soiled so much worse than her tits.

[bulletforprettyboy]

ooh, i have a name now, how exciting! if i may, "Tino" would be ideal :) "Cross" is just so awkward. has your stance on names changed since April? I probably won't be addressing you directly that often but when I do, it should be something you want more of that emphasis on exclusivity. an uptick that's strangely contradicted a different pattern I've noticed. I mean, you're smart enough to know the demographic you've drawn — and I quote: "clingy", "pathetic", "starving" — which makes me wonder if some part of it is intentional. that is to say, how does it fluctuate? real world issues? emotional dysregulation? special relationships? how/why does "disgust" and "encouragement" fall on the same line? 

while survival is a component of the chameleon, it's not a requirement. the ones I've met tend to be wild cards but limited in action. while there is a consistent theme of childhood trauma, close interpersonal struggles, and social isolation, I don't want to force a response from you nor am I going to speculate about your life. disregarding those issues, you fit the bill. hence the label. you probably don't like those, do you? does it get too close to being pinned? it's nice that you're entertained and not distressed. I'm sure you recall my aforementioned affection for the unorthodox; the same old motivations can get old quick

aw man, have I been doing a poor job of cleaning up? kidding. I know that doesn't matter here. yes, I am embarrassed. very embarrassed. I pride myself on being above those sorts of incidents and of my ability to present respectfully & professionally, if I present myself at all. slip ups feel not only like a personal failing but a humanitarian one. i'm lucky that you've curated an environment where it's both accepted and welcome to express maladaptive -isms. "every word" is awful flattering coming from you. completely unbelievable, but flattering nonetheless

that's what I thought. the sudden switch-up was jarring, as you've made your feelings on worship clear prior to this. "closest thing to God" can imply one of two things. you've yet to denounce christianity (to my knowledge) but you don't seem devout either. anything on that worth sharing?

"what you see is what I am" is a dangerous approach online. anyone could be watching. I think there's been some miscommunication, though. textured as your surface is, I want to see beneath it. someone can be excessively open, handing out pieces of their psyche for close examination, and still never graze their center. the raw, unadulterated parts. the dandelion that grows between the concrete. that's what I'm most interested in. obviously I enjoy what's given, but no need to worry. I'm far from full what does being studied look like? what about doing so hungrily?

"unfamiliar", "unwanted", "upsetting", etc. I guess I still got what I was looking for. kind of. under normal circumstances, this would be the part where I ask "who or what has perpetuated this idea of "predator" and "prey"?" but that's too easy. cuts the whole thing short and wouldn't that be boring? at the same time, I wouldn't mind a hint to chew on, if you feel inclined. or something else entirely. dealer's choice

yes, I saw that post. "fucking" vs "making love". quite the detailed distinction, very evocative. your patience has made you fairly permissible; what is it not permission for?

unfortunately, "I like to name what doesn't scare me" counts as reassurance. it's just on a smaller + less obvious scale. still, I like being in your exhibit, which means following house rules. who is it a promise to? I get the sense it's not for any of this conversation's voyeurs. but, hey, who knows? maybe I'm crazy. schema and note-taking and whatnot

bold assumption to make, thinking high praise wouldn't scare me off. the correct one only by accident. usually I'm more averse to it, you must've caught me on an off day

I'll send my answers to your questions separately. this is long enough as is. talk soon

|✟|

I don’t treat everyone the same because not everyone’s earned it. It has nothing to do with relationships, I’m not built for short-lived ones. It has everything to do with who’s asking. Who I know. How they move. What they expect. For example, I’ve known Paw anon and Tree anon for years. They’re consistent. Respectful. I wouldn’t bite their heads off even on my worst day. You could say I care about them. I can tell you're curious about this, you've asked in different ways. Go ahead, ask me about each anon I have, and I'll tell you exactly why I responded the way I did. It’s not mood swings. It’s discernment. It’s a matter of tone, entitlement, and whether I feel someone’s stepping into my space like they deserve to be there.

Don’t mistake recognition for understanding. You don’t know me, Tino. And I don’t take kindly to being summarized by someone still standing outside the door. Chameleon. Childhood trauma. Social isolation. Spare me the textbook. It’s lazy. I’m not here to be analyzed, fixed, or made legible for your convenience. I said you could watch, not diagnose. You enjoy the way my mind works? Good. Then let it work. But start acting like you’ve figured me out, and you won’t get pinned. You’ll get discarded.

It wasn’t a slip, Tino. It was a reveal. And I don’t only find it flattering, I find it useful. You pride yourself on control. Presentation. Fine. But all it took was proximity, and you cracked. I don’t think less of you for it. I think exactly of you for it. You call it a failing. I call it a mirror. You don’t need to clean anything up. You’re much more interesting with your guts on the floor. But don’t worry, I won’t bring it up again. Once I’ve seen a thing, I don’t need to say it twice.

I’m not Christian, and I don’t perform for scripture. Devout doesn’t mean divine, it means chosen. Directed. Consumed. And when I say "closest thing to God," I don’t mean I am one. I mean whoever I give myself to will feel like they’re being worshipped in ways no church could stomach. That kind of surrender is personal. Exclusive. And entirely unholy. So no, there’s nothing to denounce. I never claimed religion. Just obsession. I did go to church as a kid. And I enjoyed it. Would I go now? No.

Anyone could be watching. I know. I don’t care. You’re not wrong about the miscommunication. It’s not that I won’t show you the center. It’s that most people ask like they deserve it. You’re different. You ask carefully. Hungrily. And that gets my attention. So I’ll tell you this once: If you want to see beneath the surface, you can. All you have to do is ask the right questions. I’ll answer them. Not because I’m generous, but because I’m curious what you’ll do with the truth. But you already knew all of this. It's why you are here.

Predator and prey didn’t come from anyone else. It wasn’t taught or forced or claimed. It came naturally, the way some people breathe through their teeth and others through their throat. Some were made to consume. Some were made to be devoured. I know which I am. I’ve always known. But you know this. I can let someone touch the edge of me for days, weeks, months… and still never let them inside. You can ask me anything. As I said, I'll answer honestly. You can study me, hunger after me, try to name the shape of what I am. But that doesn’t mean I’ll hand you anything. We'll have to see.

Then take it as reassurance if you must. I don’t speak to soothe. The promise wasn’t for anyone watching. You can take notes, Tino. But don’t mistake your data for truth, you still don't know me. And you’re not crazy, just curious. Or maybe both. God, I love crazy, though.

Hmm. I'm excited to see your answers to my questions. (Update: Saw them. Devoured them. Loved them)