#Been trying to practice different poses recently

[silverwingwashere]

What are you looking at?

I swear there is no other version of this.

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[soularsss]

Drawing Likeness: with Tem!

okaay since a few people actually showed interest in me sharing a bit of what I've been doing to figure out how to really capture likeness, specifically Temuera Morrison, I figured id do my best to write it out

I am also going to entice you with some of my recent clone art! (oooh some of it is unreleaaasedd)

I am putting the whole thing under the cut because I have a feeling its going to be long:

Read more!!!

a couple disclaimers before we start

-This is not some definite post about how everyone should be drawing clones, nor is it in any way claiming that this is the right way. This is just my musings as I stare at a mans face for way too long and try to replicate it

-I am inexperienced. As kind as you all are to me, drawing real people is relatively new to me, capturing a persons identity through their features is difficult for anybody, and I am no different. I have watched many a video on likeness and had my share of classes, but If im being honest, i rarely put it into practice successfully. So there'll probably be errors in this post or things i will come back to in a few months and wish I had said/done differently

ANYWAYs you guys get my vibe im just here to ramble and today we are rambling about mr copy paste. I am doing this for Law, my clone boy, because I plan on delving further into oc fanart and I want to put effort into representing him correctly!

SO LETS BEGIN

Before even deciding what specific pose of a person I want to draw, I tend to grab a bunch of references and compile them like so

(all of these can be found on my pinterest)

Why so many? Well, we are about to delve into facial features, so when we are dealing with photos we have to take into account that there are an abundance of circumstances that will influence how a persons face will appear, some of these include:

focal length: All of these are taken on different devices, and focal length can play a big part in distorting faces

age will play a part, your face changes a bunch throughout your life!

lighting, while not as major, can muddy the waters and make it difficult to interpret facial planes and features

SO, to make sure we get a proper grasp of what's really going on, I like to make sure we have lots of options to compare and contrast with.

Next up! What I like to do is block out the main facial features with colour on different layers, the features I block out usually are the general face shape, eyebrows, eyes, nose and lips. But what you are looking for is the defining features of a person, so that could include other things! Maybe a scar, or some particularly prominent cheekbones.

I dont have any rhyme or reason when it comes to picking my colours, all that matters is you can see all the shapes clearly.

Now I may be biased, because Ive been staring at these for 4 hours, but notice how it still looks like Tem? :D

Anyways, now we can break these parts down, and you'll see what I mean about compare and contrast:

We'll start with isolating the facial shape, putting all these next to eachother you'll notice they arent exactly the same (partly because of my shoddy work) But the distinguishing features run through each shape! Namely the very soft rectangular shape I sketched out in the bottom right there. Along with his soft, wide jaw structure.

I did the same for the rest of his features!

You'll notice I highlight the prominent shapes and ratios,

When drawing anything, it is important to start from the very base shapes and build up.

When drawing something you want to look like someone, those shapes relative to other shapes is what makes it look like them.

I didnt use the same technique with his eyes and lips, but I wrote out some helpful info for them! More importantly for his eyes.

When drawing eyes, I find the most important part is where exactly I draw the creases, (along with the overall shape of the eye itself) it is important to understand where those will present themselves with hooded eyes.

NOW, with an understanding of his facial features in place, lets take a detour to colours:

before I start, a couple things to note:

-Temuera morrison versus the clone troopers in the animated shows:

While I love the animated shows they don't exactly stay close to their source material. Im going to link here to an excellent post discussing whitewashing specifically in relation to the clones.

Temuera is Māori, of Te Arawa (Ngāti Whakaue) and Tainui (Ngāti Maniapoto, Ngāti Rarua) whakapapa, and also has Scottish and Irish ancestry.

The Māori people are the indigenous Polynesian people of mainland New Zealand (Aotearoa). Māori originated with settlers from East Polynesia. Māori people often vary in skin tone, Skin colour doesn't determine ethnicity. There's often a correlation but it's not a requirement.

But that is a tangent! What we are aiming for is to stay true to Temuera.

Bringing back my reference photos from before, Ive colour picked a buncha values and theyre all over the place. Why doesnt this work?

Similarly to earlier, you have to take into account the photos themselves. Many things like lighting, colour grading (when it comes to filmography) and makeup, can alter how a skin colour presents in photo.

You can attempt to get true to life by swatching from certain places on the face. Here I've tried to pick some photos with good lighting, and I've also tried to avoid overly lit/shaded areas.

Tem has a very warm, tan skin tone, Instead of colour picking I tend to try and replicate it myself, but I do often bring in references to make sure Im staying true to the source!

a brief intermission to talk about colour theory, something I myself struggle with alot. Often, when putting in flat colours without a background, I will forget to make sure the colours i intend to use will work with the skin tone i have picked! (something that is apparent in older works of mine, not just in relation to clones, but in general, the colours I end up with stray largely from their original sources and it is something I am doing my best to keep in mind and improve in! Although I don't think i am nearly experienced enough in the topic to say I have succeeded yet lol.)

anyways back to Tem :))

Now we can put all of that into practice! Things to keep in mind when drawing out a piece next to a reference like this:

the distance between the eyebrows? how far down his face does his nose go? Basically just, in relation to eachother, where do all those shapes we found earlier, sit?

The screenshot above is from before I did it myself, but instead of directly tracing from the reference, a handy trick I use it to complete your sketch first, and then overlay a traced version to see where your inconsistencies are! Alternatively, you could move your sketch over the image, but I didnt do it that way so!! uh!! im sure it works exactly the same!!!!

When it comes to a final illustration, or any sketch that isnt a direct study, of course you can push and pull and stylise! You'll see below that I'm not exactly 1:1 to my reference photo either.

The important thing with stylisation, or at least my own personal understanding of stylisation is that you need to thoroughly understand the thing you are stylizing! "You need to know the rules to break them" and all that. While shapes, lines and rendering can change, when it comes to drawing someone, and making it look like them, you have to make sure to keep their core features true to source. Caricature can capture a persons vibe whilst drastically exaggerating features, but it will only look like them if you KEEP THOSE FEATURES!!!! SHAPES!!! AHHH!!

But that is just my perspective on the discussion of style versus realism, please dont take is as Law, I dont know what Im on about half the time!!

anyways, after fixing your sketch, add local colours!

I rexified him because why tf not! But this is where you can go crazy with that clone personalization!

And then here is a very very barely rendered version (if you guys want me to explain how i RENDER that would need to be a completely different post, and I havent had anyone ask about it yet so who knows! maybe one day) But I digress, hopefully you learnt something new through my ramblings! It has certainly helped me organize my thoughts and I have also found some areas I would like to focus more on in the future to improve my own art!

TLDR: In order to understand an object, be it a face or a building or literally anything, you have to break it down to its simplest forms, understanding LARGER shapes will help you immensely in the long run

If you guys like this sorta content do let me know! I'd be down to do similar things for armor/anything really, I am very anti gatekeep so really anything at all you want to know! Send me an ask :))

also if you see a spelling mistake.. i don’t know how that got there

[shrenvents]

Guard Dog

Warnings: Part one of two (is smut), stalkerish lol, fluff, mentions of death, mutual pining

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x you

Summary: Set after joining Alexandria, Daryl's overtly having issues settling in, and even more problems leaving you alone.

Word count: 1.8k

...

You and Daryl have known each other for years. Through thick and thin, your found-family has each other's backs. But your group has been wearing thin. From Beth to Tyreese, now in Alexandria, a strange and new environment— it's safe to say, Daryl’s been on edge. He was losing his nerve, and that somehow entailed keeping you close, very close.

Every and any second you're alone, he appears, determined to invade your space, and it's becoming difficult to keep your feelings at bay, because you’ve been in love with him since your time at the prison. Even then, when shit hit the fan, he raced to get you out. Though you feared your affections for him made such a delusion — one that posed he would think to save you first— his recent clingy behaviour has made you believe in said delusion.

Today, he's back at it. You’re alone gathering food for dinner, for less than 10 minutes, before he marches into the garage. Bearing in mind that he has no reason to be here, and spent most of his time hidden from the locals, his appearance would be considered unusual.

You let Daryl silently stand there, patrolling the entrance for a few seconds, till your heart gives out.

“Is something the matter?” You utter, shifting your eyes to his dark ones, and they snap to you, slightly taken aback. “Nothin,” is all he grumbles before looking outwards to your surroundings, observing and scanning like the hunter he is.

“Daryl, we’ve been here for weeks," huffing, "we’re alive, and well,” you state, swallowing quietly. “You can relax you know.” You turn to lift a basket of supplies. When heading for the exit, Daryl swiftly steps in front of you.

“I ain’t doin' nothin' but standing,” he rumbles defensively.

“Standing in front of me, might I add,” you retort, smiling, trying to ease the strange tension, but his face remains stoic. Daryl stares directly into you, and a shiver rolls down your spine. His intense gaze doesn’t last long, as he chooses to walk off without a goodbye. Your shoulders instantly deflate, and you exhale, closing your eyes.

“Now what was that?” Sasha’s voice makes you flinch, popping your eyes open to peer at her. “You tell me,” you sigh and she laughs.

“I’ll be damned if I ever try to read that caveman's mind,” she grins, “You're better off leaving that question for Carol.” Her smirk tells a different story, one that says she knows something more, and you can’t help the second shiver that racks through your body.

...

Desperate to figure out Dixon, you go to Carol’s, asking for her assistance with dinner as a cover.

As you both cook, it takes little time for her to notice your incessant gawking. She pronounces your name, and your eyes snap back to the sizzling food. “Cmon, you can talk to me,” she assures.

When you decidedly stay hushed, she releases a sigh that eases into a snicker. “You should speak soon before Daryl finds us, or you, rather,” she mentions, attempting to contain her humour. You spin to face her. “What do you mean by that?” You question far too quickly, that the words practically jumble together. “Exactly what it seems,” she smiles pleasantly, ignoring your eager tone. “You’ve got yourself a lifelong, loyal guard dog.”

“Why? I mean, Daryl’s protective of everybody? But why does he only follow me?” You ramble, “Doesn’t he trust me to not end up dead, in a friendly, gated community?” You pout and Carol laughs again.

“That isn’t quite why,” she dwindles.

“Please just spell it out for me, I can't take it anymore.” Now square to her, you drop the stirring utensil, and tug your apron over your head. She watches you move, absorbed in her thoughts, as you jump to sit on the edge of the kitchen island. “He’s making you uncomfortable?” She asks warily.

“Yes,” you pause, “and no.” Your head lowers in embarrassment.

After a moment, you look at Carol, while she refocuses on adding more ingredients, to the dish you abandoned. “Why does he do it?”

Her moving actions falter, and she pivots to face you. “It isn’t for me to say, but being around you, knowing you’re safe, clearly calms him." Though you don’t truly get it, you nod slowly so Carol goes back to finishing the meal.

Just as she puts meat in the oven, Daryl waltzes through the door, without so much as knocking or giving some sort of warning. You yelp when you spot him. When you lock eyes, you refuse to hold it, so you turn your head over your shoulder quickly, with a grimace, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Daryl.

“What? Somethin' happen?” His hoarse voice sounds almost panicked. As you swivel your neck to soothe Daryl’s unnecessary worry with a "No," he suddenly grips your wrist, far too roughly. You squeak as he grabs your full attention.

You assess how he stands motionless in front of your knees, eyes widened, regarding his hand as it holds your wrist. He looks kind of appalled, as if he couldn’t believe he touched you. He then briskly lets go of your arm, like it burned him, retracing into himself.

You gulp and your bottom lip trembles. 'Was he disgusted? Did he see you as a child? What had you done to warrant this behaviour?' You think anxiously.

You look between Carol and Daryl now, as they share a lengthy stare. You swear under your breath, then push Daryl's chest with your fists, shocking both of them.

“I’m leaving, do not, follow me.” You order, with a vexed, yet hurt look. His mouth gaps with a soundless word, and you leave.

...

Sitting alone in your home, your empty stomach growls, and you start to seriously regret what you did earlier, which left you too ashamed to stay for dinner.

As your thoughts run wild, a quiet knock at the door diminishes them. You stay still, almost wondering if the noise is no more than a tree branch, moved by wind, but he bellows your name.

"Daryl?" You respond, and his voice simply calls your name again, almost like a plea. You turn the lock and knob, opening to find Daryl, fidgeting on his feet uncomfortably at your doorstep. "Um, come in?" You allow meekly, and he enters, faintly brushing your side.

Picking up his musky, pine scent, you bite your lip examining him, slowly leaning back on the closing door. He looks around agitatedly, seeming completely out of place, and somewhat flustered.

Growing stiff, you can't bear the awkward silence for much longer.

"I'm sorry," you mumble an apology for something, you're not sure what, and clearly, neither is he. He whirls towards you, stepping into your space. "For what?"

"I was rude earlier and-"

"Not rude, just, confusing." He interjects, brows furrowing in tune with his sentence. You scowl, "Well, if I'm being honest, I wouldn't say I'm the 'confusing' one here." Your remark reminds you of your previous feelings, and they bubble to the surface.

When he says nothing, you continue. "I'm safe here Daryl, and pretty happy, all things considered," you breathe out in exasperation. "Is there some danger that I should know of? Is someone here out to get me?"

"No-"

"So why do you keep chasing me around?" You just about shout, interrupting him. Daryl flinches and looks as though he wants to be anywhere but here, with you. He fixates on the door behind you. "I ain't doin' nothin-"

"Daryl! Please just," you cut yourself short as your voice escalates. "Please be honest with me, after everything we've been through, you owe me that," you beg.

His tense frame withers in defeat. "I just can't leave your side," he grumbles, his words barely understandable. "Why?"

"Don't wanna lose ya," Daryl's voice trails off as his head wheels to the side. "You won't, and I can take care of myself, just like the others, who you don't follow around." You fail to hide your ignominy, visibly disappointed that he believes you need special attention, over the rest of the group. "Can't," he mumbles.

"'Can't' what?" You inquire, now stepping into his space, voice rising.

"I can't, 'cause I don' wanna lose you," he exclaims again in a burst. Your face twists further in ignorance. "Christ woman," he runs his hand down his tormented expression. "Daryl, please stop dancing around what you mean." You cry out, "'Lose me?' Tell me what you mea-"

Abruptly, he grips your shoulders. "I want ya." He states, baring his teeth as if it were a threat. "I want you, I want you to live."

"You 'want' me... To live...?" You ask slowly and his eyes roll back in frustration. "No, not just to live-"

"Because I love you," you blurt and immediately try to pry your shoulders from his clutch. He stills with you firmly in his grasp, so close that his nose nearly grazes yours. His hold increases its strength, and he shakes his head to himself, seemingly battling his own thoughts. "Daryl?" You whisper.

"How can you?" He utters so quietly it's barely audible, so quiet you don't think he expected to say it out loud.

While his eyes squeeze shut, you snake your arms around his waist, and his entire build clamps up. Now afraid of a possible rejection, you loosen your embrace. But his hands move from your shoulders to your upper back, arms drawing you to him, fully caging you in. You take in his broad chest as it presses against your less impressive one. Your fingers seize his leather vest, aching to know how it feels in your palms.

His heavy breathing fans your nape, and you swear he sniffs your hair, as his nose and scruff tickle the skin behind your ear. His fingertips tease the ends of your hair, and you take this as an opportunity to breathe him in. Just as you do, he pulls away, moving you to an arm's length. You blush.

"Sorry," he mutters and your brows crease. "I smell bad, I know," he murmurs and goes fairly red himself. "I don't mind," you say sweetly with a smile, ignoring the urge to tell him you like it.

Finally getting a chance to gaze into his eyes properly. You virtually melt when his pupils appear glassy. You've only seen him cry once, after losing Beth. 'So would he really be brought to tears over a confession? From you no less?'

"Daryl?" He peeks up from behind his fringe. "Do you 'want' me, or like me, like I like you?" You ask, trying to minimize the pressure he may feel to admit any feelings, but you so desperately want to know —how desperately you want him to hold you again.

"Both," he rasps.

You nod and smile sheepishly, "I can work with that."

When a comfortable silence envelops the room, your stomach growls loudly. A modest smile takes shape on Daryl's face. "I put some food aside for you, back at Carol's." He emits, gesturing to the door behind you, wordlessly asking you to go over there, with him. You nod a yes and your heart pounds, swooning at his thoughtfulness. "Thank you."

You reach your hand out, and he very hesitantly holds it, after wiping his twice down his thigh. You beam, heading out the door.

Part two

[kozachenko]

Here's a digital sketch dump of some pose/anatomy practices and some 2hu doodles, I think from now on if I don't have any big final piece to post, I'll just post sketches I liked that I did digitally (might also reblog some drawings of mine that I want more people to see, maybe idk).

Artist's Notes:

Ok so after the recent Hifuu fanart I did, I've been hoping to experiment more with how I draw faces, how I render, as well as how I stylize things. In some of the earlier sketches I did, I had an idea for a pose that I wanted to try drawing, so I took a ref pic of myself doing said pose (the leaning one btw) and then did a sketch over top of it just to get an idea for the shapes, negative space, and silhouette. After that, I wanted to do some simpler breakdowns of the shapes so I can get better at simplifying the body (these ended up being the bottom right sketches in the post). I also did some experimenting with how to push certain parts of said sketches to create a different body type (via liquify and then a more refined version based on that sketch), as well as figuring out what makes a pose feel natural and not stiff. This was also a bit of a foreshortening practice just so I can get more confident with it, and I ended up using the arms from the liquified version for the coloured Zanmu sketch I did since I liked them so much (dw I'll get to that).

The next thing I wanted to try and draw was Hisami, mainly because.... I am very bad at drawing her in my style. Last time I drew her I made her look really creepy and spindly, and it is my headcanon now that she can switch between a more human, and more creepy look whenever she wants. I'm liking where the face is going a lot, might have to refine a few things about it in the future, but it's cute (I also made the blush purple which I think is what I'm gonna do with her face from now on). I also like how her hair in the sketch turned out a lot, but the outfit..... not as much... Ever since I started changing my style to something less cartoony, I've had a hard time drawing her outfit in my style. Especially the flower veil thing she has on, which, I did try to find a way to draw, but I ended up deleting that sketch because I didn't like it. I'm also not a fan of using the colour purple, like, pure purple, magentas are fine, indigos are fine, but not strict purple. I also have a hard time with drawing all the little pattern details on her dress. I also need to find a way to draw the flower veil in a way that looks good because everytime I try it ends up just looking off (very similar to whenever I try to draw Zanmu's blue spears). I think the only solution to this problem is to do what I normally do and make my own version of the outfit, but with adjustments to suit my style while still trying to keep core elements from the original design intact (like I do with Zanmu and Keiki, and yes I am going to get to that Zanmu drawing just gimme a minute).

Ok next up is Keiki, my favourite Touhou character who I haven't drawn since the beginning of the year. Since my style has changed a lot, I wanted to just do a face sketch of her to get a hang of drawing her again, and I..... really really like how it turned out! When I drew her eyes, I realized that a good way of keeping faces too same facey can be via varying the sizes of their pupils, so that's an idea I'm gonna keep in mind from now on. I had a lot of fun with her hair, I initially was gonna do it like how it is in the official art, but I ended up not liking it, so now I'm gonna draw Keiki with wavy heir like this because it's fun and it looks nice. I also included my base sketch for Keiki's face since I was initially struggling with drawing her bandanna, and in the coloured sketch I added some more detail into her hair.

Now to finally talk about the sketches for Zanmu. Good lord was I having a tough time with her face. I also did this sketch before I figured out how I wanted to draw hair, so that's why the rendering on her hair is different (I did this soon after the Hisami sketch actually). Since I changed my art style a lot, I had to find a way to translate her face from my more cartoony style to my more detailed style, so while the face shape, nose shape and mouth was fine, I was really struggling with the eyes. I did get somewhere eventually though, and I am super happy with how it turned out. I wanted to lean more towards the androgynous side of the gender presentation spectrum, mainly because I think that makes sense for her character. Also made sure to include the silver hairs and some wrinkles just to bring some signs of her aging into her face because those are just staple features of how I draw Zanmu at this point lol. You will also notice that I gave her some scars on the right side of her face, and that's because I am a Zanmu-with-scars truther, I fucking love it whenever I see someone give Zanmu visible scars like that it just adds so much omg (I also tried to put a wolf bite mark on her arm in the full body drawing but idk if it reads well). While you can argue that her not having scars sells the idea of her being this "powerful, untouchable mastermind who is impossible to defeat," I'd say that instead of those scars representing times she got injured, they represent everyone who has failed to defeat her.

As I was drawing Zanmu's face, I referenced my sketch of to help with contrasting their features since I made Keiki's face more traditionally feminine. I also didn't mention this in my commentary on Keiki's face because I wanted to save it for here, but giving Zanmu scars also plays into the fact that she used to be human, wheras Keiki doesn't have any scars because she's a god who doesn't follow the rules of normal human biology. Plus I'm thinking about the two of them interacting again (return of Zan/Keik??? (I'm a multishipper btw) maybe???) so drawing their faces together will definitely help me in the future if I wanna draw them together (again, maybe as a ship? I've kinda been ironing out the kinks in their potential interactions (romantic and non-romantic) for a while now so idk maybe expect that in the future lol).

And now for the full body drawing, when I was doing the face sketch I did this little snippet of an outfit, had a vision, and the made it into a reality. I'll admit, part of me was worried that it would end up looking too much like Yuugi's outfits in the spinoffs and mangas, but I feel like I made enough changes to differentiate them. I tried to keep a few of the major details in Zanmu's design (i.e. the red tassles and yellow lining on her shirt) while putting a new spin on it. I also dialed up the scars to 11 since without them the whole thing kinda looked incomplete. Also, while I could say that the leaves on her kimono are "a nod to the fact that technically she should be a tengu because back then people belived that corrupt monks would turn into tengu but no Zanmu is an oni and they're maple leaves because...tengu...ahahahaha" what really ended up happening was that I looked up clothing patterns from Sengoku era Japan, liked the leaves the most because the red picked up on the red from the rest of her design and just ran with it. I also always had the idea to put Zanmu in men's clothing from Sengoku era Japan and while the accurate thing to do would be to put her in a Buddhist's clothes from that era.... from a character standpoint, I don't think Zanmu is pious enough to strictly wear the proper monk uniform, and also since she's basically the king of Hell, she would probably dress herself like royalty from that era. TBH, I probably could've been a bit more historically accurate, but again, this was mainly for conceptual purposes because I had a vision and I needed to see it through.

If I were to draw her in this sort of outfit again, I should probably try and use more references, although now that I look at it, if she were to wear it properly this would maybe, probably look a bit closer to a Kyūtai sugata (a very huge stretch, but it just kinda reminds me of that) just without the layers under and over the main piece of clothing (In the website that I searched up to try and compare the outfit in my sketch to, they name the outfit pieces but don't label them on the image, so I don't know 100% what everything is called) so I will definitely have to use that style of clothing as a reference going forward.

Also, I was kind of inspired by the ToTK design for Ganondorf since I have finished the game a while ago and I absolutely love what they did with his design (it's just so fucking cool omg) and I thought that sort of look would look good on Zanmu, so yeah got some inspo from that.

And those were all the notes for each of the sketches, I'm motivated to draw rn but kinda art blocked, so doing these little coloured sketches helps a lot.

[prettiestofpisces]

Breanna Stewart x Reporter

💋: smut, fingering

-personally i wouldn’t know how to act if she looked like THAT around me

- i’m posting this on an airplane but autocorrect is always against me so if you see an error lmk ( ex. stewie turns to steve lolll)

-as always any and all feedback is appreciated…muah

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

standing up you fixed your pale blue blouse and tight black skirt, strutting through the libertys tunnel doors.

the new york liberty now stood at a new record of 17 wins, the number one best in the eastern conference.

questions cascaded your mind to ask the panelist, breanna stewart and jonquel jones yet none of them sounded good enough.

you practice with yourself still strutting down the empty stadium hallways.

“how did losing in the commissioners cup fuel the fire tonight to win by almost double digits?”

you scoff, kicking yourself at the originality…no.

“looking back at your previous loss to the lynx, what part of their game did you study coming into this one?”

this time a sigh exited your mouth.

hm a little better, but still no. you needed an obscure question for this post press.

you like to pose questions to athletes that bring out a side of them no one’s seen. whether it be excitement or vulnerability.

your companies sports articles offered rarity to sports news and discussed various, taboo topics, outside of ball.

wanting to impress your boss, this conference was to be no different and you needed a fun statement for this upcoming article.

as you entered the room voices could be heard everywhere. chatter was ambient, fellow reporters waiting patiently for the athletes to make their appearance.

looking around for a seat you find one in the front row off center to the left.

ten more minutes pass and suddenly complete silence takes over the room. shuffling in is breanna stewart and jonquel jones.

amungst the tallest in the meeting their prescence is almost intimidating.

sitting down right in front of you is stewart who’s expressionless. that is till her large dull eyes connect with yours and somehow it feels like it’s just you and her.

the two of you were fimiliar with each other, performing interviews here and there, but a true discussion was never held.

you take a deep breath looking around the room once more, and the press conference begins.

after thirty minutes or so the mediator announces.

“yes, final question coming from the front row, satin blouse.”

painfully boring questions had been thrown at them both left and right, now, finally it was your turn to do the talking.

you wiggle in your seat and inflate your chest to instill confidence. first introducing yourself and your company you lock eyes with breanna for a countless time and speak.

“…after a tough win, stewart i see you’ve changed into something more comfortable…” you look stewie up and down.

she he wore black sweat pants and a wife beater so tight her nipples, hard as ever, poked through perfectly.

“…fitting since you recently released new lounge wear to go with your new shoes color way. is it everything you envisioned and where is your brand going?”

stewie takes her hands and drags her palms down her chest and chuckles.

“yea it uh- doesn’t leave much to the imagination now does it” smirking directly at you.

“no, it doesn’t” shaking your head, you biting your bottom lip seductively.

jj takes notice of your flirtatious encounter, deciding to interject. “man if y’all don’t get a room or answer the question, we trying to get out of here!” stewie whips her head to her teammate laughing with her hands on her face.

“sorry…yea no the collection is called city of love and i’ve been dying to talk about it so thank you that’s a great question.”

stewie finishes up her statement as she watches you finish up your notes and record her the rest of her statement.

“alright, if that’s it we’re all free to go” the woman over the conference says.

breanna and jonquel thank everyone who attended and you place everything in its designated area in your purse.

feeling eyes on you, you take one more look around the entire room catching stewies bolted on your skirt.

you glance down and rush to pull down the fabric that had bunched exposing more of your bottom half than you’d like.

walking over to the exit where stewie stood you place yourself right infront of her. standing tall to her ear and whisper a quick message, “stop being a pervert.”

not taking another look at you she rubs her face with her hands as the other draped her side.

you roll your eyes and walk out into another empty hallway.

on your trek to leave the stadium you gaped, appreciating the structure now that it was almost vacant.

all that could be heard were the clicks of you heels against the tiled floor.

while nearing the exit, the ache in the balls of your feet were enough to need to sit down for a quick minute.

spotting some bar chairs you throw your purse and the rest of your belongings on the table before deciding to take a seat.

relief infiltrating your body, especially your feet.

kicking your heels off you huff “jesus christ.”

suddenly hearing footsteps behind where you sat, you can’t help but to turn your head.

the women behind you catching your eye, rightfully so. still in her lightly worn wife beater and sweats, breanna stewart appeared.

she took it upon herself to sit at your table and you watched as she did so.

“figured you could use some company.”

“i don’t but you’re welcome to sit..” you joke.

“ouch” she laughs.

there’s a pause of silence with you both looking at one another.

“you uh- with someone, single?” breanna blurts.

“what- who’s asking?” the questions catching you by surprise.

breanna points at herself signaling she wants to know, and in the blink of an eye she’s standing, towering above you in your chair.

you waste no time to stand up yourself as two can play that game.

“is there an issue stewart?”

you put a finger in her chest, pushing breanna outwards.

“you tell me” she says snarkily.

“honey you’re the one looking up my skirt” you counter argue.

“who’s to say you didn’t do it on purpose?” stewie shrugs with a toothy grin.

“ugh please” your bickering coming to an end as you turn on your toes and slip your heels on to head out.

that is till stewie pushes you against one of the surrounding walls. flipping you around to then face her. “oh shit-“

stunned, she left you pinned, arms by your side.

stewies grin gone, she gets just centimeters from your face

“listen, honey, not a single word leaves these lips while we’re here”

your breath hitches “okay..” eager for breanna to do whatever she wants to you, you comply.

“thank you baby” she says beginning to kiss on your neck, each sloppier than the one before.

you lightly close you eyes and in mere minutes she trails the hand that was once pinning yours up and down your thigh.

lifting your left leg to cradle her waist she then brings the hand to the hem of your skirt toying with it before reaching under.

your mouth agape ready for her digits to explore your cunt. moans escape your lips as grunts escape stewies.

she pauses removing her hand from to skirt to simply hold your leg in place.

your eyes flutter open to reveal breanna studying you and your face, the dimly lit stadium behind her.

“what’s wrong?” you whine.

she shakes her head. “nothing, i just wanted to make sure you wanted to do this” letting your leg fall. her accent being so thick made your pussy throb all the more.

you nod you head. “yes, i want you right here, right fucking now, no one’s here this late.” the corners of your mouth pull upward.

breanna pulls you off the cold wall for just a moment only to slap your ass.

“stewart!” you giggle, once again liking how rough she was being with you.

she returns the smile, her gums showing.

“even if there wasn’t i know you’d like a crowd”

you playfully slap her chest. “who’s the pervert now” she teases.

ignoring her comment you eye breanna, shimming off your panties and reaching for her hand, yearning to be touched. you place her hand back on your hips as you hoisted your leg over breannas waist again. she does the rest pecking your ear, then your jaw.

gliding her hand over your clit you groan at the sensation. “stewie go faster, or put your fingers in me, now-.” stewie cuts you off with a demanding kiss. no longer wanting to hear the attitude you were giving her.

stewie continues to rub your clit in agonizingly slow circles.

feeling how slick your hole was, she then knew you were ready for her fingers, her long, slim fingers.

you drag out a load moan as she inserts not one but two, her middle and pointer.

pumping her fingers in and out of you, you become more and more vocal.

“shit”

“mm fuck, just like that!”

“stewie baby, i’m sooo close” tears running down your face.

you felt drunk, spiraling with how good your body felt, tingles radiated all over.

her two fingers sped up and she rubbed your clit vigorously with her thumb. the new friction sending you over the edge, orgasming.

the audible gasp and sloshing of your pussy’s juices were all breanna needed to come herself.

your knees buckled forcing you to collapse.

you would’ve hit the floor if breanna wasn’t there to catch and pull you in.

whimpering you regain your balance and embrace stewie in a hug, tired but in bliss.

she kisses your temple.

“you’re so beautiful”

with your head buried in her neck, stewie feels you smile against her pale skin. “you did so good for me”

the praise erupting butterflies in your stomach.

you finally look up her eyes glazing your face and the tear that stained your makeup.

you release from the hug, putting everything back in its place, your skirt, your hair and…

“you forgot something” stewie says, holding your underwear in front of her face

“oh- you’re sick” you say as she shoves them in the pocket of her sweats. you throw your head back in laughter.

“call me” she says nearing exit of the stadium.

you laughed “why so you can start a collection of my panties?!”

“exactly.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

breanna stewart i hope both sides of your pillow are cold

[butterbrnttoast]

goodness gracious! i havent posted anything here in a while! update, tumblr markiplites: ive been on a job guy/p*rniplier kick lately, ive created a whole universe for them and its just been an odd little obsession recently so have my redesigns for them! oho!

you may know these guys as the p*rnipliers, but i like to call them the job guys..

(disclaimer: i know they're p*rn tropes im so very aware of that, i personally dont like them that way, they're insanely good vessels for comedy sketches and are just the things ever to me, so try not to get TOO bark-y i'd appreciate it, call them hot n stuff but erm, yeah 😁 im also just really proud of the 6 different poses and anatomy practice that got out of this anyways)

its my pleasure to introduce (in this order from left to right):

Matthew (Matt), Manfred (Manny), Milton, Mike, Martin and Marco!

[obsessive-valentine]

Yandere!Ballet-Teacher x GN!Student reader (HC’S)

Teacher is quite older than reader but reader is a consenting adult, to the relationship, not so much the yandere bit obvi bc they don’t know. Sorry I haven’t posed in a while, life’s crazy but requests are open and I’m getting to those who requested earlier this month I promise! ❤️

Who’s completely committed to this industry and creating flawless dancers and productions that he basically lives in the studio and hasn’t bothered making a family or life outside of it.

When you, a new student transferring from another company, enters and he’s enamoured by not only your cute face or abilities but also your polite and positive attitude. Something he lacks and failed to teach.

He gives you a lead role, saying it’s your chance to prove yourself to him but in all actually he’s using it as an excuse to have one-on-one lessons with you. And then they don’t stop even after you filled your role.

In fact they become frequent, and all these private’s push you to be the top of the class. His star student who he uses for demonstrations, who he pulls to the front gently by the arm and finds a way to keep touching you -either with his hand on your waist or arm sometimes even as bold as your face, puppeteering you into positions.

There’s a clear favouritism but no one expects or notices when you both begin to grow closer emotionally, because it’s behind closed doors of the office or empty studio.

Also because he’s strict with you during practice, as much as he is with the others or maybe even more, but it’s different with you it’s out of love and admiration, wanting to push you to your limits. But no one know that, they think it’s from him seeing another student with better potential (true in a way).

However after practice he loosens up, he wants to know more about you and how your brain works. What’s to try make sense of his emotional pull towards you. Sometimes your chatting ends up keeping you both late, when there’s no one left in the building but you two, not even the lady t the front desk is there.

Times like that he has to exercise restraint, bring the conversation to a end and send you on your way before it gets dark. But he still wants more, he thinks of you every hour of the evening, wondering what you’re doing in that lonely cramped apartment of yours that you’d complained about before. Or if your home safe after travelling on the late bus.

He begins offering you rides home after your late privates. “there’s been a robbery recently near your bus stop, it would really ease my mind if I could give you a ride back” he says watching you pack up before you can refuse he interrupts you “it’s dark out and dangerous, and I can’t loose my best dancer. I’ll take you home” this time his voice was firmer and seemingly made up his mind as he picked up his car keys and gestured you to follow, not waiting for a answer.

Car rides became frequent, everytime after a late private he’d drive you home. But now he’s worrying about other things, are you eating right? Ballet dancers are notorious for under eating. Are you sleeping enough? you looked a bit tired today.

He keeps a strict facade in-front of others, mastering a poker face and strong voice that makes anything he says sound like a fact or non-negotiable. And despite loosening up once your both alone or class is done he still exercises this authoritative tone to get you to answer his questions, like a loving interrogation.

He notices you begin to form a crush on him after a few personal talks and times together. He encourages this and begins teasing these emotions, every action seems more intimate.

He’s your hot, grumpy, ballet teacher -who deep down has a heart of gold. Who you can rely on beyond class. Who’s office you can sit in and vent to him. Who makes you feel better during hard times and offers to buy food for you or encourage you to take a nap on his sofa in the office. Who buys you any equipment or shoes you need, in fact as soon as your shoes are looking dead he’s ordering a new pair buy the end of the day without you having to mention it.

[24hlevi]

— THE IDOL

itoshi rin x male!reader

summary: y/n is a famous pop idol, and rin is his biggest fan. what happens when y/n announces his brand new album "mood swings in this order" along with a tour to be held later in the year? surely, nothing too bad. right?

warnings/tags: language, nsfw implications (cum is said)

wc: 2.6 k

chapter one of the PAPARAZZI series

Being a pop star was difficult at times. From dealing with promotions, tours, and interviews, to crazy fans, trolls, and stalkers. But, none of that fazed you. Should it? Compared to some other idols, you went through a bit more than others, purely because of you embracing your sexuality in both the romance aspect and the performance aspect. You weren't afraid to do crazy concepts that would make fans turn and hate on the idol immediately. You definitely weren't afraid to express how you liked men, and while that may have caused a ruckus during your debut, it all worked out in the end somehow.

At the current moment, you were doing a photo shoot for your new album that you were soon to release the first single for. You had been taking photos for at least two hours, and you were getting irritated by the photographer telling you to do the same pose you’d already done fifteen times. After one last shot, you clasped your hands together.

“Can we take ten?” You said it loud enough for everyone to hear.

Murmurs of yes and thank gods came from the staff at your words, and everyone immediately split off into different areas of the house. With a sigh, you got up off the bed and walked outside where the balcony was, looking down at your backup dancers practicing the routine.

“So, how do we feel about the shoot, Y/n?”

You turned your head to see your assistant and best friend, Mikage Reo standing beside you. “Well, I’ve been taking the same photos for hours, how would you feel?”

Reo chuckled and nodded. “I know.” He followed your gaze towards the dancers before speaking more. “How do you feel about the choreo? Is it too hard? Do I need to make any adjustments? Do you not like any of the backup dancers?”

“Reo,” You said, placing both your hands on his shoulders. “Everything is fine, I swear. As long as things don't go shitty, everything will work out amazingly.” You reassured him.

Reo sighed and nodded again. “I guess,” he said. “I just want this album to be your biggest yet, and that's what Anri wants as well. She’s been super stressed recently trying to put all this together.”

“I understand,” You acknowledged, removing your hands from his shoulders. “But everything is going to be fine, stop worrying so much.”

“Okay,” He sighed again and nodded.

Meanwhile, your manager, Anri was dealing with a big problem with some of the other staff.

“What the fuck do you mean?” The woman spat out angrily at their social media manager.

“Look,” They handed Anri the phone.

She looked at the picture and her eyes went wide. “Has this hit the public yet?”

“Yes.”

“Shit,” Anri cursed, handing the phone back. “We have to tell him.”

“Are you serious?” The social media manager looked at her with shock. “What if it causes a breakdown of some kind?”

“He can deal with it. Follow me.” Anri told them, starting to walk to where you and Reo were.

“Y/n!” Anri called your name. “We have a big problem!”

You and Reo both turned to look at Anri speed walking towards you two, making you look at her in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“This.” Anri shoved the photo in your face. “What the hell were you thinking going to a club with Ryusei and having this happen?!”

Looking at the photo, your eyes widened at the image. “I thought- he told me he deleted it!” You defended.

“And you believed him?!” Anri exclaimed. “Y/n, this is already trending on all social media, and not in a good way. You and Ryusei are not together. But now that everyone has seen this image, it's chaotic. His management isn't responding and either we have to say it's not real or you admit it and we pray this doesn't fuck anything up. So what do you want to do?”

“I guess I should admit-”

“We’ll say it's fake,” Reo cut you off before you could finish, making you look at him with confusion. “This will damage everything if we say that it's real. Can you imagine what the public will think? How are we supposed to hold a tour when they have seen someone's fucking cum on his face?”

“It’s not like Ryusei is some stranger,” You said.

“It’s still not good, Y/n,” Reo replied. “We have to say it’s fake, and hope his management says the same thing.”

“This is the best decision, Y/n,” Anri told you. “This also means you cannot see Ryusei anymore, he is going to damage your whole career if you go out with him again. Do you understand?”

You felt cornered. It was rare for Reo to take this kind of side in things, and it made you feel like you were being cornered into doing what they thought was best. While, usually they were right in matters like this. It was like you had no real control over anything anymore. With a short nod, you responded. “I understand.”

“Good, now get back to finishing the shoot while I figure out how to deal with this,” Anri said before walking back inside the house.

As soon as Anri was out of hearing distance, Reo quickly turned to you. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“What?” You asked, looking back at him. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You look like a whore!” Reo whisper-yelled to you. “Do you understand that? This is not good! Ryusei is going to ruin this whole album! You need to stop seeing him!”

You stared at your friend in slight shock. Yet, you knew he was right. Consistently time after time again Shidou Ryusei has done something to fuck over your reputation leaving you to rebuild it again and again. But, you couldn’t stop seeing him. It was hard. But, you had to stop now. “Okay,” You said quietly, nodding your head.

“Now let’s get back to the shoot,” Reo said, grabbing your arm and pulling you along with him back inside the house.

You sat back down on the bed, adjusting your robe as the photographer came back and stood in front of the bed. You stared at the camera with what they later called a “killer look” that you should’ve had from the very beginning in your debut album. But, they didn’t understand what that look really meant. Not even Reo, who had been your best friend since you two were in middle school. They said the distant look in your eyes was perfect for the album, but they didn’t realize that this was going to end up being just the beginning of things. It was just that no one knew it yet. Not even you.

…

“Y/n, wake up,” Reo’s voice woke you up as he opened the curtains of your room.

You groaned lightly, covering your face with your hands as Reo sighed, walking over to you.

“Come on, you have to get up. We have to talk with PR,” He said, handing you a cup of coffee.

“Oh, great,” You mumbled, sitting up and taking the coffee from him. “I’m fucked, aren’t I?”

“Not yet,” Reo shook his head. “Ryusei’s management finally responded an hour ago.”

“What did they say?” You asked, taking a sip of your coffee after.

“Well, they are with us on saying the picture was fake,” Reo started. “Which is good, but…”

“But?” You tilted your head to the side.

“But, they also want to say it’s for your concept of this album,” Reo finished.

“What?” You questioned.

“Anri already told them how terrible of an idea that is so hopefully that won’t happen. But, it’s obvious Ryusei is trying to work his way around things. You must not let him, do you understand?” Reo told you.

You nodded your head slowly. “I understand.”

“Good, now get up.”

…

After finishing the long meeting with your PR team, you were finally able to go back home. You sat at the pool with a drink in your hand, sunglasses on with your eyes closed when you heard footsteps approach you.

“Yo! Y/n!”

You opened your eyes and turned your head to see your best dancer for your career so far, Hyoma Chigiri. “Chigiri! What’s up?” You replied, taking a sip of your drink.

“Do you wanna go out tonight?” Chigiri asked you. “There’s this new club I checked out last week and it was killer. You should come with me tonight.”

“Will Ryusei be there? I’m not really allowed to hang around him anymore.” You said, stirring the straw around in your drink.

“Nope,” Chigiri shook his head. “But who knows! Maybe you’ll meet someone better.” He smiled.

“True,” You acknowledged with a nod. “Sure, why not?” You eventually answered.

“Awesome, I’ll be here at 8 to pick you up then,” He said, patting your bare shoulder before walking away.

You hummed shortly in response, waving your hand and taking a sip of your drink. Hopefully, this would be nice for you. If not, it at least couldn’t hurt to go out with your friend. You finished your drink in another sip and set it down beside you, putting your arms behind your head as support and closing your eyes again.

…

Chigiri showed up a little late, which you didn’t mind since you weren’t even ready in the first place. You put your shoes on and heard your phone buzz, making you look at it to see Chigiri’s message that he was there. You put your phone in your pocket and left your house, immediately spotting the car near the front gate and you hurried towards it, the cool air freezing through the light materialized shirt you were wearing.

You opened the door and climbed inside the car, seeing Chigiri and he smiled at you.

“Hey! Looking good,” He said to you.

“You too,” You responded, putting the seatbelt on. “So, where’s this place at?”

“Only where the best clubs are,” Chigiri answered, pulling out of your driveway and back onto the road.

“Awesome,” You said, leaning your head against the headrest.

By the time you two arrived, it was half past nine, and the club had just opened at nine. When you stepped out of the car, your eyes squinted at the bright neon lights saying the name of the club that you were unable to read.

“Come on,” Chigiri grabbed your arm and pulled you inside with him.

You were immediately met with the loud booming music and neon lights, making you look around in awe at the place. “This place looks wicked,” You said.

“It is,” Chigiri answered, pulling you along more to get drinks.

While waiting for the drinks, you felt eyes on you. You turned your head to see a man staring at you. He quickly looked away once you noticed his gaze on you, and you watched as one of his friends started talking to him. You looked away when the drinks arrived, and Chigiri took his and went off somewhere, leaving you alone at the bar. You took a sip of the drink and made a sour face.

“Not your taste?”

You turned your head at the voice, seeing the male who was staring at you now standing in front of you. “Not really,” You shook your head. “I like harsher drinks.” You answered.

“Hey! Rufio!” The man called for the bartender, who hurried over to you two. “Get this lovely man here a new drink. Let’s say, a double jack and coke?” He said, glancing over at you for confirmation.

“Yeah, that works,” You nodded your head.

The bartender quickly made the new drink and handed it to you. You took a sip and looked at the male in front of you. “You can sit, if you want,” You offered, gesturing to the chair.

“I was actually going to ask if you wanted to dance,” He said.

“Ah,” You let out. ‘Well, I usually like a drink or two before dancing.”

“But-”

“Hey!” A voice echoed throughout the club.

The man looked away from you and at the younger male approaching the two of you at a fast-paced walk, and he looked terrified.

“What the fuck did I say about you coming back here, huh?!” The younger male exclaimed when he finally reached you two, smacking him in the face.

“I-I’m sorry! I th-thought-”

“Thought what? Get the fuck out!” The male kicked the older man a few times, watching him scurry away.

You stared at the new male in front of you with shock on your face, not knowing entirely what the hell just happened. When he looked at you, his face dropped, making you look at him confused.

“Uhm, do I know you?” You asked politely.

“No,” He shook his head. “But, I know you.” He answered. “You-You’re L/n, Y/n.”

Ah. A fan, great. “Don’t tell anyone, please,” You said quietly, holding your finger up to your lips. “I really just wanted a night out with my friend.”

“I won’t say anything,” He quickly shook his head. “I’m Rin,” He held his hand out to you.

“Nice to meet you, Rin,” You shook his hand.

“Do you maybe wanna dance?” He asked.

Looking at your drink, you took another big sip and set it down, nodding your head and standing up. “Sure.”

Rin grabbed your hand and pulled you with him to the main dancefloor. His hand let go once you both were in the middle of everyone, starting to dance to the electronic music blasting throughout the club. You generally weren’t one for electronic music but you didn’t mind it at the current moment. You felt hands wrap around your waist from behind and a body press against you, turning your head to see Rin towering over you while behind you. His gaze was stuck on you as he moved against you to the rhythm of the music.

He leaned down to your ear and quietly whispered. “Is that your friend over there?”

You followed his eyes to where Chigiri was talking to someone else and started walking towards the exit, and you nodded. “Yeah,” You said.

“Looks like he’s ditching you,” Rin spoke quietly. “Is he your ride?”

You nodded again.

“Hm,” Rin hummed, his hands gripping your sides tightly. “How about you let me take you home?”

You looked up at him with a mixture of confusion and shock. “What?”

“You have no way home now, right?” Rin asked. “You can’t get an Uber cause of your status, and I’m the only one who knows a famous idol is in my club right now. So, I say you have no other choice.”

You stopped dancing by now, his hands keeping you in place as you thought. He was right in all sorts of ways. You couldn’t afford to let anyone else know that you were here, and who knows what would happen if someone took a picture of you out clubbing just after the issue with Ryusei? You were stuck. “Okay,” You nodded.

“Come on,” Rin said as soon as you spoke, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the club through the back entrance where his car was.

You followed him out to the back, mentally praying that you wouldn’t die on this ride back to your house as he opened the passenger side door for you. You hesitated for a split second before getting in the car, letting Rin close it behind you. He got in a few seconds after and started the car.

“So, what way to your house?”

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

tag list: [ @d4y-dr3am3r ; @paleenthusiastfox ; @kaitfae ; @will-o-the-wisp ; @pleniluneg4ze ]

[ar-cadez]

Count Duckula Fan Rewrite!!

Recently I’ve been working on a Count Duckula rewrite that aims to give it a slightly more serious tone and semi-serialized story like many modern cartoons! It took some time, but I made redesigns of the main cast. I had fun making this project and I REALLY hope you do too! Because I’m extremely nervous that the small fan base Count Duckula does have will hate this

I haven’t actually finished the show btw so if there’s an antagonist or smth that shows up later I should’ve redesigned.. lmk! I’m open to suggestions I really like this show..

—————————————————

Basic Concept

Practically the same as the original show! There is a long line of reincarnations of a wicked vampire duck named Count Duckula, the most recent reincarnation went wrong and now the current Count is a vegetarian and much more interested in becoming famous than being evil.

Some major differences include the tone and story structure, being semi-serialized and having more serious arcs mixed in with the antics, along with a lot of changes in characterization. A big story change is also that Nanny was not hired until AFTER Duckula was reincarnated so Igor was the one who screwed up the ritual.

Tone wise I’d also like to slightly age up the target audience so it could get away with a bit more dark humour. My favourite part of the original show was moments that were just so morbid and completely brushed past. 13+ would be fine methinks.

Basic plot of the average episode would be about the count’s hyperfixation of the week and trying to get famous or profit from it. Not every episode would follow this structure though.

The grander themes of the series would be all about expectations from family and strangers and how those expectations can be completely false.

—————————————————

Characters

^^ Final lineup! ^^

Sketches (less interesting poses but shows off some things better)

Count Duckula!

What I wanted to change

I feel like Duckula from the original spin-off was already a really strong character! There is a lot to him and really all I would want from a more emotional reboot is to dive into what’s already there. I did kinda project on him a bit in this rewrite though… gotta write what’cha know!

I also changed his design quite a bit. I never thought the suit fit his personality and I wanted to go with something a little more bright. If I go back again I might saturate his shirt a bit more. I also wanted all the residents of castle Duckula to have purple in their designs and for duckula and Towser to share similar colour’s inversed

Character Traits

Hatred of his legacy

Duckula is the first member of his lineage to not be an evil vampire and he hates that role that is expected of him. This is partially what drives him to be the nicest duck he can be, in hopes of shaking off his legacy. This also causes him to reject anything that's “spooky” or has to do with vampires. He physically can't eat meat or blood due to his botched resurrection, but even the sight of either distresses him.

Attention Drive

Due to his infamy, all Duckula wants is to be liked by the general public. Everyone in his town is automatically scared of him and he tries really hard to change their opinions on him whether that be through attempting to bea good samaritan or by performing in town. (Both tend to end poorly for him)

ADHD and Theatre Kid Behaviour

Duckula is constantly picking up and putting down new forms of art and performance. This can be anything from oil painting to American football. He does tend to get frustrated or distracted and abandon projects or crafts entirely. His favourite artform is acting and music so as you can imagine he's very into musicals. His musical talents are decent but his acting is awful. He’s also known to loud and overly excited over his interests

Ego and Cowardice

Being given a position of power the day you came into existence does have the tendency to make you… immature to say the least. When in danger, if he even realises there is any, Duckula’s first move is to use his title as leverage. If that doesn't work, his second is to beg, grovel, and lie his way out of the situation. That, or hide behind his much more intimidating companions.

Rich Kid Syndrome

Having the majority of people you know be your house staff really messes with your sense of responsibility. Duckula can hardly do many basic life skills on his own because of this. It's not like he is completely lazy but he does have executive dysfunction and has yet to realise that fact, causing him to procrastinate on many things and completely forget or just get someone else to do it.

Not Naturally kind

Being his father’s reincarnation, it only makes sense that Duckula would inherit many traits from his past lives. Many of the other Counts were ego-driven cowards with desires for fame. They just went about it differently. Duckula actively tries to be kind and polite but a lot of passive aggression and snark slips through the cracks of that veneer. He would never want to admit that he has ANYTHING in common with his ancestors and he hates that being nice doesn't just come naturally to him. Being an immortal, Duckula also has a skewed sense of mortality and often doesn't understand the severity of certain injuries and situations.

This Duckula has ADHD and Autism in this rewrite and he struggles most with executive dysfunction, restricted interests, memory issues, atypical empathy (not specifically low or high), sensory issues (mostly with eating and some sound), and social cues. He also stims.

Towser!

What I Wanted to Change

Towser isn’t even really a character in the original. Just a running gag without a face. I wanted to balance out the main cast by adding another female character since I have feelings on Nanny as a character and i didn’t know if i would even be able to salvage that.

I really like what I came up with! She’s fun to me and I’ll probably flesh her out more later.

Character Traits

Family drive

Towser has little interest in birds that aren't close to her and it usually takes awhile for her to get used to new people. However, she’ll protect those that she does care about with her life. She is the castle’s guard dog and will do whatever’s necessary to protect it. This often comes at the cost of her sleep, because she feels like she always needs to be awake to protect them.

Tag Along

Following Duckula around like a puppy is what Towser does best! She might not fully understand his enthusiasm on certain subjects, but she's always up to backing him up on his newest fame seeking endeavours (though she herself prefers physical activity over creative works). She never expects anything to come of it, but hey, at least it's something to do. She also likes to hear Duckula rant to her about his interests.

Big Sister

Towser is of a much more stable mental state than Duckula, and as his only friend around his age, he trusts her more to be someone to talk to about his identity issues and issues in general. The two are a lot warmer towards each other than they are anyone else, and can also get away with messing with the other a lot more.

Big ol Lap dog

When in werewolf form, Towser tends to forget her size and often crushes them with her size. This usually wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the fact that she's always a lot more cuddly and energetic in wolf form than bird form. This is because, as a werewolf, she's only in wolf form at night and being a fully nocturnal bird that should only be awake at night, this messes with her sleep rhythm a lot.

Igor!

What I wanted to Change

Personality wise Igor is already really strong and I didn’t change much of that. You’ll probably notice from the sketches that Igor has a skeleton hand, that’s because I made him undead in this version just to give a reason to how he’s been able to live this long since the original doesn’t really have one (which is fine)

Character Traits

Devotion to the role

Igor has been the Count’s butler since the first incarnation. He was assigned to keep the Duckula legacy alive by reincarnating his master every time he meets his fate and helping him readjust every time. Helping each new reincarnation bring misery and fear to the town they reside by with a smile… Until the most recent incarnation of course. He’ll stick it out though, because he still has hope for him.

Taste for the macabre

Whether it be killing innocents behind the back of his new master, decorating the castle with cobwebs and bones, or using his undead nature to scare and torture those around him, Igor certainly has an interesting idea of fun. Igor gets a sick enjoyment out of causing others distress and despises all things kind and cute, something which definitely frustrates Duckula, who's desperately trying to fix his own image.

Bitter Traditionalist

Having lived through the centuries in castle Duckula, Igor has gained an appreciation for the history of the place and the vampire ducks that have resided there over the years. He’s rather invested in the lives of his previous masters and is extremely cross with the newest incarnation for not only not caring about that past, but also completely disowning it. Igor tries desperately to get Duckula to be a normal vampire, truly believing it could work with enough effort. Less he spend the next few centuries with a vegetarian for a master… Igor would not have a problem with Duckula pursuing fame if it weren't for the fact that he thinks it's distracting him from true vampirism.

Tired old man

Igor has lived for many centuries and he does not feel as if he should have to babysit for an immature man child like Duckula. He would rather ignore or snark the young count rather than actually talk to him. When the two argue its a constant back and forth of passive aggression and personal jobs that they almost always forget what they're actually arguing over. Duckula is physically and mentally very young (17-early 20s) compared to Igor’s other masters due to the botched revival and he doesn't know how to, or want to, deal with it.

Nanny!

What I Wanted to Change

I’m sorry to any hardcore Nanny fans out there but this is practically a whole new character. I find Nanny to be frustrating and annoying in the original and who I personally feel is a very sexist and mean spirited character. There’s absolutely nothing I would want to write with a character who’s just “big stupid fat woman inconveniences everyone around her” it’s just uncomfortable after a certain point.

My idea for a new take was just an extremely kind older woman who’s a little airheaded but is a lot smarter than people give her credit for. This sets her up as a foil to Igor. She’s also the only non-monster resident of the castle in this version which I personally think is really interesting.

Character Traits

Only good influence

While Igor actively sets out to make Duckula a bad person and Towser couldn't care less about how Duckula acts, Nanny is the only direct influence in Duckula’s life who pushes him to do better. Nanny believes Duckula is a good person at heart and pushes him to take more responsibility in his life. She wants him to learn a good work ethic and is fully supportive of him trying to better himself.

Good Christian Woman

Nanny is, in fact, a christian. She is fully aware of the demonic nature of her companions but believes that everyone can better themselves no matter their circumstances and attempts to better those around her. Igor hates her for it but she’s totally ignorant to that fact.

Assertive Mother Figure

Though Nanny is a very kind woman, she is also not a pushover. She will assert authority over Duckula and anyone else if necessary, and most are compliant once she puts her foot down, if they aren't, however, Nanny does pack a punch and won't hesitate to use her strength to protect her family.

Smarter than she seems

Nanny is an airheaded optimist with a big heart and those traits make her come off a lot more clueless than she actually is. She may seem like she has no idea what’s going on but she’s actually very observant and is fantastic at assessing a situation and finding the best course of action.

Dr. Von Goosewing

What I Wanted to Change

I really liked the idea of the antagonist to Duckula was in a liniage of vampire slayers and that their ancestors have been fighting for generations. It gave me the perfect set up for a ✨SHADOW ANTAGONIST✨ I wanted to make this rewrite have the two reflect each other a lot more. To do that I wanted Goosewing to still be a really cooky guy but I didn’t want the public to know that.

Also I have no idea why he’s dressed like Sherlock Holmes in the original if he’s a Van Helsing parody and also an inventor. You could’ve leaned into either of those ideas but for some reason he’s dressed like a detective? so I tried giving him a more fitting outfit but keeping his colours for recognisablity.

Character Traits

Playing Village hero

Goosewing is considered a big deal in town because of his family of vampire hunters. He’s prepared his whole life to kill Count Duckula the moment he comes back and to protect the common folk from the paranormal. Despite this, Goosewing isn't actually particularly skilled at his job and usually ends up failing his assassinations due to his own incompetence. He feels like he has to play the role as a hero to continue his family’s legacy despite not particularly enjoying it or being good at it.

Overestimating the enemy

With how cunning and malevolent the past Duckula incarnations were, Goosewing expects the same from this one. Goosewing believes that Duckula is a dangerous and clever foe completely focused on causing others pain. In reality, Duckula is the most incompetent bird in all of Transylvania, aside fromGoosewing himself, of course. Goosewing also comes to believe that Duckula is only acting nice to later betray the public, a belief he is not quiet about and that keeps the public from trusting Duckula.

Mad Scientist

Goosewing definitely falls into the eccentric scientist trope with his innovative but scatterbrained nature. He would much rather be working on an invention than actually doing his job. The public sees him as a hero but while hunting vampires or when hes alone he comes off as more of a mad scientist than the hero character he plays. His intentions are ultimately good but are completely based on the assumption that he’s the wholly good protector of the people and that Duckula is a cunning villain who's out to get him and everyone else.

Shadow

Goosewing and Duckula reflect each other in a lot of ways. They both have a legacy they are expected to uphold despite not wanting to or even being able to, they both care deeply about the public’s opinion on them while the public has an incredibly incorrect view of the both of them, and they both have creative interests outside of the roles expected of them that they'd rather be persuing. Duckula fully rejects anything to do with his ancestry, while Goosewing is actively trying to fulfil despite not enjoying it.

The Murder Brothers!

What I Wanted to Change

Haha I called them the murder brothers bc they’re crows and criminals Im actually so funny… anyway. I don’t know if I should’ve even done these guys but I really like them as antagonists so!!

I gave the younger two names and a personality. The wiki said they didn’t have names but if they do lmk and I’ll just fix that. Other than that I didn’t change much except try to give ‘em a bit more depth and changing their physical designs a ton for fun.

Character Traits

The Murder Brothers, as a whole, are a tight knit family of con men crows who pull any grift they can to get their hands on some cash. Though they may act like their only loyalty in life is to money, they do genuinely care about each other's well being

Ruffles

Ruffles is the short tempered and eldest leader of the group. He’s constantly frustrated with his brothers’ incompetence and isn't quiet about it. He believes that if it weren't for them he'd probably be a lot further in life by now (which isn't true) and he’ll say he doesn't care about them, but he actually does.

Burt

If he didn't insist on helping his brothers, Burt would be the most likely to be living an honest life. As the second oldest sibling, Burt holds a position as right hand man. He’s a naturally kind and enthusiastic bird who, while a bit dumb, does openly express his love for his brothers. He takes on a lot of the abuse from his older brother and is often used by the group to talk to others, because he's so naturally trustworthy.

Reggie

Reggie is the second youngest of the brothers and the most relaxed out of all of them. He has an impeccable sleight of hand and is the go to for lockpicking and such. He’s a decent smooth talker and is often the one to break up fights, though he's not above getting angry at the others himself.

Leroy

Leroy is the youngest of the brothers and by far the least skilled. His speech is incomprehensible from under his mask (although he can see through it for the most part) and he’s often left with the worst jobs during their cons because of that. He’s the most timid out of all of them but I’m sure if you took that mask off of him he’d be really talkative.

—————————————————

Ending Words

Well that’s all I got! I spent way too long on this project that maybe two people will care about and one of them is me 💔 Anyway if I make anything else for this rewrite/au I’ll tag it with #wbcd . I wouldn’t count on it because I mighttt get burn out from this but im just so glad I finished it! I’ve thought about writing a pilot script just for fun but idk. I’d like to do more long format au stuff, I was going to make a YouTube video about this but I almost cried trying to record myself so I gave up 💔

[thefaiao]

Hi, firstly I just wanted to say that I love your art, especially with the way you use dynamism and angles in character sketches. It's really beautiful and I always look forward to seeing more black and white pieces from you.

I just wanted to ask, as a beginner artist whose been drawing on and off from 2017 onwards and hasn't seen much improvement, are there any resources or books you would recommend for someone still trying to grasp form and shape? Especially in creating 3d forms with line? I'd love to be able to draw characters in a similar way that you do but my cubes and cones never seem to come out correctly and humanoid shapes are even tougher. Thanks again for sharing your art.

Hello! Thank you very much for the compliments. Up until somewhat recently the B&W pieces were my favorite things to draw, so I get you. I did fall in love with coloring eventually though.

Alright, there are lots of things that can be done. I have had some classical training, and done human figure studies live, but honestly not nearly as much as I probably should have. You definitely should still do figure study as much as possible, especially in person. I'm just prefacing to say it may not get you to draw the way I draw I suppose, as its only part of what I've done to improve my drawing ability.

There are a few good resources to start with, notably the Loomis method, which a lot of artists use as a base. That's how you should use it too, ideally. It's not about copying his work exactly, it's about understanding just how the human body is proportioned, and adapting it from there. It doesn't have to define your thinking, it's just a good guideline. It's possible to structure a body quite differently than Loomis (and there are many many books for that), but the truth, which is, the proportions of the human body, is still there in all mindsets. Once you understand that, you can understand the reason for each approach, and even forego them to express something more unique, abstract and visceral.

The biggest thing you should do though, is always be observing the world around you, both online and offline. Figure studies are nice but they remove one of the most important things, and that is context. I find that people who will use those large libraries from people who pose professionally with bows and swords and the like will often draw technically impressive images, but they still feel like a fake pose. It doesn't feel like the person is holding onto the weapon like their life depended on it, or like they have a relationship with the object, that they pose and move in a certain way that reflects their personality. Live study with strangers helps rectify this somewhat.

Online you should also be following lots and lots of different artists! Don't limit yourself, pay attention to how they construct their drawings, how they go about things. It's important you follow a lot of people, see how they evolve. They are not only a point in time, they are also learning and evolving just like you. It's especially good if you can have artists friends to draw and share stuff with. I have a deep-seated belief that we draw art for others, to express ourselves to them, so they need to see it.

It may sound weird for me to say if you want to draw like me try to draw unlike me, but I'm just saying what I've done. I follow a lot of people and draw from a lot of places. Ultimately the main appeal of my forms is their dynamism and volume as you've said, but it's good to be versatile so you can always explore new avenues!

Now, you've done all these things, you are practicing them constantly. Now is the most important part. Keep drawing!!! Just keep drawing no matter what, no matter how bad you think it looks. You have to believe you have something to say, to express, no matter what. You say you haven't improved, but I don't believe you! Maybe you are faster, maybe your technique is better, maybe you have better habits, maybe you are a little more patient. There are a million ways to improve which don't even appear in the image. You have to keep drawing, NO MATTER WHAT!!! You have to believe you were born to do this and you will do it well, don't worry about what others think.

I can only draw such dynamic forms because I have kept drawing and masticating and elaborating this idea that is called my style. When you are drawing you are developing your own little language, and only when you are fluent you can start writing good books with it. Being fluent will take many years, you must accept that. If you take breaks, take breaks so you can keep drawing later. Take care of your health so you can keep drawing. You will only get to see your drawings become beautiful if you live long. To live a long and healthy life is to keep drawing.

That is my ultimate advice really, let that frustration build up, but keep drawing anyway. You will force yourself to find solutions to release that frustration as you do so, and improve. Maybe it's simple, but it's the only thing that is true no matter what. Don't worry about AI or whatever, none of that matters. Just keep drawing!

[skyacya]

Hello! I got into transformers recently and I've been scrolling through Tumblr for awhile to find TF related content. I happen to come across your blog and dare I say your illustrations are stunning!🧡 The color choices and the line work is absolutely amazing.

You can say I'm a little motivated to draw some robots now—but as someone who only drew humans in the past and someone who just joined the fandom. I've come to the realization that drawing robots is much harder than it looks🤲..

If it's not too much to ask, would you mind sharing some tips or experiences on how you started drawing them? Thank you🦐

Man, you have no idea how much seeing this made my day (〃´∀｀)! But sure!

The general idea I use is to break down characters into their most basic shapes, fx Transformers Prime and Animated has super strong shape language especially compared to G1 where everyone are squares

Before drawing a new character, I like to practice my muscle memory by isolating these basic shapes on top of a reference image. To get that proper giant alien robot feel it's especially helpful to practice big, squareish shapes (though depends on the character, some have more fluid shapes similar to humans).

With the overall shapes you can draw your desired pose much easier because you don't need to think about details yet.

When you have the pose down, you can continue on with the details. These are also just shapes broken down into smaller shapes. You just continue to break everything into shapes until you have achieved the level of detail that you want. Everything is shapes

When adding details, it's a good idea to have a bunch of references ready. I usually just go through an episode/chapter with the character I want and take a shit ton of screenshots

⊹⊹⊹⊹Some general tips I have are:⊹⊹⊹⊹

Find inspiration from different artists you like and see how they break down the characters (and try doing the shape practicing to get used to the feeling of drawing bigger shapes)

This is a strange addon tip but hear me out, a lot of R18 tf artists are insanely talented, like to an unlawful degree. Welcome to the rust sea of sin, I would add recommendations but I am a coward

Varying lineweight is especially useful to separate bigger shapes from details, otherwise it can quickly look busy and messy (look at Alex Milnes art before coloring, there it is very visible)

Alex Milne also uses full black in certain less visible/high contrast areas to create focus on the more important details. It helps to create a more balanced drawing. Also helps to hide areas you aren't confident about such as joints lol

Don't be afraid to exaggerate the lines, robots have a tendency to look stiff

Do not fear the shapes, the shapes mean no harm.

And lastly, thank you for your kind ask! There are many ways to begin drawing robots and I hope this may help in your journey down the rabbithole of giant sexy gay alien robots (ʃƪ˶˘ ﻬ ˘˶)♥♥

[thedeviltohisangel]

FOR A FORTNIGHT THERE WE WERE

A little something about Evelyn and Callum at the screening in LA last weekend xoxo

“Do you want to go to the Dodgers game tomorrow night?” Ev had been daydreaming out the window of the Escalade currently taking them to a screening and reception of Masters of the Air.

“Sure that’d be fun.” He held her hand in between them and brought it to his lips.

“You feeling ok? You’ve been quiet the whole ride.”

“Just preemptively tired. I have to fly to New York Monday morning for the premiere.” More and more recently she had just wanted to cocoon herself in blankets at their home, wherever that may be, and never leave. She hoped it wasn’t another bout of depression rearing its ugly head. “I’ve just been feeling a little different lately. Like I’m back in the same headspace I was before we started filming. I don’t know. I can’t explain it.” While he hadn’t known her well before Masters of the Air, he had only met her a few times at parties, he had known she was not herself that first day of their chemistry read.

“You’ve been super fucking busy between press for dragon and press for this and the fact that you insist you can try to be in New York and Scotland in the same day-“ that got a smile across her face “-maybe your body is just telling you it needs to rest a little bit.”

“You forgot that I’m the best girlfriend ever and have been flying to Vancouver every chance to see you,” she teased. “Please add that to your list.” Callum laughed and threw his arm around her should to pull her in close.

“I love you. Wouldn’t want you any other way but want you to take care of yourself. If you need a break, you need a break.” But breaks meant silence and Evelyn had never really been good in the silence.

“Having you back in LA this weekend is kind of like a break.” They’d spent the day lounging in bed before walking Golo to a farmers market, buying flowers and bagels and plants for the herb garden Evelyn had started tending to in their back yard. No one had stopped them for selfies and if people were taking photos, she hadn’t bothered to notice. It had felt good and normal to hold his hand and live her life if only for a few hours.

“You made me pinky promise to still spend every weekend with you while filming!” She giggled as the car pulled up to the curb to drop them off, her publicist, assistant and representatives from the Apple PR department waiting to greet them.

“I did and so far that’s meant me going to Canada and not the other way around. So technically I only encumbered myself with that one.” The longer they were together, the more horrible being apart felt. They were both committed to not letting distance get the best of them during the busiest year of their life. Every weekend one of them was on a plane to go be with the other. They were two halves of the same whole and wouldn’t survive if kept apart. “Hi Tracy,” she greeted as Callum held her hand to help her out of the car.

“Hi you two.” Evelyn wrapped her in a hug and then gripped his hand tightly as he led them in the direction of the party. She made sure to wave to fans that had collected on the sidewalk and posed for some photos from afar as they held their phones up. “Let’s make sure you get an individual shot with all the other actors here for from the other shows and then we can do all the cast group shots at once, okay?” Ev nodded as she took a welcome drink and smiled, a line of people already forming to talk to her and try and snap a selfie for their social media. She greeted all of them with a practiced ease that had them feeling like they were the only person in the world with her for those few moments. It was a skill that she had honed early in her career and had fared her very well.

“I got to go check on that handsome lad over there but I’ll find you after!” She kissed Maya Rudolph’s cheeks and did her best to not get pulled aside too many times on her way to Callum.

“Must be hard to be so popular,” Gary teased as Ev hugged him tightly.

“Can’t take you anywhere,” Cal mumbled as he leaned down to kiss her. She smiled against his lips and used her hand on his neck to keep him there for an extra peck.

“I can’t hide when I’ve got a bean stalk following me around so I might as well embrace the attention.” Gary laughed, her arms wrapping around Callum’s waist and cheek resting on his chest.

“You two are so good together. I take all the credit.” Gary had been there when they’d met at the chemistry. Had watched the infatuation only increase from that moment forward. Not so subtlety, Evelyn noticed his eyes flicker to her bare ring finger and deflate a little. “I’m going to go make sure everything’s set in the theater. I’ll see you both in there.” She kissed his cheek in farewell and Cal offered him a one handed hug.

“You good? Need another drink?” Evelyn shook her head and rested her chin on her chest so she could look up at him.

“I love you. Just happy to be here with you. Happy that we can keep celebrating this show that brought us together.” He dropped a kiss to her nose.

“I love you even more, how about that?” It earned him a giggle as she turned to remove herself from his embrace, Callum kissing the top of her head as she sighed.

“I’ve got a few more people to get photos with before Tracy yells at me. I’ll find you before the cast photos.”

“Love you, baby.” An arm around her shoulders pulled her back into his orbit so he could kiss her again.

“Love you, Cali Wali.” He blushed at the little nickname she normally saved for the privacy of one of their homes. “Handsome when you blush.”

“Good thing you think so cause I seem to do it a lot around you.” She almost let it slip that she hoped their future kids inherited his propensity for handsome blushing. But she bit her tongue just in time. Since their pregnancy scare a couple weeks ago, Evelyn hadn’t been able to stop thinking about a baby. Like the moment in time where it might have been true had opened a door inside of her. There was still no strong desire in her bones to get married again but now there was one to become a mother. To share in that honor with the man in front of her. “Where’d you go, Ev?” He furrowed his brows and brushed some hair from her cheek.

“Sorry. Just thinking for a minute. I’ll see you in a little bit.” With a final kiss to his cheek, she was off before he could reel her back in. She didn’t know how to broach the conversation. Didn’t know how he’d react to her rejection of his attempts at proposing but her desire to have a child. Would he feel confused? Betrayed? Like he couldn’t have what he wanted but was expected to give her what she wanted? Her hand shook as she made her way towards Karen and Josiah with a smile. The more distractions, the better.

-

Anthony gave her the loudest kiss on the cheek she had ever received and Evelyn giggled at the tickling sensation.

“Missed you, pretty girl,” he smiled as she hugged him and the cameras snapped endlessly.

“Anto, what the fuck is on your face?” she teased as she poked the facial hair.

“Swoon all you want.”

“Bel and I show up looking like ladies, Cal and Nate even shaved for this and you brought that.” Cal rested his arm around her shoulders and her hand reached up to twine their fingers together.

“You loved the mustache when Cal had it!”

“Not a great argument,” Bel cautioned.

“Okay let’s gather round and smile at the camera.” They all set their laughing aside to smile professionally, Evelyn not allowing Callum to move his hand, her arm around his waist where she stood on the end. Fully in his embrace exactly where she liked to be.

“Everyone make sure you come to the screening. Evelyn will be giving a speech!” Anthony announced to laughs from the crowd and a loving roll of Evelyn’s eyes.

“I’ll give one to spare you the pain, baby,” Callum offered.

“I’m claiming the Emmy speech, Anthony. And you won’t be mentioned if you keep up this behavior.” Anthony stuck his tongue out as she chased after him towards the theater. Everyone laughing at their sibling banter the entire way.

“Don’t let that one go.” Callum looked over at Gary.

“I’m trying my best,” he joked back. “Doesn’t get any better than her. Than this.”

He caught her gaze over her shoulder as she looked to make sure he was coming up behind her. Yeah. This. This was once in a lifetime.

[syaolaurant]

Hello hello, I love your work and was wondering if you'd be open to making a little breakdown of your art style?

It's really interesting to me and I love taking bits of different artists art style elements and incorporating them into my doodles to get better

Totally okay if you don't want to! 💜💜💜

Take care and have an amazing life 🤗💜☺️

Hello!! Thanks for asking 🤗 I'm not making a little breakdown of my art style I already WROTE A WHOLE ESSAY ABOUT IT!!

Sorry I exaggerated it a bit🥲🥲...

I was very happy to receive this ask, but at the same time I felt worried. Honestly, I didn’t know how to give you a relevant answer because  I don’t even think I have a consistent art style 🥲. Except for my usual chibi style which I feel most comfortable with, I feel my style constantly changes. So after going back to review my old paintings, I think my style is a combination of children's book illustrations and Japanese anime style. Many times I have received comments about my paintings looking like they are from children's books, and I agree haha, maybe because I mostly draw small characters in big settings and I usually use bright colors. 

My favorite artists:

My drawing style is mostly influenced by my all time favorite artists Heikala and Koyamori, I stumbled across their Insta accounts during my 1st year in college (that was 10 years ago) and from then my drawing style gradually took shape. I also admire Paulina Cassidy, mostly because I like her whimsical nature sprites theme. Recently I’ve been investing in Stephanie Law’s artwork, her coloring technique is so god-like that I hope one day I can reach that level…

Ideas and Inspirations:

Japanese anime/manga culture has had a great impact on my childhood. It was a dream come true for me to be able to pursue my college study in Japan. I think this journey greatly affected my current style. I draw lots of things from small doodles to funny comics. I'd describe my drawings as “silly and cute” since I love to make people laugh and I also live for the fluffs (Sometimes I drew angst too but it still turned out cute haha..). Aside from that,  I prefer making “storytelling” illustrations with colorful backgrounds. My favorite things to draw are tiny characters in big scenery, I like to create peaceful static moments that when looking at them help warm my heart and calm my mind. 

When making game fanarts, I usually take screenshots as references for background and imagine how the character will act in that setting. I just do what I feel comfortable and use my own judgment for composition … which… sometimes results in weird perspectives (and you know what I’ve just discovered the rule of third recently 😅…). 

Characters:

When it comes to drawing characters, I honestly don't know how to explain my style. I think chibi is my most recognizable style, apart from that I usually draw characters in semi-chibi (is it the right way to call it??) or simple anime style. I don’t usually draw characters with dynamic poses or movements ( that’s why I still suck at anatomy and expression 😩😩). I think I’m shifting from anime to a more cartoon style since I kinda have same face problem and  I’m trying to practice face shapes.

I think my character drawing style is most influenced by Akihiko Yoshida (who is behind many FF/Nier/ bravely default concepts), as I always draw my characters with chubby round faces and dreamy eyes. I made an example of how I usually draw my characters below.

Technique: 

Watercolor technique is quite complex so I’ll explain how I always do my paintings in another sharing post. I’ve posted part 1 of my sharing here. Generally, I love using bright, saturated tones and black ink brush pen or color brush to paint line work. 

. I hope I could answer your question. I’m definitely no expert, all the things about art I've learn was self-taught but I'm happy to help anyway I can. 💕💕

And you 🫵🫵 yes you dear sweet anon! I wish you a happy life too!!!! 💕💕

[nkjemisin]

You should try to go see public works Tempest in central park, it’s really incredible and reminded me of the city we became. It’s super insane and beautiful and wild and hard to describe, so even though it’s insane to ask someone to go stand in line all day to see a play based off a random tumblr message I really think you should!

Oooh, I haven't done the line for Shakespeare in the Park in years. Not sure I still have it in me, since it requires getting up at 3 or 4 am and spending hours fighting line-jumpers and so on. But I've been hearing good things about this year's Tempest so maybe I'll muster up the energy. Thanks for the recommendation!

Since you reminded me of it, here's a deleted scene/alternate opening I once wrote for THE WORLD WE MAKE. I decided on a different opening for the final version, obvs, but maybe you'll enjoy what might have been. Cutting because long.

     He's just a man standing on a rooftop.  The outfit he's wearing is bespoke, by a Harlem tailor who came in second on Project Runway's last season.  The jacket is rich brown suede, fine-stitched, over olive-tan pants and a piqué shirt of deepest royal indigo, and he's wearing the hell out of it.  If there were anyone around to see, they'd think he was a model, standing in the kind of casual-at-attention pose that only men in magazine photo shoots ever do, with one hand in a pocket and his gaze thoughtfully locked on the cityscape horizon.  The model aesthetic is reinforced by the fact that he's got a lean, strong figure and the kind of racial ambiguity that Hollywood diversity advocates love:  brown skin that's not too brown, lips full enough to be either natural or recent collagen injections, thick eyebrows that are as sculpted as his cheekbones, eyes with just enough epicanthic fold to qualify as "exotic" but not in like an ethnic way.

     He's not a model.  He's just Manhattan, human representative of New York's contributions to the fashion, media, and sex work industries.  He's not even trying particularly hard to look good.  He has simply stopped resisting what comes naturally.

     But he's about to be late for work -- and while New York custom permits a degree of conspicuous tardiness as a social power move in certain situations, this particular job is too personally important to him for such games.  So he steps up onto the low wall that surrounds the roof, and then he steps off.

     It's fine.  The building is twelve stories tall; anything over five stories is required to have an elevator per city ordinance.  He's been practicing, too, so all he has to do is shut his eyes and imagine, and the city's power holds him aloft in midair as solidly as if he's stepping onto flooring.  (He is; it's just flooring that exists in several other iterations of his universe.)  Even with this, however, he makes sure to take a step or two forward before calmly turning away from the cityscape.  People don't usually stare at the back of an elevator, after all -- and verisimilitude is key.  "First floor, please," he murmurs. In earlier days of the city, building elevators were a complicated luxury that required trained staff to operate.  In current days of the city, many elevators run on voice activation. At Manhattan's request, there is an electronic ping of acknowledgement, followed by a very faint echo of blended, long-vanished voices:  "Watch the door, please, watch your hands, going down."  Then he begins to descend.  It's smooth, slow; this is only a mid-sized building, not modern or expensive enough to have an express elevator.  Only the fact that he's descending through thin air makes it odd.

     Just above the sidewalk his descent slows, letting him drift to a gentle halt.  There are a few dozen people on the street in this moment, and some of them notice as he just stands there for a moment, letting the metaphysical aethers settle and the metaphorical elevator doors open.  The ones who stare are tourists.  New Yorkers generally don't react to strangeness, but they do notice it, if only to shake their heads and murmur "This fucking city," to themselves before moving on.  Manhattan catches the eye of one of the starers, winks and smiles, then strides off down the street.

     As he walks, he hums John Coltrane's "Central Park West" -- not for power this time, but simply because he's walking along Central Park West and likes the song.  It's also a beautiful day. Here at the heart of the city it is clear that autumn encroaches:  Central Park is across the street, dense with color-shifting trees.  Their whispers speak to the part of Manhattan that was more, once, than just concrete and cars; the island has always been here, after all, crossroads for many peoples, and those millennia of commerce were enough to form the building blocks of the living entity that it is now.  But mostly, he just likes that rustling sound, and the flickers of color and movement, and the faint whiff of chemical sugars forming and breaking down within the leaves.  Something about that scent, and the wind's occasional brisk sharpness, speaks to him.

     There is the lightest of touches upon the part of him that is more than a man.  Just a ping, to get his attention.  "You wanna focus, or you gonna just keep spacing out about the pretty pretty trees, Mr. I Was Bebop Before It Was Cool?"

     They've all figured out that words work better than thoughts.  They are one city, the six of them, and if they ever need to, they can function as a single brain and heart and will -- but doing that is as overwhelming as it is thrilling.  New York isn't supposed to be any single thing, see; the distinct characters of its boroughs are part of its strength.  More personally, Manny's probably never going to be super-comfortable with letting his fellow parts of the city into his head, because he's got enough going on in there already. 

     But he's right in reminding Manny to focus.  "Just getting into the spirit," Manny replies, waiting for a gap in the traffic before trotting across the street.  Then he vaults the low stone wall around the edge of the park.  It's a twelve-foot drop beyond, but he manages it easily enough, landing in a crouch in a wooded thicket already carpeted in red and gold leaves.  Doesn't even make his knees twinge.  Nothing can hurt New York, in New York, except New York. 

     Well.  And one other thing.

     He moves forward at a brisk Midtown pace, pushing aside the branches of small trees as gently as he can so as not to damage them.  He starts finding white tendrils almost immediately.  Just small patches here and there:  three wigglers on a broad, still-green sycamore leaf, one on the tree's gnarling roots nearby.  A patch shaped like a handprint growing atop a hooded garbage can; that one's especially nasty, positioned as it is to infect anyone who actually tries to deposit their litter in the can instead of just tossing it somewhere.  "Rude," Manny murmurs.  He's getting rid of the patches as he passes them, just by touching the wood or ground or metal near each cluster and letting a little of "Central Park West" riff through his mind and down his arm and out through his fingers.  Earworms can be handy.  Good for killing other wormlike things.

     (Not so long ago, it would have taken everything Manny had to get rid of these things.  He had to replace all his credit cards after symbolically buying all the real estate around a particular rock in Inwood Park.  Now, however, the city is whole -- and these tendrils, tenacious as they are, are tourists from another urban locale who've overstayed their welcome.  It's easy to obliterate them, but it's more important to find the bus they came in on, and deal with that.)

     "Red alert!" says Padmini -- Queens -- suddenly.  She tugs on the shared part of their consciousness, projecting an image onto it that is stunning in its precision:  a three-dimensional and topographical map, with a moving cursor at its center and a GPS coordinate meter in the bottom corner.  Padmini abruptly zooms them in on the cursor, and then she presents them with a simplified view through her own eyes.

     There, jolting slightly as Padmini runs, is their quarry.  To most other people in Central Park, the young man who slips down a leaf-thick hill and then scrabbles his way over a tumbled, mossy pile of bedrock is just another cross-country runner, or maybe a parkour practitioner with a greater love of natural settings than most.  He's a lanky Indian-looking guy, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt -- but through the lens of Padmini's vision, Manny sees the rest.  The guy's got patches of white fronds all over him, and as he runs they waft back like long hair which just happens to be growing from his forearms and shins and ass.  Manny's used to this, people who look like yeti crabs, however horrible it is.  Far worse is the tendril which projects from the back of the young man's neck, thick and veined in a disturbingly umbilical way, forming a long white cord which twists up and out of sight amid the trees.  It stretches up into the sky, Manny knows from three months' experience, attenuating until it disappears from human eyesight with distance -- but wending southward before it does.  They all know where that cable terminates.

     "Mike check," says Veneza, and Manny's mental eye shifts to her view.  She's standing under one of the park's stone bridges, her vision bouncing a little as she crouches to stretch out her ankles.  Getting ready to run.  Manny feels her excitement as the tendril-covered man comes into view, jogging over a grassy hill covered in early-afternoon sunbathers.  But who's he kidding?  They all enjoy this.  "That's it.  Come to mamãe.  Drive him like a li'l doggie on the range, Queeny McQueenyface."

     "I can't believe you mixed like three metaphors in ten seconds," Padmini replies -- but she zigs left, across one of the roads of the park.  Manny catches his breath as she veers into a bike lane, because Central Park bikers all think they're in the Tour de France, but in the same moment he feels her latch into the bikers' sense of hurry and entitlement, drawing their power into her legs.  Her pace speeds up sharply, until she's nearly flying down a sloping sidewalk, veering now and again to move around walkers and a small crowd near a pretzel vendor.

     "That's the Jersey in me.  Metaphors are our pork roll."

"Your what?"

"Pork roll. Look it -- wait, shit, hang on."

     Tendril man has seen Veneza and stopped, halfway down the grassy hill.  It's eerie to Manny how still he is.  After all the running and climbing he's done, he should be out of breath, shoulders heaving, dripping sweat, but he isn't.  It's just like the other cases of this they've encountered in the past few weeks; they're running on something other than human power.  These tendril-people aren't avatars, however; they're more like drones, sent forth by some other malevolent consciousness and endowed with supernatural power only temporarily, and for their task.  And if they don't catch this poor guy before that power gets done using him --  Well.  Manny picks up the pace. 

     Padmini skids to a halt.  (A man nearby does a double-take, then nods in a grudgingly impressed way at her athleticism.)  "Shit.  He's going to bolt, isn't he?"

     In lieu of any reply, they all see Tendril Man bolt.  He jumps off the steeper side of the rocky hill -- a ten-foot drop; Manny really hopes the poor guy was in shape before he got drafted as a spectral conduit for a hostile extradimensional essence, or he's going to feel that in the morning. Then Tendril Man takes off, moving with truly impressive speed up a paved hill-path.

     "FUCK," two of them think.  (Manny doesn't curse, but he empathizes.)  They all take off running too.

     Tendril Man is running toward a big, round building at the top of the hill.  Its vendor doors are shut and there are only a few people hanging around near it, but abruptly he zigs toward a big wooden gate labeled PERFORMER ENTRANCE -- and vaults it, with the ease of a master gymnast.  Manny might be able to think of a way over it too, if he gives himself a minute; surely there is some quintessentially cityish concept, like elevators for tall buildings, that he can harness to grant himself the ability to jump like that.  In the fluster of the moment, however, he can't think of anything.  Gotta work on that, do better at having a "jumping" construct ready to go under duress.

     In lieu of leaping, however, he manages to remember the grating sound of garbage trucks barrelling down the street at oh dark thirty in the morning, usually with wonky transmissions and brakes that screech loudly enough to set off car alarms.  Manny's seen several of them scrape or bang into cars without bothering to stop -- and so he draws into himself the desperate need to hurry and finish a shift, the hulking size and diesel-fueled strength of the trucks, the cheerful pragmatism of the tough workers who chuck heavy bags and kick rats with unflappable equanimity.  And as Manny runs at the gate, the world blurs a little and an eyewatering stench surrounds him, and he finds it almost impossible to care about collateral damage because he's got a job to do, come on, come on, let's go...

     He remembers enough of himself to dip his shoulder a little as he hits the gate.  It only looks like wood; underneath, there's plenty of metal, and he sees that the gate has an electronic number-lock.  Probably pretty solid.  But his supernaturally-powered shoulder smashes the gate wide open, actually cracking the whole frame in half, too, and part of the fence beyond it.

     Oops.  Well, he'll make a donation on the website, because now that he's through the gate he sees:  THE DELACOURTE THEATER WELCOMES YOU TO SHAKESPEARE IN THE PARK.

     Tendril Guy is running down the steps of what Manny now sees is a huge open-air amphitheater.  He leaps again, a pretty impressive standing jump onto the stage -- and then he stops abruptly.  There's a set being deconstructed here; Shakespeare in the Park only runs during the summer months, so someone's in the middle of stripping gigantic rolls of fake grass off the stage floor.  And now, from within a huge prop built to look like a small apartment building, the avatar of New York steps forth to confront their enemy.

     He's calling himself "Neek," these days -- a phonetic pronunciation of the initials for New York City.  He hasn't told them his real name.  Manny's not sure it matters anyway; doesn't Manny, of all people, understand that they are no longer who they were?  The knowledge and joy and danger of eight million people has found its focus in Neek, and like any of their fellow great cities, this makes him strange.  São Paulo was the same, whenever Manny had time and peace enough to study him: a young-old man who radiated urbane cynicism and eerie wisdom all at once.  Hong Kong too.  Maybe this is the difference between those who represent boroughs or neighborhoods, and those who are whole cities in themselves. 

     Or maybe it's just Neek.  "Yo, man, take a breath," he says to Tendril Guy, as he slouches out of shadow.  "Touch some, uh, astroturf.  You keep letting that shit run you, won't be anything of you left."

     Tendril Guy immediately turns to run, but by this point Manny has reached the other side of the stage.  Veneza is in the ampitheater, trotting toward them from the other direction, and from somewhere backstage they can hear Padmini cursing and shoving something heavy aside, because apparently backstage is a mess amid the set breakdown.  Unless Tendril Guy can fly -- and Manny puts nothing past the Woman in White -- then he's got nowhere left to run.

     It's a dangerous time, though.  In the past, whenever they've cornered one of her minions...  Tendril Guy backs up, looks around, starts to get tense.  Manny tries to think up a construct, and finds himself looking around.  At the stage.

     Neek's gaze flicks to him, and the little smile on his face widens.

     "Two cities," he declares suddenly, spreading his arms wide and raising his voice.  The Delacourte's acoustics are perfect, of course, designed to facilitate an outdoors theatrical performance.  "Both alike in dignity!  In fair Manhattan where we lay our scene."

     Of course the theater absorbs this slightly-fudged homage, echoes it, amplifies it, and sends back a reverberation of energy:  the faint murmurs and anticipation of a crowd, a lilt of music from a nonexistent orchestra.  For just a fleeting moment Manny can almost see the suggestion of bodies in the amphitheater seats, shadowy heads that turn to each other or crane their necks or flip through Playbills.  Ready to be enraptured.

     Manny finds himself grinning -- but then he panics a little as Neek raises his eyebrows pointedly, because Manny doesn't have any Shakespeare memorized.  But Broadway is only a few dozen blocks away; maybe he can use that instead?  He sifts quickly through the grab-bag of random quotes in his head. Can't think of an actual line from an actual play, but it's a direct reference, so he clears his throat awkwardly and sings:  "They say the neon lights are bright on Broadway.  There might be city magic in the air."

     Stage lights, multihued but mostly white, appear above the seats.  The lights aren't real. Manny can see most of the lighting equipment disassembled and stacked up to one side of the stage. Tendril Guy flinches suddenly and violently, staggering back.  Steam rises as Tendril Guy raises his arms defensively, the tendrils on him whipping and hissing wildly as the city's light begins to burn them away.

     They have to keep it going.  Veneza giggles and runs down the steps, leaping to a crouch as if she's acting out some play or another, and sings, "Now is the time to seize the day!  Answer the call and don't delay!  New York can be righted, boroughs united; let us seize the day!" In response, loose cables curled on one side of the stage suddenly come to life, whipping around Tendril Guy's legs to keep him from running again.

     One of the doors on the prop building slams open dramatically. Beyond it they can see Padmini pushing aside a rack of clothing that persistently keeps trying to roll toward her.  She manages it, stumbles out, and glowers around at all of them.  Veneza gestures frantically for her to take up the thread; Neek spreads his hands too in the universal sign of Come on, hurry up.  Finally, with a little growl, Padmini snaps, "Oh, fine.  'Immigrants:  We get the job done!'" This doesn't seem to have any effect at first, but then Padmini shoves a large, heavy-looking wooden desk out of the way with ease; she's much stronger, now. Enough to get this job done.

     As performances go, it's all terrible.  Slapdash, random, corny; Manny won't be surprised if in the morning they all receive a clipped-out review from a theater magazine that exists only in some alternate reality, panning all of them for defiling the stage.  But as a construct, drawing on the power of three boroughs and the delight of a thousand audiences, from the Delacourte to the Fringe Festival and back, it's exactly what they need. 

     Then, his voice muffled by his own extradimensional growths, Manny hears Tendril Guy -- or maybe the guy within the pelt of tendrils -- try to speak.  "A-all the w-world..." he murmurs, his voice thick, too deep, flanged in a way that sounds like bad special effects.  He's steaming all over, now.  Ah, and at last Manny sees the tendrils burning away, peeling off and curling into nothingness.  As he lowers his arms, Manny sees that he's sweaty-faced and visibly exhausted... but he is smiling.  He turns to face the whispering, flickering audience, and all at once Manny can feel him.  Tendril Guy is part of New York, again -- and he knows it, and some part of his soul rejoices with the knowledge.  Probably helps that the guy is a former theater kid himself; Manny can feel that, now that the Enemy's influence has been broken. Neek grins at Manny; he can feel it, too.

     So then Neek goes over to Tendril Guy, leans close, and blows on the now-shriveled cord attached to the back of his neck.  It snaps free as if Neek's breathed fire onto it, uttering a faint creel of inhuman pain -- and then the cord is snatched away upwards, into the darkening evening sky.  Manny catches a fleeting hint of sinuous movement against the clouds, southward, and then it is gone.

     Tendril Guy, who is now just Some Guy, beams at Neek.  Then he steps back and lifts a finger.  "All the world's a stage," he says again -- clearly this time, in a pleasant baritone, projecting with the ease of long practice.  "And all the men and women merely players!  They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages."

     He does the whole monologue then, perfectly.  Not that Manny would know if he got it right -- but the Delacourte does, and as Manny glances out at their whispery audience, he sees smiles, hears soft "ahs" and giggles of approval with every precisely-enunciated line.  As Some Guy finishes, applause breaks out, echoing with unreality but loud and enthusiastic.  The artist formerly known as Tendril Guy beams in delight and extends his hands for Manny and Neek to take.  They do.  Padmini, her pique fading now that she's no longer fighting furniture, shakes her head and takes Neek's hand; Veneza giggles and runs up the steps to take Manny's.  The applause goes on as, uh, Theater Guy leads them in first one bow, and then another.  Someone in the audience whistles.  Someone else yells "Encore!"  It's intoxicating.  They bow a third time.  As at last the applause fades and the lights start to go dark... Theater Guy collapses, between them.

     "Oh, no," Veneza says, her delight vanishing.  "Please, not again -- "

     "He's fine," Manny says, crouching by Theater Guy, though he checks Theater Guy's neck-pulse and breathing just to be sure.  It's there, though the guy's skin is clammy with sweat.

     "Close," Neek says.  He's looking up at the sky, after the ugly cable that had been attached to the guy's neck.

     It's only the second time that they've successfully rescued one of these agents of the Woman in White, sent forth from her bastion in Staten Island to... well, Manny's not exactly sure what their purpose is.  Are they superspreaders meant to reinfect the city, and thus help her regain the foothold that she lost three months before?  Are they drones of a sort, reconnoitering enemy territory?  Either way, the result is always the same, if Manny and his fellow avatars don't catch the tendril-bearer and cleanse them in time:  the person burns out and dies, all of their strength used up by the alien intelligence that has worn them like a puppet.

     Not this time, though.  "Let's get him outside," Manny says, grunting as he pulls Theater Guy up.  "Easier for an ambulance to get to him out there."

     "But what about after?" Padmini asks.  She comes over to help him wrestle the guy into a sitting position, so that Manny can pull him into a fireman's carry.  "Uff, he's heavy!  But if somebody calls his family and they take him back to Staten Island, will she just take him over again?  What if she's mad at him for getting caught by us?"

     "It's fine," Neek says.  He's still turned away from them, facing southward.  There is an odd note in his voice, however, which makes Manny frown at his back.  Neek sounds... distracted.  "Most of the folks on Staten are fine.  The ones who commute here lose their little wigglers when they step off the ferry, unless they've got one of those bigger cable-things attached to them.  Grow 'em back on the after-work ride.  They don't even notice."

     "Remember what it was like when she was all over the city," Manny adds.  "All those people she... infected.  She used them if she needed them and ignored them otherwise.  They became part of her, but they didn't seem to mean anything to her, any more than..."  He shakes his head, to the degree that he can with Theater Guy on his shoulders.  "Individual hairs on a person's head.  How often do we notice when we lose one, or when it grows back?"

     "We shouldn't let him go back at all," Padmini says, scowling.  "We know she's doing something to all those people.  He's safer here!"

     Neek focuses enough to turn and eye her over his shoulder.  His tone is mild and his expression neutral, but his words have a sharp point.  "You gonna spring for an apartment for him somewhere?  Let him go crash with ya auntie and the fam?"

     "No, but -- "

     "I know a good spot under the Williamsburg."  Neek's relentless.  "Probably still good even with all the cleanup and construction since the bridge broke.  Warm on cold nights, hard to see so the kids and assholes don't fuck with you.  We could dump him there."

     Padmini sets her jaw.  "Fine.  Point made.  But Staten Islanders are still people, and we should try to help them."

     Veneza, who was peering into the orchestra pit in fascination, turns back to them, plainly uneasy at the tension she's picking up.  "We are.  But I mean, Pads... that's not really our job."

     Now they all fall into an uncomfortable silence, because sometimes the truth is hard.  And the truth is that the avatar of Staten Island is not here with them today because she has rejected them, and thrown her people to the interdimensional wolves by doing so. They are all of them New York... but they are not Staten Island, not anymore. Theater Guy's ultimate fate isn't theirs to make.

     "Ay yo fuck that bird," Neek says, scowling at Veneza, who blinks in surprise.  "Her and Squigglebitch tried to kill us, remember?  Tried to eat you.  Let Staten Island die."

     Padmini stares at him.  "Wait.  What?  Let a whole borough die?  Are you crazy?"

     "Fuck them."  Neek gestures sharply, southward.  "Everyone on Staten Island.  Buncha racist redneck Republican dumbasses, nobody needs them.  They're the reason she's still here, hanging over this city like a fucking guillotine.  I'm tired of stressing about this shit!  Let her flyover country ass die with the rest of them nobody-nothing sons of bitches."

     Manny flinches, despite himself.  That's beyond harsh.  And something about this little rant feels... off.  He's known Neek for all of three months, but in that time Neek has been a quiet and low-key leader of their group, unusually even-keeled for the personification of a city known for its aggression.  Are you okay?  rises to Manny's lips, but he refrains from saying it, aware that it could sound patronizing.  He's wondering it, though.

     All at once different lights snap on within the theater -- not stage lights, but all the rest. Padmini frowns at this.  "Hey, we don't need these anymore.  Which one of you -- "

     Abruptly a piercing electronic alarm sounds throughout the theater, and the lights all turn a startling, awful red.

     "What the shit?"  Neek says.  He blinks as if dazed, turning to stare up at the lights -- and then he stiffens.  "Manny.  You doing that?"

     Manny can barely hear him over the noise.  "No, why would I?  Can't you stop it?"  Neek is New York.  He has better control over the city's power than any of them... but all of a sudden, the city feels strange. Sluggish and reluctant, when Manny gently urges it to shut off the alarm. It's responsive, but unreliable and slow in a way Manny's never noticed before.

     And to Manny's surprise, Neek takes a step back, his very posture radiating unease.  "I... can't.  Nothing's happening. What the fuck."  He shakes his head.

     "Yo, uh, we should go," Veneza says, bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet.  "If that's a break-in alarm -- I mean, we did break in, but -- "

     The Delacourte sits the middle of Central Park, in one of the city's toniest neighborhoods, and is the site of one of its most popular attractions.  "Out," Manny snaps, when it becomes clear that Neek has been so thrown by the situation that he's not reacting quickly enough. "Now."

     Veneza's already moving, running to the edge of the stage.  Manny follows her as quickly as he can with Theater Guy, and Padmini grabs Neek, dragging him along when he doesn't move fast enough.  "Cover your faces!" she cries -- and, yeah, if the city's magic suddenly isn't helping them anymore, that's a good idea.  But Manny can't, unless he wants to drop Theater Guy, who's been through enough.

     There are people milling around in front of the Delacourte, mostly looky-loos reacting to the continuous beeeeeeep of the alarm, but Manny sees how many of them have smartphones in hand.  It can't be helped.  He crouches and carefully sets Theater Guy on a patch of soft grass, and catches the eye of an older lady who is staring at all of them.  "Call 911," he says, with as much urgency as he can.  They can't stop people from filming them fleeing the scene of an apparent break-in, but maybe the sight of someone in distress will distract most of the onlookers.  "This man is hurt and needs an ambulance.  I don't know what happened to him, he just collapsed."

     The lady gasps and starts punching at her phone.  Veneza grabs Manny, tugging so he'll leave Theater Guy there on the ground.  He doesn't want to.  If the cops arrive first, there's a strong chance they'll arrest Theater Guy for the break-in.  If he could just make sure the paramedics arrive first, and that the cops think the alarm is just a mechanical error...  He touches the ground next to his knee and reaches into it, groping for the feel of city power --

     He finds echoes of old audience frustration and annoyed staff and prematurely shutdown vendor services... but these energies will not move in response to his will. What's there feels different from all the other times he's ever used city power -- clotted, somehow. 

     "Dude," Veneza says, giving him a hard yank.  They can hear sirens outside the park, coming closer.  "Come on, man, I ain't doing Rikers for you!"

     Grinding his teeth in frustration, Manny lets Veneza pull him away. They book it for Central Park West again, zigging southward first since there are woods and rock hills in that direction that can obscure their route for anyone trying to put them on TMZ.

       In their wake, the Delacourte's alarm blares until sirens drown it out.

TWWM Deleted Scene 1 by N. K. Jemisin is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.

[enjoythesilentworld]

Wille's Month - Riding

day 9 @youngroyals-events xx thank you for all you do.

“You’re sure you don’t want a ride from me instead?”

Wille really enjoys his morning. 

rating: T (cw implied sexual content... duh)

read below the cut or on ao3.

A very loud beeping jolts Simon out of sleep. He scrunches his face and burrows further into the pillow, trying to drown out the sound. The warmth next to him shifts away and there’s a chill that runs down his back at the morning air on his newly exposed skin. Even worse, he’d been having a very nice dream, and was interrupted right before the good part. 

“Sorry, love.” Wille’s sweet voice reaches his ears, much more pleasant than the alarm which is now, thankfully, shut off. 

The sound reminds him that he can fix both problems quite easily. Not only is Wille perfectly warm, he was also the main star of Simon’s dream. He reaches out blindly, wrapping his arms around Wille’s waist and pulling him closer. Though he has yet to open his eyes, he knows Wille’s body just as well as his own and can easily find the soft skin of his neck to kiss. 

“I’ve got to get ready for work, my love,” Wille whispers, brushing curls out of Simon’s face, who shakes his head and latches his legs around Wille, as well. “Simon.” 

Grudgingly, he peeks his eyes open just a sliver to look up at Wille, who’s already smiling down at him with a loving gaze. “Get some more sleep,” he says, then begins to move away. And that simply won’t do, Simon has other plans. He lets Wille untangle himself from Simon’s koala-like grip, but reaches out for him again, catching him by the arm. Wille turns back and plants a soft kiss to the inner skin of Simon’s palm, then his forehead, before slipping away. As his beautiful boyfriend begins to clank around in the bathroom, Simon flops back onto the bed and thinks. He kicks the rest of the sheets off and poses himself just so, then he waits. 

When Wille re-enters the room, humming happily, he barely spares Simon a glance, already browsing the closet for an outfit. He’s a buzz of energy, flitting around the room excitedly. This was pretty typical for Wille, ever the morning person, but Simon knows today is special. Still, Simon also knows he’d really liked that dream, dammit. 

“Baby,” he purrs, rolling onto his side, “come here.” 

It’s as if he’s said nothing, though, because Wille turns around, holding up two ties and asks, “Which do you think is better?”

Simon tries not to look too exasperated. He’s laid himself all pretty on the bed and Wille is asking him about ties.

“The right one,” he says, then crawls forward on the bed. “Do you want my help?” 

Wille nods happily and strides forward, handing over the strip of silk. 

“Guess what today is?” Wille asks giddily, practically bouncing on the spot. 

“What’s today, baby?” he indulges, focused on looping the tie around Wille’s neck, being sure to caress the soft skin there as he goes. It’s one of his favorite spots. 

Wille grins wildly and doesn’t even flinch when Simon leans forward to press a lingering kiss on his jaw. “I’m riding the bus to work today.”

Ah, yes. With Wille’s renouncement of his title and officially stepping down from the throne, he was now, technically, a private citizen. Things had been tumultuous and crazy for a while with the press and the royal court, but he had recently received the affirmative that he no longer required security or private transport. Now, Wille was just Wille. He finally had the normal life he’d been hoping for, wishing for his whole life. When they’d gotten the news, Wille had collapsed into Simon’s arms on the couch and cried in relief. Simon had cried, too. Like that last little weight had been lifted, that last little wedge between them removed. 

So, when Wille had been hired for a new job soon after, he’d been ecstatic. He also had not stopped talking about how excited he was to ride the bus. Sure, they rode public transportation together all the time. This, Wille said, was different. It was an everyday, normal thing. Simon understood. In fact, he found it adorable, if not a little ridiculous, that Wille seemed more excited for the bus ride than the actual job. 

“You’re sure you don’t want a ride from me instead of taking the bus?” he teases, giggling softly when Wille makes an affronted noise. 

“Simon,” he pulls back.

“I know, I’m just joking. Unless,” he pauses, reaching out a hand to fiddle with Wille’s belt, “you’d like to ride me before you go?” 

Wille groans and, ever so slightly, leans into Simon’s touch. “You can’t…”

“Can’t what?” Simon asks innocently, tilting his head up from where he’s knelt on the bed before his boyfriend. He leans upwards and presses a kiss to the corner of Wille’s mouth.

“I’ve really got to go,” he mumbles, half lost in a sigh as Simon kisses along his neck, using the tie to pull him closer. Simon just hums in assent, then guides Wille further forward, coaxing him back into bed. He doesn’t get very far, though, because Wille manages to slip out of Simon’s grip again. 

“I love you,” he says, already grabbing shoes and heading towards the kitchen, “so much. And I promise the second I get home tonight I will be all yours.” 

Simon groans softly in slight frustration, but lets him go. Any remaining frustration is quickly dissipated when Wille sends him many happy selfies along his journey. One at the bus stop, one of the bus pulling up in the background, one with the actual bus driver – how he managed that one, Simon does not know – and a final one of him settled in his seat. He looks incredibly happy and proud, and Simon’s heart swells at the sight. It all works out because later that night, Wille returns with a ridiculous amount of stories about the ride to and from work, then happily follows through on his promise. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not responding to someone in rp?

📝 <- to recognize

Also disclaimer this is about to be a very low stakes problem about a very small rp server between friends. If you don’t care then don’t read it’s fine 😂 I just want opinions over something I have some anxiety about. Everyone is in the same age range of about 24-26

Ok, so: basically what it says on the tin, I’m in a small rp server that has nothing to do with fandoms it’s just OCs, mostly dnd stuff. It’s just between me and a couple friends, there has been no serious drama whatsoever and it’s very nice!

We recently added a new member (I’ll call him Blue) who doesn’t have a lot of characters yet, but the handful he does have are… well. Practically all the same character. They have different backstories but all the same personality, which is to say they have none.

Every character of his is entirely neutral all the time, but not as some sort of comedy bit, just as… they are all very Prim And Proper, very intelligent, very unwilling to react to anything at all. No strong emotions about anything even when faced with something extreme like a villain or even a non-evil crazy event. We like to have fun and throw wild dangerous or just funny circumstances at our characters, yet his characters essentially always go 😐 “Well. That happened. Anyways.” And brush it all off… unless Blue thinks he can be The Savior of the day. But if he can’t just shut down the whole event, then his characters go back to being totally checked out and uncaring about any of it. He explains this saying that they’re all used to this kind of thing (though their backstories do say otherwise) and one of them is a god so he especially doesn’t need to react to things.

None of this is really the end of the world, it just makes interacting with his characters very difficult for me and a few others. For instance if I throw a villain in for the day, it’s… kinda hard to actually pose a threat when you have a handful of characters just standing there reacting like they’re on The Office. Similarly it’s harder to form emotional connections between characters if one oc pours their heart out and the other says “Well I’m sorry for your experiences” and brings nothing else to the table. There have been a couple instances as well where my friends and I worry that we’ve upset Blue with how our characters react, but like, if one of ours is a naturally rude and antagonistic person, they are going to be rude and antagonistic. Nobody else has a problem with this bc we all do it for variety and sometimes it’s fun to have a little oc drama! But Blue will have his characters react in a slightly guilt trippy way and then just go silent, sometimes explaining or even complaining out of character that their oc was Just Joking or similar. He hasn’t expressed being upset to us and nobody has had an argument about any of this, but the vibes end up feeling… off.

All of this just makes it hard to interact with Blue’s characters. They’re all The Same, they don’t really involve themselves with the rp in a way that garners reaction, and personally I overthink and worry about possibly upsetting him since we’ve all seen how weird things feel after 1 Antagonist Character says 1 Antagonistic Thing. So if I respond to his characters, I tend to respond more blandly than I do with others. Similarly, he has taken to proposing hypothetical ideas about rp and character interaction and then when I don’t immediately have a good response, he tags me and asks how my characters would react to his. I try my best to respond, really, but because there’s nothing there to bounce off of… it’s hard to come up with a good response! And if the response isn’t good enough Blue seems disappointed with it and just drops the whole idea altogether. This is mainly what fuels my anxiety about it, thinking that I’m not doing good enough while also not being given anything good to work with either.

To be clear I do not think he is being an asshole, At least not on purpose. I think there’s a lot of factors that could explain this and it’s honestly not a crime to just not be “good” at rp. What I’m wanting opinions on is should I be trying harder?? I worry that my effort has been affected by a growing distaste for his characters. He’s a lovely person, I have no beef with him lol, but I think it’s gotten clear that I respond more enthusiastically to the others. It’s not intentional, but it’s what happens bc I feel bad ignoring him altogether especially when he tags me specifically for a reaction. I also don’t know if the classic “omfg just communicate” response is very applicable because honestly I think I WOULD be the asshole for messaging him and saying “hey it’s not that I don’t like you it’s just that your characters are not fun to interact with, fix that!” Even in nicer terms than that haha cause in general offering unsolicited constructive criticism even with the kindest intentions is seen as a bad move.

So… AITA for not responding to Blue as much or as enthusiastically as I do for my other friends? Should I be faking it til I make it or does it not need to be an issue until it becomes one?

TLDR: new member of a small rp server joined and all his characters seem to have no personality and are all the same Perfect Intellectual type. There hasn’t been any serious problem but it is hard to interact with them and I am tending to lean toward bland responses bc I don’t feel like I have anything to work with here. Should I be trying harder or is it not a problem until it’s brought up?

What are these acronyms?