#Full-Sized Digital Scan

[xtruss]

Titanic Scan Reveals Ground-Breaking Details of Ship's Final Hours!

A Detailed Analysis of A Full-Sized Digital Scan of The Titanic Has Revealed New Insight Into The Doomed Liner's Final Hours.

— Rebecca Morelle, Science Editor | Alison Francis, Senior Science Journalist | 8 April 2025

The Digital Scan Shows the Bow Sitting Upright on the Sea Floor

The exact 3D replica shows the violence of how the ship ripped in two as it sank after hitting an iceberg in 1912 - 1,500 people lost their lives in the disaster.

The scan provides a new view of a boiler room, confirming eye-witness accounts that engineers worked right to the end to keep the ship's lights on.

And a computer simulation also suggests that punctures in the hull the size of A4 pieces of paper led to the ship's demise.

The Stern of the Ship, Which Broke Off From the Bow, is Heavily Damaged

"Titanic is the last surviving eyewitness to the disaster, and she still has stories to tell," said Parks Stephenson, a Titanic analyst.

The scan has been studied for a new documentary by National Geographic and Atlantic Productions called Titanic: The Digital Resurrection.

The wreck, which lies 3,800m down in the icy waters of the Atlantic, was mapped using underwater robots.

More than 700,000 images, taken from every angle, were used to create the "digital twin", which was revealed exclusively to the world by BBC News in 2023.

Because the wreck is so large and lies in the gloom of the deep, exploring it with submersibles only shows tantalising snapshots. The scan, however, provides the first full view of the Titanic.

The immense bow lies upright on the seafloor, almost as if the ship were continuing its voyage.

But sitting 600m away, the stern is a heap of mangled metal. The damage was caused as it slammed into the sea floor after the ship broke in half.

The Glass in a Porthole May have been Broken as It Scraped Past the Iceberg

The new mapping technology is providing a different way to study the ship.

"It's like a crime scene: you need to see what the evidence is, in the context of where it is," said Parks Stephenson.

"And having a comprehensive view of the entirety of the wreck site is key to understanding what happened here."

The scan shows new close-up details, including a porthole that was most likely smashed by the iceberg. It tallies with the eye-witness reports of survivors that ice came into some people's cabins during the collision.

A Boiler Room is at the Back of the Bow Where the Ship has Split in Two

Experts have been studying one of the Titanic's huge boiler rooms - it's easy to see on the scan because it sits at the rear of the bow section at the point where the ship broke in two.

Passengers said that the lights were still on as the ship plunged beneath the waves.

The digital replica shows that some of the boilers are concave, which suggests they were still operating as they were plunged into the water.

Lying on the deck of the stern, a valve has also been discovered in an open position, indicating that steam was still flowing into the electricity generating system.

This would have been thanks to a team of engineers led by Joseph Bell who stayed behind to shovel coal into the furnaces to keep the lights on.

All died in the disaster but their heroic actions saved many lives, said Parks Stephenson.

"They kept the lights and the power working to the end, to give the crew time to launch the lifeboats safely with some light instead of in absolute darkness," he told the BBC.

"They held the chaos at bay as long as possible, and all of that was kind of symbolised by this open steam valve just sitting there on the stern."

A Circular Valve - in the Centre of this Image - Is in an Open Position

A new simulation has also provided further insights into the sinking.

It takes a detailed structural model of the ship, created from Titanic's blueprints, and also information about its speed, direction and position, to predict the damage that was caused as it hit the iceberg.

"We used advanced numerical algorithms, computational modelling and supercomputing capabilities to reconstruct the Titanic sinking," said Prof Jeom-Kee Paik, from University College London, who led the research.

The simulation shows that as the ship made only a glancing blow against the iceberg it was left with a series of punctures running in a line along a narrow section of the hull.

A Simulation Calculated the Iceberg Caused a Thin Line of Small Gashes on the Hull

Titanic was supposed to be unsinkable, designed to stay afloat even if four of its watertight compartments flooded.

But the simulation calculates the iceberg's damage was spread across six compartments.

"The difference between Titanic sinking and not sinking are down to the fine margins of holes about the size of a piece of paper," said Simon Benson, an associate lecturer in naval architecture at the University of Newcastle.

"But the problem is that those small holes are across a long length of the ship, so the flood water comes in slowly but surely into all of those holes, and then eventually the compartments are flooded over the top and the Titanic sinks."

Unfortunately the damage cannot be seen on the scan as the lower section of the bow is hidden beneath the sediment.

It Will Take Many Years to Fully Scrutinise the 3D Scan

The human tragedy of the Titanic is still very much visible.

Personal possessions from the ship's passengers are scattered across the sea floor.

The scan is providing new clues about that cold night in 1912, but it will take experts years to fully scrutinise every detail of the 3D replica.

"She's only giving her stories to us a little bit at a time," said Parks Stephenson.

"Every time, she leaves us wanting for more."

[gxhana]

Malfunction (Optimus Prime X Human!Fem Reader)

Summary: A strange Cybertronian signal infiltrates Optimus’s systems, overriding his usual restraint and amplifying his sensory responses. Every sound, every touch, every thought of you sends unbearable waves of pleasure through his frame. He resists at first—but when you touch him, even accidentally, his control snaps.

Warnings: AI corruption, Size Difference, smut, curse words, transformer x human sex, rough sex, rough oral sex (female receiving), overstimulation, brutal thrusting, breeding, full penetration, degradation, forced stretching, desperate Optimus, slight dub con, dirty talk

The strange Cybertronian signal has been affecting Optimus all day, his body tense, his voice thick with static-laced restraint. You notice the way his optics flicker whenever you get too close, the way his massive hands flex as if he’s holding himself back.

"Something… is wrong," he finally confesses, voice strained. "Every sensation is… amplified. You—" His optics darken, tracking the way you shift under his intense gaze. "I cannot focus when you are near."

And then, you make a mistake.

You touch him.

The instant your fingers graze his heated plating, a deep growl erupts from his chassis. His entire frame shudders, and his massive hands shoot out, grabbing you, caging you against him. His optics burn into you, his vents cycling erratically.

"You shouldn’t have done that." His voice is low, almost dangerous, thick with something primal.

Before you can react, he’s lifting you—effortlessly, as if you weigh nothing—pressing you against the cool metal wall of the Autobot base. The size difference is staggering; his body dwarfs yours completely, his massive frame surrounding you, pressing you down, trapping you in his overwhelming presence.

"I can’t stop," he groans, his servo sliding under your clothes, fingers dragging roughly over your bare skin. His touch is hot, desperate, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you. "I need to taste you."

He doesn’t wait for permission.

You gasp as he lowers you, his enormous frame sinking down, positioning you exactly where he wants you. His optics flicker, scanning you with predatory intent as he spreads you open, his thick digits gripping your thighs.

And then—his mouth.

His glossa (Cybertronian tongue) is bigger than it should be, hot and flexible, pressing against your aching heat in long, devastating strokes. The size difference makes everything overwhelming—his sheer power, the way he holds you in place, how easily he could devour you whole if he wanted to.

"So small… so fragile… and yet you take it so well," he groans, voice vibrating through your core.

His grip tightens, his massive hands keeping you spread open as he ravages you, his pace rough, insatiable. His deep growls send shockwaves through your body, his mouth working you open with relentless precision.

He’s too big, too strong, too much, and yet you can’t stop screaming his name.

He doesn’t stop when you come. He doesn’t even slow down. If anything, the taste of you only makes him hungrier. His deep, reverberating purr vibrates through you as he buries his face deeper between your thighs, dragging another orgasm out of you before you’ve even recovered from the first.

"Again," he commands, voice dark and wrecked with need. "You’re not done yet."

Your overstimulated whimpers only make him more desperate, his grip tightening as he devours you, utterly addicted to the sounds you make, to the way you break under his touch.

By the time he finally pulls back, you’re trembling, your body wrecked from the intensity of his mouth. But Optimus isn’t done. Not even close.

His massive fingers stroke over your slick thighs, spreading you wider, his optics dark with hunger. His vents stutter as he towers over you once again, his sheer size pressing down on you.

"That was only the beginning," he growls, his massive form caging you against the wall. "Now… let’s see how much more you can take."

The sheer heat of him makes you shudder. His panel shifts with a mechanical hiss, and fuck, he’s huge. Thick, ridged plating lined with Cybertronian biolights, far too big for a human body—yet he’s determined to make you take it anyway.

"You’re going to stretch for me," he rasps, pressing the tip against your slick entrance, the difference in size making you whimper. "It’s going to hurt, little one… but you’ll take it."

He doesn’t ease in. He forces his way inside.

A strangled cry rips from your throat as his massive shaft pushes in, spreading you wider than should be possible. The stretch is unbearable, your body resisting, but Optimus doesn’t stop. His grip on your hips tightens, pinning you down as he forces every thick inch inside.

"Look at you," he groans, voice laced with raw lust. "So fucking small, struggling to take my cock."

You claw at his plating, nails scratching uselessly against the metal, but he only laughs, a deep, dark sound vibrating through you.

"Hurts, doesn’t it?" he mocks, thrusting another inch inside, making you scream. "You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted to be fucking ruined by me."

The stretch is unbearable, your body too tight, but the pleasure is just as overwhelming. He’s grinding against nerves you didn’t even know existed, forcing your body to adjust to his impossible size.

"Pathetic little human," he growls, voice thick with static-laced pleasure. "Crying like you can’t take it— but look at you. You’re dripping all over my cock, sucking me in like a desperate little whore."

Your mind is spinning, your body overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of being filled so completely. Every slow, brutal thrust forces another choked gasp from your lips.

And then—he starts moving for real.

Optimus doesn’t hold back. Once he’s inside, once he feels the way you squeeze around him, something snaps.

"I’m done being gentle."

His grip tightens, and then he slams into you.

The impact knocks the breath from your lungs, your body jerking against the wall as he drives his cock in deep, his sheer strength keeping you pinned. The brutal stretch is too much, your mind dissolving into raw pleasure as he pounds into you with reckless force.

"Fucking take it," he snarls, thrusting harder, his metal body unyielding, slamming you into the wall with every brutal snap of his hips. "You’re mine. Made to take my cock. Nothing else fucking matters."

His engine roars, his frame shaking with the effort of holding back from completely breaking you. But even as he ruins you, he keeps talking, his deep, growling voice making you clench around him.

"Listen to yourself," he huffs, pressing his forehead against yours, optics locked onto your wrecked expression. "Whimpering, crying— and yet you keep spreading your legs for me. You love this, don’t you? You love being fucking wrecked by something this big."

You can’t even speak. Every rough, punishing thrust sends shockwaves through your body, your nails digging into his plating.

"You were made for this," he groans, his pace brutal, his thick shaft stretching you past your limit. "Made to be fucking bred by me."

That’s what finally breaks you.

Your orgasm slams into you with blinding force, your body spasming around him, clenching so tight he growls, his own movements turning ragged. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow down. He fucks you through it, overstimulating you until you’re sobbing from the pleasure.

"I’m not done," he growls, pressing his forehead against yours. "Not until I’ve filled you. Not until you’re leaking with my transfluid, dripping with proof that you belong to me."

His movements grow desperate, his thrusts turning animalistic, his deep moans vibrating against your skin. He’s close—his vents stuttering, his fingers bruising your skin as he slams into you with reckless force.

"Gonna fill you up," he groans, thrusting deep. "Gonna fucking ruin you."

You’re still shaking from your first orgasm when his final thrust slams inside, his entire frame locking up. His grip tightens, and then—heat.

Liquid metal warmth floods your core as he comes, a deep, wrecked growl tearing from his throat. His overload is violent, his entire frame trembling as he pumps you full, his transfluid so much that it leaks out, dripping down your thighs.

He doesn’t move for a moment, his massive frame shuddering. Then, his grip loosens, and he pulls out, watching with dark optics as his thick release spills from your stretched, ruined hole.

"Look at that," he murmurs, his fingers gathering the mess between your thighs. "So full of me."

Even now, his optics burn with hunger.

"I hope you’re not too tired," he warns, voice dark and dangerous. "Because I’m not nearly finished with you."

[empty-movement]

Chiho Saito’s 1999 Revolutionary Girl Utena Original Illustration Collection

IT’S HERE. IT’S DONE. IT’S FINISHED. NOW…IT’S YOURS. Happy Holidays, my friends.

Vanna here! I have posted some already about this project, and the responses I got, public and otherwise, have been absolutely incredible. Y’all have been reblogging and hyping this before it even finished…I haven’t felt so encouraged about an Utena project since the musicals! (Yes, streams soon, I promise.) You can read the other post to get more details, and catch my post here with more details about the process if you’re interested. The long and short of it?

This is the first artbook I ever scanned. I did it in 2001. In Photoshop, using multiple scans per page that took hours to process. But it was 2001. A half megabyte file that was 1250px wide was considered extremely hardcore and impressive. That’s just always been the business I’m in when it comes to Utena art, you know? 

It’s now the latest artbook I’ve scanned, and so much of the process, and effort involved, is unchanged. What has changed, is the result. Welcome to your new desktop background. Your new phone background. Your new poster print. 

What I’ve done here is attempt to create definitive digitized images of Chiho Saito’s work as offered by this book--I have removed the print moiré of the original scans, and used my literal decades of experience to try and tease out as much information from them as possible. Without being physically in front of the original artwork (which is a thing I’ve had the great fortune to get to do) this is The Most Chiho Saito you are ever going to get. I’ve tried my best to make sure there is a way to get it that works for everyone:

Do you just wanna scope 'em out? Look at some disaster gays? Grab your favorite one or two? This is the path for you! Check out the ‘compressed’ (not very) 10k ‘web friendly’ (not really) copy at the Bibliothèque, the media archiving wing of the Something Eternal forums at Empty Movement*. All the following links are also available from here. Do you want these copies? All of them? Don't just grab them individually, friend. This batch is 375MB and can be downloaded as a zip of the individual files here on our Google Drive.

Do you like digital archiving? Are you looking for a copy that preserves the archival quality of the effort but sits nice and comfy in a single file? This is for you. A minimally compressed 10k, 513MB version worked into a PDF is now up, shiny and chrome, on the Internet Archive. Do you like the idea of the minimal compression, but want the individual files in a zip? Yep I did that too, here's the drive link.

Are you looking to print these in a larger size? This is probably the only reason on Earth you’d ever want them, and yet a bunch of you are going to go straight for these. Here are the zero-compression JPG full size copies, most of them are 15k across, like simply a ridiculous size. Pick your fave and download it from our Google Drive! 

I am genuinely really proud of this work.** I was able to tease out so much new detail from these…her incredible layering techniques, the faintest brush of her highlights, and the full range of her delicate hand at whites and blacks… details commonly lost in digitization. I sincerely hope you find something here that you’re looking for, as an artist looking for inspiration, as a weeb looking for a desktop, as an archiver excited to see incredible 90s manga artwork saved forever in the digital realm. I feel like I have already said so much about them, and could keep going, but you know what? This work speaks for itself. Enjoy, use, explore, and definitely tell us what you think!

We love y’all. ~ Vanna & Yasha

* AHEM ASTERISK AHEM

You might be wondering what any of that is. Something Eternal? Biblewhatawhat??? EmptyMovement.com? You might even have done a double take at the word ‘forum.’ And you should!!!

I have a confession. This artbook was my ‘side project’ as I worked on this, *the main project.* For a couple years I’ve been banging around with a new domain, and originally I had other plans for it, but Elon Musk ruined my Twitter and Discord is well along on its way to enshittification, and well….we joke on the Discord a lot about ‘reject modernity, embrace forums’ and you know what? We’re right. So Yasha and I are putting our money where our mouths are once again, and doing something insane. We are launching, in 2023, a website forum. Obviously, this is not the official ‘launch’ per se, but I cannot announce the artbook without directing you to the forum, since it sits on the attached very cool gallery system. Oops! Told on myself. Another post more focused on the forum will be forthcoming, but if you are just that motivated to get in right away, you absolutely can! (This will help stagger new arrivals anyway, which is good for us!) If you would rather wait for the ‘official’ launch, by all means that’s coming, including a lengthy screed about how and why we’re doing this. In either case, remember: this is a couple weebs trying to make internet magic happen, we are not website developers by trade. Give us grace as we iron things out and grow into this cool new website thingie…hopefully along with some of you! :D

If you do join up, naturally, there is a thread about this project!

** If you like this kind of content, consider helping us pay for it! We do have a Patreon! If you’re wanting to use these in some public-facing distributive way, all we ask is for credit back to Empty Movement (ohtori.nu or emptymovement.com, either will work.) 

I would like to say ‘don’t just slap these files on RedBubble to get easy money’ but I know that saying this won’t effectively prevent it. Y’all that do that suck, but you’re not worth letting it rain on the rest of this parade. :)

[mizutsugi]

Hiii!

May I please request a Hannibal x reader fic, preferable female or gn where the reader is a full-on insomniac. Reader is a full-on workaholic (literally can be anything, author, painter, lawyer, idk) so when they start staying over at Hannibal's every now and then, the first time he wakes up to reader no being in bed is SCARY for him. Because what if she's snooping around his house and finds his basement?

Anyway, it just turns out she's in the dining room, bathed in the bright blue light of her computer screen working. So Hannibal needs to coax her back to bed.

Thank youuuu

3 am 💻 (hannibal x reader)

↳request!

↳word count: 1,439

↳cw: sfw, gn reader, mentions of taking a pill

↳a/n: gahhh wait! i see your vision!!! i feel like he would act chill but be freaking tf out on the inside... thank you so so much for your request! hope you like :) <3

Your relationship with Hannibal had grown to the point where, after a hardy dinner with an endless supply of rich wine that slowed your senses, he would urge you to stay the night instead of drive home. He was still a gentleman, and would occasionally offer to drive you back, but after he really took a liking to you there was no point. You also would make no effort to argue with spending another night in his downright luxurious king size goose feather bed with pressed silk sheets, huddled up against his warmth. 

Tonight, you were wrapped up in said silk sheets like a cocoon, back pressed to Hannibal’s chest as he slept soundly. You could feel the gentle push of his chest everytime he took a small breath, and it was quite comforting. What wasn’t comforting, though, was the fact that you were wide awake at- you glanced over your shoulder at the bedside table, peering at the digital clock- 3:28 am. You sighed. You sometimes grappled with insomnia, and as a defense lawyer you knew your time was never truly your own. Your mind would usually race with thoughts about checking your inbox, peeling over your current cases, and researching until your mind went numb and eyes couldn’t physically remain focused. You absolutely adored your job and the opportunity it gave you to represent the law, something so incredibly important to you, but at the same time… you knew that your career choice came with a price (outside of law school tuition). 

You couldn’t keep your current case, in particular, out of your mind. Your endless stream of thoughts were urging you to rush to your laptop downstairs and re-examine the file of evidence for your client. You realized that, despite how impossibly warm and comfortable you felt in your cocoon of expensive and amazingly soft sheets, you had to get up and go through your documents. You weren’t getting sleep anyways, right? Might as well make the lost time worth it.

You slowly, ever so delicately, slid out of bed, making extra sure not to wake Hannibal. You let your feet lightly graze the floor before stepping down, walking on the tips of your toes out of the bedroom. You slightly shivered at the cool air beyond the cozy bed, feeling goosebumps rise in your exposed flesh. You made your way quietly out of the room, then down the staircase praying that his old Baltimore home wasn’t too creaky. Luckily for you, it wasn’t, and you were able to fumble your way through the dark house before landing in the kitchen, cold tiles beneath your soles. You flicked on a lamp on the far side of the kitchen aisle, where you had (rather strategically) left your laptop. You hopped on to one of the leather barstools and opened the lid of your computer, feeling the harsh white light of the screen on your unadjusted eyes. You squinted, quickly typing in your laptop before breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of all the files you needed already being open in separate tabs. You worked for a while, scanning through each document thoroughly and pulling up a separate page to write all your notes in. 

About 20 minutes later, Hannibal had stirred awake. He immediately felt the cold of the room, and almost instantly noticed the lack of your presence in his bed. He could see the faintest of golden light peeking through the exposed doorway, and he knew you were up. He was always worried this moment would come- a night where you didn’t drink enough to knock yourself out into a deep sleep, and your naturally curious nature would lead you to hopping out of bed and rummaging around his house. You weren’t rude in the slightest, obviously, so you wouldn’t be doing it to be nosy. Maybe you wanted a glass of water, but found that the tray was out of ice and you needed to get another tray from the freezer in the basement. Maybe you would hear something down there and get worried, and would follow the sound down into a place you were never supposed to see. Though he had intentions of letting you know him completely one day, it wasn’t to be a day anytime soon… especially not while you still served the court of law. 

He was torn between what to do. The last thing he wanted to do was harm you- he had truly grown fond of you- but if you found the skeletons in his closet, he would simply have no choice. His appetite would always come first. He stood up and opened his neatly organized beside table, finding a scalpel resting near the edge of the drawer by the handle. He grabbed it and tucked it into the sleeve of his sleep shirt, holding it there discreetly with his palm. He stealthy made his way down the stairs and into the living room, following its path to the source of the light. That’s when he heard something- the familiar sound of you typing away at your keyboard, plastic keys being pressed down at an impossibly fast pace. He took a small breath, composing himself to release his tension. He looked around before glancing at his couch, and tucked the slender blade he was carrying deep into the crevice of one of the smooth cushions before making his way into the illuminated kitchen. 

“Y/N.” He called to you, causing you to nearly jump in surprise. 

“Oh my god, Hannibal…” You clutched a hand to your chest, taken off guard but smiling at his appearance as he stood by the doorway, calmly watching you. “Sorry… I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Of course not, dear.” He was wearing his classic maroon sleep shirt with dark linen pants, and your heart softened as he offered you a warm smile. “I was merely worried when I heard you on your laptop. It’s nearly four in the morning.” 

“I know, I know…” You said, partly ashamed. You looked back at the page, which was bathing your tired eyes in harsh white littered with tiny black lettering that looked, admittedly, a bit manic and unorganized. “I just couldn’t sleep, and then I thought about work, and…”

“I understand. However, whatever it is, I am sure it can wait for tomorrow morning. I have something to help you sleep.” He stated, watching you as you hesitated, sighing before eventually caving and bringing your delicate fingers to the screen before pulling it down and shutting your laptop. 

You slowly peeled yourself off the tall chair, hissing in pain as your joints creaked at the movement. Hannibal looked at you sympathetically, assured you hadn’t seen anything he needed to worry about, before waiting for you to cross the kitchen and join him. You walked to his side before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, giving it a few rubs with his slender hands. 

“Let’s get you to bed.” He muttered, walking you back to his room. He allowed you to lean on him slightly as you finally felt exhaustion start to course through your body. He stopped you on the edge of the stairs, and as you swayed slightly with barely open eyes, he swept his hands under your legs and tucked you into his chest, now holding you up with his forearms and making his way up the stairs. You smiled lazily, allowing him to carry your bridal style back to sleep. Man, he’s strong, you thought to yourself. He layed you back down on the plush bed, allowing your limbs to untangle from him and flunk onto the soft fabric beneath you. He climbed in beside you, kicking off his slippers next to the edge of the bed and digging through his bedside drawer for some hydroxyzine to help you stay asleep once you dozed off. He offered you the pill, and you lightly took it from his hand. You placed the pill on your tongue before he held a glass of water to your lips, allowing you to tilt your head back before letting the liquid flood your mouth. You swallowed the pill, and after he placed the glass back down, you snuggled up against him. You pulled yourself into his chest, already feeling 10 seconds away from sleep. He brought his fingers to your delicate cheek, brushing stray strands of hair off it and allowing you to cuddle up to him. Relief came over the both of you for two opposite reasons, but either way, you both were able to contently slip into sleep without any issues this time.

↳a/n: thank you so much for reading! keep them requests coming since i'm home for the holidays...and bored lol

thank you again to anon for the request too!

[alltheboysandgirlsiloved]

How did you feel, mrs. Bowman, when you realized that you are now a mother of three and one of your sons doesn't know what it's like to have a parent? You catch glimpses of it. It's in his stance when he stands in the kitchen's door, watching the cake with burning candles on the table, and his eyes ask "is it for me", but his lips are sealed. He doesn't ask, you don't answer. His love for you is quiet, always will be. Awkward in his casualness, every evening he helps you cook, and pretends he knows what he's doing.

How did you feel, Brandon, when you realized that your younger brother is no longer a child? It hits you at random, in the middle of the grocery store. You lost Darius between the long shelves and instinctively went looking for him in the toy alley, only to find him with his eyebrows furrowed, eyes scanning the fruit on the display. His mind wanders, you can tell, his vision somewhere where your experience doesn't reach. You watch as his shoulders tense momentarily at the noise behind his back, only to relax minutes later. He turns around, your eyes meet his, you see it for a split second - how there's a bridge between the two of you - and then he blinks, and his eyes are shadowed with innocence again. You realize then how much your brother tries to be a child.

How did you feel, Mr. Gutierrez, when you noticed that your daughter's family grew in size? She has always been a child rich in love, ready to gift her smile and joy and affection to anyone around her. Family though, was always special to her. One of a kind. Now, she has two families and both of them evoke slightly different feelings in her. How did you feel, mr. Gutierrez, when you noticed the heartache of being separated from her found family on your daughter's face? How did you feel when you realized that she relates safety with them these days? You thought then - your past with your daughter would never sate the hunger for love in her stomach.

How did you feel, Mrs. Faduola, when you asked your daughter if she wanted to run a charity marathon and she flinched? You find her later, curled up in the corner of a sofa with a sketchbook in her hands. She notices you, she is so keen these days, but makes no motion to invite you closer. Long minutes pass before she speaks "I've once ran a marathon to save someone's life," and her lips wobble, and she adds "running is difficult now" and you know that her future as an athlete is no more. She leaves the room not long after that, sketchbook opened, and each page is marked with a hint of claws and teeth. The adrenaline of survival, not competition changed the course of your daughter's blood.

How did you feel, Mrs. Pincus, when you noticed the restlessness coiling in your son's body? He has always been a quiet child, a book in his hands, a tremble of worry in his heart. He sees the world differently now, moves differently. He walks as if there was a splinter in his foot, and he could do nothing to pull it out. Did your breath catch at the back of your throat, Mrs. Pincus, when you saw the tension in your son melt away as he stepped onto the rooftop and saw an open sky? Your son's life was safe - books and shelters - but now he is only alive in a world full of possibilities. It is not fear that shakes his body, it is his heart - anxious still but brave enough to step out.

How did both of you feel, fathers of internet wonder, when you realized that the screen charms your daughter no more? Through her camera she always spun the world into a magical mystery, now she seeks shadows and walks into nights of the unknown. Secrets are darker, she learnt, more sinister than a child's joy can handle. Something changed in that daughter of yours, and her colorful hair is now a contrast to what is lurking in her eyes. You followed her through the digital footsteps she left behind, now she is more careful and covers her tracks. As if worried, she'd be hunted.

[crooked-sketches]

Please read the full post!

Thank you all so much for the amazing response received for this project! To date, an astounding 30 artists have joined! I could never have expected that kind of response so soon, so I have decided to close the signups early and move forward with the next steps!

Who will we be drawing?

The one and only...

India!!!

Introducing, in order, the artists participating!

@aphfroghat  2. @samrut 3. @ashafox 4. @Winteree 5. @doomspiral 6. @maibluemen 7. @the-heaminator 8. @itstokkii 9. @paperuniverse 10. @ama-the-weeb 11. @j-ellyfish 12. @chaoshiki 13. @viktuurishipper96 14. @theheroinewashere 15. @solareeluna 16. @dis-mr-slovenia 17. @noonartist 18. @umahumahumah 19. @f0rgetf0rgetting 20. @ellmovy 21. @loverboylen 22. @Sukno-enjoyer 23. @k3llyb3an 24. @arnikaaa 25. @currybowls-blog 26. @gybas-blog 27. @aurum-cat 28. @dapotatoauthor 29. @spadeset 30. @lecirueblr

Remember, if you no longer wish to participate or need to pull out for whatever reason please dm me!

Wooo! Now what?

I will draw the starter drawing, blur it, and send it along to the first artist in line! Then, when they are finished, they will send the drawing back to me so I can blur it and send it to the next artist. Who will then send it back to me and so on and so forth.

How will we send you the drawing?

Since the quality in Tumblr dm's is, quite frankly, ass, the drawings will be sent to me via either Discord or email. Depending on your preferences please ask me for my @ or email address via DM.

Remember, each artist has two weeks! But you are welcome to send it to me early if you finish before the two weeks are up!

Some quick rules

The minimum required for your drawing is a lined and coloured piece. NO sketches and NO black and white. Fully rendered pieces are very much appreciated, but lined and flat colour is perfectly fine.

Digital art is preferred however if you intend to do traditional art PLEASE make sure that when you send me the picture of your work that it is scanned and not a simple photograph for maximum clarity.

I will be using a canvas size of 3000 x 3500 for the initial drawing, please keep a similar ratio so that they will all fit nicely on the final graphic!

when it is your turn, I will send you a dm on Tumblr or whichever communication method you prefer. If I receive no response/indication that you have seen the message after one week, your turn will be skipped. Sending updates on your progress isn't obligatory but it is appreciated!

My Dm's are always open for questions of any kind! Or even if you just want to stop by and chat!

Finally, a personal message from the mod.

I really cannot thank all of you enough. You all make the community a little better with every piece of art you post.

This project comes at a very difficult time for me. As well as having some personal issues, my family in Lebanon barely managed to escape the war with their lives, they got out but their neighbourhood is gone and the fate of many family friends remains uncertain. Our family in Venezuela is also severely struggling during this time of unrest, and we are not always able to contact them. I decided to host this project now because Hetalia has always been a deep comfort of mine and has helped me through many personal issues in the past. I longed for a sense of community and wanted to interact with more of you all. I could not have imagined so many of you would be interested in my small passion project, especially so many artists and creators who I have looked up to for years.

In addition to this, I wanted to thank all of you who hold Lebanon, Palestine, and Venezuela in your hearts during this time. It warms my heart whenever I see people in the Hetalia community (many of whom are participating here with us!) uplifting fundraisers, charities, and honest discussion about these events.

Perhaps you don't really care about this small message, but it was important to me to say it.

If you reached this far, comment with a ❣️ and I can't wait to see y'all amazing works!

[tracklessreason]

(Ratchet knew immediately that he couldn't tell Hive. Years had passed, the volatile mech whose scans he held before him had long been presumed dead.

He'd told Drift to get Optimus, and Optimus specifically, and get the other Primes to have Hive step away for a while.

Now Ratchet sat alone in his office, staring blankly at a datapad in his hands.

In the top corner of the scans, the patient title name was typed in capital letters, a name he never thought he'd see again.

WILDER

He vented deeply, leaning back in his chair and trying to calm his whirring core.

He jolted when a loud knock sounded at the door.

"Optimus?" He called out.

"You asked for me specifically, after all."

Ratchet nodded, only mildly relieved.

"One moment."

Gathering a few other data pads, Ratchet quickly stood and went to the door, stepping out of the office to greet the massive form of Hive Prime seated outside.

"You look tense, friend." Optimus murmured through Hive's radio, antenna flicking anxiously.

Ratchet grimaced.

"We got an alert from one of the scouting groups on the border. There was some sort of altercation between Scout Freestyle and an unknown mech."

Optimus tilted his head, optics narrowing, waiting expectantly for the part that was too important for Hive to know about.

Ratchet looked both ways down the hall, and spoke with a grave tone.

"The unknown mech is Wilder."

Optimus' optics flashed dark red, he jumped to his pedes, massive size causing the floor to shake.

"Wilder?" He repeated shakily. "You're certain?"

Ratchet nodded.

"It couldn't possibly be anyone else."

Optimus slowly sat again, head in his servos.

"Primus...what do we tell Hive? What even happened in this 'altercation'? For him to be gone this long and suddenly crop up again..."

"Freestyle's report says he came across Wilder in a scrapyard, and he attacked. I've taken scans of both of them, but Wilder's really concern me."

Optimus nodded, reaching back to pull out his large data pad.

Ratchet transferred some files to him, and Optimus pulled them up, holding the data pad low so Ratchet could flip through to a health report.

"You likely remember we had some concerns with Wilder's hunger pings when he was young."

"Yes."

"Well, it seems that culminated in something. Freestyle claimed that when he approached Wilder he was..."

Ratchet cleared his throat, averting his optics.

"He claims Wilder was eating another mech. Scans are... consistent with a virus contracted from consuming innermost energon."

Optimus looked heartbroken, his anntenae flattened back.

"Is it...why he left?"

Ratchet was quiet. He flipped to an xray on the data pad.

"There are some other concerns as well. Look here, at the spark chamber walls."

Optimus shook his helm, optics narrowed in confusion.

"Tell me what you've found, friend."

Ratchet vented deeply, rubbing a servo down his faceplate. He gestured to the edges of the round image on the x-ray as he spoke.

"His spark chamber shows signs of mild fusion burns, and there's damage from rapid depressurization."

He hesitated, glancing solemnly at Optimus before speaking.

"To put it plainly, Wilder was carrying. The sparkling was lost rather traumatically, no chance of survival."

Optimus' optics dimmed, his frame slumping.

"Primus below..."

"It's a miracle he's sane." Ratchet murmured. "Scans of the alterations to his chamber suggest he was rather far along. Maternal protocol would have been in full swing, his attachment to the sparkling was likely intense."

"Could the illness have caused the miscarriage?" Optimus asked gently.

Ratchet shook his helm.

"EMF given off by the sparkling was actually purging the sickness from the living metal. He would have delivered a perfectly healthy bitlet, and perhaps been rid of the disease completely."

Optimus nodded tersely, tapping his digits against the floor thoughtfully.

"The fight then?"

He noted the change in Ratchet's demeanor. The med mech crossed his arms, optics narrowing and burning bright.

"There's no external damage to his frame indicative of this kind of loss."

He turned to face Optimus, his expression dark. "Wilder's sparkling was forcefully purged from him, before the fight. The only mech there-"

"-was Freestyle." Optimus finished morbidly.

"Wilder didn't attack him because of the illness."

Ratchet shook his helm.

"He attacked him for killing his sparkling."

...

The holding bay had been empty for quiet some time before now. Ratchet didn't know how to feel, seeing that it's newest occupant was the child of Hive Prime.

Even from outside the locked door, he could hear distraught crying. According to the reports, Wilder had been extremely emotional and volatile when brought in. It was several hours later now, and it seemed he'd yet to calm down. Ratchet was unsurprised.

He'd rather leave the poor kid be, let him grieve in peace, but he wanted to hear from Wilder himself what had happened.

Of course, Ratchet wasn't going to do that from out here.

But he'd been standing outside the holding bay for ages. How was he supposed to do this? Scanning Wilder had been one thing, they put him under for that. Now, Ratchet was going to be face to face with a mech he once taught, now imprisoned under some dark accusations. Nobody except Ratchet and Optimus even knew at this point that Wilder was actually alive.

What could be said, really?

Venting deeply, Ratchet bit the bullet and entered the bay.

All he could see in the dark were spots of bright coolant on the floor of the cell. Wilder vented deeply, and continued to sob.

"We should talk, kid." Ratchet gently prompted, light on his pedes as he crossed the room to sit at his desk.

For Wilder's comfort, he left the lights off. No bot liked to be watched in such an emotional state.

His audials picked up on Wilder cursing under his breath, mere kliks before the mech's optics cast a harsh red glow in his direction.

"I'm not interested in having a conversation with you. I'm going to get out of this cell, and I will offline any bot who gets in my way."

Ratchet vented, shaking his helm.

"Spare me a few kliks. I need you to confirm what happened earlier. I don't believe Freestyle's story."

His optics were mostly adjusted now. Ratchet could see Wilder kneeling in the cell, hunched miserably with coolant pooling in the corners of his optics. He watched Ratchet distrustfully, but the red of his optics slowly shifted to take on his usual green hue.

"You don't?" He repeated, voice flat, as though unsure of how to register this information.

"His version of events doesn't explain the damage to your spark chamber."

Hesitantly, Wilder raised a servo to his chassis, laying it just over where his spark chamber would be.

"My sparkling." He whispered shakily. "Is it really...?"

Ratchet averted his optics.

"I'm sorry. The trauma was unsurvivable."

Clang!

Ratchet jolted back as Wilder suddenly rose to his pedes and threw his frame against the bars, the tight grip his servos had on them denting the metal.

"Where is Freestyle?!" He howled. "I am going to finish what I started and tear him to scraps!"

"Wilder, let's just-"

"No!"

Wilder slammed his servos against the cage, crumbling to the floor again. He trembled weakly, coolant streaming down his faceplate.

"My sparkling..." He whispered. "He killed my sparkling. That glitch..."

Ratchet rose to his pedes, coming to sit by the cell, reaching through to hold Wilder's servo gently. He had no fear of the mech.

"I'm sorry. Is there a sire we should alert?"

Wilder shook his helm, venting shakily until he'd composed himself enough to speak again.

"The sparkling wasn't mine. In the scrapyard...I came across a sparked mech who was dying. They begged me to take their little one into my chamber so they wouldn't die too. I-I was so afraid of what would come of it. I know what I am, what I've done: I had to stop myself from eating that bot. But I swore I wouldn't let the sparkling succumb to my sickness. When Freestyle found out I was sparked..."

His grip on Ratchet's servo tightened painfully, his optics blood red again.

"He pinned me down. Said my illness would corrupt the sparkling, that he couldn't let an....an abomination be born. He crushed it. Crushed my baby between his digits like a pebble. Primus, my spark..."

He was shaking so badly his core was humming, vents working overtime to keep his systems online.

"I thought I would offline right then and there, the pain was so unbearable. Watching a bot I once called a friend turn my sparkling to dust."

He raised his optics, leveling Ratchet in his blood thirsty gaze.

"I promised myself I would never kill a bot for food. But I'm going to destroy that glitch for what he did, and I will savor every bite."

Ratchet kept his faceplate intentionally blank. Optimus would have his aft if he encouraged this murder frenzy, but quite frankly he wanted to offline Freestyle too. The fear of the sparkling being born with cannibalistic tendencies like it's host wasn't illegitimate, but to kill an unborn mech for it? It was nothing but a desire to keep Wilder from being offlined that kept Ratchet acting reasonable.

"If you kill him, we'll have to take you down. But I will do everything in my power to get justice for your little one."

He expected retaliation, anger at this perceived obstacle to revenge.

Instead, Wilder's optics turned a watery blue, and he slipped his servo from Ratchet's, turning away.

"I was far enough along to know if it would be a mech or a femme."

He shook his helm.

"I...was going to name him Temper."

Ratchet turned away, trying to still his shaking servos.

"I'm going to turn on the lights, Wilder."

The mech was silent a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was harsh.

"How do you know my name?"

Ratchet's core skipped a rotation. Rising to his pedes, he went to the door, and hit the lights.

There was little Wilder, his purple and green paint mostly scraped off. Rust climbed over his frame in most places, there were tears in the metal from the fight. Underneath the bright lights, he squinted, his optics getting darker and brighter as they struggled to adjust.

Ratchet would have to note in his chart that he had poor optics.

"You don't even recognize my voice." Ratchet murmured, more to himself than anything.

Wilder tilted his head. Finally, his Optics dimmed, and he looked up at Ratchet, his expression anguished.

He rose to his pedes, gripping the bars tightly.

"Ratchet...oh, Primus....

I never meant to come home."

@st0rmsp4rk

[genericpuff]

Do you have any tips for beginner artists? Also I love your art style

Reference lots! There's no 'learning how to draw', only learning how to study and reference things you want to draw. Even experienced artists are constantly pulling up references and tools to assist them in their process, it's not all drawing from imagination, there's research involved!

And keep in mind that no matter the style of the work you're studying and learning from, the core foundations of drawing - composition, structure, perspective, anatomy, lighting, and color - will usually always be present in some way. Learn to identify those foundations, even if you're not actively trying to learn them directly, because that identification process is part of referencing.

Keep your old art! Always! You don't have to save every absent-minded doodle or scribble, but any time you create a piece of art that feels significant to you, hold onto it! If you have sketchbooks full of old drawings that are taking up space in your home and you can't justify keeping, scan what's inside / take photos and store them digitally! Don't let hindsight after you've improved tarnish the joy you had making it! It just gives you something wonderful to look back on so you can see how much you've grown (even when you feel like you haven't; if you cringe looking at your older stuff, that means growth HAS happened! And that's good!)

As for specific learning tools, there's no single "one size fits all" approach to improving your craft. It's more like a patchwork quilt that you have to weave yourself from all the things you reference and get inspired by over years of trial and error. For myself, that quilt looks something like this:

That said, this is my quilt, for you, it'll look very different! Maybe online tutorials are a much bigger patch, or maybe some of the patches seen here are completely absent from others (and alternatively, maybe there are patches that I DON'T have that another person might!) The point of it though is to get across that getting better at art and "learning how to draw" isn't achievable through one single means.

I've said this in previous posts, but this is why I try to stay away from the blanket advice "just practice", because it doesn't truly convey how to practice properly - if you're exclusively practicing the same stuff every day, then there's a lot of other elements you don't even realize you could be missing out on that could benefit you. It would be like trying to become a world-class chef just by cooking omelettes all day - you'd be really good at cooking omelettes, but if you want to learn how to cook a perfectly-seasoned medium rare filet mignon, knowing how to cook omelettes isn't going to contribute to that at all.

I know all of that is both specific and vague, but I hope it can help you find your direction in your learning! Ask yourself what art you like, what you really want to learn, and how the art you like can help you learn it. Don't just look at an art piece and go "cool", really look at it and learn to identify the foundations within it, find the "why" in your praise. It can and will benefit you in your own art journey along the way because the better you get at analyzing the world around you, the better you get at analyzing your own work and where it can improve, and most importantly, how you can improve it ヽ(・∀・)��

[elderscrollsconceptart]

All this Morrowind art that was available for decades, now in larger size, found and cleaned up by you. You, da real MVP!

I actually cant take credit for the original scans!

The funny thing is this is actually a project I WAS working on! I was gonna scan the artbook into a digital format once I got a really high quality scanner but had to wait since the good scanners are pricy.

BUT

Somebody on Nexus mods (of all places) beat me to the punch!

They randomly uploaded a scan of the Morrowind Art book in full resolution!

Funny enough they saved me a shitload of money since I don't need to buy a scanner (at least right now). But, that still means i have to edit each page into a larger set of isolated images and try to clean them up so each art piece is truly isolated on its own.

Most art in the book is dropped into a mish mash of other images so I have to cut each image out and erase any unnecessary visual elements. Not hard work but it takes time and there's alot of images to get thru.

Once I edit the entire book into isolated pieces, they will be uploaded here (and elsewhere) as its own image.

My hope is we can use these images to replace the poor resolution versions on UESP and elsewhere. Besides the full resolution scan I'm working off of, almost every Morrowind Art book scan online exists in AWFUL quality.

It's time we share this art in full quality on the wikis and elsewhere!

[nerdraging4point0]

Will of Fire Will Burn // Part two // EroticRomance (N.Sebaatian)

Tropes, Tags and Trigger Warning: 18+ content, erotica, dark romance, sexworkerxclient relationship, slow burn, disturbing themes and topics hinted at or mentioned are as follows: rape, abuse, sexual trafficking, trafficking of minors. Read at your own consumption.

Fanclub: @ladyveronikawrites @mysticdoodlez @deathblacksmoke @tearfallpixie @somebodyels3 @beaker1636 @rumoured-whispers @somewhere-diamond @poisongirl616 @fadingintothegrey @into-the-grey @supersquirrel1996

As he slowly lifted his gaze, Karah couldn't help but notice her own reflection staring back at her from the dark lenses of his sunglasses. The tattoo on his throat, an intricate design that wrapped around his neck, seemed to move with each labored swallow, as if the ink itself was struggling to stay in place. Sensing his discomfort, her voice took on a sultry, low tone as she offered her assistance. "Need some help?" she purred, her eyes sparkling with a hint of playfulness.

But the man remained silent, his expression unreadable behind those tinted shades. Undeterred, Karah rolled her eyes in a playful gesture and took a seat beside him, her movements fluid and graceful. Glancing down at the phone in his hand, she began scrolling through the various apps, her head strategically placed on his shoulder as she leaned in closer.

Gazing at her profile, the digital portrait she had taken just weeks after arriving stared back at her, a vivid and sensual representation of her online persona. She stared at it for a minute, reminiscing about the girl she’d been, nearly two years younger and platinum blonde with no piercings and barely any visible tattoos. With a quick double tap, the screen opened to reveal the full details of her profile - her stage name, gender, sexual orientation, and a schedule of her upcoming performances. She scrolled down to the large blue box labeled, "book now", clicking the tab with one tap of her acrylic nail.

"Everything is in here," she mused, scanning the options - private dances, personal services, and even the ability to submit outside requests. Pushing further into the "personal services" dropdown, she scrolled through a comprehensive list of add-ons her clients could select, each one tailored to cater to their deepest desires. "You can check off as much or as little as you want," she explained, her tone coy yet matter-of-fact, "and the total for all the services you've selected will be automatically pulled from your account." Standing up from the couch, she purposefully bent at the waist, smoothing her stockings as she continued, "Once a booking is made, I get a notification, and if I agree, you'll be texted a room number. But if I deny the request, your money is refunded, and you can try again." She paused, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Three denials, though, and you're locked out of my profile entirely, and Madam has to approve your renewal." Her silent companion continued to watch her, his gaze unflinching as she spoke.

Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, she took a deep, steadying breath and headed for the stairs, her steps slow and measured, fighting the urge to rush. No need to seem overeager, she reminded herself. Let him come to her. Young clients were a rarity in her line of work, at least those who weren't the typical blonde trust fund babies in suits and ties, wasting their family's inheritance on cocaine and women because their pitiful personalities alone weren't enough to convince anyone to willingly share their bed. As she stepped back into the private confines of her domain, she furiously checked the drawers, ensuring she was fully stocked on all the necessities - condoms in a variety of sizes, flavored lubricants, and an assortment of toys to cater to any proclivity her clients may have. She wasn't quite sure what this new patron might be into, but she intended to be thoroughly prepared.

Feeling a sudden rush of confidence, she swiftly removed the delicate lingerie she had carefully selected and donned just moments before. The intricate lace and ribbons had seemed to overwhelm him, even behind those dark sunglasses she could see his eyebrows scrunch as he struggled to take in the complexity of the ensemble. Deciding to simplify her look, she opted instead to keep the sheer, seductive stockings in place, their deep crimson hue accentuating the pale, smooth skin of her legs. Pulling a flowing, blood-red dress over her head, she reveled in the way the fabric caressed her body, the hem grazing temptingly at the middle of her thighs while the neckline dipped low, revealing the gentle swell of her ample bosom. The dress seemed to move with a life of its own, the supple material skimming effortlessly over her plump, free breasts in a way that was both alluring and sophisticated.

Her mobile suddenly chirped to life, the sharp sound startling her for a moment before she snatched it up, heart pounding. For a moment, her breath caught in her throat as she snatched up the phone, tapping open the notification - "New client request: Sebastian. Services requested - vaginal intercourse, rough, dirty talk, fellatio, cunnilingus. Services accepted?" Her body immediately ran hot with a familiar anticipation, and she toyed absentmindedly with the delicate gold chain around her neck. Biting her lip, she pressed her thumb to the screen, sealing the deal, her pussy clenching around nothing in eager anticipation.

She paced her room slowly, waiting until the soft turn of the knob stopped her in her tracks. As she watched the doorknob slowly turn, her heart raced with nervous excitement. The tall, imposing figure of the man from downstairs came into view, his head nearly brushing the top of the door frame as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. His sunglasses were tucked into the collar of his crisp shirt, and as he moved closer, she could hear the soft, vibrating sound of his calloused hands rubbing together - a sound that sent a shiver of electricity down her spine and a warm tingling sensation between her thighs.

When his gaze finally met hers, she was captivated by the striking contrast of his features - the sharp, high cheekbones, the plump, alluring lips, and the hint of rugged facial hair lining his upper lip and chin. His eyes deep and dark like endless pools that seemed to bore right into her soul, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. The intensity of his stare had her unable to look away, her body already responding to his mere presence with a growing sense of anticipation and desire.

Her wide, captivated eyes were locked onto his, unable to look away from the sheer magnetism of his deep, soulful brown gaze. “On the bed.” His voice was like velvet, a mesmerizing melody that seemed to wrap around her, drawing her in deeper. She had never encountered a client so breathtakingly beautiful before - there simply weren't words adequate enough to describe his flawless features. Unable to contain her awe, her mouth fell open as she openly gawked at him, drinking in every detail.

With a slow, deliberate step forward, he closed the distance between them, her ample breasts pressing against the firm planes of his chest as she teetered on the heels of her foot. Reaching out, he grasped her face between his thumb and forefinger, gently squishing her cheeks until her lips puckered outwards. "I said, on the bed," he commanded in that same rich, velvety tone. Clumsily, she pushed herself back onto the mattress, resting on her elbows with her legs dangling off the edge.

Transfixed, she watched as he peeled off his t-shirt, revealing the intricate tapestry of tattoos that covered his muscular torso. An audible gasp escaped her lips at the sight, earning a self-satisfied smile from him. Slowly, he sank down to his knees, taking one of her legs in his large, calloused hands. Lifting her foot to his shoulder, he pressed a series of delicate kisses along the sensitive skin of her inner ankle, his touch igniting sparks of electricity that shot through her. Torturously slow, his hands slid up the length of her stocking-clad leg until he reached the top, peeling the sheer fabric down to her toes. "You won't be needing those," he purred, tossing the stockings aside.

Repeating the process with her other leg, he peppered tender kisses along the delicate flesh of her ankle and knee before carelessly dropping the limb. Then, with feline grace, he crawled his way up her body until his face was mere inches from hers, their noses almost touching. "Take off the dress," he commanded in a voice rough with barely-contained desire. Sitting up straight, she reached for the hem of her dress, shimmying it up over her hips and finally up and over her head, leaving her exposed before his hungry gaze.

He leaned in to kiss her, turning her face his lips caught the corner of her mouth lips trailing a tantalizing path across the delicate skin of her cheek and down the graceful column of her neck. She shuddered at the sensation, pulse quickening as he nipped and suckled at the sensitive flesh, intent on leaving his mark.

Driven by an insatiable craving, he continued his sensual descent, mouth fastening around the hardened peak of her nipple. The suction was deliciously firm, drawing a needy whimper from her parted lips as sparks of pleasure radiated outward, setting her nerve endings ablaze. His tongue flicked and teased, caressing the sensitive bud in a rhythm as old as time itself. She was quickly becoming lost in the haze of desire, rational thought slipping away as the building pressure within threatened to consume her. Every touch, every caress, stoked the flames of her arousal higher, until she was teetering on the edge of ecstasy, mind hazy and unfocused, reality blurring at the edges.

He released her delicate breast from his mouth, the soft flesh making a faint popping sound as it left his lips. Trailing his tongue in a sensual path across her sternum, he moved to the other breast, taking the hardened nipple between his teeth and repeating the delicate ministrations. Her breath grew ragged, chest rising and falling rapidly as she gripped the sheets with white-knuckled intensity, overwhelmed by the sensations he was eliciting. Slowly he kissed a meandering path down the smooth plane of her belly, gracefully sinking to his knees as he positioned himself between her trembling thighs. Locking eyes with her, he drank in the sight of her flushed, needy form, breasts heaving with each rapid breath.

"Can I taste you?" he murmured, voice thick with desire. Her breathless nod of approval was all the permission he needed. He buried his face between her thighs, using his strong hands to spread her open and grant him unfettered access. He flicked his tongue over her swollen clit in a steady, maddening rhythm, reveling in the whimpers and moans that spilled from her lips. Pulling her tender nub between his lips, he suckled it firmly, pulling a desperate whine from deep in her throat. Slipping his tongue into her slick heat, he lapped at her with single-minded focus, determined to commit every inch of her to memory. Her entire body quivered and writhed as he devoured her, lost in the feral ecstasy.

The intense, overwhelming sensations flooded her body as her thighs clamped down around his head, her orgasm pulsing through her with a primal, desperate force. Her fingers frantically tangled in his soft, brown hair, clawing at him as she tried in vain to pull him away from the overpowering stimulation that made her scream out in a mix of pleasure and discomfort. With a firm, unyielding grip, his hands pushed her trembling thighs open, allowing him to take one last, indulgent pull of her swollen, sensitive clit between his lips before she could no longer bear it.

Panting heavily, he commanded her to her knees, hastily kicking off his shoes and discarding the rest of his clothing as she settled her quivering legs on the bed. Wrapping his fingers around his throbbing cock, he pumped a few times, closing the distance between them as her mouth dropped open, her tongue sliding out in eager anticipation. With a deep, guttural groan, he dropped the weight of himself onto her waiting tongue, feeling the delicious, wet heat as she closed her mouth around him. Gathering her hair in both hands, he moaned as she slid her mouth up and down his shaft, her tongue circling the sensitive head as she withdrew before sinking back down. Her hands gripped his thighs for traction, and he threw his head back, consumed by the incredible sensations. Hollowing out her cheeks, she worked him relentlessly, until he had to summon all his willpower to pull her away.

With a gentle, caressing motion, he cupped her soft cheek in his hand, his thumb tenderly stroking the delicate bone underneath her skin. "Lay back down," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. Effortlessly, she complied, sinking back onto the bed until she was lying on her back. He positioned himself above her, sliding between her thighs like it was where he belonged. "Condoms are in...in the...drawer." she managed to push out the words between ragged breaths. He sat up straight, leaning back on his heels watching her chest rising and falling as she tried to steady her heavy, labored breathing. Gazing up at his muscular, tattooed body, she couldn't help but feel surprised that someone with his rugged good looks and undeniable charm would ever need to visit a place like this. Surely a man of his caliber could have his pick of any woman he desired, without having to arrange such clandestine trysts. But there was an intensity, a primal hunger in his eyes as he looked down at her that suggested this was about more than just physical gratification. There was a deep, unspoken need that drove him here, to this shadowy realm where the usual rules of courtship and propriety did not apply. Whatever demons lurked within him, whatever void he was trying to fill, she sensed he would not be leaving until he was thoroughly, thoroughly satisfied.

Glancing over at the closed drawer by the bed, his dark, smoldering eyes slid back to meet her gaze as he posed the question, "Are they required?" She could only nod her head slowly. Strict laws in the state of Nevada required all registered brothels to mandate the use of condoms regardless of the contraceptives already in use by the employees. He leaned over, the springs of the mattress creaking beneath his weight, and opened the drawer, carefully selecting the item he needed from within.

She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, never before having felt this way with a client. His touch was gentle yet firm as his large hands pet her soft hair, running his long fingers through the silky strands. Slowly, his hand drifted down, calloused fingertips grazing the delicate skin of her neck before he firmly gripped her, pushing her back into the plush mattress. Pinned beneath him, his grip tightening ever so slightly, he ripped open the foil packet with his teeth, nimble fingers expertly fitting the protection in place before taking himself in hand. With agonizing slowness, he teased her aching, sensitive flesh, the smooth head of his cock caressing her clit, making her shudder with pleasure. He slid himself into the hilt taking her leg, folding it up to her body as he pushed deeper into her.

With most clients she would stare at the ceiling or find something to focus on, anything to get through the evening, sometimes it was enjoyable, but that was rare. This. This was something else. His dick game was better than any client before, she felt like she should have been paying him instead of the other way around. The head of his cock hit her cervix and she felt the sharp pressure in her abdomen ready to break in two. Her hands gripped the sheets, pulling them to her as her grasp tightened.

She felt him withdraw leaving her empty, the pitiful whine she gave made her feel a strange sense of embarrassment. He rolled her onto her stomach sliding his hand up the back of her head to get a good hold of her hair at the scalp, he tugged pulling her head back. “Get up, baby girl.” She pushed herself up on her hands arching her back to keep from feeling too much tension on her scalp.

“All the way, that’s a good girl.” He praised her as she got up on her hands and knees. She felt him shift behind her on the bed pushing her legs further open with his knees, taking himself in hand he lined himself up bottoming out in her hard till his hips slapped against her ass.

She keened feeling him stretch her out again. Her body was hot and sticky from the sweat, muscles were already sore in all the right places. But she didn’t care, her client list was men that never were satisfying, never made her crave more. He was different. She rocked her hips back moving along his length to satisfy the tightness building in her abdomen.

“Such a needy, girl. Aren’t you?” She stopped when she realized that she wasn’t playing the role he wanted her to. He gave a sharp tug to her hair, making her cry out. “I didn’t say stop. Fuck me, like the needy girl you are.”

She resumed rolling her hips back onto him gripping the sheets for traction, she moaned feeling her toes curl. A sharp smack landed on her ass cheek fueling her to move faster, moaning and crying out as she clenched around his cock. She sighed, taking in the way her body came down from her orgasm.

His long arms reached around, hand wrapping around her throat before cupping her chin and lifting her face to look up. Her eyes met the clean glass of the mirror on the wall. She always avoided the mirror, kept her eyes off it, she did this with all mirrors. A quick glance to ensure she didn’t look disheveled was all she needed. Mirrors to her always meant self reflection, something she wasn’t always ready for.

“Look at you,” he growled, squeezing her cheeks in his hand. “Look how pretty you look taking all of my cock.”

Her walls squeezed around him at his words, her eyes locked on the mirror in front of her. She had never seen herself like this before. Eyes blown wide, mouth laxed and jaw dropped, her cheeks flushed and her forehead glowing in the light from the thin sheet of perspiration. Her hair was falling wild around her shoulders from all the pulling, her breasts bouncing with every thrust of his body behind her.

He pushed her face down into the mattress, turning her slightly so her nose and mouth were free to breathe. His other hand gripped her hip with a vice rutting his hips into her hard and fast, she could feel him at her belly button, her back stretching in places she didn’t know it could from the way he had her arched up. He moaned, grunted, even let out deep sighs when he hit just the right spot inside her. She wails feeling herself come against him all over again, faintly hearing him say something like ‘that’s it baby’.Her eyes were rolling back into her head as she continued to feel him rut into her. She felt the unsteady movement in his rhythm realizing he was close to his end, and she felt a pang of regret, she didn’t want it to end at all, it was so exhilarating. He gave one final thrust before going stiff behind her, she waited till he caught his breath. First letting go of her hair he relaxed pulling himself from inside her, she gave a whimper and winced at the feeling before pulling herself back up on her hands and knees.

He was already on his feet, hastily pulling his shorts back up over himself, the used condom still clinging to him. Her mind was still in a hazy, post-coital fog, too blissfully satisfied to be bothered by the lack of any parting words or affectionate gestures between them. There was nothing but a quick, fleeting glance over his shoulder as he made his exit, the door shutting firmly behind him, leaving her alone in the aftermath. Once the sound of his departure had faded, she collapsed back onto the bed, her deliciously sore and well-used muscles stretching out as she sank into the mattress. A small, satisfied smile played on her lips - what a thrilling, passionate way to conclude her evening

[infohazardouz]

ello! for the au, do my weezer blue eyes deceive me, or do you digitize some of the pencil work? i'd love to know how u make some panels with brushes/ or pencil sizes

your weezer eyes do not deceive you.. the past 3 or so posts have all been scans of sketchbook pages that I've cleaned up and edited in firealpaca :0) I started doing them traditionally because it takes way less time and I feel like my trad sketches are always looser... I could do a full mini-tutorial on how I do these panels if folks are interested!

As for brushes, I make my own and also use a few from the firealpaca free brush store! Here's a brush I made recently, modelled off of a human spine:

Maybe I can release some of my brushes as a 5k celebration or something :0), let me know if you guys are interested!

[sibyl-of-space]

Repair Log: Big the Cat McDonald's Toy - Installment 3

Installment 1

Installment 2

Diagnosis: dead battery, corrosion on circuit board, scratches on LCD screen cover, imperfections on sticker skin

Steps Taken: replaced battery, removed corrosion, buffed out scratches, scanned sticker skin and retouched digitally, sent retouched skin to professional printer, cleaned components, scanned LCD backing image for preservation

Current Status: repaired mechanically. awaiting printed skin replacement to finish project

Here's the LCD image scan I took. Repair details under readmore.

Really, the thing is done. I actually took a ton of video footage this time and when it's DONE-done I intend to actually edit a full (shitty) restoration process video because I love watching those and want to add another one to the universe.

Because it's all video footage though I don't have many stills to share at the moment. But basically here's what was accomplished since last time:

- replacement batteries came in, so was able to install one

- used iFixit advice of white vinegar on a qtip to clean the battery corrosion off the contact pads, which worked AMAZINGLY

- took apart the second toy I got as replacement parts after ruining the case of the first one (see Installment 2) and scanned the LCD backing image from it as well as soaked the plastic case parts I need to use in water + dish soap

(here is the second one I had to order for case parts lmao. thankfully its LCD was trashed so it was ewaste anyway)

- took off the paper sticker of the replacement case by scraping it off in the soap water and then doing a few passes of toothpaste + baking soda buffing

- put it all back together

- sent the retouched sticker skin to a local printer at the proper dimensions so it should print out precisely 1:1 in size, and ordered 3 prints with 3 different paper types so we can get the best one

Sooo basically the thing works and is totally clean, with the exception that I could Not get all of the adhesive residue from the old sticker off. So for now it's covered in parchment paper for protection.

The final step is just waiting for that skin reprint so I can put it on and then it's not just fixed, it's gonna look better than it ever has, because I'm getting the image printed on nicer paper than the original sticker used. LMAO

Behold, gaming:

[the-jade-palace]

Artwork scanned from the inside of the Japanese release box.

As with pretty much all my artworks scans there was a fair bit of wear and tear that was digitally cleaned. The original image is also too big for tumblr, but if you want the full size for whatever reason its in the Fin Fin on QEMU MEGA folder under 'Extras' (Link Here)

[ostentatiouslyonigiri]

Chapter 2:

First Impressions Mean Everything

Firm gloved hands danced about your body, much like a painter's brush would on a white canvas. ‘Here?’The velvet voice questioned, its elegant digit petted the moist surface of your inner thigh. You didn't reply, or at least you don't think you did. Despite that, the voice's finger moved on to yet another area of your glistening form. How long ago has it been since this sick little game began? A couple minutes ago? An hour? Unnatural purrs traveled straight to your womanhood. A girthy tongue lavished the flavor of your living flesh as it made snail trails up towards your thighs, past your navel, and then finally, to your neck. ‘Why does it seem like this always ends the same way?’ ‘Here?’ Though you knew this was the entity's ultimate goal, you didn't understand why it took such sadistic pleasure in this game of feigned uncertainty. You merely stayed silent. A gentle kiss was placed on the intersection between your shoulder and your neck. You resigned yourself to the situation, hoping for the entity to grow bored. The soft purring morphed into a guttural growl and you let out a feminine squeal as blunted dentition bullied its way into your flesh. You hated that your moans were not only from pain.

The white canvas was now stained with spots of red. 

You woke with a start, your hand pressing against your chest as your lungs worked overtime to pump air into your body. After a couple of minutes, your panting subsided, and the ‘thump’ of blood against vessels subsided. Looking around your room, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Modestly sized boxes laid semi open in the corners of the room, your bra was draped over the lone chair, and the bottle of sleeping pills remained, as it was, on the nightstand. Moving from side to side, you noticed that the silk sheets of your bed were absolutely soaked in sweat. You groaned. What time is it? You set your tired eyes upon the modest clock: ‘0:500’.“Fuck”

The shrill shriek of the faucet handle was a small price to pay considering the night that you had. Or nights, you should say. After the incident, you have not been able to get any sleep. Worse yet were the strange dreams nightmares. The whole set of circumstances confused you. ‘So vampires really do exist’, you mused. Your bare feet made slapping sounds against the bathroom tile as they led you to the mirror, which conveniently doubled as a medicine cabinet. As your hand gripped the oak wood of the mirror and prepared to swipe it open—You paused.

“At attention, ladies! We have a new member of Hellsing, so make sure to give this young Miss a warm welcome.”

Tangled, disheveled hair, sweat covered skin, and tired, owlish eyes reflected back at you. You looked like shit. The tips of your fingers dotted curiously over your glistened skin as your eyes trailed ahead to aid in its investigation. All seemed plain until your fingers stopped at your nape. What is that? A large, angry , bruise met your eyes. The layer covering the purple seemed strained and thin, with the exception of the shallow scrapes along the parts of the abused skin that had it the worst. Crescent indentations arranged themselves into a mocking ring. The blade of your nose hovered in front of the mirror's surface as you positioned yourself to get a better look. This can't be what it looks like. You must have scratched yourself in your sleep. Yanking open the cabinet, medical supplies flew from their shelves as you pooled them together. Scanning over the collection with a sigh, you felt at least somewhat satisfied with what you had. A familiar ‘thump’ sounded against your ears walls and your chest began to ache. You took in deep breathes, and full exhales. You just needed a good shower. Everything will be okay. 

With his firm hand on the small of your back, the older man gently beckoned you forth. The hard plastic of your ID absorbed the brunt of your anxiety as you willed an affable expression. The humble room was packed to capacity and the muted color of the soldier's uniforms all melded together to form a sea of black and green; accentuated by touches of red from the men's berets. Scanning the crowd, you noticed the stoney faces of the men, and peppered amongst them, was a barrier of skepticism. Some were more youthful than others, but that only made their stolid expressions even more sad. It was like the joyous and carefree spirit common amongst the youthful was sucked dry from their being. This really is a military compound. You let out a small gulp. Tucked away a little further in the back, was a familiar tuft of wavy hair. ‘Birmingham?’ Strangely, seeing his distinct hair and boyish features put you slightly at ease. He gave you a small awkward smile, and you returned it with one of your own. 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen! As you probably know, I am the new manager of the HR department. I know that there can be some misconceptions about HR and what we do. It is for this reason that I have gathered you all here today.” You looked around the room to gauge the men's response. Okay, so no tomatoes thrown so far. “Alright! I'm going to go down the roster to ensure that everyone for this class is in attendance.” You wasted no time in calling out names. Things were going smoothly, until you got a little ways down the list. ‘Alucard’. You merely skipped over it. After your short introduction, you had them watch a presentation and then passed out acknowledgement forms. “So, do any of you have any questions for me?”, you ask with a sigh. The room was uncomfortably silent, save for the ruffling of tactical gear shifting against the plastic chairs. The air was unbearably stiff and all you could do was fight against the urge to fidget. ‘Please, someone say something…’ A hand raised, which prompted an appreciative smile.

“Oi Teach, so are you sayin’ that you're here to keep me and the boys from havin’ a good time? Sounds bloody dreadful.”, a blonde soldier said. “W-well, no, nothing like that. I just want to ensure that proper conduct is being maintai—” “We don't need it. Sorry to say Girly, but we're armed men; not toddlers. And we especially don't need some broad who likes getting frisked by the undead freak tellin’ us what to do!”Ouch. Like a match lit in a gas filled chamber, the stiff atmosphere from before exploded into a frenzy of discourse. The more chivalrous of the group hailed words of disdain at the blonde, displeased with his foul language. Some felt emboldened and vocalized their agreement with the man, while others, who were more level-headed, oriented themselves somewhere in the middle. Amongst the rabble, there stood little ol’ you, trying to parse through their words with logic. This was an endeavor that the dampness of your eyes proved to be more difficult than not. Your mind no longer even wanted to. You knew that it all came down to the same sentiment: There was hardly any reason for you to be here. Looking down at the ground, your thoughts continued to run wild with despair. The only silver lining was that attention was no longer on you, but rather their bickering about you. God must have wanted a laugh, because just as the thought appeared, the older man barked out an order and put an end to the debate and the attention was back on you.

“Men, I need not remind you that the young Miss has been handpicked by our commander, Sir Integra. Failing to adhere by the rules of management is tantamount to disobeying a direct order. I need not say more.” Your name doesn't hold such weight…Your eyes travel to the older man's name tag: “Cpt. Fargason”. You were not a captain, either. You gulped down the frog in your throat. “Thank you, Captain Fargason”You say with a cough. “I think now is the proper time to conclude this meeting. If you all would be so inclined—” The shrill sound of metal against the floor was followed by the retreating pounding of boots. A sizable amount of papers still remained on the desks, uninked. Some of them, at least, had the decency to shake your hand. To you though, the good deed was nothing more than a consolation. You were sure that the strained lines of skin around squinted eyes and tautness of their smile was not given from a place of respect. You hated it, but gave a ‘firm’ handshake of your own.  By the end, it was just you and the kindly paternal older man. Fargason gave you a pitying look and reassuring pat on the shoulder. It didn’t make you feel any better. After all, how could it? The others didn’t and he was no different.

You were crying

The tip of Alucard’s tall elegant nose rose to beckon for more of the salinated air. Though a curse, it was times like these that drew out a begrudging appreciation for his vampirism, as much as it had robbed him. What started off as a moment to feed his curiosity, morphed into a feast of unabashed hedonism at your expense. As a sticky string of snot trickled onto your blouse, staining it, Alucard giggled at the groan that passed your lips. The introduction of yet another problem prompted a heave even more strained than the others. Alucard was almost certain that if it were not for your clipped sobs, even the likes of you would hear him. Minutes must have passed, as the sounds of barely contained bawls became whimpers, which turned into sniffling, and eventually subdued silence. The conclusion of this private performance prompted a scoff, ‘What a pitiful creature’. It surprises him that even saying that sounded hollow to him. Growing  bored, Alucard’s shadows began their retreat. “Gah—!”, he paused. ‘Oh?’

Your fingers, now syrupy, clasped your neck in what has become a horrible habit (for you at least). Parts of your middle and index finger were covered in modest trickles of blood. Ah, and what a fine delicacy it was. A pointed tongue slid over hungry, serrated teeth as the indecent tent in his trousers further expressed his desire. Irony presented itself in the form of strings of saliva trickling down his plump lips in a fashion much similar to the mess from your nose. Observing you as you tended to your wound, Alucard admired his handiwork. Such a thing should have healed by now, though it is also true that it will not if one picks at it. Everyone had their vices, he supposed. Red eyes traveled down the thin path made from the crimson elixir that now pooled between your bosom. Shamelessly, they lingered. The hunger…it was beginning to grow painful. Trailing back up to your neck, a low growl strained through his teeth. Your ears perked up. ‘ Bad habits…’. By the time you turned your head, he was gone. 

“Can be helped when you know who to ask”

[solongavalon]

the full collapse zine is cancelled. feel free to run your own. thank you for your time.

info post for the currently unnamed zine about thursday's album full collapse

all types of art will be allowed, except those in video or gif format. anything else like drawing, writing [as long as it is on some sort of picture background or in another way an image], photography, picture graphics, whatever you want, is all allowed! digital and traditional is okay, even things not scanned. just get me a picture. all sizes and ratios are also okay!

your piece can be about whatever you'd like, as long as it relates to the album full collapse. it could be lyrics you like, an experience you have with the album, what it means to you, or anything else you want to create and share.

you will send me your pieces on tumblr or discord [soxnics] through dms or tag me in the post.

1 piece per person, i'm very lenient on this rule though, so if you make 2 just ask first, i will probably allow it. this is only because issuu only allowing a certain amount of pages.

speaking of issuu, this is where the zine will be available to look at. if you want the pdf to have or print, dm me on discord.

if you have a question, send an ask. you can dm if you want, but i prefer asks, so people who have the same question can see the answer. you can find these under the tag #fczine. you may find answers in the tag #thursday zine asks first.

the [tentative] deadline is july 4th. if there are no extensions at that point, the zine will go up the day after.

let me know if you have any questions! i'm open to name suggestions, feel free to talk to me about it. see you on the other side. please reblog to spread the word.

[plushkitsunecrafts]

The full size pattern for him is now available: https://drive.google.com/file/d/14MEkj00ZM-xdy6Mp2hzlkuMQC8xQ6h2f/view?usp=sharing

I'm working on making print friendly digital copies of all the patterns. It will be a while though, as breaking the pattern pieces into 7.5" x 10" segments, tracing everything, inking everything, scanning everything, and editing everything takes a bit. For example: the pattern piece I'm currently working on is 40" wide and 7 1/2 feet long. Plus I also need to redo the seam allowances for that entire pattern. But I will get there.

Also I'm writing the patterns with no assumptions of prior sewing experience and including notes on multiple ways to do things. Totally worth giving a look if you're interested in making something like this.

Also feel free to edit and do whatever with the patterns. I've specifically included the sewing lines in addition to the cutting lines so that it is easier to modify the patterns.

He's kinda sorta a replica of a Toys R Us Darby Dog. But by the time I decided to make a replacement, the original was kinda a mess and assumptions were made as to how the pattern was supposed to go. But afterwards, I found and restored that 5 foot Darby, and from that one I can get a proper replica pattern if there's interest.