Nah, I actually can’t with Liberty Media. What do you mean Marko and Horner wanted Pérez gone, told Max he’d be getting a new team mate (Daniel) in Zandvoort… and then Liberty Media stuck their noses where they didn’t belong and now won’t allow RBR to fire Pérez because of the “money Pérez will bring in during the Mexican GP”…
I don’t care how much money he’ll bring in, I wanna see if Daniel can salvage RBRs chances with the WCC!!!!
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Hello! I want to learn how to draw content on the more spicy side, but I'm unsure where to start. Do you have any tips/resources for it? I would love to make Corrin/Gunter art and some of my other favorite pairings. Thank you in advance!
on the practical/technical side:
having a solid understanding of anatomy helps, of course - the basic bone structure of course, but how skin, fat, muscle hangs as well. you don't actually need to watch live-action porn to get references (i never have believe it or not), but i do follow a few historical kink/bear magazine archivists online. personally i find that there's more of a variety of beautiful shapes and humans in those old photos, and you generally know it's consensual since they've personally submitted them.
you also can't go wrong with reading other erotic comics ... i say comics vs illustrations since you start to see the pacing of these scenes like any other human interaction and the tools the artists use. when does intimacy turn into foreplay? when does the artist/mangaka zoom in to capture the sensation of the moment? what clever tricks do the artists to capture the climax when the bodies are all pressed together and when finding a good camera angle is tricky? how do they show the heightened feeling with symbols and textures? how is kink power dynamics shown with characters in different positions? do you show faces and the expressions to show the pleasure or not? what comics feel cold and manufactured to you versus ones that capture real eros? why? etc.
on the mental side:
if you're anything like me, you might have a lot of shame to untangle when it comes to harder varieties of erotic art. (i hope not! not everyone does. but it's unfortunately common given the societies we live in.)
it's going to take a while, and it's going to feel really weird at times when you draw something that's uncomfortably intimate or taboo, but that's when you know it's working and you gotta keep pushing through.
you gotta keep drawing.
privately, i have a personal rule that i'll draw anything at least once; if i feel afterwards that it turned out to be a personal squick, i won't go there again, but that guideline has been marvelous to start breaking through the manufactured idea of disgust and also just to experiment with putting myself in other people's shoes about what they find hot. sometimes it's surprising! i've learned a lot.
lastly, on that note - draw what you find deeply intimate. forget about other people. selfshipping? the most niche kinks possible? the kink that feels like the internet can't stand? who gives a shit about them (no taste, the lot of them).
draw the human. the tenderness, the visceral, that overpowering desire for you that almost scares you with how intense it is and that sends your brain alight.
that's going to be timeless.
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Bob in female fight club au. Thoughts
Probably named Marge
Rather than doing a direct inversion (ie making the character the exact opposite, much tits -> no tits, etc) I think sort of an analogue would work better riffing off the motherly role Bob has, in combination with the group being for uterine cancer/ovarian cancer
The women come together, and they cry, cry, cry, over lost husbands, who left them because they got cancer, because overwhelmingly, men leave if their wife gets cancer, over lost relationships with children, who stayed but resent them, over lost Motherhood, that thing you were told was your worth but now you are told you're shit. Remaining Women Together. Despite. Despite despite despite.
What is it, about purposes. Want to see misery, see women fed their own physical oppression as lost salvation.
Marge, whatever her name is, her husband divorced her, left her with the kids and medical bills stacked as high as she is tall. She is thankful she still has her kids, it makes her feel like she's still worth something. She's had to try and get back into the workforce. No one wants to hire dear former stay at home mother Marge. She shows you her kids in her wallet in her purse and there are no pictures of her. There's a picture of her old husband, which she keeps to show her kids if they ask. They're old enough to go to school now, which is good, because it gives her more time to work. Life is hard, but she's doing her best.
Marge, who is on hormone therapy so she doesn't get those "side effects" she's heard about from other total hysterectomy patients, the future of early dementia and degeneration and horror. Who does pelvic floor exercises in hopes it will minimise the fallout of the surgery. Who carefully rips every hair out of her upper lip and chin because even if it would be normal for a woman, a woman whose gone through menopause, a woman at all — she knows, it's probably the estrogen tipping back over into testosterone, and she can't handle any more losses. She compensates. They all do.
The support group is her Me Time. It is the single hour plus half hour commute she can afford once a week for herself. So she gets here, and she cries, cries, cries, and the others cry with her, all over how their lives have fallen apart since they got ovarian cancer, got breast cancer, and their lives derailed because they can't be proper women anymore.
They cry in their waterproof makeup. Another product to promise womanhood. Identify yourself via consumption. Identify yourself by covering yourself up.
And when she finds fight club. When she finds something that says, jesus fuck. You are more than your children. You are more than your ability to have kids. You aren't a failed woman, that's a sack of shit you've been sold wholesale. When she finds something that promises her she will grow, achieve personhood, not because she was the ultimate martyr mother, not because she played the game of human or woman, but because it promises a freedom from all that, identification and repulsion of such sickening chains. When she stops worrying about her slightly deepened voice, and works to keep her dose even keel for her health, to avoid the toxic highs of accidentally juicing, rather than the lesser effects of a black lip hair or two. When she has a photo, not of herself in her wallet, but of the things she makes with other women from fight club, of the one view of the sunset from that one parking lot that she always thought was wonderful, when she has things in her wallet for her and her enjoyment. When she has corded muscle and a built up spine, when she sits her kids down and explains why they only see dad one weekend every other month, all the fun holidays, because dad decided staying with her through cancer was too hard even when she stayed with him through four lost jobs pissed away in alcohol and lottery tickets.
And Marge, who gets shot by the police on a regulation chill-and-drill assignment for Project Mayhem. Whose obituary in the newspaper talks about the children she left behind, how she battled cancer and kept caring for them, how she was such a strong mother, whose kids would now be shipped off to their grieving father who is so, so brave and stunning for standing up and taking care of the kids he made and dropped as soon as his live-in servant had a few issues. Her name is Marge Paulson, and she was forty-eight years old. She was a person. She will be remembered in the annals of Project Mayhem, lest what little there was of her be stolen from the world. She was killed by Project Mayhem, but they're the only ones who will remember Marge Paulson.
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I keep seeing people talk about Disney x Zukka AUs (specifically Mulan, Tangled, or Atlantis) and don’t get me wrong, I eat that shit up EVERY TIME, but hear me out………….
A ✨ Hercules x Zukka AU ✨
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