#from you

[cupidskissx]

a compilation of left!charles and right!max from The Folder (i think 2 or 3 i found from other blogs but i don't remember which ones :( but thank you to them for the food!) . your advance payment😊✍💻💯

I greatly appreciate my advance payment in return for HOT SALSA DIP ficlet! Truly feels like I came away the winner out of this little exchange! 🙌❤️

Also FYI, the second last pic has taken me out and it is going to be seared into my brain until the end of time!

[yourlovelyspace]

It would be a really long list 💝

[seven-meds]

Hi!

I love your art and I am extremely enamored by the beauty of your writing !

That being said, I am an artist as well and I feel like I have been stuck in a creative rut and I don’t know how to get to out ? Do you have an advice on breaking out of the hole and as well do you suggest drawing everyday as a method to keep up with skill?

Thank you so much <3

Thanks so much! I considered this for a while. Giving artistic advice, whether broad or targeted, is always difficult. It's too nebulous of a process for rules but everyone still has such a strong opinion on what the rules should be. 

In my experience, lulls are beneficial when seen from the correct perspective and then taken advantage of. Endless production is antithetical to all art that is not corporate in nature, and lack of inspiration means you will benefit from something often overlooked: new experiences and engagement with new things. Though if you do want to feel productive, take a sketchbook and a pen to a public area and draw what you see for an hour or two. You likely won't be inspired but you will feel accomplished.

Historically, artists took extended periods of time away from creating in order to experience life and take in the world, its people, and themselves. Not always willingly; some were torn away and sent to war, fled their homeland, or were imprisoned, enslaved, or institutionalized. And there are those who spent long periods of time bedridden by illness or injury. But whether their experiences were gained by choice, by force, or by nature, their time away from art is what ended up shaping what they made. Drawing in isolation will sharpen a skill, but it's through repeated use of that skill to translate your experiences that your art improves.

An artist's goal is communication first and foremost. This is why drawing daily on its own cannot make anyone a better artist. It will eventually lead toward some sort of technical prowess, but technical prowess with no voice is fairly pointless and very dull. Ideally, the development of voice will precede the development of technical skill and the two become honed in tandem. What you want to say should define what you need to learn. If you are developing an understanding of your own intentions then you are already a step ahead of the artist who is focusing solely on their ability to draw a head from every angle. 

It's beneficial to conceptualize art as a series of choices rather than a display of objective prowess. The more experiences you have and the more educated you are, the more sophisticated your choices become. You'll also find that you're able to analyze and appreciate (or criticize) the choices of other artists, increasing the enjoyment of engaging with art as a whole. You'll then be led toward more complex and unique work as you become bored with things that salivate over their own palatability. You may also find that art you've passed over before suddenly begins to speak to you.

Spend time exposing yourself to new art, ideally from large swathes of eras, places, and forms, including art that communicates things uncomfortable, disturbing, or offensive to you. Delve into the history of the artists and works you enjoy (or hate) in order to fully understand what's being said and why. If you currently find yourself interacting solely with contemporary art delivered largely via algorithm or advertisement that elicits feelings of familiarity and comfort, you should recognize that as a limitation. You are certainly free to work within it, but you will stumble into inspiration more quickly through exposure to different ideas.

It's also a good time to interact with others, if possible (even from a distance), and to look into topics completely divorced from art. Enrich yourself in many ways. The world is so vast and full of so much. What can you experience and learn that will make you yearn to communicate again? 

Try not to waste years studying aimlessly. Develop an interest, a concept, an idea, an experience, and then work toward communicating it effectively. You will learn as you develop new pieces (because you will put effort and energy into targeted research and study), and those pieces will become more complex in both substance and technique. 

Good luck!

[drivinmeinsane]

Colt is going to be the love of my life and I don't think you should be writing about him so soon. YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIM. You're probably just projecting harmful thoughts onto MY BABY like you do with Ken. Cut! It! Out! ✂️💥

The wonderful thing about liking characters that are in the public eye, everyone will have differing thoughts on those characters and the ways they wish to interact with their source material. I appreciate the message, it inspired me to assume even more things about Colt Seavers. <3

{ masterlist }

※ Summary: It's golden hour at the beach. You and Colt have some waves to catch.

※ Rating: T for suggestive remarks.

※ Word count: 609

“I can carry my own board,” you protest as you watch your companion begin sliding the epoxied piece of polyurethane from the bed of his lifted truck. Colt pauses to look at you, an easy smile on his face. The sand is cool under your feet. The entire beach is awash in a golden hour glow. It was bordering on being too cold to be riding waves, but that wasn’t enough to make the stuntman hesitate. He lived for pushing the limits.  “I’ll be all weirdly lopsided if I don’t,” he jokes, dramatically tipping to the side under the weight of his surfboard that he’s already tucked underneath one arm.   You roll your eyes at him, but drop it. He’s too stubborn to argue with when he gets it in his head that he wants to do something nice for you. You latch the truck’s tailgate for him once he has both boards in his possession. The two of you start off towards the lapping ocean. This section of the beach is deserted, it’s only you and Colt out here. Even the gulls were absent, off harassing visitors on the more populated stretches of sand. “You think we’ll be lucky enough to see Bruce this time?” He asks over his shoulder. He turns just enough that you can see the laughter lines crinkle around his eyes at his own commentary. “Only you would be excited by the idea of getting eaten by an oversized fish.”  “I mean... whose idea of a good time doesn’t involve someone getting eaten?” He quips in response, tone flirty. You know that if the two of you were facing each other, he would have dragged his graze slowly up your body to further the remark. Torn between embarrassed and exasperated, you briefly cover your face with your hands. They do absolutely nothing to muffle your groan. You hear Colt chuckle when he sees your reaction out of the corner of his eye. He really could be the most insufferable person alive, but damn, if you didn’t love him all the same.  The water is cold as the waves push over your feet. You hiss at the sensation, but take your surfboard from Colt all the same. You both lean down to secure your ankle tethers. Upon straightening back up, Colt squeezes your shoulder. His hand is hot on your bare skin and you lean into his touch, chasing the warmth. “Ready?” You ask him. “I was born ready,” and with that, you’re both plunging into the water.  You shout encouragements at each other as you attempt to maneuver through the ocean. During one particular effort to crest a wave, Colt wipes out spectacularly. He somersaults through the air with a shrill shriek before he hits the water. You laugh so hard about it that you lose balance and pitch headfirst into the waves yourself. He’s right there when you resurface, hair plastered to his forehead and sitting on his surfboard with a sheepish grin spread across his face. He watches while you pull yourself back onto your own board. He paddles closer, until your knees are brushing. “Hey,” he says, leaning in.  “Hey yourself,” you answer, closing the distance.  He cradles the side of your face with one large hand. His thumb makes slow passes over your cheekbone, caressing. You allow yourself to get lost in the firm press of his mouth against yours, the taste of salt on his lips, and the warmth of his body. If Colt’s favorite fictional shark were to pull you down underneath the water right now, you think you would die happy having been loved by this man.

[eidolons-stuff]

Enid: *freezing* "Alright, but no funny business"

Ajax: *hugging Enid* "Of course not"

[wiirocku]

Psalm 139:12 (NLT) - but even in darkness I cannot hide from You. To You the night shines as bright as day. Darkness and light are the same to You.

[senseiwu]

...I really think some of you don't know what a bad parent is

[gothamlonelyhearts]

this reminds me of us

both from my perspective & his own. i feel like meeting each other would invoke the feeling of "where have you been my whole life, i didn't know anyone else was out there like me, i didn't know someone else could feel the way i feel and love the way i love." i thought about it when i was walking to my old smoke spot about how i'm so different from who i was when i first found it vs. today & i was thinking of writing something based off of this feeling but it's very amorphous to me ...

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[multistoty]

is she dying? it occurs to her maybe a little too late. she just...well she didn’t really think that’s what they were facing here. but again, she doesn’t know new orleans. she doesn’t know the threats, the intricacies, the players. she didn’t really think, she just moved. they were coming after him --- whoever they were ---  and back in mystic falls it never would have been that obvious. but the chill spreading through her, the weakness that she can feel  weighting her bones, the tingling in her fingertips moving through her arms through the rest of her --- that’s not good. and he’s not the type to be unnecessarily dramatic about it. he’s not the type to beg. and she wants to tell him that it’s fine. of course it is.   ❝ i’m---i’m okay, ❞  it comes out sounding shaky and she falters, glancing down at the object they ( who are they, anyway? ) stabbed her with in a mixture of confusion and horror. he looks worried. in that way that she’s never really seen him worried. and that, she’s certain, is never a good sign.   ❝ they were...they were gonna hurt you, ❞  again, it comes out sounding almost confused, as if she’s trying to work it back through her head. it makes sense, doesn’t it? this is what she does. she gets hurt to protect the people she cares about. she gets hurt so her loved ones don’t have to.   ❝ i’m okay, right? ❞  the shock gives way to pain, the kind that moves steadily and strongly through her system. the kind that makes her vision blur as she tries to fight it.

@tofeelthecold​

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[notbecauseofvictories]

A customer contacted our team with questions, and then finished their email with: "I am daunted by the complexities and unknowns." I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.

[yourlovelyspace]

Isn't that what we always want from our special person? 💝

[seven-meds]

The way you draw stuff clothed but somehow still so erotic is like. awesome. your artsyle is everything

Thank you so much! I'm very honored to be told this…

Clothes are so erotic to me, their forms and thicknesses and drapes. I truly feel that a clothed body is often sexier than a nude body. Texture plays a massive part in this; skin and hair are fine to touch, but clothing makes for a richer landscape. Cotton, wool, leather, metal, plastic. Rolled over hems and ribbed cuffs and toothed zippers.

They also enhance the body in such lovely ways. A sock softens the ankle bones, a watch draws attention to the hand. And the rush when you get a glimpse of what is underneath - when a shirt rides up or a sleeve is rolled or a pants leg is hiked - it can't be beat.

I'll always be a nevernude, for better or for worse.

[drivinmeinsane]

not the original anon, but as a sub i just wanna say that i want, nay need! to be railed by the driver. hand on my throat that kinda thing, if you write stuff like that lol

Oh, that's fair. Those gloves of his sure changed some lives. 👀

Here's a little drabble exploring that kind of thing. 18+ content under the cut. Warning for consensual choking and hanky panky.

"You gonna be good for me?" Driver's voice rasps low in your ear. You nod eagerly. You feel the burning intensity of his eyes on you, even in the dark. He's barely lit by the streetlight's yellow glare shining through the window. It's just barely enough light to allow you to make out the angles of his face. "Need to hear you say it." There's a hint of something possessive in his tone. The hand loosely wrapped around your neck tightens. His thumb digs into the hollow of your throat. The creak of his leather glove sends an anticipatory shiver through you. "Yes, yes... I'll be good." You gasp out. "J-just for you." He brushes his tongue over his bottom lip. Pleased. You can make out his crooked smile. He gives you a kiss as a reward. The pressure of his hand on your throat increases when he leans down over you. He all but devours you as he licks his way into your mouth. You feel him twitch inside of you and you reflexively roll your hips against him, encouraging him to move. He withdraws completely, not wanting to spend himself yet, not like this. You have things you want from him and he doesn't want to disappoint you. You clench around the sudden, aching emptiness. He encourages you onto your stomach. You're draped over the bed on your elbows now. He slides himself home, hips flush. It's a comforting stretch. Both of his glove-clad hands anchor themselves around your neck. The leather is a familiar friend against your skin. He's got you in a hold that's almost tender before he applies head swimming pressure and uses his grip to move your body as if it's his own personal toy. Each guiding tug has him bottoming out. Each push away has him easing out. He sets a brutal pace. He relaxes his grip enough to hear how each downward pull of his hands punches the air from your lungs. "Good boy," you moan. The answering snap of your body against his pelvis is enough to send stars across your vision.

[sylvies-kablooie]

i do unironically think the best artists of our generation are posting to get 20 notes and 3 reblogs btw. that fanfic with like 45 kudos is some of the best stuff ever written. those OCs you carry around have some of the richest backstories and worldbuilding someone has ever seen. please do not think that reaching only a few people when you post means your art isn't worth celebrating.