#it drew it really fast at the time and was still learning a lot

[fernandamaya]

Scarring Passion 10.03.2024

Kaveh was an immediate favorite of mine when we learned about him in the game. It dawned on me pretty fast afterwards that the favoritism was stemming partly from feeling reflected in him, which is sweet and emotional but also a tough realization. Kaveh is an idealist and too empathetic for his own good, a creative soul and big heart whose life experiences have irredeemably affected his mental health. Will Stetson's Writing on the wall is an amazing approach to Kaveh's character, the song was on a loop multiple times while I drew this piece. It's hard to put into words just how much this character's existence means to me, since, despite of the blows life's thrown at him, he still continues to be his own form of soft. I feel like he makes me realize that I, too, have remained my own form of soft, but that the inherent guilt of not being the soft I think I should be has made it difficult to show up for myself sometimes and it derives into unhealthy coping mechanisms (although I'm not an alcoholic but gaming and oversleeping are their own form of worrisome escapism lmao). He reminds me of the passion for the craft and the world itself overpowerng the instinct of preserving oneself. Kaveh lacks boundaries because he doesn't respect himself over the benefit of others, and at least, thankfully, I've started to learn that lol. I think the character personality design team did a wondeful work with him. There's a lot of nuance in genshin characters, hoyoverse in general for that matter, and I truly appreciate that we get to enjoy these fictional character's lives and find the light they so beautifully keep in themselves, maybe to be able to find it in ourselves as well.

Ah man, too many things I'd say as well but I'd express myself better in Spanish and even then it would be a bunch of rambling because mind goes faster than hands lol

I really loved doing this artpiece. I've wanted to draw Kaveh for months and started two other drawings before this that I didnt really like and scrapped. I hope I draw him again in the furute 💖

[gothcsz]

Imperfect For You | Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | ~10k wc | Part 4 of the Fantasize series | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: The night Javier proposes.

Tags: established relationship, semi-public sex, jealous!javi, but also sweet nervous javi that might be a little ooc but irdgaf, oral (f&m receiving), a smidge of degradation, light breath play, dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex (practice safe sex pls), facial, pwp, porn with feelings, some physical descriptions but overall it's pretty vague, javier can pick reader up, no use of Y/N, reader is a badass photojournalist, reader speaks spanish, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: did not expect to write another part in this world so fast, but the idea for it came to me in a dream and my mind kinda just took it from there, lol. i hope you guys like it, pls feel free to come bother me about this, okay?! in the wise words of queen bey: i'm swerving on that, swerving, swerving on that big body been servin' all this swerve, surfin' all in this good-good 😋🙂‍↕️

DIVIDERS CREDIT: saradika

Navigating your relationship with Javier stateside was definitely an experience.

When the highs hit, they were nothing short of breathtaking.

That summer was a whirlwind of sweet moments. You spent your days with him and his dad on their family ranch, immersing yourself in the rustic life— learning about the animals, how to care for them, and getting your hands dirty in a way that was surprisingly fulfilling.

Nights were filled with fun adventures, like hitting up those grimy dive bars Javier loved so much, only to find yourselves tangled up in the back of his pickup in some dusty parking lot.

There were times that felt straight out of a fairytale—picnics in sun-drenched fields, soft, sleepy sex in his childhood bedroom followed by breakfast in bed with the morning light streaming in.

But as the summer drew to a close, reality set in. Javier decided to stay in Texas to help his pops with the ranch, while you had to move to New York for work.

It made sense, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Saying goodbye was like tearing a piece of your heart out. Your relationship, still so fresh, was suddenly thrust into the challenges of long-distance, and that brought its own set of struggles.

The lows were devastatingly low.

At first, it was really hard, and you feared that the thrill of your kinky and dramatic beginnings had worn off, exposing you both to the harsh realities of dating.

You started seeing sides of each other that had remained hidden until they weren’t.

Javier’s hot-headedness and tendency to react without thinking, your own habit of micromanaging and being passive aggressive— these flaws clashed in ways that neither of you had anticipated.

Javier, who had never been good at relationships to begin with, struggled to navigate this terrain all over again, while you, having not been in a serious relationship since your freshman year of undergrad, found yourself unsure of how to handle the rough patches.

These were challenges you hadn’t faced since you didn’t really have the time to. 

He was preoccupied with taking down dangerous drug traffickers and you were caught up in the whirlwind of keeping up with him.

It made you wonder if the idea of you two only ever really existed in Colombia.

The distance didn’t help matters. Seeing each other so rarely made the relationship feel strained, like you were constantly trying to hold onto something that was constantly slipping through your fingers.

You tried to convince him to move to the city with you, but every time the topic came up, it ended the same way— with you in tears and him abruptly hanging up.

“I can’t just leave him here to run this place by himself. He’s not getting any younger.” “He has other ranch hands, Javi. You said you’d try this with me.” “This is me trying. Why are you being so selfish?”

The conversations would spiral into bickering, pointless arguments that left you both emotionally and physically drained.

There was even a time when it all fell apart— a breakup that lasted an entire month, neither of you speaking, the silence as heavy as the miles between you.

It wasn’t until Javier finally came to his senses, flying out to New York to win you back, that things started to feel right again.

The reunion was explosive, leading to the most fervid, passionate makeup sex that left the both of you out of commission for the rest of that weekend.

After that rough patch, everything began to fall into place, and it was pretty much smooth sailing from there.

The two of you had weathered the storms of long distance, misunderstandings, and inevitable growing pains of a serious relationship, and you had come out stronger on the other side.

Javier eventually made the decision to move into your apartment, a choice that felt like a natural progression rather than the point of contention it had once been.

You found yourself building a life together, and the city became the backdrop for your blossoming relationship.

He found work at a private security company nearby, a job that kept him engaged but wasn’t nearly as all-consuming as his previous work with the DEA. 

Your own career was thriving as well, your time in South America propelling you forward, and Javier was your biggest supporter. He admired your passion and dedication, often marveling at the way you captured the world through your lens.

Gone were the days of petty arguments and the anxiety of being so far apart. 

Javier’s fiery temperament mellowed in the warmth of your affection, and your once-passive tendencies faded as you grew more confident and assured in his unwavering support.

You learned to communicate more openly, and trust replaced the insecurities that had once threatened to pull you apart.

Now, your life together is a beautiful blend of routine and spontaneity. Whether it’s quiet mornings spent sipping coffee and reading the news together, or weekends exploring the city and its surroundings, everything is finally okay.

It’s much better than anything you could have ever thought up of those late nights in Bogotá, where all you did was dream of being his.

The gallery is abuzz with the energy of admiration and praise, the walls lined with your photographs— snapshots of life that tell stories far beyond the frames they’re bound by.

It’s your night, a celebration of your burgeoning career, and as you move through the room, mingling with friends, colleagues, and mutual acquaintances, your confidence shines brightly.

The alcohol is flowing, the murmur of conversation blending with the soft music that plays throughout the space.

Javier stands near the edge of the room, keeping to the periphery and staying out of the way, but his eyes never leave you and how you glow in the spotlight.

Tonight you’re the center of attention, and rightfully so. You’ve worked your ass off trying to make this exhibit happen and you managed to pull it off seamlessly. But, there’s something else on his mind— something that has him a bit shaken.

The small velvet box tucked securely in his pocket feels heavier with every passing moment.

He plans to propose to you here, a decision he’s been turning over in his mind for well over a year now. Despite the certainty in his heart— that he loves you more than he ever thought possible— there’s a ghost from his past that won’t let him be.

The memory of Lorraine, his ex-fiancée, looms like a shadow, stirring anxieties he thought he’d left behind.

He never imagined himself getting engaged again after that failed relationship, and the fears that haunted him then seem to be creeping back now, whispering doubts even though he knows that what he has with you is completely different.

He takes another careful sip of his drink. Your friends have reassured him that everything will be fine, that you’ll say yes without hesitation.

But still, he can’t shake the apprehension that has him locked in place, keeping him rooted to this spot, while everything moves like a blur around him.

To make himself feel better, Javier allows himself to imagine what it will be like— to see the surprise and joy in your eyes when he gets down on one knee, to feel your arms wrap around him as you say yes, to know that you’re his, officially and forever.

You look so radiant, your cheeks flushed with excitement and champagne, and the sight fills him with a warmth that momentarily drowns out the worry gnawing at his insides.

And that cocktail dress you have on— Christ, it makes you look so sexy. Fitting your silhouette like a glove, accentuating all the curves that make him delirious. He’s half tempted to pull you somewhere more private, fall to his knees, and bury his tongue inside you.

You wouldn’t mind it one bit.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you spot him—your rock, your steady presence, the man who has stood by you through every twist and turn. Even amidst the buzz of the crowd, you can sense his wary disposition, the tension in his stance.

You excuse yourself politely from the conversation you’re in, your steps slightly swaying from all the alcohol you’ve had, and make your way over to where he’s standing.

“Found the life of the party right here,” you tease as you step up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. It’s soft, affectionate, and you taste the liquor on his breath; a reminder that no matter where you are or who’s around, he’s the one you’re always drawn to.

Javier’s heart skips a beat as your lips meet his, and he can’t help but smile down at you, even as the nerves twist in his gut.  “You’re the star tonight, mi amor. I’m just here to admire.” He murmurs, his voice low and warm, his free hand instinctively finding your waist.

“And I’m so glad you are,” you giggle softly, “But something’s on your mind. You okay?” You know him too well, and even through the vignette of champagne, you sense the unease beneath his calm exterior. 

“Yeah, just… taking it all in. Letting you do you,” he replies, his thumb rubbing small circles against your waist which has you exhaling shakily. He tries to sound casual, but there’s a tightness in his chest that won’t go away.

You see right through it, of course. After two years together, you’ve learned to read him like one of your photographs— capturing every subtle shift, every unspoken word. You tilt your head slightly, studying him with that sharp intuition of yours. “You sure?”

He hesitates, his thoughts racing.

He could drop to one knee right now, right here. But the weight of the past holds him back, just for a second longer.

“Just proud of you,” he finally answers, deflecting, but his brown eyes give him away. There’s more he wants to say, the words just catch in his throat.

Your smile softens, and you reach up to stroke his cheek. “Thank you, baby.” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, slower this time, as if to reassure him that whatever’s on his mind, it’ll be alright. 

A soft throat clearing from behind you interrupts the intimate bubble you’ve momentarily retreated into.

You roll your eyes playfully, earning a knowing smirk from him before you reluctantly turn on your heel.

Standing there with an expectant look is your best friend, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in mock impatience.

“Sorry to break up the PDA,” she teases, tone laced with humor, “but you’re needed elsewhere.”

You shoot her a faux-glare, but the corners of your mouth twitch upward into a smile.

“Duty calls,” Javier murmurs in your ear. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of your hair, the simple gesture making you feel tingly all over. You close your eyes briefly, savoring the moment before letting out a soft sigh.

With a resigned smile, you reach for his almost-empty glass, still held loosely in his hand. Without breaking eye contact, you tilt it back and drain the remaining contents in one swift motion, the smoky burn a small, satisfying feeling that warms up your blood.

Your friend snorts at your display, a grin tugging at her lips. “Cute. You’ve got her shooting whiskey now.”

You hand the empty glass back to Javier, who’s watching you with a specific glint in his eyes that you can’t quite put your finger on, and you wonder what it is that’s got him behaving like this.

“Go do what you have to do,” he tells you softly, fingers brushing against yours as he takes the glass. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

You nod, giving him one last peck before turning to follow her to where you’re needed. As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, so you sway your hips exaggeratedly. 

She nudges you playfully as you weave through the crowd. “You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?”

You can’t help but snicker, “I really lucked out with him,” you reply and she nods, understanding how much he means to you and vice versa. “He’s been acting really weird all night. Don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

She pokes her tongue against her cheek, trying her damndest not to spoil the big surprise even though she’s so excited for your reaction. “He’s so used to having you all to himself that he can’t stand sharing you with the rest of the world.” 

Now you nudge her, catching the sarcasm in her voice.

There’s a flutter in your chest telling you it’s more than that. There isn’t much you can do at the moment so you just drop it all together, a large grin on your face as you get pulled back into the social whirl.

You’re standing on the far side of the room, engaged in a lively conversation with the professor who had suggested you for the position in Bogotá. The conversation is light and familiar, filled with nostalgic anecdotes and her telling you she knew that you were perfect for the job.

Then, you hear someone softly call your name from behind.

You turn to face a man who appears slightly older than you, with sharp, handsome features and an air of pretentiousness that’s impossible to ignore. His perfectly tailored suit and calculated smile speak volumes before he even opens his mouth.

You bid farewell with your professor and shift your attention to the man before you.

“Peter Andrews,” he introduces himself smoothly, extending a hand which you shake. “Fellow reporter, currently working on a piece about the rising individuals in the field. I was hoping I could steal a few moments of your time for a quick interview.”

His eyes rake over you shamelessly, tongue wetting his lips, and then he adds, “I have to say, you’re even more beautiful in person.”

And there it is— the not-so-subtle flirtation, wrapped in a thin veneer of professionalism. You catch it instantly but choose to brush it off with a sweet, practiced smile, hand returning to your side. “Thank you,” you reply politely, already calculating how to keep the conversation on track.

You walk a little further down and he gestures toward the collection of pictures displayed on the wall opposite you, the ones capturing your time in Colombia. “Impressive work,” he remarks, eyes lingering on the images. “I’m particularly surprised you managed to get Javier Peña to talk.”

You recall that weekend spent in the Hamptons with Javier, where the goal had been to wrap up the project. Instead, it had been repeatedly delayed, thanks to his inability to keep his hands off you. The memory makes you smile inwardly, but you keep your expression neutral, curiosity piqued by his comment.

Your brows knit together as you question him, “Why do you say that?”

He exhales heavily, as if what he’s about to say is common knowledge. “I’ve just heard the guy is kind of an asshole.”

You suppress a laugh, realizing he has no idea that the so-called “asshole” he’s referring to is actually your boyfriend. Deciding to keep that detail to yourself for now, you feign interest, wanting to hear more of what’s being said about the former agent.

“Really?”

He hums, shifting his weight on his feet, eyes moving between you and the framed photos, “Yup. It’s a bit astounding that he wasn’t thrown in jail for, well, you know.” He motions vaguely and your eyes narrow, “Bringing him back was definitely… a move. A criminal going after criminals. Guess it’s the only way to catch ‘em, right? Takes one to know one type of situation.”

You bite down on your tongue harshly, hating the way he’s talking about Javier. He doesn’t know the half of it and if he did, he wouldn’t be so fucking judgemental.

“Criminals going after criminals,” you echo his words back to him with an edge, “Sounds like every other government man,” you add and he lets out a haughty laugh, the sound grating on your nerves. 

His arrogance makes your stomach twist, but you hide your distaste, bowing your head slightly as if to smooth out your dress, masking the grimace that threatens to surface.

The conversation with Peter continues with a few more back-and-forth questions. Nothing particularly groundbreaking. You answer with ease, maintaining the courteous smile you’ve perfected over the years.

Meanwhile, Javier has been searching for you, his brows drawn together in a deep scowl. He stops your friend and asks where you might be. She points him toward the more deserted side of the room, where he spots you engaged in conversation with another man.

Javier knows he has nothing to worry about— he’s secure in himself and in your relationship. But still, a sharp surge of jealousy courses through him as he takes in the scene.

The man, with his taller frame towering over yours, is standing just a little too close for Javier’s liking. His hand twitches at his side, as if he’s holding himself back from reaching out to touch you, and that’s enough to set your boyfriend on edge.

Before his brain can fully process it, his feet are already moving, carrying him across the room at a faster pace than he intended. He stops when he’s close enough to overhear your conversation but not to let himself be seen, keeping a watchful eye while trying to gauge the situation.

Neither you nor Peter notice his presence, too absorbed in your exchange to sense him nearby.

Not that it matters much— Javier can tell from your body language that you’re wrapping things up, and that small observation helps ease the tension in his chest. Still, he remains alert, listening intently while his gaze never wavers from you.

“So, where’s the after party?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you respond, “No after party. I’m looking forward to going home with my boyfriend.”

Javier, still watching from a distance, feels a swell of pride in his chest. Hell yeah, gatita, let that fucker know you’re taken.

Peter’s eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. “You’re in a relationship?”

“Yes,” you confirm, your voice steady. A server passes by with a tray of champagne, and you take a flute, thanking him before sipping from it to maintain your composure, though your thoughts are far less polite than your demeanor.

“Happily?” Peter presses, his boldness catching you off guard. You raise your brows in amusement, nearly choking on your drink at the audacity of his question.

Javier’s jaw tightens, and he’s on the verge of stepping in, ready to make his presence known to the man who’s clearly trying to make a move on you.

“Very,” you reply firmly, tone leaving no room for doubt.

“So I shouldn’t invite you back to my hotel room for a nightcap,” Peter murmurs, his tone dripping with suggestion.

You suddenly realize just how close he’s gotten, his breath warm against your ear. His hand has somehow found its way to your waist, fingers grazing your hip in a way that makes your skin crawl.

That’s the last straw for Javier. Without hesitation, he steps out from his spot, his voice cutting through the tension. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

The way Peter jumps back from you is almost comical, his eyes wide with surprise as he scrambles to put some distance between you both. It’s like that self-assured, cocky attitude was completely dissipated by Javier’s presence. 

Relief floods through you as your boyfriend steps closer, putting you at ease. An arm snakes around your waist, pulling you firmly against his side, and the warmth of his touch melts away any lingering discomfort.

“Sorry,” you say, definitely feeling the drinks in your system. “Peter here pulled me aside for an interview. He was shocked to find out that you actually sat down to talk to me about your time in Colombia. Apparently, you’ve got a reputation for being kind of an asshole.”

Javier chuckles dryly, his grip on your waist tightening protectively as he looks the other man dead in the eye. “Is that so?” he drawls, his tone calm but with an unmistakable edge. “Well, I guess everyone’s entitled to their opinion.”

Peter, clearly flustered, forces a laugh, his previous confidence now shaken. “Oh, you know how rumors are,” he stammers, taking a step back. “It’s just what I’ve heard.”

“Good thing I don’t put much stock in rumors,” Javier replies, leaving no doubt that he’s marking his territory.

You nestle closer into Javier’s embrace, smelling his cologne, feeling a sense of satisfaction as Peter fumbles for words. The dynamic has shifted, and it’s clear who holds the power in this situation.

“Besides,” he adds with a pointed look, “I am an asshole.”

You grin and bite down on your lip as he presses a kiss to your temple. Peter finally decides to retreat, mumbling something about taking a ‘very important phone call’. As he scurries off, you can’t help but feel a surge of pride for the man by your side—strong, vigilant, and completely yours.

Once he is out of sight, you turn to Javier, a twinkle in your stare. “You really do know how to make an entrance,” you tease, leaning up to kiss him softly.

“Just making sure no one forgets who you belong to,” he murmurs against your lips, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable. It’s so hot.

“As if I could ever forget.”

Somehow, you’ve found yourselves in a secluded enough corner for Javier to let his hand slide down from your waist to cup your ass, his fingers squeezing firmly over the fabric of your dress. The touch draws a soft gasp from your lips as you lean into him.

“Me estás volviendo loco con este vestido, amor,” he mutters in a low growl, indicating his growing need for you. “Wanna take you home and rip it right off you.”

You bite down on your lip, the idea swirling in your mind with a dangerous allure.

The thought of leaving this event—your event—early, just to be alone with him, is tempting, more than you’d like to admit.

But even as the desire flares between you, you know it’s not the most graceful move to make, disappearing from your own celebration just to satisfy your hunger for each other.

“Soon, Javi,” you whisper, trying to be the voice of reason in the building suspense, even as you try to maintain some semblance of composure.

But Javier’s hands have a mind of their own, growing bolder as they firmly grip your ass, pulling your hips to his.

The heat between you is tangible, and the restraint slowly slips away as his touch becomes more insistent.

Sensing that things are about to get dangerously out of hand, you quickly reach down to grip his wrists, gently but firmly stopping him before the moment escalates beyond your control, or worse, you’re caught.

“C’mon, sneak off to the bathroom with me. I’ll be quick,” Javier whispers, his voice thick as he leans in to nip at your earlobe. It sends a jolt of heat straight to the apex of your thighs, and you have to bite back a moan.

You tilt your head slightly, eyes scanning the room to make sure no one’s paying attention.

That no one’s searching for you.

When you’re sure it’s safe, you grab his large hand, heart pounding with excitement as you begin to pull him toward the back area of the building.

He’s sporting a triumph smirk that tempts you into kissing it right off his annoyingly handsome face.

Skipping the public restrooms, you guide him to the more secluded one for employees, knowing it’s the only place where you’re least likely to be interrupted.

The door barely clicks shut before he’s spinning you around, pressing your back firmly against it. His lips crash onto yours with an urgency that feels almost desperate, like kissing you is the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

His hands roam over your body, fingers digging into your hips as he pins you against the door, his mouth moving hungrily against yours. It’s unrestrained, filled with a need that borders on primal.

Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging him closer as your tongues tangle. The confined space only heightens the anticipation, the thrill of being caught shouldn’t feel this exhilarating. 

But amidst the whirlwind of passion, you manage to break the kiss, pulling back just enough to gasp for air. “I need to go back out there soon,” you whisper, your voice shaky, lips swollen and glistening.

Javier groans in protest, a deep, throaty sound that reverberates through your very core. In one swift motion, he maneuvers you over to the countertop by the sink, lifting you effortlessly to perch on top of the cool marble surface.

His hands are already working, sneaky fingers rucking your dress up until it’s bunched around your waist, revealing the silky barrier of your underwear. His gaze drops, taking in the sight of your exposed thighs, the delicate fabric already damp with anticipation.

A wicked smirk plays on his lips as he lowers to his knees before you, hooking a finger around your panties, tugging them aside to unveil your glistening folds.

The cool air brushes against your scorching skin, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. Javier’s eyes dart up, meeting yours, the smoldering intensity making your breath hitch.

He leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. The first touch of his tongue is agonizingly gentle, a teasing glide along your slit that has your hips bucking forward, seeking more.

He obliges, flattening his tongue to deliver a languid, thorough lick from your entrance up to your clit, collecting your arousal with a groan of appreciation.

A tremor runs through you, your fingers instinctively weaving into his hair, anchoring him closer. He chuckles softly against your pussy, igniting sparks in your veins.

His hands grip your thighs, thumbs stroking soothing patterns as he delves deeper, his tongue exploring every ridge and contour with meticulous attention.

When he finally wraps his lips around your swollen clit, sucking with just the right amount of pressure, a strangled moan escapes you.

Your thighs clamp around his head, the feeling so overwhelming, but Javier seems unfazed, his focus solely on drawing out every ounce of bliss he can from you. His tongue flicks and circles, alternating between gentle laps and fervent suckles, each movement pushing you closer to the precipice.

Your back arches involuntarily, head falling back against the mirror with a gentle thud but you’re too overwhelmed with how good he’s making you feel to notice the dull ache.

The room fades away, party outside muted, leaving only the slick sounds of Javier’s ministrations and your ragged breaths.

“Javi,” you pant, your voice barely above a whisper, laden with need. He grumbles, the sound sending a fresh surge of wetness to leak from your cunt.

His pace quickens, tongue and lips working in tandem to push you over the edge, his mustache scratching against you so delightfully.

The coil in your belly tightens, every nerve ending alight, and with a final, expertly placed suck, you shatter, pleasure washing over you in relentless waves.

Your vision blurs, stars dancing behind your closed eyelids as you ride out your climax, Javier’s tongue continuing its gentle caresses, guiding you back down.

As the aftershocks subside, you release your grip on his hair, fingers numb and trembling.

Javier pries your legs apart, placing a few more wet kisses on your pussy before nipping your thighs and standing to tower over you, kissing you roughly.

You can taste yourself on him, the heady flavor with the spicy liquor he’s been sipping on all night is an inebriating combination.

Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily, faces heated. “Okay, we can go back now.” he teases, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You laugh softly, still reeling from how quickly he got you off.

This man has a fucking mouth on him.

“You’re insatiable,” you murmur, affection lacing your tone as you bring your thumb up to smooth down his mustache, collecting some of your cum and feeding it between his lips.

He bites down on it gently after licking it clean. “Have you seen yourself? Hard not to be.” He responds, stealing another quick kiss before helping you straighten your dress, fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary which has you reprimanding him playfully.

You both compose yourselves, cleaning up and ready to return to the world outside, but he hangs back.

“You go first. I’ll be out there in a minute.” You nod with a small smile, leaning in to kiss him one last time before leaving him alone.

As the door closes behind you, Javier checks the silver watch on his wrist, noting the time. He exhales a heavy breath, the moment settling on his shoulders. “Okay,” he mutters to his reflection, the image of himself staring back with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. “This is it.”

He talks some confidence into himself, squaring his shoulders as the weight of the small box in his pocket becomes palpable.

It feels impossibly heavy, but it’s a weight he knows he’s ready to carry. This is what he wants— he wants you in every sense imaginable, and he’s ready to make that commitment.

With a deep breath, he adjusts his clothes, smoothing out any wrinkles and straightening his tie. His hands move to his hair, fixing the tousled strands left by your eager fingers, a small smile playing at his lips as he thinks of you.

A quick once-over in the mirror confirms he’s presentable, and with one final, steadying breath, he steps out to follow you, the decision already made and the path ahead clearer than ever.

You stare at Javier quizzically as he silences the room with a simple gesture, the murmur of conversations fading away as all eyes turn toward the two of you. He steps closer, his expression serious but softened by the warmth in his eyes.

You hadn’t expected him to make a speech— he’s not usually one for public displays— but the idea of him surprising you with one fills your chest with a rush of affection. A happy, almost nervous smile tugs at your lips as you gaze up at him.

Javier clears his throat, his gaze never leaving yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. “I’m proud of you,” he begins steadily, “Proud of the woman you are, the things you’ve accomplished, how you handle everything life throws at you with grace and determination.”

Your heart swells with adoration. Even though he tells you these things all the time when it’s just the two of you, having him declare it out loud to the rest of the world really pulls at your heartstrings.

“You’ve made me a better man,” he admits as he reaches out to take your hand. “You’ve shown me what it truly means to love someone unconditionally, to stand by their side even at their worst. I know I’ve given you plenty of reasons to walk away, and God knows I haven’t made it easy. But you’ve stayed, through all my shit, and that’s something I’ll never take for granted.”

His words hang in the air, the room is utterly silent now, every person captivated by the honesty in his voice. You can feel the love radiating from him, the deep, unwavering affection that has only grown stronger with time.

“From the moment we met, nothing about our relationship has ever been conventional,” Javier continues, his voice steady despite the nerves you can sense in the clamminess of his palm. You give his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze, hoping to ease some of his tension.

“We’ve faced challenges and obstacles in the strangest sequence. And that’s why I love what we’ve built together so damn much— it’s real, it’s raw, and it’s ours. Two stubborn, complicated people who somehow found a way to make it work.”

You’re hit with a wave of emotion, and you feel your eyes begin to glisten as you hold his stare. He carries a sincerity that touches something deep within you, a reminder of just how far you’ve come together.

Javier takes a deep breath, brown eyes never leaving yours. He releases your hand to reach into his pocket, pulling out the small velvet box that has been weighing on his mind all night.

The room collectively holds its breath, and you can hear a few gasps as he drops to one knee, eyes still on yours, nervousness and absolute certainty in his expression.

Your stomach bottoms out and you’re half tempted to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming. You look around to find your best friend, who just flashes you an encouraging smile, in tears herself.

“Gatita,” he begins, the pet name bringing you back to him, “I never thought I’d find someone like you. You’ve changed my life in ways I never imagined, and I can’t picture my future without you in it.”

He opens the box, revealing a beautiful, sparkling ring that catches the light and seems to shine just as brightly as the love in his eyes.

You gasp, recognizing the large diamond that sits at the center of it. 

Javier had Frankenstein’d his mother’s ring and the one you purchased in that antique shop back in Colombia. With Chucho’s permission, of course, he replaced the diamond on his mother’s ring and put yours in its place, just slightly altering the original band to fit your finger.

It’s truly the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen, and okay sure— maybe you’re biased because it’s being offered to you by the man of your dreams.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Javier declares as steadily as he can, despite the emotion thickening his words. “Will you marry me?”

Tears blur your vision, the reality of the moment sinking in. You look down at the man you love, the man who has been your partner in every sense of the word.

Your agent.

You nod, unable to find the words but knowing he can see the answer in your eyes.

“Yes, Javi,” you manage to choke out, voice trembling. “Yes, a thousand times yes, I’ll marry you.”

The room erupts in applause and cheers, but all you can focus on is the radiant smile on Javier’s face as he slips the ring onto your finger. The kiss you share is filled with all the love, passion, and promise of the future you’ll continue to build together, a future that’s just as unconventional, just as perfect as the journey that brought you together.

The rest of the evening is a whirlwind of joy and excitement, your engagement ring sparking endless conversations as you gush about it to everyone who crosses your path. Javier stays close by your side, his earlier nerves replaced with a relaxed and happy demeanor.

The gratification in his eyes is unmistakable as he watches you share your happiness with those around you.

The night winds down on a perfect note, and with your apartment just a short walk from the gallery, the two of you stumble through the city streets, your laughter and drunken smiles lighting up the night.

In the elevator of your building, you make out like horny teenagers. This time, it’s you who takes control, pressing Javier up against the railing that lines the small space. Your hand trails down to rub his erection over his pants. He groans against your mouth, the sound full of want.

When the elevator dings open, you grab his tie and pull him down the hallway, both of you struggling to keep your hands off each other as you fumble with the keys. After a few failed attempts at unlocking the door, you finally manage to get inside the apartment.

You break away from him, your breath coming in quick, excited bursts as you tug the loosened tie from around his neck. “Wait for me in the living room.”

He stares down at you, dark eyes revealing the hunger he has for you and yours reflect the same sentiment tenth fold. 

He nods, relinquishing his hold, but not before delivering a sharp smack to your ass as you walk away toward the bedroom. “Don’t take too long. I’m trying to fuck my fiancée.”

You shoot him a playful, heated look over your shoulder before closing the door behind you. Leaning against it for a moment, you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

So many good things have happened tonight, and adrenaline surges through your veins, leaving you in a euphoric high.

You walk over to your closet, rummaging through it, until you find what you’re looking for. The familiar mask comes into view, and a slow smile spreads across your lips as you trace the pointed ears with fondness.

You don’t wear it as often as you used to, reserving it for special occasions or when Javier has had an especially rough day at work— nights when you know he needs to let go.

Tonight seems like an appropriate time to bring out again.

In the bathroom, you strip out of your dress, letting the fabric pool at your feet. After freshening up, you slip the mask over your face, feeling a thrill as it settles into place.

Now, you’re completely naked except for your heels, the engagement ring sparkling on your finger, and the expensive necklace Javier gifted you on your two year anniversary. 

Grabbing his tie, you stumble slightly as you make your way back to him, pausing in the hallway to flick the lights off. You hang back, just before crossing the threshold into the living room, your heart pounding in your ears.

“You in there?” you call out playfully.

“Yes, ma’am,” comes his reply, followed by the soft clink of ice in a glass.

Peeking around the corner, you spot him sitting on the couch, his broad back facing you. Quietly, you slip into the room, your movements light as you come up behind him.

“Hello, agent,” you purr, words dripping with seduction as you place your hands over his eyes.

His body tenses briefly, a deep, carnal rumble vibrating in his chest as he catches on to your game. A half smile tugs at his lips, one that makes your heart skip a beat. “Hola, gatita.”

You giggle mischievously, the sound light as you lean in to lick the back of his ear, savoring the way he shivers at your touch. Then, with deliberate care, you bring the silk tie over his eyes, tying it securely behind his head.

“Just so you don’t get tempted to look.”

You round the couch slowly, each purposeful click of your heels against the flooring teasing him. His ears seem to twitch at the sound, and he brings the glass to his lips, sipping lazily.

“You won’t believe what happened tonight,” you come to a stop in front of him, right between his spread legs.

“Yeah? What’s that?” he asks, his tone casual but tinged with the same eagerness that pulses throughout you.

“I got engaged.”

Javier’s tongue slowly rolls over his lips, an arrogant smirk replacing his lopsided smile.

The sight of him, shirt half undone, his strong chest peeking through, a pronounced tent in his pants where his hard cock strains against the fabric, has your core throbbing. The way he looks, blinded by the tie, relaxed but clearly aroused, is nothing short of irresistible.

He lets out a low whistle. “Lucky man. Think he can handle you?”

You lean forward, pressing your hands onto his thighs, your grip firm as you let the hard tip of your kitten mask just barely graze his nose, teasing him with your closeness. “Oh, I’m positive he can.”

Javier licks across his teeth, the simper deepening as he suavely finishes off his drink. He hands the glass to you without a word, and you take it, placing it on the table next to the couch then turning your attention back to him.

“I should be the one playing with you, preciosa. Tonight’s all about you,” Javier murmurs as he reaches for you. But before his hands can make contact, you pull back, leaving him grasping at the air. He frowns.

“And what I want,” you counter, your voice dropping to a sexy whisper, “is to mount my man and ride the daylights out of him.”

The words hit him like a punch, his hands balling into fists as he curses under his breath. The sight of his restraint, of how much he wants you, brings a satisfied grin to your lips.

You’ve got him exactly where you want him.

You step back to him slowly, your fingers deftly undoing his belt and popping open his pants. His breathing quickens as you slip your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his velvety length, stroking him with gentle, baiting movements. “Already so hard,” you coo, tightening your grip on his dick ever so slightly, “You want this gatita so bad, don’t you, agent?”

He nods, muttering expletives as his head falls back against the edge of the couch. The sensation of your hand working him over is pure bliss, each stroke sending a lustful charge up his spine.

You lean in closer, your lips trailing kisses and nips along the thick column of his neck, your teeth grazing his throat in a way that makes him tremble. When you reach the birthmark on his neck, you plant a sweet, lingering kiss there, knowing exactly how sensitive he is in that spot.

Javier’s senses are heightened, the alcohol and adrenaline from the proposal amplifying every touch. The tie covering his eyes only sharpens his awareness of you, of the way your hand moves expertly over his cock, coaxing it to twitch.

The combination of your softness, your scent, and your whispered words has him on the edge, his body stiff, every nerve alive and burning for you.

“All the time,” he grunts, “Let me touch you, baby, please.”

There’s that slight whine in his tone, the one only you know he’s capable of making. He doesn’t even realize you’re naked yet and you know that’s going to set him off.

“Not yet,” you whisper in a tantalizing promise. You swipe your thumb over the slit of his cock, smearing the slick precum along his shaft, making him shudder. After a few more languid strokes, you pull your hand away, ignoring the low groan of protest that escapes him.

You tug his bottoms down just enough to free his swollen cock and heavy balls, it’s always a delight to see him hard and ready for you.

“Tan guapo,” you murmur appreciatively, your nails lightly scratching at his thighs, leaving a trail of tingling heat in their wake as you move up his beautifully tanned torso. His skin ripples with goosebumps at the light touches, aching for more.

You undo the remaining buttons of his shirt, sliding the fabric off his broad shoulders, exposing more of his skin to your eager hands. As you straddle his lap, he inhales sharply, the realization hitting him all at once— you’re completely bare and dripping wet for him.

It has the need to touch you growing unbearable.

Your hands glide to his shoulders, massaging the tight muscles there, and he sighs contentedly, tension slowly easing from his body under your soothing fingers.

He’s so close to losing control, and you revel in it, knowing that you’re the one who can drive him to the edge and pull him back just as easily.

“Wanna know a secret?” you whisper, leaning in closer, your soft tits pressing against his heated chest, mouth hovering just over his ear.

Javier tilts his chin up in response, a silent invitation for you to continue. As you lower yourself on his lap, his cock slides between your slick, sticky folds, and your hips begin to move in a slow, deliberate grind, coating him with your wetness.

“I’d been in your apartment back in Colombia before that night I blew you,” you confess in a sultry murmur, the words slipping from your lips so sinfully.

His head tilts slightly, curiosity piqued, and when he speaks, his voice drops to that smooth, dangerously seductive tone that sends shivers down your spine— he’d make a killing as a sex phone operator. “What do you mean?”

You’ve never told him about your little Goldilocks moment, that sneaky visit to his apartment when he wasn’t home. But tonight, with your bodies entwined and his cock teasing your entrance, it feels like a good time to reveal it.

“You went to Cali to catch Gilberto Rodríguez, leaving your place empty for me to explore. It was so exhilarating, all the little things I learned about you by snooping around.” A needy whine escapes your lips as the thick head of his cock brushes against your clit. Your pussy clenches around nothing, begging for more, desperate for him to finally slip inside you.

His brows furrow, intrigue and lust clouding his expression, and you can feel the strain tightening his body as you pick up the pace, grinding down harder against him.

“I couldn’t help myself,” you continue, slurring your words, “I was so turned on by the smell of your cologne lingering on the pillows… and my mind… well, se puso un poco imaginativa al pensar en que rico te sentirías jodiéndome.”

His fists clench at his sides, knuckles white as they twitch with the urge to touch you. “¿Qué hiciste, gatita?” 

You let the heavy pause linger between you, suspense hanging, before finally biting your lip and confessing, “I fucked myself on your pillow.”

Javier’s reaction is immediate, a growl rumbling deep in his throat as the image of you humping against his pillow while he was away seizes his thoughts. His teeth bare into a snarl, the thought of you pleasuring yourself in his space while he was gone intensifies his arousal.

“It felt amazing,” you purr, “I screamed your name when I came. Best solo orgasm I’ve ever had. All thanks to you, agent.”

The guttural sound he lets out has your thighs tensing as he bucks his hips up, adding more friction to the slick heat of your pussy. “Jesus Christ, you’re a naughty fucking thing, aren’t you?”

“Only for you,” you whisper, your tongue darting out to lick along his jawline, your breath hitching as the pressure builds within you, your movements against his now drenched cock growing more frantic.

“Show me,” he pants out, rough and demanding. “Show me how you did it.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Gripping his broad shoulders for support, you adjust your angle as you begin to replicate the way you rode his pillow that night. You lose yourself in it entirely, going absolutely feral on his cock. 

The coarse hairs at the base of him brush against your sensitive cunt, adding a delicious juxtaposition that makes your toes curl.

You rut against him with purpose, your slick folds gliding over his length, hips rolling in a rhythm that has him cursing under his breath. His cock twitches with each movement, a symphony of your shared, ragged breaths and the wet, erotic friction between you filling the space.

As you move, you can feel the traction in your core winding tighter and tighter, his body responding to every little thing you do.

You sigh his name out, your voice wavering with the approach of your orgasm. You’re so close, teetering on the edge, and he can sense it. His husky voice cuts through the haze of pleasure, a dark, encouraging sneer that prickles at your skin.

“That’s right, gatita, come all over this cock, my perverted little bitch.”

That delicious line of degradation is the final push you need. You lock up, figure glistening with sweat as you shatter around him, your juices soaking him as your hips stutter out of control. Pathetic, broken moans escape your lips, your mind absolutely lost.

Javier’s had enough of not being able to touch you. As you ride out the last waves of your orgasm, he wraps his strong arms around you, effortlessly repositioning you so that he’s on top while keeping you nestled in his lap.

With a swift motion, he rips the blindfold from his eyes and takes your heels off, drinking in the sight of your figure beneath him. The darkened room only heightens his need, your sexy silhouette and the kitten mask driving him up the fucking wall.

He moves quickly, grabbing his thick shaft at the base and slapping it against your sensitive clit a few times, watching with satisfaction as you quiver from the sharp, teasing sensation.

His palm spreads at your lower back, steadying you, then with a grunt, he sheathes himself inside your pussy.

“Fuck,” he drawls the curse word out, clenching his jaw. The sweet burn of him stretching you out has your skin buzzing, your nerves on fire, and he’s lost in the way your tight, wet pussy grips him perfectly, just as it always does.

“You’re so big, Javi. Feels so good,” you whimper breathlessly as you tighten your arms around him, pulling him closer.

The praise spurs him on, and with a rough groan, he sucks a nipple into his mouth, biting down just enough to make you gasp.

Your reaction drives him wild, and he snaps his hips sharply against yours, filling you to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

Your yelp of satisfaction echoes in the room as he starts to fuck you hard and fast, the pace relentless, designed to push you both toward that blissful release.

Your hand reaches back to steady yourself further against the couch, fingers digging into the cushions as he drives into you with urgency.

The rhythm he sets is maddening, your hips meeting his with equal fervor. Your lips find his in a messy, desperate kiss, neither of you caring that your mask is in the way. It’s something you’ve gotten used to by now.

“Taking it so good, gatita,” your pussy clenches around him, “Soy el unico que te lo puede dar asi, don’t you fucking forget it.”

The memory of that other man, his wandering eyes and bold advances, has all but faded.

Jealousy has awakened something so primal and attractive in Javier, a fierceness that makes your pulse race. You love it when he’s like this— unyielding, dominant, marking you as his own.

Each ragged breath he takes fuels the rough rhythm of his body against yours, leaving you aching in the best way, a deep satisfaction blossoming alongside the lingering soreness.

“R-Remind me, then,” you whisper, barely audible, caught between a plea and a challenge.

He responds with a brutal thrust, stilling once he’s buried balls deep inside, his thick cock filling your needy cunt.

Javier’s hands are unrelenting as he pushes you flat against the couch, his broad figure hovering over you. One hand snakes down to your throat, his fingers pressing into your soft skin, cutting off just enough air to make you gasp and your vision to blur.

“You need a reminder?” His voice is dangerously low, the mocking tone has your clit throbbing almost painfully as his grip tightens, pulling you closer. “That fucking ring on your finger not enough?”

You move your hips against him, desperate for more, but his hand flies down to your waist, fingers digging in roughly to halt your movements. A pitiful whimper escapes you, your need for his cock all consuming.

His hold around your neck loosens just enough for you to draw in a shuddering breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “P-Please, Javi.”

He answers with a cruel smirk, slamming you back down, his hips pulling away until only the swollen head remains inside you. Then, without warning, he plunges back in, forcing a scream of his name from your lips as he begins to fuck you, each stroke filling you completely as he gives you exactly what you’ve been pleading for.

The air is thick with the sounds of your desperate, mingled moans, your bodies slick with sweat as you move together like wild animals in heat. 

His hand remains firm on your throat, keeping you pinned beneath his weight as he shifts your legs higher on his waist, opening you up even more. The other hand moves to your breasts, his palm cracking against one and then the other, sending them bouncing with each slap.

Your acrylics scratch at the wrist of the hand that’s around your neck, the engagement ring glinting in the moonlight that floods the space, casting a silver sheen over the heated scene.

His eyes hone in on the jewelry, the grip on you unbending. “You’re mine,” he growls, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust that makes your eyes roll back, your body helpless against his claim. “Say it.”

“I—” Your voice falters, the words choked off by the sudden, electrifying pinch of his fingers on your clit. You find yourself chasing more of that feeling.

“Fucking say it,” he demands again, this time more gruffly, as if not hearing you declare yourself to him is painful. His fingers slap your bundle of nerves, and you jerk, back arching taut off the couch.

“I’m yours, Javi, fuck, I’m yours,” you cry out, the confession spilling from your lips as you writh beneath him. “I only want you— your cock, your mouth, your touch— everything. Oh,” you moan, your voice breaking as his relentless pounding has your cunt pulsating around his length.

“So close, baby, I’m about to come, please don’t stop.” The overwhelming pleasure builds to a fever pitch, leaving you quivering and completely at his mercy. 

Your desperate words satisfy him, a dark hunger finally sated as he leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. 

Your fleshy walls tighten around his cock as you shatter completely, coming undone. You pant and moan into his mouth, and he drinks in every tremor of your climax.

After a moment, he pulls back just enough to let you catch your breath. “On your knees, gatita.”

His voice is all hoarse and authoritative, leaving no room for hesitation. 

Although your body is still shaking, you obey, sluggishly slipping to your knees with a slow, dazed blink.

He towers above you, all dominating and manly, as he reaches down, pinching your chin between his fingers. He tilts your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes making you whimper.

His cock hovers before you, and you can’t help but admire the mess you’ve made on him. Without a word, he guides it between your swollen lips, and you eagerly accept him, your tongue swirling around the tip before you wrap your lips around him. Sucking your cheeks tight as you move, he groans, his large hand at the back of your neck.

The taste of yourself mixed with his musk is addicting as you slide him deeper into your hot mouth, inch by inch, until he’s buried completely down your throat, a wet gag sounding out as you struggle to take all of him. Your hands grip his thighs for support while you work to clean him off.

“Shit,” he grunts, pulling you off his throbbing cock and jerking himself furiously over your open mouth. You stick your tongue out, pretty eyes locking onto his, heavy-lidded and filled with lust. “Gonna look so pretty with my cum all over you,” he rasps. It’s all the warning you get before he groans low in his throat, his hips jerking as spurts of his hot, milky load shoot from his swollen slit.

The warm fluid lands everywhere— on your tongue, splattering across your kitten mask, dripping down your chin. Some of it trickles onto the diamonds that gleam around your neck, and the sight of you like this is so fucking perfect, it sends a surge of possessive pride straight to his heart.

With the little energy he has left, he mumbles, “Stay just like that,” before quickly walking over to the entertainment center. He grabs the Polaroid camera, turning to you as he snaps a photo, capturing the erotic moment.

There you are— naked with your face covered in his seed, a sultry glint in your eyes, the kitten mask perched prettily on your face.

“Hermosa,” he breathes, admiring his work, his gaze worshipful as he lowers the camera.

Once he’s got your photo, you curl your tongue back into your mouth, the saltiness making you hum at how yummy he tastes.

Your fingers delicately collect the remnants from your chin, your neck, and even your mask, before slipping them into your mouth to savor every last drop. The way you devour it makes his breath hitch all over again.

Javier smiles down at you, his gaze softening as he gently helps you up from your knees. He reaches for the edge of your mask and slowly lifts it from your face and tosses it aside, wanting nothing between you as he leans in for a kiss.

His lips meet yours with a gentleness that makes your heart flutter, the exhiliration of your fucking melting into something far sweeter.

“I love you,” he murmurs, those three little words filled with a depth of emotion that makes you feel like you’re floating. The tenderness in his voice, the way he holds you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world, makes your heart swell, your body and soul wrapped up in the love you have for him.

“I love you more,” you whisper back warmly, giving him a final, sweet peck. The avidity of the night begins to ebb, leaving the two of you in a serene, exhausted state.

Javier gathers you into his strong arms, holding you close as he carries you to the bathroom. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest is comforting, and you nuzzle into his neck, feeling completely at peace.

Once inside, he sets you down carefully, his hands never straying far from you as he begins to run a hot shower. The sound of the water cascading down is soothing, steam filling the room. He steps behind you, unclasping your necklace and setting it on the counter.

He steps into the shower with you, standing together under the droplets. His hands move over your figure lovingly, lathering you up in that soap of yours that he loves the scent of.

He’s playful in his affection, cheekily cupping your breasts before sliding his hands down to your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze, making you laugh softly as he finishes rinsing you off. 

You return the favor, your fingers tracing the contours of his toned figure, memorizing every inch of the man you’re about to marry. It still doesn’t even feel real.

After you finish your respective night routines, Javier tugs you toward the bed, and you follow willingly. The cool sheets feel like a welcome embrace as you slip under them, and he immediately pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you, your bodies fitting together perfectly.

You look up at him, a surge of pure love and endearment welling up inside you.

“You make me so happy, Javi,” you murmur, your fingers caressing the damp curls at his forehead. The sincerity in your voice is unmistakable, and you see the way it touches him deeply. “I can’t wait to be your wife. Just saying it makes me all giddy.” You giggle, and his mouth quirks up into that familiar half-smile you adore so much, tilting his head to place a kiss against the diamond of your ring.

“I can’t wait either,” he replies, his thumb lazily stroking your cheek as he gazes down into your eyes. “You’ve given me everything I never knew I needed. You have no idea how happy you make me, corazón. I’m the luckiest fucker in the world.”

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s a kiss that conveys everything words can’t— the depth of your love, the excitement for your future, the joy of knowing you’ve found your forever.

[bloomshroomz]

I don't understand the whole, "You can't explain gender stuff to kids; they're too young to understand" argument. Refusing to explain anything just results in more confusion.

As a kid, I thought that trans people were a really cool hypothetical, but didn't realize that could actually be a real thing until years later. I used to try to find portals where I could step in and swap my gender in elementary school, because I thought that would be the only way.

In third grade, we had a project where we were given the letters of our names and pictures of our faces, and we were supposed to draw the rest for a sort of classroom student book thing. I dropped some of the letters in my name to make it masculine, cut off the hair, and drew stuff that I thought was cool.

The teacher saw this and said, "Is that really how you want people to remember you?" clearly expecting me to say "no."

But I said "Yes," and the teacher argued against this for a bit, before giving in and allowing me to use the art that I made. They still made me create a version that aligned with my AGAB, though. The masculine version was only kept in black and white.

(Fun fact: My chosen name is actually almost identical to the name I chose in third grade. I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted, even with my limited knowledge on what I could do.)

I fantasized about being able to change my gender a lot as a kid, whether that meant being a boy, or being neither a girl nor a boy, or being between/some sort of boygirl. I wished that I could "genderbend," because that was the terminology I knew.

I learned that trans people actually exist in like... Middle school? And people were super transphobic at the time, so I internalized that for a few years before accepting that I'm trans. That pain could've been avoided if I had been taught from a young age that trans people exist, and that it's okay to be trans.

I was a trans kid, and I didn't know that was what I was until I was a teen, because I wasn't given the opportunity to know. Trans kids exist, regardless of whether you give them language to express their experiences or not.

And I've met trans kids who knew that terminology, and knew that they were trans because of it. I've also met kids who weren't trans, but still experimented with pronouns and gender expression for a short while to see how they felt, because they were given the freedom to do so. It's good to let kids explore who they are.

I'm also openly trans, and I don't hide this from anyone. Kids understand, even if I'm the first to explain it to them. It's not a hard concept to grasp. My little brother was introducing me to his friends as his big brother even when I was expressing myself very femininely, and hardly any kids batted an eye. Some of them were curious why I looked so feminine for a guy, and it was easy to explain. It has also been easy to explain what being nonbinary means.

Kids latch onto concepts like gender more easily than you think. Out of everyone in my family, my little brother (who still isn't even a teen yet) has been one of the most supportive people when it comes to my transition. I can't think of a time when he has misgendered me- not in years, at least. He caught on fast, and he never gets it wrong. He even corrects people who misgender me. I get misgendered by the adults in my family much more than the children.

Kids get it. All you gotta do is explain.

[shuunkan-art]

This is right to left due to the force of habit. I played with some friends who are way above me in skill level and drew some of my experiences eheh.

Me and my friends are represented with characters here, so that's why the Testament is a "he", by the way.

It's my first time playing a fighting game and my friends are really good at it, so I really got my ass beaten. I'm like, stuck in floor 2. I am learning a lot from the experience though, and it's just...it's so new. I wanted to know what it was like to feel like you're having a conversation with someone via a competitive thing, I suppose because I have avoided such things for so long.

Well, though the reality of it is really that I loved Asuka so much I had to play him, no matter what. Well, it's a nice bonus to have a silly badge of "my first fighting game character is Asuka". Jokes aside, I guess... I missed trying new things. And I want to learn to take criticism and advice, so something out of my comfort zone (I avoided FGs for all my life because I believed I couldn't possibly get good at it) works pretty well.

Oh, and... this was exaggerated for comedic effect. I actually had a lot of fun (even if I didn't understand what was going on because my friends had a massive variety of gameplans and were fast).

I don't really know how to say it. I'm having a lot of fun and it's nice to have a tangible reminder of how I can still grow.

[slut4tangerine]

co-parenting

— pairing: exhusband!Drew Starkey x Reader

— type: fluff

— summary: You & Drew are recently divorced, while trying to co-parent your daughter Amelia.

— a/n: i’ve been having intense baby fever for some reason.

— warnings: mentions of pregnancy // light cursing // divorce // exes -> lovers

You sat alone on the couch with your 2 year old daughter Amelia sleeping peacefully on-top of you. You softly stroked her back as there was a quiet knock at the front door of your home.

You slowly set Amelia on the couch, surrounding her in pillows until you returned to your spot.

You opened the door to find none other than your ex-husband and Amelia’s father, Drew Starkey, at the door. He threw you a smile as he whispered a simple “Hey”.

There was no bad blood between the two of you. The relationship was a bit complicated due to Drew’s career and schedule, so you both thought it’d be best to get a divorce.

Drew was an amazing father to Amelia; the little girl absolutely adored him. Seeing as Drew was constantly away for work, he agreed to let you have Amelia majority of the time. Whenever he came to see her, he would go to your house to see her. That’s just how co-parenting worked between the two of you.

Drew entered the house and embraced you in a hug, which immediately gave you butterflies. It was no secret that you were still madly in love with the man in-front of you. Well, it was no secret to everyone but him.

Your decision to divorce him filled you with immediate regret.

You led him over to the couch where Amelia was still fast asleep, now hugging one of the pillows. You looked over at Drew to see him smiling to himself.

He slowly sat down next to her sleeping body and carried her in his arms before whispering a gentle “Princess… Princess wake up” in her ear.

Her eyes fluttered at the sound, rubbing her eyes until she could fully see what, or rather who, was in-front of her.

Her once sleepy gaze turned into an enormous smile once she saw her dad.

“Daddy!” She exclaimed as she wrapped her small arms around his neck.

“Hey Princess, I missed you” He smiled as he placed a kiss onto the top of her head. You smiled at the sight. Oh, what you’d do to be a family again.

You made your way into the kitchen, preparing some mac & cheese for Amelia’s lunch.

“You want some Mac & Cheese?” You asked Drew. He looked up from his conversation with Amelia to shout a quick “Sure” before going back to talking to his little girl.

“Daddy why don’t you sleep over” Amelia asked him as she toyed with his hands:

“Because daddy doesn’t live here anymore, princess”

“Why not” She gave him a cute little frown.

“Well uhm… Mommy and Daddy aren’t together anymore. I still love your mommy very much, and I wish we were together, but we aren’t” He whispered as he smoothed her hair.

“But mommy loves you too, daddy” Drew’s eyes looked at the little girl in shock. For a 2 year old, she sure as hell understood a lot more than people think.

“What are you two goofballs whispering about over there?” You joked as you set their plates on the table.

“Nothing mommy!” Amelia shouted as she ran to her big girl chair (she had been learning how to sit in one without falling over… she was going amazing), giving Drew the ‘uppie’ arms as her way of signaling to him to lift her into her chair.

“Thank you, Y/n” Drew smiled at you before sitting down to eat with Amelia.

You excused yourself as you went to the bathroom. As you washed your hands in the sink, you heard a little “do it, daddy” come from your daughter’s mouth. You loved the bond Amelia had with Drew. She really had him wrapped around her finger.

As you exited the bathroom you ran into Drew’s frame. You apologized but Drew wasn’t listening.

“Can we talk for a minute?” Your heart dropped. Last time those words were said, it ended in your divorce. Nonetheless, you nodded your head, leading him to the foyer, as it was much quieter.

“What’s going on?” You asked as you looked into his beautiful blue eyes, trying to figure out where this conversation was going.

“It’s about us” Drew started and you stopped breathing for a moment before you nodded, telling him to go on.

“Look I’m gonna get right to the chase. I miss you. I miss Amelia. I miss you both more than ever. I miss being a family” You were more than shocked at his words.

“I know I’m the one who decided to get the divorce, but it was probably the dumbest idea I’ve ever had. I want us to all be together again” He pleaded with you.

“Drew, you have no idea how much I regret ever agreeing to leave you. I miss you too. It’s been so hard these past few months without you” You had tears cascading down your face at this point as Drew wrapped you in a tight yet comforting hug to try and calm you down.

“Amelia’s getting older, and I’m struggling trying to balance work and taking care of her. Amelia and I both need you now more than ever” You wiped the tears from your face as you looked up at him.

“I know, and I’m sorry for not being around as often as I should. I have the next few months off of work; we can try to fix this” He gestured between the both of you as you smiled and quietly nodded.

“I think both Amelia & I would really like that” You smiled at him before he leaned down and gave you a gentle kiss filled with so much love, a kiss that you’d been yearning for since the day you signed those stupid divorce papers.

Your kiss was interrupted when you heard tiny footsteps running toward you, as tiny arms grabbed hold of your leg. Drew bent down to Amelia’s height and picked her up.

“Guess who’s sleeping over” You giggled as Amelia’s face burst into a smile as she looked at her dad.

“Are you and mommy back together?” She asked Drew before he looked at you and smiled.

“We’re working on it, princess” His beautiful smile remained painted on his face as he pulled you closer to him and kissed your forehead.

“My girls” He mumbled into your hair before he began to tickle Amelia as she giggled loudly.

[n3onwraith]

I forgot to post that I drew Needles! You can't tell, I haven't made the HC doodles comprehensive yet, but hisbneedles hide under his skin and eject when needed, like those spike traps but millions of needles!

I'm gonna put all my HCs below the cut just to spare yall

He's def a natural redhead to me, but bleached it a lot before becoming an avatar

Technically, this would only be his human disguise thing. Full eldritch is reserved for attacking ppl and defense, which is rarer than attacking people, and in that form he's all lanky with all his needles out all the time like a fucked up longhorse and pincushion had a baby and it got possessed

He just has no sense of pain most of the time, at least related to intrinsic issues. Getting stabbed or shot hurts, but when his bones constantly break as Eldritch Needles or when his limbs fall off (like Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas) he doesn't feel all the pain, just a tinge or a pinch

Can remove his needles from his skin, but their 'slot' stays open until he puts them back or replaces them (like shark teeth, he grows them but can also swap them out for found ones) and he uses that to sew himself back together as needed

Lots of piercings, most home-done. Really only his lobe and one of three cartilage rings is professional, he did the rest as an angsty teen for fun

Was turned as a late teen/in his early twenties, and therefore his disguise stays looking that age because that's the only way he really remembers who he is and what he looked like. Eldritch Needles is just a fucked up skinsuit really, a puppet for what he needs to do, and Needles himself can't remember or guess what he would look like by now (bones, probably, with his luck, but he was taken as an avatar/eldritch in the 90s/early 2000s so realistically only around 40-50 or so)

Got in a ton of accidents as a kid, always was and always is banged up somehow

Flashes his needles and puffs up on instinct when things piss him off, has to stop himself from doing it around people

A gifted kid for the institute who ended up being neglected outside of schoolwork and what he could do (projection?)

Glitters in the sunlight even with the needles put away. Its just bcs he's got so much metal in him and the sunlight catches the slots weird enough to glint briefly

The jacket reacts the same way his hair and needles do, like an external organ, but it's only due to it being part of his avatar influence shit and its not actually a part of him. It goes dormant when removed or unwanted

Like a hedgehog hair-wise, it's harmless and like regular hair until it's Needle Time (TM)

Easily offended/angered, as seen in the 911 call, and likes to fuck with people. I'd guess older sibling if he had any, but the kind where you matured too fast and then slowed your roll so late you were the immature one (projecting)

Likes to be colorful but in a dull way. Washed out colors just suit him better in his opinion and let him express himself without drawing attention to himself and the fact he's not quite human anymore

Gap teeth <3 Wanted to get braces as a teen but didn't, still pissed about it because now he can't and it doesn't matter since hes not human anymore anyways. slowly learning to like the gap when his angel fangs don't get stuck in em

Didn't draw it but he has snake bites too, just rarely wears them. It's either angel fangs or snake bites but never both because they tend to snag for him

A parallel of both Nikola and Michael, kind of. He's got little bits that Norris, Chester and Augustus would recognize if they ever met him, like his speech pattern and penchant for never giving straight answers, but he's got his own thing going on more than the parallels ever could be.

Rip off Cheshire Cat. Alice in Wonderland, the animated one, was his favorite movie growing up for the colors, and when he got older for the story

[kokiriri]

Hi!

I really like what you draw, I like how you draw your character.

Looking for an art style, I wanted to ask you. How did you find it?

Hope my question doesn't bother you... 😓

Have a nice day!

Hi!!

First of all, thank you for your kind words! I’m really happy that you enjoy my art :)

Great question! I think there’s always a lot of confusion when individuals are trying to discover their own styles (I’m often confused myself) but hopefully by sharing my experiences, it can make things a little more manageable for you.

I really think that my style now is a conglomeration of everything I’ve so far been interested in. And I’ll try to explain what I mean. When I was really little, I would draw things like “The PowerPuff Girls” or other shows like that because their character designs were simple and easy for me to draw. It wasn’t until I was around 10-11 when I started reading some Pokémon manga/comics (called “Pokémon Special” in English) I found at my local library. I really liked the style of these comics, so I would copy the way they drew eyes and such. My art began to get slightly more complex, and I began to move away from drawing simplistic cartoon bodies to more anatomically founded figures. These Pokémon comics are honestly the major foundation of my style.

Here’s some examples of what the comics looked like.⬆️

I was also obsessed with the Megaman EXE television show around the same time, along with this one comic featuring Megaman X. You would probably agree with me that the Pokémon comics and Megaman share a very similar style (at least, in terms of character design and structure.)

For years, I drew exclusively in a style very similar to the images you see above (albeit, I was still pretty young so my drawings weren’t nearly as good.) When I turned 13, I started watching Inuyasha, and again, my style shifted. I was largely inspired by how they drew hair in Inuyasha, especially the poofy bangs Inuyasha and Kagome have (the two characters in the image below.)

I started meshing those kinds of hairstyles with the Pokémon/Megaman styled bodies. Keep in mind that as I was doing this, I was drawing A LOT. Nearly everyday, during class, whatever. Because of that, I started to grasp a better understanding of what character design features I liked best and so on. However, my major flaw that I wish I realized sooner was that I hardly drew from reference. Please please please use photo references or other artworks you enjoy for poses or expressions because it really does improve your art! (Don’t blatantly copy and claim them as your own though, that will earn you a shadow ban from the art world.😵‍💫)

Fast forward to this year. I recently started getting into manga by Adachi Mitsuru because I fell in love with his retro comic style. Some of my favorite works of his are Touch and Cross Game, feel free to check them out! Anyways, I’ve been studying his art and what makes it appealing to me, and I found that I like the simplicity along with great dynamic poses. So I look at those panels that showcase those aspects the best, and try to redraw them! The first few drawings always look terrible, but after a bit, you begin to understand what you were missing the first time, and slowly you improve. Here are some panels from Cross Game to help you get a taste of what the art is like.

For me, it took years to develop my own style, and it will probably be the same for you. It doesn’t come easy, and although it sucks to admit, your art will look bad to you for the first few years after starting to draw. But know that each time you draw, your body memorizes the way it moves whenever you draw an arm, a hand, whatever, and it learns. Because of this, be sure to draw referencing styles that YOU like. That way, your body becomes slowly accustomed to a better way to draw hands that you enjoy, rather than getting stuck and not improving. And don’t be afraid to experiment with different styles! I try to draw out of my comfort zone, and that’s where I feel I learn the most.

I hope this post was helpful and provided good tips. Of course, you shouldn’t feel the need to watch/read all the shows and books I’ve referenced here because at the end of the day, you’re looking to forge your own style, not replicate mine. Find what shows and comics you love, and then ask yourself “Why do I find this appealing? What about the style is speaking to me?” And then draw those aspects/designs you enjoy. Just draw. Things will start to come together after that. :)

Bonne chance!

[artsyspinch]

Four years ago, I drew my first ever finished digital art piece, using a Huion 420 tablet off of Amazon, and Krita. I was so proud of it, I showed it off to my friends and family on instagram, and I didn’t think I could get any better than this. Fast forward to the next year, and I drew it again, just to see how much better I could make it.

This time I used a Wacom tablet with Krita. It was one of the cheaper ones, but still an upgrade. I was even more proud of this one, but I wasn’t really that happy with it. I didn’t like how Papyrus turned out, and it seemed so awkwardly spaced and posed. I knew I still had more to learn, and I rushed it, since I didn’t think I could do any better. I then decided to redraw it again the next year.

This time I used Ibis Paint X and a small stylus on my phone. I was ecstatic with how this came out. I thought this was the absolute best I could ever do, but I still had little nitpicks about it. Again, I struggled a lot with drawing Papyrus, but this time I was also unhappy with the colors and shading, and how Sans was drawn (I have no idea why I made him thicc). But again, I redrew it the next year.

This one was a huge confidence booster for me. I had just gotten a brand new laptop from my parents: A Lenovo Yoga, with a Wacom bamboo ink stylus. It was the best gift I ever received, but on top of that, they got me Clip Studio Paint PRO. So I was ready to make some good ass art. This time I sketched everything out on paper, then finished it in CSP. I even attempted a background, which didn’t come out too bad. Papyrus doesn’t look horribly off model, and the poses and composition overall was just better. I used a clean sketch for the lineart, since that was a big struggle with my previous versions, and I used colors other than black and white for shading. After I made this, I felt like I didn’t need to continue redrawing it, because I thought I was at my peak.

I redrew it this year.

I used my Lenovo Yoga, but this time I had a Wacom bamboo plus, and Clip Studio Paint EX. I added more characters, and took a little bit more inspiration from the original, but I mostly wanted it to feel more alive. I finally perfected how I draw Papyrus, and Toriel, Asgore, and Frisk aren���t statues anymore. I showed off what I’ve learned about lighting and shading, did actually clean lineart, and I even did a full background! I’m so proud of this, and so happy with how far I’ve come as an artist, and I can’t wait to see what my future self draws next year.

[whattraintracks]

2. Revenge - TMNT 2012

Raphael gets revenge for a fallen brother.

Raph stands over Leo's fallen form, heartbreak and fear in his eyes, and Leo almost gives up right then. But Raph steels himself just as fast. He turns to their enemy, fists clenched, the picture of righteous fury. He has always been their protector.

And with every ounce of force in his body, he boldly declares, "Don't worry, Leo! I'll revenge you!"

Leo really tries not to giggle with Mikey at that for the sake of the game and the fierce little five-year-old holding fast above him.

Predictably, Donnie's head pops up from behind the couch cushion barricade. "Actually, Fai, it's avenge—or, wait. Maybe both are right? You'd usually say—"

His impromptu grammar lesson cuts to a screech when he gets a face full of little turtle. The two of them tumble into a tight ball, Raph struggling with all his might and Donnie striking that careful balance between fight and play they've all had to learn the last few days to protect a brother much smaller than usual.

Leo rolls onto his plastron, pillow-induced death forgotten, to keep an eye on them. Raph's always been pretty rough and tumble, and even at 5, they could take some good hits in a spar. But it's still a little scary to wrestle with him when he's this small, to check their strength, to remember that your partner doesn't remember all the steps to your lethal dance.

Game forgotten, Mikey romps off to help Sensei carry in the tea and snacks Raph had adorably insisted on before his afternoon nap today.

"Man, Sensei, were we really this much work as kids?"

Leo rolls his eyes fondly at Mikey's moaning. All he'd done was crouch behind couch cushions. Meanwhile, Leo and Raph had fought for their lives to overtake Donnie's masterfully built pillow fort. Leo fought with honor and fell valiantly, thank you very much.

Splinter hums thoughtfully, "Yes. And no."

Mikey groans again, more playfully this time.

Leo can picture the twinkle in their father's eyes. Raph is laughing so hard he can't possibly be breathing, so Donnie's hands cease their tickle assault to hover anxiously over him.

"The four of you were certainly a lot to handle," he hears Sensei continue, "But you could usually be counted upon to care for and entertain each other."

Leo looks over just in time to catch Mikey's broad grin.

Splinter beckons Leo, and Donnie's not far behind, lugging an enshelled Raph.

"He's alright," Donnie preempts, "Just hiding from the nefarious tickle monster." Echoey giggles emerge from the little shell in agreement.

Leo basks in the comfort of taking tea with his family, of Donnie and Mikey doting on their little big brother, of Sensei watching over them with fondness and pride. They all try not to laugh at Splinter's disgruntled expression when Raph dunks his animal crackers into his teacup, suppressed snickers turning to full-bodied laughter at Raph's sly grin.

Then Mikey announces nap time, and Leo can't help the feeling that something important is slipping away from him. Raph lifts his arms sweetly, all sleepy and sated, to be bundled and whisked away. He calls I love yous and good nights over Mikey's shoulder.

Leo's heart hasn't stopped clenching since Donnie's panicked shout drew them all to the lab and revealed his much-shrunk brother, but it twists painfully again when he returns that call.

A furred claw settles on his shoulder. "Something troubles you, my son?"

"He's just," and Leo's not even sure he can put it into words, "so much more, Sensei."

And he doesn't mean it like Mikey did. Sure, the little guy needs a lot of care and attention, but Leo could never be frustrated about that. All he ever wants is to care for and attend to his brothers, and that Raph isn't pushing him away out of some sense of teenage pride fills him with warmth and sweetness.

What he really means to ask is, where did it all go?

Where did this happy little turtle go? The one who had bouts of hot anger but could be soothed with hugs and kisses. Who cried fat tears when he thought he'd hurt his brothers even accidentally. Who shrieked with joy at the sight of a beloved toy, or movie, or treat. Who said I love you as easy as breathing. Who felt so much so loudly and so brightly.

Sensei nods sagely. "Raphael has always been a sensitive child with large emotions. He has better control of them at your age." But Donnie's looking right at Leo, something fragile in his eyes. Guilt, probably, and understanding.

And Leo wonders sometimes after things go back to normal. When Raph is big again and still himself, always himself, but closed off in his anger, quieter in his fear and sadness and guilt, secret in his joy and love like they're a weakness and not the strongest parts of him. He wonders if maybe there's a part of Raph who still just wants to be hugged and held and loved when his emotions get too big for his body.

[cld9writes]

teratophilia - jeon jungkook x reader kinktober #4

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

day four - teratophilia, aka monster-fucking

reader! afab!reader, fem!reader

word count! 444 words

tags! toys, "monster fucking," implied smut, not-so-implied smut ------------------------ *ੈ✩‧₊˚𖦹𖦹𖦹*ੈ✩‧₊˚------------------------

Teratophiliac Jungkook teratophiliac Jungkook teratophiliac Jungkookkkkk<3

But not for himself, no no no. For you, my love. Anime and hentai go hand-in-hand, after all, and it’s only a matter of time before those nasty videos leak add to his length list of turn-ons. 

It’d start off small- just him thinking about tentacles or dragon cocks being shoved in you while he jacked off. But discovering a new genre of sex toys would really help him get into it.

It wouldn’t be long before he’d gather a collection. When I say he’d want to test out everything, I mean it.

Tentacles, dragon cocks, knotted toys. Any shape, any size, any function. He’d just want to know how it felt for you. He’d love to tease you with them, so stretch you out, to see just how filthy you could get. He’d make notes of just what did it for you- which ones hit your special spots the best, what makes you cum the fastest, the hardest. He wants everything to be perfect for his baby. Simply perfect.

But he’d become absolutely unhinged once he learned about sheaths. He doesn’t have to just watch how tentacles make you feel, he gets to do it to you.

He’d be a little nervous the first time. Who wouldn’t be, shoving their precious dick into that much silicone? But the way you were begging and the way his cock was aching and the way it was so, so close to his fantasies convinced him to slip it on.

And he loved every second of it.

It felt a little strange for him- almost a mix between fucking you and a fleshlight. But lord- the way you reacted to it. The way you gripped onto his back so hard you drew blood. The way your legs stuck to his waist. The way your eyes rolled back and your tongue lolled and the way you just couldn’t stop rambling on and on and on. It made up for it. He fucked you like a wild animal that night. He fucked you until he was a sticky, panting mess and the only thing he could think about was just how tight and warm you were inside. 

But above all else, he loved the examination of it. He loves that he could do this to you, that you were secretly just as filthy as he is. That he could fuck you with something that wasn’t even human, and you’d still cum hard and fast for him. He loved the mess you made of each other, and he loved how he got to add another toy to his collection every single fucking time.

------------------------ *ੈ✩‧₊˚𖦹𖦹𖦹*ੈ✩‧₊˚------------------------

This one is a LOT shorter, purely because I’ve never written monster-fucking and this idea is half-baked. I may try something bigger with this so stay tuned ig?

[alicenpai]

art thoughts lately!! particularly about con prep ..

- i am getting tired of drawing chibis during con prep season 😔 like i mentioned before, i think im "good" at drawing them, but they are kind of uninteresting to draw. and i get bored after a while! i think that's why charms burn me out so fast. luckily my last "specialty" merch design was just submitted so . i can move on to prints and other designs now

- i still like designing charms but i think i might try portrait charms. which means that like . my charm catalogue will cover a less broad range of fandoms (?) bc portraits will take a lot more work + harder to draw characters i don't know well

- might also still do buttons bc i like the idea of having low cost options on my table (i.e. canadian con goers tend to have a lower purchasing power?) although i think i may have been under charging...... i might have to raise the price by a few cents, because again, they do take time to draw. i put unnecessary amounts of detailing in them . it sparks joy ok 😔 anything priced under like. $10 (?) will be a low cost merch option and i like the idea of still having my art be "accessible" and not just like. having $15-20 charms and prints

- i also want to lean more into like. stickers in the style of the baccano sheet i drew last year! i think it's a lot of fun to interpret a favourite series in this graphic design style. a lot of work and research but yeah

- i hate lineart again so it might be time to learn how to clean sketches again

- might also be time to crank out the chisel brushes again - whenever i see artists using the chisel brush it makes me miss my 2017-18 era art sm .... there's such a delicious flow in chisel brushes .. part of the reason i stopped using them is 1. i was getting tired of using the brush (though i think my 2019 art was a bit tame compared to the previous year), and 2. complications on my computer with photoshop and then having to move on to clip. i can't replicate the tilt sensitivity of my ps brushes (specifically the helen chen brushes) in clip ^__T so i had to learn to wield another set of favourite brushes. i know clip also has chisel brushes but this one was my favourite aughhgh. will have to dive into the brush settings window for like 2 hours again ..

- overall, im really looking forward to stickers and prints the most! esp prints! i have a greater vision of what i want to capture in my art, after doing the Halloween piece and the pandora hearts twin mirrors piece. i want to push my art in a more illustrative direction (thank you miss shirahama kamome of witch hat atelier you have changed my life), if it works out. ill definitely have to toss the old prints that don't suit my style anymore, though ill see about doing a "last call" to see if anyone wants em during anime north 🤔 if not they will be recycled hehe

[insertsomthinawesome]

Sorry if this doesn’t make sense but how do you… art? Like from looking at your art, there’s just so many different fandoms and it’s all fantastic!! How do you not stick to one or feel like you *have* to stick to one? Sorry

Aw Friend! No need to apologize! :D You asked your question plenty politely! That's a really interesting question actually, and I'm fascinated to be asked it! Because I actually do know the kinda thing you're talking about! or at least I have experiences that feel like they line up with what you're asking. A lot of its... growing up? I guess? And not in the sense of like. becoming an adult. but the non-stop process of growing and learning more about life. When I was younger, an actual child, I just Did it. I drew whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I didn't question hoping to a new interest or drawing different fandoms. I just did it. But the older you get the more complicated a lot of things get right? 😔 That was true for me.

I actually spent several years terrified, of moving on. Of leaving old fandoms behind. There was one fandom I actually forced myself not to leave for like... 2 years? Because I was afraid of all the projects I wouldn't complete, all the stories I wouldn't tell, all the art i wouldn't make. But honestly that was a horrible decision? It burnt me out of the specific fandom SO BADLY. Its only been around this last year that I've been able to enjoy things around it again without an overhanging shadow of stress.

I was still scared to fandom hop after that incident tho. Despite having gotten burned by caving to my own fears. It wasn't until I got into Trigun that I actually started to get less scared. A friend I met in that fandom, someone who was older than me, told me that... things have a way of coming back around. If you know the song "Everything Stays" From Adventure time? She said it was like that song. You will inevitably get older. But these things won't be gone. And you can always come back to them :) That clicked in my brain... and it took a bit longer, a bit more time of accepting that fact for me to find peace... but honestly? I kinda have now. At least for this moment in time. I wouldn't be surprised if the fear comes back around again, fear is funny and insidious like that. But I have the tools to beat it now :) The other two things I would mention are these: For starters: this might be obvious? But I'm a hobbyist artist. I don't make money off of my art, I don't sell it, I don't need numbers or clout in order to pay my bills. I'm completely free to do my own thing! Ain't nothing wrong with making a living off of your artwork and if that's the path that you want to walk GO FOR IT. But that path does have its own challenges. Because I don't walk that path, I am free to make whatever I want, without worrying about how it might reflect on my finances. The other thing is...

PERFECTIONISM...

THIS, NASTY LITTLE VILE COCKROACH, WILL RUIN YOUR ART LIFE SO BADLY ITS INSANE. It will ruin your NORMAL life super fast too 😔 it is an insidious little shoulder devil telling you, that you will be happier if you just do it the "perfect" way. IT IS SO SO SO SO SO SO WRONG. That is the key to the door of endless procrastination and broken dreams. SFLJSLF to get less metaphorical about it though: If you're always waiting for the perfect moment to make art for a fandom, to leave a fandom, to join a fandom (in this case i just mean "Get into the thing that interests you" when I say "Fandom") or create literally anything, you will be waiting forever. I know because i have been :') And its made it very hard to draw both in my past, and right now this very day.

Truthfully i'm still working on that one??? I've had some epiphanies recently that have helped a lot with my perfectionism... but I haven't tried drawing since having them? (drowning in the new Honkai Star Rail Patch WHEEZE) So uh. Not sure If I'm over that hill yet xD But yeah, if that's one piece of advice i could give you to take seriously, its don't chase perfection, in ANYTHING. Especially art. It will never be enough for you. And if you're doing it for other people, it will never be enough for them. Art is wonderful and messy, and human. And that is okay.

Its taken me a lot of soul diving and thinking and a lot of help from outside influence and kind people for me to figure this stuff out too. So don't feel bad to ask for help kay? We all need help. A lot xD I'm still not like, the king this stuff either. There are a lot of smaller, more niche, fandoms, I want to draw for, but still haven't, because of my own anxiety and embarrassment. There are fandoms I haven't drawn for because I don't feel like i have the adequate amount of information to be, ""allowed"" too (which is totally a fake standard btw, there is no barrier to entry for when you're "allowed" to draw something). I'm working on these problems every day.

Oh actually one last note: People can influence how hard it is for you to draw for a bunch of fandoms too. If you know you'll get made fun of for drawing something, its hard to draw. If you know you'll get praised for drawing something, sometimes that makes it easier to draw. Both of those things can mess you up BAD. Constantly drawing for other people (when its not a deliberate gift) can make you feel really upset and angry, and dissonant with your artwork.

But it can be equally as hard to realize nobody will share your enthusiasm if you don't draw what they like. That's not a judgement against anybody's friendships, we all got our own interests, and nobody can be 100% Invested in everything their friends enjoy. But It can make it a bit more emotionally challenging sometimes. And it can be hard to like?? Emotionally deal with that? in a way it makes art that you know will perform well, either with your friend group or online, like... "Candy". Its tastes good, but it doesn't give you long term energy (ie there's nothing wrong with it, but its not sustainable as your only form of sustenance) Meanwhile making art that is purely self indulgent is like eating a full and healthy meal. It gives you that long term energy of personal satisfaction, and your enjoyment and happiness also doesn't inherently hinge on whether or not other people appreciate it like you do. Obviously there's no issue if what you genuinely want to draw would also do well online/with your friends!

ANYWAYS, yeah, I'm still maturing and learning and growing with a lot of my opinions and perspectives and emotions on this stuff? Its definitely easier said than done, and while from the outside it looks effortless... I understand why you'd be struggling anon. I hope you can figure it out for yourself too! Best of luck :D also i could go on and on and on about this topic for years because alsjdfaksjdflJSDJGSD ooohhhhhhh boy I have learned and witnessed and thought many a thunk.

[white-wolf-buckaroo]

Chapter 4: My loyalty is bound by blood

Here it is! Second flashback of Emily's childhood in my daughter of Ares fanfic. Hope you like it! <3

Word count:: 3600 ish words

Warnings: mean people :(

Fic masterlist here!

Seven year old Emily stood in the training arena, with a tight grip on a sword and a shield.

It had been a year since her arrival at camp half-blood, and she had changed a lot: she still slept with her teddy bear, and liked running around the woods playing with dryads, but she had also worked on her fighting skills. Last summer she had met the rest of her halfsiblings, and although many of them were… rambunctious, she got along with most of them; they didn’t take her too seriously, as she was the youngest of them (and one of the youngest campers as well), but they sticked to her, they let her stick to them, and they didn’t treat her poorly.

Camp was a lot different during the summer: there were no classes, only practices and activities to learn to shoot arrows, climb lava walls, fly Pegasi, go swimming or riding a canoe, and play volleyball. It was a lot of fun, and Emily was really sad when most of her siblings went back home for the school year; she stayed at camp, obviously, because she had nowhere to go, but she had slowly but surely started to think of camp half-blood as her home.

She started second grade then, and when she wasn’t learning what any other average kid her age would be studying, Chiron taught her ancient Greek, and told her stories that were known as myths in the mortal world, but that were basically family history for her. She listened to him in wonder, and remembered every single tale, completely fascinated.

And then there was training: she put on her first armour, and lifted her first ever sword, ready to learn. Most weapons were still too heavy for her to lift, but she managed well with what she could handle, and after a year at camp, well, no one could say she wasn’t a child of Ares: she had a natural skill for it.

Emily’s siblings, particularly her brothers who stayed at camp the whole year, were the ones that trained with her the most, although she had befriended other campers, descendants from different gods; she was advised by her brothers and sisters to not befriend children of Athena, though, as their father and the goddess had a well-known rivalry.

She didn’t think much of that, until one day, two new demigods made it to camp.

That day, at the training arena, under the light of sunset, Emily charged against her opponent, a daughter of Demeter, a bit older than her, but not as skilled. The girl defended herself from Emily’s attack, but she was quickly disarmed by the daughter of Ares, who smiled at her victory. It didn’t last long, though, as a boy from the Hermes cabin named Chris shoved her from behind, causing her to stumble. Her grip on her weapons didn’t falter, though, and she recovered fast enough to stop the next shove, protecting herself with the shield.

Her sword clashed against the one of the boy, and they kept going like that until the boy used brute force to hit her on her arm; Emily felt the impact of the blow on her limb, and she momentarily dropped her sword. She winced, but her now trained reflexes helped her recover quickly, and so when the Hermes boy charged at her again, Emily switched tactics: without missing a beat, she drew the dagger she had strapped to her side, the blade gleaming in the fading sunlight.

With swift movements, Emily maneuvered around Chris, and she aimed for his exposed side, still protecting herself with her shield. She threw the dagger. The blade didn’t cut deep, but it scraped his skin enough, making him hiss in pain, and causing him to step back for a second. Emily used this time to retrieve not only her dagger, but also her sword, regaining her initial stance, a determined glint in her eyes.

The Hermes boy was clutching his side, his fresh yet small injury burning under his hand. He dropped his sword, signalling his surrender against the daughter of Ares.

“Well done, demigods” said Chiron, standing on the side along other half-bloods “Chris, you may go to the infirmary before dinner to treat that cut”

The boy nodded, picking up his stuff and leaving the arena. Emily received a clap on the shoulders from two of her older brothers, who congratulated her.

“Good job there, little sis”

Emily sat later on by her siblings during dinner, and she smiled excited at the prospect of having the table full of people again in only a few weeks’ time, when the rest of the half-bloods came to camp for summer.

She then burned part of her food, as usual, thinking of her father.

Ares had kept visiting from time to time. He didn’t show up anymore last summer, but that was fine for her, as Emily had had all of her siblings to keep her company. He visited a few weeks after the end of summer, though, the same day she managed to climb the lava wall to the top all on her own for the first time, and she told him all about it, proud at herself. He kept watching her from afar, appearing once more in December, then in February, and then once again sooner than expected, in March, her birthday month; in true Ares’ fashion, he gifted her a throwing knife made of celestial bronze disguised as a bracelet, enchanted to have more accuracy and strength in her shot than with other blades, and that would return to her magically any time she threw it. It was the first birthday present she ever remembered getting from him, and she loved it.

He watched her progress at training, and each time he visited she told him about her new skills. All alone, more often than not Ares caught himself smiling at her sight, fighting other campers, every day stronger; she’d truly make a fine warrior someday.

That evening, in the month of May, Emily went straight to bed after a staying outside by the campfire after dinner. She had developed a habit of sneaking out after curfew at night every other day, watching the stars sitting at the beach or in a clearing in the forest; she knew she shouldn’t be outside that late, especially because there were actually some monsters in the deep forest, set there to keep demigods alert even at camp if they ever decided to wander around, but she always sticked to the safer parts of camp, where they wouldn’t catch her, and where monsters wouldn’t eat her.

If her siblings knew of her habit, they didn’t say anything, like that particular night when she walked outside of her cabin, alert for Chiron or Mr. D. The night sky was clear, not a cloud in sight, and the constellations were all spread on display for her eyes to find, which she was determined to do.

As she was focusing on connecting the dots of what she believed was the Ursa Major, a sudden commotion disrupted the peace of the night: there was shouting, and people running down the hill, straight to camp.

At first Emily was startled, afraid that something bad was happening, so she grabbed her bracelet, which transformed on command into the throwing knife. Other campers that still weren’t sleeping walked out of their cabins, some of them also holding up weapons, while the lights turned on in the big house.

Emily saw then that there was no apparent danger, as the newcomers were a satyr, a teenage boy and a girl who looked her age. She didn’t recognize them, although she knew the satyr: his name was Grover. He spent most of the year outside camp, like many other young satyrs, searching for demigods in schools, taking them to camp to protect them from the creatures that would attack them once they knew what they were (or if they were already too powerful). She guessed that the boy and the girl with him were half-bloods, which was normal, but that didn’t explain the commotion they caused entering camp.

Chiron and Mr. D made their way to them, and Emily went swiftly back closer to her cabin, pretending she wasn’t already outside when the newcomers had arrived: the teenage boy had short black hair, and dark eyes, although his skin was light, whereas the girl had deep chocolate colour-like skin, matching her brown eyes and her black braided hair. Both of them, just as Grover, looked dishevelled and tired, but also agitated. The girl was crying, and the older boy was trying to console her, while his own tears streamed down his cheeks. Grover was talking frantically to Chiron, and after telling him something that made the girl cry even harder, the centaur, and even Mr. D, ran up the hill, followed by the older campers.

The air was tense, and by that time, everyone had exited their cabins, wanting to know what had happened. One of Emily’s brothers who had stayed behind after Chiron left told her to stick to his side until they knew what was going on, and she didn’t need to be told twice.

As Emily stuck close to her brother, the camp buzzed with speculation, doubt, and worry. It was clear something bad had happened. You didn’t need to have heightened senses to pick up the somber atmosphere: in silence, they watched Chiron and Mr. D on top of the hill, out of reach for them to hear, but it didn’t look good.

An older girl from the Demeter cabin approached the new girl, who was still crying her eyes out, and offered her some tissues to dry her tears. By the time Chiron, Mr. D and the campers that had went with them were back, the boy and the girl (who Grover had introduced as Luke and Annabeth), were sitting on a bench together, still shaken, but a bit more calm. The looks on Mr. D’s and Chiron’s faces didn’t bode well.

Emily’s brother put a reassuring hand on her shoulders when their sibling joined them back. The night seemed to stretch endlessly as campers waited for answers. Eventually, they received them:

“A young demigod has fallen in battle. Thalia Grace… a daughter of Zeus” there was a collective gasp after hearing that “A forbidden child who has sacrificed herself in order to save her companions, Luke, Annabeth and Grover, from the monsters hunting them. She has now been turned into a pine tree by her father, to preserve her spirit, which has now created a magical barrier that will reinforce our protections against monsters luring outside. Her sacrifice, her courage and her bravery, will forever be remembered, as we are safer now thanks to her. Thanks to Thalia Grace, daughter of the king of gods”

A wave of shock and grief washed over everybody present: demigods, satyrs, dryads, nymphs… all of them felt a pang of sadness and shock at being so close to death itself, the weight of loss heavy. It was one of the toughest nights Emily had ever spent at camp half-blood, and the morning that followed wasn’t much easier: it wasn’t only that a forbidden child had been revealed (which was, apparently, really big news), but she had also died, and her soul had been preserved by Zeus himself in a way that would protect other demigods at camp, forever.

This was all a pretty big deal.

And then there was Luke and Annabeth. Their protector, Grover, blamed himself for what had happened, but they were trying to cheer him up, saying that he had brought all three demigod’s to camp, and that it was Thalia’s choice to protect them, to sacrifice herself, for them to live. Both half-bloods were officially claimed as well: Annabeth was Athena’s daughter, which she apparently already knew, and Luke was a son of Hermes. They slept in their respective cabins for the rest of the night, which seemed to bother them, as they seemed pretty close and didn’t like being separated, especially not after what happened to Thalia.

Emily eyed Annabeth curiously. From what she had learned, she was seven years old, just as her. She ate breakfast at the Athena table, with the few of her siblings who lived at camp full term; it seemed like she would be joining them as a year-round camper, and Luke as well.

There weren’t many kids as young as Emily at camp when it wasn’t summertime, so even if Annabeth was a daughter of Athena (something her siblings thought wasn’t all that good), Emily was secretly excited at the prospect of having someone else her age at camp for the whole year.

“Why are you staring at her?”

Emily looked to her left, where one of her brothers sat; he had caught her looking at Annabeth, which wasn’t all that weird, because basically all of the campers were staring at the newcomers, but Ares’ kids seemed to be ignoring Annabeth on purpose. Well, all of them, except Emily.

“She’s my age” it seemed like a valid explanation to her, but her brother shook his head “What is it?”

“We don’t mix up with Athena’s kids, remember? Our parents don’t get along”

“But that doesn’t have to mean we can’t” she frowned “Just because Daddy and her Mom don’t like each other…”

“Listen, Emily, it doesn’t work like that” her older brother, the oldest one of them, spoke. He was starting to look concerned “It’s not just about our parents not getting along personally. It’s about the history, the conflicts between Athena and Ares: they both represent different aspects of war. They clash, and so do we. It’s in our blood. Our cabins have a long history of not getting along”

“But… she seems nice” she insisted. Her young mind struggled to grasp the complexities of their family dynamics.

“It’s not about being nice or not” her brother looked frustrated now “This is about power, our cabins’, and our parents’. Mixing with Athena kids only leads to trouble”

“Really?” it didn’t seem right to her. Why couldn’t she befriend the girl anyways? Who cared about their parents’ rivalry? She only wanted to have a new friend.

Her brother, the one on her left, put a hand on her shoulder, like he did the night before.

“I know it’s hard to grasp now, but in time you’ll see that we’re right. For now keep your distance from her” he smiled pitifully at her, sensing that she wasn’t really convinced “Hey, we’re your big brothers. You know you can trust us”

Despite their warnings, Emily couldn’t stay away from Annabeth; you could say that was a trait she inherited from her father: always pushing it, challenging the rules.

She approached her that afternoon, during archery class. Annabeth was still pretty affected by the recent events, which was totally understandable, and she seemed to be struggling with her aim. By her side stood Luke, who didn’t seem to have that many problems with the bow and arrows, but his sad face gave away is sorrow mood instantly. Chiron had thought that trying out camps’ activities would help and distract them from what had happened the previous night, but everybody was still shaken up by it, not only those two. It wasn’t everyday that Zeus yielded his power in matters related to half-bloods, and especially not involving one of his own children (who shouldn’t even have been born).

Emily wasn’t all that bad at shooting arrows, so when her brothers weren’t looking, she walked up to the girl.

“Hi” she greeted, smiling “I’m Emily”

“I’m Annabeth” her voice was small, her throat sore from all the crying.

“Um… do you want some help with this?” she pointed to the bow in her hands, and then the target: a huge stuffed sac of straw shaped like an hydra, with a bull’s-eye painted in the centre. Annabeth looked at Luke, who nodded at her, encouraging her, and then she accepted.

Emily had had fun that afternoon: she taught Annabeth a few basics in archery she had picked up over the year from the Apollo kids (who were the best archers with the best aim out of all of the demigods by far), and she even got her to smile once or twice while they practiced. What wasn’t so fun, was the looks Emily received from her brothers when she was caught: disappointment, anger, coldness. They didn’t like it one bit.

And it didn’t end there: the next day, Emily was alone in the Ares cabin during the afternoon, catching up on some sleep. Her young body was tired because of the rollercoaster of emotions she had experimented during the last hours, so as any other kid, she took a nap to recharge her batteries. Clutching her teddy bear, she lay under the covers of her bunkbed, when suddenly the inside of the cabin turned darker, and the lock on the door was sealed.

She had just woken up, so it startled her pretty much. Sitting up, however, she relaxed when she saw her father sitting across from her on one of the unoccupied beds, on the other side of the room.

“Hi Daddy” she rubbed her eyes, getting rid of that foggy feeling that came with waking up, and smiled at him. She was starting to get accustomed to his sudden entrances.

Ares had been watching for the last few days. The news of a forbidden kid hadn’t only shaken camp half-blood, but also Olympus. His father had broken his promise of not having any more demigod children, and now said child, a girl, his half-sister, had died on the outsides of camp, fighting monsters to protect the other demigods she was travelling with.

Hera wasn’t pleased at the news. Ares wasn’t pleased at the news. Hermes wasn’t as well, like Athena, but they were also relieved that their children had survived their way to camp, where they would be safe (now even more, thanks to the barrier of Thalia’s tree). The atmosphere was tense at Olympus, and no one wanted to be there while said tension lingered.

“ ’Heard there was a lot going on down here” he said. Emily didn’t notice, but he looked tired; there had been a lot of fighting going up at Olympus after Thalia’s heritage was revealed “You okay?”

She nodded, standing up. With her teddy under her arm, she made her way to Ares, sitting next to him on the small bed: he was so large that he occupied most of the mattress, so Emily had to squish herself in between him and the bars of the bunkbed. It was a curious sight: a big strong man, a god, and his petite young half-blood daughter.

“I was scared… there were monsters outside of camp, and a girl died to protect everyone” she had been thinking a lot about the recent events, processing everything slowly but surely “She was very brave”

“Seems like it” he shrugged.

“I also met the new campers Grover brought with him. They seem nice!” she looked a bit less sombre, her mood becoming more light-hearted “Their names are Luke and Annabeth; his dad is uncle Hermes, and her mom is aunt Athena. They’re both going to stay the full term, like me! And Annabeth, she’s my age, and we’ve been practising archery together, and…”

“Hold up there” Ares raised his hand, effectively stopping her rambling “You said she’s Athena’s kid?” Emily nodded, having forgotten for a second what her father thought of the goddess “Nah, better not get mixed up with those. Stay away from her”

“But why?” it was like talking to her brothers all over again, her enthusiasm turning into uncertainty “She’s nice! We talked about constellations, and she can draw like, super well, and she…”

“Emily, I said no”

She scowled, displeased.

“Daddy, but-“

“No ‘buts’, Emily! I don’t want you near her! You hear me? Stay away from her!”

It was the first time Ares raised his voice at her, like, in a really angry, dark way. Emily flinched at his voice, eyes welling up with tears, overwhelmed, but she quickly nodded with her head, not wanting to hear her father yelling again and upset him even more. He scared her deeply.

Ares’ own eyes gleamed, but with fire. He came down from his outburst a few seconds later, standing up from the bed.

“Trust you old man, kiddo. I know what’s best for you”

He ruffled her hair, and vanished then, without another word; the light inside the cabin turned brighter again, the door unlocking itself, and Emily sat all alone with her thoughts.

Emily didn’t want to displease her dad. He was the only thing she had left, besides her siblings, who also weren’t keen on her befriending the daughter of Athena. So, even though something in her inside screamed at her to reach out to Annabeth (probably the part of her personality that came from her mom, more caring and loving than Ares), seeing a potentially great friend in her, she decided to follow her fathers’ and her siblings’ advice, in order to stay on their good side.

That doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt when the next morning Annabeth asked her in front of most of the campers if she wanted to practice together archery again, and she had to tell her straight in the face “no”, saying that she couldn’t, and that she didn’t want to be friends with her.

Emily’s brothers saw that interaction, and they congratulated her for having reconsidered where her loyalty stood. She just wished that their praise could’ve erased the feeling of regret she got after seeing Annabeth looking at her in tears after so blatantly rejecting her.

----

Taglist: @strawberryys-stuff@ladysybilchronicles@kyuupidwrites@nhloversblog@beansficreblogs@priyajoyyy@zeeader@lightsgore@gengen64

[nkjemisin]

Hi!

I’m currently struggling to go to sleep the night before a big solo performance for a school event, so I figured I’d ask one of my favorite authors a couple things I’ve been wondering about. (Does flattery still work on people?)

So, I believe I remember you saying something along the lines of “people ask me why I write about weird sex magic. It’s because I read Greek mythology, and it has a lot of weird sex magic.” And I’m paraphrasing that horribly, but I was wondering, what things *have* you drawn inspiration from? I’m in love with the way magic is portrayed in both the Dreamblood books and the Broken Earth trilogy (I’ve yet to read the inheritance series), and I was wondering what inspiration you had? They feel kind of different to me—dreamseed and it’s counterparts seem really rooted in the four humors and the way some older mythos have a big fuss around the seed of gods and all that fun stuff, but the magic in Broken Earth feels a lot more . . . introspective, I guess? It seems like you’ve written it to be much more focused on the individual’s own perception of it, and that influences what they can do/how they do things. And I don’t really think I’ve seen anything that leans into that angle, as far as mythos goes. (Though I really, really cannot claim to be knowledgeable in that.)

And for the second thing: do you have any tips to becoming a good reader? I can read *fast*, but I really feel like I don’t get more than just the surface and shallow ideas about the message/themes the author might intend. It always seems like people are able to come up with very introspective, in depth dissections of their favorite characters and books, and I can’t help but look at those sometimes, and go, “wow, what was *I* reading?” I guess that it might be a learned skill, but I don’t really know where to start. I guess I also wanted to ask about what themes and such you wanted to incorporate into the Broken Earth trilogy (that was my introduction to you, then Dreamblood, then the Great Cities), but that’s really just a secondary thing to this question.

Well, regardless of whether or not you answer, I just wanted to ask so I could stop thinking about it constantly. I can’t wait to jump into the Inheritance Trilogy next time I buy books.

Flattery doesn't work on me, but I do love to talk shop, so... 😄 Cutting for length:

To your first question, about the different ways I depict magic -- first, it's not just Greek mythology that I use. There are soooo many cosmologies and cosmogonies out there that show gods as rowdy, horny, petty, and basically human, just with weird magic powers on top of that. The Dreamblood books are specifically informed by ancient Egyptian mythology and culture. I did some research into ancient Egyptian medical texts -- in particular the Edwin Smith Papyrus -- so I drew from those to create Gujaareh's four dream humors. I wanted Gujaareh to feel like an ancient Egypt that might have developed if magic actually worked... and if its own version of Imhotep had been a manipulative megalomaniac who decided to start a magic-controlled theocracy. tl,dr; Ancient Egyptians had a thing for humors and surgery and gods that were into sex lettuce, so that's what I claimed for Gujaareh.

With the Inheritance Trilogy I ranged more widely in what I mooched from existing cosmologies, because I wanted to build a belief system that resembled real-world stuff but wasn't just our world's gods in costume. For example, I noticed that lots of systems suggested that existence or human genesis begins with gods banging or fighting (or both), so I came up with a creation myth chock full of gods banging and fighting. Familiar hanger, new clothes on it.

But the Broken Earth books aren't about gods. There's a mythic frame "explaining" the Seasons and past disasters and Father Earth and so on, but that wasn't the focus. I was more interested in the ways we apply myths to people, treating some marginalized groups as simultaneously superhuman and subhuman... but never simply human. Same for the Great Cities books. It's meaningful that other cultures have discovered the existence of city avatars and worked them into their cosmologies, but only as a bit of detail to make the world more complete. Again, the mythology isn't the focus there.

I can't help you on becoming a good reader, sadly, because I am a very bad reader these days. I have a lot of trouble shutting off my "inner editor voice," which is a thing that I've heard a lot of other pro authors (and editors, and reviewers) mention. People in my business spend years developing the ability to spot problems in writing... and the inner editor is what happens when you stop being able to shut that ability off. The typos, the clichés, the patches of language that could've been trimmed out, all of it just starts to glare. The thing is, all books have issues like this, and most of the time they're not even errors, just... pecadilloes. The little things that are part of reading work made by human beings. They mean the writer was tired and didn't proofread as closely as they should, or maybe the writer was waffling on word use and inadvertently ended up using one a little too much, or maybe they were having a fight with their copyeditor about spelling and missed a grammar flub. Just part of reading. But if you, like me, have an inflamed inner editor, then instead of taking in the whole picture of whatever the author is trying to show you, you get nitpicky. You get irrationally angry at typos. You hyperfocus on the author's tendency to use one word too much. (A writer friend told me I use too many "plinths," for example.) You spend time thinking about structural issues and not noticing the language, or vice versa.

But since I'm currently in self-imposed reading rehab, maybe this will help you: For me, it helps to move away from what's familiar. I read a lot of stuff outside the SFF genre, because it's easier to shut off my inner editor when I'm less familiar with the tropes, the styles, the concepts. I've also really gotten into audiobooks, for example, because when I can't see the text I can't critique it, or at least not as instantly. So that's all I can suggest. If you've developed the habit of gulping down books, find a way to throttle the flow, so to speak. Try playing audiobooks on half speed, to train yourself to patience. Read outside your comfort zone, which will force you to slow down and take things in because of the unfamiliarity. Maybe try ebooks with the text blown up a lot, so that you have to turn the page more often; I don't know, just spitballing now. Maybe folks will have better suggestions in the comments. Hope it helps!

[scarlet-traveler]

Every time Eijirou arrived at the little coffee shop a couple blocks from campus, the cute blond would be there.

That in and of itself wasn’t strange—it was a coffee shop, Eijirou was bound to see other fellow college students there, looking dead to the world as they got their caffeine fix for the day. What was strange was that the guy was always there when Eijirou got there not long after the cafe opened, when the scent of fresh-baked goods still hung heavy in the air and the rest of the world was still trying to get another hour of sleep.

He’d become part of Eijirou’s morning routine by this point: he’d arrive around 6:30 AM, greet whatever tired-looking college-aged kid was working the counter that day, order a french vanilla cappuccino and whatever pastry caught his eye, and settle at his favorite booth near the back of the shop where he would have peace to draw and a perfect view of the pretty blond as he did his own work.

The other guy always stuck close to the exit, sipping from a travel coffee cup rather than one of the shop’s mugs as he worked on his laptop and the assorted papers scattered across the tabletop, completely in the zone of…whatever he was doing. Something super complicated if the graphs and equations Eijirou had spotted on some of the pages as he came in were anything to go by. He must’ve been majoring in the sciences or something. Pretty and smart.

Eijirou hadn’t initially planned on watching the blond every morning. He hadn’t! Curiosity at the other early-riser had just grown into a few glances as he drew in his sketchbook between bites of breakfast, and soon it had become open (albeit sneaky) staring as he tried to learn as much about him as he could without actually interacting with him.

Pretty Blond (the name Eijirou had decided to give him for the time being) never really paid attention to his surroundings, earbuds in and blocking out everything around him. He also made a lot of faces as he worked. Most of the time he had a concentrated pout on his lips, but sometimes it would scrunch up into a frustrated scowl, his eyebrows angled downward and the barest hint of teeth showing past his lips as he angrily typed, or he’d have a wide triumphant smirk after puzzling through a hard problem that made Eijirou’s heart flutter in his chest the slightest bit. He liked seeing that face.

There was one morning as he’d been sketching that that smirk had grown on the blond’s face, the guy even lightly pumping his fist in triumph, and Eijirou suddenly had the thought to immortalize that look forever.

He stopped the still-life drawing of his croissant he’d been working on, and he flipped to the next page of his sketchbook and started drawing as fast as he could, determined to get as many details down as he could before that smile left his memory. It wasn’t his best work, the face slightly lopsided without his usual guidelines, and he hadn’t bothered erasing where he’d made mistakes, but that proud smirk shined up at him out of the page so he couldn’t hate it.

It became a thing after that, to use Pretty Blond as a drawing model every morning. Eijirou had been wanting to practice drawing people more, so what better way than to reference the guy that had so thoroughly grabbed his attention over the last few weeks?

Which brought him to today.

Eijirou hunched over his sketchbook, taking peeks at the blond every few seconds as he drew. He’d arrived a little later than usual, but the blond was still there at his usual table, and Eijirou had internally breathed a sigh of relief of not missing him.

The blond wasn’t making any faces today, and he wasn’t working on the multitude of papers he usually had either. Only his travel mug and a book sat on the table, and the guy had his head propped up on his elbow, a fist smushed into his cheek as he read. Early morning sunlight filtered in through the window behind him, casting his face in slight shadows while seeming to make his ash blond hair appear like it was on fire.

It was a beautiful sight, and Eijirou was doing his best to capture it in simple graphite.

Glance up, adjust the blond spikes—

Glance up, deepen the shading across soft cheekbones—

Glance up, add the tiny mole on the left side of his mouth he’d just noticed—

Glance up—

Eijirou breath hitched, his pencil freezing.

Pretty Blond was looking back at him.

Time was frozen as they stared at each other across the coffee shop, Eijirou’s eyes wide and the blond’s own unreadable, but it kickstarted back into action when the blond flicked his eyes downward toward Eijirou’s sketchbook before going back to his face, an eyebrow cocking.

Even with several feet between them, Eijirou felt his blood run cold from that gaze. Shit, had he noticed him staring? Did he know Eijirou was drawing him? He had to if his gaze had found the sketchbook so quickly.

Unable to hide it, Eijirou shakily lifted the sketchbook and flipped it around so the half-finished sketch was facing Pretty Blond.

Immediately the blond’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and he even sat up straighter as he looked at the drawing. But…he didn’t look mad. He was just staring, but his intense gaze darting across the page still made Eijirou fidget nervously in his seat.

It’s not until the blond’s gaze met Eijirou’s again that he finally set the journal back down. The eye contact lingered, the other’s gaze scrutinizing, and Eijirou was trying to figure out how to beg for forgiveness for this huge overstep in boundaries when the blond propped his head on his fist again, almost identically to how he was before, and he waved lazily at Eijirou in a ‘go on’ gesture.

Eijirou blinked. He…he was letting him finish the drawing?

As if hearing the question out loud, Pretty Blond glared as if Eijirou had said something stupid before nodding at the sketchbook.

Eijirou scrambled to grab his pencil then, and he could feel heat rising to his cheeks as he got back to work. The light had shifted some as the sun continued to rise, but he could make this work.

As he glanced over at the blond again, he had that smirk on his lips as he watched Eijirou. He quickly dropped his gaze to the sketchbook, his entire face burning.

Damn that smirk.

It was maybe half an hour later when Eijirou finally finished, and he still had another twenty minutes or so before he needed to be at the art studio on campus. Before he could leave though he tore the finished sketch from his journal and stood, crossing the invisible barrier across the coffee shop to approach Pretty Blond’s table. He looked just as surprised to see Eijirou coming, pausing where he had been putting his book back into his backpack.

Eijirou stopped on the other side of the table, and before he could chicken out he thrust the drawing into the other’s hands. “Here. It’s only right that you keep it.” His now free hand then went to the back of his neck, scratching it awkwardly as a sheepish grin pulled at his lips. “I’m really sorry for just drawing you like that, that was probably super creepy and I should’ve asked first.”

Fortunately the blond didn’t look too creeped out, instead taking the drawing and examining it further. Eventually he shrugged, and he dug out a pen from his bag, scribbled something on the corner of the page, and pushed it back across the table toward Eijirou. “Keep it. Just buy me a coffee next time and we’re even.”

Eijirou picked up the sheet to see what he wrote: in a neat scrawl was the name Bakugou Katsuki—Pretty Blond’s name? He liked it—and below it was—

Eijirou’s heart skipped a beat. Was that his phone number?

His eyes jumped up to Bakugou, who was watching him expectantly. Instantly, a wide smile spread across Eijirou’s lips. “Yeah, sure man! Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Bakugou finished putting away his things before standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder, and with a wave over his shoulder he headed for the door. “Later, Shitty Hair.”

“It’s Kirishima, actually!” he called after Bakugou, but he only received a middle finger in response before he was out the door, the little bell over it ringing as it swung closed.

The next morning saw the same schedule: french vanilla cappuccino, a blueberry scone today, and heading to his booth in the back. Only this time, he wasn’t alone.

Bakugou was already sitting in the booth, his laptop and papers out, but there was still room on the tabletop for Eijirou’s own things. He looked up as the redhead approached, and Eijirou had the pleasure of seeing a real smile grace his lips. It was small, but it was there.

“Hey man!” Eijirou returned the smile with a wide one of his own. “Still want that coffee?”

Bakugou nodded and handed over his travel cup. “Black, no cream, two sugars.”

“Got it!” The order was made in less than a minute, and he slid the cup across the table as he slid into the other side of the booth. “So, would you be cool with being my muse again?”

Bakugou smirked over the lid of his cup as he took a sip. “You’re asking this time?”

Eijirou’s face burned. Bakugou may still be pretty, but he was sassier than he expected. “C’mon man, I’m trying to make it right! It wasn’t manly of me to do that and-“

Bakugou was waving him off before he could finish, the smirk still playing at his lips. “I’m just fucking with you. Do what you want. You want me a certain way?”

“Nope!” Eijirou grabbed his sketchbook and flipped it open to the next blank page. “Just stay how you are.”

~

Fic written for @krbkevents KRBK Month 2023 Day 21: Coffee Shop! Also on AO3, let me know what you think!

[artistsfuneral]

Hello! My current project is a ciri x Roche- lol sorry, I couldn't resist, what is with this girl. 😂 I'm working on a jaskier/Geralt fic today, or I will when I'm permitted to move. Right now my labor is required to pet a very good cat. He is orange and very fluffy. Do you have a current project you're excited about? If you're still taking prompts, how about something with cutagens? :3 Do you think cat wtichers, or witchers in general, scent mark the way real cats do? Now I'm picturing Geralt rubbing his jaw against Roach lol. Or you could do something with Jaskier discovering that wolf witchers all sleep together in piles in the winter, like puppies. Whatever you feel like. Have a good day!

VERY THIN ICE my dear 😂😅 [they had us in the first half, not gonna lie]

I hope you got into safety from your hostage situation and managed to work a bit on your fic!

My creativity is a bit all over the place right now, I'm doing lots and lots of things. I returned to journaling, did a lot of crocheting, drew a bit, wrote a bit, got into fantasy map making, consumed a lot of Gab Smolders horror Let's Plays, started learning norwegian for no reason, etc. etc. Chaotic, but I'm having fun!

Fandomwise I'm also all over the place, but maybe returning a bit to the witcher? Honestly I just love this fandom so much, that's why I keep coming back. So many talented people. ❤❤❤

I have SO MANY cutagen thoughts. So many. So, so many. Have you read my stories? You should totally (re)read my cutagen stories! My main... focus? when I think about how different schools interact with each other is to think about how each school should have different cutagens to make them unique and kind of to keep things interesting? (a cut here because this got long)

See, I've had cats for most of my life and currently we have one cat and two doggos, so I can get a bit particular about cutagens. So whilst I definitely love the thought of all witchers purring when they're happy, part of me says NO! only kitties purr! (which would include Griffins and Manticores) What do wolves do then? Dogs and wolves have this kind of happy growl that's not really a growl just a kind of noise they make that varies from dog to dog. Some have a barky-howl, a soft awuu, others whine or huff. It's a bit hard to describe if you never heard it, but if you watch enough funny dog videos you know what I'm talking about. Especially some of the more vocal wolves just growl constantly which sometimes sounds like a dangerous growl, but they just have these... gravely growly voices.

Cats playing versus dogs playing is also super interesting. Both chase each other around the house, swat and paw at each other, biting is on the table but cats will just use their paws a lot more and dogs definitely bite more. If your cats get loud while playing, 60-70% of the time that's an angry noise. Dogs are almost always loud when playing rough and they're having the time of their life.

I actually fell in love with dogs when my friend took me out to walk two of them and she let them off leash and they immediately started playing like two feral viking gods- It looked so rough, they were so loud and fast and you could see the power behind it when they tackled each other with their full body weight. Absolutely chaotic. But they were having the time of their lives. (they were very well matched strength and size wise and had known each other for years, so it was totally normal for them to play this crazy)

Okay getting off track, you did this to yourself nonny. ❤😂

My favorite wolf witcher cutagen headcanon is that they have hackles. Just- a row of really dense, thick fur that starts just above their shoulder blades and grows along their spine/neckline up and into their hair. And it first starts to grow in when the mutagens slowly settle into their genes (there's this whole eating magic mushrooms thing before the Grasses) and some of the wolves decide to shave it off (especially those that spend more time in cities - makes them appear more normal) butthe hackles actually help a lot with communication. A raised hackle means distress of some sort and depending on how high it's raised the higher the level of stress is. But it's also great for character design- A dog's hackle depends on their fur texture and length. Really short hair means a spiky little hackle, icredibly long hair means you can't really see it rising and some dogs (like my own :3) have a type of fur that makes their hackle look like a hyena/dinosaur monster. Very prominent, very obvious and easy to read. (Lambert would have one of those.) I actually drew you some fanart that I will add to this post if I remember, where you can kind of see what I mean. 👀😁

Scent marking is a dominant trait in the cat cutagens. Everything and everyone has to be marked as someone's. No argument here. I don't really know if wolves do it as much as the cats, but at least a little bit. (I do like to write it into my stories because it's the right kind of possessive behaviour *swoon*) I think from a logical standpoint the big difference would be that dogs/wolves smell very strongly when wet and that anything they use a lot (like a favorite blanket or Jaskier) equally starts smelling like wet dog when wet. Can't say I noticed that with my cats. Also wet dogs are more prone to rub themselves against you? Don't know if that's a scent thing or a "you make a great towel" thing.....

Yeah, I think I will leave it here for now 😂😂😂😂 kudos if you've come so far. If you have anything else cutagen wise that you need my opinion on let me know XD