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#it's not finished i just really needed to draw something for myself other than work:')
kilgarraara · 1 year
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occudo · 17 days
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An incomplete list of TMA fics I adore
-beacuse of this ask
(If you liked the fics I previously recommended/made fanart for, I think you'll gonna like these as well, but you know, read the tags, know what you are going into)
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Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey @cirrus-grey
Time Travel Fix-it! Slow burn! So good! So much sass from future!Jon- I doubt I have to introduce anyone this amazing author, but if you somehow missed them till now, this is your time! I highly recommend all of their other fics as well, for example one of a more recent one, The Stranger I Know Best is also a lovely read.
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enthralling by Prim_the_Amazing @primtheamazing
Vampire!Martin!! I have no words of how much I love this concept, this story, everything about this. I think I'm going to repeat myself through this list, but I also recommend everything else they've written!
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to fill... my heart with music? by godshaper @godshaper so their Martin and Jon design are different from mine, also they made a way better art for this- but still, I wanted to include this really good fic in this list.
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Do It All Anew by inkfingers_mcgee or @crit20art
You know the feeling when you read a book that makes you cry, and after that you recommend it to your friend? Well- there is no reason I mentioned this, I'm just so normal about this fic. Or any other fic from inkfingers_mcgee... like Strange Manner of what I made another fanart way back. Also, check out their art!
Anyway, here is Aamal- she is not going to cause emotional damage.
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And they were sidekicks (oh my god, they were sidekicks) by arthureameslove @arthureameslove
A lighthearted series where Jon and Martin are sidekicks of supervillains- it's just a really fun fic, also recommend everyting from this author - I previously draw fanart here for an other fic of theirs Like a Lighthouse, Call Me Home
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neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well by saintbleeding @saintbleeding
To quote the aurthour: "Post-divorce Jon and Martin in a wedding-based romcom" It's such a comfort read, also has a Tim/Sasha wedding, and lots of cameos! I realised most of these authors I made fanarts for before- like this one for some kind of miraculous bind, this one is oneshot and a bit more serious in tone.
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Give Me the Words by rakel @rakel-on-ao3
"Jon and Martin try to make the most of a bad situation in the Scottish Highlands. The situation is worse than they realised." You know that one post about wanting to write PWP, but it keeps turning into character study? Well, this one comes to my mind each time I see that.
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i wanna find a home (i wanna share it with you) by heartshapedguy @transgenderboobs
So what would have happened if instead of the cot (tm), Jon offered Martin his own flat to stay? There is no way it's going to change their relationship, right? Such a good read, if you want some fluff, I highly recommend it!
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Lucky Stars by magnetarmadda @magnetarmadda
Martin has a lovely family (except his mother) but still, he needs a fake boyfriend, and Jon comes to the rescue. It's one of the first fics I remember reading after I finished the series. It is such a comfort read of mine~
(+enjoy a rare tall Jon from me)
There are so many more fics that also deserve the spotlight, these are just the ones I read multiple times and/or didn't made fanarts for before. If you find something here you like, give them some love! Kudos and comments! They deserve it. (Also, just an extra disclamier some of these are PWP or rated T- just mind the tags)
I tried to link and tag everything, I hope it works.
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Need to rant for a minute because even though I have very much been enjoying the fruits of my efforts learning how to sew vintage style clothes, I just swapped out old fatphobia (nice plus size vintage clothes never making it to stores) for new fatphobia (trying to find patterns). Cause it doesn't end at what clothes you're able to buy already made.
I finally bought a Friday Pattern Company pattern the other day, and man it made the bare minimum feel like I was being spoiled. The sizes go up to 7X (that's XL, XXL, 1X, 2X, etc, so there's 9 sizes above L) they had a thin and a fat model on the cover! Usually I'm barely lucky enough to get an XL, and I'm just expected to guess how it's going to look on my body. The majority of their patterns have two differently sized models on the covers, and all of them have that full range of patterns inside.
It is so hard to find good plus size patterns, even if they're available, many companies just scale up their mediums and I can't guarantee they're actually sized correctly for a different shape. As good as Friday is, them and other modern indie pattern companies aren't easy to find.
Okay well what if I went another step deeper, what if I forgo patterns all together and decide to be completely independent and draft things myself?
Then I'll need a plus size dress form. I got lucky and found one at an antique mall for 50$ but these are incredibly rare and more expensive than smaller ones. I'll need to learn how to draft patterns, something that was taught to me on a XS form by my college and nearly every tutorial out there. Drafting close fitting clothes for fat bodies is a completely different skillset, because all that extra fat is much squishier and shifts more. Measuring yourself correctly and getting the shape you're looking for is far more important. Before I even got there I'd need to sketch out what I wanted to make, right? Well the patterning book my family got me only shows you how to draw tall, skinny people. A beginner would have to look up their own drawing references and tutorials because what what supposed to be a super accessible beginner's guide to fashion has decided their body isn't normal enough for the baseline tutorial.
We're expected to be the ones who put in the extra effort. Digging to find the pattern companies that fit our shape and actually prove they can, paying extra in shipping or driving farther to pick them up. Having to search specifically for plus size tutorials for drafting and sketching. It's always treated like it's not part of the beginner's experience to be working with a fat body, that's just going to make people more frustrated and lost and less likely to pursue something they're excited about! Especially if it's in response to already being frustrated about the lack of clothing options.
We need a little positivity to this post so to end on a high note, here's me modeling the blazer I just finished with a shirt I made a couple years ago!
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Being able to finally wear clothes I really feel like me in has been an amazing confidence boost. It's not fair that there's so many roadblocks in the way for someone who looks like me who just wants to wear things they enjoy.
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naomis-daydream · 2 years
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the panther’s prey // shuri udaku
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summary: an argument has you questioning your relationship with shuri. due to your uncertainty and her duties as black panther, it’s been nearly two weeks since you two have spoken, but the Panther must make it known that she will not be ignored.
warnings: predator/prey aspects, oral and strap-on (reader receiving bc shuri’s a munch), scissoring, overstimulation, praise, and degradation if you squint.
a/n: i was gonna publish fluff…idk how we got here. again, i’m still new to writing smut so please be gentle. started as a short idea, lord this took so long to finish so show her love!
translations: ewe - yes, sana/sthandwa- baby, nkosazana- princess.
The soft patter of the rain meeting your living room window matched with the low lighting from numerous lamps completed the relaxed ambiance of your apartment.
You were sitting on your couch, eyes glued to your laptop as your fingers typed almost subconsciously against the keys. You were trying to finish some notes so you could actually enjoy your weekend, wanting to spend your Friday night doing something other than work, but alas, here you were.
You took a sip of your tea, the liquid sending a comforting warmth down your throat. As you set the mug down on a coaster, turning back to your work, a rustle coming from your balcony causes you to jump slightly.
You sighed, hand over your heart to relax your nerves. You’d been really anxious since the attack on Wakanda, and though it’s been over a year since it’s occurrence, even the slightest thing out of the ordinary sparked caution.
You chalk it up to the winds, the Wakandan breeze having been particularly strong in recent weeks. When you attempt to go back to your work, another noise, closer, draws your eyes back to the door.
You lived on the fifth floor of your complex, so your suspicions about someone creeping along your deck weren’t too high. Nonetheless, you rose from your curled position slowly, inching towards the door. You flick the switch to turn on the balcony light, peeking through the shades. Seeing as no one a visibly outside, you sigh deeply before swinging it open, just to make sure. You quickly scan the area, your heart rate relaxing when you’re met with nothing but your outdoor furniture and a light breeze flowing through your hair.
You shut the door, locking it behind you before turning around. The small sense of security you regained left in a mere second when you’re met with a suit-clad figure standing a few yards away from you by the couch.
You jump back, hitting the door slightly with a hand on your chest as you gasp. One would think this reaction would warrant an explanation, a response, something from the woman across from you, yet she stood still, her gaze still felt underneath the metallic mask.
“Shuri,” you breathed, eyes widened in surprise.
The taller girl lifted her chin in acknowledgment, eyes still peering into you. You both stood there for a beat, seemingly waiting on the other to say something. Once you realized the small tilt of her head was the only response she’d give you, another set of words stumbled out of you.
“What are you…H-how did you-?” you uttered, looking from the door back to her frame.
Silence. Again.
The slight fear in your tone from her unannounced visit didn’t go unnoticed by her majesty. You exhale deeply, the frustration from her wordlessness causing you to drag a hand down your face.
“Look, you can’t just break in here and…”
“I’m not breaking anything.” she says finally, voice low and deep.
You scoff shortly. “Oh, so she speaks.”
The static between you two returns once more as you stand stoically waiting for a response. Again, you’re the one to break it. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to go ghost—well kinda, but I just…needed to think things through myself. Figure out what I want, what I need.”
“And it took you two weeks to figure out if I’m a want or a need?” She asked, retracting her helmet while taking a two steps towards you.
“That’s not what I meant, you know that.” you reply while shaking your head. “But that doesn’t warrant you showing up like this. If you wanted to talk, why not use your beads like a sane person?”
“Who said I came here talk?”
Your mouth closes as you swallow under her gaze, choosing to look at your kitchen cabinets rather that her hypnotizing eyes. “If you think you’re gonna seduce me after practically ignoring me for weeks, and not even reaching out to me when I left, you’re mistaken,” you reply, turning your head back to her.
“That’s what this is about?” She cocks her head to the right slightly, continuing to stalk closer, “I don’t give you enough attention, so you run away, knowing I’d follow?”
The roll of your eyes brings a smirk to her lips as she watches you fold your arms across your midriff, seemingly putting a barrier between yourself and her.
“Though you always loved the chase, didn’t you?”
You keep your eyes locked with hers as she continues, walking towards your hallway. “Let’s see if you enjoy running this time.”
That’s the last thing she said before her frame disappeared into your hallway, leaving you open-mouthed and alone in your living room as you contemplated what the hell she was doing.
“Shuri, I’m not playing these games,” you shouted, voice echoing in the absence of her response.
Your voice is the only one heard as you walk through the hallway, passing the threshold of the room she undeniably went to.
“Seriously, Shuri, stop messing around.” You call, walking to the center of the room, standing in front of your bed while looking around.
“But we haven’t had any fun yet, sana,” she whispers in your ear, causing you to jump for what seems like the fifth time tonight as she emerges soundlessly behind you.
You whip your body to face her, backing up slightly when your lips almost touch. She smiled feverishly, obviously amused by her antics and the reactions they draw out of you.
“Stop doing that.” You push at her shoulders. “If you’re just here to toy with me, you can go back to your precious lab.”
Your words make her step closer, you step back as she speaks. “Oh, I haven’t even began to toy with you, my love.”
Your brows furrow as she continues, her words matching her actions, strong and tantalizing. “You know what I think?” she begins, “I think you want me to stay.”
Your breath hitches as you step back further, the back of your knees buckling as they hit the bed’s edge.
“I think you want me to make up for the all attention I’ve been so neglectful in giving to you.” Shuri says lowly, voice soft yet stern as she rests her hands on either side of you. “Hm?”
This time, it was you who was silent, choosing to scan her face rather than utter a no doubt shaky reply. Her eyes were dark and inviting, irises so warm and enticing that it drew you into her, leaning forward ever so slightly. Her lips were parted as her warm breath tickled your skin, making you shiver. Shuri smiles as she studies you, the way you watch her every move. The sinful glint in her eyes only grows as she lowers herself in front of you, knees connecting with the wooden floor.
She sighs in feigned indifference. “You know, I’ve always known your body better than you do,” she begins, massaging your thighs intently. “As much as you attempt to be dishonest with me, she can’t,” she breathes, eyes dropping to your core.
The thumping in your chest is so apparent you feel it in your ears, embarrassment clouding your thoughts as you’re sure she senses it too.
The panther chuckles at your state, your racing heartbeat only amplifying her hunger to claim you as hers. She wants to take her time, to go slow, make you feel every inch of her desire for you, but she couldn’t fight the primal urge to absolutely ruin you.
She flexes her right hand, her claws emerging from her suit with a sharp noise. A gasp escapes as she leans over you, prompting you to lay down. Shuri props herself up with one hand beside your torso, the other dragging lightly over your leggings with enough force that the cool metal is felt against your skin, but not puncturing.
She kisses your collarbone gently, words breathed into your skin as she speaks. “We have a little disagreement, and you leave me. Running away like a child.”
You can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips as you feel the claw of her index finger disrupt the seam on the side of your leg, running down from your hip to your ankle, the noise filling the room. She continues to mark you, nipping and sucking at your neck as she speaks.
“You think you’d find someone else to spoil you like I do, nkosazana, hm? Is that what it is?” she continues, repeating her previous action on your other leg. “I fail to attend to you for a few days and you go to find someone new?”
Your quickened breaths are the only response she gets from you, much to her dismay. “So quiet now, my love,” She taunts, standing to pull the ripped leggings off your body. “Let’s fix that, yeah?”
Your body ached for her, you’re sure she could tell by the way you lifted your hips to help remove the pesky fabric, even more so by the visible wet patch on the crotch of your underwear.
Laughter vibrates through the young monarch. She could tell you want her just as much as she wants you, but she still senses the hesitance in your obedience. Usually by now, you’d be begging her to touch you, and though your reaction was slightly unexpected, Shuri had a plethora of ways of opening you up.
You hold eye contact with her as she lowers to a kneel once more, retracting her claws before pulling your thighs to the bed’s edge as she smiles up at you.
You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. You knew it was inevitable that Shuri would come to you, look at you with those pretty little eyes, say those pretty little words that’d make you fall back in her embrace with little fight. You hoped it’d be different this time, that you’d get her to admit her wrongs before getting her in your pants, put up a little fight, just to show you could. Though the willpower you thought you had was clearly terrible as she hooks two fingers around your panties and pulls them down your silky legs.
“Fuck, sthandwa,” she breaths, taking in your soaked cunt. “All this for me?”
You don’t respond, a pitiful attempt at holding on to the little control you had over her—denying her your praise. Shuri noticed the chokehold your grip had on the sheets, wrinkling the fabric as to resist touching her.
Her finger trails lightly down your slit, brushing over your clit as a soft whimper leaves your throat. “There she is,” the panther purrs, locking your thighs in the crook of her elbows.
Shuri kisses up your thighs, stoping ever so often to nip at the pillowy skin. “You gonna stop fighting me, love? Let me give this pussy the attention she deserves?”
Her words make the pounding at your core intensify, aching to be taken care of. Like she heard your body’s monologue, she licked a long stripe up your entrance, eliciting a sharp inhale from you as she licked her lips at the taste.
Progress.
“I know you’re mad at me,” she begins, looking up at you with feigned innocent eyes, “but why punish her for my actions? Let me make it up to you both.”
You sigh hazily at her words, her mouth so close to where you needed her. Though you knew she wouldn’t continue unless you said it, gave her the satisfaction of verbalizing your need for her.
“Say it.” She whispers. “Say it and I’ll give you everything you desire, everything I have…I just need to hear you say it.”
“Panther…” you whisper. “Take me.”
That’s all she needs to lower her head to the heaven between your thighs. She swirls her tongue around your clit, moaning as she sucks gently.
“Bast!” you cry, throwing your head back with eyes glued shut.
Any attempt at hiding your need for her was long gone now. Shuri flicked her tongue rapidly over the sensitive bundle of nerves, admiring the way your legs clamped over her ears as she did.
This did little to stop the avenger, she simply pried your legs open, fingers digging into your flesh as you continued to writhe on the sheets.
“Shuri,” you whined, her name dragging over your lips.
“Yes, my love?” She mutters, kitten-kissing your clit. “P-Please, don’t s-stop.” you begged.
She opens her eyes to look up at you, scratching your hip to make you reciprocate.
“You’re going to regret indulging me, sweet girl.”
You barely sputter out a reply as Shuri drives her tongue into your drenched hole, curling it upwards as if she’s searching inside you, twisting the muscle to find that familiar spot that made you fall apart every time.
“Gods, baby, right there! Keep it right there!” You utter, releasing your grip on the sheets and replacing your grasp onto Shuri’s curls.
She leaves sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on your entrance before sticking her tongue out as your hips grind onto her.
That’s it, use me.
Your pants sped up, aligning with your hips as you fuck yourself on her face. You’re close, you both know it, from the way your legs are trembling over her shoulders to the pulsing of your pussy that leaked onto her chin.
“Yes, fuck! Shuri! Shuri!” You chanted, nearly prayer-like had it not been falling from such sinful lips.
Her name continued to vibrate off the walls when your release erupted through you, your body shaking as you rode it out.
The queen lapped up your essence, sucking every drop that threatened to fall from your center as she groaned at the taste. “Such a good fucking girl.”
You exhaled contently, beginning to sit up before a strong hand pushes your torso back down. Her name didn’t leave your tongue before hers was back on you, humming at the way your center throbbed at the stimulation.
Despite pushing her head away, you moaned, the lines of too much and too good blurring. “M-my love, please. Just wa-ait-” you stuttered, looking down to her.
Your words were cut off as she grabbed your wrists, pinning them on either side of your hips as she looked up to you with hallowed cheeks, sucking harshly.
Another strangled moan rips through your throat as your hands balls in fists, fighting a losing battle of breaking free from your highness’ hold.
“I can’t,” you say, eyes watering as she moves one hand off your wrist to push two fingers inside you with little resistance.
Finally, she pulls her mouth off you. “Aw, you gonna cry for me, pretty? Give me those cute little tears to match the way your pussy’s sobbing for me?” she smirks, pumping her lanky fingers steadily in and out of you.
“Fuck!” You sob, a tear rolling down your plump cheek as you feel that familiar knot tightening in your lower stomach.
“You gonna cum for me, Y/n?” she asks lowly.
“Yes!”
“Give it to me. Please, let me have it.” She begs, licking her lips while she curls her fingers up.
You practically yell incoherently as she guides you through your orgasm, a mix of moans and curses fill the air as you come down from your high.
A sigh leaves you as she slowly pulls her fingers out, you smile softly as she stands, lifting them to your mouth. You enclose your lips around her while holding her gaze, groaning at the taste of yourself while swirling your tongue between her fingers as she removes them, a line of spit trailing close behind.
Shuri’s eyes darken at the sight of you; locs messily splayed against the bed, eyes puffy and slightly red, neck full of marks of varying size and color no doubt worsening by the minute.
You looked absolutely beautiful.
She leans down to trap you in an intoxicating kiss, brushing her tongue against yours while cradling your face. Your lips dance with one another, going from slow and gentle, to quick and desperate.
She pulls back, chuckling as you chase her touch, to stand. You watch intently as her suit retracts into the toothed necklace laying fiercely against her neckline. You prop yourself up on your elbows as she removes her sports bra and underwear, dragging the undergarment teasingly down her leg.
Any hopes you had at ending at a mere two rounds died as her lustful gaze held you in place, unable to move as she stalked toward the bed.
She crawled beside you, laying on her side as you turned to face her. The two of you admire one another for a moment, the dips, curves, and everything in between on each others’ body. Shuri lifted two fingers to trail up your leg, eyes following as her touch tickled you.
She enjoyed watching you squirm, knowing it was her who made you this way. That’s precisely why she smiled as her fingertips grazed your shoulder, falling in the valley between your breasts. She could feel you shudder as her thumb tweaked your nipple. Your eyes remained on her face as you watched her play with you. It was common during sex with Shuri, she would often get lost in the action of touching you, seeing reactions she could get.
She treated you like a toy, meant to be played with and enjoyed for her own fulfillment, and you fucking loved it.
She reaches to flick your other nipple as she kissed you, soft and sweet, contrary to her movements. You moan in her mouth, relaxing into her touch. She places a hand on the back of neck as she rolls onto her back, wrapping a leg around your waist.
Your head drops into the crook of her neck as your feel your pussy brush hers. You roll your hips onto hers, rubbing your clits against one another.
Shuri groans, biting her lower lip as she matches your rhythm. She was so wet from eating you out, poor thing was rubbing her thighs together to ease the pressure growing inside her as she pleased you.
Your hand is above her head, holding you steady as you rock your hips together, the sloshing of your arousals mixing making you cry out as your third orgasm approached quickly.
“Shit, you feel so good,” she breaths, breasts rising and falling rapidly as she keeps your pace. Her hand reaches for yours above her, intertwining your fingers. She squeezes your palm with each connection of your hips. “I’m close, usana, so close.”
You both loved this position. It was one of the few with you on top, in control. It was more intimate than others because you both were so close, nothing else but each other making one feel this way. Panther and pantheress, holding each other until it became too much, picking up the pieces of one another just to chase the high all over again.
You grabbed the back of her knee that was previously around your waist, bringing it to lay on your shoulder as you rolled your pussy harder onto hers.
“Nnghh-baby, right there. You’re so fucking good to me. Ewe! Don’t stop.” She cried, hips nearly rising off the mattress in attempt to get closer. You bent down, connecting your foreheads as you breathed in one another, chasing that euphoric feeling creeping closely in the both of you.
“Cum with me, my queen,” you begged. “Cum all over this pussy!”
She rocked her hips up onto yours, groaning loudly as her body shook against yours. You came shortly after, collapsing on top of her as you both breathed heavily. She kisses your shoulder gently, muttering sweet nothings into your skin.
Though it took longer for you, your breathing slowed, heart rate returning to normal. Shuri sensed this, taking the moment to address the elephant in the room.
“So,” she uttered, hands resting on the curve of your ass. “I am forgiven?”
The slight uncertainty in her tone makes you giggle as you sit up slightly to see her face. You take in her features, while fucked-out, you could see the sincerity in her eyes. “Yeah,” you say after a beat, “I forgive you.”
Her smile makes your heart melt, the apples of her cheeks rising as she begins to speak before you cut her off with a finger raised. “But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.” You start, seeing her smile lessen.
“You can’t just shut me out for weeks, flake on our dates, and barely acknowledge me, then come over and and do this,” you gesture towards your sweating, naked forms.
“I need you to let me back in, talk to me, let me know what’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours.” she nods softly as you speak.
“I am truly sorry, my love. There’s no explanation that justifies my actions. I just…I got scared.” she admits, closing her eyes.
“Scared of what, Shuri?” you ask, tilting your head in attempt to get the girl to met your gaze. Once she does, you sense the hesitance in her movements. “If I don’t know, I can’t help, Ri.” She sighs, opening her eyes to meet yours—kind and curious as the day she met you.
“I-I just can’t shake the thought that one day you’ll leave me,” she begins, continuing when she sees your confused expression. “That you’ll find someone else to treat you the way you deserve, that you’ll realize I’m just this…broken girl who’s heart you can’t fix.”
“Hey,” you bring one of her hands to your lips, kissing her knuckles. “You are not broken, and you damn sure don’t need to be fixed. You’re human, despite having the strength of the Black Panther,” you teased, earning a light chuckle. “You’re not perfect, nor do I expect you to be. What I do expect, is for you to trust me, to communicate with me, to let me take the load off.”
Her brows raised at your statement’s implications, a smile growing on her face. Heat rises to your cheeks as you hit her shoulder lightly. “Stop! That’s not what I meant,” you say, fighting the smile rising on your features.
“That said,” you continue, “I’m glad you came over.”
“Really? I was getting the feeling you wanted me gone when you started screaming ‘Shuri! Shuri!’” she mocked, earning another smack on the shoulder.
“Ow! Hit me again, woman. See how much of a load you can take,” she warned.
You smiled sinisterly as you hopped off the bed, walking towards the bathroom. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Panther,” you smiled over your shoulder.
You heard her chuckle behind you as the bed creaked, her footsteps trailing close behind you and the door clicked shut.
-
The bath you had ran was sure to be freezing by now, long abandoned by it’s owners who were meant to be “saving water.”
Somewhere between you running the bath water and Shuri getting fresh towels led to you ending up bent over the countertop with her strap eight inches deep inside your cunt.
You didn’t even see her get the damn thing, much less put on the harness. You would’ve figured her sex drive was fulfilled by now, but as you leaned over to check the running water, you felt her wrap her arms around you, pushing you onto the nearest surface as she slipped inside. The panther was indeed still on the prowl.
“Look at yourself, see how good you look? How good we look? How could I ever think you were made to take anyone else but me, hm?”
Her questions feel upon seemingly deaf ears, because all you could focus on was the feeling of her. How right she was. How right it feels when she’s inside you, mercilessly pushing her hips into yours so hard you felt her everywhere.
The pain of your hips meeting the cold, hard countertop mixed with the pleasure of her dick repeatedly hitting that numbing spot began to be too much. Coupled with the overstimulation from previous orgasms, you were on the verge of cumming in minutes.
Shuri noticed this too. She look down to see where she disappeared and reappeared inside you, noticing the clench of your walls around her as well as the thick ring of your arousal coating her strap. She smirked, knowing you were close. She changed her action from bringing her hips to yours to harshly bringing your ass to meet her cock, reaching impossibly deeper inside you.
You let out a guttural moan, now uncaring and unashamed of anyone who might hear you, making the woman smile. This was the panther’s pussy, and she wanted your entire complex to know.
“Shuri, please!” You nearly screamed.
“Please what, sthandwa sami? What do you want?” she says breathlessly, her own release building as well.
“Please don’t stop.”
“Tell me. Tell me who does this pussy belong to? Ungokabani?” she replies, her pace unfaltering as you whimpered, her words only lessening the distance of your high.
Who do you belong to? How could she ask such a thing? From the moment she walked in, she knew your were hers, if you’d really wanted her to leave, she wouldn’t have made it past the hallway. You wanted her, nearly more than she wanted you. You wanted her to chase you, to catch you, make you know that as much you try to hide it, you existed simply for one another.
“You! I’m yours. I’m yours, my queen. I’ve never belonged to anyone, but you!”
The royal’s hips faltered at the statement, lost in the undeniable honesty of your words. She toke the opportunity to learn over, whispering in your ear. “That’s right, nkosazana. And you never will.”
That’s was confirmation enough for you. With the next thrust you were cumming. Your limbs grew limp as you squirted all over Shuri’s pelvis, moaning loudly.
You looked up at the mirror, lower lip caught between your teeth to see Shuri’s head buried in your neck as she continued to sloppily move inside you. Her groans were stifled by your skin, the vibrations making you shudder as you felt her bottom out, throwing her head back as your name left her lips.
She bends over you again, kissing your shoulder before meeting your gaze in the mirror.
“Ndiyakuthandana, sweet girl.”
You hummed, a lazy smile on your face, eyes low-lidded as you replied. “I love you too.”
She smiled at your words, standing before pulling out of you slowly. You sighed as she did, missing the feeling of being filled.
“Come on,” she said nodding toward the shower, “let’s get you cleaned up.”
You stood, wincing at the slight pain your back. Taking her hand, you limped slowly.
Her free hand went to start the shower, fingers running under the stream to assure a comfortable temperature for you. Once she was satisfied, Shuri steps inside, pulling you into her embrace as she does.
Your arms wrap around her necks as hers cage your waist. Your fingertips play with the growing hair at her nape as she hums contently, leaning her head back into your touch.
You tilt your head up to place a soft kiss on her lips. Shuri reciprocated, pushing her tongue into your mouth. She pulls away your bottom lip between her teeth as she growls deeply.
“Mine.”
You smile happily as you reply.
“Yours.”
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youzicha · 3 months
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Some quick impressions of translations of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.
I fell in love with Marie Borroff's translation just from reading the preface, which is very insightful (definitely do read it, whatever other translation you pick!) and also unusually useful for the reader. We don't crucially need a translator's thoughts about what the themes of a story are because we can read it ourselves first, but Borroff talks about the tone (elevated, ironic, playful?) and that is really useful, since it is so easily obscured by time and translation.
Borroff's biography is extremely impressive: before even starting the translation, she spent a decade of her professional life reconstructing the pronunciation and meter of each line and the provenance of each word. Unsurprisingly, the translation is excellent; by the usual standards (accuracy, fluency, transparency/"invisibility") it seems hard to improve on.
Simon Armitage's translation seems to consciously reject fluency and transparency, creating "choppiness" as a deliberate aesthetic effect. Consider for example the use of modern colloquial English here:
and in the other hand held the mother of all axes, a cruel piece of kit I kid you not: the head was an ell in length at least and forged in green steel with a gilt finish
"Piece of kit" and "I kid you not" date the translation to the last few decades, while the "ell" unit has not been used for 400 years. By dragging the reader back and forth in time like this, the translation draws attention to itself. But it is not only a matter of choice of words, we get a similar effect from the ways Armitage breaks up or enjambs lines:
Gawain […] so bore that badge on both his shawl and shield alike. A prince who talked the truth. A notable. A knight.
This was a single sentence in the original, which got "chopped up" into four, including a full stop in the middle of a line.
George B. Pace's translation is the subject of a very charming story somebody posted on tumblr. It is abridged (12k words, versus 21k in the original), and translated into modern-sounding English prose, but if you are interested in the plot rather than the poetic devices it seems like a reasonable approach. I mostly didn't miss the parts he cut, although I do wonder about his focus when he e.g. omits lines of dialogue between Gawain and the Lady but leaves in the decorative filler about the zephyr warming the lands.
I have no particular thought about Burton Raffel's translation, except for one interesting pitfall. He translates most of the poem into prose (although it is kept divided in lines), but the four rhyming lines at the end of the stanzas are translated more loosely in order to make them rhyme. In theory this makes sense: for a modern reader the rhymes and iambs are very salient while we are not very attuned to alliterative verse, so translating just the bob-and-wheel into verse preserves most of the poetic effect.
But in practice it doesn't work so well. First, Raffel just isn't that good at it: Borroff and Tolkien manage to make their translations rhyme while sticking closer to the sense. But more interestingly, the rhyming couplets obviously draw the attention of the reader, and the author uses them to highlight the most load-bearing words, which are often chosen to be nicely ambiguous. The tale is written in 'lel' letters, which could mean that it's true, or only that it is composed in valid alliterative verse. King Arthur waits 'stif'ly to hear a tale or see a wonder, which (says Borroff) could be a heroic "resolute" or an ironic "stubborn". The lady enters Gawain's chamber and banteringly offers him 'my cors', which could mean "myself" but of course literally means body. And what were they doing to that deer? Actually these lines are the parts where you need to be most careful about the meaning.
J.R.R. Tolkien's translation is interesting because he seems to try something different. While Borroff and Armitage try to approximate the effect the poem would have on a 15th century reader by translating into current English, Tolkien uses archaic syntax ("him" for "himself", "we come not" for "we don't come" etc) and archaic vocabulary (the book includes a glossary, which you need to use to understand the translation at all). I think the idea is to capture what it is like for a modern reader who knows Middle English to read the Middle English original, with the particular pleasures of puzzling through a text as a non-native speaker.
Reading this (and even more his translation of Pearl in the same volume) I was surprised by how skilled Tolkien was at verse—he carries over a lot of the formal aspects, and I think his version sounds the best.
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marianasue · 23 days
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for sydcarmy truthers , a similar situation I shared with carmy .
Before , I discover this beautiful fandom , I watched the bear as someone who knows nothing about its plot , and I had no idea about what´s going on in the show , but when I finished watching it , first thing I said at that time : ´´something too deep is going on between syd and carm ´´
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and carmen story with claire , reminds me of myself and a boy who is a friend to me , and maybe if you know my story , you can have a real exemple about how carmy is feeling . I hope you all understand it :
I´m the yougest girl in my family , and all the focus was on me , so my parents protectiviness and awarness grew more complicated trough time , and it becomes a real probleme and because of it , I was a shy kid , and I was bullied in school , I didn´´t have any interest in the education , I was and I still fond of art and I spent my time is school , just drawing .I really wanted to have friends , many friends , but I pretended to be someone else , just to attract people and I never liked it . so during high school , everybody loved a boy , he was handsome , nice , intelligent , he was really every girl´s dream and of course he was our neighbour and my family know him . he was alway there for me , he was very nice to me , he was always sitting behind me , his over protectiviness and social personnality always reminded me of my dad and mom , I felt like he was controlling me , even everybody was trying to convince me that he was more than a friend
and this is really annoying because he was the opposite of me and he was good to everyone .
so time passed , and everybody are still believing that he is my boyfriend , he is now a doctor , and I´m still studying art because I stopped my education after high school and I have returned just last year .
we still seeing each other , he was the same person I knew but this is what happened : he confessed , that he loved since we were at high school and he wants to be with me , so I just said to myself : it´s ok mary , just try , he is your first crush , ´´ and oneday we went to a dinner with his friends , and I had a panic attack , they were asking me how we met , and how he is popular and loved in the hospital , and they were saying that I´m lucky and he didn´t say anything about me to them , he was just watching me panicking and he knew that I have problemes in communication and social events and I find myself pretending to be out of my personnality again . after that , the feelings that I had were very bad , you feel like you´re just stupid person , and you don´t deserve a good thing . He is and was a pressure to me , I didn´t feel peace with him , we didn´t have the same dreams , he was always seeing me as the little shy mary , he still has that picture of me .
so , I decided to end everything and confortting him about how I feel and I discovered that he is not the right person because during the argument , he wanted to convince me that I´m the wrong person , like nobody made me feel shitty , it was all myself , and we just end up like we are just friends .
I moved on from my family house , and I´m studying the thing I love , I´m working in a coffe shop and I have good friends toward me , and I´m acceptting a new love now , someone I´m really greatful to have him , someone understands me .
that´s why I was really attached to the bear and carmy , I know what does it mean to live in a complicated family and have someone like claire in your life .
carmy just need to move on and forgive his past and all the people around him and of course accepts a new love to his life , like I did and many people must do .
I just wanted to share my story and say : not every perfect person is perfect to you . he may be loved by everybody but not by you .
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@thoughtfulchaos773 @gingergofastboatsmojito @bootlegramdomneess
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fagboyfriend · 6 months
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i rlly like ur composition, i wanna know about your process :D
thank uuu !! yeah so like. composing a scene for me generally begins with a vague idea that i want to get down as quickly as possible- and for me that usually starts with finding a setting. I knew that i wanted to draw a) a group of roomates gossiping in a crowded kitchen and i wanted there to be b) one figure in the extreme foreground and c) lots of plants. i do use some tools to figure out perspective, mainly the csp perspective ruler. Usually i start by finding a picture i like similar to the vibe im going for- but instead of referencing anything else- im purely interested in perspective. sorry to anyone who is shocked i dont generate all of my perspective purely by myself- i can draw in perspective fairly well but i struggle to make straight lines and this is easier to make grids with than the line tool lol ^_^ i try to use it kinda more like spellcheck on typos than like something to fully rely on. this is the video i learned this trick from:
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i saw the left photo and realllly loved how the cabinets alligned with the wall- so i used my ruler tool to draw out my inital plotted points from the image- basically the linear movements i was most interested in and then i turned off the image layer and worked with those lines and the ruler tool to move on. eventually i had this:
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which was enough for me to put my characters in for the inital round. if you notice- i made a looot of further adjustments as i go on. this sketch is not a final layout, its so my characters have somewhere to be! i cannot draw someone standing on a floor if theres no floor, nor leaning on a table that doesnt exist. i can’t draw my characters without a background, but i also cant finish my background without accounting for how my characters can comfortably exist in it!!
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this was the like.. very basic start. i knew the positions of two characters- but i needed to change a lot not only to fit them better but to allow for the other two figures i had planned.
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okay.. a little better. i widened the kitchen, closed the fridge door.. added a chair and fit in all the figures.. but this is waaay too dramatic. only two figures are actually interacting- and they are at wildly different energy levels!
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this is where things started to make a little more sense characterwiss, so i was ready to refine backgrounds and figures and unite the two.
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inital base sketch. much better layout.
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okay- this is where im getting my footing but things seem.. really really off. You can see me working on my framing here- theres some good linear movement from left to right here- but not vertically. It’s hard to notice the figure in the far back, so i need to redirect the viewers eye to move upwards as well!
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this is where i decided to zoom out, add an interesting vertical element to the left of the image and make it clearer whats happening in the foreground. i had to account for some stuff by adjusting the cropping, but i paid attention to that as well.
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annnd- thats what a clean sketch looks for me! i have all the elements of my scene accounted for, and things are clean enough to read.
the next step for me would be transfer! essentially- I print the image of my sketch out, resizing and taping pages together so my sketch matches the size of the paper i want to paint on, and then i use a lightboard to transfer my sketch with pencil onto my paper. Then i refine the sketch a few times on paper before stretching my watercolor paper (essentially just prepping for painting) and inking with a brush and colored ink before going in with watercolor, gouache and ink, then usually finishing with marker, colored pencil, pastel and ink. it’s a lengthy process but a lot of fun lol. but sketches for me can be like.. 15 layers of different roughs until im happy with just the sketch. there were more images but im on mobile and theres a 10 image limit 😭😭 im a bit masochistic but i believe that if i dont have a good sketch i dont have a good painting!!
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nordidia · 3 months
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I need to preface by saying that the following words are fully complimentary bc when I read it back I realize it sounded kind of insulting and I really really like your work (that's two reallys)
I find that in the... year (?) I've been following you you've inspired me as artist in a lot of ways. You've encouraged me to represent my genuine self in my art more, you've encouraged me to draw for myself more than other people, and, most importantly (and the reason I'm sending u this) you've encouraged me to post unfinished work more. I'm a perfectionist and I get really anxious about starting a comic or drawing but never finishing it, because I think people will think my work doesn't have the heart put in if I never finish it. But you post a lot of art that's kind of "unpolished", and I LOVE it. I reread your raph comics everytime I'm sad and either need cheering up or something I can relate to in that moment. I've never doubted the heart behind your work just because it's a sketch, and it's inspired me to post more, which inspires me to CREATE more. So thanks for being an inspiration, even if you didn't mean to. <3
oh im gonna cry /pos
this means alot to me,,, i realised a while before i got into tmnt that when i stopped caring too much about how well done or polished my comics looked, it was easier to focus on the purpose and expressions. the less lines, the more purpose each single line has. one line can change the entire face, expression, intent behind it. and i really like that!! i decided then to instead brand myself as a "sketch artist", it's more comfortable for me! the love people have for my art also proves to me and everyone else that art doesnt have to be incredibly complicated or intricate to get the message behind the art out.
i really appreciate this, like REALLY REALLY (that's two reallys)
im happy i can influence you to be kinder to yourself and your art, perfect doesnt exist, draw it!!!
i've been pretty mentally stumped comic/art-wise for the past year, but its really nice to hear that my posted art can continue to bring comfort, until i find the time/energy/motivation to draw and post more turtles <3 thank you so much
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marclef · 6 months
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OKAY HELL YEAH THE POWER'S BACK ON HERE SO, VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE!!
SOME-FUCKING-HOW I'VE GOTTEN TO ✨300✨ FOLLOWERS!!!!!
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I DO NOT KNOW HOW THIS IS POSSIBLE BUT, I AM BEYOND AMAZED BY THE SUPPORT AND LOVE YOU'VE ALL GIVEN ME SO THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!! ❤❤❤ YOU'RE ALL TOO SWEET AND KIND AND I LOVE EVERY ONE OF YOU /PLAT 🤗
this came a lot sooner than i expected, so i didn't have the best of plans to celebrate... but i do have a good Babysitter Fakey to offer. i hope you like him 😊
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and... some ramblings under the cut, if anyone cares about hearing me yell for a moment...
but.... let me just say that, moving my art onto Tumblr has been one of the best decisions i've ever made. the love and support from here compared to Instagram is unreal, and, something i never saw coming, i've actually made some real close friends here. and me being the socially-awkward weirdo i am, it really means a lot to me. you guys have been helping me feel not just better about myself, but helping me reach out and talk to others like me, it's just insane. i genuinely mean it, thank you guys so much. you're the best ❤😭❤
and another thing..... i've been a bit busy with stuff lately, but i promise i'm trying to work on stuff! i've got a few drawing asks i really need to work on, and as for my writing..... okay i still haven't started it. but i AM trying to figure out how best to write it, because i plan on doing both split parts AND drawings for it. i want to make sure it comes out the best it possibly can. but stay tuned, there's a lot i've got to finish up!
..... oh alright. one more bonus if you've made it this far. lo and behold: the very first art piece i ever posted to Tumblr, not thinking i'd be moving fully onto here hehe 😅 enjoy Peppino's old design in all its full glory ✨✨✨
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ain't he a beaut'.
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thephooka · 4 months
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youtube
Happy Webcomic Day! My webcomic White Noise is a labor of love--according to Procreate, this page took me 15.5 hours to complete.* Here's a look into that process!
Some other notes:
The thumbnails are done on graph paper and I script while I do them--there is no separate written script for White Noise. I usually spent a couple hours on weekends as needed thumbnailing, sometimes at a coffee shop or at home listening to records.
I then set up the file in Photoshop, so I can lay in the text and use the template I have with bleeds already set up. The text is rasterized and I shuttle the file over to my iPad via Airdrop.
The bulk of the actual work is done in Procreate, which records timelapses that I sometimes share to my Patreon. I usually spend a couple hours most nights after my day job or on the bus commuting doing this.
Once everything art-wise is done, I shuttle the file back over to my desktop to re-set in the text, add a stroke around the speech bubbles (Procreate doesn't have that took fsr) and do the resizing/exporting for web.
On Sunday mornings I get up, queue the page and write the page descriptions. I don't spend any time on the page descriptions outside of that.
Also, this process goes for the whole first arc of White Noise. I'm done with that arc (which means you can binge the whole thing I'm js!!) and am experimenting with some different methods these days, but my workflow is still generally the same.
*Some more talk about the labor (and burnout) involved below the cut:
This particular page (and most of the pages I did in 2023) took a lot longer than normal because I was heading into a burnout period that I'm still lowkey in/recovering from. It's obvious to me now in retrospect watching the timelapse here and seeing how much noodling I'm doing and how much I'm struggling with the process, but at the time I was just very frustrated generally. When I'm not burned tf out pages take maybe 10 hours max.
2023 was a pretty stressful year--lots of big life changes, uncertainty, pet death, health issues--so it's no wonder it propelled me into burnout, but it just goes to show that even the slowest and steadiest pace is not sustainable forever. I've been doing one page a week following this general process for over a decade! And I stuck to that pace because I knew it was one I could maintain. But even so, by the end of this arc I found myself working more and more slowly, not really looking forward to the work, feeling anxious about being behind, unhappy with the finished work, and extremely annoyed with myself for not being able to give it my all right there at the finish line.
I did stop for a while after the epilogue and took a more or less complete break from drawing for about a month--the longest I have EVER gone without drawing, much less working on White Noise--which did help, but these days my ability to work is...inconsistent. I should probably take another total break, but I'm reluctant. What if my passion never comes back? What if people forget about WN? It's already pretty obscure, and with the general social media collapse, it's harder than ever to get people to read my work. Now that I've left Hiveworks, WN doesn't even get the benefit of being linked to other comics (although objectively very, very few readers actually got referred to my comic that way.) And frankly, I'm also just too proud to go too long without comic updates. I've always told myself, I might not be the best artist or the fastest worker or make a popular comic, but I'm consistent. Difficult to let that go.
This is all to say that webcomics are hard. We do them because we love them, we have stories to tell, we are seized with the human compulsion to create. We spend hours of our time, almost always on top of the paying work that allows us to eat, to make something that we then give away for free. It has consequences on us that the reader doesn't often see, no matter how careful we are about it. If you ask me, webcomics deserve to be valued more.
Happy Webcomic Day! Read webcomics!
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pebblume · 8 months
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I never realized how liberating writing fanfiction would be. I hadn’t written creatively in years. It’s been so long that I kind of forgot what it felt like. The childlike rush of pouring your heart out onto a blank page, not caring about the results as long as you were having fun. I’ve tried writing fanfic a couple of times, for different fandoms across the years, but never finished anything I was really happy with, nothing that I felt comfortable sharing with the world. But something just clicked for me this past week. I realized how much fun it was to stretch out my writing muscles, to get inside the heads of my favorite characters. I realized that it didn’t have to be perfect to be worthy of being shared and loved by others. I realized that I had so many stories inside myself - more than I thought possible. 
But perhaps what I’m most in awe of is fanfic readers. The people who read my work and leave kudos and bookmarks and comments - one word comments, sweet comments, silly comments, paragraph-long comments. I love them all. I used to be afraid of leaving comments on AO3, afraid I wouldn’t have enough words, wouldn’t have the right words, to depict how I felt. But when I felt firsthand how much those comments meant to me I started leaving more and more of them, spreading a digital paper trail of love to all my favorite authors. More and more often I recognize the profile names and images in my comment section and think, Hey, I know you! Now I’m not just a guest on AO3, or a passive reader. I belong here. 
I won’t lie and say I don’t miss drawing a bit, my previous creative outlet. There are plenty of drawings inside me too, itching to be realized. I really just don’t have the time for two time extensive hobbies, not when I need to balance school and practicing and little things like sleeping and eating and relaxing. I miss it, but not as much as I thought I would. There’s a level of investment to sharing a story online that feels…special. When I post my art, I get engagement, and it feels nice, but ultimately, most people are only spending about ten seconds looking at the work I spent eight hours on, if that. When someone reads my fics, we’ve now spent time together. You’ve lived inside my head for a bit, made it your home. It’s about feeling seen, I think. Writing makes me feel understood in a way visual art sometimes doesn’t. It makes me feel vulnerable in the same way performing music does, but less exposed too. It’s interesting to me. 
The only downside, if you can call it that, is now that the writing bug has infected me, I’m finding it harder and harder to stop. I’ll have an idea and then suddenly five hours have flown by because I’m on a creative streak and I just want to write one more idea down, which turns into two, and so on and so forth. I dread stopping, because what if I forget something? What if I get into a writing block later? Suddenly I have people who want to read the things I write and I want to provide it, I really do, but I also have responsibilities. I say, as I write this, ignoring my audition tomorrow afternoon. 
I still have a bit of embarrassment attached to fandom works. When I tell acquaintances that I like to draw or write, I rarely tell them I mean fanart and fanfiction. As if loving something that deeply, that sincerely, is inherently shameful in this age of irony and soulless remakes. Especially when my interests usually consist of media marketed towards children, nevermind the fact that it has more emotional maturity than most ‘adult’ works. But I’m trying to get better about it. A lot of my closest friends know about my hobbies, and some I’ve even let see my work. It’s terrifying but also giddying, seeing them like an art post or comment on a fic. After all, to reap the rewards of being loved, one must submit themselves to the mortifying ordeal of being known, or something like that. 
I realized today that I’ve written over 30,000 words in the past two weeks about about two characters who don’t belong to me, but whom I’ve made my own.
And I’ve never felt happier
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ash-is-dying · 1 year
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Temporary Tattoo
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A/N: Felt compelled to write a quick blurb after drawing one of these on my own hand. Idk guys the delulu is really getting to me today. Anyway enjoy!
Shy!Eddie x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 782
Fluffy / Mildy Spicy Blurb
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“Just stay still Eddie!”
“But you’re taking forever!”
The pen runs over his knuckles as you outline the bones on his hand. You had spent the entirety of calculus at the back drawing on Eddie’s hand. He had breached the topic of getting a skeleton hand tattoo so you had made the generous offer to be his temporary tattoo artist.
His various rings had been scattered across the desk and the sleeve of his hellfire shirt had been rolled the full way up his arm exposing his actual tattoos alongside the detailed sketch on his left hand. You sat knee to knee with the boy as the arm you’re drawing with pins his arm to the table and the other holds his hand flat.
For someone who was covered in hidden tattoos you’re genuinely surprised by how much he moved while you were working and how whiney he was being about you taking too long.
“How long?”
“Eddie I haven’t even done your wrist yet. Chill your balls. We’ve still got half an hour anyway.”
He throws his head back and sighs deeply. His other hand starts to fidget, miming the chords for some metal song or another. His eyes close and he looks like a toddler who’s been denied chocolate from the shops. His head lolls to the side to look at you.
You’re completely oblivious to the look he gives you as he studies your concentrated face, biting your lip and your brows furrowed as you smoothed over the outlines you had drawn. Unbeknownst to you the real reason he was so all over the place wasn’t because the tattoo was taking too long.
It was because you were the one drawing it.
When you had started your gentle touches had left him flinching, moving towards your warm hands. Hence the need for physical restraint. Eddie’s cheeks flushed the moment you had wrestled his arm under yours, your closeness making his heart jump start. He could spend hours here just having you draw all over him. He’d let you fill every gap between his tats if it meant he could keep you like this.
The only reason he was now encouraging you to hurry was because he didn’t need the artist girl he’d been crushing on for months noticing the semi he was sporting. He had tried to slide further under the desk to make it less obvious but the hold you had on his arm was making things increasingly harder.
In both ways.
“I don’t think we need to do the wrist, just my hand is fine-” he said sharply.
“But didn’t you want a half-sleeve anyway? Thought you wanted me to try the whole tattoo.”
“As cool as that would be I kinda need my arm back sweetheart-” He says with an edge of panic in his voice.
“Okay okay, I’ll be done in ten.”
The next ten minutes were probably the longest ten minutes of his life.
For the fine detailing you had made the decision that you needed to get even closer. You had rotated his arm and had folded your leg over his, just adjacent to where he desperately needed you not to be. He watched anxiously as you shifted to finish off the tattoo. He genuinely tried to sink into his chair and disappear. If you had even a hint of what was happening under the desk he would be absolutely mortified.
“Why do you get so many tattoos Eds?”
Her sudden question pulls him out of his head. “Oh- um. I guess because they look cool? And they help me express a part of myself that I want to show people rather than tell them about.”
“Fair enough.” There’s a long pause. “Can I ask you something?”
Eddie’s brows raise in concern. “Yes?”
“Do you get this turned on for all your tattoo artists or just me?”
The silence is deafening as his eyes widen in shock and realization. He stutters as you move off of his lap unable to find the words. The bell goes and you begin to pack up your things not sparing him a glance until you put your hand on his shoulder and lean to whisper in his ear.
“If you ever need another tattoo done… call me okay.”
You give his cheek a quick peck as you turn away and walk out of the room with a flush on your face, leaving behind an extremely flustered and red faced Eddie. He looks down at his arm. It’s amazing of course. But what really catches his eye is the messily written phone number on the underside of his arm.
Maybe he will get another temporary tattoo.
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flymetosnarryland · 1 year
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GTFO.
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Did anyone miss Muggle London like I did? 🙃
This series as a part of "Infraction" has grown incredibly. It helped me understand a lot about things I want to write and made me think about "Infraction" as... well, my first real baby, lol. I wrote one Snarry, "Oblivion" already, but I take that story as testing the waters. I tried to know Harry and Severus, placing them in situation close to, eh, something that happened to me in a way. It means a lot to me and I'm proud of myself that I managed to write a fic from the start to the end.
"Infraction" on the other hand... this one is going to be really FAT piece of work and I'm excited over the moon about it. First chapter and the first part of second already landed on Ao3, but when am I going to finish the next part of it? (If anyone is interested at all, because I personally don't touch unfinished pieces, knowing how it works 🤣)
Well, to be honest, I decided to not rush it. Not because I don't know what to write. The main outline of the story has 40k+ words. It appeared that planning a series of murders is not so easy 😂 especially when the politics are part of it (I mean, Merlin... that's the last thing I thought I will EVER write, lol) and on top of that I have some complicated relationships (or, I suppose, a cherry on molten chocolate cake 🤤). Which makes me shiver and scream, that much I want to jump into writing it again. But the more I am thinking about the plot and fitting everything I need into it (of course writing it down), the more I'm surprised that I am able to figure out something that seems damn complex to me and my three brain cells 😂 I want to be proud of this story. I want it to be... maybe not perfect, but as good as I can see, it can be. And I enjoy the idea of growing as hobby writer. It makes me really happy. Also it's my first serious CRIME story. I know I said before that I always wanted to write crime. I always thought though it's out of my range, you know, I'm too dumb to bring something interesting that other people could possibly like as I do. But with this story I'm trying new things (like bringing Marauders to life), I'm thinking in advance, I'm on both sides: the detective and the serial killer and... GOSH. I really think it will have sense and be worth to waste some time on reading it, lol!
Also there is Snarry AUctoberfest on the way and, you know, I decided I'll try to write something for the fest for the first time! (It's my year of many first times and I really like it!) Funny thing, it appears that my fic for the fest will be a little test to what I want to do with "Infraction." When it occured to me (don't ask how it happen, but the idea I've had in mind turned 180 degree and I couldn't help it! Had to just go for it 😂) I was stunned. But in the same way it's a great opportunity to try new things, see how it will go and how it will work before I'll jump back to my baby.
If anyone checked "Infraction", please don't be mad or sad or... disappointed or angry (?), that I'm not updating it yet. This fic is absolutely my main focus and I'm tinkering and working on it. As for everything, I need time (and probably cut some other projects while I will write it; so less drawing going to be main part of the writing process 🙃 I suppose in the last quarter of the year; except if I'll have my holiday from work!)
Ah, dang. I wrote a lot here, I suppose? Less shite than messy personal stuff, but still something I guess, I wanted to share? Even if I think it's pointless and worthless, because who cares, lol. I'm learning, trying to share, I think. I should, as I wasn't doing it at all and it suppose to help me to... leave the shell of person that other people think I am. Because I grew to be someone irl that I'm really tired of being. Of pretending to be. How stupid it all sounds it's beyond me and I still deny to admit it.
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Do you sell versions of your embroidery designs? I'm obsessed with your Solas patterns and would love to try them!
Hello!
So, short answer is yes, while the first digital mockups I made were designed just for my own reference and as color guides for transferring the designs painstakingly by hand, I ended up going back to them and turning them all into digital vectors. This means they can be printed onto transfer paper or directly onto stabilized fabric for stitching, which is MUCH easier than drawing by hand. Lots of people asked me if I could sell the designs so I figured this part out and was able to test it myself--the tower embroidery was an example of printing the vector directly onto the fabric and worked out great!
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(above: tedious hand-drawing process for the Hierophant design, vs my failed attempt at transfer pencils that did not work at all for the Tower, vs printing directly onto fabric which did work in the end)
Long answer is after I did that, I uh, never figured out how or where to list them for sale online. Or what all to include with them--like what level of written instruction to include, should i also make notes on the thread colors I picked, should I include my colored-in-versions as color guides or just let everyone free-for-all it, in the case of the Tower embroidery i also hand-dyed a lot of grey thread that was crucial for it coming out how i wanted it to look--is it deceptive to sell a pattern when other people can't necessarily recreate it the same way because of that? Should I list in general the dye instructions if they wanna recreate it, or for people who want some of my extra thread or for people who don't have an inkjet printer so can't print the design onto the fabric themselves, should i think about selling full "embroidery kits" that include the printed pattern sized for a display hoop and the thread needed? etc etc etc
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(above: photo of the color guide I made myself with tentative thread color selections (warning NOT the ones I actually ended up using), photo of my pile of threads I picked from, and photo of some of the threads I ended up dying myself to get closer to the design I wanted)
Anyway that was all a lot of thinking and work to do, so i put it off!!! and uh here we are 2 years later and I have still not posted them anywhere. I really gotta get around to all that still...
But in the meanwhile, if anyone reading would like a pattern, just let me know directly what you're looking for and I can save the versions of the files as needed for your plans and send them over. like for a digital only version (so no threads or me printing for you) i would probably make a zip file with a transparent png of the design (so you can put it in a word doc to print at whatever size you desire), as well as a pdf with a few copies of it already pre-sized for a display hoop for ease of printing or transfer, the colored-in version i used based on the tarot cards, photos of my finished versions, etc (note to self i must remember to include the design both normal for direct printing and horizontally flipped for anyone who plans to use transfer paper for it since those are mirrored...). Oh and a quick explanation of how i managed to get my fabric through a standard printer if you wanna try that.
But yeah i'm happy to work out something with kofi or paypal or venmo and sell the digital ones for like $20 each or something for now, if you don't mind not having written step-by-step instructions accompanying the patterns and example photos. Or if anyone has suggestions on where to host them for sale, for someone not interested in maintaining a dedicated storefront like etsy or storenvy long term. Maybe Gumroad? If i stuck to digital-only sales something like that might work. I'm open to input for sure. If you want something more than digital like a pre-printed fabric (since it's kind of weird to do yourself), I'm still open to trying, it just would be a little more $ to account for the fabric/stabilizer and cost of shipping, and probably take me a few more days to do.
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(above: example of finished DA themed embroideries)
But regardless, thank you for your interest at all!! I'm so glad people have enjoyed my embroidery series :) While I'd love to make lots of copies to sell to whoever wants one, I simply don't have the time, and they are SO labor intensive to make it really is like 80-90% of the cost is manhours. I spend anywhere from 5-15 hours making the patterns and vectors, but the stitching and rest of it itself is easily the bulk at 40-100 hours depending on complexity and number of threads used. So WAY more feasible to sell the patterns than make more to sell myself, and then anyone willing to put in the time can have one too :)
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storm-angel989 · 13 days
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Idea: Val's Teenage Daughter is at school and she is crushing some boy from her class (or something like that) and HE LIKES HER TOO and gives her a flower, and later on Val (or her uncle's, I don't know) found the flower hidden in her backpack, because she was embarrassed of telling them (or scared of their reaction, whatever your think is best)
Hi friend, 
Sure thing! Take a peek below! This was super cute to write!
<3 Mandy
Ninth grade dances were going to be the bane of my existence. 
As I looked around at the kids I had known most of my life, I tried to imagine dancing with any of them. I couldn’t really- I had known the others way too long, and had way too many memories stemming back to kindergarten for me to see any of them as anything other than a sibling like friendship. 
Except for one. 
He had moved to our school from the greed ring at the start of the school year. Quiet, handsome with dark hair and brown eyes. The first time I looked at him I felt a feeling in my belly I had never felt before. 
“Oh, someone has a crush,” my best friend teased me when I told her as we got ready for afterschool practice. 
“Yeah, I guess,” I replied as I pulled on my swimsuit. “But it doesn’t matter. Did you see the other girls in class? He literally can pick anyone and they’d swoon.”
My best friend rolled her eyes. “Yeah, not anyone. But come on, we’re going to be late and I don’t want to swim extra laps because you’re crushing, hard.”
As the weeks passed, I found myself seated next to him in more than one class. We exchanged a few words, passing remarks about assignments. At lunch he sat with the rest of the boys, and during study hall, he sat in the front row, his pencil constantly moving across blank paper. By mid September, curiosity finally got the better of me and I asked him what he was so busy working on.
Sketching was the answer. Pages and pages of drawings, detailed outlines of objects and characters from his favorite shows. 
“These are really good,” I praised him. 
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right, you’re just saying that.”
“No, really, I would know. My Aunt Velvette is an artist,” I told him. “She designs clothes, and she draws on literally everything. One time, she left her sketchbook in the office and she made my Uncle Vox turn around and go back to get it. We missed our flight. My dad was super pissed.”
That elicited a laugh. From that point on, he made it a point to sit by me, to share his sketches in between classes. And the more we talked, the bigger my crush grew. As the halloween dance grew closer, I imagined that there was one way I was going- and that was as his date. 
Two weeks before the dance, he presented me with a red rose. Standing next to my locker at the end of the day, I flushed bright red. Was this really happening? 
“I get it if you think dances are lame, but you didn’t say you had a date, so I was wondering if you’d be mine?” He asked. “Or if you do think its lame, we can go get pizza or something instead?”
“How about the dance and then pizza?” I suggested as I took the rose from him. 
“It’s a date,” he agreed. 
Joy overflowed from my chest. The bell rang and we both took off towards our respective rides- him to his bus, and mine to the limo. I slid into the seat, staring at the ruby red petals. I had a date. Not only a date, but the date! 
“Did you have a good day?” The driver asked.
My stomach dropped as realization flooded through me. I had a date. That meant I needed to tell my Dad. And my mom. And my Aunt Velvette and Uncle Vox. The notorious V’s. Hastily, I shoved the rose in my backpack and pulled out a book. 
“It was fine, thanks for asking,” I said as nonchalantly as I could. 
As soon as I got inside, I hurried up to my Uncle Vox’s office. As carefully as I could, I took out my homework, being sure to keep the rose hidden. Thankfully, my Uncle Vox was too busy working on his computer to say more than hello and I busied myself in my homework. As soon as I finished, I gave him a kiss on the cheek and rushed back downstairs. I knew I couldn’t risk them finding the flower. It would have to stay in my backpack until I could put it in my locker the next day at school. 
The more I thought about it, the more I cheered up. In fact, I wouldn’t even tell them I had a date to the dance! I would just say I was going with friends. This way, I could avoid all the questions I knew my family would have. In relief, I hung my backpack on the door. 
“So, did anything exciting happen today in school?” My Aunt Velvette asked over dinner.
I felt the color rise in my cheeks. Quickly, I shook my head and shoved a bite of chicken into my mouth. 
“Really?” my Dad asked.
I quickly lifted up my water glass and took a sip. I shook my head again.
“Oh, well. I got a note from your teacher today saying you have a test that needs to be signed? You’re not doing so well in math?” My father asked with his eyebrow raised. “Did you have Uncle Vox sign it?”
“I didn’t sign anything,” Uncle Vox said as he took a sip of water.
“Oh, I, uh, yeah, I forgot about that,” I said quickly. “I’m sorry, I just…it’s really hard this year.” Or the head that I stared at was super cute. 
Valentino exchanged a glance with Vox and Velvette. 
“I’ll take a look at it,” Vox said. “Not a problem, math gets a little more complex in high school, nothing I can’t walk you through.” He stood up and dropped his empty plate in the sink. 
I watched as he walked over towards where my backpack hung. 
“No, wait, Uncle Vox! I can get it out,” I said quickly as I jumped up. 
“Why? Something in here you don’t want me to see?” He teased as he dug around in my bag, “I promise you a few bad grades won’t kill your GPA. What color is your math book again? Yellow?” He paused, “now where did this come from?” 
I felt my heart sink and my cheeks flush as he pulled out the crumpled rose. Vox looked to Valentino and Velvette. 
“Okay, fine. I sort of got asked to the dance, I wasn’t gonna tell you, but I..” I blurted out. I turned to run and hide in my bedroom but Uncle Vox stepped in front of me.
“You have a date? To a dance? And you wern’t going to tell us?” Aunt Velvette exclaimed. “Reader!”
I buried my face in my hands as embarrassment rushed through me. 
“Why not?” My fathers calm voice broke through the silence. 
“Because, I didn’t want him to be interrogated and I really like him!” I exclaimed in frustration. “You three are the most powerful overlords in hell, it isn’t like he can just come to the door and pick me up like my friend’s dates do. You’re gonna want to meet him, and that alone is intimidating and I…it isn’t fair!” 
“You are taking this way too far,” my Aunt Velvette said. “And being super dramatic. Take a breath.”
“Yeah, we won’t threaten to kill him more than once,” my Uncle Vox said lightly.
“Don’t tease Vox,” Aunt Velvette retorted. “Babygirl, come sit next to me.” 
Slowly, with my gaze down, I sank into the chair next to Aunt Velvette. She wrapped her arm around my shoulder. 
“Hey, you can always come to me. We might be the overlords of hell, but I promise you I’ll keep the boys in line,” she told me with a sharp look to Valentino. “And I promise when he comes and picks you up, we’ll be on our best behavior. Right, boys? You don’t ever need to keep secrets from us. Got it?”
Slowly, I nodded. She released me and planted a kiss on the top of my head. 
“Good. Now, let’s talk about that math test…”
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takaraphoenix · 1 month
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This is going to be a deeply personal post that I want to share because I hope it can also be somewhat inspirational and motivational for others.
I started a new job a month ago and I deeply love it. I mean, genuinely love it. Love the place, the people, the work. I'm happy going to work and I find joy in what I do and time passes startlingly fast at work because I'm enjoying it. Plus, I make good enough money (sure, it could always be more, but it's already more than my last job which is great).
I honestly didn't think that was a thing. Growing up, I always thought that work is that thing you force yourself through for the sake of money. The requirement. I thought it was crazy when people claimed they liked their work. But damn, I love my work.
When I finished high school, I had no idea what I wanted to do. Fourteen years ago. And it's been a longwided and bumpy journey, but it brought me to a place where I'm happy and where I can see myself working for the next thirty years.
Not knowing where you want to go, or how you could get there, is incredibly, overwhelmingly frustrating. But sometimes, you just have to keep going and figure it out along the way.
(The more long-winded journey under the cut.)
I had no idea what I wanted to do after high school, partially because my school never really prepared us for what comes after.
Our local university is large, and it intimidated me beyond belief when I was eighteen, there was just no way I could go there.
But there was a small, private art school around where I lived and everyone always kept saying turn your passion into your profession, right? So sure, why not. Let's go to art school.
Four years later, I had a Bachelor's degree in art and had also fully lost my passion for drawing. It had become a chore. So I knew that... that wouldn't work out for me. I needed to find something different.
I've always admired the teachers who could inspire others and make you feel welcome in their classes and I was pretty good at teaching others, so I figured, maybe I could become a teacher?
I first signed up for English and Philosophy (with the goal of teaching ethics). I made friends in the first semester in both classes, but I had to switch out of English after one semester - mostly because the teachers were actually insane. They prided themselves in failing at least 10% of first semesters and made the beginning unnecessarily hard and no... fun. I think learning should be fun.
So I switched from English to German and, ultimately, after five years, got my Bachelor's degree in German philology and Philosophy. During the high-time of Covid. My last two semesters were exclusively spent in remote zoom classes.
The thought of becoming a teacher - of being in a room with thirty students for ninety minutes, before class ends and the next thirty students file in for the next ninety minutes, in an endless circle of hell - absolutely terrified me. Heck, the thought of going back to classes to get my Master's degree to actually become a teacher was already mortifying.
So, once again, I stood there, without a plan, but with a useless BA.
I didn't know what I wanted to do, to be quite frank. I was running out of motivation to find something new, because it started to feel like I was truly just failing one thing after the other. I was 29 and had absolutely nothing to show but two Bachelor's degrees.
I became a temp, after a year of unemployment, working in an office in an insurance company. And I liked it alright. The work more or less, but the feeling. Oh, the feeling of working in a small team in an office absolutely delighted me!
I lost that job at the end of last year and went back to being unemployed for half a year. Until a friend of mine, who was working at our alma mater as a secretary, told me about how happy she was working for our university and how she had also started there because she had no prior work experience and none of the required qualifications. She also told me that our university has its own job hunting website and that they never put their job listings onto foreign sites.
I went looking the same day, applied to a job that I got a job interview for but that didn't entirely fit for me. A week later, I applied to another one - and it fit like a glove. I got a job interview before the application phase even ended, I was invited to spend a day observing the work and was supposed to give a yes/no on whether I want to move forward with the process the next day, which I did. All I expected in return was a thank you and to be told when I might hear back to them after they saw other applicants. Instead, I got the job that very day.
During every single step, I felt like I was failing. After my first Bachelor, that seemed useless. After giving up on getting my Master and having yet another useless Bachelor. When I lost the temp job.
But every single step in my journey was... necessary, to get me to where I am right now.
Because I wasn't ready for our big university when I was 18, I needed the small, private university that eased me into college life to have the courage to apply to our city's big university.
And the friend who told me about the job website? I met her in my one semester of English. Yes, even years later, even though we were only together in one class during that first semester, we are still friends. And if I hadn't attempted my second degree - if I hadn't started out with and failed out of English - I wouldn't have met her.
If I hadn't gone to this university, I wouldn't have been eager or able to find a job there.
And if I hadn't had the temp job, I wouldn't have discovered my passion for office work.
Who knows, maybe there is an alternate life where I get on the "right" track when I'm eighteen and end up happy too, but for the life I have now, things worked out well and they only did because of every single thing I had failed or changed out of.
Sometimes, you do need the failures to learn from them, to draw something from them that will help you find your way later.
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