#mink wip

[popcornhee]

[sillyyteeth]

slowly been getting back in2 this game so i made them in2 horses i will try finishing this

[notsodailycake]

Agent 32 doodle dump

Happy moments together, all filled with cuddle and kisses after the chaotic trip 8 had

Nothing better than to tease your significant other lmao. 4 find 8 extremely soft and squishy and can't help but always wanna pinch him, he does not find that amusing

Meanwhile, 8 has a weird habbit of rubbing his hand (or face) on 4's flat surface head, and she has no idea why that is.

Also, the "Cute!" Look that 8 is giving at the bottom right, i drew this last year, and BOY did i hit jackpot with how i drew him there, he looks ADORABLE I CAN'T!!

Rommies waking up in the morning, but 4 is so not an early bird like 8, be she tries, and 8 is there to try and help heh

Oh look! I finally drew these lovebirds! These have been sitting with all my wips for quite a while

Like

A few months

Oh also, the 2nd and 3rd ones are just doodles i did on paper last year that i decided to digitilize lol

But yay! Meet my agents 32, Minke (agent 4) and Finn (Agent 8).

I need to see more of male agent 8. He's like, my favorite, and I barely see him YwY

I'll probably have to be the sole provider for the m/f ship version of them ngl (which sue me is my favorite, mainly cuz male 8 is my fav). But seeing busy i am rn, this will probs be my one rare post for this month

But who knows, I've been thinking up on Minke's family quite a bit, that might be my next topic, family meeting

Also fun fact, the doodle of 4 going "oooh you missed me" was originally gonna be a sad moment of 8 comforting her, but i couldn't get the pose i wanted right, so i went for a more cheerful tone. And yes it is after side order hehe

[anonymousmink]

Underworld (Oshamir)???

So this WIP has been languishing in my folder for 8 months, it’s a Hades/Persephone Oshamir AU I started writing in a fever dream only I never got past the set up! I still love some of the ideas in it though and think there’s a story there, so who knows, maybe I’ll write more even if it’s just in snippets - let me know what you think fellow acolytes!

Fandom: The Acolyte || Rating: T || Words <2k

There is a balance to the mortal world, Verosha learns it at her mothers knee, her head pressed to Mama Aniseya’s beautiful batik skirts as she weaves jewel-toned threads into her tapestry.

There is day and night, light and dark, life and death.

“And neither is better than the other,” Mother Koril interjects, as she always does, nodding her head at them from where she measures the threads Aniseya uses to weave life into being, “the world needs both, do not let them convince you that night or dark or death is wrong simply for existing.”

There’s a firm look in her eye as she casts her gaze between Verosha sitting on the left and Maeho sitting on the right.

“Very true, Mother Koril,” Aniseya nods, “one cannot be without the other. The mortals need the dark to appreciate the light, they need death to appreciate their life.”

“What about here?” Osha asks, marvelling as a new skein is added to the pile, a cord of white and gold that shimmers warmly in the basket waiting to be added, “is there balance in our world too? Even though we don’t die like they do?”

“Some gods have died, sweet girl, but you’re right - it is not like the mortals. You mustn’t worry, we have our own balance,” Aniseya replies, pulling a hand from her shuttle to stroke her daughters hair, “like here - we have the balance of our work, there is the one who measures and the one who weaves, and - when you’re older - we shall have the one who cuts too.”

Osha has heard that story too, the destiny promised to her mothers’ child long before their birth. Mother Koril measures the life thread to its natural conclusion, Mother Aniseya spins it so, but it is imperfect still. Unbalanced. Some threads break, others unravel, the one who cuts is the God-Queen’s answer - decreed from high upon her mountain throne.

The one who cuts will snip threads loose before their time, she will be a gentle chaos that prevents a crueler fate.

“The two who cut you mean,” Mae corrects from the otherside of her lap, toying with a long string of purple thread that has yet to be chosen for the tapestry, “there’s two of us after all mama.”

“There are two of you,” their mother nods, “but I do not yet know if you are both to serve this way. Only the destiny of mortals may pass through our hands, our own is not so easy to weave.”

Osha shivers despite the warmth of the fire in the hearth, her hands clenching around the edges of her shawl as she stares at the threads her mother weaves.

She doesn’t want to cut them, not like Mae does - her eyes lighting up every time she points out a thread about to snap or a snarl about to form. Osha doesn’t see the tapestry the same, the threads, the lives, she doesn’t want to cut. She wants to… grow.

“It will be both of us,” Mae nods, undettered, bright and sharp as her scissors will inevitably be, “just wait and see.”

—

The man in their halls is nothing like anyone she’s seen before, her mother’s have priestesses of course, dryads and nymphs and devotees, but they are all female. Weaving fate is a woman’s art, and her mothers have never countenced men in their private domain. Or visitors.

Now there is both.

He stands at the open archway to the courtyard, an equally strange woman at his side, both are old like her mothers - quite grown and out of place as Osha peeks around the edge of the doorway to the inner sanctum. They are dressed in bright fabrics, glowing with an inner light that seems out of place in this quiet, dark place she has grown up in. Their temple sits half-way up the Gods mountain, overshadowed by the hanging rocks above and protected by the great forests below. The sun here is a weak thing, filtered through the clouds that cling to their lands, their part of the balance has always been shadows and secrecy.

“Oshie,” Mae hisses beside her, a familiar hand tugging at her sleeve, “we’re not supposed to be here.”

The order was given as soon as the strangers were sighted beyond their borders edge, the twins sent to their rooms and told not to come out until called for.

“Shh Mae,” Osha shushes her quietly, squeezing her hand when she pouts, “we’re just looking.”

She knows the stories about the dangers of curiosity but it doesn’t stop her from moving forward, tugging her sister behind her as she presses her face to the gap in the door.

“A rumour reached the mountain top,” the woman says, nut-brown hair braided over her shoulder and a white robe like milk and moonlight covering her, “that you have two children instead of one.”

“Who says?” Mother Koril snarls, and Osha doesn’t know why she’s so angry, “what proof do you have?”

“They were seen,” the woman replies, calm in the face of her anger, “by the great tree at your borders.”

Osha bites her tongue, guilt catching in her chest at the admission. It is her fault, her mothers tell her not to go past the garden gate but she cannot help herself. There is so much beyond their courtyard she hasn’t seen, so much she wants to see. To find peace in the leaves and flowers of their world, alone, although Mae always follows.

“What business is it of yours besides?” Koril hisses, her rage hanging thick in the air.

“Hello there,” the man is speaking to her, her heart tipping over itself as she looks up into dark eyes fixed solely on her, “what is your name little one?”

Her mouth opens, hanging their silently for a second as she takes him in again. Dark hair, dark eyes, dressed in robes of gold like fresh wheat and a circlet bearing the symbol of the sun.

“My name is Sol,” he adds when she gets caught on her words, his smile like summer as he crouches down to her level, “and this is my friend Indara.”

“M-my names Osha,” she squeaks, “Verosha, that is.”

“It is lovely to meet you, Osha,” he says, cocking his head to the side, “would your sister like to join us too?”

Startling, Osha realises belatedly Mae hasn’t followed her in, instead she’s standing in the shadows on the otherside of the doorway glaring at her furiously and shaking her head.

“Verosha,” Mother Koril scolds, “you should be in bed - come along.”

“Wait-” the man named Sol says, holding up his hand, “please, it would be an honour to meet your children.”

“Only if you allow it,” the woman named Indara adds quickly, uneasy as she fixes a hand on Sol’s shoulder and squeezes tightly, “we will of course respect your domain.”

“They may join us,” Mother Aniseya says from out of Osha’s line of sight, “if they choose to, Koril - please.”

“You do not have to do this,” Mother Koril whispers to them, grasping for Osha with one hand and Mae with the other.

“I want to, mother,” Osha hears herself reply, something in her chest lifting, a thread of curiosity she can’t help but pull at as she steps around the raspberry-red skirts of her mother and into the kitchen proper.

“Hello, you must be Osha’s sister,”

Mae doesn’t answer, mouth squeezing shut as she shunts her chin away from him, but Osha cannot help herself.

“This is Maeho” she says, “we’re twins.”

“So I can see,” he smiles again, “and what are your destinies, little ones, what will you be when you are grown?”

“We are to be the one who cuts,” Mae says proudly, her chin jutting out even as Osha shrinks back at the words, “it was foretold.”

“Both of you?” He asks, eyes crinkling as he purses his lips, “I did not think it was role for two.”

“We do not yet know their gifts,” Mother Aniseya steps in, “they are still so young, there is time.”

Indara nods but Sol shakes his head, even as he grows flowers from light in the palm of his hand, Osha’s eyes wide as she watches magic unlike anything performed in the halls of her childhood.

“I have a gift I could bestow,” he offers easily, “it was entrusted to me a long time ago but I have never found its rightful ascendant, until now I think. Here, Lady Verosha, Lady Maeho -”

He offers them the flowers, the blooms still glowing and warm to the touch as Osha plucks one carefully from his hand. Marvelling at its beauty even as Mae turns away, tugging fruitlessly at Osha’s sleeve as she ignores the offering.

“You are kind, Lord Sol, but it is unneccessary,” Mother Aniseya says suddenly beside them, Mae darts eagerly behind her skirts but Osha does not move. She is held in a gravity of wonder, the warmth of true summer sun licking through her finger tips as she touches the silk-soft petals of the bloom. She has never seen a flower like it before.

“What gift is it?” She asks him, curiosity unchecked and mouth unfiltered, “could I make things like this?”

Beautiful things, not cutting down lives but growing and blooming and living. She wants it so much her chest feels like it’s going to burst from the want of it.

“And much more besides,” he tells her in a conspiratorial whisper, “this gift… it is to become the one who grows, who blossoms in all circumstances. Would you like it, Verosha?”

“Sol,” the Lady Indara warns from a world away as the image Sol paints makes Osha’s head spin, “you shouldn’t offer it so easily, you know the consequences if she were to accept. Lady Aniseya, I am sorry for-”

He waves off the concern like he’s swatting a fly, his attention only on her as he asks gently, “the flowers in the courtyard, you grew them didn’t you?”

“Moon blossoms,” she nods, “and the grey herbs by the path. I like… I like to grow things.”

The sun itself couldn’t touch the bright burn of his smile as he beams at her, so bright she feels blinded. Warm in the glow of his approval, of the possibilities he opens to her.

“Osha,” her Mama’s voice catches her, her hand clasping her shoulder and breaking the spell, “this is no simple thing, if you were to accept you would have to leave here. You could no longer be a daughter of the Thread, you would be giving up your life, your family, even your sister…”

The thought of it is alien, they have always been two, always, but it still burns in her.

“We will leave you to discuss it,” Indara says, pulling her companion away at last, “if we may trouble your hospitality, there is a bier out by your gate that would do us well for the night. We will call again tomorrow for your answer.”

“As you say,” Aniseya nods, “you are welcome to stay for the night.”

The invitation is genuine but the subtext is clear, they are welcome for the night - and only the night.

She has until sunrise to decide, but in her heart she’s already accepted.

[crimsonglow-art]

DND art for My character

My artificier Jilma, Captain of the Crimson Seas. The name is not lost on me. I wanted to be really different with her. A lot of firsts game play wise. It'll take some getting used to.

She has a little robot named Minerva Mink and yes It is a ref ;)

[pikafanzrk]

sorry for not posting so much guys I'm working on a 60+ pages nsfw comic here I'll share with you some screenshots :3

[donutcleric]

Vizzini my monkey man, looking rough there

[draenethyst]

Work in progress commission :3

[1eos]

[popcornhee]

[sillyyteeth]

i wanted 2 draw sly as well idk if ill get 2 finishing the 1st 1 but i had this song in my head while drawing it

[snoopierdass]

[sabrinamati]

Designed these minks for tattoo flash.

[kenchana-yo]

wips of the kens getting beach ready! 🏖️ surfer ken has some freckles from all that time spent beaching <:

[rcmclachlan]

wip wednesday

I was tagged by the lovely @setmeatopthepyre yesterday for Tease Tidbit Tuesday but I didn't see it until today. I promise I know what day it is (spoiler: I don't and never do).

This is one of a handful of flashback scenes from the fic I've been writing. I still don't have a concrete plan for this one but I'm having a blast with it.

+

"If it had wings of some kind, they stuck my ass in it."

Buck perked up at that, interest curling around his shoulders like a mink stole. "Not just helicopters? Planes, too? Like, uh, fighter jets?"

When Tommy's mouth split around a smile, his teeth seemed oddly bright even in the restaurant's dim lighting. It was probably due to good genes. Tommy didn't seem the type to use a whitening gel.

"Among other things," Tommy agreed.

"That is so cool." It really was. Buck was practically bouncing in his seat. He wasn't just dating a pilot; he was dating a fighter pilot. "What was the craziest thing you ever flew?"

Tommy's smile went a little odd at the edges, and Buck watched, fascinated, as the tines of Tommy's fork started tapping against his plate, a metronome etched in porcelain and vodka sauce. Eleven little tings rang out before Tommy finally answered.

"This is going to sound incredibly douchey and I really don't mean it to, but I can't tell you about that one. It's, uh, classified."

Before Tommy kissed him and blew his mind wide open, Buck would have categorized the feeling that blossomed in his belly like an algae bloom as professional jealousy. Before, the fact that Tommy was such a good pilot that he got to fly some kind of experimental aircraft for the military would have been filed away as an awesome example of his competency. Buck probably would have occasionally taken that factoid out and studied it like a diamond, turning it from side to side and marveling at how it caught the light, jittery with pride because someone as cool and experienced as Tommy wanted to be his friend.

But Buck was finally self-actualized enough to recognize the feeling for what it was: absolutely insane, toe-curling lust.

"Fuck." He gripped the edge of the table so hard the table cloth was probably going to have permanent creases in it. His thighs clenched. "Please tell me you can live without dessert."

The oddly hesitant expression on Tommy's face melted into wide-eyed realization, then amusement. "Wait, do you... really?"

"Get the check," Buck said with a grin that felt hot as a fever. "Then see if you can use some of those best-in-class piloting skills to get us back to my place in ten minutes or less."

They didn't make it out of the parking lot.

+

No pressure tags: @dadvans, @alchemistc, @firehose118, @geddyqueer, @screamlet, and @liminalmemories21

[sichore]

I'm really surprised at how well that first outfit wip post did so here's a bit of an update on that. Even though I have a good idea of how I wanna dress up Isz (as picked out by Kuras and Ais), actually putting it on her form is proving a bit challenging. I can't seem to get that skirt to hang in a flattering way (read: idk how to drape cloth fslkfb). The basic idea is that she wore minimal clothing when at the temple (think Marika Elden Ring), and what she left with was more practical to travel with but probably little more than a thin tunic or kaftan. There's a good chance she was probably fighting off a little cold by the time she got mink moinked in the prologue, which is why Kuras stressed that she have warm, layered clothes when she woke up. The blouse has fancy sleeves and the skirt is a good weight with an ankara print, but it's all simple textiles like linen and cotton. Maybe I'll feel better about it once I design all the layers. kinda looks like she's wearing a yukata and hakama though that wasn't my intention hmmm