I’m proud of a lot of the things Hugo’s been able to learn, but high on the list: Hugo, realizing what tricks got him the best reactions, defaults to the Sit Pretty pose whenever possible, and replaced his bad habit of trying to jump on strangers with Sit Pretty. bc it got him more attention.
stock image recreation.
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I typo and typed "Whiney" instead of "Whitney" once and I can never take them as the "dominant" type ever again
"That dom stat collar should look pretty around their neck ooh ooh ooh I should give them tattoos to symbolize the collar and chains then!! Yas perfect!!"
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he wouldn't be that caring, you say? ok
In the dimly lit room, his touch wasn't a gentle invitation; it was a demand, a possessive claim on your senses. as he explored the contours of your skin, it wasn't affection but a calculated strategy to make you yearn for him, to ignite an addiction to the intensity of his grasp.
you, initially swept away by the raw passion, remained oblivious to the ulterior motives driving his every move. little did you know that beneath the surface of desire, a game of control and manipulation was unfolding, a dangerous dance where he aimed to make you surrender not just to passion but to a dependency on his dominating presence.
he yearned to be the sole source of those intoxicating moans that escape your lips, and it didn't matter if they arose from blissful ecstasy or electrifying agony. And truth be told, you too can no longer discern between the two sensations.
He craves the sound of your voice, and more importantly, he wants you to acknowledge that he alone possesses the power to create such sensations within you.
Your tender skin serves as the only shield against his feral touch you still have, and he is on the precipice of shattering it.
and then he immediately proceeds to ruin the moment
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VINTAGE FROSTED PURPLE CHAMPAGNE GLASSES | LISTING
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I have many complex feelings about aging and the appearance of age in tolkien's world. For example, I always draw Melian as an old woman [seen here at the end of the chapter - highly recommend the fic as well!] because when I realized she and Gandalf were the same species, that was the image of her that formed. It's not supported by text, but it compels me so I keep it. On the flip side, I actually don't like to depict Elros as growing a beard or aging. Elrond is never described as an elf, he's very specifically a peredhil. Elros would have been the same. I like the idea that they are both set apart a little from their chosen people.
And imagine how eerie it would have been, for Elros to look the same and yet still draw apart... to grow slower and wiser, yet somehow more tired, over the years. Almost like an invisible disability, but they both know what's happening. And then one day... this young man dies of old age. Surrounded by his children, who DO age (if slowly) for maximum uncanny valley.
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For an amnesiac Pomme has a lot to say. 72 pages to be precise
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