#the last pose i drew the arms wrong by the way

[mathildejr]

life drawing with friends : ice skating edition!! thanks to the great Anaïs who came with her outfit and ice skates :) and kept the pause with her legs up there for a couple minutes, which, how. I was very impressed and very grateful to get to draw it

[giorno-plays-piano]

Metamorph

Part III

Pairing: art teacher!Aemond Targaryen x reader (Horror AU)

Warnings: dark!Aemond, obsessive behavior, murder, horror, yandere, kidnapping, misanthropy, general creepy stuff.

Words: 1.1k

Summary: Drawn to the artworks of one of the most esteemed artists in the city, you wish to learn from him and find out what inspires him to create his masterpieces. You have no idea how much his secrets will cost you.

Part I | Part II

____________

You clenched your fancy Kohinoor pencil between your fingers like it's a gun, staring at Aemond already posing in front of all of you. No procrastination, you reminded yourself firmly as you drew a long vertical line across the paper to balance the future drawing. Your teacher hadn't berated you for your mistakes even once. It'd be fine if you got this one wrong, too. Anything was better than an empty sheet.

God, but Aemond was so pretty. His high cheekbones, his strong nose and jaw, and those thin but expressive lips, the long scar across the left side of his face...

You quickly hid behind your easel.

Breathe. Just get out of your head, you repeated to yourself Aemond's very words. You needed to get started, and whatever happened next didn't matter as long as you allowed yourself to draw whatever came to your mind. Explanations and logic be damned. You were an artist! At these rare moments, you were supposed to feel, not think.

Slowly inhaling and exhaling to keep your anxiety at bay, you uncleched the pencil in your fingers and slowly started shaping the figure on a sheet. It's fine. Aemond wouldn't get mad anyway as long as you did what he said.

The more you put your pencil to the sheet, the easier it was getting, something unfurling in your chest, putting a stop to your anxious thoughts and fears of failure as you continued to build Aemond's body, starting to get into details once you finished with the primary form. Regardless of his talent and uniqueness as an artist, he was still only a fellow human being like you. There was no need to magnify his power.

By the time Aemond walked over to you, you were almost finished with the painting, landing the last strokes to color the palms of the man on the sheet. It was that very red paint you had been mooning over for many months, complimenting its unusual vibrant color and a pleasant consistency. It was hard to believe you were now using it for your own artwork, but time was running out, and you didn't have a spare moment to be drooling over the paint.

"What do we have here?" The artist hummed, making you jump in your seat. How on Earth did he manage to walk so quietly in a room full of tables, chairs, and people?

Trying to focus on his question, you suddenly realized you had no clue how to present your idea to the teacher. Did you even draw what he had asked you to? What was that, not changing the silhouette and using mainly paint to express yourself or something?

You felt the beads of sweat promptly forming on your forehead as you clenched your jaw.

"You've been improving," Aemond told you, eye on the drawing as he tilted his head to the side. "Body proportions seem right, and I like the way you shaped the arms and legs. You had difficulties with them before."

Oh, really? You surely had problems drawing arms, but you didn't notice you were becoming better. A pleasant surprise. Not that one wouldn't expect to improve after taking lessons from the most esteemed artist in the city.

"Why did you paint the head and hands in red?"

Oh, crap. Why did you? You frantically searched for an answer other than "no idea, Sir, I think my subconsciousness just took over my body." Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you looked up to Aemond bent over, intently studying your artwork.

Cautiously, you muttered, "I-I think every change starts from the head, Sir."

Would that qualify for an answer? But Aemond quickly directed his gaze at you and demanded, "And hands?"

Biting your poor lip that no amont of lip balm was going to save after today's lesson, you mumbled, "Hands are the tool that make the change happen, Sir."

"Very logical, yes. Now, forget about trying to give me a logical answer and tell me what you felt when you were drawing this. Tell me about the paint."

He bent over even closer to you, practically breathing into your face, and you almost lost the ability to produce any adequate sounds. Your teacher clearly saw through your bullshit, and the thought that he was upset or even mad at you made you feel miserable.

"It's a metamorph, Sir," you whispered, one step closer to having a panic attack and hoping no student in the room was listening to your rambling, "and red is a color of life. Of change."

Aemond cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at you. "Why do you think red is the color of change? Is it because the change scares you?"

"It's not the change itself that scares me. It's what the metamorph is becoming, Sir," you uttered in a small voice and then added even quieter, praying only Aemond could hear you, "I think- I think he's turning into something violent, Sir. Something terrifying."

It took you a second to recognize what you've just said and what reaction it has provoked.

All of a sudden, you were staring in the face of Aemond Targaryen with his thin lips stretched so wide in a smile that it was even a little creepy. Was he... content? Did he want to laugh at your silly attempt to explain your feelings when you'd been drawing? You wouldn't even be offended, to be fair. It sounded like nonsense to you, too.

But no, he didn't seem to find it funny. Instead, you felt his palm squeezing your shoulder firmly, his smile unwavering as he spoke to you in a hushed voice the way you'd been answering to him, "Very good. My favorite artwork today so far."

As he got up, moving to the next student on your left, you were ready to jump and run away from the studio because, clearly, you were going to burst from the excess of feelings and anxiety in the next five seconds. Your teacher said it was his favorite painting today. This banal, lacking in originality in its every aspect thing was his favorite. When blood rushed to your head, making you sweat and feel disoriented, you clutched the brush between your fingers, squeezing your eyes shut.

Aemond Targaryen liked your painting. Despite being the very inspiration for the beautiful but horrifying metamorph, he actually had some sort of fondness for it because later, before you left, he actually asked you to allow him to keep the artwork for his own collection. Why did he like it so much? You had no idea.

_________

Tags: @heavenly1927 @yazzzmints @devils-blackrose @lost-and-founds @kennafild @toodlesxcuddles @shygardengalaxy

[saphronethaleph]

Tidal Rey

Kylo reached out with an effort of will, touching the Force Dyad that connected him to Rey.

It came easier now, compared to last time. It came easier every time.

This was meant to happen.

He still saw the surroundings of his meditation room on his flagship, but he also saw her. He knew she would be seeing her surroundings, but she would also be seeing him.

“I’m busy!” Rey snapped.

Kylo didn’t reply, at first, examining Rey for some kind of hint as to what she was doing.

Some kind of vital clue, that would reveal her location.

Nothing was immediately forthcoming. She was standing stiffly, with her arms out to either side as if embracing a huge tree, and occasionally leaning backwards or forwards a little.

“Where are you?” Kylo asked. “You can’t run forever.”

“Watch me,” Rey said.

She didn’t seem to be running, and Kylo chuckled.

“If this is you running, then you’ve given up already,” he said.

Rey grit her teeth, then swayed a little, and Kylo stepped back again to try and interpret what he was seeing

If only he could get her to make some mistake… give a hint. Or if he could get something physical to come through their connection.

Something that he could have analyzed. Something to give a clue as to where she was.

“Have you accepted your family?” he asked. “Being descended from someone strong in the Dark Side… it’s a powerful pull. The Dark Side could be a powerful ally for you, or it could consume you, Rey. Only I can help you become powerful.”

Rey shook her head slightly, then shifted. One hand brushed at her hair, fending it out of her eyes, then she went right back to that odd pose.

Perhaps she was on Kashyyyk? Clinging to the side of one of the huge Wroshyr trees? Or holding on to a First Order monorail, on any of a thousand worlds.

He needed more.

“I’ll find you eventually,” he said. “And even if I don’t, you know you don’t have long. If you join me, Rey, then we can rule the galaxy together… otherwise the Resistance will be crushed.”

“I said I was busy!” Rey told him. “Buzz off while I’m-”

She bit down on the words, and Kylo felt a triumphant smirk try to cross his face.

Rey had nearly cracked. Nearly said it.

He was on the right track.

He drew his lightsaber, and swept it through the air. Not at her, but at the space around her – trying to make contact with something on her side of the Dyad.

As he swung, Rey tipped over backwards, avoiding his attack-

DB-1089 tapped his boot against the metal floor, then frowned.

The sound was wrong.

He looked down, and saw a small amount of water pooling on the floor.

Confused and concerned, the stormtrooper stepped forwards a pace and turned, trying to identify where the environmental systems leak was coming from. They were serious business in the artificial environment of a warship.

“What the…” LK-3332 asked. “It’s coming from the Supreme Leader’s room?”

Then the door gave way.

Light fittings, trophies, clothes, weightlifting equipment and fifteen hundred tons of seawater exited the room in a rush that knocked over both stormtroopers, carrying along with them a prospective Dark Lord of the Sith. The tidal wave of water carried them all a hundred metres down the corridor, eventually ending up piled next to a grating as the water finally drained away.

“...what happened, sir?” DB-1089 asked, eventually.

“Nothing,” the extremely bedraggled and panting Kylo Ren replied. “Absolutely. Nothing. At. All.”

The troopers exchanged a glance.

“...nothing at all, sir, right enough,” LK-3332 agreed. “Yes, sir.”

[lucky-clover-gazette]

prince's gambit highlights & annotations

chapter 19

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

He found he had put himself bodily in Guymar’s way. ‘No. No one goes in.’ Anger, irrationally, blossomed. Behind him was the closed door to the tower rooms, a barrier to disaster. Guymar should know better than to barge in and make Laurent’s mood worse. Guymar should have known better than to cause Laurent’s mood in the first place.

one kiss and he’s fully down bad. like these are max levels of damen down bad-ness. it took one kiss. holy shit dude. we went from “laurent knows everything and is always planning something terrible” to “you will NOT bother my poor little meow meow while he does his silent soliloquy”

‘This time, I want it actually kept clear. I don’t care who is about to get molested. No one is to come here. Is that understood?’ ‘Yes, Captain.’ Guymar bowed and retreated. Damen found himself with his hands braced on the stone crenellation, in unconscious echoing of Laurent’s pose, the line of Laurent’s back the last thing he had seen before he had put the heel of his palm to the door. His heart was pounding. He wanted to make a barrier that protected Laurent from anyone who would intrude on him. He’d keep that perimeter clear, if it meant stalking these battlements and patrolling it himself. He knew this about Laurent. That once he gave himself time alone to think, the control returned, reason won out. The part of him that didn’t want to drop Aimeric with a punch recognised that both Jord and Aimeric had just been put through the wringer. It was a mess that needn’t have happened. If they’d just—steered clear. Friends, Laurent had said, high on the battlements. Is that what we are? Damen’s hands drew into fists. Aimeric was an inveterate troublemaker with terrible timing.

this is so ridiculous damen you have laurent brainrot it is so funny how this has unlocked primal rage and determination in you that literal flogging couldn’t

but keep your head up king, this is the chapter where you get to smash

The idea of stopping, allowing himself a moment to think, was terrible. Outside, there was nothing, just the last hours of darkness, and the long ride in the dawn.

and no more laurent to smooch >:(

‘Watch over the Prince,’ he heard himself say. ‘Anything he needs, make certain he has it. Take care of him.’ He was aware of the incongruity of the words, of his hard grip on the soldier’s arm. When he tried to stop, his grip only tightened. ‘He deserves your loyalty.’

damen said “it’s MY turn on the projection”

His time as Laurent’s Captain had been short-lived. An afternoon. An evening. In that time they’d won a battle and taken a fort. It seemed wild and improbable, a hard-edged golden piece of metal in his hand.

also they’d kissed on the mouth. leaving out a pretty essential detail there damen

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Your servants brought me to the wrong rooms.’ ‘No, they didn’t,’ said Laurent.

pffft did they just know? i’m not sure when laurent could have asked them to do it. so they must have just assumed laurent wanted him there

‘I don’t want to talk about Aimeric,’ said Laurent. ‘Or my uncle.’ Laurent began to come forward.

uh laurent i don’t think damen mentioned the regent at all. i think you’re telling yourself to stop thinking about your uncle because you would like to fuck damen without ptsd making it weird

Laurent said, ‘I know you’re planning to leave tomorrow. You’re going to cross the border, and you’re not going to come back. Say it.’ ‘I—’ ‘Say it.’ ‘I’m going to leave tomorrow,’ said Damen, as steadily as he could. ‘I’m not going to come back.’ He drew in a breath that hurt his chest. ‘Laurent—’ ‘No, I don’t care. Tomorrow you leave. But you’re mine now. You’re still my slave tonight.’ Damen felt the words hit, but that was subsumed in the shock of Laurent’s hand on him, a push backwards. His legs hit the bed. The world tilted, bed silks and roseate light. He felt Laurent’s knee alongside his thigh, Laurent’s hand on his chest. ‘I—don’t—’ ‘I think you do,’ said Laurent.

laurent listened to “dead girl walking” from heathers musical on the way up to the rooms in preparation for this. also i love the mixed feelings here—on one hand, hell yeah laurent, let yourself have this, but also this is fucked up for you both, and you really should talk it out, and the fact that you’re demanding his abandonment before fucking him is concerning, like you only want to fuck if you know he’s leaving anyway, but i mean why not then, if he’s leaving, and you know he wants you, and this is the last night to do it…

also laurent knows damen wants this, and he’s not actually using the slave thing here. the only way he’s using it, is calling damen on what he said earlier that evening before the kissing. cashing in on it, in a way. it’s not exactly healthy but i wouldn’t say it’s like non-consensual or anything

‘What am I doing? You are not very observant.’ ‘You’re not yourself,’ said Damen. ‘And even if you were, you don’t do anything without a dozen motives.’ Laurent went very still, the soft words half bitter. ‘Don’t I? I must want something.’

ooof that hit a sore spot, i think. laurent very badly wants to both lose and take control right now, and sex is a way he’s both lost and had control in the past—lost control to the regent, and had it over damen back in arles. he’s trying not to think about that, about the reasons, and damen is trying to make him think about it, and also implying that laurent can’t just do anything because it’s what he wants or feels.

‘Laurent,’ he said. ‘You take liberties,’ said Laurent. ‘I never gave you permission to call me by my name.’ ‘Your Highness,’ said Damen, and the words twisted, wrong in his mouth. He needed to say, Don’t do this. But he couldn’t think past Laurent, improbably close. He felt each shifting inch that divided their bodies with a fluttering, illicit sensation at Laurent’s proximity. He closed his eyes against it, felt his body’s painful yearning. ‘I don’t think you want me. I think you just want me to feel this.’ ‘Then, feel it,’ said Laurent.

“i don’t think you want me, i think you just want me to feel this” is an INSANE and deeply true line. but also, i think laurent does want damen—HIS damen, not damianos. and this is the last night he can have his damen.

and maybe laurent enjoys your reactions, damen. ever think about that?

‘You liked this too, with Ancel.’ ‘That wasn’t Ancel,’ said Damen, the words coming out, raw and honest. ‘That was all you, and you know it.’

LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOO

The rise and fall of Laurent’s hand was like the slide of Laurent’s words, like every frustrating argument that they’d ever had, stymied, tangled up in Laurent’s voice.

great line. love how it ties the sex act to something deeper between them

Laurent held his former mood within him, constrained, and converted into something else.

horny and angry is not the ideal way for them to fuck for the first time, and for laurent to fuck for the first time since [redacted], but since when has anything been ideal for laurent (or damen, as of book 1)

He felt Laurent pulling back, pulling away, shuttering himself, trying but not quite able to manage a cool snap withdrawal. Laurent said, ‘Adequate.’

book 1: “Laurent turned to Damen. ‘Well?’ Laurent said. ‘Can you couple adequately, or do you just kill things?”

He’d caught Laurent’s wrist before, to hold him back from a blow, a knife strike. He held him now. He could feel the desperate urge for retreat. He could feel something else too, Laurent keeping himself apart, as though, this act being finished, he had no template for what to do. ‘Kiss me,’ he said again.

this is so good. it’s good for all the things damen knows, and all the things he doesn’t know. because he’s doing good here, even without the truth about the regent clicking. he’s helping laurent figure this out, confidently and compassionately, and showing him that he doesn’t need to retreat.

Dark-eyed, Laurent was holding himself in place as though pushing himself past a barrier, the tension in Laurent’s body still telegraphing flight, and Damen felt the shock with his whole body when Laurent’s gaze dropped to his mouth. His own eyes fell closed as he realised that Laurent was going to do this, and he held himself very still. Laurent kissed with a slight parting of his lips, as though he was unconscious of what he was asking for, and Damen kissed him back carefully, dizzy with the idea that the kiss would deepen.

see my previous comments about trauma and my appreciation for laurent as a romantic interest/lead

For a moment, looking felt like kissing, an exchange in which the distinctions of intimacy blurred.

"distinctions of intimacy blurred" is such a succinct way to summarize the way pacat writes the overall romantic arc. they do not need to be fucking to be fucking, and when they are fucking, they're doing other stuff too

It was not what Laurent had expected. He felt the slight shock of Laurent’s surprise, and the way Laurent held himself, as though confused as to why Damen wished to do this, but he felt the moment when surprise turned to something else.

“confused as to why damen wanted to do this” yeah that’s pretty typical for laurent

Damen allowed himself the minor delight of nuzzling.

fantastic line

He lifted his fingers to the tie that closed Laurent’s collar. He had been trained to do this, he knew every intricate fastening.

talk about setup and payoff...

Exposed, Laurent’s nipples were hard and puckered, the first tangible evidence of desire, and Damen felt a wild surge of gratification. His eyes lifted to Laurent’s. Laurent said, ‘Did you think I was made of stone?’ He couldn’t stop the rush of pleasure he felt at that, said, ‘Nothing you don’t want.’ ‘You think I don’t want it?’ Seeing the look in Laurent’s eyes, Damen deliberately pushed him back onto the sheets.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

okay big turning point! probably the first major tell we’ve gotten of laurent being out of control of his reactions, AND he isn’t ashamed of it and asks for more!!! massive laurent (and damen) w!!!

Lifting a hand idly to the exact place above his head where Damen might have pressed it, Laurent gazed back at him through veiled lashes. ‘Like being on top, do you?’ ‘Yes.’ Never more so than at this moment. To have Laurent beneath him was heady.

they’re both having so much fun in different but complimentary ways. laurent enjoys what he’s doing to damen, damen enjoys what laurent is doing to him. they’re both getting something out of it, which i don’t think damen fully understood what he said that thing about laurent not wanting him, but wanting to make him feel. he wants it because it’s you specifically, dummy.

Despite the cool tone, he was aware of the extent to which Laurent was holding himself in place, allowing himself to be touched. Tension still glinted in Laurent’s body, like the shine on a blade edge that would slice you open at the wrong touch.

Damen let himself experience dizzily just how much he liked the idea of controlled Laurent betraying himself in salt flavoured need into his mouth. He touched it with his hand and encountered a texture like hot silk.

i like how pacat finds these ways to say what’s going on, but in a much more compelling and beautiful way than just “damen wanted to blow him” and “his dick was nice”

‘I am not going to reciprocate.’ Damen looked up. ‘What?’ Laurent said, ‘I am not going to do that to you.’ ‘And so?’ ‘Do you want me to suck your cock?’ said Laurent, precisely. ‘Because I don’t plan to. If you are proceeding on the expectation of reciprocity, then you had best be forewarned that—’ This was too convoluted for bed play. Damen listened, satisfied himself that in all of this talking there was no actual objection, then simply applied his mouth.

LOVE THIS. how complicated traumatized laurent trying to deflect is just washing over damen, he doesn’t care if it’s not reciprocal, he just wants to make laurent feel good. something laurent doesn’t understand or expect because sex for him has always been about making [redacted] feel good and that’s it. and laurent’s bitchiness here is so tenderly and funny and in character. he delivered a “precise treatise on cocksucking” in book 1, of course he’d regard this like a business negotiation

For all his seeming experience, Laurent reacted like an innocent to this pleasure. He let out a soft shocked sound, and his body re-formed around the place where Damen was giving his attention. Damen held Laurent in place, hands to hips, and allowed himself to enjoy Laurent’s slight, helpless shifts and pushes, the quality of his surprise, and the hard act of repression that followed, as Laurent tried to even out his breathing.

damen associates sex with happily giving and receiving pleasure, so he’s confused/surprised by laurent’s unfamiliarity with actually getting attention and enjoying himself

Laurent was, by far, the most controlled lover Damen had ever taken to bed.

damen a lot of them were slaves. coached to make you feel like a god. just saying

And felt it stymied. As rhythm built, Laurent’s body locked down, his responses repressed. Looking up, he saw that Laurent’s hands were fists in the sheets, his eyes closed, his head turned to one side. Laurent, out on the shattered edge of pleasure, was holding himself back from climax by sheer force of his impossible will.

again i say, i’m so glad to see someone like laurent as the love interest in a romance novel, holy shit

After a long moment Laurent said, with painful honesty, ‘I . . . find it difficult to let go of control.’ ‘No kidding,’ said Damen.

:) a really nice tension-breaking way to find a little humor in it all, made even lighter by damen’s lack of awareness re: [redacted]

‘You want to take me, as a man takes a boy.’

this is the first moment where i’m just like DAMEN. truly. how are you not guessing this. i get that it’s consistent with his character to not assume the worst, but oh my god

‘You make it sound simple.’ ‘It is simple.’

The words fell into a stillness between them. Laurent’s breathing was shallow, and his cheeks were flushed as he closed his eyes, as though he wanted to block out the world. ‘I want,’ said Laurent, ‘I want it to be simple.’

‘Yes,’ said Laurent. ‘But—wasn’t it—’ ‘Will you stop talking about it.’ The words were ground out.

oh he’s trying so hard to let himself have this. probably before he feels really ready but it’s his last night with damen so!!

For all his bizarre nervy tension, Laurent was indisputably eager, physically. Damen searched his blue eyes. ‘Contrary, aren’t you,’ said Damen softly, thumbing over Laurent’s cheek. ‘Fuck me,’ said Laurent. ‘I want to,’ said Damen. ‘Can you let me?’ He said it quietly, and waited, as Laurent’s eyes closed again, a muscle sliding in his jaw. The idea of being fucked very clearly had Laurent out of his mind, as desire competed with some sort of convoluted mental objection that really needed, Damen thought, to be dispensed with. ‘I am letting you,’ said Laurent, the terse words pushing out. ‘Will you get on with it?’

this is so well-written, both what’s in the lines and what’s in between them. it’s a sex scene but it’s also a masterful scene of dramatic irony and characterization for them both

He watched Laurent’s face, the slight flush, the fractional changes of his expression, his eyes wide and dark. It was intensely private.

of course he's in his own head. that's laurent, for better or for worse

He felt some sense that he needed to hold onto this, to hold it tight and never let it out of his grip. You’re mine, he wanted to say, and couldn’t. Laurent didn’t belong to him; this was something he could have only once. His chest hurt.

To get what you want, you have to know exactly how much you are willing to give up. Never had he wanted something this badly, and held it in his hands knowing that tomorrow it would be gone, traded for the high cliffs of Ios, and the uncertain future across the border, the chance to stand before his brother, to ask him for all the answers that no longer seemed so important. A kingdom, or this.

i don’t have much to add here. it’s being explained perfectly in the text. it's nice to be at this point of understanding with the characters and plot that things can come together like this, thematically, on the page.

[bluecolty]

Oh boy, my model and rig for Xeon are finally done! I've got a lot of info in this post, because dang it's been a journey haha.

Over the past month and a half I've built this lad, rigged him, put him into VRChat, made a 2D background to showcase him, and shot him out of a rocket in spite. Well, not really, but oh man sometimes I wish I could have. *wheeze*

The Xeon rig and model features a new rigging system, a better model, better organization, and a whole host of improvements over my last model of Medea. And dang, I'm excited to dive into em!

First up is the lil fun showcase. Using the new rigging system, I did lots of fun poses! And I'm super happy with how the toon shader looks too. For his model, I focused on refining the topology and making the weight painting better. Noodle arms also helps a ton too! These improvements really helped get it looking as not 3D as possible hahaha.

Keep reading for more of the behind the scenes stuff!

Yes, this is a 2D background! Way back in the day I used to make backgrounds to showcase my finished models... but I kind of strayed away from that. With Xeon though, I decided to get back into making backgrounds, and instead of doing it in Blender- I drew it!

This is the first ever one I've publicly published, and only one of 3 I've ever done. I first laid out the perspective in Blender and the lined/colored it in Clip Studio Paint. The model of Xeon was rendered in Blender on a separate layer, then I dropped him in the CSP background.

There's defintiely some wrong things with my 2D background, but for the first colored one I've done, I'm pretty happy with it. Its all about practice, and as I gain more experience I hope to better refine the Blender perspective to 2D pipeline.

This time for Xeon, I wanted to massively push my rigging skills. So with the help of Rigify, I've done just that. The rig for Xeon features a very advanced and customizable rigging system that allows me to pose him in so many different ways.

Oh and also, noodle arms and legs! That was a thing I've been meaning to add to my characters for so long, I just haven't known how to. But now with the new rig I can do just that!

As you can see below, the rig is also very user friendly. It's definitely complex, but it should be a lot more standard and a lot more user friendly.

I can't wait to add this rig to all my future models as well!

That's all I have for ya'lls today, I hope you all enjoy him!

[patheticbatman]

As of Chapter 81, this is crew of the Courageous from Time to Orbit: Unknown, a marvellous space drama and mystery by @derinthescarletpescatarian . Original sketches & character guide below. Many of the character appearances are based on headcanon, but the ones with asterisks are based on canon sources.

I drew Celi first! I figured I would do the people in front, who I would have to draw most of their bodies, and work from left to right. Celi has had multiple organ issues, so she looks a little drawn (lol) and is still recovering in her wheelchair :). I drew her with small braids just hanging from the top of her head, as I imagine she’s too tired to take care of her hair very often, but still wants to keep some, so she has a sort of cap of braids. There’s probably a term for the style, but idk. Celi is of North African descent.

Next to Celi is Renn. His head looks wonky because I was drawing at an angle at the time. He’s been mostly depilated, and I imagine him in a sort of Aang-meets-European-in-a-tracksuit outfit because he’s calm and tries not to do much drama, but is condescending. Renn is of West Asian/American/Tarandran descent.

Then we have Public Universal Friend (PUF) 2 with the twists. I figure it doesn’t want a lot of hair to take care of, and this style keeps it out of its face. Same clothes as the other PUF. It is kneeling, with one leg propped up. It is of coastal Southern East African descent.

*Then laying on the ground is Tal. Ke is looking at kes tablet because ke doesn’t like focusing on other things. Tal is unfortunately at the wrong angle to show off ke’s face tattoo. Small afro kept stylishly kept, along with some garters and a short skirt. Ke is laying down because ke feels like it. Ke is of West African/American/Texan descent.

*Then we have Aspen, the POV character, smack dab in the middle. Canonically, they’d don’t have a headband as far as we know, but I think their hair looks nice pushed up like that. They are wearing a jumpsuit like last time, but this time has a belt for flair, because Tal and Sunset convinced them. Aspen sits cross cross because they can and it’s a common sitting posture in Arborea. They are of West African/American/Arborea Atlantican descent.

Lina is kneeling like PUF2, but facing the other way. I gave her buns and square jewelery because I based her off of a Hopi woman’s ’do that I really liked, and Lina can be short for names like Catalina. She has freckles because they’re fun. She’s gained some muscle and weight since the last picture, which is great! She is of Hopi/Latin American descent.

Last is Sunset. She is a zeelite, a subculture interested in replicating and investigating pre-Neocambrian (aka our time) cultures. She is largely inspired by what she knows of punk, pastel goths, drag, and to be honest, Barbie (2023). She is voguing because she knows and appreciates the importance of looking good. Sunset is of Central African/of Sirius descent.

Now for the top row, left to right again!

First, we have Heli. She wears functional but pretty clothes because she appreciates utility but always wants to show off what she’s got. The newest addition to the crew, she’s a little spiky, but has a soft spot for Adin. She was inspired by a picture of a Sistergirl from Australia (my headcanon, I only saw a picture of her and was unable to find more specific information). Heli is of Indigenous Australian descent.

*Next, we have Adin. I keep forgetting to draw him with tattoos, so I added a neck one last minute. His look has probably changed the most - his canon picture came out only a few months ago, so I drew him differently the first time. Adin cooks a lot, so he doesn’t try to wear anything or have a hairdo that could be ruined by cooking. Adin is of West African/Arborea Atlantican/American/Texan descent.

*Next up, the tallest of the bunch (and I forgot to draw his left arm until last minute, we have Denish! He’s doing the Arnold Schwarzenegger pose. The gentle Giant of the group, I was unable to recapture his face quite the same way as last time, but I still think he turned out well. He’s one of my favorite space pirates. I think he wears high collars to hide Tinera’s hickeys. Denish is of West African/American/Texan descent.

Right in front of Denish is PUF 1, AKA Dr. PUF. Still has tousled hair, still has the same robe. PUF is kneeling. It is of European descent.

*Hanging off of Denish is Tinera! She’s changed also, as her official looks came out, though I think I’ve kept her pretty nice looking still! I forgot to give her glasses though :(. I gave her Garnet (Steven Universe) finger gloves because they look cool. Tinera is of Central African/Lunarian descent.

Under Tinera is Sam. He’s partly visually inspired by the Dad of some kids I watch, and Ballister from Nimona. He likes to gaze at the stars and wonder about all the stories that will be told about them. Sam is of South Asian descent.

*Lastly is Keldin (AKA Captain Sands). He’s always dressed well and keeps his hair well-coifed. Hardly anyone from the ‘first’ crew likes him. He is standing awkwardly farther away because he knows everyone near him isn’t his tan. Keldin is of West African/American/Trandran descent.

[thlayli-ra]

'I Prayed For This...'

(Sequel to 'When Hell Froze Over')

Characters - Seth Rollins, CM Punk, Drew McIntyre, Cody Rhodes, Sami Zayn

AU - Valetverse (created by Syreina)

Rating - Teen and up

Warnings - Wrestling violence, mild language

Words - ~2700 words

Background Info - In a world where women no longer exist, society is split into two; dominants (the ruling class) and valets (who possess the 'inualidus chromosome' that allows them to bear children). Stripped of basic human rights, valets are expected to be entirely subservient to the dominants that claim them and few are prized higher than the valets of the WWE. Seth Rollins and CM Punk are both such valets and are married to Roman Reigns and The Undertaker, respectively.

Summary - Seth's scheme rapidly backfires!

From high up in the sky box, Seth Rollins watched on as the Royal Rumble unfolded in the ring. Lounging easily with a sarcastic smirk on his face, he was the very picture of aloofness, right up until the moment the crowd counted down '5...4...3...2...1', the buzzer screeched.

And the static hit! Followed by the first chords of 'Cult of Personality'.

The change in Seth was immediate. The smile disappeared and he sat upright, leaning forward to observe the older man slowly making his way to the ring. CM Punk was savouring the moment, bathing in the roar of the crowd. Seth couldn't blame him; this was his first televised match since his unexpected return to the WWE back at Survivor Series. This was a moment to remember.

But for all the wrong reasons!

Seth felt a nasty pang in his gut. Watching the man who had once been a friend, a mentor and so much more enter the ring, oblivious to what lay in store. What was this strange feeling? Like he was about to throw up? It couldn't be guilt. It was too late for that. Seth had already set the wheel in motion, baited the trap. There was no turning back now.

And yet... the feeling lingered, growing worse. Seeing Punk race across the ring in his gear with his dark hair slicked back, he almost looked like his younger self. A big greyer, perhaps, a bit thinner on top and wider around the waist. Yet even so...

After throwing Dominik Mysterio over the top rope, Punk posed for the hard-cam, arms open wide and from his vantage point behind him in the crowd, Seth gave a small gasp. A flashback burned into his consciousness at the sight. A memory of Punk standing just like that, placing his body as a human shield to protect a terrified young valet who quivered on the ground as a behemoth of a dominant barrelled towards them. Mark Henry had came dangerously close to killing Punk that day but the tattooed valet had never regretted his actions for a second. Once, when the pair were alone, Seth had broken down, sobbing as he apologised profusely for what had happened, and what had nearly happened.

But Punk... Phil, had merely wiped his tears away with the pad of his thumb, smiling gently. 'Don't fret, Kitten,' he'd said. 'I'd do it all again in a heartbeat.' Then he'd held Seth's chin in his inked fingers, one corner of his pierced lips curling. 'I'd do anything for my boys.'

'Oh shit!' Seth cursed aloud. 'Shit, shit, shit! DAMNIT!'

He'd changed his mind!

He stuttered up to his feet. He had to find Drew, call the whole thing off before-

'5...4...3...2...1... BZZZZT!'

Suddenly the rally of bagpipes tore through the air. Seth froze, his skin turning pale.

It was too late!

His co-conspirator, his inside man, his assassin was already on his way to the ring. Even from high up in the sky box, he could see the murderous glare on the Scottish dominant's face, his blue eyes boring directly into Punk.

From the moment they clashed, it was brutal. The thunderous chops, the ruthless Future Shock DDT, Drew punished the shorter man, targeting him relentlessly. Even when the pair of them made it to the final four alongside Cody Rhodes and Gunther, Punk was the last to his feet, looking winded. Seth watched the older valet rubbing his right arm with a grimace, the sensation of shame hot on his skin.

But then, the unthinkable happened. Punk had Drew dangling on the ropes, perched atop his shoulders. Seth had slumped across those same shoulders before, prior to falling victim to the GTS. A valet he may be, shorter and wirier than the dominants he often faced in the squared circle, but Punk was strong. It was almost inevitable; following a short struggle, Punk got the upper hand-

- and dumped Drew to the outside!

Conflict raged inside of Seth. On one hand, he was relieved his cruel plan had been foiled. Yet, on the other, he was still angry at the older valet. After all, had he not turned his back on them all and walked away? Hadn't he shown everybody his true colours at the other place? Hadn't he publicly dragged Seth's husband, Jon, through the mud on social media?

No matter what he had done in the past, his current actions mattered too. He didn't deserve a chance at Seth's title!

Soon, Gunther was gone, and it came down to the two men left standing. Two valets! Cody Rhodes and CM Punk! Men who had a long history with the company, who had both left and returned from the wilderness. Who both had something to prove and a story to finish.

Seth ground his teeth, studying his fellow valets keenly as they tussled in the ring, the pair of them cagey and determined. Several times, Punk got the better of the younger man and Seth felt his heart sink only for Cody to fight back, but when Punk got the American Nightmare up onto his shoulders, it looked to be over.

Punk paused. Turning around, he stared longingly up at the Wrestlemania sign. His white whale, his gaping void in his résumé. His one remaining dream.

A dream that was shattered when Cody leapt down, grabbed the older valet and threw him over the top rope. Forgetting himself, Seth leapt to his feet, cheering the winner with the rest of the WWE Universe. Now there was someone who deserved it, had clawed and scratched and earned their shot. An opponent that Seth would be proud to face, they would tear the house down and leave everything right there in the ring.

Cody stood on the turnbuckle, celebrating his win but Seth's eye travelled down to his beaten opponent slumped against the announce table with his knees drawn up to his chest. Punk looked so defeated, gazing up forlornly at the victor as he kneaded his right elbow with his inked fingers.

The pangs in his chest returned and Seth sharply looked away.

That should have been it. Done with. Over.

But then, the rumours started. Punk was injured. Bad. His arm, apparently.

He was given the opening slot of Raw to address the WWE Universe. Arriving late in order to avoid the man himself, Seth joined the small crowd gathered in gorilla to watch Punk's segment. The sight of the veteran wrestler with his arm in a sling and tears in his eyes stabbed him repeatedly in the heart. A voice began screaming in his head, over and over.

This is all your fault. This is all your fault. This is all your fault.

Punk spoke well, like he always did. Spoke of his grief and disappointment, but he didn't dwell long. To him, it was a bump in the road, a flesh wound. He was going to heal and then he'd be back, bigger and stronger and better than ever.

When all of a sudden, Drew's music hit. Every drop of blood in Seth's veins turned to ice.

Drew, what are you doing?

He watched with growing urgency as the huge dominant entered the ring, grabbed a mic and faced the tattooed valet. Every single onlooker around him held their breath, a sense of dread lingering like a mist in the air. Yet, it looked to be unfounded tension. Drew was being civil, sympathetic, even.

'I've never been much of a spiritual person but I want you to know this,' Drew said, pointing down at Punk's injured arm. He took a breath, wetting his lips with his tongue. 'I prayed for this and it happened.'

The atmosphere turned sour. The dread returned. The camera zoomed in on Punk's face, capturing the shock and disgust on the valet's features. The tightening of his jaw. The darkening of his tear-stained eyes.

Drew was mocking him now, gloating about how he had rid the WWE of Punk and now was going to take his spot at Wrestlemania, basking in the poisonous glare being shot his way. Seth felt a surge of anxiety. He knew Punk well enough by now to know that he wasn't going to just stand back and take such blatant disrespect and sure enough, the valet strode right up to the dominant, going chest-to-chest as he stared the Scotsman down. Seth was struck with the different in their sizes; Drew was tall, even for a dominant, and broad, towering over Punk in every way possible. The tattooed valet was heavily disadvantaged when fully fit, let alone with only one working arm.

'My heart hurts worse than my tricep does ,' Punk growled into the mic, his hazel eyes piercing right into Drew's blues. 'I'm gonna go rehab it and when I come back, I will main-event Wrestlemania, but the first checklist is you! I'm coming right for you!'

Seth saw the danger coming. Get out of there, Phil!

Drew stepped back with a chuckle. However it was a ruse and he pounced, striking out with his clenched fist. Punk ducked down underneath it. Get out of there, Phil! But Punk didn't run, he wasn't in the habit of running. He turned around, kicked his would-be assailant-

-then clattered his injured arm into Drew's face!

'Jesus Christ, Punk!' Somebody beside Seth uttered under his breath, repeating Seth's own thoughts. What the hell was he thinking? Or maybe he wasn't thinking? Was it just muscle memory?

Whether he realised his mistake or not, Punk didn't seem to care as he paused to rip his sling off so it didn't impede his next attack. But he was too slow. It was the exact opening Drew needed and he clashed their heads together. A Glasgow's Kiss, Drew called it. Sounded romantic but it was all brutality. Punk went down, falling onto his back, dazed from the blow.

'You should have gotten out of there,' Seth hushed out, watching like a ghoul as the valet writhed on the mat. Drew went in for the kill, grabbing Punk's injured arm and spreading it out across the canvas, exposing the bandaged wound.

'SOMEBODY'S GOTTA STOP THIS!' It was Sami voicing his protest, appealing to the rest of the group in gorilla. 'IS NOBODY GONNA STOP THIS?' He briefly caught Seth's eye but the World Champion quickly looked away.

Punk was helpless, the whole world watching as Drew lifted up his heavy boot. Unable to fight back as the dominant stomped down savagely on the already injured limb. Punk's howl of pain rang out through the arena, louder even than the crowd that hurled their rage at the Scottish Warrior. Drew didn't seen to hear as he paced the ring, circling his powerless prey.

He's not done!' Seth realised, feeling bile rise up his throat, acid scorching the inside of his mouth.

'WEL I'M GONNA DO SOMETHING!' Sami declared, heading for the curtain.

Drew was like a man possessed, obsessed, a rabid dog as he dropped to his knees and crouched down over Punk, grabbing a fistful of his dark hair. 'Scream for me!' the microphone picked up his distinct roar. 'Scream for me!'

At last, Sami arrived on the scene, chasing the dominant out of the ring before rushing to help his fellow valet. The cameras lingered on Drew who was in no rush to leave. Loitering on the apron with a mad glint in his eye, he watched Sami and the officials tend to Punk.

A shiver rocketed up Seth's spine at the sight. He'd seen enough and turned away from the screen, practically running from gorilla and down the hallways until he found a quiet spot to catch his breath. Slumping against the wall, he smoothed his hands over his head, trying to fight back against the sickly pain in his stomach. 'What did you do?' he muttered to himself. 'What the hell did you do?'

'You backed the right horse.'

Seth leapt a foot in the air, yelping with surprise when Drew suddenly appeared beside him, nonchalantly leaning against the wall. The valet saw red.

'What the hell was that, man?' Seth demanded, rounding on the much larger man.

'You told me to take Punk out,' Drew shrugged his shoulders. He was different now. Calmer. Cooler. Somehow, it was unnerved Seth even more than the madness in his eyes a few minutes ago.

'Yeah, I meant out the Royal Rumble!' Seth clarified. 'Just throw him over the top rope, not put him out of action completely.'

'Happy accident,' Drew sneered like a hyena, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step towards the smaller man. 'Anyway, you should be thanking me.'

Seth's heart began to pound as he took a step backwards, finding himself backed into a corner. A dead end. Just like that night with Henry. Only this time, there was no Punk, no Phil, no human shield to protect him from the incoming threat.

'Did you really think Punk would call it quits after losing the Royal Rumble match?' Drew went on, closing the gap between them, his voice soft like a tiger's growl. 'No, he would have set his eye on winning the Elimination Chamber and we'd be right back to square one.' By now, he had reached Seth and his large hands gently grasped the lapels of the valet's brightly coloured jacket, softly stroking the fabric. 'What I did wasn't pretty but it was necessary. If I wanted to save Wrestlemania, if I wanted to save WWE itself, I had to exorcise the demon. I had to end CM Punk.'

For some reason, Seth bristled. 'He said he's coming back.'

'Then I'll finish him for good,' Drew snarled, the viciousness in his tone returning. The dominant quickly shook it off, plastering an easy smile on his face. 'Anyway, enough about him. I actually came here to tell you that I will be entering the Elimination Chamber...' Slowly, Drew eased the lapels of Seth's jacket apart, revealing the World Heavyweight Championship belt around his waist, large and golden, shining in the dim light. '..and I will do whatever it takes to win. Only question is... what prize will I claim for my Wrestlemania moment?'

Blue eyes travelled up from the belt, taking in the sight of Seth's tanned skin beneath the mesh of his shirt, drinking in the athletic frame of the valet. Seth froze under his predatory eye, shoulders heaving as he was ogled so openly by the dominant. The etiquette backstage might have eased up once inter-sex matches became common-place but to have a dominant that wasn't his husband standing this close to him, touching him, leering perversely like this was still alarming. It reminded him of that night when Henry had cornered him in a dark corridor with the same sickening smirk on his lips.

Seth wished Roman was here; he would soon put the Scotsman in his place. Show him exactly who Seth belonged to!

All of a sudden, Drew's gaze snapped up and around the corner, looking down to the far end of the hallway. Seth glanced back over his shoulder and found Punk being helped onto a production crate, wincing as he clutched his seething arm. His heart skipped a beat the second he looked back up at Drew's face and saw the malice in the dominant's features. The hunger! Like a starved animal craving a delicious morsel.

Without once taking his eyes from Punk, Drew closed Seth's jacket again, lightly patting the valet on the chest before releasing him. 'See you around, Seth,' he said before slinking away into the shadows.

With the dominant gone, Seth could finally breath, letting out a shaky breath. This wasn't what was meant to happen when he recruited Drew into his little scheme. It wasn't meant to have gotten out of hand like this. Seth looked over at Punk, thinking back on everything that had transpired earlier in the ring, thinking about the way Drew had looked at the tattooed valet just now.

A long time ago, Punk had put his life on the line to save Seth from a predatory dominant.

And to repay him, Seth had unleashed a terrible curse on the tattooed valet.

He trembled at the thought of what lay in store for them both.

[electro-omen]

Cough cough, any of y'all heard about this guy?

The last couple of days have been filled with drawing practice for me. And let me tell you - when you're practising anyway, and a blog you ADORE posts a character design, you don't think twice.

With that said...

@emotionally-mature-mechanic

I'M SOOOO SORRY IF I GOT THE BODY TYPE WRONG-

Rambling about things + some specific layers under the cut

Okay so. I actually drew this yesterday but didn't manage to download it, which is why I had to wait until today to post it. AND YOU FOLLOWED ME YESTERDAY AFTER I DREW IT I THINK?? so I was like 'GIVE ME A SECOND PLEASE I HAVE. GIFT!!' lmao,,,

Am I proud of this?

Ah, not really. I mean, I'm happy with particular elements of the drawing... I'm still figuring out how to connect them together in a way where they're coherent, and I still suck at how lighting works. But hey! It was practice, anyway, so I can't be too hard on myself. There's always tommorow :].

This is how the piece looked on canvas,,,,,, I think it's a little silly which is why I wanna show it lmao. It is funny how it seems so carefully crafted, and then outside it's just brush strokes sticking out and all that stuff lmao.

THIS is how he looks without any lightning and colour manipulation!! Yes I just cut off his arm like that. I was going to fix it but I forgot about it until I was too deep into the drawing. No, those aren't blood stains. It's oil. I really really hope I got his design right and

I'M SORRY IF I DIDN'T I TRIED MY BEST

Oh yeah the accessories on his collar were on a different layer which is why they're- white. And also the colouring was double-layered, thus the white spots near the edges. Kinda looks like it was drawn in Paint. WHATEVER!!

I referenced this wonderful pose by @\mellon_soup on tiktok to place the shoulders and neck correctly!!

This is the background. I'm actually kind of proud of this, simply because I do backgrounds so rarely, not even talking about PERSPECTIVE. What's this place? I dunno lmao. That's up to your interpretation. Yeah I just thought it looked cool. I totally didn't shade each tile individually ahaha.

Aand that's it. Quite a lot of talking for a piece that's not even that good LOL. But hey. As long as you like it. Your blog is so, so awesome and your interactions with medibot are wholesome to say the least, though the disappearance arc has been breaking my heart.

Now I'm just going to take 15 minutes mustering up the courage to hit send. Help.

[pure-garbage]

Philosophical Mosshead? Eloquent Inner Thoughts Of The Swordsman

Punk Hazard presented one bizarre anomaly after another to the straw hats in what felt like a never-ending freakshow parade that defied everything Zoro knew about nature. He wasn't fazed by it, just curious. He accepted that there was a strong possibility that the island's multitudinous eccentricities would never be explained to him, and he was at peace with it.

Even so, nothing, not the bifurcated weather, not the human-animal hybrids, not the talking autonomous legs, none of it prepared him for the shock of seeing his crewmates personalities randomized among their bodies. His friends had been swapped around in a way that was mind-boggling.

'This circus is almost hilarious. Such an existentially challenging display of the superficialities of physical form,' Zoro mused privately as he watched his crew interact.

Zoro kept his thoughts to himself. He had two priorities. The first was keeping his bearings and not letting the situation rattle him.

The second was finding Lana. His eyes swept the cavern, taking in the befuddled straw hats, captive centaurs and gigantic children. The scene was incredibly chaotic in a quiet, dazed way. Even so, he felt like he should have spotted her by now.

"Think we should tell him?"

Zoro's haki caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. Despite the fact that Nami hadn't said his name, he knew she was talking about him. Her intent invoked his presence and drew his attention preternaturally.

"I don't know. I doubt he would take it well. And she can take care of herself, right?" Franky replied, voice low. Not low enough. Zoro bore down on the two, hands firmly on his hips, eyebrows knit with concern and suspicion, lips pressed together in a hard, humorless line. His crewmates unconcealed intents betrayed the identity of the 'she' they mentioned.

"Where's Lana?" he demanded, drawing their attention for the first time. Franky squeaked, jumped and gulped, shrinking back a little from the imposing presence the swordsman was projecting. Nami, by contrast, crossed her arms obstinately over her chest, squared her stance, threw her shoulders back and met his gaze with no sign of intimidation. A second later, she cast her gaze down, eyes tripling in size as she realized the effect the change in posture had on her breasts.

"Wow, Nami! They're so full from this angle in this pose!" she exclaimed, expression enamored.

"Idiot!" Franky scowled. He raised his hand, but then seemed to think better of it and held back. "Stop looking! If that wasn't my body, I would have knocked you clean out by now!"

The strange behavior reminded Zoro that he couldn't take his crew at face value at the current moment. Sanji was in Nami's body and Nami in Franky's. He made a mental note. He wouldn't confuse the two again.

"Hey! Both of you cut it out!" he scolded the pair. He needed them to focus. "I know you were talking about Lana! What is it you're not going to tell me? What won't I take well?"

Nami and Sanji shared a look, then Sanji shrugged with Nami's delicate shoulders.

"He's wise to the fact that something's wrong," he sighed. "Might as well tell him what we know."

"For all the good it'll do," Nami sighed. "Not like we know much anyway."

"Nami! Spit it out!" Zoro barked.

"Cool the aggression, moss-head," Sanji scowled. "No one's happy with what's going on, don't take it out on Nami-swan."

"If someone doesn't tell me where Lana is," Zoro seethed, patience quickly wearing thin.

"We don't know," Nami cut him off. "That's all. She's... been missing since we all woke up after being gassed. She wasn't with the rest of us in the cell and we didn't see her while we were escaping the lab."

"The last time anyone saw her was on the ship," Sanji informed him.

Dread curled in Zoro's gut, but he clamped down on it with every shred of discipline and logic at his disposal.

'She's fine. She can take care of herself. Wherever she is, whatever happened, she'll be alright.'

Even so...

"Missing... you should have said something sooner," he grumbled. He reached inside his robe, down into the left pocket of his pants, rustling through its contents until he came up with a scrap of folded purple paper. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

'Not singed. She's fine. Still... just because she's not dying doesn't mean she's not in trouble. She should have been with the others when they were captured... why wasn't she with them when they all woke up?'

"Luffy!"

Zoro left Sanji and Nami to find his captain cavorting with the gigantic children like he was one of them.

"No one's seen Lana since we left the ship," Zoro informed him. "I'm going to look for her, that alright?"

"Don't see why not," Luffy shrugged. "Want me to come with you?"

"No, that's fine," Zoro shook his head. "You've got enough to deal with here."

"If you say so! Hey, Mocha peeked!"

"I did not!" the enormous child squealed.

Zoro walked away from his captain, leaving him to whatever game he was occupying the children with. He held the vivre card on his flat palm, watching as it slowly, surely tugged toward his thumb. He set off at once in the direction it indicated, but only made it a few paces before he came face-to-face with a wall. Unconcerned and determined to carry on in a straight line, he drew Shusui. The hum of tempered black steel caught Usopp's attention, who shrieked and rushed over to restrain his friend, frantically grappling with Zoro's wrist.

"Zooorooo! Whaaat do you think you're doing?!" Usopp howled, pulling Zoro's arm back with his entire body. Zoro submitted to his pulling, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I don't see any doors, so I'm going straight through," he explained, tone implying this should have been obvious.

"Are you crazy?! We know the marines are on the island, and Nami made it sound like Luffy's warlord buddy Trafalgar isn't acting as friendly as Luffy expects him to!" Usopp scolded fiercely. "How about moving through this place with at least a little attempt at subtlety?!"

"I don't need subtlety," Zoro growled. "I'm going to find Lana and I'll slice up anything or anyone who gets in my way!"

"Can't you at least put some distance between yourself and our little hideout before you start wrecking things?!" Usopp moaned desolately.

"Get off my arm, Usopp! You're slowing me down!" Zoro scowled, shaking his arm lightly in an attempt to dislodge his friend. Usopp just shook his head and held on more stubbornly as the waving motion of Zoro's arm pulled him off his feet.

Robin approached with a smile that was equal parts amusement at her friends' antics and a kind offer to help in any way possible.

"Why don't you let me accompany you, swordsman?" she proposed. "I can help you find the doors so you don't have to slice through any walls."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'll move faster on my own," Zoro grumbled. He raised and lowered his arm violently with Usopp still clinging to him, yelping through clenched teeth.

"And if you mistakenly slice Lana in half by cutting down a wall while she's on the other side?" Robin mused morbidly.

"Yeah, Robin, that's it! Psyche him out with the power of your secret inner darkness," Usopp cheered. Zoro finally managed to shake him off and he fell to the ground in a dazed heap. "So dizzy..."

"In addition to helping you locate the doors, I can help keep a lookout as well," Robin informed Zoro. As if to prove her point, she materialized a dazzlingly bright blue eye on the wall at eye level with the swordsman. "I may even be able to locate Lana in advance."

"I'll know when she's close," Zoro retorted. His observation haki was still rough, but he imagined he was familiar enough with Lana's presence that he would be able to feel her when he drew near to her. He sheathed Shusui. "But... I guess a few extra sets of eyes couldn't hurt."

"You two have fun," Usopp called after them, recovering and hauling himself back to his feet. "Robin, try to make him be subtle! And don't let him get lost!"

"I'll see what I can do," she promised in parting.

_________________________________________

<== Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ==>

== First Chapter ==

[ambyandony]

shortcuts I took to make drawing the squatizi comic easier

Used a photo reference for the backgrounds (note: this actually made it harder, I couldn’t figure out which beach was in the picture I was looking at so I only had one angle)

(note 2: I didn’t trace the photo or anything but I did colour pick from it)

made Squalo’s towel fall off his shoulder because it looked awkward and it remains on the ground for the rest of the comic . That stupid fucking blue towel.

for fun I made it visibly do this like you can just see it slowly slide off

didn’t overline the background characters and made them all a solid colour cause fuckem

didnt even draw the background characters in one of the panels even though the lesbians probably still should’ve been visible . I just have to assume Squalo is in the exact position on the frame where they just aren’t visible behind him

there’s a rock in the background but I didn’t draw it at all when the camera angle was facing only tiziano because I fucking hate that rock

If I don’t like how something looks and it’s inconsequential to the overall panel and in a corner I just deform the panel so it’s covered. Cause fuckit

covered one of Squalo’s hands with Tiziano’s hair while they were hugging because it looked wonky and I redrew it too many times

accidentally drew Tiziano’s hair wrong in one panel. That wasn’t a shortcut I just fucked it up and by the time I realised I’d already coloured and shaded it and it sucks and I want to fix it

used speech bubbles to hide shit I didn’t like

used a grid to write most of the dialogue

chibified the boyfriends for 2 panels but that was more because the panels were very tiny.

I would say having Squalo’s arms covering his chest for the first half but that was intended and not a shortcut

One side of Tiziano’s hair was originally over his shoulder but it was very annoying so I scrapped it . Except for exactly one panel where I could not draw his neck/collarbone right in that exact area.

the other side IS partially on his shoulder but not fully. I just think it looks more elegant that way but it has the added benefit that I don’t have to think too hard about shading his neck . Thank fuck for men with long hair 🙌

Tiziano’s hair length is inconsistent because I was having trouble making it not look awkward in certain poses

not drawing the lips

Tiziano takes his stupid sunglasses off for exactly one panel because I could not make them look good and then he puts them back up on his forehead because he needed a free hand and had nowhere else to put them. He is not shown doing this

I save Squalo’s freckles till the last step. Squalo’s freckles go on when I’m done with everything else so I have GOT TO REMEMBER TO PUT THE FUCKING FRECKLES ON ITS GONNA BE SOOOO ANNOYING IF I POST HIM WITH NO FRECKLES

The background characters with speaking roles have the exact same hair and skin colour and I drew their faces simplified even when they’re visible up close for one panel because speaking roles or not they are still background characters. Even though I named them.

as an artistic choice I didn’t refine the lineart in the central panel of page 1 (inadvertently made it easier it was actually a choice for the aesthetic of the panel)

Didn’t try very hard to draw the back of Squalo’s hair.

things that did not make the comic easier

Adding extra panels . and reworking all the dialogue from the previous version because it was awkward

themed dialogue fonts

I HANDWRITE ALL THE DIALOGUE MYSELF ALL OF IT. AND I DECIDED TO FUCKING MAKE THE TITTLES ON THE IS AND JS CUSTOM FOR SQUALO AND TIZIANO. AMONG OTHER THINGS. HELP ME

drawing Squalo’s stupid nose broken

the last minute inclusion of the Portuguese Man O’ War

not knowing how to draw nipples

changing background character with speaking role #2’s swimsuit top and not knowing how to draw boobs

THOSE STUPID FUCKING SUNGLASSES

I draw Tiziano’s eyes so fucking detailed. Because he is beautiful

Emphasising Squalo’s musculature

not saving the base skin colour I used for Tiziano OR Squalo before I started shading

drawing them hugging. 3 1/2 times.

making this post instead of finishing it

[xx-ingie-xx]

Happy Holidays! ✨

I hope everyone has found some R&R in these final weeks of 2022! I wanted to pop in and say I'm still alive, and yes, I still attempt to write from time to time. Yes, I still plan to finish Forgotten and continue the Fortitude revision. Hopefully there's still some interest out there!

I had hoped to finish Forgotten this year, but sadly I will not achieve that goal. I am very close though! Recently I rewrote some things for the millionth time, and my new goal is to post the last chapter + epilogue before February. Fingers crossed!

I figured I should post something before the end of the year, so here's the (short) opening scene of the final chapter. It's a flashback set during the winter solstice, so it seems appropriate to post it during this time of year. 😁

---

Snowflakes drifted about the rooftops of Castletown, illuminated in the glows of lanterns that lined the market square. They settled on every shop and stall, every tree, shrub, and garland, coating the town in a fresh blanket of white. A festive cheer permeated the crisp, winter air, chasing away the cold with music and laughter that rose from lit homes and lively establishments. 

How wrong it was, Zelda thought as she tightened the blanket around her shoulders, to gaze upon something so warm and lovely yet feel so cold and gloomy inside.  

Of course, her gloominess had little to do with the scene below and everything to do with the man at her side—or more the gift he had given her that night.

He had planned it for weeks, presenting his idea only after the arrangements had been made. At first she had refused him, certain that she could not afford to jeopardize her reputation—not to mention her obligation to another man. But Link persisted, describing his many precautions and promising that none would recognize her once Impa had assisted with her disguise. Eventually Zelda found herself quite unable, or perhaps unwilling, to deny him.

And thus she agreed to sneak into Castletown for a Solstice Eve celebration, posing as a simple village girl for one memorable night of freedom.

She would never regret that choice, but she had failed to anticipate how crushing it would feel once the night was over. That hour drew painfully near, and what had started as a wondrous escape felt more like a painful fantasy...

The touch of warm fingers disrupted her melancholy, brushing away a tear on her cheek. Zelda blinked, and the hand withdrew as she quickly dried her face. She meant to assure Link that she was fine, but a pressure remained stuck in her throat, summoning more tears before she could blink them away. Again she wiped both sides of her face, avoiding his concerned gaze with a frustrated sigh.

Then his hand moved to her lower back, inviting her closer if she wished it. At first she tried to resist, knowing that the more she let him in, the harder it would be to let him go. But the larger part of her caved, knowing she was already well past that point.

So she leaned into him, laying her head on his shoulder as he wrapped her in the spare folds of his blanket. She focused on the strength of his arms around her, the comforting weight of his head resting against hers. Neither felt a need to speak, both aware that their blissful escapade would soon reach a most unwanted end.

Zelda tried to recall every detail of that night, wishing she could somehow preserve the memory in perfect clarity. She thought about the warm welcome that Clef and Siena had given her, the rich food and mulled wine that eased her nerves and roused her spirit, the joyful music mingling with near constant laughter and song… 

The way she and Link had danced together, never missing a step as they moved in time with the others...

A bell tolled in the distance, breaking Zelda’s reverie with the midnight chime. A faint chorus of cheers sounded from below as merrymakers paused to toast their friends or kiss their beloved. 

Link made no move to partake in that tradition, no doubt unsure she would welcome such a thing in her dreary state. Determined not to rob him of a proper end to their perfect night, Zelda pushed her sorrow down as deeply as it would go. Then she lifted her head from his shoulder and steeled herself beneath his gentle gaze. 

“...Happy Solstice, Link,” she whispered, bringing a hand to his cheek.

He smiled at her, despite the sadness mirrored in his eyes. 

“Happy Solstice, Zelda.”

Then he leaned in close, his nose brushing hers before she eagerly closed the gap. Their blankets fell in a heap about their feet, forgotten while they commemorated the moment long after the chimes had faded.

[seaoftales]

@per-oceanum sent:

ㅤ⠀Meetings of the Warlords was never an occasion to truly celebrate, even if the World Government attempted to pose it as such. Though the catering was nice, that was something Crocodile couldn’t argue with. Even so, being in a room with such… Individuals, it grated upon his nerves. The moment it ended, he’d slipped out to the balcony, enjoying the peace- that never seemed to last long, given the sound of boots tapping against the concrete of the balcony flooring. 

ㅤ⠀❝Still keeping busy, it seems. They have nothing but praise for you, Mihawk. Then again, given your history…❞

ㅤ⠀An amused chuckle escaped him as he cupped a match between his fingers, striking it against the railing to light it. Flame to foot; a few short pulls before the end burned cherry red. 

ㅤ⠀❝It’s no surprise they try to keep you happy.❞

❝ Is it praise for the sake of praising me or simply praise out of fear of what I might do? ❞

The question slipped from his lips as the swordsman drew closer to his fellow esteemed Warlord colleague, one of the ones whose presence didn't necessarily reek of egoism blown out of proportion. The same couldn't have been said for a certain pink feather coat wearing individual and the snake princess, which was why he removed himself to the balcony as soon as the Warlord meeting was finished. He'd rather depart later than have to be in their presence any longer.

Crossing his arms as he leaned against the railing, Mihawk turned his head to look properly at Crocodile. He wasn't wrong. The Marines did try to keep him happy in being way more lenient when it came to him occasionally taking out one or the other entire pirate crew, though of course, he'd very much rather take down one or the other Marine outpost instead.

❝ I doubt I'm the only one they're trying to keep happy. We're Warlords for a reason. It's better to keep us happy and within their reach than have us as enemies. ❞

[imagineanime2022]

Training Session

Chuya Nakahara X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1929

Requested: Anon

Request: Part 1 Part 2

Chuya stood hunched as he took in heavy breaths, all he had to do was get past the phantom, Koyo’s ability was formidable and as it stood he couldn’t find a way to break through the defence it had created. He moved forward again this time attempting a low approach in the hopes that with it being in the air he’d be able to get a little closer, he was wrong instead he was again stopped his time by the sword the phantom carried it swung down stabbing straight into the floor and stopping him from moving forward again. “Dammit!” He cursed as he kicked at the sword, it didn’t budge. “You won’t get anywhere if you get angry,” Koyo spoke, her arms crossed behind the phantom. Chuya ignored her words jumping up using his own ability to get higher reeling back to punch the phantom in the face but easily dodged and knocked him back again, he really wasn’t getting anywhere. He growled as he wiped his face. Their attention drew to the door of the training room as it opened, he obviously recognised Dazai and you but he hadn’t bothered to learn the name of the executive above you. “Mori wants to talk to you about some paperwork that he has, Koyo.” Dazai said as he hopped down the stairs, Koyo looked over at Chuya, she was still worried he wasn’t ready yet and he didn’t seem to be making any progress in their training session. “Will you be able to take over the training session then?” Koyo asked, looking at the man that you currently worked under. “I can't, Mori apparently needs me as a bodyguard for his next meeting.” He answered, “(Y/N) stay with the newbie and finish the training session.” “The last time that they trained together the training room needed to be rebuilt, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dazai asked. “Chuya please do not use your ability too much, this is just training.” Koyo reminded him and he grunted as he looked away from her, he made no promises after all you and Dazai had a way of getting under his skin. “In fact, neither of you use your abilities, work on hand-to-hand without your abilities.” Both executives turned to leave after that and left. “What are you still doing here?” Chuya asked as he looked at Dazai who hadn’t left with the others. “Paperwork is boring, I want to play a game with my two favourite people.” He said as he wrapped his arms around each of your shoulders, Chuya immediately shrugged him off. “Don’t touch me, freak.” He grumbled. “Sorry Chuya…” Dazai apologised as he lifted his hand in surrender. “What game?” You asked. “Oh right so I want to give you a wager, if you lose you’ll have to carry all of my stuff for them and be my personal driver and if you win you’ll get that game you always wanted plus the pen you wanted from Mori.” He explained before turning to Chuya “if you lose you have to do the rich girl pose in front of everyone and if you win I’ll kiss your shoes.” “Fine.” You agreed. “Really?” Chuya asked. “We have to do this anyway, might as well make a game out of it.” You shrugged and he rolled his eyes before walking over to the sparring area. “Come on. What do you even want the pen for?” He ordered. “It’s important and it’s Mori’s.” You answered. “You're creepy.” He sighed, getting into position “and why are you the one making a wager, we’re the ones fighting.” “I’m an executive now, I can do whatever I want, you two are still subordinates.” Dazai explained “but it doesn’t matter because there’s no way that you can win.” “What?” Chuya asked. “She’s too tall, you’ll never win.” Dazai teased. “You don’t know anything.” Chuya yelled “hurry up and start the fight.” You charged forward you threw a punch that he dodged kicking your feet out from under you, you recovered easily punching Chuya in the stomach, he doubled over and you attempted to kick him there but he recovered quicker then you thought blocking your kick before throwing one of his own which landed on your chest causing you stumble, he followed up with a punch to the face which caused your back to hit the floor with a lot of force. “Though you were supposed to win, what good are you if you can’t beat the newest member of the mafia?” “Go Chuya!” Dazai cheered. “I knew that you could win.” “You literally said that he couldn’t.” You reminded him as you stood back up blocking a kick from Chuya before punching him in the face, and launching another kick to his waist before he could dodge it. “Go (Y/N)!” Dazai shouted again “I knew you could win.” “Who the hell are you actually cheering for!?” Chuya asked. “I want to see you both lose but I want (Y/N) to really beat you up beforehand.” He answered. “What is wrong with you!?” Chuya asked, though he didn’t hear the answer too concentrated on dodging the punch that you threw at him, he grabbed your arm pulling it back, the sound of it breaking could be heard throughout the room, you headbutt him in attempts to get him to let go but his hold stayed firm as he rolled over the back of the moving his hold around your neck, you drive your elbow into his chin, he dodged the hit pushing off your back to land facing Dazai. “Rabid Chihuahua.” Dazai teased him. “Will you shut up!” Chuya yelled as he dodged a punch coming from behind him, countering with an uppercut punch that landed you near the wall again, as Chuya got closer he could see that you were smirking, your elbow flew out catching his face and knocking him to the floor. “Are you finally getting serious, I thought you really wanted that game and that pen.” Dazai smirked at you as you opened your mouth to say something back, stopped by Chuya bringing his foot down on your back, you lifted your head to glare at Dazai who just shrugged at you. You recover quickly standing in time to move towards Chuya who was already moving towards you, you threw a punch at the same time that Chuya kicked you both hits deflecting each other, Chuya kicking straight into the wall and your fist hitting the floor. “You know his speed and flexibility are way better than yours but you have a high pain threshold and you’re way stronger than him.” Dazai mumbled addressing you although he wasn’t sure if either of you were listening. You straightened yourself up and realised that Chuya was no longer in front of you, the shadow on the floor below you allowing you to block the incoming attack just catching the red glow around your opponent. “You're cheating.” You teased him. “Dazai giving you pointers is cheating too.” Chuya argued, he kicked off your arm landing a little ways away from you as you stumbled slightly from the force, he moved forward giving you no time to think, his hands wrapped around your neck to hold your head in place to headbutt you, you still struggled and it resulted in his lips connecting with yours instead, your eyes widening, you were dating but you were never into PDA. In a panic you pulled away from Chuya quickly walking away from the training room with a blush on your face but unfortunately for you both Dazai had seen everything. “Looks like you don’t need a kiss from me.” Dazai stood from where he was watching the fight as Chuya turned to him. “Shut up.” Chuya ordered before running out the same door that you had to catch up with you, he managed to catch up with you. “Come on, you need to get your injuries treated.”

He took the hand of your uninjured hand leading you to the medic room where he started treating your injuries, it was quiet and that was when you started talking. “I’m sorry that I ran away.” You finally said. “Don’t worry I never meant to kiss you, neither of us were expecting it. We’re okay.” He promised. Dazai walked into the medic room and sighed dramatically. “(Y/N) you lost! You’ll have to help me with my paperwork and drive me wherever I want.” Dazai said before turning to Chuya “and I have to kiss Chuya’s shoes.” You both frowned as you watched him pick up a piece of paper and using the pen he promised you he wrote something on the page, he turned it around to show the words ‘Chuya’s shoes’ Chuya stood to protest but he kissed the paper and nodded to himself. “What the hell was that!?” Chuya asked. “You have really bad taste in shoes.” He answered. “What does that have to do with anything!?” Chuya asked as you giggled watching the two continue to argue.

“Wait! Is that my paperwork!?” Chuya yelled which only caused you to laugh even more.

Request Here!!

[childofaura]

For the feh artist thing, have you done Saori Toyota yet?

Not yet, but that's a good pick too! They drew mah boi Colm ;w; Forever grateful for that.

So Saori Toyota's kiiiiiind of a new-ish artist. I think they just started drawing last year? Either way, we've got a pretty good batch of characters from them: Resplendent Eirika, Resplendent Corrin, Colm, Saul, Yuri, and most recently F!Shez. A pretty good steady stream of characters to work on! And their art is very expressive. Let's start with Colm:

First off, we've got a very nice pose that encapsulates his nonchalant attitude, and it's not just a forward-facing pose. The color work is pretty solid and details like the wrinkles of his clothes and cape are well-drawn.

But another positive thing I wanna point out is their original costume designs for Resplendent Eirika, Resplendent Corrin, and Bridal Saul are SO AWESOME:

I will always love dear Maiponpon's Corrin artwork, but Saori does such a beautiful job with Corrin's outfit; Seliph, Ryoma, Eliwood, and Cordelia have well-blended enough outfits that thematically fit with Askr's style (While Linde, Reinhardt, Olwen, and Marth just... kind of look like they had their original outfits with some white and gold Askr patterns slapped on), but like Sharena said in the little descriptive blurb, Corrin LOOKS like he's the older brother of the Askr trio. They managed to perfectly balance the overall layout of his OG outfit with the aesthetics of Askr clothing. Also I like his hair, it has a nice texture to it.

And then Resplendent Eirika:

The colors are so drastically different from each other but Saori blends them together and makes it work. The overall outfit is simply gorgeous with the overlapping petals and corset. Also I included the crit because their critical effects are very nice to look at too!

And finally Saul:

I fully acknowledge that trying to design a groom outfit for the dudes is an entirely different monster than drawing bridal dresses; Traditionally Western men don't wear as flashy outfits as the women do. But they gave him a very pretty outfit while keeping his red scarf. Plus his little wink is entirely in-character. A+.

Getting to the criticism part of the review, I DO feel like they were a mis-pick for one character... and that's F!Shez.

Starting off:

Firstly, still wanna acknowledge the gorgeous color work. But her eyes feel... too big and round for her character. It just doesn't feel right for Shez.

Then there's her attack pose:

Shez is supposed to be a disciplined mercenary, someone who has a natural talent for fighting and is constantly working to better herself to eventually fight Byleth. But in this piece... she's all over the place. Her legs are all skewed, she doesn't look like she has a strong grip on her axe (Which looks like it might drop and take her with it), her ankles look broken, and her back is thrown out. I get that you don't need to be too practical with weapon poses in FEH because you're looking for dynamic and personality, but this isn't Shez.

And then there's her damage pose:

Shez. Honey. Girlfriend. Darling. What are you doing? That pose is ALL SORTS of wack. Her arms are crossed over each other, her legs are STILL askew, and she's got that "anime girl damage" pose going on.

Don't get me wrong, I still love Saori's artwork, but I don't think they were the best artist to draw F!Shez, especially compared to the bitchin' artwork we got for M!Shez.

Still an incredibly talented artist though, and someone I want to see design more Resplendent/Seasonal/Maybe even Ascended Heroes. 8/10.

[eclectic-elegies-poetry]

i fell for a poet, my mistake: a five point narrative

CW: THEMES OF VIOLENCE, SUICIDE, AND ILLICIT DRUG USE

This is my account of my last teenaged heartbreak; a story arc of unrequited love and, naturally, all the clichés and angst of adolescence. These are five poems that I've left (mostly) untouched, as I want to preserve the rough edges of these works and meaningfully document my journey as an artist and human being. Please enjoy the final breaths of my unadulterated youth.

unholy sacrifices

“i’m going to write so many poems about this,” you said, your words falling into the open air and carried away by the unforgiving wind. i had to chuckle because you are so predictable yet impossible to read.

i wanted to throw myself into the fire behind your eyes, a sacrificial offering to a god who had taken everything from me.

i bowed before your altar, singing silent hymns because you dared me not to speak.

but your cathedral was built on shaky ground, posing a threat for all who dare visit.

still, i took each strike against my cheek as a soft caress that felt loving because loving always felt like pain.

i wanted you to hold me, but i settled for having the air taken out of my lungs, an embrace around my throat.

the universe, a sadist, had me swallow your communion wine; intoxicating and tinged with the taste of the blood i drew from your lips.

i yearn for anyone to get a taste of me without wanting to leave. i send these empty prayers to an indifferent god that maybe, one day, i will be worth staying around for.

a tab of acid at 3pm (p. I)

there are fleeting moments of euphoria, passing like streetlights streaming through a car window, fading in and out of visibility.

the truth is, you can stay in that beauty for as long as you wish. you are allowed to remain bathing in white hot serenity, and you can let yourself fall into the pieces of fragmented light.

here, i realize feeling is not as bad as i feared. it is a comfort to be okay with you shining your light within me. as i offer my lantern to you while we walk in the darkest shadows of your soul, you can bring your lighter to my lips, light what is in between my teeth, and i will let you enter my lungs and fill my mind. i will let you connect the firing synapses in my brain into a pattern that will make delight dance in the sparkle of your eyes.

maybe i am ready to stand in prismatic light, joined with a soul craving illumination with the same ferocity as me. too long have i resigned myself to a life of avoiding light due to my fear of losing it.

it is okay to want, and it is okay to want more than a gray-scale world cast in a cloud of fog. there is beauty and familiarity in the dark passages of those streets, but there is so much more to see. there are painted sunsets and quivering trees of green, and there is light.

and there is you.

the comedown (p. II)

i hate that you are made of stones: impenetrable, impossible, impatient in all the wrong ways.

i hate that i am made of bones, with a skeleton that wounds dictate will never heal in the way it used to be.

i wish your walls had ears that could hear my fondness for you, which could let you give into the inevitable decomposition that nature purports as law. i wish there was some other way to get through to you than to break you down.

i itch again for your skin on mine, i want to feel holy rivers come from your eyes and observe its glisten on the valley of my chest. i want to envelop you in the warmth of my arms, and i want to shape your plaster into the mold of the person that i know you are, but that you cannot seem to see.

i want you to want me to help you see the beauty in letting your defenses cease.

persephone’s annual gift

i long for the elusive winds of perfumed Spring air. the cold permeates my aching soul, leaves me numb, and my tears fall as frozen fractals, crystallized with the shielding strength i wish i could use to protect my heart.

lover, you feel like ice but i am colder when you leave. i am filled to the brim of you when we share toxic smoke, but you leave me writhing in withdrawal because i can never seem to get enough.

but Spring is coming, and the sparse patches of soil on these soul-sucking streets will give way to color-saturated blossoms. Persephone always comes home to induce the labor of her mother’s creations.

maybe you can learn to love me when your jaded heart thaws, or maybe you already do and the fates have maliciously kept us apart for reasons we are not privy to. you are right here, but god damn it, so far away.

maybe, one day, you will see my hair as beautiful daisy chains that enchant you. maybe, one day, you will see delicate blooms in my eyes and be eternally hypnotized. maybe, one day, you will see my limbs as roots that you can ground yourself with. maybe, one day, you will see that i can breathe life back into you.

maybe, maybe not.

i am not a girl of glass

time and time again, in a deceitful cycle that spins me, I have proven to be stupid in yearning and have broken my own heart once more.

it is better this way, taking the dagger into your own hands and plunging it deep within, casting waves of pain which dissipate from the wound’s epicenter.

it is better to die than to be known, because when people leave, it will not be because they saw the real you; a dripping wax candle eaten away by flame and insidiously combustible.

i want someone to love me, but not in the way that one would admire a sculpture of glass, beautiful in how she catches the light but too fragile to touch. i want ugly, unapologetic, unrelenting love that does not see me to be a celestial, ethereal entity that cannot be loved because the observer believes that they are a threat to the castle of her mind.

but look where we are now, tears flowing around the castle like a moat which, with enough water, will serve as a defense against anyone with the tenacity to try and infiltrate this fortress. i am not made of glass but of stone, and you will need more than sweet verses to maintain that bridge you have attempted to build. the anger within my heart will have to do with keeping my bed warm in the reclusive hours of the night.

[getouswh0re]

Howdy!! Could I request Yandere Gojo and Geto from jjk, with a special-grade sorcerer reader? Ty in advance, I really like your writing!✨

an; thank you for the love ˊᗜˋ💕 here are some drabbles for them separately, hope you liked it :3

warnings; yandere, gore, blood, unhealthy relationships, obsessive behaviour. do not condone such actions in real life, and please kindly read at your own discretion.

THE night was quiet, almost serene, totally at odds with the glowering menace in Geto’s eyes. Gone was the subtle gentleness in those inky slits you had grown to adore; in its place, inscrutable darkness bore holes into the back of your skull as you shuddered beneath the curse user’s glare.

It was still Geto in the flesh: the same face, unique hairstyle and robes he’d wear just like any other day. Yet it was no longer the special-grade sorcerer whom you once knew and loved. You never knew what caused such a drastic change in him; all you wished for, was for the old Geto to return, hoping that all of this was none other than another nightmare.

“Suguru? W-What are you doing at my door? It’s already late, you should be taking some rest ...” A hint of dismay — maybe sadness, ghosted his expression when the raven picked up the quivers in your tone. Nonetheless, a gentle smile adorns his face, emerging from the shadows to reveal himself as the raven explained himself.

“Why? Can’t I come and visit you?” He cocked his head, a playful smirk evident. Geto never ceased to make your heart flutter; perhaps it was his flirtatious nature and mellow personality that drew you towards him, but even after being one of his closest friends for a long time, at times you felt like you couldn’t understand him at all, with this being one of the occurrences.

You chortled, about to invite the raven into your apartment when warning bells started to ring incessantly in your head, warning you that there was something awry about him once you caught a glimpse at his clothes imbrued with crimson splatters.

“Sugu ... what is that on your clothes?”

“Oh this? Satoru splashed me with red paint, it’s not much of a big deal.” You knew he was lying, instantly picking up the revolting metallic stench from the stains. Dread filled your mind while you staggered back, keeping a distance from the male who gave you a perplexed look in return.

“You and I know a smell like this isn’t red paint ...” Trying to be as calm as you could, you retracted a step backwards with every stride Geto took. “Be honest with me. What on earth have you done?”

“Sharp as ever, y/n.” A condescending look took over as Geto finally revealed his true colours. “The world needs to change. All these monkeys are the reasons why curses exist. They can’t even control their cursed energy properly, and we sorcerers have to battle with death every time a curse poses as a threat to them. Their ignorance is revolting in its core, and I believe to make the world a better place, it would be better off to remove all of them out of sight. Don’t you agree —“

“What the fuck are you thinking?” Unable to withhold your seething rage, you snapped at the curse user. “This isn’t what sorcerers should do! What you are doing is of no difference from a brutal murderer Geto! I can’t fucking believe you!”

“How can you think of me like they y/n? That hurts my heart you know.”

Before you could even scream, he was already inches away, blood-stained hands caressing your cheeks tenderly as if you were made of fragile glass. “I just want to make life easier, there’s no need for us to put our lives at stake every time we exorcise curses. Right? We could be enjoying peaceful days together, free from the dangers of this world ...”

“Stop! Your delusions are sick, this isn’t you at all Geto! I don’t know what is wrong with your brain, but it’s never too late to turn back —“

Suddenly, your vision darkened — your consciousness sinking into a bottomless void as the raven carried you in a bridal style, the two of you vanishing into the tenebrosity of the night.

“And I thought you were the only one who’d understand me ... love.” He shook his head in disapproval, but the disappointment in his eyes were eventually replaced with glee as Geto stared at your limp figurine in his arms.

“But don’t worry, what needs to be done will be done. For our sake, for our future together.”

EVERYTHING would always be uglier up close.

At first glance, one might find Gojo Satoru a perfect man: with talent, looks and wealth all in one package. Men envy the greatest sorcerer of all time, and women grovel at his feet, desperate for a sprinkle of the man’s attention. Despite living the life everyone dreams to be in, the heir of the Gojo clan couldn’t care less about how the world spins around his axis. For the sorcerer has his eyes set on something much more worthy of his time and effort. 

He is a man of determination, willing to achieve his goals with whatever means possible — even resorting to dirtying his own hands. It is such an irony that underneath the charming façade, such a disgusting soul exists.

“For the last time Satoru, I am not interested in dating anybody.” Heaving an exasperated sigh, you politely shoved the lavish presents piling up at your front door back into the man’s arms. 

“I feel really flattered that you have feelings for me, I truly do. But I’m sure you know as sorcerers, we fight with death every day. If there is any regret that I’d dread to have ... it would be to leave everything I love behind. And I would rather die alone than leave my partner suffering on their own.” 

“That’s what I love about you y/n.” 

A loving sigh slipping from his tongue, Gojo took a step forward, cupping your face with utter delicacy. Yet you felt more than revolted by his sudden intimacy, struggling to writhe away from his tightening grip.

“You are always so kind, so considerate ... something I cannot find in anyone else other than you. But think about it sweetheart! You and I are both special-grade sorcerers, but I can protect you from the curses — at the same time giving you the moon and stars. We could move in together, you wouldn’t even need to work anymore. Why make your life harder when I could simply provide for you? Seriously —” 

“S-Satoru, I hate to tell you this but you’re pushing the boundaries right now.” Trying to reason with the sorcerer, you spoke with a harsher tone, praying that Gojo would get the hint and respect your choices. “You’re out of your mind! And why would you force 

Nonetheless, your words fell on deaf ears. 

“Now this is not how you should react when someone offers you their heart and soul.” The light in his cerulean eyes darkened, cyan hues glimmering beneath the penumbra of nightfall. “And I know you are a smart young woman, so you’d come to realise what is in your best interest. I really don’t want to do this to you y/n; but if you are trying to push me away from your life again, I would have to keep you to my side — the hard way.” 

With that, he pulled down his blindfold.

You were aware of how dangerous Infinite Void was; still, experiencing it first-hand was one hell of a terrifying experience. Fleeting images flashed across your vision as if all of this was in fastforward motion, depicting your fate in the past along with future. As certain blurred vestiges showed up, your heart sank in indescribable despair; moments of you and none other than Gojo were portrayed — blood splattered across the labyrinth of streets in Tokyo, your trembling hands intertwined with his, platinum bands wrapped around both of your ring fingers, adorable kids that were exact replicas of both of you. At this point, you could feel the will to fight back dwindling to fickle embers. 

No matter what you did, Gojo would always find his way back to you.

Even if he had to tear the world apart with his hands.