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amirasainz · 2 days

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I’m obsessed with this blog so much!!!

What about amira was bored and decided to bake the grid baked good, save to say they are more in love or adore her more

OK.. sooo.... the Pierre and Kika part turned kind of smutty (I loved writing it). I hope you enjoy reading and let me know if you have any requests.

-XoXo

I like you, have a cupcake🧁

It truly was a scene out of a fairytale. Amira, dressed in a beautiful green gown with matching makeup, carried a basket brimming with Ferrari cupcakes. Little did most people know that her true passion lay in baking.

With an exuberant grin, she entered the paddock and spotted Lewis and Fernando. Skipping over to them, she called out, “Lew-Lew, Nando. Guess what?” The two men exchanged grins, eagerly asking, “What?” Amira proudly presented her cupcakes: one adorned with a tiny racing helmet for Nando and another shaped like a car for Lewis. Their awe was palpable as they stared at her creations. “Go on, try them,” she urged, nervously playing with her hair.

After the first bite, the two world champions showered her with praise. With kisses on their cheeks, Amira sought out her other friends. Max, Key, and little P were next. P, with her innocent curiosity, asked, “Aunty Ami, what’s in your basket?” Amira replied, maintaining a serious tone, “Well, my lovely gato, this magical basket holds cupcakes for you, your Mama, and your Papa.”

Kelly and Max, overhearing the sweet exchange, approached. Max hugged Amira tightly, while Kelly planted a brief kiss on her forehead. As she distributed the cupcakes, they all savored the magical treats. Max leaned down to Penelope’s height and whispered, “At least one of your Mamas can bake.” making him share a meaningful glance with Kelly.

After a sweet goodbye and a promise for dinner this weekend Amira ran to Kika and Pierre. Before she could run too far, a pair of strong arms picked her up from the ground. She immediately realised who it was. "Pierre, let me down" she laughed. Kika and Pierre were giggling with her, immediately crowding her against the wall. The two of them really had no limit. After sharing two kisses with Kika and Pierre on the lips, because according to them this is how close friends greeted each other in France and Portugal, she told them a bit breathless about her creation. "Oh Babygirl, you are truly an angel" whispered Pierre in her ear while Kika slowly kissed her neck. Pierre took a bit of the cupcake cream, smeared it on Amiras lips and kissed it off of them. "Mmmmhhh, amazing" he whispered. He held the cupcakes up for Kika, who did the exact same thing. While Kika was cleaning Amira from any excess creme (kissing her breathless) Pierre brushed his hands over her body and kissed her temple.

Before the situation could escalate anymore, the little group got interrupted from Pierre team principal. "You know, babgirl. If you come over to us tonight, Pierre and I can show you the real way to use whipped cream in the bed" Kika said to her with a predatory glint in her eyes. "The real way?" asked Amira naively. "Ohh amour, we have a lot of learning to do."

Amira, having settled down from her playful escapade with Pierre and Kika, continued distributing cupcakes. As she encountered George, Alex, Lily, and Carmen, she offered each of them a sweet treat along with a warm hug, saying, “One for you.” Lily couldn’t help but exclaim, “This girl is too good for this world,” a sentiment echoed by the other three.

Amira followed the same approach when giving Oscar and Lando their cupcakes. However, the two papaya drivers weren’t willing to let her go so easily. They convinced her to play a round of Monopoly, which was really just an excuse to keep her company.

As for Carlos and Charles, after the race, they discovered picture-perfect cupcakes waiting in their drivers’ room. Attached were two heartfelt notes. If the two of them shed a few tears after reading Amira’s encouraging messages, well, that was their little secret.

#formula 1 #baby!sainz!sister #amira sainz #lewis hamilton x reader #fernando alonso x reader #max verstappen x kelly piquet x reader #pierre gasly x kika gomez x reader #george russel x carmen mundt x reader #alex albon x lily minu he x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x sister!reader #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader

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olliemnjones · 7 hours

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Hey there! Your actually one of my inspiration for art! I really like how realistically shaded the backgrounds are and everything! Do you have any tips for shading in digital art?

Hey, I appreciate it, thank you! There are lots of things that go in to making a good background but this is the main idea that made backgrounds click for me:

Hopefully you'll agree that of these two shapes, the one on the right feels more 'real', despite the fact neither of these shapes are meant to represent anything. The shape on the right just has a noise filter and a faint light-to-dark gradient from top to bottom. Those two things create movement on a small scale (the noise) and on a large scale (the gradient). The presence of that sort of movement is what gets your brain to register something as real.

Here I've taken the shape and given it a new environment, a colour and then a gradient. The shape with the movement feels a little more natural in its environment, I think.

Then directly on top of that, I can start creating small scale movement, like the noise, through brush strokes. At first (on the left) the brushstrokes look quite out of place and unnatural. But as you work in to the surface more, creating more and more overlapping brushstrokes of various sizes and directions - all while trying to maintain the sense of that gradient - the strokes will start to more naturally integrate in to each other, creating a bed on to which other elements will lay naturally.

Here I give this abstract shape some context by painting some cracks and decay on it. These new elements create movement by giving our eyes more shapes to latch on to and jump between. I then added a pattern to it. This pattern adds more movement and reinforces the light effect by adhering to the gradient (getting darker at the same rate the wall does).

You can see I use this idea all through this picture. I make sure in any section there is always some kind of movement of light, whether its left-to-right, or top-to-bottom, corner-to-corner etc. Patterns like the woodgrain on the drawer or the textile of the curtain create additional movement and reinforce the dimensions of their respective forms by adhering to them. Bit rambly but I hope there's something useful in there!

#artists on tumblr #illustration #painting #drawing #art #digital art #tutorial #art help

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paddlescuddlesbubblesgurgles · 2 days

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So Little but So Big

You’ve always been so good as my perfect little girl. My perfect little princess. My perfect little baby.

But little has never fit you. Not exactly.

When we met, you were heavy. A real fatty. So thick. So fully featured. So completely filled out and quite frankly…giant. Huge. It was very cute, very sweet, very attractive to me. You were beyond chubby. Living strictly in tubby territory.

I loved it. You said you could never gain any weight. You liked food. Loved desserts. But overeating? Purposefully. Deliberately gorging. Maybe once in awhile. But you’d never just eat and eat and eat.

I respected your choice. I was the pig between us, all things considered. I am truly giant. Truly fattened. Truly overladen with fat. Layered in lard is an apt descriptor for me.

But recently something changed. You have started eating too much every single meal. You have started sucking down burgers and donuts and cakes and soda like it’s some kind of competition. It’s almost funny. Except you literally eat more than multiple people every day, and then get so full and excited from it you have to lay down. But no one can compete with you.

I’ve been wanting to get you some little sized food. Frozen animal shaped chicken nuggets. Happy meals. Baby food packets. The mini dinners with those small, little, cute compartments. Only a few tiny spoonfuls of Mac and Cheese. Bite sized small brownies. Just a few small mouthfuls of green veggies. They’re perfect for someone so little.

You’re too little for those daddy sized meals… but I’m wondering. How much will it take? Do I need to stock up on 10 lunchables for each lunch? Do you need entire boxes of little snacks for each day? Are you needing whole cases of juice boxes?

Big is a fitting descriptor. Your overblown, overfed, overinflated, wobbly arms cradle a truly fat, flabby gut that has been made so overweight that it’s permanently become a fleshy, round, mountainous orb. A globular mound of solid white frosting. A heavy water balloon that has been solidly overfilled to stretching. A dollop of soft, creamy lard sitting on top of those barrel thighs. You’re the picture of gluttony.

You’re too big. You’re getting too hungry. What am I gonna do with you? I’m curious. Is 5 kid cuisines enough? Or do you need 10? Every meal? Should I start buying them out every time I go shopping? I can’t have you going hungry.

You’re a growing girl.

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angelisgonnastartchangingurls · 2 days

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roger

that fall, annie's new neighbors nick and nina moved in across the hall. "nick and nina," annie would always say when she saw them. "love saying those names together."

they were a couple just slightly older than annie -- probably 30, 31. nina worked in publishing and nick was an architect or something.

annie was a good neighbor--she was quiet--from her days living with robbie she'd adopted the habit of listening to everything from music to podcasts to TV in headphones. her apartment was clean because despite her overall efforts to clean up her drug use, she was not ready to let go of her adderall-fueled weekend cleanup sessions.

because their apartments were the only two on the floor and were shaped as mirror images of each other, their bedrooms shared a wall. this of course meant that annie could hear nick and nina fuck, which was pretty much an every-evening thing. sometimes it was very short--15 minutes or so with very clear climaxes. annie thought of mark and his wife and their focus on making each other cum and getting it over with. but other nights it was long and giggly and rough. one evening, after hearing them clearly wrap up, annie turned on her vibrator.

annie rarely used sex toys--she was truthfully, much better at getting off with her hands. her clit could be so sensitive that she often needed to wear panties to cum with a vibrator. today she put her bedsheet between her wand and her cunt. she sensed a quietness in nick and nina's bedroom. they were listening to her. she had a vocal orgasm - nothing too excessive, but audible. and then she kept going. she heard nina make an impressed noise.

leaving for work the next morning, annie ran into nina in the hallway. nina immediately blushed. annie hovered around deciding between playing dumb and being all-knowing and decided on the latter. "was i too loud last night?" annie asked. "i realized after that you could probably hear me since i can always hear you."

"oh god," nina said, turning a brighter shade of red.

"don't be shy," annie said, putting a hand on nina's shoulder. she felt nina relax into her touch. "that's being neighbors, right?"

"i can tell you're a therapist," nina said. "most people don't say this stuff out loud."

"maybe so," annie said. "well i think it is great that you two have such an active sex life."

nina whispered a shy "thank you" and practically ran from annie down the street.

on the way home, annie ran into nick, who had clearly talked to nina during the day. "hear anything good lately?" he asked her. he gestured at the headphones around her neck, and then grinned.

"sorry if i freaked out your wife," annie said. "but i do really enjoy knowing you two get after it so often."

"every night," he said. "my other friends don't believe me."

"well, i can testify," annie said.

"they've known nina since we were in high school and i think they can't really picture her as sexual."

"do you want them to picture your wife as sexual?" annie said wryly. "is that fun for you?"

he laughed. "kinda, yeah. i mean, everybody likes to brag about their hot partner."

"women like being bragged about," annie said. "even when they protest."

that evening, annie went on a second, long-delayed date with roger. they had drinks, then dinner, and then annie invited roger back to her apartment. she liked watching him reconcile in real time that he was going to fuck his therapist. it put a real pep in his step.

as roger railed annie from behind on her bed, she wondered how hard her headboard was rattling nick and nina's bedroom. the truth was, roger had a modestly-sized cock that he wasn't all that familiar with. the sex was rough and quick, and annie did not have an orgasm, and roger did not offer to get her off after cumming on her back. she politely got him out of her apartment, took a shower, masturbated, and fell asleep naked.

this time, she saw nick in the hallway in the morning. "high five," he said. "we both got laid last night."

"mine was very disappointing," annie said. "small dick, no skill, didn't get me off. you?"

"my wife rode my cock with her tight little shaved pussy while i put my fingers up her ass," he said. "i can't complain."

"nina is shaved, huh?" annie said. "i wouldn't have guessed that."

"she is sometimes," he said. "i like the variety."

"me too," annie said. "i mean, i like variety. and i am also sometimes shaved."

"you have really big tits so guys probably don't even notice your pubes, right?" he said.

"yeah that is not inaccurate," she said.

on the way home, it was nina in the elevator this time. surprisingly, she initiated the conversation.

"older man," she said, looking away. "is that a thing for you?"

"definitely," annie said. "daddy's girl."

nina laughed. "i had a...phase."

"an older man phase?"

"yeah. when i was 16."

"hot," annie said. "how old was he?"

"52," nina said. "my parents were so mad."

"i bet," annie laughed. "was he your first?"

"no," nina said. "i screwed a couple of boys my age first. just to make sure i wasn't missing anything."

"and your older man won out?"

"he had the biggest cock i have ever seen. still. i mean, nick has a very nice one. but this guy was gigantic. i don't think i could have taken him without an elastic teenage pussy."

they were in annie's apartment now. without even communicating it, annie had led her in and poured her a glass of wine.

"tell me more."

"i used to call it climbing mount rushmore, because you know, he was very gray, and it would take like a half hour to get him hard and then like 90 minutes to get him off.

"90 minutes? straight?"

"90 minutes of sucking and fucking. we dated for like five months and by the end of it i was in such good shape. i had amazing abs. he was so perfectly shaped to nail my g spot that i would cum, vaginally, like 6 or 7 times."

"amazing."

"i haven't been able to cum more than twice in a row ever since."

"so why did you break up?"

"his kids came to visit and his daughter found my panties in his bathroom," she said. "and you know, they were like, whatever, something very slutty from victoria's secret at the mall that only a teenager would buy. and his daughter forbid me from seeing him again."

"i hope she was willing to suck his dick for 90 minutes then," annie said.

nina laughed so suddenly she sprayed wine out of her nose. they both laughed. "no joke," nina said. "i called her and said something like that. she was like 22, which is so funny because at the time she seemed like an adult. but i was like, 'well who is gonna fuck your dad now, you?' and she said, 'maybe.' which made me feel like I lost the argument."

"kinda hot," annie said.

nina looked warily at her. "yeah i know," she said. "but that's a very therapist thing to think about. how all women want to kill their moms and take their place?"

"yeah i think that's universal," annie said. "although i do finally get along with my mom now."

"maybe there's hope for me," nina said. "i fucking hate my mother."

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climbthemountain2020 · 1 day

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Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met - Chapter 2

Part 2/? Ao3

Biggest thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher and @tunaababee for the best betas a gal could ask for!

[In a world where the Archerons never lost their fortune, fate finds Feyre on the night of a masquerade ball.]

As always, let me know if you would like to be on a tag list! This one is shaping up to be a long one, haha

Feyre shot awake, her hair waterfalling across her eyes as her upward motion stopped abruptly. The bright light of dawn was spilling through her windows and across her duvet as she collected herself, her breathing evening out as her senses awakened to the world. Quickly, she rolled to her bedside table, pulling the drawer open and reaching in to grab the notebook and pen she kept stored there now for exactly this purpose.

She flipped to the page with the bookmark, a pressed bit of the weeping willow, the veiny leaves becoming translucent in the eight months since she’d picked it. Before the dreams could slip away, she was writing furiously.

A creature with no form. Whispered threats. “Look at me. Look.” If you look, it can kill you–if you ignore it, it has no power.

The Creatures of the Abysmal Middle

She tapped the pen on her lips, trying to see if there were any additional details she’d missed. Her dreams came in fragments these days, no longer long stories and adventures in her sleeping mind, but rather flashes of a life that seemed to belong to someone else. She’d hear snippets of voices, see close ups of soft, gorgeously embroidered fabrics, experience creatures the likes of which she’d had no inkling existed months before. Often, she dreamed of him.

Rhysand.

She set her bookmark back into place and put everything back in the drawer, pushing it closed and stretching deeply on the bed. She reached into her nightdress and grabbed the ring on the delicate chain that hung perpetually between her breasts, pulling it out as she did every morning, surveying it sparkling in the early morning light.

It was a silver band, thick around the middle and meant for the fingers of a full grown man. The edges were smooth and gently sloping, a clear sign of years of wear and a comfort to run her fingers across, as she often did. Set in the center of the ring itself was the strangest, shiniest resin she’d ever seen, a deep navy inlaid with flecks of silver and diamond. All together, the pieces seemed to show a picture of a night sky, beautiful in its dark splendor. She ran her fingers over it habitually, soothing that piece in her soul that seemed to catch just a bit each time her thoughts roved over it.

She’d found the ring the morning after the masquerade ball when she’d ventured back out to the weeping willow just to see if it had perhaps all been a dream, thinking it might all have been too good to be true. Instead, she’d found the ring there on the stone bench, and she’d known immediately he’d left it for her. She’d remembered him wearing it, the ring so at home on his broad, lovely hands. But it was also so unmistakably him that she would have known it was his either way. There, under the shade of the weeping willow, she had the strangest feeling that a new life had begun for her, that he had been the beginning of something entirely new.

From her bed, she could see the willow in the distance through the window. She’d visited many times since, running her hand across the cool stone and closing her eyes to remember. If she focused hard enough, she could almost hear his voice there, the low hum in her ear. Many things had changed since that night, but at the same time, it seemed like very little had changed at all. She hadn’t heard from him in the eight months since - at least, not in any physical way.

The dreams, however, were another story.

Between the visions of mythical people and beautiful lands and terrifying monsters, often, he would appear to her. Sometimes, he was fully corporeal, real enough that she’d have believed it to be actually happening instead of only in her mind. Sometimes she only felt the ghost of a touch that she knew in her heart was him. Fingertips dancing along her spine, her hips, her neck. She would hear the lightest fragments of his deep voice, just whispers on the wind.

Feyre. Feyre. Feyre.

By now, she was long used to gasping awake, the skin slick between her thighs and her heart racing.

Occasionally, she would take care of it herself, trying to hold on to that presence in her mind with grasping hands, willing him to just stay. Sometimes, she tried to push it from her mind right away, refusing to suffer needlessly and fruitlessly over a man she truly may never see again. But still, she’d given her word, and she didn’t regret it. She would wait for him, no matter the circumstances. Rhysand was undeniably a part of her now, and it felt more right than anything she’d ever had in her life.

Once she was out of bed for the day, she threw open her drawers to grab a tunic and pants. Her father was away, as he had been more and more frequently, and she was trying to pull off a more comfortable style of dress. Without her father or a governess looming over her head, it wasn’t difficult to do, though she did get some cursory glances when she went into the village and Nesta and Elain would be too mortified to be seen anywhere outside the manor walls with her.

Fortunately, the big gossip about her family revolved around Nesta’s stubborn refusal to take a husband, despite both her father and Elain’s desperate pleading. There had been a time after the ball that everyone thought she’d acquiesce to the advances of a local man, Tomas Mandray, but she had abruptly cut him off, ceasing to answer any further inquiries from him and refusing to discuss it, or any other potential suitors, with anyone who asked. Privately, Feyre was relieved. Of course she worried for her family, but Nesta’s blatant refusal would buy her time. She knew that if Nesta relented and chose a husband, Elain wouldn’t take more than a second to find hers, and Feyre needed all the time she could get. She had a feeling that the dreams she’d been having were pointing her to something bigger, some answer to an unasked question, and she needed time to figure it out.

Feyre tucked her loose shirt into her trousers, then proceeded to tie her hair back in a practical braid.

A half-wild beast.

She smiled at herself in the mirror. Yes, she was.

She stepped quickly and quietly down the hall to the servant’s staircase, making her moves as swiftly as possible to avoid having to talk to her sisters on the way out. She made it to the kitchens, grabbing an apple and a pastry, and then she was in the bright sun of April, the crisp morning air and floral scent embracing her as she went. She tucked into the woods, wrapping around silently to the path that would take her into the village. All in all, it was about a forty-five minute trip on foot, but one Feyre didn’t mind making at all. She yearned for this time by herself in nature, viewing all the plants and animals and colors that she itched to put down on canvas. Here, she could be alone with her thoughts without judgment. Even though the trip was brief, being ensconced within the woods awoke something in her. She felt that familiar and comforting call to adventure every time–embraced if like a warm blanket and spent her time walking to the village daydreaming about those adventures that now seemed closer and more attainable than ever.

The village had become a second home to her with the amount of time she spent there, especially in the cafe and small, adjoining bookshop. It sat right on the outer edge of the village, a modest stone structure with two chimneys, both puffing steadily throughout the winter and shining like a beacon in the sky. The owner was an older man named Vincent, perhaps in his sixties, who had started the cafe and bookshop with his wife long ago. She’d long since passed, and he couldn’t bear to see either fall into disarray. Instead, he’d moved himself upstairs, merging the cafe and bookstore into a single business that he now managed himself.

Feyre had been drawn in the first time last October on a meandering trip into town as the leaves were changing colors. She’d been enticed by the huge, plump pumpkins outside the door and the sharp tang of cloves and cinnamon in the air surrounding the shop. She’d tugged out her coin purse and let her nose lead her in, delighted to find the bookstore was a part of it too. Since then, she’d made it a point to visit each week, if not more often, for a warm drink and a few books. At first, Feyre had selected the books typical of a woman of her stature: needlepoint, romance languages, and some popular love stories. When the dreams had become more pressing and harder to ignore, however, she’d started searching through the stacks for something a bit more specific.

Vincent had never questioned her sudden interest in all manner of creatures and myth, nor had he batted an eye when she suddenly began searching more fervently for the topic of Prythian in his old stacks of books. In fact, Vincent had noticed what she’d been doing and encouraged her habit, ordering more books that might interest her and slowly pushing them across the counter towards her with her hot drink at each visit. She’d come to trust Vincent, thinking of him as a bit of a father figure if she were being honest, and his warm smiles and excited eyes always warmed her from within when the tiny bell over his door chimed.

Today was no different as she shut the door behind her, turning to find him grinning behind the counter.

“We’ve just gotten in a big bushel of lavender. I have just the tea for you, Feyre.” She smiled and went to tell him that it sounded lovely, but he was already bustling away behind the counter.

“How have you been this week, Vincent?”

He hummed a bit as he rustled beneath the counter. “Oh, not bad. The storm Wednesday was a mighty one. Thought I might lose some tiles off the roof, but we held our own.” Feyre loved how conversationally he spoke with her, pretending that this was how he might talk to his family. Pretending she was one of them.

“The wind was howling so loudly it was a wonder anyone slept at all.”

“Aye. But it’ll make those spring flowers bloom, I’d wager.”

She’d seen some already popping up along the path through the woods, smiling to think of how Elain might enjoy them. Perhaps she could pick a few on her way back home.

“So what creatures do you have for me this week, dear? You know I do so love a challenge.”

Feyre slung her bag down across a table and sat near the counter. Vincent wasn’t one for wasting time or mincing words.

“What do you know about a creature that is only dangerous if you look at it? A terrifying voice, commanding you to look, to see, or it will tear the skin from your bones?”

Vincent popped up from behind the countertop, a machine hissing and steaming in front of him as he pushed his glasses back up his nose.

“Ahhh a bogge! I haven’t heard talk of those in ages.” It turned out to be just Feyre’s luck that Vincent had a penchant for all the creatures that her dreams had her aching to find out more about. He almost always knew what monsters she referred to, and if he didn’t, he was quick to guess where he could find out.

“And they truly can’t hurt you if you don’t look?”

“Truly, though most people are so frightened by the voice that they can’t seem to keep from looking. A tragic and very painful way to go, I imagine.” Feyre grimaced.

“I’m also looking for a book by the name of The Creatures of the Abysmal Middle. Does it ring any bells?”

He thought for a moment, tapping his fingers on his bearded chin as he did. “It does, though I’m not sure I have a copy.” He focused back in on the whirring machine, pulling a steaming cup of purple, frothy liquid away from it. “Try this, and I’ll go have a look-see.”

He was already toddling off, wiping his hands on his yellow apron, when she pressed the cup to her lips, the hot liquid burning her mouth but the flavors so wonderfully potent that she hummed contentedly anyway.

“Vince, this is lovely!” She shouted across the store.

“You’re going to burn your tongue clear off, Feyre!” He yelled back from behind the massive stacks of books that reached far up into the beams.

She took another scalding sip as she leaned back in the chair.

The bogge.

She’d learned so much in the last few months, a whole world that she’d only known from stories used to scare children in the night before last September. She thought she might never tire of learning about these distant lands and creatures, especially the fae. At first, admittedly, the dreams had terrified her more than intrigued her. They were like nothing she’d ever seen–strange people in strange places, a woman with nails as sharp as weapons and hair the color of blood, monsters with teeth so sharp they could easily have ripped out Feyre’s throat, a throne beneath in what appeared to be a cave, the dais covered in bones and gore.

But then…then she’d dreamed of Rhysand. Where she would pause with terror, he’d appear to soothe her with his touch, his words. He didn’t always speak, but the message still felt the same. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.

She believed him. And when she saw him in those dreams, his handsome features suddenly framed with that otherworldly elegance, she was not afraid. She saw his violet eyes filled with stars, and wondered how she’d ever missed the galaxies hidden within them. She saw his delicately pointed ears, and longed to run her fingers along the edges of them, to feel him shudder beneath her touch. She imagined his sharp teeth when they’d glanced along her neck that night beneath the willow, and now she second guessed whether she’d imagined them being that sharp at all. She knew that in all the stories that the fae were meant to be feared.

Feyre didn’t know what it meant that, when she saw him in her dreams, she was never afraid at all.

She thought more often than not now about the place beyond the wall and what or who might be waiting on her there. Could that have been what Rhysand meant by “north of here”? Could he actually be a fae like the ones in the books? Would she still want him just as badly if he was?

She could ask the questions as much as she wanted, but if she were honest with herself, she knew the answers already.

She took another sip as Vincent hobbled back in and set down a stack of books on the table between them, taking a seat across from her and sighing as he leaned back.

“We don’t have the exact book you were looking for, but I did have a good one that has inserts on the bogge. There are some additional stories in there, too. A creature who carves predictions of the future into bones, and of people so traumatized that the darkness begins to flock to them like a protector.”

Feyre’s eyebrows raised. “You never let me down, do you?”

The old man grinned, motioning to the other books.

“These are the ones you requested last week. Another on edible plants and then the guidebook on swordplay forms. Was that everything?” She nodded, already flipping through the book on the fighting styles.

It hadn’t just been the myths she’d found a new interest in this past year, but weapons and fighting and survival too. For someone who’d had everything available at arms reach or through a simple request her entire life, she wasn’t sure why all this knowledge suddenly appealed to her so fully, but the urge to know more had become overwhelming. She ached to hold a sword in her hand, to feel the taught pull of a bowstring against her cheek as she held it steady. She’d all but begged the guards to show her how to handle the weapons, and they’d begrudgingly agreed, provided her father and sisters weren’t around. Feyre felt powerful with a weapon in her hand, and while she was far from adept at it, she could tell that she’d improved.

“I added another special one in there on the Great War. I thought you might like some firsthand accounts.” Her mouth dropped open as he waggled his brows at her. Even before all this, she’d loved the history of the humans who fought in the war, the devastation and loss overwhelming, but the tales of bravery and hard-won battles had kept her awake at night even as a child.

“Oh, thank you so much.” She reached across the table to grab his gnarled hand. “Thank you, Vincent. For always helping.” He smiled and patted her on the wrist.

“At a certain point, Feyre, you’re going to run out of books,” he said quietly. Her eyes darted up to his. “Then what will you do?”

“What can I do?” The air was suddenly hushed, the moment leaving her breathless for reasons unknown to her. She was on the precipice of something, something big.

“Books are the most wonderful tool we have in this world, otherwise, why would I devote my life to them. But…” His watery blue eyes took on a mischievous glint as she focused her rapt attention solely on him. “There is somewhere else to find the answers you seek, if you're brave enough to look, that is.”

Feyre felt like she was about to jump into the wild air, nothing beneath her to catch her. Still, she didn’t hesitate.

“Tell me.”

#feyre archeron #rhysand #feysand #acotar #acotar fics #feyre and rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met

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medusapelagia · 2 days

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Getting to know you (again) Steddie Big Bang Proj 017

I'm vibrating with excitement because I can finally announce that for the @steddiebang2024 I'll be working with the incredibly talented @boybonebird!!!!!!!

Under the cut a little snippet!

A business proposition, that’s how his father has defined it.

A business proposition: as if it wasn’t going to change Steve’s life entirely.

Richard Harrington dared say to him that he was too spoiled and that, for once, he had to do something for his family after his family did everything for him. For a moment Steve thought he meant to ask him to join the family company, which would have been surprising, but not as much as the real thing he asked of him: use his good looks to get a good marriage.

A normal person would have screamed that he was crazy, that he wasn’t going to get married to a stranger just because Richard Harrington thought that a good name could have cleaned the shadow from their family’s past. A normal person would have left storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him promising not to get back. A normal person. Not Steve. Steve took his glass of whisky, swirled the amber liquid in the glass, gulped it down, and accepted the proposition because he is nothing more than a fucking coward and the idea of leaving his comfortable life scares him more than the idea to marry someone he has never seen before.

He hasn’t even taken a look at the picture his father has slid toward him, he has just left quickly with an excuse and has run back to his apartment like a fucking child. Now, finally, at home, Steve grabs a bottle of beer from his fridge and goes to the terrace, trying to breathe for a moment.

The view from the penthouse is always incredible. He looks down at the lights of the cars that move like swarms of little fireflies and sips some beer. The drink in his hand is getting warm, while he swirls the bottle mindlessly, sitting on the ledge, staring at the town moving frantically under him.

One wrong movement and Steve Harrington, scion of the Harrington family, will be just a bloody mess on the pavement, and finally free from his family obligation.

The chirping of the birds that are flying in the white metal cage in his living room, attracts Steve’s attention. His mother has a huge pagoda-shaped aviary at their mansion and she has chosen that couple of birds, especially for Steve. They are lovebirds, or at least that's how they are called, Steve is pretty sure that his mom knows their scientific name and all the other very important information that concerns them, what he knows is that they are colorful, they sing and that they are supposed to be together for life or some shit like that.

Do they know that they are in a cage, Steve wonders. Do they know that there is so much more than the little space they are allowed to fly in? What would they do if given the opportunity to fly away? Would they just leave or would they stay?

#steddie big bang 2024 #steddie #snippet #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Steve x Eddie #Stranger Things Fanfiction #Steddie Fic #getting to know you (again)

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quibbs126 · 2 days

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would it be okay to ask for a clotted cream/caramel arrow fankid, when you have the time? <:)

Probably isn’t great that “when you have the time” ended up being well over a year later, but I finally got this done, this is Dulce de Leche Cookie, also known as Caramel Sauce Cookie

So real talk, he’s been sitting as a sketch for ages, but unfinished because I could never figure out his outfit. Today I finally decided to give him one and finish him up, but I was kind of just making stuff up, and in addition I have very little to say about his character

What I do have is that his parents’ marriage was more political than it was romantic. They get along well enough, but to say they’re in love is very much a stretch. And Dulce tends to frequently move between the Dark Cacao Kingdom and Crème Republic

Also one note about Dulce de Leche and his name, outside of the Crème Republic or when in formal situations, he goes by the name Caramel Sauce. He finds his original name a bit too fancy and isn’t the biggest fan of it

He also is very unsure of his place in the world. He has no interest in the political scene that’s very prevalent in the Republic, and he feels the nation, or at least the class he belongs to, is far too stifling and full of double speak and secret rules he just isn’t equipped to deal with. Meanwhile in the Dark Cacao Kingdom, he enjoys the people there much more, as they feel real and honest with him, but he feels out of place with his poor combat abilities and general disinterest in it. He knows that not everyone in the Kingdom needs to be a warrior, but he’s spent most of his time there in or around the Citadel, which is where almost all the fighters are, which just exacerbates his feelings

Due to these issues, he’s very withdrawn and insecure, and doesn’t smile much. One day he might figure out what he’s meant to do, but that day hasn’t come yet (and also I don’t really know what that role for him is, I never figured that out)

And I think that’s about it for his character, now on to the design

So he’s based on dulce de leche because it’s similar to caramel, but not so much a rigid solid, similar to cream. Well actually it’s more of a liquid, but you get what I mean

I think the original name I was going to use was Crème Caramel, aka flan, mostly because of the name, but I think flan’s made with custard, which we know for a fact Clotted Cream isn’t, so

Dulce de leche:

Honestly I can’t comment too much on his design, since the hair was made at latest, November, and I was kind of just making stuff up for his outfit

His outfit is supposed to look Crème Republic-ish though

I made his jacket that color because it’s supposed to be the color of dulce de leche, or at least, the color in the picture I have. That’s also why the rest of his colors are mostly browns, while the yellows are from Clotted Cream

His yellows are also shifted to more of an orange hue since the ingredient is orange-ish

I want to say I gave him that eye shape after Crème Brûlée came out, but I’m not sure

And honestly I think that’s about it, I can’t think of much more. I think I had more to say on his character than I thought, but next to nothing on his design. Oh well

But yeah, that’s him, I hope you enjoy

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #clotted cream cookie #caramel arrow cookie #fankid #fanchild #cookie run oc #dulce de leche cookie #caramel sauce cookie #my OCs #my art #requests #answers

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