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mphountitled · 3 days

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𝐀 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

Aegon Targaryen x Fem!reader

Summary: You were the only one who truly saw the tortured king. Not his mother, not his brother, and certainly not his wife.

Warning: Language, Infidelity, Humiliation, Toxicity, King Complex, Slight Angst, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, Canon typical Incest, Grinding, Forced orgasm, King Kink?, Dom/Sub Themes, Controlled Orgasm, Ownership Kink, Dub/Con, Groping, Humping, Pussy rubbing, Exhibition Kink

This isn't very good, I admit. I just needed to get it out of my head.

Despite your eye following the pathway of High Valyrian ink splashed on the weathered pages of your book, your brain takes forever to process the words.. It is a story you had enjoyed since the days of your wetnurse but now you are focused on the utter injustices occurring by the dinner table before you. You always found your nose nestled in a book throughout dinner, all save for this one.

The Queen mother is bent over her plate, forgetting her table manners in the vehemence of her passions, while Aemond assumes a hostile glare from his perch at the head of the table. Aegon sits slumped in between you and Helena, with his half lidded eyes so painfully tedious as he prods at his food, while these fake gods scold him from above.

"And to make matters impossibly worse, you failed to display even a shred of sympathy towards his condition-" Despite the nature of his mother's tone, it does not stop Aegon from rebutting where necessary, with a quick, sharpness on his tongue.

"This 'condition' you speak of, being the imprisonment of a wealthy merchant's stupid son." Aegon releases a short, winded chuckle, one that you share behind the concealment of your book. "Perhaps he shouldn't have gotten himself captured."

"He is apart of your battalion, Aegon- fighting your war-"

"I am not at war. As I sit here, I am not harbouring any ill feelings towards any party-"

Aemond interrupts, "All you think about is fucking and drinking-"

"Precisely brother!" Aegon proceeds to turn to his mother, with his hands splayed outwards he reiterates, "All I think about is fucking and drinking,"

A loud, unladylike snort escapes the confines of your throat which you attempt to sheath with a cough as you study the words in your book. Aemond rolls his eyes while Aegon throws a blatant smirk beside you- "See Mother! Now our dear cousin has fallen ill as a result of the animosity stirred by your incessant scolding!” Aegon’s voice is doused in sarcasm as he rubs his hand into your shoulder, “All because of your nagging, mother," Alicent’s eyes darken as her voice descends into caution "Aegon. Tomorrow you are to formally apologise to that Knight. He is a seasoned member of your Kingsguard-" The politics was becoming far too much on him. His grip has yet to leave your shoulder.

"Why the complete and utter fuck should I be pandering to my subjects?"

Aemond is the first to inject "Have you not a shred of Diplomacy, you fucking imbecile?" You eye Aemond from above your book, and you cannot begin to imagine the younger brother would ever inject himself into Aegon's business, no reason except perhaps, jealousy?

Aegon promptly ignores Aegon, and, with his eyes on Alicent, he leans over the table and whispers:

"If Rhaenyra wishes to have the crown, she may gladly take it-"

"AEGON!" The queen's thunderous voice settles over the table like a tempest, injecting all those present with a sharp, instinctive flinch, all except Aegon, who remains lax and unaffected by her outburst, only fueling the Queen's anger to first born tenfold.

"I cannot rely on you for anything, Aegon, NOTHING! For a mother to be so utterly embarrassed by her son- her eldest son," there is venom in her incredulity, one that has your brows curving as you send a sympathetic gaze at the Usurper. You lower your novel and lean slightly closer to the battlefield that has befallen the dinner table. Aegon’s hand drops from your shoulder, landing in your lap. You clasp his trembling hand in both of yours.

How a simple visit to see your cousins in King's Landing had turned into a public execution of Aegon's dignity, is utterly beyond you. You decide that you simply will not allow it, you cannot allow it, and solidarity is all you hope Aegon feels radiating from your clasped hands under the table.. You look up at him, thinking you might look up to find anguish in Aegon's eyes, but all you find there is a sly, almost secretive smirk dancing along his visage.

"You govern this country like a child-" Aemond begins but you're quick to snip back,

"Perhaps we should be mindful, cousin of the fact that Aegon still is a child. He is but 20 years in age!" You exclaim, with your own incredulity coating your laughter, "Aegon's destiny was pre-written when you were barely able to wipe your own shit, Cousin." Aegon fails to conceal his crass bought of laughter.

"I've no time for this," Alicent says, pushing herself out of her chair before rising in silent anger, "Helena, come," she commands before leading a slightly aloof Helena out the dining hall without another word. Helena mumbles something about broken unions in iron castings before disappearing.

The silence is deafening as Aemond's one eye studies the two of you - he is not able to see your hand underneath the table, you don’t think…

"Before you think about fucking our cousin, at least think about fucking your wife." Aemond announces, to an amused Aegon who keeps his amused gaze lowered to the table. It is then that Aegon squeezes your hand, still seated on your lap. His fingers encircle yours in what you initially deduce is acknowledgement of your solidarity, but what you quickly realise is something much more sinister.

"I cannot say I will heed your counsel, brother," It is then that Aegon grabs ahold of your hand, guiding you until your palm is cupping his hardened cock. "But you can trust that your council is solemnly heard."

Aemond watches you from above the rim of his chalice as he empties the final traces of his wine before placing his chalice back on the table. His exit is a slow one, one that has your anticipation expanding and Aegon's patience waning. In all honesty, hearing your valiant defence to preserve his dignity raised an intense feeling of desire in Aegon. Even though Aegon's only feeling ever, always seemed to be desire.

"Come here," He says once Aemond footsteps have echoed away, "I need your mouth," Despite his command, Aegon is already leaning in with his hand cupping the back of your skull. Soon, all you can smell is him. All you can feel is him. All you can taste is the drunken and sunken taste of him.

His tongue forces its way into your mouth, ripping a fresh groan from inside you as he twirls you into his lap. He has you arrested on him, his front to your back, with your arse pressed on his crotch. His hand on your face cranes your neck backwards and forces his mouth on yours, promising that even if you wanted to free yourself, you may never be able to.

"I love how you see me," He whispers, never breaking away too far, in fear of you disappearing, "How utterly pleased I am with the version of myself I see living in your eyes," His words spill out of him and slip inside your mouth bridged by your shared saliva.

"He is not useless. He is not pitiful," Aegon breaks away from the kiss, to lay a palm on your cheek.

As one hand lovingly strokes the side of your face, Aegon’s other hand is ravenous, as it palms your sensitive breasts through the bodice of your dress.

"Thank you for not judging me," He all but whimpers as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He breathes you in until his hips attempt to grind into you like a touch starved adolescent boy, while he ventures under your soft skirts.

"You don't have to thank me, Aegon." Your hands reach backwards to cradle his head into the crook of neck just as Aegon's fingers reach around to hook into the seat of your underwear. You aren't nearly as aroused as him, but somehow that fact has Aegon spiralling even further into arousal. His eyes are squeezed shut as he leans into you, smelling you, while his fingers drift over your pussy, searching desperately for a reaction.

"It is very rare that I find myself wanting to give any woman pleasure," Aegon's admits, with a low, dense drawl. His actions steal the breath from your very lungs as you feel the first sign of wetness begin to coat your underwear. He is in utter awe when he feels it. Quickly descending into a level of pleasure that he was not even sure existed, "I fucking love your cunt," He murmurs in his desperate drunken haze, "I wish to play with it and taste it and fuck it until you’re barely able to speak-"

"God's, Aegon!" Your voice is hoarse and your cries reach the highest rafter of the dining hall. Despite your degenerate wails, Aegon does little to stop them, in fact he encourages them, as his fingers push your underwear aside.

"When did you get so fucking wet?" The warmth of his breath fans against your cheeks, as he presses his front against your behind, "Did I get you this wet?" He asks, before getting the strongest surge of arousal as he whispers, "Did your King get you this wet?"

All you are able to accomplish is a nod as your mind explodes with vibrant visions of your near release. Soon, you're moving your hips in tandem with Aegon's fingers squeezing sloppily at your clit before rubbing with vicious surety.

"Please-"

"Call me by my title," He whispers, completely stripped from his sensibilities. "Tell your King to make you come," Aegon's brain is filled with what he suspects is determination. He is determined to see the most lecherous parts of you crack, and have it done by his design. He rubs your cunt with furious passion while he pushes up from underneath you, utterly destroyed by the idea of having a monopolised control over the workings of your body.

"Fuck- please my King!" The ache between your legs is as warm and erratic as Aegon's hands. "Please let me cum-"

"Tis only I, who can get My Lady this wet and needy," He murmurs, quite literally to himself, as he pushes his hips against your arse.

"Only you, My King." You decide to humour him, seeking the quickest way to your release, "Only you can make me cum," Throughout his tirade, Aegon's other, unoccupied hand has reached around and clasped itself against your throat. He is violent in his actions, squeezing deliriously until your throat is vacuumed of all its air. It's an utterly depraved situation you have both found yourselves in.

Anyone could decide to walk in at any moment and Aegon affirms as much. "You're such a pretty little whore, making a mess on my fingers like this. Fuck, The servants could decide to walk through at any moment," His grip on your throat relaxes, allowing you gasp hungrily for air while the first spots of your organs threaten to surge through you.

"P-Please, My King-"

"What would they think if they find you humping my hand like such a needy, little whore?" He is rubbing rough circles against your cunt until finally, you're unable to resist teetering on the edge much longer. As your orgasm washes over you, and your body shudders above him, Aegon's own orgasm is triggered as he forces your hips further onto the seat of his pants.

"My Lord," your voice is shallow but a restless tremor settles on your limbs, "Have you no shame," you're partially jesting, as you try to come back from your previous delirium.

"I've already been branded a devil," He says, "There is no Grace left to fall from."

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd aegon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aemond x reader #aegon targaryen smut #hotd smut #aegon smut

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godbirdart · 5 months

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Do you have any specific process to get ideas for your backgrounds in your character pinup drawings how do you manage to make them all so awesome and cool

thank you so much! the way I like to tackle these is to think of them as if they're the character's splash art in a gacha game while also taking elements and rules from magazine covers.

now, I use the term "gacha game splash art" kinda loosely here, as that kind of art often depicts contained scenes or flourishes of elemental power. what I mainly focus on is how splash art showcases the character's personality within that contained art piece or scene.

I want everything in the piece I draw to reflect and correlate to the character itself. any accessories, text and elements are always taken into consideration. for this i'll often look closer to the character, their toyhouse page / bio, or sometimes even the client themselves if i'm familiar with them or have worked with them repeatedly before.

for example, archie here is an arcanine. I've utilized this for the background header, where you'll see arcanine's in-game category, pokedex number, type, body shape icon, as well as one of its abilities: flash fire. there's also a fire type icon.

another example is afol's piece. the client had specific ideas in mind for this art - particularly in the emotion and expression the art is meant to portray. I really wanted to incorporate this quote from afol's toyhouse profile as I felt it added to that raw, conflicted emotion the client was after.

as afol is a musician and a sky god, I also wanted to highlight it by adding "GODOFSKY - The Sky God's Solo Suite" as an artist / song title signature that again could tie into that emotional conflict.

the magazine aesthetic is something sort-of new to these pieces, with afol's piece having more of that distinct cover vibe than earlier ones; however I've been taking notes from magazine covers from the start.

I always have to make sure text and accents don't take away from the character, or cover them up or clutter the canvas too much. you'll see this a lot on magazines, how the title is always the largest text with everything else being much smaller or thinner. i follow similar composition rules when drawing. keep the model as the focus, and add things around them as needed to break up negative space and balance out the art. in my portraits, the character's name is always the largest text.

beyond these conscious choices - i dunno! my clients always come to me with fantastic prompts that mesh well with what I vibe with artistically.

i love being handed a few prompts and told to run free with them, and i love when clients come to me looking for a specific aesthetic or emotional piece. i absolutely adore drawin smug and confidently villainous gremlins, but some of my all-time favourite pieces to draw are the ones with a lot of raw emotion in em.

honestly i think a lot of the coolness comes down to my clients just havin cool characters to begin with lmao

#long post #wall of text

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abiiors · 2 months

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queen of hearts // matty healy x reader

valentine's week - day 6: queen of hearts

a/n: this is. Not Good. the burnout is hitting me now lol this is okayish now after the major edit wc: breakups i think but that's it cw: 4.1 k

“i can be your date to the awards.”

matty’s words freeze you in your tracks and you whip your head to him, almost dropping your coffee in the process. he’s half-leaning half-sitting on the table, flicking through a trashy tabloid of all things that you wish would set on fire right about now. but it doesn’t. and so matty continues to flick through it without even looking up at you while he’s just dropped this bomb on you.

you know what’s caught his fancy… you know there’s going to be some iteration of “the queen of hearts suffers heartbreak” in there. (because let’s face it, the tabloids are never creative enough to think of other headlines and they’ve used this one almost every time you’ve had a public break up before)

you suppose you should count your lucky stars they didn’t find out right away, that you at least got three months to yourself before the news first broke.

“what makes you think i need a date?”

he thumbs over to another page, still looking just as insufferably cool as ever. “your ex is going. ooohh, ouch! he’s going with someone you’re up against in almost every category, babe.”

“i don’t care,” you turn your nose up at him, “and don’t call me babe.”

matty puts the magazine down and finally looks at you.

from the corner of your eye you catch the headline—the queen of heartbreak—along with a photo of you and jack, a dramatic slash going between the two of you. you remember that night, you remember going to a charity gala with him and sneaking out to make out in one of the forgotten hallways. you remember feeling invisible in the best of ways for the first time in your life.

a pang goes through your chest and you bring your attention back to matty.

“in fact, i might not even go.”

“really?” he raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms in front of him. your eyes betray you by flicking to his biceps that strain against the sleeve of the flannel he’s wearing, but you quickly look back at him and blink the thoughts away.

you sigh, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “no, that’s– yeah, no. skipping's not an option. my publicist would kill me. plus, they already have a dress for me and it’s too gorgeous to be wasted like this.”

“and you think going solo is a good idea,” his eyes flick to the tabloid and you can already see the headlines that would be written about you. all the staged and well-timed photos of you sneaking even a single glance at jack and his date, all the speculation of jealousy and cheating. just think about it makes your temples ache.

“no… i guess not.”

matty grins, “so take me as your date then.”

you take a moment to assess him. he’s certainly hot, (objectively speaking, of course) and going with him would create a…splash to say the least. and if you were being honest with yourself, you kinda dig the anti hero persona he’s got going at the moment.

on the other hand, your publicist might blow a blood vessel trying to clean up your image.

you look at the tabloid again, at the “queen of heartbreak” printed in big bold ugly letters all across the front page. it’s fucking tiring being so synonymous with love songs. it’s tiring singing about romance and yearning and love while your happily ever after comes crumbling all around you.

“okay,” you say and matty smiles wide. you smile back.

and for the first time in three months, it’s a real genuine smile.

you see him around the studio a few more times after that—sometimes with his band, sometimes alone. mostly he’s running around, busy with his own thing and not really playing much attention to anyone around him. you on the other hand, sit in the twin of his studio space.

on most days your head feels empty, not a single song lyric or even a catchy riff in there. not a single thing scribbled in your notebook for months. you know what’s expected of you—another romance pop album to sweep everyone off their feet. your management has been very clear about that—it’s what gets the numbers and it’s what they want from you.

it doesn’t matter what you want. it’s never mattered.

you try everything—walking around the property with your notebook in your hands, hoping to find some inspiration. you listen to your old songs, cringing at how empty they sound, how soulless and exactly like the one before. happy to the point of feeling cognitive dissonance.

as a last resort, you even look up photos of you and jack, just to see if it would spark…anything.

all it does is annoy you more. he’s already got a new girlfriend, the same girl who’s supposed to be his date. you imagine the buzz around their red carpet debut and then think back to your own—how much the tabloid had gushed over you, calling you the perfect couple. a couple that just “made sense”

the perfect king to their queen of hearts.

you close your eyes and lean your head back against the bark of a tree. it’s nice here at least, it’s calm. the place is so far away from the city, you could just disappear for a few months and just not do anything.

but peace has never come to you without a price.

not even five minutes later, a loud guitar riff splits the air followed by raucous laughter. (it’s surprising to you that you already recognise matty’s laugh) standing up, you dust off your jeans and follow the sounds. the guitar only gets louder the more you walk, until you see a group of people around a little barbecue.

matty’s holding his guitar like a classic douchebag rockstar, sunglasses dangling over his nose and arm muscles flexed and veins taut against his forearms as he strums the bright red guitar. it’s so much different from what their music usually sounds like. the notes aren’t very loud or angry but they’re certainly powerful. stronger than anything you’ve ever played before.

it makes you stop in your tracks and watch him.

you just stand there—captivated by the music, captivated by him. it only takes matty a couple more seconds to notice you, and you look away, flustered.

“enjoying the show?” he asks, a sly grin playing on his lips. warmth creeps up your cheeks.

“no, sorry. i was just round the corner and heard you. sorry didn’t mean to intrude—”

“relax,” he laughs and sets the guitar aside. you recognise the others behind him—his band, for one. you’ve seen the other three men with him in countless photos and award shows but the others are unfamiliar.

“that was… really good,” you laugh and tuck a strand of hair behind your ears. matty’s eyes follow the movement. “something new?”

“something old actually. very old. it’s called 28, from when we used to perform under drive like i do.”

that’s news to you so you just nod your head, unsure what to say. “it sounded really good. powerful.”

matty’s eyes flick over your face for a moment, taking you in with such intensity that you feel utterly shy for a moment, almost like a part of you is laid bare—there’s no creative makeup to conceal imperfections on your face, no team of stylists to dress you and style your hair. in front of matty, in just jeans and a t-shirt and your hair in a braid, you’re just…a person. as ordinary as it gets.

“didn’t think it would be your kind of music,” he says after a second and you look down, toeing the grass.

“i didn’t either…” the words are so soft, they’re barely audible. matty opens his mouth to say something but panic shoots through you like a spear. you know he’s going to ask you to join, and music is the last thing on your mind.

“i gotta go,” you mumble, already backing away. matty’s face shifts from a smile to a confused frown. he lifts his hand, almost wraps his fingers around your wrist but matty thinks better of it at the last moment and drops it.

you don’t stay long enough to hear what he says, you just run back to the studio and try to forget this ever happened.

the days leading up to the awards are a whirlwind of preparations—from dress fittings to speech preparation to meeting with stylists, it’s exhausting. at least it keeps your mind off, well, everything else. but mostly it keeps you too busy to interact with any more journalists or paps. the most they get are photos of you going to a couple dress fittings and back to your car.

none of it distracts you from matty though. even though you haven’t since him the weeks that you’ve been back in the city (he’s still back in the studio), you find yourself lingering on thoughts of him throughout the day. even though you haven’t talked to him since then, you find yourself wishing you’d exchanged phone numbers.

but most surprisingly, you don’t think about jack at all. not even once (unless his face just so happens to be on some magazine cover or the other). he simply exists in the periphery, mostly out of sight and out of mind.

your publicist, emma, does blow a blood vessel when you first tell her about bringing matty as your plus one. she’s older than most other people on your team, has been in this industry far longer than you have, so her disapproval stings a bit.

“matty? healy? are you sure about that?” she side-eyes you when you first break the news to her, taking you aback just a bit.

“why, what’s wrong with him?”

she chews on her bottom lip for a second and you hold your breath, waiting for her to flat-out say that this is a bad idea. “he’s not the most…popular right now.”

you roll your eyes. “well if that’s the only thing that’s wrong with him then i’d still like to take him.” and then as an afterthought, you add a “please”.

“fine,” she shrugs and that is the end of that. she asks no more questions, makes none of her personal feelings known. and while on some days you appreciate that degree of professionalism, on others you just need…a friend.

but emma goes back on her phone, already making a call to someone and you swallow all the words that are on the tip of your tongue.

your heart’s in your throat from the moment you step inside the limousine. it’s standard for you—get inside the car, stare outside from the heavily tinted windows until it’s time to compose yourself for the cameras. somehow, tonight feels different, and definitely not because you have more nominations than you’ve had ever before.

“where’s matty?” you ask emma who’s texting on her phone.

“oh, we’re picking him up from his hotel. ten more minutes.”

with trembling fingers you unlock your phone, getting the pin wrong twice before searching him up on instagram. without his number that’s the only way you have to contact him and you wonder if he’s even going to check his instagram dms. but you send out a quick prayer and type out a message anyway.

ready for tonight?

i guess i should say sorry in advance for all the dating rumours we’re about to fuel

then you cringe and stare out the window again, wondering if that was too forward of you to say. it has been weeks since you talked to him afterall. who knows if he’s even excited about this anymore or if he’s simply doing it as an obligation.

your phone buzzes with an incoming dm.

ready and waiting :)

and being linked to you doesn’t sound so bad

in spite of the rumours, that makes you smile, and the car takes a turn towards the driveway of a swanky hotel. almost reflexively, you fix your hair (they’re perfectly done) and smooth any folds in your dress (it fits you like a glove). it’s only the lack of a mirror that stops you from obsessively checking your makeup but you still take a quick glance at your phone’s screen and make sure everything’s in place.

it shouldn’t be this nerve-wracking. it’s just an award show, you’ve done this a hundred times in the past but then the car rolls to a stop and suddenly someone’s opening the door.

you smell him before you see him—expensive perfume and cigarettes, like it’s his signature scent. and then you see him.

matty’s in a sleek black tux, curls tamed for the night with some hair gel and even then some of them manage to escape, falling on his forehead and into his eyes. his eyes look darker somehow, more intense, and they widen when his gaze lands on you.

against your better judgment, you feel a sense of satisfaction when his gaze trails down to the low, low neckline of your dress and back up to your red-painted lips. then back to your eyes before matty clears his throat and gets inside the car. you take advantage of his distraction to steal another look at him. and yep, he’s just as hot as always.

if anything, the tux makes him almost irresistible.

“hi,” he smiles, right next to you now and you try not to lean into his warmth.

“hi” you smile back, uncharacteristically shy. “ready for tonight?”

“you already asked me that.”

colour blooms on your cheeks and you look away for a second, mortified that you have nothing else to say but a second later matty snickers making you roll your eyes at him.

“relax, sweetheart. we’ll be great.” his eyes slide up your face again, dipping to your mouth just for half a second, quick enough that you would have missed it if you blinked. “why are you nervous anyway. thought you’d be a pro by now.”

“‘s not that, i just– the vultures,” you surprise yourself with how intense you sound then, how angry. “sorry, the press. they’d probably leave no chance to find links between me and jack and i’m just… fed up. i’ve had enough now.”

“the vultures,” he says pointedly, “can suck my dick—”

“matty!”

“no i’m serious.”

you look at him properly then, at how earnest he looks. then matty places his hand right next to yours, palm up and open. “we’ll do it together.”

you can only manage a nod, and then you place your hand in his, mentally preparing yourself for the chaos.

as the car pulls up to the red carpet, everything suddenly feels charged as a livewire. the flashing lights, the screams of fans, and the swarm of photographers are all part of the routine. still, it never gets old.

still, you never fully get used to it.

matty’s first to step out, extending his hand out to you—the absolute portrait of a gentleman—and so you take it, stepping out of the limousine. the moment your feet touch the carpet, the cameras go wild.

matty’s hand around yours is warm, comforting. it astonishes you how familiar it feels despite holding his hand for the first time. and even though you can barely hear anything over the camera shutters and the shouts of “look over here”, you can make out him mouthing “i’ve got you.”

right as you walk up to the centre of it all and stop for photos, matty turns towards you and leans in. you freeze, trying hard to hold the camera-ready smile on your phone but his face is so close to yours, his hand so big around yours.

“by the way,” he says, his lips grazing your ear, “you look stunning tonight.”

the cameras erupt into more clicks, the shouts and cheers go wild. you know what moment they’ve just captured—matty, almost kissing the shell of your ear and you going the same shade of red as the carpet. your stomach swirls with butterflies even though the nerves are ever present. a pleasant shiver runs down your spine.

matty’s already facing the cameras once again, staring them down and giving them a gorgeous smile that has your heart skipping a beat.

before you have the chance to overthink it, you stand on your toes and press a kiss to his cheek, leaving a perfect red lipstick mark behind. his jaw goes slack, his grip around your hand loosens. not even a second later, you feel the same hand around your waist, pulling you into him, surrounding you with his scent.

“oh we’re giving a show tonight huh?” he smirks.

you smirk back, feeling the adrenaline rush through you. “thought that’s what you wanted,” you reply, your voice a low whisper that only he can hear over the chaos of the red carpet.

matty's eyes sparkle with mischief as he leans in, his lips dangerously close to yours. “well then, let's make it a performance they'll never forget,” he says, his thumb lightly brushing against your waist.

before they have a chance to ask more questions, you move on—arm around matty’s waist, practically leaning into him as your head swims with the almost kiss. sure, he did it for the cameras but the dizziness you feel is real. the way your blood rushes is very fucking real

“ready, darling?” he asks just before you’re going to step in.

you bite your lip, actually excited this time. “ready as i’ll ever be.”

but the excitement drains away the moment you leave the cameras and step through the massive doors to the auditorium. this is the true test—the outside cameras would only catch a glimpse of your evening, the first look at your outfit and hair and a look into your excitement for the evening. but the inside cameras capture everything!

you remember the utter scandal from a few years ago when the cameras caught a musician rolling his eyes after his rival won a big award. you remember the memes on twitter for days after, the snide remarks from other industry peers, the hateful comments. you remember emma mentioning how his publicist had been fired two days after.

you remember the instagram live meltdown.

and now as you see jack in front of you, arms linked with his date, you wonder if it would be you next, if history would repeat itself.

“alright?” matty’s voice cuts through your spiral and you stop instantly, causing him to walk into you just a little. matty’s arms tighten around your waist, steadying both of you and he frowns.

“yeah,” you give him a tight smile. “jitters.”

“‘s that it?” matty looks skeptical, cocking an eyebrow at you, which somehow makes his whole face turn sharper. it’s the kind of sharpness that’s lethal… if you weren’t careful.

in an attempt to steer the conversation away from yourself, you shake your head. “how come you’re not nervous?”

“who says i’m not?”

a laugh spills out of you, sharp and unbelieving. you’ve never seen someone more confident, more self-assured in your life before. hell, you’ve seen their concert videos now and matty is fucking electric in all of them. he looks like he owns the place, owns the attention of everyone around him. he looks impenetrable—an utter fucking rockstar.

“well, you– you…”

“i…? what?” his eyes turn playful, his lips curve upward. “i look so dashing and sexy and in control all the time?”

“sure,” you drawl, fighting the smile that’s about to make its way onto your face. “that’s what i was goin—”

“hi, babe!”

your blood turns cold and a sour taste coats your tongue at the sound of his voice.

jack looks exactly like he did the last time—the same dark wavy hair, the same piercing blue eyes that captivated you all those years ago, the same full lips that… you cut that train of thought before it could lead to places you’d rather not. instead, you stare right at him and give him a tight-lipped smile.

“hi jack.” the babe doesn’t go unnoticed; neither by you, nor by matty, and he straightens, standing up to his full height. jack ignores him entirely.

“was wondering if you were coming.” you resist the urge to roll your eyes at the loaded sentence. you know exactly what he’s referring to—the fucking pathetic pap walk, the absolutely embarrassing amount of pda. it’s curious that he’s here alone now, smiling wide at you with unnervingly straight, white teeth. his date is nowhere to be seen.

“yeah, me too, actually,” you smile turns saccharine, “considering you don’t have any nominations this year.”

matty chokes back a laugh and jack’s face reddens a little. still, he manages to hold up pretty well.

“oh, feisty! aren’t you, babe? isn’t she?” the last part is addressed to matty who stiffens, pulling you closer. a part of you wants to give into the butterflies swarming in your stomach. a part of you wants to lean into him and feel protected.

you expect matty to come up with a witty response, something that would put jack in his place, but matty turns to you instead, looking down at you with… adoration, almost. it’s not like it’s real, you tell yourself, it’s only for your ex. only for show.

“is that the guy you were telling me about, darling? the boring one you dated before?”

now it’s your turn to choke back a laugh. you try not to dwell too much on the darling, or his low, almost seductive voice. you certainly don't dwell on how it makes your insides flutter and feel warm. instead, you focus back on jack and relish in the way his jaw tightens.

“i see,” he mutters, but matty clearly isn’t done yet.

“she can speak for herself, won’t you say john—”

“jack.” his voice is terse now, and as much as you’re enjoying this little interaction, you’d rather it get not picked up by cameras and even more tabloids. the headlines that would be splashed on them tomorrow are already predictable enough. so you tug on matty’s arm and smile up at him sweetly.

“shall we go find our seats, love?”

the iciness in his eyes fades at the one word, and you try not to let that do funny things to you. (even though it’s practically too late now, even though you can almost feel your heart doing somersaults in your ribcage). matty presses his hand to the small of your back, the skin of his palm so deliciously warm that it seeps through the fabric and you have to swallow back a groan.

god! he’s fucking attractive…

and fuck! you might just be in trouble.

jack stares daggers at you when you let matty steer you away, the stare so intense that it almost burns into the back of your head but the electricity from matty’s proximity is something else entirely…

“love?” he teases, the moment you’re out of earshot and you blush deeply.

“i said it for him, not for you!” but even you know the retort lacks conviction.

“whatever you say…” a shit-eating grin appears on his face, melting away all the sharpness from before. and suddenly matty’s just… a handsome boy. curly-haired and smiley and soft. his eyes crinkle in the way that makes you think how used to he is to smiling and laughing—as often as he wants, as freely too.

he’s beautiful like this, you think, different from the rest of them too. you don’t constantly feel on guard around him for one.

his finger lightly taps you on the forehead, catching you off guard. “what’s going on in there?”

what is going on is you waxing poetic about how hot he is but his ego does not need that particular ego boost. but try as you might, you can’t think of a sarcastic remark, nothing teasing or mocking. all you manage is a genuine smile.

“just that… it’s not so scary anymore.”

“yeah?”

you nod, giving his hand a squeeze. “who knew bringing you as my fake date would be a good idea, huh?”

“fake date…” matty smirks, and lets his eyes roam over your face. it’s the type of stare that’s hard to look away from, the type of stare that holds you captive. matty lets out a shaky little breath and takes one small step closer. just one. “i don't know, seems pretty real to me.”

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy@sierraeslaprincesa@harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet@thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss @angrylittlebaldman @oneluckygirl @sinarainbows

add yourself to the taglist

#valentine75 #valentine's week #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy fluff #the 1975 fic

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pedriscroquettes · 4 months

Text

𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 • RORO RIQUELME

summary. your brother’s annoying teammate is hard to resist when he shows off his tattoos.

warnings. smut, oral (fem receiving), weed, alcohol, and griezmann!reader.

a/n. finally wrote for my starboy. based off trust by bad gyal!

ever since you moved to madrid over ten years ago the city had managed to take you by surprise every one of those years. this year was no exception due to the high heat every day. it was a wonder you hadn’t run back home to france already. and somehow your brother had managed to throw a successful pool party with all of his teammates showing up. unfortunately, he had decided to host it in your house claiming that you had a better pool when in reality he just didn’t wanna deal with the aftermath.

you close the book you’re trying to read but you can’t make it past the first page as the sun blazes on your skin. beads of sweat form on your body for the simply act of sitting outside. you just hope that in this misery you can’t at least get a good tan. although, that thought doesn’t last long as you’re soon drenched in your own margarita. the cold drink making your exposed skin shiver. you look up locking eyes with the culprit. roro approaches you slowly with an unbuttoned t-shirt, exposing his hidden tattoos.

“shit. don’t tell antoine.” he picks up the football not even offering an apology.

“is he that scary?” you tease him.

“no he isn’t but your tantrums are.” he smirks at his words.

you look up at him making sure to cover your eyes from the sun in the process. his sudden change in demeanor interests you and you find yourself drawn to him. he’s always tried his best to get under your skin despite knowing who your brother was. he didn’t care and you admired that. carefully you place your hand on his chest slowly dragging it down until it’s placed on his rib cage tattoo.

“i’d be careful if i were you, roro. don’t forget who my brother is. better put that mouth to better use.” you offer him a smile.

“doesn’t it suck?” he places his hand on top you’re stopping it from wandering off even lower. “being second to your brother always? you can’t even threaten me without bringing him up because in reality no one cares about you. some people don’t even know you exist.”

this time you’re the one left speechless and not because of his words, in truth you didn’t care what anyone said about you, but because he’d finally been able to use cruel words to defend himself. he’s always held back never once trying to get into your bad graces. maybe it was the humid weather that made him not care anymore.

the party continued with countless plastic cups being thrown around the yard and countless splashes could be heard one after the other. yet you found yourself analyzing the brunette in the pool. fully shirtless now allowing you a view of his back tattoos. you would’ve never guessed he’d be one to ink himself by the innocent smile he wore everyday.

unbeknownst to you, your actions didn’t go unnoticed. paddy, marco’s wife, had noticed how your eyes kept wandering off to the brunette. she had tried inviting you on a brand trip for the fifth time and you’d changed the subject for a fifth time.

“i mean look at him! everyone thinks he’s this innocent little guy but he isn’t. what an asshole!” you ranted to her as she drank from her mojito.

“fuck him.” she muttered tired of him being the topic of conversation.

“exactly. if only everyone else could see what a horri-”

“no. fuck him.” she rolled her eyes.

“what?” you turned towards her trying to find out the meaning behind her words.

“it’s clear you want to sleep with him and he probably wants to as well. so do it. get it over with! i can’t hear you complain about him one more time.” she sighs.

“you can’t possibly be serious paddy?” you scoff.

“i’m never been so serious about something in my life. i’ve had hate sex with marcos all the time and it’s arguably the best sex i’ve had in my life.” she continues drinking her mojito as if what she had just said was the most normal thing ever.

“do it or some other girl at this party will.” is the last thing she says to you before she wanders off looking for her husband.

the sun is soon replaced by the moon as the hours go on and it seems your brother’s party has only grown in size. you hope your brother is sober enough tomorrow to clean after his mess because you sure wouldn’t be doing anything. your brother is lucky he lives retired from the city so you don’t get any noise complaints as the music blasts through the backyard. it’s the perfect atmosphere for a get together and a perfect atmosphere for paddy’s suggestion.

you carry your drink inside careful to avoid any spillage. you analyze everyone hoping to find the brunette and when you do you head directly towards him with no hesitation. you’re so close to him when you trip, accidentally of course, and your drink lands all over his white button down shirt. you stand up quickly looking quite concerned and confused.

“fuck i didn’t mean to sorry.” you murmur the last bit feigning innocence because you absolutely meant to spill your drink all over him. “you can borrow one of antoine’s shirts.”

“it’s fine.” he mumbles clearly annoyed at what just occurred.

“no, i’ve been mean. it’s the least i could do.” you offer a truce.

he analyzes your face for any hint of malice but doesn’t find any. a part of him wants to take your offer of help but the other part is still hesitant. ultimately he decides he doesn’t want to walk around with a wet and sticky shirt for the rest of the night. he sighs before agreeing. you quickly grab his hand before he can say anything and drag him towards the spare room.

“this one or this one?” you hold up two button downs. one is a bright shade of baby blue and the other a plain white one similar to the one you had ruined.

he chooses the baby blue button down not waiting another minute to change into it. he rushes causing two packets and a heavier material to fall out of his pockets. quickly he tries to retrieve them before you see them but you’re faster. you let out a loud exaggerated gasp at the sight of the pills and vape.

“you? no way.” you almost laugh at how surprising he was. first the tattoos, then the attitude, and now this. he was truly unpredictable. “don’t you have to take doping tests?”

“who do you think gets me cleared before matches?” he asks as he grabs the pills and the vape from your hand. although, you manage to take the vape back noticing what it contained. you inhale.

“my brother.” you exhale causing the smoke to invade his face. “does he give you the weed too?”

“just give it back.” he holds his hand out waiting for you to comply.

you obviously don’t choosing to sit on the bed instead taking another puff. your movements cause your black sarong to move up your legs giving him quite the sight. it was a shame that you were so attractive because you were equally as annoying. and if you weren’t your brother’s sister rodrigo would’ve tried to at least attempt a move on you. but because you were so determined tonight you’d make sure he would.

he walks towards you hoping to take his personal belongings back. after all he’s stronger more agile he should be able to snatch them away from you. but he forgets that you’re faster and every time he tries to reach for them he only ends up dangerously close to your body. you notice he never managed to button up his shirt and his rib cage tattoo is once again exposed to you. you place your hand on it knowing it’s your one chance to get what you want.

“what does it mean?” you look up at his brown eyes finding them already staring right at you.

“what are you doing?” he sighs frustrated at your weird antics.

“nothing.” you answer simply.

there’s a short pause between the two of you with silence filling the air. the two of you are practically chest to chest and you’re so close to getting what you want. what you need. you act first kissing him. after all you could blame it on the drugs in case this ends up being a huge mess. you expect him to pull away but he does the complete opposite grabbing your jaw as he deepens the kiss. they say it’s always the silent ones and he confirms those rumors.

your hands find themselves in his curls tugging on the strands as he leaves wet kisses along your jaw. meanwhile his hand finds it’s way around your throat pulling you closer to him as the two of you roughly kiss. it’s the opposite of gentle, what you enjoy. you gain the confidence to drag your hand down his bare chest all the way to the hem of his shorts when he stops you by grabbing your hand.

“what are you playing at?” he steps away from you. once again analyzing you and your facial expressions trying to figure out why you wanted to sleep with him.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about roro.” you say his nickname so sweetly and somehow also seductively.

“bullshit. one minute you’re threatening me and the next you’re all over me. you couldn’t get anyone else to sleep with you?” he asks in a more serious tone. you enjoy the view of a shirtless heated roro.

“i didn’t want to sleep with anyone else. but if you don’t want to then i’ll guess i’ll have to find someone else.” you begin to stand up.

you’re immediately pushed back down by the midfielder shocked at the force. it somehow turns you on even more.

“then say it.” he demands.

“say what?” you look up at him.

“that you want to fuck me. say it.” he demands once again.

“roro…” you brings your hands up his torso and wrap them around his neck locking eyes with him as you bring him closer to you once again. “i want you to fuck me.”

that’s all it takes to push him off the edge and his lips are once again on yours. the kisses are rough and quick and you find yourself tugging on his bottom lip to provoke him even more. it’s all so sensual like a scene on television. his hands roam your body ultimately landing on your ass as the two of you gravitate towards each other. you can feel his hard on against the fabric of your swimsuit. you’re pretty sure he can feel your growing arousal as he begins to grind himself against your clothed core.

you don’t wait another second in taking off his shirt allowing a perfect view of his forming biceps and his tattoos. it’s almost unfair how long he’s been hiding himself. you’re keen on making sure this happens again. so you proceed to flip the two of you over ending up in his lap. the new angle allowing you to see his face perfectly. you hate how pretty he looks and how he’s basically forbidden fruit. the aching in your core continues to grow and you realize you have to do something about it.

“fuck, roro. touch me.” you practically beg.

you’re answered with a smirk at first but he obliges bringing his hand to your lower body. he’s moving his hand as slowly as possible, teasing you, and you’ve had enough. you placed your hand on top of his dragging it to where you need it the most. he moves your sarong to have better access to your core, taking off the bottom part of your swimsuit in the process. you continue to guide his fingers to your folds.

“fucking hell.” he groans as he feels your wetness.

he starts slowly rubbing circles along your folds which instantly brings you pleasure. his movements cause you to let out loud moans which he quickly tries to silence by kissing you. the last thing he needed was anyone walking in on the two of you. as he kisses you he continues to spread your wetness. he decides that’s enough foreplay and drags one of his fingers towards your hole.

“can i?” he asks you wanting to make sure you’re still okay with what’s going on.

“please.” you murmur.

he enters you slowly making sure you adjust to the intrusion. you cling onto his arms at the new sensation, holding back a moan as he stretches you out. it’s almost embarrassing how much he’s been able to surprise you in the span of a couple of hours. he wraps his arm around your waist to help you adjust and keep you grounded. you reach up for him again kissing him as he begins to pump his finger inside of you. it’s such an intimate moment and he’s been able to comfort you more than any other guy you’ve slept with before.

“fuck, more.” you practically beg.

he obliges inserting another finger instantly groaning at how you clench around him. you squeeze his fingers so tight he swears he could cum in his boxers. the way you look under him doesn’t help him either. he’d always admired you except for your attitude but now that he had you he couldn’t give you up. your moans also encourage him to go faster wanting to pleasure you in the best way possible. he can only think about you right now and the way his fingers feel inside of you.

“so close roro.” you murmur. your nails digging deeper into his biceps.

then out of nowhere the building up orgasm inside you disappears as his fingers leave you. you’re about to yell at him when you see him kneel.

“do you trust me?” he asks suddenly.

“yes.”

his fingers are soon replaced by his tongue. the sight of his curls in between your legs alone make’s your pleasure build up again. as he laps up your juices your fingers find their way into his hair pulling him even closer to your core. it doesn’t take long for the knot in your stomach to unfold and soon you’re orgasming on his tongue.

“what the fuck roro.” you say shocked.

instead of responding he simply kisses you again. it’s quite an intimate moment as he moves the strands of hair from your face. the two of you separate from each other and there’s a comfortable silence between you too. the act is so domestic as the two of you simply stare at each other. unfortunately, it’s interrupted as someone knocks loudly on the door.

“who’s in there? i need a shirt.” antoine slurs.

“shit. shit. shit.” rodrigo steps away from you adjusting his clothes and finally getting his vape.

“hide in the bathroom.” you urge him as you adjust your sarong before heading towards the door.

he doesn’t know why he does it but he pulls you closer by your waist before kissing you one last time before heading for the bathroom. you’re taken aback but can’t help but grin a little at the action. it’s going to take more than your willpower to stop yourself whenever you go to anymore games in the future.

#so… 🧍🏽‍♀️#roro 😊😊😊#rodrigo riquelme smut #rodrigo riquelme x reader #football smut #football imagine #football fic #gabri writes

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canmom · 1 year

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comics and animation have a lot in common, but one interesting difference is that arranging pictures in space rather than time means there's a tradeoff between the amount of drawings you use to show an action, the amount of space each drawing is given, and the amount of pages you cover which determines the 'pacing' of the comic.

if you slice the page up into a lot of tiny boxes to show many stages of a motion like an animation, then each panel has correspondingly less space for background details, and it may affect the aspect ratio of panels. if you give yourself space for a large splash panel, then the pace will slow.

one solution to this problem is to break the convention that a panel is a single 'frame' of action and show multiple images of a character in the same background. Kentaro Miura did this sometimes, and Tradd Moore (on here - @traddmoore) is an expert who uses it frequently (I'll reblog his spiderman comic in a minute). Kamome Shirahama, a genius at creative paneling, also uses it in a couple of places.

a similar trick will have a single background continuous across multiple panels, showing a static 'camera shot' at different times.

the limitation of these methods is that breaking convention makes the panel a little harder to process - you need to make absolutely sure you cue the reader clearly about where to enter the panel. and it requires action that involves a large movement so the drawings don't overlap. so most authors use it as a 'once in a while' thing.

an opposite approach, used in early parts of Superpose by Seosamh and Anka and Goodbye, Eri by Tatsuki Fujimoto, is to go even harder with the cinematic convention and give each panel the aspect ratio and detailed backgrounds of a film camera, taking all the space you need - Superpose opens with about two panels per page which may be very similar to each other, creating a very deliberate sense of pacing. to pull this off you need to be either extremely fast at drawing like Fujimoto, or accept your comic taking a long time to get anywhere - and you also need to be very good at placing the camera in space. you're basically drawing fully rendered storyboards at that point.

one of the interesting difficulties of comic-making is controlling pacing. if you draw many very similar panels it will convey a sense of high concentration and intensity, or a heavy atmosphere, like a long take in a film. much like in prose, if you spend a lot of pictures on something it draws attention to it. so you want to use the 'slow down' sparingly for effect.

as in animation, you're also limited by your own capacity to draw all those pictures, and moreover the space to put them. this is one reason why comics in magazines tend to be sharply limited in page count, and webcomics tend to be very slow compared to other forms of serial fiction. (perhaps manga can make heavier use of pacing tricks by virtue of cheaper printing and endemic overwork. i don't think that's the full story though.) meanwhile, when Transmetropolitan started to experiment with manga-style pacing, apparently it upset fans who felt the story progression was being diluted. when reading Transmet in one go, though, you don't even notice. what works well in an anthology of hundreds of pages may work poorly in a serial.

i think the pace of the reader is often controlled primarily by the text - at least for me I find I sometimes have a tendency to jump very quickly over panels to get to the next bit of the story and have to consciously slow myself down to make sure I don't fail to appreciate the art. so while a series of text-less panels is effective artistically, you might want some words to act as speed bumps. but too much text per picture and your comic becomes exhausting to read, like Subnormality. and you don't want to over-explain what's conveyed perfectly well by the pictures, as many older comics do.

ideally, you use your text, small panels and large panels to create a sense of rhythm. a big splash panel can act as the full stop in a sentence, or a longer take after a series of rapid cuts. negative space is an especially powerful device in the right hands: when you hit a page of Chainsaw Man or Berserk that is almost entirely white after several pages of dense illustration, a character bursting into the void, there's an immediate 'wow' effect before you even process what's happening in the illustration. (i can't seem to find the chainsaw man example i had in mind, so here's one from berserk.)

and on that note, the other thing that comics have that animation doesn't is the impact of being confronted with the whole gestalt page. in the manga I was helping Fall translate when she died, We Are Magical Boys (Bokura wa Mahou Shounen), Fukushima Teppei frequently puts one panel much larger than the others so it dominates the page, usually a close-up or full length character portrait, allowing the cuteness of their unique art style to treasure centre stage. Sandman, which I'm currently rereading, is full of elaborate page compositions, where a drawing might not even be a panel per se, but a visual element. Witch Hat Atelier is full of elaborate borders and clever compositions. just look at this...

how did she come up with that! the absolute madwoman! the right side is relatively standard Atelier (establishing shots, the main cast eagerly stepping out of their panel) but on the left, we have a set of panels falling down from above onto a large splash panel. even though this image is concurrent, the panels invite us to appreciate it in chunks, and the page as a whole has this great visual of the pages of a book, continuing the image of the previous page. (more of this on upcoming post on Atelier)

a character emerging from their panel to overlap others, breaking up the monotony of the grid and adding a sense of depth to the page as a whole, is a reliably appealing motif. also, drawing one panel borderless, so it implicitly continues behind the other panels. large areas of black and white and choices of colour saturation can convey a mood to the page as a whole.

the danger you run is always the loss of clarity. the reader must be able to tell what panels to read in what order without thinking about it. Sandman will sometimes do a double page spread where you're supposed to read across both pages, and this consistently trips me up. Dresden Codak is by an adhd author and her drive to give every page an elaborate layout is very familiar to me, but especially in Hob, it messes with the flow of the comic overall.

so every comic page, every comic, is a fascinating balance of all these factors. how to create a strong, visually interesting composition, control the pacing appropriate to tone, create a thrilling sense of rhythm... all without sacrificing clarity.

not much more to say about this as yet, it's just something I'm thinking about while trying to lay out a page of Ghost Barrier. my tendency is to generally use larger panels, and try to be creative with layouts, but you have to consider not just each page in isolation but how they relate to other pages. so to make the splash panel land, I need to contrast with a denser page immediately beforehand.

the more I make comics the more of a feel I'll get. cool medium!

#comics

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comicaurora · 7 months

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i think pacing is THE literary tool that most directly proves that you write good when you've been writting a lot. pacing is a feel, you can and def should read stuff about pacing, but you simply can't develop the muscles for it without hitting the gym.

so uhh, when did you start feeling good about how you've handled pacing in previous works and current one? was there a moment? i feel stuck, and discipline tells me to keep on trucking but its demotivating. sorry for long question aaa

Conveniently it was during the process of making the comic, because I absolutely did not have it down before I started. I had a moment of clarity sometime around chapter 3 that all my artistic practice for the comic had done nothing to prepare me for the invisible substrate of visual storytelling: pacing. Splash panels and big dramatic establishing shots are much more common in those early chapters because I hadn't processed how to fully utilize the space on the page. I had to do some backend reworking of the general timeline as I realized that any amount of narrative backtracking would grind the story to a halt AND take me way too much time to make. I realized I had a lot of unconnected filler in my initial plan that kind of just kicked the plot into little zero-consequence cul-de-sacs that didn't move anything forward, so I began to prioritize story beats that advanced at least one of either the plot or a character arc - I didn't want to fall into the trap of making absolutely everything tie into one singular grand evil plan or not have any room for broader worldbuilding, so I allowed for some outside-context antagonists and threats as long as they let me reveal new things about the main characters. It gave me a feel for what constituted forward motion or broad expansion of the story.

Somewhere along the way - I think maybe around chapter 9? - I gave myself a rule of thumb that every page needed at least one new thing on it. That "thing" could be a piece of new information, a turn of events in the story, a reveal of something previously unseen, a character making a decision - it's not a hard definition by any means, but it helped me stay on track. It also helped balance the two completely disparate pacings I need to account for, namely how the story is paced when you read the archive through vs how the story is paced when you read it as it updates three times a week. "One thing per page" means the people reading it as it updates always get something new to chew on.

When I bit the bullet and started this story, I was as prepared as I could've been for someone who'd never made a longform comic before, but that meant I was completely lacking in experience with the unique and invisible elements of comic storytelling, of which pacing is the most foundational. It's ok if you don't think you're good at it yet; it's impossible to get good at it before you begin. Starting the story is the hardest part.

#asks #aurora #behind the curtain

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ungoliantschilde · 1 year

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Betty, by Dave Stevens.

#Betty #Betty Page #the Rocketeer #Cheesecake #Good Girl Art #Splash Page Process #Splash Page #Process #Master Class #RIP #Comics #Art #Illustration #Dave Stevens

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turndecassette2 · 9 months

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aah after seeing the title page for your newest comic announcement (congrats by the way it looks FABULOUS :> ) I have to ask what your approach to lettering is? your writing is really cool and each title ive seen is so unique!! I love how you can still read it while it also not looking out of place and just looking like apart of the piece :)

hope you're doing well!! have a wonderful day :-)

hey thanks! you too! never learned graphic design in any organised sense, my mom has been working as a freelancing graphic designer, design teacher etc for most of my life so I've absorbed some basic knowledge from her through osmosis, lamarckian evolution maybe? and also gotten a sense of how much I don't know ha ha. doing everything by hand & letting the result be not perfect is sort of a way to acknowledge I'm an amateur (trying and failing is more embarrassing than, uh, not trying, and failing because duh, you weren't trying) but I also think it has an advantage of harmonising with the drawn images. I try to match materials so graphite lettering for graphite pages, digital for digital etc.

inspo for the latest cover – fancy lettering on album covers? but less perfect because, see above –

+ 'japanese characters all over the place' type manga cover/splash page design, something like

(has hirako's short stories gotten any sort of translation? or I think the cover to the left is for a short story collection. actually I should google this myself)

the process itself is just sketching out the letters then filling them in like they're a drawing (thinking of them as drawings makes it easier since drawing is something I'm actually good at). the egg shape was traced from an egg shape that I found by googling 'egg shape' & warping it in ps until it fit inside the sketched outline. the lil guy inside was copy-pasted from a page later in the comic. this was all done on a train stuck somewhere between linköping & västerås.

OK this is very 'draw the rest of the owl' type advice but I hope someone finds it helpful.

#art #an ask #process

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careydraws · 1 year

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Here's a writeup about the process of making this 12x18" poster that's in the booksamillion special edition of TAZ: the Eleventh Hour GN! It looks like there are still some available for preorder!

Long post about how I got from the initial options I sent to my editor to the final below the cut (or unlocked on my patreon here).

We found out pretty late in the life cycle of making the actual book artwork that we were going to get to do a special edition that included a poster, which was nice because it meant I had a good sense of what cool moments in the book we might want to highlight... and what existing art I might be able to use as scaffolding, because these books are on extremely tight deadlines and there was not a separate timeline for painting a whole poster. So when we can avoid doing that, it saves me a lot of time and heart/wristache... but it's not always possible! spoilers: it was not possible this time around.

I started out by sending my editor two options for poster designs: one that would save some work by letting me reuse cover & interior elements that happened to be drawn at a large size, and one that was loosely based on a page with a fun splash panel, but would require total redraw and repaint. As I said in an email,

...Unfortunately, we both agreed that the one that was going to be more work (A) was the cooler choice & would make for a better poster. Also, by this point I was thinking about doing a version of the cover for a lenticular, and I didn't want to double-dip with fun promo materials. So it goes!

The composition was off, since this was based on a comics page with, y'know, dialog and other panels on it. We talked about whether adding some kind of a text treatment might help balance it out, but ultimately,

[narrator: she would later regret this.]

ANYWAY, once I was all-in, it was time to get goin! First, I made a small color thumbnail, then scaled it WAY up for print and took it back to pencils to space out the trio & give everyone a little more room.

Next I inked and flatted it! Flatting is the only time I can really zone out & watch something while I work, it was a nice break.

Then I blocked in big hue shifts for the ground and sky; painted big shadow shapes, and drew in the text; and finally added some details like bounce light and atmospheric perspective blue shifts.

One final touch-up pass with some additional cool tones-- If I were to do this again, I might tone it down a LITTLE bit on the reflections on Magnus's gear… but then again, it looks cool, so I might not.

And there it is!

Next time I do this, I want to try to keep the initial color thumbnail much looser- I got frustrated at the rendering stage because I'd done most of the fun work of thinking about color already, and ended up feeling like I was treading the same ground twice. It's tough to find a balance between enough planning to be ready and not so much that I lose something in the work!

I'm always happy to get process questions over on patreon, it's fun to talk more about this sort of thing!

#thezonecast #taz balance #tazgn #process #taz #long post

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theresattrpgforthat · 6 months

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Any RPGs (/settings / supplements) that you know of that have a set of mechanics based on harvesting parts of slain monsters for various effects? I just think that would be a neat system to throw into an OSR type game :)

THEME: Monster Recycling

Hello friend! I had a lot of fun putting together game recommendations for this, I've seen a few games inspired by Monster Hunter and I definitely see the appeal!

Monster Guts, by Wheels Within Wheels Publishing.

Welcome to MONSTER GUTS, a tabletop roleplaying game, Illuminated by LUMEN, that draws from your favorite monster-hunting video games.

This book has rules to build your scavenger, pick a starting weapon and friendly companion critter, and then go out hunting giant monsters!

Set in a post-capitalism world where monsters bio-engineered to extract resources have destroyed much of the world, you must hunt these creatures to sustain your village, one of the few settlements in the Pacific Northwest to have survived. You'll also harvest tags that you can slot into your weapons and garb to power up your scavenger.

Monster Guts is LUMEN, so expect cinematic action with effective moves that feel more and more powerful as you level up. It’s made a bit of a splash on Itch.io due to its ability to replicate the feeling of the Monster Hunter video game. Your character classes take the form of weapons, with different stats and special abilities. There are also tags that can be added on to them as you slay monsters for their parts. When it comes to the backstory, the lore focuses on a small village, trying to survive in a world of monsters that they once created. Once again, the enemy is capitalism.

Butchers & Beasties, by Kerobuki.

A Monster Hunter-like TTRPG hacked from a mixture of Emiel Boven's DURF and the creator’s own projects.

Butchers & Beasties is a bare-bones, rules-only draft of a monster-hunting game. It uses dice pools of d6’s and staggered successes for basic conflict resolution. Inventory is important in this game - you have limited inventory slots and you also have to choose where you’re going to store your equipment - will you keep your lantern in your pack, and have to dig it out every time you use it, or will you store it on your belt for easy access? You also choose a role for your character, which grants you with base items. There’s rules for traps. weapons, ailments and elements, which gives the play group a broad set of possible combinations to factor in when hunting beasts. Overall, if you’re looking for an OSR-friendly game this is probably a great place to start, as everything in here looks like a tool set that you’ll need to pick up with an play around with a bit to see just how much it can do.

After the Great Beast, by Harper Jay.

You are a Hunter, and great beasts are threatening your village. Gather your weapon and your friends, and defend your home. Along the way, you will gather materials, craft traps and potions, and maintain your weapon, all while following the great beast's tracks.

After The Great Beast is a Breathless game inspired by the Monster Hunter franchise.

I am so so excited about this game. After the Great Beast is Breathless, which means that it provides you with a limited number of resources, which deplete as you play. You can stop to refresh your resources, but in the process you let time get away from you - and that means your problems get bigger. I think it has a lot of potential for a satisfying loop of play, and I’m impressed at the size of this game. A lot of the Breathless games I’ve looked at in the past are under 10 pages, but After The Great Beast is over 20! This is because of the extra tools differentiating weapons, special effects, world details and beast rules. There’s even a little bestiary and advice on how to set up an adventure for this kind of game. If you want lots of different pieces to play with and a setting that’s already laid out for you a little bit, then I’d recommend checking out After The Great Beast.

Wilderfeast, by Horrible Guild.

Wilderfeast is an RPG about becoming part of the natural world by making it part of you.

Players assume the role of “wilders”: monster hunters/chefs who wield gargantuan kitchen implements and gain powerful mutations from each monster they eat. Using those powers, they seek harmony between humanity and the wild.

All creatures, be they humans or monsters, obey the One Law of the One Land…

YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT.

Wilderfeast is a game about hunting and cooking monsters, with tactical game mechanics for the hunting portion of the game, and narrative prompts for the cooking portions. This is a game in which an eldritch virus has made kaiju-like monsters frenzied and dangerous. Your characters have discovered that killing and feeding on these monsters gives them interesting mutations. I think this game has a lot of promise, because it gives you both the chance to puzzle through combat and feel competent when you fight, while also giving you tools that give the in-between scenes narrative weight - you even partake in a ritual before eating that allows you to thank the monster for its gift!

If you want to take a deeper look at Wilderfeast, you can check out their Quickstart for free, and listen to Dave Thaumvore’s review.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #game recommendations #asks #monster hunter

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pierogish · 2 months

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your art is so wonderful! its so expressive and colorful and joyful and never overworked. your compositions also really blow my mind! if youve ever recorded any timelapses or if you ever would like to elaborate on your process ever, i would love to see it + would pay money to. have a good day!

Hi! I apologize that it took me so long to get to this ask! Thank you so much for this incredible and kind compliment!! :') <3 I enjoy having fun with compositions and everything else and I'm glad you like what comes out of it!

Thank you for being interested in process! I haven't been answering for so long because I couldn't come up with a good answer... I have never recorded any timelapses and don't intend to in the nearest future. Also every time the process looks differently, haha..

But I compiled potentially interesting pictures (for free) - under cut :)

one fun thing I do quite often is that I begin something on paper and then complete digitally. Doodling in textbooks and sketchbooks was the beginning of many stuff

This Seri process is one of my favorites, he was born from leftover green food coloring that I splashed and smeared over pages. Then I begin my favorite game of searching for shapes and letting them "grow" naturally from what there is.. if that makes sense.

From those little monsters that were born during classes then appeared compositions, because having some starting point is helpful to me, even if it gets completely lost eventually.

I don't have a scan and use the imperfection of phone pics for my advantage, sometimes it creates additional texture or interesting colors after little bit of editing.

This one took longer than most of other works. (dont go after me for unrealistic architecture)

I was struggling to come up with compostition for the cathedral so again beginning with a doodle of a random arch helped. and in the end there's an infinite "yeah now it's finally done" *spends a couple of hours more*. on screenshot these are all versions I thought would be final and I sent them to look at on my phone and immediately went to fix something else :P

Beginning from a detail isn't a classic way to build a composition, and usually it's reasonable to start from defining big shapes, and that's what I do often. There are just different approaches of creating compostitions that I like using. Starting from a piece and shaping the rest from there helps me find something I maybe wouldn't have thought of doing otherwise. But it's very important to always hold a big picture in mind of course! After looking at a piece of doodle for a while, I have an approximate picture in mind of how I want to use it.

With digital doodles I usually do lineart immediately without sketching it first, then I can edit or erase it or blend with colors. Have fun and be yourself is the only rule

thank you again <3 I hope it was helpful!

#asks

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mariacallous · 23 days

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If you still hold any notion that Google Chrome’s “Incognito mode” is a good way to protect your privacy online, now’s a good time to stop.

Google has agreed to delete “billions of data records” the company collected while users browsed the web using Incognito mode, according to documents filed in federal court in San Francisco on Monday. The agreement, part of a settlement in a class action lawsuit filed in 2020, caps off years of disclosures about Google’s practices that shed light on how much data the tech giant siphons from its users—even when they’re in private-browsing mode.

Under the terms of the settlement, Google must further update the Incognito mode “splash page” that appears anytime you open an Incognito mode Chrome window after previously updating it in January. The Incognito splash page will explicitly state that Google collects data from third-party websites “regardless of which browsing or browser mode you use,” and stipulate that “third-party sites and apps that integrate our services may still share information with Google,” among other changes. Details about Google’s private-browsing data collection must also appear in the company’s privacy policy.

Additionally, some of the data that Google previously collected on Incognito users will be deleted. This includes “private-browsing data” that is “older than nine months” from the date that Google signed the term sheet of the settlement last December, as well as private-browsing data collected throughout December 2023. Certain documents in the case referring to Google's data collection methods remain sealed, however, making it difficult to assess how thorough the deletion process will be.

Google spokesperson Jose Castaneda says in a statement that the company “is happy to delete old technical data that was never associated with an individual and was never used for any form of personalization.” Castaneda also noted that the company will now pay “zero” dollars as part of the settlement after earlier facing a $5 billion penalty.

Other steps Google must take will include continuing to “block third-party cookies within Incognito mode for five years,” partially redacting IP addresses to prevent re-identification of anonymized user data, and removing certain header information that can currently be used to identify users with Incognito mode active.

The data-deletion portion of the settlement agreement follows preemptive changes to Google’s Incognito mode data collection and the ways it describes what Incognito mode does. For nearly four years, Google has been phasing out third-party cookies, which the company says it plans to completely block by the end of 2024. Google also updated Chrome’s Incognito mode “splash page” in January with weaker language to signify that using Incognito is not “private,” but merely “more private” than not using it.

The settlement's relief is strictly “injunctive,” meaning its central purpose is to put an end to Google activities that the plaintiffs claim are unlawful. The settlement does not rule out any future claims—The Wall Street Journal reports that the plaintiffs’ attorneys had filed at least 50 such lawsuits in California on Monday—though the plaintiffs note that monetary relief in privacy cases is far more difficult to obtain. The important thing, the plaintiffs’ lawyers argue, is effecting changes at Google now that will provide the greatest, immediate benefit to the largest number of users.

Critics of Incognito, a staple of the Chrome browser since 2008, say that, at best, the protections it offers fall flat in the face of the sophisticated commercial surveillance bearing down on most users today; at worst, they say, the feature fills people with a false sense of security, helping companies like Google passively monitor millions of users who've been duped into thinking they're browsing alone.

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yuadokjon · 1 month

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a hierarchy not based on strength

summary: he's a gym owner.

-----

New job, new life. When you finally heard back from your dream job, you couldn't hop on a plane fast enough away from the hellhole you unfortunately called your hometown. Sure, it would start as a mostly administrative position at the bottom of the totem pole. Sure, the pay wasn’t great. And, sure, the only way you would be able to afford living anywhere remotely near your workplace would be in a shoebox of an apartment in the sketchiest side of the city. But, hey -- new job, new life. And, most recently, new gym.

Within the first few weeks of moving in, you were sifting through yet another smashed-in pile of new resident mailers until digging out a glossy, colorful flyer for a gym. Malevolent Shrine, huh? You eyed the neon-colored temple, the sharp edges of the skulls and teeth littering its base piercing into the two words it centered. Loud. Bombastic. And unbelievably douche-y, you noted with a raised brow at the captions splashed haphazardly across the page in tribalistic all-caps:

‘ONLY A HIERARCHY BASED PURELY ON STRENGTH MATTERS.’

‘DISCOVER THE HUNGER TO TAKE HOLD OF YOUR DESIRES.’

‘STAND PROUD. YOU ARE STRONG.’

Was this for a gym, a rave, or a cult? What kind of business owner signed off on this? It just screamed frat bros and gym rats, and you were pretty sure you weren’t the target market. But it did its job of grabbing your attention and, a quick search of its close location later, considering its relatively reasonably priced offers. Brand new members could even sign up for a 30-day trial with zero dollars down as an offensively yellow spike in the corner shouted. It couldn’t hurt. Maybe you needed something of a familiar routine to help better ground yourself. Help adjust to this lonely foreign land that you hoped to eventually replace ‘home.’

Of course, you, ever-diligent skeptic, had to uncover all the public secrets you could before stepping one foot inside. Not that there was much to find. Nothing much was on their official site other than current promotions and classes in that same gaudy font from the ad. No social media accounts. No gallery of staff or trainer photos. Not even an ‘About’ page. It was opened sometime in 2018, going by the sparse Internet reviews and photos you did find. You would have been impressed a business could survive in this day and age with such a specter of an online presence if you weren’t so frustrated. But it was indeed a real gym, one with decent reviews and a decently large layout providing enough spacing among machines to retain some level of privacy while easily cycling through them. No Wi-Fi, televisions, or cafés peddling the latest health fads but 24/7 with great showers and sauna. A very no-frills gym. You could appreciate that.

The next day some kid in a white-pink ombre bob took down your information, not offering a smile or tour throughout the entirety of the speedy sign-up process. You could barely get a word in that wasn’t a simple affirmation or denial as they reviewed your application and drilled through the gym policies and rules in a monotonous drone, pointing vaguely in the respective directions of the few amenities before ushering you out of their office with a handful of brochures and a temporary gym badge. You think you might’ve signed something and mumbled a thanks right before they neatly shut the door in your face. You weren’t sure if you had even caught a name. But you did recall them confirming something about a free cancellation policy within the first thirty days, so you took full advantage of it whenever you could.

Today was day 22 of your trial period, and so far it was...fine. Generally everything was fine, except for...your eyes scanned cautiously around the gym's perimeter. You felt the squat bar you were resting against lurch and whipped around, coming eye to eye with a pair of scarlet ones. You squeaked and jumped back in surprise, immediately earning the icy stare of a certain manager that chilled the back of your neck. You hissed and huffed as you adjusted your clothes for no apparent reason.

“Ugh, Sukuna!”

“Afternoon, gorgeous,” he greeted cheerily in return. You merely crossed your arms over your chest and scowled back at the grin that only widened at your defensive display.

“First time seeing you here during these hours,” he casually continued as he pushed himself off the bar he’d been dangling over and peered down at you from his full height, “Missed you this morning.”

“I was hoping to, actually,” you sighed and shooed him away from your rack, hands on hips until he obediently bowed out outside and around the metallic cage, “For the last time, leave me alone.”

Yeah, generally everything was fine save for this pink-haired menace that terrorized your every gym visit since popping up out of nowhere one day.

Sukuna had smoothly inserted himself into your routine and refused to let you recall ever knowing a peaceful start to your day since joining Shrine. He was there. Always. Every early morning -- or even the occasional late night -- it didn't seem to matter when you timed your pilgrimage. Sukuna was always there, waiting for you outside the locker rooms with that suspicious smirk and two fresh towels slung over his shoulder. What are we working on today? How about we try pushing past your PR? Need a spotter? What am I saying, of course you do. Wave after wave of rhetorical questions and light barbs always buffeted you first as he followed around after you like an eager kitten. What protests you eked out during his infrequent ebbs were patiently listened to but quickly drowned again, swept up by the tsunami of suggestions from someone who was obviously more experienced at this than you. Though you would always insist on sticking to the schedule you had already carefully laid out prior to each session, you always found yourself drifting away and towards his instead by the end. It was a ritual at this point.

You couldn’t deny that your physique was the best shape it’d been in a while, his challenges helping you push past limitations that had long been entrenched for years. And he was also useful in warding off other goers, whose numbers you were surprised to find even during the odd hours you purposely chose. A singular distraction with honest -- if crude -- motivations, you could handle. Multiple ones wanting who knows what from you? Especially from around this part of town? One close brush was close enough for you. No, Sukuna was decidedly the lesser evil that you knew. Probably.

You understood their caution and had shared it when he first stepped up to you. He was taller and bigger than any of the regulars you now recognized. Wide muscled thighs and arms that seemed to strain the basketball shorts and cutoff tanks he always wore that would have blanketed any other man. Perfect limbs that balanced vertically at the convergence of his comparatively slimmer waist. Bulging veins that recorded a history intimate with everything within the gym’s interior and scars that suggested a familiarity with dangers past the confinement of their brick walls. Like a wrathful Buddhist deity rendered exquisitely in flesh and blood. Not that you were ogling. He was just hard to not notice.

But more than his imposing build or the tats he unabashedly wore across its expanse, it was the air around him. Heavy. Intense. Suffocating. He was a planet, its inescapable gravity forcing further down the lowered heads and eyes from everyone encircling his orbit. His presence both demanded and eschewed attention, the correct answer of the two one might realize only afterwards (and possibly much too late). Nobody dared to approach you now, even in the past thirty or so minutes you were free of him for once within this gym.

Other than the flirting, however, Sukuna seemed harmless enough as you got to know him over the course of your visits. He hadn’t yet given you any reason to fear him, though he left you plenty to question everything else. You weren’t sure how or why such an intimidating man took an interest in you at all.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” he chuckled and sidled in behind you while you checked over the loaded discs that flanked the opposite ends of the steel pole and the clips holding them firmly in place. His big hands hugged the centimeters of space above your hips as he leaned down, smirking, “You know how to get me to stop.”

“For the last time,” you repeated to his reflection in the mirrored wall in front of the two of you before slapping his hands away, “I don’t go out with jobless losers.”

“Hmph,” he pouted but eased back again as you swung underneath the bar and shouldered the metal onto your squeezed blades, “What makes you think that again? Spread your feet farther, doll.”

You rolled your eyes but complied. His hands now hung loosely under yours that tensed and tightened their grip. You peeled your gaze away from them and onto your reflected form as you took a deep breath and started your descent.

“One,” Sukuna voiced aloud your thought as you came back up, the deep reverberations scattering away what focus you had managed to muster. You furrowed your brows.

“Loser because obvious. Jobless because,” you grunted as you steadily lowered yourself again, “How else could you always be here? And in the middle of the day.”

“So are you,” he scoffed.

“I’m only here now because I took the day off.”

“I could have, too.”

“Doubtful. Wish I could take a day off from you for once.”

“Two -- aw, hurtful. Are you trying to avoid me, [Y/N]?”

You didn’t answer. You tried to ignore the heat emanating from the body that followed behind you as you continued with your reps and he with his count. You fixed your eyes on your heaving diaphragm to blur out the thicker frame that overshadowed yours several times over. Your heart was pounding. Your head was starting to spin. Maybe you had already overdone it. Or you should’ve drank some more water beforehand. Breathe, you thought you heard your partner warn, don’t forget to breathe. You shut your eyes as you struggled to drive up the bar a final time and quickly re-racked it with his help before doubling over to catch your breath. He bent down in concern before shooting back up as a pointed finger stabbed the air in front of his face.

"One. Date," you panted, shakily but emphatically jabbing the singular digit skyward again, “Got it? One. One date then you'll leave me alone to lift in peace.”

He blinked. An unusual softness crept into his features that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared when you looked up and awaited his response.

“One,” he agreed, the usual snark now returning in full glory, “So…how about now?”

“No.”

“But you just said you had the day o--”

“No.”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna fic #sukuna #jjk #fics #wips

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