#but I wanted to draw something more real than anime

[winxwiki]

On the Winx reboot leaks

Long post, leaks analisis, spoilers if you don't want to see it under Read More. Seeing the Rainbow artist names attached onto these pictures and the development renders, these are 100% real. On top of that, It's not the first time Rainbow got something leaked, received feedback and acted accordingly. Remember the negative feedback on the 2023 easter eggs designs? Poof, gone. Remember the positive feedback on the 2023 leaked group design? Suddenly, Rainbow started using that Bloom at press events.

I genuinely believe that Rainbow "leaks" stuff now on purpose to receive feedback without actually needing to announce anything final to broadcasters.

Let's see.

From the Lorem Ipsum we can tell this isn't remotely final, but a group test. We're back to Bloom with a ponytail (they really like it!) and Tecna does have robotic limbs. Each girl's design seems to reflect their elements:

Stella has stars, the sun, wings at her feet and light, even light rays on her wings and top

Bloom seems to have scales of some sort and patterns on her leggings. Maybe to indicate that she's an artist? Or meant to represent the breath of life?

Musa, the smallest, got some musical sheet onto her. Overall not the most musical inspired design. Everybody kinda looks like an ice skating ballerina.

Flora got flowers. Really most obvious one there.

Aisha's hair is a bit too much, I prefer her civilian braids more. I like how her dress has wavy patterns of sorts and sparkles that look like shining waters on her shorts and skirt. They can do better on her though. Wings look like they got splashes of water. It's still cool that Rainbow is experimenting more with black textured hair than any american animation studio, so kudos for that.

Tecna looks like she's wearing a circuit but looks the most generic. Probably because she has too much going on with a full bodysuit with patterns. I don't like the accessory on her head.

Proof that these are real: these obvious dev documents

They even got an alt with their "civilian" hairstyles, but it says "transform". Which means no hairstyle or design is final so far.

It seems Musa and Tecna share skintones, Bloom has her own, Stella and Flora share it too, Aisha has her own and is the darkest. I think we can make Stella and Flora a little darker each in varying degrees, to show that Stella is tanned and Flora is a dark skinned latina.

There is a lot of focus on the designs we saw leaked that got positive reception. It's likely they will be finalized, since they went as far as making a test animation with that Bloom design.

A lot going on here in this room already giving Bloom so much personality. Her own shelf with the name with a heart-shaped B. A guitar? A sketchbook and school supplies. Bloom is back to drawing again, we last saw that in World of Winx but in the main series it was always just left implied by her earth room's belongings and her huge drawing desk, yet it was never expanded upon. Hopefully her being an artist can finally shine through her personality.

Most importantly, she's back to being silly, goofy and expressive again. Of course, the reboot is back to square one with the story and characterizations. I hope more quirks that were not explored in the main series get more attention in the reboot (again, like Bloom being an artist!)

The Trix now got a symbol and individual faces while sharing the same body. Icy's design is nearly identical to the original, I actually like the small cuts showing skin on her chest, so she doesn't feel too covered up. Midriffs are back and so is 2000s fashion.

Important detail, Icy is taller than Bloom. Is it her heels? Regardless, we got some more body diversity.

Some more notes:

Artist is credited as Pasqualino Masciulli, a real 3d artist at Rainbow

Date is 17 April 2024, for some reason they're using the wrong format. This is VERY recent. They're NOWHERE near done!

It says episode 106. It must be a reference to the reboot itself, Season 1, episode 6, as the old series episodes in total were 208. This means the series has at least finished writing and storyboarding, but they haven't finished with the character designs yet!

Further proof that fucking nothing is done yet, the leaker said this. From what I just noted above, I believe it. They're not remotely done.

This "Damien" motherfucker looks ai generated, doesn't fit the style in the slightest with his weirdly realistic face and the belts details and clothing folds are all over the place. Shame to whoever did this.

Who even is this guy? Is he the new character Iginio was warning us about? He doesn't look bad but they can do even better. Definitely a fascinating choice for the sexy bad boy, because I know that's who he's gonna be.

Don't fucking use AI for your art, though. It looks like shit.

Interesting, no specialists in the leaks. No Roxy or Terra either though.

This outfit is a mix of 2 outfits from season 2. Which means they're studying their own old designs. The same goes for another Bloom render and concept.

Fascinating detail: they're using 2000s dress up pixel dolls as reference. Learn from the masters! This dress doesn't resemble anything and doesn't seem to be a civilian dress but a transformation one, with all the glitters and stars around.

Last but not least, absolutely atrocious 2000s fashion is back (this is a good thing). We can hope a little but it's surprising how in 5 years they haven't done shit yet. That's some development hell. Either Iginio is really passionate about making this the second coming of Christ or they don't know what the fuck they're doing.

Free hopium tanks!

#winx club #long post #text #reboot

[that-ari-blogger]

A Discussion Of LavenderTowne and Hazbin Hotel

So, a little while ago, a YouTube channel called LavenderTowne ventured into the Hazbin Hotel fan space to propose some criticisms and fan redesigns of the characters.

I had thoughts on the original video, but those are irrelevant because its reception was… tumultuous, and in my opinion disproportionate. The video has since been taken down, and LavenderTowne uploaded a follow up to it (link). In which she stated that her experience with the Hazbin Hotel fandom wasn’t the most pleasant, something I would like to address.

So, this post will be an academic discussion of the designs from the second video. Because I think her criticisms were interesting and because I want to show that it is possible to disagree with someone without being unpleasent.

Also, I want to give LavenderTowne a more welcoming experience with the fandom, and try to make up for some other members of the community.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD (Hazbin Hotel)

I'm going to start with something that needs to be said. You can disagree with the rest of my post, but this is non negotiable:

It is never, under any circumstances, acceptable to harass someone for their opinions, especially about art. I don't care if you take issue with conclusions or perceived motivations, actions like I observed are not ok, and are not welcome in this fandom.

I hope I made that clear.

Anyway, I am going to be addressing the second video, because LavenderTowne took the first down, and I'm not about to intrude where I'm not wanted.

LavenderTowne mentioned the overarching stylistic choices, and I think that is a good place to start with this post, because they are good source of difference. Several of LavenderTowne’s criticisms are leveled at the Hazbin Hotel visual style itself, discussing what specific elements didn’t work for her and how she would personally draw things differently.

That is what I want to discuss here. Rather than the specifics of artistic technique, I am going to talk about the character design decisions brought about by the difference in style. This isn’t a question of skill, but an examination of the ideas presented.

Both LavenderTowne’s style and that of the Hazbin Hotel team range on the scale of realism, as is the nature of art, and that has caused a few of the design decisions that they have made. But it has also had a weird effect on the implied plot that is worth discussing.

Hazbin Hotel is more cartoony, for example, which means its logic is a bit more fluid. Vaggie's eye scar, for example, is shown over her hair, which isn’t how scars work in the real world.

This is a way of getting the tone across. Sir Pentious, at one point in the series, gets caught in the blast of an explosion and sent flying across the city. The design style lets you know that this is being played for a laugh and that he will probably be fine. If LavenderTowne had drawn Sir Pentious in her style, I guarantee that version of him would not survive the event, because hers is grittier (that’s the wrong word, but you get the point).

I do, however, really like the colour palette shift in LavenderTowne’s designs. Don’t get me wrong, I like the limited palette of the actual show, and I think it suits the setting more than the pastel aesthetic of LavenderTowne’s style.

But, those pastel colours are gorgeous and they are a really neat way of solving one of the problems that LavenderTowne identified and I agree with, that being how difficult character differentiation is when everyone has the same colouration as each other and their background.

Now, neither of the two options are implicitly better, there is just a different design sensibility going on.

As for the designs themselves, I actually prefer LavenderTowne’s Alastor over the original. I would like to see how it interacts with Alastor animation and transformation, but I think the design overall works better for the character. I like the horns being more pronounced, and I like that neat hairstyle. I think it's much more suited to an overly refined character who revolves around appearances.

“Just because you see a smile, don’t think you know what’s going on underneath. A smile is a valuable tool, my dear! It inspires your friends, keeps your enemies guessing, and ensures that no matter what comes your way, you’re the one in control.”

I think that Alastors original hair style is more about looking cool than looking refined. The shorter style, combined with the more prominent antlers, gives that air of someone actively concealing their more wild undercurrents.

That being said, I'm not as sold on Alastor's expression in LavenderTowne's design. This is a stylistic choice, but I don't think that the Cheshire Cat smile translates over to the alternate design as smoothly as his concept. In the original, that smile was the thing that denoted him as malicious, but LavenderTowne's design seems more huggable, at least to me.

LavenderTowne did raise an interesting point about the voodoo symbolism, a point that others have raised, and I think is worth noting. Incorporating that aesthetic as synonymous with dark magic in a setting based heavily off Christianity is funky, thematically. It's a use of stereotypes as shorthand, which carries the baggage of those stereotypes, intentionally or not. However, I am about as far from qualified to talk about this in detail as possible. I recommend that you listen to the opinions of people who know more about this than me, and who's case this is to make.

Husk’s design is another that I like, but this one I have slightly mixed feelings about. The body type change addresses another of LavenderTowne's criticisms of the series, again in relation to character differentiation. That is a strength of the video, LavenderTowne gives criticisms, and explains what she means and how she would go about doing it.

Interestingly, that body type issue is something I disagree with. I think the way that LavenderTowne has handled the issue she identified is fascinating, and one of the best parts of her process. But this is simply an issue I don’t see as a problem.

The criticism is that the silhouettes of the characters are exceedingly similar, meaning that identifying them is difficult, as well as limiting in terms of variety of proportions. I could point out Sir Pentious or Husk here, but that is arguing in bad faith because Husk is very clearly the exception to the rule, and Pentious actually conforms to her observation. Without his hood out, Pentious’ silhouette difference is in his tail, which is rarely onscreen.

The reason I am ok with this, is that Hazbin Hotel has a thing for transforming character designs. Charlie, Valentino, Emily and Serah, Lucifer, even Adam, Vaggie, and Lute, as well as a ton of others. All of these character designs shift as the story progresses, revealing aspects of them that they have kept secret. I like having the baseline similarities if everyone gets a moment where they show off how different they are from that baseline. I think that is a cool story beat that, for me at least, outweighs the problem of similarity. I’m sure LavenderTowne would disagree with me here, and that is more than fine.

Back to the point, Husk is a character who is surprisingly acrobatic and martially competent, and the slight shift in the alternative design switches him into more of a bar brawl type character. This feels like the guy who would just deck you and tell you to cool off, rather than throw something at you. He looks like the type of bartender he is, cool and calm, and ready to offer advice when needed.

The removal of the wings is an interesting choice. On the one hand, it clears up his design and makes him look more down to earth. On the other hand, it leads into my main bugbear with this design. I don't think this version of Husk looks like an overlord.

This is subjective, and I am struggling to quite explain it. But the wings, as well as his voice, give a sense of gravitas to Husk. Without that, Husk looks relatively unremarkable.

The outfit plays into this. While I prefer it and its subtlety, there is little that marks this version of Husk out as higher ranking.

Again, this isn't a case of the original designs being objectively better. This is a different design that communicates different things. LavenderTowne’s Husk is a humble bartender rather than an overlord playing pretend. I simply like the story that the original offers more.

Vaggie’s new design is both my favourite design of the four, and the one that is the furthest from the story of the show.

I love the quieter eye scar, I love the silhouette, and I think moving the ribbons to her back is a genius bit of visual storytelling.

The outfit is cool (I especially like those boots), but there's an asterisk to that, because I don't think it entirely suits Vaggie as she is presented in the show.

At the risk of oversimplifying, Vaggie is a fairly uncomplicated character. Not because she's written to be shallow, but because the show doesn't have time to explore her personality.

So, you get her past, which is fascinating, and it leaves some interesting things on the table.

For example, Vaggie has zero self preservation instinct and will burn herself to the ground for Charlie. This isn't complex, but it's remarkable how much the writers (and animators if you’re looking for that kind of thing) get out of this one detail.

Most notably, her character grows into realising that love means living for someone rather than dying to keep them safe. This culminates in the defeat of Lute, the embodiment of her past, who doesn't think to move out of the way of a collapsing building.

Similarly, Vaggie was an angel and wants to hide that aspect of herself. This makes her multifaceted in backstory, but the reveal doesn't have time to dwell on her characterisation, so it just feeds into what I said before.

I think that with another season of time to develop, Vaggie’s characterisation will become as complex as her backstory. But that doesn’t come quickly.

The point I am making is that I don't think this version of Vaggie would wear armour until the end. She doesn't think she can get killed, so why would she need to protect herself?

Which means that LavenderTowne's design would work for the last episode of the show, if it had wings, which is sacrificing the single best piece of foreshadowing I have seen in a long time. Seriously, I cannot stop gushing about those ribbons.

What we have, then, is a version of Vaggie with a slightly different story and personality. To me, LavenderTowne's Vaggie looks like a character who craves safety. She seeks Charlie because she offers emotional stability and kindness, the one person in hell who Vaggie doesn't think is against her. But she would wear the armour and outfit because of the injury. She realises she can be wounded and grabs the heaviest set she can find, the twin coloured trousers come from that desperation, and add to the imbalanced aspect of her design.

This version of Vaggie is defensive rather than offensive, and though it renders Out For Love obsolete, I find it more interesting than the original.

Charlie's design, however, I'm not such a big fan of. I'm sorry LavenderTowne, I really am. But this design really doesn't sit right with me.

Hazbin Hotel has a circus theme going on. The main foyer has a circus tent affectation, for example, and Charlie gives off the aesthetic of the ringmaster.

Charlie is very overtly the antithesis of a Disney princess, and that comes across in her design. Instead of wearing a floaty dress, she wears a suit and suspenders.

Yes, the hooves and horns being more prominent is a cool alteration that I appreciate, but the alternate outfit really doesn't feel like Charlie.

I think the difference is in the framing. To me, LavenderTowne's Charlie comes across as naive and optimistic, where the original design is more relentlessly hopeful, and that second one matches how she is in the series.

Charlie in Hazbin Hotel showcases true hope. Not optimism, hope. The type of emotion that keeps getting knocked down, but picks itself off the floor ever single time, and gets ready to try again. Charlie has no proof of her philosophy, no basis. She's not trying to recreate phenomena, she doesn't even know she can succeed. That's why she needs the hope.

I don't think that LavenderTowne's design has that vibe. Instead, this Charlie seems younger, which contributes to the naivety. It feels like it leans into her regular design, so the more fearsome transformation comes as a shock, mostly.

On the other hand, the three horn tiara element is genuinely really cool. It gives that air of reality, and hints at the transformation without giving it away. They round out the design and make the “this is a demon princess” clear.

Interactions between this Charlie and Adam, Lute, or Sarah would be interesting, as this version seems designed to foil off them, rather than the other way around. Especially Emily, this design seems genetically engineered to mirror her and make her question her ideals just through existing in the same place.

In short, this Charlie seems more gentle than the original, which might help in some aspects, but I prefer the original.

One again, this is my opinion, and not objective by any stretch of the imagination. If you disagree with me, good, that's the bread and butter of how analysis and discussion exists. But I hope I have shown that disagreement is possible without aggression.

Which brings me to my conclusion, and I have something here that I hope you will like.

LavenderTowne's designs feel like they are made for the same story, but paced differently. They feel like a different style of musical. They feel like they were made for a version of Hazbin Hotel that had more episodes and has time for subtlety, something that the original show unfortunately didn't have.

The story feels the same, but the minour changes make it seem more drawn out. The tone is different, and that effects the entirety of the rest of the story.

In other words, she is designing an AU, something she makes explicitly clear at least five times in her video.

LavenderTowne mentioned in her video that she might do a follow up with a few more characters. I would be intrigued to see this, because I want to know what Angel Dust would look like in this version of the story, as well as the actual angels and even the Vees.

I also am fascinated by how the art style affects the tone of the story. And with LavenderTowne's permission, I might have a crack at writing some of the key scenes from the show to fit this aesthetic and tone. I think that would be an interesting thought experiment.

Final Thoughts

LavenderTowne’s designs were dope as all hell, and the points she raised were worth discussing.

I love the series, but I understand that it's not everyone’s cup of tea. Content warnings should get that across, but also some people just won't like elements of it for any number of reasons, and that is ok.

I think @ohnoitstbskyen put it best in his discussion of the finale of the series. (Link). In his closing remarks, he spoke at length about people who will discover the show and the effect that it will have on them. That sentiment, boiled down, became the title of that video, and concisely says what I have taken just under 3000 words to talk around.

“This show will save someone’s life, but it isn’t for everyone.”

But let me be clear about why I wrote this.

I saw some of the shit that people wrote about LavenderTowne's original video, and though a lot of it was positive, a fair chunk was not, and I want to put my foot down. Disagreement about art is healthy, but if you think that involves harassment at all, then tell Husk he still owes me a drink.

On a lighter note, this is my first post about Hazbin Hotel, so for those who are reading my stuff for the first time, hello. I am Ari, I do media analysis, and I plan on doing a series on Hazbin Hotel, going through each song with lyrical and musical analysis once I finish my current one on Wicked. So, if that interests you, maybe stick around.

#rants #literary analysis #literature analysis #what's so special about...? #character analysis #hazbin fanart #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin husk #lavendertowne #I will write for this AU if LavenderTowne lets me

[puppyeared]

fuck it. plaguesona

#i thought of this a couple weeks ago on the bus a couple seats away from someone loudly coughing into the open air #i think something snapped and i decided to make a fuckin. medieval ass plague sona. horseman of pestilence fursona #this is also why i was asking abt animals with medical symbolism.. originally i wanted a two headed snake like the staff of caduceus #but it turns out thats actually hermes symbol. the real symbol for medicine is the rod of asclepius which looks pretty similar #the difference is that theres only one snake and its twined around a stick. ironically mercy from overwatch's weapons are named after #the caduceus despite the misconception LMAOOO #snakes were the most consistent medicine related animal i could find even across multiple cultures so it couldve really worked #if i could actually draw scalies.. one of my earliest sketches had a cobra with a syringe at the end of its tail like a rattlesnake #and it had markings similar to the syringe tube but i didnt have much else going on so i scrapped it #i was also recommended animals with less obvious ties to medicine like jellyfish and horseshoe crabs and learned something new ^_^ #im not confident i could pull off a non-mammal furry but they were really good ideas i might put into smth else.. i also thought of #axolotls bc of their regenerative thing and growing back limbs but i think that would suit smth like a surgeon or amputation... #possums and bats were also an option bc theyre actually really resistant to most diseases like rabies but i feel like ppl wouldnt know that #if they saw it so it looks a little ironic at a glance. rabbits rats and mice were my second option bc of animal testing and lab rats #less obvious reference but the moon rabbit in chinese mythology is loosely connected to medicine bc it makes the elixir of life #otherwise lab mice in a pharmacy / modern medicine setting seemed fitting and jerboa tails remind me of cotton buds #and. ironically. jerboas are more closely related to elephants than rats and mice. can you believe it #my art #myart #my oc #sona #plaguesona #cottonbud #fur #furry art #character design #ref sheet #oc ref sheet

[twilightarcade]

that's a weird dog

#wordstag #notwordswordstag #neptune wgen it's being normal about that eclipse thing #drawn at late oh clock it's like 2am right now . I think I'm gonna darken the eyes in the morning #or I won't. You never know with this guy. #anyhow I'm in bed now and I'm sooooo cozy. #ok so [mr beasts] this drawing was a 'let's use all the brushes in the sketching section & see what happens' thing #I think we're going 2 do another one w/ a smaller canvas size because I wanna . Try something. & this canvas was way too big #(<-I've been using the same canvas 4 like . Ages. And some IDIOT refuses 2 just move the sketches over( #literally whoever invented patterns on clothing should go explode . Do you have any clue #it's ok though . Fun exercise in whatever it's called. Perspective. If it was evil. ( I am failing the exercise) #ummmmmmm I thibk that's all. Spent way longer on this than I meant to. But the REAL criminal here was anzu because #That was supposed 2 be a warm up. Of sorts. I don't really do warm ups much if I'm going 2 be honest #trying 2 get into the habit but me drawing is more like . I'm going to draw 5 things in one sitting take it or leave it #ok guess who just . Fixed it. #I could point out like a million other things wrong but I'm not going to [smug cat picture] I'll leave that up to your imagination #ok umm how many tags is that . Not enough ? I want 2 do those whatever u wanna call those things again #yyou know. Peeks in my inbox. #ddude I might want to uh. I might want to crop this thing. #landscape is fun and all but seriously I can't #whatever. Officially a tomorrow me issue. Guess who's headed to sleep baby. #tomorrow neptune here I ended up cropping it after all.cod bleAmerica.ca. #anyhow I don't think I mentioned the . The Animal?

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (the holiday special) r.cameron

[Warnings]soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, NONCON, dd/lg, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, heavy on the somnophilia, ittle editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

word count: 1.6k

In which it's your first Christmas Eve with your Daddy, you don't know what you want but Rafe surely does.

main masterlist

bambi eyes masterlist

You could think of three things that you wanted for Christmas. Colored pencils, glitter lipgloss, and a small stuffed animal for Bunny. You don’t need any more clothes. You’d been with Rafe for over a month, and there were still clothes in your wardrobe that you had not worn yet. Your room was heaven, with the softest sheets and pillows, and Rafe bought you even more playthings each week. 

Your last gift was a diamond bracelet Rafe gave you because of how well you behaved in front of his friend, Barry. He didn’t punish you for sneaking around downstairs. All you had to do was bring him a slice of cake and sit down on Rafe’s lap while the two of them talked about “getting rid of their problem.” 

There were several trees around the house, but the biggest one was in the living room, by the fireplace, and it was at least two times your height. There were at least twenty presents underneath the tree already, wrapped neatly in paper that was decorated with pink snowflakes. In cozy reindeer pajamas, ones Rafe had also purchased, you sat near the tree checking over your letter to Santa. Although you had a feeling Rafe might secretly be Santa, you let a small part of you believe it was real magic. 

Lana helped you write the letter, and now you were adding a few drawings and stickers to really jazz it up. It took you longer to write it than Rafe preferred, it was already Christmas Eve, but if Santa could somehow bring you exactly what you wanted tomorrow, you’d really believe in him. 

“You almost finished, baby?” 

You looked up to see Rafe entering the living room, most likely finished with his work day, “I couldn’t think of anything else to ask for,” You said quietly, remembering how much Rafe encouraged you to ask for absolutely anything. The truth was you never had anything so you didn’t know what to ask for, “I don’t think I need anything else. But I wrote a nice letter for Santa and I thanked him for everything he does. And I made it sparkly.”

Rafe made himself comfortable on the couch and you brought over your letter, “C’mere,” He said, pulling your legs over his lap before wrapping one arm around you, “This is beautiful work, kid. Santa is going to love it.”

You looked up at him, a smile on his face as he read the words over, “What did you ask Santa for, Daddy?”

“Well, since I already have you,” He squeezed you, making your heart leap in your chest, “I asked Santa to make sure that you have the best Christmas. That you’ll love every gift you get and we’ll have a nice, Christmas dinner.”

You smiled back at him, “I wish I could buy you something, Daddy.”

“No need,” Rafe leaned in to kiss the side of your forehead, “I like giving to you, and I have plenty of money for the both of us. Besides, you’re way too little.” 

When Rafe looked at you, he really looked at you. He held your face in his hands, not tight enough to bruise, so you wouldn’t look away. You were still learning not to feel shy under his gaze. You started to understand that you were just like the gifts sitting under the tree. You were Rafe’s gift to himself. He showed his possession of you through his gaze. 

“Your bows are a nice touch,” He complimented, taking notice of the red ribbons tied around your pigtails. Every morning you spent time doing your hair, and you were slowly learning how to do your makeup. When he noticed your efforts, you felt you were fulfilling your purpose, “And I already knew you’d look cute in your pajamas.”

Rafe liked it when you presented yourself a certain way. He liked things to be dainty and soft. He preferred small jewelry over statement pieces. Pastel colors over bright ones. And you should never have on too much makeup. Lipgloss was better than lipstick and concealer over foundation. He wanted you muted but pretty, just like your personality. 

“Thank you,” You batted your lashes. 

Rafe and you continued your cozy evening in the living room. You’d made it through the first two Home Alone movies and were now in the middle of watching The Polar Express. Rafe excused himself to the kitchen for a moment, taking the chance to prepare some hot cocoa for the two of you. 

When Rafe returned to the couch, you were sound asleep, your arms wrapped around Bunny. Quietly, he set down the cups of cocoa on the coffee table, and the thought of waking you up crossed his mind. After all, your drink would get cold, but you seemed like you were resting deeply. 

Gently, Rafe laid down next to you. You didn’t wake; you moaned softly as you turned your head, nuzzling your face into Rafe’s neck. Rafe stayed with you like this, having found a new love in sleeping next to you. He never really enjoyed next to sleeping next to anyone, until you, and he began to designate certain nights of the week where you’d stay with him in his bed. 

Watching you sleep made him think back to when he first brought you home. You still looked as innocent as ever, but there was something else Rafe liked about watching you sleep – he loved seeing you vulnerable. Obviously, you were in a constant state of being vulnerable to Rafe’s every whim and want, but this was different. 

He tested just how deeply you were sleeping, slowly taking the doll from your grasp When you stirred only slightly, Rafe continued, first touching you above your pajamas. Large, ringed fingers felt over your chest. He massaged them, kneading them, and you reacted by pressing yourself closer to him. 

Lips parted, and holding in heavy breathing, Rafe continued his exploration. He was growing harder in his briefs, imagining the look on your face when you fully opened your eyes. He licked one of his fingers and reached into your pajama bottoms and then into your panties. This was exactly why he never wanted you to wear panties to bed; they only got in his way. 

He stroked fingers up and down, feeling between your folds. Feeling the moisture there, he wondered what exactly you’d been dreaming about, “Rafe,” He heard you whisper, although when he looked down at you, your eyes were still closed. Although the stimulation was waking you, Rafe knew you were too tired to fully realize what he was doing. 

Rafe shushed you, still playing between your legs, “Is bed … time?” You mumbled as Rafe pulled his hands from your underwear, bringing his fingers to his lips. 

“Yes, sweet girl,” Rafe whispered, “Keep relaxing, Daddy’s got you.”

Rafe pulled his body from yours, moving off the couch before he gently started to pull down your reindeer bottoms.  Carefully, he removed them from around your ankles before slowly lowering himself down on top of you, “Cold … please,” You mumbled, “Daddyyy.”

“I’ve got you,” Rafe said in response to your whining; as he settled on top of you, you wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him in like your dolly or a pillow. Meanwhile, Rafe was trying as carefully as he could to free himself from his briefs. He didn’t have to touch himself at all, he was already aching for you.

He didn’t resist anymore, pushing your underwear to the side and then pushing inside of you, his sweet girl. You were tighter, somehow, causing Rafe’s eyes to roll in pleasure, “Rafe,” He heard you, knowing you in a daze. Currently, he felt quite dazed himself. He knew with his size that he’d wake you but he didn’t account for the fact that your body might try to resist, to push him out. It just motivated him to push deeper, “Rafe. Rafe.”

Your voice was sharper now, scared almost, “You’re okay,” He cooed, “You’re …so so good, sweet girl.”

You loosened your grasp on him, and Rafe took the opportunity to see your face. You were adorable in those red bows, he noticed them first, but then he saw your scrunched-up features, a cute wince on your face. It would feel good soon, he knew that, but he certainly enjoyed seeing you resist. 

“What a fussy little girl, huh?” Rafe thrusted slowly, “Acting like you don’t like Daddy’s cock.”

With each thrust, you were trying to gain your composure, but Rafe was relentless. 

One hand, beside your head, he pressed into the couch to hold himself up, and the other, he reached down to play with your clit, “Cum one time for me,” Rafe commanded, although it was the last thing you wanted. He would give it to you anyway, wanting to see it in your face when your own body betrayed you, “One time, and you can go back to sleep.”

Rafe’s thrust was slow but consistently deep. He switched back and forth from focusing on your pleasure and his. It was difficult for him, he could finish so easily with you, but he held out; Rafe knew when you were getting closer just by the look on your face. Your head tilted back as your orgasm spread through you, and Rafe was quickly behind you. 

Rafe caught his breath, still inside of you, and moved his chest closer to yours, “You okay? You did good, Bambi.”

You nodded calmly, “Did I …Did I miss the whole movie?”

Rafe stared, bewildered for a moment, “Uh … no. We can just rewind it, baby,” He grinned, pecking your lips, “And I can just heat up the hot chocolate again.” 

Your eyes widened, “Hot chocolate like in the movie?”

“Just like the movie, my love,” Rafe’s forehead pressed to yours.

He was grateful for the fact that he could give you the perfect first Christmas tomorrow. He was even more grateful for how perfect you were.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!

#darkfic #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #outer banks smut #barry outer banks #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction

[lordofdestructionm]

Wick Sable

The odd duck in the guilded cage

Despite this being a feral Mordecai and Viktor account I do occasionally like to dig into the others.

Wick is a character Lackadaisy fans love but don't talk about very much. He just the rich friendly geologist with a love of illicit beverages and a crush on Mitzi. Indeed he is all those things. But I want to dig a little into what may be hidden depth (geography joke haha)

Professional dissatisfaction

When we first meet Wick he is behind his desk looking very tired and beaten down. Forcing himself to keep working late into the night with excessive coffee. Attending to a large pile of paper work for tomorrow.

His expression shifts slightly when he sees the Lackadaisy pins fall out of the envelope and realises the letter is an invitation to him (and his fellow aristocrats) to the speakeasy.

This hatred of paper work and the administrative side of his business is a recurring issue for Wick. Making the reason for his reliance on the capable and attentive Lacy very obvious. Exhaustian and too much alchohol are no doubt partly to blame, but it seems to be something that puts him in a very depressed state of mind.

But when actually on the job, overseeing the hands on work of blasting a new quarry, his mood is much more positive. Indeed he has a very real and sincere love for geology and the nitty gritty work of his business. When he first went to the Lackadaisy he was spellbound by the lime caverns themselves as much by Mitzi's charm.

Its his special interest and he will go on long unprompted monologues on the topic if given the chance. Meaning it is specifically the being trapped in his office dealing with the red tape that makes him so unhappy not the industry itself.

Its almost sad that he is the one in charge of the company rather than in a role that puts him closer to the action which seems to bring him real joy. Like someone who loves cooking being in charge of a restuarant or someone that loves drawing running an animation studio.

They love the product/industry but that doesn't mean they enjoy their specific place in it.

Unimpressed Peers

Despite Wicks enthusiasm it proves not be infectious with his fellow elite, who complain about being dragged out of town to watch something, that while very important to Wick, they clearly could not care less about (even not that quietly mocking him and his love for rocks and construction)

When the evening doesn't go to plan due to the uninvited pig farmers Wick has an interesting exchange with Edmund Church, seemingly the most prominent of the St Louis upper crust in the group. Warning him about getting any more involved with an unsavoury crowd, especially Mitzi, outside of simply enjoying the occasional drink.

Wick doesn't take kindly to the snarky criticism and borderline threat to his reputation and responds with a much more direct statement on his peers sour nature

Tracy has mentioned that Church has a role yet to play in the story and it seems safe to assume from this it may well involve Wick in a less than friendly way if he continues to associate with his "lessers" as Church and the others see things.

Despite needing to remain on civil terms to keep them invested in his business, Wick clearly has little love for them, a feeling that is mutual as they have little respect for him and see him as an oddball, only tolerating him because his talent in his field can help make them a tidy profit.

But while he doesn't appreciate Church's sniping Wick IS concerned about his reputation, but not entirely for his own sake or that of his elitist associates, but for the many people who rely on him for employment, who could be hurt by extension of he gets pulled too deep into the less than repectable world of bootlegging

Romantic life

Outside of the crush he has had on Mitzi since first meeting her at the Speakeasy, we have very little information about Wicks love life before this. Being a handsome and wealthy gentleman from a good family, you would think he would he fighting women off with a stick, maybe even be a bit of a playboy.

Instead you get the impression Wick is pretty far away from being a ladies man. Mentioning to Mitzi that he doesn't even really know how to talk to women unless its about rocks, bugs or limestone.

He is clearly attracted to her and is tempted by her to risk his reputation and by extension his business to get closer to her, but so far his fear of the very real consequences are deterring him from taking that gamble.

Though there is that personal aspect to it, it seems that in a more abstract sense Mitzi's appeal to Wick is not just in her beauty and seductive personality, but in the excitement and thrill of her Speakeasy and bootlegging operations.

In that sense Mitzi represents that touch of danger and excitement that during prohibition many otherwise law abiding citizens enjoyed indulging in illegal drinking establishments. Being* just* naughty enough to give them a fun thrill while being detached from the more brutal blood soaked aspects.

Wick is a good natured person (the worst thing he has done is shoot a duck in his youth which he was forced to do) living a very "respectable" life, but that makes the superficial glamour of the world of underground drinking establishments and secret booze stashes even more appealing. Thats why despite his concerns and responsibilities he keeps going back ,not just to Mitzi, but to the Lackadaisy specifically. It has pretty geography, a pretty owner, and an open door to a more exciting avenue of life

Its for that same reason he doesn't seem to be overly uncomfortable with lovable bi disaster Zib flirting with him at the bar. He may have no intention of reciprocating, but it couldn't be a more different experience to the world he is used to

Even if he doesn't yet want to take the full plunge it all excites him enough to keep him circling the edges.

Because despite having so much going for him there are things about his life that not only bore him but make him unhappy. Whether its piles of paperwork, dealing with much stuffier "conventional" fellow aristocrats and not wanting to be like them, or just a general lack of true passion in his life, he is clearly a man looking for something more satisfying

Whether or not he remains a "tourist" or decides to take that gamble, throw his reservations to the wind, and take a more active role in the gang, is yet to be seen...

Assuming Rocky doesn't set fire to him first of course XD

#lackadaisy #tracy j butler #lackadaisycats #wick sable #mitzi may #lacy hardt #zib #dorian zibowski #wick x mitzi #zibwick #zib x wick #long post #comic #pilot #sedgewick sable #edmund church #cats #gangsters #1920s #prohibition

[yameoto]

HELL IS A (FUCKING) ROOMMATE. JORDAN LI.

synopsis ; your roommate has the libido of a goddamn animal and it's driving you insane. not to mention the fact they have an annoying habit of jerking off in your dorm. to you.

they want you? fine—they can have you. only on your terms, though.

✗ warnings ; dom!reader, sub!jordan. fem!reader, perv!roomate!jordan, dubcon, voyeurism, excessive masturbation (soz). wc ; 4.2k

YOU can do this. you can do this.

you grunt as you fumble for the key. cursing as, with an extreme lack of coordination—you begin to forcibly ram the bloody thing into the lock with the grace and precision of a sledgehammer. what you lack in motor control you make up for with inner beauty—or something.

the do not disturb sign rattles mockingly off the handle, meaning your roommate is definitely inside and definitely not helping out. you grit your teeth, entire body off kilter as you're preoccupied with balancing the boxes cramful of belongings in your arms; big and bulky and absolutely not helping your aim. you curse, loudly as they almost almost tumble out of your grasp the moment the key miraculously jams into place, jerking wildly to catch them. (note: super strength does not come with super-hand-eye-coordination.)

“fucking– stupid- key– fucking better– woah!” 

without warning, the door swings open, inwards. a montage of your entire life flits before your eyes as you hurtle forward, boxes and all. you just about barely manage to catch yourself with an undignified stumble before drawing yourself up; coming face to face with—oh.

two figures. bodies very noticeably.. inside. each other. naked. on, what you realise after a bout of disbelief; your fucking bed.

"what the fuck?"

one of them growls, mop of black hair flopping as their head snaps up, even though you're pretty sure you should be the one slinging expletives around. with a frustrated scowl they pull out of the dude, sending a withering glare to the poor guy they were fucking into the bedspread—to which he.. disappears? glitches out? phases out of existence? because suddenly he’s not there anymore, and you’re stranded alone with a very attractive, very threatening looking college student. 

who is also—uh, very, very naked.

“um, hi–”

“why do you have a key to my fucking dorm?”

oh, shit.

they are, frankly, gorgeous – like, one of the most beautiful people you've ever seen. their hair is black, mussed, and you can’t help the way your gaze follows its way down the threshold of an.. extremely muscled, slick torso before snapping upwards to find a mildly paralysing glare that reminds yourself that you are not in a very good position right now.

“i’m uh- your new.. roommate?'' you don't mean for it to come out like a question, but by the way they're staring down at you like you're a cockroach that just flew onto their windshield, you almost aren't so sure.

"i'm a fucking TA— i don't have roommates." their eyes narrow, which is like—alright, way to be real welcoming.

“i’m a.. last minute transfer..?” you offer, wincing as you meet their stare. their eyes are unflinching, yet still lidded in a post-sex haze. you can feel your body involuntarily holding its breath; though from the steel in their gaze or the way their biceps flex when they run a hand through their dishevelled locks, you can’t tell. 

fuck, you hate hot people.

“oh, yeah. fuck, i forgot about that.” their shoulders slacken, mouth settling into an unimpressed line; which is only slightly more welcoming than the look of murderous intent of two seconds ago. “jordan. jordan li." they say, last name and all—which is how you know they're a prick. "make yourself at home, i guess.” they don’t sound all too enthused as they skirt away from the door, seemingly satisfied with the fact that you're not a home invader—dorm invader? whatever. you just pray that the sigh of relief you breathe isn’t audible.

“great! nice to meet you, i’m–”

“s’on the sheet." jordan cuts in with supreme disinterest as they move across the room, leaning down to pick their boxers from the floor. you’re struck once again with the realisation that they are still fucking naked, and you pointedly tear your eyes away. 

“um, yeah.. hey, uh—what’s your-”

“third year, crime-fighting. don't touch my shit. no pets, obviously. if you have a dog, get rid of it. give it to the animal shelter, don’t care. don’t snoop, don't make a mess, and definitely don’t take off the goddamn do not disturb sign. got it?”

you've barely opened your mouth to reply; probably with something along the lines of what the fuck? or animal shelter? before jordan's already turned away, back muscles flexing as they sink back onto the end of their bed, scrunching their briefs up in one hand and—

“hey, uh,” jordan interjects, turning round with an unreadable expression as they glance down, and like a fucking idiot, you follow; giving you front row seat to the massive, throbbing boner that they’re still sporting—pulsing an angry, flushed red as the tip drools with precum.

“mind if i take care of this? couldn’t exactly finish, if you know what i—”

you slam the door after you, and you swear a snicker follows you down the corridor. 

-

over the next week, it quickly becomes apparent that jordan either a): forgets you live in the same room as them, or b): simply does not care. 

for starters, there’s their apparent aversion to doing laundry until their entire closet is out of commission, the coke stash underneath their mattress and also—oh. their need to get their dick wet at least four times a day. (irrespective of whether they have a dick or not).

“what?” jordan scoffs through a mouthful of cereal. “‘m not lettin’ some fuckin’ freshie cockblock me.”

“i’m a transfer, not a fucking freshman.” you scowl, and jordan’s lips curl to form a lazy little ‘o’. it twitches upwards into that infuriating little smirk, like they enjoy seeing you squirm. 

“whatever. my libido stops for nobody, not even you. besides,” they set their bowl on the bedside table, wagging their fingers suggestively into a ‘V’ shape and licking the air between. "a bigender supe has needs too."

they’re slouching against their headboard, free arm stretching lazily above their head. your cheeks flush traitorously as their biceps flex—muscles visibly popping against their frame “you can just say 'a girl has needs'. i'm not an idiot, i know what you mean." is what you grumble back, if only to ignore the inane, stupid heat pooling in the pit of your stomach. 

"but i have needs when i'm a dude, too." jordan grins, propping themselves up by their elbow, eyes gleaming impishly as they curl their hand into a fist and making a fucking wanking motion over their (currently) non-existent dick. which is—yeah. that pretty much sums up your roommate for you.

the thing is about jordan, is despite all their excessive lockerroom talk and relatively abrasive personality; they’re still rank two in all of godolkin. ergo, they’re a surprisingly busy person; being preoccupied with either studying, sparring or partying ninety of the time. 

thus, like all horny, single college students, when you don’t have time to squeeze a good fuck in, you’re left with second-best option—yourself. this would otherwise be fine, except jordan’s compound v must have seeped through their bloodstream and into their libido because jesus fucking christ are they horny.

it’s not like they make an effort of hiding it, either. they seem to have zero qualms about rolling out of bed, morning wood popping out from their briefs like a fucking beacon. 

“oh, shit,” jordan yawns when slide the covers off, giving way to the immense boner throbbing against their boxer-briefs. they don’t even have the decency to look sheepish when they walk past you, adjusting themselves lazily. you don’t miss the grunt of relief that escapes them as their hand palms their crotch before they disappear into the bathroom, either. or the little groans of relief that sound behind the door before they saunter out, towelling their hands with the stupidest grin on their face.

it shouldn’t piss you off as much as it does, except for the fact that even when jordan rouses without morning wood (or wood in general); they end up making their usual bathroom trip anyways. noises slipping from a half-ajar door and toilet lid left slippery, as always. 

they have to be doing it on purpose. they have to be. like, they left their strap-on on your desk once. which, first of all, gross. second of all, why was it so fucking big?

“jordan!” you holler, aghast as you nudge the thing on your desk, conveniently placed right next to your laptop.

“oh! that’s where i left it. sick.” jordan grins as they saunter over, veined hands reaching over to wrap around the shiny, plastic length and fuck, since when were their palms so massive—

“thanks, roomie.” they ruffle your hair with an impish glint in their eyes, smile only growing when you jerk away with a scowl. 

and that’s not even the worst of it.

“oh, shit—was that yours?” to their credit, jordan looks somewhat sheepish as they pinch a rock-hard pair of socks off the floor. your fucking socks, which have clearly been well-loved and cared for in places other than your shoes. 

“those were my favourite!” they weren’t your favourites. they’re socks. however, it makes jordan wince, which almost makes it worth it. 

hey, a little remorse is better than nothing. 

“..i’ll buy you a new pair?” jordan offers, scratching the nape of their neck. you’re almost content to let the awkwardness linger just give them just a piece of the torture you’ve been subjected to for the past several weeks — except the sliver of satisfaction is completely negated by the way jordan’s lip twitches upwards, like they’re fighting back a smirk.

“you little fuck—“

anyways, the point is jordan wanks. a lot. 

you can’t stop thinking about it. because it’s annoying. and disrespectful. and god, do they think you want to hear every pretty little moan that falls from their mouth? every grunt and groan that slips from their throat in that raspy, godforsaken timber— 

long story short; if you have to find a wadded up sock or sticky residue at the bottom of the computer desk one more time, you’re going to lose it. 

you think jordan knows it, too.

-

it’s midnight when you wake up to the sound of a bed creaking.

you’re an early sleeper, jordan isn’t. it works. you’re typically long knocked out before they even make it back in the dorm, out there doing god knows what. today, though, you’d far overestimated your ability to finish your latest assignment; so when jordan finally staggered through the door, slumping into bed with a little grunt, you thought nothing of it.

minutes pass, and the bed shifts. jordan groans. under the moonlight you can see the shadowed visage of their figure, splayed out on their bed with one hand underneath the covers; moving, repeatedly.

jordan grunts again, and you squint; bleary eyes adjusting to the darkness. the muffled, wet sound of slapping resounds, subdued by the weight of the blanket. if you didn’t know better, you’d think they were—

“mm, fuck—” jordan moans, blanket slipping down their hips and—oh my fucking god.

like pulling back a curtain, jordan’s cock springs enthusiastically to the surface; standing tall and proud as their fist pumps up and down the thick, veined girth of their length. it’s practically pulsating with need, bordering on desperate—they must be desperate, because jordan’s shameless, sure, but.. jacking off in the same room as you? 

you didn’t think they were that much of a fucking perv.

but maybe you’re a perv too, because the moment jordan’s hips rock upwards and their tip glimmers in a thick sheen of pre-cum; you can feel the telltale surge of heat in your stomach, the fabric of your panties dampening and oh, this can’t seriously be happening right now.

“fuck—motherfucker..” jordan hisses, drawing your bleary-eyed gaze from the flushed, throbbing bob of their cock to their pink cheeks and fucked-out face, mouth lolling in pleasure. they twist their head, nosing into something tossed onto their pillow that makes you stop in their tracks.

that’s.. you thought you lost that!

“need ‘m—so—fucking bad..” jordan slurs stiltedly, nuzzling into your shirt like their life depends on it. “fuckin’—stupid fucking—”

your stomach tightens, and you can’t help it when your fingers dip down under your shorts, slipping into your cunt. you should be mad, should be disgusted, should be shoving open the door and ripping them out of their covers and.. wrapping your mouth around their adorably flushed tip? seizing their hips and yanking their cock into your tight, wet little—

"oh, fuck," jordan interrupts your thought process by growling through their teeth, precum spilling from the slit of their dick and glazing their palms. there’s so much of it, so wet that even in the dark you can see the stain pooling in their sweatpants, their bedsheets. 

you’re so entranced you barely even register when it when their grip releases; length arcing and splattering thick ropes of cum against their abdomen. the sight is so mesmerising that you almost don’t pick up on the sound of your fucking name that tears out of their throat—husky and half gargled as jordan’s chest heaves. you don’t even realise you’ve been holding your breath until jordan’s figure simply lays there, pants echoing in the silent room. 

they wrap your shirt around their dick and wipe it clean. it’s only when they murmur something unintelligible—burying their nose back into your jumper that you finally, finally turn away, fingers curling deep inside your cunt.

fucking hell.

-

the second time it happens, you are wide, wide awake. which unfortunately means you have no excuse for the minutes seared into your memory and sticky residue on your thighs.

granted, at first you didn’t know. as always, the bathroom door hangs carelessly agape. steam curls from the room, wafting up and dispersing in the stuffy dorm air. what lingers, however, is the fresh note of jordan’s shampoo, body wash, and something.. saltier, headier.

whatever. with nothing more than an arched brow, you pick over the discarded basketball shorts and tank tops that litter the floor, intending to kick the bathroom door shut and be on your way. it’s when your hand reaches out, closing around the cool metal that you see it.

jordan’s slumped against the slick shower wall, fingers buried knuckle-deep into their pussy.

oh, shit shit shit—

“shit..” jordan hisses, muscles working like well-oiled sprigs as they pump into their cunt, droplets of water trickling down their skin and pooling into the divots of their body. 

your hand tightens around the doorknob. god, their moans.. if they think the sound of the showerhead can disguise the filthy nothings spilling out of their mouth, they are very, very wrong. 

somewhere between the fuck’s and annoying’s and pretty fuckin’ prude’s their full-weight crumples against the shower wall, plush ass pressing up against steaming glass like some (high-quality) porn ad as they ram their fingers in one last time, free hand shooting out wildly to grasp at nothing before the shower wall splatters with something you only catch a glimpse of before you’re slamming the bathroom door, cheeks burning and fingers trembling. with a start, you realise you’ve almost wrenched the goddamn metal off.

the doorknob is always a little bit loose, after that. 

-

you’re getting ready for a party.

well, you’re supposed to be getting ready for a  party, hence the sultry eyeshadow, glossy press of your lips and sheer amount of skin laid bare. your crop-top is just a little bit too high, mini-skirt more than a little too short.

in reality? you’re enacting your fucking vegeance.

jordan likes you. it’s a fact that stares you right in the face. and if not a crush, it’s a massive, raging hard-on. for you—only you—citing a certain roommate’s post-nut ramblings you’ve heard one too many times. 

as it turns out, jordan becomes considerably less insufferable when you know you’re the only thing that gets their dick wet.

“how do i look?” you call, doing a little twirl. it’s impossible to keep the smirk off your face, skirt flipping very purposely upwards as you spin, revealing a tad more than they ever (usually) get to see. 

jordan glances up, and their breath fucking hitches.

bingo.

“what?” you cock your head, lashes batting innocuously as they stare. playing the oblivious role is just too sweet, especially when your eyes flicker down, just for a moment, and you can see the bulge in their sweatpants growing.

poor little jordan, hard because their roommate flashed a millisecond of ass.

“you look—good.” they grunt, tone carefully measured. their gaze lingers, only for another moment before they abruptly snap their vision back to their screen. an admirable effort, really. if only their cheeks were a little less red, cock a little less needy.

“well don’t flatter me too much,” you twist away, lips twitching upwards. feigning normalcy is easy, seeing as how you’ve been doing so ever since that first night. you're practically buzzing with anticipation when you make a big show of leaving the room, snarky comment and all.

and really, jordan could've waited for longer than two minutes before moaning that raspy, broken moan (you're so intimately familiar with) from behind the door.

your lips split into a grin, and when you slide the door back open, the look on jordan's face is so priceless you hope it'll be seared into your memory forever.

“shit!"

it’s undeniable, this time. you’re no longer a fly on the wall, and they’re no longer blanketed by the illusion of secrecy; caught red-handed with their cock in their fist and head on your pillow.

“wait—fuck—i can expl—!”

like clockwork, jordan's cock twitches as if in reaction, and a drop of fresh semen spurts from their tip before trickling down to join the messy puddle on their stomach. 

“i thought—fuck! you said you were going!” 

“that doesn’t sound like an apology to me.” 

you delight in the way jordan flushes, their breath hitching. they take a ragged breath before they make a valiant attempt to cover up their falter with aggression. "doesn't mean anything," they retort through gritted teeth, mustering up as much conviction as they can. 

it’s adorable, how much they pretend they don’t want you as if they don’t jack off to the smell of your sweatshirt every night. 

“shut the fuck up.” you roll your eyes, novelty of the movement finally wearing thin. you have needs too—and with a fluid movement, you slide onto the bed and yank their hips against yours, pulling them into a straddle over your torso.

jordan can't help but hiss at the sudden contact, hips jerking instinctively. "fuck, you're cold," they mutter under their breath, though there's no denying the thrill running through them; hips bucking forward into the touch of your cool fingers as they wrap around their hard member. it feels euphoric—the contrast between your heat and coldness heightening every single nerve ending in their body. the tip of their cockhead brushing against your belly button, dripping a thin line of hot, sticky fluid after it.

“go on.” you coo, eyebrows raised. 

jorda’s hands fly almost immediately to the hem of your skirt. so eager, like an impatient puppy. 

 before you curl your hand around their wrist, grip firm and punishing. 

they freeze, head cocking like a confused puppy. “huh?” they say, biting back a noise of complaint. they want you so bad its goddamn gruelling; their fingers twitching around nothing, screaming in impatience, let me fuck you, let me ruin you already. don’t you know how long i’ve been waiting? how long you’ve kept me fucking waiting?

of course you know. they don’t know that, though. 

“you’re not gonna do anything?” despite all their irritating, fratboy-esque bravado; jordan’s unable to prevent the whininess from seeping into their tone, hands tugging insistently at the hem of your skirt. their cock pulses, painful and needy.

“you have hands, don’t you?” your lips quirk at the way jordan’s expression drops and their mouth opens again, probably to protest until you yank their thighs open and press them forward, dick pressing flush against your torso. 

"unnhnnngh.." jordan grunts, gasping for air while trying to maintain eye contact with you—an impossible task considering how goddamn desperate they are. their free hand grabs hold of your waist, grinding sloppily as precum spurts all over your chest. “f-fuck off," they hiss, lips crashing against yours, teeth knocking at their eagerness.

“goddamn tease—” they groan, rutting against your torso, to no avail. they bury their face into your collar, utterly miserable, fingers twisting into the hem of your shirt. “just get the fuck on with it—ahnnn.. f-fuck—”

“so mouthy,” you tease, delighted at the mewl that slips past jordan’s lips when your hand wraps around their tip. their chain necklace swings wildly, bucking their hips desperately into your fist.

“hands feel so fuckin’ good,” jordan sputters, drooling almost as much as their dick is. their fumbling grasp finds purchase in your shoulders as they pump themselves into your hand; you barely even have to move, with them doing most of the work.

“need to be— inside—“ jordan grunts; glassy eyes blinking down at you like it’ll change your mind just like that. it’s cute, how they look when they’re not scowling or fucking smirking at you. it’s even cuter, the way they inhale sharply when you shake your head and deliver a cool “no, baby,” their back arching when you cup one of their balls and squeeze, forced into dismal acceptance with a keening whine. 

jordan’s movements are getting unsteady, now. eyes glazing over by the second. “y’gonna make me cum,” they slur, grip on your hips tightening. it only takes a moment before their movements stutter and they’re muttering “fuck fuck fuck oh, fuck!“ and a long, gargled moan rips from their throat and all of a sudden hands wrapped around cock are sinking in wet, sloppy heat; your fingers sliding knuckle-deep into their pussy with almost breath-taking ease.

“jesus christ!” jordan croons in sheer, unexpected pleasure as they feel you shove yourself inside them, cum spurting and squeezing out helplessly from between their walls and your fingers. they squirt so fucking messily, their leaking cock replaced by a cunt spilling out out all over your palm. 

“i didn’t—didn’t mean to—” they slur, panic two steps behind their mouth. struggling to sling anything coherent together with you kneading your fingers into their pussy like its goddamn putty. “oh?” you arch a brow, and jordan visibly flushes, moaning openly when your digits curl.

“can’t–don’t really—”

“what? fuck yourself?” is your reply, because you both know they fucking do; it’s not like you don’t how their pussy sounds when it’s sliding slick against their pillow, how your name sounds cried out, thick through the muzzle of your jumper.

it’s a dual guilty pleasure—you watch, they do. at this point, you can’t tell who’s the more perverted out of the two of you.

jordan. definitely jordan. 

“too busy humping my clothes, is that it?” you purr, and jordan honest to god whimpers, squirming away from your fingers both out of overstimulation and plaintive shame. “ah, ah,” you tut, nails digging into their hips as you hold them in place, finger thumbing harshly against their clit as they cry out a gargled moan. 

“f-fuck off—” jordan hisses, practically an admission of guilt itself. they seem to know it, too, with the way they abandon all pretence and pound violently against your knuckles—their gaze burning into yours like they’re daring you to say another word. “don’t act like you didn’t—shit—fucking like it.” jordan gasps out between sputters, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

“hm?” you pause, eyes meeting jordan’s heated, quivering stare. “jerk off to watching me?” they choke, eyes glossing over when you thrust “did you fuck yourself to my—mmhnn—!” 

an easy, all-too-familiar eye roll graces your face before you shut them up with your fingers. their pussy clenches; hot, slippery walls gripping your digits as if afraid to let go. oh, this is too easy.

“don’t get cute with me, roomie.” the nickname tastes sweet on your tongue, and jordan’s face grows hotter. a well-timed thumb to their clit flickers their bravado out like a light. “fucking hell!” they gasp, mouth gaping into a moan and eyes rolling back into their skull.

“you wanted me to watch, didn’t you?” you coo, and jordan squirms; mouth open in protest—or at least attempts at them, what with the way they keep gasping out in pleasure as you roll your fingers against their clit. 

“shut the fuck—i didn’t—”

“a pervert and a liar now, are we?”

jordan makes a noise somewhere between a hiss and a whine, crying out when you slide two more fingers into the slick canal of their core. their eyes screw shut, hands seizing so wildly into the mattress you almost think they’re about to tear a hole through the bedsheets.

“god! fuck—i can’t—”

they cry out your name when they cum, and even if its a sound you’ve heard countless times by now you don’t think it’ll ever get old. “that’s it, baby.” you coo, lips curling upwards at the way they bury their face into your collar.

they lie there, panting, for what feels like forever before a muffled, half-delusional groan leaves their lips.

“oh, fuuuckk..”

“what?”

“..i thought i would top.”

#(っ ‘o’)ﾉ⌒💥my works ! #૮ smut🔞 #inbox ! #jordan li #jordan li x reader #jordan li fanfic #jordan li headcanons #jordan li smut #gen v #gen v smut #gen v x reader #gen v fanfic #gen v headcanons

[meanbossart]

Oh boy, VaM is kind of a trial and error experience LOL I couldn't really show you how to use the interface and stuff without a whole video or something, but it's not THAT difficult to get a hang of if you just give yourself a day or two to play around, not to mention the number of tutorials you find out there. Luckily, if you only want to use it as a reference software that makes the process far easier (to this day I have no idea how to animate on that thing, since that's not what I use it for)

As for how I use it, it's pretty self explanatory - if there's a complicated pose I want to draw but I'm either having trouble with it, or just want to double-check angles/anatomy, I will use it as a resource! I use for most of my "proper" pieces (y'know, the nicer looking ones) and every once in a while for my silly comics if I'm having trouble with a pose.

Lets use this drawing for example (the character on top of DU drow belongs to @namespara )

I don't draw a lot of mud-wrestling (shocking, I know) but I had an idea of the kind of pose I wanted them to be in. So the very first thing I did was make a rough sketch of what I was envisioning:

I often do a rough sketch first, even If I know I'm going to be pulling the program up because A) It's less tedious than adjusting the models over and over again until I pick a pose and B) because sometimes I'll decide I don't need the reference, after all, and so that's 30 minutes I'll have spared myself of playing around on the software.

Now, this is a pretty complicated pose! It's in a weird angle and the bodies are making contact in ways I'm not used to depicting, so I did choose to whip out VaM for this one. I went into the program and after some messing around, I flopped my little dolls together like this:

Now something really cool about VaM is that you can completely customize your models, and if you have the patience, I would definitely encourage you to do so! Obviously, you don't have to make picture perfect replicas of every single character you have, but as you can see here I have made a DU drow "decoy" to help me better understand some of his features when I draw him: he has a strong brow, a short nose, a square jawline - these are all going to look a very specific way from certain angles, and I might not always be sure of how to draw it right! So it's useful to have models that bear SOME semblance to the character so you can better understand how different viewpoints will affect their bone structure and mass.

Also thank fucking god for the elf-ear slider. Figuring out how to draw those shits from certain angles was a huge pain in the ass when I started drawing DnD races.

So, with the reference in hand, I go over the sketch again:

Now you may notice that I don't stick to the reference 100%. There's three reasons for this:

posing on VaM is tedious as hell. You can get something incredibly natural looking and picture-perfect to reference from if you wish, but it's going to take you hours to do. So, for the most part I just slap guys together until the results are "close enough" and use that.

In my opinion, you should always aim to ENHANCE your reference material, not replicate it exactly!

While VaM is a PRETTY DANG GOOD source of anatomical reference, it isn't perfect, I often supplement it with further reference from real life resources or make tweaks based on my own knowledge where I catch it falling short (and, antithetical to what I just said, I sometimes fuck the anatomy up further on purpose if I think it looks better that way LOL it's all jazz baby).

Then lines, color, yada yada. I don't have a tutorial on that and I don't think I could make one, because my process is chaotic as hell, but I do at times use Virt-a-mate as loose reference for lighting too when coloring - waaaaayyyy less so however, because that process is even more tedious and I feel like I often get better results by just winging it. It is a feature of the program though, and I'm sure it would be helpful for someone who has a difficult time visualizing lights and shadows. I only started using this program a few months ago, so I happened to already have a pretty good understanding of that kind of thing and just don't personally feel like I get much out of that particular mechanic.

Here's a few other examples of pieces that I made reference for (WARNING: Suggestive)

Now, for the question many of you may want to ask:

"Can I trace this junk?"

And to that, I say: Buddy, you can do whatever the hell you want with the reference material you created.

However,

If your goal is to learn and improve your art, and to recreate realistic proportions and anatomy from memory, tracing won't help you.

Developing your own style, your muscle memory, and personal technique will all be hindered by choosing to trace instead of drawing from observation, so I would encourage against it. Hell - even when tracing is employed as a technique, it's usually by high-skill realism & concept artists who are looking to either cut some corners, save time, or just double-check their own proportions in order to improve further - if you try tracing as a beginner, you will most definitely find the result to still look stiff and "off".

So trust me, there is so much more to be gained from drawing from observation. Make note of tangents, compare proportions, use all the elements of the picture to dictate where and how things should go - it will be a far more rewarding experience.

Hopefully this has been helpful! VaM is a really cheap program (you get it on the guys' patreon for I think 8 dollars, just google it!) and it's definitely been worth my money as an artist since I found it. Learning to use it can be a little intimidating at first glance, but as I said above you only really need a day plus one or two tutorials to get a hang of the interface.

A fair warning though, IT IS A SOFTWARE MADE FOR VIRTUAL SEX/ADULT ANIMATION So when looking it up expect to see a some spicy content.

#Funfact THIS is the post that got me flagged last time so i'm really tempting fate right now LOL #ask #art #tutorial #resource

[gigabyte-flare]

Hybrid

(A Gigabyte Flare One Shot)

Summary: The year is 2123. The latest craze to hit the market are Hybrids, humans genetically engineered to have animalistic traits, born and raised to be the perfect companion. Your mom convinces you to get one since you live alone in a big city, however you get way more than you bargained for

Word Count: 3.8k

Pairing: puppy!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Pet play, dubcon, oral (f receiving), somnophilia, sex [p in v], mommy kink, breeding kink

A/N: Finally hopping on the puppy!Leon band wagon! Huge shoutout to @nexysworld for creating the adorable puppy!Leon for this fic's banner and for her and @elfven-blog for enabling me to write a puppy!Leon fic. Also lightly inspired by the puppy!Leon POV series by Nekrophil/ABP0RNS on Twitter (go check them out, their artwork is *chef's kiss*) Enjoy!

“Hybrids, the latest craze in New Los Angeles for human companionship. Humans spliced with animal DNA and raised to be your best friend! Hybrids are the perfect addition to any household! Adopt your Hybrid today at your nearest--”

You abruptly change the channel, sitting in a living room with your mom at her condo.

“Those things freak me the fuck out…” you say, mindlessly scrolling through channels.

“Hybrids? Aw, really? I think they’re cute!”

You turn to your mom, giving her a disgusted look, “really? You don’t see anything wrong with those things?”

She shakes her head, “no worse than the cyber augmentations people get, sweetie”

You watch your mom ponder for a moment, her eyes suddenly widening, “you should get one!”

“What-- Mom, no!”

“You’re in that apartment all away across town all by yourself, it’ll be good for you!”

🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴

How you got dragged out to adopt a Hybrid is beyond you. Your mom somehow convinced you to at least go and look at what they have available for adoption. You lean your head against the passenger window and watch the sights of the city. You mindlessly listen to your mom rattle on about how excited she is to look at the Hybrids and you picking out one, which finally draws your attention.

“Whoa hold on, Mom, I never said I was buying one! I just said I would look, that’s all!” you draw your attention back out the passenger window, “besides, I can’t afford one, you know that. I’d never have enough credits in my lifetime for something like that.”

“Hun, I’m going to help you with that, don’t worry. This is for your wellbeing, after all!”

“Great…”

The large neon sign proclaiming that it was the location of a Hybrid adoption center made your stomach sink. Your mom pulls the car into the parking lot, getting out and practically dragging you out of the passenger’s side to go into the building. The reception area is a blinding white, a stark contrast to the neon grunge of the city outside. The woman behind the desk greets both of you both with a smile.

“Welcome to the Hybrid adoption center! How can I help you ladies today?”

Your mom grasps you by your shoulders, pushing you forward, “my daughter wants to see the Hybrids available for adoption today!”

“Oh that’s fantastic!” the receptionist says, her smile still plastered on her face, “what kind of Hybrid are you looking for?”

You look at the receptionist with a confused look, “what do you mean what kind?”

“Well, we have different kinds that are spliced with different animals! However, our dog and cat Hybrids are our most popular, would you like to start with one of those?”

You look at your mom for a moment before shifting your attention back to the receptionist, “um… I guess the dog ones…?”

“Great choice! Now then, I’ll notify our active adoption coordinator and have her come out to take you to see what we have for dog Hybrids, have a seat!”

You and your mom take a seat in the waiting area. You lean forward, fiddling with your fingers as you both wait. Your mom was more excited to see the Hybrids than anyone. You just wanted to please your Mom and move on. You had no intention of adopting a Hybrid. The sound of a door sliding open makes you jump as a woman with a clipboard comes out to you and your Mom.

“Are you the two ladies here to see our dog Hybrids?” she asks enthusiastically.

“Yes we are!” your mom immediately answers, practically jumping out of her seat. 

The woman motions for you both to follow her, you do so reluctantly. She leads you down a set of pure white corridors before coming upon another door that slides open. Both sides of the room were lined what you could only describe as cells and you see them, the Hybrids. You expected to hear barking for some reason, but that’s not the case here. They all are saying hello and grabbing the bars that keep them in their cells. 

“They can talk…?” I ask.

“Yes! Hybrids are perfectly capable of human speech! Did you have something in particular in mind for a dog Hybrid?”

“You should get a male--” Mom interjects.

“Mom!”

The coordinator just laughs, “we have plenty of males to choose from, let’s take a look!”

The first thing you notice is all of them are naked, making this whole situation even more awkward. Hybrids were quite literally people with animal parts grafted onto them; it was quite unsettling to you.

“How is this even ethical?” you whisper to your Mom.

“Stop it!” your Mom scolds you. 

Most of the Hybrids were much too… eager and hyper for you, making you a little uncomfortable. It wasn’t until you got to one of the last cells when a Hybrid actually caught your attention. He, of course, was nude like the rest, but he wasn’t jumping all over the place trying to get your attention. He was laying on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He had blonde hair and blue eyes and, admittedly, he was quite gorgeous; you were bummed he was a Hybrid and not a human. He finally notices you, rolling over and smiling as he grasps the bars on his cell.

His voice is gentle, “hi there! I’m Leon!” his matching blonde tail wagging back and forth. 

Something you hadn’t noticed before was that all the Hybrids had two sets of ears, their human ears and their animal ears, “do they all have two sets of ears?” you ask.

“So their animal ears aren’t actually ears, they’re simply appendages meant for cosmetics. Their human looking ears are their actual ears.” the coordinator replies, “this is Leon, he just turned 21; he’s a very calm boy, very loyal and friendly, but protective, too.”

“Oh sweetie he’s perfect for you! Look at him! He’s adorable!” your mom exclaims before speaking to the coordinator, “she lives in an apartment all by herself.”

“Oh! Leon would be perfect for you! What do you say?”

Your gaze shifts to Leon, his pretty blue eyes practically pleading at you, his tail still wagging. 

You let out a heavy sigh, you can’t believe you’re actually doing this, “I’ll take him.”

🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴

The next few days were a blur, consisting of filling out paperwork and buying things Leon would need for when he comes home. Thankfully Hybrids eat the same things humans do, so you just have to make sure you buy for two instead of just for yourself. The day came for Leon to come home to your apartment and your first order of business was getting clothes on him, having him naked all the time was just way too weird. That was proving harder than you anticipated. 

“No! It’s itchy!” Leon whines, kicking off the pants and underwear you had put on him for the fifth time before curling up on the floor.

At that point you conceded defeat, you were just going to have to deal with him being naked for now. You guessed it made sense, he’s probably been naked his entire life. You watch him as he plays with a rubber bone you had bought him, immediately noticing his canine teeth were much sharper than a normal human’s would be. You look over in the corner where you had a large crate set up, it was actually at the coordinators recommendation that you get a crate for him even though the idea of putting him in it made you really uncomfortable. You’d hope you wouldn’t have to use it.

Your attention returns to Leon, who’s still playing with his bone happily, sporting this new collar you got him. It was a blue leather collar to match his eyes and had a bone shaped tag that had his name on the front and your contact info on the back.

“Leon,” you suddenly call to him, holding your hand out, “wanna play fetch?”

Leon immediately perks up onto his haunches before crawling over to you with the toy in his mouth.

You tried your damned hardest not to focus on his very large dick, even flaccid it was quite large. Again, you curse that he’s not a human internally. He drops the toy from his mouth into your hand and you reach out, giving him a scratch behind one of his dog ears. His cheeks turn red, leaning his head into your touch. 

“Aren’t you a sweet boy…” you say before tossing the toy gently. 

Leon chases after the toy, picking it up in his mouth and bringing it back over to you for you to throw again. You do this a few more times before Leon decides he’s had enough, he climbs up onto the couch next to you, laying his head in your lap as he stretches out across the rest of the couch, his tail making a rhythmic thumping sound as he wags his tail. You run your fingers through his hair, looking down at him.

His blue eyes look up at you and he smiles, “I love you, Mommy!”

You feel your breath hitch at his words, but you quickly recover and smile back, “love you too, Leon.”

🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴

“Leon, get back here right now!” 

You never thought you’d be starting your day chasing Leon around the living room with a pair of boxers in your hands.

“Leon, come on! My best friend is coming over and I can’t have you running around naked, at least wear these boxers for god’s sake! I even cut a hole in the back for your tail, just get over here so I can put them on!”

“No! It itches!” Leon protests, somehow managing to stay one step ahead of you as he darts around the living room on all fours.

After a while, you manage to corner him on the couch, quickly slipping on the boxers, making sure to pull his tail through the makeshift hole you had made. He starts to pull them off when you scold him.

“Leon, no! Do you want to go in the crate?”

Leon stops, pulling the boxers back up and giving you the most pathetic puppy eyes, “no, Mommy…”

“Then they stay on at least until my best friend leaves, ok?”

Leon nods, climbing off the couch, grabbing his rubber bone before climbing back onto the couch to chew on it. 

“Thank you… good boy…” you say before you work on cleaning up your apartment for your best friend to arrive. 

About a half hour goes by when you hear your phone go off, a notification displaying that there is someone at the door. With a couple of taps on your phone, your best friend’s face appears on the screen.

“Hey there, I’m here!” she says, giving you a big smile.

“Hang on Hailey, I’ll be right there!”

You go up to your apartment door, push a few buttons on the key panel next to the door and the door slides open. Hailey, your best friend since you were kids, comes in and gives you a hug.

“It’s been too long! What is it that you wanted to show me?” Hailey asks. 

You motion for Hailey to follow you into the living room, where you find Leon still contently chewing on his bone, the boxers thankfully still on.

“Is… is that one of those Hybrids?!” the shock is evident in Hailey’s voice.

“Y-Yeah… mom convinced me to get him; his name is--”

“Hi there!” Leon sits up, his tail wagging in full circles as he looks to your friend, “I’m Leon!”

Hailey leans over to whisper into your ear, “are all Hybrids that hot?”

You elbow her, “shut up! It’s hard enough to deal with as it is without you mentioning it!”

Leon looks between the two of you, cocking his head in confusion, his tail still wagging, now hitting against the couch. 

“Listen, I’m pretty sure most people fuck their Hybrids, like, look at him, how could you not?”

“Hailey, no! That’s fucking weird.”

“You’re telling me that you haven’t at least thought about it?”

“We’re not talking about this, not in front of Leon.”

Leon, meanwhile, has returned his attention to his rubber bone, chewing it aggressively when he suddenly picks up an unusual scent, one he’s never smelled before. He stops chewing, flaring his nostrils as he sniffs the air. Whatever it was, it smells sweet, almost like a wildflower. He quickly realizes that it’s you that smells like this, even though it was so faint. He wanted to get up and stuff his nose into you to take in more of this sweet smell, however, he knew he’d get in trouble, especially with your friend being here. To his dismay, you and your friend went back into the kitchen to hang out, bringing that irresistible smell with you.

🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴

In the dead of night, Leon is restless, tossing and turning in his plush bed that sat at the foot of your bed. The smell from the other day has only become stronger over time and it was getting to Leon’s head. The smell was making his cock hard, something he hadn’t really experienced until now. It is almost painful; just him simply running his fingers along his cock made him flinch. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, he sat up, carefully climbing onto your bed. You were laying on your back, sound asleep with your legs spread open.

Leon gently crawls his way between your legs, the intoxicating smell emanating from the spot between your legs; he notices a dark spot on your panties. Gently, he presses his nose against the wet spot, inhaling deeply as his tail wags back and forth.

That’s it… that’s where that smell is coming from…

He glances up at you, you’re still sound asleep. He gently hooks a finger on your underwear, pulling them aside to reveal your glistening cunt to him; it practically makes him salivate. He hesitantly runs his tongue over your slit, his eyes fluttering closed as he savors the taste of you. You suddenly stir, your hips shifting slightly as a soft moan comes out of you. Your eyes flutter open and you look down to find, to your horror, Leon between your legs, eating you out. 

You blink a few times before shouting, “LEON!”

Taking his mouth off of you, Leon’s eyes widen as he pushes himself off the bed, letting out a soft whimper as you sit up and cover yourself with your blanket. 

“In your crate!” you point to the bedroom door, your face beet red, “now!”

“Mommy… I’m sorry… I just--”

“GET. OUT!”

Leon’s puppy ears droop and his tail tucks itself between his legs as he crawls out into the living room. You follow behind him, making sure he puts himself in his crate before shutting the crate door behind him. Looking up and whining at you, his fingers grip the bars of the crate as he stares up at you, pleading to you with his blue eyes. Unfortunately, you simply shake your head at him and walk back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind you. Leon feels tears well up in his eyes as he grips the bars on the crate. 

What did he do wrong? He was only doing what his instincts told him to do, why was that bad? Releasing his grip on the crate bars, he makes himself as comfortable as he possibly can in his situation, crying himself to sleep, your sweet scent still lingering in the air.

 🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴

You didn’t sleep a wink the rest of the night, between the sounds of Leon’s cries echoing through your bedroom door to just the thought of waking up to Leon eating you out disturbed you to your core. You finally get yourself out of bed, throwing on your pajama bottoms before walking out of your bedroom. You find Leon awake in his crate, his eyes red and puffy from crying all night. Upon seeing you, he immediately sits up, gripping the crate bars, his tail wagging so hard it was a blonde blur. Against your better judgment, you walk up to the crate, unlocking it to let him out. 

As soon as you open the crate door, Leon bolts out, wrapping his arms around your legs, holding you tight. The fact that he buries his nose into you and deeply inhales doesn’t go unnoticed by you. 

“Thank you for letting me out, Mommy! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll be a good boy, I swear!”

You pry his arms off you and push him away, “Just… just go play with your toys Leon…” you say before walking into the kitchen to make yourself coffee and breakfast. 

Once you have your coffee and breakfast, you practically collapse at the small dining table, rubbing your face with your hands. What are you going to do? You could start crating him at night, but something about that didn’t sit right with you. Suddenly, you feel something rest on your lap and the sound of something thumping against the floor. You move your hands away from your face to find Leon’s head resting in your lap, his tail wagging against the floor.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” he asks, his blue eyes looking up at you, his puppy ears erect and alert. 

“Nothing, Leon…” you say with a sigh, “you must be hungry. I’ll make you something to eat…”

You get up from the table and over to the stove where you make him some eggs and bacon. Once finished, you put them on a plate and set it on the floor in front of him and watch as he scarfs it down. You sit back down at the table and slowly pick away at your breakfast and take sips out of your coffee mug. You feel Leon rest his head onto your lap again. You look back down, finding him looking up at you longingly, his tail wagging insistently. 

“What is it, Leon?” you ask, leaning back in your chair.

Leon doesn’t say a word, however, as he climbs up until he’s face to face with you, staring directly into your eyes, his tail still wagging. He lets out a soft whimper as he grinds his hips into the side of your thigh. You happen to glance down, greeted with his painfully hard member rubbing against you. Looking back up at him, Leon whimpers again, his hands softly caressing your arms.

“Leon… are you ok…?”

You watch as Leon swallows hard before he continues rutting himself against your thigh, his breath trembling.

“I need… to mate with you…” Leon finally replies, his grip on your arms tightening as he continues to grind into your thigh.

Your heart begins to race as very conflicting feelings begin to overtake you.

This is so wrong, you think to yourself.

That thought doesn’t stop you as you lean forward, giving Leon a gentle kiss on the lips, cupping his face in your hands. Leon deepens your kiss, his tongue dancing with yours before playfully biting your bottom lip. You stand up from the table, leading him back into the bedroom, shutting the door before you begin to undress. As soon as you're naked, Leon stands up on two feet, pushing you into the bed face first so that your backside is propped up. You feel yourself tremble in anticipation as you feel Leon climb onto the bed behind you. You flinch when you feel his cock caress your soaked slit, coating itself in your arousal before he pushes himself inside you. 

“Oh… Oh god--!” you cry out as Leon’s length fills you completely, pushing into your g-spot almost immediately, your fingers gripping your sheets. 

You hear Leon whimper as his hips begin to move into you. He starts out slow, but he quickly gains confidence and begins to thrust into you harder and faster, his hands gripping your hips so hard that you’re bound to have bruises later. 

“Yes… oh yes, Mommy… you feel so good…” Leon moans as he pounds into you harder, “am I a good boy…?”

“Yes…” you reply in a breathy moan as your eyes roll back into your head, “you’re such a good boy, Leon… you fuck Mommy so good…”

You feel his hands grip your hips even tighter as he pulls your body to him, thrusting into you even harder, his loud moans and whimpers filling the room along with the wet sounds of your needy cunt taking him. 

“Aaaaahhh… f-fill me up with your puppies Leon--!” you suddenly cry out, your pussy walls squeezing around his cock as he continues to thrust into you.

Leon growls in response, placing one of his hands onto your back to push you into the mattress as he fucks you relentlessly. His instincts are in overdrive, his thoughts completely overtaken by his burning desire to breed you. 

“Oh my god… you’re such a good boy, Leon!” you praise him, completely drunk off his cock, your legs trembling as you’re filled with complete ecstasy.

You suddenly feel his cock start to swell inside you and you quickly realize he is knotting. It feels surprisingly good, making you feel full. You sit up on your knees, pressing your back against his chest as he continues to thrust into you. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, nuzzling your cheek against his as his hands find their way to the front of your body, caressing your breasts as his chin rests on your shoulder.

“I can’t wait…” Leon starts, his voice rough, “to see your belly full of my puppies.”

You repeatedly moan his name, the word fuck and good boy as he pounds his cock into you, your legs starting to feel weak as they violently tremble. Before they give way, a sudden warmth fills your pussy as he pushes himself inside you as hard and deep as he possibly can, his hands gripping both your breasts tightly as he bites into your shoulder. You let out an animalistic moan as you also cum on his cock, your greedy cunt milking his seed deep inside your womb. 

Both of you collapse onto the bed in exhaustion with his length still buried inside you, ensuring that not a single drop of his cum is wasted. His arms and legs wrap around you as his face nuzzles into the back of your neck. Your whole body is trembling, completely overwhelmed by how good Leon was for you. You reach back, running your hand through his hair and caressing one of his puppy ears, whispering softly to him that he is a good boy.

You’re going to get used to this.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #puppy!leon kennedy #gigabyte writes

[supercoolhotgirl]

rice purity (pt 2) - lip gallagher

hey sexy people. here is a fun little surprise. thanks to abbi and izzie for motivating me.

NOTES: smut, lip x reader, fingering, teasing, piv sex, woo wooooo!!!!

———————————————————————

“can i kiss you?”

he was looking into my eyes with such intensity i thought i might burst into flames. i’m not entirely sure how i got the words out. “yes,”

it came out more of a whisper than a real word, but it was all he needed. his hand already on my cheek, i watched him smile inches from my face and then close his eyes. i followed suit, tilting my head ever so slightly to the right.

his lips pressed against mine slowly, and i could feel his breath on my tongue. i sifted my hands through his hair, tugging softly as he pulled back. “was that okay?”

i laughed.

“what? what’s so funny?” he looked genuinely concerned.

“feel my fucking heartbeat, lip,” i took his hand and put it against my bare chest, right above my heart. he watched me move his hand, a blush rising in his cheeks.

“jesus,” he said, his eyes meeting mine again. “if that’s all from one kiss…” he trailed off, a glint in his eye as a mischievous smile played on his face.

“shut up and kiss me again, gallagher.” i said, leaning back into him. this kiss was bigger, messier. more passionate. he was testing the bounds i supposed, seeing how far he could go until i told him to stop. he kept kissing me, his hand never moving from my chest.

he pulled back slightly as i went in, drawing me to him without actually kissing me. torture. i opened my eyes to see him and his shit faced grin. he went back in, this time pulling me by the legs towards him so i was even closer to his body.

the kisses were turning intense, feverish even. his tongue was playing tricks on my lips, moving in ways jack dawson certainly couldn’t. i was panting, and i felt him pull away as i caught my breath. he moved in towards me, grazing my neck with his tongue.

i shivered in his lap, and he laughed into my skin. “a little jumpy, are we?”

the gravel in his voice made my heart skip. he began kissing my neck, sucking and licking and nipping right below my ear. “fuck, lip…” i groaned, my nails slipping over his neck and jaw, anywhere i could reach him.

“mm what’s that?” he asked. “you want another hickey to match the first?”

i nod ungraciously, unable to form words. my breathing sharp and raspy, i let him kiss everywhere he could possibly touch on my neck, then slowly lick from my chin up the side of my jaw to my ear.

i opened my eyes in shock as he gave me a little nip on my earlobe. i could feel his smile. i pushed him away from my neck and stared at him.

“okay?” he said.

“very,” i told him, grinning.

“why’d you stop me?”

“i need to make sure your heart’s going as fast as mine.”

i put my hand over his heart, and sure enough, it was racing.

“you know, i don’t think you can feel it well enough,” lip said, returning my smile.

“whatever shall i do?” i teased.

he leaned in to my ear. “i think you know.”

i exhaled at his words, then slowly gripped the hem of his t-shirt and began to pull. i got it over his head and threw it unceremoniously to a corner of the room, ravishing his torso with my eyes.

he grabbed my chin lightly and tilted it up towards his face. “eyes up here,” he said, mocking offense.

“not today,” i said, before slipping off the couch and onto the ground before him. i raised myself on my knees and looked up at him.

he sat up like a shot. “no way in hell i’m letting you go down on me before i’ve gone down on you.”

i pretended his words didn’t strike something animal in me. “bold of you to assume that’s what i was about to do, lip.”

he widened his eyes and leaned back into the couch. “carry on, then,” he said.

i sat up straighter and put my hands on his hips. i looked into his eyes and began to lick a line from below his belly button all the way to his neck, not breaking eye contact once. i continued, feeling his body tense every time i hit a sensitive spot on his abdomen.

when i got to his neck, i licked up his chin and into his mouth, feeling him lean into me and pull me up to him. he yanked me onto his lap, my knees straddling him as he panted.

he pulled me in tighter, kissing my neck and pulling back. “god i can’t be close enough to you,” another kiss. “i want to be everywhere inside of you.” i made a noise that was somewhere between a moan and a laugh and started to grind on him. his obvious hardon was not giving me anywhere near enough friction through his jeans and mine.

lip suddenly got off the couch and yanked his pants down, kicking them to the side of the room.

i stared stared up at him, mouth slightly open. “what the fuck are you waiting for?” he asked, gesturing for me to get up. “take your fucking pants off!!”

“jesus,” i said, scrambling to get off the couch. “didn’t know you were so needy.”

“really? you didn’t?”

he sat back down on the couch and lifted me by the thighs to straddle him again. “you didn’t know i’ve wanted you for years?” i ground against him, his words conjuring memories. “didn’t know i’ve touched myself thinking about you almost every night?”

“fuck, lip…” i moaned, putting my hands around his neck as he guided my hips against him.

“you didn’t know how much i’ve wanted to fuck you on this couch every time we’ve hung out in here?”

now i was really grinding, his dick perfectly hitting my clit through our underwear. my mouth slightly open, i leaned closer into his face, letting him take over.

“how much i’ve wanted to make you cum? watch you cum?”

i moaned at his words, my stomach burning. “then shut up and make me,” i said, hoping he really would.

“mm mm,” he said. i could feel him shake his head and kiss me quickly. he lifted my bra over my head and leaned in, licking my nipple lightly as i pleaded for him to do more. he obliged, sucking and giving me a little bite, enough for me to jump in his lap.

then everything stopped, his hands stilling my hips.

“what the fuck?” i said. “i was about to cum.”

“aw. poor poor girl,” lip pouted. he rolled his eyes. “i’m gonna make you cum. calm down.”

“doubtful,” i teased.

“sorry? what was that??” he feigned, putting a hand behind his ear.

“oh, i just said go right ahead. i have full confidence.”

“turn around,” lip said, making me get up and turn, then sit back down on his lap, my back facing him. i put my arms around him, leaned back, and kissed his jaw. he placed a soft finger below my belly button, trailing it up to my ribcage. i thought he’d finally start touching me when he shook his head again. “go get the mirror.”

he was pointing to the old full length mirror i’d had for years. it had polaroids of us tacked on the sides, but besides the dust on the edges it was still in pretty good condition.

i groaned and got up again, taking the mirror and asking him with my eyes where he wanted it. he pointed to the space directly in front of him, and i realized.

“you are one sick fuck, you know that?” i said, sitting back down on his lap.

“why, because i want you to watch yourself cum?”

“yes. that is exactly why.”

he rubs his palms gently across my thighs, laying his head on my shoulder. “don’t pretend you’re not turned on by the idea,” he whispered in my ear. “that it doesn’t make you soaked.”

i shivered. “can you touch me already?”

he shrugged, bringing a finger around and down to my underwear. “i suppose.”

i rolled my eyes but let my head fall back against his chest as he pressed his index against my clit through my underwear. “lip,” i begged. “don’t be a fucking tease.”

he pressed harder, rubbing in circles through the layer. i let out a breathy sigh, but it wasn’t enough. i raised my arm to his neck. “more,” i asked, gripping his face.

“like,” he said, pausing as his hand crept inside my underwear and he slid a finger through the slick. “this?”

i nodded breathlessly, waiting for him to finish what he’d started. he moved two fingers slightly inside of me, collecting everything he’d given me.

“knew you’d be so fucking wet for me.”

“you’re awfully cocky for someone who hasn’t even made me cum yet.” i said with a gasp as he finally touched my clit.

“wanna say that again?” he drew slow circles on me, pressing slightly to make it even better.

“just like that,” i whined, squeezing my eyes shut.

“nuh uh. open your eyes,” lip scolded, stopping his hand until i opened my eyes. “look at yourself. fucking gorgeous, letting me play with your pretty pussy.”

i moaned, reaching back to tangle my hands in lip’s hair. he leaned into my neck, sucking and biting and kissing everywhere he could reach. i tugged on his hair and he let out a soft moan. “you like that, gallagher?”

i did it again, taking notice of the sounds eliciting from his mouth against my neck. his finger faltered on my clit and he grabbed my hands from his hair. “don’t. cant focus when you do that.”

i let out a breathless laugh, then a gasp when he added another finger against my center. “so fucking good, lip.”

“this how you do it when you’re alone? you touch yourself and think about all the things i could do to you?” i nodded, breathless. “tell me what you think about.”

i let out a shaky gasp, his fingers slowing down and lightly grazing my clit, making me shiver.

“think about you. just like this, fingering me on your couch,” i start, watching him smile deviously in the mirror. “always imagine they’re your fingers making me feel good.”

“yeah i bet you fuckin do,” lip growled, speeding up against my clit once again.

“fuck!” i moaned, the pressure of his fingers perfectly making my center light up. “lip, i’m so fucking close.” i whimpered, arching my back to get away from his fingers.

he pushed my hips down with his free hand, pressing a bit harder on my clit and rubbing in perfect circles. “then take it. don’t try to run from it, gorgeous.”

i nodded against his back, watching him play with my clit in the mirror, loving the look of pure hunger on his face. “just let it go. cum on my fingers, baby.”

just like that, i snap, my eyes squeezing shut as i contract around air, lip still pressing against my clit and sending me into waves of pleasure. i shake against his back as he whispers in my ear.

“keep going. so pretty, baby. so good for me, cumming on my fingers.”

i try to recenter myself but lip keeps pressing lightly on my clit, making me jump. “lip—i can’t— can’t take anymore.”

“that’s too bad. because i’m not nearly done with you. haven’t even gotten inside you and you’re already fucked out.”

i let my head lean against his chest as he runs his fingers through my cum, collecting it on his hand. he brings it up to my chest, smearing it on my nipples and pinching them lightly.

lip fully picks me up and turns me around on his lap, and i jerk every time my clit brushes his boxers. “so sensitive.” he teases with a grin. he keeps eye contact with me as he leans against my chest and licks my nipple, sucking off all the cum he’d put there. he pulls back with a nip, groaning. “taste so fucking sweet. cant get enough.”

i smile bashfully as he goes back in, letting out a moan as i involuntarily rut my hips against his, pressuring my already sensitive clit.

lip inches his hand down to my waist, softly tracing my skin as i away against him.

“think you can give me another one?”

i nod. “wanna be good for you.”

he looks surprised. “is this a new kink i’ve never known about?”

i shove his face away playfully. “it’s new to me, too.” i confess.

“what, you don’t moan into your pillow that you wanna be my good girl?”

i feel heat rising in my cheeks.

“forgot to tell you. remember two weeks ago when you texted me to come over? i guess you forgot. cause when i got there, you were fucking yourself on your pillow.”

my eyes widened, becoming embarrassed that lip had seen me in that state, rutting desperately against my pillow and probably crying out for him.

“you made me so fucking hard. all i wanted was to go in there and fuck you like you deserved.”

i peered at him with wide eyes. “what was i saying?” i almost didn’t want to know.

“something about how much you wanted me to fuck you. how you wanted to be a good girl, the best girl for me.”

oh fuck. “it’s true.” i whispered.

“well then here’s what’s going to happen,” lip says softly, giving me a kiss to my collarbone. “you’re gonna ride my fingers until you cum. tell me just how you like it. show me. i just wanna make my good girl feel good.”

i swallow. “i’ve never…” i start, unable to finish.

“never what?”

“never gone inside. i don’t really know what i like.”

he grinned. “i guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

i bit my lip.

his fingers found my entrance, lightly teasing me as he looked into my eyes. “i’m good. please just do it,” i said, thirsty.

he grinned, sliding one finger into me slowly. i groaned at the sensation, simply an intrusion at that point. i felt the rest of his hand against my clit, providing some relief.

“you move whenever you want to.” lip told me.

i nodded, then started to grind. as soon as i started moving, discomfort turned to pleasure. lip’s finger perfectly filling me up and hitting spots i couldn’t reach myself, his hand pressing against my clit deliciously.

“fuck…” i moaned, moving slowly against him.

“that feel good, princess?”

i nodded, too deep in pleasure to articulate real words.

i sped up, rutting against him as he hit every spot inside of me perfectly.

“just like that. fuck my fingers like you fuck your pillow, baby. be so good for me.”

i kept going, speeding up and lifting myself slightly up and then back down onto his finger. but it wasn’t enough.

“want— want another one.”

“dirty girl. one isn’t enough for you?”

i shook my head.

“whatever you want, gorgeous.”

i groaned as lip slid his finger out and slowly put two back in, filling me even further to the brim.

“fuck..!” i groaned, unable to compute with the fullness. “want—want you to fuck me after this.” i said.

he laughed as i rutted desperately against his fingers. “we’ll see.”

i sped up my motions, absolutely needing the friction everywhere. lip groaned at my swaying, reaching to my chest and licking at my nipple. that just about pushed me over the edge.

“lip— oh my fucking god—“

he hummed against my nipple, the vibrations sending shock through my body until i came again, squeezing my eyes tight and seeing white as waves of pleasure washed over me.

i leaned my head against his chest as i came, jerking slightly as my whole body tensed up.

“so perfect for me. so fucking perfect.”

i panted as i leaned back, lip’s fingers still filling me deliciously. he moved them slightly and i jumped a bit.

“too much,” i whined.

“too much? i haven’t even started.” lip said mischievously. “lift up?”

i did, watching lip pull his fingers out of my cunt and up to his lips. he stared into my eyes and licked them absolutely clean, never breaking eye contact. it made my body heat up even more.

i guess two orgasms made me confident. i leaned against his chest and whispered into his ear. “i want you. want your cock. cant stop thinking about how good it’ll feel.”

i could feel his heartbeat quicken as i kissed his ear and neck, leaving a hickey to rival mine. he started to grind against me, pulling my hips down to match his movements.

his boner immediately brushed against my clit, leaving me moaning against his neck. “cant— cant do more of this. i need you.”

“what, you don’t want another one just like this?”

i shook my head and pouted.

“you know what i think?” lip started, leaning in to kiss my neck. “i think you’re already cockdrunk and i haven’t even fucked you yet.” another kiss. “we’ll have to work on that, won’t we?”

i nodded as he kept working on my neck, teasing and teasing and teasing.

“think you’re ready?” lip asked, serious concern on his face. “because i could happily keep doing this, watching you cum over and over…”

i nodded. “yeah. i’m ready. and i want it to be you.” i made a motion to get up and move to the bed, but lip pressed my hips down onto his.

“absolutely not. i’m gonna fucking ruin you on this couch so it’s burned into your memory. so every time you come over, it’ll just be me and my fingers and my tongue how good i made you feel.”

i shivered.

he made a move to flip me over, but i stopped him. “wanna ride you.”

his eyes went wide. “you’re sure?”

i nodded, slipping off of his lap to slide his boxers off his legs. his dick sprung out, long and incredibly hard. i moved back up and kissed the tip before letting him out on a condom.

“how gentlemanly.” i said, sitting back down on his lap. i felt him tense as my bare cunt touched him, the wetness surely making it difficult for him to stay still.

i slowly slid myself onto him, being sure not to go too fast for my own good. he just kept looking into my eyes and nodding slowly, making sure i was okay. he was bottomed out when i spoke.

“can i move? i’m so fucking wet it hurts.”

he nodded frantically. “please. fuck, yes. you feel so fucking good.”

i wrapped my arms around his neck and started to grind, immediately letting out a moan in sync with his. his chest rose and fell rapidly, his hands both around my waist to help me move.

i went faster, cherishing the sounds that were coming from between us.

“you hear that? so fucking wet. so perfect.” lip groaned, moving my hips in time.

i tilted my head back and sped up, my clit rubbing against his skin and tightening the coil in my stomach.

lip started to lift me full up and slide me back down, letting both of us feel it to the fullest extent. i couldn’t keep quiet, letting out moans that i’d never even heard from myself before.

lip’s sounds were heaven, every time he groaned i found myself closer and closer to the edge.

“you fit me so perfectly, baby. like a fucking glove.”

“lip—“

“i know. i can feel it. it’s okay. come for me, right on my cock. i wanna feel you all over me.”

i slammed down on his hips once more before sending my body into shock, my eyes immediately shutting and body tightening as my orgasm broke loose, haywiring every nerve in my body.

that didn’t stop lip. in fact, i think it spurred him on. he kept thrusting into me as i came, whispering out obscenities as i squeezed around him.

“fuck, baby. so good for me.” he said as he slowed down, letting me come down a bit.

“one more. you can take it. i know you can. my tough girl.”

he picked me up and laid me across the arm of the couch, then positioned himself to slide right back in. i moaned out at the new position, feeling so incredibly full. i felt obscene, full to the brim and completely dizzy.

“you like this? feel so fucking dirty, taking it from the back?”

i nodded, and lip started thrusting slowly. he pulled up my body by my chest and held me close to him, his front to my back. i reached back to comb through his hair, and that did it. he was keeping one hand on my hips, and the other reached around to circle my clit. without warning, another orgasm hit me full in the face and made my body collapse.

i squeezed against lip’s cock and felt him twitch. “fuck. gonna come, gorgeous” he moaned breathlessly.

i barely got out the words through my haze. “please.”

just like that i felt him cum, deeply and fully inside of me. he let out an absolutely obscene groan, one from my dreams, and continued to slowly thrust against me to ride it out. at this point i was completely limp against his body, the only thing keeping me up being his one arm wrapped around my chest.

he was panting as he pulled out of me and helped me down onto my back. i reached out for him, my arms outstretched. he laid down behind me and wrapped his arms around me, pulling a blanket over the both of us.

“fuck.” i said softly.

“so it was better than jack dawson?”

i laughed. “than his one kiss? yes.”

it was silent for a lovely moment.

“hey, i know you’re not exactly an expert at this,” lip started before i rolled my eyes. “but you’re actually supposed to pee after sex.”

“jesus, lip. you just made me cum four times and now you’re coaching me on my health?”

“yes. yep. that is exactly what i’m doing.”

“god. i’ll get up in a minute.”

he stroked my hair as we layed in silence.

“i don’t think i’ll be able to walk tomorrow.” i sighed.

“obvious solution is stay the night. then you won’t even have to walk tomorrow.”

i sighed. “i suppose.”

“hey. how many things can you cross off the list now?”

“oh god. i totally forgot. is that really how this started?”

“mm mm.” lip shook his head. “this started way before today. and you know it. all those goddamn glances, the comments, the little touches. i’ve wanted this for so long.”

i turned over and curled up into his chest.

“me too.”

#lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher #fanfiction #shameless #shameless smut #phillip gallagher

[gardenschedule]

just insane mclennon things

John playing his and Yoko's sex tape in a band meeting

As the meeting was drawing to a weary close, John, not this day with Yoko, who hadn’t seemed particularly connected with what was going on, said he wanted to play us a tape he and Yoko had made. He got up and put the cassette into the tape machine and stood beside it as we listened. The soft murmuring voices did not at first signal their purpose. It was a man and a woman but hard to hear, the microphone having been at a distance. I wondered if the lack of clarity was the point. Were we even meant to understand what was going on, was it a kind of artwork where we would not be able to put the voices into a context, and was context important? I felt perhaps this was something John and Yoko were examining. But then, after a few minutes, it became clear. John and Yoko were making love, with endearments, giggles, heavy breathing, both real and satirical, and the occasional more direct sounds of pleasure reaching for climax, all recorded by the faraway microphone. But there was something innocent about it too, as though they were engaged in a sweet serious game. John clicked the off button and turned again to look toward the table, his eyebrows quizzical above his round glasses, seemingly genuinely curious about what reaction his little tape would elicit. However often they’d shared small rooms in Hamburg, whatever they knew of each other’s love and sex lives, this tape seemed to have stopped the other three cold. Perhaps it touched a reserve of residual Northern reticence. After a palpable silence, Paul said, “Well, that’s an interesting one.” The others muttered something and the meeting was over. It occured to me as I was walking down the stairs that what we’d heard could have been an expression of 1960s freedom and openness but was it more likely that it was as if a gauntlet had been thrown down? “You need to understand that this is where she and I are now. I don’t want to hold your hand anymore.”

Paul putting beetles fucking on his album artwork

John hiring a pig and posing with it solely to mock Ram even though he was scared of it

At the end of the day a farmer delivered a huge hog to the mansion [Tittenhurst Park]. It was John’s notion to parody the album jacket photograph of Paul McCartney’s Ram, which showed Paul wrestling with a ram; John would wrestle with a pig. We all went outside and stared at the large surly animal. It was much bigger than any of us had expected. John circled the animal warily. He liked the idea, but he didn’t like the hog. Dan stood poised to snap the picture. “Climb on its back, John, and grab its ears,” he said. John looked doubtful. He stepped closer to the animal. It let out a shrill, strange, sound. John stepped back, but we all urged him on. “You can do it, John,” I said. John approached the animal once again. “I can’t hold the friggin’ pig for too long. You get one shot and one shot alone,” he told Dan.

Loving John: The Untold Story, May Pang

John & Yoko attempting to get revenge married in Paris 2 days after Paul & Linda

“On March 12, Paul married Linda Eastman at Marylebone Register Office in London, amid scenes of hysterical grief from his female fans. None of the other Beatles was present. The news reached John as he and Yoko were driving down to visit Aunt Mimi in Poole. Yoko’s divorce decree had become final a few weeks earlier, and, in a resurgence of Beatle copycat, John told her they, too, must get married as soon as possible”

Philip Norman, John Lennon: The life

We chose Gibraltar because it is quiet, British and friendly. We tried everywhere else first. I set out to get married on the car ferry and we would have arrived in France married, but they wouldn’t do it. We were no more successful with cruise ships. We tried embassies, but three weeks’ residence in Germany or two weeks’ in France were required.

John Lennon

SALEWICZ: Well, I always found it interesting the fact that he got – I mean, it seemed too much like coincidence to me, the fact that he got married a week or month after you. You know what I mean? PAUL: Yeah. I think we spurred each other into marriage. I mean, you know. They were very strong together, which left me out of the picture. So I got together with Linda and then we got strong with our own kind of thing. And I used to listen to a lot of what they said. I remember him saying to me, “You’ve got to work at marriage,” which is something I still remember as a bit of advice. I still remember that. Um… And then yeah, I think they were a little bit peeved that we got married first. Probably. In a little way, you know, just minor jealousies. And so they got married. I don’t know if that’s – I mean, who knows… [inaudible] making it up, anyway.

September, 1986 (MPL Communications, London): journalist Chris Salewicz

Their belief in telepathy & shared dreams

NEIL: I’d just rather not say anything. It’s one of those situations. PAUL: Yeah. [pause] Well, that’s – that’s the trouble you see, there, ‘cause that’s it. It’s like, with our – heightened awareness, the answer is not to say anything, you know. But it isn’t. ‘Cause I mean, we screw each other up totally if we don’t do that. ‘Cause we’re not ready for your heightened… vows of silence. [laughs; hapless] We’re really not! Like, we don’t know what the fuck each other’s talking about, when that – we all just sort of get— NEIL: I think it’s just between the four of you, that get it. That’s what I’d pretend. PAUL: Oh yeah, right, yeah. But you see, that’s it, that’s why John doesn’t say anything. ‘Cause he, you know, he just… There was something the other day, when I said, “Well, what do you think?” And he just stood there and didn’t say anything. And then – and I know exactly why, you know. I mean, I wouldn’t, if… [long pause] Somehow. You know, there’s nothing really much to be said about it. You just – we all just have to do it, and all that, instead of like talking about it. But – but if one of us is talking about it, it’s a drag if the other three aren’t. Because then it sort of throws you off. [inaudible; voice marking tape slate] I mean, we’ve just been talking about it now for a few years, you know. Like this…

From the Get Back sessions (13 January 1969).

HINDLE: What do you think about language? JOHN: I think it’s a bit crummy, you know? It is a drag form of communication, really. We’ll get – we’ll get telepathy. I believe that. HINDLE: You believe that? JOHN: Yeah, sure. Sure. Sure as anything I believe. It’s too… Because now we need it so much. [...] There are – there’s people everywhere of the same mind and it’s just… even amongst ourselves we can’t communicate. Which is the hard bit, you know. HINDLE: Yeah. JOHN: Amongst the people that sort of really agree. HINDLE: Just ’cause of words? JOHN: Just ’cause of words, and upbringing, and attitude, and how you express your… Well, it’s just some – you’ve got to find a mutual sort of language to express yourself, you know? And my language is that— HINDLE: Unless you fall in love it’s impossible to communicate like that. JOHN: I mean, I wasn’t in love last year, but I was communicating quite well with people. Not as well, or maybe not as powerfully. ’Cause now there’s two of us, doing that, brrmmm, whatever it is. Sending out a vibration or whatever. But before it was me and… or me and George, alright, or whatever it was; we weren’t in love, but. You know. There’s enough in you to shove it out. It is just that bit. If you – if somebody comes in a room and he’s uptight and that, he can make the whole room uptight.

John Lennon, interviewed by Maurice Hindle (December 1968).

PAUL: I remember when John and I were first hanging out together, I had a dream about digging in the garden with my hands. I’d dreamt that before but I’d never found anything other than an old tin can. But in this dream I found a gold coin. I kept digging and I found another. And another. The next day I told John about this amazing dream I’d had and he said, ‘That’s funny, I had the same dream’. So both of us had this dream of finding this treasure. And I suppose you could say it came true. I remember years later talking about it – ‘Remember that dream we had?’; ‘Yeah, that was far out’. So the message of that dream was: keep digging lads.

PAUL MCCARTNEY TO THE BIG ISSUE. FEBRUARY 2012.

John climbing the wall to Paul's house because Paul skipped a session for his & Linda's anniversary

(Not confirmed but supposedly)

Paul being utterly convinced that John can't be gay because he didn't try it on when they slept in the same bed

I mean, if John was–the trouble is, see, is he’s not here to fend for himself, and we can’t ask him, “‘Scuse me, John, are you–have you ever been gay?” I mean, he’s the kind— I remember people used to ask that. There were lots of people asking cheeky questions, and they were always saying, “Well, why–have you ever tried homosexuality, John?” You know, they always used to ask all that kind of stuff. I remember John saying to them, “No, I’ve never met a fella I fancy enough.” And that was his kind of opinion. You know, “I may go–I may be gay one day, if some fella really turns me on.” He was–he was that open about it. But as far as I was concerned, I slept in a million hotel rooms–as we all did–slept in a million places with John, and there was never any hint of it.

December 24th, 1983: interview with DJ Roger Scott

“And I say, if he’s homosexual, I thought he’d have made a pass at me in 20 years, darling.”

Paul McCartney talking about John Lennon.

“Brian Epstein, the Beatles’ manager, was a known homosexual. Epstein was always polite and charming. It has been insinuated that John was drawn to Epstein. I believe there was no such relationship between them. John was macho. But if John was a homosexual, it would have made no difference to me. I’ve asked Paul McCartney, who laughed and said: ‘Why not me? I’m handsome.’ Then he said: ‘I was holed up with John in hotel rooms everywhere. There was never a suggestion of anything like that.’ I believe him.”

Julia Baird, in Boston Globe: Lennon’s half-sister remembers… (2 October 1988).

“All I can ever say about it is that I slept with John a lot because you had to, you didn’t have more than one bed - and to my knowledge John was never gay.”

Paul McCartney, The Brian Epstein Story

And maybe he's right to be offended?

Did Lennon have sex with other men? “I think he had a desire to, but I think he was too inhibited,” says Ono. “No, not inhibited. He said, ‘I don’t mind if there’s an incredibly attractive guy.’ It’s very difficult: They would have to be not just physically attractive, but mentally very advanced too. And you can’t find people like that.” So did Lennon ever have sex with men? “No, I don’t think so,” says Ono. “The beginning of the year he was killed, he said to me, ‘I could have done it, but I can’t because I just never found somebody that was that attractive.’ Both John and I were into attractiveness—you know—beauty.”

Yoko Ono: I Still Fear John’s Killer by Tim Teeman for the Daily Beast (13 October 2015).

There was even some discussion, albeit not very serious, of whether he should stick to his own gender. “John said ‘It would hurt you like crazy if I made it with a girl. With a guy, maybe you wouldn’t be hurt, because that’s not competition. But I can’t make it with a guy because I love women too much, and I’d have to fall in love with the guy and I don’t think I can.’”

Yoko on her and John discussing the terms of an open marriage in 1973 (John Lennon: The Life)

On that note, Paul's obsession with sleeping in the same bed as John

Paul McCartney answers questions for Q magazine, 1998

John and I used to hitch-hike places together, it was something that we did together quite a lot; cementing our friendship, getting to know our feelings, our dreams, our ambitions together. It was a very wonderful period. I look back on it with great fondness. I particularly remember John and I would be squeezed in our little single bed, and Mike Robbins, who was a real nice guy, would come in late at night to say good night to us, switching off the lights as we were all going to bed.

Many Years From Now

John and I always liked wordplay. So, the phrase ‘She’s got a ticket to ride’ of course referred to riding on a bus or train, but – if you really want to know – it also referred to Ryde on the Isle of Wight, where my cousin Betty and her husband Mike were running a pub. That’s what they did; they ran pubs. He ended up as an entertainment manager at a Butlin’s holiday resort. Betty and Mike were very showbiz. It was great fun to visit them, so John and I hitchhiked down to Ryde, and when we wrote the song we were referring to the memory of this trip. It’s very cute now to think of me and John in a little single bed, top and tail, and Betty and Mike coming to tuck us in.

Paul McCartney, on ‘Ticket To Ride’. In The Lyrics (2021).

“John and I grew up like twins although he was a year and a half older than me. We grew up literally in the same bed because when we were on holiday, hitchhiking or whatever, we would share a bed. Or when we were writing songs as kids he’d be in my bedroom or I’d be in his. Or he’d be in my front parlour or I’d be in his, although his Aunt Mimi sometimes kicked us out into the vestibule!”

New Statesman, “Paul McCartney - Meet The Beatle,” September 26, 1997

“I wrote all those songs with him so…. what can I say to people?? We were kids! I mean… we slept together, topped and tailed in beds and hitch-hiking and stuff, so,…. I mean, we were just totally you know,….. mates.”

Paul McCartney

John taking matters into his own hand to start rumours about him and Paul

The consensus among John, Paul and Yoko that if J&P could have been together, they would have

“. . . I mean, I think really what it was, really all that happened was that John fell in love. With Yoko. And so, with such a powerful alliance like that, it was difficult for him to still be seeing me. It was as if I was another girlfriend, almost. Our relationship was a strong relationship. And if he was to start a new relationship, he had to put this other one away. And I understood that. I mean, I couldn’t stand in the way of someone who’d fallen in love. You can’t say, “Who’s this?” You can’t really do that. If I was a girl, maybe I could go out and… But you know I mean in this case I just sort of said, right – I mean, I didn’t say anything, but I could see that was the way it was going to go, and that Yoko would be very sort of powerful for him. So um, we all had to get out the way.”

Paul McCartney, interview with German tv program Exclusiv, April 1985.

JOHN: It’s a plus, it’s not a minus. The plus is that your best friend, also, can hold you without… I mean, I’m not a homosexual, or we could have had a homosexual relationship and maybe that would have satisfied it, with working with other male artists. [faltering] An artist – it’s more – it’s much better to be working with another artist of the same energy, and that’s why there’s always been Beatles or Marx Brothers or men, together. Because it’s alright for them to work together or whatever it is. It’s the same except that we sleep together, you know? I mean, not counting love and all the things on the side, just as a working relationship with her, it has all the benefits of working with another male artist and all the joint inspiration, and then we can hold hands too, right?

John Lennon, interview w/ Sandra Shevey. (Mid-June?, 1972)

Y: After the initial embarrassment, that how Paul is being very nice to me, he’s nice and a very, str- on the level, straight, sense, like wherever there’s something like happening at the Apple, he explains to me, as if I should know. And also whenever there’s something like they need a light man, or something like that he asks me if I know of anybody, things like that. And like I can see that he’s just now suddenly changing his attitude, like his being, he’s treating me with respect, not because it’s me, but because I belong to John. I hope that’s what it is because that would be nice. And I feel like he’s my younger brother or something like that. I’m sure that if he had been a woman or something, he would have been a great threat, because there’s something definitely very strong with me, John, and Paul.

Yoko Ono, Revolution Tape, June 4th 1968

"We thought we'd do a number of an old estranged fiancé of mine called Paul.""

As a second choice from the Lennon- McCartney songbook, Elton suggested 'I Saw Her Standing There'. This appealed to John for its antiquity, and because its lead vocal always was sung by Paul. (...) There was a whisper of Royal Variety Show mischief when he announced "a number by an old estranged fiancé of mine called Paul" - no one yet knowing the estranged fiancés were long reconciled.

John Lennon: The Life, Philip Norman

You know, John loved Paul. No doubt about it. I remember once he said to me, “I’m the only person who’s allowed to say things like that about Paul. I don’t like it when other people do.” He didn’t like if other people said nasty things about Paul. And he always referred to Paul as his estranged fiancé and things like that, like he did on that [live] record ‘I Saw Her Standing There’ with Elton in Madison Square Garden.

1990: Former Beatles publicist Tony King

Married couple signatures

(and the reverse of that postcard...)

John publicly predicting Paul & Linda's divorce

You were right about New York! I do love it; it's the ONLY PLACE TO BE. (Apart from anything else, they leave you alone too!) I see you prefer Scotland! (MM) -- I'll bet you your piece of Apple you'll be living in New York by 1974 (two years is the usual time it takes you right?)

John's letter to Paul in Melody Maker, 1971 Finally, about not telling anyone that I left the Beatles—PAUL and Klein both spent the day persuading me it was better not to say anything—asking me not to say anything because it would 'hurt the Beatles'—and 'let's just let it petre out'—remember? So get that into your petty little perversion of a mind, Mrs. McCartney—the cunts asked me to keep quiet about it. Of course, the money angle is important—to all of us—especially after all the petty shit that came from your insane family/in laws—and GOD HELP YOU OUT, PAUL—see you in two years—I reckon you'll be out then—inspite of it all, love to you both, from us two.

John's personal letter to Linda & Paul, 1971

JOHN: Oh, [Klein]’d love it if Paul would come back. I think he was hoping he would for years and years. He thought that if he did something, to show Paul that he could do it, Paul would come around. But no chance. I mean, I want him to come out of it, too, you know. He will one day. I give him five years, I’ve said that. In five years he’ll wake up. YOKO: And people don’t understand, you know. There’s so many groups that constantly announce they’re going to split, they’re going to split, and they can announce it every year, and it doesn’t mean they’re going to split. But people don’t understand what an extraordinary position the Beatles are in, you know. In every way. They’re in such an extraordinary position that they’re more insecure than other people. And so Klein thinks he’ll give Paul two years Linda-wise, you know. And John said, “No, Paul treasures things like children, things like that. It will be longer.” And of course, John was right.

John Lennon and Yoko Ono, interview w/ Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld. (September, 1971)

#the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #mclennon #only a tiny fraction of insane things #they have such chaotic lore

[ldknightshade]

how to write a morally grey character (and keep them from being a total bore)

so. your other characters have a “clear” distinction of good and evil - that is, from your perspective, your other characters have a distinction of good and evil that aligns with your own and would generally be considered by societal standards to fall under one of two groups… but now you want to make a guy that breaks those boundaries.

look no further.

i. myths

first step is giving them a balance of good and bad traits

1. every character should have this???

2. every trait works on a sliding scale; when amped up to 11, good traits can become bad ones

those who are morally grey are unpredictable

to YOU and those they interact with, maybe… if they do not have a clear moral code of their own, of course they’ll seem this way. but they’re actually quite predictable if you actually comprehend what their motives and values are.

example: Herbert West from Re-Animator’s only motivation is re-animation of the dead. this may be evil to some, noble to others… but is it unpredictable? not really. i think we all know not to trust this man around corpses.

example: Charles Foster Offdensen from Metalocalypse’s only motivation is ensuring the health, safety, and happiness of Dethklok. he goes incredible lengths (war crimes, literally) to do so; this is evil to some, noble to others… but it he unpredictable? not really. if Dethklok is in danger, then he has dropped everything to save them and is doing so as we speak.

they’re relatable / more human

see above examples. moral greyness is not inherently relatable; in some cases, it would be argued that they shouldn’t be. either way, their moral greyness does not make them any more or less human than any other character. their moral greyness makes them morally grey and that’s that.

you need to show them doing both good things and bad things

wrong. you need to show them doing things that align with their personal motivations and values. if your character wouldn’t do it, why force it? this goes both ways.

they need to be sympathetic / have understandable reasons

anyone saying this is afraid of making characters truly morally grey. sympathy is not something that defines morals, anyway; but regardless, sugarcoating their actions and motives by making them a poor little meow meow on purpose is… bullshit. if every morally grey character was sympathetic, fiction as a whole would be dull.

ii. values

this is the real meat of it. what does your character value? is it something practical, like revenge or power? or something wackier like the previously mentioned examples?

clearly define the values your character holds and how it shapes their goals.

iii. motivation / lengths

now… how hard does motivation hit them? how far do they go? where do they draw the line? is there a line for them?

would your character lie to meet their goals? cheat? steal? manipulate? maim? vandalize? kill?

even amongst those, is there specific lines they won’t cross? would your character go as far as killing, but draw the line at children and animals?

and amongst those lines… what would make them cross it? does your character value honesty, but would lie to protect someone? are they a pacifist… but believe followers of certain schools of thought deserve a baseball to kneecaps and won’t hesitate to act on that?

draw out the line for them and then examine their exceptions. this is what will make it seem to other characters that their morality is a roulette wheel; when, in actuality, there is a line of logic that your morally grey character is following.

#ldknightshade.txt #writing #on writing #creative writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers #writing advice #writing help #writing tips #writing inspiration

[ohraicodoll]

Be Still

(Gif Credit Joel-Miller) Joel Miller x fem!reader The Last of Us (Show/Game) 1.4k Words (3rd POV) Summary: It takes her a while to see what’s happening to him. Joel is having a panic attack.  (I’ve never written so fast but had to after watching ep 6!!)

It happened twice before she realized what it was.

At first she worried it was a heart attack. That Joel was having a heart attack in the middle of the forest and she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. It wasn’t a knife wound or gunshot, nothing she could patch up and stitch together. She hadn’t been a doctor in any life, was more skilled in killing than healing, and they didn't have medicine to give him. His age had never been a thing she cared about or was too concerned with. The world wore them down equally, harshly, and he always seemed to defy the number. Was stronger than anyone his age like through his rage he could defy his body. It wasn’t a heart attack though. She could see the bright whites of his eyes, the way they unfocused and his breath would hitch under the press of his hand against his chest. The shallow breaths coming in and out in frantic off-kilter beats. It wasn’t the cold like he tried to play it off as, wasn’t his age or at least not entirely. Panic attack. Joel Miller was having panic attacks and was trying his best to hide them. They’d started after a few close calls. Ellie getting hit or her almost getting her head shot off. Running from a small horde that had built up inside a locked shop they’d inadvertently let loose. The more close calls they had, the more she could see his anxiety build up. And now it was flooding over, manifesting in a way she was startled to see in the man who always seemed like an impenetrable fortress. He was never afraid. But that was fear in his eyes as he rubbed his hand over and over against his chest, staring at the infected at her feet sporting a new bullet hole. So close. It’d been so close to her. Had dropped out of the second floor window of the cabin they stood outside of. And she hadn’t reacted fast enough but he had. Her eyes took in the way he stared, the hollow blank gaze, the twisting of his lips as they shook. Panic. There was panic and fear there. “Ellie, go clear out that shack and start laying out camp for the night,” she ordered and tried to keep her voice steady, not wanting to give away that anything was up, “We’ll clean this up and patrol the grounds real fast.” The teen sighed audibly and tucked her gun away into her pocket overdramatically, not noticing Joel’s silence as she walked towards the small open shack a dozen yards away. The house the infected had come from was dilapidated, all the windows broken and looking like it was sinking in on itself. Not the safest. As soon as the girl was a good distance away and out of direct view, she walked towards Joel slowly as if approaching a skittish animal. His breath was a wheeze in the silence and he almost jumped when her hands reached out and touched his cheek. “Sit, come on. Nice and slow, just sit on the ground,” she coaxed him, cupping his face and drawing his attention away from the dead body. His eyes were glazed but he sank to his knees, hard and crunching the dried leaves. He was still upright, not allowing himself to fall onto his heels and sit completely, so she followed his lead. Knees to knees, her breath mingled with his and one hand went over the ones clutched to his chest, “Come on, Miller, I need you to take deep breaths in and deep breaths out. In through your nose and out through your mouth.” He was shaking, fingers digging into his shirt like he wanted to try and claw his heart out. His beard was rough against her palm, the silver hairs catching the dying light. Joel looked so lost. He never looked like that, was a constant pillar of confidence against the world. Unshakeable. To see him look that way, scared for the first time in a long while, had something twist inside her. His breaths were still shallow, lips quivering, so she mimicked the routine. Loud breaths in, deep sighs out, “You gotta breathe for me, Joel. In and out, real steady.” Awareness was slowly seeping into his eyes and her fingers slipped between his, clutched in his grasp. He focused on her and started to breathe, swallowing heavily. They were broken, stuttered gasps but he was trying. Her hand stayed on his cheek and she could feel each attempt, see the color and life come back to him. “There you are,” she whispered with a gentle smile, one that was usually reserved for Ellie. Joel never liked things gentle, rejected softness, so she had never offered it. Everything between them was rough, brutal, from the way they fought to how he would smash his mouth against hers during those tiny moments of privacy. 

They had hated each other and then…they didn’t. But it was never gentle, wasn’t love or even affection. 

She didn’t expect to be the one to keep him from breaking apart. His breathing was getting steadier, more confident. She almost smiled wider, “Okay. Go over the supplies we have in the first aid kit.” A furrow appeared between his brows, the first hint of Joel coming back, “What?” “Just do it, Tex,” it was a command but stayed coaxing, soft even as his fingers gripped her own so hard her bones protested. His eyes flickered all over while he struggled to think and her forehead came to rest against his, “Five things then in the kit.” Their matched breathing warmed her and with a stutter, Joel started listing things. Gauze. Tape. Needle and thread. Scissors. Tweezers. “Technically, that’s six,” she smirked and was pleased that by the end of the list, his breathing was back to normal and he was no longer shaking. “You can’t have a needle without thread. It’s one item,” Joel huffed roughly, not much humor in the comment. Silence took them over and neither moved. She knew his knees had to be hurting against the cold hard ground because hers were starting to, but she didn’t want to be the first one to pull away. She’d stay kneeling there all night if it was what he needed because somewhere along the lines of months they’d all been traveling, Joel had become one of hers. Not only Ellie, but this gruff older man who bit off her head yet gave her the bigger pieces of jerky and would sometimes stop her to kneel and tie her shoes for her. He took care of them both. In the dark he shared his favorite bands growing up and in the light acted like the sight of her made him angry. And now holding him after seeing him deal with a panic attack, she wondered how much of what he felt was hidden under layers and layers. If she’d ever actually get to know Joel and not only what he wanted her to see. Because he wasn’t unstoppable, wasn’t fearless. He was petrified. Slowly, she leaned forward and grazed his nose with her own. The prickle of his mustache and beard against her skin drove tingles across her skin, his breath warm against her lips. He didn’t stop her, didn’t shove her away and walk off even after she’d witnessed a vulnerability. Instead he leaned forward and met her lips with his, the barest of touches. More a press than an actual kiss. It was the gentlest thing she ever felt from the man and it seemed to do more than all the times he tasted her skin and pressed his tongue against her. She pressed harder, kissed him deeper, and tried to pour out everything she knew he would reject out loud. You’re okay. I’m okay. I’ve got you. His hand gripped hers but softened in answer. They wouldn’t talk about it. She knew as much not to push that. But he didn’t try to play it off and instead let her keep that secret of his and take on its burden. It was one of the few things they shared and she would guard it, guard him as fiercely as that little girl.

Even after she broke their kiss, gave him a small smile and helped him get to his feet so they could go check on Ellie, he didn’t let go of her hand.

#raicodoll writes #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #tlou #the last of us #tlou spoilers #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x feral reader #series: feral #oc: red #this stuck in my mind hard #def as someone that deals with panic attacks

[aritany]

On Identity: The Truth

Content warnings: homophobia, transphobia, references to self harm and suicide.

I’ve been keeping secrets my whole life.

I’m 10 and I’m listening to my dad at the dinner table, who I know to be the most trustworthy person in the world. He talks about the legalization of marriage between two people of the same sex and asks us to consider the implications. Where do we draw the line in the sand? Legalizing gay marriage paves the way for legalizing pedophilia, after all. If a union between two men or two women isn’t disrespecting the sanctity of marriage, what’s next? Marriage between men and animals?

I’m 11 the first time I hear it: “It doesn’t matter how low I set the bar for you, you still can’t reach it.”

I’m confused and afraid—I’m trying so hard—but I hear it then, and again, and again, spoken low in disappointment, shouted with a vein popping in her forehead, cold like a fact, and it sinks in, bone deep.

I’m 12 with my first crush on a girl. I’m not confused, I know that’s what it is—I want to kiss my friend, and I already know not to talk about it. Never to talk about it. It isn’t safe.

I’m 13 and doubting. I throw myself into fitting in. I pick the right boys to like and I go overboard, and I do like them, I do, I do, I want them to like me, I want to be their friend. I want to be their equal, but that’s not quite how the story goes, so I settle for trying to hold hands with somebody I desperately crave respect from, but that’s wrong too, I learn. 

I’m 14 and convicted. How could this be wrong? I brush hands with a girl in choir and we meet eyes and I know. I watch a gay kiss on TV and I sob into my hands and I tell no one, no one, no one.

I’m 15 and I come out to my mom, haltingly, with the terminology that I have, because the thought of hiding forever—keeping quiet through one more dinner—kills me.

She tells me no. She tells me I’m wrong.

I look in her eyes and I understand: it’s not an option, and it never will be.

I’m 15 and I do my best to stop there.

It doesn’t work.

I’m 16 when I first hear my mom say that you can love someone and not approve of their lifestyle. I wonder what kind of love that is. I wonder how that kind of diluted, half-hearted, patronizing love can be enough for anyone. I wonder if she’s thought about how that feels, to be told that who you are—not by choice—is fundamentally wrong.

I’m 16 and a boyfriend is a shield. The right choice, so I make it, and it’s even almost fun. I love being his friend. I’m afraid of anything more.

I’m 17 and my youngest sibling whispers, “So am I.”

My heart breaks for the pain they’ll experience, as they too are taught, painstakingly, how to hate themself. Which parts of themself have to be kept hidden, which parts are shameful. They sit at that dinner table and hear the rhetoric that pushed me to the brink and over it, and I hope they’re stronger than I am.

They aren’t.

I’m 18 and my mom works at a college for the performing arts. I sit and curdle quietly while she talks about her genderqueer students. Misgenders them behind their backs. Deadnames used flippantly. She knows better, after all. She can be the expert on somebody else’s identity. They’re mentally ill, all of them. None of them are happy. They’re searching for something only God can provide.

I’m 19 and I come out as bisexual to the man I’m certain I’m going to marry, tearing the secret out like a bandage fused to skin. He tells me of course it’s fine, that he supports who I am. Of course people like me should have rights, of course. I laugh, relieved. Later, I find out this moment was almost a dealbreaker for him, and I wonder how much was ever real.

I’m 20 and I’m out. I’m 20 and I’m free. I’m 20 and I believe, because I’ve been told, that I am loved for who I am. All of who I am. I still flinch when I hear a car door slam.

I’m 21 and I’m searching for the connection to my womanhood. I’m searching for what makes a woman a woman. I’m reading gender theory and talking to friends around the world and wondering exactly what it is that I’m missing.

What does the rest of the world know that I don’t?

I’m 22 when my marriage ends because my body might not be attractive to my husband one day, and my parents email him in support and solidarity, expressing sympathy, and I’m not surprised.

I’m 22, and standing up for who I am has cost me everything. A spouse, two sets of parents, financial security, a city’s worth of community, more childhood friends than I can count. My parents tell me to go back in the closet so my ex-husband will love me. To them, his frustration is understandable, of course—by presenting androgynously, I’m betraying my marriage vows, after all.

I wonder, stunned into silence, where I promised to look like a woman.

I’m 23 when I come out to my parents for the third time; not as bisexual, not as trans, but as hurt. 

I lay out the pain of the last decade as succinctly as I can, hoping they’ll hear. When I assert that yes, to be in relationship with me, use of my name and pronouns is a requirement, my mother jokes, “Well, we don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

It’s not a joke.

I see the flash in her eyes, the instant regret as she laughs it off like it’s funny, but it isn’t.

The kid sitting at the dinner table knows it’s not a joke. The kid who listened to countless lectures on the morality of queerness knows it’s not a joke. The kid who stood with shaking hands and tried to bleed out the bad knows it’s not a joke. Years of casual bigotry taught me how to hate myself, which parts of myself I should cross out and ignore, which parts of myself I should be ashamed of.

I’m 23, and I have finally unlearned shame, and when I ask my parents to see me, the joke is that I’m a terrorist. I’m unreasonable.

The shock of it becomes a balm, later on.

Some jokes aren’t funny.

Some jokes aren’t jokes at all.

I’m 24 and I’m learning that it’s scary to be alone. Bigotry made me an orphan and made us strangers, and knowing that it’s the right choice to stand up for myself doesn’t make it any easier. I’m learning the only way out is through, if you’re not squeamish:

Cut off the part of yourself that’s 7 years old standing outside of their bedroom because the nightmare had teeth and claws and they are the heroes that will hold you close and make it warm again.

Amputate.

Cauterize.

Don’t let them see you bleed.

I’m learning that the wound takes a long, long time to close.

I’m 25 as I write this, and I am proud of who I am, even if I’m still bleeding. All of who I am. It’s taken a long time for me to let that person see the sun, but here we are, basking in the glow. Those wounds are healing. I am visible for everyone else who whispers, “So am I.”

Your sunshine will come. Your sunshine will come. 

Your sunshine will come.

#long post #alex talks #tw transphobia #trans day of visibility #international transgender day of visibility #tw homophobia #tw suicide #tw self harm

[hattiestgal]

SHAKES YOU how do you draw taurs. i need help i genuinley cant wrap my head around the anatomy of it. optionally i need help with fat taurs but any kind of taur is okay

Ooh, I love these sorta questions!!!

So there are two main things folks usually struggle with when it comes to drawing taurs as a whole. 1, they struggle with quadrupedal anatomy and 2. connecting the humanoid upper body to the quadrupedal lower body. Obviously there's no shame in either of these things, drawing four legged animals, especially if you're more used to the anatomical structure of something more humanoid is quite tough! And finding the sweet spot where humanoid and quadruped meet to make a taur is a bit of a struggle for folks who're still figuring it out.

So! The first thing you wanna do really is just familiarize yourself with quadrupedal anatomy. Look at the skeleton of the creature you're trying to taur and see how things like their limbs bend differently or how they're just differently naturally posed as compared to someone who walks upright.

This is a very simplified skeleton of a cat, but you can pretty immediately see how differently everything bends. And I'm not saying it's something you have to perfectly master to know how to draw a taur (especially when you get to drawing fat taurs), but i highly recommend becoming familiar with how a quadrupedal body is structured, the silhouette of most animals is quite misleading! And absolutely use reference!

Heck, our first go at drawing taur Riley was super heavily referenced (I'll even share the ref image if anyone is interested!), and this still came out real jank. Practice makes perfect!

As for connecting the upper body to the lower body, this is a little more subjective and up to you, but I'll lay out some general guidelines.

Generally speaking, you wanna put the humanoid torso where the base of the neck is, the front of the torso kinda merging with the rest of the taur body just after the tummy, basically just before the crotch starts.

As for the back, you're gonna want to shoot for just shy of where the butt starts, waist having curved back outwards. It gets a little awkward if you go higher or lower than that. And obviously, you wanna make sure the torso is firmly planted in the center of where the neck should be, ehehe.

That's pretty much the basics though! As always, i recommend looking at how your favorite taur artists draw the creatures and studying off of that! Familiarize yourself with quadrupedal anatomy, and use reference!! You will absolutely get it down with time. I will absolutely cover fat taurs if there's interest in it, and ofc, lemme know if there's anything I missed or need to go over! I hope this helps!

#hat answers #my art #my ocs #Riley Foxglove #design talk #tutorials #taurposting #i imagine this one'll find a much more niche audience but i really do hope its helpful! #these are the two things that definitely gave me grief when i was first figuring out how to Taur #but im sure theres plenty more i missed! #never be afraid to ask about stuff!!!!!!

[sherlocks-blanket]

Drunk Confessions

A/N: Finally, after having not posted for such a long time... I can post a fic I had as a WIP since last year... I hope I get to write more again, but I can't promise anything. Anyway, I hope you guys like it.

Words: 1k

Warnings: Nothing, just some drunk sherlock?

After you received a message from Sherlock, that you should come as soon as possible to Baker street, minus the spelling errors; which you dismissed he messaged while being in trouble… You dropped anything you where doing and hurried outside to hail a cab; to take you to 221B.

The moment the cab halt, you paid the driver and rushed up the stairs to find Sherlock with John sitting towards each other with notes attached on their foreheads and from the liquor in their hand; you could probably tell, that they had too much for this evening, with how wasted they are…

As you gasped for air, you let yourself drop on the doorframe, drawing the attention from the two men. You noticed a smile spreading on Sherlock lips the second his eyes where on you, but it wasn’t a fake one; it radiates warmth like he was pleased to see you came, which was unlike for Sherlock to do. Not that he can’t do it, but when he does; it’s either false ones that you can tell apart from the real, since the real ones are rare and shows how comfortable he is with someone, that he shows it; unlike the fake ones, where he drops his smile immediately the moment the person turns they face away from him; which you noticed a few times…

A giggle from John broke the awkward silence in this room. You turned your gaze to the doctor and raised an eyebrow at him.

“I kneeeeeeeew it!” he exclaimed, pointing to Sherlock, then he took a sip from his drink.

You furrowed your brows in further confusion, but shaking your head; you got your phone out of your pocket and wrote Mary; telling her she should pick up her drunken fiancé… Just as you were done writing the text; a client walked into the flat and asked for Sherlock; but you kindly explained she should come tomorrow, since it gotten late. It made you wonder if clients show up at any hour of the day…

Sherlock, of course…He protested that the client shouldn’t leave even after the client had already left. After all, who knows? It could’ve been a missed opportunity for a case that could have gotten his interest; but you simply pushed him back in his armchair when he tried to stand up.

“You can work tomorrow…Now you better rest, so you’ll be sober for the next day…”

He stared with a sharp glare, like he wanted to prove with some deductions he’s capable of working, but he faltered instantly; which you took as a sign that he gave in. When you turned to help John downstairs; where Mary would pick him up; still you felt his eyes bore onto you.

As Mary left with John; she gave you an apologetic glance before they got into a cab; leaving you to deal with a drunken Sherlock.

When you stepped through the door, Sherlock sat still in his armchair, his posture relaxed; his eyes on something. You never saw him resting like that, but it most likely came from the alcohol…

His eyes wandered to you, noticing you were present again. There was this again…

This warm smile.

“Well…let’s get you sobered up…” you mumbled, leaning your hand on his shoulder to animate him to standing up, which he didn’t and instead, he took your hand in his own; staring at it like it was a piece of art.

“You have such soft hands...”,he murmured, keeping his eyes on your hand; rubbing his thumb along your palm.

You gently withdrawn your hand feeling the a heat rise on your cheeks; before you could say something again that he needs to rest, he slowly stood up wobbly on his own; leaning his hand your shoulder for support.

With you by his side, you brought him to his bedroom and only helped to remove his shoes and his suit jacket. It didn’t need to get more awkward than it already was for you.

Just as you turned the night light off and wanting to head to the living room; you felt your hand taken again and a warm feeling on it. You peeked over your shoulder; seeing Sherlock lean his cheek on it, with his eyes closed.

You tried to withdraw your hand, but at the same time, you didn’t mind it much. So, you stayed for a while and heard Sherlock snoring softly.

**********

The next morning you were preparing some tea and some water with some painkillers. You assumed he'll have a headache after yesterday…

Just as you wanted to get your stuff from the couch and leave for your own flat; you heard a door open followed with some footsteps.

“Morning.” You greeted him with a smile, which disappeared the moment you thought about yesterday again... It made you wonder if he remembered his drunken behavior or if he ‘deleted’ it from his ‘hard drive’.

Sherlock acknowledged you with a slight nod and went for the water and painkillers.

You watched him silently drink the water but felt uncomfortable for you staring at him. So you thought it was better to go. As you took a single step; Sherlock called your name, drawing your attention back to him.

“About yesterday-“

You interrupted him, holding your hands up in defense; ”No! It’s alright…I know you didn’t mean that…“

Sherlock stared at you, and you could tell he thought for his next words, as he slowly opened his mouth to only closed it again.

“I..I really like you, and I mean... It”

You raised your eyebrows in confusion from this explanation about yesterday until he added.

“ I mean…I like you more than a friend…”

You froze on the spot at his confession as weird as the situation was you wanted to show him you felt the same, so you got out of your stupor and hugged him. It definitely caught him by surprise.

“Do you…feel the same?” he asked cautiously.

You only nodded and said while chuckling; “Yes.”

Sherlock hummed in thought. “I might have to thank John for this…it was his idea to text you…”

You thought again before you slowly connected the dots about yesterday. Like when John said he knew it…Did he see that you liked Sherlock or Sherlock, you or even both? You shook the thoughts away since they didn’t matter anymore. The only thing what mattered…

…was now.

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