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cheeriecherrymain · 10 months

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Your Room [Viktor x fem!Reader] [2/2]

[Part 1]

---

The walk back to Viktor’s room seems longer than it actually is.

Punctuated only by the soft click of your shoes, the two of you meander forward, hand in hand. The pad of his thumb is soft, affectionately stroking over the curve of your knuckles.

Neither of you say anything: there’s not much to be said, anyways. You both know what’s going to happen the moment you’re behind closed doors. You both know that your relationship is going to change forever.

The thought alone sends little thrills coursing through your veins - not only the fact that you’re probably about to have the best sex in your entire life, but also the fact that you’ll get to keep him afterwards. The fact that you’ll get to take him on dates, and learn new things about him, and have all kinds of experiences that you otherwise wouldn’t.

His steps falter then, startling you out of your thoughts as the two of you come to a stop, smack in the middle of a wide, empty hallway.

“You okay?” you ask, concerned.

Strangely enough, though, he only tightens his hand around yours, giving you a gentle smile. “I was going to ask the same of you,” he admits. “You stopped breathing for a moment - I wanted to make sure you were…you know. Okay.”

You bite back a grin, and nudge him a little to make him walk again.

“I was just thinking,” you explain quietly, once you find your pace together. “I’m excited for tonight.”

You don’t miss the way the corner of his mouth quirks.

“But I’m also excited for tomorrow night. And the night after that. After the night after that. I’m looking forward to making a future with you - I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m glad you’ll be a part of it.”

The air hangs heavy between the two of you, so thick that you can almost feel it every time you draw a breath. Viktor has, much to your amusement, quickened his steps. He tugs you down the hall, possibly faster than you’ve ever seen him amble, and you’re unable to resist the delighted little giggle that bubbles past your lips.

—

His room is thankfully not too far.

It still takes forever for him to dig out his keys and fumble around with them, though. You almost expect him to drop them, with the way he haphazardly leafs around the ring, but he doesn’t. He all but shoves the door open once it’s unlocked, stepping aside to let you in.

The front hallway is remarkably narrow, but he appears to have thought ahead and left a light on that morning. You’re grateful, really - with the amount of clutter he’s got piled up along one wall, you’re certain that you would have tripped or broken something.

Either way, you don’t get much time to look around.

The door clicks shut behind you, and in an instant, Viktor’s hands are on your waist. Spinning you around so he can oh so sweetly press you against the open wall, bringing your lips together in a searing kiss.

He wastes no time reaching around to fiddle with the zipper on the back of your skirt, shoving the offending material away from your body. You briefly wonder how he even knows where all your buttons and clasps are located, but the more you think about it, the less surprised you are.

He’s always been detail-oriented. Why would this be any different?

You, on the other hand, have a more difficult time divesting him of his clothing. Not for the complicated design, or a ridiculous amount of ties and folds - rather, every time you try to remove something, he squirms around and drags you closer to his bedroom.

“Viktor…” you whine, when you finally arrive at your destination.

Your clothes have been discarded and dropped along your pathway, leaving you mostly bare to the slightly chilled air of his apartment. He, on the other hand, is still entirely dressed, much to your dismay.

You recline comfortably across his bed, shyly peeking up at him where he stands at the end, shamelessly leering at you. Worry wiggles in the back of your mind for a moment, wondering briefly if you looked alright, if he was pleased with what he saw.

Until he starts pulling at his own garments in earnest.

Gaze never leaving your body, he loosens his tie and tosses it aside. Pops the buttons of his vest apart, letting it fall off his shoulders. Unclips the cuffs of his shirt, and pulls it over his head.

You can see the way his face darkens as each article plops to the floor. Flushed the most delectable shade of pink, from the tops of his cheekbones out to the tips of his ears. Most notably, you can see the way he avoids meeting your eyes, despite the fact that he’s still looking at you.

You push yourself up, rising to your knees.

“C’mere,” you murmur, eagerly reaching towards him. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, a stark contrast to the usual bone-deep chill of his hands - dotted with little freckles and moles, speckled across the expanse of his pale flesh.

“You’re perfect,” you tell him honestly, before pulling him down into a kiss. Slower than your previous one, deeper and more insistent. His lips easily part when you nip at them, allowing you to slide your tongue hot against his - a soft groan tumbling out.

This time, when you move to the waist of his trousers, he doesn’t try to redirect or deter you. You can feel him tense slightly, but he ultimately allows you to remove the last of his clothes. You, of course, have always been efficient: you shove his slacks down alongside his underwear, keeping your grip on him steady while he kicks the pile aside.

And then you pull him forwards.

Entirely ungraceful, he tumbles onto the bed with you, allowing you to take advantage of his momentary loss of balance to flip him over onto his back. He fights you a little bit, snorts and giggles rising up between the two of you while you squirm around and bat at each other.

A squeal, erupting from you when he pinches the soft fat of your ass.

A debauched gasp, when you dig your nails into his hips.

Until you’re able to settle finally, dispelling some of the nervous tension that had accumulated on the walk over. Smiling warmly at each other, hopeful for the future you’ll be making together, excited about what adventures you might go on.

Excited for the rest of the evening.

You lean towards him and draw him into another kiss, slow and intimate. Your breath mingling together as you bring your bodies impossibly closer. You can feel where he presses against your tummy, his cock already hard and leaking with desire.

Never parting from him, you bring your hand down to wrap around him, reveling in the way his breath catches in his throat when you squeeze your fingers around velvety flesh. He’s thick, you think, your mind trailing back to earlier, when he’d been four fingers deep in your desperate cunt.

He’d told you that it would still be a tight squeeze, and god, you’re more than thrilled that he’d been telling the truth.

“Fuck, you’re going to fill me up so good,” you sigh dreamily, parting your lips for the briefest moment. “If I didn’t want to tease you so much, I’d be begging you to fuck me right now.”

Since leaving the lab, he’d been calm. Easygoing and pliant, reciprocating your touches with his own tentative ones: a contradiction to how he’d treated you when he’d had half his hand inside you, whispering filth in your ear, promising you the most delicious things.

But now, as you murmur those same dirty little things to him?

It’s like a switch flips inside him.

He swiftly bullies you onto your back, all but ripping your panties down your legs, tossing them carelessly aside. Your bra follows suit, and then his mouth is on you - sucking little bruises into your skin, leaving behind the tender imprints of his teeth. You’re going to be feeling him for hours.

“I should fuck you,” he growls, rolling one of your nipples around before pinching hard. “You were so desperate earlier - I bet your sweet little cunt is still loose and wet from my fingers. I could just slide right in.”

As if to emphasize his point, he slides the blunt head of his cock through your folds, applying the barest hint of pressure when he catches on your hole. Teasing you, taunting you, not quite pushing hard enough as to sink in and give you what you want.

You whine impatiently, trying in vain to roll your hips, hoping that he might have mercy and fill you.

“I’m not going to,” he tells you, plainly. You open your mouth to protest, but he’s quick to shush you with an open-mouthed kiss, mostly tongue.

“I want to taste you first,” he hums, kissing a path down the column of your throat. “I want to fuck you with my tongue, and make sure you’re nice and open for me.”

From your neck, to your collarbone, to the center of your chest, he leaves a scalding wet trail. Pausing briefly to find his entertainment with your breasts, laving his tongue over one nipple before closing his lips around it to deliver a harsh suck. Giving attention to both of them, until they’re sore and puffy and drawn into stiff peaks.

Only once he’s satisfied does he continue his journey down your body, leaving more bites in his wake.

Even once he’s inches from your weeping pussy, he still teases you. Nipping and sucking at the insides of your thighs, your legs held open by his dextrous hands. His breath tickles the soft hairs littering your skin, making you squirm beneath his ministrations.

“Viktor, please,” you whimper, trailing your own hand down towards your drenched cunt, desperately searching for any kind of pleasure, even just to take the edge off.

As expected, he bats you away.

“Keep your hands by your head,” he orders lowly, glaring up at you with beautiful honeyed eyes. The familiar amber now almost totally eclipsed by the black of his pupils. “You’ll have your pleasure from me, or you’ll not have it at all - understood?”

You whine.

He smacks the inside of your thigh, not an inch from your dripping core.

“Understood?” he repeats, and this time, you nod.

After that, he gives you what you would truly describe as the most blissful kind of torture you’ve ever experience. Keeping you waiting, wanting, thirsting for move of him.

His tongue plunged deep into your hole, while he flicks his thumb over your puffy clit. Working fast designs onto your slick bud, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. Only to change his tactics on a whim, removing his mouth from you entirely so he can fuck three fingers into you without so much as a warning.

Crooking them perfectly within you to find that delicious little spot, sending a dull ache of pleasure through every nerve in your body. Relentless in his movements, he keeps his eyes on your face so he can watch you writhe and cry.

“Look at you,” he coos, pulling his fingers out right as you’re about to come. You whine in frustration at the loss of sensation, tightening your grip on the headboard, but he only grins up at your mercilessly.

“Pretty thing, getting all worked up like that,” slowly, almost tenderly, he spreads your pussy open, watching enthralled as you tremble and clench around nothing, so close to your orgasm and yet so painfully far. “As if I would let you come so soon. You can sob and beg and cry as much as you want to, you can make a mess: it doesn’t matter. You’ll come when I allow it.”

He flicks his tongue over your clit again, bemusement sparkling in his eyes when the smallest spatter of fluid squirts out of your cunt, dribbling down his chin. “Though,” he hums, “I might have to make you do that again.”

And just like that, he continues his beautiful torment.

Bringing you to the edge again and again, almost gleeful when you whine like he’d predicted, sobbing, begging, crying.

Until you’re unable to do much more than quiver at his touch, your voice hoarse and broken, throat dry. You don’t understand how he’s able to reduce you to such a state, tears tracked down your cheeks, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, eyes lidded and glazed over with desire.

You’re so dazed and out of it, you barely even notice the press if his lips on your tummy. Slowly, gently, kissing his way back up your body, leaving a pathway of warmth as he goes.

“Oh, milý,” he whispers, when he finally reaches your face. Littlering your cheeks with little smooches, his previously joyous expression falters slightly.

“I didn’t break you, did I?” he asks, the genuine concern obvious in his tone. “If it’s too much for you, we can stop for tonight - no questions asked. We can-”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion, and immediately you begin squirming. A flurry of movement, gripping weakly at whatever parts of his body you can reach, all in an attempt to dissuade him from the idea.

“No, no no no,” you beg, your eyes welling up with fresh tears. “Please- please- I want to come- Viktor I’ve been good, I’ve been good for you-”

“Shhh,” he soothes, his hand finding your jaw so he can guide you into a sweet kiss. “You’ve been so good for me, letting me have my fun with your perfect cunt, giving me whatever I so desire. You didn’t even come, just as I told you to.”

He grips your hip and rolls you onto your side, where you both lay facing each other. His expression infinitely softer than it had been, all the warmth and affection he feels for you seeping forth from him, comforting you with each delicate press of his fingers.

“Would you take me now, milý?” he asks quietly, hooking a hand behind your knee so he can hike your leg up over his hip. “Would you let me fill you up? With my cock, with my come?”

You sniffle wetly, overwhelmed from the sudden onslaught of emotion. But still, you muster a nod.

“Please,” you whimper.

Your lips meet again, slow and unhurried as you mesh together, parting and gasping and crying out, tongues sliding against each other.

The dull pressure of his cock nudging your entrance, already slick with your wetness.

And then, slowly.

Slowly,

He spreads you open. His blunt head sliding into you, inch by inch, deeper and deeper, impossibly deep, you’ve never felt so full in your entire life. The stretch burns so perfectly, despite the way he’d fucked you with his fingers, nothing could have truly prepared you for the all-encompassing feeling of him finally sheathing himself within you.

The two of you stay like that for several moments, wrapped up tightly in one another, your breaths catching in your throats and mingling. His voice, as cracked and debauched as yours is, rumbling forth from his throat.

“You’re incredible,” he groans, his brows pulling together as he fights to not lose himself in the sensations. “Perfect- můj krásný miláčku.”

Once he starts fucking you, his pace is relentless.

His thrusts are short and quick, just barely pulling out of your ruined cunt before fucking hard back in, finding a rhythm in mere moments, holding you close while he uses your drenched hole.

You can tell he’s lost to the pleasure, his movements sloppy and bordering on unhinged, though no less delectable - and after everything he’s put you through, it doesn’t take much for your orgasm to approach once again. Every muscle in his body is strung taut, holding you so close, keeping your sweat-slicked foreheads pressed together.

“I can feel you clenching around me,” he huffs, his pace never faltering. “You squeeze around me so good - I never imagined you’d feel like this. All my nights alone in the lab couldn’t compare to how you feel- fuck!”

In his desperation to see you come, he manages to slip a hand between your bodies, to rub fast little shapes against your oversensitive and swollen clit. You practically wail the moment he makes contact, digging your nails into his skin.

“Come for me,” he demands, begs. “Come for me, and I’ll fill you up-”

Your breath catches in your throat.

And your orgasm crests over you. White-hot and violent, sending tremors down each of your limbs as the world around you is drowned out and all you can feel is Viktor.

Inside you.

His breath, tickling your face.

His hips, stilling against you.

Filling you, hot.

Impossibly full, dripping out of you.

Time is lost to you, with nothing but the flutter of your heart to alert you to the passing minutes. You’re boneless, untethered, floating aimlessly in an unknown place of unimaginable bliss.

Until slowly, tenderly, lovingly, you’re brought back to yourself.

The warmth of a damp cloth, cleaning you up, followed by another to softly pat you dry. The feeling of lips, gentle against your skin, and the pads of fingers, drawing patterns over your sides. Leaving goosebumps behind.

You take a deep breath.

Sigh in contentment.

Open your eyes.

And there is Viktor, staring at you with the utmost affection, and dare you say, love. His cheek smushed into a pillow, he watches you as he touches you, innocently, waiting patiently while you gather your wits and come back to him.

“Are you well?” he wonders, bringing a hand up to your face, stroking his thumb over the curve of your cheek.

You huff a quiet laugh.

“I think I love you, Viktor.”

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #the ace writes naughty stuff #i hope you guys enjoy this

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anamazingangie · 5 months

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In defense of ‘House of the Dragon’ costumes.

I doubt anyone will read this, but at least I can link to it instead of arguing with people.

I don’t even like the costumes that much, truly, but every fucking time the criticism is paired with examples of the costuming work on ‘The Borgias’, ‘The Tudors’, or even ‘Reign’. I have thoughts on the costumes from those shows too, but will readily admit they do have more detail and texture than most garments worn in HotD.

HOWEVER

Whenever I hear these mentioned in comparison I want to scream.

Tudors is set in 16th-century England.

Borgias is in 1490-1500 Italy

Reign [allegedly] depicts mid 16th century Europe.

None of these have examples of medieval fashion. The middle ages spanned from the 5th century to the 15th (and by then, the renaissance movement had come to Italy, so the Borgias does not depict medieval clothing, either.)

ASOIF is a fantasy universe, true, but GRRM has stated many times that the Middle Ages served as a basis for the world he created and that historical realism was an important grounding factor for making the universe feel real, too.

I think it’s fair to say this should apply to clothing, just as it applies to decor, atmosphere, and technological advancements in both the books and the show. Clearly it is supposed to replicate the middle ages, or a very similar equivalent in Westeros.

I’m happy to suspend some disbelief given the fact it is a fantasy setting—for example none of the garments in GoT were historically ‘accurate’ but the more traditional gowns kept a silhouette and stylistic details that were similar to garments from the 15th century [most pointedly Sansa’s and Cersei’s gowns from the earlier seasons] which would fit the period in history that influenced the books.

I genuinely think HotD was trying to do something similar, drawing from fashions from the slightly earlier 1300s/1400s—which follows with the established timeline.

And, obviously, that is very much not the time period shown in borgias, reign, or the tudors. It is in fact HUNDREDS of years earlier.

To put this into context:

Comparing the 1300s to the 1500s is equivalent to comparing your wardrobe to what is in a Jane Austen film.

Comparing the 1500s to the 1700s is like comparing civil war era uniforms to what is worn by the military today.

A lot changes in 200 years.

And you know what? Garments in the 1300s weren’t that pretty.

Almost all of them lacked closures, which meant they went over the head and were shaped with belts or ties.

Corsets were not worn during this period so any sort of tight, supportive, and shapely bodices in this era is a thing of fiction.

Though layers were often worn, they were typically only visible at the hems and not the neckline [so the layers of a partlet/visible chemise as seen in the 16th century was unlikely, too].

In fact the only realistic depiction of this period I've seen in costuming is on the show “Hollow Crown” and do you know what those dresses looked like? Well…

Not to mention this is a difficult period to research in general since so little paper survived. This website has timelines for fashion, and where the 15th century page features a dozen examples for each decade, the 14th century page has less than a dozen examples TOTAL.

Now I’m not saying the costumes couldn’t have been better. I do think fabrics with more texture could have made even the simple gowns look more interesting, and I wish the amazing embroidery that we saw hints of was better utilized.

But, I think given the historical examples the designer was probably tasked with interpreting in a fantasy setting, the costumes are just not going to be as fantastic as what you see in dramas from later periods.

(The wigs however were unforgivable, i’ll give you that, lol. )

ALSO I'm not saying you can't complain about them or think they were ugly. I'm just saying that if you are going to compare them to something, please compare them to garments from other fantasy dramas, or things that actually take place in the same period.

Ok. Rant over.

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #costume design #costume #targaryen #hbo #historical #medieval fashion #middle ages #medieval dress #rant

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winxanity-ii · 7 months

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𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭. 𝐏𝐑𝐓.𝟑

╚»★«╝ 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐞𝐧: 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 & 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 x 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐨!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ╚»★«╝

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: angst

‌🇷‌🇦‌🇹‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌: non-explicit

🇵‌🇴‌🇻‌: 2nd person; You/Your

🇩‌🇪‌🇸‌🇨‌🇷‌🇮‌🇵‌🇹‌🇮‌🇴‌🇳‌: in which, you all thought the coast was clear, only to find the labyrinth had one more twist.

🇼‌🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌: 4.6k

🇦‌/🇳‌‌: Ahhh I was stuck on how to end it lol, but fr the way i was writing this would have been broken up to five parts 😮‍💨😮‍💨...go to 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐍𝐨. ʲʲᵏ if you want to understand this; also Y/n's (your) power/ability descriptions will be at the very bottom.

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

In this dreamlike tableau, you float on the edges of reality and watch the scene unfold. Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara cluster around Gojo like planets gravitating towards a sun, their expressions fraught with concern and palpable anxiety.

Yuji's eyes are narrowed, his normally carefree demeanor clouded by a sense of urgency. His hands are clenched into fists, an outward sign of his inner turmoil. It's like he's physically restraining himself from springing into action, from going to look for you himself.

Megumi stands there, his stoic facade more brittle than usual. "Where is she?" The question slices through the tension. Each word is a meticulously carved blade, sharpened by his deep-seated concern for you. The way his eyes flicker to Gojo suggests he's mentally preparing for the worst.

Nobara's arms are crossed, her posture defensive. But the tilt of her chin, the pursing of her lips, reveal that her bravado is more fragile than she lets on. She's biting the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions at bay.

Gojo senses the mood, of course. Always keenly aware of the emotional currents in the room, he meets each of their eyes before answering. "She's fine, just taking a little me-time to learn more about her lineage." He flashes his trademark grin, wide and disarming. In that moment, his smile is like a magic trick, a piece of deception designed to draw attention away from something more complicated.

His voice is a masterful performance, light and relaxed, as if he's commenting on the weather. The words are calculated, designed to deflect their fears and redirect their thoughts. For anyone else, the lie might be too transparent, the shift in tone too sudden. But this is Gojo. His every syllable drips with an assurance that invites belief, that almost forces you to think, 'Well, if he says it's okay, then it must be.'

Your friends appear mollified, their tense shoulders dropping ever so slightly, their clenched fists uncurling. They give each other subtle nods, silently agreeing to let go of their worry, for now. And as they disperse, the weight of their collective anxiety disperses with them.

Gojo's smile, still etched on his face as he watches Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara walk away, fades as though it was never there. The light in his eyes dims, replaced by a hollow darkness that's chilling to behold. His entire body tenses, his shoulders hunching slightly as if burdened by an invisible weight. It's a startling transformation, like watching the sun eclipsed by a sudden storm cloud.

His hands, so often animated or held in a relaxed state, clench. The carefree air around him dissipates, consumed by a darker energy that unsettles you. It's like peeling back a curtain and finding not the expected stage, but an abyss.

His voice, when he finally speaks, is barely a whisper, yet it fills the emptiness around him as he mutters darkly to himself. The words are a low, indistinct rumble, but your 'ears'—or whatever serves as ears in this dream state—pick up just enough to send shivers down your 'spine.'

"...Need her back..."

The words hang in the air, charged with an intensity that feels like a pressure change before a thunderstorm.

You take a step closer, compelled by a mixture of concern and something darker, something more primal. You call out softly, almost timidly, "Gojo Sensei..." though you know he can't hear you. The word is a mere breath, a whisper against the gravity of his revelation.

As if sensing something—or maybe it's just the erratic whims of this dream—Gojo suddenly looks up. For a split second, his eyes meet yours. And though you're sure he can't actually see you, the contact sends a jolt through you. Then, in an explosion of cursed energy, he's gone. He's vanished into thin air, leaving behind a void that feels cold and impossibly lonely.

Your "dream" starts to fade, the edges blurring as if smeared by an unseen hand, and then you're tumbling, falling back into a deeper slumber or maybe into waking life—you can't tell.

Your eyes flutter open, and for a second, you're disoriented. The last thing you remember is getting in the van, and then...nothing. Your eyes adjust, finding Gojo seated next to you, engrossed in his phone. He looks up and grins, his face radiating warmth, completely unlike the shadowy figure from your dream.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he greets you, and you can't help but feel a wave of relief wash over you. You're back. But back where? And from what?

"Morning? How long was I out?" you ask, rubbing your eyes, your voice tinged with confusion. The dream, so vivid moments ago, is now nothing but wisps of memory, but the emotion it evoked in you lingers. It's unsettling, and you push it aside for now, turning your attention back to Gojo and the comforting normality he represents.

Gojo chuckles, setting his phone aside. "You've been out for three days straight. Guess you were more tired than you thought, huh?"

"Three days?!" You almost choke on your disbelief. "What have you guys been doing all this time without me?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Saving the world, fighting curses, eating ramen," he jokes, but then turns serious for a moment. "Actually, we've been laying low, giving everyone a chance to recharge. We're about to board a jet back to Tokyo Jujutsu Academy."

Your mind races, trying to absorb this new reality. Three days lost to sleep, but what about that dream? Your eyes wander to the window. Instead of an airplane wing, you're greeted by an ocean view framed by the window of a small hotel room. The sunlight reflects off the water, casting dancing lights across the walls. It's beautiful and so at odds with the emotional weight of your recent dreamscape.

"Everything okay?" Gojo's voice snaps you back to the present. "You seem a bit...lost."

"No, I'm fine," you lie, forcing a smile. "Just processing the whole sleeping-for-three-days thing. It's a lot."

Gojo eyes you for a moment longer, as if trying to decipher the thoughts behind your words. Then he shrugs, the inscrutable look replaced once again by his usual cheerful demeanor. "Well, as soon as you're ready, we can head out. The others are probably worried about their star teammate."

His comment brings a small smile to your lips. The tension in your shoulders loosens a little. "Alright, let me get my bearings and we can go."

As you start to get up, your eyes catch Gojo's one more time. It's just a glance, but it's enough. Enough to remind you that there are layers beneath layers, truths hidden behind smiles, and dreams that leave scars on waking life.

It's unsettling, but also...intriguing. As you prepare to leave the room, you can't help but wonder what secrets lie ahead. And as for Gojo, what depths are hidden behind those eyes, behind that mask? You can't shake the feeling that you're on the edge of something transformative, something that could change you—and him—forever.

And that thought, that wonder, is enough to awaken a new energy in you, pushing the fatigue and eerie dreams to the background. You're not just going back to Tokyo, you're stepping into a future filled with complexities, challenges, and possibly, revelations.

"Ready to go?" Gojo asks, standing up, his height towering over you.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you reply, your voice steady, but tinged with an excitement you didn't feel before.

Gojo grins, sensing the shift in your mood. "Alright then, let's head back and give everyone a show. They've missed their star, after all."

You chuckle, and for a moment, the world feels simpler, lighter. But as you follow Gojo out of the room, you can't help but feel that you're stepping into a narrative far more complicated than any you've known before.

And you know what? You're here for it. Because what's life without a little bit of mystery, a little bit of danger, and the tantalizing allure of the unknown?

☆

You trail behind Gojo and the rest of your group as you all step onto the familiar grounds of Tokyo Jujutsu High. The feeling of safety washes over you as you sense the barrier's energy surround the area. Gojo deactivates his Limitless technique, and you can feel the air around him relax.

"Mission complete," Gojo announces, and you watch as he finally drops his guard. His shoulders slump just a fraction, a rare sight.

Just then, your eyes catch something strange, something nearly invisible. It’s a faint, distorted ripple in the air—almost like a mirage but in a color spectrum you've never seen before. Confusion dances through your mind, What the hell is that? An illusion? Or... something else?

Before you realize it, your instincts override any caution or logic, pulling your body into action before your mind can catch up.

Launching yourself forward, you intersect the path of the incoming blade. A searing pain shoots up your shoulder as steel slices through flesh and muscle. You want to scream, but the pain chokes you, swallowing your voice whole.

You stumble back, gripping your bleeding shoulder tightly. As your knees buckle under your weight, you're a swirling vortex of emotions—relief, vulnerability, fear, and more dread for what's to come.

Your eyes meet Gojo's, and it's like an electric charge. For a fleeting moment, his typically unreadable face morphs through a range of emotions: shock, realization, concern, and finally, a brief but agonizing flash of gratitude. It's a whirlwind, gone if you'd blinked.

Then the atmosphere thickens, becoming almost unbearable as Gojo's eyes crystallize into something ferocious. His cursed energy erupts, filling the air like a volatile storm ready to break free.

"Zen'in Toji," Gojo hisses, spitting the name out as if it's venom.

Toji pauses, looking almost amused. "Ha, I go by Fushiguro now," he dryly retorts, his words cutting through the tension like a knife.

Your voice almost breaks as you try to intervene, "Satoru, don't—" But the air is thick with energy and emotion, your plea lost in the chaos. Gojo is already a blur, charging toward the man who was responsible for your injury, his cursed energy swirling around him like a cyclone.

As the two energies clash in an explosion of power, you're on the ground, struggling to rise, your fingers slick with your own blood. The pain in your shoulder screams at you, a constant, harrowing reminder of what just transpired.

When Gojo said the name, "Zen'in Toji," it was like a bolt of lightning slicing through your haze of pain and confusion. Zen'in? That surname reverberates through your mind like an echo in an empty hall. You've heard stories about the Zen'in clan from Megumi—powerful, traditional, and complicated—but never in your wildest dreams did you think you'd be caught in a battle involving one. And now, that man claims the name Fushiguro. The same as Megumi.

Your eyes widen as you watch the two men fighting. It's more than just their brutal exchange of blows; it's the little things. The way Toji holds himself, the calculating glint in his eyes, that specific stance as he gets ready to strike. All of it screams familiarity, like deja vu hitting you in waves. You've seen this in Megumi—during training, in the heat of real battle.

Could Toji be...?

Your ponderings are abruptly cut short. Toji delivers a vicious blow, and for the first time, you see Gojo stumble back. Blood sprays from his mouth as he falls to the ground, his body landing a few feet from where you're struggling to rise. Time freezes. Gojo, the invincible sorcerer, lies there teetering on the edge of defeat, and your heart plunges into your stomach. In that agonizing second, you've never felt more helpless.

Toji's eyes latch onto you, and you can almost feel them piercing through you. As you attempt to back away, your breath quickens, and your body tenses.

"L-Leave her alone," Gojo's voice breaks through, raspy and filled with a toxic mix of agony and stern warning; his cursed energy is like a flickering candle in the wind, about to be snuffed out.

Toji chuckles darkly, the sound enough to send a shiver down your spine. He moves toward you, effortlessly crossing the distance. Your heart pounds like a drum in your chest as you try to back away, but it's useless. With a swift and deliberate kick, he flips you onto your back and presses his boot into your shoulder wound. Your breath hitches in pain, tears forming at the edges of your eyes. But you refuse to grant him the satisfaction; you hold his gaze, defiant.

"You're a fascinating one," he starts, his voice dripping with intrigue and arrogance. "I usually blend into the background, invisible to all you sorcerers with your fancy cursed energy. Yet you—how'd you manage to spot me?"

Before you can even think of a lie, or perhaps a truth, he lifts his boot off your shoulder. He crouches down, getting so close that your noses almost touch. He grabs a handful of your knotless braids and forces your head upward. The shock of this cruel, intimate action leaves you at a loss for words.

"Your eyes are quite expressive, you know? They're screaming even if your mouth isn’t," he observes, almost thoughtfully. "Remember this interaction, because the next time we meet, your eyes will be screaming for a different reason."

His voice drops to a low whisper, his words heavy with implication. "I'll be hoping to get a mission with your name on it. The chase is always more thrilling when the prey has a bit of fight."

He suddenly releases your braids, letting your head fall back onto the hard ground. "See you around. I have other bounties to claim."

He rises, turning his back to you, and walks away. He moves in the direction where Geto and Riko had vanished, leaving behind a battlefield of wounded pride, shattered alliances, and questions that ache more than any physical injury could.

You grit your teeth and push through the pain, every movement sending a fresh wave of agony through your injured shoulder. But Gojo's there on the ground, far too still, and you can't—won't—leave him like that. With effort, you crawl over to him, your eyes catching his which are barely open, a flicker of light in a rapidly darkening world.

Your hands tremble as you place them above his devastating wound. You focus, willing your energy to merge with his.

"Elemental Mastery: Soul Link"

The moment you do, it feels like throwing a paper airplane into a hurricane. His cursed energy is overwhelming, rebellious, chaotic—it fights you, pushing back with a might that leaves you breathless.

Gojo groans, his face twisted in a grimace of pain and struggle. You feel it then, like you've been hit by a bolt of lightning, a jolt that screams through your body, making you taste copper and see stars. You're teetering on the edge of consciousness, the weight of his injuries threatening to crush you. But you hold on. You have to.

And then, something miraculous happens. In that place where your energies are clashing, something gives way. There's a momentary pause, a stillness, as if the universe itself is taking a breath. You feel Gojo's energy shift, morph, change. It's as if a lock has found its key, a harmony achieved through cacophony.

Gojo initiates a reverse cursed technique, his energy suddenly flowing in a healing pattern you've never seen before. You feel the wound under your palms start to close, the damaged flesh knitting itself back together. It's astonishing, a testimony to his unimaginable power and skill. But this time, it's different—there's an awareness, a control that you've never sensed from him before.

As the last of the wound closes, Gojo's eyes open fully. The atmosphere is electrifying, full of possibilities yet to be explored. "Y/N…" he utters softly, the sound of your name leaving his lips filling the air with an undeniable intimacy.

In his eyes, you see a multitude of emotions you can't quite name—an inexpressible blend of relief, respect, and something else. Something deeper, more vulnerable. It's as if he's opened a window to his soul, inviting you to peer inside, if only for a fleeting moment. And you realize, looking into those eyes, that he's not just the all-powerful, untouchable sorcerer you thought he was. He's human, just like you, shaped and reshaped by the trials of life.

You remove your hands, both of you breathing hard, exhausted but alive. The air is thick with a new understanding, an unspoken bond. You saved each other, in more ways than one, and whatever comes next... well, you'll face it together.

Your heart beats out of your chest as you feel Riko's energy, a mere flicker now, growing fainter and fainter in the distance. The urgency weighs heavy on your wounded body as you and Gojo rush toward the fading life force.

Your feet barely touch the ground as you and Gojo dash through the labyrinthine ruins, following the distressingly faint blip of Riko's energy. Your breaths come fast and shallow, a mix of adrenaline and the weight of your own injuries making each inhalation feel like a small victory. Your heart feels like it's going to burst out of your chest, not just from the run but from the dread of what you're going to find when you get there.

Finally, you round the corner, and the sight that greets you hits like a sledgehammer to the gut. Toji stands there, his blade glistening darkly with fresh blood. Geto is on the ground, moaning in pain. Riko lies unmoving a few feet away, a pool of red blossoming around her.

Time seems to slow for a second as Gojo locks eyes with Toji. "Long time no see," Gojo murmurs, but the words are a frostbite of a threat more than a greeting. You've never heard that tone from him; it's not just cold—it's glacial. In that moment, you sense an ominous air thickening between the two men, like the atmosphere before a storm breaks.

Just as Toji lunges forward, blade slicing through the air with lethal intent, Gojo's hand lifts in an arcane gesture that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes, usually so playful, now seethe with a deadly focus. "Hollow Technique: Purple," Gojo intones. The words seem to vibrate, echoing with an otherworldly power that makes your skin prickle, as if you're suddenly standing too close to a live wire.

A terrifying, formless energy bursts forth from Gojo's outstretched palm, materializing into a swirling vortex of dark, malevolent force. It's as if he's torn a hole in the very fabric of reality, and for a surreal, gut-wrenching moment, you feel as though you're staring into the abyss itself.

The energy lashes out, snapping through the air with the precision of a guillotine. Toji doesn't even have a chance to react. The force shears through him, severing his arm and carving away a chunk of his torso as if it were sculpting clay. The air is thick with the stench of charred flesh and ozone, and a mist of blood hangs eerily, suspended in time.

Toji staggers back, his face a twisted tapestry of emotions—surprise, agony, and a glimmer of what could almost be construed as respect. His eyes meet Gojo's one final time, locking onto them as if trying to convey something that words could never capture before ever so slightly, shifting to meet yours.

There's no vulnerability there, no sweeping emotion or unspoken bond—just the hard, glinting edge of a man who's never bothered with such things. Then, clutching the cauterized stump where his arm used to be, Toji drops to his knees with a thud that feels louder than any explosion.

"Megumi...will be sold...to the Zen'in Family," he rasps, his voice tinged with a guttural rawness, as if every word is a struggle against the life that's rapidly fleeing his body. His eyes, still locked onto yours, are ablaze with a savage sort of clarity. It's as if he wants you to remember this, to carry the weight of his final declaration like a curse—or perhaps a warning.

His lips curl into a grotesque, almost triumphant grin; it's the smile of a man who's just lit the fuse to a powder keg of consequences he won't have to face. And then his eyes glaze over, his body going limp as he collapses forward, life extinguished but his message chillingly clear.

The words hang in the air, reverberating with an insidious implication that lodges itself into your mind. Megumi, your friend, caught in a web of familial machinations that are as cruel as they are incomprehensible. Your heart pounds painfully against your ribcage, but there's no time to process it all—too many questions, too many emotions, and far too little time.

Your attention snaps back to Riko, the loveable and ever-hopeful girl who wanted nothing more than to live freely. You race over to her lifeless form, sinking to your knees. Your hands tremble as you take hers. She's already gone, her eyes vacant and staring at nothing. You feel a lump rising in your throat, but you swallow it down, shoving your grief into a dark corner of your soul. Now's not the time.

Geto's pain-filled moans pull you back to reality. You glance over at Gojo, who's gently lifting Riko's body into his arms. The look on his face is inscrutable, but the air around him is charged with an indescribable force—like he's holding back a cataclysm.

You crawl over to Geto, your own injuries screaming in protest. Your hands glow with the incipient light of a healing spell, your focus razor-sharp. You've got work to do, lives to save, even as you push your own body and spirit to their limits.

Geto's hand envelops yours, his grip surprisingly strong despite his weakened state. His eyes meet yours, filled with a gratitude that words could never fully express. "Thank you, Y/N" he murmurs, his voice tinged with exhaustion but resonant with sincerity.

As you nod, a swirl of emotions threatening to overwhelm you, Gojo starts moving. He cradles Riko's lifeless form in his arms with a grace that seems almost out of place given the carnage around you. Each step he takes feels deliberate, as if he's measuring the weight of the life that's been lost. You can't read the expression on his face, but his entire aura is a complex tapestry of emotions, restrained yet simmering.

Your gaze follows him as he walks past a group of followers—devotees to some perverted cause. They're still clapping, caught in some demented ecstasy over the dark ritual they'd been performing around Riko's body. The callousness of it sends a surge of rage through you, hot and blinding, but Gojo's voice breaks through it.

"Do we finish them off?" He poses the question to Geto, his tone neutral but carrying an undercurrent that suggests he's more than capable of doing just that—and perhaps even willing.

Geto's eyes follow the scene, his expression hardening for a moment before he shakes his head. "It's pointless," he says, his voice tinged with a weariness that feels heavier than any physical wound. "A sorcerer must have a reason to take a life."

The finality in his words hangs in the air, resonating with an unspoken understanding that spreads among the three of you. Lives have been lost, and others saved; you've all danced on the razor's edge between life and death tonight. And as you each take a moment to absorb the gravity of Geto's statement, the followers' clapping begins to fade away, swallowed by the shadows that have seen too much.

As you stand there, your heart still pounding from the adrenaline, your eyes catch a glint of something half-buried in the dirt near where Riko had fallen. Thinking it may have been a piece of her fallen jewelry, you pick it up.

It's an odd piece, laced with both cursed energy and something... older, almost nostalgic. Geto, watching you, raises an eyebrow but doesn't question it. Gojo, cradling Riko, pauses and turns his head slightly, as if he senses the shift in the air.

Before you can fully grasp what's happening, the pendant pulses in your hand—a heartbeat, almost—then emits a bright, engulfing light. Time seems to warp around you, the air thickening like molasses.

Gojo's eyes widen in alarm, a sharp gasp escaping his lips. "Y/N—"

Geto reaches out, his fingers barely grazing the air where you used to be. His face, usually so composed, is etched with a kind of horror and desperation you've never seen.

Your surroundings whip past you in a disorienting blur of colors and shapes, and a nauseating feeling of vertigo takes hold. For a moment, you're nowhere and everywhere, lost in a void. The last thing you remember is the devastation written across Gojo's and Geto's faces—like you'd violently ripped pages out of a story that was still being written.

And then, with a jarring lurch, you're back. You stumble, almost falling to your knees, but strong arms catch you just in time.

"You're back," Gojo's voice sounds almost shaky, his relief palpable. He pulls you closer, examining you as if to confirm you're real. "You scared the hell out of me. What happened?"

You open your mouth to answer, but your vision blurs, the room spinning around you. That disorientating trip through time and space is catching up with you, and you can feel your consciousness slipping away.

"...S-Satoru—" Your voice trails off as you pass out, but you're vaguely aware of Gojo lifting you up, holding you securely in his arms.

For just a moment before you black out completely, you think about how both timelines—this one and the one you left—share a moment of intense emotional turbulence. In one, you left two sorcerers grappling with an inexplicable loss; in this one, you've returned to a reality where people were on the verge of grappling with your inexplicable disappearance.

And then everything fades to black.

ahhh this feels so rushed but i didnt want to bombard you guys with a bunch of stuff lolol; also did yall catch y/n calling gojo by the first name 👀 jajajaj

🇾‌/🇳‌'🇸‌ 🇵‌🇴‌🇼‌🇪‌🇷‌🇸‌/🇦‌🇧‌🇮‌🇱‌🇮‌🇹‌🇮‌🇪‌🇸‌ 🇦‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌🇮‌🇷‌ 🇩‌🇷‌🇦‌🇼‌🇧‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌🇸‌:

"Elemental Mastery: Soul Link"**

Healing through this method temporarily soul-binds her to the individual, which might transfer some of their fatigue or pain to her... Drawbacks: Given that she can heal others too, she forms a temporarily soul-bond, making it a double-edged sword because she might absorb some of their pain or fatigue, making the act of healing more complex...

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hokkyokusei · 4 months

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Characters' body proportions, "long legs syndrome" or why some people create hatred for the sake of hatred

First, let me explain to people who may not understand how proportions work in drawing.

I also want to remind you of a simple truth: change is not bad. Note: I took extra art classes in elementary school for 4 years and then completed 5 art classes(years) at art school. During my last years of study I had the most wonderful teachers. Still love one of these teachers so much.

And that is why I am sure that what is now considered a trend and supposedly the norm is a VERY BIG mistake.

I've noticed a trend of hate towards Onmyoji's game developers, and while I agree with some of their f#ck-ups, I still want to remind you that there are PEOPLE LIKE US working there. Hateful comments are not constructive criticism!

So who here thinks that the characters supposedly have “long legs syndrome”? Where and how did you get this information and who told you THAT THIS IS TRUE?

I was just furious when I read this nonsense on Weibo, the worst thing is that people don’t even understand this and blindly believe it! Don't blindly believe everything the Internet gives you! You can always check for yourself or find people who understand this topic!

Today I found out that the art team has changed and we can actually see that this seems to be true as the latest designs have changed.

I see a bunch of accusations and dissatisfaction against the developers that they draw incorrectly. Again, has anyone seen a sensible answer other than just a comparison of heights compared to previous works?

Secondly, I want to break down this stupid idea of long leg syndrome in characters.

The correct proportions in drawing are considered to be 7-8 heads from head to toe.

Hair growth, heels, levitation and other attributes are absolutely NOT taken into account. Only the skull and so the heads need to be counted 7-8.

There are times when artists can draw up to 9 heads in height. For example, big heroes.

Individual haracteristics, injuries (for example, a hernia in the back will make the height shorter, too tall growth will slightly change the proportions) must be taken into account.

The people “with long legs syndrome” are you and I look like in reality. Frequently, this is a European type of appearance. Asians, for example, have lower butts than Europeans (tested on Koreans lol), that’s why they think that our legs are longer, although they are also beautiful in proportion.

But another fun fact: we don’t have ideal proportions, because our fingers, arms, legs, etc. are longer and shorter by a few millimeters invisible to us.

But we're talking about basic anatomy in drawing, right? Teenagers and children have different proportions, but since they were not compared, I won’t describe them here; if you’re interested, you can find them on the Internet.

Proportions also differ between men and women.

+ in humans, proportions change with age.

For those who compare with the old character models in the game: Apparently, the art team has changed. So now they do what they want. And they do it competently and correctly in terms of proportions in the drawing. I don't judge past artists; Every creative person sees things differently. But the game continues to develop and this is ABSOLUTELY normal and natural. I don't think that old models will be remade for the sake of correct proportions, they will be optimized, but not completely remade in a new way. I think it's cool, kind of showing respect to those who originally worked on the character model.

People suffer every day and express their hatred online. I do not defend the mistakes of the developers, but I also ask you not to incite hatred everywhere without understanding the topic well.

Also remember that sometimes mistakes happen. As one wonderful mangaka said when asked about the difference in the height of characters on different pages of the manga: there was an uneven floor somewhere!

I hope this post has helped you and now you see things from a different perspective. If you have questions, you can ask them here or in DM.

And if you have the chance, send this post to people who believe in "long legs syndrome" characters, or send them to the Internet to google information about correct proportions (o˘◡˘o)

#onmyoji #onmyoji susanoo #onmyoji tsukuyomi #onmyoji susabi #onmyoji izanagi #onmyoji taki #onmyoji cn server news

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kafus · 4 months

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this art is turbo old and i really want to remake it but i also usually hate making ref sheets so idk if i would go to this level of detail again. Mayhaps i would do it for them…

also not only is it old, some aspects of their designs have changed a little bit, particularly vee’s hair - i recently got completely rid of the like… spiky tufts on the back of her hair? not that i don’t like crazy anime hair that doesn’t make sense, i love that shit, but every time i drew her i got stuck on that part because shaping the Tufts the way i wanted felt annoyingly difficult, plus i think it confused her silhouette some and i enjoy drawing her so much more without them. her hair is also a bit longer now, that wasn’t a conscious decision, i just naturally leaned into drawing her side bangs and ponytail ever so slightly longer

while all of nova’s markings and stuff remain identical, i am bothered by how he’s depicted here because i went for a. not chibi look? but like. his head is too big, body too short, and his personality gives off the totally wrong vibes here. i’ve developed him more since this ref and my boy nova is grumpy and hates people that aren’t vee. this is basically not reflected in his ref at all lol

you know what i think i could pose vee in a way that reflects her personality way more as well. i just know my own ocs so much better and this ref sheet is NOT IT…

#kiki was here #kiki.txt #vee & nova #im working up the energy to start a new ref by talking abt it

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maiji · 8 months

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Reverse-engineering Hokushin and Otake

I am very very close to finishing part 3 of fight / flight! So close…!! I decided to take a break with what was supposed to be a quick drawing but ended up going down reference rabbit holes oops. This is modern day (actual Yu Yu Hakusho series canon) Hokushin and Otake alongside my imagined early Kamakura-era versions of them in North Bound.

More commentary below the cut.

To figure out their relative heights, it was the usual game of Measuring Stick Yusuke, i.e., relying on the fact that every single character at some point has stood next to Yusuke, or next to someone who has stood next to Yusuke. In this case:

Hokushin is a head taller than Yusuke.

Otake is about half a head taller than adult Koenma.

Adult Koenma is half a head taller than Yusuke.

Therefore, Otake is about half a head taller than Hokushin. Success!!***

This is assuming nobody changed in height between 700 years ago and now lmao

(*** EDIT: I reread this post and was like, wait, what I wrote doesn't make sense. Measuring stick logic outlined above actually indicates that Hokushin and Otake would be about the same height lol. My logic failed. However, I went back to doublecheck my notes and the manga panels and "Otake is about half a head taller than adult Koenma" is little more than guesswork because they spend most of the time crouched next to each other and leaning slightly forward, so he could be anywhere from the same height to even a head taller. Ehhhhhh close enough. Again, 700 years, who's counting.)

Reverse engineering character designs to different ages/periods is always a fun exercise. Aside from new clothes, one of the easiest and most obvious things to do is to change up their hair! Super easy for these two. Give Hokushin hair, and shave Otake’s mustache off and give him a closer-to-period hairstyle instead of his Western-style cut. Done! But of course, a challenge is that for most visual storytelling purposes, you still need the character to be quickly recognizable.

To me, the really distinguishing aspect of Hokushin and Otake is how Togashi renders their eyes. This is where I find it particularly interesting, because both of them have very fixed eye styles. I personally struggle a lot with making them more expressive without feeling like I’m going super off-model. I have a lot more flexibility with Hokushin now because I’ve drawn him about a bajillion times, and through North Bound I’ve stretched the comfort level of how I can depict him. This is only Otake’s second appearance in North Bound (though it feels like a lot more because it’s taking me a while to draw all these parts of a story), so it’s been more challenging. Page 7 in fight / flight part 1 was difficult in terms of making him look intense. You can see what happens if I tried too hard to convey intensity with his eyes by checking out the sketch of the page - it doesn’t look like him anymore. (Sometimes that can work though, for drama especially when conveying something going off the wall and pushing their limits or shocking others with an about-face.)

Working through their designs allowed me to reflect on the parallels in their design and nature. Hokushin and Otake are both envoys of sorts for extremely ancient and powerful non-human masters, and naturally bring a lot of visual gravitas to that role. Neither of them are the sort of people who’re here to just chill and hang out, and their visual appearance and presence need to convey that.

Hokushin I’ve talked about before. Togashi draws him with these really low eyebrows and flat, dark eyes that almost never shift. This makes him look very serious, to the point of glowering. But through the magic of characterization, context and other little facial details, he feels a lot “softer” - friendlier and more approachable. On the flipside, Otake has very thick bushy eyebrows and beady eyes. His eyebrows are definitely much more mobile than Hokushin’s in the manga, and the styling has the potential of coming off almost comedic, but we never get that impression from him unless Togashi is actually drawing him in a situation where we’re intended to laugh at him (e.g., his reactions to Yusuke pretending to turn into an evil demon). Instead, he feels really serious - much more rigid and inflexible than Hokushin.

Part of this is due to reader perspective as well. Hokushin is a demon who eats humans, which is typically terrifying nightmare material. Otake, on the flipside, is the head of the Spirit World’s Special Defence Force, sent out to save the Human World and also stop a powerful demon from awakening, which sounds like a classic hero. But of course, Togashi has flipped them on their heads, at the most basic level simply by sheer virtue of their associations. Yusuke is the protagonist we’ve followed since volume 1; by the time we get to volume 16, we know him very well and have been rooting for him for all these pages. We can quickly recognize and identify his struggles even in challenging situations. Thus, Otake intent on killing Yusuke (permanently) makes us quick to judge him as villainous - or at the very least on the “wrong” side. Meanwhile, Hokushin appearing in Yusuke’s court, understanding Yusuke’s concerns and even giving answers that clearly align him with Yusuke’s values, immediately develops more benign associations. It’s interesting to compare and contrast them!

#yu yu hakusho #fanart #hokushin #otake #character design #yyh north bound #art by maiji/mary huang

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jpivot · 2 days

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do you have any tips for makign the pngtuber?! it looks so cute, are they just idle animations or do they actually move when you draw etc?

it's just idle animation, the movement on the drawing/gaming ones just use the blink slots to randomly change between the "normal" pose and the "doing something" pose. i used veadotube mini so the only thing I directly control is the shift between talking/not talking and switching between the different states (standing/drawing/gaming). they're quite simple, it's just the movement of animation giving it the illusion of complexity. I know there's a way out there to map mouse/controller movement to your vtuber thing, but I didn't look into it because... well. I didn't want to lol

things can be as simple or as complicated as you want it to be. I'd recommend keeping the designs simple so it's faster to draw and make variations of. it took me one night to work on this one and I learned a lot about better ways to organize/set up my art/file for exporting as I was making edits. if I had a really intricate-looking drawing to start with, I'd have spent more of my time just drawing a single pose instead of being able to place an image in the program to see how it works and how things look in it. I started with just 2 static images and then went "what if it moved a bit" and then added things as I went. breadth vs depth, I guess.

hmm... as for tips...

the talk mouth is on a layer that covers up part of the face when I unhide it. this was nice because when I made a change to the animated drawing/controller poses, I could export out the talking variation immediately by just turning 1 layer on, instead of having to swap/redo changes between multiple layers (annoying). I also had the parts that moved (the arms) in a separated group, so when I changed the thickness of a line on his vest I didn't have to redo that change over and over again across 3 more frames. I still had to redo it for the 3 poses, but that's just 3 times total instead of 1 + 3 + 3 = 7 times total. if I were to do this again, I'd have things set up in a way where the different variations use as many of the same layers as possible, so changing something in one place automatically works for every pose.

and you can keep your life simple. for the animated frames I didn't redraw the arms from scratch for each frame of movement-- I just used the liquify tool to nudge them slightly and fixed up any small sections that looked weird. it ends up looking very intentional but with less work. it's easy to make it look bad though if you don't keep it subtle, I just had to feel it out by doing it.

...and you don't need to do any animation if you don't want to!! I just think it's cool and also a fun challenge. all the stuff I did on this one is built upon my experience making that older one I linked in my post, 2 years ago. the goofy crying pose i made for that is where I learned you weren't restricted to static images for the stand/talk/blink/blink-talk poses.

the drawing sprite in my new one has the default pose set as a looping "drawing" animation, and the blink is set as a "paused drawing" image. it used to be the other way around but I found a limitation with how setting the random start time and duration of the blinks worked, so I switched them.

#pivasks #the entire learning process is about trying to do something specific and finding out all the ways to do it bad.#and eventually you solve enough problems to end up with something less bad. perhaps good eveb #I tried the liquify thing because I wanted slight movement without the full effort of redrawing...#the only reason it worked out is because I've used liquify and done enough animation-adjacent things in the past to know what to avoid lol #that's experience I guess. look at the difference between my old one and this new one. that's experience!!

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faenemy · 7 months

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Another Sillie had been added :D

process thoughts below cut- (WARNING- they long lol)

Has this barely changed from the wip I posted earlier????

not really but i need to talk about character design for I am FERAL so L moment i guess

SO my personal favorite brand of character design has been, for as long as i remember, drawing more complex designs from simplified mediums. Think Minecraft or roblox skins, and some chibi avatars. Hand me something that is blurry and up to interpretation and i will simply go buck-wild. Mark is of course the only character to truly appear on camera. We see both his drawing of himself and his [puppet?] form. Now you only ever see donovan and cupcake monster as drawings, which leaves their appearance more up to interpretation.

When i first translated Marks design, i tried to stay as accurate as possible. The second iteration is more of my own twist on it, elongating the body, trimming down the fluff for a clearer shape,and adjusting facial proportions slightly. Note: this isn't to throw shade at marks original design. He's a puppet irl and he looks like one, i just suck at making puppets look like they have any life behind their eyes, so design tweaks it is. Mark is adorable and its a me problem that i struggle to recreate that.

Now my Mark design is obviously based off of the puppet, (his actual self,) as opposed to the way Mark draws himself. In the drawing, there is a bit less fluff on his body, compared to the real thing. This is important as it affects some of the decisions I made for Donovan.

Donovan caused a few hurdles when i tried to work on a design for him. First, I'm working with very little information, so creative license time. Since I don't have much to go off of, I started with a real simple drawing, similar to the one from the drawing in the show, just to try and capture the vibe. The most notable things about Donovan from this first doodle, was that he had a slightly smaller nose than Mark and that it was triangular and that his eyes were slanted. This gives me two prominent facial features to work with.

Following this, i started on a more detailed design. I began by plotting his proportions out similar to marks. To make him more cat like, I tried to make him a little taller and thinner[better for slipping out of cages], so that he had an elongated appearance, and to capture that sly you-cant-contain-me- cat energy that meow meows have. I wasn't sure how cat i wanted to go originally, but then i gave him paws....

I went full anthro cat on Donovan, adding in whiskers and a tail [still questioning that decision] even though they weren't present in my reference. Now is a good time to note that all these designs are pre-Billy, so no scars or anything. I bring this up because I gave Donovan claws, and I image Billy would have at least tried to declaw Donovan.

The next problem came with Donovans eye. So Donovans eyes are two slanted lines, very simple. Since these are one of Donovans few unique canon features, I wanted to keep them. I wasn't sure how to keep them simple yet still allow emotion. Playing around with this idea, i felt i could effectively convey emotion just by changing the relative direction of the eyes. However, I changed the eyes to be more tear-drop shape as well, partially to add more interest to the face, but also so i could add more detail to the iris of the eye if desired.

Finally, all my Mark and Friends designs have the characters wearing clothes, because I work at a clothing store and see too many damn clothes every day. [everything i know about fashion is against my own will] So since this canonically takes place in 1997, my designs are based roughly off of children's clothes at the time. For the monsters clothes, I want them to all have a somewhat fun shape, flare outs, wrinkles, cuffed sleeves and pants etc.

This is where i really struggled. Not so much with the actual design of the clothes, but with colors. As you can probably tell my this illustration as compared to the reference image, I am allergic to bright colors [they hurt my eyes :,(] So i shifted most characters to a more muted/pastel pallette. Now i really wanted each of the three friends, Mark, Donovan, and Cupcake Monster, to have the others "colors" per see, present in their outfits. Mark is obviously Green coded (lol), Donovan is orang, but outlined in red, so my boy gets a red association cause primaries of light. This leaves Cupcake Monster with Blue, the color they are outlined in.

I really wanted three designs to flow together, and though i haven't finished Cupcake Monster yet, I think the first two go nicely together. By giving each character a main color, I let them stand out from each other, but by adding bits of those colors back into the others outfits, it lets them flow together better in group images and keeps anyone character's pallette from feeling out of place.

Marks outfit is mostly cream, but with accents of Blue, and Red. Donovan's is about 1/3 cream 1/3 blue and a 1/3 blue. I struggled with the color distribution on donovan, as the reddish orange and blueish green i had chosen contrasted a lot more than i wanted. The light blue and cream worked as a nice base though, and making only the stripes green [the shirt is specifically cream with green stripes] it lets the green not overpower Donovan, which was another problem I was facing.

But yeah, this are my current designs for the sillies, if you read all this thank you! have some pie :]

#fae draws #fae rambles #mark and friends #my art

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