#let me know what your first impressions are of the art movements!

[sanspuppet]

👀 riding Mingi’s abs…..just saw a that photo shoot whit him in all denim, like the shirt is a denim crop and and bestie 😮‍💨😮‍💨 that would be the best funishment

MDNI ! smut

- W/T: sexual tension, abs riding, choking, fingering, squirting, sliiight degradation

—

You couldn’t fucking take no more. You wanted to enjoy your date with your boyfriend that day, but you had no idea he would wear a denim crop, that did nothing but accentuate his waist, so tiny and sexy, not to mention how his abs were exposed. Mingi couldn’t have not noticed that you didn’t even looked up at him when he talked to you, your eyes seemed glued to his waist, yet he was somehow enjoying your drooling reaction. It was a long evening of you getting distracted by his hips that you needed so bad beneath you. On the other hand Mingi did nothing but secretly smirking back at you, feeling your eyes constantly down his lower body. But at the end he proposed you to spend the rest of the evening by his house, god only knows what were his purposes… well somehow you could figure them out too, and by your situation in that moment you hoped with all your heart that you weren’t wrong. In fact, you wanted to fuck him so bad, so bad that you were feeling icky about how fucking wet you were, you just wanted to take care of it by using him, or vice versa, you literally didn’t fucking care about the details. Mingi noticed it, he knew every time when you got needy but damn… you literally looked like a bitch in heat from how you were clinging to him and how you stared at him, your entire behavior screamed that you wanted to be bred badly.

When he first stepped into his house he turned around to face you, holding you by your waist as he pulled you over the living room. Mingi looked down at your short figure compared to his tall one, a smirk forming on his lips. “Will you tell me what got your attention that much, pretty?” his nose brushed yours, ready to lock you in a long kiss. You wanted him now, there was no point in teasing each other any longer, you wrapped your hand behind his neck and pulled him closer, your tongues diving into your mouths while he busied himself with unbuttoning your shirt, his movements were messy, too eager to be done properly. You did the same thing with his denim crop, throwing it somewhere on the floor. You pulled away from your sloppy kiss and placed your palm on his naked chest, his heartbeat was faster than ever. You pushed him, making him fall down on the couch, he looked up at you with hooded eyes. His tongue trailed a wet line over his lips. You both stripped down completely, never breaking eye contact.

He patted his lap, moving you to sit on him. You glanced at his huge cock twitching at his movement. You sat down on his abdomen, his erected crotch pressing against your back sent shivers of arousal down your spine. “Ride my abs baby, i’m sure you’d want to” He took your chin in his fingers, forcing you to look at him. “Say it, am i right?” You automatically started rubbing yourself against his toned pelvis, his hand quickly gripped on your waist. “Fuckin say it before doing it, little slut” You sighed frustratingly. “Fuck— please Mingi i wanna ride your abs” He pinched your cheek, his cocky behavior showing. “That’s my good girl, you can go on now.” You let out the most feral sighs and loud moans once you started moving, forwards and backwards. You felt every little hill of his abs stimulating your clit, it was impressively good, a fucking bliss. You just needed more friction but your mind was already in a blank state, you threw your head back as you moved faster, your nails dig deep into Mingi’s shoulders. He was admiring you, every single detail of you, he noticed it, and loved it. Jeez if you were such a piece of art to him in that moment. “Don’t worry princess, i’ll help you” he said when he noticed you struggling to get to the highest. He quickly wrapped a hand around your throat, gripping tightly enough, the other one moved down your core, fingering you with all of his fingertips at a fast pace. He raised your head when you kept looking down at you wet cunt. “Eyes on me pretty, you know i want you to look at me whenever you cum. Feels good huh? You such a slut, getting off to my abs”

It was then that you loosed your fucking mind, you were fucked out, your mascara was smudged all over your eyelids by your teary eyes. You whined and moaned without even realizing it. Your lips were of a cherry pink from how hard you bit on them. Your hair a complete mess. And it also was when you finally got off of your high that you noticed you squirted all over his chest. Mingi was looking at all your figure with a proud smirk, his finger caressed gently your back.

“You’re the prettiest like this”

taglist: @bunnyluvr25 @xonga @bro-atz @wisejudgedragonhairdo @therealcuppicake @hongjoongswifefr @sugarnspice630 @stolasisyourparent @kaimisutra @jyunhosbby @pancake-freckle @cherrycel

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez hard thoughts #ateez fic #ateez povs #ateez hard hours #ateez x reader #ateez drabbles #ateez mingi #song mingi #mingi ateez #mingi fanfic #mingi fanfiction #mingi scenarios #mingi x reader #mingi smut #mingi #mingi imagines #ateez song mingi #kpop #kpop smut #smut #kpop hard hours #kpop fanfic

[savannahsdeath]

haiiiiii, this is my first time requesting 😖😖😖😖😖 what ab boxer ellie and boxer reader fucking ts out of each other 😖😖😖😖😖

BOXER!ELLIE WILLIAMS X BOXER!READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! just.. smut

writers note: im so proud you trusted me with your first request??!!?!! omg also idk im no boxer so.. but i tried !! also this is some short drabble or whatever buut im posting it anyway because.. yes

you always admired ellie at the gym, what usually made your workout session worthless. you were a boxer, just like her. you knew every punch or kick you saw her do, it wasn't anything new nor special. yet, the way she did them brought your attention. her movements were fluid, quick, and precise. there was no hesitation or wasted energy. everything was a perfectly timed, deliberate attack. the way she moved was like liquid, weaving through the air with ease. she was art in motion, each strike a beautifully crafted, deadly dance.

and then, she saw you looking at her. her determinated expression got replaced by the playful smirk that made you lose your mind.

"hey!" she chuckled. "anything interesting?"

her green shirt was clinging to her body, exposing every curve and muscle. it was difficult not to keep staring at her.

you tried to compose yourself, to play it cool and not let her get to you. "just watching you, and thinking about all the ways i could beat you." you gave her a cheeky grin, and raised your eyebrow to let her know you're not one to be messed with.

she laughed and approached you. "care to show me on a practice session later?" she asked playfully.

"of course!" you smiled back at her, your heart racing as her body draws nearer to yours with each step. still, you played along, pretending to be confident and totally-not-impressed. "who knows, maybe i can show you a thing or two that you haven't seen before." you added with a smirk on your own face.

as she got close, you could feel the heat from her body and see how her shirt clings to her curves like second skin. your face flushed with blood and you had to look away, unable to keep a steady gaze as she drew your eyes back to her with that inviting smirk.

that's how you ended up between her legs, showing her 'a thing or two she haven't seen before'. your tongue dipped inside her cunt, collecting everything in your mouth. then, you moved to lick her folds sleek, carefully moving up and down, stopping at her clit to suck on it. she was trying her best to stay quiet and keep her 'unbothered' facade, but you thought it's useless after she failed once. oh, how oblivious she was to the fact that you could feel how her hips moved closer to your face.

"are we- fuck, do we practice the same boxing?" she mumbled, trying to sit up and look at you but ending up squirming even more.

the air, disturbed by the vibration of your laugh, hit her inner thighs. she squeezed them around your head, but your hands quickly parted them back to their previous position.

"i don't know about you, but that's what i practiced." you replaced your tongue with your fingers, rubbing her clit while you pulled away and sat up, letting her see you. "is that something... new for you?"

she whined and moaned out a; 'fuck you', before regaining her composure and adding a more confident; "i can do just as much."

not long after that, your places swapped. you admired how full of energy she was, even though she struggled to speak not long ago.

"what happened to the 'no fucking before an important fight'?" you taunted - your breathless state wasn't enough to stop you from teasing her.

after that, she pushed two of her fingers into your puffy cunt. you gasped as your ability to speak went missing, your cheeks shining with not even bright red as an uncontrollable groan in form of her name escaped your mouth.

"i was just about to ask you 'what happened to you stuttering and blushing everytime you talk to me?'" she made a dramatic pause, letting her fingers pump in and out of you, closely watching your reaction to every move so she would figure out where your sensitive spot was. it took her about two times, or more but really fast ones, your sense of time got ruined and you weren't sure. "but there you are."

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #reqs open #ellie the last of us #wlw smut #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #boxer!ellie #boxer!ellie williams x reader #boxer!ellie williams #boxer!ellie x reader #boxer!ellie x boxer!reader #boxer!ellie williams x boxer!reader #boxer!reader

[superficialdomina]

Fray (Into Submission, Part 4)

Part 3: Lost

Series masterlist

AN: An Avengers training session gives you a chance to show Loki how fun it would be to let you win.

As always, an enormous thank you to @acidcasualties for making this whole series happen. Special thanks to @lokisgoodgirl for checking the accuracy of my swordplay!

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: 18+; minors DNI. Thirsty with some reminiscing, but nothing explicit in this one. Inaccurate descriptions of combat training. Mostly just lurid descriptions of Loki's smoking hot bod in workout wear, with a touch of plot development.

Days. You hadn’t seen him in days.

There were hints of him; you knew he was still in the Tower. You’d heard his voice a couple of times, and yesterday when you’d stepped into the elevator you could smell that he’d been there minutes before. But he’d upped his avoidance game. It made you sad, and a little afraid.

The look of anguish he’d worn as he’d cast you out of his apartment remained etched in your memory, leaving the subtle ache of guilt in your chest. Had you gone too far?

You mulled it over as you pulled on your gym gear. Loki might still refuse to talk to you this morning, but you were confident that you would at least see him. After several of your coworkers had missed Saturday afternoon’s impromptu training session, Rogers had rescheduled for first thing Monday morning, with strongly worded insistence that everyone be in attendance. His WhatsApp message didn’t quite single Loki out by name, but none of you was in any doubt about its intended target.

The spacious training hall gleamed with the sunlight that streamed through the large 26th story windows, casting a warm glow on the polished mats. The luxury of the Tower was as prominent here as on every other floor. The gym was loaded with state-of-the-art equipment and comprehensive accessories, all meticulously maintained - as though getting your arse kicked by a handful of superheroes would hurt less because there wasn’t a speck of dust on the yoga mats, you thought wryly. You peered hopefully around the room as you entered. I just need to know that he’s OK, you told yourself.

Loki and Thor were sparring hand-to-hand in the open rink, the soft thudding of their bare feet resonating as they moved around one another. Occasional grunts carried as one of the pair landed a strike. Despite Thor’s size advantage, they were evenly matched; Loki was always a fraction faster, seeming to know exactly where Thor would move next, as though each step were choreographed and practiced to perfection. Observing them was like watching an ancient dance. Which is exactly what it is, you thought, momentarily awed. A fierce, millennium-old dance.

Thor’s bare chest, though impressive, was still somehow less appealing than Loki’s lithe form, clad in workout wear that clung tightly to his broad back. You let your eyes blatantly traverse him. His elegant ankles smoothed into perfectly sculpted calf muscles; his Godly hamstrings flexed under the hem of his training shorts, which in turn restrained his flawlessly rounded glutes. His body was utterly splendid. A delight of form and function, forged by centuries of practice and power. A work of art.

If he would just put that phenomenal dedication and discipline to good use in service to you…

“Time!” Rogers called loudly, and the brothers stepped back, arms lowered, chests heaving. Thor clapped Loki on the back amicably, and for the briefest moment, you saw Loki wince. The small movement made your blood run hot.

Pain.

“Three minutes, everyone!” Rogers continued, before consulting the pairs listed in the complicated run sheet on his ridiculous clipboard. “Two and eight,” he began. “Three and twelve. Four and… Sixteen.”

You groaned inwardly, pushing thoughts of your recalcitrant conquest from your mind. The Black Widow. Not exactly a leisurely start to the morning, then.

“Come on, sixteen,” Natasha laughed. “Show me what you’ve got.”

The room filled with the sounds of Avengers in practice: thudding boots, wordless shouts, the familiar hum of mutual respect and collective, focused power. As you sparred, you began to relax into the collaborative energy, muscle memory activating as your training partner led with her familiar fighting style. Nat feinted here, and you responded there; the two of you were strong, and graceful, and -

Thump. You landed flat on your back on the hard mat. Again. At least this time you’d seen it coming. Your body just… didn’t move that way. Or that fast.

“You’re getting better,” Nat insisted as she hauled you to your feet. “You almost avoided that one.”

“I saw what you were doing,” you agreed, somewhat reluctantly. “I just couldn’t do anything to stop you.”

“They rarely can,” she winked, as Steve’s obnoxious whistle sounded again.

“Drinks!” he shouted, “then re-pair for weapons.” He returned to his spreadsheet, muttering numbers to himself, as you reached for your water bottle and your thoughts – and eyes – returned to Loki.

He was sauntering towards the group with Bucky, shoulders thrown back in haughty masculinity, animatedly wiping sweat from his brow with his sinewy forearm. Whore, you thought lustily. They looked almost amicable. You gazed at him, curious; confused. He seemed… fine? Loki caught you watching him and gave you a wink. A wink. Almost like…

Like old times, you thought. What is going on?

You turned away, chugging water, then wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He seems fine. Was it real? If he was truly so nonchalant, why the vanishing act over the past few days?

You were still standing there, bemused, when the team began to pair off again. In your distracted state, you’d missed the next call. Who…?

Only one person remained by your side, and his imperious gaze left you in no doubt as to your next partner.

Loki.

You moved together to one end of the training mats. This close, you could see the fine trails of fresh sweat across his bare shoulders; smell the sweet scent of it heavy around you when he raised his arms to pull his curls back into a messy plait. You imagined the saltiness of it gathered in the valleys of his muscular, sinewy body, with which you had so recently become better acquainted; the way it would pool and concentrate in the deep hollow of his jugular notch.

I could make you sweat like that.

He continued to smirk at you mischievously as he moved into position, as grandiose and egomaniacal as ever. “Short swords, Agent?” he drawled, a short, thick blade appearing in each hand with a flicker of green.

“Just one, Laufeyson!” Rogers shouted, before you could respond. Loki raised an eyebrow at you, flirting with the idea of arguing; but he wordlessly vanished the weapon on his left.

“You didn’t want to lend that to me?”

“Darling, they are hundreds of years old,” he drawled coolly. “I don’t lend them to anyone.” Turning to fetch a training sword, you hid a smile at his words. Had he forgiven you?

Or he’s just feeling cocky.

The gym’s practice swords were hung neatly at the far wall. You tried to pick one that was long enough to be effective, but not so long as to be cumbersome. It was highly irrelevant; he was faster, stronger, and infinitely more skilful than you. You selected a narrow doge sword that at least felt comfortable in your grip.

The gym echoed with the ring of steel on steel as your peers sparred. How many rounds had it been? Each time you lasted barely a minute before he outdid you, the sharp edges of his blade finding their mark at your shoulder, your thigh, and once, your collar bone. Despite your budding fatigue, you found yourself mesmerised by him. He wielded the ancient sword with harmony and fluidity, so fluent was he in its unwritten language, so familiar with its little quirks. Like an old lover, you thought madly, as you struggled to steady the vibrations of the blade with each parry and clash.

His weapon whistled again; this time the flat of his blade struck your hand, and you dropped your own sword. He stepped back to patiently wait for you to ready yourself again.

His fitness was phenomenal - you were breathing hard, your arms burning, and he barely seemed to have slowed. The smirk he’d given you earlier was once again pasted across his beautiful, pretentious face. Patient, but smug.

“Where have you been, Loki?” you asked as you retrieved your weapon, buying time to catch your breath. Dammit, your knuckles stung; you hoped it wasn’t obvious.

“Here and there,” he replied easily. No denial this time. “Are you ready?”

“I was worried about you.”

“If you mean that you feared for my safety, I am most able to defend myself.”

“That’s not what I meant.” For a second you thought you saw a flicker of vulnerability return to his features. If you did, it was quickly swallowed by his traditional haughty confidence. “I just… Well, as long as you’re OK.” Ready, you lifted your blade - and a thought occurred to you.

The timing had to be perfect; if he hadn’t been looking directly at your mouth, he might have missed it. Provocatively raking your eyes down over his long body, you bit your lower lip, and gave a tiny, breathy moan.

It was horribly overdone, but it worked. Loki hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes widening, and you took advantage of his momentary distraction to slip below his guard; the steel of your sword captured his, and you pushed - hard. There was the harsh sing of metal-on-metal as you slid down the blade, checking his weapon against his chest. His move was forfeit. He stepped backwards off the edge of the mat, losing his balance - and you pinned him against the wall.

You pressed your body into his, your mediocre blade below his chin, and carefully assessed his face. Was he irritated by your trick? If anything, he seemed… amused.

“That,” he said lightly, looking down at you over his long, regal nose, “was an interesting tactic.”

“You know what they say,” you muttered, still breathing hard. “If you can’t beat them…”

“I dare say it would not be widely effective,” he added.

“More than you think, perhaps.”

And then you noticed it: the slight flush to his cheeks, which could be excused by the workout. The twitch of a muscle at the corner of his jaw. The feel of his perfect cock swelling slowly under his training shorts.

Not amused… Aroused.

Loki knew the moment you’d realised his state of mind. Or rather, state of body.

You’d opened your mouth in mock astonishment, your eyes bright with barely contained glee.

“Are you enjoying this?” you had asked, quietly delighted. The crossed swords had still been pressed unrelentingly against his chest, his blade locked tight under yours. It made his pulse quicken pleasantly.

Loki had given a small, wordless huff, but he didn’t trust himself to speak. In truth, he’d found it highly enjoyable; your control, your audacity, your erotically mischievous little decoy. His own powerlessness. But how could he admit that to you?

The sounds of water splashing off bathroom tile brought him back to the present. Gingerly, he stepped under the heavy jets; steam enveloped him. Lathered soap formed clouds of bubbles that washed away the training-hall grime, the sticky salt that clung to his skin like a fragrance. The precious soreness that assured him that he had worked for this. That he had earned it.

How could he admit that to you? The question turned over in his mind like the soap in his hands, slippery and fraught. It should be simple, really; the evidence was laid bare before him, stripped of illusion and ego in the privacy of his mind. The chamber. The Genuflexa. The young man, beautifully bound. The way your body had risen in his mind's eye to bring him undone, not just then but so many times since…

He let the water run through his long hair, raking his fingernails to help it penetrate all the way to his scalp. He liked the way their sharpness felt on the sensitive skin.

… And in counterpoint, the betrayals of his youth. The early memories of hurt and rejection that had sown the seeds of distrust. The expectations of masculinity and dominance, and the familiarity of the long-worn mask.

Loki lifted his chin to shake the heavy, saturated mass of slick curls out behind him, squeezing the last of the water from it. He thought of you; of how much he would like to tend to your sore muscles, to soothe the bruises you would surely have sustained in combat today. To gently run his fingertips over your scalp, and hear you sigh with contentment.

There was only one sensible question, he decided as he stepped from the lustrous shower recess. Steam was clearing to reveal his glistening face in the bathroom mirror. Did he trust you?

He dried his hands, and picked up his cell phone.

Alright, Agent. Prove me wrong.

Almost immediately, he received your reply. The tone of it sent a little shiver down Loki’s spine.

9pm, my apartment. Be punctual.

Before he could interrogate his feelings about it, his phone gave another gentle ping.

Wear your cape.

Tags: @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @infinitystoner @lady-rose-moon @coldnique @thomase1 @kats72 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @tomlugirl @lokisninerealms @missmushroomsstuff @ladyloki3 @fandxmslxt69 @sinsandguilt @sarahscribbles @lunarnights95 @meowmeow-motherfucker @simplyholl @divine-knight-hand @gigglingtiggerv2 @eleniblue @loz-3 @redfoxwritesstuff @wolfsmom1 @beksib @nyx2021 @lokischambermaid

#sub!loki/femdom!reader #sub loki #loki fic

[searchingforakeythatdoesntexist]

DAY 13 - «On Thin Ice» Good Omens AU - Triptych Tribute for @blairamok

Part 1/3: "Falling Angel" Aziraphale

Please, listen to this

Change everything you are

And everything you were

Your number has been called

Fights and battles have begun

Revenge will surely come

Your hard times are ahead

Don't let yourself down

Don't let yourself go

Your last chance has arrived

Best, you've got to be the best

You've got to change the world

And use this chance to be heard

Your time is now

Falling Angel, your time is now!

(yes I know this Muse song has another sense in the On Thin Ice universe - for Crowley. Well, our Fallen Serpent will show us what IS a true Survival, tomorrow. ;-)

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Don't forget to 💕/ reblog ;-)

Personal challenge: a simple sketch each day

Goal: forcing me to keep things simple - inking, shading, just a few sashes of colour

Improvement pursued: to get the movement, the emotion, finding how to add depth, learning how to leave things barely finished

Max time allowed: 2 hours, as usual for my Daily Challenges. Well, this is a very special Tribute for me, and I was on a three-days break. So I didn’t really set a timer for the « On Thin Ice » sketches. Plus, I drew them quite in the same time and on the same file to be sure Crowley and Aziraphale would match. I guess I spent more or less 3 hours on the lineart for each one of them (the clothes and the figures needed a lot of time), plus 1h30-2h on the colouring/shading for each one.

Be aware that in my first sketches for this project, Crowley and Aziraphale were supposed to train on the same ice rink, and I dearly wanted Crowley to be watching Aziraphale, and Aziraphale was supposed to glance back to him. I had to give up on this idea later – because the figure I chose for Aziraphale definitely couldn’t allow such a shared glance. (but, hello, it will be a triptyque ! So, guess what? About the third part… :-p)

About Aziraphale, as my « Falling Angel ».

« On Thin Ice » author, @blairamok, describes the Hydroplane ice skating figure as very representative of Aziraphale, and the drawing reference pictures were numerous enough to get some solid inspiration. It’s a complex skating figure. I have watched some ice skating tutorials on YouTube – because I wanted the movement of the clothes and hair to be accurate and, if I understand everything properly, even a slight alteration in the position of the arms can make you fall. Such perfection ! That IS the right move for Aziraphale !

I told sooner on my Gymnast !AU challenge that I appreciated drawing Aziraphale with realistic curves more and more each day – even if it still triggers me sometimes about my own shaming roundnesses. I realised my way of doing art – and my mind too, maybe - was evolving when I got back to check references in the amazing Blair artworks (link AO3). A few months ago, I felt insecure watching Blair’s Aziraphale, which seemed to me too much plump and very soft – not a « good sportive look », I thought then. But now I like him more and more, so maybe my way of thinking is changing, and I think this is for the very best.

My Aziraphale is performing a difficult figure, so he is using all his muscles into maintaining his balance. He seems so statuesque, so powerful, yet very focused and oblivious to the world around him, with his eyes shut. That is why he couldn’t share a glance with my Crowley. T.T

.

Maybe this is my way to guess Aziraphale’s behavior in the so-awaited « On Thin Ice »  next chapters. Focused on his own training, trying to ignore Crowley’s sassyness but still secretly impressed by his partner’s skills. Because they share the same love for Ice Skating, even if they don’t show it in the same way.

Blair, if you ever read this, thank you. For your artworks, for making us dream about a wonderful story that still remains to be told.

Thank you for « On Thin Ice », for your so-kind message last week, and for everything else.

I have faith. I’ll wait for your story. But even if it doesn’t exist yet, I am already dreaming about it, and this is priceless.

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Don't forget to 💕/ reblog ;-)

#on thin ice #blairamok #I am so happy about it! #good omens #good omens fanart #Aziraphale #Crowley #aziracrow #art #my art #ineffable husbands #David tennant #Michael Sheen #ElenPersonnalChallenge #ElenthyaAndGoodOmens #Ineffable Feathers #good omens au #Ineffable lovers #Ineffable Ice Skaters #ElenthyaGallery

[lonelylonelyghost]

Under the Skin analysis nobody asked for

a.k.a why I think that Du Cheng is pretty awesome actually.

SPOILERS for Under the Skin - Chinese drama, NOT a vore? body-snatcher?? movie with Scarlet Johansson. You have been warned.

*********

OK, let's get one thing out of the way first. People give Du Cheng a lot of shit about how he treated Shen Yi at first, which - fair, but hear me out.

Captain Lei for Du Cheng was not just a mentor and a fellow police officer, he was practically a father to him, the one who supported and showed young Mr. Du that he could redirect his anger and strength towards greater cause and help other people.

So imagine, in a very short amount of time, during the phone call with your almost-PARENT you hear him getting stabbed, find his dead body in a ditch, and then the reason the killers were able to identify him at all - a smug little shit of an artist who bragged about remembering every face he saw - couldn't draw for some reason the only face that mattered.

You'd also probably flip out and hold a grudge for 7 years.

Du Cheng also didn't know at this point that Shen Yi couldn't remember the face due to being dumped into the sea, he assumed that the artist just didn't want to do it.

I'm not saying that all this excuses Du Cheng's behavior, he's still a dick to an innocent person, a victim of circumstances - the fact which he already knew. What I'm saying is that it makes sense.

The scene in the interrogation room was amazing but I think we all know it

*********

Now, onto the thing:

The initial impression of Du Cheng's character is that yes, he's the police captain, and he's capable, but he's also kinda goofy. Like, where the work is not involved he's simple, straightforward person, not a genius like Shen Yi with his art or good with technology like Li Han, not very sophisticated, etc.

He's pretty chill overall (unless it's about murder cases or Shen Yi). Typical big gruff police captain that can be a butt of several jokes in other shows, but here is where things get interesting.

*********

When we first see him in the series, he's submerged in a bath inside of a suitcase, trying to figure out how a crime was committed. (Typing this I realized that there's even more of a theme of water and drowning, specifically of self-inflicted kind, than I'd thought before).

It shows that he's willing to go to great lengths to solve a case, including getting himself in a harm's way in the process, and this is demonstrated constantly throughout the show.

Later we see that he's also a good leader of his team, street-smart and physically strong.

A lot of wet men this show has

Speaking of physicality, I like how Du Cheng carries himself. With his height and size he could seem awkward, but Du Cheng is in complete control of his body.

His movements are big (wide? idk but you get my point) but fluid and calculated at the same time, partly because of the years' worth of training, partly because like many other tall people he's used to moving in the world that's occupied by smaller humans and a lot of fragile items.

He's not using his size for his advantage in everyday life, unless it's for the case and he needs to save one ever-unlucky Shen-laoshi from trouble for the tenth time that week.

He moves with the grace of a wild animal, calm and seemingly tame until he isn't, which is why although I understand his comparison to a dog in the show, I feel like he's more of a wolf.

Basically, there are three things I can watch forever - how the fire burns, how Shen Yi draws, and how Du Cheng jumps into the swimming pool.

*********

Another little mystery about Du Cheng that just doesn't let me go is - what the hell is his family background?

At first it seemed like he was just an ordinary rebellious teenager from some kind of tumultuous household. We don't hear anything about his parents, so we're simply left to assume (the same goes for Shen Yi).

That was until Du Qing comes into the picture. Du Cheng's sister is like rich-rich, so she could either amount to such power herself (girlboss ❤), or she's already come from money.

If the latter is the case, then what was Du Cheng doing on the streets all those years ago? Rich boy's tantrum? It didn't seem like it. Also, Du siblings seem pretty close, so I don't think that Du Qing would let her younger brother roam the streets if she had a choice.

Maybe I missed something? I don't know, but this tidbit just tickles my fancy for some reason, like what's his deal?

*********

But the thing that proved to me the fact that Du Cheng is as complex of a character as She Yi was when he framed himself as M's killer.

(I mean, I knew that he was innocent from the start, because hello, this is s Chinese contemporary show about cops, there's only so much wiggle room in terms of morality the censorship would allow - either he's guilty and he dies at the end, or he's not and everything will be fine. It didn't seem like the first option, so...)

Even before the whole thing went down, Du Cheng in general never seemed like a sidekick, simply a load of big muscles compared to Shen Yi's torturous genius, but this particular decision really cemented the quality of this partnership - in different ways, but they're equal. Neither can do without the other, and both of them can adapt and change their usual tactics when required.

And do you realize how rare this kind of thing is??

When two people have this sort of dynamic in a show - where one is very smart and the other is more down to earth - the second person more often than not would just feel like an assistant to the first one, and it's incredibly annoying to me personally.

But here it's different and oh my god IT'S SO GOOD! I practically screamed in excitement when it happened.

The motherfucker can scheme! This guy fell down from the stairs, hit his head, saw that M was dead, instantly understood what was happening and came up with a whole plan, which granted, involved getting himself in huge trouble, but it's not like Du Cheng is the only one who likes to be self-sacrificial fool in this show.

He sets a trap for the villain like a predator for the prey and then patiently waits. He knows that the price for this stunt is not only getting framed for the murder and demoted/imprisoned/executed? (I don't know the terms for death sentences in China very well), it's also the trust and potential well-being of his colleagues, and Du Cheng still agrees to pay it. He's ruthless both to himself and others, and I LOVE IT.

The later parts of the show provides us with not only deliciously tense moments, full of suspicions and drama and angst (the dinner with Du Qing, and Shen Yi drawing the eyes from the security footage are especially great), but also proves that BOTH of main characters have this darker undercurrent beneath their friendly exteriors.

And although it can't really be explored properly due to censorship, it still is fascinating to think about.

#under the skin #it took me so long to write it #why did it take me so long? #I love this show so much #I may get some things wrong #small details often elude me #I also may read into some things a bit too much #Also some grammar may be wonky #what I'm saying is - read at your own risk ψ(｀∇´)ψ #ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ #shen yi #du cheng #tan jianci #jin shijia #cdrama

[nezharins-blog]

Nezha landed, crouched impressively, after a particularly high leap. Several of their classmates, absurdly, began clap.

Nezha straightened up,ignoring the applause, AND cought Rin’s eye. ''That’s what family arts are” he seid, wiping the sweat off his forhead.

''I’m sure you'll be the terror of the schooll” said Rin. ''You can dance for donations. I’ll toss you an ingot.”

A sneer twisted Nezha's face.''You're just jealous you have no inherited arts.”

''I'm glad I don't, of they all look as absurd as yours”.

''The House of Yin innovated the most powerful kicking-based technique in the Empire,” Nezah snapped. ''Let's see how you'd like being on the receiving end.”

''I think I’d be fine,” Rin said.''Though it would be a dazzling visual spectacle.”

''At least I'm not an artless peasant,” Nezha spat. " You've never done martial arts before in your life. You only know one kick".

"And you keep calling me a peasant. It's like you only know one insult."

"Duel me, then." Nezha said. "Fight to incapacitation for ten seconds or first blood. Right here, right now.”

"You're on,"

(………)

He began moving around her,darting back and forth with quick,elegant movements.

She narrowed her eyes and crouched low, fallowing Nezha's movements carefully.

There. A clear opening.Rin raised a leg and kikcked out, hard. Her leg cought Nezha in midair with a satisfying whoomph.

Nezha uttered an unnatural shriek and clutched his crotch,whimpering.

Nezha clambered to his feet, scarlet-faced."You—how dare you—"

"Just as you said" Rin dipped her head intro a mocking bow. "I only know one kick."

„The poppy war"

R.F Kuang

#poppy war #rin fanart #fang runin #the poppy war #rin x nezha #yin nezha #fanart #book fanart #the poppy war fanart #r.f. kuang

[ryuichirou]

Hello!! I'm too shy to send you this out of anon, but I wanted to let you know how much I admire you. I'm a TWST artist myself, and I like certain problematic tropes and pairings. I also want to draw nsfw of my favorite ships, but I'm too afraid of doing it. The anti movement in fandoms is too overwhelming and I'm scared of people going after me. I don't mind kids yelling at me for drawing teens doing what most teens do nowadays (like sex) but everything has escalated so far that people are willing to doxx you and ruin your life over what you ship or draw, and that's what I'm scared of. I know that you probably get nasty messages and people bothering you, but seeing you and Katsu continue creating regardless of what people might say gives me encouragement to post whatever I want. And you seem to be a sunshine of a person, not to mention that your art is amazing. I wish I could post daily as you but sometimes I'm a little bit lazy and I yet need more confidence even if I've been drawing since I was a teen. Anyways, sorry if this got longer, but thank you for contributing amazing art to the TWST fandom. (I'm also into Hetalia and SnK!!! Seeing that you like DenNor made my day haha)

Sending you and Katsu my best regards!

First of all, thank you so much for your support and for your kindness, Anon. And thank you for messaging us at all about this topic, even if anonymously. I think this is a very important thing to talk about, and your message honestly made us kind of emotional. It was a bad idea to read it before going to bed lol

Just like you said, the anti movement is honestly psychotic. I feel like a lot of people who participate in it simply don’t realise the weight of their actions and words, which make sense, because the majority of them are very young; and the ones that are adults are usually quite deranged and dangerous. It’s not rare for their actions to lead to horrible consequences, but I guess this is nothing new. It used to be overbearing conservative parents, now it’s some kids with too much free time. That being said, these days we see more and more people who ignore, criticize or ridicule the antis for their hypocrisy, and this is very nice to see.

We really do get quite a lot of hate, but honestly, we used to get even more stupid comments, even though we haven’t been hated with such passion before. But still, the support we’re getting now is also much more impactful and vocal than what we used to get. There also are people who aren’t even into our ships, but would defend us just because of what this whole thing represents: their own right to do whatever they want when it comes to fiction.

Our personal thing is that we’re just way too spoiled and self-indulgent with stuff that we like. Even if it meant that we’d never get hate, we would be miserable if we had to restrict ourselves for the sake of others; and I know that because we tried. So the worst thing that could happen is that we’ll stop posting, but we’ll still continue creating, because it gives us too much joy to give it up just because someone has no friends at school and wants to impress other antis with their sick (moronic) post when they completely miss the point of our content and ignore our 18+ warnings.

So yeah, I hope you’ll remember what you love about drawing and keep doing whatever you want, even if you don’t post it. But I also think that, if you’re comfortable at any point, you should also post it. You can create an account with no link to your regular acc and your personal info whatsoever and post whatever you want there. You could still get hate, but at least it will be safer and without any high stakes, although I understand you might feel fear because people could recognise your artstyle and connect the dots.

Also preventive bans work wonderfully. If we stumble upon a post that has certain aggressive messages (you know the ones), we simply block everyone who interacted with that post. It takes time, but it’s worth it, I think. Hell, people use “call-out” (because there is nothing to call out, we’ve stated everything plainly ourselves) posts with us to block people.

Also also, ironically, ignoring the hate also kind of helps… I know it’s easy to say, and it’s not a 100% guarantee, but we just think that people are more prone to attacking you if you react to hate in any way. So the best thing is literally to just block and delete it. Oh, and always report it if it gets aggressive – this could do nothing, but it could also bitchslap them out of nowhere lol

Anyways… I am very grateful and glad if we could give you any type of reassurance and comfort with our posts. I hope to see your stuff one day, and I hope there’ll be more people who post whatever they want, so fandoms can become healthier again.

And I’m very happy you like Hetalia and SnK too, especially DenNor! <3

Thank you again from both of us, and I hope you’re having a good day.

#replies

[friendlyneighbourhood-parker]

the deadline

Pairing: steven grant x reader

word count: 1.6k

warning: n/a

A/N: don't ask me why most of my fics are set on nightime, i just love nightime. also this was a really old drabble that I wanted to rewrite and get rid of

“Darling, come back to bed”

The sudden noise of his groggy voice whispering just above your head and the pressure of his hands on both your shoulders would’ve startled you, jumping in your own place and dropping some of the things that rested on your desk in the process but the creek of his steps on the old wooden floor were loud enough to let you know of his proximity. He reached down leaving a sweet kiss on the top of your head, your empty hand grabbed his and you looked up locking eyes together, his eyes were just as sweet as they were tired, the deep brown calling for you in a desperate silence to go back with him and leave your place on the uncomfortable chair and the crisp air. You looked back down to the piece resting in front of you.

“I need to finish first”

Your other hand, busy by the paintbrush that somehow managed to mark your skin with paint whenever you weren’t looking just as much as it had with the canvas that the portable easel was holding in place on top of the desk, smeared paint was ingrained on the wood surface and no matter how hard you tried to get rid of, it never came off. He took the white cup marked with black bold letters as “Paint water” as an attempt to remind you both that the usage of it was restricted and non-negotiable limited to the little hobby that had turned into a job and placed it away from the glass of water that stood beside it – knowing that you’ve probably gotten them mixed up a few times by now when you took one with your eyes still glued to the work you’ve done.

It was a tedious routine, one that both Steven and you hated but the anxious feeling of the date when you have to turn them in coming closer and closer kept you on your desk, working from when the sun rose up in the sky until the moon shined with its silver light. The feeling of being tide down to the chair was then even without any physical proof of it, but the reminder of what was at stake pulled you from slumber and dragged you away from the comfort of the warm bed and away from the arms of the man whose sleep almost seemed dependant on the weight and warmth of you next to him. The sudden emptiness waking him up just a few minutes after your escape.

The eye bags that settled on your face, the way your back ached in the mornings thanks to the stiff position you maintained for hours and the occasional migraines from the lack of sleep were some of the traces this toll left on you. Steven had managed to pull you away from your desk a couple of times but not without you talking back about how much you needed to get this done just to end up letting him ‘win’ and lay between his arms on the old living room sofa to take a quick nap together, his soothing voice reading you to sleep. Trying to keep the thought of the haunting painting away from bugging you, the slow movements of his chest and the musky smell of his cologne being enough to give up trying to maintain your eyes from closing.

After months of searching for a gallery who would accept to display some of you artwork you finally found one, a new independent gallery that had quickly gattered a name for itself and a really good reputation. The curator had a great background, working with big companies and having connections with the world of art, a world you dreamed to be a part of someday. And after presenting him your work he seemed fairly impressed and whiling to have it hanging from the walls of his gallery. Except for his fatal request.

Three new paintings.

That’s what he asked for, his only request was something new and fresh to sell beside your old pieces. It was hard to say no to the so little time he gave you for that commission to be fulfilled and even more so if the man was able to grant you something that you so desperately wanted.  So now, with one painting done – what could only be describe as a recreation of the being that haunted the waking days of your lovers with its nattering, the description being provided from the three of them, giving you insightful detail of someone you couldn’t see but new how present it was as a part of your live. another one almost finished and the third one being only a messy and undecipherable sketch of something that you really didn’t plan on doing, because any idea that seemed good flew out the window and in came only a thought, the thought of how quickly the days passed without being able to stop them. The deadline came closer making the stress built up inside of you, turning your dreams into nightmares that kept you from sleeping.

And poor little Steven couldn’t do more than to yearn for you, the worry growing at the sight of the way this work seemed to eat you alive from the inside out and reminisce about the nights where they had to go away from you and wonder if the longing he felt for the weight of your body in his arms was about a fraction of what you felt when they were the one missing in bed. It was like looking into a distorted mirror, a haunting reflection of your actions. Him bringing you food at your desk and how you would place cups of tea to the table next to him while he read, he coming to hug you from behind and drowning you in encouragement to take a break and you brushing your hand along his shoulders every time you passed near him when he worked on his desk; the sight wasn’t pretty, a mockery from destiny.

“Hey” his voice was soft, the voice you would use to talk with a really old granny or a sweet child that rested on your arms. He crouched beside you, his hand rubbing a stain of dried paint off of your thigh and his head tilted to the side as he looked up at you, tired eyes were found each other.

The tired smile that left his crooked teeth shine through like pearls. His grip on your thigh being a bit steadier, anchoring himself to you while his other hand reached for your face cupping your cheek. The signs where there, he wouldn’t leave your side until you followed after him, your fingers intertwined while words of love slipped through your lips. His sight was caring and loving, his darks curls hung messily to every possible direction thanks to him tossing in his sleep whenever you weren’t around, his touch feeling hot over your skin – not enough to burn but just right to soothe you to notice the heaviness on your shoulders and how your eyelids seemed to fight just to remain open.

“You’ve worked hard pretty girl” his expression reflected all the tiredness he found in yours, almost enticing you to be the one dragging him back to bed and coax him to sleep just by knowing how greatly he had struggled to even drift to sleep in the first place, the feeling of guilt that started to settle in the pit of your stomach quickly outshined by the need of feeling that hand that was placed on your cheek being dragged along your back as he cooed you. The way your head leaned into his touch seemed almost like an instinct, trying to find the peace you were missing. The naturally as your movements assembled to each other was too good to be true and yet there they were “You need to rest”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw the canvas, feeling like it was staring back at you in disappointment and its voice being too loud to eclipse the so obvious fatigue you were feeling. But it was only your anxiety speaking.

There was no use in forcing yourself, you can finish it another day.

There’s still time.

Your hands left your lap, quickly moving to rub your eyes as you nodded towards him, your shoulders felt heavy as you rolled them trying to ease the pain on them and on your neck. Your movements were slow, slower than you would like but your body was starting to give out on you, succumbing to Morpheus realm of dreams. You yawned.

“Let’s go love” you pecked his lips smiling.

The contact was brief and didn’t seem as much but it had the power of calming down your nerves, to keep away the worries and fears. Your thumb rubbed on the corner of his lip, where wild blue paint was smeared and you wondered how many spots of fresh paint could possibly be in your face.

“Is that how you knew I drank the dirty water?” you laughed looking up at him. Your throat feeling dry, you reached for the glass before feeling the pressure of his hand on top of it, stopping your movements. It was like waking up from an illusion, seeing what was your glass of water turn into the label cup in your hand just by blinking a couple of times.

“A bit, yeah” he reached for your hand helping you get up before turning off your desk lamp. Guiding you with the ability of a man who has walked the same steps over and over again, knowing where the loose wood plates where and where every turn had to be done to not bump into a stack of books. You heard him humming as a response before hugging you, giving off by the edge of the bed and falling back to the mattress. Just as you predicted his hand made its way to your back below your shirt. “We’ll need a shower in the morning”

taglist: @devilish-mirage

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #moon knight #marvel #moon knight system #jake lockley #marc spector #fluff fanfic #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector fluff #marc spector x you #fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #mcu fic #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu moon knight #marvel mcu

[book-place]

What Could Have Been

Warnings: unsupportive parents, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Lucienne x reader platonic, Morpheus x reader platonic

Request: Lucien x teen!reader where she brings you through her library. You had a bad childhood because your parents didnt support your hobbies. You love photography but they get mad when you 'waste time trying to shoot stupid pictures'. So instead of chasing for dreams, you did what your parents told you to do and began studying physics. You lost your photography skills after not doing it for 5 years. When lucien takes you through the library, you wanted to read the story about what life you could've had if you had taken up photography and rebelled instead of just giving up and studying physics

Request by: @popfishjr

*not my gif*

Summary: Lucienne is hesitant to show you your book, unsure of the consequences it could hold

A/N: I probably messed up some facts about the library, but I don’t think it’s too bad

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

A small sigh escaped from your lips as your eyes raked up and down the colorful rows of hard covers, hand trailing over the spines and shelves that they sat upon.

Lucienne cut a quick glance at you from behind her large spectacles with a small smile tugging at the end of her lips, “You like it?” She asked, turning her head to face forward.

You could only manage a slight hum in return, mouth dry at the mere sight of it all. The lighting, colors, furniture, everything. It was all so perfect.

More than anything, you wished you had a camera to document it all, living proof to not just everybody in the waking world, but yourself as well, that such a place really did exist.

About a week ago, you had shown up in the dreaming. Simply appeared without a warning or explanation as to how.

Morpheus and Lucienne had both not only been suspicious at first, but slightly scared of how you, a common mortal, had seemingly entered their world without knowing it.

It hadn’t taken them very long to relax around you though, once they realized that you didn’t mean any harm to them and were just as confused as they were.

Lucienne had decided to watch over you for the day and finally bring you to her library that you had been told so much about, while Morpheus went into the waking world to attend to some business, possibly even try to find out how and why you were in his kingdom.

“So, you’re telling me that all of these are the alternative lives of people?” You asked in complete awe, jaw dropped slightly as you still tried to wrap your mind around the whole thing.

She held back a laugh as she looked upon your impressed state and couldn’t help the small sense of pride that hit her at the sight of it.

“Everyone in the waking world,” She confirmed, waving a hand to the rows.

Your movements stopped as you froze before turning to the woman with hesitation floating in your gaze, “Even mine?”

It was then her turn to hesitate, but she slowly nodded her head, unsure if she should show you the book about you that she was sure to find almost as soon as you arrived, if not to just make sure that you were actually who you claimed to be.

“Can…” Your voice trailed off before you swallowed and tried to continue, “Can I see it?”

She opened her mouth to shoot you down, but fell short as she looked upon your pleading, wide-eyed state.

With the research she had done when you arrived, she learned that at a young age, you had fallen in love with the art of photography, only to be forced out of it and into more ‘practical’ studies by your parents, like physics.

She knew that the book she held in her library contained the life you could have led if you had just rebelled against your parents, pushed for the things you wanted in life and didn’t just go along with what they wanted. A life that you were happier in.

Perhaps if she showed you, then you would be able to learn how to shift your life to be like the one that was engraved in the pages.

Without a word, she turned on her heel and started down a different section of the library to where your book lay, resting on a shelf as if Lucienne hadn’t been devouring every word less than a week ago.

You followed after her silently, working hard to keep up with her quick pace.

When she finally came to a halt, you did as well, peering up at the spine that clearly had your name printed across it in a beautiful font.

The silence was dragged out for a few moments before you finally snapped out of your daze and slowly rose on your tiptoes and stretched your arm out to reach it from where it was located.

You held it gingerly in your grasp, as if afraid that holding it too hard would make it evaporate and disappear into nothing.

Looking over at Lucienne, she only offered you a nod and kind smile, squeezing your shoulder gently before turning on her heel and leaving you to your reading.

A shaky sigh left your lips as you sunk down into a nearby chair. Your hands trembled as you opened the cover, but as soon as it was open on your lap, nothing was able to stop you from diving into the world of what could have been.

It explained in great detail how much more freedom you would have had in your life if you had pushed back and made your parents understand how much photography actually meant to you.

And not to even mention how much happier you would have been, being able to live your life to the fullest and have fun.

By the time you closed the cover again, there were tears in your eyes, and Lucienne had once again appeared in front of you, her warm, kind smile still upon her face as she looked at you in understanding.

When she gently took your hands in her own and pulled you to your feet, it became too much for you, and a sob left your lips.

Without the earlier hesitation anywhere in sight, she pulled you into a welcoming hug, rubbing your back soothingly.

You pulled away and looked her in the eyes, “Thank you,” The whisper was so soft that only someone as close as she was could have heard you, “For showing me how my life could have been.”

She shook her head gently, “How it can be,” She corrected, “I showed this to you because once you get back to the waking world, you will know how much better your life can be.”

Another sob racked through your body at her confession, an overwhelming amount of gratitude flooding your body all at once.

“And why not start now?” A voice spoke up from behind the two of you.

Both of you whipped around to face Morpheus, who was gingerly holding the most beautiful camera you had ever seen in his hands.

“I sent him out to find it for you,” Lucienne explained softly.

With tears never slowing from their streams down your face, you threw your arms around both of them, “Thank you,” You choked out again.

They both exchanged soft smiles with each other over your arms, knowing they had done the right thing by showing you how different your life could have been. Knowing that you would now have the strength to change it for the better.

The Endless 🌌- @popfishjr

#platonic #platonic imagine #x reader #teen reader #the sandman x reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus #Morpheus x reader platonic #lucienne x reader #lucienne x reader platonic #the sandman fanfic

[cupidastrology]

Hello, I have read your articles about the asteroid Aphrodite and I am very impressed. Your interpretations are really wonderful. There is an aspect that I am curious about based on my own chart. What does Aphrodite-Pluto conjunction in Sagittarius / 12th house mean? The only thing I know about it is that people find me scary and don't communicate with me much. What else can you tell me?

Take care 🌌

first of all, thank you so much for your kind words. I am happy to share my knowledge with you and many on this blog.

asteroid aphrodite in sagittarius ♐︎ conjunct pluto ♇ in sagittarius ♐︎ in the 12th house

lets break down who asteroid aphrodite is first; the woman of dreams, of loving fantasies, and of emotional and romantic seduction from the ocean. she is focused on the natural ability to bring love into her life, this including peoples flocking to her. she is irresistible, but has the touches of jealousy, vanity, and deceit through her ways and from others.

asteroid aphrodite will show you where you can bring in the genuine love and seduction into your life. it is the humanly experience of the art of seduction of Robert Greene, the asteroid that brings you the ability to attract and get what you want through nothing but love. planet venus ︎ ♀︎ is similar, and may connect with this planet easily, but aphrodite shows you just a bit more on what it means to be irresistible to the eyes of another.

this asteroid's connection with your pluto in sagittarius ♐︎ ; asteroid aphrodite in sagittarius ♐︎ is wild, breathless, and ready for constant movement. she can never stay home, she can never rest from a long day of studying, and there is more to uncover. her natural ability to connect with her studiousness is attractive, and many peoples of intellect wish to share their life with her. the topic of all knowing, intaking knowledge, and understanding life perspective is very important here.

this asteroid position in the 12th house also shows a studious person of the dark arts, of the subconsciousness, and of understanding the fears of the self or of another. you are able to naturally attract those with dark tendencies, but be the kindred spirit of those with pains, healed through your energy and touch.

sagittarius and the 12th house are serious pointers, especially with one of the asteroids of that represents direct/sensual romantic and seductive attraction. the notion that people are afraid of communicating is due to your ability to attract or coax the truth or honesty out of others. you have a strength of knowing the pains of another, holding it in your hands, and deciding what to do with it. this is due to not only the asteroid sign itself but where it is positioned, which is the 12th house.

this house can be a place of loneliness, but it's influence presents you having a raw form of attraction that not many can figure out, which shouldn't be viewed in a negative way. I highly advise to ignore others' negative words about communicating with you, because this position shows me that you have raw honesty in how you wish to experience your life, how to take care of yourself, and how you wish to perceive romance in your own eyes.

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

if you wish to know more about this position, you may message me to book an asteroid aphrodite reading. blessings.

#asteroid aphrodite #astrology #aries #libra #taurus #pisces #virgo #aquarius #astrology signs #capricorn #astrology readings

[ficfanatictrf]

Give me some vikky fluff where hes learning new things about his s/o's hobbies BUT they are really into Urban arts and literature and analyzing the art and books and film, PLEASEEE

I am so very sorry that this was so short! Spraypaint

Word Count : >1k

-------- -------- --------

If there was one thing about your relationship with Viktor that had been different than any other relationship you had in the past, it was the fact that he was always supportive of your artistic pursuits- even though he didn’t know a thing about art. 

When the two of you had first started dating, museums had been on the best date ideas. With the range of interests the two of you had combined, one of you always had information to tell the other about when it came to the subject material. It also was something that didn’t put too much strain on his leg, given that seating was always readily available. Plus, anytime he needed to rest was just an extra reason to talk. 

Viktor was a history buff it seemed, always telling you random little facts about the information in front of you. While anytime things had to do with art, you were able to feel how Viktor must feel all the time, being able to stun the person you were talking to with your expertise. 

You still remembered how after slipping away to go to the bathroom, you had come back to find Viktor intently looking at painting, Monet’s Impression, Sunrise. As you slipped up next to him, you whispered your own random fact, much like he did all the time. 

At the mention that when the painting had debuted, it had been heavily criticized. With the most famous review critiquing that it looked unfinished and similar to wallpaper, you could see Viktor’s brows scrunch up in confusion.

“How could someone assume this was unfinished?” The man whispered softly, looking for an area of the painting that wasn’t covered with paint. 

With a grin, you enjoyed that you got to explain a cliff-note version of the Impressionist movement in art. The two of you having ended up sitting down as he listened and asked questions - letting you info dump about the whole thing for over an hour. 

Even though it was the second date, that had been the date that Viktor had kissed you on your doorstep. Afterwards, he admitted that it was because of your passion that you spoke with that had truly cemented your place in his heart, the man finding you far to enamoring.

Each of you took turns picking the museum to visit. At first the two of you picked the ones that went with what you liked, but as the time passed the two of you started to pick the ones that would get the other to talk more. You would look for different scientific lectures, enjoying the little sidebar whispers that Viktor would add to whoever was talking. Either ideas on future research, little tidbits about the scientist, or even his own critiques over the person's work and how they conducted their experiments - how he would have done it better. 

Viktor would then also find the most hole-in-the-wall art exhibits he could find just so that you could go into detail about why the artist might have used the colors that they did or the meaning behind the different flowers or jewelry in the piece. 

It was how you found yourself heading down to the undercity. Viktor makes sure to get you both clothing that would allow you to blend in, but also a respirator mask to blend in even further. 

Sneakily, he had led you by the hand through the alleyways, refusing to give you any hints on what exactly you were going to see at the destination. 

As you rounded a corner, the sight before you was mesmerizing. 

Spray painted onto the walls was a woman with brown hair and, white birds soaring just beneath her. It was beautiful and the fact that Viktor was willing to bring you all the way there to see it was heartwarming. 

“This is something that has been here since my childhood. There are many places down here that have similar art to the pieces that you liked a lot at the last art exhibit we saw. I figured…well, maybe we could start making trips down here, safely, for you to see them?” 

“I would love that” 

#viktor arcane #arcane viktor #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane x reader #viktor league of legends #viktor x reader #viktor x reader arcane #viktor x y/n #viktor x you #viktor #Viktor fluff #ficfanatictrf #ficfanatic #my work #my request

[yoannlossel]

#SupportHumanArtists

Here is a translation of three posts about the arrival of AI in art, originally written in French, that I wrote three months ago. The debate has continued since then, but the basis of my thinking remains the same. What has changed the most since I wrote these posts is the widespread use of this technology. What was once a fear is becoming more and more tangible.

Midjourney / AI in art Part 1 : First impressions.

What questions me the most, concerning Midjourney and the arrival of AI in the field of graphic arts, is not so much the capacity of AI to execute scripts, with renderings as bluff as they are, but our capacity to delegate even our imagination. We read here and there that it's just another tool, like the arrival of photography or Photoshop (developped in Part 2⇊ ). But Midjourney is not a simple medium that produces stylistic effects, it's a scripted artist-bot that composes on demand by relying on a database that is itself fed by our artistic productions. It's not only a tool, it's a paradigm shift in the world of graphic creation.

Midjourney (+AI art) will not impact everyone in the same way. As a spectator, one can observe the adventure with an amused eye or even let oneself be carried away by the strange and dark creations very directly evocative of Beksinski's work, the organic visuals taken from Mucha's work (a bit blended), the disproportionate landscapes largely evoking the concept art of famous video games and other more or less strange creations.

But as an artist, we know the sinuous path of creation, the one on which Midjourney relies. This path that inspires, that pushes us to surpass ourselves, to imagine what doesn't exist or to try to remember what does exist in order to transcribe it. It is a force that pulls upwards, that imposes a dynamic, an energy, to take decisions and a direction. Art is not only an object of pleasure to satisfy a spectator, it is a complete step which implies to put in movement its intellect, its senses, its emotions and to constitute a coherent corpus by gathering this whole. Not everyone is capable of constituting this coherent corpus - which like all work requires experience - but everyone, one day, tries and has fun creating. This is a life-saving dynamic, which is often a good sign of mental health for both the individual and society.

Midjourney imposes a much more passive role and I fear that instead of expanding our creative potential it will only weaken it. I feel that if we delegate our ability to imagine, we take away the great tool that art is to develop our human genius and at the same time the possibility to constitute a creative and flourishing civilization.

We can be happy with the visual festival that is taking place at the moment, or not. But, in my opinion, we should not simply think in terms of achievements but in terms of consequences on the development of the individual in a broad sense.

Not to mention the multiple questions and reflections of all kinds that this raises:

Copyright management?

How will we classify the artists who will use MJ's productions to constitute a body of work? Art competitions are already affected by this phenomenon.

A large part of the works used by the database to train MJ are not free of rights and have nevertheless participated in its development, but it is a lucrative application. The full version of MJ is not free.

Once again, the means of production are being accelerated, at a lower cost, at the service of a private company and at the expense of a potentially gigantic number of people.

One day, hypothetically, AI will have in its database more self-generated images than all the human productions put together and will start to compose self-referenced visuals. I would be curious to have your opinions, as diverse as they are?

Midjourney / AI in art Part 2 : On the human genius.

Short version: When we outsource a skill, one of those that contribute to our development as an individual from a psychic point of view, we add proportionally as much comfort to our lives as we potentially weaken ourselves. I am not questioning the tools that take over our most thankless and physical tasks, those that allow us to eliminate the drudgery and repetitiveness of work, in which case they are saving technologies. I am talking about the outsourcing of our intellectual forces, of our creativity, of our inventiveness. What I defend is not my status as an artist, I will adapt. What I defend is the psychic development, the human genius.

Long version: One must characterize the tools and not confuse them. All the tools do not fit in the same category, even if they belong to the same class, they are not the intermediaries of the same forces and one does not delegate the same tasks. A pencil and a computer are tools, but they do not have the same impact on our civilizations.

Comparing the arrival of AI in art to the arrival of photography is a tempting parallel - and even interesting because we have precise documentation on the period, a testimony to take a step back - but it doesn't seem relevant to me. The camera has upset a figurative approach in search of hyperrealism, but we are talking about a stylistic revolution. A camera is not a tool for producing works of art, it has not been thought in this sense. The camera is a medium in the strict sense, which can be used to produce a work of art. A tool that has no database to draw on, does not compose itself by having ingested the different rules of composition, has no subject matter (MJ has, in a way, subject matter. He organizes it according to your request). Once the camera is at the end of your arm, you have to use your imagination and give intention to that moment until you reach your ideal mental representation.

You can fumble and refine a MJ-generated image for hours, it's true. But you can also not do that and achieve a result, and that is the huge chasm between these two technologies. Comparing photography and MJ is like comparing a map and a GPS. If you never learned how to find your way in space before using a GPS, you don't develop skills that can be useful in many aspects of life: understanding distances, managing space and time. These are skills that make you autonomous, that offer a little more freedom and that help by extension to develop your critical mind. Delegating your imagination or your creativity to an AI, without having learned to develop them, is the same problem, the same weakening of your potential.

Of course, MJ can be an interesting tool to pursue one's artistic path. But it is still necessary to have made an artistic journey before using it. One can quickly obtain a very beautiful result by using this tool, and even obtain recognition by this means, without asking all these questions. But the important thing is the path that leads us to the result, that is what elevates us as individuals. And that which elevates us as individuals participates in elevating us as a society.

Everything that allows us to delegate, everything that allows us to go faster, is and will be used. It is not a question of "if", it is a question of "when". So the question is not whether or not we accept the arrival of this technology. The question is (especially for professional artists): how does one develop one's opinion on this topic, with what sources and what basis of reflection? And then, for the artists, how do we talk about it to the public?

Midjourney / AI in art part 3 : On Arts and Crafts, William Morris and the Avant-Garde of Art.

I read here and there that one must question one's artistic approach, and adopt an avant-garde approach in reaction to the arrival of AI in art.

The function of a large number of craftsmen was radically transformed following industrialization, so much so that they have never found equivalent positions. A cabinetmaker, a jeweler, a dressmaker or a carpenter no longer does the same work as before the advent of industrial production. Either these craftsmen have accepted the evolution of their trade and their work has lost its meaning, or they try to continue their artisanal approach with all the economic problems they have to face (accompanied by the incessant justifications necessary to legitimize their approaches to a public that continues to compare their production to an industrial mode of production). When asked to reinvent themselves, they ended up machining furniture at Ikea, fitting out industrial-style bookcases in plywood, enlarging rings in supermarkets and patterning coats for the luxury industry in cold sheds. The quality of craftsmanship is declining, know-how tends to be lost and finishes are less meticulous, being alienated to a mode of production that optimizes and simplifies to produce faster in greater numbers.

The taste of the public has become accustomed by impregnation to this industrial style which has become the aesthetic culture of our time, and we ask for more. The common mistake being to think that we have developed an attraction for this style by taste, but it is not a style, it is a mode of production which has flooded the world and for which we have developed the affection that we have for what has accompanied us for a long time. A poisoned comforter.

The artist thought he was preserved by his status, detached from his brothers and sisters of the Crafts. But the separation has not always been so clear-cut - in the past, artists and craftsmen walked the same paths, as all our European cities attest - the evolution of the culture we constitute together can choose to downgrade or reclassify the craftsman and the artist according to changing criteria. When we are invited to change our approach to adopt the avant-garde approach to art, we are downgraded from our current function as artists and invited to join the history of artisans.

If one asks the question of whether or not to change one's artistic approach towards an avant-garde approach to art, in order to maintain one's function as an artist, in reaction to a technological evolution, one postulates that one must accept to survive in an ultra-competitive environment and run after the evolution of technologies (evolution of technology is supposed to serve the human being, isn't it?).

Is this really the way we want to think, what we aspire to?

Is it not more interesting to build a civilization by asking questions in order to offer a function that makes sense to everyone, including craftsmen, artists who do not claim to be at the avant-garde of art and "artisans of art" (and we can extend to multiple sectors)? William Morris already addressed the question in these terms more than a century ago. Everyone should be able to access dignity through their work, to find meaning in it by having the feeling of working on something useful and beautiful (useful and beautiful being contextualized in Morris' words). I am convinced that there will always be avant-garde artistic productions and so much the better, but I will always keep in mind the reflection around Arts&Crafts which offered such an interesting glimpse of what could be offered by the union and diversity of talents.

[newhope8]

I will be linking this back to my main pinned 📌 organizational post & starting a new collection called “Story Captions”. I’ve done something like this on AO3 already, so I may or may not migrate those over to my Tumblr at some point.

These 2 are watching you from across the kitchen as you eat your evening meal. 😏 You’re only nervous for just a moment before a hidden, playful, bratty side of your personality makes itself known. You are eating soup and prepare to bring another mouthful of the delicious broth up to your lips when you happen to catch Han Jisungie’s gaze. His eyes smolder into yours from across the room and his pupils start to fully fucking dilate. He man-spreads his legs apart, as far apart as his hip joints will let his legs move, and his tight black trousers do not one FUCKING thing to hide the bulge of his dick, which has started to deliciously outline itself against the pathetic material. Really, those damnable pants are in the fucking way, aren’t they?

Your eyes flicker over to Lee Know, Jisungie’s partner in crime. He tilts his head & regards you with a quiet, yet equally sultry contemplative stare. You have the presence of mind to swallow some air back into your lungs before trying to take a slurp of your soup. Yet to be completely truthful, the only thing you wanted to truly slurp on was resting between Jisungie’s legs. And if he didn’t stop massaging his own dick by bringing his legs together at the knees, squeezing his thighs tightly together, then letting his legs fall open again, you were going to literally scream and pounce on Lee Know instead. (Think of how a woman can press her legs together in public and potentially get herself off by squeeze-clenching her vaginal wall muscles then letting her pussy relax, over and over again {{Kegel exercises anyone??}}. Jisungie is doing something similar in this instance with his dick. The dick would be the pussy & his thighs the vaginal walls themselves. Ah fuck, this may not make sense. Forgive me. 🫣

You subconsciously feel your own eyes dilate in response to Jisungie’s movements. Not to be outdone, Lee Know doesn’t man-spread his legs, yet just lightly runs his hands up and down his toned thighs (which are fuckingly enclosed in equally tight trousers). You feel a sudden blotchy red blush creep up your chest and across the tops of your boobs and suddenly decide ok boys … game on … enough is fucking damnit enough.

Breaking your gaze from theirs, you look down at your soup bowl and load up your utensil. 🥄 You bring the spoon up to your mouth. You let the over-filled soup spoon just linger in front of your lips for what seems like a lifetime, at least as far as Jisungie & Lee Know are concerned. The steaming liquid is inches from your mouth. Even before you return your 1/2-fucked out gaze back to theirs, from your peripheral vision, you see them swallow in unison. You look up again, catching Jisungie’s eyes, then Lee Know’s. You have a sudden spark of boldness and open your mouth wide, way fucking wider than you need to, to consume your soup. You think, ah fuck … if this was that well massaged dick instead of my soup spoon. Giving yourself some courage, you do indeed pretend the spoon is indeed Jisungie’s dick as you put the utensil fully into your mouth and tilt the end of the spoon backwards, letting the warm salty liquid fall down the back of your throat. Slowly dragging it 🥄 out of your mouth, you lick the end of it clean and swallow what soup didn’t make it all the way down. The sight that greets your eyes is more than enough reward for your bravery … for the moment anyhow — Jisungie has both his legs clamped tightly together & both hands pressing hard against his fully hard dick. His eyes are glued to your tits, which are now poking painfully against your fucking bra. Why did you decide to wear one tonight, of all nights? Why … for the love of all that is holy and sacred in this world? WHY? 😩 Lee Know is doing the opposite — his legs are fully splayed open (like how Jisungie was mere moments before) and he is running one hand lightly over his dick, just tap-tap-tapping the end of it through his black pants.

You use your voice for the first time since this entire little episode began. “You want some soup boys?” 😏💦🍵

Seriously, go check out this fan artist’s page on Instagram. Her name on there is riya_likes_coffee_. You will NOT be disappointed. 🔥

@channieandhisgoonsquad and @its-hannjisung — let me know if you see a notification from this @ tag. 🙏🏻💕 Thanks lovelies! 🦋

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids #stray kids fan fic #stray kids smut #fanfic smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanart #jisung smut #lee know smut

[infinitycutter]

Interview with Jun Takahashi 

SO-EN Magazine (2005) C: Bunka Publishing

[Talk about the] Surrealism of Jan Švankmajer.

Jun: [It’s] an art movement that aims for the total emancipation of human beings by expressing the irrational world of the subconscious, such as dreams and illusions—

an art movement that aims for the total liberation of mankind by expressing the world of the irrational subconscious such as dreams and illusions. I wanted to express this in my own way with my clothes. I wanted to express in my own way the sense of decay, the battle between humans, and the doomed— something ruinous.

I wanted to express the coexistence of these things with positive things. I like the opposites of dark and pop.

Have you always had the idea of clothes that sell since you were a student of couture?

Jun: The collection is an art piece. Coordination is a theme. I sometimes overdo it in order to make the theme clear. I always keep in mind the minimum wearability.

Which designers have influenced you?

Jun: I was a punk when I was in school, so I was influenced by Seditionaries and Vivienne Westwood.

How did you resist the transition from street to mode?

Jun: At first I was making and selling T-shirts, but I was not sure about creating.

There were times when I felt lost and didn't know how to express myself. At that time, Comme des Garcons gave me confidence. I saw a jacket with a vinyl collar and thought it was punk. I was shocked and at the same time, I was able to honestly affirm what I had done. Although I had never heard Kawakubo-san's words directly, I felt relieved that it was all right.

What made you go to Paris?

Jun: Actually, I once brought some clothes to Paris. But it didn't go well. I like Paris, but I was hesitant to go to Paris because of my impression of the city. But when I decided that I wanted to create on a global level, Paris was the place to go. I wanted more stimulation.

Undercover is a type of brand that does not exist in Paris.

Tokyo streets are a special mix of various things, with a touch of mode thrown in for good measure. It is a mix of various things, plus mod, with a touch of horror, grotesqueness, and humor.

Of course, there are some things that we lack that other people don't have. We have what they have, but we don't have enough of it. For example, elegance, maturity, and a subtle balance of the two are the most difficult to achieve in terms of individuality. I think this is the most difficult and most important aspect of individuality. I like elegant clothes more than those who make beautiful and habitual clothes. I liked Lanvin and Anne Valerie Hash in London. Beautiful clothes made by people with a broken mind. I like that sense of balance.

Do you draw an image of women in your clothes?

Jun: As I make the clothes, I have an idea of the person I want to have come to the show. In this case, I think it would be my wife. We like similar things.Her casual comments are very reassuring.

Finally, any advice for future creators?

Jun: Do what you want to do and what you decide to do. 

Be prepared to experience a hungry life.

It takes a lot of courage and it is scary, but if you don't take the risk, you will never be anything. If you are playing it safe, you will misjudge what is good and what is not.

I was the same way, but I think it's okay to let your youth get the better of you and give it a shot. It's okay to let your youth take you for a ride.

#undercover #undercoverism #jun takahashi #translated article

[p5x-theories]

I would like to say there’s this weird interesting thing I kinda picked up from the trailer. There’s this reoccurring reference to time in this third beta. First of all, Cattle’s AoA with the clock and then we hear this clock ticking at the end of the trailer. As well as a reference of how can Wonder and Joker meet across space and time. Also im not as sure about this, but Wonder doesn’t have his mask on for a lot of the art in this new beta which makes me doubt we’re gonna be able to tell Wonder from fake Wonder in this new beta as well. And as I feel like Cattle knowing more than he’s letting on is def true and while idk if he’s like the true big bad, he’s def up to something.

Oh, there's one more instance of a time/clock theme introduced in the second beta- the area in Mementos that lets you return to a Palace after you've stolen its Treasure! Which, uh, considering its apparent ties to cognition and time, makes it... actually extremely relevant here, haha. I don't know too much of the context to it, but- actually, let me go try Google-translating the dialog when it's introduced, since I don't think I got a chance to do that!

[They approach where Kiuchi's Palace used to be in Mementos, I believe?] Cattle: "It is here that something has changed..." Cattle: "Motoha, do you still remember the question you asked before the battle with Kiuchi?" Closer: Ah, it means that if the Palace disappears, will there be other reasons for reappearing? Closer: I just… think it's possible. Cattle: It seems that your feeling is correct. This location seems to have become a transfer station connecting the impression space and a certain place. Closer: Somewhere…….. where!? Cattle: Haha, you'll know it when you see it, let's go. System popup: Started the rapid movement to [Between Past Cognitions.] (I assume this means quick travel) Player choice: Entering the space between past cognitions. [Game screen switches to the Palace select menu screenshotted in the linked post above.] Goal in corner: [Past Cognition Network -> Observe the Palace of Rebirth] [Player selects Cognition - Baseball Stadium.] Closer: Kiuchi's Palace!? Closer: This place should have collapsed, and obviously we have already removed the secret treasure… Cattle: Don't worry, everything you said is true. But what I saw in front of me was indeed Kiuchi's Palace… Cattle: It's just a "temple that once existed", and it remains in this area as an identity. Closer: Cognition… the Palace of Cognition…

So... maybe just cognition, not time travel exactly, but there's definitely that sort of vibe to it. And, I'd say, a few points for Cattle knowing more than he's letting on!

#anonymous #theories #cattle #second beta #third beta #closer #wonder #game info

[quietlyimplode]

I am so impressed by your writing. You understand Clint and Natasha’s nuances so well and I’m always excited to get an update or a new story from you!

Here’s my question: 🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

@gunsnarrows <3 thank you so much for your words, you are far too kind. ❤️

This is a wip fic inspired from a lovely piece of art that @unlivedtenderness was kind enough to share with me- which will turn into a 5x story.

Thank you for asking <3 (warnings for young Nat in the red room)

.

They’re lined up like they always are, and take their places on the bar. The distance between them is measured and they’ve done this often enough to know exactly what to do.

Madam strikes her switch and the music starts.

Natasha follows the movement and lets her mind wander. It comes with such ease that she no longer even has to think about it.

Today feels different, but she can’t figure out why.

Madam, perhaps looks more strict, but she hasn’t said anything, hasn’t corrected anything, has let them follow the music without yelling or hitting them with switch to correct movement.

The longer it goes on, the more it feels wrong.

There’s no talking.

They breathe hard as training continues longer than it should.

She shares a glance with the other girls, and she knows everyone is feeling the strangeness.

Legs shaking they’re lined up again, and at last; Natasha thinks, they can go into the lunch hall and eat.

Except they don’t.

They’re sat, facing the mirror in the hall, and Natasha takes the opportunity to look at the other girls in the reflection.

Something she rarely does.

They all look as tired as she does.

They all look nervous at the change in routine.

Even those that know how to mask their faces, have shifting eyes and clenched fists.

She stares at herself, and takes her demeanour in, focusing first at relaxing her face, making her features become stoic and straight faced. Next she relaxes her shoulders, keeping her breathing even.

Her legs give nothing away, so she puts her hands flat on her knees and keeps her back straight.

No slouching.

Dreykov enters.

Immediately her hands tighten on her knees but she sees it in the mirror.

Natasha knows now this is going to be a lesson.

And not a good one.

.

#my fic #fic talk #ask games #wonderful people #lovely friends #natasha romanoff #black widow #red room #natasha romanoff fic #wips