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art · 25 days

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Creator Spotlight: @camberdraws

Hello! My name is Camber (any pronouns), and I’m a mixed media illustrator located in the southwestern United States. I love drawing everything, but I have a special interest in depicting strange creatures and environments, often accompanied by abstract imagery and mark-making. Professionally, I’ve worked creating concept art and 2D assets for museum exhibits, but currently, I am engaged full-time as a software developer and make standalone illustrations in my free time. I’ve been posting art on Tumblr since I was a teenager, and the site has been very welcoming towards my work to this very day!

Check out Camber’s interview below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I’ve had an interest in drawing since I was barely sentient, but at thirteen years old I decided to become “serious” about art. I was all about reading tutorials and doing a ton of studies. I would tote my heavy instructional art books to school every single day (my poor back!) Despite all this, I decided to forgo art school in favor of a bachelor’s degree in Computer Science at my local college. Alongside my major, I received a minor in Art Studio with a specialization in fine art, which totally changed my views on creating artwork and drastically changed my style.

How has your style developed over the years?

As mentioned previously, my style did a 180 after I studied under some very skilled fine art professors! As a kid, my drawings were very realism-heavy and inspired by video game concept art. I mostly worked digitally, too. During college, I was thrown for a loop when we were instructed to do strange things like, for example, make a bunch of marks on paper using pastel, WITHOUT looking, and then turn said marks into a finished piece of art! I quickly and deeply fell in love with abstract work, and especially appreciated images that are not easily parsed by the viewer. Since then, I’ve made it my goal to combine abstract mark-making with more representational subject matter.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Hmmm, one habit I really enjoy as an artist is strictly tracking the amount of time I spend drawing! I currently work a full-time job wholly unrelated to art, so I have to be careful with my time if I want to spend enough hours drawing each week. I created a spreadsheet that allows you to enter the amount of minutes you’ve drawn each day and calculate how much drawing time you still need to reach your weekly goal (I aim for 20 hours a week.) Having such a clear, numbers-based objective keeps me motivated to work like nothing else!

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

I know this is a common inspiration, but Hayao Miyazaki’s work has been rewiring my neurons since I was a child. Seemingly all of my artistic interests can be summed up by the movie Princess Mononoke: it has strange/abstract creature designs, a strong focus on nature and environmental storytelling, and a mix of dark and hopeful themes. Additionally, I’ve been deeply inspired by video game series such as Zelda, Okami, Pikmin, and Dark Souls. But arguably, none of these have influenced me more than Pokemon! I’ve been drawing Pokemon since I could barely hold a pencil, and I haven’t stopped since! I believe my love of designing creatures originated with my endless deluge of Pokemon fanart during my childhood.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I’ve always been fascinated by 3D mediums and am so tempted to try them out! Whether that’s 3D models created digitally or sculptures made from clay, I profoundly admire artists who have this skill. Oftentimes, it feels like I don’t have time to delve into a totally different artistic paradigm. However, I feel very strongly that learning new skills can enrich your current work. I should take that advice and someday give 3D mediums a shot!

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I am in the process of creating an art book (a dream of mine!) and have been executing smaller drawings of concepts I find interesting from both a visual and storytelling standpoint. A recent drawing for said book is that of a snail made of ink with an ink bottle as a shell, and it went absolutely viral! I’ve never had an experience like this as an artist before and it has been spectacular! I was able to open a shop using my newly acquired art printer and sell many prints of my snail. Creating something original, directly stemming from my interests, and having that resonate with so many people has been unreal. I couldn’t ask for more as an artist!

What advice would you give to younger you about making art that’s personal or truthful to your own experiences?

I would tell my younger self to chill out and experiment more! I was so caught up in the idea that I needed to have a realistic style to be considered “good.” I also believed that technical skill was the only measure of how worthy my art was. That’s not to say technical skill doesn’t matter, but I now firmly believe the creativity and voice of your ideas far outweigh the skill of execution in terms of importance. Technical skills should elevate ideas, not the other way around. Once I began to revel in strange ideas and stories for my work, depicted oftentimes in odd styles or mediums, I truly found my voice as an artist.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

My peers here on Tumblr inspire me more than anything! Sharing my work with contemporaries and giving each other support brings me joy like no other, and keeps me motivated to continue creating. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them! @beetlestench, @theogm-art, @trustyalt, @ratwednesday, @phantom-nisnow, @svltart, @mintsdraws, @mothhh-hh, @jupiterweathers, @thesewispsofsmoke, @picoffee, @fetchiko, @kaisei-ink, and @pine-niidles just to name only a few!

Thanks for stopping by, Camber! If you haven’t seen their Meet the Artist piece, check it out here. For more of Camber’s work, follow their Tumblr, @camberdraws!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #camberdraws

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trashogram · 3 months

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He Chose You (Pt. 2)

Lucifer/Reader

Rated E for the smex coming next chapter I SWEAR. ((Also there will not be any non-con in this fic, so please don’t worry. You’ll see when you read.))

Tag Requests: @loslox, @for-hearthand-home, @navierkalani

‘The worst thing they could be are swingers.’

Your heart was racing, and you felt ridiculous for how uppity you felt at the prospect of having dinner with your two elderly neighbors.

Normally, meeting new people would cause a healthy amount of anxiety in you. You’d grown up into a recluse and upholding social niceties took most of your energy. It was even worse to be in their home, and among people that you likely did not have much in common with.

These were personal reassurances that you told yourself after denying the first invitation for dinner with the Farrows. The guilt you felt, paired with the subsequent relief of not having to spend more than five minutes with your chatty neighbor, stirred an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Of course you’d been unable to stop thinking about what a wretch you were, how karma was going to bite you on the ass for denying an old couple some company.

And oh Karma did come back to bite you. Hard.

You felt like you were hanging by a thread at work. Three weeks into the job and you’d already been reprimanded. Even the memory of your supervisor looking down her nose at you from the other side of her desk made your eyes water.

“We have a ‘three strikes’ policy here. I’m afraid this will count as your first.”

Never having been fired from a job notwithstanding, you felt like the idiot your parents always purported you to be.

If you’d have just stayed in your hometown, living off your parents’ good graces and kept your head down, instead of prancing out the door as if you had self-respect and no need for a safety net…

Maybe things wouldn’t be so dire.

Maybe you wouldn’t be on the verge of having a panic attack at this very moment, feeling the anxiety and restlessness from declining the previous invitation tenfold.

With a deep breath in and out, you crossed the hall with the hesitance of a mouse approaching a snap-trap. You knocked on the door to Unit 606 with a shaking hand.

There was a moment left to blanch at the realization that you hadn’t brought anything with you. Like the shittiest, most thoughtless guest ever.

——

“You made it!” Mrs. Farrow held her arms out dramatically. “Come in! Come in! You’re right on time! Oh and you look lovely dear!”

“Thanks.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks as the door closed behind you.

The layout of the apartment was a mirror image to yours, but you were overwhelmed by just how much stuff had taken up the space. From the kitchen to the living room, the apartment was brimming with kaleidoscopic color. Antique statuettes of unknown deities, handcrafted vases and sculptures in-set with gems and gold filigree, expertly framed posters of old Hollywood, and Persian rugs beneath well-worn furniture were visible from just a cursory glance.

It distracted you from the unusually bitter, earthy smell that assaulted you upon entering.

“Wow,” You said in genuine awe. “Your home is lovely.”

“Aw, you’re too kind sweetheart. Too kind. Here, let me take your shawl - we’ll hang it up on the rack here, see.” She took your cardigan and placed it on an old hat stand before steering you out to the living room by the back of your shoulders.

There was a man sitting in a leather armchair adjacent to the couch. He was wearing a tweed jacket and his silver-blond hair had been combed back finely to show a pale, wrinkled face and eyes so dark they shone almost black in the lowlight.

He looked at you with interest once you’d finally caught onto his presence, and opened his mouth to speak.

‘Quack!’

“Lou!” You laughed as the duck came racing over on its little legs.

Without delay, the bird climbed onto your flats with an impatient flap of its wings, trying to balance while looking up at you adoringly.

You couldn’t help but reach down and pat his little head, murmuring ‘hellos’ and ‘how you doing buddy?’ softly and sweetly.

The man opposite you both smirked. “My wife was right. He’s quite taken with you.”

“I’m always right!” Mrs. Farrow called out from the kitchen.

You looked to the kitchen and back to, presumably, Mr. Farrow, an uncertain smile on your lips.

“Welcome to our home.” The elder man’s voice was almost hypnotically deep. His hand was outstretched and waiting. “Please excuse me for not greeting you properly. When you get to be as old as I am, your body does everything it can to make you stay put in one place.”

You shook your head. “Oh no, please don’t worry about it! I understand.”

Mr. Farrow’s smirk seemed to soften as you spoke.

“Please make yourself comfortable, my dear.” When he gestured to the couch, you awkwardly shuffled to sit down. Lou was right on your heels, loathe to spend even a second without your warmth.

The duck ended up snuggled on your lap after begging to be lifted as you sank into the plush sofa. And you were grateful, hugging Lou to you gently as if he were a plush toy.

It helped take your mind away from that spine-tingling feeling when it made a comeback — the way Mr. Farrow’s eyes glittered when he looked at you and his duck.

‘Oh god, they probably are swingers. And they lure in their targets with this crazy well-trained duck.’ You thought, punching yourself in the face mentally. ‘And you fell for it. Walked right into their den of debauchery. You stupid bitch.’

“Here’s some water, honey. We’ll save the stronger stuff for dinner.” You jumped in your seat when Mrs. Farrow appeared at your side, setting a glass of ice water down on the end table beside you.

You reached for the glass as its contents sloshed over the edge. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Farrow.”

Mrs. Farrow beamed.

“What did I tell ya, Warren? Isn’t she lovely? Just a peach. Lou is smitten.” She patted your shoulder. “And it’s Cassie, honey. Call me Cass.”

“You were right, Cass.” Warren Farrow intoned.

He took on a conspiratorial tone as he addressed you once more. “You must know, my wife hasn’t stopped talking about you since you met the other day. I wondered if she was preparing us for a new roommate.”

Heat flooded your face for the second time. “Aw.”

“Oh poo, as if you wouldn’a done the same.” Mrs. Farrow sniffed derisively. “Dinner in 5 minutes!”

Her exit left room for you to start a conversation, but you couldn’t find it in you to say anything. Mr. Farrow kept staring, smiling, which made you stroke Lou’s feathers for comfort that much more.

The silence lasted a little while, save for the clinking, crackling, thudding from the kitchen dining room. Aside from catering to Lou, you surveyed your surroundings in an effort to avoid bouncing your legs.

The Farrows didn’t have a TV, only a large fireplace that they’d positioned their furniture around. There were displays on either side of the grate. On one stood an oversized chalice with intricate, swirling patterns. The other had a statuette of a goat-headed figure sitting crisscrossed on a throne, one arm poised to reach out to the sky.

“Baphomet.”

You turned from the sight, head swiveling to face your human companion. He was eying you keenly again.

“O-oh, the statue is…?”

Warren nodded. “Baphomet. Conceived as a false god around the time of the crusades. Most people see him as a depiction of Satan these days.”

The association wasn’t too far-fetched, you figured with another look at the figure. Its goat-head and large horns were the most eye-catching thing about it.

“I apologize if the sight upsets you, dear. I hadn’t thought to remove it before your arrival.”

“Oh no, please. It’s alright.” You said. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s very interesting.”

The rumbling hum at your side seemed to signal approval, or maybe general geniality with your neutral response. “Are you religious by chance?”

You turned to Warren again.

“Ah, no.” You replied apologetically. “I grew up in a Christian area, but I was never very involved with the church.”

Warren nodded. “That’s just as well. The institution and its practices can be stifling. I was never very involved with it myself.”

“Religious artifacts have always been fascinating to me, however. There’s no shortage of temples and synagogues in this world.”

“Have you been to many? For the history?” You were genuinely curious.

The old man nodded again, stately and dignified even as he puffed up in his armchair like a peacock. “Cass and I are seasoned travelers. We’ve been to all 7 continents at least twice, seen the wonders of the world from the Hindu shrines in Malaysia to St. Basil’s Cathedral. I have a particular fondness for those countries surrounding the Mediterranean Sea. I was able to convince Cassie another trip to Rome wouldn’t put us in the poor house last year.”

Your little huff of laughter was sincere, though the idea of traveling to Rome - or anyplace outside of the familiar - sounded amazing. “I’d love to be able to do that.”

Warren’s head tilted to one side. “You’re quite young, I’m sure you’ll get the chance if you haven’t already.”

“Sure.” You scoffed before immediately falling into contrition. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me —”

“Dinner time!”

Mrs. Farrow hollered from the kitchen, stopping you from trying to come up with a suitable excuse for yourself.

Luckily, Mr. Farrow chuckled good-naturedly. He rose from his chair stiffly, legs visibly straining. “No need to apologize, my dear. But we best get going before the Missus comes out and drags us by our ears.”

——

All things considered, the dinner was perfectly fine.

The jitters never left your frame, but you had chalked that up to a simple byproduct of your skittish nature. The red wine that Cass had insisted upon you made you feel warm and solid, at least.

As did the fact that Cassie Farrow could hold entire conversations all on her own with very little effort or input from yourself.

“You got a boyfriend, honey? Or girlfriend? No shame in that at all. We may be old but by no means bigoted. We’ve been all over the place, seen so many things - what’s natural to you and me could be the furthest from, in certain places. Isn’t that right, Warren?”

“Men in Ancient Greece often had relationships with other men.” Warren replied. “Royals in Europe had extramarital affairs with different sexes. It was all about keeping the bloodline pure, but romance was a different thing altogether.”

“I haven’t dated in a while, actually.” You said. “It’s not been a priority.”

Cassie nodded, exuberant as she drank from her wine glass. “That’s good too! Plenty of independent women these days! It’s about time, I say.”

‘Quack quack’

Lou was beside you, red eyes locked in as he gazed upon you at the dining table. It made you giggle.

“Mm!” Cassie had a spastic moment. “I almost forgot!”

The chair lurched out from under the old woman as she rose and scuttled out of the room. It left you blinking, and out of the corner of your eye you saw that same smirk on Warren’s face before his wife had returned.

She had a small wicker basket in her arms.

“This is for you, honey. Housewarming present from your kooky neighbors across the hall.”

As she drew nearer, you caught a glimpse of the contents, some of which shone beneath the light of the overhead chandelier.

“Thank you! You really didn’t have to.” The basket was pressed into your arms and Cassie was back in her seat before you’d finished your sentence.

“Nonsense. It’s the least we could do. I still can’t believe no one welcomed you for a whole week!”

The basket was lined with shredded filler, and nestled in between were little gemstones and crystals.

“There’s jade and ruby in there, and I believe there’s moonstone as well.” Mr. Farrow recalled. “Is that it, Cass?”

“Yes, yes, and carnelian too. It’s all scattered about there, with the Scrabble and the socks and the hand cream and oh!” Mrs. Farrow laughed. “Forgive us honey, we saw that little rubber duck and just had to get it for you.”

There was a little rubber duck. It was a novelty type, with a tiny red jacket and a tiny black top hat.

“It’s a carnival barker. No, it’s something like that. It’s on the tip of my tongue.” Your nose scrunched in thought. “Oh, a circus ringmaster!”

“Exactly! See, what’d I tell you, Warren? She loves it!”

“I believe I was the one who suggested it.” His voice carried through the otherwise silent dining room.

“Oh well maybe it was, so what. She likes it. Don’t you, honey?”

“Yes, but…” You felt funny again. Tingly. “This is too much. Really. You’re both so kind but I can’t accept this.”

A hand laid gently on your shoulder and you looked up at a frowning Warren Farrow. “It’s no trouble at all, my dear.”

“The cost must’ve —”

“No cost, really. Gemstones and crystals are quite popular these days. You can find them all over. And the little trinkets are just the same. Given to you in good faith of course.” He patted your shoulder gently.

You swallowed, eyes once again roving over the little mundane treasures. Silken feathers brushed against your ankle under the table and you met those red eyes, sparkling like the crystals in your basket.

Lou was such a funny little thing. So expressive, he looked as if he were waiting as he stared at you.

So funny.

… You felt funny.

Perhaps the anxiety from before was doubling back, just like that prickling sensation. It was less of a tingle and more a shiver or chill as you sat there.

“I think it’s about time for dessert, don’t you?” Mrs. Farrow was saying somewhere far away. “You like chocolate, sweetheart? I made mousse, all fancy-like. It’s not as fancy as the kind you get at that restaurant downtown, the Ivy, but they’ve got fancy ingredients and such…”

Reaching up to wipe the sheen of sweat from your forehead, you felt heat coming off from between your temples. With a shaky breath, you slumped down in your seat.

The basket was gone.

Your chair was scraping against the wooden floor as it was pulled out from the table.

“Are you feeling alright, my dear?”

Wrinkled hands swept the hair from your face as your eyes rolled in their sockets. Words couldn’t get past the cotton-dry feeling in your throat.

“It’s the wine, the wine. Said she’s not much of a drinker, it has to be the wine.”

Cass’s voice was dampened and thick, like it was trapped underwater.

Or perhaps you were trapped. Your head was spinning, limbs heavy as if you were a puppet sans strings. You had to be picked up from under your arms like a toddler and pulled upright.

The next second you were walking through your neighbors’ kitchen, the door held open for you.

“Maybe we oughta call a doctor? Honey, can you hear me?”

“I… yes. I can hear you.” It felt like an Olympic feat, but you spoke clearly. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s happening.”

You stumbled against the wall and strong arms caught you when your knees buckled. It was Mr. Farrow allowing you to lean on him, solid as a rock.

“Cass is right, you had quite a bit of wine.” He said. Another pat to your shoulder.

Did you? You could’ve sworn it was just a glass.

Your apartment was barren and blank, the smell of laundry comforting against the memory of that earthy incense smell.

“Get some rest, honey. We’re right across the hall.”

“Thank you.” You breathed, lying on your sofa bed. “Again, I’m very sorry. Thank you for the welcome.”

“Oh no, thank you.”

——

When you opened your eyes next, you were shrouded in darkness. The outline of your entertainment system was in front of you, and the kitchen at your right.

It was raining outside; little raindrops smattering against the glass. The sound was normal, no longer muffled until you were straining to hear it.

‘Well that’s good.’

The heavy feeling in your arms was still present.

‘That’s not so good.’

You felt perfectly sane and hysterical at the same time. It was like being caught in the eye of a storm. The danger had abated momentarily, but would begin again shortly.

Your door opened, and in your peripheral you saw a shadow cut across the wall as a new figure emerged from the hall.

You squinted in the dark. ‘Lou?’

The duck’s silhouette stilled as if you’d spoken aloud. You could feel something shift in the air, tension breaking through to your mind when it could not seize your body.

That shift grew stronger, sucking in the air around it until a dazzling flash and crack of light blinded you.

Lou’s shadow was gone. Or… it had changed. The shadow on the wall wasn’t a duck anymore it was…

Your blood ran cold as the man stepped into your apartment and let the door close behind him.

“Hello there!”

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel

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leonstoenailunderhisbed · 30 days

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Professor, I didn’t cheat. (PT.2)

Summary: Professor Kennedy takes for you a date after your intimate moment in his office.

Warning: not proofread. smut. oral smut (m receiving) unprotected sex. creampie.

A/N: being an English major is so fun, my only hw is literally just read books and give me opinion on them. and to think I wanted to major in physics 😮

(pt.1) (pt.2)

After that moment you two had in his office, things became different. Stolen glances when you’d walk down the hall, the way he’d stare at you as if you’re the only one in the room. The tension was thick but he knew he shouldn’t indulge into his desires with one of his pupils.

It was ironic because he right now he was making out with you in his office. You sat on his lap as his hands rested on your waist. He gently squeezed the curvature of your waist as you moaned into the kiss. His tongue grazed your bottom lip, asking permission to enter your mouth. He sucked on your bottom lip as your tongue danced around with his.

Both of you broke apart, with his gently pulling you away from his face. The two of you remained panting but didn’t move. His hands rested on your body as he looked at you. He looked at you as if you were the most beautiful woman on the planet.

“Let me take you on a date,” he blurted out as his thumbs caressed your skin. You were shocked and stunned for a few seconds before a smile appeared on your face. You nibbled on your bottom lip as you nodded, feeling like a high school girl all over again.

And so here you were. In front of your mirror wearing an elegant and classy red dress. It reached up to your knees. It wasn’t too flashy but it wasn’t too fancy. It was just right. From the waist up, the corset remained tight and hugged your upper body with grace. The skirt hang loosely around your legs, the satin fabric making gentle contact with your freshly shaven skin.

Leon had made reservations to a fancy restaurant. He wanted the best for you so what better way to express that than by taking you the most beautiful place in town.

Leon was a classic man. He texted you around 7:30 that he’d pick you up by 8PM and bring you back home unscathed. In his eyes, you were a goddess. You were the sun shining down on him, you were the moon illuminating his dark path. Your beauty outshined that of the stars covering the night sky. To him, you were his muse. And he wasn’t afraid to show it.

So when you got out of your apartment and stood in front of Leon, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His jaw went slack as his eyes scanned you up and down, slowly memorizing this image of you. He didn’t want to forget the way his muse looked right now.

“You look…beautiful,” his voice was laced with adoration. He stepped up to you and extended his hand to you. Wanting to walk you to his car because why should you walk alone?

The ride to the restaurant wasn’t awkward. There was a comfortable silence that enveloped the two of you. He had to stop himself from staring too much as he was the one driving and he didn’t want to put you in danger.

The restaurant was beyond beautiful. Its structure was one of ancient Italian architecture.

He opened the door for you and walked behind you as you marveled the inside of the establishment. There were paintings on the roof and the windows were decorated with carved sculptures. The music playing was soft classical- not too loud but not too quiet. It was just right. The entire atmosphere screamed rich and classy. Just like him.

A waiter walked you two to a table right next to a window. He figured you’d like to see the view of the outside and he was right. As you stared out the window, he stared at you. You really captured this man’s heart and he was falling for you more and more.

First dates are awkward but not with him. Leon was a smooth talker, he was natural at this. So when he ordered for the both of you and you tried to protest, he gave you a stern look, “Don’t worry, I got this.” He said in his confident tone. He wanted to take care of you and he’d do it whether you like it or not.

After getting some appetizers, he began to talk to you. He wanted to get to know you. As he took a sip of his champagne, he looked over at you as you sat across from him, “So, tell me. What are you studying that requires you to take my course?”

“Well…I’m majoring in history,” you replied with a soft smile. Which was then mirrored on Leon’s face, “A history major in our midst. Why history of all things?”

“I just really like to learn about the past. Not just about the wars and everything in between. Rather the history of how society came to be. I just think human history is interesting,” You replied shyly.

Leon chuckled and took another sip of his drink before talking, “That’s good. You should study something that you like.”

As the food arrived, you couldn’t help but be fascinated with his life. He’s got a PhD in Philosophy as well as a Masters degree in Sociology with a Minor in Political Science. He’s old but you didn’t think he’d have time to do all of that.

The date was going well. Leon said a couple of jokes and you laughed at them. Your laugh was like music to his ears and he only wanted to hear more. You guys talked about everything. It was as if there really was no boundary between you two. You talked about everything and anything- your hobbies, your likes and dislikes. That one time your professor from another class caught you hiding behind a student so you wouldn’t have to participate.

“No, it was so embarrassing!” You said as you covered your face with your hands, resulting in Leon cackling.

“I don’t even think that’s ever happened to me with my students, you really do have unique experiences,” he teased as he sipped his champagne.

“To this day, I still get major embarrassment,” you fanned your face as you felt it grow hot from embarrassment to which he only laughed again.

He had a great time and so did you. So when the time marked 11PM, he felt a small twinge of sadness. He didn’t want the date to be over, he wanted to keep talking to you. That was until he felt your heel ride up along his leg.

He raised his brow and looked at you, “What are you doing?” He asked with a small smirk. He knew exactly what you were doing.

“Nothing…” You replied as you gave him your most innocent smile. He chuckled and leaned closer to the table to take your hand. His thumb caressing on your skin, drawing small circles.

“It’s getting late, I should take you home,” he spoke softly.

“Oh yeah, it’s getting late,” you let out a small sigh as the two of you got up from your table. Leon paid, of course, and walked out of the restaurant with his hand on your lower back. His touch was firm but soft.

As he led you to his car, he let you borrow his suit jacket so you wouldn’t be cold. Man, this guy was raising the standard. Once inside the car, he started the engine and began to drive to your apartment.

He brought his hand over to your thigh and gently squeezed. It was supposed to be something between the lines of “thank you for coming on a date with me” and “just you wait until we get back to your place.” The thrill was so enticing, it only made your panties grow a small wet spot from how turned on you were from his touch.

He parked right in front of your apartment and walked you to the front door. As you took out your keys and tried to find the one that opened the door, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wonder to your ass. God that dress did you justice. He wanted to touch it and grip that ass so hard until you rubbed against his hard erection with dirty noises spilling out of your mouth and-

“Want to come inside?” His thoughts were interrupted by your sweet voice. He cleared his throat and looked you in the eyes as he nodded, “Sure, yeah.”

Once he stepped inside and you closed the door, he pinned you against the wall and started to kiss you. His hands gripped your hips as he pressed his body against yours. You could feel his erection through his pants as he pressed up against you. His lips melting with yours as if they were made for each other. Your lipstick staining his lips a soft red as he pulled back slightly, his lips hovering just above yours. “The things I want to do to you,” he growled as he kissed you passionately again. His left hand gripping your hip as his right hand traveled down to grab your ass, squeezing between his fingers. That only caused him to moan as he felt how much you loved how he groped your body.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and brought him closer to deepen the kiss. His tongue meshing with yours as you could taste the champagne off his mouth. He tasted so delicious and you were hungry for him.

He pulled back to catch his breath and you gently took his hands to guide him to your room. This time, you were in charge.

You pushed him down the edge of the bed so he could sit down. You sat on his hips as you began to kiss him again. Your lips trailing from his mouth to his neck. Leaving lipstick prints along his skin.

You slowly got off him and kneeled in between his legs. His breath hitches as he knew what you were about to do. Your hands unbuckled his belt and pulled down on his zipper, bringing forth his large erection. God he looked even better than last time.

Precum had been leaking down the side already. You wrapped your fingers gently along his base as you dropped a small drop of saliva down on his tip and spread it down with your finger. Leon leaned back against the bed as he moaned at your touch. He was loving every second of this and he was loving how much you were in control.

As you took his cock in your mouth, he closed his eyes tightly shut and immediately grabbed the top of your hair, tugging your scalp. You swirled your tongue around his head as you rubbed the remaining part of his base that couldn’t fit in your mouth. Bobbing your head as moans and grunts spilled out of him. He bucked his hips against your face, wanting to fuck your throat deeper. When he felt you gag slightly against his cock, he let out a loud growl and spoke lowly, “Fuck y/n… I’m going to cum.”

You looked up at him through your eyelashes and pulled your mouth away from his cock. He let out a faint gruff as you stopped him from his orgasm. But what he wasn’t ready for was that you had already taken off your wet panties and began to rub his cock with them.

He’s never seen anyone do this to him. To have someone rub their underwear on his cock only turned him on even more. He could feel that wet spot on the middle part of your panties and only made his cock throb even more. He couldn’t believe he was about to cum from just your panties.

So when his sticky cum shit out of his cock and to your panties, he groaned in pleasure as he saw you lick the cum off your own panties. He felt his cock want more. You’ve completely broken the man.

You pushed his back down on your bed and got on top of him. Your dress rode up to your waist, exposing your cunt to him. His hands immediately traveled to your hips as you aligned your entrance with his cock.

You slowly pushed yourself down on his cock, down to his balls. He stretched you out and he shuddered as he felt your tight pussy pulsate against his needy cock. His mind was clouded with lust and all he wanted right now was for you to fuck him dumb.

You slowly began to move your hips in a forward and backward motion, starting off easy at first so both of you could get used to it. Leon rolled his head back and closed his eyes tightly shut as he felt you ride him.

You slowly began to lift yourself up and then bring yourself down. He also began to buckle his hips to thrust into you, your velvety walls felt so good against his cock and he only wanted more. So, with his strong grip, he began to move you. He picked you up and then brought you back down with force. This time, you were the one being fucked dumb.

Your hands traveled to his shoulders as he fucked into you from under you. Your nails clawing at his dress shirt as you moaned messily. Your whimpers only caused him to go harder and faster. His grip on your hips would sure leave a mark but you didn’t care. He let go with one hand and pulled down the straps of your dress to expose your bouncing breasts. You weren’t wearing any bra or pasties, what a dirty little slut. He smirked as he watched your tits bounce as he moved you up and down on his cock with brute force. His head bruising your cervix and hitting your g-spot all at once. It felt amazing. You rolled your eyes back as you arched your back.

He knew you were close when your moans and whimpers began to cut short by your breaths. You were a mess. Your makeup ran down your face as your hair was disheveled. Sweat running down your body as his own sweaty forehead caused his hair to glue down to his skin. He grunted as he felt your pussy clench and throb against his cock. He had to pause for a moment as he felt you come down on him. Your juices spilling down to his balls to your bedsheets.

Once he gathered his breath, he continued to fuck you. This time, he rolled you over to your back and pressed you in a mating press- pressing your thighs to your chest as he held your legs apart and down to your body. He stuffed his cock in and out harshly as he chased his own release. You rolled your head back and closed your eyes as you felt his fuck you even harder. The headboard of your head clashing against the wall as he used his muscles to fuck you harder and harder.

He felt his own cock throb inside you and without notice, he had came inside of you. His sticky essence covering your pink walls, claiming your pussy as his. He pushed himself in as he spurted every last drop into your womb and cervix. He needed to make you understand that no one would fuck you like he would.

He remained inside you for a moment as he stared down at your messy appearance- to which he found hot and felt like he could go for a second round. If only he was younger, because he would’ve fucked you until the morning.

He slowly pulled out of you and watched as his cum ooze slowly out of your clenching pussy to your ass. Cum staining your bedsheets as evidence of what the two of you had done. He dropped down beside you as he stared up at ceiling. He then turned to look at you.

He couldn’t help but admire your beauty. If you’d told him that he would be down bad for one of his students, he would’ve told you that you were crazy. And yet, here he was. Laying next to the girl he’d give everything to.

With a goofy grin, he spoke in a soft and playful tone, “Again?” You chuckled and opened your eyes to look at him,

“Again.”

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #id leon kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #di leon #leon kennedy smut #leon smut #smut

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silentcryracha · 10 months

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❍ ‗ Big Boy (L. Minho) ‗ ❍

Pairing : f reader x Minho

Summary : You see your boyfriend shirtless for the first time in a while and realize he got buff in the meantime

Genre/warnings : pure smut (kinda soft bc I can't help myself), 18 + ONLY, unprotected sex, m oral receiving, reader is called kitty a few times (not big on the term but by now it's Minho's, just replace it with baby if you feel like it)

Word count : 1.5k

A/n : Inspired by this set of gifs because I'm actually on the floor as we speak, no thots just drool

ps: There could be errors. Do NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedback if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy! ♡︎

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The bathroom was completely steamed up as you entered, making you huff slightly.

"It's so hot in here" you said, then immediately stopping in your tracks as you took in the image of your boyfriend.

He was quietly standing in front of the full length mirror, only wearing a towel around his hips as he dried his hair with the hairdryer. He noticed you come in thanks to the reflection, turning off the noise and looking back at you.

"What was that?" his tone calm and casual, as if he wasn't looking like a literal marble sculpture come to life. You rested your hands on your hips, borderline annoyed at the fact that somehow you missed your boyfriend changing so much.

"When the hell did you get so buff?" Minho couldn't help but smirk at your words, slowly putting away the hairdryer to give you his full attention.

"Don't know, since I started working again with the PT, I guess." he spoke, walking closer like a cat that was about to catch his prey.

"You must've exploded in the last couple of weeks because there's no way that I didn't notice, with all the times that we've seen each other naked" you raised you eyebrows, placing your hands on his chest.

Minho's sly expression didn't falter, if anything became even more mischievous as your hands started to roam from his upper chest, to his shoulders, biceps.

"To be fair we were a bit too busy fucking to clearly take each other in. I've been so busy lately that we didn't even manage to take a shower together." his tone was so casual even saying the most dirty things sometimes that it made you blush.

"Whatever the reason, I won't let you out of my sight again, Lee Minho" your eyes looking up at him flirtatiously, while your hands slowly made their way lower towards his tummy. He sustained your gaze, his brown eyes intense as ever.

"How do I know that my kitten will not overlook me again?" the condescension in his voice instantly shifted the mood, sending shivers of excitement down your spine.

You decided to play his game, sliding lower and lower until you were kneeling on the ground. Hands on his hips, just lightly gripping the hem of the towel that was holding on for deal life to his shower-clean body.

"I'm so sorry. Will you let me make it up to my baby?" Your eyes still fixed on each other as you spoke. You waited for his spoken permission, even though the growing tent underneath the towel fabric was enough of an answer.

"I'll decide later. Wanna see how sorry you are, first" his cherry red hair fell a little on his eyes as his head was bent down, which made his gaze even darker somehow.

"I'll try my very best" the towel finally dropped to the ground with just a little tug from your fingers, revealing his hard cock. His abs tightened for a second as you took him into both of your hands, starting to move them up and down slowly but firmly, making it hard for Minho to not choke on air.

He tried to hide the noise by clearing his throat, simultaneously placing his right hand on your head, without forcing it, but merely resting there. You took it as a sign to take a step further, opening your mouth to take his cock, sucking on the tip.

His fingertips lightly grabbed at your scalp, but luckily, or not, for him, you had decided to take your sweet time. So instead you removed one hand from his dick to interlace your fingers with his, guiding his hand away from your head to his side.

He must've found it amusing, since he released a faint chuckle as he decided to let you lead for once, placing both hands behind his back.

For some reason, his sudden willingness to give up his usually dominant demeanor pushed you to try and do even better, desperately wanting to prove yourself to him. Your mouth opened even more as you took him deeper, his tip touching the back of your throat.

"Shit, my baby is really trying her best for me, isn't she?" he groaned, the humor in his voice never completely overshadowed by the arousal. The praise made you hum against him, which also made his hips buck onwards, making you gag a bit.

It wasn't exactly a mistake since he just kept going, with a steady pace, not thoroughly fucking your throat, but making sure that you gagged a bit at every stroke. Your head went still as you let him use you however he wanted, making the strokes of your hand on his cock almost automatic.

Tears prickled the corner of your eyes as your nails lightly dug into the flesh of his ass cheeks, making him hiss.

"Alright enough- I need to fuck you" Minho pulled back, releasing himself from your mouth and then bending down to reach for your face with his hands. His lips crashed with yours, immediately initiating a sloppy and messy kiss that was all teeth, tongue and lip biting.

Your hands gripped his arms for stability as he started to undress you, pulling down your pants and underwear in one go, and then interrupting the kiss to slip off your shirt too.

What he did after though, was unexpected, as he gripped your thighs and effortlessly picked you up, making you instinctively wrap your legs around him.

"Minho!" you gasped at his strength. He was always quite strong even when he didn't have as many muscles, but at least he looked like he did struggle just a little bit. But now, you could've easily been a sack of flour and it wouldn't have made a difference to him.

"You thought that they were just for aesthetic?" he laughed at you, crashing his lips to yours one more time before throwing you on the soft bed. Minho didn't waste time as he put two of his fingers, his pointer and middle, in your mouth.

"I'm sure you're wet enough, but just to make sure" he murmured, a glimmer of humor in his dark eyes. You eagerly did as you were told, sucking on his fingers and bobbing your head slightly too, just like you were doing moments before on his cock.

He groaned, too horny to let you continue your actions. He removed his fingers from your mouth, moving them south to rub up and down your slit. At the same time he leaned down to leave sloppy kisses to your neck, your arms wrapping around his neck and your hips bucking up.

"Such a good kitty for me. My good girl" he murmured against your skin, eliciting a hum from you that quite literally sounded like a purr. But of course it wouldn't be Minho without a whiplash, so he suddenly bit your shoulder, grazing it with his teeth and making you gasp.

"A good kitty that should remember to show love to her boyfriend, next time" his tone wasn't serious at all, but your response was. In addition, two of his fingers were now pumping in and out of you, getting you ready for him properly.

"So sorry, baby- ah, I'll make it up to you, I love you so much" he just chuckled at your desperate words, deciding to end both of your suffering as he removed his fingers from your pussy, replacing them with his cock instead.

"I know baby, I know" his voice much more softer, in stark comparison with the fairly quick strokes of his hips. "I know my baby loves me very much, I love you too" he continued.

Your legs wrapped around him, essentially pushing him deeper into you. Your mouth latched to his as you both moaned. It wasn't unusual to get these sweet moments with Minho, but his dominant side tended to show more in bed.

He just wanted to make sure that he knew that you loved him. That you found him attractive and cared for him, regardless of a few centimeters more or less to his biceps.

The new angle of his hips made sure that your clit rubbed on his pubic bone, which quickly got you to your orgasm. You moaned his name breathlessly as you came, lightly dragging your nails on his back. This action in addition to your walls getting impossibly tight around his cock made him come too.

Minho stilled for a few seconds as he came inside you, and made sure to gently ride out both of your orgasms afterwards. Unexpectedly, you turned your head to the side, leaving a teasing but gentle bite to his bicep, as his arms were caging you.

"You look really hot, by the way, if it wasn't obvious" voice dangerously teasing. Minho got his head up from your shoulder, looking at you with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"Careful or we might stay here all day, kitten" he responded, to then gently leave a kiss on your lips. "Thank you, by the way. Next time you can come see them in the making, if you want." he added, his head nudging to his arms.

You chuckled, still keeping him close as you moved some sweaty hair from his forehead. "I'd love to"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

#stray kids fanfic #my writing #silentcryracha #skz hard hours #skz imagines #skz smut #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids lee know #stray kids x you #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids minho #lee minho smut #lee minho #skz lee know #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee know smut #skz drabbles

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vesora · 1 month

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There is no desired reality (DR) or current reality (CR). These terms are seen a lot in the shifting community and it is because of the misidentification that who they are is the person trying to go somewhere else.

In nondualism we see that this is false as there is no difference between cr or dr because there is no going anywhere, this is all there is. And by this I do not mean the illusion / hallucination (that by default cannot exist without awareness), I mean the "screen" against which seeming images are set, but honestly even that can't explain it quite well.

To sum it up,

There is no going from point A to point B, there is only the illusory appearance of it. Point A = Point B because they are made up of the same thing, SELF / THE VERY BEING.

As the extremely popular example goes, water can take form of any-thing. Water can be made into ice, it can be boiled, it can be used to make sculptures but it is still just water.

The same way, Self can take form in the seeming appearance of a world with animals and people or it can be a world with centaurs running about; there is no difference. If you see what is appearing as an apple and an orange, there is no difference except what thought "says". Without labels, what is happening?

Lastly, " " is anarchy as said by many blogs on here. There is no second power and there is no listening to anyone or anything because well there is only oneness going on. There are no rules, there is ESSENTIALLY NO-THING, IN THE MOST LITERAL WAY POSSIBLE. Who is there to say NO NOT LIKE THIS when there is just ONENESS?

Whether you like it or not, this is IT. There is no going anywhere, there is no reaching anywhere, there is no reading 5 more books (although you can, i enjoy it personally) & there is definitely no trying to get something. It is your perception that what you "want" isn't "here". Everything already just is.

#nd #nonduality #nondualism #jim newman #i am #oneness

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mariacallous · 4 months

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On Boxing Day pro-Palestine demonstrators met customers at the Zara sale in the Westfield shopping centre, in Stratford, east London. They were not there to wish them the compliments of the season.

‘Bombs are dropping while you’re shopping,’ they chanted, as police stood by to make sure the protests did not turn violent. ‘Zara is enabling genocide,’ their placards read.

Quite what they wanted bargain hunters to do about the Israeli forces bombing the Gaza Strip, they never said. Lobby their MPs? Politicians are on their Christmas holidays. Join the Palestinian armed struggle? It was unclear whether the shopping centre had a Hamas recruitment office.

But on one point the demonstrators were certain: no one should be buying from Zara. Even though the fashion chain has not encouraged Israel’s war against Hamas, earned income from it, or supported Israel in any material way, it was nevertheless “exploiting a genocide and commodifying Palestine's pain for profit”.

Zara, in short, has become the object of a paranoid fantasy: a QAnon conspiracy theory for the postcolonial left.

The Zara conspiracy is an entirely modern phenomenon. It has no original author. Antisemitic Russians sat down and wrote the Protocols of the Elders of Zion in the early 20th century. There was an actual “Q” behind the QAnon conspiracy: a far-right activist who first appeared on 4chan message boards in 2017 to claim that a cabal of child abusers was conspiring against Donald Trump.

The Zara conspiracy was mass produced by social media users: an example of the madness of crowds rather than their supposed wisdom. The cause of the descent into hysteria was bizarre.

In early December Zara launched an advertising campaign featuring the model Kristen McMenamy wearing its latest collection in a sculptor’s studio. It clearly was a studio, by the way, and not a war zone in southern Israel or Gaza. McMenamy carried a mannequin wrapped in white fabric. The cry went up that the Spanish company was exploiting the suffering of Palestinians and that the mannequin was meant to represent a victim of Israeli aggression wrapped in a shroud.

The accusation was insane. No one in the photo shoot resembled a soldier or a casualty of war. Anyone who thought for 30 seconds before resorting to social media would have known that global brands plan their advertising campaigns months in advance.

Zara said the campaign presented “a series of images of unfinished sculptures in a sculptor’s studio and was created with the sole purpose of showcasing craft-made garments in an artistic context”. The idea for the studio setting was conceived in July. The photo shoot was in September, weeks before the Hamas assault on Israel on 7 October.

No one cared. Melanie Elturk, the CEO of fashion brand Haute Hijab, said of the campaign, ‘this is sick. What kind of sick, twisted, and sadistic images am I looking at?’ #BoycottZara trended on Twitter, as users said that Zara was ‘utterly shameful and disgraceful”’.

To justify their condemnations, activists developed ever-weirder theories. A piece of cardboard in the photoshoot was meant to be a map of Israel/Palestine turned upside down. Because a Zara executive had once invited an extreme right-wing Israeli politician to a meeting, the whole company was damned.

Astonishingly, or maybe not so astonishingly to anyone who follows online manias, the fake accusations worked. Zara stores in Glasgow, Toronto. Hanover, Melbourne and Amsterdam were targeted.

What on earth could Zara do? PR specialists normally say that the worst type of apology is the non-apology apology, when a public figure or institution shows no remorse, but instead says that they are sorry that people are offended. Yet Zara had not sought to trivialize or profit from the war so what else could it do but offer a non-apology apology? The company duly said it was sorry that people were upset.

“Unfortunately, some customers felt offended by these images, which have now been removed, and saw in them something far from what was intended when they were created,” it said on 13 December, and pulled the advertising campaign

That was two-weeks ago and yet still the protests in Zara stores continue. On 23 December activists targeted Zara on Oxford Street chanting , 'Zara, Zara, you can't hide, stop supporting genocide', even though Zara was not, in fact, supporting genocide. On Boxing Day, they were at the Stratford shopping centre.

Zara has apologised for an offence it did not commit. There is no way that any serious person can believe the charges against it. And yet believe them the protestors do. Or at the very least they pretend to believe for the sake of keeping in with their allies.

Maybe nothing will come of the protests. One could have argued in 2017, after all, that QAnon was essentially simple-minded people living out their fantasies online. Certainly, every sane American knew that there was no clique of paedophiles running the Democrat party, but where was the harm in the conspiracy theory?

Then QAnon supporters stormed the US capitol in January 2021. Will the same story play out from the Gaza protests? As far as I can tell, no one on the left is challenging the paranoia. I have yet to see the fact-checkers of the BBC and Channel 4 warning about the fake news on the left with anything like the gusto with which they treat its counterparts on the right.

To be fair, the scale of disinformation around the Gaza war is off the charts, and it is impossible to chase down every lie. But when fake news goes from online fantasies to real world protests, from 4chan to the Capitol, from Twitter to the Westfield shopping centre, it’s worth taking notice.

Sensible supporters of a Palestinian state ought to be the most concerned. No one apart from fascists, Islamists and far leftists believes that Israel should not defend itself. And yet the scale of its military action in Gaza is outraging world opinion. Mainstream politicians, who might one day put pressure on Israel, remain very wary about reflecting the anger on the streets.

They look at the insane conspiracy theories on the western left and see them as no different from the insane conspiracy theories that motivate Hamas, and they back away.

The Palestinians need many things: an end to the Netanyahu government, and an end to Hamas. But they could also use allies in the West who do not discredit their cause with dark, gibbering fantasies.

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gay-dorito-dust · 11 months

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Miguel barely allowed himself the moment of reprieve primarily for the reasoning that evil never sleeps and therefore by that logic, he shouldn’t have to either; or at least minimise his sleep to accommodate for longer night patrols. His desire to keep his city safe was admirable but soon become detrimental to his health as his body -despite the genetic splicing- was starting to collapse on him due to frequent neglect of the basic bodily needs.

It hurts you to see him like that and you knew that if he were to be confronted about it, Miguel would immediately become dismissive by stating that this method was completely logical from his standpoint, as it was a means to minimise the criminal activity within the city. Miguel always thought it was his responsibility to crack down on the crime rate, even though there were people who’s jobs were to do exactly that, but in Miguel’s eyes their methods of detaining criminals was comparatively a slap on the wrist as to what punishment they should be receiving.

All came ahead one night when he returned home particularly more battered then usual and on the verge of collapse; you were quick to act in stabilising his upper body in your arms but in due to his muscular form, you were both forcibly brought down to kneeling in the dimly light room that had the curtains drawn for convenience.

‘Miguel, what happened out there?’ You said as softly as you could as you moved your hands to hold his jaw with tenderness, as to not inflict more pain by accidentally applying pressure to the many cuts and bruises that littered his worn but handsome face. ‘Just caught a bad night, it’s nothing I can’t handle.’ He tells you as he’s pushing your hands away from his face, thinking that would be enough to reassure you when all it only proved to do was the opposite effect; Even as your watching him make an valiant effort to stand but from the way he was griping onto the bed frame like a lifeline or crutch, it wasn’t hard to tell that whatever happened out that had already begun to take it’s hold long before he arrived home.

Riddled with worry and annoyance at how nonchalant he was about his condition, you soon got up off the floor and made a reach for his arm that was leaning reliantly on the bedpost, feeling the muscles as they tensed under your touch. ‘This isn’t just nothing though, is it Miguel. I mean look at you, you’re barely able to walk on your own without needing something to use for support.’ You heard him sigh deeply as he then spoke. ‘How I’m doing hasn’t got anything to do with you, y/n, I’m capable of looking after myself.’

His words were with thinly laced with venom but you merely scoffed, knowing by now that he didn’t have it in him to hurt you, not that he ever would, he’d never forgive himself if you hurt on his watch and by his hands by that, but his stubbornness and inability to let others help him had finally became his Achilles heel. ‘You know damn well that’s not what I was implying, I know you can handle yourself in the most toughest of situations but is it such a disservice to yourself to rely on others now and then.’ Miguel didn’t say anything and you took that as your cue to keep talking while you still had his attention.

‘Look,’ you stepped closer to him so that you could see his face, his brows were heavily furrowed and his jaw was in the motion of clenching but flinched when reaching a particularly bruised spot; He looked like the image of what you thought a war torn angel would look like, he bared his flaws like scars that were scattered across his perfectly sculptured body whilst also keeping intact his god gifted beauty.

Miguel was perfect in every way to you but to himself he might as well have been the devil reincarnate. ‘I know you want to help the city but how can you when your own body is falling apart before you. You can shoulder the responsibility all you want but sooner or later that responsibility is going to start crushing you under it’s immeasurable weight and no matter how hard you push back, it’ll only push back harder.’ You trailed your hand down his arm until it rested upon the back of his much larger, stronger one and squeezing it. ‘I just wish you trusted me more because I’m more then willing to help but I can’t if you aren’t willing to let me.’

You both stood in silence as the nightlife of the city just outside the window continued on undisrupted and unaware of your squabble, all that could be heard was your in tandem breathing and the muffled laughter of passersby, which only felt to have gotten louder with the time spent without a response from the male next to you as your hope for Miguel to see reason seemed to dwindle; why couldn’t he see that you were merely thinking of his well-being and didn’t wish to see him end up dead in an alleyway you couldn’t reach.

You didn’t know if you could bare to stomach something like that ever being the possibility and you didn’t wish to be plagued by the what ifs, going insane by wondering how differently things would’ve turned out had you stepped in earlier and you certainly didn’t want to be burdened with the guilt and the depression that would soon follow afterward to remind you of your shortcomings; You didn’t wish that ending for Miguel for he deserved a far better one that ended on his own terms.

Just as you were about to give up all hope and leave him to his own devices, begrudgingly accepting that you couldn’t get through to him, the hand you were grasping moved to intertwine your fingers together, although gingerly as though Miguel was half expecting you to pull away but when you didn’t, his hand then proceeded encased yours entirely. ‘For the record I do trust you.’ He said. ‘I probably trust you more then I’ve ever trusted anyone for you’ve never made me think twice about ever placing my trust in you because you always end up proving why I chose to let you in. I’m sorry that I don’t open up as easily when it comes to help but I just didn’t want to make your life more of a incoherent mess because of me.’

‘My life was already an incoherent mess before you came along, if anything the moment you became apart of my everyday life it became a little more clearer to me as to what to do with my life.’ You told him.

‘And what’s that?’ He asked.

You smirked as you nudged his arm slightly. ‘To make sure your stubborn ass doesn’t get killed prematurely.’

Miguel scoffed but couldn’t help the smile stretching across his lips at the sound of your laughter, something that was much needed after a night like tonight as to remind him what he was coming home to after every patrol; the heavenly sound that was your laugh he swore had some hidden abilities for each and every time he heard it, he immediately felt better. ‘That’s funny but I’m pretty sure I’m we should be doing something about now.’ He responded blankly but you could see the humour in his scarlet eyes.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara imagines #miguel o’hara imagine #Miguel o’hara fic #spider man 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman atsv #spiderman atsv imagines #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv x you #spiderman atsv imagine #spiderman atsv fic #spiderverse x reader

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focsle · 1 year

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I never did a long thing about scrimshaw, so it’s time! At 1 am, apparently.

I think scrimshaw is one of the most fascinating material goods to emerge from the history of the American whaling industry (which is the context I’m discussing here, though of course the artform exists across numerous eras and cultures outside this brief blip of nautical history).

It’s one way to see amatuer art that usually doesn’t often survive in other forms. To see the art project of an ordinary man who was bored and needed something to do with his hands. Others were highly skilled craftsman, creating intricate engravings or mechanically expert tools. The most common scrimshaw was images etched on sperm whale teeth. Sometimes those images came from the maker’s own imagination and sometimes they were copied illustrations. Ships & whaling scenes, women, mythical figures, and patriotic symbols make up the bulk of the visual language in those pieces that survive.

But alongside the teeth were all a manner of carved items: canes, candle holders, pie crimpers, children’s toys, sewing boxes, yarn swifts, corset busks. So much bone fashioned into quiet little homegoods. And it’s that contradiction within scrimshaw that fascinates me. The brutality of the industry, this ivory from an animal that frankly died terribly, that’s then softened into a little domestic item. An object that could have hours to years of work put into it. Some were made to be sold but many were made as gifts. In the long stretches of boredom at sea, in the lull between back-breaking work and life-threatening terror, scrimshaw gives a window into where the minds of these men continually turned. It shows where their hearts were and what they were holding on to over all the years they spent adrift in saltwater and blood and oil. That’s the poetry I see in scrimshaw. Pain and love and longing and creativity and playfulness all bound together in these complicated little pieces that found their way out of the hands of their anonymous makers to preserve a small part of their story.

Some scrimshanders names are known. Frederick Myrick is one of the most well known American whalers, not so much for the scope of his life (of which little is known) but for his scrimshaw. Born in Nantucket in 1808, he first went whaling in 1825 on the Columbus and then again on the Susan 1826-29. In the last few months aboard the Susan, Myrick engraved over 30 sperm whale teeth, all depicting the ship he was on (though there are a handful that depict other vessels). He signed and dated nearly each one. These pieces are often referred to as ‘Susan’s Teeth’ now, and when one comes up at auction it’s not unusual for it to sell for six figures.

Many of the teeth Myrick scrimshawed included an inscribed couplet of his devising: A dark wish for luck that succinctly gets at the violent and unstable heart of American whaling.

“Death to the living, long life to the killers Success to sailor’s wives, and greasy luck to whalers”

Sometimes large scenes were etched on panbones as well.

Moving from scrimshaw on teeth and jawbones, pie crimpers are some of the more common sculptural items. Popular motifs included animals (dogs, snakes, and unicorns/hippocampus are big), body parts (mostly clenched fists or lady’s legs), and geometric designs.

Others were more mechanically complicated, such as automatons and children’s toys with moving parts and gears. Here’s one of a small rocking sailboat, perhaps made for someone’s child or younger sibling.

Sometimes a particular creative fellow created something more eccentric, like this wild writing desk kit fashioned out of a carved panbone and sperm whale teeth.

Another frequently scrimshawed object was a corset busk that would be slid into the front of the garment in order to maintain the posture. A rather private item compared to others. And one with a very on-the-nose message of wearing close to one’s heart the memory of someone who’d be gone for 3-4 years, who might never come home again. On some level, so many of these daily objects whispered ‘forget me not’, ‘think of me while I’m gone’.

There’s something tender to all the various domestic items that were fashioned on the job so long and far from home, but it’s the yarn swifts that really captivate me. They were one of the most complicated pieces of scrimshaw to make, with over one hundred different pieces that would have to be carved. It could take someone the length of the voyage (2-4 years) to complete a single one. Unlike teeth which were comparatively very quick to make and were frequently intended to be sold, it’s very unlikely that a swift was made with the aim of selling it because of the significant labor that went into it. They were almost certainly all gifts, and very special ones at that. Every time I see one I can just feel the love towards its intended recipient radiating off of it.

Scrimshaw captures a specific snapshot of a moment in time. On a broader scale it’s a surviving reminder of a bloody industry that flared up and winked out, preserved in the form of a long-lost ship and the spout of a long-dead whale inked on a yellowing tooth. But that snapshot also reveals the emotional world of the men who were caught up in such an industry: what they valued, what they thought about, what they missed, and what they wanted to be remembered of them.

#awhalin #long post //#animal death //#ok bedtime

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arminsumi · 8 months

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Hi! If your requests are still open, could you do fluff nsfw prompt "3 — Accidentally walking in on them while they're changing" with Gojo?

👉👈 I just love the way you write him! 💖

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲

A/N: omg thank you robynn!! eheh i enjoy writing for him (clearly, i've been spamming so much gojo content lately lol) idk if i deviated a bit at the end 🙈

Wc ≈ 1k

Pairing: GOJO Satoru x f.reader

Summary: waking up in your best friend's apartment the night after his 29th birthday party and wandering into his room to find him shirtless

Warnings; 🔞mdni — n.sfw fluff!! implied drinking the night before/hangover morning, suggestive, 'sweetheart', mild nudity, kinda sexual/romantic tension, suggestive jokes

♪ 悲しきByーPlayer

You'd slept over at Satoru's last night after going out for drinks until the wee hours.

Yawning, stretching, groaning — recalling the murky events of last night as you wiped the morning tears out of your eyes and headed into the bathroom. It was a small apartment, Satoru could hear the thump of your feet on the wooden floor as you walked down the hallway.

Okay, if she's awake I'm awake. He thought, and rolled out of his futon. He smiled thinking of the night before.

All the events he could recall were drunkenly giggling down the streets of Tokyo with you tucked under his protective arm, and how the two of you tumbled into the train, and how you clung to him.

What a miracle that you two didn't have severe hangovers, considering how much sake you and Satoru had at the teahouse last night.

"Hey, mornin' birthday boy — Satoru? — Satoruuu." you knocked at his doorframe with the back of your finger.

"Mmm?" he hummed like he said come in.

He was hobbling around his room multitasking his morning routine; brushing his teeth, tugging his old shirt off, brushing his hand through his hair to get the knots out.

You slid open the door, freezing at the sight of your shirtless best friend.

"I need to borrow a shirt." you asked with forced calmness.

You managed to act unfazed, even when his pretty lashes batted at you. He had the bleariest eyes in the morning.

"In thuh closhet." Satoru mumbled through foaming toothpaste, wandering into the interconnected bathroom to finish brushing his teeth.

You blinked at the sight of his back, watching as he bent over to rinse his mouth at the sink. The subtlest flex of his back muscles made you weak in the knees. Yes, you knew he went to the gym, but it didn't fully occur to you for some reason that he was a fit boy.

With the way his hair stuck up in the back, and the way his sweatpants dangled dangerously low on his hips, your mind naturally went through a series of fantasies.

It felt like the image of his torso was burned into your mind. The soft but defined contours, the dips and curves. The little poet in the back of your mind compared him to a renaissance sculpture.

You pried your attention off of him when he glanced up at you in the mirror. Maybe it was your imagination, but you thought you saw him smirking. You even thought you felt his eyes on you, checking you out as you exchanged your rain-smelling shirt for one of his own.

Oh yeah, we got caught in the rain last night. You remembered.

Satoru came out of the bathroom. He bowed his head to avoid scraping it against the top of the doorframe. Tall boy problems.

Look who's wearing my shirt. He thought to himself smirkingly.

Trying to act natural was hard for you, but not impossible. Satoru was amused when he heard the nervous cracks in your voice.

"Satoru, put a shirt on." you scolded him because you were flustered.

"Why, does my chest make you uncomfortable? Are we really friends if you can't handle a little nudity? I thought you were comfortable around me? Huh?" he overreacted jokingly.

You mumbled something like; "... too early to deal with your nonsense..."

"Ah, c'mon, you love it when I annoy you. I know you do." he said, and lowered himself to hug you.

He tended to do that — just hug you out of nowhere. It had never happened before where he did it while shirtless, though. Now that stirred you up (and he knew it).

"Let's get some coffee." he murmured against your neck.

"Satoru!" you giggled, "What the hell!"

"What?"

"Put a damn shirt on before you hug me!" you squeaked, giving away that he had completely flustered you.

He just chuckled against your skin, then pulled away and muttered a half-hearted apology.

⁕⁕⁕

"That shirtless hug was deliberate." you complained to him over coffee. A stark morning light filled the cafe — coincidentally, you and Satoru used to visit this one when you were teenagers.

"Gosh, you're still on about that? 'Must have really stirred you up." he winked flirtatiously. You rolled your eyes. Ah, it was just like old times. You two didn't change a bit.

"It didn't stir me up at all." you denounced, taking a sip of your beverage, almost burning the tip of your tongue on it.

"I'm sure you can't get the image of my sexy body out of your mind."

You groaned, "You still talk like you did when you were seventeen. Oh, yeah, anyways — how's it feel to be thirty?"

"What the hell! I'm twenty-nine!" he whined, blue eyes looking at you. A strip of light fell across the edge of his face, very slightly illuminating his eye.

"Basically thirty." you teased.

He shook his head at you. "I'm gonna get you back for that..."

"Oh yeah? How?"

He pulled out his phone, so you looked at him very suspiciously. Satoru sipped on his coffee and batted his eyes at his phone screen.

You received a message.

"What the — DON'T SEND ME YOUR GYM PICS."

He burst out laughing like a maniac. "I need your approval!" he joked.

"I've already seen enough of Gojo Satoru's chest this morning, thank you!" you said so loudly just as the waitress came over and asked if you two wanted anything else.

Satoru slid down and laughed chokingly, showing off those pretty canines. You muttered embarrassedly to the waitress that you didn't need anything else, then proceeded to scold Satoru, which only made him laugh harder.

"Hey — hey, Y/n, sweetheart — " he tried to speak through his laughter. His cheeks were so red, it reminded you of how red they glowed when you and him got drunk last night.

"What is it, Satoru?"

"I need to send you a pic, for approval of this other thing — "

"AH HELL NO."

"HAHAHA!!" he threw his head back.

You snatched his phone right out of his hands before he could even send that. "You're ridiculous!" you scolded, and he just made this dry hiccoughing laugh.

"But we're best friends! If I can't get approval from you then — "

"How are we still best friends after what you told me last night at the teahouse!" you laughed, "Dumbass!"

"What? What did I say? Oh my god, what did I say?" he sat up, looking half-serious now. "Ah, tell me! I have to know! Did I embarrass myself?"

The waitress was coming back over with the bill for you. You saw an opportune moment, and there was a devil on your shoulder that morning.

"You told me how you've 'always wanted to fuck me since you first met me' — but of course you were so drunk, how could you remember!" you told him with a dreadfully teasing tone.

His face went so red, it matched the shade of his hoodie.

"Uh... that'll be 400 yen..." the waitress muttered awkwardly.

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