#i also drew the hair strands individually

[beansoup-chilli]

The pose makes me think of

Are you there god

It's me fiona

#danny phantom #jazz fenton #jasmine fenton #danny phantom art #phanart #danny phantom doodle #my art #do not repost #or ill eat your jewelery. #this took 7 hours #dont believe me? #zoom onto the neck #theres high definition scars #cant see unless you look #i also drew the hair strands individually #i didnt want to work #i did this at work #beans art #im rambling #but in my defense #i miss my wife tails

[ghoulez-vous]

𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐎

Terzo has returned from a world tour with thousands of adoring fans. However, his insecurities have caught up with him. Fortunately, his beloved Sibling of Sin has taken notice.

I received a request from a friend asking for hurt and comfort with Terzo x GN!Reader so of course I had to deliver! I’ve never written any Ghost fanfiction before so it was a lot of fun.

The AO3 link is here.

Full text is below the cut.

Word Count: 1.2k

It was the day after the grand after party of the most recent ritual tour, and you had finally been granted permission to be relieved from your duties for an evening. Terzo was an exceptionally busy man, and despite his hangover and exertion from servicing you all night after his return, had been expected to return to his duties immediately. This had, of course, taken an unfortunate toll. Although he was viewed as the most flamboyant Papa to date, he was also the most anxious. Any form of criticism affected him greatly, in particular when the source was from within The Clergy itself.

They were utterly ruthless.

You had used your spare key to inspect his private quarters in an attempt to find the man but it was to no avail. His room was utterly pristine, as clean as it had been when he had left for the tour. There was no sign of his presence.

If he was not in his private room, you knew precisely where he would be: the small ritual room where you had first met him as a new sibling.

“Terzo?”

Your voice resonated throughout the frigid room, windows carelessly left open despite the forming chill outside. Gentle taps resounded as you took careful steps towards the dark bundle in the corner that quivered rhythmically in the distance. As you drew closer, the vague twitches slowed until they had dissipated entirely.

“Amore.” A voice croaked out in the darkness, pale features only illuminated by the moonlight that fell from beyond the withdrawn curtains. “Please, leave me be. I am fine.” His words were shaky and meek, the opposite of that which were the trademark of the charismatic frontman. Terzo’s reassurance was formed with the aim of two purposes: to comfort you, and to convince himself that he was indeed alright. However, his quivering lip and anguished gaze did little to support his attempt at comfort.

“Oh, Terzo…” Closing the distance between you both, you crouched down and sat beside him, caring little for the dust that gathered upon your garments. “Let me hold you, yes?”

Strands of raven hair were drawn through your fingers, massaging his scalp rhythmically. His stiff demeanour immediately lifted as he collapsed in your arms, melting at even the simplest of touch. A soft hum left his lips as his cheek laid upon your chest, listening silently to your paced breathing and the sound of your heartbeat. His hand raised to touch your own, his face shifting silently so that he could kiss your palm softly. The faint dampness of his drying tears could not be ignored. You bundled up your sleeve in your hand to dry his eyes.

How long had he been here for?

“Is it your duties?” You queried, brow furrowed as you continued your motions.

“Si, tesoro…” He paused, his tone muffled against your palm. Although he wished to blurt out his concerns, his fear of retaining his position as Papa Emeritus III, he drove them further within himself. “I missed you, amore.”

“And I missed you too, Papa.” You leaned down to kiss his forehead gently. Although it felt impossible, he somehow melted even more in your arms, his weight falling further into you. “You don’t need to speak. Just let me hold you, yes?”

He shifted upwards, drawing you closer until his neck fell upon your shoulder, his ragged breath hit against your exposed skin. Soft lips fell upon your neck, a tender gesture despite his delicate state. You were his solace. No other individual had noticed his internal conflict nor considered visiting him once he had served his responsibilities as Papa Emeritus III.

For now, he was simply Terzo, disarmed in your loving embrace.

As he pulled away, you cupped his cheek in your hand. His skull paint was smudged, no longer laid with pristine care. Every feature on his skin was utterly familiar to you, each crevice of aging skin memorised by your deft hands. He was not the young Cardinal you had met years prior, but Papa Emeritus III, following in the footsteps of his older siblings. His idols had been brandished as failures; Primo was too lackadaisical, Secondo had been far too indulgent and lost his way.

He was on his own, with no one to truly guide him. His brothers offered support and their own advice, but what good were they when they had been disgraced in being removed from the title of head Papa?

Without speaking, you leaned down to give him a tender kiss, your free hand running through his loose hair. His faint hum was stifled against your lips, lifting his head to draw you closer to him. It was rare for him to be so meek. Typically, he would drag you closer and hungrily nip at your lips until they parted, slipping his tongue inside to taste you as swiftly as he could. For now, your body was nestled upon his own, sharing each other’s warmth in a chaste manner. The rise and fall of your chests was shared, a sign that you were both present in this tender moment.

A sign of reassurance.

Tonight, however, he was vulnerable. He had abandoned any concern of displaying weakness before a Sibling of Sin, a fellow member of the clergy. You were his, and he was yours. It was only natural that you would support each other in your times of need.

“Amore mio,” Your lips parted briefly as Terzo began to speak. “Do you think I am… enough, si? That is, I serve The Ministry well?” His glassy mismatched eyes sought your own, desperately seeking your answer. Although he gave his all during the rituals, he was aware that he did not meet his quota at the abbey itself. He was far too easily distracted from The Message, the trademark of a hedonist. You had inadvertently returned him to the path expected of him, but the scornful eyes of those in power behind the curtains were inescapable.

Was it too late for him?

The more youthful Cardinal was essentially his prodigy, hot-blooded and primed to step upon the stage.

His copy.

A cold chill descended his spine.

“Terzo.”

Your sweet, familiar voice rose above his panicked thoughts. His heart, pounding with anxiety, soon slowed as you stroked the back of his neck, peppering kisses all over his jawline, cheeks, and finally his nose.

Terzo could not help but chuckle at the black paint that now stained your lips and lower face, leaning forward to nuzzle you once more. White makeup was now blotched above the black paint, staining it a slate grey.

“Oh, tesoro, what would I ever do without you?” He hummed, voice little more than a hushed whisper.

“Do not even think about that, Terzo.” You smiled sweetly, pressing a lazy kiss against his lips. “I will never leave your side.”

He could not help but laugh at your endearing words, his throat longer raspy from the tears he had shed prior.

“I trust you, amore.” Terzo smiled, his trepidation no more. “Per sempre.”

#the band ghost #ghost band #papa emeritus iii x reader #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii #character x reader #ghost fanfiction #my writing

[lukkabloom]

Fun facts abt residents according to Ikevamp Radio (ヴァンなま) Part 5

The last post of this series, featuring episodes 13-15!! Let's get on with it!!

Episode 13: feat. Dazai’s VA Yashiro Taku

Makki messed up his lines a bit so he said “Subas” instead of “Sebas” (so cute)

Dazai’s happy that Vincent enjoys baths

Dazai baths a bit earlier than them, that’s why they don’t usually meet

Dazai’s writing a novel about a “married woman and a blossoming love and desire—” Sebas: “Nonononono! Stop!” bc it got too out of control

Sebas: “Master Vincent’s here, so let’s keep it at the same level as an educational children’s TV show” Vincent: “were we so strict about it here?”

Dazai agrees to answer some questions for Sebas & Vincent as they were curious about him

Vincent first asks him what the object he hung in the entrance where it makes ringing noises when the wind blows it. Sebas: “Rather than Dazai-san’s personality, you’re more interested in that, huh?” Vincent: “well, it was really pretty, so I got curious” Dazai teaches that it’s a windchime, tells him that it allows people to enjoy the summer with both their eyes and ears

Vincent got curious abt ways Japanese ppl spend their summers

Dazai says he used to watch fireworks, look out at the sea, eat shaved ice. Dazai asks Sebas if he’s done something similar, Sebas replies “Yes, I’ve also gone out to watch firework tournaments (花火大会). When I was in Japan, I’d wear a yukata and go out to watch them” Sebas also enjoyed caramel-apples and goldfish-scooping (金魚すくい)"

Dazai: “It may seem normal, but Sebas has had a childhood as well, huh?” Vincent: “Really. Sebas didn’t become Sebas as soon as he was born…” Sebas: “...what do the two of you think I am?”

Dazai explained that the best part of the fireworks tournament is the atmosphere. The sound of fireworks and the geta (shoes you wear w/yukatas), the enthusiasm of the happy individuals, and most importantly, women wearing yukatas. Vincent: “Yukata… It’s what you typically wear, a type of clothing in Japan, right?”

Dazai: “Women in yukatas are especially good. The skin you can see from their hair raised up, and their skin lightly coated in sweat—” Sebas: “Nonononono—”

Dazai: “... are you excited?” Sebas: “...yes” Dazai: “Oh, you are excited.” Sebas: “A little bit” Dazai: “So even Sebas can get excited” Sebas: “the topic of the conversation ended up a bit off, so I had to put a stop to it”

Dazai: “Even for Sebas, don’t you have a favorite yukata for women?” Sebas: “Let’s see… for women’s yukata, I like a dark blue color. Also, I prefer when the hair is tied loosely near the ends. I also really enjoy it when they fix a loose strand of hair…” Vincent: “Umm.. Sebas?” Sebas: gasps “I apologize. However, Master Vincent must also have a color that you’d like a woman to wear?”

Vincent: “Hmm… I think any color would fit, but probably bright colors would fit the most.”

Dazai likes graceful (?) colors like a deep purple to contrast the color of their skin, make them look prettier

Taku is really good at drawing?? In the “Van Gogh’s drawing section” the VAs had to draw in the theme of “Ikemen Vampire light novel! By Dazai Osamu” and Taku drew (the real) Dazai & it was really well-drawn?? (Dazai draws Dazai haha)

“Can you tell me… your name?” segment comin up!! First up is Vincent! His options were “It’s really hot… let’s just take everything off” “Since it’s hot… do you want to take a shower together?” “I can make you forget about the heat” “Hm? The thing in my mouth? It’s ice. You want it?” The chosen line was the last one. After saying his line for the last time, he continued “Here. Ahhh~” (listening to it when it’s winter was kinda counter-intuitive but… it was nice ig)

Dazai’s options were “If you’re hot, why don’t you take off your clothes?” “We can reenact that passionate night that will make us forget about the heat” “You don’t like the heat? Then, you can spend the time with me until the season becomes cooler” and 4, which is a combination of all three (Which was the one selected)

His voice is so good??? “(y/n), it was a really hot night. Until it cools off—no. Can you stay here with me forever?” He actually said his lines properly unlike Morishi and Makki so it was even more amazing 

And Sebas’s options HERE WE GO “You need guts… to go in saunas” “Do you want to start a chilled Sebas?” “I can make you feel cooler. *insert terrible pun* (吸血鬼のお尻が９個で９ケツなんちゃって)” (I can’t translate the pun itself bc it wouldn’t make sense, but just know that it’s a pun involving vampires and 9 butts lol) and option 4, “Even when you’re struggling in the heat… you look beautiful” The chosen one was the second option “Do you want to start a chilled Sebas?

There were two funny options (options 2 & 3) I didn’t know which was gonna be chosen

Anyways there was “Yoshihiko, do you want to start a chilled Sebas?” Makki: “Yes, please” the last one he said was “(y/n), do you want to start?” and the others were like “start what??”

Episode 14: Vincent & Sebas w/an audience once again

This happened at the time of Ikevamp 1st anniversary, this episode celebrates this event

They also talk about the 1st Ikevamp election & the rewards players get when each resident completes a certain goal (place within a certain ranking, gets more votes than a certain character, etc.) Makki and Morishi create their own goals for the election too.

For Morishi, if Sebas places within 10th overall, Makki and Morishi will do the radio while drinking. For Makki, if Vincent gets first, he plans to telephone an audience member live during the radio

Very unrelated but you can tell Morishi really knows his game knowledge since he knows what blanc was, as well as the ikevamp 1st anniversary song when it played in the background

The theme of this episode’s “I love yu” segment is “Thank you, and please take care of me from now on too”

Sebas was already in the baths when Vincent entered, he said he’s been waiting for Vincent for the past three hours Sebas: “I was conversing with the audience, and before I knew it, three hours had passed” 

Vincent: “Audience? We’re in front of an audience? When we’re naked?” Sebas: cough “W-well… please don’t worry about that”

Vincent & Sebas reminisce about the time they had spent in the baths together (April Fool’s w/Leo, Sasuke entering the bath w/them, turning into idols)

Vincent asks who Sebas has been talking to, Sebas replies, “Don’t worry about that, my angel”

Vincent says that he’s been enjoying his time w/Sebas in the baths, but he’s worried that he’s relying on him too much. His solution? To change bathing times with Sebas

Sebas is shocked. “My oasis… is about to disappear… Lost on Eden… Master Vincent, I won’t record your voice or take pictures of your angel smile or shiver and shiver because I want to see you! So please! Please! Rethink your decisions…”

Vincent says it was all a joke. Wanted to scare Sebas for a bit, and apologizes for scaring him

Sebas is relieved & forgives Vincent. Vincent admits that he likes spending time w Sebas, to which Sebas agrees.

Sebas keeps referencing the audience, Vincent: “Hey, Sebas? You’re seeing things that I can’t see, right?”

The next segment is the “Ikevamp radio 1st anniversary awards” The first award is the “best guest awards” with the nominations being Tsuda Kenjiro (Leo’s VA), Sato Hisanori (Theo’s VA), Yashiro Taku (Dazai’s VA), Horie Kazuma (Comte’s VA), and Morishima Syuta (Sebas’s VA). Ofc Morishi won that category

2nd award is the “Best Drawing awards” the winning drawing is “Movie ‘Love promised under the cherry blossoms~my love is always full bloom~’ PR poster by Makki”

3rd category is the “Best Word Award” with the winning word being dyungyun (obv). In happiness with his word winning the category, Morishi performs voice percussion

No “Can you tell me… your name?” segment today :((

Episode 15: The last episode I can get my hands on…

Morishi wants to go on a vacation trip w Makki. Makki asks him where he wants to go, to which Morishi replies, Paris, the Louvre Museum.

Makki: “What will we be doing there?” Morishi: “Going to the Louvre, looking at some paintings, then opening the door. And then be like ‘What? When I opened the door, there are 12 historical geniuses…?' And we’ll stay there, just the two of us” Makki: “No, I don’t want to!”

Morishi: “I think it’ll be a while until the two of us actually go on a trip together. It would be more realistic if Sebas and Vincent did instead. So! Scenario-writer! Please write about a situation where Sebas and Vincent go on a trip together! And Yamada Shiro-sensei! Please draw an illustration like that as well!”

They announced the winners of the Ikevamp election that happened that year & the merch/events released to celebrate certain characters’ poll victories

“I love yu” skit! Starts off w Sebas saying “Sigh, it already ended. The Ikevamp election. Oops, I shouldn’t be thinking like that. Ta-da! (in a Doraemon-like voice) Historical genius observation journal! I need to note the other’s excellence here. Just like usual, Master Napoleon was very courageous, and Master Leonardo was as sexy as usual. Sorry, my angel, Master Vincent was an angel as always—”

Vincent: opens the door “Who. Is. An. Angel?” Sebas: “Master Vincent?” Vincent: “Really, I’ve been drawing all day, and I’m so exhausted” (he says this is a rough tone) “Sebas, I’m going in, so I need you to move to make space for me” Sebas: “oh, o-okay”

Vincent: “The temperature’s a bit lukewarm, so it’s not that satisfying. Well, I’ll let you off the hook for this one” Sebas: “Master Vincent? What happened to you? It seems you have a different tone than usu—” Vincent: “It’s just a part of your imagination, Sebas!” Sebas: “Yes! Of course!”

Sebas asks what’s happened to Vincent, asking if he got into a bloody argument w Theo. Vincent replies “We don’t get into arguments! That’s uncool!” 

Sebas asks if Vincent’s hit his head somewhere. “If that’s true then, I need to take him to a doctor—” Vincent: “I need you to leave me alone!” Sebas: gasps “Master Vincent?”

Vincent: “From now on, I’m going to change.” Sebas: “Change?” Vincent: “Yeah. I’ll keep on going on a bike that I stole from who-knows-where and break the windows of the school at night and I won’t be manipulated by the adults! (It’s basically what delinquents [ヤンキー] in Japan used to do)”

Sebas: “Why do you say things like Ozaki Yutaka and Keyakizaka46? That isn’t like you, the great angel Vincent—” Vincent: “If you keep on calling me ‘great angel,’ it’ll only make me upset!”

Sebas: “Master Vincent’s—Master Vincent’s ‘idiot’ (ドアホ). I don’t know what happened to you, but please open your eyes. Take this! Perverted butler, Sebastian’s forehead flick of love!” Vincent: “Gah! O-ow… Huh? I—”

Vincent: “Sorry about that Sebas… It seems I lost myself.”

Sebas asks what had happened, Vincent promises Sebas that he wouldn’t laugh at him. Vincent: “I-I wanted to be a different self. Do you remember the one event where we asked who she (MC) likes? Hearing the results of it, I wanted to be more liked by her… so...”

Sebas: “Master Vincent, please listen carefully. What if I had wondered the same thing you had, and become like Master Arthur, saying ‘Hey, can I kiss you?’ (in Arthur's tone) What would you think about me?” Vincent: “I would think it’s very repulsive.” 

Sebas: “Of course. Or like Master Shakespeare ‘I would like you to dance on my stage in the theatre’ (in Shakespeare's tone) What would you think about that?” Vincent: “I would think it’s very scary”

Sebas then tells Vincent that he understands his desire to change, but does she (MC) actually wish for that? I think she likes Vincent as is.

Discovered that there’s a Ikevamp LINE stamp and honestly it looks pretty good link here (idk if I would ever use it considering I only ever text my family members... lol imagine sending a sticker of Isaac to your parents haha)

Because Sebas got more votes than 1 suitor, Morishi will do ikevamp radio while drinking (sad that I couldn’t find the episode) they were planning to drink the blanc that will be released soon

No "Can you tell me... your name" segment im sad

And... that's the last episode!!! I'm really happy that many people enjoyed reading this as much as I did when I watched & wrote this. I'll be looking for more of these radios & in the future I'll see if I can write things similar to this as well. Anyways I hope everyone has an amazing rest of your day/night :))

#im sad its ending #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp radio #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp dazai #rough translation #lukka talks

[hypnofantasma-asks-and-doodles]

any tips and tricks on drawing hair? I really like the way hair looks in your style.

i was gonna answer this one with doodles, but because i'm outta commission right now, i'll try to just word it

my biggest piece of advice for hair and fur is to remember that hair likes to bundle together in clumps, and depending on the texture, these clumps will look different. hair likes to follow certain "flows" with itself even if messy or unkempt.

for textures, i look at the shape of the hair. soft, smooth hair likes to make a lot of crescent shapes. rough hair, shaggy hair, it all makes "S" shapes in waves. short, fluffy hair with layers make a mix. long, straight, smooth hair may be long and flat, but, it slightly curved in at the end. i always just look at how the clumps interact with each other in shapes depending on texture.

when actually drawing, i also tend to be "loose" when drawing it. i don't worry too much about making it look perfect. hair's a soft, always-changing shape, it doesn't need to be drawn perfectly. quick, crescent shapes at different yet similar angles are how i doodle hair most of the time.

to depict fuller hair, i actually make less lines, and imply a more solid shape. to make hair seem thinner, i draw more "individual strands" to make it seem either patchier or just thinner and wispier.

wow i didnt actually think i thought that much about how i drew hair but there ya GO (AND THANK YOU!!)

#tutorial #junoposting #positivity

[evelina-maar]

i'm so blown away by how you drew frenchie’s hair, it looks so textured and soft!? do you have any tips on drawing curly hair? what brushes do you use? your art is seriously amazing!🖤🖤🖤

Thank you! And I don’t really have any specific method, my approach has always sort of just been to draw what’s in the reference and hope for the best, lol. If it helps, I can give you a step by step of one of my Frenchie drawings:

1. I put down the base color and some splotches indicating shadow (don’t be dumb like me and make the shadow color your base if you try to do this, putting down splotches of highlights would’ve made my life so much easier)

2. I formed the splotches into more cohesive curl shapes, adding some ringlets and stuff. Also some color variations.

3. This is pretty much just the tedious part of drawing little individual curls and stray hairs, which is also not really necessary . The last layer with the lightest hairs on the very tip of each strand really makes it look more three dimensional though imo.

And that's it! (Then draw the rest of the owl)

Not sure how helpful this is, but it’s how I did it. There’s also a step 0 where you sit and stare at the reference for 20 minutes feeling helpless and defeated. Not very productive, but builds character.

As for the brush, I only use one for rendering and it’s some painterly idiot I downloaded in a brush pack years ago and tweaked to death. You can really do this with any brush, just have it set so the opacity is controlled by pressure and maybe toss some fun texture on it if you feel like it. Making your own brushes and understanding the controls in editing them is pretty simple and it will give you more freedom than any brush pack ever could. Good luck!

#ask #art tips #??? #i guess #im not a very good teacher #drawing #step by step

[writervaul-t]

The Ruined and its Damned

Summary: The mysterious death of certain individuals causes a Rose and her family's safety on the line. Desperate for answers, Rose must work with a group of warriors within Rumcofa to prevent her family from meeting an early death. The only problem: their presence was never made known to the settlement so now they must not only understand the reasoning behind the deaths but to also gain the trust of the suspicious settlers, specifically the newly placed Uhtred and his group of warriors sent to protect Rumcofa from any oncoming threats.

Pairing: Osferth x OC

Warning: Non-canon, spoilers if you're not caught up to s5, blood and wounds, lots of fighting

ao3 post | next chapter | masterlist

Chapter One: Amber

- ROSE -

The air was cold, but not cold enough to keep Rose from wishing to go back in the confines of her home. If she had the option, she was sure she’d like to stay outside, basking in the silence from nature in turn for the constant ruckus her brothers and father made back in their humble cabin.

Rose closed her eyes, breathing in the crisp morning air as she let her horse trot against the horribly beaten trail she was accustomed to. Only the gentle crunch of snow and muted calls from animals greeted her. Yes, she would definitely trade days like this with her noisy family if it meant she was able to savor more of this silence, even for just a moment.

Though, she knew that would not be an option in a very long time. She was needed at home, taking care of the younger half of her brothers when she is not where she is now. Like her brothers, Rose had a duty to uphold for her family and, to some extent, even those who would ever come by the areas she always crossed through.

“Rose.” The voice, annoyingly familiar, called out to her from ahead. Rose continued to close her eyes, ignoring the familiar voice as she took in the smell of the snow and the sound of her horse trotting. “Rose—”

“Jehan if you speak once more, I will certainly make sure you come home with no game and a split lip if you continue to disrupt me.” The girl said sharply, giving her twin brother a scathing look for ruining what little time she had with the outside world. Her irritation subsided, however, when her brother cast her a look that indicated anything but jesting—eyes wide, jaw tense—that she was not most favorable to: a threat was nearby.

Quickly, Rose’s fingers thumbed at the daggers attached to her back before checking for the ones hidden in her arms and boots before pulling her hood over her eyes. “Where.” Was all she asked, head whipping around until she finally spotted the billowing smoke rising from below a cliff just several feet away.

“Sounds like there's many. Almost fifteen…” Jehan whispered in his usual low, steady voice. He halted his own horse, effectively stopping Rose’s own from moving as well. “We can’t take that many if they really are a threat…”

“Definitely not.” Rose mutters back. “How do you know it’s a threat, though?”

“I don’t.” Her brother replied honestly, his jet black hair brushing against her own set of curls as she drew closer. “But the sound of swords being sharpened is enough of a warning.”

Rose nodded, scarily impressed by Jehan’s sharp hearing. If she were alone, Rose was sure she would hear the crunching of the snow beneath her horse’s hooves instead of blades being sharpened. “Do you need me to look?” She asked, though she had already been off her horse and throwing the rope to her twin in smooth succession.

Jehan nodded. “Just get a glimpse of them, see who they are: Dane or Saxon.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Both are threats to us no matter which one they are…”

Her brother only urged her forward with a warning look, Rose taking note that he hadn’t corrected her behavior statement. She was right, is all Rose could conclude from the silence, fingers dropping to the cross on her neck before brushing her fingers at the Yggdrasil hair beads woven into strands of her hair.

Dane or Saxon, they were surely in need to run away if they ever were to ever catch sight of Rose and Jehan’s appearance. The very thought made Rose tuck away the cross and pull her cloak’s hood further over her head as she carefully made her way over the cliff, not a sound being made by her as she glanced over the cliff.

Jehan had been almost correct; there was a camp full of men under the cliff, sixteen or seventeen to count from what Rose could spot, fingers signaling a succession of numbers behind her back for her brother to understand what was happening. They all looked worn out, tired from marching around in the freezing cold, she could only presume.

Her eyes narrowed in on six men sitting around the middle of a fire—well, four men and two boys, from the looks of things. Rose made sure to signal that to her brother as well. They were all unique in look and Rose’s eyes narrowed in confusion as she finally took notice of the group.

A mix of Danes and Saxons, she concluded, frowning as she spotted two of the six to be wearing Mjolnir around their necks and another two bearing Christian crosses. Curiously, her eyes drifted to one of the Christians; the tallest of the six, a blonde wearing garbs she only sees on monks.

It was modified, the sides ripped so he could possibly sit easier instead of being restricted by the long fabric, a sword hanging off his hips and a chestplate over the drabby beige clothing. Rose wasn’t sure what to signal, but she did her best to tell her brother what she saw with her hands.

"A… Warrior monk?” Jehan asked, voice echoing in their empty space. “The hell does that mean...”

Rose whipped her head, finger pressing against her lips harshly, heart pounding. She had yet to determine if they actually were trouble or not for them. She was too caught up in the group’s strangeness to notice the amount of weapons all of them had attached to themselves. Jehan’s eyes widened, shocked at his own loudness as well, slapping a hand over his lips.

Though that was too late.

“Whoever’s there, come out. Now.” A sharp voice, annoyingly familiar as well, ordered from below.

Sounds like Father. Rose would have mused to her brother if she hadn’t been on edge about watching these men. Her eyes glared at Jehan, who moved forward toward the cliff. Rose stayed as still as possible, body closely wrapped against the large boulders she had been laying her stomach against. Surely, she couldn’t be spotted—

“The same goes to your companion as well. Come out now.”

Rose let out an aggravated groan.

I just wanted to go outside…

- OSFERTH -

“How did he know someone else was with him?” Aethelstan asked, staring at Uhtred in wonder before turning his gaze back to the pair standing over them.

“Intuition.” Was all Osferth could offer, hand ghosting the hilt of his sword as the second figure maneuvered their way to their horse. The man already on his horse offered a stiff smile to Uhtred and Finan’s suspicious gazes.

“A fine morning to hunt, don’t you think?” The man tried to offer, the hooded figure beside him turning their head to them. Seems that even they found his ice breaker strange. From the corner of his eye, he could spot Sihtric move backward a bit, as if ready to melt into the shadows and come closer to them.

Looking back, Osferth could see the hooded figure trot their horse backward as well, as if sensing Sihtric’s movement. Osferth held a hand out to his friend, shaking his head. “The hooded one is watching you. Stay cautious.” He advised. Sihtric only nodded, keeping himself still instead.

Uhtred, always so blunt and brute, was quick to stay on the topic. “Who are you? What are you doing on this trail?”

“I could ask you the same thing, but we’re clearly all here for one thing: hunting, correct?” The man said. His dark hair, long and straight, blew with the wind as he motioned at the bow and arrow attached to him under his cloak. “What else can you do around here besides trade at Rumcofa? Besides, Blood Month is coming soon and we all know the pressures of that celebration as men, do we not?”

Cynlaef and Aethelstan nodded, making Osferth shake his head. Clearly, the man was trying to convince them of something else but he made a good argument; around this time men did go out hunting to practice. Finan was the next to speak up.

“You know of Rumcofa, yet we’ve never seen you.” Finan said, eyes glancing at the hooded figure. “And it seems like we have yet to see your friend as well.”

“She is hardly a friend. Torturer would be a better word.” The man states, earning a harsh slap in the arm by the figure. Finan snorted at the action. “She is my sister; wanted to accompany me and possibly hunt something as well.”

The man motioned for his sister to pull down the hood and Osferth was in no need to convince himself the pair were siblings. Their hair was jet black, both of their tan skin showing under the sunlight. Osferth was more focused on the girl, however, noticing the curls that were hardly contained when it gathered at the nape of her neck.

Still, Osferth can detect the discomfort on her face despite keeping it so still since she had removed her hood, unlike her brother, who seemed to be smooth at every motion he made as they continued their standoff. They were like day and night, despite their appearance clearly indicating they were possibly twins.

Finally, she spoke, eyes trained on Uhtred. “I apologize for my brother’s long winded explanations but he is not wrong; we are meant to hunt. We follow this trail often but it is a bit of a ways away and we never see anyone. Forgive us for not being too friendly at the beginning, lords. We like to remain cautious, especially in times like this.”

Uhtred nodded in understanding. Living in a village was troublesome enough; only those who have lived on their own outside of promised protection knew how much more dangerous it was to willingly trust random strangers on the road.

“I hope we didn’t scare any of the game you are seeking then. A few of our men hunted and managed to hunt quite a few animals.” An amused chuckle escaped from Cynleaf’s lips. Years of accompanying Uhtred let Osferth know it was a boast masked under a jesting. He watched as the siblings gazes settled on the dead animals stacked next to the fire.

The girl was seamless with her reaction, only offering an unreadable expression to Uhtred before saying, “I’m sure we’ll find something.”

Her voice was soft but Osferth could sense a bit of rigidness behind it, almost like the snowflakes gently coming off from the trees above and landing on warm skin; similarly, it sent shivers down his back when her voice came out. His mind wandered for a moment, questions arising left and right from his mind until he finally asked a question as the siblings pulled off from the cliffside.

“You didn’t answer the question.” He suddenly pronounces, catching everyone’s attention. His eyes locked on the girl’s own, widening as he noticed they were almost glowing from the rays of light. He was sure they were almost like gold, the color seemingly paling against the stone at the pommel of Uhtred’s sword. Gold. It looked like molten gold.

“You know of Rumcofa, yet we have never seen you there.”

A few men nodded, others looking expectantly at the set of siblings, knowing Osferth wasn’t wrong. It had been years since Rumcofa was built, Aethelstan being only a boy when they settled in the trading village. Now he was accompanying hunts, carrying steel weapons instead of practicing with wooden ones within the safety of the village walls. Throughout all those years, Osferth was sure he’d remember eyes that seemed to shine under sunlight.

He watched as the girl’s lips twitched, to a smile or a frown, he wasn’t so sure. Still, he garnered a reaction out of her and some sense of satisfaction consumed him. “We have lived here since before Rumcofa’s construction. We just wished to stay outside the village borders since we are self serving ourselves.”

Osferth nodded, taking her words to value, seemingly knowing she wasn't lying. Still, he wondered one more thing.

“What are your names?” It was Uhtred who asked the question, seemingly reading the ex-monk’s mind.

The girl opened her mouth, then closed it. She turned to her brother, who shrugged before they responded, one after the other.

“My name is Jehan.”

“My name is Rosemonde. I go by Rose.”

Rose. Osferth thought, staring at the woman thoughtfully. Rose.

Somehow he couldn’t keep the name out of his head, even when her brother, Jehan decided to speak. “It is not safe to be out here too long, lords. Even in broad daylight, there are many dangers out there you should keep watch for. My sister and I must go now. Bountiful luck to you all during your hunt.”

With that, both siblings rode off, before anyone could ask any more questions.

"Strange people.” Finan mused, Osferth nodding

Silence returned on the group, though Osferth’s mind seemed to be somewhere else, Rose’s name still repeating in his head, not wishing to forget it.

- ROSE -

“Bountiful luck?”

“Shut up.”

A look of amusement crossed Rose’s face as she eyed her brother. “You sure love hearing your voice, brother.”

Jehan sent a glare her way. “As if you could do any better, sister. You talk sweetly but look as if you’re ready to go into battle. I hardly think I’d be ever able to believe you if I were those men out there.”

Rose shrugged. “If they detect a lie, they would have had us taken away. Clearly they believed us. Besides, it’s not as if we aren’t hunting.”

She dismounted from her horse as she said this, walking toward one of their hidden traps set up not far from the trail. She listened for the crunch of the snow, ignoring Jehan’s call from behind.

“That monk sounded like he didn’t believe you!”

A smile made its way to her lips again, the idea of the blonde man wishing to know them so much amusing her. He was peculiar, she remembered thinking, watching his expression intently when she had given her name. She could see his lips moving, though she wasn’t sure what she could make him out from saying.

Rose was ready to speak once more, before a muffled scream had brought her back, the memories of the crunching snow and the warrior monk pushed to the back of her mind. She narrowed her eyes, realizing the trap she set up the night before had worked. The muffled screams turned to a panicked one as Rose made herself visible to the man trapped by the spikes dug under the soft piles of snow that were carefully packed together as if to seem stronger.

“Nasty wound you have there.” Rose responded, eyes narrowing in on the man’s leg, which had the five wooden spikes jutting out from it at the start of his ankle to just below his knees. His hair was matted and frosted over, clearly having been there for several hours. “Would be a shame if we left you here.”

“Please,” the man begged. “Let me free.”

Rose ignored him, procuring a dagger hidden beneath her sleeve. “Since you said please, I will.” The man sighed in relief. “But not before you answer some questions.”

The men let out another wail, only to be silenced as Rose struck the back of his head with the hilt of her dagger. She didn’t waste time to take out a sack from the bag hanging off her, bringing it over the unconscious man’s head. A four toned whistle was heard from a distance and Rose was quick to send a two toned one back.

From a large pile of snow close by, another dark head popped up. “He’s been screaming all day. I had to come around and shut him up a few times before he could spot me.”

“It was a good thing you did.” Rose says to her younger brother, remembering the warrior monk and his warrior friends. “Help me out, won’t you Saewin? This man probably weighs like a horse.”

Saewin only nodded, making his way around the pile of snow so quickly, Rose felt like some sense of time disappeared on her when he made his way over. They lifted the man by his arms and legs, Saewin huffing out of anger after taking careful steps closer to the road. “This man weighs more than a horse; he’s probably the same weight as Jehan…”

“Hey!” Was all Jehan offered, running to help his siblings drag the man onto the large cloth he spread out and attached to his and Rose’s horse. All three of them heaved sighs, looking at one another before nodding to one another in understanding as they stared at the unconscious man in front of them.

“Let’s go home.” Jehan mused. “Looks like we’ll be having a busy night.”

Rose only nodded, her gaze lingering longer on the man while Saewin moved to mount her horse, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach as she spotted a cross around his neck. Faintly, her fingers brushed against her own and a prayer was sent out silently, Rose praying that her way to Hell was as painless as possible before she finally made her way to her horse.

next chapter | masterlist

#osferth x original character #osferth x oc #osferth fanfiction #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom x original character #the last kingdom x oc #enjoy this you deprived ewan mitchell fans #tlk osferth x oc #tlk osferth x original character #tlk x oc #tlk x original character

[arielluva]

its really interesting to go back and try and replicate an old art style of yours because. oh man you do not realize just how much things have changed until you try to do it again

i decided to replicate my 2019 art style (which despite being on the right of the image, i actually drew first) using an oc i made in 2022 and. wow its so different,, like yeah of course it is bc its 4+ years old but... still. also interesting to take a new oc and try and reverse engineer how you think you wouldve drawn them in the past

things i noticed from my 2019 art style:

- long faces as opposed to the more compressed and rounder ones i draw now

- long necks

- the two eyelashes i drew on the side of the eyes every single time

- the line for the lower eyelid is ALWAYS straight even if the eye itself is curved

- very banana like looking hair, very long strands and not many of them. male characters also only ever had short cropped hair in the back, no mullets

- instead of drawing the hoodie curved around his neck like i do now, i drew the triangular hoodie shape first, then the hood behind the neck

- watercolor shading with the default brush, minimal blending because i thought it made my limited shading look better (it didnt)

- not much color variation in the shading, shadows were only a darker color of the base color and MAYBE pushed slightly to another color on the color wheel (for example: skin shading being ever so slightly redder than the base shade)

- lighting on the hair is many vertical lines next to each other

- drawing each individual finger nail as a part of the finger rather than drawing the finger first and then the nail. also very small and skinny hands

- using light yellow on the add blending mode with the airbrush tool for some lighting

- very stiff poses, probably because i didnt use shapes in my sketches yet

this was a really interesting exercise because like. yes i can tell my art has improved just by looking at it, but i didnt realize just HOW MUCH until i took a closer look

#my art #i do enjoy replicating my old art styles from time to time and i think this 2019 replica looks really good #if i didnt know any better i probably would think it was from 2019 #2023

[badmusejail]

Sasakibe Tadaoki Chojiro

INTRODUCTION

This has probably been the longest muse I’ve had, and revisiting and revising everything for him is taking a while.

I was fascinated by Sasakibe pretty much since he appeared; intrigued by how of all the lieutenants, we knew pretty much nothing about him, feeling that the lieutenant of the First Division had to be interesting in some way, right?

The lack of information also gave me a perfect opportunity to do whatever the hell I wanted.

I had so many questions about him. Why didn’t he fight in the biggest event in recent history? The Kido Squad could have certainly maintained the barrier. Yet, I couldn’t imagine Yamamoto condoning having someone weak as his second-in-command.

How I answered these questions varied. Like I said, Kubo’s world was one that held limitless potential for exploration. I wanted to try different things. I wanted to see how the world changed when you tweaked small details.

One of the ideas I repeatedly came back to was the idea of him being a Quincy. After all, a great deal of Kubo’s work had involved the idea of hybrids–what would happen if there was a Quincy/Soul Reaper hybrid? I did a lot with this idea. I toyed with it; I played with it, I adapted it to fit Kubo’s canon as it came out. It’s a concept I’m still fascinated with; still amazed that we never got a Quincy/Soul Reaper hybrid.

And this is the result of that work. Years upon years of writing, finally revisited and presented to a wider audience. I do hope you like what I’ve come up with, but if for some reason you’d prefer to write with canon Sasakibe, just let me know.

I also encourage you to take a look at the introduction / headcanon page for BLEACH in general!

Name: [REDACTED] Sasakibe Tadaoki Chojiro Age: 2239 Birthdate: November 4 Residence: First Division HQ, Seireitei Job: Lieutenant Gender: Cis Male Sexuality: Abstaining [Heterosexual] Height: 5’10” Weight: 146 lbs. Species: Human (Quincy/Soul Reaper)

APPEARANCE

An utterly mundane individual. Most people would say that Sasakibe is especially plain compared to some of the more elaborate individuals in Soul Society. He stands at about average height, with tan skin, and meticulously groomed gray hair and mustache. He wears a jinbaori over the standard shihakusho, along with a white turtleneck and armguards.

As a Quincy, Sasakibe wears a black suit that clings close to his form, with white robes on top of it. The robes have blue fur on the edges, and the top most layer drapes over his shoulders like a cloak, before tapering down into two strands that resemble the jinbaori he wears. The cloak is held together by two silver, circular clasps.

HISTORY

There are those that know history. Then there are those that have seen history.

The man now known as Lieutenant Sasakibe was born in a drastically different time, in a drastically different place, with drastically different people.

A holy people–wielding holy powers to defend humanity from the scum of Hell. This duty bestowed upon him was one he took seriously–to protect and defend was in his blood, and protect and defend he did.

Oaths sworn in blood to serve, to strike down with holy light the scourge of the world, the demons that yearned to prey upon people.

Young and naïve; perhaps–he did not understand why those strange entities, the SOUL REAPERS hated them so much. They had the same goal, after all–they wanted peace, they wanted to protect the world. Why did these people look down on them, shun them?

The decision to leave his people was not one he took lightly; but his duty, his vows drew him to a higher cause, to pursue peace even when it seemed impossible.

The idea was simple, as things so often were in youth. Find the Soul Reapers. Befriend them. And it would prove that their people were one and the same, that they need not quarrel.

So he studied them. He learned their culture, their ways–he learned what divided a Quincy from a Soul Reaper, and learned how to breach that divide, to be one of them. He learned their techniques and strengths. He learned the way of the blade, of the Kido, of the Shunpo.

He approached Eijisai-dono with a smile on his face, he rose to every challenge, he proved that blood aside, a Quincy was no different than a Soul Reaper–they could work together, they could live in peace.

And now, all he had to do was tell him.

…

…

He did not.

After all, when he returned home to his kingdom to find it in ash, destroyed by a demon wreathed in flames, how could he?

The Quincy had disappeared, along with his home and family.

Where else did he have to go?

And so, he stayed by Shigekuni Yamamoto's side. He's there when Seireitei is established; he's there when Central 46 is established, he's there when Soul Reapers join together to fight off the demon spawn of Hell and reenforces the chain; and he's there when the Quincy reappear, hellbent on taking over the World of the Living and the Soul Society.

And he made a choice.

King or not, he would not condone the warmongering ways of Yhwach. If that was what it meant to be a Quincy, then he would be one no longer.

And so he strikes Yhwach from behind, giving Yamamoto just enough time to turn the tide of battle. Yhwach defeated, the remaining Quincy disappear, and Sasakibe remained beside Shigekuni Yamamoto.

He's there when Yamamoto describes the Quincy as the scum of earth that need to be wiped out. He's there when the Gotei 13 is founded, he's there when the Quincy resurge again and refuse to listen to reason, and he's there when Soul Society gives the order to eliminate them.

He's there to witness the rise of Ichigo, he's there to witness the betrayal of Aizen Sosuke. He's there for the loss of Ichigo's powers, and he's there for the defeat of Aizen.

Maybe there are some things that he regrets. Maybe there are some things that weighs on him. But in a life as long as his own, that's inevitable. But in general, he's happy with who he is, with what he's done.

Even if he has some secrets.

PERSONALITY

Loyal and with a strong moral compass, Sasakibe is a man who prefers to act rather than speak. It’s not about the glory or the conquest, it’s about doing the right thing and most of his time is spent in the background, making sure things run smoothly and taking care of problems before they become a problem.

His reputation is beyond his concern; though he’s well aware that people think him any number of unsavory things–demur, a pushover, a weakling. In fact, it’s quite amusing when people finally realize that he’s anything but; that his silence does not mean cowardice, that he’s one of the few who will tell Yamamoto off and one of the even fewer who can get away with it.

Sasakibe is a master of finesse, of being unnoticed, of knowing how to manipulate the system to get away with certain things; of covering his tracks and disappearing without a trace, avoiding notice unless he wants to be noticed–and also knowing his limits, what lines not to cross, and when certain actions are appropriate.

The previously mentioned interaction with Yamamoto is a clear example–Sasakibe absolutely will bicker and disagree with him, but in private because he understands how important Yamamoto’s pride and the image of unity and strength is.

Although Sasakibe does have a sense of pride, both as a Quincy and as a warrior, he puts the fate of the world first, and he has no qualms fighting dirty or fleeing to live another day, especially in his older age.

Chivalrous and polite, Sasakibe does everything he can do be what he considers a good person. He does not like to fight and would prefer any alternatives if possible, but he knows how to fight and he knows how to kill.

META

You can probably guess that I was upset with Sasakibe’s death but probably not why you think. Really, I’m upset with how it was handled, and how we only got to learn about him after the fact, and how he was supposedly actually really powerful but we never actually got to see any of that.

His battle with Ichigo is a clear example–certainly, I can come up with some sort of justification (he was caught off guard, he didn’t actually want to fight, he was weakened from recently switching his abilities) but no matter what I do, it’ll feel forced because it really doesn’t make sense without seeing more of the character.

Although I do have a means of ‘explaining’ his death, I personally understand that it feels cheap and overpowered. So if you’d like to talk alternatives, just let me know.

I’ll probably default to this verse, i.e., his Quincy verse because I find it endlessly more fascinating, but again, if you want me to strictly stick to canon just give me a heads up!

POWERS & ABILITIES & EQUIPMENT

As both a Quincy and a Soul Reaper, Sasakibe has access to a wide range and abilities, with the caveat that he has to either be in his Soul Reaper state or his Quincy state and cannot use both powers at the same time.

Soul Inversion: Through deep meditation and heavy training, Sasakibe has the ability to halt and reverse the flow of reiatsu through his body, allowing him to switch between the abilities of the Soul Reapers and the Quincies. In addition, it means that he’s not only able to suppress his spiritual pressure, but halt it entirely, making him nearly undetectable by conventional means.

Reishi / Reiatsu manipulation: Sasakibe’s masterful control over reishi as a Quincy applies just as well to his mastry of reiatsu as a Soul Reaper, giving him very precise control of his powers and/or the surrounding area.

Spiritual Sense: Similarly, he has very keen senses and can detect even minor changes in a person’s reiatsu, usually able to determine the cause from a distance.

Blut: An ability inherent in the blood, Sasakibe’s blut vene is most usually active, even to a lesser extent while he’s in his Soul Reaper state. It likely played a part in his ability to withstand fighting alongside Yamamoto’s bankai in the past.

Quincy Cross / Zanpakuto: The items are one and the same, shifting state to match Sasakibe’s own.

Letzt Stil -- Gottesumarmung: One of the Quincy’s ultimate abilities, similar to the Soul Reaper’s bankai. Letzt Stil does not have the drawback of sealing the power of a deceased Quincy like it does for still living ones. Sasakibe gained the ability prior to his defection from Yhwach, and his ability to already access it played a major part in his ability to conquer bankai so quickly. Vollständig was developed long after he defected and he has no interest in learning the technique, and isn’t even sure if both can be learned.

Gottesumarmung takes the shape of a large cage, not unlike the dome of lightning generated by Kiko Gonryo Rikyu. The cage is several inches thick and is made of dense holy energy. A purely defensive form, most entities are disintegrated if they try to cross it without Sasakibe's permission. Though he can leave it to continue fighting, having it active is detrimental to his offensive abilities.

Gonryomaru: The shikai from of Sasakibe’s zanpakuto, Gonyromaru takes the form of a rapier capable of harnessing lightning.

Kiko Gonryo Rikyu: The bankai form of Sasakibe’s zanpakuto. Though the zanpakuto itself remains the same, its power is vastly amplified, influencing the weather itself and summoning a massive dome of lightning over Sasakibe.

Hirenkyaku / Shunpo: Sasakibe is capable of using either high-speed movement technique depending on which state he’s in.

Kirchenlied / Kido: Sasakibe is capable of using both forms of spells, and actually neither set are locked to their respective group, so he can use either at any time. They do tend to be more powerful when used in the respective state, however. He has a vast knowledge of the spells and their incantations, and can control and execute them to drastic effect.

Swordsmanship: Sasakibe is capable of fighting with both his zanpakuto or the Seele Schneider, though he prefers indirectly reflecting attacks and keeping a distance rather than fighting up close. In addition, Sasakibe always keeps a Seele Schneider on hand, just in case he needs to combat a demon and switching powers isn’t feasible. Luckily, few people in Soul Society recognize the tool.

Hakuda: Sasakibe is not a fan of fighting hand-to-hand, but was forced to learn the art by Yamamoto nonetheless, in order to be recognized as a master of all Soul Reaper arts. It’s not a skill he trains regularly.

Archery: Like any Quincy, Sasakibe is well versed in archery. His particular brand of Heilig Pfeil tend to hit fast and hard with a long recharge rate, much like the lightning of his zanpakuto. It is not well versed for combating multiple enemies.

Gyokofukusei [凝固複製]: An advanced Quincy technique that constructs an identical duplicate of a given object out of reishi. Sasakibe used this technique to flee from the battle with Driscoll while convincing Soul Society and the Wandenreich of his death.

Ginto and other artifacts: Sasakibe has a small collection of other Quincy objects, tucked away with the rest of his western collection. He generally has no reason to pull them out, but has it on hand in case of emergency.

Medallion: Depending on the exact timeline of events, Sasakibe recovers the medallion used to steal his bankai. Being a Quincy himself, however, Mayuri’s solution would also kill him, so it’s a work in progress figuring out how to actually regain the use of his bankai.

Multilingual: Sasakibe is fluent in many languages and conversational in many others, including English, Old High German, German, and French.

WEAKNESSES

Hollow poisoning: As a Quincy by blood, even if he's currently using the powers of the Shinigami, hollows are poisonous to him and could prove fatal. He does his best to avoid combat with them.

Close combat: Sasakibe is not an individual whose strengths are in close combat, and his first response if you try to get close will be to try to get away. Most of his techniques and abilities are best suited to a distance. (That being said, he can hit harder than you might expect thanks to Blut.)

#|| sasakibe | ichi buntai fukutaichou. #|| sasakibe | headcanon | taciturn noncombatant. #|| sasakibe | verse | quincy. #|| shared | headcanon | bleach.

[berzlape36]

LESS = MORE art tips vol.2

I can't stress enough with this. If it's not realism, then why do people feel the need to make their jobs so detailed that it hurts to look at?

Anyways let's get onto breaking down the examples.

A.

So, avoid blending. Please. It doesn't make the colours pop in the slightest and makes everything look like a porridge, just a bad way to present a stylised artwork. Just don't blend and add normal shadows. That's the only way out of it. Also make sure to use as much colour you can to make the work look more complicated than it is. Also line art can be messy. It's even better because it gives work some personality and makes it more lively, while a single line makes it do the opposite and lose everything.

colours = ur bezzies

no blending

use your line art skills

restrain yourself from using a thin brush

B.

Logos. It's easy but at the same time not. I just recommend listing down things that make the logo stand out, like I did with Castore. It's just a pair of wings, so quite simple, just drew the wings with no text and detail in them. I did the same with Adidas as seen on examples C and E, as well as the fern logo on the both examples. As long as you know what it is, and are confident that you've portrayed it nicely, no one is going to ask questions. Plus people don't even look at it in detail!

the less detail the better

absolutely no text allowed

3-4 lines max

if it's a letter, don't even thing about recreating the same font - just draw a lazy A or B and call it a day.

C.

Again, like in example A, blending is avoided at all costs, and like in B, the logos are simplified to a level where it's recognisable if you know what you're doing. Shadows are done in a nice tone, and there's not much difference between example A and C other than the colours used and the part of the body portrayed in them. It's also visible that I've simplified the face, Rieko Ioane in this case - it might not seem like it, but if I go around saying that it's Rieko, then it is going to be Rieko and nobody can do anything about it. Just know what you're drawing, and take every short-cut you see.

just don't blend alright

know who you're drawing

simplify everything

messier line art - more personality

D.

Trust me, unless it's realism, nobody's going to chop your head off if Marcus doesn't have each of his hair strands drawn individually (actually yes they are because there's a simpler way than drawing each strand) so just don't do it, and do it like seen in example A - no blending, just a good line art that provides everyone with everything they need to know. Moral of the story - DO NOT draw hair strands, use lines, it's simpler and you won't actually die from stress.

detail = bad

nobody even cares

just use your pen/pencil brush alright

E.

If you're not a muppet you've noticed that it's literally picture C but altered. That's to show how to do SIMPLE highlights. Yes, an airbrush tool or marker tool is allowed here - but only here, and to make it more convincing, I recommend adding streaks of the same colour but with the pen slash pencil tool (depends on what programme you're using!) Like I've written down there, it's completely alright to not use the highlights - they're loads of work but if needed, no shame in doing that either.

highlights are the only case where other brushes are tolerated.

add shine or glow mode to the layer

one colour and do it lightly to not steal anything from the work

Moral of the story - just don't do anything stupid, don't go deep into detail, don't blend unless really needed, and the pen/pencil tool is the only legal one unless a certain exception. As long as it's not realism (or attempted realism)

#stylised art #art tips #art

[camryemerald]

okay so im not super good at drawing and ive been trying to get better at it, starting with hair.

now i have very curly hair, at least for a white person. and so since i was little i always drew it as a brown spiral line around my head (my current pfp for example)

but, obviously, thats not super great so a few weeks ago i wanted to try something else. so i decided to try making individual strands of shadow and highlight and-

i ended up with ugly chipotle bowl :/

(heres the version without highlight strands so you can kinda see my thought process)

BUT i dont give up (aka i did for a good few weeks) and today i decided to try a new strategy (and also try to make the base look less horrid with shading and details) and:

it actually doesn't look bad??? i did something not awful for once????? how?????????

#trying to draw correctly #how did i do that #it isnt amazing mind you but im proud of it!!! #i got actual complements from my friends who are actually good at art like- #also the head does not represent my usual drawing ability i just needed the head and drew it really quickly

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

The Curse of Nona May Taylor by Jess K. Hardy

Delightful surprise! Great escape into a magical modern day fairy tale that drew me in more with each page.

What I liked:

* Nona May Taylor: musician, singer, on her way up when cursed with her family, loving, caring, generous, never gives up, has lived for several years as an octogenarian, really liked her

* Charlie Brown: arrives in the story as an injured hiker but proves to be so much more!

* The way Nona’s menagerie – also her family – worked together supporting one another living on the mountain in the form of animals when they were cursed at the same time Nona was. (pig, chicken, fox, rabbit, ferret – each individual and worth getting to know)

* Thinking about what it would have been like to be in the situation Nona and the rest found themselves in

* The magical element of the story with the two types of magic users and how they fit into the story

* Wondering if the curse would be broken and if so, how

* Larry: a very special bear

* The backstory and history of more than one character and how all the threads were woven together

* That I was drawn in, began to care, and was invested in the outcome * That I did NOT give up in the first few chapters when I thought about doing so – so glad I kept reading!

* All of it really except…

What I didn’t like:

* Who and what I was meant not to like

* Thinking about how difficult it must have been for all of them and wondering how someone could be so hateful to do what they did to Nona and her family

Did I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I read more by this author? Yes

Thank you to NetGalley and Victory Editing NetGalley Co-Op for the ARC – This is my honest review.

4-5 Stars

BLURB

Once upon a time, I was Nona May Taylor, a twenty-three-year-old folk singer on a collision course with stardom. Until a jealous witch cursed me into old age so she could steal my career. Now I’m hiding out in my grandpa’s cabin in the Montana wilderness, nursing my aching joints and shaving my old lady beard while the witch climbs the charts as one of the world’s biggest pop stars. It sounds tragic, but the weird thing is, it’s really not so bad. The cabin is peaceful. I have my family and my agent—even though the witch cursed them too. I have my eccentric neighbors—even though they live ten miles away. And I have Charlie, the adorable hiker I’m nursing back to health after he fell in my woods. Charlie has no idea who I used to be. To him, I’m just a quirky geriatric recluse. But sometimes the way he looks at me, it’s like he sees me, the real me under the wrinkles. When the witch said only true love could break the curse, I figured it was just another one of her tricks. But when I looked in the mirror this morning, my skin was smoother and there were strands of brown threaded through my silver hair. It must be my imagination. Charlie and I barely know each other. I’m old enough to be his grandmother, sort of. There’s no possible way he’s my one true love! So why am I swooning while he plays my old songs on my guitar? Why is he laughing at all my terrible jokes? Why can’t I shake the feeling that I’ve known him for years? And why is the witch suddenly back on my doorstep? Beat the heat with this snowy, witchy, and very adult gender-flipped Beauty and the Beast retelling!

#Jess K. Hardy #NetGalley #Victory Editing NetGalley Co-Op #Fiction #Magic #Fantasy #Romance

[mcrmadness]

Artist asks; 4, 19, 25

Thanks! ^^

---

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

FARIN URLAUB. Altho I wouldn't say a fave cos I in general don't exactly have favorites, but we all know how annoying his face is to draw. It's just so symmetrical and he simultanously looks unique and so normal that in 9/10 drawings he looks like someone who looks like Farin but is more like some weird AU clone where something is off but you can't exactly pinpoint what that is.

He's fun to draw to my comics tho, I guess I've pretty much succeeded at capturing his most farinesque features for that version of him, but every single time I try a semi-realistic or realistic approach with or without a reference, I just fail miserably. UNLESS I use the grid system, but sometimes I fail even with that.

Also his hair is so annoying to draw (semi-)realistically. Every hair tutorial says "don't draw individual hairs, but strands of hair!" BUT HOW WHEN THIS MAN HAS NO STRANDS OF HAIR??? It's just all individual hairs pointing upwards and I feel like having a stroke when I stare at photos and try to figure out his hair 3-dimensionally but it feels more like some 5-dimensional thing that shouldn't exist in this world.

---

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.)

I like anything with depth and perspective, like something that is a rectangle, for example. In fact I like drawing almost any kind of object from phones to idk, stoves. They're fun challenges. Just anything that I can easily draw to look 3-dimensional! Unlike Farin's hair.

---

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by

Hmmm. My art has never really been compared to anything afaik 🤔

If not counting in that time when I was ~10-11 and created one of my various comic book characters I created back them. It was this worm/snake creature (which I called as "Käärme-Matoset" in Finnish which means "Snake-Wormeys" whatsoever. Idk how to explain it in English, but mato = worm, matonen = little worm, so the -nen works a bit like -chen suffix in German!) and I showed it to one of my then-friends also liked to draw a lot. And she just claimed that I had copied some comic book character from a comic that I had never even heard of, and I told her that I don't even know what that is, and she just claimed that nope. You copied this character X from a comic Y.

Here's a cover I did for my "comic book" back in the day (I used to just stack papers together and make a 'comic book' for most of my comics if I didn't have or didn't want to use a notebook for them):

The comic I allegedly copied from probably doesn't say much to you, as it was in a comic from a Swedish comic book artist, Lena Furberg, who drew (still draws?) lots of horse comics (both realistic and very cartoony) for a Swedish "horsegirl" magazine which had its Finnish counterpart too. So this comic was just about a girl with tons of pets and one of them was a snake. I wasn't into horses at that point yet, so I had never read that magazine, unlike this classmate. I think I was already a teenager or a bit older when my siblings started collecting the same magazine and I finally saw what the comic, I was accused of stealing from, looked like.

But yeah, other than that I in general don't get much feedback on my art or drawing style. One of my friends just keeps saying I have unique style with my comics and she has never seen anyone else draw like I do, which is a HUGE win cos my attempt is exactly that: to do my own thing and not have my art to resemble anyone else's unless it's like a tribute (which I honestly have not done ever) or just shows who have influenced me without my art looking like a copy of the art of any of those comic book artists.

With my Micron (the fineliner pens) drawings I think it might have been you, tho, who once said the messy style reminded you(?) of some artist but I no longer remember who that artist was as I had never heard of him before.

#useless-blog-of-a-moth #ask games #mcrmadness' art talk #(dä)

[multifailures]

Portraits When Writing Failed

Summary: In silent company, Benedict and Y/N would work until Benedict found something he definitely was not meant to see. 1.9k

A/N: I’m so slow at writing. I want to start getting at least two posts up a week but please be patient with me until I get there (: I also would love to get some song/lyrics/quotes prompts as requests-- it’s so much easier writing like that imo. if you want to send a request, i listed my preferred fandoms on my masterlist. hope you enjoy reading (:

Words were Y/N’s first love. She spoke in elegance many were envious of and had her head stuck often in the highest quality of novels. She even kept a diary of unspoken words of her devotion: poems of unrequited love and prose of unrealised potential. Those lyrics often fell with a single muse: Benedict Bridgerton.

Together, the two creative minds would sit in comfortable silence—in his house’s drawing room or her family garden, it didn’t much matter where. Sat far apart on opposite benches, there was an unspoken inspiration between the two. Their heads would be stuck in their notebooks or sketchbooks, only looking at one another when certain the other was too focused to notice. When she was not looking at him and her head was down, Y/N’s hair fell to her face in an ethereal halo that Benedict admired so much he couldn’t help but sketch each individual strand and the tip of her nose poking through. He favoured in drawing her eyes, too, letting colourful ink flow between pencil markings just to witness her mesmerising gaze in times he cannot be next to her.  

When looking at Benedict, Y/N wrote of the brightest of days that could never be dulled and of conversations that she never wished to forget. She wrote in verse of the lightest of touches as they danced in silent yearning; she rambled of secret glances she swore she’d seen. However, words had failed her in recent weeks. Her diary had become a mess of crossing outs and unfinished sentences. What’s more? Where words had trailed off, sketches had replaced. Many were innocuous—simple tree doodles and night sky scenes; she had filled many of these pages without thought, just as a distraction. Though, hidden between the pages of writing and doodles were possibly Y/N’s deepest secrets. She had drawn portraits of a man where words had failed to describe him. They weren’t good, she was certain, and some even failed to capture his likeness at all, but her hand still drew with absent-mindedness. Benedict was the only thing she could draw when she thought of whimsical love and safe comfort. Those feeling had consumed her more and more each day now that they returned to London for the social season.

In their current session of silent dalliance, Benedict and Y/N sat like they always did with space between. In the Bridgerton’s drawing room, Benedict lounged with his back on the couches’ arm rest while, ever-so-proper, Y/N sat with a straightened back on the blue armchair opposite. Neither had ever dared getting closer, no matter how much they had wished to. Y/N had been told all her life not to get too close to handsome men; Benedict has been taught by his eldest brother that proper ladies weren’t worth his time. Yet, they still kept each other company in their distance.

So, they sat with pencils to paper in the drawing room, trying not to make the other aware of their subject of desire. For some reason though, Benedict seemed to be in much more of a talking mood today. It had only been twenty minutes of quiet working until he speaks. “Y/N,” He gains her attention. “What are you doing?”

She refuses to take her eyes off her page, though she can see him in the corner of her eyes as he puts his own work down. “I’m writing, as always.”

“You’re certain?” He quips his head, a hint of a knowing smirk on his face. His gaze makes Y/N shift uncomfortably. She hums in agreement but feels her face begin to heat under his scrutiny, though surely there was nothing to worry. She looks back down to her notebook and turns the page to a less criminal page. No longer were multiple sketches of Benedict’s face plastered on a two-page spread, but writings of the large tree outside her bedroom window replaced. Y/N eyes him suspiciously, as he seems to supress a mischievous smile. He doesn’t mention her quick page turning but watches her with an intent that seems slightly suffocating.

“Then you’re not too busy, I take it.” He sits himself up, patting the cushion that his legs were just lying on. “Can you help with this drawing of mine?”

She questions, “How would I be able to help?” She didn’t have any artistic knowledge, if she did it was all from Benedict’s mouth. Nevertheless, she closes her book and stands with a smoothing of her lavender day dress.

“Oh, you’ll be most helpful.” His eyes trail her movement as she walks closer. As she approaches the sitting man, she sees the book that had lost his interest only moments ago. However, she realises as she sees the page sitting atop the book, that he had not lost any interest at all. Rather, it was this page of a series of small sketches that piqued his interest when he found it crumbled up during their last silent meeting. Like always, some words and doodles marked the paper, but much of the page was filled with only one sketch: Benedict.

She stops mid-step when she realises just what it is he’s holding. He is sure he hears her curse under her breath, something he had never heard from her before. His eyes widen in surprise, only smiling more with that. She attempts to reach it out his hand, their fingers brush together. There was little contact in their friendship; when their skin touched, every stress seemed to melt away. In that sudden connection, Benedict uses the advantage of their newfound touch to pull the book away with a gloating smile. He puts it behind his head, willing her to reach again.

“Stop your teasing, Ben!” She cries with frustration and lunges for the torn page. “Just give it to me!”

He snaps it away once again. She knew better to fight him and sinks into the seat beside him. For the first time he had seen in many months, her lady persona breaks as she huffs down into crossed arms and a pouting mouth. He chuckles but is met with a grumpy glare that only brightens his eyes more. In fact, he deemed it an adorable face that he wanted to memorise to sketch later.

He could only contain his chuckles for so long to ask, “Why on earth would I tease you?”

“Because it’s horrible! It barely even looks like you!” It wasn’t perfect, of course. His nose seemed a bit too big. His eyes may be looking in different directions, she couldn’t even tell. Yet, she did capture him in all that he is with a mischievous smirk and a suit a bit too dishevelled for his mother’s liking. “And it’s the most mortifying thing I’ve ever done.”

“It’s good, Y/N! Anyway, no, that’s not what I mean.” He passes his own sketchbook to her. He nods to the closed book, willing her to open it up and look at his work. She flips through numerous pages. She was not his only source of inspiration, but enough to shock her. She had known of a few of these sketches; he had asked her, amongst many others, to sit for him numerous amounts of time. The ones that caught her off guard, however, where the ones she was unaware of; the ones she had not seen after he said she could relax her pose. “How can I be teasing you, when I have done the exact same?”

She lands on one particular page towards the middle of the sketchbook. In this sketch that spread across the entire page, Y/N was drawn in charcoal hues as she sat at the pianoforte next to Hyacinth. She remembered that day clearly, their studying interrupted by the Bridgerton youngest, asking for an impromptu music lesson. Her nimble fingers fell on the keys just the same as Hyacinth, but she seemed merely a figure whilst every imperfect strand of hair and line of concentration on Y/N’s forehead were presented. She could not tear her eyes away from the masterpiece that was made in her image. She looked—no, he made her look— ethereal.

“Please, look at me Y/N.” He lifts her chin to meet his eyes with the softest of touches. He could not bring his voice to more than a whisper. “I have spent hours studying those eyes of yours and still find myself lost in them.”

“Ben,” Her breath hitches in her throat. Her heated cheeks are no longer the result of shame and embarrassment, but from being in such close proximity to the man she had spent years of quiet friendship with. “It’s beautiful.”

He chuckles, “I had never thought of you to be so arrogant.”

She whacks him with that very book, her eyes rolling at his failure to stop his teasing. He takes the book from her hands and drops it dramatically to the floor. Y/N watches it fall, worried it would ruin any work, but he keeps looking just at her. Her nervous eyes meet his yearning ones again. He lifts his finger to the fallen hair that he so obviously adored to draw and sweeps it away from her face. “It is not hard to make a drawing beautiful when its muse is the greatest beauty in every room.”

Her pout finally drops from her lips as she processes what he is saying. She tries to bring her eyes down to her fiddling hands but his hand that swept away her hand is now caressing her cheek. He keeps a light smile on his face, but a shaky breath escapes him as the only hint of anything other than teasing. He is just as nervous as she is, just a lot better at hiding it.

“It’s not something I ever wanted anyone to see,” She admits. He swears he could feel her head lean slightly into his touch. “You just always seem so lost in drawing and I got bored of writing one day but didn’t want to leave.”

Her quiet confession makes Benedict smile like he had never before. He didn’t think it possible to grin so hard. “You didn’t want to leave?”

He thinks he’s offended her as she sighs, but she shakes her head. She, for all he could describe, had an eye of a nervous wreck. Though, she was the writer, and he was the artist.  “Spending time with you is the best way to spend time in London. And when I’m not with you, I spend every minute I can be alone looking at the sketches I’ve drawn of you. Writing failed to capture you the way I wanted to in portraits.”

He trails his eyes down to the book and page discarded on the floor. He analysed just how he was captured: in between the markings and the erasings, he finally understood. He was drawn with love at the forefront of her mind. It was the same heart-warming emotion he felt any time he would pick up a pencil and think of her. His eyes left the book, trailed to the door that showed the empty hallway. When he was certain no unwelcome visitors would interrupt, his eyes finally landed back to the wonderful woman that seems to melt in his embrace.

“Y/N?” He whispers in quiet staring. “May I kiss you?”

She softly bites her lip and replaces it with a smile. The small tilt of her head signals a nod, and she places the fingers he loved draw on his forearm. Perhaps when writing failed to express her feelings, she could draw his portrait to express the love she sees in him. However, a simple drawing would never replace the feeling of soft lips on his and the slight grip, begging for him to never let go.

#imagine #imagines #fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagines #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x oc #benedict x reader #benedict x y/n #benedict x you #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton fluff #colin bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fluff #bridgerton brothers #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

[sanguinewrites]

The year is 1815… You believed that it would just be another season at court— fake smiles, airy laughter, tempting offers— but you never expected to be pulled into the true game that lay underneath the cordial elegance.

You never expected to be caught in the middle of a war that’s been going on in the shadows for centuries; never expected to be seen as the one who could stop it all.

Could you possibly appease the warring sides? Or will you lose yourself within the war just like they all had? Will your heart be ensnared by a creature you never even knew existed? Or will you stay on the course of sensibility? Of normalcy?

Only time will tell as the wicked games commence.

DEMO TBA

Features

This story is 18+ for sexual themes, alcohol use, violence, profanity, and blood.

Customizable MC: name, nickname, gender, sexuality, appearance, and a smattering of other things that’ll appear as the story continues.

Romance 1 of 5 (so far) options that will either lead you into the world of unknown or keep you rooted to what you know.

Figure out where you fit in the world that has suddenly become so much bigger than you believed.

As the heir of your families fortune many things are riding on your shoulders… will you finally let your heart win?

Remember to think with your head and your heart… as you’ll need both to make it through.

And remember to have fun!

The Wolf

Caidan/Céline Coinin is one of the most desired individuals among the court. With dark brown hair, enchanting green eyes, and bronzed skin, one wouldn’t need to wonder why. Of course, one also didn’t know that they could transform into a hulking wolf at will but some would think that added to their charm. That and the warmth that always seemed to exude from them no matter what. Stands at 6’0”.

Species: Werewolf

“We were meant to be together by the writing in the very stars themselves. You’re everything and more that I could have ever hoped to have. I promise you I’ll always protect you.”

The Cold One

Many things have been whispered about Adrian/Amara Hollis; they’re cold demeanor, the sharpness within their sapphire blue eyes, and the ethereal quality of their entire countenance. Barely a strand of their raven black hair being out of place as their fair skin seemingly glows underneath the light. Their steely demeanor only shifting for you as an inquisitive look takes over. Stands at 6’6”.

Species: Vampire

“I’ve been alive for a long time, sweet thing, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as exquisite as you when you first wake up. Nor have I ever felt as happy as I do when I have you in my arms.”

The Best Friend

If there’s one person you can count on it’s Seth/Selina Taylor who’s been your best friend since you can walk. They’re the only one who can help you sort out what your life has become. Their patient words, calm disposition, and knowledge of you allowing them to do so. Cognac brown eyes, light brown skin, and ebony curls being something that drew many people in. Stands at 5’8”.

Species: Human

“If I would have known that you felt this way about me I would have tried to give this a shot years ago. It would have saved us the sheer boredom we’ve felt in the past at least. And I would have been able to have you in my arms for longer.”

The Flirt

One of the most controversial figures within the court; Victor/Victoria Winthrope play the season as if it was a game. Their devious smile, mischievous hazel eyes, and fiery auburn hair, pulling people in. Will you be the one that finally catches this casanovas heart? Or will it only end in heartbreak for you both? Stands at 5’7”.

Species: Human

“You’re everything my aching heart could have dreamed of, sweetheart, I’m so lucky to have you in my arms. I can’t imagine being anywhere else but here with you.”

The Promised One

You can’t have gone to court for as long as you have— though not as long as V— without catching someone’s eye. The kindhearted Richard/Regina Lewis had made their interest known since the last season— allowing you the time to decide between then and now— and they’re awaiting your answer upon your return. Dark brown eyes, light blonde hair, and tanned skin allows them to be quite the catch. Will you let them have your heart? Stands at 5’11”.

Species: ???

“I know that I may not have been your first choice but I’m glad that you’ve given me the chance to be your last. I want to prove to you that I’ll always make sure you’re happy. That, no matter what, I’ll always be by your side.”

#wicked games #interactive fiction #interactive novel #choice of games #hosted games #no demo #yet

[distracteddegenerate]

I'm sorry if this annoying but can I please get a little fanfic with the inumaki forget idea ? Sorry if this werd English isn't my first languag

Not annoying at all anon, In fact I really like this idea of yours. (Also your English is pretty good so don’t worry!) Hope you like the fic!

CHARACTERS: Inumaki Toge x Female Reader

WARNINGS: Smut, Dark Content, Noncon, Yandere, Manipulation, Mind Control/ Brain Washing, Cunnilingus

Minors Do Not Interact! 

1.5k words

It was comforting, the fluff of ashen white hair that lay on your shoulder, the morning light seeping in from behind the slat blinds cascading a bright shimmer over the expanse of the snowy tufts. The individual strands were dusting your skin feather-light, tickling against you in the sway of every meager intake and exhalation of breath escaping Toge’s mouth.

You had known Toge for years now, and although you couldn’t truly remember how you even came to know him in the first place, he had effortlessly situated himself in the spot of one of your nearest and dearest. You found that his earnest silence brought you solace, words that he could not convey through sentence instead being understood through the knowing glances and expressions you had come to share with one another, the fluency of this mutual language only strengthening with the passage of time.

Now was one of those blissful moments of comfortable, knowing quiet. domestically lounging around your apartment during a day off, lazily giggling at some meme compilation in unison while leaning against one another on the settee. You couldn’t think of a better way to spend your time, this cozy sphere of amenity that you had constructed with Toge an apt repose from the outside world.

Whilst you were lost reflecting on your rosy blessings, you were suddenly brought back to reality when you felt the weight of toge’s head lift from your shoulder, turning to meet the familiar gaze of inquisitive violet eyes peering at you from behind off-white tresses.

“Are you okay, Toge?”

“Mustard Leaf.”

The response, that usually implied he was doing fine in the small dictionary of onigiri vocabulary he had come to employ.. Didn't feel genuine, to say the least. His irises were blown wide, registering your countenance as though he was trying to gleen some hidden information from your inquiring squint, when Toge began to lean further over you. You turned the front of your body to look at him directly, though you were steadily inclining your spine backwards in your perplexion at Toge’s unusual advancement.

He soon had draped his entire upper body over yours, hands reaching around your frame to press into the sofa to support himself as his face drew dangerously close to yours.

“Toge?” A heat was rising in your upper body. Sure, you and Toge were incredibly close friends.. But this was a little too much for your liking. You pressed your palms against the jut of his shoulders and pushed slightly, though with no true force. Blushing, you faced away from him, trying to announce your discomfort at his invasive approach. “T-toge.. This is a bit too-”

“Don’t move.”

And sure enough, compelled by some otherworldly force to entertain the command, you had stopped moving in your tracks. It didn’t take long for you to figure Toge had used his technique. Like a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car, your body froze statuesque while conflicting eyes beamed alive, frantically searching for the reasoning behind the cruel fate that was racing towards you.

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach at the sight of his lips pulled tight, his usually bright irises murky with shadows of deception. Something awful was afoot. His deadpan look in conjunction with the preceding events told you this was no prank, swiftly realising that your trust in him had been irredeemably breached to the point of fear at what was coming next. Your body twitched as you strained under the spell that had been cast on you, helpless to the plummeting feeling of the safe structure of friendship you had built with Toge coming crumbling down around you.

Your fears were proven genuine when Toge’s hand began reaching forward, coming to rest on the curve of your hip. You tried to communicate with your eyes, begging for him to stop and to just think about what he was doing, but he paid no heed to it. In fact it seemed like he was ignoring your glare, focused on the task that lay at his palms. He began deftly inching your bottoms down over your pelvis, panties and all coming to a halt over your thighs, just above your kneecaps.

It was then that he shot you a glance of what seemed like sorrowfulness, as if he was fully aware he was enacting something cruel but thought it necessary. Perhaps like how a farmer would look at lame animal before putting it to rest. 

Still, you were broken away from the horrid thoughts and back into a harsher reality when Toge had begun ripping the aforementioned cloth even further down your legs until they reached your calves. Shoving his hands between your thighs, the pads of his fingers pressed forcefully against the flesh and separated the limbs till they spread wide. You were completely exposed, the open air cutting a chill against your privates.

He traced his fingertips over your slit, with whatever wet, however slight gathered up in it’s trailing wake. He looked you in your eyes when he brought the digits to your clit, as if looking for a reaction when he began grinding his forefingers against the sensitive nub. Unable to do so much as flinch away from the offensive touch, you mentally grit your teeth as you felt that aching bundle of nerves scream against the assault. It felt painful, at first. You were so unprepared for the sudden encroachment on your most sensitive parts, It made you want to recoil in on yourself completely, though there was nought you could do in protest.

Toge began occasionally lowering his fingers to reach directly into your core, drawing out the little slick you were producing to mercifully rub it over your clit. The lubrication meant his ministrations were less painfully direct, his motions transforming into a light flutter that felt traitorously gratifying, an unwarranted heat beginning to pool in your stomach. Your body was disobediently reacting to his touches with craving, and it made you want to hide away forever but unfortunately you were rendered completely unable to escape the explicit display you were being forced to partake in. 

You felt his warm breath exhale humid air over your cunt, when you noticed from your frozen position that you couldn’t see Toge’s face any more, only the top of his alpine locks as he lowered himself further over your pulsing heat.

You knew what was coming, but you still inwardly lurched with shock at the swiping of that lithe muscle over your aching bundle. The feeling made you throb with hypersensitivity, the combination of the attention that area had received earlier now with the sudden sensation of Toge’s wet mouth lapping at you desperately causing your entire pussy to twitch around his tongue in a chase for release.

Dragging and dipping his emblazoned tongue over and between your sopping folds, he came to plant his mouth directly over your clit. He sucked over it with such vigor his cheeks completely hollowed, rolling your nub between his lips whilst deft fingers aided in your pleasure as he continued to pump them in and out of the sticky apex of your crotch. 

He worked at you for some time, steady in the intensity of his applications. It wasn’t long before the sensations grew too much, pussy clenching around his fingers as you reached a climax, flood gates swinging open as you gushed helplessly over his face.

He stayed where he was for a second, before rising. When his pale face came into view, you took in the sight of your own slick washing trails down his chin, the purple tattoos it overlay on his cheek glistening prismatic in the light the sun cast over it. He looked wild, salivating at the maw, sparkling amethysts settling an intense gaze into your own eyes which were vacantly still trying to work through the thralls of your orgasm.

Yet, fear sparked them alert with dread when you saw his mouth drop open to speak once again.

“Forget.”

Even in that split second of recognition you had before your memories had been erased for (unbeknownst to you,) the umpteenth time, it was enough for an intensely visceral stream of consciousness to flood your thoughts. You realised intuitively Toge was never really the person you thought he was, and you wondered how many times you had been used like this. How much had happened, how much had you been subject to by his cursed technique. Just how much was real in that domestic setting that you had been experiencing before it all came crashing down like this.

***

If only you knew just how much of your true self had slipped away. With your hands wrapped around his cock once more, The sunset and rise beginning to melt away at the edges into a haze of warm gradients was just a pretty sight to you, the concept of time becoming irrelevant to you as you settled into your life as an ignorant hostage.

Extra Notes:

Yeah so this kinda became a fucked up version of 50 first dates.. although now that I think about it I guess 50 first dates is pretty fucked up? Also god writing a character who hardly speaks is so hard in fic format;; I guess enjoy the challenge though

#inumaki x reader #inumaki #yandere inumaki #dark jjk #jjk #noncon tw #dubcon tw #yandere tw #manipulation tw #mind control tw #brain washing tw #smut #dark content

[stopeatingwhales]

football hysteria x damon albarn

I LOVED THIS SM LMAO !!!!!!!! football obsessed damon is so cute

Pairing: 90s damon albarn x reader

Warnings: noneeee

Word count: 2.281

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

"Who you supporting?" Graham asked me, handing me a beer as he sat himself beside me on the couch next to me in the middle, Damon sat on the opposing side. Damon had dragged me over to Graham's house to watch the Man City and Chelsea game tonight, and knowing just how competitive Damon came to football, I knew it was better that I simply went along with things rather than moan about how much I really didn't want to spend two hours watching two teams pass around a ball for entertainment.

"Erm, Man City." I replied, quickly flicking the can open to taste the bittersweet barley flavouring of the heineken beer as it embellished the walls of my mouth.

"You don't support Chelsea?" Damon questioned, his eyebrows furrowed.

A small chuckle left my mouth. “Of course I don't, they're shit." I sneered, aware of the havoc that my statement was going to cause. Immediately, Damon's mouth fell agape; stunned by my malevolence, as well as partial shock from the new-found information surrounding my opinions on football.

Graham's laughter rang through the room and my ears as my eyes continued to burn into Damon's piercing gaze, him just as amused as I was. Nobody was as big a football fan as Damon had become. "They're anything but shit," he continued, eyebrows now raised as he scoffed. "You're telling me that you support Man City? Gallagher-brother-Man-City?"

"Okay I'm going to sit between you both,'' Graham announced, swiftly standing up, shoving my body to the side he had just accompanied, placing his body between me and Damon, a blockade to prevent either of us going at each other's throats. "Just so we can all be alive by the end of it."

“Well I wouldn't have fucking invited her over if I knew she supported those manic twats, Graham."

"Piss right off Damon, we're in Graham's flat, not yours." I bit back, completely unphased by his childlike behaviour. It had been made quite apparent to the media that Chelsea were indeed the band dominated by the south, as well as Blur, and Man City were celebrated in the north by Oasis. However, it was quite comical noticing the immediate flush of anger that filled Damon's face after my sly comment. Leaning back into the loveseat, my back adorned the soft feel of the cushion behind me. "Graham, who do you support?" I asked, curiosity laced in my words as the football pitch came into view on the television screen - initiating the beginning of the match.

My eyes were focused on Graham as I watched him toss his glasses onto the coffee table in front of us, which had been cascading with countless bags of crisps and other treats to keep us stuffed as the ninety-minute match played through. "In all honesty, I'm not that phased with football," he began, reaching over to open a bag of crisps. "It's Damon here who's completely obsessed with it."

As the match began, tensions were already built to a high degree between the three of us. Small but meaningless comments had been thrown into the atmosphere of the apartment, merely portraying our silliness and how neither of us had seemingly outgrown the competitive side of our personalities, something that would be more apparent during teenage years. Unfortunately however, very early into the game, Damon's supporting team had decided to skillfully snatch the ball from one of the players, eventually managing to get it into the goal - portraying the first goal scored subsequent to the game's start.

Damon instantaneously rose at the goal, shouting loud enough for the neighbours to hear every single word that rumbled out of his throat. "Told you we were bett-" he said, smugness intertwined between his words so effortlessly, though shamefully his words had been cut off by the sound of the cushion, once placed behind me, now hitting his face. I couldn't help but allow a tiny smirk to illustrate itself on my facial features as I admired his face dripping in absolute bewilderment towards my actions. “What the fuck was that for?” he scoffed, falling back into his side of the sofa, as I sustained the grin on my face, watching him. The atmosphere that was once overflowing with hostility was now completely serenaded with Damon's egocentric giggles, forcing my body to hunch into a sulk at how quickly my team had been warranting for a loss so early into the match.

Mid-way through the game, Graham had decided to go to the corner shop by his apartment to get more beers for us to share, due to us having run out to share between the three of us. I dreaded being alone in the room with the game ongoing with Damon present, full-well knowing that his upbeat jolliness would attempt to torment me upon the fact that he was winning, which, to my demise, was exactly what had occured. The air fell still in the room once the sound of the door slamming etched through the flat walls, my gaze focused entirely on the match following on the screen, attempting to focus my mind on anything but the room that I was currently occupied in - though my peripheral noticed Damon's head almost instantly turned to look in my direction once it was made evident that Graham wasn’t inside the flat anymore. As if reading my mind, he decided to shift his body weight, which was once adorned to the other armrest of the burgundy couch, right next to me, where he attempted to wrap his arm around my shoulders, warming me into an embrace. In spite of this, I could feel his intense stare on my features. Using all my strength to avoid connecting eyes with him, I wasn’t going to admit defeat so easily, my stubbornness proving a point.

Once Damon realised, he carried on watching the game, however his body had continued it's embrace with mine. At one point, I was thinking that the match was going to be a lost cause from the performance shown by Chelsea, However, things began to turn around, and Man City managed to score a goal, to Damon's consternation. The sudden win resulted in me lunging from my seat, swiftly detaching myself from Damon, my whole body cheering towards the goal as it replayed on the screen. What was amusing was that, after I had finished my applause, I noticed that Damon had moved back into his seat by the side of the couch, distancing himself from me. "Aw, you don't want to sit with me anymore?" I sarcastically questioned, not waiting for an answer as a small smile crept on my lips. It was very amusing, pissing Damon off. I must say, watching his ego deflate into nothing but a simple sulk at the corner of a room was really the sight.

"What did I miss?" The sound of graham's voice sounded through the room, paired with the clank of multiple beer bottles as he reached into the plastic carrier bag to place them on the table. Each and every one had an individual water-streak pattern, indicating that they had just been chilled - when they taste best.

"Man City scored!" I exclaimed, reaching out for one of the glass bottles as I got the bottle opener to unfasten it from its metal clasp, promptly taking a swig from the beverage. The intent was, of course, to provide Graham with the extra knowledge upon the events that occurred during the match whilst he was absent, however knowing myself, I had also wanted to remind Damon of said occurrences, to surge him to the edge of his frustration. Exclaiming it at the top of my lungs held just enough power to do just that.

A chuckle immediately left Graham's mouth from my enthusiasm. "Need me to sit between you both again?" He jokingly asked, yet an element of seriousness was laced between his words.

“Depends if Damon's gonna stop sulking or not.” I replied, focusing my view on the game playing on the screen.

"You're the one who was fucking throwing the cushions!" Damon shouted, reaching over to grab himself a beer.

"Because you were pissing me off!" I answered, shifting my gaze onto Damon, who was, to my surprise, staring directly at me. There was a certain look of annoyance glazed on his features, though the agitation seemed to subside as soon as we locked stares, as if he was longing for my eyes to bear their sight toward him, as if it was an examination, an analysation to confirm whether we were still on good terms or not; of course we were, while conflicting preferences drew evident tears between us during that moment in particular. After a few seconds had passed, Damon leaned back into the cushion, carrying on watching the game unfold, satisfied with his response from my eyes. Switching my gaze over to Graham, I took notice of a look of question illustrated on his features, to which I decided to mime that it was alright, in order to move myself next to Damon once again. It would've been a lie, and a mere understatement, to say that I hadn't missed his arms around me.

Bunching up next to him, enough space was made to allow graham to sit himself down next to me, though that thought was the last passing my mind; my body was shivering from nervousness, the close proximity between us, regardless of our romantic acquaintance, never failed to bloom butterflies at the pit of my stomach. Due to my body's weight pressing down onto the cushion next to him, it was obvious that he was aware that I moved to sit next to him - but at a cause of his stubbornness, him averting all his attention onto me, admiring me as if I was the only living being in the apartment, a home that hadn't even belonged to me, would never happen - it would take much more to result in his feign of irritation to melt away. Placing my arm around his shoulder, I granted my hand to reach up to his beautiful head of hair, my fingers caressing his strands gently as I brushed any parts that were sticking out on the sides of his head. His arms were wrapped around one another, like a child encompassed in an angry stupor at their parent due to them not allowing them a packet of sweets from the grocery store, though I was playing at his heartstrings, aware of just how much he adored me playing with his dirty blonde locks.

For a short sum of time, we both sat there, my hands never halting their actions. The next few minutes of the game played out of continuous dribbling and passing to other teammates, oftentimes resulting in the other team taking hold of the ball and running around with it for a while until their attempt to score. Randomly, Damon's arm had released itself from its shared embrace with the other, engulfing my body with his as he encased his left arm around my shoulders. We were in a sense of comfort with one another, though from Damon's avoidance of my stare it was made obvious that he was still in the least carrying a small element of annoyance, nevertheless, as I allowed my eyes to linger onto his delicate, paradisiacal features, holding back a grin was seen much easier said than done, a small curvature sneaking itself on his lips.

"Look who's won." Graham mumbled, his voice detaching me out of my trance that I was enamoured in.

A laugh rang itself out of my throat as I admired the lengthy team cheering as they enveloped one another in a massive embrace. "Told you they were better!" I grinned as I diverted my gaze onto Damon, the same look of frustration painted on his demeanour, still avoiding his eyes on me. "You want a kiss?" I asked, tilting my head in order to make sure I was the main thing in his sight, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep up his facade so easily. "Kiss kiss?"

I continued until his eyes met mine. It was as if, for a short segment of time we were frozen in place, momentary seconds passing of us merely marvelling at the view illustrated forth one another, my hands snaking their way around his neck as I leaned in slightly, noticing his blue orbs fall onto my lips, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his mind wandered through fields of appraisal. It was then where I couldn’t hold resistance for any longer, and I doubted that Damon could, bringing my head forward as I let my lips latch onto his, allowing time to flow as they lingered still before he kissed me back with gentle force, enough to notify me of his desire that encompassed him just as much as me. The kiss held innocence, portrayed adoration in its true beauty, nevertheless, also embodying eagerness, a yearning of lust.

"I'm going to be honest," I mumbled, removing my lips away from his, panting as I attempted to recollect my breath. "I don't actually support Man City."

"Of course you fucking don't." Damon laughed, our lips connecting once again as he perched his head forward, intoxicating me with the very thing that I desired most in that significant moment.

"If you're gonna shag, please go home." Graham groaned, causing our bodies to jolt at the sudden awareness that we weren’t alone together. Pulling away instantly, a wave of embarrassment covered my cheeks as we looked at one another, infatuation the single thing flowing out of our eyes.

“Sorry Graham.”

#i loved this so much please #damon albarn x reader #damon albarn #90s #blur band #britpop #graham coxon #imagines #band imagines