#I didn’t know how digital art worked at all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

birdantlers · 8 months

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A heartfelt and grievously expanded-upon update to this—please, please read the whole thing if you can. reblogs much appreciated.

(DISCLAIMER, for all who are saying reasons like abusive parents/legal stuff/toxic ex/triggering memories/page got deleted/job/stalkers/bullying/[[insert any other shitty life thing]], This is not concerning that—personal safety & health ALWAYS comes first, and is worth more than any media ever could be. This is my biggest reason for defending that autonomy. I would be a hypocrite to say I hadn’t deleted triggering posts of mine or ones that got me in trouble with my family.)

it genuinely makes me sad and kinda upset when someone purges all their old art off the internet like. barring harmful content what if someone liked that. What if someone would have. And now nobody will ever know and it's just gone. even people's old invader zim askblogs or whatever getting deleted feels like a micro alexandria to me and that's just something I made up. I wasn't even thinking of a specific one it just stresses me out. Is this the autism I don't get why nobody else seems to freak internally abt it like I do. I see artists whose blogs I've never even looked at go like "man so glad I deleted all my old stuff it's so clean" or saying they throw out art from when they were kids I'm like. how are you not hurling. How is that not distressing that is literally your tree rings why would you do that. I want to see what's out there. people want to see it I promise someone out there likes it

...don't they??? Does everyone get quietly irrationally upset by this as me, or is this just hyperfixation/autism/some amalgam of the two. I'm not a hoarder or obsessive compulsive or anything like that so i wonder..

Anyways. reblog if you had a favorite amateur youtube animator in your childhood whose channel got nuked without a trace one day that you still think about.

I wanted to attach this video because it condenses my point very well. A TLDR of sorts. Please watch the whole thing, it genuinely changed the entire way I think about art as a concept.

(2nd vid is "Subjectivity in Art")

“The moment your art touches an audience, the ownership shifts in an irreversible way. [They're] not having an art experience with you and your intentions. They're having an art experience with the art object.

“You can't just burn your past; it's not even your past to burn anymore. It's other people's history as well. Whether or not you like it, that art is already bonded to somebody's soul, and if you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it.”

The digital age makes it very easy to distance or detach yourself from the impact your work has—be it art, fanfic, videos, even memes. Online content is as important to people now as any other media, if not more. But it's also by far the easiest, fastest, and most effective form of it to erase from public access. Media so unbelievably important to people and in general. Yes, you—with the 2010s purple sparkle dog speedpaint. I still think about that speedpaint all the time, because it was the first time i learned that you could draw on a computer, and I thought it was cool as hell. I still do.

I do wish there was a stronger culture of preservation and consideration for this, because every time I see people talk about snuffing their stuff because it doesn't personally resonate with them anymore, I just think ...what about all the people it did?

I've seen lots of people saying "get over it, it doesn't even matter," but it fucking does. It does matter. Even if I didn’t make it, even if I don’t have to deal with being the one who made it, even if I'm naturally inclined to be distressed by it—It still matters. And there’s nothing you could ever say to suddenly make it not matter, because there’s nothing you could ever say to make it not matter to me.

Don't devalue the act of creation. Don't dismiss something you made. It's out there, in people's thoughts and hearts and souls, and that is real. Even if you don't know it. Especially if you don't know it. Especially in a world where physical media is being snuffed out, the internet is constantly dying without any physical remains to recover, social isolation is rampant, and simply because independently produced content online is still media.

Fanfiction can hold equal or greater significance to someone as a book, but you can’t unpublish a book. Authors don’t have a button that can vaporize every copy of their work across all time, but fanfiction authors do. I’m not counting people who download fics either—when you buy a book, that transaction is over. But online, you have the power of unending transaction that can be terminated instantly at your will. The process of publishing fanfic vs. publishing a book may be different, but people’s connection to the art is the same intensity.

So yeah. I do get depressed about the Internet being a constant Alexandria, but the times I get the most depressed is when I click someone's page and see that all their work is gone because they're ‘curating a new aesthetic’ for their page or some shit. Or weeding out all the "ugly" art. Or just went on whatever the hell 'thrill deleting' is, because they just get a kick out of it.

Fuck it—yeah! It upsets me! I’m not wrong to say that. I’m saying it!

Under the cut, because it got long as shit! Also don’t worry the ending is way sappier and more ‘beauty of human nature’ vibe so it’s not all doom and gloom lol

What if that was someone's favorite art of that character. What if someone read that 'cringe oneshot' on the worst day of their life. What if that Warriors meme vid is still burned into a college student’s mind despite being gone for 10 years. What if it's actually not just you and the ones and zeros you rent out to the world—secure in knowing the original will always be on your computer for you to do whatever you want with it.

I really, deeply wish there was more of a general awareness of this, because even though social media can be used like a diary, that’s functionally the opposite of what it is. It’s social media. When you post, it’s no longer in a vacuum, even though you can’t see the real humans that content touches—often deeply.

Media is history. You shouldn’t burn that history just because you personally believe it isn’t worth saving.

Because it’s no longer just your personal opinion. It’s no longer just your personal work. it’s. history. Memory of media is not a suitable replacement for the media itself. If it was, we wouldn’t save anything at all. Nostalgia is an agent of that. The definition of nostalgia is grief for moments of the past that are inaccessible, and the biggest balm for that pain is accessing a physical reminder of those moments. That opinion of yours is no longer personal. It’s weighed against uncountable people across all time that your thing is ALSO personal to. People who would, and will mourn its absence.

How many times have you joined an older fandom only to discover that some of its most popular works are gone? How many times have you routed through random blogs looking for scraps people hopefully reblogged? how many times have you used Wayback machine desperately praying that a fan fiction or a YouTube video will be there? How many times do you look up crunchy old vines or YouTube videos or anime AMV‘s? How many times do you remember old fanfic.net sex that impacted you in middle school, only to shake your head and go ‘probably no point even looking.’

i mourn the absence. No, people can’t and shouldn’t have their agency over what they post revoked, but they should be conscious of that weight. If you’re reading this and getting extremely annoyed, and you’re not in the pink text above,,,, good.

I honestly do hope it gets under your skin. I hope it sits with you. I hope you feel it every time you hit that button, and whether or not you do hit that button—if you hesitate, if you remember this, even spitefully, I’ve done my job. I am howling into the void. And I may not want an answer, but I do want my anguish to be heard and remembered. Because it isn’t me just being melodramatic.

I know I sound that way writing so much, but if my favorite writing YouTuber can drop trow this week and go, "yeah, sorry, all my video essays from less than a year ago that you listen to in the car all the time? I'm "rebranding" my content so i deleted them. besides, my personal views don't really agree align with the analyses i did, or the techniques i taught in them anyway. Sorry if some of the literal tens of thousands of you used them, but I don't want to feel shackled to having youtuber "classics" tied to me”

….then i guess I'm just going to have to sound dramatic! That fucking sucks! Hours of work and knowledge gone! This was a new channel too. It’s very likely there’s no archive of any kind, because who would think someone who worked hard enough to write, record, and edit hour-long videos, would just turn around and nuke it all? I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I did just start a new screenwriting class a few weeks ago, so I’ll tell you at least one person is REALLY missing those fucking videos right now. Because a lot of them were about specifically screenwriting, which I know jack shit about. and that specific person’s pace, editing, and style of breaking down information was the best suited style I found that I could focus on and absorb. There’s no replacement for that. No alternative for his individual perspective. his jokes. his opinions.

No, they may not resonate with him now, but in this decision, he’s put up a big middle finger to everyone who might have. And he has like 100k subscribers! Those are confirmed supporters! Imagine how many silent and untethered observers are feeling this loss right now. Imagine how many will not have it in the future.

If he never posted them at all, we wouldn’t know we had it. It wouldn’t be a loss. But we did. We did have it. Until he decided that no, we didn’t, because he just happens to be the one out of millions of individuals holding the button to burn it in a hundredth of a second.

His personal work, the attachment I had to it, and the ways that it helped me are now just ripped away. I am one person out of millions, literal MILLIONS of people who saw and liked this content before it vanished. The soul has been ripped, the access severed, and by CJ’s (and my) definition, the art is functionally dead. Not for the YouTuber or anyone else lucky enough to save a link or download, but everyone else. From this point until the end of time, even if people even two weeks from now don’t know it. Even if someone who stumbles upon his channel today, doesn’t know it.

We only mourn the concept of Alexandria because we had some kind of scope for what was inside. Yes, maybe you got self-conscious and deleted your 12 year old deviant art account. Do you know who else is doing that?? THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of other twenty somethings who ALSO feel self-conscious about their old socials. Art. Fanfic. One direction fan videos. anything.

Suddenly, an unquantifiable amount of information from your age group—an entire age group in 2012, is. gone. And we will NEVER know what’s been erased from that history. We will NEVER know what could have been significant to us ten years from now. Twenty years from now. A hundred years. A thousand.

You could have deleted a fanfic that would have been someone else’s new go-to panic attack distraction tomorrow. You could have deleted a video someone used to laugh at with their friend who died yesterday. When you delete something, you risk tearing a hole in unknowable personal histories.

The Internet isn’t just a big library of Alexandria. It’s a library containing libraries. And those libraries have their own libraries in those libraries have their own as well. libraries inside libraries, inside libraries, ad infinitum. To conceive the amount of destroyed history on the Internet is crushing.

And I just can’t help but I ask myself how in gods name people can choose to contribute to that, instead of reposting everything to trash heap alts titled “hall of shame” or some shit.

You can offload to alts. Put up disclaimers. Make password locked blogs, or dropboxes, or anonymous imgur dumps. Anonymous reuploads. Orphan fics. Make a playlist or linktree of unlisted videos. Cut off the watermarks. Delete all references to it on your main. Make a dedicated unlisted playlist. make a google drive. Make new portfolio sites. Delete any questions you get about it. Change pen names. Pretend it never existed.

Give a heads up.

Something.

But don’t. kill. the media.

The knowledge that our stuff is going to forever be tied to us is a cross we have to bear, but the responsibility that comes with putting it out there in the first place, can’t be ignored.

Anyway. I'm not trying to start conflict. This is not a bash on anyone, nor a call for witch hunts. Or anon hate, or blocks and unfollows or anything of that nature. I'm not wishing ramifications or hate of any kind on anyone who does wants to do any of this.

I'm also not guilt tripping— I am not saying that you should feel bad. I AM saying why it makes me feel bad. That’s not guilting, it’s a dialogue. One I personally feel is long overdue.

It's me yelling into the void: please consider the real people on the other side of the screen before you hit that button. Realize and know that whatever you're about to erase from history could be the most important thing in the world to someone.

Art is an experience. It's why we revisit it. If art and history simply lived in the matter and code of media, we would only need to look at it once. We wouldn’t put things in museums. We wouldn’t build libraries. We wouldn’t look up vine compilations.

If you're able, consider (and I do mean consider, this is not a call to action) not destroying that. And don’t shrug it off as some pretentious asshole venting on Tumblr. You only need to look in the notes and tags to see that it isn’t just me. it’s never just me, or you, or the pixels.

And even if you do shrug it off, then at least recognize that what you make matters. Whatever you think about it, if it’s out there, that's not your discretion anymore. If a tree falls in the woods and even one person is around to see it, it fucking mattered. Because it happened. Don’t mulch your tree rings if you don’t have to. Because if enough people do it, a whole forest is gone. Media is history, no matter whether you think it’s worth putting in a museum, or only has 30 notes.

Thousands of years ago, a child named onfim doodled on his homework. They’re crude, and everyone has the wrong amount of fingers, and they’re also priceless archaeological artifacts recognizable throughout the world.

the only thing separating Onfim’s doodles and your MS paint Pokémon doodles is time. The only thing separating your old MS paint Pokémon doodles from being a priceless artifacts, thousands of years in the future is time. Your creations are already priceless artifacts. No matter what you do, don't ever, ever deny that. It isn’t blowing up your own ass, it’s artistic and anthropological fact.

The mundane and the supposedly unworthy are often the first things lost to time, and that’s why they’re so precious. That’s why artists who were before their time are scorned first only to be celebrated later. Do you think they knew that was going to happen?? What if they nuked it? Many probably did! But now that’s happening exponentially and instantaneously everywhere, WITHOUT the artist having to destroy their only copy—which makes it way easier and more dismissable.

Sometimes, If you’re revolutionary enough, people will make an effort to preserve your work, but recognized and thoroughly recorded work is rare compared to unrecognized and thoroughly recorded work.

Sometimes something is beloved enough that it would be impossible for it not to go down in history, but even then it isnt a guarantee, and it’s rare. But if van Gogh burned all of his paintings in a fit of despair before his death, we would have no van Gogh. Because he wasn’t respected as an artist in his time, but that wasn’t what defined the worth of his art. The people after him did, because his art was still there for them.

If you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it. If you belittle your art, you belittle the very real relationships and emotions and revisitations people have with the media. You defy the inherent worth and weight of a creation. you created. That's effort. It's passion. No matter how flippant or unskilled or worthless you think it is, it matters. Because at the end of the day, you could have chosen to make nothing at all, and you didn't.

•

Muting notifs

#artists on tumblr #Artistic #digital art #art history #anthropology #humanity #art discussion #art theory #skit yells

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faetreides · 1 month

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summary: rafe cameron x afab maid!reader

cw: titfucking, rimming/ass eating, collaring, power imbalance/dubcon, no real face slapping but reader gets rafe’s rings pressed into their face, gun mentions, rafe talks about wanting to do a line off reader’s tits, throwaway implication that his dad saw you, general rafe-esque warnings 💀, very plotless & possibly ooc (i’m new to the show but i’ve been lurking for a bit), rafe spits on reader, slight dumbification/objectification, hate sex coded but that's more bc i have a love/hate relationship with rafe, he calls reader a bitch once and a also a slut once, use of good girl

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not translate, repost, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

This stupid carpet is hell on your knees. Not that there was any time to pull a pillow down under them, you were pulled into the room and shoved down so fast you got dizzy. You’re brought out of your ruminations by a rough palm seizing your face in its grasp and squeezing.

Rafe huffs, leaning forward to make sure he didn’t miss the way your eyes widened as his fingers tightened. His gaudy rings are going to leave impressions on your cheeks but it’s hard to care about that right now. One second, you’re dusting off the son of your employer’s bedroom, and the next you’re getting a wad of split slung on your face.

Your pussy decides to be a traitor and clench in response.

“Sorry ‘bout that………” Rafe trails off, flicking the spit off your cheek like he was picking at a persistent hangnail.

The apology is as insincere as it could be but something about the bored inflection in his tone gets you wet.

“It’s fine.” Your “ice princess facade” as he’s called it falls apart a tad, an embarrassing heat blooming throughout your face.

He seems satisfied with his attempt at amateur art and scoops the rest up with two of his fingers. He doesn’t ask you to clean them off, just shoves them in between your plump lips without a word.

“You’re so fuckin’ messy, being such a shitty maid right now, you know that, babe?” He hums, giving your face one final squeeze.

You’re not even sure he knows your name, he sure doesn’t act like it. All he does is coo at you condescendingly as you suckle on his fingers, telling you how much better you are at this. Once you’ve done an adequate job of polishing them off, he pulls the digits away and gives you a weak love tap. Rafe’s obviously wanting to wring something else out of you.

You hate that your first instinct is to say “Yes, sir?”

You also hate that it’s what actually fucking comes out of your mouth.

The grin that splits his mouth reminds you of the only time you’ve ever successfully caught a mouse in an old fashioned trap. A vermin that used to disgust you until it stayed and you gave it a name. And then your mom has to turn you away from the sight of Jacque’s tiny body cleaved in two.

“Get those fucking clothes off, now.” He orders you, palming himself through his khakis. "And toys don't talk back."

You roll your eyes and comply. You ignore Rafe's ramblings about how he wished his dad made you wear one of those skimpy made costumes without underwear, that he way he could stare at your pussy whenever you bent over. The door is wide open, you know you could just make a break for it if you wanted. But you kind of like how the humiliation twists your stomach in a knot. The air in the room gets so much hotter when you focus on the large bulge in front of your face.

As soon as your uniform is lying on the hardwood floor in a rumpled heap, your tits are being squished together. Rafe takes several moments to weigh each globe of flesh in his hands.

"Pretty tits, always wondered what they looked like under that stupid uniform. Wanted to make a mess of you so bad but you had to be all fuckin' stuck up and prissy." He hisses, digging his nails into your breasts.

He massages them in circular motions, forcing them to press together like he could cum untouched to the sight of it alone.

You obediently stay silent as you watch Rafe stagger to his feet and wrestle his leather belt out of his pants. His bottom lip is being toyed with to the point that tiny drops of blood are peeking out of the skin. The leather makes a thwack! sound as it passes through the final belt loop and flops around. Rafe continues to eye your tits like a hawk as he wraps the belt around his hand and kneels down to your level.

He tilts your head up with one finger under your chin, "This is going around your neck, okay? I don't have a leash to go with it, but I'll get one for next time."

You open your mouth to speak or maybe to moan at the vision of the expensive leather tensely coiled around your vulnerable neck like a snake about to strike. The warning look he gives you shut you up, but your damp panties made you want to push him further.

"Don't move a muscle."

The belt was warm to the touch, probably because of all the hours Rafe had spent on the golf course or wherever his "business" takes him. You stay perfectly still as he curled it around your neck, having to wrap it around you again due to the length. The metal belt buckle clicked as he fastens it, tugging it firmly to test how tight it was. It definitely feels like a weight baring down on you, but you seem to be able to breathe so he steps back again.

"There we go, pretty bitch just for me."

His pants fall to the ground unceremoniously, revealing the cock you may have had a stray wet dream or two about. Crowned by neatly and clearly obsessively trimmed hair, it looks about 7 inches and thicker than your forearm. His cock has a slight left curve, with a couple prominent veins and an almost reddish-pink colored tip that puffs out at the sides a bit.

Rafe's cockhead catches the drool that embarrassingly leaks out of your mouth, and you kitten lick the slit as you stare up at him through your lashes. You want to smile at the punched-out groan emanating from above you, but he might slap you for getting cocky, it wouldn't be unwelcome.

"You like it, babe? Yeah, I bet you do."

He brings your hands up to your tits and you pick up on what he wants you to do. Anticipating Rafe Cameron's needs is part of your job after all. You scrape the sides of your chipped painted nails against them as you softly cup and squish the globes together, creating a perfect pocket for him.

"Good girl." He chuckles, ruffling your hair like you were his pet.

He savors the wet slide of his cock through the valley of your breasts. You hold them impossibly closer together, ignoring the discomfort by getting lost in the game of peek a boo his tip is playing with you during every thrust. A near constant stream of precum is flowing from the silt and ending up all over the tops of your tits.

Rafe pants as he speeds up his thrusts, his pupils expanding as he takes in the spectacle of you hot dogging him with your tits. For how preppy he likes to act sometimes, he sure does seem to enjoy painting you with his bodily fluids. He weaves his hands down from their deadly hold on your hair to pinch and flick your nipples.

" 'G-gonna cream all over these gorgeous tits, get them messy, then snort some coke off your nipples after.”

It doesn't take as long as a man like him would prefer before he's spilling all over your heaving chest with a sound so inhuman you'd think he was possessed.

You're past caring if he sees you hungrily open your mouth as wide as possible in the hopes of catching some of his cum in your mouth. You grind your sopping wet cunt against the floor when you do, and fuck it tastes better than it has any right to.

A quiet 'shit' rings out and the room spins as you're swiftly flipped on your stomach. Rafe crowds behind you and yanks your hips up. You don't think much of it until you feel warm breath on your ass. You jolt in surprise, and he gives you a light smack on both cheeks before spreading them with his thumb.

"Bet you thought I wanted your pussy, huh? Well, this tiny hole right here looks much cuter, you can't blame me. We'll get you some cute plugs." Followed by a flat tongue licking a stripe over your rim. He gives your hole a strangely soft peck and then teases the tip of his tongue past the entrance.

You squeal, which you'd be mortified by if the sensation of Rafe's tongue filling up your ass didn't feel so good. The way he curls it and jabs it deeper between your cheeks in short busts is running a huge risk of causing you to go insane. It's like he's exploring every nook and cranny, you should be laughing because the man that treats you like a back-alley whore is up to his ears in your ass. His groans and grunts are muffled but they give you the confidence to be louder.

He drags his face away and hangs his tongue over you until a load of saliva drips down onto you. You shiver when it meets your hole. A high-pitched moan comes out when he massages it into the puckered skin with his thumb.

He dots sloppy open-mouthed kisses up and down your rim, nipping the flesh as he goes.

"I would say it's gonna be too tight, but sluts like you can take anything, right?"

You're too busy nodding to notice the sound of shoes hitting the floor in their rush to get away, or that the person wearing them softly closes the door behind them.

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hydrngea · 1 year

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𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇

a/n : ahhh i've been so busy lately but i finally got the chance to write this last night! rafe’s kinda ooc so I apologize in advance lol hope you enjoy <3

notes/summary : early mornings are for appreciating you | rafe cameron x f!reader, fluff, established relationship (you’ve been together for years)

word count : 804

masterlist / latest rafe fic

daylight unwraps the hues of the room while the sun shines through the window you had neglected to cover up last night. rafe rouses with the light, eyes straining open.

it’s early; early enough for him to get up and close the curtains over the arbiture and fall back asleep with ease. but for some reason he finds himself too comfortable in the position he in right now-can’t get himself to abandon his spot on the bed and the warmth that radiates from you.

he stretches closer beside you, turning to lay with his back towards the window and facing you. he leans himself against his palm while creating a barrier between you and the light. he’s glad you sleep on your stomach, means the sun won’t get into your eyes and you can stay asleep.

mindlessly, his free digits find the curve of your back and trace over your skin; the imprints of the wrinkled sheets left on your preassure points. the faded strech marks on the flip side of your arms. the freckles on your shoulder.

he thinks his new favorite activity is finger painting over your features;t here’s just something about the way his calloused finger pads feel against the softness of your untouched complexion which could keep him occupied and content for hours.

rafe was never the inventive type, never good with shapes like an artist or spoken phrases like a poet. even with no knowledge of creative subjects he knew without having to study you for long that you were a work of art.

he thinks- even though he doesn’t know much about his existence- that god must of carved you just for him to admire.

minutes pass. the tangerine mountains of the sunrise fade to the comforting yellow the of the day and the sky returning to its familiar morning blue.

his exhales synchronize with yours, the room filled with a comfortable silence which feels so underrated.

you’re the one to break it, limbs shifting under the comforter you’ve mostly stolen off of him and lips smacking together as you awake.

you lift your head from your pillow and look at rafe with unfocused eyes which are just beginning to regulate to the abnormal amount of light that blankets the surface of the bedroom.

“shouldve closed the blinds last night,” you say as press your palms onto your eye sockets, and rafe can’t help but laugh. he pulls you on-top of him and you comply, letting out your own breathy chuckle because of how clingy he’s acting so early in the morning. your nose grazes the side of his before you slump down over him, cheek resting on his bare chest and ear right over his heart.

gentle lips brush on your hair and you melt on top of him, wrapping you own arms around his waist. he can feel your lips curving into a smile against his skin. “how long you’ve been staring at me?” you ask, head lifting from his chest to look at him.

“dunno.” he responds, voice still gruff. a hum exerts from you as you relax back into him.

again the two of you fall into a warm silence, content with being within each others space. no words are said and he returns to stenciling you; drawing shapes and patterns while trying to memorize you shape and every minuscule detail about your body as if you’d disappear any moment.

rafe thinks about all he didn’t do to deserve such a heaven sent gift like you. even after years together, there’s still a part of him who believes you deserve more, better. someone as pure as you. he thinks maybe he should express his gratitude towards you more often.

he’s the one to cease the quiet this time, softly at first. “i feel like..” he fingers begin to drag over the same spot while he tries to come up with the right words to say.

“like what?”

“like you were made for me. like i was made for you.”

his words make you sit up, locking your eyes with his. “what has gotten into you today, mr. whipped cameron.” you whisper as you lower your mouth onto his and press a gentle kiss at the corner of his lips.

he chuckles into you, lightly squeezing your waist. “nothing.”

“nothing?” he lets out a sigh as you pull away with your brow furrowed.

“just promise me you’ll never leave.”

“well if u keep saying stuff like that then why would i ever want to?” you say, dimples on display as your lips curve into a smile.

he scoffs, and you let out a screech when rafe flips the two of you over so he hovers over you. your hands find his cheeks, and you lift yourself up just enough to meet him halfway.

“i would never leave this.” you murmur against him, right before his lips spark over yours.

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taglist (let me know if you would like to be added!) : @mrsstarkey1 @of-many-fandomss @maybankslover @penny4yourthoughts

follow and reblog and i’ll do the same for you!

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altsvu · 4 months

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Congrats on 200 bunny!!!! You deserve it 🌸

Can I ask for a Hotch request pls? You can literally write anything you want, any prompt, but pls do the classic ‘we’re barely friends and oops there’s only one bed in this hotel room’ bc it’s my fave trope ever!!

“there’s a first for everything”, they say

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!black!fem!reader

prompts used: 40) “I love the way you look with my fingers inside you.” 58) “Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.” 93) “It’s okay, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while I’m between your legs.” from the 100 smut prompts!

summary: hotch invites you and the rest of the BAU on a vacation to the Bahamas, but his demeanor changes when he sees you and interacts with you outside of the professional setting for the first time.

wc: 1855

tw: pining (mentions of it), teasing, dirty talk, oral sex, p in v sex, mentions of sex, smut in general

a/n: i literally could not find a good gif for this so this will do! also this is a combination of another fic idea that i had so i kinda put a bit of a twist on this, i still hope you enjoy marley!! ❤️ @angelhotchner

criminal minds masterlist! ✯ taglist!

✯✯✯✯

The BAU had finally gotten vacation time, and all you wanted was to go home and sleep for 24 hours. But when Hotch invited you and the rest of the BAU to the Bahamas, it was hard for you to say no.

You wondered how it would go since you never really interacted with Hotch outside of cases, but maybe he might actually talk to you on a different level.

Then again, you were barely friends with him, acquaintance at most.

When the time finally came to pack for the trip, it was much harder than expected. After about 3 hours, you finally had your suitcases and your carry-on packed and ready to go.

Finally, you and the rest of the team were on the plane. To your luck, you and Hotch were sitting next to each other, with you at the window seat.

“Hey.” he smiled after settling down. You turned and smiled back at him and said hey back.

You couldn’t help but notice how good he looked. Like really good. His polo was doing him justice showing off his buff arms and chest, and his hair was fluffed to perfection. God, even his hands caught your eyes. His hands were big and veiny and you had recurring thoughts of him putting those hands to work.

On you.

Stop it, you told yourself.

You and Hotch were quiet the beginning of the flight, but you soon engaged in intriguing conversation with him. From expressing feelings about taking a break from all the gore that was part of working at the BAU, to sharing favorite scenes of movies that the both of you watched, that was the first non-work related conversation you’ve had with him.

And it felt amazingly natural, despite the bits of awkwardness in between.

The flight had a 55 minute layover in Miami, which you didn’t know about until you heard on the intercom, which woke you up from your rather comfortable nap.

That was when you noticed you had been napping with your head resting against Hotch’s arm. You quickly sat up and made sure he didn’t notice.

So much for barely friends.

During the layover, you curled up in a chair doing some digital art pieces on your iPad while eating lunch. You made it clear that you didn’t want to be bothered by anyone by putting in your headphones.

Hotch included.

You felt too embarrassed to talk to him after finding out you slept on him.

And didn’t even do anything about it.

He probably felt some type of way.

Or not.

You didn’t even bother figuring out his feelings, instead you spent the rest of the flight making mental notes of what you would do when you finally arrived.

✯✯✯✯

Bikinis were Hotch’s weakness. Well bikinis on you.

How did you know that?

You noticed that he couldn’t help but stare at you from the moment you took off your coverup, and when you walked past him at the beach, when you were resting on your beach chair talking with Penelope and Spencer, or alone reading a book, when you were playing beach volleyball with him, Morgan and JJ, and even when you were sipping on martinis with Rossi and Emily. Other people were checking you out too, but it seemed like Hotch was checking you out the most, admiring how beautiful the baby pink bikini looked against your golden chocolate skin.

So much for barely friends right?

The beach outing with the whole team was fun and you enjoyed your time there but you left the beach earlier than expected, spending some time alone shopping in nearby areas around the hotel. There was no reason in particular, you just liked spending time with yourself any chance you could.

You got back to the hotel room you were sharing with Hotch due to availability reasons, and quickly rid yourself of your clothes besides your bra and underwear and prepared to shower.

Until you realized that you forgot to bring your robe. bonnet and shower cap with you in the bathroom.

Hotch just so happened to walk in just as you were looking for it.

“Y/N, are you sleeping in that?”

“Oh shit!” you yelped, scrambling to cover your body. He came over to you after dropping his stuff on the ground. “Sorry,” you said sheepishly.

“Hey.” he whispered. “It’s just me.”

You felt yourself calm down instantly, but it just increased the level of awkwardness between you and him. After your shower, you got dressed for the night, which consisted of an oversized shirt and a pair of boy shorts, and relaxed in bed reading a book.

Hotch laid down next to you about 30 minutes later and you fell asleep moments after.

✯✯✯✯

Waking up in the middle of the night, you felt a warm body lean against you. You turned and gasped in fear until you realized it was Hotch.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" Hotch asked, turning around and placing his hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah sorry, I forgot I was sharing a bed with you for a moment." you breathed.

"I'm sorry I scared you out of your sleep."

You shook your head and turned back around. "It's not your fault."

It was silent between the two of you for a bit, and then Hotch reached over to massage your shoulders. It felt nice, you haven't had a massage in a while, if not ever. It was as if Hotch knew what you needed, what you were thinking about. A slight moan escaped your lips from how good it felt.

"Is that turning you on Y/N?" Hotch chuckled.

"No, it just feels really good."

Liar. It’s turning you on.

"I can make you feel good in other places, if you want."

“Oh, so that’s what we’re doing now?” you said, turning to face him with a smile on your face.

Hotch didn’t reply, instead he pulled you a bit closer to him and caressed your cheek.

“Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

“I do, but please remind me.”

He went into specifics about how he’d been admiring you from a distance and how he was scared to become close friends with you and screw it up.

“Y/N, you truly faze me.” he said at the end.

You felt your cheeks burning up at Hotch practically confessing his love to you. Without notice, he pressed a kiss on your lips. You went back in for more, and next thing you knew, you were on your back with Hotch’s hand lifting up your shirt. You helped him take it off, and there you were, almost naked again in front of him.

“Suddenly you don’t seem so shy to be naked in front of me.” he smiled.

“That’s because before, I was pretending that I didn’t like you.”

“Oh, so you like me.” Hotch murmured in between kisses to your clavicle.

You wanted to respond, but Hotch’s fingers were inching to your boy shorts and you felt yourself clenching up by his touch, so a smile was the best you could have done in the moment.

And next thing you know, they’re off.

You helped Hotch out of his clothes and the two of you were both naked.

In a hotel bedroom.

In the middle of the night.

You never thought you’d ended up this far with Hotch, let alone just being friends, or almost friends, with him. This was going through your mind as he was on top of you, kissing all over your body.

His hand was slowly trailing up your leg, then to your folds. He reached your clit and rubbed soft circles on it, all while pushing his pointer and middle fingers inside you.

With your past experience being intimate with other men, none of them ever made you feel this good with just their fingers. In fact, it was much different than you’ve ever experienced before.

“I love the way you look with my fingers inside you,” Hotch whispered, looking up at you.

You shuddered in pleasure when he said that, it felt reassuring.

He continued doing this through your first three orgasms. It got even more intense when he pulled his fingers out, devoured your juices and smashed his tongue on your opening. At this point you wanted to just grab fistfuls of his hair and moan at the top of your lungs.

Hotch being the profiler he is, knew exactly what you were yearning for.

“It’s okay, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while I’m between your legs.” he said, looking up at you again with a quirky grin on his face.

Your hands were now full of his soft black hair, reaching the climax of your fourth orgasm.

Before you could reach another one, Hotch stopped what he was doing, laid down on the bed and pulled you onto his lap. You shuddered at the feeling of his hands on your waist.

“I want to feel you,” he whispered. “Can I do that?”

“Yes, please.” you pleaded.

He adjusted himself to your opening, and to say you were in shock would be an understatement. The initial thrust almost had you crying out for mercy the way it felt so good. A throaty groan escaped Hotch’s lips.

“You must be enjoying this,” you said.

“I am. You’re so good to me.”

That made you blush as you loved words of affirmation.

It was like Hotch knew everything about you. He knew all the right things to say, and all the right places to touch you. In a way, his job as a profiler never ended.

He switched positions so that he was on top of you, passionately looking into your eyes while doing so. He was the one with the mastery in eye contact.

At this point, you already knew the bonnet was off and the knotless braids you had in would get a bit frizzy at the top. But you didn’t care. Hotch was making you feel better than ever, filling that certain void in your life.

He had your legs up and thrusted into you with everything in him, and it made you moan in a way you never imagined you could do.

Another climax was approaching and you could feel it. You came faster than expected with Hotch in your ear whispering for you to do it for him. Short moments later, he was right there with you with his high.

“So much for not even being friends.” You laughed softly.

Hotch pulled you into his arms and kissed you. “So much, huh?”

“What do you think the others are gonna say when they find out? I know one of them heard us.”

“I’m glad they heard. Maybe they’ll talk about how loud you got for me.”

That made you giggle.

“Anyways, my special agent, we have to sleep soon. Or there might be more rounds.”

And surely enough, the two of you slept in each other’s arms after cleaning up, and you slept way better than you did before being woken up.

✯✯✯✯

taglist: @averyhotchner @storiesofsvu @ssaic-jareau @blackbeautifulqueen @mstrinnyb @will-on-the-internet @mrshadeelharingtonmadden

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art · 2 years

Photo

Creator Spotlight: @shencomix

Shen is a digital comic artist who mainly does short-form humor but also delves heavily into horror, action, and whatever he thinks is cool at the time.

Below is our interview with him!

How would you best describe your art style?

I try to draw cute and expressive. As a short-form comic artist, I don’t have a whole lot of space to work with, so I have to make use of what space I have by pushing poses and expressions and using eye-catching color compositions.

Do you prefer working with digital or traditional mediums? Why?

I work strictly digital. There’s something really cool about how easy it is to edit. I can change the entire color balance of a drawing in seconds, whereas with a physical medium, that would take hours—and even then, you might not be satisfied with it! The ability to separate things into layers also lets me move and resize everything however I want.

From idea to final piece, how long does it take for you to create something?

For a 4 panel comic, depending on complexity, it’s 1-4 hours. It’s really tough going under an hour with this stuff because you can’t really think at that point. You just have to go go go. For comics with more panels and more detail (like, say, a 12-panel horror comic), it can even take several full workdays. It can be stressful to bet all that time on just a single post!

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

My inspiration to start my webcomic was Ronnie Filyaw’s Whomp!, which had a sort of raw humor that I had never seen in webcomics before. I binged it in just a couple of days and thought, “dang, I didn’t know webcomics could be this funny.” I also really love horror artists on Plastiboo and Trevor Henderson and of course, my comic friends like Sarah from Sarah’s Scribbles, Zach from Extrafabulous, and Justin from Mr. Lovenstein.

What is your favorite thing to draw at the moment?

Really into scary doors lately.

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

Alan Moore, Leonardo Da Vinci, and Alan Moore.

Alan Moore would get into a fight with Alan Moore, and I could catch Leonardo up on all that stuff that’s happened since 1519 in the background.

What are your file name conventions?

series name > YY > MM.DD - Comic Name > page.png

I’m straight-up methodical. They call me “Database Shen,” and by “they,” I mean nobody, but maybe somebody will call me that someday.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@plastiboo, who I've already mentioned, has a pretty active tumblr and always makes amazing stuff.

Thanks for stopping by, Shen! For more of his amazing comics and fun illustrations, be sure to check out @shencomix!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #webcomics #digital art #shen comix

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vmpiires · 3 months

Text

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ❛ THE BLOOD PAINTER — 画家 , CHOSO KAMO

·.⌇ 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓. art; it’s a beautiful thing…when you know what you’re doing...and when the cute artsy guy who’s now your class partner is smart. wc, 2.47K. dark mode recommended.

note. i love this story ya. i was thinking about it alll day. i’m glad ya like it too. hope ya enjoy :D reblog to support meeee and lmk if you wanna be tagged in the next part

tags. artist!choso, college AU, possible nsfw, female anatomy, smoking, etc. lmk if i missed anything

misc. masterlist AO3 PART ONE

your chest tightened once you heard the words ‘get with your partners’. you reacted never positively with that statement. you dreaded working with other students in your class. the art professor had everyone paired up with a random student, to which they’d let it be known that the two of you would be partners for the rest of the semester. you had been lucky enough to be tied down with the smartass of the class…choso kamo.

you had a confused expression on your face while you seen him in complete awe at the art pieces that flashed on the terribly detailed and wordy powerpoint. you were surprised you hadn’t slammed your head against the table trying not to fall asleep.

reluctantly pulling out the cute and compact pencil case you bought last minute from shein, you grab the simple navy blue mechanical pencil out that you had been given by choso. you were trying to give it back to him previously but he insisted that you kept it, assuming that you might need it later on down the road.

you didn’t expect any less from the smartest guy in your class when you saw him already halfway done with his assignment. maybe you were exaggerating at the moment because these were basic questions just to see if you were paying attention to the powerpoint—which you barely were.

“ah, sorry, i forgot we were working together.” choso’s deep voice echos through your brain as he speaks to you, stopping his quick paced writing to let you catch up. you noticed how shy he seemed, despite his pure confidence when answering questions. choso pushed his paper in your direction and looked away, giving you time to work.

as you write, giving the male a friendly smile so he didn’t feel intimidated by your bored expression because of how tired you were, you couldn’t help but notice how his silver rings gently tapped against the wooden table. the bandaids that decorated his slender fingers on the digits that didn’t have rings. the bandage over his nose along with one stuck to his cheek. the one that covered one specific part on his wrist.

what the hell did have have so many bandages for? was he that reckless of a person that he was always getting hurt…or was this all a fashion statement? you wouldn’t be shocked if it was just for fashion. a lot of people do that, so you couldn’t judge. you’d watch as he’d adjust the nose piercing in his nose and then guide his palm into his hair, lightly scratching his head.

“here,” you push his paper back in his direction and thank him for showing the answers. the two of you finally get on track and finish your work and turn your papers into the box that reads ‘homework’ in black sharpie.

since you and choso would be partners for the rest of the semester, it was a good opportunity to get to know him as time passed….and it was also because your professor suggested that you do so.

placing your elbow on the table and your chin in your palm, you’d face your attention over to the artsy boy, who now had a small sketchbook in his possession, lightly marking the paper with his pencil, only to finally add details slightly darker.

“um…so, choso, right?” you start. the tip of his pencil snaps as he flinched upon hearing his own name. the male turned to you as his thumb lightly punched the end of his pencil to replace the broken lead.

“yeah…that’s me.” he finally replies, his eyes averting another way. he seemed to have a hard time making eye contact with you. his expression was calm and stoic. something you never seen before. “did you need something?”

“well, you know we’re partners for the semester so…what’s your hobbies?” you were damn near dying of cringe at the moment. it wasn’t the fact that you were talking to this super smart and creative guy. it was because you hardly knew how to start conversations. mentally, you curse your inability to normally interact in public.

“um..well, i’m kind of an artist. i mean, i consider myself one. i like taking pictures on the polaroid i got for christmas one year…and uh—i read a lot.” choso explains. he seemed like the typical smart guy with creative qualities and a bit shy.

“oh, that’s cool. that explains why you’re in this class.” you say. you noticed that choso would give you a faint smile, something different from his stoic demeanor.

“mhm…well, what about you?” choso queries. you bite your lip. you knew the question would come soon but not that soon. you were thinking that he’d elaborate on how much he loved his hobbies, giving you time to think of what you were gonna say yourself.

you take a breath before finally introducing yourself properly. you quietly say your name, followed by your interests and some other unnecessary details that no one asked for but you were nervous. nothing wrong with that.

choso seemed pretty attentive when you were nervously rambling about whatever came to your head. giving his input on some of the things you mentioned also. you seen choso’s eyebrows raise up when you mentioned the concept of being interested in painting, though he didn’t say anything else about it.

it was time for photography class now and choso’s first project was coming up. that wasn’t an issue for him since this was something he was heavily interested in.

reading the instructions on the paper in his mind, the little voice in his head speaking for him, he saw that he had to make a scrapbook with brand new pictures that reveal something about him.

something like a self portrait but without the drawing and the excessive erasing whenever something turns out ugly.

“that sounds like a cool project. hey, take a pic of me right now,” yuji smiled, posing into the camera. but choso shook his head.

“i’ll come by this weekend and we’ll take some pictures. i want you to be clear and in front of the camera. not goofy and pixelated.” the male replied, making yuji laugh.

“i won’t be pixelated—maybe your wifi sucks.”

“i will admit, my internet does go in and out sometimes. it’s very frustrating…but i get around.” choso leaned his back against the pillow, his head gently resting against the wall behind the bed.

“how are the others? are they well?”

“eso and kechizu are outside,” yuji would back away from the camera to look out of the window, which gave him a view of the front yard and the surrounding houses.

“they’re playing with the frisbee.”

“i’m glad they’re doing fine. have you three eaten anything?”

yuji hummed, “i wanted to try cooking but i didn’t wanna burn the place down so we’re getting takeout at that buffet you took us to back in the summer.”

“don’t touch the stove unless i’m there. i really don’t want you hurting yourself or anyone else for that matter.”

as choso and yuji’s conversation prolonged, choso began working on some homework that he had from his english and math class. yellow tinted lights surrounded choso as he used a small remote and flick on his fairy lights and his attention was focused back onto the paper, his pencil scratching lightly against it while he used his binder for support.

the next day was an off day so choso decided that he’d take a walk to the cafeteria and get breakfast. holding his backpack firmly against his back, he’d walk into the large area. the male was being casual and chose to wear a grey sweatshirt and a pair of joggers with his hair tied back into a ponytail, leaving some of his hair hanging down in the back and in his face as usual.

sneakers lightly clicking against the tiled flooring of the cafeteria, choso would grab some plasticware and a plate and he’d pick out what he wanted to eat, which were two fluffy pancakes, eggs, and two sausages. he was slightly disappointed that there weren’t any bacon that day but there was always next time.

choso wasn’t really a coffee guy but it was that or be stuck with drinking tea or water—out of everything he preferred water but he was getting older and it was about time he’d try something new.

the male was in his own world, finishing some work that he fell asleep doing the night before and reluctantly sipping the coffee. he already knew his stomach would be gurgling the entire day because of it. or because of the fact that he hated the taste so bad that he was able to force his body to reject it.

soon enough, he saw a figure situate themselves beside him. pausing his music to see who had been sitting near him, his heart nearly bursted out of his chest when he found you. a lump in his throat formed when you gave a gentle smile and waved at him.

“hey, how come you’re sitting by yourself?” you ask him as you began to eat your breakfast. you had the same items on your plate but what was different was the fact that you had some chocolate milk with you. not the drinks that the school offered. it was making him wonder where you got the carton of milk from.

“ah, i just needed time to myself. i have so much stuff to catch up on. i have to schedule a train back home to visit my brothers this weekend and my photography class is starting a project so i have to start that. i also need to be preparing for my chemistry and algebra tests.” choso explained to you in a frenzied tone. you wanted to giggle at how quick he was speaking. not to insult him but you thought it was funny how panicked he sounded.

“shit, you already have tests? your teachers must be pretty serious about their work—or they just wanna get the topics out of the way.” you take a sip of your milk. choso nods, wrapping his index finger around one of the loose strands of his ink colored hair.

“you don’t? no fair.” choso chuckled. “well, you might’ve picked some easier classes than i had. you don’t strike me as a girl that enjoys the concept of extended education.”

the comment caught you off guard but he was right. you didn’t look like the typical college girl, nor did you look like you particularly enjoyed coming to class. you were just there because you were told to go. you were just happy to find something that made you happy.

“i didn’t wanna be here at first but i got used to it.” you’d take a bite of your sausage and quickly chew it before speaking again. “my parents were insistent on me coming to college. even after i said that i didn’t wanna go, they forced me anyway. back in high school i found myself signing up for FAFSAs and all that fun stuff.”

“oh, so you don’t actually pay out pocket to come here?” he queried. “that’s good, you won’t be in debt and you won’t have to pay anything back.”

“what about you?”

“no, i’m in the same situation as you. i’ve just become keen to people not making the best choices when it came to schooling.” choso replied as he’d close his laptop, finally finishing the study guide that he was given from his chemistry class.

he spoke so proper and sophisticated. talking to him made you think you were talking to a counselor. his voice was deep but smooth like butter. somehow, he made you feel safe even though you didn’t know him very well.

you noticed how simple his clothes were compared to when he came to class or when you saw him leaving school grounds to head back into the city for who knows what. he was always well kept. even in his lazy clothes.

the cologne he wore had a smell that you knew would stick in your mind and in the memory of your nostrils for a long while. if you ever smelled it somewhere else, it’ll instantly remind you of him.

when the two of you finished your breakfast, you were about to get up and throw your plate out when choso gently took it from your hands.

“i’ll take it,” he said softly, taking the plate and stacking it on top of his. your cheeks flushed a bit when you felt his large hand brush against yours.

his skin was soft as if he exfoliated himself everyday and it had a warm, comforting sense to it. when he walked away, you started to wish he stayed there and just held onto your hand for an extra moment.

the weekend came around and choso was making his was off of the train and heading back home. once he arrived, he was barraged with greetings and yuji throwing himself into choso’s chest.

“how’s your classes?” eso queries.

“it’s—hm…well i can’t say they’re boring because i love my classes. but some can be tedious or annoying. like math. the moment i get the hang of one topic, we’re already moving on to the next. then i’ll have something new to learn.” choso replied. “and you three?”

“me and megumi hung out.” yuji said excitedly. “and then gojo sensei took us to this movie. it was so cool but megumi didn’t like it. he said it was stupid.”

“your idea of “cool” is definitely interesting.” eso chimed in.

“was it another worm movie?” choso slipped his shoes off and gently placed them on the shoe rack. yuji twisted his lips upward.

“it was not….it was a bug movie. it was about this roach that wanted to be as big as a spider. and guess what? huge spoiler; the roach got big. and i mean huge.”

“very interesting, itadori.” choso chuckled, seeming a bit amused by yuji’s odd adventures. “i’m sure the movie was good—maybe. i don’t know. your choice of movies are actually weird.”

“my choices are not weird.” yuji pouted. “you watch probably romance movies all the time…um—not that that’s a bad thing. but you still probably do.”

“if you knew me, you’d know that i’m not interested in those. they’re kinda cheesy. i’ll settle for romcoms. other than that, i watch horror and mystery.”

“yeah, you’re totally an old man.”

“i’m only nineteen….”

ending notes. IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONGGGG i’ve made like six apologies about this but yk i just don’t want ya thinking i’m neglecting this story cuz i like this more than anything i’ve ever made. headcanons are next and MAYBE street racer choso because it just popped in my head this morning. excuse any mistakes if i’ve made any. i apologizeeee. remember, comments and reblogs are much appreciated and thank you for reading.

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pebblume · 3 months

Text

I never realized how liberating writing fanfiction would be. I hadn’t written creatively in years. It’s been so long that I kind of forgot what it felt like. The childlike rush of pouring your heart out onto a blank page, not caring about the results as long as you were having fun. I’ve tried writing fanfic a couple of times, for different fandoms across the years, but never finished anything I was really happy with, nothing that I felt comfortable sharing with the world. But something just clicked for me this past week. I realized how much fun it was to stretch out my writing muscles, to get inside the heads of my favorite characters. I realized that it didn’t have to be perfect to be worthy of being shared and loved by others. I realized that I had so many stories inside myself - more than I thought possible.

But perhaps what I’m most in awe of is fanfic readers. The people who read my work and leave kudos and bookmarks and comments - one word comments, sweet comments, silly comments, paragraph-long comments. I love them all. I used to be afraid of leaving comments on AO3, afraid I wouldn’t have enough words, wouldn’t have the right words, to depict how I felt. But when I felt firsthand how much those comments meant to me I started leaving more and more of them, spreading a digital paper trail of love to all my favorite authors. More and more often I recognize the profile names and images in my comment section and think, Hey, I know you! Now I’m not just a guest on AO3, or a passive reader. I belong here.

I won’t lie and say I don’t miss drawing a bit, my previous creative outlet. There are plenty of drawings inside me too, itching to be realized. I really just don’t have the time for two time extensive hobbies, not when I need to balance school and practicing and little things like sleeping and eating and relaxing. I miss it, but not as much as I thought I would. There’s a level of investment to sharing a story online that feels…special. When I post my art, I get engagement, and it feels nice, but ultimately, most people are only spending about ten seconds looking at the work I spent eight hours on, if that. When someone reads my fics, we’ve now spent time together. You’ve lived inside my head for a bit, made it your home. It’s about feeling seen, I think. Writing makes me feel understood in a way visual art sometimes doesn’t. It makes me feel vulnerable in the same way performing music does, but less exposed too. It’s interesting to me.

The only downside, if you can call it that, is now that the writing bug has infected me, I’m finding it harder and harder to stop. I’ll have an idea and then suddenly five hours have flown by because I’m on a creative streak and I just want to write one more idea down, which turns into two, and so on and so forth. I dread stopping, because what if I forget something? What if I get into a writing block later? Suddenly I have people who want to read the things I write and I want to provide it, I really do, but I also have responsibilities. I say, as I write this, ignoring my audition tomorrow afternoon.

I still have a bit of embarrassment attached to fandom works. When I tell acquaintances that I like to draw or write, I rarely tell them I mean fanart and fanfiction. As if loving something that deeply, that sincerely, is inherently shameful in this age of irony and soulless remakes. Especially when my interests usually consist of media marketed towards children, nevermind the fact that it has more emotional maturity than most ‘adult’ works. But I’m trying to get better about it. A lot of my closest friends know about my hobbies, and some I’ve even let see my work. It’s terrifying but also giddying, seeing them like an art post or comment on a fic. After all, to reap the rewards of being loved, one must submit themselves to the mortifying ordeal of being known, or something like that.

I realized today that I’ve written over 30,000 words in the past two weeks about about two characters who don’t belong to me, but whom I’ve made my own.

And I’ve never felt happier

#some sily thoughts i had today #might delete later #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 writer #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #fandom #the mortifying ordeal of being known

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ryuichirou · 1 month

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can you pretty pretty please with extra sprinkles on top drop the speedpaint for your most recent rookvil art? i wanna see how you did vils pretty dress and everything else cause its all so beautiful

I am so happy you like how it looks!! I would love to make a speedpaint, but unfortunately, I didn’t record it + the base for the drawing was actually done traditionally with a pencil. A lot of my drawings are done this way, actually…

Even though I can’t drop the speedpaint, I’ll do the next best thing and explain my process for this specific drawing step-by-step. It’s actually not that complicated!

Here is how the sketch looked initially. As you can see, I shaded the dress very crudely; in fact I was kind of upset with how the dress looked at this stage. Ironically, I ended up not doing much to the pencil shading, and it still turned out okay somehow?? Anyways, the first thing I did was to prep the sketch for the colouring stage: I adjusted the contrast, fixed Vil’s face, and erased some dirt and imperfections.

Then I create a new layer, set it to Multiply (this way I can colour the sketch without disturbing it, as if I was just colouring a digitally done lineart) and do a base colour layer. There is a gradient in Vil’s hair and Rook’s belt buckle, but other than that, all the colours are flat at this stage.

Before doing all the shading needed for this sketch, I add details such as makeup and tights. If you want to know how I did these, let me know, but I basically looked at a tutorial once and then simplified it lol

Now, the dress.

To be completely honest, there isn’t any proper technique to what I did, everything is always just trial and error and an hour of me going “does that look good? NO IT DOESN’T >:(“ until both Katsu and I are satisfied. This time I was lucky, because it didn’t take very long, and the “solution” was pretty simple.

Starting with the base colour. I turned off the sketch layer to show that it is indeed completely purple. And it looks kind of bright at this point, almost too bright even, especially considering that the dress is supposed to be mostly black, or at least dark purple. But bear with me.

Next I added some highlights (new layer, set on Overlay or Screen, depending on what looks best). Usually I would add the shades first, but I wanted to make the fabric look more “shiny”, you know, the type of fabric that would reflect the floor and make this highlight under the boob lol.

And after that I just went ahead and added black gradient (on a new Layer) from the bottom of the dress to make it look darker, silkier and a little bit more interesting for the eye. I erased some parts of the gradients as you can see, because it looked too dark on the highlighted parts… could’ve just placed the black gradient layer under the highlights layer and saved myself a headache, but hey, where is the adventure in that.

Finally, it turned out looking like this. It looks better than it used to look like initially, but there is one more thing to do. We don’t get to do this one too often, so it always excited both Katsu and me: THE SPARKLES!! Somehow, making the dress sparkly makes everything much better.

How do I do the sparkles: I use the star brush… or was it a snow brush? I use this brush when I draw both of these things lol + when I draw anything sparkly. I would’ve given you this specific one, but I don’t really remember where I got it from, and I honestly think that any starry or snowy brush would work wonderfully as long as the specs are small enough.

After that is done, I just shade the rest of the drawing. Nnew layer set on Multiply, the shading is done with darker purple/red + darker blue, whatever looks better on any particular material: the skin really likes warmer colours, but Rook’s suit looked bad with red shades, so I adjusted it to blue.

And here is the post where I talk about how I colour hair! Good thing I already wrote that one, this post is getting long lol

And the last step is to add details. The original sketch was done in a rather small (smaller than A6) sketchbook, so I couldn’t draw all the details like Vil’s earrings and stuff properly. Basically I just paint on a separate layer on top of everything.

And there you have it! I hope it makes sense, please let me know if you have questions.

#replies #ryuichirouart #about drawing

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discount-shades · 1 year

Text

Sleepy Baby Part 3

a/n: Well now there is a Part 3.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin / Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 800 ish

Summary: We find out the real reason Jake is called Hangman.

Previous Masterlist Next

“There is something wrong with your phone number.” Jake was staring intently at the sheet of paper. All the lines for your number were still blank and the baby’s crib was almost drawn.

“My number is perfect, and it only has three different digits,” you reply.

Jake counted his guesses. “That doesn’t make any sense, I’ve guessed 8 numbers already!”

“Yeah but you guessed five twice.” You pointed to where you'd written the number down twice. “I wasn’t going to mention it.” Jake groaned and rubbed his face. You couldn’t help grinning at the pink that was spreading on his cheeks. “Is this performance anxiety because you are not playing Hangman?”

“No… maybe?” He sat up and looked back at the numbers. “I was guessing local area code numbers.” He explained. “You, Kisses, are not from around here.”

“Oooh, solid strategy.” You were impressed he had a strategy. You would have just guessed the numbers 0-9 in order. “It would have worked too if I didn’t move here six months ago.”

Jake quickly guesses the final three numbers and you fill them into the blank spaces. As soon as you had written the last number down he gently slid the paper out from under your hand. He took a picture on his phone of the paper and then entered your number into his contacts.

“You still don’t know my name,” you laugh at his eagerness. “What are you going to put as the contact?”

“Hugs and Kisses,” he shows you the contact where XOXOXO is written instead of your name. Your phone dings when he sends you a text. “Can I be Baby in your phone?”

“Sleepy Baby.” You say firmly. You add his contact and send him a sleeping and a baby emoji.

“Ready for my name?” you say pulling the paper back to you. “Are you going to go for the standard guess the vowels strategy or start guessing letters in common names from my age range, like Jessica, or Ashley?”

“J.” He says immediately. You add it to the wrong letters bank and add a bar to the crib. “I thought you were giving me a hint!” His outraged face makes you roll your eyes.

“I’m not going to give you hints,” you tell him. “But this baby will have ten fingers and ten toes before you leave if it has too.”

“This would go way faster if you gave me hints,” he is pouting and you find it adorable.

“I like to watch you struggle,” you tell him. “Next letter.”

“Z.”

“It’s like you don’t want to know my name.”

…

Five minutes later you hear him say your name for the first time. You can't help the way your stomach flips and your heart beats faster at the sound of your name on his lips. “Hi Jake.” You reply and you can feel yourself blushing.

He had finally managed to uncover your name but the baby had ten fingers and two toes. “Do you actually let your niece win or are you just bad at hangman?” You ask him.

“Both.” He replies honestly. “Whenever I do figure it out I deliberately guess the wrong letters.”

“If you are so bad at hangman, why is that your name?”

“It’s a Navy thing.” he shrugs. “Call signs are meant to keep you humble.”

“Clearly it didn't work for you,” you raise your eyebrows at him and he just winks in response.

There is a knock on the door and Eillen, your coworker, peeks in. “Your 3:00 Art Group starts in ten minutes.”

“Shit, I have to get the paint out!” you jump to your feet. Jake immediately offers to help and you lead him to the activity room and instruct him how you want the tempera paint poured into the trays. You get the brushes, water cups and paper out for the activity you had planned.

When everything is set up you gently push Jake toward the door with your hand on his chest. “Thanks for helping me set up but you have to go before the kids get here.”

“I’m glad I found you.” His voice is soft and he is staring into your eyes the way he did the first night you met him.

“Me too.” you duck your head and smile before looking back up.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Excitement is shining in his green eyes.

“I could be persuaded.” He gives you his full smile and brings the hand that you have against his chest to his lips. He presses a gentle kiss on your knuckles and the butterflies are back.

“I'll call you tomorrow.” He promises as he walks away, pumping his fists in the air when he leaves the library.

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin/reader #jake seresin x reader #topgun maverick #top gun hangman #hangman/reader #hangman top gun #hangman #jake seresin x you #topgun #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader

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stinkypeanutbutter · 2 months

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img silly sbg art class headcanons for the folks !!!

Guess who’s first .

Ben , obvi . Who did you think ??? Aiden ?? Loser / j

BENNY BOY :

Actually enjoys art class the most out of his other classes

Usually turns things in on time , but forgets the little things though like those stupid papers that tell you to copy and draw a nose 3 times

likes using charcoal pencils !! It’s his favorite out of everything , but he dislikes how messy it gets because the charcoal always covers his hands and arms .

not the best at painting , but he’s well known of his complimentary colors and what looks good with what .

Usually listens to music while he’s drawing if Taylor is busy or gone from class . He likes taking instrumental recommendations from Ashlyn .

Takes a drawing class , obvi , along with Taylor because he didn’t really want to be alone . Plus , She’s a nice buddy to have !!

TAYLOR !! :

Takes a drawing class with Ben as said before !! Whenever they have to pick partners , they go for each other the most .

she’s not the BEST at drawing honestly , but she takes it so she can study in machinery , like drawing and mapping out designs .

She likes using those kids markers , whatever their called . She prefers using the marker FIRST then going over it with pencil to really pop out the design . Digital art also works out for her , it’s one of her favorites because there’s so many options ( sometimes )

uses google for inspo or to copy certain parts down cause Pinterest is blocked on the computers and drawing gears is hard to do ( real 😿 )

Draws little cats on her work when she’s bored or smiley faces on Bens work just cause she’s silly ( trademarked smiley — Aiden / j )

Doesn’t have photography , but she does join Logan after school to help out with certain camera functions or just take photos of eachother for her memory book ( she has one , cannot tell me otherwise )

Also uses highlighters just cause . I mean they’re fun so why not . Her and Aiden share a bunch of random stickers that he got on like eBay for customization 😼

A ;) DEN !!! :

I swear I won’t repeat the same “ Aiden is totally good at art “ headcanon but …….. 😅😅

Went into painting just so he can have fun with the colors and , sigh … he’s good at mixing them . ( he’s not allowed too , but he makes it work out . Sometimes )

RARELY gets things done in time , like he’ll be doing anything other then drawing in class , yet somehow turn it in . Well , after a few weeks past the due date .

becahse of that , no one really knows what he draws but the teacher is impressed so 🤷

I like to imagine he has one other hidden room in his house , filled with unfinished paintings , sketches , projects , puzzles , yadda . He hasn’t really shown anyone where it is , or let’s anyone inside but has let Ben check it out a few times cause he’s special 🫶

Always does his projects in his room . Why ? Cause it’s bigger , more room to work , duh . Also , so he can BLAST music because music just gives him ideas of what he can work on ( projection go hard 🤟🤟🤟 )

he doesn’t really care what he uses , but he hates charcoal , opposed to Ben . It gets everywhere ( in a bad way ) , it’s dull , he hates having to blend it with those stupid paper things because they sound and feel gross , yadda yadda yadda . Butttt he LOVES markers and crayons . Colored pencils work if he’s feeling slightly unmotivated .

uses giant AF canvas’s cause more room to work plus more detail . He loves detailing the most random stuff because it all had to blend correctly , right ? 😼☝️

likes pottery , but he doesn’t like the feeling of it drying on his hands . It’s gross and crusty . Plus he got in trouble once for throwing some of it around the class lol

Totally draws on his arms with sharpie ( ashlyn tells him no cause poisoning or something but pshhhh what does she know ? He’ll still doodle on his pants ) .

Probably does Rubix cube art when he’s feeling extra silly . Also glues and sticks whatever he can find onto what he’s working on for pizazz . But he doesn’t really like anything he’s made so 😿

also the reason why he has so many unfinished projects is because woopsy doo ADHD . It’s always “ oh I should work on this one “ but then there’s “ but this once looks funner to do “ but oh then there’s a “ which one would take me less time to do ? “ and “ if I do this first will I have time to do the other one ? “ and either ends up doing nothing or multitasking .

ASH TRAY !!! :

Takes painting with Aiden because she really didn’t want to go alone .

thought about pottery once , tried it , hated the feeling of it getting under her nails and it kept drying up and she had to wash her hands constantly and it kept getting in her hair and it was a bad experience . ( more projection )

painting really isn’t her favorite , but she likes the look of the colors mixing and it’s kinda like dancing to her , with the long , sometimes constant movements and new variations . Look it just puts her in a slight trance .

doesn’t do well with creativity coming into play , but she managed to find a way with turning art into dance , like referencing other dancers online and copying their moments onto a canvas to make it dramatic or something .

Prefers prismacolor pencils over most things , sometimes joins Taylor and Logan after school to try out photography .

Sometimes she and Aiden would share headphones and put on a shared playlist or a podcast on spotify . They always bicker about it though because ashlyn skips through songs often and Aiden can’t sit on a podcast unless it’s playing somewhere background ( still working on this one cause would that work ? Sharing headphones and listening to stuff or would that be too loud cause I’m not sure )

for once please can she see what Aiden has done like he’s always on his phone or playing with another puzzle from his backpack how do they fit in there anyway just Plsplslpsopls he has a good grade in this class how he’s so confusing sometimes double U - tea - eph

TIE - LER !! :

Joined because he already does baseball why not choose something to maybe help him relax

Bad choice , does not relax him ( most of the time ) , can’t understand color theory ( same ) , ended up getting put into the same class with Aiden ( remember when Aiden threw pottery ? Yeah . . Also ashlyn is there that’s cool but still )

He still likes hanging with Aiden , he just won’t admit it and it gets harder and harder too when he keeps writing and drawing on his work ( and him too 😡😡 )

Pretty fond of water coloring , it’s one of the few things that he enjoys doing in his pass time . . . But he’s not that good at keeping the water to a minimum so it ends up dripping everywhere .

He’s not that good at art either , but he’s pretty good at poses , specifically ones he can remember like the “ batter up ! “ stance in baseball or his signature “ crosses my arms and stares at you begrudgingly “ . He’s REALLY good at that one .

He teaches Ben Guitar , Ben teaches him easier ways to draw . Not a babyish style , but just a simplified way to do something without putting too much thought into it .

he and Taylor team up in art projects , but not in class , at home . Ash and Aiden usually partner up in class , and since he and Taylor have seperate classes there , who’s to say they can’t help eachother else where ? Twin telepathy ! ( I think , idk )

Just finishes quick and turns it in . He gave effort , and that’s good enough . If he really wants to try and ‘ finish ‘ finish it , he will . Trust .

DIALOG(an)UE !! :

Literally the only one in the group who really takes pottery ( he’s lonely someone help him )

dw Barron isnt there . He got kicked out for throwing clay at people ( mostly Logan )

Actually really likes taking pottery , it’s fun !!

He makes pots for the plants back home 💪😋

pretty good at using the utensils , one of the only people the teacher can trust to use them correctly

the pottery wheel isn’t his favorite favorite because sometimes it spins to fast and clay gets splattered everywhere , but it’s better then starting from scratch , and turns out really nice when he gets into the zone or something

made mugs for his grandparents !! ( and the gang , which they all used theirs for many different things . They love it )

not that good at coming up with particular designs , so he usually asks for help . Doesn’t matter who , he’s open to everyone’s ideas 😋☝️☝️

takes a littttllleee while to turn things in on time but he’s a good student so the teacher doesn’t mind

IM DONE !!! I DID IT !!! Praise me .

WHAT SHOULD I DO NEXT ?? HIT THAT LIKE AND SURBSCRIBE BUTTON

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pseudonymphomania · 2 months

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HAPPY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO ME!

February was the month I became involved in the Obey Me fandom. I had some time last year and I was so inspired that I ended up writing a longfic, but it simply wasn’t enough for my newly obsessed brain. I was a traditional artist until last year when I decided to try my hand at digital art. Uh. It was difficult. I was so frustrated. Canvas size, where my tools are, how brushes work, making a colour palette and layers are all examples of things that I now take for granted these days. Dialuci was the entire reason I didn’t just give up and throw it all away. In fact, they became the reason I got better. I was determined to depict them in whatever scenario I had in my mind even if it was going to be a visual travesty. I focused on the most important thing; having fun. Over time, they became proof-of-concept that improvement is tenacity and repetitiveness.

My first and most-popular fic is Self Control. I spent exactly two months on it powered by creative inertia and an intense hyperfixation that I had not experienced since my teen years writing on Fanfiction.net; the DiaLuci ship dynamics were just that compelling and what was supposed to be a 20-Chapter loosely-connected aphrodisiac-induced smut turned into a whole play-by-play smutty epic about events before and leading up-to lesson 16 (87 chapters!). The rest is history. Now I have multiple stories under my belt and from this, even became a digital artist even though the only thing I thought I could do was write!

Spotlight: Happy Almost-One-Year Anniversary to this comment that I come back to and think about often out of all the wonderful comments I’ve gotten this past year.

I'll have you know that every time I have to write something, I try my best to place the characters in the scene so that it makes sense to someone who isn't me; I think of you every time I do so, dear reader. Thank you again for such a nice comment and representing the value of constructive criticism.

I’ll get back up and writing soon, I promise!

My biggest project to-date:

My Work-in-Progress Lineup:

Based on Obey Me Nightbringer chapter 37 and 38. I am pleased to present these two in their emotional duality. I’m planning on releasing them both at the same time because of the meaning I took from this narrative.

I started out a writer but I've been more involved in art these days. As various platforms are excited to regale me about my anniversaries, I look back on my fandom journey and I remember that you were all at the beginning of it. Thank you all for being excited to see what ridiculousness I get up to and for being a place I can enjoy my time being.

Here's to another year!

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uchihaharlot · 3 months

Note

I didn't mean to break their hearts, I was just curious, srry!😭😭 (but Itachi's one was kinda funny-)

But anyway, now I'm wondering about how they would react if they found out that you can draw really cool and beautiful.

(I'm an artist, so😎)

Nonny 🥹🥹

That put me in an really good mood; lol. That was way too fun to write; maybe I can one day write a super angsty break up (but I love them too much!!!).

I love all artists 😭😭😭 Painters, writers — digital or paper. Anything that expresses the inner workings of someone’s mind and the fact that they can manifest it to reality is so so so beautiful. I hope I’ve secretly seen your art, I’d probably simp over it. Always simp over art. 😂😂🥹🥹

N/SFW; very cute Uchiha men adoring your artwork! 🥹🥹🥹 (ooc Madara??); Simpy Obito; …Scandalous Shisui; abnormally observant Itachi 😂 suggestive themes rolled out the further I got. For some reason, I just had to. (P.s. I should not be allowed to write when tired??? Half of this was done while my eyes rolled shut in bed).

Madara:

It’s not everyday that Madara is blown like a leaf in the wind. When you mentioned being a patron of the arts, he thought maybe the art of battle?? Didn’t expect your weapon to be a paint brush with some acrylic paint. Thought it was some weird jutsu infused shit.

And then you just had to go above and beyond and do a portrait of him for his birthday!!!!! It’s hung on the living room center wall so that it’s the first thing anyone sees! Honestly, this man is a brute, but your art envokes his softer side! A side that he hasn’t been in touch with for…well, a long time.

Makes sure that everyone and I mean, everyone, is aware of your talent! Still, he tries to find the side hussle in it, soliciting customers for you and all. 😭😭 Will trash talk the chalk art children make on the sidewalk, which ‘…that’s not nice, they’re children..’ you say. He shrugs, nobody is as good as you.

Obito:

Finds out and tries to ‘secretly’ commission you lmao. Makes it totally obvious too, his handwriting is shit and eveeeerrryyyyone knows who Tobi really is…. Plus how can you even begin without discussing what he wants done!! Duh, Obito! Unfortunately for him, you are more interested in drawing matters of the flesh. He’ll only show his chest, nothing more.

‘That’s fine.’ You shrug, and get to work. Obito, however, does not have the resolve to sit still! It’s frustrating to no end, but alas, after what seems an eternity— its done. Sort of. Still much to add, but the basics are there and you’ll work better when he’s not asking how does it look every twenty minutes.

Eventually you do finish this beautiful piece of him, and Obito cries. You made his scars tolerable and beautiful with your mind’s creativity, he feels less self conscious about them, only a little.

Shisui:

Is the least normal about it when he discovered your sketchbook — more like snatched and played keep away. Had to fight him for it, literally. Will ask you to paint/draw him naked…many times lol and you respectfully say no... Not that he likes people to see him naked (ok maybe a little?) but he secretly hopes it might happen one day. It would be a private thing for the two of you, cause he wants that ass.

And when you do cave to his whim, just to satiate him. He’s nervous lmao. Had this oh so macho man idea of rocking a hard on but Shisui simply maintains his usual semi. It’s nice though, you make sure it’s extremely detailed..as he asked for.

But, ‘(y/n)… this is chibbi!!!’ Lol, jokes on Shisui!! He didn’t say how to draw his pp.

Itachi:

Is the most normal about it. Though he still will praise you every time you finish a piece and show him, he is still massively impressed. How does your wrist not get tired? …maybe this is why your hand jobs are so good. 😈 Just watching you try a new technique (pointillism, which is my favorite style) makes his wrist hurt. Enjoys when you ask him for ideas! He has lots of them! Mostly…obscure and derelict landscapes though.

Would not be opposed to having his portrait done, but it’s really not his style. He is disciplined enough to sit still but doesn’t see the value in it. Not until the final product is revealed, does he truly understand how important this piece was. You’ve captured his personality in a new light.

#madara headcanons #obito headcanons #shisui headcanons #itachi headcanons #madara x reader #obito x reader #shisui x reader #itachi x reader #madara uchiha #obito uchiha #shisui uchiha #itachi uchiha #uchiha clan #uchiha family #uchiha headcanons

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supremedramaoverlord · 3 months

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He would have fallen asleep right then and there, oblivious to everything and everyone around him when he caught a snippet of what they were saying.

“...he’s too skittish for that, Wukong. We’ll take the cub home with us while he’s asleep. It might be easier for him that way.”

All at once he was no longer sleepy and he became wide awake. It didn’t take a genius to know who the cub in question was or what they were planning to do.

He was being kidnapped.

His eyes snapped open.

This is a scene from the first chapter of my fanfic, Surprise Adoption on AO3. I finally got around to learning how to do digital art using a tablet. It's not the best but I thought I did alright for my first picture. If you're interested in the story, here's a link.

#lmk fanart #lmk #lmk fanfiction #lego monkie kid #lmk macaque #lmk shadowpeach #lmk wukong #lmk qi xiaotian #lmk mk

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gmbencompetence · 2 years

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Arcana Fans,

Can we talk about the Tarot Decks? The Arcana Tarot Decks. I’m proud of them. It also ends in a painful memory. They are, all in all, the high and low of my time at Nix Hydra

In short: I’m one of the main people that made Arcana Tarot Decks a reality.

My job was answering emails, monitoring the Arcana social media tags, and generally having my finger on the pulse of the community. I knew that, by a wide margin, Tarot Decks were the biggest request. My coworker (who shall remain nameless for their privacy) was part of the team that made the Arcana and knew how much Tarot resonated with fans. This co-worker and I fought for about 1-1.5 years getting them greenlit.

In all honesty, they were a completely audacious idea. Nix Hydra didn’t make much money from merchandise. Maybe $100 a month. The cost of an *initial* run of Arcana Tarot Decks would take something like $25,000 to get going. This is because of creating the art, securing people to help package/ship them, actual costs of packaging/shipping itself, and more. Also, my partner on the project was very insistent that we work with a company that produced them at an extremely high quality with gold trim edges. Gold trim edges was important (they were right).

So, the Nix Hydra merch store made less than $200 a month, and my coworker and I were trying to pitch something that would COST $25,000~ to get started. If it made $25,000 back, that’s still a waste of time because it means we would have made the same money just skipping the whole thing.

This next part is fuzzy, but if I remember right, we tested the waters with stickers. We stocked Arcana stickers to see how quickly they sold. They sold fast. Like… fast. This was good. It was our test case to at least prove that “People want Arcana Merch”. It heated the iron, and my coworker and I struck. We got the approval!

So here’s the most nerve wracking moment of my career here. I’ve been in the game industry 12 years, but I’ve never run a merchandise store Nix Hydra. Even after that, I sent out a few sticker sheets every month. Forget about convincing a company to invest $25,000~ into my mad idea. And then… if they DID sell. What, then!? I always have a lot of anxiety, and I kept thinking of ways it could go wrong. What if I broke some international shipping law? What if I did the math wrong and operated at a loss? What if the site charged people the wrong amount? I KNEW the Tarot Decks would sell, but that was scary, too!

The day came that we flipped the switch. I was so excited. I was so excited! I was so… scared. At this point, all that was left was to see if we could make above the starting amount…

We made about $200,000 in the first 24 hours. Now, this was 3-4 years ago, so I may be SIGNIFICANTLY off. But my point is that we made six digits very quickly. By this same time tomorrow, this went from “Gunpowder and Coworker’s brassy, sassy idea” to “Merch is a hit! What’s next?”

Over the next few months and weeks, we had a joyful hectic hell of the best anxiety. Problems would come up. We’d knock them down. We’d run out of storage space in the office and it would look almost comical. We’d have truckloads of shipment issues. I soon found out that simply taking the packages to the post office was its own complicated project. All of this expanded into hiring people to help with merch. These people were extremely passionate about The Arcana and began to be advocates for what merch to add next. I could gush about how amazing they are for hours, but for privacy’s sake, I’m refraining from saying much about my coworkers.

So like that, we went from “Merch doesn’t sell” to “We need a merch department” in a few months. By the time I left the company, the CEO (you’ve seen his name around) projected the Merch alone to be a $1M a year revenue stream. I don’t know if we ever hit that goal. My point was that he felt it was possible, which made me happy.

… which brings me to how the story ends painfully. I have moderate ADHD. I personally think it’s severe, but my doctor says moderate, so hey. I tend to fall behind on assignments a lot. I also tend to get distracted super easily. It can ruffle feathers in a work environment. I did not realize how much. See, this project was in full swing, my work was going well, and I had also designed all the gameplay of Heart Hunter (that was me! I’ll write a post on that later). I felt good about all of this. I had a meeting with the CEO and was going to ask him for a raise.

“[Name], just so you know, I sometimes sit and my desk and go over the pros and cons of letting you go.” He said it conversationally. It was casual to him. My stomach fell out. I asked him why, and it turned out that he was being very, very literal.

See, he made a pros and cons list of every thing he likes about me and every thing that he doesn’t. I’ll spare you the whole list, but in the Cons side was “Doesn’t focus on work all 8 hours of the day”. I was flabbergasted and told him “But… I do a lot of projects. And YOU said the merch store is estimated at $1M a year!” At this point, it is extremely important to note that nothing about the merch store was in my job description besides “Ship stickers and answer emails”. Literally everything I mentioned above were things I did in my spare time without being asked. Out of love for the company.

“Yes, I agree that you’re very passionate and creative. See, I put that on the list!”

He points to the Pros and Cons list. “passionate and creative” is cancelled out by “doesn’t focus all 8 hours of the day”. It was a tie. The project I co-led started a whole new department and seven-digit (estimated) revenue… it wasn’t even the only one I did (Heart Hunter was also a side project, albeit one I was assigned). And all of that, in his mind, was cancelled out by “doesn’t work all 8 hours a day”.

I never got a raise. I never got a bonus. I never even got job security. None of it mattered to him.

I started looking for a job the next day.

—-

There’s more to the story, but I think this is the main point. This is the best and worst of Nix Hydra. It was a place where people like my coworker and I would make extra time to work on new things simply because we believed in our work that much. Where players joyfully supported our work because it resonated with them. Where new employees would be so passionate about their work that they would keep an entire department afloat on their own fantastic ideas. It was also a place where none of this could even amount to job security or recognition. It was frustrating, and it was joyful.

I meant every single smile at a public event. So did every member of the team that was there. It was never “just PR”; it was people who were over the moon to get to help create these stories and worlds and moments. We loved it. But management never loved us back. And that stung.

Thank you, every single person who posted their tarot decks. Who put them into your cosplays. Who did readings.

Thank you everyone who posted your Heart Hunter moments. Who shared the postcards I fought tooth and nail to see in the game (It was SO difficult to convince some people that “postcards would be the type of reward players want”).

My entire life, I’ve had joyful moments in games and game communities. My lifelong dream was to help make those moments come alive for others. When you all celebrated this game and those aspects of it, that was very genuinely a lifelong dream come true.

Thank you for reading this. And also The Arcana.

#arcana #the arcana #nix Hydra

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slutforsilverfoxes · 1 year

Text

Close Shave

[A/N: What up homies, it’s me, ya girl, steadily adding to my Honorable Men-tions while my husbands watch me like 👀 bitch?

This fic is inspired by the scene & song from Skyfall- I hope you like it :) Feedback is always appreciated, as well as requests for fics or new characters to explore!]

007 glides silently through the doorway, a jungle cat on the prowl for his next meal. He eases the door shut with a soft click, then moves stealthily down the hall in search of his target. A single lamp illuminates the modest London flat casting wicked shadows on the walls surrounding a small feminine figure. He creeps forward, ready to pounce, the next phase of his plan already formulating in his brain.

“Hello, James,” you murmur, not even sparing him a glance as you casually flip to the next page of your novel.

His warm chuckle caresses your skin like a lover’s gentle touch, his honeyed voice stoking the fire in your belly spurred to life by his mere presence. “How is it that I can sneak up on assassins but not a museum curator?”

Your mouth turns up in a smile and you offer your cheek in greeting, scrunching your nose at the feeling of coarse stubble against your skin. “I can smell the cologne I bought you for Christmas from a mile away.“

“Hm.”

“And I may have pestered Q into telling me when you’d be home.”

“Pestered?”

Folding your legs under your body, you swivel to meet his steely blue gaze with a grin. “Bullied,” you concede. “Only so I didn’t almost accidentally kill you with a fireplace poker.”

“Again.”

You wag your book in his face with a raised eyebrow. “That’s what you get for breaking and entering at four in the bloody morning with no prior warning!”

He grunts in concession before easily lifting you off the couch, only to take your seat and tuck you against his body. You hum in delight at the prospect of having him home, however short lived his visit may be, placing your book aside before nuzzling into his chest and pressing kisses to the underside of his strong jaw. Scraping your nails along his cheek, you muse, “You need to shave.”

He gives you an indignant look, carding his fingers through your hair. “Some women happen to like a beard, you know.”

“Then go break into one of their homes,” you fire back, letting your teeth graze along the path forged previously by your lips.

He lets out a throaty laugh that dissolves into a soft moan as you work your way over his jaw to press your lips to his. You share a few innocent pecks before your longing takes over, and you shift to straddle his lap as James’ tongue slips past your willfully parted lips. His fingers work their way under your shirt, trailing along your ribcage before settling on your hips with a gentle squeeze. You release a contented sigh into his mouth, all of the tension leaving your body and allowing you to relax against him.

Running your nose over the sharp planes of his jaw, you murmur, “Let me. Please?”

“Let you what?” He nibbles at the spot just south of your ear and you gasp, rocking against him and feeling him growing hard beneath you in response. Static fills your mind as your senses are overwhelmed by everything that is James, but you press on valiantly. “Help you shave.”

Calloused digits knead the soft skin of your thighs as he hums, contemplating. “Is this another attempt on my life? Replacing the poker with a razor?”

“James!” you admonish, laughing before growing serious as your fingers dance across his handsome features. “You know that my expertise lies in handling art delicately. What kind of curator would I be if I allowed any harm to come to my favorite exhibit?”

He turns his head to press a kiss to each of your palms, then meets your gaze with a cheeky grin. “That’s all I am to you, hm? A specimen to be ogled?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” you retort with a roll of your eyes. Climbing off his lap and taking his hand to lead him to the master bathroom, you tack on, “You conveniently double as a bodyguard.”

You slide the cushioned seat from your vanity over to the sink and tap it twice with a coy smile. James settles into his spot obediently while you hunt through the cabinets for his straight razor and shaving cream, placing them on the counter before moving to stand behind him. You study your reflections in the mirror as you run your fingers through his hair, your body growing warm at the sight of him subtly shifting his hips when you tug on the short strands. You walk your fingers down his neck and over his broad shoulders, kneading the taut muscles along the way to the apex of his dress shirt. “May I?”

He opens his eyes to meet your gaze in the mirror, ocean blue eclipsed by a sea of inky black. “Always, my love.” His voice has dropped to a low growl that sends a thrum through you. Deft fingers hastily unbutton his shirt with the promise of exploring his body after too many days and nights spent apart. You tug the fabric off and toss it aside, kissing his neck while your hands glide along his muscular chest. “Darling,” he rumbles out through a laugh to get your attention, and you look up to find several marks blooming across his previously unadulterated skin. With a bashful smile, you respond, “I just can’t help myself around you.”

Rounding the chair to squeeze yourself into the space between his legs and the counter, you lower yourself to your knees. He watches your every move with rapt fascination, his breathing picking up ever so subtly when you reach forward to release him from the confines of his fitted slacks. You tug his pants and underwear off before delicately trailing your fingers over his length, marveling at the weight in your hand and how responsive he is to your touch. Peeking up at him from beneath your lashes, you lean in and swipe your tongue over the head, a needy whine escaping your lips at the taste of him. “Darling,” he calls out again, now with an edge to his voice, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with forced restraint. He threads his fingers through your hair and gives a gentle tug, guiding you forward once more. You wrap your lips around him in earnest, gliding down his length while one hand comes up to massage his balls, the other resting on his lower abdomen. With each swirl of your tongue and pull of your lips, the toned muscle beneath your fingertips ripples and liquid heat pools between your aching thighs.

Replacing your mouth with your hand, you look up at James with nothing short of utter devotion in your misty eyes. “I missed you so much, my love,” you rasp out, an involuntary shudder racing down your spine when his fingertips brush over the apple of your cheek.

Tucking his hand under your chin, he directs you to stand and pulls you close for a tender kiss. You continue twisting your wrist along his length as his tongue slides against yours, a sharp gasp punching out of you when he unceremoniously rips your underwear off and runs his middle finger along your slit, the useless lace now pooled on the floor.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he rumbles lowly, slipping his finger inside you and groaning in appreciation at how greedily you clench around him, “you really did miss me, hm?”

“More-” You whimper into his mouth when he adds a second finger, and then a third, lovingly preparing you for his thick cock. “More than I can even describe.”

He draws his fingers out, caressing your sensitive walls as he does so, before replacing your hand with his own at the base of his cock. The obscene sound of your spit and slick gliding along his length as he draws his hand over himself has you clenching around nothing, a desperate whine of “James,” falling past your pouting lips. He soothes you with sweet words, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth while his free hand comes up to your hip to guide you down onto him. You cry out at the exquisite stretch, nails digging into his shoulders as you circle your hips to sheathe him inside of you as deeply as possible.

Tucking your face into his neck to pepper his glistening skin with kisses, you beg, “Don’t move. Just let me feel you.”

He hums in concession, gently tugging your oversized sleep shirt off before running his fingers along the column of your spine. The tingling sensation has you rolling your hips against him, moaning when the movement presses the head of his cock against just the right spot.

“Now, darling,” he mumbles against your hair, his large hand possessively cradling the back of your neck, “I do believe we came in here to accomplish something.”

“Can’t remember,” you sigh out. “Too full.”

His ensuing chuckle warms you from the inside out, and you gasp when he leans forward to reach the countertop, shifting his position inside you. He presses something cold into your hand, and you blearily open your eyes to find his razor glinting at you in the muted bathroom light.

With a sigh, you relent, “Fine,” but his firm grip on your hips stops you from rising. “But then how will I-” Your line of questioning comes to an abrupt halt when you spot the smirk playing on his sinful lips. “Oh.”

“Go ahead, love,” he croons, inclining his head toward the shaving cream while his hands come to settle on the globes of your ass. You gather some of the foam between your fingertips, then trace two delicate lines on his cheek in the shape of a heart. Glancing at your work in the mirror, he questions, “How can you be so damn adorable while full of my cock?”

You answer him with only a wink, then get to work coating his stubble with the shaving foam. Once he’s sufficiently lathered up, you ease the blade out and plant your non-dominant hand firmly on his shoulder. “Don’t move, James,” you instruct softly.

He tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, smiling at the way your tongue peeks out between your lips in concentration, and murmurs, “I won’t.”

You run the blade down James’ face in precise, delicate strokes, mewling in delight every time you stretch to rinse the razor off and he pulses inside of you. Several minutes into your ministrations, he arches his hips against yours with a ragged sigh, moving impossibly deeper as he cranes his neck to look in the mirror. “Halfway there. Doing well, sweetheart.”

“I feel like I’m going to explode,” you attempt a laugh, but it morphs into a strangled moan.

“That would certainly be less than optimal.” He runs his index finger down the side of your neck as you take your next swipe of the blade, your breath hitching when he wraps his hand around your throat and adds the smallest bit of pressure.

The razor stills on his cheek, momentarily forgotten, and you shiver in delight. “What are you doing?”

“Focus on the task at hand,” he chides softly, and you obediently return your attention to the remainder of his beard even as his other hand comes up to massage one of your breasts. You clench around him reflexively, and the hand on your throat squeezes in kind.

“James,” you growl out, this time purposefully flexing your walls around his throbbing cock. He answers your show of defiance with one of his own, both hands tightening their grip and eliciting a whine from you.

“Tit for tat, darling,” he mutters softly, the corners of his mouth ticking up in a wicked smile.

With every movement, every precise flick of your wrist, every droplet of water running down your arm and dripping onto your thigh, your walls squeeze around James’ cock and his fingers press deeper into your skin, and your vision starts going blurry around the edges with need. Finally, mercifully, your lover sits before you clean shaven once again, and you smile proudly at your work.

Nuzzling your nose against his, you sigh at the idea of having to separate yourself from him. “I forgot a towel.”

“Top cabinet?”

“Mhm.”

Tucking his hands underneath your thighs, James stands and settles you on the counter, still sheathed in your warmth. He pulls back to open the cabinet and collect a towel, and you keen at the loss of the fullness until he slots himself back between your thighs.

“Christ,” you hiss, digging your nails into his biceps and arching your back.

“Easy, love,” he murmurs smoothly in response, hiding his smirk behind the cloth as he pats his face dry. You lock your ankles together behind his back, shifting closer and trying to entice him to move. “This is turning downright torturous.”

Dropping the towel on the counter, he shifts his attention back to you and lovingly squeezes the pillow of your thigh. “I always take care of you, don’t I?”

“Sooner rather than later would be preferred in this instance, Bond,” you sass back.

“Patience is a virtue,” he hums with an infuriating calmness to his voice even as he draws his hips back and drags his cock along your sensitive walls.

“I wouldn’t- oh god- consider what we’re doing to be entirely virtuous,” you answer through a moan, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in an attempt to quiet the noises spilling out of your mouth.

“Darling girl,” he tuts softly when he recognizes you’re trying to muffle your cries, fingers ghosting over your cheek before he grips your face and his hips pick up speed. The pressure has you releasing your lip from beneath your teeth, your mouth falling open and allowing wanton moans to escape. James tucks his other hand behind your knee, tugging you closer and letting him sink deeper with each stroke. He smiles down at you when you call out his name and rake your nails down his back, cooing, “That’s it, love. Let me hear you.”

Ever obedient, you moan unabashedly, your cries competing with the sinful sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the marble bathroom. “James! Oh god, James,” you keen, clawing at his shoulders for purchase as your consciousness threatens to leave you, “I can’t- I’m going to-”

He hungrily mouths at your skin, soft pants falling past his lips between kisses as he makes his way up the curve of your throat. Moving his hand to grip the back of your neck, he draws you close to his body and grits out, “Cum for me, my darling.”

You feel your body shudder with the force of your orgasm washing over you, every nerve alight and buzzing as the sound of James’ beautiful moans fill your ears. Your mouth drops open but no sound comes out, your eyes rolling back when you feel the warmth of his release painting your walls. Holding your waist firmly, he presses his hips against yours as his cock twitches inside you, claiming your body completely.

“Good girl,” he pants in your ear, and you whimper at the praise.

“Yours,” you sigh out, completely spent. You turn your head to dot lazy kisses along his cheek, your lips curling upward at the feeling of his freshly smooth skin.

He notes your self-satisfied smile and chuckles warmly against the shell of your ear. “Pleased?”

“Mhm,” you respond sleepily, nuzzling his face and emitting a sound dangerously close to that of a purr.

“I’m glad,” he hums, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “Shower?”

“Can’t,” you mumble. Swinging your legs, you clarify, “Jelly.”

“Bath, then.”

James guides your arms around his neck and you latch on obediently as he lifts your sore body off the countertop. He slips out of you when he hitches you higher up in his arms, and you mumble out a protest despite the aching between your legs.

“What, darling, haven’t had enough?”

Fighting sleep, you tighten your hold on him and nip at his ear. “Never.”

“Naughty thing,” he chides playfully, landing a light pat on your ass before setting you on the edge of the tub.

“You know,” you begin, trailing your fingers along his back while he adjusts the water temperature, “it’s your fault for being so utterly irresistible.”

He grumbles out an undoubtedly unamused response under his breath before climbing into the tub and beckoning you to join him. Carefully maneuvering your shaky legs, you settle back against James, resting your head in the crook of his neck and sighing as the warm water caresses your sore muscles.

“Wet your hair for me.” You stifle a yawn, barely opening your eyes to fix James with a quizzical look. Always a man on a mission, he holds your gaze, unrelenting. “Humor me, darling, will you?”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, you grip the sides of the tub and scoot your body forward until you can lower your hair below the waterline. After a thorough soak, you sit up and nestle yourself back between his legs, closing your eyes once more.

You hear the telltale snap of a bottle being uncapped, and then James’ expert fingers are massaging your scalp as the scent of vanilla and honeysuckle pervades your senses. You let out a hum of pure content, thoroughly enjoying being pampered by your love.

“I can’t explain,” he peppers your shoulders with delicate kisses between words as he works his fingers through your hair, “just how much I missed you.”

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual,” you sigh, responding to the pressure of his fingertips by tilting your head to grant him better access.

His silky smooth voice settles like a warm blanket on your skin as he runs his nose along your neck, and you shiver in delight. “You are absolutely exquisite.” He splays one hand possessively across your belly, the other dancing over the curve of your hip. “Divine.” Moving to grip your chin, he turns your face towards him and you feel his warm breath mingling with your own. “My own personal masterpiece.”

Drawing a trail of water down the column of your throat, between the valley of your breasts, and lower still to the apex of your thighs, he eases your folds apart once more and sheathes himself inside of you. Your mouth drops open wordlessly and he takes the opportunity to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

“You took such good care of me, my love,” he murmurs, delicately threading his fingers through the soapy strands of your hair as his hips press up against yours. “Now let me take care of you.”

#james bond #james bond smut #james bond imagine #james bond fic #james bond x reader #james bond x female reader #james bond x you #james bond x y/n #skyfall #007 skyfall #agent 007

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