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wri0thesley · 26 days

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eyes - neuvillette x reader (8.5k)

you have always known, one day, you would be married off to someone not of your choosing. but you certainly never expected it to be the iudex himself.

cw: not sfw text. explicitly chubby virgin reader, some insecurity, arranged marriage. double dick neuvillette, cunnilingus, bathing together. reader is afab but referred to with neutral pronouns.

this was a commissioned work.

There are certain standards one must follow as a child of Fontainian society; certain things that are expected of you. A certain way to speak and move and act - a set of rules that have been laid out clearly for you since the day you were born. You will know which fork to use at which mealtime. You will know the difference between what is appropriate to wear to a matinee and to an evening show. You will trust your elders to guide you, and you will be grateful for the life that they have oh-so-painstakingly laid out.

So you are not surprised when your mother tells you that you are to be wed.

You have even been expecting it. Since you became of a marriageable age, you have looked at all of the other children of society and wondered what kind of match your family might make. One of your own generation? Older, perhaps - more secure in their wealth and their status and position? You have even laughed about it with your friends, when you were out of earshot of all of your elders - discussing who would be the worst options, gossiping about who has had who over for tea recently.

She’s surprisingly tight-lipped about who you’re going to wed, too. That’s not unexpected either, though it does make anxiety roil hot and sour in your gut. Plenty of children have run away from home so as not to be wed to somebody decades and decades their senior, or somebody with a reputation for cruelty - or sometimes even because the match that has been made has not taken into account a love affair unbeknownst to the elders of the family.

You have no such love affair to romantically dash off into the sunset with; you have been a good and dutiful child your whole life. And though you do, perhaps, wish that you could know what it was like to have a love so fiery and passionate you would disobey the only life you’ve ever known . . . you have come to accept that will not be your lot in life.

You have even worried once or twice that somebody, upon finding that they were engaged to you, might wish to run away. You have looked in the mirror and scrutinised your face, your posture, your body - a body that has fallen out of fashion recently, the beauty ideal in Fontaine being very much ‘look as much like Lady Furina as possible’. It is your body, though - and it has stood you in good stead, and the night in which you are finally to meet your betrothed your mother and your maid stand in your bedroom looking approvingly at how your gown falls over the soft peaks and curves of your hips and chest.

All you know about this person who you are to be wedded to is that every time your family talks of them, they can barely hide the smiles on their faces and the superior lilt to their tone. Whatever match has been made for you . . . they are utterly ecstatic about it.

“I think he’ll be more than pleased,” your mother says, tugging at a fold of fabric - she had chosen to have this dress made in pale blue, though it is not a colour that has been in your wardrobe before. A man, then; a well-placed man who makes your family giddy with excitement - a man partial to the colour blue and a spouse whose figure runs more to curves than lines.

It is not a lot to go on.

So you do not know what to expect, as you are brought down the stairs and into the dining room. All kinds of thoughts dance through your head; some pleasant, some . . . not so. You know that you will meekly accept what you have been given, the way you have been brought up to do - and it is not lost on you that the trajectory of tonight will perhaps influence your life for years and years to come. There is always the chance that, seeing you in person, your parent’s intended will reject you--

Your mind is churning at a hundred thoughts a minute as you step inside the dining room - but when you see who is seated at the head of the table, all of those thoughts seem to clatter to the ground at once.

It is a wonder that your mouth does not drop open.

In all of the time you have spent gossiping about possible matches in society, nobody has ever mentioned - even off-handedly - the possibility that the Chief Justice of Fontaine may be looking to marry.

But there sits Monsieur Neuvillette - a little awkward, yes (he is being chattered to most insistently by your father), but straight and tall and handsome in his chair, his robes of office perfectly pressed, his face schooled carefully into a polite look of vague interest. Your mother coughs, and he looks up--

And his eyes, the colour of the evening sky or a perfect sapphire, widen just a touch. His mouth opens, the barest amount - and you swear that as his gaze sweeps over your form in your carefully chosen blue dress (a choice you are beginning to understand), he visibly swallows.

“Ah,” he says, and he stands - walking towards you, bending and inclining his head. “It’s a pleasure to . . . finally meet you in person.” You’re still rather stunned speechless by everything that is happening - you cannot help but feel as though things are happening around you, and not to you - but as Neuvillette uses one of his gloved hands to take yours and to press a lingering kiss on your palm that makes your entire body feel as though it is on fire, you are suddenly all too aware of just what is going on. “You look radiant tonight.”

“M-Monsieur,” you say in return, and you sweep what must be the clumsiest curtsey of your life. “I . . . I have to admit that this is a surprise.”

“Not an unwelcome one,” your mother puts in before he can respond. “Of course, we’re delighted with this match, and we’re absolutely sure you’ll be delighted with them--”

“I understand,” Neuvillette says, his eyes not leaving you. “If I may be frank with you, until recently I had never thought to marry.”

Questions rise in your throat. If he had not thought to marry, why was he doing it now? And why you, when surely he must see the upper echelons of society every single day? What had brought him to your family’s door, asking after your hand over everyone else he must have had first pick of? But these are not polite questions for the dinner table, when your mother and your father are already ushering the two of you to your seats beside one another and beaming so brightly that it hurts to look at them.

The dinner table is a place for light, polite conversation; the last opera you saw, the weather. Neuvillette smiles into his wine glass - a glass you notice is filled with water - when you mention that it has not seemed to rain much recently. You notice him looking at you every so often, over rims of glasses and delicate bites of foods . . . but you know that you, too, cannot help but sneak a glance at the Iudex of Fontaine seated by your side.

Your future husband! Your betrothed! The man you will spend the rest of your life with!

As much as you may wish for a moment alone with him, you know it is not proper; so when he stands and kisses your hand again and your father takes Neuvillette into his study to hash out some further details of your impending nuptials, you swallow your disappointment and remind yourself that you will have years with Neuvillette, to learn his secrets - to discover why he has decided to take you as a spouse.

There is little time for getting to know one another beyond the most surface of levels when a marriage has been arranged for you - there is even littler time when the man you are going to marry is one of the most powerful and busiest men in Fontaine. Even the few times you see each other as the wedding looms closer - the period your parents optimistically refer to as ‘courting’ - there is little time to get to know his heart.

You realise, at the final fitting for your wedding clothes, that the first time you will be truly alone with the man who is to be your husband will be the night of your wedding.

And that particular thought . . .

You know the ways of the world. You know what will be expected of you, in order to properly consummate a marriage - you know that you will be intimate with Neuvillette for years to come. But the idea that the first time that the two of you will be able to snatch time with one another with no parents or gossip-mongers or anybody else around will also be the time in which you and he will legally become one (and you know, from experience at the Opera Epiclese, that Neuvillette is nothing if not a stickler for the law) . . . oh, it is enough to make you reconsider one last time running away from your responsibilities.

“Mother?” You ask, your voice quiet, the night before your wedding. You have spent the entire day overseeing flowers and being asked questions, watching the cooks and the waiters bring in fine delicacies from all over Teyvat (Neuvillette had not wanted hosting duties; you get the impression that as long as the ceremony was done legally, he would be pleased enough to call you his spouse. But your parents have been preparing for this your whole life, so they had indeed wanted the spectacle of their child marrying the most powerful man in Fontaine. With no family to speak of, he had acquiesced to their desires. Your parents are in shivers of delight that Lady Furina will, too, grace the halls of your family home). “What if . . . what if I do not please him?”

You are sitting before your dressing table, in your sleeping robe, haunted by thoughts of all of the things that could go wrong whilst your mother double checks your wedding gown and the jewellery you are to wear tomorrow. She looks over at you - her face is normally hard, but as she sees the knit of your brow and the bite of your teeth into your lip, she sighs softly.

“You have nothing to worry about,” she says, stroking your cheek. “The Iudex asked for you specifically.” You blink at her, wide-eyed, and she laughs a soft little laugh. “Don’t let it get to your head, now; they have been badgering him to marry for some time . . . but he did ask for you, out of all of the people he could have had. So take heart in that. Do you think him a foolish man?”

“No,” you shake your head, your voice a soft whisper. You suppose that Neuvillette is many things, but ‘foolish’ would not be one that would cross your mind.

“There. You and he are going to have a happy life together.” A sly look steals over her face. “Ah . . . are you worried about the wedding night itself?”

“Mama!”

“It’s something we all go through, my dear.” She catches your chin in her hand and smiles at you, and for a moment, despite all of the times you have disliked her for the life you have been forced into . . . you are reminded that she is your mother, and she wants this to work just as much as you do. “Do not be frightened of him. Do not be overwhelmed by him. He has chosen you to be his equal, but he will not expect too much of you. I promise . . . everything is going to be fine.” She gives you a wink. “And if I were you, and were to marry a man who looked like the Chief Justice - why, I’d be positively thrilling with excitement at the thought of my wedding night!”

“Mama!” This time, your scandalised tone brings her out in peals of laughter, and she kisses the top of your head as she leaves the bedroom. The door clicks behind her.

Your final night in your childhood room; your final night unmarried. One last slumber amongst your own silken pillows and sheets (what kind of bed, you wonder, does the Chief Justice sleep in?).

That night, you dream of a sea that churns with a similar anxiety to the one that you feel in your own belly.

The morning of your wedding day, it is raining. Your family fuss over it, but as you stand at your window with people running all about you, messing with your hair and rearranging your dress and having arguments about your bouquet, you cannot help but find it comforting to watch the rain fall in droplets, stopping and starting again, mirroring your own still-nervous heart.

You think you will falter at the last hurdle, as you stand outside of the Opera Epiclese - normally a place of theatricals, but also a place of the law, and the place that the most important part of your wedding day will occur - and take a deep breath ready to start your new life. The bouquet in your hands is full of rainbow roses and romaritime flowers, bursting with colour; you are grateful to have it to hold on to, as the doors are thrown open and you walk slowly down the aisle of the theatre.

Your eyes desperately seek out someone who will provide you an ounce of comfort in the crowd, all peering at you curiously to see the person who has finally tamed the Chief Justice. This is a spectacle as much as a wedding, you suppose; and as you see some people whisper behind their hands, you wonder if you have been found wanting. You bite your lip hard to stop yourself crying - and then, onstage, his hands clasped over his cane, your gaze finds Neuvillette himself.

The patter of the rain on the roof of the Opera stops all at once. For a moment, you swear everything falls silent, as you and he look at each other.

Slowly, his mouth breaks into a small, secret smile, and the buzz of whispering intensifies - but that smile is enough to steady you. To remind you he has been nothing but kind and polite. To whisper to you that perhaps this union is a thing to look forward to, and not to be feared.

He looks as handsome as ever; his suit perfectly-pressed, his hair streaming in a neat silver white tail behind him. There are flowers that have been braided into it; and you see, as you ascend the stairs to the stage, that there are a group of Melusines sitting in the front rows with matching little bouquets of Lumidouce bells grasped in their little hands, beaming up at the Iudex.

Lady Furina presides over the proceedings, tossing her hair and preening and holding the audience in the palm of her hand - another reminder that theatrics are more respected than the law in a land like Fontaine. But you cannot bring yourself to mind too much - not when Neuvillette’s smile is steady, his eyes trained on you the whole time. Not when, as he repeats the words in a clear voice like a ringing bell, he whispers them again as if they are only for you. Not when he takes his bare hands - ungloved, for the exchange of the rings - and holds your own, soft and round and dimpled, as he slides the ring onto your finger as if you are the most delicate thing in the world.

When Furina - with more glee in her voice than you would have expected - announces that he may now kiss you, you feel your shoulders draw up in anxiety. The entire audience goes quiet, waiting with baited breath for this - as if it is one of the things they have been waiting for all day. Neuvillette, though, keeps his gaze on you. He acts as though there are not a thousand Fontainian citizens watching your every move - slowly, he places his arm around your waist and draws you closer to him, so close that the crowds seem to melt away and there is nobody but the two of you.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he murmurs into your ear, angling his head so that the crowd cannot see that he has said something that is only for the two of you (no doubt they would be baying to be privy to the marriage bed, if they thought they could get away with it) - and then, his lips brush against yours. They are cool and soft; the lightest tang of sea-salt remains on your own after he is done. The crowd roars with their approval as he steps back and bows to you, pressing his forehead to the back of your hand - and you stand there, trembling, excited and nervous and frightened and on display all at once, as your new husband takes you by the hand and gently, gently leads you back down one of the aisles of the opera, out to the waiting carriages to spirit you away from the spectacle of the opera house and into the spectacle that your parents have designed as a celebration.

As it turns out, it is not so bad. Your parents have understood, at the very least, that the two of you will be retiring early to Neuvillette’s residence (your trunks already packed, already loaded onto a carriage to be delivered in the next few days). They have managed to rein themselves in; only invite the most important echelons of society to this celebration, despite the luxury and the excess that has been coming into the house for weeks now.

So you bow to Lady Furina and accept her compliments with a stutter and hot cheeks, Neuvillette by your side, his steadying hand on your waist. Neuvillette expertly manages to weave around your family’s ballroom as if he has been doing it all his life - but then, remembering how much older he is than you, you suppose that he has been doing it at least as long as you have been alive. He has a remarkable way of remaining polite, yet not brokering too much room for small talk and gossip, as if he can tell that this kind of thing is not your favourite.

You overhear, when you have been spirited away from your husband’s side for ten minutes by some of your friends, an older couple accosting Neuvillette.

“You had all of the choice in the world,” the man says, poking Neuvillette in the centre of his chest - from the slur in his words, you think he may have partaken in a touch too much of your parent’s imported dandelion wine. “Whyever did you make this one?”

Your heart stutters in your chest; a trickle of sweat rolls down the back of your wedding gown. This is what you have been fearful of, this whole time - you being found wanting, you being seen as not good enough for Neuvillette--

But your new husband merely smiles.

“I have eyes,” he says, mildly, and he turns away from the couple and brings an end to the conversation that you know must leave them utterly blistering. He comes to find you, instead - apologising most profusely to your friends for having to steal you away.

You stay for as short a time as you can manage, with the congratulations and the toasts and the speeches (a Melusine or two makes a speech for Neuvillette; you much prefer their simple honesty to some of the awful gushing things that come from the mouths of connections of your parents who have never given much care to you before), with the cake being cut--

“Here,” Neuvillette murmurs, and your cheeks go hot as he feeds you a bite of his own slice from the same fork he has been using. “I must confess that this is rather too sweet for me.”

By the time that Neuvillette begins to make his excuses, bowing and smiling and thanking his hosts and the guests, the moon is already hanging white and plump in the black velvet of the night - and as you say goodbye to your parents, your Mama gives you a wink that makes you go hot all over.

Neuvillette’s residence is surprisingly unassuming; it is smaller than your parents house, and he does not employ half as many maids or staff. For a moment, his gaze flitters over to you, and you sense a nervousness in the air.

“I am sorry if it is not what you were expecting,” he says, voice clipped - but you shake your head, and try and let some of the anxiety drain from your tight shoulders.

“It’s lovely,” you say, firmly, as he helps you out of the carriage. This time, when his gloved hand - he has chosen to put his gloves back on, his wedding ring glinting over the black satin - touches your waist, you gasp. The frisson of promise that runs through the touch makes you feel dizzy with possibility. Neuvillette looks at you with those dark sapphire eyes of his, and murmurs;

“I apologise if you’re nervous. I have no wish to . . . make you do anything you don’t want to. I am more than willing to wait-- the law does not require we consummate directly on our wedding night, and if you are frightened--”

A drop of rain lands on your cheek.

“No,” you breathe out, all in a rush, surprised to find it falling from your lips as you say it. But then you think of his lingering kiss, of the way he shut down that couple at the wedding reception, of that private smile he had given you to soothe your fears as you walked down the aisle, and you’re even more surprised to find that you mean it. “Not at all. I-- I am nervous, but . . .”

He gives you another soft, gentle smile that makes your heart feel ready to burst out of your chest. The raindrop you had felt has no companions; simply a freak occurrence in the weather.

“I must admit,” he murmurs, as he helps you towards his front door. “I am very pleased to hear that. I hope you won’t find it remiss of me to admit that I have been . . . rather looking forward to it.”

Your cheeks go hot again. The idea of Neuvillette, imagining you like that, even waiting for it . . . it is hard not to find it at once flattering and embarrassing. Neuvillette opens the door for you, but as you go to step inside--

“Ah, just a moment--” He leans his cane against the front door, and reaches for you. “I’m aware there’s a custom about bringing one’s new spouse over the threshold, and I would hate to break tradition--”

“You don’t have to,” you say, stuttering on the words. “I’m not light--”

But Neuvillette has already reached for you, already wrapped a surprisingly strong arm about your waist - and before you know it, as if he hasn’t needed to exert any energy at all, you have been pulled into his hold, held like a princess being rescued by a knight.

You look up at him, and he looks down at you, his smile soft once more.

“You feel perfectly light in my arms,” he tells you, as he steps over the threshold with you and gently places you down as softly and carefully as he had picked you up. You were not expecting the strength from him - he wears his robes of office, of course, and he certainly has the height, but there’s a kind of willowiness about him that does not exactly betray him being able to do such a thing.

(If he can do that, a wicked little voice in your head whispers, imagine what else he could do to you - how easily he could manipulate you in a more intimate moment--)

It’s almost as if he can read your mind. He laughs a clear, silvery laugh like the rushing of a river.

“Shall I show you to our bedchambers?” He asks you. “I’m sure you’ll want to get all of your finery off soon; it looks rather heavy. If you are not opposed . . . perhaps we may bathe together?”

Your heart, beating double time in your chest. Neuvillette’s eyes, cool and calm. The way your blood seems to sing in your veins. You smile back at him.

“I would like that very much.”

Neuvillette’s house may not be as extravagant as expected, but the bathroom more than makes up for it - and most of all, the bathtub set into the floor, as wide as a swimming pool. He sees your look of surprise and laughs, sounding for once a little embarrassed.

“I enjoy being able to relax in water - natural water most of all,” he tells you, “but it would be rather . . . scandalous, if an ordinary citizen were to find me unexpectedly. This is my compromise. One of my vices, you may say.”

As vices go, it is a tame one, and you look at the bathtub - already full of clear water, so you can see the mosaic tiles on the bottom (the tub itself is stepped, so one can simply sit and relax at one end or perhaps even use the other end to swim a few strokes).

“I loved to swim when I was little,” you say, wistfully. “As I got older, my parents thought the idea of me wearing my swim clothes too often was improper, but . . .”

“Well,” Neuvillette says, placing his hands upon your hips with only the lightest of pressure as if he is still too afraid to touch you too much. “You are welcome to use this bathroom for swimming whenever you wish. It is not quite the same, of course, but I want nothing more than you to be happy here. What’s mine is yours now, sweet one.”

It’s the first pet name he has used for you, and it makes your mouth go dry. Slowly, you turn towards him. You are about to be naked together, you suppose - even if you are going to bathe before anything more intimate happens - so you ought to be braver. You reach for his face, palms warm on his cheeks - and though his eyes flash in surprise, he gladly leans in to let you kiss him.

This time, you let the kiss linger for longer; this private moment in the sanctity of a home that is to be shared between you. He sighs into your mouth and pulls you closer himself, so as you cradle his face his palms rest upon the ample curve of your hip. His teeth tug, almost shyly, at your bottom lip - and you feel your lashes flutter, your heart give an answering skip in your chest. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth and you part your lips, allowing him to take you as he wants - but even this ‘taking’ is done slowly, carefully, like a man who wishes to savour you.

You pull back, your breath coming in soft little gasps - Neuvillette’s eyes are half-lidded, but it does not stop him smiling at you, putting you at ease.

“We ought to disrobe,” he tells you, kindly - and he gently motions for you to turn, so that he may work at the difficult laces and hooks of your bridal outfit. You feel a little shy, as the fabric pools around your ankles, and you are left bare - but then he is turning you around, and in his eyes you see something that must be close to worship.

“I am a man who says what I mean,” he tells you, tilting your chin upward toward him. “I have not spared your ego, little one - everything I see before me is . . .” He shakes his head, letting loose a ragged breath, more undone than you’ve seen him before. “More than I could ever have asked for.” One gloved finger trails across your lips, tracing a patch from the corner of your mouth down to your throat, your collarbone - reaching behind you to unclip your undergarments, so they fall to the ground with your gown. “You’re truly the loveliest creature.”

“I--”

He shakes his head, smiling still.

��Perhaps in my choice of a spouse,” he murmurs, “I let my own desires overtake me a touch . . . but ah, if you could see yourself the way I see you--”

You hesitantly hook your thumbs into your underwear and stand before him, naked completely - and you win, for your bravery, another ragged breath.

“I must warn you,” Neuvillette murmurs, as he reaches for his own collar and begins to unbutton, to untie, to work the trappings of his own outfit off of himself. “You may be . . . surprised.”

“By what?” You feel brave enough to give him a little smile, though your heart is still beating faster than you’ve ever felt it. “Am I to discover you have been hiding extra limbs?”

Neuvillette’s gaze does not falter.

“Something like that,” he agrees, mildly, as he slips his shirt and coat from his shoulders. His skin is milky pale in the moonlight streaming in from a window set high in the wall, his hair glimmering silver. He takes your breath away.

Who would have thought you would ever find yourself in this position with the Chief Justice of Fontaine?

He unbuttons his placket slowly - and as he carefully works down the fabric of his trousers, you realise exactly what it was he was warning you about.

“I hope I do not disappoint you,” he says, as your mouth falls open at the sight of his cocks; resting one atop another, both half-swollen already. Your mouth goes dry at the thought of your wedding night, still to come. “I assure you, I know exactly what to do with them.”

“I--I didn’t mean to--!” Your voice comes out a little panicked - but then, Neuvillette lets out a soft huff of laughter.

“It’s quite alright,” he tells you. “But I will reiterate; I will not hurt you. You are . . . more than welcome to touch. But if we do not get in soon, I fear the water will have gone cold.”

Neuvillette helps you into the bath, surprisingly unashamed of his own nakedness. At the press of his body against yours as he helps you down the steps inlaid into the tub, you feel his cocks jump against you, the wet smear of something against the dip of your back - but then, Neuvillette is lowering himself into the water beside you and letting loose a sigh of pure bliss that sends a coil of heat spiralling to between your thighs.

You have never partaken in the gossip that surrounds Neuvillette, about his pointed ears or his inhumanly lovely face or his age - you would never have expected what he is hiding in his trousers. But as you sit beside your new husband, you cannot help but feel as though it makes perfect sense - a man like him could not be ordinary. And you trust him when he tells you he will not hurt you; when he says he knows what he’s doing, you think of all of the time he has on you and you have to suppress a shiver of desire for what he may have to teach you.

He touches you, as the two of you bathe together. Lets his fingers massage the shampoo into your hair, lets his hands slide the washcloth over the contours of your body until you can barely breathe for the hot trails of fire that he leaves in his wake. You do not think he means to inflame you so - but then, he allows you to do the same thing to him, and he shudders and leans back into your touch, a soft noise almost like a purr falling from the back of his throat, and he realises exactly what bathing together is doing to you both.

Still. The two of you linger there; touching one another. Getting to know one another’s bodies without any fear, for beneath the water all is muffled and calm. His fingers learn the shape of your nipples when he pinches them, how they pucker and harden beneath him. His palms learn the weight of your breasts, heavy and ample in his hands. His mouth learns the taste of your shoulders, as he drops hot, wet kisses across the span of them, the nape of your neck. And in return you feel the silkiness of his hair, the softness of his skin, the feel of his corded muscle beneath his deceptively slender frame.

By the time the two of you are wrapped in fluffy towels the colour of an early morning sky, you are both hot with want. Neuvillette’s twin cocks seem to pulse with his desire; you can no longer tell if you are slick and wet from the bath or from the space between your thighs. You shyly look at one another through lowered lashes, though, as the wedding night and all it entails comes closer and closer and closer.

“It’s a beautiful night,” you say to him, when the two of you have finally entered the bedroom. Neuvillette’s window is open a crack, enough so that the lacy curtains flutter in the light night-time breeze. “You would hardly think it’s been raining on and off all day.”

“Mmm,” Neuvillette agrees, as you feel him come up behind you. He slowly takes your hands, encouraging you to drop the towel; and then you stand before him, naked again, but with something far more than a bath in your future. He leans in and presses a kiss to the sensitive place where your neck and shoulder meet, just barely grazing it with surprisingly sharp teeth. “I should not wonder if it doesn’t rain again for some time.”

Neuvillette leads you to the bed, his hand firmly around yours. He is unerringly gentle and patient with you, as he urges you to sit upon the bedcovers - and your breath catches when you do as he asks, and instead of joining you he sinks onto his knees. You have never thought to imagine the Chief Justice kneeling before you, and the sight of it makes you buzz all over in anticipation. He smiles at your unsurety - and leans in, pressing a kiss to your knee, gently urging you to spread your thighs for him. His gloves are stripped away, but his wedding ring gleams on his finger as his fingers sink into the soft, full skin of your thigh.

He leans in, pressing another kiss to the side of your knee. Higher, higher, higher he trails them - and his breath fans cool against your heated core, and your fingers clench into the bedsheets in surprise at what he might be about to do.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmurs to you, his cheek pressing silky against your skin, as he suckles a love-bite into the part where your leg meets your pelvis. “I merely want to ensure you’re adequately prepared.”

“Y-you don’t need to,” you say, breathless, hot, embarrassed and needy all at once. This is an act of such intimacy, you do not know how to parse the thought of the Iudex doing it to you - but he gives you a smile that is not without a hint of fang, the wickedest look you have seen upon his face so far, and he reaches between the two of you to use his thumb to pull apart the lips of your sex so you are revealed to him.

“Oh,” he breathes. “But I want to, sweet one. And . . . looking at how wet you are for me, I daresay you want me to do so too.”

“M-Monsieur--”

“Neuvillette,” he murmurs, and he presses a kiss directly onto your sex, slick and wet with your own excitement, his nose brushing across the swollen nub of your clit. “Use my name.”

“Neuvillette--” It comes out rather thin and reedy, but Neuvillette does not seem to notice - instead, he seems rather preoccupied by what lies between your thighs. Your fingers tighten when you feel his tongue slide across you, gathering your slick upon the tip. There’s a strange quality to it, almost as if it is longer and firmer than a human tongue ought to be - and as he flickers his tip over your clit, again and again and again, and you shudder from the sensations he draws forth . . . you wonder if, too, his tongue is forked--

Thoughts quickly dissipate from your head when there is a man knelt between your thighs, though, and it is no different for you. The wondering is quickly chased away by the hungry way that Neuvillette laps at you, like a man who has been parched for water for months.

Through it, he urges you to part your thighs as wide as you can, so that he can more thoroughly attack you with his tongue - and with every stroke, with every suck and lick and groan of him against you, you feel a knot tighten in your stomach in a way you have never experienced. It is like his mouth is a match, setting fire to your core - despite how you can feel wetness dripping down you, onto his bedcovers, surely soaking his chin and his lips.

He does something with his tongue - a twirl, a flourish - and his name comes spilling out of your lips like a prayer, and the idea that he may at some point stop using his mouth on you flashes across your synapses like a tragedy. Without realising you’re doing it, you move one hand to grip his silvery hair, to keep him anchored against you - you realise, too, that it is not merely his name spilling out of you like an overturned wineglass. Pleas and whimpers and begging have joined the fray, and you would ordinarily cringe at being thought so wanting. But with Neuvillette’s mouth, with the promise of what he is trying to wring from you--

Shame seems unimportant compared to the way he shudders at your hand in his hair, the way his tongue intensifies flicking against your clit.

He pulls back, breathing heavy, mouth glittering with your slick.

“I’m going to put a finger inside you,” he tells you, and you are grateful that he too sounds a little breathless. You cannot imagine just how embarrassing it would be to be the only one falling apart.

“I want . . . you,” you say, not without a touch of petulance, and Neuvillette lets out a hoarse little laugh. Still kneeling before you, he reaches up to touch your warmed face - his thumb, too, glitters with your arousal from the way he had held you open. You cannot bring yourself to care when he softly smears it across your bottom lip like an offering, and he lets out a shuddering groan at the sight of your tongue swiping it off.

“I want you,” he says. “Oh, you have no idea how much I want you. But I will not hurt you, sweet one. Let me prepare you.”

It feels very much like him; this way of taking charge, his firm words. This time, his hand curves up your inner thigh, and your breath catches as his finger slides between the valley of your sex, wetting itself in your slick and his saliva. Your toes curl into his plush carpet as he nudges your clit with his fingertip, as a soft noise of surprise escapes your mouth and he chuckles.

He slides one finger inside of you with no resistance at all. His earlier ministrations have seen to that. It’s a strange sensation, to have something inside that is not one of your own fingers (rather smaller, rather shorter than his) - but it is hardly unwelcome. You whisper out his name, your eyes closing, and Neuvillette makes a gentle noise of encouragement.

“That’s right,” he murmurs to you, as he slowly begins to pump his finger in and out of you. “You’re doing so well - you’re taking it beautifully. I’m going to put a second one in--”

He does exactly as he says, and the hand still knit in his hair tugs at the silvery strands a little harder. It is not that it is painful, but simply that it is a stretch you are unused to - and one, too, that you know will continue to intensify.

You feel a strange, cool shock at the entrance to your sex - and you chance a glance down and realise it is his wedding ring, pressing against you. The sight and the knowledge makes you shudder, and Neuvillette huffs out a noise of want in return.

You think of the cocks, straining beneath the vee of Neuvillette’s pelvis. You cannot see them now, but from the way they had looked when the two of you were just bathing, you feel certain they must be swollen stiff and hard, waiting for their own chance (and too, from the spots of colour on Neuvillette’s cheeks, the way his words have a strange, dry edge to them when he speaks). How will he put those inside of you? One at a time? Both at once?

“What are you thinking about?” Neuvillette asks, raising his gaze to meet your own, a smile tugging at the corners of the lips. “You suddenly tightened around me.”

“I--!” Your cheeks go hot, embarrassment making warmth seep down your back. Neuvillette laughs.

“No need to keep secrets,” he murmurs, slowly establishing another rhythm, a slow pump of his two fingers inside of you, scissoring slightly to open you up. “We are married now, sweet one. We can share everything. Mmm . . . let me see. Were you imagining my fingers to be my cock?”

“Neuvillette--” Your voice is a weak little protest, and you avert your gaze shyly even as you force the words out. “I was . . . will you put them both inside of me?” Your gaze slips over his face again, nervous to see his reaction - his eyes widen in surprise, but it is not at all a look of anger.

“Not tonight,” he tells you, and he smiles again. “I fear it may be too much for you. Ah, but if that’s what you want . . . my dear, I know you’d feel exquisite.”

His fingers, pumping in and out, curling inside of you. His words, velvet-draped and deep - the look of concentration on his face, insistent on nothing more than drawing pleasure forward from you. You feel the hot tension inside of you reach a breaking point - a pot, ready to bubble over.

“I must confess,” he breathes, leaning in, breath hitting your sex hot and close. “I was worried you might be afraid. I’m terribly glad to know what an effect the idea has on you.”

As he finishes the sentence, he lets his tongue drag out one slow, final lap of your clit - and it is just enough to push you over the final edge. The bubbling pot within you reaches boiling point - and the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt, like molten heat, suffuses you entirely. Your head falls back. A noise of sheer enjoyment falls wanton from your lips - your thighs and your hips and your entire body trembles and shakes in the pleasure, and you feel your sex pulsating and throbbing around the two of Neuvillette’s fingers that are inside of you.

“Lovely,” Neuvillette murmurs, watching you in awe, his fingers slowing down as he lets you ride out the waves of your orgasm. “Oh, you’re . . . exquisite.”

“Neuvillette,” you say, collapsing back onto the bed, your breath coming in harsh pants. “I was afraid, at first. But I don’t think I could be. Not knowing what you’re like now. Not anymore.”

“Sweet thing.” Neuvillette stands. He steps forward and you see him again - his cocks are indeed straining, silvery precome dripping from the dual tips and smeared over the flat planes of his stomach. “You have no idea what you do to me. May I . . . ?”

He does not need to ask. You think you would grant him whatever he asked for - you cannot imagine Neuvillette overstepping your boundaries, when he has been so sweet and so careful and so guiding for as long as you’ve known him, even knowing he could do whatever he wanted to you and nobody would blame him. But it warms your heart that he asks even so.

“Please do,” you breathe, and you spread your thighs wider to accommodate him on the bed.

His hands scoop under your hips, his palms firm on your ass as he moves you higher up the bed, ensuring that your head and shoulders are propped up with a mound of pillows. Even with his cocks practically twitching, he prioritises you before himself, and you cannot resist another show of appreciation, wrapping your hand around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss.

He groans into your mouth, the movement clearly welcome - but when he mouths at you now, he is far messier than he has been before, his teeth just a little more present. You think he must be losing some of his control, and as his cocks nudge against your inner thighs, you are proved correct.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes against your lips, pulling back just far enough to be able to speak. “I cannot hold myself back a moment longer--”

“Please, Neuvillette,” you whisper, fingers still in his hair.

His lower cock nudges against your sex, the ring of muscle that will grant him entrance - and as he opens you up, his second cock rubs over the swollen over-sensitive nub of your clit and you whine.

He covers your whine with another kiss. He eases into you, moment by moment, inch by inch - you have nothing to compare it to, but you think from the slow tempo he goes at and the way his gaze keeps flicking over you, checking you’re alright, he must be larger than average.

But he has prepared you well. The stretch is an ache, but a pleasant one - it does not send painful shockwaves all through you. Your thighs wrap around his hips, pulling him as close as you can manage, and Neuvillette sighs.

“Will you kiss me again?” He murmurs, so softly you almost do not hear him. The request makes your heart feel like bursting in your chest - the soft way he looks at you, his unwillingness to pull away from you, his desire to be as close to you as he can even when he is buried inside of you.

You do. Arms wrap around his shoulders. His hands find purchase on your hips. His mouth and yours dance against one another - his tongue learning yours as if he is learning a new language.

He fucks you like that.

He is not rough with you, that first night; he does not, as you have heard so many new husbands do, take you and have you and ignore what you might want. Neuvillette cherishes you.

The slow rock of his hips, indulgent in their rhythm. The way he kisses you. He is chasing his own release, but he does not feel any need to fuck into you with abandon. At least not yet.

But time ticks on. The two of you seem to meld into one entity, and the kissing and the fucking grows sharper at the edges. You feel that Neuvillette is hovering on something, his expression almost desperate, as he rearranges the angle of his hips and the speed of his thrusts.

“Please,” he whispers, broken-voiced. “I’m close--”

You let go of him and he lets out a noise of distress at the lack of contact, a noise that makes you shiver with the idea of how much power you may one day have over him. But instead of anything else, one of your hands darts between you, to take a firm grip on his second cock. Neuvillette hisses through his teeth at your hand, hot and firm.

You do not know what you’re doing, not really, but that does not seem to bother Neuvillette as he increases the speed of his hips. In fact, he does most of the work - fucking his lower cock inside of you, hot and deep and wet, and fucking the cock atop it into your fist. You manage to work out a kind of twisting motion that makes him growl in the back of his throat--

It’s a fascinating noise, really. It makes you think of him as an animal, something feral and possessive - and you wonder what, later on, you may learn about him--

But then your name is falling from his lips like a prayer, and his cock is twitching inside of you and in your grip, and your back arches at the same time as he leans forward and sinks his teeth into your shoulder--

(Almost like a claiming bite. Almost like a mark to say that you are his).

And both of you come, together, in great waves and pants and gasps of breath. His come paints your fist and the round softness of your stomach at the same time as it paints inside of you, your body once more pulsating around his cock as if it never wants to let you go.

Like a tide on the shore; like a moon rising high over the lakes of Fontaine. Neuvillette lets himself lay atop of you, his head against your heart, his breath coming in great heaves.

You do not need to think this time; you simply lift your unsoiled hand and begin to stroke the silver of his hair in slow, careful motions. From the back of his throat again comes that noise, something like a purr and something like a chirrup. His eyes close contentedly.

“Neuvillette?” You whisper into the darkness, and your husband makes a soft ‘mm?’ of response. “You really . . . could have had anyone. Why did you choose me?”

“Hmm, sweet one?” He lifts his head from your chest and looks down at you like you have asked him why the sky is blue. “Didn’t you hear me earlier? I certainly did have my pick . . . I perhaps wouldn’t have chosen to marry if Lady Furina hadn’t been so insistent, but I was lucky enough to be able to choose anybody I wanted. And I had seen you.” He shakes his head, a huff of laughter falling from his mouth. “Like I said - I do have eyes.”

Your cheeks feel hot. The thought of being coveted by Monsieur Neuvillette, when you had worried about your body and your match and your future so often it felt like second nature--

“Oh dear,” he says, looking down at the two of you - at the sweat-slicked hair, at the come drying on your inner thigh. “I fear we’ll need to have another bath before bed.”

“And you won’t mind if I join you?”

He chuckles.

“Why,” he says. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

#neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #writing #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #chubby reader #not sfw text #commissioned work #chubby reader posting

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icysab · 8 months

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more niki boyfie hcs — falling for you edition!

requested here!

wc: <350 i think

a/n: this is a little different than my standard boyfie hcs but i wanted to try something new, so let me know your opinion in comments, reblogs, asks, etc. of this format !!

a/n no. 2: idc what anyone says riki is a DORKY, RIZZLESS LOSER SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD BOY AND I WILL WRITE HIM AS SUCH.

- bro was CAPTIVATED by your smile

- that was literally the first thing he noticed about you— how your smile lit up the room he was in

- you were one of jungwon’s friends and so he introduced you to all the members

- and when i tell you niki’s heart STOPPED when he saw you

- but niki is loyal to his bros!! so he swallowed the lump in his throat so jungwon didn’t kill him

- (jungwon, in fact, introduced you to the members because you mentioned that niki was cute. he would not have cared one bit.)

- only realizes he’s staring after sunoo nudges him with his elbow

- literally stuttering trying to introduce himself

- “i, uh, my name is- uh- riki”

- (failed) attempts at acting aloof fly out the window when you repeat his name back and smile

- the second you leave jake and sunghoon RELENTLESSLY tease the poor guy

- and he gets so defensive too, like he wasn’t acting like a lost puppy dog

- before jakehoon can strip niki of too much of his pride though, won tells them to knock it off

- after scolding the two goofballs (scary leader) won decides to tell niki

- “you know, i don’t care if you go for her”

- poor riki is not following

- “??”

- “she thinks you’re cute too, and besides, you’d make a good match”

- he malfunctions

- “no nono why would you think that!! HAHA- wait. she thinks i’m cute??”

- he’s all red and blushy

- at this point jakehoon are CACKLING at poor riki

- won explains that you thought riki was cute too and that’s why he introduced you two, but he didn’t expect him to be such a nervous wreck around you

- riki is shocked 😮

- after MUCH coaxing from the members, won finally gets riki to text your number

- riki’s leg won’t stop bouncing with nerves as he types out a message

- “hey, this is riki from earlier. i just wanted to say that your shirt was cool”

- all the members facepalm at his attempts at playing it cool

- you respond almost instantly, to riki’s surprise

- “hi riki!! thank you, + i thought your outfit was cool too :D”

- before he can breathe a sigh of relief that your text was super nice and simple, he sees the typing bubble pop up again

- “did you ask won for my number? hah you must have wanted an excuse to talk to me again ”

- he freezes again

- HOW DID YOU SEE RIGHT THROUGH HIM??

- he’s about to deny, deny, deny, but won stops him

- “dude, just tell her the truth. did you already forget that she thinks you’re cute too?”

- riki’s brows furrow in thought at that, but before he can even begin to construe a cool, smooth response, jake rips the phone out of his hands

- RIKI SCREAMS SO LOUD THE ENTIRE DORM REVERBERATES while jake books it to the bathroom to lock himself in

- after a minute, he walks out with riki’s phone and the most devilish smirk on his lips

- before jake can do anything else, riki snatches the phone back and apprehensively starts to read the damage jake had done

- “lol you caught me. if you want, we could get to know each other better over some ice cream tmr? it’ll be my treat”

- “woah, that was smoother than i expected. ill see you tmr riki :)”

- riki is dumbfounded. did jake actually just score him a date with YOU?? there’s no way this worked

- “thank me later,” jake teases

- he is so in shock that he doesn’t even have the capacity to kill jake. tomorrow, a date (???) with you? he can die a happy man.

- to be continued…. ?

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fancyfade · 2 years

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Manual Wheelchair Tutorial by Fade31415

So... I technically drew this 3 years ago but forgot to post it. I think I was going to clean up the end and make a nice recap, but I ran out of steam and then just left it as a wip for years. I got reminded of it because I was talking to a friend about how to draw wheelchairs today.

This covers most of what I view as the most common errors when it comes to drawing characters who use manual wheelchairs. I hope it helps you a lot.

Image description is in alt text, but there is a back up image description under the cut in case that does not work for some reason

[image description: a 4 picture long wheelchair tutorial. the background is white and the text, when it appears, is black and in calibri. each step will be labeled with "Step #" and a description of the drawing next to it, and "text" and then the text that is written to explain it to follow.

Step one text: So, you want to draw a character who uses a manual wheelchair? Awesome! I can't approve more. Drawing characters who use wheelchairs is a bit different than drawing standing characters, because of obvious posing differences. But to start, you need to know what parts of a wheelchair you will draw. So, without further ado, here are 3 wheelchairs!

Step one image: a simplified drawing of a chubby woman sitting in a quickie GPV manual wheelchair and resting her hand on the handrim of one of the wheels. this is labeled "the artist"

step two: next there is a lineart drawing of three wheelchairs. one is a tilite TR series 3. this is an ultralight wheelchair with a bucket seat (the back is lower than the front), a big cushion and a short backrest that kind of contours to the back of the person who would sit in it. the caster wheels (front wheels) are very small and the footrest is just two little metal bars. next image is a quickie GPV. this is also an ultralight wheelchair with a low back, but its caster wheels are slightly larger, the back has regular upholstery (it does not look like it was made to conform to the back of the person who sits there) and the frame is boxier -- there is no bar underneath the seat where the wheels would attach, rather each wheel is attached to the side of the chair. the next wheelchair is an invacare tracer. it is how most people imagine wheelchairs when they hear 'wheelchair'. it has no cushion and it has a high backrest with handles. it has high armrests that would be comfortable to rest your elbows on if you were just sitting. the wheels are not bicycle wheels like the previous two but are rather plastic. it has big footrests and big caster wheels.

text: the wheelchairs on the left are the ultralight, sporty kind. I have one of them (the quickie). the one on the right is a more standard one you might find in hospitals or as the public wheelchair in grocery stores or the mall.

step three: first is text to accompany the tilite. "This wheelchair has a really thick cushion - it's pressure relieving, which you need if you use your chair ufll tiem and especially if you have a spinal cord injury. This wc has the smallest caster (front) wheels. They are hte most handy for turning in small circles." next there is text to accompany the quickie gpv: "This one has the one I use -- it isn't pressure relieving, but is still useful." next is text to accompany the invacare: "this wheelchair has no cushion - you do not want to sit on it for long. This one has the biggest caster wheels - they are useful for not 'tripping' when your front wheel gets caught on an obstacle.”

step four text: like with all complex drawings, you want to break it into simple shapes first. I normally have a box underneath the seat, a rectangle for the backrest, and a trapezoidal thing for hte area from the box to the footrest. these are the most important shapes, because your character will rest on them and they will move with your character.

step four image: the lineart of each wheelchair has been put on reduced opacity, so we can see the square representing the backrest of each seat (the square is the smallest for the tilite and biggest for the invacare), the box for each seat and area underneath it, and the trapezoid for the footrests. the next step labels the images of these simplified shapes as the lineart is removed. "Note the proportions of each set of shapes is not the same - just like how you wouldn't draw all your characters with the same proportions on their faces!"

step 5: we see the same shapes to form the wheelchair, but now with blue circles drawn where the back wheels would be.

text: next shape is the wheels - two circles

step six: next we see the wheels and shapes have been reduced in opacity and the basic structure of everything about each wheelchair: footrests, caster wheels, upholstery details, axles has been drawn on in orange.

text: the next stage is everything else that's structure - front wheels, handlebars, cushions, footrests.

Step seven: we see the lineart on top of the lowered opacity sketch.

text: you can then do detailing like axles, spokes, upholstery, etc and lines

step eight: next we see three drawings of different characters. there is patience, a skinny white woman sitting in a blue invacare wheelchair. kelley, a slightly chubby black woman wearing a stripey dress sitting in a red quickie gpv wheelchair and doing a wheelie while smiling. then luke, a white man with short blond hair wearing khaki pants. he is sitting in a tilite chair.

text: once you get your wheelchair basics, you need to find out which kind your character uses. here are three characters who each use one of the example WCs. patience uses the invacare. she needs one with a better cushion, but circumstance prevents it. Notice the chair is a bit wider than her hips - it's not custom fitted. Also notice she has to turn her elbows out awkwardly to move. the high armrests prevent a smooth push. her wheelchair has big caster wheels and far-back back wheels. it is made for stability and difficult to turn,but also difficult to knock over. Her chair indicates a lack of resources or temporary injury, and is primarily a transport chair

kelley uses a wheelchair like mine - it is fairly sporty, but has a box-y frame underneath. this makes it heaver than if it didn't.she has a mediocre cushion - it protects her, but only some. her back wheels are further underneath her body than Patience's, which makes it possible to do the wheelie (demonstrated here). her wheelchair is supposed to look line one you'd use full time, but it is a little old.

luke has a spinal cord injury. he has a very thick pressure relieving cushion for medical reasons. his chair is also ultralight, with no boxyness under the frame. his chair is the newest and lightest - it indicates his wealth/resources, but also that he needs to use on full time.

step nine: just a drawing of me sitting in my wheelchair holding my hands up to show fingerless wheelchair gloves. we're looking at me from above.

text: when you're choosing what wheelchair to give your character, think of both their disability and their resources and go from there. questions to ask yourself: is it made specifically for them or is it mass-produced or a hand-me-down (if it's custom, the seat will not be too wide or narrow in comparison to their body and their feet will rest on the footplate naturally). do they want more stability (further back back wheels, big caster wheels) or maneuverability (the inverse). do they need a pressure relieving cushion? how long are they using their wheelchair per day? how long have they needed a wheelchair? Do they have health insurance? do they have access to a lot of spending money? How much can they spend on their wheelchair? are they athletic etc etc

posing steps:

step one: a sketch of two people standing up. one just shows the outline of a person's body, with legs that are ind of triangle shaped, the other shows a sketched pelvis and rib cage to go along with the bones of the legs and arm. text: step one: Most people have this sketch anatomy they put before drawing their characters for real. I kind of scribble around like on the left, but some people use skeletons on the right.

step two: there are now too sketched pictures of people in wheelchairs. one shows lightly traced human form (arms articulated, curve for a stomach, legs that are kind of triangle shaped and pointing down) sitting in a wheelchair that is just the sketch of footrests and wheels. the other sketch shows the sketch of a body with a circle for hips and an oval for a rib cage and the person doing a wheelie (lifting the front end of the wheelchair off the ground and leaning back). their wheelchair is also sketched out and defined by a circle for their wheels and 2 lines, 1 of the seat and 1 for the backrest. text: you need one of those for your wheelchair character. important: they should have both the person's main anatomy features (Usually upper body and at least hips) and the wheelchair's. for me, these are the back wheels, footrest, and seat. why simplify to just those features? Take a look at this incredibly quickly drawn wheelchair.

step three: there is a lineart drawing of a manual wheelchair with slightly cambered (angled towards the seat) wheels, a backrest, and a footrest. the frame is light and there are no handlebars. there are labels pointing to different parts of the wheelchair: Backrest, handrims, wheel, axle, seat, footrest, and caster wheels (the ones in front). text: there are a lot of parts, and not all of them are essential to your pose. trying to draw the whole thing straight out of the gate will frustrate you.'

step four text: take a character in heavy armor: if you draw her pose without taking her armor into account, her armor will clip through her body. if you draw a wheelchair using character without keeping her wheelchair in mind from the beginning, the pose won't make sense.

step four image: next we see two lineart drawings of different characters. one is a bulky woman wearing plate armor. her hand is on her hip and she is trying to scratch her back with the other hand. there is the label "shoudlerpad clips through face" and "thumb clips through chestplate." the next drawing shows a woman in a wheelchair with one foot rested on her knee and her arms rested back, such that they would be rested on the back of a regular chair, but the back of her wheelchair is not wide enough for them to actually be resting on anything. the text here reads "elbows not resting on anything" and "foot not on footplate"

step five: there are two images, one is lineart on top of a 3d modelled apartment with sketchup, the other is a colored in version of that lineart with the background also colored in and no longer a 3d modelled screencap two characters, one old woman wearing a green jacket and one younger woman wearing a white shirt and blue undershirt, are sitting on a couch. the old woman is leaning forward and the young woman is resting her arm on the couch. behind the young woman is a bookshelf.

step five text: you may say you'll just draw the chair first and then the person, but while that works for regular furniture, it doesn't work as well for most manual wcs. take this comic panel with characters on a couch for example - I 3d modeled the room and then drew the characters on the furniture. it works because you don't move furniture in most poses - you rest on it. but your wheelchair needs to move with you, especially if it's an ultralight one.

step six image: there is a flat color drawing of barbara gordon in her wheelchair. she is wearing a black sportsbra and black shorts. in the first image we see she is doing tricks in her chair, zooming through the air (as if she has just launched herself off the ground in a skater park or somethign) while her left hand is resting on a structure and her right hand is heading towards the right handrim. the next image shows her right hand planted on the ground and her chair and body above her, such that she is briefly doing a one-handed handstand, but the motion line indicates that she is moving and this will not last. her left arm is near the handrim of her left wheel.

text: take exercise Oracle - she is doing tricks. Her WC is an extension of her body. That is crucial to getting natural looking manual wheelchair users after posing.

step seven: we see a lineart drawing of paula from young justice. she is sitting in a standard manual wheelchair with high armrests (goes up to the bottom of her ribs probably) and a high backrest (goes up to just below her shoulderblades). she is setting her hand on the armrest, leaning forward, and holding her other hand out.

text: of course, there are exceptions - if you have a clunky WC, it is harder to move with your body. Take Paula from young Justice - here, i drew her resting her hand on her armrest, because she has a clunker wheelchair. her pose is already mostly static - she's sitting down - and she poses around that.

#wheelchair #wheelchair user #manual wheelchair #wheelchair tutorial #tutorial #drawing tutorial #my art #disabled characters

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waltzingwithspirit · 9 months

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PICK A CARD: LOVE NOTES FROM YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE

Top Left: Pile 1 Top Right: Pile 2 Bottom: Pile 3

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, so take what resonates and leave the rest.

You are not allowed to copy my work under any circumstances.

All personal tarot readings are PAID.

Thank you for all letting me read for you, please provide feedback.

Pile 1

‘We would be a wonderful us’ ‘Workplace romance’ ‘I’ll follow you till the end’ ‘I’m always gonna be in love with you’

You might get text like this: 1. Them: You are beautiful, more than you realise. 2. Them: I’ll make you breakfast.

Your future spouse and you share a similar sense of humour, you both will be teasing and joking a lot. I see they are into philosophy for some of you, definitely a deep thinker either way, their view of life might intrigue you. This person an you will have many conversations, they will be mentally stimulating to you and get you thinking. Definitely some air sign presence (Gemini, Libra, Aquarius). I see rain is significant, maybe you’ll meet that time but it is coming in strong. Either one of you loves to style hair. I am seeing a man braiding a girl’s hair. It’s the little things about your relationship, spending quality time whenever you can, through thick and thin. They only like you and want you to be verbal in expressing your feelings. They really want to get married to you have an unbreakable bond.

COMMENT 111 TO CLAIM!

🌙To know more about your future spouse in detail, DM me for a personal tarot reading🌙

Pile 2

‘Hopeless romantic with high standards’ ‘Star-crossed lovers’ ‘You look at each other like the two of you have your own language’ ‘One in simping, the other is oblivious’ - literally everyone else sees it. ‘Are we friends? Or are we more?’

They might say these things to you:

1. I am not supposed to be thinking about you. 3. Why won’t you leave my mind? 4. Wherever I look you are there. 5. Them: fight me for the rest of our lives.

Their heart flutters when you are in close proximity to them. Romantic tension and some awkward moments, with stealing glances and shy smiles. You guys will also have a lot of healthy debates where you disagree and argue, but overtime know how to work things through and are respectful. The transition period from friends to lovers is really being given emphasis here, it’s like everyone else sees it, when you two are together, you forget other people exist. Some of you might even know each other since college or some educational institution. Your love is very pure, only wanting the best for them. It is a slow-burn romance, with hands almost touching but didn’t. You guys are each others safe space, giving a sense of security.

🌙To know more about your future spouse in detail, DM me for a personal tarot reading🌙

PILE 3

There are many different messages for this group, take it as it resonates. ‘Enemies to lovers’ ‘Friends to lovers’ ‘Workplace romance’ ‘SO THIS IS LOVE’ ‘Cute nicknames’ - even if you find them cringey right now, with the right person I see you turning into a puddle. ‘I feel lovable when you take care of me’ ‘Talk like best friends’ ‘Power couple’ ‘Someday when I say I am going home, it’ll mean I get to see you and that will make all of everything worth it’ Things they might say to you/text you: 1. You are so cute. 2. Do you wanna go driving? Just me and you. 3. We fix it together, because that’s what a relationship is about, going through life together as a team 4. You are so physically and mentally attractive at the same time, that’s why I am so crazy about you. 5. I only pretend I don’t like you. 6. [ angry whisper ] do you even know how cute you are. One thing is settled, that they definitely find you attractive. It might start out as dislike which will morph into a friendship of sorts leading to a love connection. You guys love to banter. I see a lot of banter. If you read ‘the hating game’ I get those vibes. They find excuses to spend time with you until they are like I am gonna be honest and be more upfront rather than relying on some external factor. One of you is unconventional and the other finds them interesting and the constant need to be in touch, might also be a therapist of some sort, or just have healing energy. 🌙To know more about your future spouse in detail, DM me for a personal tarot reading🌙

EL TAROT

#pick a picture #pick a photo #pac tarot #free tarot #pick a card #pick an image #pac reading #pick a pile #future spouse pick a card

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evertidings · 2 months

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Hello! I'm thinking of starting an IF story later this year, and am completely new to coding and how to organise a chose-your-own-adventure. I was wondering whether you could share how you organise each route/the story of WTS, please. Love your work!

hi!! if you're overwhelmed by formatting and you're writing in twine, i'd actually recommend writing directly in the twine app. it has a great mind-map aesthetic that can help you visualize things.

but if you're curious as to how i write, i've attached some screenshots below. i believe i've talked about this before, but i'll go over it again because why not?

example #1: sections

one of the most important steps for me when organizing a document is having headers. it allows me to jump from section to section, rather than scrolling through for ages trying to find something. it also helps me break the chapter into smaller sections, which makes things less overwhelming for me.

example #2: choices.

in terms of the document itself, i make sure to differentiate texts with various colours to make things easier on the eyes. i also make sure they are visually different. for example, in chapter ten, i wrote my choices in a purple colour and indented them slightly. i also write each line with bullet points, just so i know the text that follows is part of that choice and not general text.

example #3: if statements.

similar to my choices, i colour my "if statements" in a different colour than the general text. i also indent them further than the choices and change the bullet point that it's written on, just so i can further differentiate the two. for those who don't know, if statements act like flavour text, which show up only if you've completed or met a certain requirement prior to the scene. in the picture below, the flavour text reveals itself if you've been rude to Blane seven times or more. otherwise, you get the general text.

overall: aside from those two formatting decisions, my word document is really standard. luckily, i'm able to keep track of a my branches in my head, so this system works for me, but it goes without saying that it won't be for everyone. as i said at the beginning of the post, if you're more visual, twine (or some sort of mindmap tool) might be useful. hopefully this is (slightly) helpful. if anyone has more questions on this, please let me know! i'm always happy to answer them :)))

p.s. if anyone is confused about all the "<" and ">" symbols, that's just part of my twine coding. i usually copy and paste what i write in word into my code, so this just saves me from typing it.

#ask #advice

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zaebucca · 6 months

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About scale, process, palette and canvas: a few considerations on pixel art as a medium

User moredogproblems answered an interesting and legitimate question by another, DiscountEarly125, regarding my work and canvas size. He also perfectly isolated two central concepts of pixel art, which are scale and process. Canvas size, which was the theme of DiscountEarly125's specific request, is more of a dependent variable to those two aforementioned concepts, rather than a starting point. I hope the following considerations I shared may help or prompt some other ideas, but this is what I could come up with 15-ish years of experience with pixel art (and a few more years of art and media studies). I was quite in the mood of writing down these few thoughts that have been floating for a while. I apologize as this may also result in a confusing wall of text, but it is all part of a my work and research, and I would love to polish all the material, hopefully with some thoughts, insights from other colleagues, as well as pictures and materials!

A. Scale and canvas size It is true that the bigger the canvas, the more distance one may visually create from pixel art, but I personally think this is to be possibly considered a matter of perceiving pixels, rather than a fundative problem of the medium. In fact I concur with the idea of "process makes the medium" rather than identifying pixel art as how (evidently) pixeled the result feels. The general picture, or the sum of pixels, though, is a really important matter to the medium nonetheless! Pixels themselves work in relation one with another, so it's their overall result that gives context and makes the subject recognizable. This relationship between pixels links back to all the art fundamentals that each artist is taught, from color theory to shape and composition - and so on. So, the canvas size debate usually boils down to a matter of scale or necessity of your subjects. As long as the dimension (canvas) of your subject (as in: a drawing of an apple, a character sprite, a mockup environment) allows you to operate, control and keep an eye on the quantity (number/area of pixels together) and quality (color, shaping of multiple pixels, texturing obtained through color and shapes) of isolated single pixels or pixeled areas, you're in the pixel art universe. The other way around to define the matter of scaling: in order to be operating pixel art fundamentals and techniques, your subject has to be on a scale that allows you to apply principles of pixel art within the space of your canvas and your personal style. These very same principles, or basics, can be applied with different results and extent to bigger and smaller canvases alike, each with their own specific difficulties and variables. It is important to adapt your scale when learning, and trying classic canvases per subject like "16x16px" (standard tile or character sprite unit, tied to older consoles and screen ratios, it's a bit complicated there) is always a nice idea - they also tend to be industry benchmarks and necessities so in case you'd like to consider a professional output, that's very useful.

Scale also applies to the array of colors, and there lies the concept of palette: a number of single hexadecimal hues we are using for each single pixel. Any single pixel can have one hexadecimal color only.

Consequentially it is absolutely true that either a huge canvas or a palette too broad may prevent a viewer from perceiving immediately the "nature" of your medium, namely seeing square pixels, recognizing a certain amount of color - or more thoroughly recognizing that you made some choices for each subject on a pixel level. What could possibly happen on a huge canvas (without zooming in) is that you can't really grasp the pixels, but just the "overall picture" - and that may not differ too much from digital, raster art, which is of course also based on pixels. Therein appearently lies a sort of threshold that is really hard to pin down for us pixel artists, as it depends on screen size, visualization methods, distance, filters and lots of other inherently subjective parts.

This kinda is my case sometimes: I make big environments (possibly too big, and too detailed in each part I tell myself) that are a sum of many lesser parts: both tilesets and sprites that relate (but not strictly adhere) to a basic space unit that is 16x16pixels. You can indeed consider scale in a broader sense as a subdivision or magnification issue, much alike squinting your eyes to focus on a picture's overall contrast or, conversely, analyzing its fundamental parts with a magnifying glass, and then a microscope - an analogy as follows:

a. the picture as a whole is like a colorful rock that you can analyze by magnifying its grain. b. the characters, geographical elements and textures, works like the different substances that compose the rock and give its visible characteristics grain and complexity, c. single pixels constitute the very atoms of those previously recognized substances.

I mean "atom" in the traditional, classical meaning of indivisible, fundative object. That's a "quantized" part of information, which for pixel art is ultimately color (or a binary value, like yes/no black/white). If you were, for example, to crop some parts of my work - let's say 160x144 pixels (a gameboy screen resolution in pixels) you would see the substances that are characters and elements of nature, and when you zoom in again, every atom becomes visible as a single entity of color. There are 29 different type of "atoms" in Ruin Valley as in different, singularly hexadecimal colors that work together in different combinations and shapes to create different substances and characters. 18 of them are used for the different qualities of the environment, and 11 more for extra hues for characters and other elements to pop out a bit.

It's really interesting to see how many pixel artists push this "threshold" of pixel art canvases to the extremely small or the extremely big, whereas, notably, palettes are less open to growth: it is indeed my opinion that pixel art tends to quantize color (quality) over than dimension (quantity). Palettes, notably, do not grow exponentially, but tend to a lower, fixed, controlled amount of individual values instead. This usually gives the artist the true possibility and toolkit through which is possible to think about/with pixels. In other words: color (or its absence) is the founding unit and identity of pixel art as a digital medium.

B. Pixels as process or pixels as objective? Pixels themselves (as strange as that may sound!) are not to be considered an objective of pixel art, I think, but the founding matter of its research as a medium instead. I think that making pixel art is not just devoting oneself to show those jagged, squarey areas or blunt edges that we all know and love: this is just one of the possible aesthetics that pixel art conveys or adopts - especially on small canvases. Pixel art is not about denouncing itself as pixels, but, rather, embracing the square, atomic unit to build an ensemble that conveys a content or a style. That's the important part of the discourse that emancipated pixel art into being a medium, and not just an aesthetic choice or style of representation. Again: process makes this medium. Speaking of that, I consider pixel art as part of a broader family of "quantized art", namely media that operate on/with "indivisible, founding bricks and unities" that can assume a certain quality (color, mainly) within a certain quantity (palette, canvas size) and in relation to its surroundings to describe something. This puts pixel art, with its specifics and with a certain degree of semplification, among other mediums such as cross-stitch, bead art, construction sets, textile art (on a warp and weft basis), (micro-)mosaics and others.

A classic threshold example of process vs objective: oekaki art. Oekaki art - which I love and also happen to make from time to time - doesn't really work or "think" specifically on a pixel base: it doesn't place pixels per se, but uses pixel-based areas and textures on bigger canvases with a certain degree of freedom, like one would normally do with brushes on raster digital art programs (adobe ps, gimp, clip studio and so on) in order to convey an aesthetic with fewer colors and a certain line style and texturing. That way, oekaki uses and knows pixels in a deep way, but doesn't see them primarily in a quantized way. As a result the "overall picture" shows pixels to a certain extent, and it's possible to recognize distinct pixels for each part, but the objective is not an analysis and use of pixel and quantized information, but the use of an aesthetic based upon accessibility of resources, their control and a certain rendering style.

A huge part of pixel art is its absolute accessibility: everyone with a fairly outdated computer or screen and a basic drawing program can study the medium. To be fair, it's indeed considering accessiblity that I highly support an inclusive approach to the term "pixel art" and I think traditional oekaki is a close, beautiful relative that builds upon the rules and techniques of pixel art and pixel rendering, yet keeping its identity as its very own medium - somehow like a dress may be built around/upon textile design. Anyway, boundaries are meant to be crossed and I think there definitely are lots of oekaki and pixel-based art that meet traditional pixel art mid-way - or further. I also think the "is it pixel art?" discourse possibly ensuing - and generally speaking any media belonging purist ontology - is a treacherous, slippery terrain leading to excesses, and this is not my focus today, neither am I able to tackle that subject extensively at the moment.

C. Conclusions and a few good exercises Everything above may be farfetched or too complicated as a starting point. I tried to write all down as orderly as possible. The point of this (possibly discouraging) analysis and the reasoning between scale and process is that (pixel) art is about trying different canvases, and reasoning on one's subject and objective, rather than limiting oneself to presets sizes or styles. It's important to choose something that resonates with us and, in doing so, thinking about other, more interesting limitations: that's the discourse about quantity of space and quality in color. Limiting is the best possible exercise and one I wholeheartedly encourage: by doing so we are progressively delving deeper on the basics, as we learn the fundamental relationships between shapes and colors that we can achieve through pixels. A few good exercises that I too implemented in my own workflow come to mind: 1. Trying different canvases (or sizes) for the same subject (sprite, character art, illustration or so on). This helps a lot finding a comfortable size to apply pixel techniques, as well as getting a hold over fundamentals such as aliasing, linework, conventional representation and so on. 2. Trying different palettes for the same subject, both by varying colors themselves (therefore learning about values and contrast and readability, as well as atmosphere and mood!) or singular hues and their components, in order to discover possible relationship between them. Have fun! 3. Reducing the width of the palette progressively for the same subject: reducing the number of singular colors forces a reasoning on shapes, rapresentation. You may go from 1-bit art (just black/white) to 3 colors, 4, 8 and so on. We'll not talk about transparency as a singular color there, but if you happen to be interested in retro art, transparency counts to the palette size. This exercise is very useful in rendering, and possibly tricky. And definitely fun. :') 4. Choosing an objective and usage of our work: for example trying to learn about old pixel art limitations for games, in order to reason within specifics. Get inspired by traditional games (spriters-resource is your best friend here, in case you have a specific retrogame you're thinking of)! I will probably talk about limitations and style on another post. 5. Four eyes (and other multiples) are better than two: try to talk with people and friends and other artists you trust and feel comfortable with to get their point of view. This can be scary, I know, especially at the beginning. You're not forced to, of course, but if you do (in a safespace) there's lots you can learn about concepts such as readability, subject recognition, rendering and composition. Our eyes and brains get accustomed to something, and pixel art being a rather analytic medium made of synergies, subtle changes, limitations and conventions is especially tricky on the artist's eyes on the long term. Either way, the important thing about pixel art is understanding that this medium is about recognizing and enjoying the process rather than the eventual aesthetic and in order to do so the best choice is to start simple, small, with few colors and techniques at a time! Have fun and hit me up with your progress and considerations. :')

#pixelart #art resource #pixelartist #how to #reference #art tips #learning #insights #pixel illustration

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megukins · 2 years

Text

Just Between us

𓆩♡𓆪 Pervy sensei!Gojo x virgin student!reader

𓆩♡𓆪 genre: smut, 18+

𓆩♡𓆪 synopsis: You go over to Gojo's house to help bring up your grade on a current test you failed, but your innocence gets to be too much for poor Gojo.

𓆩♡𓆪 a/n: Gojo is 26 and you're 19 so it's a 7 year age gap.

𓆩♡𓆪 warnings: age gap, corruption kink, dubcon, mentions of condom use, anal

𓆩♡𓆪 wc: 2k

You saw your female classmates fawn over him. You didn't get it, I mean sure he's handsome and all, but that's a grown man! Plus, he's your sensei, you can't fall for him like that!

"Gojo-sensei, do you have a girlfriend or wife perhaps?" You hear one of them ask.

"Hanako-chan, that's an inappropriate question to ask!" One of her friends lectures.

"You're just mad because I have a higher chance of getting with him!" She scoffs.

"How come every girl is so into him?" You ask Itadori.

"He's awesome that's why!" He exclaims with sparkles in his eyes.

You roll your eyes.

'At least Nobara hasn't fallen for his charm.'

"Once I pass your papers back, you're dismissed."

He was surrounded by a group of girls making kissy faces and telling him goodbye.

He passes back the latest test you took. You examine your paper, seeing a frowny face.

You grip the paper tighter, gritting your teeth.

'He's practically mocking me!'

"You okay, Y/N?" Nobara notices a change in your demeanor.

"Huh? Oh yeah, I'm fine…"

"Oi, Fushiguro wanna hang out at my place?"

"Absolutely not." He shuts him down without hesitating.

"Oh come on, it'll be fun!" He grins widely.

He bribes Nobara to come with before turning around.

"You coming, Y/N?"

"I'll be there in a minute!" You flash him a smile which soon faded.

It was just you two in the class as an awkward silence filled the room.

You clear your throat to break the silence.

"Gojo-sensei? How did I fail when I clearly studied and worked hard!"

"You didn't exactly meet my standards. You may have excelled on the English portion, however the math portion needs more work. How about you come by my house later and we can study. How does that sound?" He flashes a flirty grin.

"Gojo-sensei, are you trying to flirt with me? Because if you are, it's not working."

"Ooh you're a feisty one." He chuckles.

"Anyways, what do you say?"

You contemplate for a minute then sigh.

"Fine, but I still don't like you like the other girls do."

You look back at the text message to make sure you're at the right house.

"Whoa, his house is bigger than I thought it'd be…"

You knock once and he immediately opens the door.

You notice he looks different from his usual attire. He's not wearing those glasses he usually wears and he has on sweatpants and plain white socks.

"Come in!" He clasps his hands.

He takes your coat and hangs it on the coat rack. You take your shoes off to get a bit more comfortable. You take your bookbag off and sling it to the floor.

"All right, let's hurry up and get this over with."

"You have to eat first, you can't think on an empty stomach!"

You hear your stomach growl, heat pouring over your face.

"Looks like somebody's hungryyy~"

"Fine." You say through gritted teeth.

He leads you to the dining room. You rushed to sit down, him following soon after.

You both join your hands in front of your chest, "Thank you for the food!" You both say.

You eat like you haven't eaten in years. He chuckles a bit and is pleased you think his cooking is good.

"So, L/N-san, do you have any crushes? Because if you do, I could give you some tips~"

You nearly choked on your food when he asked you that.

"Wh-what kind of question is that?!"

"Well I just assumed you either had the hots for Itadori-kun or Megumi-kun."

"They're just my friends! What's wrong with having guys as friends? Besides, Eri's the one that has the hots for Megumi."

"Nothing, I just thought maybe you had a crush on them."

Silence fills the air once more and that awkward tension takes place again.

"So do you like anyone?" He questions.

"Even if I did I wouldn't tell you." You spat.

"You're a sassy one! I like that."

You two finish eating and he washes the plates, leaving you in the dining room.

You get up and slide the door open to the living room to get your bookbag. You pull your books out to study. He eventually finishes up and comes in to assist you.

"How's it going so far?"

"This is stupid!" You ruffle through your hair in frustration.

"It's undefined."

"Hah?"

"Well the way I look at it, you don't necessarily have to look at the numerator so much, more so the variable and number in the denominator. If the denominator equals to 0 then it'll always be undefined because it's impossible to divide anything by 0. Like say if the denominator is a+5 where a= -5 then it'll become 0 since they cancel each other out, thus making it undefined."

You stare at him blankly. He made sure to explain thoroughly for you to understand.

"Tell you what, let's make a deal."

"Like?" You raise a brow.

"If you do better on the test this time than last time, then I'll give you a better grade and reward you."

"What kind of reward?" That piqued your interest.

"You'll see if you pass this time." He smirks.

He presents the new test to you and leaves the room so you can focus.

You heard your phone ding, looking at the text from Itadori asking about what you were doing. You ignore him and continue to focus on the test.

An hour passes as he examines the paper to check for any errors.

"Impressive. You only got three wrong."

"Thank god!" You sigh in relief. "So, what exactly is my reward?"

"L/N-san, be honest, do you… really hate me?"

You wondered where he got that assumption from.

"No I actually kind of also had a crush on you this whole time, I was just trying to play hard to get. And I got a bit jealous when those other girls would practically throw themselves at you." You confess while looking everywhere but his eyes.

He pulls your chin up to look at him.

"Are you a virgin?"

You hoped he was joking but he was dead serious.

"Wh-what?! Of course I am, but if you're suggesting what I think you are, we can't! It's against the school rules and it's inappropriate! Plus you're seven years older than me!"

"Are you sure you don't want this?"

He walks closer and places his lips over yours. You kiss back and pull away quickly.

He pants like crazy at how innocent you are. It made his cock stir in his pants.

"Are you okay, Gojo-sensei?"

You notice his eyes were no longer sweet, instead filled with lust.

He pins you against the wall and places kisses over your neck and travels towards your collarbone. He grinds against your clothed pussy.

"G-Gojo-sensei!" You grab onto his shirt. He bites your neck leaving hickeys in return.

"I'm sorry, L/N-san! I have no idea what came over me."

He notices you looking down and rubbing your thighs together for some sort of friction. Turns out you wanted this just as bad as he did.

"Looks like you want this too." He teases.

"Sh-shut up!" You stutter some more.

He scoops you up in his arms and rushed up the stairs to his bedroom. Once he successfully kicked the door open, he put you down.

You look around his room fascinated at how it's set up.

'Who knew Gojo-sensei would go for the fancy setup?' You thought.

He lays you down and follows soon after. He takes his clothes off, his bare cock on full display.

Your face heats up at his package and also at the fact that you've never seen one in person.

"Don't be nervous, I promise I'll be gentle on you."

He pulls the strings down to your shirt slowly. He throws it somewhere in the bed and discards your skirt next, leaving you in your cute flimsy underwear.

You quickly throw your hands over yourself.

"S-stop looking at me like that, it makes me feel weird!"

His balls were pulsating at this point at how pure you were. Oh how he wanted so badly to corrupt you and turn you into his little cum dump.

He moves your hands and pulls your bra off, your girls bouncing from the sudden action. He stares at them with wide eyes.

"You've got an amazing pair…" He mutters.

He knew exactly how to fluster you.

He shakes himself out of his daze and pulls your panties off, your bare pussy looking all nice and pretty for him. He felt blood rushing to his head and cock grunting at how painful it was to keep himself under control.

"You also got such a pretty cunt." He drools at the fact that he'll be the first one to fuck your cunt.

His tip was red and swollen with a bit of cum oozing out.

"Would you be a dear and help me out?" He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

"How?"

He guides your hands to the tip, your fingertips brushing it lightly. He groans and moves your hands up and down his hard cock at a medium pace.

"Yeah, just like that…"

You move your hand at a faster rate eliciting another guttural groan from him as more cum spurts out onto your fingers. You feel something wet on the covers and notice that it came from you.

"Aw, you're wet already and we haven't even started yet."

You decide to tease him a bit by sucking the juices off your fingers. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He didn't know what to say.

"So that's how Gojo-sensei tastes like." You batt your eyes seductively. He goes inside the nightstand to pull a condom out, opening it like a pro and sticks it over his dick.

"I came prepared. Don't want you to end up pregnant and everyone wonders who the father is." He smirks.

He towers over you, licking his lips.

"I'm scared."

"Don't be sweetheart. I'll try to be careful."

"You promised you'll be gentle!" You remind him.

"I did say that, didn't I? Oops!"

He places his hands on the headboard fucking into you without hesitation at a medium pace. His tip brushes past your clit, giving you a sadistic grin. He teases that spot once more.

"Gojo-sensei!~" You moan out.

"Call me Satoru…" He grunts.

He stops momentarily to let you catch your breath.

"How are you so good at this?" You wiped the sweat from your forehead.

"Because I just am." He boasts. "Ready?" You nod.

He continues thrusting into your pussy harshly. You bite down on your bottom lip to muffle your moans but he was making it hard for that to happen.

He finds your g-spot, flashing a cheeky grin.

"Found ittt!~"

"Fuck, Satoru!" You let out a long moan.

He grinds into your g-spot, the bed shaking harder than before while holding onto the bedpost once more.

Moan after moan slips out of your mouth, drool dribbling down your chin. He couldn't hold it anymore and came inside the condom.

"Usually I last a bit longer than that." He says sheepishly.

He takes the condom off and throws it away in the trash bin.

"So what happened this time?" You tease.

"It's your fault for being so innocent, but I can't even call you that now."

"So that's how it feels to fuck."

You couldn't believe it, you shared such an intimate moment with your sensei.

"It's actually worse than that but I don't think you're ready for that yet. Maybe we can do it again same time tomorrow?"

"I'll think about it."

"A-ahh Satoru-sensei, feels too good!~"

He fucks your asshole like there's no tomorrow.

"Fuck, I'm gonna nut all in your tight hole." He groans.

Once he finished up, he cleans you up and lets you sleep over for the night.

It was practically an everyday thing between the two of you. He would even wait until everyone left the class just to have you bent over a desk, your hole and the floor drenched in his cum. You just wondered how long you could keep this up before anyone finds out.

It was your dirty little secret.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk fanfic #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #satoru x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru smut #satoru gojo #gojo satoru

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rockerscentral · 2 months

Text

ROCKERSCENTRAL MASTERPOST🎸

(A rockers-related Rhythm Heaven ask blog!)

Info can be found under the line break.

___________________

The Basics: (or the General Info)

This blog serves to be a more creative way for me to share all of the ideas that I had planned out for the Rockers, along with some other guys, mainly following a story-esque format that follows their "backstory" and how they had originally met up to become the well known rock duo they are now!

Following up on the text above, just to clarify and put it straight, the blog will not start out with the both of them right away, and will likely follow the perspective of one or the other.

While there will be art for a bunch of the asks, especially for standard posts that are needed to progress the story, I cannot guarantee that there will be something drawn for each ask, though I do wish to try and do so. That applies to whether it's a colored sketch, actual drawing, a simple doodle, etc.

Some characters may have different names than some that may be commonly used as a fan-name from the fandom, the main case of this going to Student (name being Jamie.)

This whole blog's going to be a headcanon fest, considering how a majority of this is me making shit up for the most part, so please keep that in mind if you see different portrayals for one thing or another.

Additional Notes:

If you are running another character-based blog, it is completely alright to interact with this account! Just keep in mind that this is technically taking place in the past, which means that any asks that are sent that mention anything that could be in regards to any present matters /foreshadows anything about the Rockers will likely be ignored.

While it may not be prevalent for the long run start of this blog, I do ship the Rockers together, and would probably come up at some point very later on when the time comes, so be weary of that if you don't like the ship and such.

This blog is only being run by me, myself and I ( @submaskudari ), so things might be a bit slow depending on the situation.

I will also answer asks that are out of character for those who wish to know anything from me specifically ^_^

Unless there is only one character that's available for asks, please specify who you are sending an ask towards, otherwise it may be pushed back out of confusion.

___________________

Blog Rules:

Don't be a weirdo in the asks LOL

NO METAGAMING.. I have no idea how that'd play out anyways, but this still applies :sob:

Try not to spam the ask box, or be repetitive with asks.. I'm just one guy, and sometimes it might take a moment to spot it.

Transphobia, Homophobia, Racism, Proship, and all of the other bad shit is not welcome here, so please see yourself out if you fall under said criteria.

Please be kind!! I am just a little guy, again.

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Tags:

# (insert character name) + ask: Asks that are directed to said character #main art reblog: main blog posts that either feature Rockers/ Blog-related content. #refs: Simply the refs I work off of for the characters I draw here. # (insert tumblr user here): Asks sent by said user/blog. #asks: Ask posts in general. #ooc ask: Asks that are related to the blog, but are directed to the blog owner (me) rather than an ic ask for the characters. #masterpost: what do you think LOL #sillyart: probably gonna be labled under shitposts or verrry bad doodles, just goofing around! #rockerscentral: tag for chrono-order posts, asks or non asks

#djschoolcentral: april fools posts (chrono order, too)

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This will be updated time from time as the blog progresses, rather it'd be for rule additions or something else. If anything, I'm probably going to add a blog Q&A for any additional questions that anyone may have, so feel free to ask!

#masterpost #rhythm heaven #rhythm tengoku #rockers #rhythm heaven rockers

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batrachised · 9 months

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inspired by the rubio quote on emily - I understand believing the LMM heroines leaving their ambitions behind is somewhat necessitated by the historical context, and I sympathize with those who would have preferred a different ending for Anne or Emily...but also (esp w Anne), I find it the line of thinking frustrating because (1) it's a false dichotomy that's (2) belied by the text imo and (3) somewhat dismissive of marriage as less than. Anne keeps writing after her marriage. She reads her poems aloud to her family and (iirc) inspires her children to do the same. Just because Emily is marrying Teddy doesn't mean she'll stop writing. The text gives us literally no reason to think that, and in fact explicitly states the opposite when Emily says that she has to write. No matter what, she has to write. If Anne, who doesn't demonstrate Emily's level of ambition, keeps writing, it's nearly laughable to think that Emily wouldn't.

What's especially frustrating is that repeatedly, LM Montgomery's stories focus on the importance of community and family in shaping, sourcing, and strengthening creativity. In Emily, it's explicitly stated that she couldn't have written her breakthrough novel if she had moved to New York and followed her ambitions as such. That's doesn't necessarily translate to romantic support, but romantic support is one form of that! Certainly, these heroines all have domestic endings; it's almost as if LM Montgomery's defining characteristic is finding beauty and power in domesticity, all while acknowledging domesticity doesn't exclude talent and ambition. Her thesis is that women can, and do, contain both. Anne can dream of handsome princes one day and publication the next because you know what--quite a lot of girls do! Emily can fiercely chase publication and long for companionship because you know what - that's the most human thing imaginable!

Acting as if marriage is an imprisonment or hindrance of some sort while LM Montgomery's heroes are marked by being supportive of their wives' talents and ambition (Gilbert is unthreatened by Anne's intelligence; Teddy understands Emily's ambition) ignores the major themes of the novels. It also fails to grapple with the historical barriers faced in a substantive or satisfying manner; it simply poo-poos the semi-requirement of marriage as the happy ending all while ignoring how radical the statements that first, women have ambitions and, second, their ideal partner would support those ambitions, were for the time.

The position also assumes that publication is the only legitimate form of success for writers, and similarly, "real" success requires recognition. It ignores the inherent value of creativity, inserts its own standards for success, all while ignoring what the heroines themselves state they want. Anne wanted marriage and babies; Emily is deeply lonely at the end of Emily's Quest and desires a companion who understands her. LM Montgomery actually directly addresses the idea that Gilbert stole Anne from her ambitions in TBAQ, and Anne laughs at the idea. For Emily, it's more understandable because she does value publication and is very ambitious, but that's where point number one comes in. Would the critics of her (admittedly rushed and slapdash) ending prefer that she stay alone surrounded by people who don't fully understand her? If anything, it's implied that Teddy will enhance Emily's creativity by providing the support she needs, and has in the past when he literally gives her the idea for her first novel, A Seller of Dreams.

I understand the cut and paste ending of "love husband marriage babies" can get to be tiring, especially when presented as the "right" path for women. I admit that the historical context - and pressure - here is impossible to ignore. After all, the examples I gave above are only legitimate to the extent LM Montgomery legitimized them; there could have easily have been a version of the story where Emily only succeeded because she moved to New York. Even LM Montgomery, as mentioned above, writes Gilbert explicitly saying that he regrets that he stole Anne's talent from the world. Sexism is definitely present in these novels. Still, the condescending tone when talking about these ending irks me. In the end, I guess I find the sainting of ambition as ridiculous as I find the sainting of marriage and babies as paths for women. One's as gross a simplification as the other.

At the end of the day as well, LM Montgomery writes slice of life novels based on the charm of rural PEI and local community. She focuses on the everyday purposefully. Complaining that she doesn't have heroines who move beyond domesticity (although really, she does with Sara Stanley) is like going to a pizza parlor and complaining when you get served pizza. Again, this only works to the extent that you agree with LM Montgomery's presentation - but there's something silly in complaining that her slice of life semi-romance novels from the late 1800s-early 1900s all end in marriage for the heroine.

#like sure some women love to stay single and chase their dreams and you know what that's awesome #i am literally one of them #not these women #there ya go #this has been my pounded out rant post i made on too little sleep so forgive any ridiculous logical holes #also women *can* have both #tho that of course opens a deeper can of worms about failure of support networks and unfair societal expectations #there's a whole watsonian and doylist discussion to be had here i know #as in on the watsonian level it's fine on the doylist you can question it more #but the implication is that a woman's character arc ending in marriage is inherently sexist with which i do not agree #emily of new moon #aogg #lm montgomery

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spanishskulduggery · 1 year

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learned the word "porfa" on spanishdict today and i read its just a shorter version of "por favor"

in your experience, do you see it used often?

and if so like, are there any more notable words that native spanish speakers say differently than ppl who are learning?

like sometimes i listen to ppl learning english, and they're good and also really formal and stuff but like, a native english speaker has less formal way of saying it?

if this makes sense

Yes, porfa is used somewhat frequently as very informal "please" and it's especially used online as a kind of endearing "pretty please". It's not appropriate for anything formal, but in everyday Spanish porfa can be used if you're trying to be a bit cutesy or have fun

Also por is often shortened to po and para is often shortened to pa. So you might see pa ti "for you" instead of para ti. One joke is like pa él y paella "for him and for her" but with pa ella "for her" looking like the word paella

Other expressions I've seen that you can adopt:

holi / holis / holitas = hola = hi [slang] aló = hello [from "hello", kind of slang but sometimes German-ish] chao / chau = ciao / bye [informal and fairly common] bye / bai bai = bye [adapted from English, informal] Nos vemos. = See you later. [lit. "we will see each other"; standard Spanish] ¿Ontas? = ¿Dónde estás? [though ontas is sometimes used as like... idk a fuckboy kinda thing like "where you at" or "you up?" like someone messaging you for sex/attention might say that; definitely slang but makes sense when you hear it] ¿Qué tal? = How are you? / What's up? [standard Spanish] ¿Qué hay (de nuevo)? = What's new? [standard Spanish] ¿Qué onda? = What's up? [informal, I think understood in most places but to me I associate it with Mexico because of that song] ¿Cómo va? / ¿Cómo te va? = How's it going? / How's it going for you? [standard Spanish; but you can hear it in the song Oye cómo va] ¡Buenas! = Hey! / Hi! [this is because of the expressions buen día "good day", buenos días "good day/hello", buenas tardes "good evening", and buenas noches "good night" all using bueno/a... Essentially ¡buenas! is a just all around "hello"... one of the youtubers I follow frequently starts his videos with muy buenas a todos which is like "hey everyone"; I feel like it's informal and a bit slang, but also widely recognized and understood]

I personally if I'm being cutesy and saying "hello", I will say things like holanda instead of hola [please also note: holanda means "Holland" OR it can be "fine linen" or "doilies"]

I've also been known to say ola "wave", olla "pot", holá which is just hola with added whimsy etc etc

In texting you see even more slang, like xk meaning porque "because" or sometimes x k? / xk? as por qué "why?"

This is because por is also the word used for multiplication (x), so tres por tres is "three times three" or "three multiplied by three", shortened in math as 3 x 3

And if you want to be cutesy - like almost obnoxious - and say adiosito that's something like "toodle-oo"; it's just a little adiós

Some additional regional things I know: ¿Qué lo que? "What's up?" which is Dominican and I think is sometimes used in the Caribbean.

And also ¿Quiubo? for "What's up?" or "How's it going?" which is more Central American.

...

I would also add ajá for "uh-huh", na for "nah" or ni modo or qué va "no way", sip for "yup", lo que sea "whatever", ay which is just a general "oof" or "yikes" or "ow" or "oh wow" like a general negative surprise word, and eh being "hey" as both a greeting and interjection

And every so often my friend from Puerto Rico will use jamón instead of jamás to be "never ever", like "that's a definite no" or "never gonna happen" - it's sort of a bigger jamás but if you didn't know the context you'd think it was "ham"

You will also sometimes see pos used instead of pues so it could be "well/then"

In Chile po is used a lot, kind of like an affirmative but used so often it's kind of like staying "of course"

And I don't know if this is used widely but clarostá is sometimes used as "of course", but it can be understood to be a more rural or country bumpkin kind of way of speaking...

The more fluent you are, the more your words will blend together so you'll end up with clarostá or claro está, or tol día for todo el día "all day", pa na for para nada, and that's actually how you get ontas from dónde estás

There are definitely bound to be others so if anyone else has any fun common slang greetings/goodbyes please let me know!

#asks #long post #followers?#langblr #Spanish

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kimbap-r0ll · 1 year

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🍎 for Chrollo plz!!!

I hope I did that right😭.

Hi, thank you for the ask! I'll be making the reader gender neutral for this since you didn't specify, hope you like it! He's a bit of a yandere in this one too

Follower Event: Yandere?Chrollo x reader - "Baby, I can kiss you better, what exactly do you see in him?"

Chrollo was doing what he started as a hobby about a month ago. It wasn't as spectacular as stealing from grand museums or burning down buildings owned by the mafia, but it was something he had picked up and started to enjoy.

He was watching you.

You were talking to a friend of yours, one that he was sure you were developing a crush on. The friend was pretty normal, at least in Chrollo's standards, and didn't have any of the charms he thought you would be interested in. You would dive deep into different topics with so much passion but your friend would nod and scroll on his phone. He was pretending to listen to you.

"Hey, do you think someone's watching us?" you asked your friend, who was laughing softly to himself at a funny text he received from another friend of his.

"Huh? Um, no I think you're just being paranoid. It's a safe city, I also don't think there's anything noteworthy for killers to target you for," he shrugged, glancing up at you once before going back to his phone. You looked around the cafe that the two of you were sitting in, glancing at all of the faces around you before your eyes set back on the cup of tea that you were drinking. It was growing cold.

Not only are they beautiful but they also have good intuition, how cute, Chrollo thought to himself. He took a sip of his own drink before going back to reading (or pretending to read to be exact).

"Did you ever have a crush on someone?" you asked your friend, this time inching a little closer to him by placing your elbows on the table. Your friend looked at you like you were crazy and finally set his phone down.

"No, not really. Even if I did like someone it wouldn't be someone that I know from here, I wanna leave the big city," he responded. You chewed the inside of your mouth and nodded quietly.

What do you see in him y/n, Chrollo sighed, you had no idea someone in the cafe would be more than happy to talk to you than the bastard in front of you.

The leader of the troupe was a hopeless romantic, though he would never admit this in front of anyone but Pakunoda. He did create imaginary scenarios of you and him together, either in a cafe or waltzing in a fancy ballroom (likely one that was empty after Shizuku disposed of any dead bodies in there). He often imagined what it would be like to caress your soft skin or to kiss your soft lips. He would write love poems about you before tucking them away in his coat pocket. This was new to him but how he started liking you was a whole different story.

It started with when you two were waiting for some coffee at the same cafe that you were in currently. You two had started talking about Meteor City, and he didn't cut corners, telling you he was a Meteorite. You had nothing to say other than "That's really cool, I've wanted to see the place for myself."

The two of you ended up talking for hours, about literature or if the mysterious Dark Continent existed. He fell in love with your voice, your looks, but most importantly with your personality. He was attracted to the sunny smile you had and the bright atmosphere you carried. If anything, it was like he was able to escape the darkness that had enveloped him for such a long time.

Chrollo was pulled out of your thoughts when he heard chairs scraping against the cold marbled floor. You were going to leave with your friend, awkwardly telling him that you were glad he made the time to have tea with you.

What exactly do you see in him? Chrollo asked himself, frowning as he saw how you looked so eager to talk to your friend but your friend gave no response back. It almost made him angry how nonchalant your friend was being to someone Chrollo thought was so special.

He was going to follow you for a bit longer, maybe he could strike up a conversation with you and whisk you away from the sad love attempt you were in. But until then, he kept thinking of how he could treat you a hundred times better than that friend of yours.

#follower event #anon ask #chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh x reader #hxh imagines #hxh scenarios #phantom troupe #phantom troupe x reader #gn!reader

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unholyverse · 5 months

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waterparks // alternative press issue #341

(full article text under cut)

WATERPARKS

THESE POP-PUNK UPSTARTS HAVE CATCHY SONGS, AN ENDORSEMENT FROM THE MADDENS AND AN UNIRONIC LOVE FOR HAIR DYE AND FUNKY-COLORED JELL-O. THEY ALSO HAVE A LOT TO PROVE-AND THEY'RE READY TO GET TO WORK.

STORY: EVAN LUCY x PHOTOS: JONATHAN WEINER

Awsten Knight knows what you're thinking: This time last year, his band, Waterparks, were veritable nobodies. You'd probably not heard their two EPs (2012's Airplane Conversations and 2014's Black Light), and the band's SEO was likely so suspect, there's no way a Google search would place the Houston-based trio above their hometown Wet 'n' Wild.

What a difference a trip around the sun. makes. Since late last year, the group scored a record deal with Equal Vision, picked up Good Charlotte's Benji and Joel Madden as their managers, performed at the 2016 APMAS and even graced the cover of AP's Warped Tour issue-all before releasing their first album. Along the way, they've cultivated a passionate (and ever-growing) fanbase, thanks to an irreverent sense of humor, insatiable work ethic and saccharine-sweet pop-rock sound. But as their star has grown, so have the rumors and confusion about just how they ended up on a collision course with success.

"I saw somebody online say, 'Isn't this that industry-plant band? Like we were made by a label or something." Knight remarks from Los Angeles, where he and his bandmates are putting the finishing touches on bonus tracks for their debut full-length, Double Dare, and filming a video for the album's first single, "Stupid For You." "People are always like, "Where'd this band come from? This band blew up overnight! That's really not the case."

Indeed, it's been a grind for Waterparks, who formed back in 2011 and, after years of hustle and hard work, got signed last year after a demo serendipitously ended up in Equal Vision's online submission box. Even today, as Waterparks—Knight, guitarist/vocalist Geoff Wigington and drummer Otto Wood-seem to have an indefinite amount of momentum and a limitless future, there's always some humbling experience to remind them the big time is still a few steps away. Look no further than their method of transportation for this summer's Warped Tour: a modified Sprinter van handily equipped with sleeping quarters- but no air conditioning.

"The van didn't have A/C until we got to the North, Knight remembers. "We did Texas and Florida, the whole South, with no A/C. People thought we were in a bus. It'd be like, 'Oh yeah, when you guys go back to your bus…" He laughs. "How can you be egotistical when you're sitting there in a sweaty van going, 'Fucking kill me?'"

Lifestyles of the rich and famous it isn't, but that's fine with Waterparks. They're used to surprising people, whether it's with their origin story or their music. A testament to both their artistic vision and desire not to be pigeonholed as just another pop-punk band, Double Dare sounds like an album made by three men raised in iPod shuffle culture. The album opener "Hawaii (Stay Awake)" skews toward more standard pop-punk fare (a sound that definitely provides a backbone for the 12 tracks that follow), but the band are quick to add bits of pop, electronica and (surprisingly) hip- hop to the melting pot, leaving Double Dare feeling instantly reminiscent, yet wildly unpredictable. There's the unabashed pop charm of "Take Her To The Moon," a DeLorean ride back to the scene's neon days that's awash in glassy synths; the biting "Little Violence," which takes aim at "fake-ass band guys," along with the now-defunct site AbsolutePunk; "Stupid For You," a roller coaster of vocal runs mixed with razor-sharp hooks; and the jittery "Dizzy," which combines mile-a-minute rapped verses with a towering half-time chorus.

Knight, a textbook over-writer, wrote and demoed more than 40 songs for the album, which the group whittled down to the 17 or so they actually tracked in Los Angeles with producers Courtney Ballard and Benji Madden. What makes Double Dare such an engaging listen is not just the songwriting, but the way Waterparks dress it up. Throughout the album, Knight's voice serves almost as a third guitar, cutting in and out and swirling around the mix to give things added depth and a secret sonic weapon their peers lack.

"Listen to Kesha," Knight implores. "People have heard a lead guitar a billion times-no one gives a shit about a sick guitar lead. What's going to sound sonically cooler to the average human: a lead guitar- which people have been hearing for the longest time- or the literally unlimited sounds I can cut my voice up into and make it [serve the same purpose]? It just sounds cooler."

As a teenager, Knight studied raps by the likes of Busta Rhymes and Ludacris (he even performed a cover of Fergie's "Fergalicious" at an early show), and he thinks it would be "sweet" to be in a boy band. "You have to stand out, otherwise there's nothing interesting about what you're doing," he explains. "We've always tried to do different shit. A lot of our songs are a pop-driven thing, but it's a band. Girl-pop, to me, is the best genre [in music]. Even if you don't speak English and you hear a Kesha song or a Katy Perry song, it's going to sound so good. The melody is everything: It sounds so happy. Put those songs next to whatever progressive metal band and their fucking guitar sweeps. That's the difference between being a band people like and being a musician's band. [Adopts nerdy voice] 'Oh, that time signature change, blah blah! No one gives a shit except nerdy dudes, and nerdy dudes aren't going to buy your record, anyway. I want to make shit my little sister and her friends would be into."

If Knight is that unabashedly honest about his musical intentions, the words he writes take it a step further. At its core, Double Dare is the antithesis to the public image Waterparks have cultivated over the years. From their irreverent music videos to any number of off- the-rails interviews (including some from this summer's Warped Tour where Knight donned a wedding veil), the band's public persona is that of perpetual Peter Pans. While that might be true (Knight frequently drops words like "butthurt" in conversation), the open-book nature of his lyrics here reveals life isn't all fun and feces jokes.

As such, the songs on Double Dare read like pages ripped from a personal journal. Whether he's dealing with crippling insecurity ("I wish I was as brave as my last name"), self-doubt ("And I'm doing all right/ But is 'all right' enough?/Because I'm living my dreams, but I live at home") or true love ("If you died, I'd hope you'd haunt me"), Knight's words are blunt, painstakingly detailed and instantly relatable. He might project as a court jester, but he's deadly serious about his art.

"There's a time when Awsten can be serious, and that's when he's talking about his music, Benji Madden offers. "In order to sell records or magazines, people feel like they have to be sensational or play a funny game. If you talk to Awsten about anything other than music, you'll get totally jokey, bullshit answers-which I love. But if you talk to him about music, he's a really smart, intentional, thoughtful guy."

"Being honest about it is the best way to go about it," Knight says of his songs. "I've never liked the vague lyrics, like, [jokingly sings] "I've gotta find my way. I've gotta get out of this place! All my favorite lyricists are killer with metaphors or are able to uniquely describe things. I like getting into things and being specific." He references the acoustic ballad "21 Questions," easily one of the album's highlights, but a song slated for the cutting-room floor until Madden stepped in. ("I feel like that song could be one of those scene classics," the Good Charlotte guitarist offers.) It's hard to imagine the album without it.

Outside of being a steady hand in the studio, the Maddens are the perfect mentors for Knight, Wigington and Wood. After all, it was 15 years ago that Good Charlotte went through everything Waterparks are currently navigating, claims of being a test-tube band and all. They've learned everything is cyclical, and they're passing on the lessons they learned to the bands they manage.

"They're so wise," Wigington explains in a separate interview. "You shut up and listen. They've told us, 'Hey, things are going to start getting weird. There will be things you haven't been used to, especially if you're out on the road! But they've told us to look out for each other and have each other's back and helped instill a sense of camaraderie so we can deal with whatever weird shit comes our way."

If their current career trajectory continues, things will be getting weirder and weirder in the Waterparks camp soon. The band have secured the opening spot on Sleeping With Sirens' fall tour, and they're already making plans well into 2017. With a new album ready and the furthest reaches of the scene at their fingertips, it seems like there's really no limit to how big this thing can get. It's already surpassed their wildest dreams in the past year; imagine what one more could bring. Not that it would change their demeanor, of course.

"I'd like to be able to live comfortably to the point where I could ride a bike into a swimming pool filled with Jell-O and have it not be a big deal," Knight says unflinchingly, when asked what success would look like for him. "I was thinking blue or purple because I like cooler colors. Red seems messy. Not yellow or orange, because I don't like those flavors as much. I used to be allergic to blue dye when I was younger, so I'd probably pick that just so I could be like, 'Fuck you." alt

#sorry i had to obviously edit the poster photo it's been yellowing from being on my wall #waterparks #awsten knight #geoff wigington #otto wood #i.zip #reading this and realizing they've become an antithesis to some things said here why why why

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