How do you draw such beautiful Hanzo tiddies??? What is your secret cause Hanzo is looking like a shnack 👌🏼😫 👅💦!
/hardcore preening/ thank you anon :^) I have studied many a tit and it helps to ref musculature, especially how the pec connects to the upper arm! My other best piece of advice are the little horizontal stretch lines and folds where the skin pulls tight over or around the muscle:
I hope this was informative and that u have a lovely day
The morning after Sarah Williams defeats the Goblin King, she gets up and makes toast. She has to brush some glitter off the toaster—it withers and vanishes at the brush of her fingertips, and she stares at her hand for a long time.
It mostly just looks like her hand. Even when she turns it over, and sees where she scraped her knuckles against the oubliette, where the shattered mirror cut the back of her wrist. It looks like she fell, or was playing in the street. That’s all.
The toast comes out burned, and Sarah stares at that too. Eventually, she slumps down against the cabinets and cries, wracking sobs that send her dad and Karen rushing into kitchen. They check her forehead for a fever, put their hands on her, and keep asking, “Are you okay? Sarah, please, tell us what’s wrong…”
Eventually, her dad drags her into his lap and cradles her against his chest, like he did when she was little. Her legs are too long to really fit anymore, but Sarah hugs him around the neck anyway. “It’ll be okay,” he says, keeps saying. “You’ll be okay.” And Sarah—doesn’t laugh, because she can’t, and doesn’t have the words to express what—how—
(None of her stories ever talked about this. What did Sir George do, the morning after he slayed the last dragon in England? Did Tam Lin eat breakfast, or did he sit there, shivering, wondering if his hands were different, having been claws and wings and scales?)
Afterwards, she leaves the burnt toast outside on the back porch. Not an offering. Maybe a reminder.
It’s Didymus she sees the most often, mostly because he’s the one who invites himself rather than waiting for an invitation. He comes for tea, but even if there’s no tea—which there isn’t, usually—he comes to tell Sarah stories. She learns to love poetry because there’s no escaping it with him. (She won’t read Idylls of the King until Brit Lit in college, but she ends up scrawling a lot in the margins; Didymus’ telling of events had been much more interesting.)
Once, she falls asleep like that, her hands tucked behind her head with Didymus curled up and sleepily reciting from the crook of her elbow. “So tender was her voice, so fair her face—though I don’t think he was looking at her face, my lady, pardon me for saying so—”
Sarah buries her nose in his fur. Didymus always smells of rosewater, and a crispness she thinks is just…the Labyrinth. She falls asleep trying to place it.
She wakes up with a wild fox in her bed, animal-black eyes frightened and flat, teeth bared. The fox is whining, and she’s tempted to throw herself across the room, to get away from this wild thing and its teeth. It takes a monumental will to keep herself still and her breathing slow, even; like she’s still asleep and unafraid.
It takes her longer to swallow, and start humming one of the songs he taught her—a knight’s round, he’d said. She’s shaky at first, but the fox’s ears flick forward. It cocks its head, and slowly, the teeth disappear behind its lips.
She almost laughs when noses at her throat curiously, butting its head against her jaw like a cat might.
@wasabun Aw man I’m happy at how much you guys love him! Here’s a few I have at the moment:
To start off, he’s one of the few people in the Casino that’s very experienced and great at gambling. He knows all the tricks in and out, and he particularly loves guessing games and making bets. The only ones that are on the same or higher level than him are King Dice, the Devil, and a few more senior staffs of the casino
He’s the unspoken Left-Hand of the Devil. Not bc the Devil made it official, but his position and personality from working in the Casino for so long that the staff just respects him as much as King Dice. You can go to either of them if you need to
He’s charge of the Surveillance Team and he spends his time overseeing the Casino, catching and weeding out cheaters. He’s extremely good and professional at his job
Doesn’t exactly deal with the cheaters himself, but he passes them onto the bouncers and King Dice to handle it… in one of the back rooms
Do you have any theories/headcannons about Trini doing any kind of drugs? Because her mom seemed to have that cup ready too fast.
Her mom is either a nurse or like I’ve said before, she’s as extra as her daughter and in both cases Trini probably did try some kind of drugs in the past, so even though I won’t have too many, here’s some headcanons:
- First time she tried weed, she was at a party with a girl that she was seeing for a while. Then after that, it became more casual for her and she’d sit under the bleachers with said girl, passing around a blunt.
- A teacher catches them one day and then Trini’s parents find out, which makes her mom super paranoid all the time.
- Every time they move, her mom starts questioning Trini about any new friends and if they’re ‘good influences’ on her. Trini doesn’t reply most of the time.
- They eventually move to Angel Grove, and Trini hasn’t really smoked anything in a while.
- Then after they defeat Rita, Trini brings ‘a little something’ to one of their campfire hang outs.
- Kimberly and Zack get excited, Jason’s a little hesitant, Billy’s kinda curious but they all eventually try some.
- A few hours later, Billy’s on the floor, Jason’s on the floor next to him but he’s giggling at something Billy said five minutes ago.
- Zack is still dancing and he keeps asking Trini for cheetos and she keeps telling him she doesn’t have any, but he still asks over and over. At one point, he’s standing on a log and he keeps asking Trini if he’s ‘elevated right now’ and after she laughs and tells him that he is, he freaks out before he slowly and cautiously gets off the log as if it’s a tall cliffside.
- Kimberly is sitting in Trini’s lap which is why Trini doesn’t get up every time Zack asks her to help him get off the log. All she does is play with her hair and tells her how good it smells, even though it’s got that campfire smell from the fire. Then Kimberly’s just tracing her fingers all over Trini’s face and her jawline and neck. She tries tracing her fingers on Trini’s abdomen but she ends up tickling her sides.
- They accidentally fall asleep there and they all have worried texts from their parents the next morning and Trini can’t help but laugh at the fact that she’s now become ‘the bad influence’ to her friends that her mother was worried about.
Anon: Could you do a Voltron where Keith’s all sick and emotional because his fevers really high, and Lance irritated because he got the job of taking care of him. Keith ends up blabbing in his feverish state telling him that he doesn’t have to take care of him if he doesn’t want to and that he’ll be fine on his own, that it’s not the first time. Basically giving away that he hasn’t ever really had anyone to take care of him and Lance feels guilty for being a jerk about it fussing over him.
A/N: What’s that? Two fics in one day? It’s a miracle I get anything done at college.
“You don’t have to do this…”
Lance stopped and frowned. He was in the middle of dabbing Keith’s forehead with a cold cloth, careful not to let any of the icy water drip down the Red Paladin’s cheeks. This was exactly why he didn’t want to be assigned this job. Keith was already stubborn as hell when he was feeling okay, but this?
I wish you'd write a fic where OMGCP is in the same universe as Yuri!! On Ice
Making some assumptions that Yuuri and Viktor are a little older than Jack and Bitty, but not much.
Jack remembers when Yuuri Katsuki came out. Or, rather, didn’t so much ‘come out’ as ‘be out and refuse to take either questions or shit about it.’ The closest Katsuki came to an explanation of his sexuality was a dead-eyed stare at the reporter who had dared to ask. Jack remembers being with Kent when the news clip aired on Canadian TV.
Kent had turned to him, mouth open and eyes wide with delight. “Well,” he said. “That’s one way to do it.”
So Jack’s absolutely not surprised when he walks into Bittle’s room, a couple of years later, and sees a poster on the far wall of Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov. It makes complete sense, seeing that Bittle is a former figure skater. A gay former figure skater.
Katsuki and Nikiforov stand beside one another, angled to the camera. They’re wearing vaguely military style costumes in complementing colors, blue and pale red. They’re close enough to one another that they’re probably touching but you can’t actually tell. Light falls softly over their faces. They stare straight at the camera. Their expressions have the quality of an old fashioned photograph: strong emotion is somehow both obvious and nowhere visibly expressed.
Bittle looks up from his desk. “Hey Jack,” he says. “What do you need?”
“Do you have a minute to talk about the Food paper?”
Bittle shuts his textbook so rapidly he practically slams it. “Of course.”
“Hang on, I’ll get my computer.”
When Jack comes back, Bittle’s sitting on his bed, back against the wall. He pats the space beside him. “Come here,” he says. “Or you can sit at the desk, if you want.”
Jack sits on the edge of the bed and opens the file. “I have these notes so far,” he says, passing the laptop to Bitty. “But there’s still a lot I don’t get. Why was it important that butter got rationed?”
Bittle’s eyes light up. “The pie crust discourse,” he says, scanning Jack’s notes. He looks up. “Stuff like butter or lard just makes a better pie crust,” he says seriously. “We could do that, actually, make the rationing crust recipe and then mine and then a real full-fat, whole-hog recipe and you can taste the difference for yourself.”
“But my paper isn’t about pie crust,” Jack says in confusion.
“Mine is,” Bitty says cheerfully. “Well, it’s about apple pie, but I think you can’t talk about pie without the crust, so there.”
“Maybe I should switch to cake,” Jack says mournfully. He doesn’t like the feeling of wet pie dough on his fingers.
“Don’t you dare.” Bittle grins at him and Jack realizes he’s being teased. He looks at the posters again. Bittle follows the line of his gaze. “I can’t believe they retired,” he says.
“Yeah,” Jack says. “I think I saw Nikiforov’s Grand Prix series–Skate Canada, at least. It was when I was home.”
Bittle sighs. “Lucky,” he says. “I had to rely on YouTube and streaming.” Then, “I didn’t know you watched figure skating.”
Until he speaks, Jack doesn’t even remember he knows this: “I think they’re coaching together now, in Japan. Or Russia. I’m not sure.” To Bittle’s second statement, he just shrugs. It’s an ice sport. Of course he’s going to watch it. He might learn something that helps his hockey.
“That wouldn’t surprise me,” Bittle says, handing Jack his computer back. “I Twitter-stalked them so hard, hoping for wedding photos.” He grins.
Now that Jack peers more closely at the picture, he can see the rings on both men’s fingers. He looks down at his computer. “But butter,” he says, turning back to the matter at hand. “I believe you, but where can I find a source for that?”
“Try the contemporary cookbook,” Bittle suggests, leaning over and lifting his textbook back onto his lap.
“All right then,” Jack says. “Thanks.”
“Any time,” Bittle says and opens his textbook with a soft sigh.
The music was blaring loudly from the large speakers in the gym, lights flickering back and forth between different colors of the spectrum, the smell of punch lingered in the air mixed with alcohol that some students had managed to sneak in.
(Y/N) sat on the bleachers with her head down, looking at her short and shiny black heels that were beginning to make her feet ache. Reaching down, she took them off and wiggled her toes for a moment before sighed and leaning back against the bleacher behind her.