flow curves

Drawing the King’s Card (Requested)

Originally posted by lullabyun

OTP(s): Yixing x Reader 

Genre: Smut, fluff

Word Count: 5,036

Sypnosis: Yixing recieved something he didn’t expect, but so did you.

Request: (from Anonymous) Yixing comes home after a long day of work so you give him a pretty intense massage in the living room, but once he joins you in the bedroom he finds you wearing a unicorn outfit (or lingerie and some kind of unicorn horn thing idk??) And that results to loads of smutty sex with a dom Lay?


A delicious breeze rolled through the house, rumpling the clothes of the sleeping figure flattened on the sofa. Her (y/h/c) tresses flowed silkily along the curves of her chest and she tightly grasped a large, soft pillow for comfort. Its scent carried the contents she deeply adored — the strong, robust whiffs of cologne, the sweet droppings of fruit, the soft waft of tea. The more the smell swelled in her face, the longer she slept.

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“Take off your shirt,“ I said, sitting up and pulling at the hem of the garment.
“Why?” he asked, but sat up and obliged. I knelt in front of him, admiring his naked body.
“Because I want to look at you,” I said.

He was beautifully made, with long, graceful bones and flat muscles that flowed smoothly from the curves of chest and shoulder to the slight concavities of belly and thigh. He raised his eyebrows.
“Well then, fair’s fair. Take off yours, then.” He reached out and helped me squirm out of the wrinkled chemise, pushing it down over my hips.

Once it was off, he held me by the waist, studying me with intense interest. I grew almost embarrassed as he looked me over.
“Haven’t you ever seen a naked woman before?” I asked.
“Aye, but not one so close.” His face broke into a broad grin. “And not one that’s mine.”

― Diana Gabaldon, Outlander

i love the curves of a woman , especially their backs idk why. but i feel a woman’s back is one of the most underrated and unappreciated features, their curves just flow in a peaceful and enticing way where it makes me just pause in amazement. makes me sit there and truly appreciate the powerful beings that they are..it’s just shocking that that much beauty exists in the world

As much as I love the “red and blue” ship trope, symbra is one of the most aesthetically appealing ships I’ve ever made art for

Like symmetra has a very chill+simplistic design over all. And many of colors are very calm and cool (the blue and off white and dark gray) that works nicely with the regal gold and the warm color of her skin. Plus it’s all curves+flowing lines and everything moves with her. It’s overall very smooth and harmonious without being symmetrical(ironically enough)

Meanwhile we’ve got sombra, who’s all dramatic and complex. Her undyed hair+her jacket and cybernetics are all dark unsaturated purple or black which is really sharply contrasted by the neon purples and blues and pinks and the glowing details on her cybernetics. She’s all geometric shapes and sharp edges and overall pretty symmetrical.

Plus the bright blue and purple go together so well i just love it so much rip

Early Mornings: Bob Morley imagine

The warmth of the sun just barely crawled in the room. The winter morning was cold yet he felt so warm with you wrapped around him. His large arm laid across your waist as you laid spawned across his chest. Your breath tickled his collar as you let out soft even breaths.

His large hand flowed down the curve of your spin. In times it seemed as if he couldn’t help himself but have his hands all over you. You where his, all his. You where his prize possession. You meant the world and more to him. He didn’t understand why or even how but you were with him.

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2

Chibs bringing his girl to a Samcro party for @may85 ! Hope you like it!

-

This definitely wouldn’t be your first date with Filip, but the butterflies in your belly make it feel like it is as you look yourself in the mirror. It’s not as fancy as the other dates he’s taken you on, settling for simple jeans that hug your thighs and bottom in just the right ways along with a a black top that dips down far enough you’re showing a little cleavage and the rest of it flows with the curves of your body.

The two of you are just going to a Samcro party together, you’d already met every one of the guys and felt at peace around them all. You especially got along with Happy, the two of you sitting and talking about various things you have in common. Many of the croweaters believe that you’re simply using Chibs because he’s the V.P. and that your true love is Happy.

The relationship you and Happy have is simply friends, if anything, he looks at you as a sister and you look to him as a brother. In your mind, you could never have actual feelings for Happy, though he’s a handsome man, you’ve only got eyes for Filip himself. And croweaters don’t seem to believe that.

When you hear the rumble of Chibs’ bike outside of your home, you grab your phone and wallet before heading outside, greeting him with a kiss. “You’re lookin’ too good for a good ole SAMCRO party, lass.” Chibs teases and you roll your eyes with a grin and a hint of a blush on your cheeks, patting his chest.

“Have to look good and never less.” You joke with a laugh, pulling Chibs down for a deep kiss, your hands cupping at his cheeks. His hands rest on your hips and he hums against your mouth, moving to deepen it further, though you pull back. “Not disappointing Gemma and showing up late. Plus, Chucky’s cooking and you know how much I love his cooking.” You state.

Chibs huffs softly, moving a hand to pat at your bottom. “I’m gettin’ you to myself later then, love.” He growls and you try ignoring the shiver sent down your spine along with the heat growing between your thighs. “You’ll have me all night, Filip.” You breathe.

Leaving it at that before he gets too caught up in the moment, Chibs steps back onto his bike, getting you settled behind him with his helmet on your head before driving off for the clubhouse.

-

The moment you two step into the clubhouse, all eyes are on you, the guys smirking. “And the lovely couple makes it on time!” Tig yells, one of the prospects groaning and handing over a hundred dollar bill to Tig. “Taking advantage of the new meat I see, Trager.” You laugh, Tig shrugging with a grin as he leans down to kiss your cheek.

“Just doing business, doll.” Tig laughs and you nod, saying hello to the boys that aren’t preoccupied with a girl on their lap, that including Happy. You and Chibs both know you don’t need each other right there at parties, and Chibs knows that nothing is going on between you and Happy.

So if you slip off after kissing his cheek in the middle of the party to go sit with Happy and talk a little, getting down some beers together, it’s perfectly fine.

What isn’t perfectly fine is that a croweater who’s been eyeing Happy all night gets upset when she sees you with him, the two of you sharing laughs and smiles. The girl grabs a full beer bottle, storming her way towards you and dumping it over your hair and drenching your shirt as well, making you gasp and jump off the barstool you’re sitting on.

Happy immediately stands as well, making sure you’re okay before glaring at the girl as she slams the bottle onto the counter. “You’re a lying, cheating bitch!” She yells and you laugh at her words, wiping beer from your eyes, effectively smearing the makeup you’d worked so hard on that evening.

Chibs hears the commotion, looking up and once his eyes land on you, he immediately stands, making his way over. The girl lunges herself for you but before she can lay a finger on you, Chibs is pulling her back firmly, pointing to the doorway.

“Out! Now!” He barks, the girl looking to Chibs with wide eyes, his voice making her shake slightly. Happy grabs a towel to wipe the beer dripping down your face, Chibs looking to you and sighing. “C'mon, love.” He murmurs, guiding you back to his apartment in the clubhouse.

You follow, the stickiness of the beer making you cringe, Chibs shutting the door behind you. He rummages through clothes as you head into the bathroom, starting the shower, and stripping down.

Once you’re clean and don’t smell completely of beer, you step out and dry yourself off, finding the clothes Chibs has laid on the sink counter. It’s one of his shirts with a pair of baggy boxers that’ll probably be shorts on you.

Stepping into your underwear, you pull the clothes on, sighing at the comfy, clean clothes and heading back into the bedroom, seeing Chibs sat on the bed. He looks up and smiles at the sight of you, motioning you over.

“Feel better?” He murmurs as he settle for straddling his lap, nodding and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Mhm. Don’t reek of beer anymore.” You laugh, kissing Chibs gently and sighing.

“What was all that ‘bout anyways?” He hums, nuzzling your noses together, you sighing. “Everyone thinks I’m using you but fucking Hap on the side.” You explain softly, Chibs pulling back as he rolls his eyes.

“All that matters is I know you’re not fucking Happy on the side.” Chibs sighs, flipping the two of you over and making you laugh as he nuzzles into your neck, his goatee tickling your neck.

Adam Driver’s Face

This is my attempt to explain the beauty of Adam Driver’s face: CONTRAST.

Anyone familiar with art principles knows that contrast draws attention and is visually pleasing. It is a tool artists use to direct a viewer’s gaze.

Adam Driver’s face has layers of contrast:

Light/dark: Pale skin contrasts dark hair

(also, light and dark sides of the force for Kylo Ren)

Hard/soft: prominent brow ridge, aquiline nose, pointed chin, and broad shoulders contrast with the flowing curves of his hair, his soft jawline, his rounded ears, and his large, round eyes

Masculine/feminine: masculine features of brow ridge and deep set eyes, adam’s apple (deep voice), large nose, broad shoulders, and facial hair (usually) contrast with feminine features like long eyelashes and large round eyes, paler skin, long wavy hair, fuller soft lips, and a softer jawline

Typical beauty/ugly: Large ears, large nose, long face, contrast with full lips, large eyes, broad shoulders, and luscious hair

The contrast in Adam Driver’s face (and even his personality and most of his characters) is what makes him so appealing. He is strong yet vulnerable. He is intense yet kind. He is awkward yet elegant. He is relatable yet mysterious. He is languid yet bursting with energy. He is intimidating yet endearing. He defies categorization and definition. This is what draws attention to Adam Driver. This is why he has such presence. This is why people can’t stop looking at him.

I also would like to draw special attention to some certain features of interest.

EYES: Huge and watery and deep and dark round surrounded by luscious dark lashes. Both size and roundness draw attention and create interest.

EARS: Their roundness flows perfectly into the waves of his hair.

LIPS: Pink and full and beautiful.

BEAUTY MARKS: Both endearing and beautiful. They add additional contrast to his pale skin and adds variety and interest to the symmetry of his face.

FACE LENGTH: A long face adds an additional height illusion to his already impressive height. Both his long face and height give him a thinness that contrasts with the bulky muscles of his perfectly toned body.

And now, there is just one last reason Adam Driver’s face is so beautiful: he has a unicorn soul, a heart of gold, and a reflective mind of bottomless depth. Like, he is just a really great person and you can see it in his eyes, okay?

I’m writing this in a journal so I can pretend to be the type of person who journals.
The archetypal writer chick who always has poetics on the brain.
Who can philosophize,
Be romanticized,
Who is the manic pixie dream girl I will never be.
My handwriting is not flowing, curving cursive,
Smooth and cold like a river,
Like my finger that teases down your spine.
It is rough, like the goose bumps I wish I made on your skin.
I try to decipher braille on your arms,
But I am not even bold enough to touch you.
I want to say my handwriting is a metaphor for who I am:
Frantic, disorganized, misunderstood,
But I am not even interesting enough to be misunderstood.
I am not sad –
At least not the right type of sad.
I have plenty to be sad about –
In the last month I have lost most of the stability my life ever had,
But I am not the type of sad who sees the symbolism at the end of the tunnel.
Who finds solace in the smell of stale coffee, burnt cigarettes,
Who has stared at photographs for so long that even my happiest and hardest memories feel stale at the sight of it.
In short, I am not the type of sad people write poems about.

I wish I could find comfort in convenient clichés.
At the bottom of a red plastic cup,
Between crumbling frat house walls,
Among the smoke I inhale to try to make rings,
And even though I always fail,
At least then I would know where to find it.
Every young writer needs the piece about feeling alone in the crowded bar,
Feeling the most alive after killing some brain cells,
Feeling your hot, beer-tainted breath on the nape of my neck,
And waking up the next morning smelling like tears, or regret,
Or the best goddamn night of my entire life,
But I think this is as close as I am going to get.

I am not Alaska or Clementine.
My name is weird, but not in the unique story kind of way,
My hair is dyed, but that was supposed to wash out in 32 washes so I think I just messed up.
I will never get a tattoo because I’m too afraid my parents would be disappointed.
In short, I am not cool.
Not in the fratty, college sort of way.
Not in the indie movie, self-destructive sort of way.  
The inebriated kisses in the back of your car were not romantic.
I am not creative or disciplined enough to keep a journal.
My emotions are not interesting.

I had set out to write a poem romanticizing cheap beer and sweaty basements
Because every young writer needs one of those,
But I am not every young writer.
I am not an archetype or a cliché.
Written by John Green or played by Kate Winslet.
A poem on somebody’s blog.

I am sober feelings
And honest words on a page.
I may not be the adventure you had that one Saturday night,
But I am Sunday morning.
I’m freshly brewed coffee and clean lungs.
I’m safe, and maybe that’s just a euphemism for boring,
But I’m still something worth writing about.

—  In Which I Romanticize Cheap Beer and Sweaty Basements (e.d.d)

okay but Rachel and Hazel are totally art buds

  • Rachel buying good quality art supplies to give them to Hazel
  • collaborating to make a picture that seamlessly blends the two camps
  • hiding it when a minor battle breaks out over who gets to keep it
  • Hazel being able to tell where the Oracle has touched Rachel’s work in a way that nobody’s really been able to before
  • Rachel painting Hazel with curving, flowing strokes and touches of gold leaf in her eyes
  • Hazel sketching Rachel with charcoal and pencil, making her look regal and powerful with just a few lines
  • working together to touch up ancient artworks and artifacts that have been kept in the archives and attics of the camps for years
  • sitting quietly together to draw the world in front of them
  • Hazel being asked to design the camp bead one year and going to Rachel for advice
  • running art classes together for kids from both camps
  • Rachel inviting Hazel to join her street art performances
  • Hazel taking Rachel to art galleries when she finds out there’s an exhibition of work by an artist she admired back in the thirties
  • Rachel and Hazel being art buds 

So a lot of people have wondered why Harry and Hermione couldn’t recognize Snape’s handwriting in HBP but I HAVE A THEORY.

Remember when Harry and Hermione were arguing over whether the Prince was a girl or a guy based on the writing? Harry says it’s definitely a guy, but he was probably basing that on the way it sounded rather than on the handwriting itself. A lot of abrupt statements (e.g. “just shove a bezoar down their throats”): shorter sentences, more periods etc. Those things are usually considered masculine; if you don’t believe me just try any of the “gender of your typing” tests. Harry isn’t really the type to pay attention to detail anyways. Hermione, on the other hand, would be looking at the handwriting itself. She’s looking at the way the script flows, at the curve of an o and the way the t’s and f’s are crossed, and she says it looks feminine.

I once had a friend in school who was teased because his handwriting was “girly”. He tried to change his handwriting because of it, but it always looked a bit shaky, sort of irregular, which often happens when you try to change your natural writing style. Snape’s handwriting is described as “spidery” - and that implies a certain shakiness.

So there you go, they couldn’t recognize his writing because he changed it.

every time is like the first time

I buried my face in his chest, snorting with mirth. His pleasant musky smell mingled with the harsh scent of linen.

“Take off your shirt,” I said, sitting up and pulling at the hem of the garment.

“Why?” he asked, but sat up and obliged. I knelt in front of him, admiring his naked body.

“Because I want to look at you,” I said. He was beautifully made, with long, graceful bones and flat muscles that flowed smoothly from the curves of chest and shoulder to the slight concavities of belly and thigh.

– Outlander


He lifted me to the bed beside him then, and leaned to kiss me. I kicked off my shoes, and curled my legs up, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt. My hands found the button at the throat, fumbling to open it.

I want to see you.”

“Well, it’s no much to see, Sassenach,” he said, with an uncertain laugh. “But whatever it is, it’s yours — if ye want it.”

He pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor, then leaned back on the palms of his hands, displaying his body.

I didn’t know quite what I had been expecting. In fact, the sight of his naked body took my breath away. He was still tall, of course, and beautifully made, the long bones of his body sleek with muscle, elegant with strength. He glowed in the candlelight, as though the light came from within him.

– Voyager

2

First off, thank you!

It’s hard for me to say because at this point I’ve internalized much of what I do, but I believe it boils down to Straight Against Curve. Generally, you want to flow between straight and curved lines on either side of shapes & gestures.

(Griz & Norm do an excellent job of breaking this down in their Tuesday Tips)

BASICALLY: I try to push straights to the point they’re curved, and curves to the point they’re SUPER curved (or even angular). This tends to create shapes that flow into each other, and give the illusion of a planned ‘shape language’.

You can also vary the shape language by how your lines meet. If a straight and a curve meet, it creates a pinch. If a straight and a straight meet, it creates an angle. If a curve and a curve meet, it creates a tapered pinch (not technical). By changing up the pattern of how these lines meet, you end up creating new shape language.

Ok that probably makes no sense at all. Sorry Anon! I hope it helped!

Closed with Clara-fucking-Oswald.

Kylie sang softly as the water poured down her body, a light, melodic song that had no real rhythm or direction but was merely an expression of content. Rinsing the shampoo from her darkened blue hair, she stood under the water a moment to allow all of the soap to drain out. She looked especially stunning with the water flowing over her every curve, her pale skin standing out nicely against the vivid, electric blue of her hair.

@clara-fucking-oswald