⢠V, he/him, '92, queer as hell, art academy grad, putting the sin into sinister. I follow from @lvsifer
š¹ art tags | ao3 š¹
⢠commission: OPEN:
open to most fandoms, but can be non-fandom too ā”
happy to draw ships (including you x character), nsfw, your OCs, selected dead dove (dm me for details!)
additional charges for full body, multiple people etc. I donāt negotiate prices but I will happily work out alternatives with you if you have budget restrictions. if you want another style that I have drawn, feel free to ask & Iāll give you a price. dm me for further infos! š¤
⢠currently into: sandman (rot in hell neil gaiman, here for literally all the other wonderful creators of the show) hotd, iwtv, dune, silmarillion/tolkien
⢠no reposts!
⢠if you want to use my art as a header/profile pic go ahead but CREDIT me in your bio. thanks!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Quality
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thank you sm @mephisto-art & @curufiin for tagging me on cooking some wips:
have some lil mairon wips (pls follow my art account: @summeringminor )
(the last one is....from.........2017. but I WILL FINISH IT.....i swear...)
tagging for some wips (fic or art or whatever your medium is!): @sauron-kraut @titleleaf @haedre @undeadwives @buckyclevens @acianoh @ianthesmells @saintvoids @jamlocked @mermaidslabyrinth @weimarweekly @fleshfeel @theskeletonprior
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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As someone who loves printing their commissions out to frame, I have to ask what your plans are to do with all your wonderful art. You've got a full on gallery going! <3 Happy Friday!
Firstly, I hope you are having a happy Friday as well. As well as happy weekend to come.
And thank you for the ask. I knew the moment I started to commission art I was going to print them. Thankfully my sister has a shutterfly account and she let me use that. I have printed everything I've commissioned up until last month. I have a list of what needs to be printed next.
I have yet to get the frames for any, save one, so they are all sitting in my closet right now. But I do plan to get frames for each and every one. But the important thing for me was to first get physical copies of them. I know frames can wait.
But I do hope to be able to get them framed come the new year so I can hang them on my (mostly) bare walls. This wonderful artwork by @summeringminor hangs on my wall right now. And I can't wait for the others to join it soon.
(the Berlin AU previously know as āCan I Taste the Sinā)
Itās early summer, a seemingly endless party. Endless sunlight making long days bleed seamlessly into long nights with a scant three hours of total darkness. it should still be be fun, inspiring, restorative, full of mischief and hedonism. But it isnāt, despite last nightās debauchery. Paul should have gone out...
Or, Paul and Feyd meet at the club. A love letter to the eroticism of Villeneuve's Dune. A love letter to Berlin, summer nights, and big dark rooms.
This is a work in progress, posted in bits, as it's written. Starts out cracky, moves forward as full-on metropolitan bender melancholia with probably too much attention to design, gentrification creep, and contemporary disaffection. Admittedly very centered on my own stomping grounds in a city that I love very much but have been away from for far too long.
Because I probably wonāt make a playlist: Paula Temple - Gegen | Unsure - Hell Drop | Rrose - In Place of Matter | Lacchesi - United We Scream | The Black Dog - Isolation | Rrose - Waterfall | Sept - Can I Taste the Sin | Kelly Lee Owens - 8 (your slow jam) | Derrick May - Strings of the Strings of Life
_______________
Recent remake/remodel on the title. No rewrites, even though there should be because some parts are rough. Made a silly mood board image. Still divinely inspired by gorgeous fan art from @summeringminor. Wrapping up soon with a return to meanness, mayhem, and visual inspiration.
WAAAAAH GORGEOUS ART I LOVE THIS!! reminds me of this banger fic with this exact premise by my friend @aboxthecolourofheartache!! which I may need to reread after finishing this last season š„¹
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Corinthian is remade, portioned by his lord, a share of Nightmare. A young monster, nestled in the dark of Dreaming, closing all his mouths on the memory of vitreous bodies.
The new Dream asks Corinthian to show him the land.
read on AO3
or below the cut:
Corinthian is remade, portioned by his lord, a share of Nightmare. A young monster, nestled in the dark of Dreaming, closing all his mouths on the memory of vitreous bodies, muscle, ligaments, difficult to cut, his teeth crushing, crunching, blinding men alive.
The taste remains. Saltlike.
He licks his mouths and moves when his new lord calls. A soft thing, almost as new as he, radiant with beauty. Dream of the Endless, Dream who is not who made him and yet shoulders his function, the same way Corinthian is not who walked the earth for his own arrogating pleasure. They are both old and new, same and other.
Corinthian kneels before his lord and wonders about his maker. He of Night and Time, brother to the Endless and the Furies, he who could not outrun his blood. Was he as beautiful as Dream? Corinthian knew him only for a moment. All his life. He grazes his glasses. Morpheus fashioned them for him, placed them on his face, touch of father.
He gazes up at Dream.
Show me the realm, little Nightmare.
Yes, Lord.
Corinthian leads him through the gates of horn and ivory and they walk under the starpierced dark, Dreamās robes rushing in the breeze like white bird wings, and a scent sillages behind, sweet, intoxicating nightblooming jasmine.
Lord, you encompass all Dreaming. Why do you need me to show it to you?
Dream stops, eyelids cast down for a moment, then he looks at Corinthian with such openness, the world seems to still around them.
I encompass. But I donāt yetā¦know.
Dream opens his palms as if to receive the world.
But you know. You are a part of it.
So are you, Lord.
Not in the same way. I was human.
A pang shoots through Corinthian. He turns away.
Perhaps so was I, he says, quiet. For a time.
Dream slides his arm around Corinthianās, falling into step with him.
Yes, he says, gentler than Morpheus ever was.
Dream is warm beside him, unlike the marble cold of his maker, but in his eyes the same universe, one star richer. Corinthian slides his thumb over the back of Dreamās hand, brushing the soft hair of his arm, and Dream looks, smiling like the infant Corinthian cradled in his arms mere days ago. Dream does not yet understand all the meanings of touch. Slowly, Dream cups his cheek, bends forward and presses a kiss onto Corinthianās mouth, burning all the breath from his lungs. Corinthian kisses back, ready to open his lips and lick, but Dream pulls away, face relaxed, still smiling, unaware of the noise in Corinthianās chest.
Show me the shores.
Did he ever kiss Morpheus? The forest of his first memories obscures. He can only taste the want for it.
They walk. Night arches around them. And there the shores sink into blackest star swarmed ocean. Calm waters. Corinthian hums. Here his siblings roam, all dreams and nightmares that move sleeping humanity. Dream strides onto the single pier that reaches into the waves, and slowly Corinthian follows. A thrum beneath his feet, the siren song of earth fills his ears and pours into him like blood. He gnashes his teeth. Dream does not notice. His hand curves around the memory of a blade. It lies in the palace. It presses against his hip. Corinthian strokes a finger over steel. How easy it would be to leap into the waters and flee his neophyte lordā
Dream turns to him.
Thank you.
Escape lithifies. Lucienneās words ring through his skull: You broke his heart. Good, he thinks, remnant of his first self, in butter-soft agony.
A glint shines in Dreamās black eyes.
You betrayed him.
Yes.
You wonāt betray me, Dream says.
Not tonight.
No. Dream comes to him like uncreation came to him. Softly.
Warm fingers stroke Corinthianās cheek. All his mouths are hungry.
Youāve changed, Dream says.
He changed me. I had no say in it. Corinthian thinks of Morpheusā pale hands and their violence, and how he ached for it. No, not he. The first.
Dream smiles.
Thatās just life. I know little of it, but this is certain. Things happen to us. The universe moves us. Molds us. Breaks us. Mends us. We live.
Or die, Corinthian says.
Yes, Dream of the Endless nods, but whatās Death? My sister knows this: We are part of a greater whole. Even I. And one day all life will end and the universe will be cold. We cannot outrun Entropy. All love and joy will be forgotten. All dreams dreamt till the last.
His thumb caresses Corinthianās cheekbone.
It will be like we never were.
He steps closer.
But we were. And that matters.
He frames Corinthianās face with both hands.
You matter.
Corinthian slides a hand over Dreamās left.
To me.
Words unmake him. Words bind him. He breathes three breaths from three mouths and the old glass-shard in his belly that is first Corinthian wonders how much he matters. If he mattered to him.
Yes, Dream says simply. Eyes as dark as all the night sky. What would they taste like? Human or Endless?
You held me and protected me. Iāll never forget.
Corinthian didn't think about it, only did what felt right. Like the first. Or not like the first at all?
Iām not sureā¦who I am, Corinthian says.
Dream does not need to answer it, but does anyway,
Nor I. But we have time. We need not know now.
He slides his hands from Corinthian and steps around him, then looks at Corinthian over his shoulder, smiling the same bright smile like when Corinthian held him as an infant.
We can find out together. If you like.
Perhaps Corinthian does like it. He bares all his teeth. Dreamās smile widens, joy dancing in his eyes. Not human. The new Lord of Dreams and Nightmares is softer, yes, but his beauty has a share in terror, and it draws Corinthian in. Inevitable, like it drew him to Morpheus. Like it will always draw him.
Now, show me the forests, Nightmare.
Perhaps there are no ends. Perhaps there are only ends.