#you know how hard it is to draw that badass armor?!

[decembermidnight]

Cherry Liqueur

Summary: You tease Mando in public, drawing too much attention. He reminds you and everyone else who you belong to.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: this is pure smut 18+ mdni, no plot - straight to the point, teasing in public, helmet stays on (sort of), oral (f receiving), female edging, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (p in v), possessive!din, dom!din, cumplay, degradation kink... the list goes on

A/N: this is the first time I'm publishing!! So excited for this. This whole thing was inspired by a perfume. Of course I bought it. Also, keep in mind that English is not my first language! Have as much fun reading it as I did writing it!

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

It's the twilight of a hot summer night on some unknown planet in the outer rim, the suns still setting at the horizon are painting the sky with gorgeous shades of dark orange, lilac and blue. The cantina you’re sitting in is slowly getting crowded and is dimly lit by blue, purple and green lights. 

The vanilla ice cream you are savoring is slowly melting in the glass cup in front of you and it’s so sweet and cold, you moan in pleasure and close your eyes when you bring the teaspoon into your mouth.

He is sitting in front of you and watches with his arms crossed, silent and unbothered, as always. The lights of the cantina gorgeously reflect on his shiny beskar armor.

"Mando, why don't you get some? It's so good." you tease him, your voice sounding so seductive.

He doesn't reply, but won’t take his eyes off you. You can’t see them, but you can feel them scouting your body.

The cherry liqueur you ordered to go with your dessert is thick and sugary, a slight burn in your throat. It makes you brave.

"I want you to kiss my lips and taste how good this is." you whisper to him, glass in your hand, licking your lips.

"I can't, pretty girl." his voice is firm, and you take that as a challenge. He will taste cherry liqueur from your lips tonight. 

You eat the ice cream slowly, not breaking eye contact with the beskar helmet in front of you. You lean on the table on purpose, letting him enjoy the view of your cleavage squeezed in the tight black dress you are wearing, licking the spoon sensually every time, putting on a show for his enjoyment. You know he's watching and loving every single second of it.

You drink your sweet cherry liqueur, intentionally letting one drop spill over your mouth, only to collect it with your finger and spread it all over your plump lips, and only when they’re coated, you bring the fingertip into your mouth to lick it clean. You know how much he loves your lips, especially when they're wrapped around his thick cock. 

He watches still, leaning back against the booth where he’s sitting, arms crossed, chest moving regularly, not a sign of distress coming for him, apparently. You love teasing him like this in public. You know he's definitely rock hard under the table, and the thought of it turns you on so much, you can feel you’re already dripping between your legs.

When you are done with your show, you go to the restroom with the excuse to wash your hands and face. You do not realize until you stand up how much the liquor hit you. You're not drunk, just a bit dizzy, but it boosts your confidence, makes you feel like a bombshell and can feel his eyes glued to your hips that are swaying sensually, hugged by the light fabric of the revealing dress you are wearing, subtly inviting him to follow you, hoping he'd understand.

When you hear the door opening behind you, you turn around happily, thinking it's him.

It isn't. It’s an ugly mug who clearly does not know who you belong to, a grin on his face.

He tries to approach you blurting obscenities, but he can't even finish the phrase, the door behind him opens, and Mando enters.

"Is there a problem here?" The cold, intimidating tone of his masculine voice makes your pussy clench. Fuck - you love how badass and protective he is.

The creep grins at you, pissed off at the interruption, and turns around, only to find a fully armored Mandalorian staring at him, his hand on the blaster at his belt, ready to fire. He is always ready. So swift and scary.

"No" he answers, raising his hands "I was just leaving." the other man replies, immediately leaving the room, intimidated by the bounty hunter who just entered.

Can’t explain enough how much you love when he acts possessive towards you. He loves when you wear seductive and revealing clothes around him for everyone to see how hot you are, but when random men even just try to interact with you, he’s quick to assert his dominance and defend his property. You fucking belong to him.

The second the door closes behind him, Mando leans with his arm against the wall behind you, towering you. It’s intimidating and turns you on so much. You sigh in arousal and wrap your arms around his neck.

You feel his erection, rock hard against your lower belly.

'Mando..." You call him in an inviting tone.

"You're such a nasty girl. Teasing me in public in front of everyone. Making me hard." he whispers as he cups your cheek with his other hand. "What do I have to do with you?"

"Kiss me." You say, alcohol suddenly makes you brave. "Here. Now." you challenge him.

He clenches the hand he’s leaning on in a fist, staying still for a few seconds as you look at him, your eyes filled with desire. The music coming from outside fills the silence between you two.

"Close your eyes." he says firmly.

You obey, as you always do when he gives you orders.

He takes his gloves off and tosses them on the sink on his left, then he covers your eyes with one hand. You hear a hiss of air, and then you feel warm lips on yours. A slow, soft kiss that makes your knees weak, your head light and the air escape your lungs, leaving you breathless. You part your lips in a sigh of arousal and he pushes his tongue inside your mouth, tasting you just like you wanted. You let out a moan, he swallows it greedily and bites your lower lip, chuckling.

Your mouth tastes like cherry, vanilla and sin, he wants to taste it all, your lips tickled by his mustache. His other hand is wrapping around your neck, lightly choking you. The Mandalorian is dangerously bending the rules of his creed just to taste you, giving in to lust and desire. What adds even more to the excitement of it, is that he’s doing this in a public place, where anyone could enter at any moment and see him.

For a man who never removes his helmet, his kisses are to die for. Your hands travel to his jawline, masculine and well-defined, covered in a scruffy beard. His skin is so hot to the touch, his heart is racing, you can feel it with your fingers while running them on his neck. He lifted his helmet just enough to kiss you and you can't look at him, but you can feel him. That is more than enough. The more you kiss, the more you want to keep going. You can't stop kissing and moaning into each other's mouth. His body is pressed heavily on yours.

The door opens behind Mando, but he is quick to shut it with a back kick, never leaving your lips, on the contrary, kissing you even harder because he’s getting even more turned on, knowing that someone tried to enter, and keeping his foot on the door to prevent other incidents. His reflex is always so ready, always so alert. Curses from the outside, he won't let anyone in, not now that he is finally giving in and kissing you. It makes you so happy to know that you have him all to yourself.

He bites your lower lip. "You taste so good" growls between his teeth. Every time you hear his real voice, not distorted by a modulator, you get goosebumps. "So fucking good. My pretty girl." His voice is hot and dark, masculine and firm.

You giggle in his mouth and keep kissing him, wrapping one leg around his body, letting him rock his hips against yours and hump against your soaking wet entrance, and groaning in his mouth. He bites your lip grinning, hungry like a starving beast, knowing that you're already so wet and turned on just because of the kisses he's giving you.

You feel the dry humping will make you cum within seconds if it doesn't stop. When you are so close you could feel your heart racing and your face blushing, he suddenly stops and lowers his helmet back on. You whimper as you stop feeling his body on yours and his hand removed from your eyes. When he does, you see the beskar helmet looking at you, towering you as before. Mando then goes on his knees, slowly, you don't take your eyes off each other, he runs his hot hands on your thighs, under your dress, on your hips softly, making you sigh, his gentle touch is making you shudder. He grabs your soaked panties and takes them off, slowly, never interrupting eye contact. You take out one leg, then the other. He spreads your legs with his arms and looks at your swollen, throbbing, needy cunt.

"Mmm - so beautiful" he says, running one finger between your folds and pushing his middle finger inside your entrance, making you arch your back, squeeze your eyes shut and moan loudly. He starts fingering you slowly, but he is quick to speed up the pace.

Your panting and the wet, lewd noises your pussy makes as he fucks you with his finger fill the tiny room, and you're pretty sure people can hear from outside. He takes his finger out, followed by the hissing sound of him lifting his helmet, and then you feel a warm and wet tongue on your clit, making you gasp and groan deeply and way too loud. Everyone out there’s gonna know that the Mandalorian is making you feel so good. You feel so shameless, and you fucking love it.

"F-fuck!" you scream loudly as the Mandalorian grips your thighs and sinks into them with his mouth. You cover your mouth with your hands as he tastes how much you want him, humming in pleasure, the vibrations coming from his throat making your eyes roll over your head in pure ecstasy.

The way he eats you, as if he could never have enough, and keeps doing that for as long as he wants, tasting your sweet juices, taking all the time in the galaxy to reduce you to a whimpering, trembling mess, drives you fucking crazy.

You get so close to your orgasm already, your head gets dizzy, and when you're just there, he suddenly stops licking your clit. The sensation of the pre-orgasm rush leaving your body makes your legs shake in frustration and you desperately rock your hips looking for his mouth, but his iron grip on your thighs prevents you from moving one inch.

“Uh-uh. Not so fast” he whispers. You can feel his hot breath on your clit, just holding there as you tremble desperately.

And then, after a few seconds that seem to last like an eternity, he starts circling around your clit with his tongue, extremely slowly, carefully avoiding it, teasing you. When he feels that your body is calming down, he starts licking your clit once again, and then, when he feels you're getting closer, he fucking stops again, edging you once more. He kisses and bites your inner thigh, completely drenched in your arousal, and laughs sadistically at how much your body is begging for him.

He does that multiple times as a vengeance for teasing him so shamelessly in public. You are on the verge of tears, and your whole body is shaking, especially your legs, but his grip is so firm that it keeps you still and open wide over his mouth at his mercy.

"Please-please-please" you whimper desperately.

"What?" He asks in between slow, light licks around your clit.

"Please Mando make me cum" you cry out.

He does not answer. Only a single, swift lick on your swollen clit that makes your whole body jerk under his touch.

"Please, Mando! I'm begging you!" You sound so pathetic, he loves it. You hear a chuckle as he circles around your clit once again, then his middle finger is back inside your hot entrance, fucking you. Your pussy is so embarrassingly wet, you can feel your juices dripping down your inner thighs.

“You can only cum when I tell you so.” he says in between licks to your clit, the light touch of his lips making you shiver and sigh.

“P-please I c-can’t-” you try to articulate desperately.

“Hold it there.” he just doesn’t care how much you whimper. On the contrary, whimpering will only make this edging torture last longer.

He can hear your panting getting more and more out of control by the second.

“Yeah - hold it there” he loves having all this power on you.

You let out a deep sigh, trying to control the way your body reacts to his, but it’s impossible. You can’t focus on anything else apart from holding in your orgasm but you’re not sure how much further you can resist.

"Yeah mesh'la - cum. Cum for me." you can feel his hot breath against your pussy, and then his tongue is finally back on your clit, there to stay.

He pushes another finger inside and once again you feel the hot sensation of the orgasm building in your pussy, this time begging that he won’t stop.

"F-fuck Mando I-I’m-"

He purrs into your pussy and you finally cum into his mouth, your muscles desperately clenching around his fingers, your hands cover your mouth and muffle the screams of your orgasm, eyes so rolled back over your head, all you can see is pitch black darkness, you’re completely blown away by those few seconds of pure bliss.

By the time you are done, you are completely drained by pleasure and your head is spinning. He is licking dripping juices from your inner thighs, then he bites your soft flesh, humming, knowing he'll leave bruises only he'll be able to see, and finally he stands back up on his feet.

"Open your mouth" he says, you obey. You're still shaking and panting from how mind-blowing that was.

He sticks his two fingers coated in your arousal in your mouth and you sensually wrap them around your lips, pushing them deep in your throat.

"Yeah - like this" he says grinning satisfied as he watches you lick his fingers clean from tips to knuckle, his erection against your belly. He takes his fingers out and grabs your jaw, forcing your mouth open, and then he spits inside of it. You fucking love it, moaning at the feeling of being dominated that way, and swallow his saliva greedily. He slaps your face and chuckles. "What an obedient little slut." says, whispering in your ear, and then his tongue is again inside your mouth.

You can feel his mustache, lips and chin are wet from your arousal, his mouth now tastes like you, a warm and slightly salty taste that you don't mind. "Fuck. My pretty girl. Can’t ever get enough of you."

He kisses you for so long, taking all the time in the galaxy to make you feel like the most worshiped woman of the outer rim, cupping your face with his hands, caressing your cheeks, holding you tight and running his hands all over your body, wanting to feel every inch of you.

He lowers the helmet back on his face, then turns you around and bends you over the sink, in front of the mirror. 

“Open your eyes” he orders.

"Fuck" you whisper biting your lip, looking at how he towers over you, gripping your hips, feeling his rock hard erection grinding against your ass as his hips rock into yours.

He takes out his cock and starts sliding it between your folds and you can see fucking everything. You shake in anticipation and gasp. When he slowly inserts his dick inside of your needy, wet cunt you both moan shamelessly loud, not caring that anyone can hear you from outside, and when he starts thrusting into you, you go out of control and can't control how loud you're screaming.

"Quiet. Quiet, pretty girl." He puts one hand on your mouth, panting in your ear.

Your muffled screams seem to excite him even more. He is having fun sliding it in and out of you, painfully slow and groaning in your ear to drive you fucking crazy. He knows how much you love hearing him enjoying himself. The sound your dripping pussy makes when it takes it all in, greedily, desperately clenching around his thick cock, fills the room together with his hips rocking against your ass.

Having you bent like that, in front of the freshener's mirror, your leg on the sink, forced to look at the mess of you, blushing and sweaty, one of his hands on your thigh, the other one on your mouth, begging for the dick of that fully armored bounty hunter that terrified everyone out there, towering over you, turns you on so much and can’t take your eyes off the mirror. 

The banging on the door outside, the thought of someone wanting to enter, but it's blocked from Mando's foot planted firmly on the ground against it, knowing there's only a thin door separating your throbbing, needy cunt from the outside, all of those men looking at you earlier, hearing your screams and wishing they were the ones locked inside the bathroom with you, fucking you raw and dirty like the filthy whore that you are, but it's only the Mandalorian that you want, that can make you scream like this.

For a second he lifts his hand from your mouth, wanting to hear your voice.

"M-my - fuck - Mandalorian warrior, fucking me so good."

"Yeah?" You clench around him just by hearing his voice, his hand back on your mouth to muffle how much you are loving being fucked that way.

You take his hand and slide it towards your clit, but he slaps it away. You are so desperate, you want - no, you need - to cum again and start rubbing your clit with your own hand, only for him to take your hand away and cause you to whimper on the verge of tears for stimulation.

"Beg me." He orders, lifting his hand from your mouth so that he can hear you.

"P-please Mando make me cum, please, please" you whimper desperately.

He grins and achingly slowly moves his hand towards your slit, widening your pussy and starting to draw circles around your swollen clit with his middle finger, purposefully avoiding it to tease you.

It makes you shake and whimper desperately. Then he takes the soaked finger and puts it into your mouth.

"Yes, lick it all. Taste how much you want me."

You do, moaning and sucking and licking his finger clean. "Good girl." He slaps your face, then grabs your chin and forces you to lock your very same gaze in the mirror.

"I want you to look. Look at yourself when I make you cum."

His hand reaches your clit, starts rubbing it and you can't avoid arching your back and rolling your eyes in pleasure and letting out a deep moan.

He stops thrusting and massaging you, the hand holding your jaw grips tighter. "Hey. I told you to look." Then slaps you on the clit, making your body jerk and clench around him, making him gasp.

He starts thrusting and rubbing your clit again immediately after scolding you.

"When we're done, I - fuck - don't want you to put your panties back on. I want you to walk with my cum dripping down your legs. Everyone out there has to know that you're fucking mine." He growls between his teeth, his voice raspy through the modulator. That sentence takes you over the edge and you cum so hard, screaming with your mouth closed by his hand, gaze locked on yourself as he commanded. The muffled screaming is so loud, it fills the little room.

"Cyar'ika" he growls as soon as he feels your cunt rhythmically clenching around him. "Do you see how fucking beautiful you are when you cum for me? F-fuck I-I-" he muffles his scream gritting between his teeth as he cums, his cock is pulsing, his seed is spilling hot inside of you, but he keeps riding through both of your orgasms. 

He leans on you, panting and holding you tight, his dick still throbbing into your pussy. When he takes it out, you feel his seed slowly dripping from your inner thighs.

"Turn around." He orders, still panting.

You do, and he sits you on the sink and spreads your legs open.

"Fuck. So beautiful." He is mesmerized by the sight of your pussy filled by him, still clenching in waves of aftershock. He runs his fingers on your inner thighs to collect all the drops of seed that escaped and pushes them back into your opening. He has some fun with it, you can tell he is grinning under the helmet, then he brings his fingers to your mouth and you obediently suck them clean, tasting the lust of you both.

When you get out of the bathroom, you feel everyone's eyes on you two. You've never done anything so shameless and nasty in your life, and you fucking loved it. Every second of it.

You walk towards the exit, Mando behind you, his hand wrapped around your hip. You feel his cum dripping down your legs and you wonder if the people looking at you are noticing. Mando's words echo in your head. Everyone out there has to know that you're fucking mine. He definitely made sure of that. You can’t help smiling.

[beevean]

I decided to break down down this absolutely beautiful poster because I love it and there is some interesting content to notice <3

Starting from the big character portraits:

The Hecboi being his usual badass self. You can spot his earrings which I love, it's such a cute detail <3

Isaac practicing his "step on me daddy" routine. yes sir i get it your boots are fabulous and your pants can't contain your d

I find highkey underrated how Kojima associated him with skulls in official artwork. I wish it didn't get lost in time lol.

Trevor, my friend Trevor :) much more serious than the sass master he is in the game lol

Julia taking care of Hector's Innocent Devils :)

Side note, while I love most of their designs in the game, I find Kojima's idea of what Hector and Isaac's Devils could look like very fascinating. I like how she draws dragons.

The big man himself, St. Germain standing in front of a clock, and Zead holding a four-leafed clover for good luck (+ Isaac again lol)

Now, the more minute detail, going anti-clockwise:

Not only we can see Dracula's Castle, but the figure in the center is the Devil Forgery lab in the PtR manga:

Another underrated detail of lore :)

Oh, this one is just. juicy <3 It took me ages to understand what's going on, but with some help I finally realized it.

So this is essentially the moment where Hector went to Dracula and was like "hey boss, would you mind if you stopped to order me to kill humans? dunno if you noticed but i'm human too and it feels weird. thanks", and Dracula was like "hmm. let me think about it. no. have a nice day :)".

In the PtR manga, it was depicted like this:

With Dracula threatening Hector with his extended claws, and then throwing him off the castle keep. i don't know what you were expecting, man

But in the poster, he's straight up holding Hector by his throat and stabbing him with the fingers of his bat wings! So much that you can see blood dripping from his mouth! Ouch!

This only proves my headcanon that Devil Forgemasters are superhuman and can withstand wounds that would kill a normal person.

also, between this and his sippy attack in the game proper, dracula sure likes to manhandle hector a little too much.

the besties going to work <3

You have no idea how much this little drawing pisses me off. This is the closest thing I have of a canon depiction of Hector and Isaac working as Devil Forgemasters.

I need to see them slaughtering humans together in my bloodstream D: not even NFCV had the courtesy of depicting a villain Hector actually doing villain things D: guys. guys the potential-

Aside from that, this also incidentally proves that PtR's interpretation of Isaac's fabulous outfit (being what is left of his normal Devil Forgemaster outfit after Hector destroyed it) is retroactive. My man was apparently already going shirtless just because he felt like it. Imagine being killed by Dracula's most loyal soldier and your last sight in life is his tiddies. King shit.

also

yeah it's stupid but that's the vibe i get lol

I get it, Kojima-san, you love your blorbo. understandable

A bit more seriously, I really appreciate how much Isaac doesn't have the certified Kojima Pretty Man face, he's instantly recognizable. I like his big nose :)

Hector practicing Devil Forging, a smaller version of this panel from the PtR manga:

I like how in the poster it looks like a typical yin-yang symbol, but also closer to the black-and-white motif of the Devil Forging crest :) they look like two lil dragons chasing each other.

why does isaac look 150% more naked without his shoulder armor

It's hard to tell which even this is supposed to represent. I guess it's his defeat at Hector's hands, if we take the black splotches on the ground as his outfit being slashed. Notice the crest on the floor, similar to the intro of the game!

The worsties fighting. Hector is pissed and Isaac is a troll, must be a day ending in Y. they're flirting

The End! Hard to tell if it's Hector's golden Devil or Abel, but it looks awesome <3

This one... puzzles me. I can tell that Hector is being attacked by some little devils and he's defending himself. But why is he using a small pumpkin as a weapon??

(what if this is him trying to defend rosaly from the mob who accused her of being a witch :<)

Hector angsting. Sadly I'm not sure of what kind of flower that's supposed to be, perhaps a dandelion? I wish it was a lily of the valley like in PtR.

Our friend Trevor again. Interesingly, in the full poster, Isaac and Trevor are directly mirroring each other.

Trevor being like "bruh are you for real" after whipping Hector's ass black and blue. (i hate his second fight so much...)

I would say "Hector's revenge", but actually it looks like he's bleeding and in pain. So... I think this the moment when Dracula nearly clawed Trevor's eye out.

Trevor and Isaac fighting! Love that scene in the game :D

isaac how are you even twisting yourself. what are you doing. you're showing off, aren't you.

Not sure about what location these ruins are supposed to be, but fascinating detail of the skeleton holding a scale of justice. It's close to Zead...

tl;dr i want to eat this poster because it's just so fucking good and a great way to summarize the game

[sheepfish03]

Here is my part of @shepscapades​ ‘s character design challenge! I went with drawing non-life-series hermits as red lifers.

originally I just did Welsknight, but I was on a roll so I added Xb as well, and,,, you can’t separate Xb from Keralis so he’s here too, being his,,, lovely self (wow look at that eldritch horror K propaganda)

(Below the cut I’ve added individual shots of them all without the gradient layer I used as shading here, and I talk a wee bit about the designs etc.)

Some general notes include:

originally I intended for Wels to be working for Ren during 3rd life, but then I was plagued by visions so this is actually set on an original life series season I’ve been calling wanted life (pspsps come closer,,, ask me about this I swear I’ll be normal and not abandon all my current projects to develop a fic or something)

All three of them are an allied, their base Is in a snowy mountain (which is why Wels and Xb have the fur collars) I don’t know what their alliance is called but I’ll figure it out probably

Wels went red first, due to some unfortunate luck regarding the gimmick of this made up season, and had been red for a while before eventually Keralis also joins him on the reds. Xb is the last to turn, and in fact survives on so long that by that time Wels has already lost his last remaining life.

Here’s Wels! My pride and joy! I really wanted to do him because it’d be a great excuse of designing some armor again, without having to chain myself into having to do that for every life series member when I eventually draw them

Originally, to make him seem more intimidating, I was going to put him in a massive suit of armor, but after gathering my references I realized it might be hard to make work with my,,, centaur design for him (You can’t put all that heavy shit on a horse I’m pretty sure!) So instead I just, gave him an different suit of armor than I usually do. If you’re wondering what might be up with all the eye imagery, It’s,,, mostly because I couldn’t figure out anything better to put there so I gave him all the eye imagery I couldn’t give Keralis on account of him being,,, naked.

The really fun part about his design though,,, is his big-ass anime sword! If you can’t tell I was heavily referencing a few genshin impact weapons for this. When he’s green/yellow the eye is closed and only opens when he gets to red.

Xb! He’s a shark. And he has a bow.

I don’t have much to say of him since I was mostly just winging everything here,,, He’s a shark because I like them, he has a bow because hes good with them. the bow looks like that because I wanted it to vaguely look like the same Genshin esque bullshit that Wels’s sword does.

I did give him black eyeliner,,, I,,, can’t remember why I did that but hey it’s there.

Okay so Keralis,,, all red-life-skins, exist on a spectrum, idk what the spectrum is but for reference Skizz’s limited life skin and Rendog’s 3rd life skin are on the opposite ends of the spectrum.

While I would have loved to draw Keralis all badass and stuff,,, I knew in my heart that he would be the kind of guy to,,, you know,,, follow in the footsteps of Scar and Skizz

HOWEVER to make him a little creepy I figured I could tap into those sweet sweet eldritch horror allegations

“But Sheep!” I hear you asking, “Isn’t their base in a snowy mountain, wont he get cold.” He will, and he does. You underestimate how far he’ll go for a bit. (Also it’s a fantastic opportunity for him to steal Xb’s hoodies!)

also a bonus meme I doodled as soon as I realized... the situation

transcript since it’s my handwriting: Has to draw Keralis as a “half naked red-life” instead of a “badass red-life”

Too long, didn’t read, I’m happy for you tho or I’m sorry that happened

[blackjackkent]

One of the challenges in Rakha's Act 3 playthrough continues to be figuring out what order she would do things in, which is how we come to a decision point at this unassuming little intersection.

From where she is currently, the left turn here is the correct path to head on towards the Counting House, which is Rakha's ostensible immediate destination. However, on her right is... this:

Sorcerous Sundries. And, realistically, there's no way Rakha doesn't notice it. She is acutely attuned to the Weave, after all, and this is the biggest collection of magical artifacts and tones in the city. This building has probably been showing up like a beacon to her from several blocks away.

So, without saying anything, she pivots off the path southward and starts heading up into the square, where bursts of magic are going off at regular intervals from the mages performing demonstrations there. And she's so distracted by this wondershow that she nearly plows straight into the woman charging at her from the opposite direction.

"Godsdamned hypocrite!"

(A/N: Fun! Hector didn't have Florrick out of prison yet at this point, so this is another new angle for me. :D )

There is no sign now of the apathy that Florrick displayed when they found her in prison. Instead, her eyes are alight with fiery rage - directed not at Rakha, but at Wyll.

"The Blade of Frontiers - all pomp and empty oaths!" she snaps. "The Sword Coast's most dashing fraud! I trusted you! I *believed* in you!"

Wyll flinches back from the harshness of the words, his eyes widening. "Florrick - what are you on about?" he stammers, bewildered. "What is this?"

"Lady Mizora told me everything," Florrick growls. "How you slaughtered your own father. How you crave his power." Her fists clench, and Rakha can see the slow winding up of magical energy around her fingers. "You mean to make the city bow to you and you alone!"

Her voice is rising with fury, and Wyll sinks back under it as if under a torrent of physical blows.

"That meddling *ghoul*," he cries, and Rakha can hear the anguish - and anger - in his voice. "Florrick, I--"

"Save it," Florrick says, bitter and cold. "My duty is to Baldur's Gate - and it holds no place for Ravengard's treacherous spawn."

She lifts her hand, the flame starting to lick around her palm. Her companions - a mage and a man in Fist armor - both draw their weapons as well, their eyes hard.

Immediately Rakha is on her guard. Kill, growls the beast, awake and snarling at once. Drown her in the fountain with her staff shoved up her ass. Let her corpse decorate the city she loves so. Let the guards come, and let us burn this open place to the ground with all these innocents inside it. Kill, and kill, and kill, and kill...

Her breath drags in a low groan in her throat as she struggles the violent instinct down with every bit of her strength.

(A/N: This one's a bit challenging, in that the only dialogue option that is immediately Rakha-ish is "Attack us, then. Let's see who's left standing," which might be an interesting conversational line if Florrick was less of a badass, but as it is, she says "bet" and we're immediately tossed into a fight. I was a little worried about how I was going to justify any OTHER tack, but then I realized that this is a rare case of the history check we have here (one Hector also passed) actually making sense for Rakha despite her Durge history.)

Part of her, it's true, would happily kill Florrick for the pain she is causing Wyll at present - but Rakha also knows perfectly well that Wyll would not stand for it. She already could be blamed, if he wished, for the death of his father; she can't bear to have him blame her for Florrick's as well - not to mention for all the innocents in this square who would no doubt be caught in the crossfire.

Mizora - it's Mizora that she needs to kill. Mizora has lied to Florrick, painted Wyll as a monster to one of the people he cares about. But Mizora is untouchable, out of reach, protected by magical defenses Rakha has not yet learned how to break.

One day-- she thinks, with the slow-burn rage that is her own and not the beast's, one day I will strip her bare of any protection, and then I will kill her with my bare hands. And for once I will find no shame in taking pleasure in it.

Unfortunately, the situation at hand is far more pressing. Florrick is certainly ready to strike the first blow if Rakha does not - and Rakha does not trust her own ability to continue to hold back once attacked. But what else can she do, other than fight, in this moment? Florrick is strong-willed and powerful; Rakha has seen it in the past, and even admired it. If she has decided Wyll is a monster, a threat, then she will see that threat ended.

But she is like Wyll - she cares about the city's future more than anything else. If Rakha is to have any hope of holding both herself and the Counselor back, she must find a way to prove that attacking Wyll is a greater danger to Baldur's Gate than not doing so.

[HISTORY] A relevant thread of knowledge pokes at your mind. Explore it.

Narrator: You remember the stories of Elturel's fall. The city was dragged into the Hells at Zariel's behest - and Ravengard along with it.

(A/N: This is honestly kind of a weird reach for the conversation in the general run of things but it does kind of fit with Rakha's habit of extrapolation and sticking facts together. XD )

That's it - the key. The stories Zevlor told them of Elturel, all the way back in the Grove, the line that connects Mizora to Ravengard as an enemy.

"Zariel's stunt destroyed countless lives," she points out curtly. Her voice rasps with the effort she is putting into keeping herself under control. "Mizora is her minion. You can't trust her."

"Florrick... I am my father's son," Wyll says quietly. He's recovered himself somewhat and looks at her earnestly, steadily - but that deep pain still wrenches at every feature of his face. "You know me. Will you really trust the word of a devil over mine?" He swallows. "I swear I did everything I could to save him. I swear it... by all I hold dear..."

Rakha wonders if he truly believes that. There was, after all, a path to saving Ravengard - at the cost of Wyll's soul. She's sure he would have taken it if she hadn't stopped him.

Florrick studies him for a long, strained moment. Then she nods abruptly and sheathes her staff. "At ease," she mutters to her companions, who relax as well, lowering their weapons. "By the living gods... I believe you," she says - but she still looks deeply troubled.

"What darkness has fallen upon us," she murmurs with a sigh, rubbing her fingertips against her forehead. Then she squares her shoulders with the air of a woman coming to some momentous decision.

"Wyll, there's something you must know," she says, meeting Wyll's eyes with grave intensity. "I should've told you sooner, but I'd hoped somehow your father would return to us. He knew about the Absolute. I thought little of it at first - but he realized the danger before anyone else did. He understood that if the cult were successful in raising an army, Baldur's Gate would be doomed."

She draws a slow breath and then lets it out heavily. "Before the Absolutists abducted him, he told me that should he fall, I must seek you out and give you this message. Your father trained you in the ways of the great champions. You are to use those lessons to wake the wyrm under the city. He is oathbound to answer your call and come to our aid."

Rakha blinks. "A wyrm?" she asks, before she can stop herself from voicing her puzzlement. She knows the word, as she has recognized various isolated words in the course of her travels, without knowing where the knowledge came from - but in this case, it's so jarring a meaning that she's almost certain she must have misunderstood. "Are you saying there's a dragon living under the city?"

(A/N: Larian missed out on comedic potential here for having the PC, especially a Durge PC, think she meant "worm." But we can't have everything.)

Florrick nods. "A bronze dragon, yes. He sleeps beneath us even now, awaiting a hero to rouse him. The wyrm goes by many names. Ansur. The Waiting Storm. The Heart of the Gate." She watches Wyll's expression, seeing him nod slowly in recognition. "He promised Balduran he'd protect the city if ever its existence was threatened - but just the once. Since then, the city faced countless threats, but the Baldurians overcame them all. There was never any need to call upon the wyrm."

Her mouth draws into a tight line. "But this time, things are different. This is the greatest threat Baldur's Gate ever faced. Your father was right; we need Ansur's help. With him gone, the wyrm's awakening now falls to you."

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a tattered, use-worn book, which she holds out in Wyll's direction. "The duke gave me this - 'The Legend of Ansur.' An ancient epic, ill-remembered, dismissed as a mere tale. Let it set the path before you," she says soberly.

Rakha watches this exchange warily. The beast's immediate fury has subsided, though part of her attention is still consumed by keeping hold of it. "Wyll?" she asks, low enough for only his ears. "What do you make of this?"

Wyll's eyes have narrowed with sudden resolution. Perhaps he has heard these tales of the wyrm already, for he does not seem nearly as thrown as Rakha is by this new discovery. Instead, he seems suddenly energized, perhaps seeing a glimmer of his father's lingering presence in this mission left behind for him.

"Baldur's Gate stands on the brink of the abyss," he says, and his voice trembles almost imperceptibly as he accepts the book from Florrick. "Let's awaken the wyrm and take back the city."

Florrick nods crisply. Whatever doubts she held about Wyll, she seems to have set them aside. "Ravengard's blood courses through your veins," she says firmly. "Your father would be proud." Her eyes flick to Rakha and she nods with cool respect. "I will go and assemble any allies I can find. When the battle horns call, we'll stand ready."

She turns to face Wyll fully and offers him a curt salute. "Unleash the wyrm, Wyll. Let his tempest swallow the Absolute and its allies. Good luck!"

[kalolasfantasyworld]

Chapters 372, 373 comments

The comments were written as I was reading. I'll make another post with my overall opinion and analysis. These are live reactions 💕

Chapter 372

We’re starting with Nozel crashing down and Pablo coming to the rescue. CLASSIC. (Helena get over here and heal your husband please)

Thankfully Kahono and Kiato came in. I actually stumbled upon a post on twitter saying that BC mobile foreshadowed this a little, giving us both of them together. 

Moving on I love how they’re giving Noelle a way to fight. 

I’m really glad how Tabata’s showing us Acier’s spells. We didn’t really know about anything except her Valkyrie armor, so it’s great to see how they’re more “bird” related. 

Noelle and Acier are going all out. The fact that Acier is using water is interesting. Maybe it’s to show the similarities.

THE PANELS, THE ART. They’re amazing, we can see how dynamic this fight is and we can only dream how it will look animated.

Acier once again using an eagle and Noelle fighting her off with a dragon, amazing.

YES Solid and Nebra panels! They realise how powerful Noelle is and at the same time they’re terrified, they feel weak and we see them reflect on their actions, on their behaviour. 

I’m glad they realised their mistakes, but no you’re not wretched you were until you realised and tried to make it better.

They get inspired by their little sister and the inspiration trope goes on in BC.

Now once again the epic fight between Noelle and Acier. ART is at its peak here, the foreshortening, shadows, expressions.

And Acier nearly had her, but NEARLY, because SOLID my boy. 

I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you! I knew you had it in you!

Nebra fights as well! She’s terrified, but she’s not giving up! 

“It isn’t the weak who should be embarrassed. It’s the ones who STAY WEAK!”

YES YES EXACTLY

And they want to atone, want to make a fresh start and want to BECOME A FAMILY!.

All I ever wanted from BC was this last panel. 

Thank yous so much Tabata. The four of them. You made it so beautiful.

I’m extremely grateful I stuck around in the fandom to witness this.

Also hey Nozel you’re up and back in the fight!

Chapter 373

“Take care of the rest for us… SILVAS!!” 

I’m not sobbing guys, no not at all.

Nebra using her strength and covering everything so that they can talk.

Ohhh I love how the next panel kind of flashes back to when he said that she’s a Royal and she has to come protect the capital with him!

Same motifs everyone. Amazing.

Nozel is finally guiding Noelle and teaching her. I wonder what would had happened if he did that since the beginning, but well we’ll never know. Good he’s making up for it now.

Acier comes back and they need more time, Noelle needs more time for this attack. I know what’s coming. Nozel relaying on others! Character development.

“Big brothers exist to protect their siblings!!”

Nozel you’re making me cry 😭😭😭 I’m so proud of you. 

AND yes he’s changing his style, he’s learning, evolving. DEFENCE.

DAMN, so I saw that panel earlier�� but I’m still looking… respectfully…

NEW SPELL, I already made Helena make dirty jokes about it… 😂

But honestly even though he looks exactly like the Silver surfer and he had that surfing scene in during the captains’ battle. I LOVE IT. 

And see guys Nozel has some lean muscle, my drawings and descriptions are accurate.

And he kind of got an armor.

I’m discontinuing simping right now.

He’s buying them time! They obviously worry, but how badass that is.

I love how determined Solid and Nebra are here. 

“Solid and I will support your spell!!”

YES Nebra! Good job girl!

They will help, they will support you Noelle.

Maintaining that spell does hurt. I head canon that Nozel has some immunity to his magic in a way that he can control it a bit from not hurting him, but nonetheless it is hurting him. Mercury is poisonous.

However he fights through it now, he goes against his mother, doing his best to buy time for his siblings.

Nebra and Solid have a hard time, it’s hurting them, but they don’t speak they’re focused and they will help her. On the contrary they tell her to push forward. Such amazing development. We can also see their repentance. They know they were wrong and they’re trying to make up for it in these crucial moments.

I saw this panel in @thoughtfullyrainynightmare’s colorings and I LOVE it so much! Nozel and his punishment are very dramatic. He looks so good here!!! (Simp mode is back)

However what he SAYS is so much more important, what he wishes to achieve. He believes in his goal, he will atone and be able to rebuild to heal the bonds in his family.

Okay this is going to be heavy. I just know it.

Noelle doesn’t want to hurt Nebra and Solid. 

CONFESSIONS

I knew it 

😭😭😭

I always head canoned that Nebra was jealous of that and now it’s confirmed. It’s so brave of her to confess it now.

Solid also was jealous, the same magic attribute and Noelle was just more powerful. He was scared, scared to be weaker than Noelle, which he ended up being (self fulfilling prophecy everyone).

But they are SORRY!

And this means to Noelle more than anything.

She charges her magic, as Nozel continues the fight! Spectacular.

(I haven’t red Jojo, but it’s a mojo looking panel) once again I’m so impressed by the movement and just how amazingly Tabata can show the action.

The spell crashes Acier’s eagle.

“It’s a shame, but I got to see my children all grown up and strong As a mother, I’m satisfied!”

Acier despite being an evil paladin is the one of the best mothers’ in BC.

She’s proud of them (me too girl me too)

“You took the long way round, but you’ve finally become a family, haven’t you?”

Yes they have.

[emperorbubblegum]

This is gonna be another long-ish spoiler post for F/SR, so don't click if you haven't learned Rider's True Name yet

Also slight spoilers for Fate/Extra CCC Foxtail and maybe Shimousa but those are old enough that I doubt people care

I really need to hear the opinion of someone who doesn't know much about Fate play Samurai Remnant. I feel like most of us where able to guess a lot of the new Servants based off connections they had to pre-established ones. Rider's probably one of two exceptions because her reveal is supposed to be this huge "what the fuck" moment - and it is, but I feel like that mostly hinges on the player knowing Fate's version of Minomoto-no-Raikou.

Ushi Gozen has been teased for years. Raikou's always been one of the many Servants that mentions how her Berserker Saint Graph isn't the only one we might aee of her (edit 1: I didn't play FGO when it first released so I didn't know this, but apparently Ushi actually shows up in the same event Raikou's introduced in). In Foxtail, we see her used as a prarallel to Suzuka, since both have connections to Oni. The most prominent tease is in Shimousa, where we actually see Ushi Gozen appear, but with the same design as Raikou for budget reasons I guess (edit 2: No we don't, that's just Raikou, but she has the Rider class so I misremembered her there as Ushi Gozen). And now she's actually here! She gets her own game! And she looks...

Girl what the fuck happened to you

I really like both of her designs to be honest. She's one of the few Servants to be wearing actual samurai armor, and she's the first to wear the helmet too I'm pretty sure. Then after Saber kicks the shit out of her, the armor falls apart and we see that she's in a much worse state than any of us expected. Her hair's cut short, her eyes are dead with noticeable bags, her skin's paler than it was before, and she barely looks like she's eaten anything. Those last two could also be said about Raikou (Raita for the love of god learn to draw human women properly) but on Rider they're noticeably worse. Also she seems crazier than her Berserker form, albeit a different kind of crazy.

When we fight her the second time in Chapter 5, she shows up with these awesome robot-like spider legs reminiscent of what Ushi-oni are usually described with. She doesn't look human because her humanity was seemingly beaten out of her. Raikou tends to suffer from what I like to call "the Altera Problem", where if used right she can be a really genuine and badass character, but 90% of the time she's used for jokes and to get people's dicks hard. However in things like Foxtail, or Shimousa (which is even more apparent in the manga), or Heian-Kyo we get to see her for how she really is, which is A) terrifying and B) a hero worthy of going down as one of humanity's best. Rider is only that first one. No jokes, no big tits, just pure unadulturated "you're gonna die" energy.

Rider's the first Servant we ever see in Samurai Remnant. She's the first one Iori encounters, leveling his house in the prologue and acting as the tutorial boss to show the player "hey you can't fucking take these guys on", and in the teaser trailer (which shows that scene) she's one of three Servants who are actually shown to us - the other two being SR's Saber and everyone's favorite bisexual dimension hopper, Musashi. I could write a whole other post about Shousetsu and Iori (maybe I will who knows) but Rider follows their dynamic. She's a strong parallel to Saber. Fuck she basically is Saber if they didn't have people like Ototachibana-Hime and Iori to keep them grounded.

All of the new Servants are super cool (with the exception of Caster that bitch ass nerd), but I think Rider's possibly the coolest. I mean, I've been wanting Samson since I got into Fate and you haven't seen me make any real posts about him because Minamoto-no-Raikou, one of my least favorite Servants, has got me in a vicegrip. I don't know if she's my favorite, but I'll definitely be saving for if she ever comes into FGO

[antvnger]

Blood Brothers AU - Scott Discovers Iron Man

((Are you ready for this? Because I hurt myself writing this. The thing about this being Scott's blog is sometimes we're totally on the same page on things and he gives me the okay to do it. Then there are times where I have an idea of how something would go, and he shakes his head and goes "Nuh uh, that's not how this would go down." This was one of those times.)) @stxrksarc

Scott Stark’s mind was still reeling from the events of such a short time ago. He really couldn’t tell you how much time had passed since he saw on the news Tony’s executive decision to shut down the weapons manufacturing division of SI.

Tony was back. Tony was turning things around. Tony looked haunted. Tony looked wounded in a way Scott didn’t - yet - understand.  Tony made it home.

Tony…had yet to reach out.

It took Scott an hour of processing the newsreel footage for the hope that his big brother would come visit him to dawn on him. Another ray of light in a darkness that felt like too much for even Scott’s brand of optimism to fight through.

But days had passed with nothing to show for it. No letters, no calls, no visitors except for a divorce lawyer. Nothing. The only real ray of light he had to hold onto was Cassie’s letters and drawings he received so far and a promise written in crayon that she would come visit him.

Remember that Tony did try more than once to visit and he sent multiple letters, but a horrible CO made sure none of that got to Scott.

Scott worried that his incarceration made Tony decide breaking ties was probably for the best. Couldn’t have an inmate tied with SI, right? Especially if Tony’s hoping to turn the company around and make it clean. But the lack of contact made Scott physically ache. Cassie, Tony, and Rhodey were all he had left. 

He’s trying not to be bitter about it, but it’s really hard to do. All that worrying and panicking and the nightmares and the fear over Tony without so much as a postcard from him.

The first time Scott saw anything about Iron Man, it was the newsreel of Gulmira where he took on the Ten Rings. Scott and many other inmates watched the community TV in awe as the red and gold plated figure took out the bad guys with precision and rescued the village. There was some cheering among the inmates over how cool and badass that was, and Scott had to agree.

But the tech was what he focused on. Man, would he love to get his hands on that tech. Just to see how it all worked because to Scott’s engineering eye, it looked amazing. Beautiful even.

“Hey, Stark,” one of the inmates called out as he gestured to the TV with a nod, “how much is that suit worth ya think?”

Scott laughed and shook his head. “You don’t wanna know, man. You don’t wanna know.”

The intro to the Iron Man was a nice reprieve because it gave Scott something fascinating to focus on, wondering how it worked and what it comprised of and the tech behind it.

He overheard a couple of inmates discussing it who the brain behind the armor was one day during a meal. “You think it’s government shit?”

“Hell no, bro, the government wouldn’t paint it up like a damn corvette if it was. It’d be camo or patriotic or whatever. It’s gotta be a private asset.”

“Yeah? Like whose? Who’d have enough dough for that shit?”

“Stark Industries does.”

“Yeah, but I watched the news with the Stark dude. He looked as surprised as the rest of us. Can’t be theirs. I bet it’s Hammer Industries.”

That was the first and only time to date Scott had actually done a spit take and almost choked to death, and the inmate sitting across from him almost fought him over it.

A day or two later, Peachy and some other guys hurried to find Scott. Apparently, there was another story on the news about Iron Man and how he and an even bigger, uglier Iron Man fought at Stark Industries. The four guys who found him were talking over each other as fast as Scott had heard anybody talk this was before Luis arrived by the way, but they all insisted Scott needed to see this.

The only feed the news could show was from security cameras that SI released for the news to use, which didn’t show all that much. The fact that more was left to the imagination than not only added fuel to the chatter in the break room where everyone was talking about it.

They made sure Scott got a front row seat to watch because apparently Tony was about to give a press conference over the whole deal.

Scott heard bits and pieces about it all from everyone around him. How this armored dude was Tony’s new bodyguard after being kidnapped in a warzone Scott didn't believe that, how there was a coup from inside SI to overthrow the Starks which did not surprise Scott at all. The fact Stane was finally exposed as the snake he was just really made Scott feel validated. How it was also rumored that Rhodes was the real man behind the armor please dear God let it not be Rhodey, Scott thought. That was a lot to worry about.

There was some mumbling through the crowd of reporters as cameras flashed and clicked obnoxiously while Tony approached the podium. “Thank you. Been a while since I was in front of you. I figure I'll,” he waved some note cards and smirked, “stick to the cards this time.”

That earned some laughs and more murmurs before Tony started reading, “There's been speculation that I was involved in the events that occurred on the freeway and the rooftop…” There was? Scott hadn’t heard anybody saying that stuff.

Christine Everhart, Scott gagged when he heard her voice, said, “I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, but do you honestly expect us to believe that was a bodyguard in a suit that conveniently appeared, despite the fact that you--”

Tony interrupted her, “I know that it's confusing. It is one thing to question the official story, and another thing entirely to make wild accusations, or insinuate that I'm a superhero.” Scott raised an eyebrow at that.

Everhart interrupted him in turn, “I never said you were a superhero.”

“Didn't? Well, good, because that would be outlandish and…fantastic.” That made both of Scott’s eyebrows go skyhigh. “I'm just not the hero type. Clearly. With this laundry list of character defects, all the mistakes I've made, largely public…”

Rhodey mumbled something in Tony’s ear, and Tony nodded in agreement. “Yeah, okay. Yeah. The truth is…”

Tony held the notecard in front of him and just stared at it. And Scott knew. He knew. He’d seen that look before, and he knew what it meant. And a part of him was surprised to find himself whispering under his breath, “Please don’t say it please don’t say it please don’t say it.”

“I am Iron Man.”

Both the news crew and all the inmates watching erupted into a cacophony of opinions and questions and exclamations.

All except one.

Scott Stark stared at his big brother’s image on the screen feeling…conflicted. Very conflicted. He wished he could say he felt proud of Tony in that moment, and if anybody asked him, he would say he felt proud then.

Don’t get him wrong. Scott is proud. He’s so very proud of his big brother and all he’s done and accomplished on a personal and professional level. He really couldn’t ask for a better big brother.

But in that moment? Two major emotions warred inside him.

The first was worry. It was Tony who was in that village fighting the Ten Rings. It was Tony getting shot at. It was Tony who put himself in danger to take care of innocent people. Tony climbed out of one warzone to throw himself into another.

And the second emotion? If Scott’s being 100% honest with himself, it was jealousy. Old, familiar jealousy that raised its ugly head for the first time in a long time, and to this day it shames him to recall how jealous he felt.

There were cruel, hateful people in his life who made being the second Stark son a crime, a shame, and he wasn’t worth much of a second glance if one at all, and jealousy was a struggle all his life.

He thought he overcame that a long time ago. He thought he was past all of that nonsense.

But now? He felt like the criminal Stark, the worthless second son who had no chance at all to stand out of the shadow of an armored superhero. 

[wardenred]

Sapphic September 7: Flight

Dagatha and Vezee are an established couple from one of my ongoing WIPs and I still have very little idea how they first met—or rather, too many conflicting ideas. This is just one of the versions.

The seagull swoops up into the sky with a triumphant flap of wings and Vezee's half-eaten cake slice sticking out of its beak. For a moment, Dagatha is worried this is going to be the last straw for the day. But Vezee's face is oddly peaceful. She leans over the railing and follows the bird with her eyes. The waves whisper against the piers, picking up height.

"I wish I had wings, too," Vezee says softly. "Then I would never be stuck anywhere."

Dagatha opens her mouth to start talking about birds and cages and cut feathers, then promptly closes it. This is so not the right time to be pedantic.

She settles for, "You don't need wings for that, you know."

The redhead's dreamy expression turns sour. "Uh-huh. I only need a knight in shining armor, and if there are none of those around, then all bets are off." She gives Dagatha a sidelong glance that's hard to read in the dark. "I mean, don't get me wrong, you make a wonderful knight. You interfered at precisely the right time. I loved the bruise you gave that drunk asshole, very fitting, nice shade of purple right from the get-go. And you've been very kind and chivalrous while I got my snot all over your armor. I will definitely write a ballad about you."

Dagatha blushes. "I... That's not necessary."

"Of course it is. You're badass. That's worth writing songs about." The sea sprays foam over their shoes. "I just wish I could be badass, too, and not just some... fair maid in need of rescue."

"For what it's worth, you make a really fair maid," Dagatha blurts, and then immediately wants to slap herself. What in the Goddess's name is she thinking?! She barely knows this girl! And Vezee had an incredibly stressful evening! She's just making things worse!

Vezee laughs, a warm, genuine sound. "Thank you. I try." She turns to face Dagatha, one elbow on the railing, moonlight and shadows drawing an intricate pattern over her skin. "So, you're an adventurer, right? Any chance your party is looking for a bard with zero experience, plenty of talent, and too much ambition? Fair warning, I'll probably need lots of rescuing at first, but you're so good at it."

Dagatha can't decide whether she's taken aback or smitten.

[robotsandramblings]

eeiiiii thank u for the tag @toastyrobos !! ♥♥

Your favorite member of TBB is: Hunter Because: he's hot, lolol. he is literally my type - the long hair, the deep voice, the badass soldier, the "i'm a killing machine but also very tender and soft" thing, and my greatest weakness, the reluctant slow-burn Dad. and on a more serious note, i genuinely do like him as a character, seeing his struggles as a leader and a teammate/brother during literally the worst time period

You identify the most with: i dunno... Crosshair, i suppose? because: similar to him, i prefer to be alone, and can only tolerate my family and a handful of close friends lol. i very rarely like to talk about my deeper feelings and problems. i prefer to observe things from the outside, from a distance, vs being in the thick of things. i'm very much a "support you, do things for you, and make your life easier, quietly in the background" person.

Your favorite minor character from the show and why: technically Gregor, bc he's one of my favourite clones ever. otherwise, it's Commander Mayday, who just seems like an awesome dude and a great leader; and Senator Riyo Chuchi, who is just lovely, honourable, and brave (since TCW), and standing up for our boys!! <33 honourable mention to Eleni Syndulla, who is truly a badass

A TBB-centric piece or post of yours that you are most proud of: i think this one, a comparison of Omega & Mayday's lines about doing good / the right thing and still losing. because: it's just so heartbreaking and tragic to watch our favourite clones knowing they're fighting a losing battle </3

A TBB-centric piece of art that slaps so hard you enjoy (and why): lmao i narrowed it down to... SIX; i reblogged them all before this post but here are the links:

Shyranno's "Love Languages" ft. acts of service Crosshair saving AZI and Omega. it just really hit me hard in the feels and made me say "yes, yes, this is the essence of who Crosshair is"

Carrot-top-monk's comic about Crosshair and Echo literally cuddle-sandwiching Tech to sleep, with the most heartbreaking ending ever holy fuck ;-;

Ashyyybees-art's "Does it ever drive you crazy / just how fast the night changes" bc it breaks my heart and soul

Shakoribe's gorgeous piece of Crosshair vs Hunter

Autiloidea's Crosshair vs Hunter. simple lineart, but i love the drama lol and the fact Crosshair got the drop on Hunter. reminds me of a line from Transformers Animated: "i know all your moves."

"Protect Baby Sister Mode" gif thread,, because nothing is hotter than someone doing the slow draw for their weapon to protect someone

A TBB-centric fanfic that gives you life you enjoy (and why): not really a fanfic reader! i'll read the odd one that crosses my dash, but i never save/bookmark them lol

A TBB headcanon or trope that is 100% canon to you: Tech cannot see without his glasses. i can admire goggle-less Tech art, but ultimately i truly believe he never takes them off unless he's cleaning them, rubbing his eyes, or sleeping (even then i think he mostly keeps them on). Also the one about Hunter getting migraines if overstimulated, super stressed for a long time, or something in the natural physical geography of a place (like idk a higher air pressure or magnetic field or whatever).

Color(s) you think would suit if Crosshair gets "Mercenary" armor: i like the idea of mostly dark but hints of orange; i've seen some that use hints of green which i liked too (thematically relevant, no? green is about growth and renewal/rebirth? so that'd be neat). since they're both my favourite colours, i'd love both!

One thing you NEED to see happen in Season 3: HUGS. MUTHAFUCKIN H U G S. PLEASE. I BEG. AND FOR HUNTER TO "No, Omega... I want to be... your father..." HEAVYBREATHING. (srsly tho like an actual adoption or at least an acknowledgement between them that they love each other as father & daughter,, christ i will BAWL)

open tagging!! if you want to do it, please do!! i love seeing other's answers! :D

Fellow Zealots of The Bad Batch, Unite!

Please share your answers to these questions and pass them on to some of your Bad Batch-loving buds!

Your favorite member of TBB is:

Because:

You identify the most with:

Because:

Your favorite minor character from the show:

Because:

A TBB-centric piece or post of yours that you are most proud of:

Because:

Link so that we can appreciate it:

A TBB-centric piece of art that slaps so hard you enjoy (and why):

Link:

A TBB-centric fanfic that gives you life you enjoy (and why):

Link:

A TBB headcanon or trope that is 100% canon to you:

Color(s) you think would suit if Crosshair gets "Mercenary" armor:

One thing you NEED to see happen in Season 3:

@wwheeljack @wrenkenstein @floundrickthewayfarer @raevulsix @enigmatist17 @slenderboo @echojedis @nika6q @zaana @wiseowl18 @toastyrobos @eclec-tech @jigget @destril @niobiumao3

[phantomwarrior12]

Everyone out here talking about how hard it is to draw Halo armor, but the real nightmare is Sangheili.

[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

The Leather Jumpsuit

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: Yes! - anon

Prompt: As a fashion designer, you work with Steve and Bones when they decide to take on Elvis’ comeback show. Sparks fly between you and Elviswhile they plan the show.

TW: None!

Rating: Pg-13     ||     Word Count: 3899

A/N: Idk how to write short fics anymore apparently...send help...or more requests 💕

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

You're sitting in the dressing room, sketching the flare on a pair of leather pants when you hear voices down the hall.

“Alright now, Elvis, we’re hoping that you can channel your old self through the costumes you wear for the special…”

You recognize the voice immediately as Steve Binder’s. It gets louder as he approaches and comes into the dressing room. You nervously stand up when he enters with Bones Howe and the Elvis Presley. You intertwine your fingers behind your back to calm yourself. You’d never let anyone know it, but you are a massive Elvis fan. You’ve followed along on his journey since he was back singing in Memphis clubs. You hold out a hand.

“Hi, nice to meet you, Mr. Presley. I’m Y/N, and I’ll be handling your costumes for the special,” you say, gesturing him into the dressing room.

“Elvis, you won’t find a better, more meticulous designer anywhere in the world. Y/N is the best,” Steve say, and you thank him quietly. You refuse to flush, even though his compliment draws far too much attention to you.

“Very nice to meet ya,” Elvis responds, and you work hard to hide your shock at his deep voice. Of course you've heard it on the radio, but you are totally unprepared for how deep it really is. You say thank you to Steve and Bones and get straight to work as soon as they’d left.

“So, Mr. Presley-”

“Elvis, please,” he interrupts.

“I don’t refer to any clients by their first name-”

“Even if they ask you to?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“Especially not if they ask me to. Now, Mr. Presley, Steve and Bones tell me that you’re trying to reconnect with who you really are?”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s the goal.”

“Big goal. It won’t be easy, but I think I can help you. It may not seem like it, but clothes are a huge part of who we are. They help us express what’s inside of us to other people,” you say. “We can also work backward to figure out what is inside of us that we’re reflecting on the outside through our clothes. So, I’ve pulled some of your looks from previous concerts, performances, shows, etcetera, and I figured we could use that to dig deep into what you actually want the final product to look like.”

“You really got this all figured out, don’t ya?”

“I come prepared to my meetings, Mr. Presley.”

“I like a girl who’s well-prepared,” he responds and you bury a creeping smile.

“But before we deal with style, let’s focus on the fabric. That will help us narrow some things down. So, what are you looking for? What kinds of fabrics do you like? What kinds do you hate?”

He doesn't say anything right away but rubs his fingers over his chin. The way his eyebrows furrow tell you he's deep in thought. After a few moments, you speak up.

“So…” you prompt him. “What do you want to wear? You can give me anything to start with.”

He glances up at the colored drawings you have taped up on the wall, but says nothing.

“Well, we know you’re not wearing a Christmas sweater, that’s for damn sure,” you say, shaking your head. “I think you should wear what you want to wear, but until you can decide what you really want we can’t make any decisions. So, if you’re still unsure, maybe we should jus-”

“I’m thinkin somethin unforgiving, badass, almost like…armor,” he cuts you off, that pensive look still creasing his features. You nod.

“If you want unforgiving, Mr. Presley, then you want leather,” you respond, starting to dig through your fabric samples.

“Leather? Why’s that?”

“Well,” you say, smiling when you find that scrap of Italian leather that you’ve been keeping for something special,” it’s unbearably hot, almost impossible to move in, and puts all your worst angles on display for everyone to judge.”

You hold the black strip of fabric up next to his face and nod.

“It’s about as unforgiving as you’re going to get in terms of fashion. And I do have to say, this Italian black leather looks magnificent on your skin tone.”

“Is this the kinda leather that would upset fine, upstandin white gentleman?” he asks, examining the sample. You laugh.

“Oh yes, sir. This is the kind of leather that would upset your own mother if she saw you wearing it,” you say.

“Steve and Bones were sayin somethin about a leather jacket…”

“Hm…” you glance back at some of the drawings of his previous looks and a thought occurred to you. “Just a jacket?”

“What are you thinkin in that genius brain of yours?” he asks.

You smile, imagining the entire look in your head and then on Elvis’ body. You have become obsessed with drawing him. Something about his body draws you to it, and you want to explore all its shapes and lines. You feel like you know him somehow through your drawings. And the way he dresses is so fashion-forward that it inspires the designer in you. You literally have mountains of ideas of how to dress him. You would be mortified if anyone found it, but somewhere in the room, there's a binder stuffed full of papers and scraps of parchment with drawings and sketches of potential outfits on them.

You know that you can pull one of these out and it will work for the special, but once Steve and Bones told you how much Elvis needs this concert, you had decided none of your previous designs are quite right. No, this performance needs something entirely unique, different, and attention-grabbing. It needs to invite people in, demand their attention, and make a statement that can't be ignored. You have the perfect solution.

“I’m thinking full leather. Everything leather. A whole jumpsuit, with a jacket and pants,” you say, searching for your drawing pad. Snatching it up and flipping to a new page, you scribble furiously. In just a few moments, you have a fully rendered design with startling accuracy.

“Yes!” you shout. “What do you think, Mr. Presley? I think this could be perfect. It is badass and strong. It commands attention and sustains it. It makes people look at you and accept you for who you are. It’s something you can’t ignore.”

He's looking intently at the drawing as you pace around the room with your excited arms flailing wildly. He looks up at you with a smile.

“How did you do that so fast?” he asks.

“You like it?”

“It’s perfect. This is exactly what I need to get my message across.”

“Excellent. Well If I can get started on it tonight then I should be able to finish it in two…maybe three weeks? That should give us enough time for a fitting and then alterations,” you are mumbling to yourself and jotting down notes on a different notepad.

“These are amazin, Y/N…” he mutters, and you turn to see him examining the drawings you have pinned up on the cork board. “The detail, the shading…me. Everything’s so realistic.”

“Thank you,” you say dryly, hoping to throw him off your tail. You will be mortified if he knows how obsessed with him you were, and you nervously glance toward the binder that is tucked away in a stack of shelves.

“How would you feel about bein my permanent designer?” he asks, and you nearly drop everything you're holding.

“What?”

“My permanent personal designer. These are all exactly what I’m lookin for.”

“Oh, I don’t know. What if you decided to go in a different aesthetic direction? Then I’d be no good to you,” you respond, banishing the thought of being so close to him every day. You can't take an opportunity like that without something going wrong. It's too good to be true.

“We could adapt, you and I,” he says, pulling down another design to examine it. You glance at him and shake your head.

“No…no I couldn’t.”

“Elvis, you’re needed for the ‘Here Comes Santa Claus’ rehearsal,” one of the stage managers shouts into the room.

Elvis sighs and groans, stacking up the designs and gently placing them on a table near you.

He grabs your arms and turn you to face him.

“Please think about it, wontcha? For me?” he asks, and you look into his eyes for the first time. He is truly gorgeous, and you feel totally overwhelmed.

“Alright. I’ll consider it.”

He smiles.

“Good. Cause I really, really want you around,” he says, and his eyes flick to your lips.

You can't bring yourself to say anything and before you regain consciousness, he's out the door. You sat down. What did he mean by that? You were sure it was just your fangirl heart exaggerating scenarios in your head, but what if he genuinely liked you? He said he wanted you around…no he really, really wanted you around. Whatever the outcome, you knew that this jumpsuit was about to be the most beautiful piece of fashion that ever existed.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

The next two weeks pass fairly uneventfully. Well, for you, at least. The Colonel has everyone going crazy trying to prepare for the Christmas special, and you are caught up in sewing sweaters and elf costumes all day. In your free time, which is rare, you're able to work on the leather jumpsuit. But most days, you find yourself huddled over the difficult fabric with a desk lamp, well after everyone else has left the building.

After the idea session, you'd seen Elvis every day. You collaborated, traded ideas, and made changes. Your passions combined and animated you both. He constantly complimented you and always left you with a smile.

But toward the end of the two weeks, he's started to disappear and you barely see him at all. Each day that goes by without seeing his face makes you more depressed and less sure that he's actually interested in you at all.

Nevertheless, you're pouring your heart and soul into the jumpsuit. All the love and admiration you feel for Elvis will be visible on this garment, whether you mean it or not.

One night you're working incredibly late, and your eyes are starting to stick together with sleep. You are, as you have been so many nights recently, hovering over the leather jacket, tediously hand-stitching a difficult and unique pattern that you had learned from your mother a long time ago. You could have used the sewing machine, but hand-stitched always looks better. And you know that no other garment in the world will have the same stitches that this one does. Your back ache and fingers are sore, but you keep sewing. You’ve made a deal with yourself to have at least the jacket finished tonight, and you are getting so close. It's some time past midnight, you’ve lost track, when a voice startles you.

“What the hell are you still doin here?”

You jump, accidentally stabbing your finger with the needle. When you jerk to face the door, your ankle hits something heavy and whatever it is falls to the ground with a bang. Your hand flies to your chest, and you release a breath when you see Elvis standing in the doorway.

“Ouch,” you mutter. “Mr. Presley, you scared me.”

You put the back of your hand up to your head.

“Woah, what happened?” he asks, coming closer to you. You stare at him, confused for a moment before he takes your hand and you realize what he's seen.

“Oh it’s nothing. I just stabbed myself by accident. It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before,” you reply. But when you try to pull your hand away from him, he won't let you. He grabs a piece of red cloth from the table nearby.

“Is this expensive?” he asks. You shake your head with a smile.

“No. It’s cheap cotton, about $1.50 per yard,” you respond, and he dabs it onto your finger. For whatever reason, your finger continues to bleed - not a lot but enough that the crap cotton isn't cutting it.

“Damn, this is cheap,” he says, and you chuckle. He throws the cotton onto the floor and raises your finger to his mouth. You grip onto the seat to keep yourself from falling out as he pops it into his mouth. You allow that much but when his tongue touches your finger, you pull it back and wipe it off on your clothes.

“Thanks, Mr. Presley,” you say and gulp.

“Please call me Elvis,” he says. “I think we’ve spent enough time together for that.”

“Well thank you, Elvis.”

Silence settles and as you're gathering yourself back together, he leans down to pick something up. It's a small square scrap of paper. As soon as he holds it up into the light, you know exactly what it is: you'd drawn a close-up of his face, but it isn't just any drawing. It's like a photograph. The colors, the shapes, everything is exactly where it's supposed to be and exactly the right size and shade. It's a drawing that only someone deeply in love — enough to notice the smallest of details — could have made. You think about ripping it back. But it's too late, he’s already seen it.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” you say nervously. “Sometimes to get to know my subjects better I do more in-depth drawings of what they look like. It helps me envision the outfits on them.”

He sits down across from you and nods slowly. His expression is a mixture of confusion and at least five other emotions that you can't place. You close your eyes, waiting for him to yell at you, fire you, or otherwise destroy your life. But you don't hear any harsh words. Or any words at all. Instead, you hear him pick up the binder and start to flip through it. You keep your eyes closed, not brave enough to confront the damage your clumsiness has done.

“You sure do have a lot of me…” he mumbles, and your eyes fly open. “And they’re all…”

You brace yourself.

“Incredible. Just amazing,” he whispers, and you release the breath you’ve been holding. “I’ve never seen anythin like it. I mean it’s a dead ringer for me.”

He holds up one of your drawings next to his face, and you laugh nervously. He puts the binder down and peers over at the jacket.

“And this,” he says, reaching for it. He pauses and looks to you, “Can I pick it up?”

“Yes, Elvis.”

He lifts it and holds it up to his chest, looking into the mirror. He doesn't finish his sentence and just shakes his head in disbelief.

“Do you wanna try it on?” you ask sheepishly. He whirls around.

“Can I?”

You laugh, nodding.

“I’ll get the pants. I’ve had to keep hiding them so nobody tattled on us, but I’ll carefully iron it before the actual show so it-”

You stop short when you turn around. He's shirtless already and is unzipping his pants.

“Will look brand new,” you quickly finish your sentence. You bring him the pants and then turn your back to cover your eyes.

“What are ya doin?” he asks.

“Well, you’re changing…”

“I’m not embarrassed. You can look,” he says, and you don't know what to do. If you had any self respect, you wouldn't have turned. But, the shameless side gets the best of you. When will you ever have this opportunity again?

You slowly turn and raise your eyes. He's mostly dressed; the pants are on, although unbuttoned, and he's pulling the leather jacket over his shoulders. He seems to be struggling, so you approach and help him pull the jacket all the way on. Your fingers accidentally brush his hairy chest, and you apologize.

“Don’t apologize, baby. I don’t mind,” he says, and you take a deep breath.

“Well, that’s probably good, because the pants definitely need some work,” you reply, trying to shrug off your butterflies.

He gets up onto the pedestal in the middle of the room and turns from side to side in the mirror.

“How does it feel?” you ask.

“Like home,” he responds. “Like me.”

“It looks damn good on you, Elvis,” you add. “I think it’ll be a real hit. But we’ll have to take the hem in a little here…”

You trail off and get lost in your thoughts. Before you know it, you're squeezing parts of his legs and feeling him up. When you realize what you're doing, you jump back and mutter an excuse me.

“Honey, you can keep doin that as long as you want,” he says with a smirk, and this time you can't contain your embarrassment.

“Oh believe me, it would be my pleasure,” you say in a joking tone.

You look up at him with a smile, which fades quickly when you see how he's looking at you. He's bent over, inches away from your face, staring directly at your lips. You clear your throat and tilt your head all the way up so that you're even closer to him. His finger finds its way to your chin, and he pulls you up for a kiss. You accept his lips timidly, and the kiss is only a short, sweet peck. When you part, he disappears from you. You open your eyes, and he's already putting his street clothes back on.

“It’s late,” he says, “I’ll drive ya home.”

Neither of you say anything to each other for the rest of the night. You pack up quietly and he drives you in silence to your house. When you get there, you mutter a quiet thanks and get out. He waves and then drives off, leaving you standing in the driveway.

When you go inside for bed, you throw yourself under the covers and try not to cry. You’ve screwed up. Something you did was wrong. You had an opportunity and you messed it up. You keep most of your tears at bay, although a few do fall before you fall asleep.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

The next week is even busier than the previous two. You get to work on the alterations for the jumpsuit and still keep up the Santa Claus act on the side. You don't spend any more late nights at the studio. Whether it's because you're embarrassed or afraid to confront him, you aren't sure. But you take the jumpsuit home with you and work on it in the garage.

The day before the show, you finish the last stitch. You really want Elvis to try it on again to make sure everything will fit perfectly, but you can't ever find him and everyone in the building always needs him for this or that. You give up after an hour of timid searching.

You stay around a little after hours to see if he’d be around, but when the lighting director tells you Elvis had left hours ago, you angrily throw your things together and head out.

How dare he, you think. How dare he treat me like this and then ignore me for a week. Well, he can’t avoid me tomorrow. He has to put the suit on, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle it.

You sleep horribly that night and wake up with a headache in the morning. Still, you wear your most attractive outfit and show up to work fifteen minutes early. You're ironing the pants when the King himself walks in.

“I’m here for my fittin,” he says dryly.

“Right this way, Mr. Presley,” you spit out the words without turning to look at him.

He steps on the pedestal and you finish the last bit of ironing. You bring the pants over first, even though they're still warm. You hand them over, and he shakes his hand.

“Ah, damn it’s hot,” he says.

“Oops,” you reply, feigning absentmindedness.

Once he has the pants on, you help him pull the jacket on and zip it up. You want to be forceful and angry with every movement, but this jumpsuit is your pride and joy. You aren't about to ruin that. You avoid his eyes the entire time. When you're finished dressing him, you turn away without a single word, but he catches your arm.

“Where do you get off not talkin to me?” he asks. “And callin me Mr. Presley. I thought we moved past that.”

You yank your wrist away.

“And I thought we’d moved past being children a long time ago,” you respond, still refusing to look at him.

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

You stay silent, wanting to make him suffer for a minute. He stomps off the platform and grabs your arm again.

“What the hell does that mean?” he repeats, and you shake him off again.

“Ignoring me? After you stood here and flirted with me, and kissed me, and sucked on my goddamn finger? How dare you,” you hiss back.

“I haven’t been-! Ugh!” he sbouts and then take a deep breath. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I was leavin you alone cause I thought you weren't interested.”

“Not interested?!” you yell. “How the hell could you think I wasn’t interested? I draw you nonstop. I think about you all the time. I’ve devoted every goddamn waking moment of the last month that I possibly could to make your stupid jumpsuit. I’ve put real blood, sweat, and tears into this. And when you kissed me I was the happiest I’ve ever been! But you had to ruin it, didn’t you?!”

You whirl around to hide the fact that tears are falling down your face. A few moments of silence pass before you feel his hand gently pulling your shoulder. You try to resist, but he's too strong. You won't meet his eyes and are too proud to wipe your own tears. His calloused fingers gently swipe the falling drops from your cheekbones and you huff.

“I’ve been so stupid,” he says quietly. “You’re right…I can’t believe I didn’t see it. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Y/N. I just didn’t think you wanted me cause when we kissed you…well you gave me nothin.”

“I was too shocked to move,” you whisper. “I didn’t ever expect in my life that Elvis Presley would want to kiss me. Little old me.”

A moment of silence passes.

“Well, Elvis Presley would like to kiss you again now, if that’s aright?”

You turn to face him and see the sincerity in his eyes. You nod slowly. He gently guides your face and lips to his and gives you a tender, long kiss. You make sure to kiss him back this time, not wanting to make the same mistake twice. This time when you pull back, you both smile.

“Elvis, the show starts in a few minutes,” one of the stage managers interrupts. “The Colonel wants you to get out there now.”

“I gotta go. One more kiss for good luck?” he asks. You shake your head but kiss him anyway. You pull back faster than he's ready for.

“You can get the rest of it when you come back. Now go out there and make my leather suit your bitch,” you say. He laughs, kisses your cheek, and runs out to the stage.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Reblogs, likes, comments + feedback are extremely appreciated! Please help support your content creators!

**If you notice any triggers or grammatical errors that I missed, please let me know! :)

[airlocksandaviaries]

MCU SteveTony Ficlet - On the Quinjet

I got three reblogs on my post! Get ready for a crapton of tooth-rotting stony fluff from my drafts. Enjoy.

Because of the serum, Steve Rogers gets really sleepy after battles. Yes he’s tired, like everyone else after fighting that much, but everyone else always has to deal with the pain of their wounds. He doesn’t usually have to deal with this unless it’s really bad, because his serum takes care of that, but the side effect is, while his cells are all healing themselves over, he just gets super drowsy. 

After battle Tony is usually bleeding in like seventeen places and covered in ripped up armor, but once he’s all patched up and in his under armor, JARVIS or later FRIDAY flies them home, usually helped by Nat because she’s the best pilot, and Tony sits with Steve in his area of the jet. This is because Tony has learned that after battle is when Steve is the least uptight. Usually Cap tries his best to keep things together when he’s leading The Avengers, but after a big fight against a robot army, exhausted and still in his ripped up uniform, the super soldier can curl up on the Quinjet cot, receiving soft cuddles from the resident genius billionaire, being kissed lightly on the head while dozing off, loving every minute of it. Yes he’s Captain America, yes he’s the Leader of The Avengers and a mighty hero of Earth, but even though the serum made him look big, inside he’s still tiny Steve Rogers who draws and likes music and doesn’t know how to dance. 

He’s Steve Rogers, who fell head over star spangled boots for the human disaster sassy badass Tony Stark the minute he threw that nuke in the wormhole in hopes of saving the world. He’s always had a big heart, and he loves Tony Stark, the one and only Iron Man, with the whole of it. His cheeks still get warm every time Tony brushes his dirt-filled hair gently off of his face as they lay there close together. His heart still flutters a little when Tony leans close to him, with his arm resting just below his chest, and tells him how well he did in battle, and how the team really counted on him. 

“I know I don’t say this enough but I couldn’t have done that without you.” Tony whispers to him, but it’s a lie. He says it every single time. They lay there in a heap, as close as they can be together, as the jet carries them home to The Avengers tower, as Steve dozes off in Tony’s arms. Sometimes when Tony thinks Steve has fallen asleep, he leans in close and murmurs, “Love you, Cap,” or “I love you, Steve, I really do,” and kisses him once more. Steve is often awake, but he’s too sleepy to say anything back. So they stay tangled together until they both drift off on the way back, getting their hard earned rest. Because they both want to end the fight and go home. But they are each other’s home. They’re already there.

[disgruntledspacedad]

What if that transmission was a set up?

Listen, don’t get me wrong. The message that Din sends to Moff Gideon is great moment - it’s gritty, personal, and badass, and I straight up got chills when I saw it.

But on a tactical level, you’ve got to admit that it’s pretty stupid. Like, the galactic version of stomping on a hornet’s nest stupid. Sure, Din is desperate, but he doesn’t seem to be the type to make foolish mistakes. Heck, Boba Fett isn’t the type to let Din make foolish mistakes. Cara and Fennec aren’t idiots, either. So, why the ever-loving-hell would these four legendary warriors want to put the imps on red alert before embarking on what is essentially a suicide mission?? 

The only scenario in which this makes even an iota of sense is if Din is planning to go in without his armor. 

Hear me out!

The show has made it pretty obvious since Chapter Three that Din is eventually going to have to choose between his creed and his kid. I would even argue that as of The Believer, Din has already made his choice. He took off the helmet. Putting it back on afterward must have been hard. Din would have felt like a fraud for breaking his creed, even for a good cause, and we all know that rules, once bent, are easily broken. If Din could find a strategic advantage in abandoning the creed entirely, then I’m sure he would go for it. Heresy is a slippery slope, my dudes!

Din decides to use his anonymity wisely. Instead of sneaking onto the star destroyer, Din sends a message for Gideon to expect him. He then gives his armor to Boba, who storms the ship as a diversion while Din, bare-faced and undercover, sneaks around the back to rescue the kid. 

If you think about it, this is actually a pretty solid plan. Boba clearly knows how to use that armor and could do a very convincing job playing Din. He certainly wouldn’t be a liability. Gideon’s crew is already looking for the silver guy, and beskar takes heavy fire. The storm troopers would swarm "Mando,” and the coast would be clear for some random dude to sneak into the ship’s medbay and snag the baby. All Boba would have to do is draw the empire’s fire long enough for Din to escape with Grogu. Once they are in the clear, Boba feigns a retreat, and the crew is in hyperspace long before Gideon notices anything amiss. 

This scenario has some incredible potential. First, it’s a perfect opportunity to get a fluffy scene of Grogu seeing Din’s face for the first time. It also drives home - again - just how much Din is willing to sacrifice for his kiddo. We would get to see more Boba badassery, more beskar-porn, and more awkward, anxious, de-armored Din. All great things!

Also, this offers the writers an excellent opportunity to tease the audience a little. Say we were kept in the dark about this plan until we see Pedro’s face as he sneaks in to snatch Grogu. The whole time, we would think we were watching Din go feral on some storm troopers, because he’s the guy in the shiny beskar who is wrecking shit, when actually - gasp - we were focused on Boba Fett the whole time. It would be a fun little plot twist to add to a season finale.

But guys, obviously this plan won’t go off without a hitch. We’ve all speculated that season two will end on a darker note, echoing the tone of Empire Strikes Back in the original trilogy. I don’t doubt this one bit. 

In this Diversion Scenario, Din likely doesn’t consider that the empire now has a scan of his bare face. Remember that? So, Din would finally get to Grogu, kiss his little wrinkled forehead, and things would look optimistic for a minute. But then, some alarm trips, or in walks Gideon with a horde of storm troopers, or something else terrible happens because Din is recognized. Din would be forced to fight Gideon without his armor, and probably be pretty banged up in the process. Din facing Gideon sans-beskar echoes Vader confronting a half-trained Luke in ESB. It’s not a fair fight, and the ending is ugly.

The season will probably end with Din still separated from Grogu, injured, unmasked, and very, very angry. But, Grogu will have seen Dad’s face, and Din will probably have claimed Grogu as his kid, aloud (I know we all need that acknowledgement just as much as Din does, and I fully look for it to happen on Friday). The audience is left absolutely salivating for season three and the epic beskar spear vs dark saber fight that we know is coming.  And now, after all this, when Din does finally face Moff Gideon in battle, it will be in full beskar armor, as a new man with a new creed and a new vendetta, and that battle is going to be gritty and climatic and cathartic and emotional and awesome, and definitely worthy of ending the series. 

[arctimon]

The Beta Team That Never Was - Fanfiction Corner (BH6 Edition)

So all of this Peni Parker comic talk actually got me thinking about the process of her being included in my fanfiction.

I wish I could tell you it was a long and arduous process, but...

OK, maybe some of it was hard.  But when you have a virtually endless supply of Marvel characters that you can use for possible teammates for Big Hero 6, you have to go with your gut.

We all know that the team will be Robbie, Aspen, Peni, Doreen (eventually), and Kate.  But there were six other candidates that could have been in the mix as well.

And five of them have their emblems here:

These were made before I actually knew how to make hero emblems properly.

Some of them you might recognize.  Some you may not.  But we’re going to go through them all, from left to right.

And to start...it’s really hard to draw tiny hearts.

1.) Riri Williams/Ironheart - Ironically enough, it was around the time that Hiro started chasing Sirque around the town in “Portal Enemy” that I started brainstorming her.  A teenage genius, stuck as to what to make, sees “Captain Cutie” and the chase on the news and gets brainstorming.

Thus, the Power Armor is born.

And she gets so excited that she bolts off to San Fransokyo to show her idol what she’s created.

And then, as per the Big Hero 6 Fanfiction Clause states...shenanigans ensue.

It was an interesting possibility, but the thought of Ironheart was really late into me doing the backstories of the people that I had chosen, so she was pushed aside.  I don’t personally see me revisiting her in the future, but who knows?

2.) Nadia Van Dyne/The Wasp - Back when Karmi had first been pulled out of SFIT, there was a young woman who wanted to recruit her into a special organization.  It was one that brought together the greatest female minds in their fields, and Karmi was on said recruitment list.

The organization?

Genius In action Research Labs, or G.I.R.L. for short.  And it was led by the Wasp’s daughter, Nadia Pym (later changed to Nadia Van Dyne).

Plot-wise, this was probably the person that I got the farthest with, since the story would’ve been more of a focus on Karmi than anyone else.  Also, the idea of writing someone with Bipolar Disorder (which Nadia was confirmed to have in her latest solo run) was intriguing if nothing else.

Unfortunately, it sort of dried up from there.  A lack of a central conflict, uncertainty as to how many of the other girls (Taina, Priya, Shay, and Ying) to have, and how to handle her actual powers stopped it cold.

But seriously, how do you write in the ability to shrink to microscopic size?  That’s not really a thing, even in a world as futuristic as San Fransokyo.

3.) America Chavez/Ms. America - The mere idea of a Superman-esque Latina teenager was enticing, especially because America, in her relatively short comic history, was with the Ultimates and the West Coast Avengers (meaning there was a possible Kate/Hawkeye angle).  Making start-shaped portals was the Silent Sparrow angle, and the all-around badass, headstrong attitude would be the counter to Honey Lemon’s more nurturing personality.

But being from an alternate universe (which has very recently been retconned in the comics in part because she will be appearing in the MCU and Doctor Strange 2), no real villain to play off of, and becoming possibly way too overpowered for the BH6 universe, she was scrapped.

It’s quite a shame.  I really like her in the comics that she’s in.  Perhaps there will be an opportunity for her somewhere down the line...

4.) Alison Blaire/Dazzler - A pop star with light-based powers?

Or better yet, a struggling artist with acoustikinesis?

Her power to convert sound into light was what originally drew me to her.  Something that could be made into a technological ability, unique enough to put a (pardon the pun) spotlight on it.

An actual blonde instead of whatever HL’s hair color is.

Heck, she even has a half-sister named Lois that could have been the antagonist (death tough, destruction waves, and the like).

But she quickly got lost in the fold.  Better ideas (like Kate and Doreen) got more of my brainstorming, and she was eventually given up on.

But funnily enough...

It’s almost like she’s already in the show.

(See, for the people who may be new, one of the many Marvel theories that I’ve touched upon is that High Voltage is actually this universe’s version of Dazzler.  Juniper is Alison and Barb is...well...Barbara London, Alison’s mom).

Hey, @baymaksu​ totally agrees with me kinda sort of.

5.) Cindy Moon/Silk - I knew right from the get-go that I wanted a Spider-person on the beta team.  I also knew that I didn’t want Peter.

No offense to Peter Parker.  He’s fine.  But there’s a billion other Spiders out there, and I wanted someone out of the normal vein of Peter, as well as even Miles and Gwen.

And in came Cindy.

Locked away in The Bunker because of her spider powers manifesting, she was eventually released by Peter and thus began her entrance into the main Marvel world.

Her “unique ability” is her improved Spider-Sense, which Peter has said is even better than his own.  That, plus her other powers, brought her the closest out of anyone to being a member of the Big Hero 6 Beta Team.

As we all know, however, Peni ended up getting the spot over Cindy (for the family angle with Hiro and the giant robot that she pilots).  On the other hand, Cindy would later make her debut in the stinger of the last chapter of Along Came The S.P.I.D.E.R., along with Miles, Anya, and Joey.

Unlike Riri, Nadia, America, and Alison, Cindy and the rest of Peni’s little Spider Society are going to be showing up in future stories.  And if I can get everything in order, they will be starring in their own story set in the Big Hero 6 universe.

Finally, I have no emblem for them, but the honorable mention goes to...

6.) Lunella Lafayette/Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur - Yes, there was a point in time where I was seriously considering putting a nine-year-old super genius and a giant red T-rex into my stories.

Ignoring the giant...”red flag” here, the reason why Luna never made it is the same reason why I haven’t put Rishi in anything yet.  It’s because I don’t really know what to do with supergeniuses that young.  Hiro is at least a teenager and thus has teenager-y problems to fall back on (like puberty and Karmi and all that jazz), but a nine-year-old?  That’s a little too extreme for me.

When I was nine, I was busy playing with sticks in my backyard with my brother, not solving unsolvable puzzles from Bruce Banner.

...All that, and the giant dinosaur.

But hey, at least Disney is jumping on the MG/DD train.  That’s good to see.

Crossover potential, perhaps?

P.S. - As I was finishing putting this post together, it occurred to me that I may get this possible question in the comments, so I’m going to head it off at the pass.

“You know that all of your possible superheroes are girls, right?”

First of all...sexist.

Second of all...true.

That was about 90% on accident.  The actual team (Robbie, Aspen, Peni, Doreen, and Kate) has only one guy on it (two if you count Eli, three if you count Tippy-Toe).

I don’t really have a good explanation for that.  I like all superheroes, but I think that the girl and woman superheroes need some spotlight, you know?  I could have pulled people like Namor or Miles or the male Hawkeye into the mix, but to be honest, I find the characters I chose more interesting than a lot of the guy characters I was contemplating.

Of course, nothing is stopping any of you from using those characters in your stories.  Be my guest, not that you really need my permission or anything.

But you can’t take Aspen.  Aspen is mine. (Spoiler: Aspen is not mine.)

[pluckyredhead]

Where would you say Jason’s skill level is? I keep reading fics that are like “obviously Dick would win in a fight against Jason” and “obviously Slade would completely destroy Jason” and stuff like that just doesn’t sound right to me? I know it’s canon that Jason in the comics has gone toe-to-toe with Bruce and been pretty evenly matched most of the time, even sometimes coming out on top, yet I keep seeing this idea that Jason isn’t as good as other people who Bruce is usually portrayed as being evenly matched with, or even as better than, and it confuses me.

So with few exceptions*, "obviously Character X would beat Character Y every single time" is almost never supported by canon. The reason for this is that fights in comics aren't about training or tools or strength or whatever. This isn't a case where some characters simply have more XP than others. Fights in comics are about storytelling, and who wins (or whether it's a draw) is dependent on the story that is being told.

Dick and Jason have been shown to be pretty evenly matched most of the time; same with Slade and Jason in their very rare fights. And like, if we're talking about Dick and Jason, there are so many factors that would affect how the fight turns out: Are they sparring, or genuinely mad but not lethal, or is Jason actually trying to kill Dick? Does Jason have his guns? Is it the kind of fight where he can bring his greater size and strength to bear, or are they on treacherous terrain where Dick's lightness and agility give him the advantage? Has either one of them had time to plan, or is this a sudden conflict?

But all of that is less important than: whose book is it, and what's the point of the story? Like, if it's an issue of Nightwing, Dick is probably going to win; if it's a Red Hood story, Jason is probably going to win. Those books exist largely to show what a badass their protagonists are, so yeah, they generally come out triumphant in the end (even if their personal lives are falling apart around them because Batbooks love pyrrhic victories).

There are cases where canon is really consistent in terms of who wins in a given fight. Like, every single time Slade and Roy have fought one-on-one, Slade wins but Roy holds out long enough to surprise him. (But even then, put Roy far enough away with a bow and Slade is done. It's the close quarters that do him in.) And there are other cases where there isn't really firm evidence, but it's hard to picture one character beating another - like, I don't have proof that if you take Ollie's bow away he will lose to Bruce, but come on. He will. (Sorry, Ollie.)

But when you're talking about characters with the same level of skill and Protagonist Armor like Dick, Jason, Bruce, and Slade...yeah, it's always going to be about what serves the story. There are no easy answers here, which is what makes those matchups interesting.

*Cass. Cass is the exception. Cass beats everyone. <3

[uponrightful]

You brought this on yourself 🤣 I love how you give Crosshairs point of view so often, but I gotta admit, I was wondering what Dutch was thinking here…it’s all about the spicy longing for me… so

Carefully he wrapped his arms around her, and covered her hands with his own; Caging in her upper body to stabilize the little shake of the gun by taking some of the weight off her arms.

“Confident?” He asked with a hint of mockery to hide his weakening resolve.

She settled back against him tighter, and with a resolved breath she answered;

“With you…? Definitely.”

Such a good fucking girl. He sprawled over her hips with his own, and pulled himself tight against her. Steadying his breathing just long enough to make sure she could follow it easily enough.

“Then take your shot.” He ground out heavily against the shell of her ear.

Crosshair watched the shot leave his rifle, and could already tell she’d made a direct hit. It was actually perfect, and he couldn’t help but loose his concentration from the sensation of her body jolting back against him. She’d handled it flawlessly, but he didn’t miss the little whimper that escaped her when the gun rocked back into her shoulder once again. He wanted her to take one more shot, begging for another just one more excuse to feel her underneath him. To Cross’ utter shock, Duchess began laughing happily at the mere sight of finally hitting her target.

Commentary Track for Coriolis Effect

Copy 500 words -or more- of any of my fics and I'll give you my thoughts/rambles on what was going through my head -or the character's- when I wrote it!

* send one in here *

*cracks my knuckles* "Ask and you shall recieve my loveley" I say as I chuckle deviously. In no way does my fianceé send a worried look in my direction as I start typing furiously.

***

To begin, Dutch chose to lay prone for a reason. It's actually not the best position for herself -fundementally- and she chooses to ignore that because it's how she pictures Crosshair doing it. That mental image of his shooting like this is ingrained in her mind, and Dutch has too much interest in him to try and position herself any differently. His rilfe is longer than standard, weighs at least six pounds more, his trigger is softer, and the scope sits a little too high to see from it clearly at this angle. All of that comes within seconds of holding it, but Duchess ignores all of that against her better judgement. It's a taunt, as much as it is an impulse to put herself in his preverbial shoes. She can literally feel Crosshair watching her, and althought that's a very distracting thought, Dutch is set on impressing him.

Note: This choice -of positioning- was made not just for logistics, but also because it fits her personality. Duchess isn't shy, and she is certainly not inexpereinced. I thought about this being a "standing" scene but Dutch wouldn't let me. 😅 Although she is extremely independent, her character's biggest weakness is a strong desire to impress -or be accepted. This stems not only from her time with Phantom Squad, but also from the lack of times in her life that someone has told her "good job". When she chooses to lay down, she's literally opting out of the security she would have of making an accurate shot, just to take a chance on impressing Crosshair. That's a risk/guess... But Duchess isn't afraid to try anyways.

The whole time she's actually a lot more concerned with making her shots than anything else. Constantly checking her form and doing anything she's learned in the past to prove that her size isn't a limiting factor like Crosshair says it is. Her shoulder hurts, and although it would otherwise be enough to make her stop -she has her own career effectiveness to worry about- Dutch isn't leaving until dominates this gun. It's not until she hears Crosshair's sigh that it clicks in her mind that he's still watching her struggle, but not taken the oppertunity to stop her from continuing.

Note: Weapons mirror their users. And when I created Duchess, I made the serious decision that a lot of her ability to characterize others would come from their armor and weapons. That's just who she is, and what she knows best. So, in this scene... Dutch is literally equating Crosshair's rilfe, as to a part of him. If it's harsh, that means he is as well... If it's a sensitive model, that says something about Cross. If she can't control it easily, that's an indicator of the man who wields it. Really pay attetion to the way I compare Crosshair to his 'Puncher throughout the fic. I do it with extreme purpose, and although it's not always easy to spot, there are many times I allude to their symbiotic nature.

The moment Crosshair is close enough to touch, all of that subtle teasing about his weapon from earlier is gone. Ultimatley, Duchess can have a smart mouth, and know how exactly how to use it. But Cross presents a whole new kind of intimidation that she doesn't know how to handle. For Duchess, power only comes in two ways: Physical Prowess, or Rank -wheather that by government facilitated, or sibling rank due to the Phantoms. She's never experienced the way Crosshair acts twoards her. Duchess knows he respects her -because of he he listens to her seriously- but he also challenges her to do things she'd be otherwise criticized for with a hint of disbelief. (Like mouthing off, or betting that she couldn't shoot his rifle, despite that being against regulation.)

The moment he puts his leg between hers, Dutch is a ball of nervousness. Sex is nothing new to her, but that kind of confidence in particular, is completely foreign. Normally she's the one who initiates things like physical dominance in personal space. Dutch is so caught off guard, and her whole body freezes up, because she's realising that she likes Crosshair doing that. It's a release of power that she's constantly holding up, and that kind of vulnerability is hard to let go of after making such a habit of about being the strong one. After all, since Phantom Squad, she's had to depend on herself alone.

It's when he grabs ahold of her jaw and tells her to relax that she's really down bad. 🥵 She knows it should be nothing but a technical comment on her form, but he's commanding about it . Literally ordering her to let go, and release that tension. That feels fucking amazing to hear and feel, coming from a stoic guy like Crosshair. She knows his rifle is harsh, and occasionally he is as well; But that's becoming all the more desirable the more he directs her. Pushing her down against the floor, guiding her back against him... Doing simple things, but silently demanding she follow his orders. Duchess doesn't have to do anything -or think about anything- other than letting him take the lead, and she's daydreaming about if he's like that in other areas.

Note: Duchess takes a fully submissive role here. She's fully receptive to Crosshair's leadership, and it's because she enjoys being thought of as weak -or little- on occasion. Her background is full of war accolades, and confidential missions she knows to be successful. All of it culminating in this unspoken war register of a badass woman who fights like a clone trooper. But that's not realistic to uphold all of the time. Everyone likes to be taken care of sometimes, and Duchess just happens to really like someone taking control every once and a while. And with Crosshair, she feels safe enough to let that happen, and also enjoy the sexual aspect she's been thinking about all this time as well.

Duchess admits to feeling confident with him here for two reasons. Number one, she's still trying to be a little teasing. It's natural to have a little fight in her all the time, and with Crosshair, she thinks that flusters him. (She's right by the way...) But secondly, it's her desire to show trust. Crosshair might be fit right up against her, whispering sexual innuendos in her ear, but Dutch ultimately feels safe like this . The rifle isn't going to hurt as bad, she's going to hit the target, and Crosshair's weight is emotionally grounding. They might be attempting to do some target practice, but Duchess is literally getting the equivalent of a weighted blanket and reassurance that her true self isn't unworthy of attention. Plus, it's coming from a man who otherwise appears completely disregarding of anything with a noticable flaw... That's something Dutch will never forget. The best sniper in the GAR is helping her... And he's happy to do so, by getting as up-close and personal as a man could get.

His hands cover her own, rough and calloused, but they're unbelievably gentle. Cross is almost hesitant, and Duchess can tell he's actively trying to ease her tension. The way he speaks is soft, and quiet... Making her feel like jelly. Being asked to follow his breathing pattern, his arms tight around her, legs somewhat twisted into hers, his thigh tight against her core... It's all seductive, and essentially surrounding her body with him. And Dutch can't help but eat it up. She wants more. No one has ever done something so simple, but effective in drawing out her desire to think of herself as something worth coddling -in a sense.

Duchess might hit that target in the end... But the only reason she did was because Crosshair had relaxed her enough so he could aim . (She didn't make that shot. Crosshair did all the work, she just pulled the trigger.) It was the first time Duchess felt like she was being tended to fully, and that's that had her acting so lighthearted at the end.

***

I fucking love writing these. Please don't ever stop sending them in!😅🤍