#Fuck- it's only Sunday...

[billygoat26]

Guys- moots who know me well enough kind of-

I'm not simping solely for fictional characters anymore-

...

I hate this, it's weird, I wanna say something to them or at least one of my other irl friends but I'm too scared that 1: they'll judge me and 2: they'll TELL HIM. Dear god I do not need that-

BUT IT WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE (aka it's been on my mind for a few hours too long)

Yesterday, pool party with friends, right?

I knew that he did some workout stuff but I still was NOT prepared- (me, who was fully expecting him to wear some form of his normal outfit but for the pool- noooooope! Shirtless- very unprepared)

And listen, I knew I at least sort of like-liked him before cuz you know, personality and all that stuff, but come onnnn- like- what do I do now??

And then they were playing chicken fights in the pool or whatever the game is called, and after that they were standing on each other's shoulders and pretending to walk on water (We all had just endured a bible unit in our English classes)

He had offered for ME to stand on HIS shoulders- and for that to happen, you know, they gotta swim under, right? Well, we both have the dirtiest of minds (I also just have shitty balance so I was not about to try that anyways. That was the main reason on my mind but I thought of the other stuff after).

I don't even know if I have blushed since elementary school, but if I did then, then thank god for the sun because sunburnsssss

And then he couldn't find his shirt after we had all gotten out, and one of my other friends said that he didn't need the shirt (jokingly) and dear god I wanted to agree (verbally) but I'm too worried about my whole bullshit being too obvious if I did, so I just had to stay quiet. (He ended up not finding it and just having to leave cuz his parents were there)

But that- that day- just... that. It's not. Leaving. My. Mind. Alone.

[heartorbit]

always by your side

[yourlocalabomination]

I am not immune to funny crackships.

+ Bonus

[mongeese]

The way that Martinaise, with all its dilapidated and impoverished appearance, is still a place full of heart and care, a safe haven for those who have slipped through the cracks of society and have nowhere else to go. The way Garte truly loves the Whirling, the way the Hardie boys are crass and cruel but are dedicated to protecting their neighborhood and their people, the way Evrart is corrupt but still cares more for Martinaise and the Union than anything in the world, the way an old washerwoman gives you a place to sleep for free simply because she can and you ask. This is all they have, and it sure isn't perfect, but goddamn if they don't make it somewhere worth living. Makes my heart so full

[gossippool]

ok this is An Attempt at visualising these lines from my fic:

The thing is that it's mostly Wade that makes him trip balls, as it were. He's encountered many people who are as boring as a single shade of grey or blue or orange, speaking in monochrome and dulling Logan's senses to the point of utter disinterest. Wade, on the other hand, shits Skittles and vomits unicorns all by himself, and wears clothes that are garish and mismatched—and that's on the good days. Combined with his constant flurry of movement and machine gun dialogue, he's a lethal assault to all of Logan's heightened senses. No one has had such a hold on him in decades.

i tried. yippee

[baeshijima]

EXPLODING

EXPLODING EXPLODES EXPLODING EX89O1LLF%$&!

[marragurl]

Not the first to say it, but damn can’t believe Galladay really went from toxic yaoi to doomed tragic yaoi.

Alright fellow Galladay trash, where’s the modern AU fix-it fics?

I need to see Gallagher single dad with Misha plus their dog/cat Sleepie falling for entertainment company CEO Sunday. Don’t ask me how they met, fuck it, throw in bodyguard AU Gallagher who works part-time at a bar, boom there that’s how they meet, idk I’m making this up on 3 hours of sleep.

You’ve heard of slow burns, now get ready for Galladay blaze it.

They’re speedrunning the relationship from hate -> annoyance -> mild disgruntlement -> weirdly vibing -> ok wow never knew I needed that in my life -> Sunday is way too ok with spoiling Misha -> ok so we got married -> alright we’re dismantling the government now -> Sunday went to jail for 5 minutes for attempting “peaceful” world domination, don’t worry we (Gallagher) forgave him -> Sunday’s stepping down as CEO to run a coffeeshop idk look someone get him some therapy -> Robin is president now while she still goes on tours -> Misha won an engineering competition while this was all going on

Bottom line: Robin is out living her best life while Sunday is in the back somehow having the most insane week of his life. I have no other notes for her here except that she is happy, and successful, and is Sunday’s last remaining brain cell. She and Misha are having some fun Aunt/Nephew bonding times while Galladay are accidentally-on-purpose committing multiple war crimes.

No, we don’t have time to unpack 2.2 and all its trauma, we cope with modern AU :)

[feroluce]

For reasons to be expanded upon at a later date (because I love the little bits about Boothill and possible paranoia/betrayal canon gives us so very dearly HNGH) I think Boothill like... He won't let himself fall into disrepair or anything of course, but he reeeeeeeeeeally does not like letting other people poke around at his body. It's a necessary evil to him. He does whatever maintenance and repairs he can himself. He started out with a massive knowledge deficit, simply because he didn't really have any exposure to that kind of technology until he left Aeragan-Epharshal, but he's taught himself a lot since then, he worked really hard at it!

Anyway, the point being, Boothill generally isn't super trusting of people.

But I think he would come to make an exception for Himeko, since he trusts Dan Heng a lot, and Himeko is one of Dan Heng's once-in-a-lifetime dearly beloved companions.

Himeko is so unflappable, I don't think she would even bat an eye about anything he throws at her, either. Like she enters the Parlor Car one morning (she's always the first one up) and Boothill is already there, waiting for her.

"Mornin', Madam Navigator."

"Good morning, Mr. Boothill."

And despite the fact that he blatantly broke into the Express (Pom-Pom is NOT happy about this JDKSAJDSKL), Boothill tips his hat, greets her politely, and is nothing but respectful when he says he has a favor to ask of her. Except it won't stay a favor long, of course- he has every intention of paying it back.

Himeko never agrees to things blindly, but she does bring up that all the knowledge Boothill contributed during the Charmony Festival was essential to preventing the universe from being pulled into Ena's Dream. And they were able to hold onto the Jade Abacus because Boothill used Tiernan's burial relic to summon the Galaxy Rangers instead. The Astral Express owes him a debt of gratitude, and besides, he's a friend of Dan Heng's. Of course she'll try to help him.

Boothill fidgets a bit, quickly brushes off the thanks, and tells Himeko he's having a problem with error codes. He keeps getting the same one, seemingly at random times, but the darn thing has no obvious cause. Dan Heng mentioned Himeko had been the one to rebuild the Astral Express. He knows it ain't the same, but it's not like he's askin' for any major repairs or nothin'. He was wonderin' if she could just take a look, maybe offer him some insight, since she seems to be somethin' of a mechanical wonder.

So Himeko walks him back to a another car, where she goes to tinker with machines without them crowding her bedroom. It's all neatly laid out and organized, and it only takes a second for Himeko to locate some specific device with a long cord. Instead of plugging it in herself, she holds the end of it out to him, like an offer rather than a demand, and Boothill visibly relaxes a bit. He still eyes it just a little warily for a second, but he accepts and plugs it into the port on his side.

Himeko pulls up the list of all recent errors, and they really are all the same. Boothill has had multiple temperature alarms over the past couple of weeks since the Charmony Festival, and they know it's not the environment, because Penacony is mostly dreamscape and kept mild year-round. The long-forgotten natural deserts are too far away.

Boothill is staring from the corner of his one good eye, so Himeko turns the hologram to let him see what she's doing easier. They don't appear to be false alarms. His internal temperature spikes and then slowly lowers again, high enough that if it lasted it would eventually cause damage.

One option is for her to start rooting through personal data, figuring out what he was doing at the time of each code, and tracing cause and correlation.

Instead, Himeko reads out the timestamps, and asks Boothill if he minds sharing what was happening around him when it occured.

Two weeks ago: He and Dan Heng went to explore Dreamflux Reef and found a bar- nice place, good atmosphere. Woman runnin’ it was a doll. Boothill left fer not even two minutes to get them drinks (Dan Heng knows like nothin’ about liquor, Madam Navigator, can you believe this guy) and when he came back, someone had already stolen his seat and was hittin’ on Dan Heng! Dan Heng didn't even care, just shooed ‘em off. Boothill laughed and said not to let him get in his way if he wanted to meet someone. Dan Heng looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Why would he want to leave with someone else, when he came here to be with Boothill?

Twelve days ago: While laying low- er, just rustlin’ up some grub- in the Moment of Blue, Boothill passed Dan Heng with March and Caelus playin’ on the beach, buildin’ sandcastles and the like. When he passed by again almost two hours later, they were still out there, with Dan Heng pullin’ March through the water on her inner tube and Caelus hangin’ off the back of it. He swam so fast! You'd think he was part water snake or somethin’. He looked happier ‘n a cat in a sunbeam… He has a nice smile, doesn't he?

Eleven days ago: Boothill was killin’ time in Dreamflux Reef when he turned the corner down a shady alley and saw Dan Heng, surrounded by three men demandin’ “protection money.” None of ‘em stood a chance, they were all on the ground before Boothill even blinked! So cool! Boothill wants to see that spear of his closeup- Anyway, Dan Heng stepped on one of ‘em on his way out, hahaha! Boothill stepped on the same guy a second time as he hurried to catch up.

Eight days ago: Here on the Express, actually. Boothill had mentioned bein’ curious about the archives, and Dan Heng personally invited him.

(“I remember that day, I saw you in the hall.” “Was there any problem with the heating that day?” “No, none. I don't think the temperature has anything to do with these error codes. I have a different theory, keep going.” “If ya say so.”)

Boothill was fascinated by an entry on aeons, and from a single question he asked about Lan, the two of ‘em ended up talkin’ fer hours. About aeons and Paths and Emanators, Acheron and Self-Annihilators, the Sea of Nihility, Tiernan, the Nameless and the Galaxy Rangers, their burial relics and their customs. Dan Heng finally just started writin’ and editin’ the entries in real time, with Boothill pointin’ things out and tellin’ him what to add in. They were at it so late that Boothill ended up sleepin' on a couch in one of the cars.

He'd figured there had to be something to make Dan Heng chatty- he'd caught just a glimpse of it that first night they met, sittin’ at the bar in the Reverie together. He'll have to ask about the archives more often, if it gets him all revved up like that.

One week ago: After that night of energetic discussion, Dan Heng was apparently hyped up, because after he'd downed some of Himeko's coffee (“You had some too, right? What did you think of it?” “It was great, even better'n chewin’ bullets!” "Thank you! That was my newest brew, I can't wait for everyone else to try it.") he actually asked Boothill to go hunting with him. Boothill asked who their target was, and was surprised when Dan Heng pulled out photos that looked like they were from March's camera, of all things, instead of a bounty or wanted poster.

And as he sat there, studying these pictures, Dan Heng explained that he wanted to hunt down these specific memory zone memes to record them into the archives. Planets with so much memoria are a rarity, especially with the Stellaron's activity thrown into the mix, which has surely affected the local “wildlife.” He might not get another opportunity like this for a long time. And Boothill had talked last night about his extensive expertise in tracking and hunting, so he should have plenty to offer here, Dan Heng would like to learn from his experience and see how he does things!

And oh, Madam Navigator, by the time Dan Heng was done speakin', his eyes were practically sparklin'! Just lit up like the sun! Boothill could scarcely believe it! The two of them couldn't even wait another day, they set out that very morning. It had been a long, long while since Boothill had tracked someone- er, somethin’- without the intent to capture or kill. It was…actually really nice. Nostalgic, but in a good way. It might even have been his favorite day on Penacony…so…far…

Boothill trails off as a couple of realizations crash into him. All the temperature alarms he's spoken about thus far- they've all happened in the company of Dan Heng. And now that he's thinking about it, he's pretty sure even the ones he hasn't yet talked about were with him, too. Dan Heng has been responsible for all of his error codes, every. single. one.

The screen in front of Himeko suddenly refreshes to the top of the list, displaying a new notification for the current time. Alert! Core temperature above normal range.

Himeko's knowing smile is sly as a snake.

Wwwwwelp, would ya look at the time, Boothill has some errands to meet, people to run, y’know how it is, he should really get goin'-

“Oh, Mr. Boothill? About that favor.” And Boothill jolts to a stop in the doorway because fudge, he can't just leave without hearing her out. He'd given his word. He has no problem running out on someone he thinks deserves it, but Himeko really had been kind to him to try and help him out. Her voice is just as knowing as her smile, Boothill can't turn around to look at her, or else he knows he won't be able to disguise the sound of his cooling fans kicking on.

“Don't make Dan Heng wait too long, ok~?”

“Y-Yes, ma'am.”

[devotedlystrangewizard]

renheng is arguably too delicious for the average hoyoverse fan because when i found out one of the main characters is haunted by a spectre of his past who hates him so much entirely because he once loved and trusted him. and they watched the stars together. and they have matching bracers that they can sense each other through. and they were closer than any other two in their old friend group. and

[brainrotisseriechicken]

lol iris scribble now that i can draw again

[gutsinknots]

I really hope they give Sunday a really fucked up ultimate: like “be not afraid” x10 biblically accurate angel shit. I want eyes, trippy colors, feelings of dread…

I hope it’s not elegant and organized but rather creepy and appalling.

Release the horrors :)

[venomousray]

Me when it’s Sunday therefore I must think about time bastard. It’s tradition

[sexynetra]

SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY

Remembered my beloved @thecollectionsof wrote the worlds best hanahaki fic and remembered that I've wanted to write one since they published that masterpiece............ and here we are

~~~~~~

Marcia brushed past her into the lobby before twirling on her heels to face Anetra again, brown eyes glimmering like topaz under the dim fluorescent lights. “Picture Beyoncé. Then picture Megan Thee Stallion. Then combine those images. This woman was like–a hundred times hotter than that.” Marcia was gesticulating wildly with her free hand as she spoke. Normally, Anetra would find her dramatics endearing, would be teasing her for being incapable of speaking without her whole body getting involved. Instead, she felt frozen, the glimmer in her stomach suddenly starting to feel a lot more insidious.

“That feels sacrilegious to say,” Anetra spoke after a moment, trying to recover.

[moongothic]

So the One Piece brand has been doing radio broadcasts called Strawhat Space (/Mugiwara Space) where they bring in voice actors to chitchat about the series etc, most of the episodes they've featured just the main cast but they've started bringing in VAs for other characters too (one episode was Mayumi Tanaka/Luffy and Tomokazu Seki/Lucci, another was the OG three admirals etc) This week's broadcast featured Ryuuzaburo Ootomo and Yuriko Yamaguchi as Crocodile and Miss All Sunday respectively

The promotional images for Strawhat Space have been Extremely Adorable and I know I'm a simp but god, this one is so cute

Now unfortunately, while my Japanese listening comprehension is good enough to follow along your average kids anime where the VAs speak clearly and take their turns, yeah, a radio show where the VAs stumble on their words a little and speak over each other is too hard for me to keep up with (not to mention my vocab just not being suited for this kinda thing)

But, if I didn't completely misunderstand Yuriko at one point, she seemed to mention that she hoped Crocodile would remain in the position of an ally in the story (after having teamed up with Luffy during Impel Down), and like. Yuriko I love you, you so are so right

[ace-malarky]

Snippet Sunday 22/12

Hello here is a snippet super early bc oh my god do I have things that need doing today

also I woke up with words in my head and chose violence <3

no it is not Halliel getting to use her sword <3

~~

Syn landed near Halliel's apartment and pulled their wings back in. For a moment, they almost looked like themself. They missed their antlers, but if they were to have any chance of surviving this…

They straightened out their clothes as best they could, crumbling off the dried on mud. A lot had fallen off during their flight, but… well. There was no hope for this outfit, really.

Their tinted glasses were gone, broken the first time they'd been arrested.

Syn flicked their tail under the fall of their coat, and perked their ears. Tightened their grip on Halliel's sword, tapping its scabbard against their leg.

No sounds out of the ordinary. It sounded like home. Just the quiet contentment of an evening after a long day of work. Music, laughter, conversations, several different shows going at once from different flats.

At least one person had a window open, practising their instrument. They sounded better than the last time Syn had heard them, more confident. Less prone to squeaking.

They took the fire escape down two floors and stopped outside the window there. Curtains still open, lights not on. The dim light from behind them let them see in, if just barely.

There was Trixie, curled up and asleep on Halliel's bed, tail over her nose.

Syn placed a hand against the glass, leaning their forehead against it. "Thanks for looking after her, Trix," she whispered. "I'll try to come back."

Trixie didn't stir.

Syn descended the last of the stairs and stepped out into the street, under the yellowing street lamps. How long would it take, they wondered. How far would they get?

They went back to work.

Three streets down, and [spoiler] fell into place beside them.

"I'm surprised you came back."

"Couldn't let you win, could I?" Syn shot her a wry look. "Not on my turf."

She laughed. "What is this, if not me winning?"

"That's cute," Syn said. "Real cute."

[Spoiler] frowned. "Where's Halliel?" She glanced at the sword in Syn's hand.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"I - yes, that's why I asked."

Syn swivelled to face her. "What makes you think I'd tell you?"

"Because she's hurt. Because she needs help. Because why else would you make the mistake of coming back here?" She shrugged, scoffing. "You're predictable, Vale."

Syn hummed and kept walking. Two more streets. The buildings were older here. Archaic, really, with their wide columns and weather-softened corners and too-big windows. Syn had loved them regardless, but the city had changed too much around them and now they just looked… old and out of place.

Progress had come on apace with no care for the aesthetics of the place.

It would have been better, maybe, to come in through the park, but they'd wanted to check on Trixie just one last time.

They'd just have to make the best of their entrance with what they'd given themself.

There were guards on the steps, Verial and Sallen. Almost every window had a blaze of too-bright light behind it, spilling out across the road, almost reaching the trees in the park across the road.

[Spoiler] reached out to take Syn's arm. "Wait."

"No," Syn said sweetly, slipping out of reach. "I'm doing this on my terms."

[Spoiler] searched their face. "What's your play, Vale? Where's Halliel?"

"Wouldn't that be telling." Syn grinned, feral, sharp teeth and the mirrored skin gleaming in the brighter light coming from the building before them.

They walked up to the guards at the bottom of the steps. "Good evening," they called. "I believe you're looking for me?" They waved, their tail wagging in tandem.

[Spoiler] grabbed at their arm as the guards reacted to their presence. "I've got this, thank you," she growled.

"You haven't disarmed them," one of the guards said.

"He's right, you know," Syn said.

[Spoiler] huffed and reached for Halliel's sword.

"Ooh, no, not yet." Syn held it out of reach, dancing backwards. "Take me," they said, grinning, "to your leaders."

[Spoiler] narrowed her eyes, hand still outstretched.

"I promise I won't use it," Syn said. "You know me. Just need the comfort."

"This is highly irregular," said one of the guards. She'd come with Jaiel and Syn from Sallen, was one of the prince's guards. "We can't-"

"I have control of the situation," [Spoiler] snapped, and the guard subsided.

Syn winked at one of the Verial guards, tapping a couple of fingers against the scabbard.

He nodded and didn't argue as Syn walked up the steps to the door, [Spoiler] in their wake.

The next set opened the door without waiting to be asked, without challenging them, and Syn thanked them as they stepped inside.

"Just the usual place, is it?" they asked, looking around the empty foyer. All gilt and marble, a statue seated in the centre of the deer-formed architect.

Syn's antlers had been more impressive.

"This way," [Spoiler] said.

Syn let her lead just long enough to work out where they were going, and then strode past. They'd make her work for it, even though she thought she'd won.

Anyone else would've insisted that Syn hand over their sword, but [Spoiler] was getting cocky with the end in sight. More fool her, really, but then she thought she was winning here.

Syn stopped before the next set of guards. "I should be expected," they said. "Do you want me to announce myself, or…?" They waggled the hilt of Halliel's sword to point at the guards, as if choosing who to do their job.

They took in Syn's appearance - they grinned, feeling the stretch in their mirror-torn skin - and one knocked on the door.

"Yes?" Maj stepped out. "What is it?" Her eyes fell on Syn.

Syn watched the shock and dismay ripple across her face.

"… Vale," Maj said. "I see."

[Spoiler], only just catching up, took possessive hold of Syn's elbow. "I brought them in."

"Make sure Halliel gets this back," Syn said, passing Maj her sword.

Maj nodded and opened the door for them. "Please, come on in."

Syn didn't shake [Spoiler] free of them this time. They'd give her this much.

[Spoiler] cleared her throat. "I've caught Vale."

Neryd looked over Syn and scoffed.

Jaiel looked up from the couch. "Yes, but where is Lance? What have they done with them?"

"Ooh, you didn't tell him?" Syn asked. "Awkward." They bowed. "Your Majesty." When they straightened up, their dragon touched horns and scales were beading in. "Can't say it was an honour serving you." They swept it away before it reached their eyes, dropping back into Vale. Just enough to make a point, not enough to break the last of their guises.

Jaiel schooled his face into a sense of neutrality, but Syn had seen the shock and then the greed flit across him. "We'll take them back to Sallen to deal with," he said.

[Spoiler] really hadn't told him anything. Syn wondered if anyone knew about her.

"I think not," Rion replied. "They have endangered us just as much by their actions."

Syn shot him a glance but couldn't read anything. Did he know who they were? … Did it matter?

[nightmarearian]

finally got this digital and all neat <3

boothill hair-headcanons! I did some (admittedly short) research on indigenous hair traditions & cultures (x).

A bit too tired to paraphrase rn so direct quotes to get the main points: > "believed that a person’s long hair represents a strong cultural identity" > "As part of the practice in self-respect, we are taught to take good care of our hair through proper grooming" > "adorn their hair with fur wraps, woolen wraps, feathers, fluffs, and bead work for war dancing and ceremonies" > "common to see family members and friends brushing and braiding hair for each other. > "we don’t cut our hair unless we have experienced a significant loss, like the death of a close family member, traumatic event or significant life change." > "When we do have to cut our hair, it is never to be thrown away, but rather, burned with sage or sweetgrass in a ceremonial way. When our hair is burned, all of our thoughts, prayers, dreams, aspirations, experiences, and history rise to the Creator to be properly taken care of." > " hair embodying so much of who we are, boundaries are important. Touching someone’s hair without permission is disrespectful in the Native community."

With that, looking at canon Boothill... I decided that at first he straight up just. Did not have the time to cut and burn his hair at first, and by the time he did he. Couldn't. (He’s dead anyway. Everything on his is dead anyway, so it doesn’t exactly count right now…) (he should be ashamed. He is. Being so fuckin selfish and one of the last of Aeragan-Epharshel and he making a mess of their culture). (He really should. He should stop being selfish but he can't let go of his memories of them and he's sorry, he's so so sorry, please he knows he's nothing more than a fuckin husk he's sorry he's sorry he's sorry-). (Going off of my other boothill art,) He loosely braids where a few of them would usually be, but comparatively it's too loose and he doesn't have as much feathers or sweetgrass or fur anymore but it's as close as he's ever going to get anymore so it'll do.

If any of this is inaccurate, really sorry and please correct me! :)

Text (Sorta. In order of my thoughts, all that, and then some): Aeragan-Epharshel "Boothill" (tesswehas) > had thick, soft, black hair -> current hair is thinner from lack of care + general consequences of becoming mechanized. -> Marie-Antoinette Syndrome + stress turned the majority of it white. > Tight & neat braids (w/ feathers, sweetgrass, fur) -> Family braids his hair & vice versa (-> Consequently, Boothill can't braid his own hair as well as he could someone else's. The difference in doing it to someone else vs. oneself, and all that) > Around~a bit longer than waist length -> Might've gotten a bit shorter when getting mechanized.

Post killing Oswaldo (a few months) > Cuts it a while after killing Oswaldo (while the power vacuum and all the extra stuff that comes with killing a head of department) -> Especially the braids/where the braids would be & the black parts. -> (his hair's all white now). > Burns it with sweetgrass > Additionally (not on drawing), He's tried to tie it back, sorta; It's a bit too short so he uses hair clips and stuff. It's at like mid-neck length. > His red bandana was his little girl's baby wrap. (yk those non-descript cloth wrapped around a baby).

-> (Eventually*) -> *meaning Argenti & Robin are able to keep Boothill from joining the rest of his family + heal/take care of himself > He lives long enough to grow it out. About shoulder length. > He usually has four braids (A/R/Sv/C), all with a few different ornaments. -> Side note, usually I guess one would get their hair braided with their associated accessories (if that makes sense???) but Boothill wants accessories based on his loved ones, so he has a little something. (Still doesn't have enough feathers, either). (Braid Dictionary): Each person's Ornaments, from Neatest -> Messiest: > Argenti(Tied w/ R): Vines & Roses > Robin(Tied w/ A): Metal/Fake flower ornamets (3); They're based of her halo. > Sunday*: "haloes"/rings > Clara (Tied w/ Sv): (Brass) Bolts & sometimes (uncommonly) fluff/fur, or flowers. > Svarog (Tied w/ C): (Steel/Silver) Bolts & Nuts > Hook: Usually doesn't have accessories, but the messiness & bits of dirt/grime (/aff) is enough of an indicator. Sometimes she can "braid"/tie string or smth. + Possibly aventurine? depends. -> neatness-wise would be around Sunday-Clara's; Accessories would be straight up jewlery, yk?

Bonus: Boothill (Makes the absolute neatest braids). Doesn't actually leave much accessories unless asked (Will be encouraged by A or R) -> would be feathers or sweetgrass; The children get flowers too. -> Bullet shells would be like bolts but he doesn't really want to give bullet shells to anyone. If he really wants to, it usually ends up in Svarog's ornament-strings/fur.

Ext. : > Boothill would give Argenti and/or Robin waterfall braids a good amount of the time. > Rose braid either from or to Argenti, to or from Boothill or Robin. > Boothill & Clara braid Svarog's coat's fur + give him strings of accessories.

Ext. Not in Drawing: > Between Robin & Argenti, Boothill gets around to taking proper care of his hair again :). > Sunday eventually joined in per Robin's request (as long as Boothill was okay with it, of course), and he found it calming & also just a good way for these two to bond. > Boothill keeps in his braids as long as he can, until it really has to or he meets the others again. > I only draw Robin, Argenti, Clara, & Svarog's braids in the final-post killing Oswaldo, so Sunday's would probably go behind Boothill's ear, next to Robin's. Hook's goes around the side, near Clara's. > Guess it was sorta implied with the neatest to messiest thing, But Argenti & Robin have the most clean braids, Sunday near close - his perfectionism/idealization is getting to him a bit - Clara & Svarog both have some troubles. It's like. Average-good? Not expert but not bad either. Clara's is a bit messy, and Svarog has some trouble with his bigger, mech-hands. Hook has the messiest. For obvious reasons. Little menace <3

> Oh also Don't think I ever specifically mentioned it but implied open/poly relationship between Argenti, Robin, Boothill & Svarog. (Argenti X Boothill X Robin, Svarog X Boothill). Think that's it. 👍

Original paper sketchpage: