#Giant Blacksmith

[underlordmenace]

Ngl I got lazy when drawing the giant bois

Also Nito and his fluffy coat of death

It’s a pretty nito coat…

[thunder-monke]

Vote Andre for hottest gilf. Do it for his bestie, Giant Blacksmith.

Do it for the old bugger.

[bricktoygrapher]

Monthly maintenance 🤖 🔨

[iamumbra195]

If Ashlyn Banner was a character in a typical magic manhwa she would be the cool mage that remained isolated in the tower for over a decade without any sort of human contact until they were forced to due to the MC’s stupidity or in her case, Aiden’s shenanigans.

She would subsequently be roped into the chaos against her will, all while trying to figure out how to properly interact with real people after all this time and trying to protect this rag-tag group of people with varying backgrounds from certain death.

Aiden would be the crown prince who hated his position and responsibilities after the war so much he decided to become an explorer. It was a risky business with so many unexplored magical lands so it was right up in his alley but his parents only agreed to let him go if he brought his cousin Ben with him as a companion. Ben would be the powerful knight who was heavily traumatized and rendered mute during the war, working on finding himself once more while he and Aiden explored the world together.

Tyler would be the promising young knight who's trying to gain some prestige in order to take care of his family. Taylor would run the repair shop their dad left them but struggled to find a lot of customers due to the stigma that a woman couldn't possibly be strong enough or smart enough to do good repairs. The repair shop was incidentally right across the flower shop Logan's parents ran while he studied something with math or science at a fancy school and occasionally came by to help.

And the Crane Cult are the Big Bad™ that are using a blood sacrifices to call on the power of a higher being or something like that. And they wear bird masks of course.

Ashlyn vs Maverick in a magic duel, when?

Kinda Part 2: Here

[emry-stars-art]

Hello! I just wanted to say your art is gorgeous and I love the attention to detail you give to your work! This royal au is scrumptious and I'm so grateful you shared it with us! Second, for Jean's role, I was wondering what you thought about making him a blacksmith? It would make him useful for Riko without having any power (not a guard, etc.)but also give a reason for Jeremy to seek him out (and get swept off his feet), perhaps once he's escaped and is in Palmetto. Feel free to ignore tho!😊

IGNORE THE MENTAL IMAGE OF BIG POWERFUL BLACKSMITH JEAN MOREAU? SAFE IN THE UNNAMED TROJAN KINGDOM, BULKING UP AND FEELING ACCOMPLISHED WITH THE WORK OF HIS HANDS??? I WILL NOT

I’ve been really invested in the idea of the “perfect court” now that we’re in a royal au, and since Kevin and Riko were both technically royalty, Nathaniel was/had the potential to be a noble, I think Jean should also be high end?? Like while at Evermore they all have different duties right, maybe Jean was an attendant to Riko or something. Whatever he was there, we know he wasn’t treated well. Probably not allowed to pursue his own interests, just like everyone else.

But Kevin and Nathaniel both escape, and they find new jobs that fulfill them. So Jean should as well!! He gets to the Trojan kingdom, probably with the help of Renee still (which is. A whole thing about politics and family lines in this au strangely enough) and he doesn’t have to be a noble anymore if he doesn’t want to. He’s probably already renounced his nobility in the way he left Evermore. I don’t doubt Jeremy, who I’m imagining as another prince because that’s the image my brain gave me, would hesitate to reinstate him as Trojan nobility if Jean asked (as long as it’s far enough down the timeline obviously). Instead, Jean kind of slides under the radar, and once he’s all settled he finds work in the smithy. And he really enjoys it! He feels stronger and healthier and he gets to make such amazing things, he doesn’t even have to make weapons if he doesn’t want to. The workers all choose their own specialties and jobs, filling in gaps as needed

Then one day the royal family or the prince is making rounds, coming to see how things are running, and Jeremy is kind of wondering if he’s seen this blacksmith before? Like he’s pretty sure that’s a familiar face, but he definitely would have remembered seeing someone like him around the kingdom before now, so he brushes it off.

(Really he’s seen Jean Moreau at summits and other large gatherings, only once or twice. Back when Jean was much less healthy and when he still tried to make himself smaller to fit into Riko’s shadow. So yes he recognizes the face; but this is a much different man than the person he saw across grand halls.)

And for my lovely jerejean enjoyers: if Jean ends up talking to or in close proximity of the prince, for whatever reason? Jeremy can definitely blame his red cheeks on the heat of the forges 💫

Sliding a couple process pics under the cut

(Find the royal au writing masterpost here 💕)

[gi-nathlam-hi]

As cool as Celebrimbor’s forge is in the show, I was watching a video yesterday about the first sort of…industrialized forges in the Victorian and Edwardian era that used water power. Through clever engineering, rivers became like steam engines that would turn huge wheels not only to power bellows to get forges hot enough to melt iron and cast steel much quicker and easier than a person could work the bellows, but also these wheels would power huge 1.5-3 ton hammers that could flatten plate in seconds (industry shattering tech!) — and I can’t stop thinking about how Eregion is right there on the Glanduin and how badly I want to see them use water power for the forge. Like how cool would it be for them to have huge water wheels to power Celebrimbor’s bellows? The hammers would be no good for jewelsmithing, but it’s the perfect tech to use when you need to kit out an army in record time. Like I want to see Celebrimbor’s giant water wheel with all the might of the Glanduin behind it and watch him excitedly explain how it works. Charles Edwards would do that so well and it would be such a cool set. 😭

[strixhaven]

phase spiders. not fun. you know what’s worse? shadowheart managing to wander off from the rest of your party and accidentally triggering a fight with them all on her own

[urbanfiltered]

feeling overwhelmed with gratitude that i am so sweet and whimsical and charming

[briefbestiary]

Giant one-eyed beings of Greek legend, there are three general types of cyclopes. The one depicted here is meant represent one of the three divine blacksmiths.

[attractthecrows]

what the hell are the rogue specializations in inquisition lmfao

[bobateaboo]

Mans doesn’t mean to look scary he’s just Tryna protect his face and happens to be 10 fucking feet tall 😔

Reblogs > likes

[skylordhorus]

i like shire and clydesdale horses and because i cannot turn skylord brain off, i must also remark that they remind me of finnigan lol

[displaykitkats]

Some of my fave guys in level 100 crafter gear - but opted out of the giant mittens for Estinien. Should I complete this set with level 100 gatherer gear? MAYBEEeeE. See below the cut on who is wearing which gear.

Update: I posted the gatherer gear sets here. Enjoy!

Thancred - Carpenter

Estinien - Blacksmith

Ardbert - Armourer

Erenville - Goldsmith

Koana - Leatherworker

Emet-selch - Weaver

Aymeric - Alchemist

G’raha - Culinarian

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Hero and Hope (5/5)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

Last Time

The crack under the door lights with a sickly purple. The smell of ozone seeps into the manor. For a moment there is a silence so complete you think you’ve been struck. What was that? Magic? You’ve never seen magic before--

Screams rocket across the field. The Blacksmith’s screams. The Baker’s screams. Marie’s rage-filled howls.

“DEMON KING!”

Your Destiny burns.

---.

You have dreams the closer you get to turning fifteen. Dreams of a kingdom in the sky, a kingdom heard in the roiling clouds and in the cracks of lightning that splinter through them. This kingdom howls and chatters and hungers.

You dream that you are under these clouds. Your necks aches from staring up into them. You’re alone in a field of dead wheat and the stalks whisper prophecies whenever the kingdom above falls silent. Rivers will run with blood, flesh will lay torn across the streets, no child can hide—

In these dreams, you aren’t afraid. There is an answering snarl in your chest for every howl and prophecy you hear.

You won’t have your way. You won’t win.

I’m the Hero.

When the storm sends down a funnel of demon bats (or horned rabbits or screaming goblins or demon wolves), you leap to meet them.

------.

This isn’t a dream.

Your hands slide down from the door. Hera and Josiah are frozen in place, eyes wide and unseeing as the demon king’s presence steals the oxygen from the room. You take a step back. Then another.

All doors and windows are blocked on this level. But this manor has more than one floor.

The fighting resumes outside before Sarah realizes what you’re doing.

“Isla!” She has the strength of a mother when she grabs you this time. Your nearly choke as your collar is pulled taught against your throat by her grip on your sleeve. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To fight,” you wheeze before you can think better of it.

“Absolutely not.” Sarah attempts to pull you back, but you’re braced against her now. She grabs your sleeve with both hands. “The knights have it handled—”

“Not this—”

“—you’re to stay here.” Sarah’s lip trembles and she squares her jaw to hide it. The younger kids are holding onto her skirts, eyes wide as they stare up at you. “Understood?”

Afraid. She’s so afraid for you, so determined to keep you safe this time. You can see that winter seven years ago like you never have before; when you held the door and lost your hope in heroes, she never once looked away from your narrow back.

You have never been alone.

“Take care,” you say as gently as you can. Then, as she draws breath to speak, you rip yourself from her grasp. Your sleeve tears and Sarah’s eyes fall to your arm.

She gasps. “Isla—”

You shoulder your way through the villagers and thunder upstairs. The grand staircase leads to a hall of doors and you throw open the one at the end indiscriminately. You get the impression of books, leather furniture, a black feather quill, but it all blurs when your eyes fall on the door leading to the balcony.

That will do.

You burst out into unrelenting sunlight. Shouldn’t it be storming? In your dreams, it’s always storming. The garden is a mess of turned earth and splintered party tables. The knights’ armor flash rays of sun and the orcs – great, fleshy beasts with hardly any neck and black-sclera eyes – undulate like mountains below. You can see that some orcs are down, their giant bodies strewn across the ground, but it hardly seems to make a difference.

Not when there’s a Demon King.

You climb up onto the railing to get a better look. He’s half-hidden by the fighting, almost lounging against the treeline. He’s more human than you expected with dark, shaggy hair, and a bored look on his face. Canines the length of your index finger poke over his thin lower lip. Without the fangs, he’d be a traveling merchant, one of the ones who turned up their nose when they realized that the home they were visiting was an orphanage and not that of an affluent family.

As you watch, that sickly purple magic crackles at his fingertips. You follow his gaze to where Ivan and Marie are fighting back-to-back. The Lord is standing defiantly behind them, his horse slain mere yards away. The Lord is staring a challenge at the Demon King.

This is my land. You can see his mouth form the words, but can’t hear him over the clashing of swords and the twanging of Marie’s bow. Did he lose his voice? His exhaustion drags at his face, just visible under his fury. Green power seeps from him and into the ground as he emphasizes his Lord’s claim. You won’t have it.

The Demon King smirks. His hand twitches and purple magic soars into the sky. It arcs over the orcs’ heads, ten feet, fifteen feet, ten feet, five feet—

Ivan catches the bolt on his shield, a cry leaving his lips as the magic splashes around the edges and tears at his skin. You can smell burning flesh and ozone. Ivan falls to one knee and Marie snarls as she blocks an orc’s blow with the curve of her bow. She manages to kick the beast away, but her distraction costs her. This time Lord Brennan has to block the orc swinging a mace down upon their heads. His connection to the land wavers and the Demon King’s smirk widens into a smile.

Something in your chest cracks and you see gold.

Your destiny is like a flame on your shoulder. It drips down your arm and into your hand. Golden light is burning there and with a barely a thought, it takes the form of a spear. You hoist the spear over your shoulder and hurl it with your full strength at the ground between the orcs advancing on Marie, Ivan and Lord Brennan.

The ground shatters. The orcs are thrown back. Marie, already kneeling at Ivan’s side, jerks her gaze up to you. You see her mouth form your name.

The Demon King is as loud as he is in your dreams. “HERO!”

The word alone strikes fear in the orcs. Stupidly, a few look up at you and fail to block the next blows from the knights. One squeals and turns to the forest. You barely notice the knights chase after it.

“Isla?”

“Don’t—”

“Go back inside, his magic is too--!”

The Demon King hisses a spell. It’s fast, not the slow and contemptuous arc of power he’d thrown at the lord. Without thinking, you swipe your arm. It’s still drenched with the golden glow of your power and the air rings when the Demon King’s spell connects. You feel the blow vibrate through your bones. The magic crackles and your own power rises to meet it, filling your view with sun-bright light that washes over everything.

When the light clears, you’re still standing.

“Impossible,” the demon king says.

On instinct, you lift a hand above your head. Something presses against your palm and you grab it, drawing it down in front of you. A sword drenched in a golden haze follows. Hero’s sword. You point it at the demon king in a silent declaration. Your destiny is choking you, but your message is clear.

His lips curl in a snarl. “Attack!”

You leap down from the balcony as the demon king’s army surges. An orc charges you the moment you land, his eyes filled with the demon king’s command. He towers over you, but you’re strong enough to haul a half dozen fence posts on your own. You catch the club he swings at your head and launch him back in the same motion. He falls back a dozen steps and you follow him, slashing at his throat with your sword of light.

You’re on to the next monster before his body hits the ground.

You are new to your power, but you aren’t alone. Knights scream their second wind and fall on the monsters’ backs when their master’s command stupidly makes them turn away. A corner of your mind shrinks at the smell of blood and worse, at the sight of bodies under your feet, at the sound of armor crunching under heavy blows, but your power blocks it out. You move through the battlefield with an overwhelming, single-minded purpose.

Demon King.

“Don’t understand—”

Who is that? Your senses tell you it’s not an enemy. You duck when an orc swings a meaty fist at your head and then blink when someone severs its arm before you can.

“It’s okay, Isla,” someone says. “We’re here.”

“--she’s fourteen—”

“Argue about it later, protect her now.”

“Right.”

The Demon King isn’t relaxed when you see him next. His lips are pulled back so far you can see all his teeth. He’s commanding his monsters to stop you, to kill you, to put their bodies between you and him. One orc is bigger than the rest, a vibrant red instead of fleshy pink. It plants itself squarely in front of its master and raises a mace the length of your body.

Your power won’t let you falter, but your mind balks. Can you catch that? Block it? Those spikes are as long as your arm—

An arrow sprouts from the orc’s throat. It blinks stupidly and the purple haze clears from its eyes. Another arrow finds its mark in said eye and the beast steps back hesitantly as if unsure if its okay or not. The third arrow lets it know it’s not.

“Keep your sword tip up, Isla.”

“You’re training her now?”

“On your left, Marie!”

The Demon King must be cocky because he doesn’t try to run until it’s too late. The orc falls and his eyes widen in surprise to see you still coming for him. You’re close enough to see the color of them now, a red as deep and terrible as what’s drenching your hand.

Purple magic crackles. It’s not a spell – he’s too afraid for that – but the destructive power is unreal. The earth splinters to either side of you, causing your allies to falter for a moment. You deflect the bolt aimed for you and it explodes overhead like fireworks.

“No,” the Demon King breathes. He stumbles back and tries to ward you off with hands drenched in power. “No, I do not fall here! I am King! I am ultimate! I am—”

You throw your sword. You never really learned how to use one and this motion is more natural. For a moment, you see your Hero’s sword like your sharpened stick, sailing into the throat of a horned rabbit. Then you blink and it’s the Demon King with your sword through his meck. Blood bubbles at the corners of his mouth. One of his long-nailed hands comes up to try and grab the hilt. You’ve pierced him through.

The Demon King falls like his orcs. Confused and unsure of his own demise.

You come back to yourself the moment you feel his power die. There’s crashing through the woods as the remaining four orcs turn to flee. Absently, you mark their paths.

If the knights don’t get them, you will.

The details of the battle filter back to you gradually, like the sound returning to a forest after a rockslide. The memories of each blow you dealt tremble up your arms and the smell of one orc’s fetid breath makes you suck in a breath. That of course drags new horrible smells into your lungs and you cough so hard you gag.

A warm hand pats your back. “There, there,” Ivan says. He sounds tired. “The first one is always rough. Vomiting is okay.”

Marie grabs your hand before you can rub your face. “Don’t touch your eyes. Orc blood is corrosive.”

You twist, blinking tears out of your vision. You tremble as the memory of battle becomes fresher and fresher. You croak, “I’m an orphan, you know.”

Ivan looks taken aback. Then understanding washes over his face. “We’re acting like your parents, aren’t we? We were going to ask you after the party.”

The nausea temporarily subsides. “What?”

“She’s in shock,” Marie scolds Ivan. She fishes a clean handkerchief out of her bodice and uses it to dab under your eyes. “We want to adopt you, Isla. If you’ll have us as parents?”

You stare at them. “I—” you clear your throat. “I just meant we don’t actually know when my birthday is. Because I’m an orphan. I might be fifteen after all.’

“Oh.” Ivan opens his mouth. Closes it. “Well, do you be our daughter anyway?”

“More than anything,” you say and then vomit right onto the demon king’s corpse.

---------.

Things are both complicated and not after that.

The questions you thought were coming never get asked. Sarah isn’t upset you hid your Destiny from her and neither are any of the kids. They’re just relieved you’re alive.

Hera buries her face in your stomach before dinner that night. The Bahrs have invited you all to stay over until the last of the orcs are caught. Hera smells like their bath oils when she says, “I held the door, Isla. Nobody got in.”

There’s a lump in your throat as you pet her damp hair. “You did. You were very brave.”

“I helped,” Josiah says. Unlike Hera, he eyes your arm from a distance. Your mark is covered in a fresh cotton shirt, but it’s like he can see it anyway. Finally he collapses into you. “It’s not fair. You’re our Hero. Now you’re going to have be everyone’s.”

You lean down to press a kiss into his hair. “I’m too mean to be everyone’s Hero. I’ll just be yours, okay?”

“Good,” Josiah says. Then, after a long moment. “Though you should be nicer to us now.”

“No,” you say fondly.

The complicated part comes when the Bahrs enter the dining room after Sarah has gotten you all seated.

Ivan’s arm is in a sling, but he smiles widely when he sees the spread Josiah, Annie and Sarah have cooked up. He compliments them on their efforts, thanks them, and takes a seat at the head of the table.

Marie pauses by you before she takes her seat. She lingers by your chair until you turn to look at her. “Isla.”

You swallow. “Marie.”

Is it just you or is Marie as nervous as you are?

“Would you…sit by me?” she asks. Her eyes flick to the seat just to the right of her side of the table. You may not be a noble, but you know what that seat means.

Your voice wavers. You’re suddenly very conscious of the kids looking at you, of the way Sarah’s pressed a hand to her mouth. In surprise? To hide her pleasure? “If—if I can?”

“Yes,” Marie says quickly. “Yes, if you don’t mind, I mean, if you’re able to be drawn away—”

Lord Brennan throws open the dining room doors with an astonishing crash. He isn’t dressed for company and his long sleeping robe is drenched with the water still dripping from his hair. “I am starving. Is there—” He catches sight of the table and his mouth drops open in surprise. “You were all about to have dinner? Without me?”

“You were in a coma, my lord,” Ivan says.

“I was taking a nap,” Lord Brennan corrects. His golden eyes catalogue the way Marie is standing over you, the three empty seats at the end of the table opposite Ivan. Rather than claiming the empty head of the table seat, he strides over to Ivan. “Up, up you get.”

“There’s another seat you can take!” Ivan complains. He guards his plate of food. “I just served myself.”

“Go sit with your wife and daughter,” Lord Brennan commands. He nearly sits on Ivan when the other man stands too slowly. He smiles charmingly at Sarah. “Director. Fancy seeing you here.”

Sarah flushes up to her ears.

“Daughter?” Hera asks.

Your stomach turns over. Oh god. It’s not fair that they asked you – you were too happy to think about it, but the other kids must be devastated—

But Hera doesn’t look sad. She’s staring at you for an answer, her eyes open and accepting.

“Y-yeah,” you say.

“Hell yeah,” Josiah says. “If the Bahrs adopt you that means I can read through their library right?”

Annie looks up at you. “And we can come visit?”

“Of course you all can,” Marie answers. Is her voice a little misty? “You all can stay here as long as you like.”

“Go sit with them,” Hera says. She smiles and pushes at you. “Go on.”

It’s the best meal you’ve ever had.

-----

(Part 1) (Part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

------------------

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[the-fiction-witch]

Sweetling

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Benjicot Blackwood Couple - Benjicot X Reader Reader - (OC) Lady Y/n Blackwood Rating - Cute AF! Word Count - 3280

Lady Y/n Bracken stood in her gown sword at her hip, on her side of the border shivering with fear and cold, she was only the lady of house Bracken for two days given Benjicot had killed four of her older brothers, she had gone out to patrol the border in the grey rain, but it had not gone well.

Benjicot continued to stalk towards his Prey, eyes locked on Y/n's shivering figure, his sword in hand, he could taste the sweat on her skin and hear her heart pounding, "Have you nothing to say, Bracken??" he shouted, a sly smile on his lips as the air crackled with the threat of action.

"...I... I don't know what I could that won't get me stabbed," she gulped sheepishly drawing her sword but immediately dropping it, so she grabbed it from the grass and mud holding the handle with both hands, the sword shaking the tip falling where the sword was too heavy for her as she tries to defend the border

"...You, a Lady... Wielding a sword?" he asked almost amused as he came closer, the smile on his face grew as he saw her hands shaking while holding the Blade, "That Blade is too large for you, you will cut your own head off, give it to me" He outstretched his hand awaiting the sword

"h-how do I know you won't use it to attack me?”

a scoff escaped his lips as he walked closer and closer to her, "Because I'm not a dishonourable Brute like your brothers, now give the damn sword to me" He took several more steps "Before I pry it from your hands myself"

she gulped moves and offered her sword as best she could making sure he didn't step over the border

He approached, taking the sword from her hands, her trembling sent a chill down his spine, not from the chill rain the two had been standing in, but from her shaking, her fear of him "You know, you are not as bad for a Bracken as I expected, you can be quite useless" He looked her up and down as he spoke

lady Y/n stood a whole head shorter than him, she was small and innocent, a little girl never expecting to be given power as a fifth child in the family, her hair heavy her curls obvious as they were soaked, her little orange dress around her too big for her and also wet sticking to her body, her belt for the sword tied in a knot as the belt itself was too long to buckle for her, a bow and arrows on her back but upside down

He watched her, his eyes following her frame. Her dress clung to her due to the rain, almost as if showing off the small curves of her soft body, for a moment he had to swallow hard as he looked at her, the thoughts running through his mind, he could easily see she was barely even a woman, the idea of just picking her up and taking her back to his home crossed his mind, his eyes went back to her belt, the knot in it and his lips pursed in frustration "Why is your belt tied like this?" He snapped

"ohh, it's too big for me, and I couldn't find anything to make a new belt hole so I just... Tied it"

he reached down grabbing the belt "Too big for you? What in Gods name were you expecting to accomplish with a giant-ass sword that's far too heavy for you and a belt that's too big to actually hold up the damn thing" He gave the end of the belt a tug, pulling her closer to him

she let out a little yelp as he grabbed the belt forcing her against his doublet the belt undoing in his hand the sword sheath falling in the mud "it uhh it was the only sword I could find..."

He chuckled, a little snort almost as he looked down at her, his hand still holding the end of the belt, holding her against him "Let me guess, it belonged to one of your fat, useless brothers?" his eyes slowly travelled down her small frame

she shook her head "no, they all were buried with them my lord Blackwood... Blacksmith says he can't make me one till next week"

he gave a scoff, pulling on the belt again, this time it was more of a gentle pull, her hips coming closer to his "Who would be stupid enough to give you a sword anyway, you look more like a child than a warrior" he said, his eyes moving to the bow strapped to her back, hung upside down and soaking wet he gave a huff, shaking his head. She was useless, and fragile, and more of a child than a Lady "What were you thinking? Trying to defend your lands all by yourself with no proper weapon for you and a piss poor technique, you're lucky I'm the man on the other side of this border right now"

"yes my lord Blackwood" she nodded very use to being scolded by her own family but now even their mortal enemy family was scolding her

he huffed again, his eyes running across her face, taking in her features, her soft, delicate skin, the way she would look while on top of him....his mind flashed through the thoughts, but he pushed them away, now was not the time for that. "And how did you expect to be able to wield a long-swords as heavy as your brothers when you're smaller and shorter than any of your own brothers? I could pick you up with one arm"

"I... I... I don't know...."

he huffed again, bringing a hand up to her chin, gently tilting her head up so he could look into her eyes "You don't know? Don't know that you're too short and small to be a fighter? Don't know how to wear your own damn belt?"

"I... I... I'm sorry, I just wanted to help... My brother's are gone, my little brother is still only a babe I don't know what else to do" she whined starting to cry

he could see the tears as they began to fall from her eyes, the pleading look in her eyes, his hand still on her chin. With a sigh, his expression softened, his hand slowly leaving her chin and coming up to wipe the tears from her cheek, his touch gentler than when he was scolding her moments before "By the Gods what am I to do with you, you soft little thing..." he pulled her even closer, her body pressed against his chest, his hands holding her in place, a soft look coming across his face "You can't keep doing things like this, you could've been killed. You're only lucky that I'm the one on the other side of this field right now..."

"yes lord blackwood"

his hands stayed resting on her hips, a comforting hold, his eyes scanning her face "You're a little thing…”

she nodded and gulped

he chuckled, the sight of her like this sent a thrill down his spine, she was small enough to fit in his lap, small enough for him to pick her up and do anything he wanted to her...he couldn't help himself from pulling her closer against him, his hands still holding her hips "You don't really expect to lead your house do you? You would get eaten alive"

she nodded tenderly resting her cheek against his doublet feeling comfort in Benjicot as she sniffled, She had lost her father, her mother in child birth, all four brothers and now was lady of her house she didn't know what to do or how to feel so she just nuzzled with him a moment enjoying his comfort even if he was the man who killed her father, and brothers and in her mind was likely going to kill her too

he felt her nuzzle softly against his chest, the feeling of her cheek against him made his heart flutter, she really was just a scared little thing. The thought of anyone being scared of her as a leader of a house made a scoff nearly escape his lips again. He felt an ache of pity "You're a scared little thing aren’t you?" he murmurs his fingers slowly rubbing her hips, his eyes looking down at her tiny body

she nodded

he looked down at her, his hand gently taking her chin and pulling her head back up to look at him. The look on her face, the pure fear and sadness in her eyes made his heart ache "I can already see that, Sweetling" he muttered, his voice going from harsh to softer. He couldn't imagine how scared she was, all alone at the head of a powerful house… for a moment he did have sympathy as he was made lord of house blackwood so young, having lost his father and brother ironically killed by her father, he felt sympathy for her, she had lost her father, her brothers, her mother, she had no family... just like him. He saw himself in her, and looking at her, so small and scared, it sent a different sort of thought into his mind. He wanted to protect her, to hold her in his arms to keep her safe. "You're all alone aren't you? No brothers left, no parents....No one left to take care of you" he asked quietly

"I have a little brother but he's only four moons"

he gave a nod, his fingers on her hip continuing to rub gently "Four moons old...Who is caring for him if you're out here, guarding the border by yourself?"

"The Nursemaids"

he gave a scoff. "Nurse maids caring for a baby lord of a house? A bastard could walk in and claim him as their own before anyone would take notice"

she nodded unsure what to really do

he looked down at her, her eyes still watery with scared tears. He felt a twinge in his heart as he saw how helpless she really was. He would never admit it, but he almost felt protective of her, this little girl in front of him "I could help you, Sweetling...If you want."

"hum? How?"

He tilted her chin once more, his eyes locked on hers "You need a protector, something to make sure no one can ever take you or your family from you again... And I need a wife. A proper Lady in my castle to strengthen the lines of my house"

she looked up at him green eyes wide as she gulped "but - but- but- I'm a bracken. Your a blackwood. Our families have been fighting and killing eachother for... Like... Sixteen centuries"

He chuckled, a gentle smile playing at his lips, "Sweetling I know that. You think that I, more than anyone don't know the history? I know all too well what our families have done to each other... I also know that we are currently talking in the middle of a boarder you were supposed to be guarding, with you being a Lady and me being a Lord..."

she glanced and noticed he was of course over the border "ohh... Fiddle sticks"

he chuckled, his hand resting on his hip as he looked down at her. She really was too adorable, he thought, a little thing like her trying to guard a border was almost laughable "Fiddle sticks? Really darling?"

"I'm not good at swear words..."

he laughed, a real genuine laugh "I can tell. Such a prim and proper Lady, a proper little lady of House Bracken" he gave a faux gag, his hand still tightly holding her hip against his His eyes slowly traveled down her frame again, from her big doe eyes to her soaking wet dress, now clinging to her tiny figure, showing off the small curves of her body... He had to admit it to himself, she was attractive no matter how soft and small she was He shook his head, he had to get his thoughts back on track, he was supposed to be trying to convince her to marry him, not just stare at her like a hungry wolf He gave a soft scoff to himself before looking back at her "There's no one else, is there, who can provide for you like I can? No other families to offer for you."

"... I... I guess so"

he smirked, her answer of 'I guess so' was almost cute, almost as if she didn't know what to say or how to respond. He gently tugged her closer, now so that her chest was almost pressed against his front. He really did tower over her. His hand, which was resting on her chin, slowly slid down her neck, his thumb gently resting under her chin "You're so small, Sweetling...so innocent"

"I guess... It's one of the few ways I can make sure I don't get killed by a blackwood, unless you get mad at me"

he chuckled, his hand now slowly tracing the line of her jaw, his hand on her hip pulling her right up against him, so that she could feel every contour of his chest through his clothes. Her head was barely above his stomach now, forcing her to have to look up at him "Get mad at you? What could you possibly do that would anger your future husband?"

"...burn porridge?"

he cackled, a low chuckle rising from deep in his chest, the thought of this small, soft lady trying to make him porridge and burning it almost made him choke on his own laugh "Really? You think burning my porridge would get me angry? Out of all things that could make me angry, you choose burning porridge?"

"...I'm also not good at porridge"

he chuckled again, his eyes still taking her in, looking down at her small form and the way her body reacted to his touch, the slight shiver as his fingers traced her skin "And you think that making me bad porridge would upset me? What else can you not do? What other skills do you lack, my sweet Sweetling?"

"... Most of them" she nodded

his hand was still on her jaw, his thumb slowly tracing her soft skin as he looked into her eyes "Most of them? You can't even list a few? You really can't do much, can you?" He said the words in a soft tone, almost as if he found it more cute than disappointing

she nodded

he chuckled again, pulling her just a little closer against him, their bodies so close they were almost flush against each other "My Gods you are useless aren't you? Can't defend a boarder, can't cook, can't do anything... What can you do, my little sweetling?"

"... I can sew. I can embroider. I can knit... I... I... That's all."

he hummed, looking down at her soft face "Sewing, embroidering, knitting... Of course, that's all your pretty little mind can think of. Nothing that would actually be useful I assume"

"no,"

he chuckled, his other arm coming around her to wrap around her small, delicate waist, his hands holding her so tight against his chest that she almost couldn't move "You really are a simple little darling, a soft little wife meant to look pretty and have my children..."

she giggled but stopped herself when she realized that's a bad thing

he frowned when she stopped her giggle, his hand on her waist giving a soft squeeze "Why did you stop? I thought that was adorable?"

"I realized you meant it as in insult"

he gave a scoff, shaking his head "An insult? No, I didn't mean it as an insult. You are soft and delicate, made to look pretty and have my children. Not really made for much more, are you my sweet Sweetling?"

"I guess not" she agreed "are.. we really to go through with this?"

he chuckled, pulling her even tighter against his chest, his hands on her waist and jaw holding her so that she was flush against his chest. Her small body against his was almost too arousing, her curves pressing against him through her dress "Did you really think I was joking, sweetling?"

"... I don't know, this could all be a lie to kidnap me to raventree hill, and kill me" he chuckled again, a deep, amused laugh rising from his chest. He was starting to like her, she was too cute to not like. Pulling her against him a little rougher than before, he looked down at her "Why would I lie, dear? You are far more valuable alive than you are dead, a sweet little bride to strengthen my house, a pretty little pet to warm my bed and give me sons"

"and... What if I'm not good at that either?"

he chuckled, a low hum rising from his throat. She really was a sweet thing, almost too adorable to not love "How could you possibly mess that up? It would all be so simple, just laying down and giving me some heirs. A Sweetling like you can manage that much, can't you, my sweetling?"

"I'll certainly try my lord"

he smiled, his hands still holding her small frame against his chest. Her body was so delicate, he could wrap his hands around her waist completely. He smirked a low scoff rising from his chest "You'll try. It's adorable that you even think there's room to not do it. You will give me heirs, darling, you're far too soft not to"

she nodded agreeing and as soon as she did benjicot picked her up in his arms and began to carry her over the border to take her home with him to Raventree Hall

he chuckled, the feeling of her small, light body in his arms was satisfying, she really was just a Sweetling, small and soft and so, so useless. He could do whatever he wanted to her, and no one would be able to say a thing, she was now his to use and shape into a proper Lady "There we go, darling. Time to go home with your betrothed" he continued carrying her bridal-style, every step making her little body bounce a little in his arms, forcing her to wrap her arms around his neck to keep herself upright. As they left the riverland behind, he gave a deep, satisfied laugh "Off to Raventree Hall we go, sweetling. Off to be my pretty little wife"

she giggled her dress thin and soaked from the rain letting him feel every last inch of her, as she jiggled with the bounces he walks

he felt every bounce and jiggle from her body in his arms, the feeling of her body against his as she held onto his neck and her thin dress sticking to her body almost made him want to pin her on the ground right then and there and make her his right now "You really are a soft, fragile thing aren't you, my sweetling? You wouldn't last a moment on the field"

"I doubt think so" she agreed

he chuckled again, readjusting his hold on her to pull her closer against his chest, her body flush with his. The feeling of her curvy little body was so satisfying, so perfect against him "You're such an adorable thing, my Sweetling. So much more useful in a bed than on the battlefield, don't you think, sweetling?"

she nodded nuzzling his neck "hummm hubby"

he gave a deep humm as he felt her nuzzling into his neck, her little face almost adorable against the soft skin of his neck "Hubby? Is that what you're going to call me, sweetling? You are such a sweet little thing, aren't you?"

"is that okay?"

he chuckled, still walking and carrying her as he nodded "More than okay, sweetling. Sweet little thing like you, calling me hubby, how adorable. You're almost too little to be real"

[ponett]

Do you have any advice for people making OCs/sonas? Yours are really well rounded and unique and I'd greatly appreciate the insight of someone who got a passion project off the ground!

So this is a very broad topic, and it varies a lot based on your own creative goals, what kind of characters you're creating, and where you want to use them. Creating an OC to be used in furry pinups is a little different than creating one for a dramatic story. But I'll try to give some general advice on how I do things for the types of characters and stories I tend to work with

Heads up: this will be kinda long lol

The germ of an idea

For me, I'll generally be inspired to create a character starting with a small number of core traits. These could be anything. A color scheme, a body type, a job, a hobby, a personality archetype, an outfit, a visual motif, a functional role in a story I'm working on, a noteworthy facial feature, a weapon, a relationship of some sort to an existing character, a single scene or joke I want to use them for. For furries and fantasy characters, species is usually one of the first things I'll have an idea for, which tends to get the ball rolling fairly easily since we have all sorts of cultural associations with different animals and fantasy creatures.

Any standout character trait like this that you find compelling can serve as that initial spark. The inspiration can come from anywhere, but it's often just a matter of knowing yourself and your own tastes. What do you like? What are the people in your life like? What really speaks to you in a character? What's an existing fictional character that you'd like to rewrite and take in a different direction? What's an aspect of yourself that you would like to see represented more often in fiction? It doesn't have to be something super deep or fleshed out right from the start, though. You can start with something as simple as "I want a black cat character" or "I want a character who dresses like an arcade carpet" or "I want a character who looks scary but is actually nice." Whatever it is, it's something that differentiates the new character from the ones I already have, because otherwise I'd just be using them.

Contrast

From there, you can start brainstorming other traits that might go with those core traits. Some of those may be traits that naturally complement each other. Continuing with the black cat example, maybe you wanna play into the common cultural perception of black cats and say that this character brings bad luck, or is associated with witchcraft. However, I often like to give characters contrasting or even seemingly contradictory traits, which can help elevate a character beyond a stock archetype. Real people tend to be a walking ball of contradictions, after all.

I've talked a lot about how I did this with the main cast of SLARPG. Melody is a fox, traditionally a crafty and untrustworthy predator, but she's extremely introverted and gentle. Allison is a bunny, but instead of being a meek and cuddly little prey animal she's an outgoing fighter who loves a challenge, and she has a muscular build. I think this kind of thing gives characters some fun flavor, and can be really effective for both comedy and drama. For an example from something I didn't write, take Senshi from Dungeon Meshi. He's a dwarf, and he embodies certain stereotypical aspects of dwarves - he's a short, buff man with a big bushy beard, he lives underground, he's stubborn and doesn't like elven magic - but he also goes against some of them. Instead of being an expert on mining and blacksmithing, Senshi is a culinary expert who has a deep appreciation for the natural ecosystem of the dungeon. He's a weirdo among dwarves for not caring about the wellbeing of his axe and for using his super awesome shield primarily as a giant wok. And that's what makes Senshi fun and interesting.

So going back to our example, instead of going with the stereotype, we could make a black cat character who has comically good luck, or who's superstitious and afraid of witchcraft, or who's an extremely rational person who always believes in science over superstition. Or maybe you roll with the bad luck angle, but instead make the black cat be the victim of their own bad luck in some interesting way. Maybe this black cat has terrible luck with love and can't hold down a relationship. Maybe this black cat is an aspiring speedrunner who consistently gets the absolute worst RNG possible in every video game due to their own bad luck. Maybe this black cat has accrued a horrendous gambling debt after a long losing streak and has loan sharks coming after them.

These are all just hypothetical examples, of course. I don't exclusively make characters with ironic contradictions like this. The idea is just to build on those core traits you started with in interesting ways, and that's one of my favorite ways to do so. But honestly, a lot of the time execution is more important than the sheer originality of an idea, and sometimes really putting your all into playing a trope you love straight is the right move.

Specificity

Regardless of what direction I take a character in past that initial seed of an idea, the key ingredient tends to be specificity. To give them specific details beyond the most stock possible version of that core idea you started with.

This is something I internalized from Tim Schafer, via a blog post in the behind-the-scenes backer material for Broken Age. Sadly I'm not sure if that stuff is still available, but I did save this particular post about creating characters since it really helped me, so I'll directly quote a chunk of that post here:

No two characters would approach a problem or react to events in the same way. At least, not if you’ve designed the characters well. If you’ve left them too vague or superficial, if they are merely functional elements in your story instead of individuals, then they might react in the same way. And that’s a problem. So to avoid that, I’m going to talk about one the most important parts of character development: specificity. Making sure your character is a specific individual, not a stereotype. A unique character, different from anyone else in the world. It doesn’t mean that they have to have wacky gimmicks, eyepatches and crazy accents. It just means they have to be specific. For example, let's create a new character. Let's say your story has a scene where your main character gets in trouble in school. So you’re probably going to need a school teacher. Imagine a school teacher for a bit. Do you see her in a little red schoolhouse? Maybe a bun in her hair? An apple on her desk? Thick black glasses? Let’s put a ruler in her hand for good measure. Done! We have our teacher character. She’s ready to be in the scene where our hero goes to school and the teacher sends her to the principal’s office for passing notes. Right? I mean, this character doesn’t have too many lines, so why develop her character any more? The problem is that this teacher is a very shallow stereotype of a teacher. She has no specific attributes that make her memorable. She’s the teacher you would get in a set of free clip art. She might not have many lines, but if all your supporting characters are this way, your story will be more bland than it should be. Even if this teacher is only onscreen for a minute, she should be unique and different from any other teacher in the world. Luckily, it's not actually that hard to make her so. You just have to ask some very basic, specific questions.

Tim goes on to explain how simple exercises like filling out character sheets with basic questions about your character (there are a million of these online) can help push a character beyond a stock archetype, even if it's a minor supporting character. Questions about where they're from, their likes and dislikes, their beliefs, their goals in life, that sort of thing. For minor characters especially, a lot of these details may never actually come up in a story, but just asking even a few of these questions and giving them specific answers helps you see them less like an archetype and more like a real person in your head. Maybe you never bring up your character's backstory or their favorite sport or what kind of music they listen to, but just having a specific answer for questions like that might help color the way you depict that character in subtle ways. It makes it feel like they aren't defined by just that one core trait you started with, and helps make the characters and world feel more alive, like there's stuff going on with them beyond the bounds of the story or the drawing.

It's a careful balancing act, though. It's easy for a character to feel like they're a collection of too many unrelated gimmicks and quirks. Again, like Tim said, these specifics don't have to make for the craziest, most original character ever, there just has to be something there.

Let's go back to SLARPG as an example, where I combined broad character archetypes I liked with more specific personal elements that I felt like I wasn't seeing enough in the fiction I liked. Melody is riffing on the common idea of the reserved healer character in the RPG or MMO party and the shy girl archetype, but she's the main hero instead of a supporting player in another person's story, and she's also a fat bisexual trans woman who draws a lot of little details from my own life. Her interests, her relationships, her opinions on things, her personal hangups and dreams, these all set Melody apart from other fantasy healer characters and define her as Melody Amaranth. Specificity!

But it doesn't always have to be super deep, especially if you just want some characters to draw for fun and aren't planning on writing a story with them. Take my fursona. I've always loved dogs, so I made my fursona a dog. I chose a Samoyed in particular because I think Samoyeds are the cutest, and I hadn't seen hardly any anthro Samoyed OCs at the time. I leaned into the breed's signature fluffiness to help my fursona stand out from other canine OCs. She has simple identifying traits like being fat like me, wearing glasses like mine, and having a hairstyle kinda like mine (when I tied my hair up in a bun, at least). And there you go. Fursona achieved. She's not a wildly high concept character, but she doesn't need to be

Anyway I realize that this is mostly about the writing aspect, so here's a few quick bullet points about designing a character's appearance:

Face and body type variety are good, but personally I would say lack of body type variety is worse than same face syndrome

Knowing some stuff about shape language is good, but you don't have to be completely beholden to the "circles are friendly, squares are sturdy, triangles are scary" shit. I'm generally more interested in using repeated shaping in different parts of a character's design as sort of a shape motif. Melody's body, hair, and tail are all made of round, swooping shapes, for example. (This is more applicable if you're designing cartoonier characters as opposed to realistic humans, obviously.)

Knowing some basics of color theory is also good. I like using complementary and contiguous color schemes on characters and generally try not to use too many distinct colors on one design. Black and white and grey and various browns are good as neutral colors to balance out the colors of the rainbow, and gold can be a nice accent color

A small handful of identifying accessories can be fun, but don't rely on those to make a design stand out. Ideally your character should still be identifiable even when not wearing their default outfit, or even in silhouette

Aaaaaand I'm gonna call it a wrap there! This is a huge topic, so hopefully this helps with at least some of the basics! At the end of the day, though, don't beat yourself up if you can't sit down and force yourself to come up with the most crazy awesome OC ever. Just have fun and be yourself!