#aa long as it's those two

[idontknowmyownmind]

Father I don't want to Get Married RokCale version using Jubel and Regis story

Duke Roksu

In their first life, they had backstreet relationship

No one, and I mean not a single soul, know about their relationship

Despite their intimate and warm relationship, there are underline doubt, insecurities, and misunderstanding they harbor alone without telling their partner

Cale was accused of poisoning the Crown Prince

Roksu pulled Cale quite roughly, unintentionaly, toward a dungeon and gave him dagger without actually telling anything

Paired with his cold eyes and harsh tone, it's not a surprise that Cale misunderstood

Like Jubel who choose to end her life, so is Cale who rather take his own life than let Roksu did it

Everyone was shocked when they found Roksu, the cold, stoic and rarely smile Duke, pour his heart out while holding the corpse of the 'traitor'

The way he cry and holding him tight yet gentle

Unlike Regis who lost his mind and killed everyone, Roksu grief by locking himself with Cale's corpse

He become colder, always staying inside his chamber where Cale is

His family are worried, but everything they did doesn't seems like reaching him

They keep a close eye on him, fearing he will do something drastic

But they were careless for a moment and the next thing they found is Roksu cold, bloody, body beside Cale, hugging him close

In their second life, Roksu decided to let his closed companion aware of their relationship

So if something happened to Cale, he know they will protected him

Everything is fine, with Roksu hovering over Cale quite protectively

But, again, Cale died by his hand this time

Roksu doesn't mean it to happen, he meant to kill an enemy but why it's Cale who stand in front of him with his sword gone through his heart

This time, he completely lost his mind, he went rampage and killed everyone with cold and blank eyes with tears streaming down silently

His family need to stop him

Until he is at the brink of death, he crawl toward his beloved corpse, ignoring his bloody and broken body

His family want to heal him, but they know that it will only torture him so they let him go with heavy heart

In their third, current, life

Roksu went back way further and pursue Cale earlier and openly

He doesn't even hide his intention and make it clear that Cale is his and whoever dare to touch him will face him directly

He is a bit unhigine here, more protective and possessive toward the confuse red head, a bit much yandere and obssessive

[barnabyboppins]

I feel like you all would appreciate this

If yes or used to please say in the tags whats it's name,what animal it is and how old it is"

[mekatrio]

hate these kind of posts sm

[hellsitegenetics]

Long before time had a name, Ninjago was created by the First Spinjitzu Master, using the Four Weapons of Spinjitzu. The Scythe of Quakes, the Nunchucks of Lightning, the Shurikens of Ice and the Sword of Fire. Weapons so powerful, no one can handle all of their power at once! When he passed away, his two sons swore to protect them, but the oldest was consumed by darkness and wanted to possess them. A battle between brothers broke out, and the oldest was struck down and banished to the Underworld. Peace returned, and the younger brother hid the weapons, but knowing his older brother's relentless ambition for power, he placed a guardian to protect them. And for fear of his own demise, a map for an honest man to hide. That honest man was your father. The older brother is Lord Garmadon, and I... need to find those weapons before he does.

String identified: g t a a a, ag a cat t t t at, g t a t. T ct a, t cc gtg, t c a t . a , ca a a t at c! a aa, t t tct t, t t t a c a a at t t. A att t t t, a t t a tc a a t t . ac t, a t g t t a, t g t' t at , ac a gaa t tct t. A a , a a a t a t . Tat t a a at. T t Gaa, a … t t a .

Closest match: Neoneuromus ignobilis isolate Gutianshan chromosome 5 Common name: Dobsonfly

[6esiree]

Why Alastor Wanted To Adopt Your Daughter Pt.2

“Mmm.”

“Yes, yes, that’s it! Mmm, and then ama.”

“Mm… aa… dada?”

“Yes—wait, no! It’s mm…ama!”

“Mmm?”

“I’m sorry, but did she just call you… dada? Like, daddy?” Lucifer inquired over a glass of whiskey from the bar, inebriated enough to tolerate the idea of holding a conversation with Alastor. “You, her dad—or a dad in general? That’s… ha!” He continued, a toothy grin overtaking his features as he watched the man’s ears fall back against his head. “That’s hilarious, honestly.”

The sound of your sweet, little 10-month-old daughter calling the Radio Demon her dad between a series of babbles was just… comical, to say the least. Alastor wasn’t her father, and as far as Lucifer could remember, he wasn’t your partner. While he noticed the way the two of you would gaze at each other from across the room when either of you weren’t looking, your eyes full of longing and an unspoken desire to unite as a blended family since he started looking after your baby, you still remained a single mother with a child without a paternal figure.

“My, my, has my memory failed me?” Alastor hummed from the parlor, his knees digging into the plush carpet as he sat in front of your daughter, holding an open canister of baby puffs in his clawed-hand. “Because I don’t recall asking for anybody’s opinion, better yet yours.”

“Mm…dada?” There it was, that term Alastor had come to dread out of guilt; but he couldn’t stay mad at your daughter, his sharp features softening as she scooted closer to him on her bum, her chubby little hands making grabbing motions at the sweet treats in his grasp.

The sight surely made Lucifer’s drunken heart flutter, but he also despised Alastor. He despised him so much that he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he congratulated him for your child’s first words, and how… interesting it would be if you just so happened to step into the room at the same time. That sardonic smile he reserved for him and him only would probably twist, turn, and contort into all of the unique ways he could smile to communicate how he felt before the corners of his lips ultimately fell as you gasped in shock—or worse… horror.

And almost as if Alastor knew that, his head snapped over his shoulder with a dangerous glint behind those red eyes of his that promised to make the fallen angel’s life a living Hell—or more like a living purgatory—so long as he decided to linger in the Hazbin Hotel. He was trying to make things right, fully comprehending the weight of your daughter’s words and how it could hurt you after she brought back a memory nestled in the deepest, darkest crevices of his mind. A memory of the person he cherished the most and missed oh-so terribly: his beloved mother.

The memory was so fleeting, and yet the way her gentle voice echoed in the back of his mind as he walked away from Cannibal Town and down the streets of Hell, your daughter clinging onto the lapels of his coat like a lifeline, had his stomach churning with guilt. He vividly recalled how much it had meant to his mother that his first word as a baby had been mama, especially after life had treated her so unjustly. So, it only made sense that he believed that you’d feel a similar way as a single mother.

“Here, little one, for being able to pronounce the ‘M’ in mama,” Alastor affectionately hummed to your daughter as he gingerly placed a puff in her palm, trying to ignore the ache in his heart. “Now, unless you have something of use to provide me,” He continued, refusing to look at Lucifer, “I suggest that you resume your ritual display of drunken mediocrity and leave me in peace.”

“Excuse me? Oh, you piece of—look, even if you teach her how to say mama,” Lucifer scoffed before bringing the glass of whiskey back to his lips, savoring the sensation of the thick, warm liquid slowly trickling down his throat, “The moment that precious little girl sees you, she’s going to call you…” and he purposely emphasized each vowel with that forked tongue of his, “…da-da.”

Oh, Alastor had had enough, and he made that known as his tendrils materialized underneath Lucifer’s barstool and traveled up and up and up, till they wrapped around the man’s limbs, twisting and turning on the length of his arm and constricting his muscles much like a snake would before forcing his hand closed just enough to shatter the glass in his grip, whiskey trickling down the counter and staining his pristine white pants. That certainly made Alastor feel a bit better. Just a bit. Although the way his eyes squinted in amusement said otherwise.

“I was going to offer you some help, but now that you’ve stained my favorite pants—“

“Oh, you wear those pants all the time! They were due for a good washing.”

“That’s not true! I have others like—you know what? Fuck you!”

“Ha-Ha! I’m beginning to think that’s exactly what you want to do.”

“Oh, I’d apologize to Adam for taking both of his wives first—which I don’t regret at all—before even entertaining the thought of touching you.”

“Every word that’s seeped past those wretched lips of yours have been completely and utterly useless—come now, little one. Let’s get going.”

“Well, what did you expect? I don’t like you, but—hey, hey! You can’t leave! What if her mom hears that she called you dad—“

“Wait, what?”

Your voice suddenly penetrated the room, the silence that immediately settled between the two squabbling men almost deafening, but at least the sound of your daughter munching on her baby puffs made the tension in the room more… palpable. More palpable than the truth both Lucifer and Alastor thought would be difficult to digest, that the life you had created dared to utter the word ‘dada’ instead of ‘mama’ as her first word; and while you had to admit that you were slightly disappointed, it had more to do with the fact that you hadn’t been able to witness such a huge milestone in your daughter’s life.

“Why didn’t you tell me she said her first word?” You asked Alastor as Lucifer practically scampered out of the room, leaving the two of you alone. In his defense, he had to clean himself up, even though he could easily do that with a mere snap of his fingers. “And that it was—“

“Dada!” Your daughter interrupted you, offering the man carrying her a puff. He accepted the puff, but he didn’t eat it because why would he?

He had you standing right there before him, confusion etched onto those soft features of yours that made his stomach churn with something he couldn’t quite put his claw on. And the way you stared up at him in anticipation only exacerbated that foreign feeling, his heart-rate picking up, his adam’s apple bobbing underneath his collar, and his palms turning sweaty. It was all so strange—everything he was feeling at that very moment, to be exact. Perhaps some sort of illness had spontaneously befallen him?

“I hope you are not upset, darling. I allowed her to call me so out of… well, I’m not quite sure why I allowed it, admittedly,” Alastor stiffly spoke, readjusting your daughter on his hip, feeling her slip from his sweaty grip. “But I can assure you that I tried to fix my mistake, the little one is just rather stubborn—“

As Alastor uncharacteristically rambled on about his initial shock over your daughter calling him dada, you couldn’t find it in you to be upset at anybody in the room, not even if you wanted to. Your baby was… well, just a baby, and the man unconsciously bouncing on his heels in front of you as he slowly dissolved into a nervous mess? He obviously cared for her, and if she regarded him as a paternal figure… well, that was just alright with you. And you made that unequivocally clear by bringing him in for an embrace, your daughter squealing in delight.

You rested your cheek on his chest, your hands splayed across his back as you held both of your favorite people in Hell close to you. With your ear right above his heart, you could hear it beating rapidly against his ribcage, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as his body relaxed in your embrace… but not his heart-rate. ‘Babies do what they want, Al,’ You spoke, moving your head up to look at him, his stare already fixated on you, but the best part was when his pupils dilated. ‘I’m not upset… just, tell me next time, okay?’ Of course he nodded, but he still wondered if—

“Oh, and if she calls you daddy, it’s alright with me,” You hummed, balancing yourself on your toes, your plush lips pressing against his chin in a fleeting kiss that had his tail wagging underneath his coat. Fortunately, you couldn’t see. “Her biological father is a deadbeat, anyway.”

“Duly noted,” Alastor chuckled, finally returning the embrace; and despite how much he enjoyed your kiss, it was the way you and your daughter fit so perfectly in his arms that had that foreign feeling in his stomach—that supposed illness—threatening to consume him entirely.

Want to read part 1? Here it is —> 🤍

[lvlyghost]

The Things I Never Said

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: Simon had told you he never wanted to be a dad, so when the inevitable happens you run.

Word Count: 2.2k

Tw: angst, fluff, ooc simon(? descriptions of pregnancy and panic attacks, medical inaccuracies, slightly suggestive but nothing too explicit, this isn't proofread; i think that's it?✨

A/N: omg i couldn't stop thinking about this so i had to write it! I'm just feral for dad!simon loosely connected to this bc this is where the idea came from. Hope y'all enjoy it🫰🏻💛🦄

Masterlist✨| Part 2

You're shaking by the time you're out of the bathrooms. There's no doubt. You think with slight tremble on your lower lip. It almost feels aa of the world around you is closing in. Suffocating your lungs. Your vision blurs, when you toss the pregnancy test in the trash can.

This can't be happening. Not to you.

It's not that you didn't want to have kids.

But Simon didn't.

At this point you're sobbing uncontrollably, gasping for air. It's a good thing no one comes to this part late at night. The only moment you could find peace and solace. Sliding down the wall, hiding your face in your hands. How could you let this happen? You should've been more careful.

Your mind goes back to that day when neither of you cared about the consequences. Caught up in the moment, tearing each other's clothes; eager to be together. You hadn't seen Simon in two months when he was deployed to Serbia and you had to stay behind. Being both in the military meant knowing the risks. Every time could be the last time. You heard things about that specific mission. He got injured. You remember the gnawing fear clawing at your chest. And then there he was, knocking on your door as soon as they landed. His shoulder wrapped around bandages. He kissed you hard, desperately.

Hitting the mattress with you on top of him, not wanting to hurt him anymore. The sweet things he murmured in your ears, hands intertwined as you fall apart together.

You love him.

He cares for you.

But even if he felt slightly the same way about you, it wouldn't be enough.

Simon had... traumas. A tragic story of his own. You heard him talk about it late at night when he couldn't sleep. Those demons that plagued his mind, his dreams... and you listened. That's all you could do.

Offer a hand to the man that had saved you over and over again. And somewhere along the lines you fell.

And you fell hard.

Somewhere between dark nights and shared kisses at dawn.

-

You didn't get any sleep last night.

Your mind is still spinning with the anxiety. The morning sickness that started to disrupt as soon as you woke up. Red, puffy eyes that you try to dissimulate by washing your face hoping it goes away.

You get dressed feeling devastated, knowing that you'll have to face him as soon as you enter the training room. He's in charge. The mere thought makes you want to throw up. But you leave the bedroom nonetheless. Walking down the hallway feeling your hands sweating and your ragged breathing.

When you finally open the doors you're fifteen minutes late. That alone will earn you a punishment.

It's almost as if he feels your presence, immediately finding your form when you enter, his jaw tightens. Simon doesn't like this. But as long as you're under his command you get equal treatment or else, he'd be in problems. Both, would be in problems.

"Bit late Sergeant." He grumbles, emphasizing the last word staring directly in your eyes. Ghost is perceptive and is aware that something is wrong, but doesn't comment on it... yet. "Fifty push-ups. Start sparring when you're done."

You swallow down saliva, feeling your throat constrict.

Fuck, fuck. Don't cry. Not right now.

This whole situation has you sensitive.

You start, concentrating on doing the push-ups. Hearing the distant voice of him echoing around the room, sometimes you think he's closer to where you are then he's gone, but his gaze never leaves you. It's almost sinful how good he looks in that tight green army t-shirt and cargo pants

Your arms are sore and wobbly by the time you finish. Standing up you fight a wave o nausea, closing your eyes so hard you see white dots behind your eyelids.

"You alright?" It's Kyle's hand on your shoulder what brings you back, your eyes fluttering open and find him looking at you, eyebrows slightly raised.

You give him a small smile and a nod.

"Just tired that's all. Didn't get much sleep last night." You divert your gaze where the rest are beginning to spar. "How mad is Ghost?"

Gaz chuckles.

"I wouldn't call that mad. I think he's worried. You look like shite, dear."

"Oh." You say.

Gaz prompts you to the other side to join the training. Everyone's gathered around the training mat. Soap is kicking a soldier's ass. What was his name again? You forgot.

A gentle brush on your skin and then delicate fingers wrap your arm. You freeze, Simon's feather touch sends goosebumps all over your body. You turn your face upward to acknowledge him. His deep blue eyes soften when you look at him.

"Is everything okay Sergeant?" He asks. No. He demands.

You open your mouth and then close it. That's a question you don't know yourself.

I wish. You want to say.

But nothing will ever be okay after last night.

"I... I- didn't get much sleep, Sir. That's all."

Simon sighs but doesn't insist. He just nods, accepting your answer for now, once the training is done he'd talk to you. "You're up." He instructs.

Hand to hand to combat has never been your strongest suit but you do it nonetheless. Informatics on the other hand... you're the best of the best. That's why you're here, why you're a part of the task force.

Ghost stands within your range of vision in a way that you can see that he's there even when you're fighting.

You start although you're not in your best shape. Your heart is racing but not for the adrenaline. Your mind is fuzzy and your stomach churns. The panic is starting to break loose on you. You recognize the signs. You barely dodge the man's punch, this can't be called sparring. You're merely deflecting his hits, defending yourself.

Get a fucking grip!

Soap and Gaz look at each other. Then at Ghost who's clenching his fists, looking like he's about to jump between the two and kill the man. They get ready just in case something goes sideways.

You see his fist coming to your face, you take a step back but it grazes your left cheek. Someone in the distance swears and it's enough to distract you, the next blow goes to your gut. He doesn't even hit you with full force, noticing your lack of response he refrains as much as he can but it connects with your abdomen nevertheless.

It suffocates you. Brings you to your knees spitting saliva and gasping for air. You hear the soldier's frantic apologies. You cough trying to breathe but you just can't. It hurts you.

In a quick move Ghost is kneeling beside you, eyes scanning your body for external injuries. Anything.

"Hey... hey, kid! Look at me!" He orders. You can't, mostly because you're gasping for air, coughing, and the pain in your stomach. Ghost grabs your face seeing the tears collecting in the corner of your eyes. Another wave of nausea hits you and you spit out whatever comes out of your mouth. Simon takes you in his arms lifting you and runs to the infirmary, gritting his teeth. His steps echoing in the empty hallway as he bursts the doors of the med wing open.

-

"Captain..." you greet him as soon as you walk into his office, closing the door behind you with a soft click. Price looks at you, arms crossed. The bucket hat resting on his head. He's dead serious.

"Does he know?" He interrogates with that deep voice of his. It's only been an hour since the incident. Price had to do all in his power to keep Ghost busy. It nearly costs him a limb and a punch to his face. There's only so much he can do.

"No." You murmur, looking down to your feet.

"Jesus, kid." He pinches the bridge of his nose. His head was pounding already. This wasn't good. For any of them. John had decided to turn a blind eye on the situation. As long as it didn't interfere with their duties. Now? He shakes his head. Price walks towards you, the youngest of his team and a valuable asset. You were important to him, to everyone in the 141; to Simon in a very different way. "I'm putting you on medical leave. You must take care of your health, your body. I'll see what I can do, yeah? And for the love of God, talk to Simon."

-

You don't.

And that's because you're terrified. As soon as you left Price's office you ran to your room throwing your belongings in a duffel bag. You needed time to think. Of course you'd tell Simon.

Just not right now.

The disapproving stare of the doctor was enough to make you feel bad about hiding your pregnancy from him and then your Captain. You bite your lip and head out, the taxi driver is waiting already so you hop in, wishing to get some time alone. Clear your head and then find the best way to tell Simon about this.

It's raining outside by the time you're in your apartment. You've had time to get a quick shower and take the ibuprofen for your sore body. Your hands run absentmindedly to your stomach, soothing the skin but flinching when you press too hard. You should've stayed at base and talk to him after what happened.

But you're scared of the outcome.

By this time Simon must've found out you're gone. You won't blame him if he hates you. After all you ran away from him, like a coward.

Pouring some tea on a mug you hear the sound of keys jingle, and the footsteps followed by a large shadow that towers above you. Blond hair and hard eyes contemplating you, the mask is gone...

Holy shit. You think.

The only thing that Simon finds comfort in is gone. There's something about him not hiding behind the balaclava that sets deep in your heart. As if he were baring himself to you. Not that you hadn't seen his face before; that's exactly why this is more meaningful. It's serious. He chose to show you how vulnerable you can make him.

"Why?" His stern voice sends shivers down your spine. "I went to check on you and the first thing they say is that you're gone." His lips are pressed in a thin line.

"Simon, it's not what you're thinking..."

"Then bloody tell me what is it." He seethes, taking a step closer. "Was already losing my fucking mind over that bastard hitting you and suddenly you're gone?" He shakes his head. "Had I known you weren't going to fight back..."

"I'm pregnant." You blurt out, interrupting his talk. Simon's jaw clenched, halting and freezing on his spot. "And I'm sorry I didn't come to you as soon as I found out but I was scared." Your lips quiver and you hold back a sob, but unable to do much about the tears. "I was scared to tell you because I know you never wanted any of this, I failed to you. I couldn't sleep, I was panicking and the thought of losing you... I needed time to figure out how to tell you." Simon is silent, he doesn't move nor blinks. He just stares. Memories of his time with his father flooding his mind. He never wanted kids. That's true.

Seeing you there, in front of him. Choking on your words, crying because you thought he'd abandon you like you were nothing? Bloody fucking Christ it breaks his heart. Very few things had that effect on Simon. He had made you fearful of facing this on your own. Did you think you were just his friend with benefits? Someone he'd come to whenever he wanted to get laid? Hadn't you seen the way his eyes roamed over you whenever you were around? Never fucking heard the despair in his voice when you got shot during that black ops in Afghanistan? How he seemed to loom over your presence if some pathetic muppet tried flirting with you? The nights spent in his bedroom, limbs tangled hearing you speak about your day? The mission when he finally realized he was completely and utterly fucking enamored with you?

That time he wouldn't leave your bedside because you were severely wounded and comatose?

"I am not my old man, kid." He states after a few minutes of silence. "And if it wasn't clear already, I'd do anything for you. I don't know shite about being a parent but I'll try, yeah? For you..." he clears his throat. This was as complicated for him as it was for you. "For both of you, I'll try." The words sound strange coming out of his mouth. You close the space between you and hug him, inhaling his scent. He kisses your temple while rubbing soft circles on your back. Relief washes over your body and the tears stop gradually, until it's just the two holding one another during a raging storm of feelings and nature outside.

Soon the tension, the doubts and the anxiety are replaced with reassurance and loving words.

Promises.

Things you never thought you'd hear.

[avocado-writing]

little horny Logan x reader thing. set after the events of deadpool + wolverine. may turn this into something longer one day

tw: alcoholism, AA meetings

rating: explicit

You are two broken people attempting to piece each other back together. 

It feels like a fruitless task sometimes; a Sisyphean boulder, both of you trying to rebuild a heart which has been shattered so many times it can hardly hold love any more. 

But then there are those moments that shine through. You ask him not to smoke, he puts his cigar away. You stop off at the corner store to grab a six-pack, he reminds you that you just got your one year token. 

You met him at AA of course, he was the new guy who had his walls up, you were the old-timer of the group who kept trying not to relapse. Alchohol had taken a lot from you and you didn’t want to let it take any more. Pushing back against it felt impossible but hey, one step at a time. 

Those groups, tucked away in a church basement - buried in the ground as if to, ironically, avert the eyes of god - were your lifeline for a long while. 

After trying to strike up conversation with him, you assumed he hated you. Maybe he was just that brisk with everyone, never sharing at meetings or sticking around to talk after. But then one night he found you about to go into a bar because you were so fucking stressed and a glass of whiskey sounded so so good, and all gruffness and flannel he’d managed to talk you out of it. He’d bought you a coffee and managed to wring out of you that your landlord was pressuring you for money you didn��t have, and you’d rather spend your last twenty dollars on something which made you feel good than try and meet a rent which kept skyrocketing. 

Logan had looked at you, levelly, and told you he’d speak to the guy for you. 

You got a text the next day from your landlord to say that your rent wouldn’t be increasing and, actually, would be going down considerably instead. 

And it was the start of… something. Something strange and fragile, but it was there. You walked his roommates’s dog with him, the weirdest little fucking thing you’d ever seen but quite affectionate despite her bug-eyes and lolling tongue, and Logan was the softest you’d ever seen him when he carried her in his arms when she plopped down on the sidewalk and refused to move any more. 

He fell off the wagon a lot, but that was okay. Recovery wasn’t a straight line, that was something you knew all too well. He was a struggling man and he was trying. To attempt to keep him away from the bottle you’d invite him round practically every night to watch a movie. Action flicks, sappy romances, stupid comedies, the two of you got through them all, and every night you got closer and closer on your beaten-up old couch until he finally fucking kissed you. 

He pulled you into his lap and you felt him get hard in a way which suggested he hadn’t been this close to someone for a long time. His tongue was hot, his hands rough, and you palmed him through his jeans until he came like the two of you were teenagers messing around for the first time. 

You were worried afterwards that you’d scared him off by being too forward, but you got a text asking if you were on for a movie that night. 

It got to the start of the second act before it was forgotten about entirely, your jeans thrown over the end table where you kept the popcorn as he fucked you with his mouth. You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled until he grunted in satisfaction. Afterwards, his lips and beard were glistening with you. You tasted your orgasm on his tongue as you kissed. 

The night after, you were on your knees between his thighs, his cock buried in your throat and his grip practically tearing your pillows to shreds. 

“You can grab onto me, you know,” you’d whispered, spit dripping down your chin, slightly concerned for your sofa’s upholstery. Logan had stared at you like you’d hung the fucking stars. 

“Yeah, fuck. Okay, baby.”

He dragged you up and down the length of him, fingers against your scalp, and he came so hard that you couldn’t swallow it all. 

Things just… progressed. 

It wasn’t perfect. The two of you were finding your feet again in a confusing and hostile world. But you had each other, and that was a hell of a lot more than most people had. When you fucked, when you felt him slide inside you in a way which made you feel more full than you ever had before, the way his whispered your name like a little prayer and you were his god, all of it… just fucking perfect. 

But the best part was always after. When you were in the hazy glow, cheek against his chest, feeling his heart beating steadily at the comfort of having you pressed up at his side. 

Well. 

You made each other’s worlds brighter.

[junosswans]

FMA sketches by Ace Attorney's character designer, Iwamoto Tatsuro

For the past week, Iwamoto-san has been posting sketches of FMA characters on his twitter as a part of his daily sketching challenge and they are absolutely BEAUTIFUL.

I really want to share his art over here and also translate his posts for you all because I think his commentaries are quite insightful for people who are interested in character design!

[Those who know their AA lore would recognize him as who voiced Edgeworth (Mitsurugi) in the games :3]

Anyways, below are his FMA sketches he's shared on twitter so far! (Contains: Ed, Hughes, Kimblee, Mustang, Breda) You can click on the dates to see their original post. I will add to this post if he shares any more sketches, it seems that he has been on an FMA roll xD

###

25/11/2023

If you draw your favourite things out you will know them better! So, this is Edward Elric from #FullmetalAlchemist.

Even if you have decided on the pose you want to draw, it is better to sketch out these three first:

the moment before the pose is struck

the pose itself

the moment after the pose is struck

then decide which image works better for your art. I learned this from a really great senior of mine, and it is very solid advice.

###

29/11/2023 (Translator's note: I decided to move this one to the top because it is my favourite. No I don't accept criticism.)

I have been drawing Ed's automail again.

I like it when the machine part has a distinctly different silhouette compared to the human body, so I added some original ideas to the design.

What design should I draw next? Perhaps I should draw the military uniform?

# (combined two posts because they’re the progression of the same piece.) #

26/11/2023

Again, it is the time of "drawing your favourite things to know them better!"

It feels so good to draw such great characters...

27/11/2023

My Photoshop has been crashing for mysterious reasons the whole morning, and I tried to troubleshoot in the afternoon and it was a PAIN. Computers are really difficuuuuuuuult--

###

28/11/2023

Iwamoto-style drawing Masterclass: Bonus!

It is the "Give the leather and metal items a bit of flare/shine to immediately make the drawing look more complete"-jutsu!

###

30/11/2023

I wanted the clothes to give off an oversized, loose impression.

Canon Hughes didn't seem to be wearing a shirt underneath... hmm.

03/12/2023

I am beginning to understand the structure of the military uniform better...

Realising the butt flap/cape didn’t actually connect to the upper jacket is a shocker to me.

###

03/12/2023

A continuation of yesterday's sketch

...or so I thought, until I realized how King Bradley and Kimblee during the Ishval war had a different overcoat design, in which they actually wore a single long coat instead of a separated upper and bottom set.

###

04/12/2023

When his clothes were unbuttoned, there was something that looked like an additional button on his right chest... I wonder if it could be fastened from the back?

(Translator's note: sorry, I have no idea what button he's referring to here lol)

###

05/12/2023

I like how each character's personality was expressed through the way they dress. Contrary to his appearance, this person was very intelligent, which makes him such a great character.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The two weeks since you gave notice fly by. You’re almost buzzing with excitement. Once the day is through, you’re free. Well, free to finish packing and spend your last night in your apartment before your new chapter. 

The change couldn’t come at a better time. It’s best you get out of the city after your brush with danger. Back on the straight and narrow. For once, things are going according to plan. 

You’re barely focused on work. You have everything wrapped up and ready for the next poor soul. Brenner’s not bothered. He just sits at his desk, watching those videos that reflect in his framed certification. You try your best not to look. 

All you can think of is packing up at the rest of the day and never looking back. This new job is everything you ever wanted. And the interview was great. They seemed great and the culture was more than a slimy boss and elderly secretary knitting by the door. 

As if on cue, Geraldine squawks a greeting as the door open. You flinch and look over as she preens, “why hello, sir. Back again?” 

You don’t get too many walk-ins. You turn and your eyes bulge as Rogers lets the door close behind him. He wears a dark blue suit with a matching tie. His hair looks even longer than before, his beard thicker. It’s been barely a month but it feels like longer. 

You turn to your desk and click around your screen. Remember what he said. As far as you’re concerned, he’s a stranger. 

So why is he walking towards your desk. Brenner clears his throat and stands, his mouse bouncing off his keyboard as he scrambles. You swallow dryly and keep your head down. 

“Mr. Rogers, sir, what can we do for you this time?” 

“Got another job.” Rogers intones. 

“Sure, uh, we’re a bit short-handed but--” 

“Her,” Rogers stops beside your desk and taps the corner. “Come on.” 

You flinch and look up at him in dread. You frown. You’re confused. He told you to forget and you did your best to do just that. 

“Right, er,” you sniff and twine your fingers together to keep from fidgeting. “Happily, er, sir, but the thing is, it’s my last day. Tomorrow--” 

“I’m not asking. Come on.” 

“Oh, uh,” you hesitate. He sounds angry. You know what happens when he’s mad. The thought makes you light-headed. “Well, I’m moving out-of-town so--” 

“Get up,” he demands as he shifts towards you, reaching over your shoulder to grip the back of your chair. “Important work to do.” 

“Go on,” Brenner says, “help out Mr. Rogers.” 

Rogers’ icy blue eyes flick up to the other man and narrow. A warning. I don’t need your help. He pushes away from you and the chair rocks dangerously. Back to square one. Back to an angry dog bristling for a fight. 

“Sure, sure,” you show your palms then slowly pivot. 

You gather up your briefcase and check that all the drawers are empty. You wonder if maybe you’re taking so long but you really don’t want to come back here after whatever trouble this man has in store. You get up with your bag in hand. 

Rogers turns without a word and strides across the office. You follow. You catch up to him outside as he holds the door for you. As you try to keep pace with him, you muster all your courage. 

“I hope this is a short job, I have aa moving truck--” 

“I’m not negotiating.” 

“Alright,” you accept with a squeak. 

It’s all too familiar. There’s no explanation. Just blunt orders and tense silences. He opens the passenger door of his black car and you get in. He goes around the driver’s side and turns the engine. 

“Whatever job you took, won’t pay as much as this one so let’s stop with that,” he says. 

You blink. This can’t be happening. You had it all figured out. You’re done with criminals and Mr. Brenner and all of this. You frown. You feel his gaze in the mirror. He sighs. 

“We gotta go outta town. I need someone who can do numbers.” 

“Outta town?” You murmur. 

“Sounds like you’re already packed and ready to go, so we’ll drop by to grab some stuff and head off. No time to waste--” 

“What? I... but...” you stammer. 

You snap your mouth shut as you sense his roiling irritation. Oh, oh no. You know what this is. Too good to be true which means it’s all falling down around you. ‘Out of town?’ You know what that means. 

Your head bobbles as your breath burns in your chest. You grab at the door handle and whine, “please, don’t. Please, let me out. I didn’t tell anyone, I didn’t--” 

“Hey, stop that,” he grabs your shoulder and pulls you back against the seat, steering with his other hand. “You’re going to get hurt--” 

“You’re going to hurt me?” You squeal and your eyes roll back into a fog. 

You feel the lurch of the car before you plunge fully into the darkness. It’s like blinking. You wake up against the seat. He’s still driving. You don’t recognise your surroundings. 

“No!” You erupt back into consciousness. “No! Why are you doing this? I promised! I didn’t talk to anyone, sir! I didn’t. I’m leaving town and--” 

“Calm down,” he grits over the wheel. 

“No! No! If you’re going to kill me, then I’m not going down easy,” you insist, “I’m going to--” 

The world turns gray again and you hit the door with a thunk. You sink again into your vacant mind. A shift in motion wakes you again. There’s music playing. 

“Am I dead yet?” You ask groggily. 

He scoffs, “what’s gotten into you? I told ya, we got a job.” 

“We? Job?” You sputter. “You know, I know what ‘out of town’ is. I watched The Godfather. Boring but they were streaming it...” 

“Huh? Godfather? No, no, look, I don’t kill people I can use,” he says plainly. 

“Oh... that’s not reassuring,” you utter. 

He lets out another long breath. Yours starts to pick up again. You brace the door. 

“Damnit, don’t you pass out again,” he demands. “I know you kept your promise. That’s why I chose you. This is an important job. Diplomatic. I can’t risk someone who might flip and I know you’re not going to do any of that. Because I know you don’t want to do any of this.” 

You consider his words. You clutch your head, ��fair.” 

“Are you good? I got some water,” he points to the bottle in the plastic holder by the console. 

“I... I won’t...” you inhale deeply. “I just—you said we were done.” 

“Shit happens,” he shrugs. 

“And I’m just along for the ride,” you mumble. 

He snorts and shakes his head, “guess so.” 

[a-araiguma-a]

He loved only her

No one in particular, just an elf from the universe of J. R. R. Tolkien. Elf x f!reader

In the ancient forests of Middle-earth, where tall trees concealed the sky, there lived an elf. His people were as eternal as the forest itself, and their hearts were rarely clouded by mortal emotions. But one day, he met a woman—a simple, human, mortal woman. There was something about her that made his heart beat faster: her beauty, which could neither be captured by the finest poets nor sung by the greatest musicians, her mind, so unlike that of other humans, filled with thoughts, ideas, and philosophy, or her eyes, in which one could drown if they gazed too long. It was something he could not understand, but this only made his love grow deeper.

"Cormamin lindua ele lle"—he always wanted to tell her that his heart sang at the sight of her, but it was not the right time, not yet. From the moment of their first meeting, he sought her out and waited for her in this forest every day when the sun's rays gently touched the ground, filtering through the thick foliage.

She told him about her world, about the brief lives of humans, about how they lived and died, dreaming and suffering.

"Lle naa vanima,"—he blurted out one day, not even realizing when he had said it: "You are beautiful." "What did you say?"—fortunately, she didn't understand his words, and that saddened him. It was not enough for him to meet her in the evenings; he longed to extend their conversations, to stretch them out for an hour, two, or forever. He listened to her stories, captivated not by the words themselves but by how her voice filled the emptiness in his soul. Without her, he would never have known the need to fill it.

"Tua amin!"—But did he need help? Did he need to be saved from her? Honestly, no, he was ready to drown in her eyes, ready to die if only to meet her once more. He was ready for anything...

But the Elf did not know how to tell her about his feelings. He understood that the time she gave him was limited, and each moment with her was precious. But how could he explain this? How could he tell her that his heart, which had always been eternal and free, now belonged to her? "The more you love someone," he thought, "the harder it is to tell them." "Nin lithiach, Meleth nín"—she truly enchanted him every time he saw her, even in his thoughts. His beloved. "Guren mil gaim lín"—his heart was in her hands—"Tessa sina ten’ amin"—he asked her to keep it, but in truth, she was free to do with it as she wished, as long as it was her.

And she accepted him. She had loved him too, ever since then, but she understood that it would be difficult for him; her life was short, and what would happen afterward, when she left him? She was ready to weep over such a truth. "Amin uuma malia, Arwen en amin"—it didn't concern him. Being with her and having her even for a moment was already enough. The chance to call her his—that was his happiness. His Lady, who ruled his heart and mind.

As the years passed, she began to talk more often about parting, though it pained the elf to hear it, he couldn't disagree. "When the day comes that we part," she said quietly, "if my last words aren't 'Amin mela lle,' you'll know it's because I didn't have time." In those moments, he remained silent, lost in thought, unable to find the words to express that his love knew no bounds of time. "Meleth e-guilen, my love is selfish. I can't breathe without you,"—she was the love of his life. How could she speak of them parting, not seeing her, not inhaling her scent in the mornings, no more afternoon conversations about books, about how Ellen had messed up her work again, no more seeing her smile, or those gentle eyes full of love for him... "Aa’ lasser en he coia orn n' omenta gurtha!"—Let the leaves of her tree of life never wither, he prayed. Just a little longer, he wasn't ready yet, but how could he stretch this time?

But when the fog enveloped the forest, and the cold wind brought with it a premonition of farewell, the elf finally spoke what was in his heart. He took her hand and said: "I was destined to live a thousand years, and I belong only to you for all those years. If we were to live a thousand lives, I would want you to be mine in every one of them." She looked at him, and a tear glistened in her eye. She knew their time was running out, but these were the words she believed in more than anything in the world.

For the elf's love was as eternal as the forest itself, and he continued to love, despite their parting, carrying his feelings for her through the years and ages of his life.

"Cormamin niuve tenna’ ta elea lle au’"—My heart will wait until it sees you again. "Le me ithon anuir"—I will love you forever. "Quel kaima"—Rest well.

[shixcherie]

Rum To My Whiskey | Jung Wooyoung ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

☆ Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 01 : Drunk Sex

↬ [ Synopsis ] : He called you the rum to his whiskey, his partner in crime and his best friend. All it took was a few shots, a risky bet, and a night of unexpected passion to tear down those walls. Best friends won’t be best friends after this wild night, I guess.

Word Count : 1.8k Genre : Non Idol Au, Smut, Angst. Pairing : Best Friend! Wooyoung x F.Reader

WARNINGS : Pure smut (18+), a bit of plot, both are switch!, praise, dirty talk, making out, neck kisses. Biting and marking, pet names (angel, baby, babygirl), whiny Wooyoung, marking, mentions of alcohol consumption (rum, whiskey, shots).

Tag list OPEN! - let me know if you want to be tagged for this Kinktober list

☆☆☆ NOTE : First fic of Kinktober is hereeee!!! It's also the very first fic I've written for this blog. It's a bit long because I'm planning to hide some Easter eggs here and there. And of course, the first fic has to be about Wooyoung, as this man singlehandedly dragged me into the world of ATEEZ. Hope you enjoy it, ma chéries! ☆.

Being best friends with Woo for years has taught you one thing, this guy is un-fucking-predictable.

One minute, he's all giggly and smug, teasing you to no end, and the next thing you know, he’s riling you up so much that you somehow fall into his trap.

This time, his game was a bet, a wild one at that. The bet was to seduce Yunho, the hotshot you'd been eyeing all night at this masquerade-themed party, and drag him into the nearest room for a steamy session. The catch? You couldn’t take off your mask.

It was a bet that would come back to bite you in the ass later.

But, after having god knows how many shots of Havana Club’s finest, you weren’t in the right state of mind to form a responsible thought. All you wanted was to prove Woo wrong. So, you went through with it. And you won! The mask stayed on the whole time while you and Yunho had your fun.

After winning a bet, downing 20 shots, and having a wild session with Yunho, the last thing you expected was to find yourself in an extremely intimate position with your best friend, Jang Wooyoung.

Then how did you end up like this, your back pinned against the wall in Woo’s bedroom, legs lazily wrapped around his waist, while Wooyoung left open-mouthed kisses along your neck, occasionally biting just enough to make your toes curl?

Everything happened so fast, you can barely recall how you both got here.

“Woo…aa..aa” you moaned, trying to form actual words, but all that escaped were breathy sounds. Your fingers tangled in his now messy hair as you tried to make sense of the situation unfolding right in front of you.

“Oh, you poor baby” Woo cooed softly into your ear. “How is this too much for you, when you enjoyed Yunho’s monster dick so much, huh ?” You could hear a hint of jealousy in his voice as he brought up Yunho.

Why is Woo angry ? When did I mention about Yunho’s dick to him ? Aren’t we best freinds ? Why is he almost ready to fuck the soul outta me ?

Were you confiused ? Yes.

Are you complaining tho ? Fuck No!

This wasn’t the first time you two had gotten a little too close. You’d kissed in the past, with Woo’s logic being: Best friends who love each other , Kiss each other. And honestly, you never saw a problem with it. After all, there was no way either of you would catch feelings, right?

But there was something about the way he kissed you, the way he touched you, and how your body eagerly responded. It didn’t make sense to you, but you enjoyed it. So, you never stopped him but you both never crossed the line, ofcourse.

Wooyoung and you were like a well-crafted cocktail, always mixing together perfectly. Over the years, you’d made countless bets, each one a shot of daring mischief, setting each other up with other people, yet somehow, you always returned to one another like the sweet allure of rum after a long night. Your connection was like a fine whiskey, smooth and warming, leaving you both craving the intoxicating spark that only each other could ignite.

You were the Rum to his Whiskey.

—

He leaned in closer, capturing your lips with his. They were just as soft as you remembered, fitting perfectly against yours. As his lips pressed deeper, a wave of heat surged through you. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you even closer as your back remained pinned against the wall. You could feel his hardness pressing against you, heightening the electric tension between you.

With a playful smile, Wooyoung teased your lips with his tongue, coaxing you to let him in. You opened up, and he dove deeper, his tongue dancing with yours in a sultry rhythm. Pulling him even closer felt impossible, but you did it anyway, soft moans escaping your lips as you kissed him hungrily, savoring him like never before.

“You’re so perfect” he murmured against your mouth, his breath hot and heavy. Every kiss ignited a fire within you, making you crave more of him and this moment, where nothing else mattered but the two of you lost in each other.

“I want you so badly, baby. I can’t control myself anymore” he admits eagerly, his words slightly slurred as he pauses for your response but continues to pour out his heart. “Every time we kissed, I felt something different, something I couldn’t quite explain. It was more than just a kiss; it was like waking up to a desire I never knew I had. Each touch sent my mind into a frenzy, but I had to hold back because we’re just fucking best friends!” His frustration seeped through his confessions, his eyes slightly glassy.

He leans in closer, his breath warm and tinged with alcohol against your skin. “And when you walked out after being with Yunho, the way you talked about him, saying his heavenly and huge dick that literally showed you stars, damn baby, that felt like a punch to the gut. I can’t share you with anyone, not anymore.” His gaze locks onto yours, a mix of vulnerability and drunken desire swirling within them. “I’ve tried to ignore it, but I can’t. I want you, all of you, only for myself. All for myself.”

A faint memory crosses your mind.

“Woooooo, that was amazing! I had the best time with Yunho. He literally showed me stars; his dick is hugeee!” you exclaimed, nearly tripping as you made your way back to Wooyoung. Just as you were about to hit the ground, he caught you mid-fall.

“Careful, babe. I can see he’s taken your ability to walk properly” he replied snarkily, a hint of jealousy creeping into his voice, but somehow it went unnoticed by you. You both walked out of the club as the party began to wind down and people started leaving.

Woo’s house was close by, so you had already decided to crash at his place for the night. But your wobbly form wasn’t going to make it there, so Woo decided to give you a piggyback ride.

“I think I like him.” you murmured sleepily, hanging on Woo’s back. The confession made something stir inside him, his grip tightening just a bit.

“What if I like you more?” Wooyoung muttered, his voice low but playful, hoping to gauge your reaction.

You smirked, half-asleep but aware enough to tease him back. “Then stop talking and show me, Woo.” Your voice was soft but daring, the challenge hanging in the air between you two.

__

“Can I have you, baby? Please? Or do I have to wait all night while you keep teasing me?” Woo whined, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, desperate yet teasing.

His girthy cock was now out of his pants, slowly rubbing against your soaked clit, sending shivers all over your body, heightening your arousal as the warmth of his skin against your core made your breath hitch.

“Soaking wet already, angel? All for me?” he teased, as you slickly glided against his hard length. All you could manage was a breathy "Mmmhmm." Your body was on fire, an urgent craving making you whiny and eager in a way you’d never felt before.

“I never realized you wanted me as much as I want you, Woo. I can’t wait any longer, so stop teasing and just get inside me already” you breathed out, the words falling from your lips in one swift rush, eager for him to fill you completely.

That was all he needed to hear. Without wasting a second, Wooyoung slammed his entire length into your heat in one swift motion. A high-pitched scream escaped your lips. “Nnnngh! Woo… too much… but don’t stop… please” you panted, your fingers gripped his shoulders fiercely, scratching down his back with each thrust, anchoring yourself in the moment.

He lifted your hips slowly, teasingly, until you were right at his tip before slamming you back down, hard. The sudden thrust sent a wave of pleasure rippling through your entire body, making you tremble in his strong grasp.

“You’re taking me so well, baby,” he groaned against your ear, his voice dripping with lust. “So tight, so warm… feels like you’re made just for me.” His words were like gasoline to the fire already burning inside you.

Each thrust grew rougher, the heat between you two intensifying as your bodies moved in perfect sync. The air was thick with his grunts and your breathy moans along with the wet, delicious sound of your bodies claiming each other. His pace quickened, and with every slam of his hips, you could feel your body being pushed closer to a mind-numbing release.

“You’re so tight… fuck, baby, you feel incredible” he growled against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His lips grazed your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as he kissed, licked, and nipped his way up to your ear. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Your head fell back, every inch of you on fire. “Woo… I’m so close… I need you” you gasped, barely able to get the words out as your body tightened around him.

His grip on your hips was bruising, pulling you down onto him with an urgency that left you breathless. “You want me to make you come, angel?” His voice was thick with desire, words dripping with lust as he slammed into you harder. “I want to feel you fall apart on me... give it to me, baby. Show me how much you want me.”

The way he spoke to you was enough to send sparks through your body. “Please, Woo... I need it” you whimpered, desperate for release.

His hand slid down between your bodies, finding that sensitive spot and rubbing slow, teasing circles. “I can feel how bad you want it. Come for me, baby. Let me hear those pretty sounds when I make you come undone.”

The combination of his words, his touch, and the relentless thrust of his hips sent you crashing into a wave of ecstasy. Your body trembled as you came undone around him, screaming his name as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

You both crash on to his bed. Tiredness taking over both of you.

“That has to be the best sex I’ve ever had in my life” you admit, teasingly adding, “For a best friend, you’re not too bad.”

Wooyoung stayed quiet for a moment before softly confessing, “I like you, more than just a friend. I don’t want to share you with anyone else, not anymore.”

His words, sincere despite the drunken haze, struck a chord with you. “I like you too, more than a friend. But... do you only like me? Not love me?” You couldn’t help but ask, hoping for more.

He chuckled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Nah, I’m too drunk to say ‘I love you’ right now. But when I sober up in the morning, I promise I’ll say it. I want to do this right from here on out.”

With a playful giggle, you felt a sense of warmth and excitement wash over you. The moment felt perfect as the night faded into a peaceful end, leaving behind the promise of something beautiful yet to come.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

© ShixCherie.

[turnaboutfix]

Oh yes of course!!!

I meant specifically like her very early concept art (blue haired) and like, one of the first ones where she has short hair (but still with those 2 loose locks at the front)? I hope you know which one I'm talking about lolol

BUT if you wanna speak your thoughts on like. All of them. I want to hear 👂❓️

( @ellivcca asked what I thought about Maya's concept art and I replied in priv if they could be more specific)

Let's talk about Maya's designs! ✨

I will skip the blue-haired art for now, since I have more to say about her other early designs. They're in a few Japanese AA Guidebooks, but "逆転裁判2 真相解明マニュアル", or "Gyakuten Saiban 2: Fact-Finding Manual" has the most in one place. There are blurbs that discuss the designs, and I'll do my best to summarize them. My Japanese isn't amazing and I had to mostly rely on machine translation + cross referencing dictionaries, so it's possible I may be inaccurate. Also, I'm a novice at Japanese culture, so if I'm misrepresenting anything please bring this to my attention and I'll correct things accordingly!

The book acknowledges that Maya was intended to be of high-school age, hence the the sailor suit artwork. They seem to suggest that the loose socks was a hint at Maya's spunky personality.

When they began to explore her as a spirit medium (1), they wanted her to come from a wealthy, noble family. It looks like a lot of these explorations made it to Franziska's design, with some of the shapes of the shoulders and the jabot-looking neck wear, which is interesting!

As they kept exploring in the second round of sketches (2), they stressed traditional/folk dress as being an important part of her design. They noted they had her carrying something on her back at the time, which I think hints more to her "folksy" feel.

The beaded necklace she's wearing in (2) are drawn from Mala bead necklaces, which are prayer beads rooted in Hinduism and Buddhism and are said to help focus the mind during meditation. They seem present in a lot of spiritual figures in Japan.

Later (3), they explicitly comment drawing inspiration from the Matagi, a group of hunting clans in the northern Japanese mountains (be careful looking them up, they do bear hunting and there's a lot of explicit imagery, even on the wikipedia).

They comment on that this version of her early character might be very athletic. She also seems to be more stoic in these explorations.

Then, for (4) and (5), they evolved the design to make it look appear more feminine, giving her long hair, but making a note that her look isn't typical of modern people. The large orbs in (3), (4) and (5) I think are supposed be drawn from "Yuigesa"(結袈裟), or harnesses decorated with pom-poms worn by Shugendō practitioners, hermits who live in the mountains and practice asceticism.

Then in (6), they added the magatama and committed to her having black hair. They note shortening the hem of her costume from design (5).

The magatama addition is pretty significant! Magatama necklaces are used by noro priestesses of the Ryukyu Kingdom from the islands in the very south of Japan.

Their religion broadly speaking, involves ancestor worship and the relationships between the living and dead, gods and spirits. It seems to me like the culture in Kurain Village draws a lot from the Ryukyuan people--and you can even see this with the beads along with the magatamas.

But there seems to be a lot of generic imagery of Spirit Mediums that I've been able to find in Japanese media which have shared elements of design in Maya's final design. The most interesting of these to me is "ほんとにあった!霊媒先生", or "It Really Happened! Spirit Medium Teacher". The design similarities are striking (and make me wonder if Maya was an inspiration?)

So, to summarize it all up, it seems like the early designers (and there were only two! Kumiko Suekane and Tatsuro Iwamoto) wanted a character who was different, folksy, feminine and spunky that displayed unique spiritual power to aid in the narrative/game mechanics of the games, and they explored the different facets of their own culture--from the northern Matagi clans to the southern Ryukyuan people--Japanese iconography, and tastes into Maya's final design.

And I think that's Real Neat. :)

Thoughts about other designs (Blue-Haired/SoJ Maya) under the cut cuz oh my gosh this post is already huge.

Blue haired Maya!

What's interesting to me is that a lot of the design language on this early Maya art seems to have been carried over to Ema's design (glasses, boots, coat/skirt). She also has similar vibes to Lynne from Ghost Trick.

I definitely enjoy Maya's final design a lot better, but I like the triadic color harmony and spunk here!

And then her design update in Spirit of Justice! These concepts are from "逆転裁判6 公式ビジュアルブック", or "Gyakuten Saiban 6: Official Visual Book". :)

Takuro Fuse (the character designer) comments that he never drew Maya before when he took a stab at updating her, so he wanted to get that down first before tackling the designs. He wondered how she would change over the course of 11 years, and first experimented with a design, thinking about how Mia would look like as a spirit medium. He thought it would be interesting if Phoenix wouldn't be able to tell if Maya channeled Mia. (Me too tbh.)

I feel like this design has a bit too much going on, but I do like the longer cream colored sleeves!

Takuro talks more about how he was exploring all sorts of designs before landing on something more simple. He wanted her to have what he called a "traveling costume" and was very fond of the hat. These designs seem to pull from similar places I've discussed with Maya's early designs, as well as Japanese pilgrims.

As fun as the additions and changes to her design are, I think it was very smart to just add subtle changes: the longer robes, jacket, and the additional beads to her necklace. The shawl is a nice touch, too. This reflects how post-7yg Phoenix and Edgeworth also have subtle changes to their designs as well, which I love and I think were very smart moves from a design-perspective as well as personal taste. Their designs are very iconic and I think it was a service to maintain that iconography.

This was a very fun thing to explore! Thank you kindly @ellivcca for the ask!

[munsonsmixtapes]

hurt/comfort with benedict maybe? maybe reader sees benedict dancing with another girl and notices how happy he looked (him of course just being polite) and she ends up walking away overthinking their entire courtship.

Absolutely! I'm currently reading Benedict's book in the Bridgerton series and am feeling my hyperfixation over him making a comeback lol

cw: hurt/comfort, jealousy

The Danbury household was filled with people who were dancing, laughing, and just generally having a good time. You found yourself with Benedict over by one of the windows and the two of you were giggling about something.

You had been courting since the beginning of the season and had been nothing but happy throughout it, your parents and Lady Bridgerton were thrilled when you made the announcement. In fact, both of your families had been elated when the news broke.

It wasn't surprising considering that the two of you had been inseparable since your meeting all those years ago and everyone had been waiting to see if you would actually get together.

You sipped on your lemonade and watched Benedict stare down at your with that grin that was reserved for you. With him, you felt like the luckiest woman since you had managed to snag the most sought after man in Mayfair and he was just as into you aas you were into you.

Your entire life, you had developed feelings for many boys, but they all seemed to pay you no mind. But the second you crossed paths with Benedict, you knew that it would be different. You were the one who fell first, but he definitely fell harder.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?" He asked, resisting the urge to bring his hand up to your cheek. He didn't care if people saw but what he care about what them whispering about you. Rumors had spread about him, but he'd be damned if anyone said anything untrue about you. So he settled for linking his pinky with yours where no one could see.

"I'm just thinking about how lucky I am to have you," you told him with a smile.

"I'm the lucky one, darling, you know that," he smiled back.

"Why can't we both be lucky?" You asked and he nodded in agreement.

"I suppose you're right," he agreed, loving to see the bright smile on your face widen. He was so in love with you that he didn't know what to do with himself.

"I'm going to get some lemonade, would you like some?"

"I'd love some, but let me get it my love." That was the gentlemanly thing to do and he didn't want you to have to do it when he was perfectly capable.

"You always do it, let me this time." Before Benedict could protest, though, you were already heading towards the table. And he watched you, admiring how politely you spoke to the others that were standing around the table. You were so sweet and it always warmed his heart watching you interact with other people.

You spoke with Lady Danbury who was also by the table and she always seemed to have a lot to say and you didn't want to be rude so you just nodded and listened, only giving input when it was necessary. You wanted to get back to Benedict, not wanting to keep him waiting, but you simply couldn't just leave Lady Danbury in the middle of a conversation. That wasn't the kind of person you were.

"So how is it going with the Bridgerton boy?" She asked and that got your attention. You found any excuse to talk about him, just waiting for him to be brought up so you could gush about how lovely he was.

"He's good. We're happy." She couldn't help but notice the bright smile on your face, so happy that the two of you had finally gotten together.

"Oh, that is lovely to hear," her face lit up. "I have been waiting for this moment for a long time, but Ms. l/n, is that not Mr, Bridgerton dancing with Miss Ashbrook?"

You turned your head, and sure enough, Benedict was dancing with another woman. And she was beautiful and he was smiling. You couldn't watch for long because the whole thing made your stomach churn, a true stab to the back. Especially because they were engaging in your favorite dance.

"My, you are looking green," Lady Danbury pointed out. "Are you alright?"

You ignored her question and turned back to the dance floor, watching the man who you were courting dancing with another woman, twirling her around the room as if you had ceased to exist. You had to get out of there and fast.

"I'm fine, thank you, Lady Danbury," you curtsied before rushing towards the door, out into the garden.

Benedict continued to dance with Miss Ashbrook, completely unaware that you had fled at all. As far as he was concerned, you had still been talking to Lady Danbury. But when he turned in that direction, the woman had been alone. He frantically searched the entire room for you, not seeing your bright blue dress as all. Where could you have possibly gone?

"Tell me more about your lady," Miss Ashbrook spoke with a bright smile. "She sounds lovely."

The only reason why Benedict had been dancing with her was to be polite. And he had been gushing about you the whole time because he didn't want her to think that he was unattached. And she seemed to already know that, only asking him to dance because he was the closest and she didn't want a certain man to ask. It was just a favor and nothing else.

"My apologies, but I must go, Miss Ashbrook, but it was lovely to meet you and I'm sure that there's a suitor out there for you. Don't settle for less than what you deserve." He bowed as soon as the song was over and didn't even stay to hear her response because he was rushing over to Lady Danbury.

He slid across the floor, almost crashing into the refreshment table, but that was the least of his worries. He really needed to find you before you had gotten to far. He needed to know why you had left.

"Mr, Bridgerton, do be careful," Lady Danbury scolded and he was quick to bow before her, certainly not wanting to upset the host of the evening, especially not by breaking her table nor dishes.

"My apologies, Lady Danbury, but do you know where I could find Miss l/n?"

"She went to the garden," she responded then waved her hand, signaling that he should come closer so he bent down so that the two of them were eye level. "That is one of the most lovely women I have ever met and you should know better than anyone that she is beloved by everyone here so I suggest you not screw it up by dancing with women who you are not courting. Are we understood?"

"We are," Benedict nodded then raced towards the garden, searching every nook and cranny for you. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized that you were truly gone, that awful pit in his stomach forming.

But then he heard a loud scream that pit growing even larger as he hurried to where the sound had come from, another blood curdling scream tearing throughout the garden. Benedict ran as fast as he legs could carry him, feeling his chest tighten and his throat burn as his breathing picked up.

He got to where the noise had been coming from and felt a hoarse gasp leave his throat as he saw you on the grass, clutching your ankle with tears streaming down your cheeks. He rushed to you, crouching to sit on his knees in front of you, reaching for your hands, but you pulled them out of his grasp, looking at him as you hadn't wanted him to be there.

"What happened? Why did you leave?" There was hurt in his tone, but he was mostly just worried about you. And he hated seeing you in pain, both physically and emotionally.

"Oh, don't worry about me, Benedict," you snapped. "Perhaps you should just go back to Miss Ashbrook."

"Miss-darling, what on earth are you talk about?"

"I saw you dancing with her, Benedict. And you were smiling. It was almost like you forgot that were courting."

"Oh," he let out a chuckle that quickly turned into a fully belly laugh. How could you have possibly thought that he had been interested in anyone besides you? You had his whole entire heart and he wasn't going to give that to just anyone. It only beat for you so he supposed that you were the only one worthy of having it.

"I'm glad you think my pain is so funny," you reached up and swatted at his shoulder, but he was quick to grab your hand and press a kiss to your knuckles.

"My love, I was only dancing with her because she didn't want to dance with man who was going to ask her. And I was smiling because I was telling her about you." Your eyes widened and now you just felt like an idiot. Of course he would do something like that, because he was always trying his best to be polite. You couldn't believe you had let your insecurity get the best of you and almost ruined the best (only) romantic relationship you ever had.

"Benedict, I'm so sorry. I feel so stupid, I-"

"No," Benedict cut you off, his tone nothing but gentle as his hands cupped your cheeks, wiping your tears from your cheeks. "You're not stupid and have every right to be angry with me. I'm so sorry that I upset you and I hope you forgive me."

"Of course I do," you nodded, tears continuing to stream down your face that Benedict just wiped away.

"Good, because I have something for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring box, a gasp falling from your lips as he opened, a beautiful, glittering ring nestled inside. "Marry me?" He asked and you leapt into his arms, tackling him to the ground, your injured ankle completely forgotten.

Benedict was flat on the grass as you fell on top of him, your lips crashing to his, multiple yeses coming out of your both between each kiss. You pulled away long enough for him to put the ring on your finger and then you were back at it, lips slotted together as you both lied there in the garden, soaking up your alone time together before you went inside to make the announcement to everyone.

[rillian4e]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Wriothesley

cw: vaginal sex, finger sucking, spanking, slight size kink, fem!reader, daddy kink, use of pet names etc...

summary: your lover who was as usual, preoccupied with his work, endless responsibilities and paperwork for him to deal with, it was unbearable but he finally managed to find some time for you, how will you two spend it?

—

how long had it been since you last spent a night with your beloved? your mind cannot remember when it was, these past weeks were all the same work, work, work and more work. to say that that you've been missing him to death would be an understatement, his busy schedule left you feeling lonely and oh so helpless—wishing wriothesley was there to help you, to fuck you.

thankfully the day came eventually, wriothesley had told you he was finished with his work and you immediately squealed in happiness, going over to him and hugging him. as attentive as always, the duke was quick to notice what you really wanted. he knew you better than anyone and he'd be foolish to not have known that you'd be needy for him.

"missed me that much, love?" he cooed, giving you a kiss on the side of your head before placing you on top of his desk, your arms slipped around his neck, pulling him into a messy and desperate kiss. ah ...how much you've missed those lips of his, the way he knew exactly what you wanted.

you didn't waste any time in letting him know that you were impatient, your fingers sloppily fiddling with his belt—hoping to hear his approval before proceeding. he only chuckled at you, whispering a quick, "already moving that fast, sweetheart? go on, do what you want, no one's stopping you."

you undid his belt, freeing his already erect cock out of its confinement, the sight of seeing him like this had you realizing just how much you missed him and by the way he was already greedily marking up your neck, he must have missed you terribly as well. his hands were quick to pull down your panties but instead of filling you like you'd craved, his fingers went to your lips.

"open," you understood what he meant, obediently opening your mouth as two of his digits entered, your tongue swirled around them, sucking and licking as if it were his dick. "already such a smart girl, mh?" he giggled as he watched you, lightly pressing his fingers onto your tongue. you didn't know why but you adored when he'd do that, you loved having him inside you, be it your mouth or pussy.

soon his fingers left your mouth, instead going over to your throbbing core and slipping two inside, they went in so easily that it made you embarrassed yet needy for more—for something bigger. wriothesley pumped his digits inside you, curling them in the way that made you moan shamelessly on top of his desk, not caring about the papers underneath you. he really was good with his hands, you wondered when you first got together if they were good in other areas and you were right except they were far, far better.

"aa-ah! d-daddy, c-close! 'm close!" you whimpered, trembling as his fingers hit your g-spot, you could feel that all too familiar feeling forming in your tummy, you were so close as you looked at him for permission. his gaze was loving and tender but you could tell he was desperate himself to feel pleasure and have your tight walls around him but being the gentleman he was, he wouldn't ever let himself feel pleasure before his pretty little angel.

"go on cum, be a good girl and cum for daddy all over his fingers, okay?" the way he spoke was so attractive, his voice fueling your desire for him all the more as you felt yourself reaching your climax, your fluids covering his fingers. after pulling them out with a loud wet pop, he kissed you on the lips, leaving you no time to come down from your high.

"mmh, I'm going to fuck you now, that alright?" he asked, using his hand to tilt your head to look into his eyes—you nodded, letting out a "yes," and burying your head into his shoulder, impatiently biting into his skin. you almost wanted to whine and complain when you felt his tip tease your entrance, not entering as he rubbed his cock head between your pussy lips. you were about to complain when you felt him fully thrust into your cunt, immediately feeling awfully full.

"f-fuck...so tight, I needed this so damn much, princess." he groaned, pressing himself deep into your cunt, hitting your cervix as his thrusts got more rough, his hands spanking your ass, leaving red marks. you loved when he was so rough with you, his hands all over your body, applying firm pressure on your throat all the while fucking himself deep into your cunt. his balls slapping against the flesh of your butt while his lips smashed against yours, tongue seeking yours on instinct.

you'd never loved anything more than nights like these with him, rough and passionate love making between two desperate individuals. it was simply perfect for the two of you. wriothesley himself seemed pent up, his grip on your throat tightening and his pace relentless—manhandling you to his liking. "shit, I'm close... want me to breed this little pussy, hm? want daddy to fill you up with his seed?" his tone was low and husky, eyes meeting your teary eyed ones as you nodded, unable to muster enough strength for a proper sentence.

with you clenching around his cock, he quickly came inside you, filling your womb up, the feeling of fullness was so nice and delicious, but you were left confused when you saw him pull out, you were about to ask him why when you heard him clasp a hand over your mouth.

"hush, we will continue somewhere more private. make sure you don't let anything spill, angel." he put a kiss on your forehead, his finger putting back a bit of his cum that dripped down your thigh. you were embarrassed but still ever so unsatisfied, but maybe this was for the better. the continuous knocks and questions behind the door were starting to get annoying after all.

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

I hate those Daenerys is going to sacrifice herself/die theories so much it genuinely makes me tweak and I have never been the type of person to get upset at all over fiction or any type of media, but this irks me so bad because not only is Daenerys my absolute favorite character of all time, it’s upsetting how the female character is always the one who has to die for others sakes and never achieve anything for herself. Yes, it’s her destiny as AA to fight the Others, but that doesn’t mean that she has to die doing it. Like, seriously, after we got F&B and saw how many Targaryen women struggled with misogyny and being passed over for the throne, it feels upsetting to me if the one who is supposed to break the wheel will never have a chance to do so. I do love Bran but I do not see him fit to sit on the throne, not to mention how young he is and will be at the series end unless George does a massive timeskip, and after the whole world is in shambles after the Long Night, who is more fitting to sit on the throne and help mend things and lead the people forward? A well experienced ruler and fighter who will bring along a new age of change, or a child with no such experience? Perhaps it’s just me being salty but I just really want the best for my favorite character who I believe deserves to have her shot at having a home and being able to rule and change the world together with the other characters. Especially after the end of GoT, which no I don’t ever believe that George will go that route, but with how everything happened in the show, it looked like Westeros was a completely and utter mess and there was nobody capable left to pick up the pieces, Bran’s ascension to the throne was so random too and didn’t even feel satisfying or like a good conclusion (not that those two incapable idiots could ever produce a satisfying ending, but yeah). What are your thoughts on this? I just feel sad that fellow Dany fans are literally enthusiastically waiting for her death in the upcoming books as if there isn’t a better destiny for her :( The female character who managed to rise to power and become a ruler in her own right dying or giving that up to the men in order to “settle down” leaves such a bad taste in my mouth and doesn’t look like the subversion George has done with her character at all.

I definitely agree with you anon, Dany dying/sacrificing herself really doesn't seem to fit with her story. Yes, Dany certainly would be willing to die to save the world, but that doesn't seem to be where GRRM is writing her.

Dany's story is saturated with life; which is pretty ironic since she's been called "Daughter of Death". She's closely tied to themes of fertility (mother of dragons, helloo), rebirth (Azor Ahai, entering the pyre), and survival/endurance.

Dany's story shares very little similarities to characters who have been set up for death. For example, Robb. Dany may share some superficial similarities to Robb, but the signs of Robb's impending death are not shared at all. GRRM always sets up the deaths of his major characters from their introductions. That hasn't happened with Dany; if anything we see a set up to her surviving.

You're so right about how people are foaming at the mouth for Dany's death. Her dying after everything she's been through and everything she stands for is just...no. It feels so gross and has some really concerning undertones.

The woman who actually fought for change and made a massive upheaval in the status quo, who genuinely cares for all her people, who understands the responsibility of ruling, who demonstrates incredible wisdom, who only wants to make the world better dying for the sake of the story is just wow.

[howtofightwrite]

I've got a world-building/combat question. I have these two warring nations in my setting, both medieval-ish tech levels. One of them figures out how to make magical flying craft that are basically WWI airplanes. The other country invents dragon riders in response. Since then, they've been at war for ~60 years. I'm trying to figure out how the heck an air force would alter medieval combat strategies. If you've any suggestions, I'd appreciate it

The first, and biggest world building problem is that magic is part of your overall tech level. Ironically, Diskworld is an excellent example of how magical technology can basically function as an alternate path for social and technical development, though, honestly, a lot of high-magic settings tend to have tech leakage from magic.

One of the more common examples that comes to mind are “magical radios.” Either it's an enchanted device that allows person to person communication, or it's direct telepathic communication, but whatever it is, it serves a fundamentally similar role to a handheld radio, or (depending on how it works) a phone. The thing is, it's functionally a magical replacement, and it would affect society in much the same way those technologies have.

This is a long way to say, if your magical combat technology has WWI-grade planes, there is a very real possibility that a lot of your warfare is also going to be at a similar magi-tech level, if not more advanced. Having written that, I'm reminded of The Red Star comic series; though, that has a heavy Soviet aesthetic, and is not-at-all medieval.

Again, it doesn't really matter if you have fully-automatic firearms, or if you have a bolt thrower that conjures and propels crystals at hyper-sonic speeds into your foes. If they have a similar rate of fire, and similar accuracy, the meaningful change is texture. Your characters might see tiny crystal fragments shattered on the floor, or embedded into walls, instead of bullet holes. There may be no smell, or conjuring the crystals might leave a different odor. A handheld lightning projector might leave scorch marks, and a scent of ozone, for instance.

Magic might also factor into armor and defenses. If you can use a magical ward to dispel conjured objects, that might be extremely useful for fortifying specific targets against incoming conjured attacks, but it would likely be wholly ineffective against the lightning projector, or some other kind of directed energy beam weapon.

“Inventing,” dragon riding as a response to someone else making a magical airship, does strike me as an odd cause-and-effect. If dragon riding was that easy, it would seem likely that someone would have militarized them long before that point. Inventing flying objects that could function as a hard counter to dragons feels a little more natural. Or, magical, AA installations. Though, this is something that could probably be finessed, if you're really committed to the setup. It's also worth remembering that air superiority is an extremely potent advantage, even if you're not sure what to do with it, meaning that if one side suddenly had fliers, and the other side couldn't come up with a counter in short order, they'd be picked apart, and the war wouldn't have this 60 year timescale.

If it seems like I went to ranged weapons very quickly, there's a simple reason. You can't joust from a plane. Your options are to either propel objects at people, or drop things on them from above. Dragons also (usually) have the option to breathe fire on them. Now, firearms did exist in the late medieval era. So, that's not that far out of range. I'm less sure of the invention of bombs. At least, of the variety you could deliver to your enemy on the battlefield. Though, it occurs to me, you could probably use a catapult or trebuchet to deliver an explosive payload, if the explosives were stable enough to survive launch, but sensitive enough to detonate on impact. (Of course, if you have some kind of magically primed explosive, that stays stable until it is ejected from the catapult, and then explodes on impact, that would work.)

Looping back to the timescale again, this would require some pretty potent defensive capabilities. A dragon, with the ability to breathe fire, and the capacity for strategic thinking, could easily starve out an entire kingdom, simply by making a habit of torching all the cropland it could find. It doesn't, particularly matter if it gets all the food, so long as it torches a meaningful percentage of the available crops. When you have farmers going hungry, you're going to see food production dipping, exacerbating the problem. When you have soldiers going hungry, they're not going to be able to fight as effectively. When you have the peasantry going hungry, you're going to see civil unrest, and probably rebellions coming for their lord's head. You can't wage a war against a hostile nation under those circumstances. (In fact, there were multiple peasant revolts during the Hundred Years War, which basically stalled out France's ability to fight. England also suffered multiple peasant uprisings at roughly the same time. Though, those were motivated by taxation, which ends in a similar place.)

A related concept that's somewhat hinted above, is that wars are expensive, and both France and England found themselves facing uprisings because of taxation needed to support the ongoing war. (The irony being that both nations encountered this at roughly the same point in history. Roughly 40 years into the war.) A war that's been going for 60 years will likely have ravaged the economies of the involved nations. This isn't necessarily something that your characters would be aware of, unless you expand the context to show non-wartime economies.

The simplest explanation for why this happens is that any money you spend prosecuting the war are products that you never see returning value from. The money itself doesn't leave the economy, but the natural resources, and labor required, are expended non-productively (from the perspective of economic growth.) So, if you have a peacetime merchant, they're moving money around, but they're paying for their goods, and then those goods are going to consumers, who may also be contributing to economic activity with those goods (this even applies for food, you can think of that as a necessary component to any productive activity.) If you're a wartime merchant, selling weapons to the military, you are contributing to economic activity when you buy the weapons, but when they're sold to the crown, that's no longer productive. Those weapons leave the economy and never return. Worse, any soldiers who are permanently wounded, or killed, are also removed from the economy. Over time, this can destroy the most prosperous of nations. (To be clear, this is more advanced economic analysis than anyone in the middle ages would have had. So, the idea that wars are expensive was understood, but the exact reasons it slowed the economy were not.) And, this kind of thinking is another form of technological advancement. Ideas for understanding complex systems have become more intricate and detailed over time. While it's not the concept of, “invention,” that you might be used to, it is a similar form of progress.

So, how would this look in your world? There's a lot of potential consequences, most of which are not contradictory.

An impoverished lower-class is very likely. Whether that includes wounded veterans or not is a little more up in the air, though after 60 years, military pensioners, and those who suffered life-altering injuries on the battlefield are likely to be a common sight, either on the street or in the poverty line. (Especially if the crown is willing to enforce drafts and conscription.) At this point, that might be a very real possibility.

A struggling aristocracy is also likely, with former major power players who've declined into poverty. This might take the form of borderline abandoned estates that have been taken over by the crown or squatters. (Probably not both at the same time.)

Serious inflation is likely (and could be why formerly stable guild members, merchants, and even some of the aristocracy might now find themselves struggling.) I realize this point isn't something most really think of when you're trying to write a fantasy world, but it's worth considering. More likely this will be seen in food prices having increased over time. So the major symptoms you'd likely see would be decaying structures that no one has the resources to maintain, rising food prices, and generalized poverty. Even in a fairly magically advanced setting, a lot of these things would, likely, still happen. Of course, if the dragons have been used to destroy the agricultural base, things would be even worse in that nation. To be clear, food and taxation riots are not off the table there.

This is sort of a non-sequitur, but if you have a setting with classic transmutation (lead, or other base metals, into gold), you would actually see inflation with every batch of transmuted gold hitting the market. It's sort of an amusing note on the fantasy of being able to produce as much money as you want, but ultimately, it's actually harmful from a macroeconomic perspective. (Basically, the same reason counterfeiting is a problem.) Though, it is a possible hook for criminal groups in one of those nations, producing counterfeit gold via transmutation.

There's also a real world example from 2020, where a jewelry company had fabricated “fake,” gold bars as collateral to secure loans. In total, they claimed to have 83 tons of gold used to obtain loans worth over 2.8 billion dollars, from 14 different creditors. Except, when they defaulted on those loans, and were forced to hand over the gold, it was discovered that these were in fact gold plated copper bars.

I realize the question was about the flying forces specifically, but so long as that advantage is dealt with quickly, and neither side is able to monopolize air superiority, that's not going to change nearly as much as having that level of magical advancement would on its own, and of course, the general consequences of having a war that's been going on for long enough that multiple generations have died on the battlefield. That's going to a bigger effect on your world as a whole.

-Starke

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