#bc i used to be into tall men yes but make it lanky

[miyaagis]

at that point in life where i know i deserve a ripped, tall, dark-haired, and handsome dude to fold me in half

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

hello hello can i ask for reader (either new transfer or someone they're just consulting with) hellbent on avoiding and not talking to spencer bcs he keeps rambling off about stuff everytime they're in his vicinity but they just have a really bad history of men mansplaining things to them so even tho spencer doesn't give off that vibe they just can't help but be sensitive to it 😔🤲🏻

tweaked jussst a bit gn!reader. i need to work on making my brain bigger so i can give more detail for spencer.

“well there many ways one can create their own bomb. they could use proper chemical equipment or just simple house hold items you can buy from anywhere.”

“well actually there’s only four ways to create one and most people go the homemade route. which is the most difficult to trace due to them being bought in plain sight.” a tall, skinny agent beside a man in the well pressed suit just reiterated what you said. you took an exhale through your nose to withhold an eye roll.

“yes, what i said. sulfuric acid is a common ingredient so i’d look into people’s recent purchases and cross reference that with their past criminal history.” you moved around lab as you shuffled and stacked papers, “if you need anymore help seems you already have someone with the answers. good luck.” leaving the two federal agents behind as you exited into the hallway with a tiny chip sitting on your shoulder.

what was the reason to seek you out if they already had someone who’d know their answers? probably once they saw who you were they wanted to intimidate you, that one guy wanted to show off that he knew the same information as you. no one ever gave you the respect in this department, many ‘colleagues’ have taken credit for work that you’ve done. they always talk over you or explain a concept that you already knew, seeing as you were in the same field as said mansplainer.

“someone looks to be in a mood.” oh great, if your hour couldn’t get worse. you didn’t bother looking at dr. fray, he was said mansplainer that always thought he was more inept when really you have a higher standing than him.

“since you left those agents on their own i stepped up to help them by giving further detail into their investigation. just helped save some lives, no big dealio.” your periphery saw how he walked with a certain air about him, one that many men carry without a care in the world.

you rolled your eyes as you kept walking to your office, “whatever. they already have someone who knows this information so we weren’t needed anyway.” you pulled your keys from your coat pocket, “well it was not fun walking with you. off you go, fray.” shielding yourself by throwing the door in his face.

you wanted to be away from any type of male for the rest of the day, not wanting to hear their unnecessary chatter, they just like the sound of their own voice. neatly arranging your files on your desk and placing your coat over the back of your chair you were ready to finish some documents when there was a gentle knocking to your door. you weren’t expecting anyone for a meeting so when you were faced with the lanky agent from earlier you couldn’t help as your face shifted into one of annoyance before shifting into neutral.

“was there something you needed, dr. reid?” arms crossed defensively over your chest. you internally hated how he seemed to know almost everything know to man and he seemed to be about your age. you wanted to rip your hair out halfway through your bachelors degree.

dr. reid’s mouth was pressed into a tight line, his fingers twiddling with this satchel strap over his chest. “i- uh i overheard a bit of your- your conversation and just wanted to… apologize?” he ended with a question.

your brows quirked, “apologize? for what?” confused on what was happening. men rarely apologized to you, you’ve been ran down on the street by guys who don’t care about anyone else on the street.

“i didn’t mean to overstep earlier. i understand to an extent what it feels like for people to talk over you or just ignore what you’ve said.” your anger melted just a bit at his words, “and i know for you it’s harder. there’s statistically less then 0.05% of non white males in many fields. i can tell you worked hard to be in this position, so i apologize for earlier.” his mouth probably ran just a tad faster than his brain.

you dropped your defensive stance, hands to link at the bottom of your stomach as you gave dr. reid a friendly smile, the first of the day. “thank you, dr. reid. i appreciate that you recognized your actions and acknowledged my feelings.”

he rocked on his feet, “you can call me spencer.” he said shyly, “also i’ve read a couple of your thesis. and if you have the time when this is over i’d- i’d love to discuss them with you.” you noted how his cheeks started to tint into hues of pink, it was cute.

“would be nice to talk with someone that has a fully functioning brain. you know where to find me, spencer.”

[fainthedcherry]

2024 Human Art VS 2019 Human Art !!!!!

AS PROMISED, HERE'S A POST WITH SOME NEW ART!!!

And also an art comparison, just to see, how much I improved in drawing the 2 bois <3

I'm MEGA tired despite having slept after work, but I WON'T let that deter me from writing a description!! YAPNADO AHEAD;

FINN AND MARCOOO. FINNANMARCO. BEEN A WHILE SINCE I'VE ACOUSTICALLY AND FERALLY YELLED ABOUT MY 2 FICTIONAL MEN WHOM ARE CLOSE TO MY HEART.

I'm SO glad, that in the new drawing, Marco finally looks like the twink he always was, but still enough meat on the bones to look NORMAL lmao, can't say that about the 4 other sketches of me trying to redraw this ref for years. xD (why yes, his wings took forever, why do you ask? /lh)

I'M MEGA SUPER DUPER GLAD, that Finn FINALLY looks like a chubby, wild bastard TOO, OH TOOTHPASTE MAN, HOW MANY HEARTACHES YOU GAVE ME OVER STRUGGLING TO DRAW AN ENDOMORPHIC BODY TYPE. BUT I CAN NOWWWWWWWwwww!!!!!

God this habit of loudly reading out my posts as I type them made me realise what a bad Schwarzenegger impression I do on accident bc I'm overly excited to post something after a month of silence SDKFSKLDG

ONE THING I ALWAYS WANTED TO DO. IS PUT EVERY DETAIL I NEEDED ON A BIG REF. SO I DID! I've drawn closeups of the boys's eyes, I've drawn Finn's tongue so that I don't need to constantly remind myself what his blush and flesh colours were sdfkldsgkl, I FINALLY denoted their heights, so people know that they're tall TALL dudes (and that Finn obviously will struggle w/ his lanky mfing legs, we LOVE giving a middle-aged man heart attacks once he reaches his 40's!!!)

ANNDDD ALSO SOME SIDE VIEWS OF THEM. The last side-view I had of F & M, looked REAL bad. Like, Marco's face looked WAY too stereotypically European (to my fault bc surprise surprise not many African people live in Europe so I had poor frame of reference but I've been fixing it via looking up images online instead, at least it helps but yeah, I have a hard time so far unfortunately💀), Finn's was just... B u c k e t. NOT LIKE HANDSOME BUCKET. BUT JUST BUCKET. IT NEEDED FIXING (fun fact I accidentally made Finn have the most attractive jaw shape for men according to beauty standards and I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW I JUST WANTED THIS MAN TO LOOK S Q U A R E AND THAT'S IT, MINECRAFT STEVE HAS MORE RIZZ THAN MOST MEN OFFICIALLY).

OH YEAH ALSO A CLAW REF AGAIN FOR FINN!!! His old ref looks too cool for me to give up on it tbh even as dated as it is sfjklsdglk, BUT I felt like I needed to redraw them properly.

FUNNILY ENOUGH A PERSON I COMMISSIONED SAID I HAVE SOME REALLY CLEAN AND NICE LINEART. I wish I heard that 5 years ago when I was really insecure about my bad lineart skills xD, I don't use lineart anymore nowadays outside of reference-drawings like these I don't plan to redraw in the next years unless necessary soooo yeah! They're gonna appear much rarer unless I go off and about making more ref sheets of all of my Sonc OC's sfklsdgsdfksdg

This drawing took 5 days to make btw. Not the hours spent on this LOL. 5 days of my life I'll never get back tho bc I care too much about my babies and I feel they deserve proper refs sdfklsdglk

WHAT ELSE SHOULD I MENTION.....HOPEFULLY I PLAN TO DRAW MORE HUMAN REFS IN THE FUTURE INSTEAD OF STAY IN MY COMFORT ZONE OF SONIC OCS ONLY. I for years wasn't confident in my ability to draw humans, but I can do so NOW at least!!!!!!!!!! Even if I'm like...3 years too late to how I wish my art looked back then already dsklfdsg, I have some high standards I need to continue to knock down as my 2024 resolution sdfklsdg

^IT'S BEEN WORKING THOUGH AS YOU CAN TELL BC I'VE BEEN UPLOADING SOME BAD DOODLES AND SKETCHES, BEEN DRAWING MORE GARBAGE AND BECAME MORE INVOLVED IN MY BELOVED FANDOMS. I wanna continue doing so! It was the most fun I've had with art ever. I hope to properly meet more fandoms I left in the past bc I thought it'd be embarrassing to share my passion for a franchise back then. I EMBRACE THE CRINGE NOW AS AN ADULT AT LEAST EVEN IF 7 YEARS TOO LATE ON THAT FRONT TOO. We all age and mature ig but I just become more silly year by year,,, c:

Oh yeah if you also see this btw lemme know, whether the new watermark tiles are subtle enough to not be noticed!!!! I know, watermarks are annoying and nobody likes them, but ever since AI invasions, I REFUSE to put my work online without ANY form of proof that somebody took it from my page. I just want people to stop lying on the internet for cloud and pick up a pencil. It's not that hard smfh. The only time I could excuse AI art is w/ amputees man. That's the only time I could empathise with someone, who wants to be an artist but LITERALLY can't bc they got dealt a bad hand in life. I digress my AI hate can be rambled about some other day, I know I love yapping and writing essays about THAT topic for sure sfklsdklg

I chose to post this ref to my Tumblr first tho, bc I still wanna work on my drawing of Abbacchio,,,, he is quite dear to me and I'd love to put effort into a doodle of him that won't take too long. Like 4 hours or 5 hours tops. I still have yet to figure out, if his cute star shape on his head is a hat or part of his hair. Bc I CAN'T TELL TBH AND I'VE BEEN DRAWING IT AS PART OF HIS HAIR PATTERN BUT I THINK IT'S A HAT NOW EVER SINCE I LOOKED AT MORE ASBR CAPS OF HIM I TOOK FOR REFERENCES. xD

Also another side-note, but I've ofc reduced down the lankiness of the dudes I draw™, but I in result wanted to sliiightly make larger feet/hands bc my Sonic phase will continue to possess me 'til the end of time /hj, if you also wanna lemme know what you think on that, bls do! I am messing about with stylization still. I am finding my footing with stylizing humans sOOO yeah!!!! I hope to some day be satisfied with my artstyle change of '24! So far it's been really rewarding and eye-opening to me and my journey as an artist for my 7 years of existing on the 'net w/ my silly goobers I like to scream about to in the void <3

Once again, tagnado also incoming below bc I dunno how to properly tag my art so lemme throw in things I THINK are relevant to this post sdkldsgkl

See you hopefully tomorrow w/ a lil doodle dump if I get around to it!!!! : D

[hyunverse]

yes i do! i grew up in boston and ended up getting a rly good scholarship at a school here in nyc so i live here now :)) it’s not too bad. tbh it’s pretty much the same as boston just a little bigger. andddd what’s ironic is even tho i’m from two of the like most known cities in america, i am terrified of rodents 😭. i see them quite often in nyc but not as much in boston. no matter how many times i see them i’m still terrified of them and i am fortunate enough to not be rodent infested 🙏🏼🙏🏼. also yep teef in the muscles is the best way to do it. i want to eat minhos thighs. like chomp is an understatement for what i want to do to those thighs and i have no shame in explaining. the gods ddu du ddu performance …. that’s all i need to say

omfg what is even the point of dating someone like that ?? it’s exhausting. i agree with just wanting to do your own thing. when i was younger i always wanted to date but now i just want to be aloneeeee. i do miss aspects of being a relationship but tbh i’m fine w waiting to experience that w someone like every day yk ?

hey man technique is technique 😏. also yes hyunjin and felix hand comparison makes me crazy. ngl i’m big on size diff and hyunjin just does it for me. so tall and lankyyyyyy he’s just my type. like no joke he is my exact type all around but especially physically. nothing better than a feminine man with so much androgynous energy and duality. like it makes me insane. when i get home i want to measure my hands so i can compare mine w everyone’s. im sure it will be drastic so i will keep you posted ! how tall are you?? im 5’1 .. 😟 it’s bad ik

watch me cry at how sweet you are rn 🥲. u make me blush 🙄. i did take some earlier this morning and i’m trying to drink as much as i can (maybe i’ll purposely forget to do all of this just so you can come here but you didn’t hear that from me 😇😇😇). CONGRATULATIONS THAT IS SO AWESOMEEEEE!!!! you should be so proud of yourself and know i am very very proud of you as well <33 that is literally so amazing, hard work pays off my love 🫶🏻 that’s so awesome. if we happened to not live all the way across the world from each other i’d treat you to a delish meal but i guess our lives failed us on that one >:|. what’s ur fave food btw ? sending hugs back to ur sweet self 💗💗💗💗💗💗💕💕💕💕💕 and a happy heart attack bc u deserve it hehe

- 🐈‍⬛ much love from ur g <333

that sounds nice!! honestly, from experience, moving from one state to another is quite tough. i’ve been living in the city my entire life, but had to make an entire 180° for university life ‘cause my campus is in a village! like an entire village — on the way to my campus, there’s a sign that says, “welcome to ***** village!” good god u can imagine my terror 💀 the facilities are not bad but definite different compared to the city </3 okay i sound like a brat, don’t i? anyway! bae, i’m dead terrified of them nasty rodents too. i feel like puking at the sight of them </3 so i 💯 understand you honestly.

CHOMPING ON HIS THIGHS YEP YEP. minho needs to drop the workout routine cs god his thighs are. . . sighs dreamily. love em. wanna bite em. talking abt that performance. . . lee yongbok. i will never forget that signature ab showing move tbh. gonna show them to my kids being all like this is ur uncle felix! (get it? cs imma marry hyunjin frfr! yes pls entertain my delulu pls pls)

RIGHT i feel like my past experiences and friends’ relationships are the cause of me not wanting one </3 scared me off legit. i think imma stick to writing 🙏 why experience it rn when i can be delulu with u?

UR TYPE AND MY TYPE MUST BE THE SAME THEN CS I LOVE TALL AND LANKY MEN MMM EAT THAT GENRE UP ALL THE TIME! when they’re 90% legs and have big hands? call me up. call me up‼️that is my type right there.

yes keep me posted with the hand comparison, baby. tell me ur hand size too so i can compare with me 🙏 i’m 5’2 so we’re both not that far off HELP. short gang ig 😔

PLEASE DONT FORGET 💔 MY ANGEL I AM TOO BROKE TO FLY TO AMERICA 💔 ONE DOLLAR IS ABOUT FOUR MYR 💔 PLS TAKE CARE OF URSELF 💔 AND THANK YOU BABY!! means a lot from u hehe. i have sm fave food dang. . . it’s hard to choose. i like steak, and ramen and this malay dish u call tomyum! very yummers. also loveee hotpots. i could eat hotpot everyday of my life. and donuts!! what about yours, darling?

you make me blush too ^__^ kisses to u frm me!!

[ry0chann]

not a request but size kink with kunikida, gosh 🥴 he’s so tall and probably well-built, imagine how fragile you’d be under him no matter what kind of body you possess. you’re like ‘please, it won’t fit!’ and he goes ‘it will fit, i am going to make it fit’

first of all, yes, and let me explain why

// nsfw warning bc i get carried away at the end lmao

he’s what, like 6’2 ?? (189 cm exactly) so he’s already taller than the average person (me), therefore: size kink. also, he’s so well-built and i don’t think we talk about it enough. he’s tall sure but he’s not lanky, and i will stand by that till the day i die. i just recently saw a post somewhere talking about how he has a broad back and like ??? god help me that’s me so hot. the man is canonically strong as hell so just imagine how that’d benefit him in the bedroom; being able to fold you into whatever position he wants, with ease 🥴 omg and his hands— his hands are so fucking nice, let me explain. they’re big and they’re rough and again, he’s really strong, meaning he’d be able to pin you down no problem and keep you there. fuck, and his fingers are like, long but not skinny— they’re thick but not the “short & thick” vibe y’know? so imagine how that’d feel 😳 GOD, AND HIS DICK IS BIG IDC ✋🏼 i’m gonna ramble about this bc i have a lot to say.

the whole bit of “it’s too big but we’re gonna make it fit” is so fucking hot and i’ve never considered it for him until now. i hc him to be like almost a 7, if not a 7 ?? idk my hcs are always changing. but realistically, he’s tall so i don’t think he’d be smaller than like, a 6. (idk how mens bodies work, leave me alone). but now if we’re talking girth, it’s enough to where you always seem like a tight fit, but not so girthy that it’s heavy and hangs low, if that makes sense.

now that that’s out of the way, imagine him trying to put it in 🫣 the tip’s all swollen and it’s struggling to push past your slit. you’re squirming and whining, whimpering about how it’s not gonna fit. but he just keeps prodding at your cunt until he eventually gets the head in and starts filling you with every inch. you’re barely able to sit still bc of the way he’s stretching you out. but he just rubs at your sides and coos in your ear about how “there’s just a bit more” and “you’re doing so good” and how “he’s gonna make it all fit” and that he “promises it’ll feel good.” and you just look so cute under his slightly burly figure— blushing and moaning while he opens you up— that he practically loses himself in the affair. you’re sucking him in so good, that he’s trying his best not to be too rough but he can’t help it. and regardless of your body shape, he is bigger than you. he’s taller, he’s stronger, and in addition to that, the way he fucks into you makes you feel small. like if you were a cute little animal and he were your predator. (except he’s not into prey/predator play lmao). every little thing has his mind racing— the way you look, the way you feel, your arguably obligated obedience. it makes him feel powerful, almost. he has all the control and you better believe he’s gonna use that to his advantage by fucking your brains out

*banging fists on table* kill me. literally ruin me omg— i’m gonna stop now before i lose my mind, but there are my thoughts 😭

[irene-sadler]

Sir Reynard and the Red Knight

notes: 1. here's a (relatively) short n' interesting discussion of the history of the St. Bartholomew Day Fair in London, which was held roughly annually from sometime in the 12th century to sometime in the 19th century. I casually yanked some ideas (ull find this thing about rabbits casually mentioned with no explanation in the source) from events that took place at this specific festival to apply to my much much smaller Winter Solstice Fair held in Rivia.

translating any irl medieval holiday/fair/feast into a fantasy setting is a lil tricky b/c 95 percent of what happens and what makes them so interesting (to me anyway) is tied up in and totally inseperable from medieval Christian religious expression. however, when a lot of my source material was written (usually several hundred years ago bc public domain ebooks) there were still some weird obviously pre-Christian traditions in common use in parts of England. more on this next chapter b/c some of them are fuckin bizarre and so ofc I ganked them.

----

8.

The next day dawned cold, but the blue cast to the sky promised clear weather. The Queen had long since collected a list of names from a page, and sat scribbling figures and notes in the margins as she considered the best way to arrange forty contestants into equitable matches. Isbel proved unsurprisingly unhelpful; the Baroness, however, offered advice on the matter in a slightly imperious tone:

    “There’s no way to match these names up, by perceived skill, and if you try there will be hurt feelings. Random selection won’t answer, either; my suggestion is to choose from whoever is standing around when we arrive and let them sort themselves out as best they can after.”

    Meve shuffled the papers a moment, admitted to herself that she had no better ideas, and nodded grudgingly.

    “Yes, you’re probably right. First come, first served it is, then. Here, look after these,” she said, handing the papers over to the older woman, “I have to go; the Mayor will be wanting something from me within the hour and I’ve other matters to attend to, first.”

    She left the Baroness and Isbel eyeing each other suspiciously over their breakfasts and strode rapidly away to the stables. Reynard’s horse, dozing alone in his stall, greeted her with polite disinterest; she spotted a light flickering from inside a little storage room nearby, where she found his owner carefully examining his armor under Pug and Gaspar’s vacant stares. Reynard smiled tightly at her, Gaspar glowered from under his unkempt hair, and Pug sketched a lazy gesture resembling a salute.

    “Anything to report?” she asked them all, in a slightly falsely cheerful tone. Reynard glanced at Gaspar, who eyed Pug, who squinted up at the Queen through her single eye.

    “Well, someone came in after midnight rung, but we put an end t’ his fucking skulking, quick,” she explained, then pointed at a few dark spots on the dirt floor. “And you can see the blood right there.”

    “So you can,” Meve said, not at all displeased. “Don’t suppose you managed to get a look at the culprit?”

    Pug shook her head, then, considering a moment, noted, “A tall bastard, whoever. Gaspar got ‘im right in th’ ankle from the shadows.”

    “Tall, with a limp,” the Queen considered.

    Gaspar hesitated, and brushed his hand against his own pox-scarred face, glancing at Pug.

    “Might’ve had a beard, also,” she translated.  “Hard t’ say anything else.”

    “Better than nothing at all to go on. Where’s Gascon?”

    Reynard shook his head. Gaspar glanced at Pug again; she chewed her right thumbnail and shrugged idly.

    “Don’t know,” she said, cooly studying the dried blood on the floor; a breathless page then hustled in, bowed to all present - Pug croaked a laugh at him - and announced that the Mayor requested the Queen’s presence, urgently.

    “What, already?” she asked. “All right; tell him I’ll be along shortly. You two can go as well,” she added, to the brigands, “Thank you for your assistance, and tell the Duke to report to me the moment you next see him.”

    “As for you,” she added quickly to Reynard, as soon as the room cleared out, “In case I don’t see you later - “

    He put his helm down wordlessly, stepped across the few feet between them, and kissed her; she took her time pulling away, despite the city government’s looming crisis, and said, “Good luck, not that you need it; I look forward to your victory.”

    “Yes, thank you,” he said, somewhat embarrassed, “I’ll do my best.”

      An hour later, the event was already underway. The brilliant sun pulled a faint fog from the frozen ground, and flashed on the armor of the first two contestants as they met with a resounding crash.

    “Coll, and Bohault,” Giselle reported; they had put her in charge of keeping track of the course of the jousts, and she accordingly drew a bold check in red ink beside Bohault. The Queen nodded her congratulations to the man, who returned her notice with an answering, professional jerk of his head. The next contestants were familiar, as well, and the third set strangers, not unexpectedly; twenty rounds had to be got through, and some of the names on the list had a distinctly foreign flavor. One such man, called Devyn, provided the judges’ first opportunity to deliberate, as he and John Kimborne knocked each other down in the same moment.

    “Sir Kimborne’s a proper knight, which ought to count for something,” Meve said, “And that sweep with the lance on his opponent’s part was, I believe, not quite legal, which is no doubt why he was unseated.”

    “It’s hardly Devyn’s fault that he’s from Novigrad, which doubtless is why he didn’t know not to do that,” Giselle said, smiling encouragingly at the young man. “Also, I think he is well, you know, handsome, for a foreigner.”

    “Yes, I’m sure you do,” the Baroness said, rolling her eyes. By unspoken consent, she reigned as their chief; accordingly, when she pointed impatiently at the knight, her decision was accepted without further comment and the contest carried on. They made good time under her able command, assisted by the timely appearance of mulled wine and sandwiches at midmorning. The names and men rolled by, ticked off in red; they made it past the unpronounceably named Sicg Sicgurdssen, a group of brothers whose names all began with with same letters, Ethan, who put the third and final of the brothers down and received a brilliant smile from Giselle in reward, and as, the Baroness and Queen grew bored and were chatting idly about the relative merits of different styles of tilting helms, Sir Holt, who won his match easily. The Queen eyed him darkly and then abruptly lost interest in side conversation as Reynard appeared, defeated a man named Hall in a few passes, and departed again. The Baroness accepted the sudden silence with faint amusement.

    “Nolda,” Giselle read, next, “And Sir Eres. That’s the knight, there. Who is Nolda?”

    Meve cracked a surprised, but pleased, smile, pointed across the field, where a lanky woman in well-used armor stood apart from the other contestants and said, pleased, “That is Nolda; she was an Aedirnian defector, fought for us in Angren. I hadn’t known she was still here in Rivia; I thought she’d have gone back home.” The Baroness squinted at the woman, with a thoughtful air. Sir Eres scowled at his opponent, glanced hopefully toward the judges, found no leniency in their stony stares, shut his visor and rode to his place. The match lasted all of ten seconds: Nolda held her lance left-handed, at an odd diagonal angle, and then at the last moment straightened it, smacked her opponent’s spear aside with a sweep of her shield, and knocked him away. The Baroness hummed thoughtfully under her breath.      

    “Unusual tactic, but not, I as far as I know, illegal,” Meve commented. Giselle shrugged and crossed out Sir Eres’ name, as the knight picked himself up and stalked angrily toward the judges.

    “It may not answer a second time, but it certainly took him by surprise,” the Baroness said, agreeably, and added, to the clearly disgruntled man, “What’s the problem?”

    The problem was that Sir Eres was a sore loser, Giselle supposed; Meve privately suspected it had as much to do with Nolda herself than it did with his defeat at her hands, but if he was hoping for sympathy he found none. The Baroness turned him away with a few blunt phrases and the contest continued.

    By noon, they had only three names left. Giselle read them off in a doubtful voice: Brossard, Gaheris, Saban. They sent a page to find out where the absentees had got to, and took a break. Giselle hurried off into the crowd with a promise to return in due time, and Meve and the Baroness settled into a debate of the various methods of arranging the second round and soon arrived at a prospective bracket. The page returned, indicated a short, bearded warrior on a sturdy horse, said, “The dwarf, there, is Saban; as for the Duke, nobody seems to know where he might be found, and the squire Gaheris is injured and can’t fight.”

    “I suppose, under the circumstances, that we could simply advance Saban to the second round,” the Queen remarked, frowning at the news of Gascon’s absence, as Giselle came running, slightly flustered. “You’re late,” she added, to the younger woman. Giselle flushed and looked apologetic.

    “Someone had let a bunch of rabbits out into the street, and a crowd of boys was chasing ‘em,” she explained, and then, spotting something on the field, abandoned the tale and gasped, “Look!”

    Meve turned and smiled as she was finally proved right: a man in black armor, mounted on a black horse, sat at the farther end of the barriers. He slowly pointed his lance at Saban, who turned to stare at the judges, baffled. Meve shrugged at him, which he seemed to take for permission; he pulled his helmet on briskly and kicked his horse toward the appointed starting position without delay.

    Saban rode well, but it was obvious that he was an amateur; the black knight unseated him in their first pass without apparent effort. He stood, collected his lost helmet from the ground, picked a clod of dirt out of the visor, and shrugged pragmatically. Meve squinted at the departing black knight’s back, and said, “Well, that was - quite interesting. On to the next round, I suppose. Who is it, Giselle?”

    It was Bohault and the unfortunate Ethan, who stood no chance against the veteran; he received another, slightly less congratulatory smile from Giselle, who then drew a second mark beside the soldier’s name.

    “So,” Meve said to the Baroness, conversationally, watching the next combat with a fine appearance of attention, “Care to make a prediction on the winner, yet?”

    “Of this match? Sir Brewes,” the older woman replied promptly; the knight in question was unseated by his opponent a half minute later. Meve smiled smugly at the winner.

    “Nolda seems to be doing well for herself, doesn’t she? - but I meant overall, in general.”

    “Ah. Well, Sir Odo, Sir Kimborne, perhaps Sir Holt if should he get lucky with his matchups -”

    “What about that black knight?”

    “Oh, him? Well, it’s hard to say, for sure.”

    The conversation paused again as Count Odo made his second appearance, against Sicg, the knight from Skellige. The Count won his second match far more quickly than he had his first. Meve, knowing from long experience that he had been studying the competition for most of the last round, to prepare himself, was unsurprised.

    “Although,” the Baroness continued thoughtfully, as he rode away, “I have seen a black knight fight at a recent tourney, I can’t say as it’s the same one who’s here today. Armor can be changed, but this one doesn’t seem to have the same style, at all. However, he does seem familiar, but they all do after near thirty-five years of watching them in tournaments. Almost all, at least.”

    Meve was growing used to the older woman’s subtle hints, and therefore was sure she’d caught a significant note in her comments. She thought back to the tournament, suddenly recalled the Baroness’s parting behavior with a frown, and re-evaluated her previous assumption: perhaps, after all, there was no confusion about herself and Gascon, and - she realized with mild annoyance - the Baroness had figured out the true reason for her absences, one way or another, but said nothing about it at the time. The same gleam of a secret joke was in the other woman’s eye when she looked away from the field, where Sir Holt was riding away from yet another victory. Meve stared at her, momentarily at a loss. The Baroness smiled slightly and looked back to the lists.

    “So,” the Queen asked, deciding it was best to not to inquire further, “Who do you think it could be, this time?”

    “I’m not sure; I’ll need more time to consider the matter,” the Baroness said, as the black knight returned, last of the pack again, and lined up against Sir Orlac, who had been lingering about as if waiting for him.

    “They’ve fought before,” Meve said, remembering suddenly. “Sir Orlac received an unexpected cold bath, as I recall.”

    Sir Orlac took his second defeat and stood up, swearing loudly at the black knight’s back.

    “At least he didn’t get wet, this time,” she added.

    “What a fall,” Giselle said, “Do you think he’s hurt?”

    The knight was limping slightly, but Meve shrugged dismissively and said, “Oh, no. He’ll be fine. Anyway, who do we have left?”

    Giselle held up the list; the Queen glanced at the six names remaining, nodded, and signaled to the herald.

      “This is going well,” she reflected, after watching Nolda defeat Bohault, to acclaim from the growing audience. “Perhaps I should do it again, next year, but with fewer participants, so it doesn’t take all day.”

    “Hm,” the Baroness said noncommittally, and then, during the next fight, “I do believe I like Sir Kimborne’s chances to win out; what do you think, young lady?”

    Giselle considered.

    “Well, the black knight’s very mysterious; it would be interesting if he won, like a ballad.”

    Nobody bothered to ask Meve for her opinion, but she took no notice, as she was closely watching the knight in question and Sir Holt ride onto the field. The black knight sat dead still on the nearer side, but the red knight passed him and approached the judges, scowling. The Baroness addressed him, in a tone that rivaled Meve’s for arrogance:

    “What’s th’ issue, sir?”

    “I don’t want to fight this - this fellow,” he said, sulkily. “It ain’t proper.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Well, for one, he might not even be a knight; it could be anyone under all that armor - any man at all, or a woman, even, for that matter.”

    “Heard this sort o’ thing before, a hundred time,” Giselle said quietly to Meve, “He’s chicken.”

    “I heard that,” the knight growled. Giselle blinked innocently at him.

    “Well, your other option is Sir Kimborne,” the Baroness said, growing slightly annoyed. Sir Holt opened his mouth, then closed it with an uneasy frown, obviously unsatisfied by the alternative offer.

    “Didn’t this same knight defeat you, a month or two ago? I would think you’d want to avenge your loss,” the Queen noted, idly. He scowled at the reminder, clearly inclined to argue further. The Baroness turned a hostile glare on him; he thought better of it and rode away, muttering, to take his place by the barricade.

    “What an ass,” Meve said.

    The knights completed a pass, to no avail on either side.

    “Didn’t your man Odo duel him, lately?” the Baroness said. “Can’t say I blame him, now, though I thought his behavior uncharacteristically impulsive at the time. Watch and see if the red knight don’t overcommit on this next run.”

    He did, badly; instead of his usual hesitation, he drove in a rush. Meve suspected he had lost his temper. The black knight took the attack on his shield and turned it away.

    “Yes, well, next time I’ll leave you to deal with him instead,” Meve remarked. “It seems to be more effective.”

    Sir Holt took his third run far more cautiously; his usual hesitation returned, and Meve glanced downward to hide a malicious smile as the black knight took advantage, aimed true, and knocked his opponent down hard.

    “I have five sons,” the Baroness replied, flatly. “Th’ egos of these fool knights can’t compare.”

    Gaheris limped heavily onto the field and collected Sir Holt; Meve looked from him to the black knight, who appeared to be watching the squire closely, a slight frown crossing her face. Giselle, meanwhile, made a bold red mark through the loser’s name and said, “It’s Sir Odo and Sir Kimborne, now.”

    It was a fight that the Baroness watched approvingly, making comments to Giselle, as Meve was, again, distinctly uninterested in conversation. The Count finally wore his opponent down from sheer weariness after half a dozen passes, drawing a pleased smile from the Queen. They then broke off for ten minutes, reckoning it was only fair to let their last three knights have a rest before the end. The judges spent the time in conference, deciding how to arrange their semi-finals; the no-shows had ruined their early arrangements, leaving them with an odd number of contestants. The Baroness eventually ruled that Sir Odo, being the senior knight, should be given a free round, and Nolda and the stranger would go against each other, as a result. Meve squinted at her.

    “Have you really not figured the black knight out, yet?”

    “Oh,” she said, mysteriously, “I think that by the time we’re done, we’ll know who he is, one way or another.”

      The black knight, however, did not appear when summoned along with the other two, leaving Nolda sitting alone at the barricades. Reynard, after a while, offered to go against her, on the chance that the third contestant would turn up very late to fight the last match; Nolda agreed, somewhat reluctantly. The Baroness overruled them, claiming that there was no knowing whether their third party would actually appear. The contestants therefore settled in to wait, Reynard with a distant frown and Nolda looking moderately suspicious of the sudden delay. The crowd chattered in the background, bored and uncertain of the future prospects for its entertainment.

    “How long are we going to wait?” Giselle asked, five minutes later; the black knight had failed to show.

    “Damn him,” Meve snarled quietly, “I planned this blasted event to flush him out, and he still somehow slipped away through my fingers. What now?”

    Giselle stared at her; the Baroness sighed and said, “Well, th’ only thing we can do is declare the match forfeit; Nolda will just have to fight Sir Odo, gods help her.”

    The contestants were summoned and the plan explained to them. Nolda did not seem overly relieved at being spared the black knight, probably due to being confronted with the Count as a result. He himself appeared mildly perturbed by the unusual situation, glanced at Meve’s tense smile, and said nothing.

    “I don’t know as it’s necessary that the Count should go against me now,” Nolda said doubtfully, “To tell the truth, I’m only here because Captain Bohault - he’s my husband - said could do better than me at this game, which I’ve proved he can’t.”

    “That you have,” the Queen said, mildly amused despite herself, “But the contest has to be won by someone. If you’re intending to spare Sir Reynard a fall on account of his age, I assure you there’s no need.”

    Nolda, who appeared to be roughly the same age as the knight, frowned, apparently unsure whether the Queen was joking. Sir Reynard’s expression turned mildly pained, but he did not roll his eyes at her.

    “I have no objections,” he said, stiffly. Nolda shrugged and said, “Well, I’m game, then.”

    “Good,” the Baroness said, “We’ll start in twenty minutes.”

    The combatants rode down to opposite sides of the field, where Reynard sat on his horse, exchanging a few words with his squire. Nolda stood at her horse’s head, deep in conversation with Bohault; the occasional audible phrase and the cavalryman’s complicated hand gestures suggested a strategy session was underway. Meve struggled to appear neutral, if she couldn’t manage anything else, despite her continued irritation at the black knight’s disappearance. The effort became supremely more difficult as, from behind and under the stands, a familiar voice whispered, “Meve! I mean, Your Majesty! I need t’ talk to you.”

    She turned, slowly, forced a casual tone, and said, “Ah, Duke Brossard. I’m glad you’ve decided to join us at last.”

[thecardsimagine]

Dog anon- it's no worry! Maybe he just... shoves someone out of the way for no reason, and MC is just "Hey what the fuck, apologize to that person, dipshit." (Bc let's be honest, he needs to check himself). I apologize if that's not enough, I'm super tired todayn bsjxjdndbd

Thank you for clarifying, I think I gotchu! However, just because I don’t want to use too strong of language, I hope you don’t mind me relying more of emotions than on words!

≿————-————-  ❈　————-————-≾ 

Being treated badly - even if it was just the perception of it - clung to Lucio like his golden arm to his shoulders. Even though he ignored the words said about him and how he should rather live his life, it’s not like he didn’t at least hear it. And long ago, he had decided he needed to stand above it all and walk his way through life however he pleased to truly become happy.

Many things changed, and he changed since then, yet, he was a work in progress. Lucio could not help slip up or have his mood dim under certain conditions, but if he had anything, then the reassurance of the arm on his shoulder. The fake limb still stuck to him like it had been poured over his real arm, and nonetheless, he knew he could rely on it any time.

It wasn’t uncommon for Vesuvia to be crowded around midtime. Kids playing in the market, and people exchanging the newest gossip while buying groceries for their homes. And yet, Lucio did not mind strolling around his city while it was at it’s busiest - it was something many tried to avoid if they could, but not the Count, oh no.

And you sighed and smiled at him as he told you the story of other city’s bustling places he had explored. Sadly, you knew that one already and could barely keep up with his confident stride forward through the masses, the people rushing to get out of his way.

Everyone, except for one young lad that looked as lost as you imagined you would be in a city you don’t know.

To Lucio’s defense, you knew him well enough to know he didn’t mean as much harm and snobbiness as he emitted, but you were eying the situation suspiciously while the Count kept rattling down facts of his life and the young men with his back turned to you didn’t seem to notice you two approaching. From how it looked, others had already caught on to the situation too, staring at the scene unfolding, and you took a deep breath in anticipation.

And then it went down, almost as if you had expected it. Lucio noticed the man in his way, giving his back an irritated glare before reaching out his most trustworthy hand, the one that dealt with everything, shoving the lanky build out of his way roughly, before going back to his talk with a, “Where was I… Ah, yes-”

In some way, the foreigner reminded you of Julian - tall and thin in the wind, a little lost but with bright eyes. But knowing Lucio, you knew he wasn’t the best in being gentile, and it showed in the way the man swayed, trying to catch his balance before plumping to the ground with the Count moving onwards without bothering to look back.

Only when he noticed you not being by his side anymore to hear about the one dragon he slew, he twirled around in a moment of surprise and panic, head moving side to side to find you. And now it was his turn to sigh as he watched you help the young lad up, asking slowly if he was alright, not giving Lucio the attention he needed from you.

Even with some distance between you two, Lucio did not need many steps to be back, giving you a curt, “Come on, [Name],” before wanting to pull you away, still unaware of the situation HE had caused. “No,” you sternly replied, not letting him grab your arm and instead swatted his hand. “I am not going anywhere with you.”

A dramatic gasp escaped him, hiding the insecurity you managed to boil inside of him in a matter of seconds. His mind swayed frantically from being hurt to figuring out what had happened for you to seem so moody all of a sudden. Hadn’t you been listening to his stories with all your admiration minutes ago?

“You drag me out into the bustling city and then run over everyone that does not go out of your way? Even when it’s unknowing foreigners? What a great count you are, you should rethink your position.”

Chewing him out in public wasn’t something you liked doing, especially with how the people gasped and whispered in the backgrounds. Simply, it wasn’t something that Lucio deserved either, but certainly, sometimes, it would help to bring the point across.

You turned back to the man who just looked around him in confusion, eyes flitting between you and Lucio while also noticing the commotion he had caused. He said something to you in a language you did not understand, but you just shook your head and told him it’s fine in yours, trying to calm him. Finally, you let go of him as he was able to stand up on his own again, looking back at Lucio expectantly.

Meanwhile, Lucio had gone through all the stages of embarrassment there were, a red shimmer on his cheeks still while his hands were balled into fists of frustration. “Don’t you want to apologize for shoving the young man?” you suggested to him, making it very clear you were not happily yielding to him glaring daggers at both of you.

The whispers around you two only grew louder and more prominent, Lucio having noticed them too since long. With a scowl, he let his eyes estimate the situation, knowing that no matter what, he wouldn’t look very good in the eyes of the public anyway. But looking back at you, it slowly but surely dawned on you. Even if he had done something wrong, he could still redeem himself for it. You were the evidence that he could indeed change and learn from his faults - even if meant jumping over his own pride.

Clearing his throat, he stood up straight again, unclenching his jaw to console the scowl on his face giving you a last glance to meet your expectancy in your gaze head-on. And then he held out his hand to the men, watching his face contort in surprise and confusion before he took it, Lucio being quick to lay his second hand above it and give it a good shake. “I am really, terribly sorry, for I must not have seen you standing there.”

Rolling your eyes, you sighed inwardly, patting his shoulder to move on. Waving back to the stranger, you two got back on your track, quiet scolding rolling off your lips for his insincerity. You knew he did it to better his image, but it was deserved you let him know how you felt about it.

“Poor boy,” you finally sighed. “Probably didn’t even know what happened in the first place.”

Lucio stopped in his tracks, listening to your words as he had found his new preference in being quiet while you were scolding him. You stopped too, turning around with a questioning, raised brow. “Why did you make me apologize then?” he asked, starting to pout before marching by you. “Oh, Lucio,” you sighed.

He was a work in progress, you told yourself quietly. And you hoped he’d understand it soon on his own.

[fancat-not-fangirl]

From the Land of the Ice and Snow (Pt.1)

a/n: ok so here’s another one of my fics. Also a hurt!Dean bc I like it

Summary: Sam and Dean had almost forgotten their Leviathan doubles. That doesn't mean that others have. And those others are out for revenge. Hurt!Dean, Protective/Worried!Sam. Set somewhere season 11.

()()()()()

To be honest, Sam and Dean had completely forgotten. Their lives were just so full of shit, that since then, the brothers haven’t even thought about their Leviathan counterparts. What with Metatron and the Mark and Amara, the Winchesters barely had time to think, much less think about the havoc the Leviathan Sam and Dean had wreaked.

Those memories were painfully jogged when they found themselves on the receiving end of three very dangerous, very loaded guns, held by three very dangerous, very angry men in the dead of winter. Their names were Short-ass, Tall-ass, and Just Plain Old Regular Ass. Or, at least that’s what Dean called them in his head. They hadn’t properly introduced themselves since the Ass Assembly had cornered Sam and Dean outside an abandoned barn right after the brothers had finished off the vampire’s nest inside.

Caught completely unaware, Sam and Dean didn’t even have time to draw their own bloodied weapons before being surrounded by the men. The men who up until now hadn’t said a word. 

“Why?”

Dean noticed that this was spoken by Tall-ass, who although wasn’t as tall as Sam, had twice the amount of muscle on him. He was wearing a simple jacket, as if he wasn’t bothered by the feet of snow around him, nor the fast falling snowflakes that had begun to collect on the gathered men.

“I’m sorry, what?” came Sam’s voice, probably more higher in pitch then it should have been. Dean smirked and decided he’d tease his brother about it later, when they got out of the cold and out of range of those guns.

That was the wrong move, because immediately, two out of the three guns swiveled towards him.

“What are you smirking at?” Ah. It was Short-ass who spoke this time. Dean expected his voice to be a bit more annoying and squeaky. Instead, it was gruff and l-

“Answer the question.” Oh wow, Just Plain Old Regular Ass sounded exactly like Dean had pictured; all rough and scratchy, with a hint of I’m-Better-Than-You mixed in.

He was nudged in the side by Sam, who’s concerned expression finally spurred Dean into answering.

“What did you gentlemen want the answer to? The first or the second question? And does order matter?”

Tall-ass snarled and stepped closer, hands not shaking as the gun was pressed almost up against Dean’s forehead. 

“The first.”

Dean shrugged. “Ok simple. Why what-“ The question had barely left his mouth when a calloused hand slapped him roughly across the face. He heard Sam’s sharp intake of breath and then a low growl of, “Stay where you are” from Short-ass, probably directed towards his brother.

Dean lifted his head up and looked into Tall-ass’s rage filled face. Heaving a sigh, Dean went to ask the question again. “Why what?” This earned him yet another slap to the face, this one harder.

“You know what, you bastard.” Tall-ass snarled as Dean brought his head back up for the second time. “Don’t play dumb. You know what you did, and we just want to know why.”

Dean and Sam exchanged glances, making sure the other also didn’t have a clue on what was going on. This obviously did not bode well with the Ass Assembly. This time, it was both Winchesters who got not slaps, but punches in the face.

“Listen, fellas.” Dean groaned and brought his hand to his mouth, which then came back bloody. Just great. He continued, “We have no idea what you’re going on about, so we’d be much obliged if you either told us, or let us go. Not necessarily in that order.” Just Plain Old Regular Ass’s glare could have melted the skin off of Dean’s bones.

“Alright. You wanna play stupid? Let’s play,” snarled Tall-ass. “What we want to know is what you boys were doing in 2011. Surely not shooting up any banks, by any chance? Or I doubt either of you so happened to be in Manitoc, Wisconsin in a cafe?”

Oh. The snow was falling faster now.

“Or are you gonna tell us that this was all a big misunderstanding. That you and your brother hadn’t marched into that bank and killed everyone there, including my daughter? Or his son?” A gesture towards Short-ass. “Or in the cafe, it wasn’t his nephew that was forced to videotape you psycho’s on your killing spree?” Another gesture, this one towards Regular Ass.

It slowly dawned on the brothers what these men wanted. Revenge. On the Leviathan Winchesters. Too bad they were already dead, leaving the real Sam and Dean to pay the price. And it wasn’t like the brothers had any logical explanation to this that the Ass Assembly would believe. Hi, yes, those people that shot up your relatives were not us, but monsters from Purgatory that were accidentally released by our angel friend, and can shapeshift and turn into people and they’re trying to frame us. Have a great day!

Dean’s thoughts were racing, trying to find a way to get them out of here. Safely. The only thing he could come up with at the moment was the need to stall for time. Yes. That’s it. That would give him time to think.

“How did you find us?” Not the best question he could come up with, but it would have to do.

Tall-ass laughed, loudly and darkly. His eyes shone with malice.

“Oh boys, we’ve been tracking you for months now. I can’t believe you didn’t catch on. I guess you were dumber than you looked.” Dean bristled, and Tall-ass continued, “Watching your every move. Trailing you as you went to bars and rented motel rooms and drunk beer as if you haven’t destroyed dozens of families.” The last part was said in a guttural growl.

Short-ass and Just Plain Old Regular Ass nodded along, their looks just as murderous as their partners’.

“What do you want?” This question came from Sam. 

“Oh that’s simple. We want you dead. But first, we want to make you suffer. Suffer for what you did to all of us.” Short-ass spoke up now and stepped forward.

Just as Dean had expected, Sam started with his ‘let’s all be friends’ speech, but the Ass Assembly wasn’t having any of that.

“That means killing one of you now.” 

Sam immediately stopped talking, and both boys froze.

“We’ve seen what you two can do together, so it’s best to limit the possibilities of survival. The only question is, which one do we kill first?”

Dean started unconsciously inching towards his brother, who from a sideways glance was doing the same.

Regular Ass’s turn to talk. “I say we kill the short one now. He has a mouth on him.” Dean shot him a glare and stuck out his tongue. Regular Ass glowered back.

Tall-ass looked like he was about to agree, but then his face scrunched up like he was thinking. “Nah. I think we should kill the lanky one. His brother seems very protective of him.” As an afterthought he added, “That way, we can watch as the tough one slowly breaks.”

Short-ass looked as if he was deciding between the two. Then he smiled and shrugged. 

“Ah what the hell. Lanky one it is.”

Then the three men leveled their guns at Sam and fired.

[sockmonstergotstyle]

100 pages into Tower of Dawn:

Yeah that’s right

I’m reading it

One thing I will say is that I really love the setting. Antica makes me feel warm and I can picture all the people and smells really well

Chaol has so far been tolerable. He seems to slip into phases of being a whiny arse and then redeems himself only to delve back into it again

Also it’s so funny hearing him like “Dorian is my King Dorian will help” and the next second being like “ugh that bitch Manon” dramatic irony at its finest

Yrene is alright so far. She seems decent. Her attitude toward Chaol annoyed me a lil at first bc it was just a teeeeny bit immature but I suppose she has her reasons

Haven’t decided which of the royals I like. Arghun is pretentious and quite the twat. Duva doesn’t do much. The others seem alright

“Dorian had shown him using a trick with two hand mirrors before he’d left” yes Dorian u fucking genius Bill Gates whom I only know Dorian WizzKid Havilliard

There’s a hint of a love triangle on the horizon and I don’t like it

Possibly more than one? Currently there could be Nesryn-Chaol-Yrene, Chaol-Yrene-whatever that Prince is called, or The other Prince-Nesryn-Chaol. Or all.

There has been far too many references to Chaol’s dick

I mean after that scene in EoS i shouldn’t really be bothered by minor dick mentions. But like. TMI Chaol.

Also when is Chaol gonna get his certified Kink. Like, Rowan and Aelin have their biting, Dorian’s got his chain thing going on, what’s Chaol’s? Awkward conversation?

Also when was he suddenly tall I’ve been picturing him as like 5”11 all this time then Yrene’s like wow he’s definitely over 6 foot.

It’s like when Dorian was suddenly buff in EoS (which I have rejected. I’ve had enough buff white men thank you I like slightly lanky Dorian better) maybe Sarah is just trying to make the Original Two male characters seem on parr with all the magical warriors she’s thrown in

Anyway

I don’t really know where the plot is going (except the subplot) but that definitely isn’t a bad thing. So far I’m not hating it

Extra: how do people pronounce Chaol? I used to pronounce it ‘K-ol’ in book 1 then I read a pronunciation guide that said it’s ‘Kay-ol’ and I’ve just pronounced it like that since

[justpeachy--keen]

build and skin for all

BUILD

Belle: smol. she’s 5′2, just itty bitty. but she’s also like--idk man she’s full of fury on the lowkey. don’t fuck w her. she gets all like puffed up when she gets angry. normally makes herself small though, curls her shoulders, ducks her head, makes herself invisible basically. she’s also pretty plump and curvy. definitely not skinny. has nice hips, full breasts, cute chubby arms that kinda thing. 

Simba: tol. 6′3 aka one of the tallest people in town. he’s very like--lean and, to use one of my favorite words, sinewy. he’s definitely got a lot of muscles because he goes running and did sports like his whole life and also likes swimming. definitely has meat on his bones. broad shoulders, long beautiful neck, etc.

Toulouse: 6′0, so tall but not a giant person like his little brother. a bit broader than ber, but not by much, still definitely a twig person. can make himself into an imposing person though. his coiffed hair adds an extra inch or two lbr.

Bambi: 6′0 my tall teen. he is a straight up beanpole. no muscles really. tbh kind of sickly looking because he was sick for a good portion of his life and also a premature baby so he just never really gained proper weight. looks like u could snap him in half and you probably could.

Perdita: 5′7 so a bit tall for a girl. i legit thought this was average height but apparently not, lmao. has legs for dayssss. nice toned arms and body because she takes pride in her appearance. wears like 5 inch heels all day every day because she gives no fucks, bow before her.

Sweet: 6′0 bc all my men are 6′0 apparently. broad as fuck, like his shoulders are so wide. he keeps in decent shape, uses the hospital gym pretty regularly. is very physically strong for the most part. 

Maui: 5′10. not super tall, but a little above average. wishes he was taller, but most of his brothers are about his height too, so it’s not that bad, though they are all much broader than him. he’s definitely #build on the upper part of his body because swimming and fishing. 

Attina: 5′4. smol but not super smol. she’s kind of chubby, like not--really but in a way that she definitely notices. like she kinda has a bit of a belly and a double chin when she tilts her face certain ways. not overweight by any means but it makes her self conscious anyway. so cute and squishy.

Hercules: 6′2 also my tol son. he’s lanky as hell and it confuses people when he just lifts up cars bc he’s def that person that peg is like DO YOU EVEN LIFT BRO at and thinks it’s hilarious because he doesn’t lift he’s just strong as fuck even though he has zero muscle mass.

Akela: 5′9. he is short and stocky but he will fuck you UP. broad and very strong (magically enhanced, but he’s also like ripped). is a powerhouse in a small body, seriously do not fuck w him.

Peach: 5′2. she is smol but mighty. she does a lot of sports and exercises a bunch so she’s actually really quite strong for a sixteen year old girl. doesn’t look it but is definitely like that girl who is all POW--impressive biceps.

SKIN

Belle: porcelain and beautiful, hardly a blemish. has a few faint scars on like elbows/knees from falling off philippe/generally being a curious child who cut herself on things. besides that her only scar is the thick, pink scar that runs from the bottom of her cleavage about four inches down. it’s pretty gnarly tbh not like a surgical scar, like a wound that healed on its own.

Simba: lovely skin that’s kind of reddish-brown. it’s definitely not that dark, a nice soft colour, more burnt ochre-ish than anything. has a scar on his forehead that is faint from the car accident, also a pretty gnarly scar on his left inner forearm from a compound fracture. uhh faint scars on his wrists from handcuffs. and various other, lesser scars from rugby/football/lacrosse/etc accidents.

Toulouse: FRECKLES i almost can’t say he’s like pale as fuck (even though he is) because the freckles are so numerous they almost offset it, ahaha. but, yes, he has very pale skin, lots and lots of freckles. actually has pretty pale lips too.

Bambi: a ghost person. your classic #palewhiteboytm has some freckle/moles because of course, what #pasteywhiteboy is not complete without those?

Perdita: light skin, but not like #white. can get surprisingly tan when she wants to (tries not to thought because #aesthetic). she’s israeli so there is definitely some pigmentation to her skin. 

Maui: gosh, such nice skin. not too dark, but definitely a good tan. has beautiful freckles on his nose and cheeks and shoulders too probably. not moles, just the lightest dusting like someone lovingly painted them on.

Sweet: a lovely dark brown, the color of the earth. had a lot of acne in high school actually, so he’s got some scarring from that on his cheeks. has various scars from being in the army. 

Hercules: no scars because he literally cannot get them. not even acne scars the bitch. a beautiful red-brown skin tone, kind of dark-ish, but not super dark.

Akela: ugh his skin is so beautiful?? i don’t know how to describe it, just--so beautiful. i know you’re not supposed to compare pocs to food but god his skin is like?? ground coffee spread out and very fine. it’s like this just beautiful tawny-brown color? im so obsessed with it tbh.

Attina: also beautiful porcelain skin, though she has like the faintest of freckles that only come out if she spends lots of time in the sun. tbh probably has a few scars from when she was a kid, she def scraped knees and stuff she wasn’t always OCD and panicked about literally everything. she used to be quite adventurous and mischievous. 

Peach: light tan skin, very pretty. she loves her skin. she doesn’t really have any blemishes. has faint scars from rough housing as a kid and getting tossed by waves while surfing. also sports scars.