#but I like that ribcage armor thingy

[timethehobo]

Wanted to draw him in that new outfit from the trailer cos damn.

[transgirlfiend]

Went back to compare with the references! Adam - Yay! so cutes! Lilith - I fucked up the top of the cross she's crucified on and the angle of the lance of longinus stabbing her should be rotated 90 degrees, but Lilith Herself is pretty much accurate. I just don't think I executed the drawing very well, something about her is fucked up to me. Sachiel - Happy with this one! all I'm missing here are the thin thigh plates, very tiny "bones" around the face, and one dot per shoulder, which while i feel kind of sounds like a lot written down, makes very little difference in the image itself (to me). Shamshel - Wonky posture, shoulders are too low, and so is the ribcage thingy. While I don't think I got anything exactly wrong, my Shamshel plushie has definitely distorted my memory of the show's proportions/appearance. Ramiel - :) She's unforgettable! Gaghiel - Sheesh it turns out i barely remembered what this one looked like, I got the head shape right, but the little mask face isn't supposed to be outlined, and pretty much everything else is completely off. oh well, it's a fish, I drew a fish. Probably registers as 'close enough' though. Is it my least favorite angel? Maybe. Sorry Gaghiel. Israfel - It's not too far off, but I didn't remember that it had feet and it's missing the bigger pair of "ribs". I also drew it's "armor" incorrectly, neglecting the 'plating' on the legs, and the semi-circle cut outs above the head and at the crotch area respectively. Sandalphon - I was pretty confident this one was close at the time, turns out- not so much. Majorly forgetting that the design of what i thought was the tail was actually supposed to be two arms(!!) and also neglecting the iconic eye spots! Apologies Sandalphon, you deserved better. Matarael - Center eye on the bottom maybe a little too big, circular 'eyes' on the side should have been upside down triangles, and it has flat feet instead of points. However I am willing to consider these 'small details' and say that this is another one I'm proud of! Sahaquiel - Only giving it three fingers per side instead of 5 jumps out as an obvious miss when presented with the reference, also I fucked up the eyelashes somewhat severely, but it's still pretty recognizable I think. Ireul - Is it kind of cheating to just draw the infected magi display? maybe, but it's not like Ireul actually looks like *anything*. Leliel - What can I say? I know what Leliel looks like. Bardiel - I am not good at drawing the evas, and didn't just want to draw a terrible rendition of unit 03, and the fucked up entry plug all covered in strings is one of the only shots we get of the angel's actual "body". I think this one I think is "close enough" for resemblance to the shot, but my version has the entry plug extended a bit too far and it is also coming out of just like, a football shape with no additional details. Zeruel - I was like 100% sure while doing this that Zeruel's body was not all black, but couldn't visualize what the patterning actually was. The head is a little too low (and too big), and is missing the mask outlining that I drew on gaghiel for some reason. Also no back triangles. Arael - Kind of? It's close-ish but the silhouette/shape is undeniably off compared to the real thing unfortunately. Armisael - This one would be very hard to fuck up I think lol. Kaworu/Tabris - So no head?

Angels drawn quickly from memory

[myhappylittlesideblog]

Max?

A/N: Black Sails has taken over my life so here you go

Pairing: Max x Fem!Reader

Rated Mature 

Beautiful gif!! By dindjariins (from the gif finder thingy in tumblr)

Do you remember me, Max?

Do you remember the first night I came into your house?

I walked through those doors which had previously been shut to me, through the crowd of sneering men I didn’t belong with and women who thought me too arrogant to even look in their direction. I passed members of my crew who snarled and laughed at me, asked if I planned to leave them and ask you for a job instead. As one of your girls. I knew I’d have to face them and everything else when the sun came up, but right then, I didn’t care. I didn’t answer them or the women asking me what it was that I wanted.

I only looked for you.

It didn’t take long to find you.

Though your house was always chaotic and loud, full of people grinding and hooting and cackling or running around to find someone cheaper or shorter or wider, the chaos was always controlled. The customers turned to leaves in the wind and it all revolved around you. You were the eye of the storm.

When I laid my eyes on you, saw you sitting at that table in the back of the room, the one in the corner by the fireplace with your legs crossed and your dainty little arm strewn across the back of your chair, you were already looking at me. Watching me as if you’d kept your eyes on me from the moment my boot hit the sand of the island. Like you could see through the people, the walls and doors, the buildings and the trees and had been watching me since I arrived.

Had I interested you from the beginning?

I only ask because all I had to do was look at you and you stood from your chair and came to me. You made your way through the leaves in the wind, whispering to some, adjusting others, but keeping your gaze on me with every step. Your hips swiveled as you slid past chairs and tables, your chin floated with pure confidence. You knew who you were, what you had and what you were about to have. One would think you were dripping with knives from the way everyone stepped out of your way. Even the drunks didn’t dare touch you.

But it wasn’t weapons you were flaunting. 

It was power.

You passed that power onto me the moment you took my hand and led me up those stairs. Whoever built that house of yours must have erected that staircase for that exact reason- to make every trip up or down them a performance. This was the most revered overture to ever grace your stage, but it was also the shortest. It ceased the moment you led me into the bedroom.

The remaining acts were meant for us two alone. 

Do you recall how it began? Once you closed the door? I do. I think about it often when I’m at sea. Alone.

I reminisce about one of your hands tugging at your corset strings while the other made the lock on the door click. When I moved to untie my tunic, or unlatch my belt, or remove my boot, you stopped me. 

“Just watch,” you said.

These were the first words you’d ever said that were directed at me and only me. Just watch.

So I did.

I watched your delicate fingers pull at the strings of your dress with such precision, it was as if you were plucking at a violin instead. The sound of the outfit’s heavy outer boning fell to the floor, acting as a musical reward, as did the skirting and bodice that followed. Soon after, there was a last point of percussion made by the clip that once held your hair neatly on the back of your head.

There the music stopped.

The only applause allowed was the sound of your bare footsteps as you crossed the floor to me. I can still feel you tucking yourself against me, wrapping your arms around my waist and pressing your breasts against mine, brushing the tip of your nose up my neck and against my chin. No man had ever moved so tenderly against me before, equipping me with a uniform of armor rather than a stifling cage.

When I returned the embrace, you asked me.

“Have you ever loved another woman before?”

I remember trying to think of something to say, some answer that wouldn’t lead to something drawn out and pitiful. 

Then you kissed my neck.

Then you tugged my tunic out of my trousers and pulled it all over my head, leaving me half bare before you.

Then you looked into my eyes before you looked down at my body, as if you wanted all of me and not just my breasts or my ass or my cunt. I wasn’t just something to squeeze or a place to keep your hands warm.

Is that true?

“She’s the reason you are here,” you said.

“Who?”

“The woman you loved. She led you here or pushed you here, no?” Your fingers found a spot on my neck, then one above my left breast, on the middle of my ribcage, on my belly and hip just above the line of my trousers. 

You said, “People like you don’t come to this island of their own accord. They’re sent into piracy for a reason.” You touched the bone of my brow, finding the last one. “These scars are new, received in these last weeks. I’ve seen enough of them to know that.”

“It’s not a mystery I’m new to Nassau. I could have satisfied your curiosity if you had simply asked me. No need to get me naked for that.”

In reply, you shoved my trousers down my legs and your hands fell from my waist to my bottom. You squeezed the flesh as you said, “I had many reasons to get you naked. First and foremost, I wanted you in my bed.”

They used to tell me of your beauty. Besides your body and skills, they talked of your soft curls, your all-knowing hands, and most popularly, your eyes. More specifically the golden flecks of glitter hiding under feathery lashes. But as you looked up at me with your body pressed to mine and your hands where no mere acquaintance should ever have them, I saw no lightness in your eyes. No sparkling like sunlight on the water. Just black.

“One night in my bed,” you told me. “One night in my bed and you’ll never think of her again.”

You were right.

Though it’s never the smartest idea to skimp on precious sleep the night before your ship departs, that is exactly what I did. I left you at dawn with a kiss and a note and miraculously, despite my concern, not a crew member let even a peep loose about my night with you. In fact, I was treated with a new silent respect. I was given someone new, someone who deserved my attentions, to think of during the day and dream about at night. A woman to live for, to steal for, to return to this wretched island for.

So here I am.

Do you remember me now, Max?

[nathans-tales]

Ok so I was scrolling though your blog (no shame in my game) and the cliché angsty prompts thingy caught my eye! SOOOOO maybe when you have the time you could do a fic about one of them charging into battle after their love is hurt OR maybe the one is mind controlled and the other has to fight them! With Erathan or Aspen and their lovers! ( I tired to give the others some love cause they’re amazing too)

Lmfao it only took me like 2 months to finally write this, but here you go! I chose the first prompt for Erathan & Leliana, because it already tied into a fic idea I had in mind. This fic kind of got away from me while writing it, so it actually only focuses on your prompt for like a hot second and then it just keeps going lmao. Hope you like it though!

Pairing: Leliana x Female Warden (my oc)

“Hey, my cooking isn’t that bad,” Alistair argued, turning back to face the accusing party and nearly stumbling over a tree root.

“First of all, yes it is. Second, please don’t kill yourself before we reach Redcliffe, okay? We’re hardly an hour out of camp and I don’t wanna drag your arse the rest of the way,” Erathan teased. Leliana stifled a laugh as Alistair’s cheeks flooded red.

“Was my stew really that bad last night?” he asked.

“That was supposed to be stew?” Erathan replied, actually starting to feel bad for her companion. She heard a quiet laugh from the dark-haired witch at the back of the group and cracked a smile of her own. Alistair sighed and turned back to walk ahead. “I’m just teasing you, Alistair! It’s not like any of us are any better, except maybe Wynne. I wasn’t so sure of the bread rolls Leliana made the other night either.”

“Hey!” Leliana protested, poking Erathan’s side. The elf laughed and pushed herself onto the tips of her toes to place a kiss to her lover’s cheek before intertwining their hands together. She heard an annoyed groan from behind her and turned to look back at Morrigan.

“Aw don’t be jealous, Morrigan; you can hold my other hand!” Erathan offered with a grin, holding out her hand.

Morrigan scoffed, “I’m quite alright without all the touching, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” Erathan replied, shrugging.

They walked in silence as the trees passed them by, bird calls and snapping twigs the only disruptions. As her mind wandered to what she hoped to accomplish in Redcliffe and the warmth of Leliana’s palm pressed against her own, Erathan almost missed the sudden loss of the bird calls; almost.

Silence settled around them like a cage.

“Ambush!” she called out, reaching for her daggers just as an arrow flew past her face. She ducked to the side of the small forest opening they found themselves in, scanning the area for unfamiliar faces.

Alistair was already slamming his shield into one of the bandits, sending them backwards into a tree. Morrigan sent a strike of lightning into the chest of a bandit who was rushing towards her, Leliana following with an arrow through the heart of another. Erathan spotted an archer aiming for Alistair’s back and quickly moved to dig her blade into their stomach before they could release the arrow.

She picked off another bandit before she heard a sharp cry from across the opening, the voice painfully familiar. Erathan turned and saw Leliana collapse to the forest floor, clutching her side, a bandit standing behind her with a bloody knife in hand.

Erathan froze, her blood running cold. Her eyes locked onto Leliana’s crumpled form and she suddenly felt a wave of horrified rage flood through her. Seeing red, she rushed towards the bandit.

Before the bandit could move to block her strike, Erathan’s blades were buried deep within their chest. She forced the blades outwards, slicing their chest open. As they fell with a strangled cry, Erathan turned to block a hit from an incoming sword. As she pushed back against the imposing blade with one of her own, she swung the other down to connect with the bandit’s stomach and tear through soft flesh.

When the final bandit fell, Erathan dropped to her knees beside Leliana and gently eased her onto her back from her hunched position. “Leliana how bad is it? Let me check,” Erathan frantically asked, reaching for where blood seeped through Leliana’s fingers.

“I’m okay, it’s fine,” Leliana insisted through clenched teeth, but her eyes closed tightly as her shaking hand was pried from her side. Erathan’s own hands quaked as she tried to gauge the damage. The blade had slipped between the panels of Leliana’s armor, entering just beneath her ribcage and pushing up towards her lungs. Alistair dropped to his knees on the other side of Leliana.

“What happened? What should we do?” he asked, hands hovering over her without purpose. Leliana whimpered and tried to grab for her wound again, but gasped and pulled away at the contact.

“I-I don’t know, Morrigan I need you to heal her!” Erathan cried, turning to find the witch. Morrigan stood apart from the group, looking stunned and uncertain.

“I’m not a healer, I only know a few limited spells. You would need Wynne to—”

“Morrigan please! Wynne’s back at camp and you need to heal this wound enough so Leliana can make it back,” Erathan pleaded, the fear in her voice leaving no room for argument.

Leliana groaned suddenly, sucking in a sharp breath as more blood seeped from her side.

“Leliana hold on, you have to hold on,” Erathan begged. Leliana’s breaths grew weaker and more frantic. “Leliana come on, no, please.” Before she could yell for Morrigan again, the mage was at her side and pushing her away to take her place.

“Alistair, reach over and apply pressure to the wound,” Morrigan commanded, her hands already glowing with magic. Alistair did as he was told; the color drained from his face when Leliana cried out in response.

“Leliana this is going to hurt; are you ready?” Morrigan asked, voice softer. Leliana nodded and clenched her fists.

As Morrigan worked, Erathan knelt by her lover’s head to run her fingers through her red locks, murmuring encouraging words and pressing kisses to her forehead. As the minutes passed Erathan lost herself in her own mantra of comforting words, trying to ignore the pained screams.

“This is all I can do,” Morrigan finally stated, resting back on her heels. The bleeding had stopped and drawn out whimpers had replaced the screaming, but Leliana’s wound was still open and threatening.

“You two start carrying her back to camp, I’ll run ahead and alert Wynne,” Erathan directed, only stopping briefly to take one more look at Leliana before turning and running in the direction they had come.

                                                           * * *

As Erathan forced her legs to go faster, pushing through the fire in her lungs, she couldn’t stop picturing Leliana hunched over, blood covering her side. She could still hear Leliana’s labored breathing and shook her head to push it away. Leliana would be okay. She had to be.

                                                           * * *

Erathan finally arrived at camp, crashing through the tree line just beside Morrigan’s tent. “Wynne!” She cried, still sprinting towards the elderly mage’s tent. “Wynne!”

Wynne emerged from her tent just as Erathan stumbled to a stop in front of it. “What are you doing back here?” she asked, brow furrowed. She looked around and realized Erathan was alone. “Where are the others? Has something happened?”

“Yes,” the elf answered, stopping briefly to catch her breath, “we were ambushed nearly an hour into our journey. Leliana is severely wounded; Alistair and Morrigan are bringing her back right now. I wanted to get here ahead of them so you could prepare. You have to help Leliana!”

“Goodness, that is terrible. Of course I’ll help her; can you describe her wound?”

Time seemed to crawl by as Erathan described where the blade had entered and how much Morrigan had been able to heal it, and helped Wynne prepare her tent for the healing process. Wynne seemed silently surprised that Morrigan had helped Leliana; she knew how cold the other mage often was to the girl. Just when Erathan thought she would go mad with worry, Morrigan entered the camp clearing, Alistair a few steps behind with Leliana in his arms. Leliana’s body hung slack, her head rocking with Alistair’s steps.

“Finally!” Erathan sighed, running over to meet them. She felt ill as she saw that Leliana had fallen unconscious.

“Bring her here, to my tent,” Wynne ordered, opening the flaps of her tent for Alistair. He carried her in and gently laid her onto the bedroll. When he came back out, his whole body was shaking; from exhaustion or nerves, Erathan couldn’t tell—likely both. She rushed past him towards the tent, but Wynne held out a hand to stop her.

“Stay out here,” she directed.

“But—no, I need to help,” Erathan stammered.

“I know you’re concerned, but I need space to work and it won’t help to have you worrying over her the entire time,” Wynne explained. “She’ll be okay,” she said gently. She turned and entered the tent then, leaving Erathan standing outside baffled.

The warden contemplated entering the tent anyways, but knew it would only distract Wynne from helping Leliana. When she finally managed to collect herself she walked over to where Alistair sat, hunched over with his head in his hands, and sat beside him.

Almost immediately, Alistair sat upright and began to apologize. “I tried to move faster, I’m so sorry, she lost consciousness about halfway here, I’m so sorr—”

“Alistair stop,” Erathan interrupted. “I came to thank you; you helped save her.”

Alistair stared back for a moment, as if in disbelief. “You really think so? I just carried her, I couldn’t keep it from hurting her.”

“But you helped, you really did. Thank you so much,” Erathan reassured him, her voice starting to break. She surprised herself and leaned in for a hug, wrapping her arms around his broad frame. Alistair hesitantly returned the embrace, stunned by this act of friendship. They stayed like that for a few moments before Erathan pardoned herself and walked over to the tent her dearest friend kept on the edge of the camp, so far from everyone else.

She found Morrigan sitting inside her tent, frustratedly flipping through one of her many grimoires. She stepped inside to no protest, so she sat beside the witch.

“What’re you doing?” she asked.

Morrigan continued to flip through the book, muttering to herself. When she finally found what she was looking for, she sat back with a sigh. “There, finally. It should be considerably easier to find healing spells, don’t you think?”

Erathan looked at her, confused. “Um, yes, I suppose. Why are you looking up healing spells now? Wynne has Leliana.”

Morrigan rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m well aware. But what happened reminded me that I must broaden my knowledge of healing magic. ‘Twas foolish of me to rely on Wynne to be the sole competent healer, and I won’t make the mistake of being caught off guard again.”

“That’s nice Morrigan, but you don’t have to—” Erathan was cut off by Morrigan’s muttering as she began to read the spells before her. “Morrigan,” she tried again. “Morrigan,” she said once more, reaching forward to still her friend’s hand as it skimmed down the page. Morrigan stopped and looked at her, eyes edging on anger.

“What? What could you possibly need that would require you to interrupt my work? I need to learn this; I need to be able to help you!” the mage snapped.

Erathan hesitated, at a momentary loss for words. “Morrigan, you did help us. I came here to thank you; you saved Leliana.”

When Erathan met Morrigan’s gaze, she saw uncertainty in her eyes.

“Just barely,” Morrigan said. “I could only manage to stop the bleeding, what good will that do us in more dire circumstances? No, I must learn this, I must improve. What if someone else becomes wounded too far from camp and I can’t help them? What if I can’t help you?” Morrigan asked, her voice becoming frantic.

Erathan grew quiet and laid her hand on Morrigan’s arm. “You already can help us. You did help us. You did what you could to heal Leliana, and I would trust you in the field to heal me as well. Yes it would be good to learn more healing spells, but you are already more helpful than you’re giving yourself credit for. I trust you, Morrigan. I owe you more than I can express, for saving Leliana. Please don’t worry about not being able to save us… to save me. I know you could.”

They sat in silence until Erathan realized Morrigan didn’t have a response, so she left her to her studies.

She paced anxiously around the camp, eyes locked on her feet as they sank into the muddy ground. Eventually Wynne emerged from the tent and beckoned her over.

“The wound is healed and I gave her some potions to ease the pain. She’ll make a full recovery,” Wynne stated. Erathan bent over and braced herself against her knees as a wave of relief hit her. She thanked Wynne and entered the tent, quickly making her way to Leliana’s side. She kneeled beside her lover and gently grabbed her hand. Leliana opened her eyes and cracked a smile when she saw who it was.

“Birdie,” Erathan whispered, tears flooding into her voice. “How do you feel?”

“I’ve felt better, but I’ve also felt worse,” Leliana answered with a sigh. “The pain has subsided. Mostly,” she said, grimacing.

Erathan squeezed her hand and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I was so worried. The wound was so deep.”

Leliana gave a short laugh. “It was, but I’ve been through worse. I need to thank Alistair and Morrigan.”

“I just thanked them; they’re both a bit shaken, I should let them know you’re okay.”

Leliana raised an eyebrow. “Morrigan is shaken? At my expense? That’s quite the twist,” she said with a smirk.

Erathan smiled. “She likes to pretend she doesn’t care, but I know she does. She just has her own ways of showing it.” Leliana hummed her agreement and Erathan ran a hand through her red locks. Leliana leaned into the comforting touch, closing her eyes. Before Erathan realized it, tears were streaming down her cheeks and she had to stifle a sob.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Leliana asked, opening her eyes.

“Leliana, I… I was so scared,” Erathan whispered. “I thought I might lose you.”

“Oh mon cher,” Leliana started, trying to sit up but falling back onto the bedroll with a pained gasp.

“No, no don’t sit up,” Erathan murmured, wiping her face and moving to lay down beside her lover. “I just, I don’t know what I would do without you, birdie. We’ve come so far, and I never thought—” she stopped and let out a shuddering breath. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”

Leliana reached over and caressed Erathan’s cheek, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m here, love. I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered.

Erathan leaned in and kissed her softly before carefully wrapping her arms around her. She stayed there, focusing on the rise and fall of Leliana’s chest as daylight faded to an end.

[prodigal-ezreal]

[ So I’ve been analyzing Pulsefire Ezreal’s new model + old plash and semi animatic and the headcanons I have about the suit are: 

 It’s a mix between clothes and armor, though the latter may be upgraded a needed, depending on the danger of the situation. The full armor makes it harder to move, but it’s perfect for long battles and exchanges vs short lived encounters where thinking quick on your feet might save your life. Ezreal rarely uses it, and usually goes about the first two options, the third if things get hairy.

The armor part of the suit is powered by a magical time crystal Ezreal has as his core (think of Camille’s heart). It’s what connects the armor permanently to him, but not to a point that it’s a full on augmentation. 

The crystal energy has a symbiotic relationship with Ezreal’s own mana and magic affinity, amplifying it and using it as an energy source. If he dies, it will collapse and go on overdrive before crashing and poofing him out of existence in the timeline. He will go back to his last ‘save point’ (Chronology protection point. He has a limited few that he can take and put again) It’s not a... pleasant experience, though, since he actually gets to feel the overdrive on his nerves and brain before he “dies”. The way to kill him for good is either crushing the crystal or shootting him with Cait’s gun right out of existence. And ince the crystal is well onto his ribcage and below the armor, the latter is the most likely one.

 Talking about augmentations!: Both legs from the knee down (Necessary for the upgrade, stronger legs means less problems with the heavier armor, not to mention it makes landing a bit easier since he doesn’t seem to be equiped with Cait’ portals for Pulsefire Jumps). Core (explained in the past point) Left arm (accident, pre-upgrade) and right eye (Cait’s bullet grazed him before the Grand Escape, went back to a timeline where he hadn’t yet fucked up to get it fixed).

Now down to the armor: It’ connected to his organic body in three points: On his neck (the collar thingie you see, he has scars from the cirgury creeping up), on his core and on his spine. The latter is a way to connect the armor to his nervous system and brain, connecting the bionic eye too. The powercore is housed in this hybrid between augmentation and piece of armor, since it’ not really part of his system but he can’t exactly take it off, from here, emerges the Pulsefire Cannon and the rest of the armor at will. 

The things on his ears are for protection, since you don’t exactly want tore eardrums while jumping from timeline to timeline or fighting, and both of those things might get you exactly that. ]